#wipping out the tag chat

[transsekai]

REAL funny (/sarc) when two on and off delusions(? not sure if that's the right word idk) combine together

[too-young-to-fall-in-love]

WIP Wednesday

thanks for the tag, @justabigoldnerd!!💕

shot in the dark (NOT the ozzy osbourne one lmao)

no pressure tagging @pippinoftheshire, @yallwildinrn, @falling-into-peril, @heytheredeann, and anyone else who would like to do this!💕

[airystwinsibling]

Hi! I killed Wemmbu and made an emo Egg because he saw it happen!! >_<

Individuals + explanation under cut

(Translation of my handwriting in IDs ^_^)

Basically, I was listening to Wemmbu's 5th Unstableverse episode (The Minecraft Empire War) in my classes and got to the part where Zam has his (Wemmbu's) ass trapped in webs like the little fucking bug he is. At this, I thought "hey! What if Zam killed him! What if Egg didn't get there fast enough! Hehe! Haha!" And this kind of... happened I guess.

[mothmore]

hey guys (said through tears) just dropping in w a wip after the new ep yk how it is hahahaha

doing just right peachy rn. yep.

[rachhellraye]

I have a boring email job now so I sit there and write fanfic all day. But because I’m only interested in writing messed up shit rn, I don’t actually get any real writing done because my job is in person and someone peering over my shoulder and getting an eyeful of rolan baldusgate experiencing the Horrors and subsequently getting me fired from my job would be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me so I just write thousands and thousands of words of stupid bullshit I say I’m going to improve upon later but never do bc by the time I get home I just want to lounge and it just repeats itself

[fandumbass]

Your mind creating the writing process:

Anyways hi fan, you're so big Brained and may this ask be motivation to take good care of yourself and not worry about the chapters for a bit! You plan to get to them and they'll be there, and I'll be excited to see you gush more about Wisps and also the fun you'll be having.

Also! Do you have any headcannons for multiplayer? I see others (and myself) had designed alternate Dealers for it, so I am curious if you had thoughts on it!

Have a good day!!

LMAO that reminds me of a video i literally just saw earlier today that was like. a huge mood

I actually haven't played multiplayer! I don't have anyone to play it with and I've always been a little eegh about joining public lobbies so I'm not actually too sure!

[asterdeer]

everyone in s3 feels so free to just. be an asshole to jon. even when they’re not being outright antagonistic with bad intentions, they’re just so hostile. like, plain mean. it makes 100% sense to me that he shows these flashes of vulnerability to elias because elias is the ONLY person who ever 1) listens to his questions, concerns, fears AND ALSO 2) fucking answers them. poorly! in ways that harm jon! but god damn. man is starving for not even kindness, not even gentleness, just like. CIVILITY. shit’s fucked, i hate this. georgie barker it’s on sight.

[cconfusedkat]

Obviously mystic could easily counter an attack with weaker crowns but i still think its funny that kallamar would be the one to catch it genuinely off guard as it was reading its script of the next lamb to go after in different dimensions 😭

[majorbaby]

nine lines, nine people

... nine lines no people tho, because i'm not tagging anyone this time sorry ToT. im only even doing it because @bornforastorm tagged me ESPECIALLY she said, and i cannot disappoint hannah <3

here's 9 lines (paragraph breaks?) from ch 2 of Two doors down, the slightly plotty hawk/trap/margaret that i haven't abandoned i promise. most of it is done. i've just been struggling a bit with one particular scene and then i need to edit.

in the mean time have some post-threesome trapper/margaret pillow talk (trapper is the pillow. RIP hawkeye he died as he lived, eating pussy)

They lay together in a boneless heap catching their breaths. Pierce’s head was heavy against her outer thigh, just as she knew she must’ve been heavy against McIntyre beneath her. His damp, sparse chest hair scratched pleasantly against her back. She could hear him panting, his lungs compromised by the weight she was putting on them.

But she didn’t want to move just yet. Hawkeye was draped over her lower half, but the rest of her was exposed. She could see the ceiling of the tent gently rippling in the heavy wind outside and she was keenly aware that were it not for the roaring furnace of their bodies, she would’ve been cold. 

