#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

[quinnnfabrgay-writes]

Writing game: post the last line that you wrote and tag someone for every word in the line.

thank you for the tag @kedsandtubesocks 🥰

been trying to crack away at sub!din and i think i'm finally getting somewhere

The first time he found himself in your bedchamber you called him Mandalorian— he was quick to correct you. "I am Mandalorian no more. I… I'm an apostate."

np tags: @perotovar @sp00kymulderr @wannab-urs @clawdee @covetyou @almostfoxglove @saradika @chronically-ghosted @missredherring @ozarkthedog @crowandmousewritingco @guiltyasdave @morallyinept @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @ghotifishreads @bonezone44 @hellishjoel @amanitacowboy @max--phillips @burntheedges @pedgito @pedrospatch @sizzlingcloudmentality @whocaresstillthelouvre @nerdieforpedro @rulexofxnines @papipascaaaal

[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.

[fadedsweater]

Hey so I've recently learned about why everyone is worried that Tumblr might not be around long-term, so I thought I'd throw this out there: I will always be reachable on ao3 as sweaterghost, and if you're a friend / mutual / acquaintance / we've chatted on here, and you would like my discord account, just hit up my tumblr DMs. I am a hermit and rarely actually message people, but I thought I'd put this out there just in case. If Tumblr really does go down, I will likely back up some of my meta posts and fic wips to a dreamwidth account or something, but I have no immediate plans. If I do make another account, I will link it on my ao3 profile (and on here if, you know, it's still around.)

[buntchugleyy]

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 baldursgate 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.

[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

150 notes: I make an intro post

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

1000 notes: uhhh she has totally ghosted me (i havent asked her out) but I'm going to count this as done?? Sorry guys :(

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!

[fictfrenzy]

mmmmoments before ... SAME WARNINGS

[Server whispered to you]: Frenzy.

Yes? Frenzy thinks, recognizing Console's serious tone even as he only half-focuses on it. It's not technically his fault Moth left her front door wide open, he thinks more to himself, sifting through her chests.

[Server whispered to you]: You are aware of the task I gave you, yes?

"Well, yeah," Frenzy replies out loud, finding nothing he deems of worth in the chests. He hesitates the slightest bit. "But, I don't... have to do it. Like– not like that, right?"

[Server whispered to you]: Are you... questioning my decisions?

"No!" Frenzy half-shouts before he sighs. "No," he says more calmly. "No, I'm not... questioning you. Console. It's just– Moth is my–"

[Serv3$ whispered to y0u]: Friend? Am I not good enough for you?

[S,e4(& whi1sper+d to y##]: Frenzy, I fear you're letting your... greed get to you. I've never steered you wrong before.

[Server whispered to you]: Have I?

Frenzy glances at where Moth's pets are. He looks away, facing the chests again.

"...No," he says, finally.

[Server whispered to you]: Then... do as I say, alright?

[Server]: gave Frenzy 1 iron sword.

[S!r4.vrr3z wh--+#per((d to to you y07u]: What else are you good for, if not this?

um umm leech au c!frenzy wip. its kind of dark given the, you know. murder, parasite, religious themes things going on. so if it would trigger you in any way feel free to skip and ask for a summary if youd like !!

There's blood on its hands, and the floor, and Moth's really nice cherrywood walls. Somehow, despite its common wild displays of emotion, Frenzy feels... nothing.

[&(#!.1€? whispered to you]: Clean it up.

"Right," he replies mindlessly. It's not like he has to think anymore, with Console around. It's... not really a welcome change, but...

He's... it's an entirely holy sort of exchange. Console is... everything. He's everything this world is, and the next one, and the next one... no matter where Frenzy runs— if he could run— Console makes everything, and he is everything.

Frenzy feels the Earth's heartbeat beneath his feet, wherever he goes, and all he thinks is Console.

It doesn't know what to think about that, but any thinking is entirely pointless. It's been reduced to an attack dog; Console points it somewhere, and it kills. Console points him to a cliff edge, and he jumps.

It's an entirely holy exchange, even if his non-existent halo snags on the walls and his non-existent wings rot in his back.

Everyone else is just in his way. Their way. Console needs a clear path, and Frenzy will be damned if it doesn't give one to him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 2

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, threats, 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 try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Happy Tuesday🐵.

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. 💖

“Marta still insists she isn’t responsible for ordering the toner...” you shrug and sigh. You shake your head at the petty office argument. 

Before you can laugh, the guard calls time up. You blink, brought back to the present. Your account of the printer tirade seems even more silly now. 

Your eyes come into focus and you find Steve’s entirely on you. He might not admit it, but you suspect he is lonely. In some way. He’s all but confirmed that he doesn’t get any other visitors. It makes you think of Vaughn. How he must look forward to those days. They might not be the same but they both drew the same lot. 

You go to get up as the guard signals with a tap on his watch. 

“Wait,” he pulls away defiantly, keeping hold of the receiver. You keep yours by your ear. “Will you come back, sweetheart?” 