She opened her mouth to draw in a breath, at last ready to announce her exit, but the man beneath her stirred first.

“Stay the night,” McIntyre slurred.

If only it were as easy as that. Soon the magnitude of what they’d done would sink in, and they’d all be scrambling to make sense of how they’d come to lie with the enemy. She’d have to face the fact that she’d been so sick with loneliness, she’d sought them out, and they’d have to accept that it hadn’t been as easy as they’d always imagined it would be to turn her down. 

The longer she lay there accepting what they were still freely giving, the more the scales dropped in their favour. On top of that it was two against one - though they’d convinced her that there were a few upsides to that. 

“Or go,” McIntyre continued. “But if you stay, y’can’t stay lyin’ on top of me all night.” 

“Am I heavy?” the question slipped innocently from her.

His hands cupped her elbows and then slowly smoothed up her arms to squeeze her shoulders. Margaret shivered. “‘S not you. I got a glass stomach.”

[good-beans]

So eepy...

[creamecream]

Name meanings, band version.

My handwriting is particularly bad this time around, sorry.

Name: Naaz. Meaning: Pride.

Name: Carys. Meaning: Love.

Name: Euna. Meaning: Hunger.

Name: Anasuya. Meaning: Without Spite or Envy.

Name: Raivo. Meaning: Fury.

Name: Alora. Meaning: Dreamer.

Name: Kauri. Meaning: Tree.

[kangaracha]

wouldn't expect a lot of queenmaker until ~christmas time, which is not what i would like to say but my body is just telling me to ease up after november and i'm hitting that pre-holiday slump so we're just chillin. we're playing a game for the first time in six months. we're doing a puzzle. my eyes are really blurry rn so i think i'll go to bed.

[todayisafridaynight]

i need to. write masdai but first i have to actually finish 7 (or maybe not im just being picky) and also finish a minedai wip thats 1 sentence long rn and ALSO finish a ryudai wip that i keep telling myself to end b4 it hits 6k and then adding more to it so its at almost 5k now and Nowhere Near Done. daigo be on that thang i guess.

daigo dick game CRAZY it made a man kill himself

[randooffthestreet]

Alright...I doubt this is going to work... but notes game for the new year ig :)

10 notes: I try to exercise more (I have made a schedule :D)

50 notes: I read the books I keep putting off

100 notes: I try to finish wip fics (almost done!!)

150 notes: I make an intro post (with art)

300 notes: I take a day to totally organize my room

500 notes: I start working on my animatic

750 notes: I seriously talk to my parents about my mental health (uhhh....this is gonna be postponed for a bit. For. Reasons. Sorry :( )

1000 notes (APPARENTLY IS POSSIBLE): I ask my friend out (I'll do it next time I see her in person. Wish me luck ig???)

1500 notes: I try to make a streaming video (uhhh I have no idea how to do this chat. I have a ps5 and a switch)

2000 notes: I come out (to people I know won't freak out)

RULES: no spamming please- 1 like, 1 reblog, 1 comment allowed. Tags are allowed/welcomed :)

Deadline is my birthday, September 9th (2025)

Update: HOLY SHIT??? ok, ok, ummm

Orange means I'm working on it, pink means it's done!

[interact-if]

Happy New Year everyone!

I’m delighted to announce that Interact-IF is officially back in business! I (Allie @allieebobo) will be taking the reins as the new mod, and I’m very excited to get this blog up and running again!

First, a heartfelt thank-you to the original mod team for everything they’ve built. Interact-if has become such an invaluable resource and hub for interactive fiction fans and authors alike. It’s a tough act to follow, but I’ll do my best to keep the spirit of this wonderful space alive :)

A little bit more about me: I’m the author of two WIP interactive fiction games, @collegetennisoriginstory and @merrycrisis-if. Interact-if was one of the first blogs/places that I discovered almost three years ago now, and it led me to so many amazing stories, authors, and resources.

When I saw that the blog was going into archive mode, with a call for a new generation of mods, I wanted to do my best to help out. I reached out to the original mod team and worked out a gameplan for the future of Interact-if, which I’d like to share with all of you today.

P.S. If you would like to join me, I’d love to have you on the team! Scroll down to the section on ‘open call for mods’.

Without further ado, here’s the plan!

My goal is to focus on retaining the aspects that made Interact-IF so special: spotlighting diverse authors, and creating a warm, inclusive space to talk about and share wonderful games.

🟢 Active:

Game Updates & Intros: If you’re an author with a new game or demo update, or if you’re organizing a game jam or event you’d like to share with the community, simply tag @interact-if in your posts, and I’ll reblog them. It would also be helpful if you added tags stating the IF's genre (e.g. horror, romance), has a demo/no demo.

Themed Author Features: I’ll continue the tradition of spotlighting authors and games based on monthly themes (e.g. Pride Month, Disability Month). These interviews are such a great way of celebrating diversity and inclusivity in the IF community, and I’d love to keep these going! Stay tuned for a detailed post on this soon!

Community Spotlight: Once every quarter, I’ll also do a call for reader recs around certain categories/themes (e.g. Fave RO, Fave Worldbuilding/setting, Fave plot-twist etc.) and compile these recommendations to share. Think of it as a bulletin of crowdsourced faves and a way of sharing a little note about an IF you love!

🟡 Remain open/active, but not modded:

Game directory: The Interact-IF repository of games (excel) will remain open for authors to update/list their games and/or readers to discover their next read. (Feel free to continue to update/populate the repository, though do note it will remain completely crowd-sourced/author-updated).

Discord: The discord will remain open and active for discussions, resource sharing, and casual chats, though again, this will not be officially modded (though I, and some of the original mods like roast, may be active from time to time)

🔴 Not active:

Asks: I will not be answering asks except for specific submissions (e.g. for author features, reader recommendations etc.). If you would like to ask for specific game recommendations, or have questions/just wanna chat, the discord channel is a great place to do just that! :)

Keeping track of events/game updates: As mentioned, I’ll rely on authors / readers to tag me in updates posts and/or flag any games with questionable content/anything that might need my attention, as I won't be able to search out update posts or do any extensive vetting.

Open call for mods:

Finally, I’d love to have some company! If you’re interested in helping out—whether with reblogs, interviews, or brainstorming new features—please reach out. Having a small team would make this space even more vibrant!

Thank you for your support, your enthusiasm, and for being part of what makes Interact-IF such a special corner of the internet! :)

If you have any suggestions or ideas on how Interact-If can be improved, feel free also to drop the blog a direct message or an ask. I look forward to getting to know all of you better. Here's to an awesome year of interactive fiction (and many more!)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: Happy Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can’t hear your father’s voice anymore. You stand at your door, listening for any sign of life. It’s not him you want to avoid, though he’s rarely happy to see you, but his company. You’re pretty sure they left but not entirely. You feel asleep working on your diamond art. 

You can’t wait much longer. You have to pee so bad that you can feel it in your throat. It’s late. You’re sure you’re alone. 

The door hinges scrape like they always do. You hate that noise. You tiptoe down the hall, towards the yellow blare of the kitchen light. You turn into the bathroom and shut the door. You sigh as finally you get your release. 

You flinch as you stand up and pull your elastic waistband over your hips. The hollow metal tink of a metal can sounds from outside. It could be your dad. That would make sense. He probably got up to get water or another can of beer. 

You wash your hands and go back out. You head towards your bedroom without a look in the other direction. The grizzly pronunciation of your name draws you back. Your eyes round as you scuff to a halt. 

You turn to face the burly man at the end of the hall. “Did I wake you?” Sy asks. 

You gulp and shake your head. He’s one of your dad’s coworkers from the shop. He comes over with a six-pack and they sit on the porch to enjoy it. Or they linger in the kitchen and play cards. 

As the shadows shroud him, he looks even bigger than usual. You’ve only ever seen him from a distance. Usually he’s sitting down. Maybe you just never noticed how gigantic he truly is. 

He flips on the hallway light and you blink. His dark beard adds to the squareness of his jaw and his shaved head has dark stubble in a deep peak on his forehead. His blue eyes sparkle despite his naturally fearsome posture. 

“I just got your daddy to bed,” he says. “He should be just fine. You check that he’s on his belly tomorrow morning.” 