Your lips part. You’re surprised by the question. The man knows how to keep people off-balance. “What?” 

“You already gotta come all the way here for your brother so why not? I mean, if you really wanna thank me for saving his neck. I’m sure he’ll find a dozen other ways to get himself in a bind,” he shrugs. 

“Rogers,” the guard warns. 

You weigh the hint of a threat in his tone. You don’t think he’s serious but he’ll never say aloud the truth. He’s all by himself in there, even if he moves the rest of them like chess pieces. The urgency of the guard makes you sputter. 

“Sure, uh okay, I’ll try,” you say. 

“Alright,” he surrenders, a glimmer of disappointment, as if he expected more. “See ya next time, then.” 

He hangs up and the guard unhooks his cuffs from the loop. He stands, dwarfing his keeper easily, and follows him away. You’re grateful for the barrier for the first time. 

You get up and you’re led out yourself. What did you just do? You don’t have to see him again. Now you do. You made a promise and a man like that won’t take kindly to breaking it. Shoot. Why did you do this? He’s a criminal and you still have no idea what kind. 

Your heart clenches as you get to the counter and fill out your form. 

“If you really wanna thank me...” his words echo. 

You ask for another form. You don’t want to take the chance that you made things worse for Vaughn. The novelty will wear off. He’ll lose interest and hopefully, he also forgets about your brother. 

You sign the forms and pass them over. It’s a different guard. They don’t react as they read it over. They merely dismiss you as the pit deepens in your stomach. 

⛓️‍💥

You don’t tell Vaughn. If you do, he might be mad. Not just at you, but Steve. If he lashes out at someone like that, you might never see him again. That’s your worst fear. 

The thing about your brother is he might know exactly how things go, what to expect, but it doesn’t keep him from messing up. Even if Steve is watching him back, it wouldn’t stop him from feeling slighted and turning around and breaking his own spine.  

You can only imagine his reaction to your chatting with his fellow inmates. Vaughn only listens to what fits his own narrative. He wouldn’t hear you out, he’d just go off and get himself hurt. 

You attend your usual sibling commiseration. He’s looking better. You’re mostly quiet. You wait for any mention of Steve. Dread it even. He only tells you how the other guys are scared of him. You’re not so sure it’s him making them stay away. 

You say your usual good byes and love yous and you stay put. You wait. Steve appears sooner than the last time. He takes his seat and lifts the receiver. He’s just as stony as before. 

The glimmer in his eye has you reaching for the phone on your side. You gulp. You don’t know anything about him. Only the one thing that should’ve kept you away. He’s a criminal. 

“Hey,” you eke out. 

“Sweetheart,” he greets evenly. 

“It’s... your turn." You state shakily. He lifts a brow and he chuckles. You clear your throat. “I told you about me, now I wanna know about you.” 

“Oh?” He tweaks his head. 

“Look, I’m not going to keep talking to you if--” 

“You’re threatening me?” He challenges. 

“N-no, I just--” 

He laughs again, “oh, sweetheart, you’ve been thinking a lot about this, haven’t you? You miss me already?” 

You frown, “don’t call me that. I didn’t come to be laughed at.” 

“Uh huh, so why did you come?” 

You don’t know how to answer. He knows. He wants to hear you say it. 

“We both know why. That brother of yours is reckless. I can barely keep him on a leash.” He looks you up and down, “does he know you’re here, huh? I don’t think so. Think if he did, he’s be at my cell door getting his neck broke.” 

“Hey, don’t--” 

“No, you don’t, sweetheart. Don’t tell me what to do. And calm down.” He waves away your distress. He glances over towards the guard then back to you. “You’re funny when you get all worked up but don’t go ruining this. For baby brother’s sake and yours.” 

“Please, don’t hurt him,” you murmur softly. “Please.” 

He snickers and rests a hand on the desk, the other on the receiver. He pushes and leans back, his chest puffing out. “Fine, what do you wanna know? I have mess at eight with all the other bums in here and I do about two hundred pushups after dinner.” 

You rub your lips together. His gaze follows the movement. “How long have you been here?” You stare at him, gripping the phone for courage. 

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his lip and shifts the receiver in his hand. He crosses his other arm over his chest, gripping his large bicep. 

“Six years.” 

“How long do you have left?” You follow-up quickly. 

“Ah, is that it? You’re anxious to get rid of all this,” he eyes the glass. “That’s sweet--” 

“I just want to know,” you blurt out. Six years isn’t too much but fifteen or more says it all. 

“A long time. The rest of my life unless the board has a change of heart.” 

You watch him, waiting. For a crack, for a tell. He didn’t flinch at all as he tells you he’s stuck there forever. Whatever he did must be bad. 

“For what?” You breath, running your fingers up and down your throat. He watches the nervous gesture before he meets your eye.  

He prickles and sets his shoulders, “You really wanna know? You gotta do something for me first.” 

You blink, “just tell me.” 

“No, that’s not how it works. You do me a favour and I’ll tell you,” he retorts. 

“What? What could I possibly do for you?” 

“You add your number to my roll on your way out.” 

“My... number?” You echo. 

“Lot of time between visits. I get antsy. When I get antsy, I do stupid things. Start fights... so?” He leans forward. He knows he’s won. 

“Fine, you tell me and I’ll do it.” 

“Deal,” he points at you, his elbow on the table. “And don’t test me. I don’t like people who go back on their word. Not even sweet things like you.” 

“I said yes,” you sniff. 

“I didn’t do anything,” he smirks. “But what they say I did...” he shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “murder. Court’s a joke, you know? Lawyers only steal your money. They’ll make more on the appeal. So they let me go down when the other guys say I killed my wife. The interviews for TV pay them better.” He snorts. “Far be it from me to go against the verdict. Especially in here. Better to let people thing I’m a stone-cold killer.” 

You chew on the answer, mulling it with his expression. You can’t tell if he’s lying. Does it matter? He’s still in this place and according to Vaughn, dangerous regardless. If he wasn’t before, he is now. 

“You believe me?” He asks. You don’t answer. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Doesn’t matter either way. We got lots of time for you to figure it out.” 

A frown tugs at your lips, “yeah...” you rub your neck and once more he stares at the movement of your hand. He’s so stoic, you can’t read whether he’s bored or annoyed. 

“I’ve banked lots of phone time,” he swirls his fingers on the desk. “I look forward to our little chats. Be a nice after dinner treat, won’t it?” 

You bit down and twist the phone cord, “why do you want to talk to me?” 

“I’ve been in here six years with stinky men. A nice little bird like you singing to me, that’s something to wake up for. It'll make the time pass,” he says. “See, I’m being honest.” 

You nod and inhale slowly. You drag your hand off the desk and wipe your sweaty palm on your jeans. You’re too far in now. There’s not going back. 

⛓️‍💥

“...so this guy tells me it’s his turn at the bench but I just got on. He didn’t appreciate me testing his strength when I dropped the weight on his jaw,” Steve laughs as you chop celery, his voice crackling from the speaker of your phone. The prison lines are fuzzy at times. He stops and silence rises. You almost think the call cut off. “Why’re you so quiet, sweetheart?” 

“I’m just making dinner,” you answer. “Listening.” 

You don’t like his stories. They’re always violent and you can’t always tell when he’s telling the truth or just trying to scare you. Vaughn said he has other guys do his dirty work. 

“Oh? What are we having?” Steve asks. 

“Stuffed chicken breast with rice,” you reply as you pour the celery off the cutting board. 

“What’s wrong?” He intones. 

“Nothing,” you lie.” 

“What? You don’t seem impressed.” 

“Well, Steve, I’m not a very violent person. I guess I don’t see much to laugh at.” 

He scoffs, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I was a bad boy.” 

“Steve,” you say. “I just... I don’t like to hear that stuff.” 

“Oh, you worried about me? I can take care of myself.” 

“It’s just not very nice,” you mutter. 

“Not nice? That’s how the yard works. I can’t help that. I don’t like it either but you gotta do that stuff. To survive.” He explains, “but Vaughn, well, we both know he’s no good with change. That’s why he needs someone like me--” 

“I asked you nicely not to mention him,” you say. “How much time do you have left?” 

“Couple minutes,” he drones. “Didn’t mean to get you worked up.” 

“I’m not worked up. I just... I worry.” 

“I know you do, sweetheart. Look, I’ve been here a while. Don’t you worry about me or the baby boy,” he drawls; you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Mm,” you hum. 

He mimics the noise, “you’re not amused? Sweetheart, tell me what you want to hear. How can I make you happy?” 

You cluck, “it’s just... I don’t like it... when you put on a front like that. I’m not an inmate. I... I’d rather you just be honest. I never liked men who can only talk about violence.” 

“Oh, and what kinda man do you like?” 

You look at the phone, “I don’t have a type. Not that it matters.” 

“I can be your type,” he purrs. 

You pause as you reach into the bag of bread. You’re taken aback by his statement. You shake your head. 

“Steve, I should get this in the oven.” 

“Right, time’s running out,” he exhales. “Well, good night sweetheart.” 

“Good night, Steve,” you say pointedly and reach to hang up with your knuckle. 

You sigh and tear up the bread. You can’t believe how far this has gone. He calls every night and you dread it every night. No matter what you do, he doesn’t let up. When you’re quiet, he makes you speak. When you’re curt, he makes you gentle. He demands it and you have no way to deny him. 

It’s hard at times to stomach. He can be patronizing when he wants to. When you don’t perform for him. He always mentions your brother at exactly the right time. To remind you of his power over you or to remind you of your own guilt for lying to your own family. 

Well, he has a whole life sentence ahead of him. He has to get bored eventually. Besides, Vaughn will be out in another two years on good behaviour.