You nod again. He does the same. He doesn’t appear frustrated as your father. He seems almost intrigued as he stays there, scratching above the collar of his tee. 

“You okay?” 

You nod. 

“Checkin’, ya know? It’s late. Dark can be scary, huh?” 

Yes, your head bobs in agreement. 

“Right, well, you have a good night. Let me know if ya need anything in the morning. I put my number on the fridge.” He taps on the door frame and turns away. 

Most of your dad’s friends or the same. They don’t pay you much mind. You prefer that. You’re not one for chatting. That fact irks your father to no end. You just stay out of his way, and his friends’, and hide in your room. 

You wait until you hear the front door. Then you go to lock it as Sy’s footsteps clamour on the porch. You stay there, his headlights shining through the window as his engine rumbles to life. The gravel crunches as he reverses out and steers off into the night. 

You go around and shut off the lights. You take your time in the kitchen tidying up the beer cans. You wipe the counters quickly and rinses the dregs off your fingers. You leave the light on so you can find your door. 

You shut yourself in and go back to bed. You leave the small lamp on next to it and turn your back to the glow. You yawn and close your eyes. 

Another night. It’s a bit sad that the best part of your day is going to sleep. Your waking hours aren’t very interesting. When you’re not doing the chores or the cooking, you’re in there, busying yourself with something meaningless. Nothing you do will ever make a difference; not for you or anyone else. 

That’s why your dad hates you so much. You can’t blame him. There’s no jobs out there for someone like you. You tried and all you got for it was embarrassment and a new slew of insults. 

You cross your arms over the top of the blankets and sigh. When you lay in your bed, you can be anything. Behind your eyelids, you can’t paint pictures more gleaming than those etched in the small plastic diamonds. You could be a princess or an actress or even just someone normal. 

What keeps you awake, isn’t your dreams. It’s the dread of the inevitable. Once you fall asleep, you’ll have to wake up again and face bitter reality. 

🩶

Your dad’s snoring rocks you through the walls. The house is small. You hear a lot more than you like. Often, you leave the old Casio radio playing on low to gloss over the cricks and cracks and groans. 

You get up, knowing better than to wait until he does first. If you have the coffee waiting, it will appease a fraction of his temper. With a hangover racking his skull, he won’t be in the best of moods. 

The dead heat of summer roils through the house. Your dad has an AC unit in his bedroom window but it’s not big enough to do much beyond his door. He keeps that closed most days anyways. On the cold days, he also keeps the small electric heater locked away with him. 

You change into a pair of loose linen capris and a plain tank top. You don’t go anywhere so you don’t dress for any occasion. Most of your clothes are akin to pajamas, or nothing more than. 

The machine is old and dingy. No matter how many times you descale it, it keeps that yellow stain in the plastic. You snap the lid shut and flip the red button so it lights up. Dad says once it stops turning on, he’ll waste money on a new one. 

You get yourself a glass of water and wait. It’s early still but his alarm won’t let him sleep in. As it goes off, you keep busy.  

There’s a slam and a grumble. Your dad stirs violently and his door hits the frame as he swings it open. He lumbers out as you pour him a mug. He belches and ignores you. You put it on the table as he turns down the hall and goes into the bathroom. He leaves the door open and you hear his stream piddle into the toilet. 

You ignore it and turn back to your task. Breakfast. It’s the same thing every day. You do his eggs, sunny side up, toasted Wonder bread, and six strips of bacon. The smell soon has your mouth watering. The chair scrapes the floor loudly as he drops into it heavily. 

He slurps loudly behind you as you put together his plate. You set it before him and he wiggles the empty mug at you. You take it and pour him another from the carafe. 

A car door snaps shut. You wince. You didn’t hear an engine, but you’d been too swept up in cooking. You give your dad his refill and go to check the front window. 

“Is it that mailman already?” He hollers. 

You shake your head, even knowing that he won’t see.  

“Don’t know why I fucking ask,” he snarls. 

You watch Sy jump out of his truck. While the axle is high, it isn’t very treacherous for a man his size. He kicks up gravel as he steps around the door and shuts it. You back away as he heads towards the house. 

He clomps up the steps, thump, thump, thump, and you jitter as he approaches the other side of the door. You wait until he knocks before you answer it. You peek out through a single inch of space. He grins. You don’t think he’s ever smiled at you. You assumed he never did at all. 

“How’s the old man?” He asks. 

You blink and let the door open a bit more and give thumbs up. As good as he’ll ever be.  

“That’s good,” he drawls. “So...” 

His eyes drift down, just a little. You squirm. Your shirt feels thinner as you stand there. Your nipple poke into the fabric and you hug yourself awkwardly. You remember you asked your father for a bra once. He laughed and you never brought it up again. You try to stick to loose clothing. 

You point over your shoulder then make a gesture as if you’re holding a fork and scooping. 

“Having breakfast, that’s nice.” 

You don’t have enough for him. You’ll wait until your dad’s at work before you sit and have your single slice of toast and peanut butter. 

“I already ate, in case ya worried,” he assures. “Was just comin’ to make sure I didn’t give him too much sauce.” 

He laughs. His booming humour makes your flinch. Your brows pop up and he quiets. 

“Sorry, I know, I’m a loud one, huh?” He snorts, “I don’t mean ta scare ya.” 

“I told ya, she don’t say shit,” your father growls into a yawn. You step back and the door opens all the way as you press yourself to the wall. He saunters forward in his boxers and tank top. “No point goin’ on like that when she probably don’t even understand.” 

“She understands me,” Sy avows confidently. “After a night with your drunk ass, it’s a breath of fresh air to have someone not yammer on.” 

“You’re the one brought me the piss,” your father retorts. 

“And you didn’t complain when I did,” he counters. “Wanted to see if ya were going to make it in today. Just in case I gotta finish up Dubeau’s clunker.” 

“I’ll be there,” your father sneers. “Why don’t you go and get it all warmed up for me?” 

“You’re a prick, Don,” Sy huffs. 

“What? No, you can’t see it,” your father covers his crotch and you blanch, looking away embarrassed. 

“Don,” Sy rebukes, “there’s a lady.” 

“It’s my daughter, dammit. She’s too stupid to get it,” he spits. “Hey, you, go on, kitchen’s a mess.” 

You nod and avoid looking at the other man out of embarrassment. Your father is crass, sometimes even at your expense. And he knows you can understand him. He must. You do everything he tells you too. 

“Well, then, I’ll see ya round,” Sy calls, though you only realise he’s talking to you as your dad changes the subject to some tail pipe. 

You stop and peek back. Sy watches you over your dad’s head. You give a wave, just a tilt of your hand, then continue into the kitchen. 

You can’t help but be thankful for the interruption. Sy’s boisterous intrusion offered a buffer between you and your dad’s hangover. You wash his plate, cutlery, and mug, before you move onto the pots and pans you used to cook. 

You can hear your dad barking outside at Sy. The other man responds with a deep rumble. Are they arguing? 

The front door swings open, “hey, girl,” you dad whistles, “more coffee. Bring some for this lump.” 

You take the order in stride. You don’t have enough for two cups, maybe half of one. You start a new pot and wait. When it’s finished, you dry your dad’s mug and pull out another. You carry both to the front door and elbow through. 

You hand one to each man as they stand by the porch railing. Your dad takes his gruffly, spilling some on your fingers, but Sy thanks you. 

“You didn’t even ask if he wanted sugar or cream,” your dad chides. You give him a startled look. He snorts. “How’d ya do that, huh? Maybe blink your eyes real big.” 

You frown at his mocking. Sy exhales and you back away. Now you have two men annoyed with you. You glance over at the bigger of the pair as he stares at you. You should’ve thought of you. Coffee is bitter, it’s why you don’t drink it. 

You point to his cup and he shakes his head, “coffee’s fine,” he insists, “I’ll have something sweet later.” You nod and retreat. You turn your back to them and step inside. Before you close the door, you hear Sy, “you know I take my coffee black, Don. No needa to give the girl a hard time.” 

You shut it before you can catch whatever snide remark your father tosses back. You know he won’t take kindly to being told what to do, especially if it’s to do with you. Or because of you. You’ll hear it all later, you’re sure.