#ip fic

[lbhslefttiddie]

admittedly i dont specialize in moshang so perhaps i am simply not seeing the scholarly discussion on the topic but whenever ive seen the idea of airplane being the guy who wrote the sv world into existence and now Lives There acknowledged in any kind of metaphysical capacity its always either been "airplane by writing the world literally created it" or "airplane was getting prophetic visions beamed to him from another world and he wrote that into a book in his" and tbh neither of these has ever really resonated with me. i dont want to overplay his involvement in the higher powers of the universe, but as a writer myself it kinda rankles to have his creative woes, which are covered in the story and are sort of the backbone of The Entire Setting, dismissed in such a way that would rob him of authorship of his own work. his writing does not innately have some power to make worlds into reality, but it's HIS.

to me he is not a god, not a prophet, just a poor author who has had his most successful work plagiarized by extra-dimensional beings who may or may not be fujoshis

[missmisnomer]

When you're recommending something you really, REALLY like to someone and being IncrediblyNormal™ doesn't work out, so you have to resort to being ALittleUnhinged™ to get the point across.

🍋💥👍 @turtleinsoup

[cormancatacombs]

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

HELPPPPP CAN THEY NOT JUST LEAVE ME ALONE??? They literally have no proof and I DO NOT SHIP A 9 YR OLD WITH A 55 YR OLD, EVEN IF I DID, HOW IS IT PROOF THAT I’M A PREDATOR??????

Edit: OKAY IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE I LIKE FELIX X EDD X MOLLY, BUT WHO CARES?? HOW IS THAT STILL ANY PROOF OF ANYTHING???

[starsfic]

Finding Frankie AU where an urban explorer named Ed finds himself one of the contestants in Frankie's Parkour Palace, and a mysterious entity seems to have infiltrated the studio's computer system with the apparent goal of keeping Ed as safe as it can. No one seems to know who or what this entity is, but its meddling acts always seem to be heralded by a short jingle: G F-G-F E.

The Contestant came to a screeching stop as another door slammed in their face, cutting them off from their prey. Without a care for the cameras, they pressed the Bluetooth in their ear.

"Frankie, what the hell is going on?!"

"I, uh, I'm not quite sure, my dear!" Their cohort sounded frazzled, paired with the sound of keys typing. "But he's heading to Deputy Duck's section, so-"

The next second, a loud jingle played over the intercoms, loud enough that the Contestant had to cut the connection. It wasn't fast enough. The piano keys of GFGFE made their ears ring enough that they took a step back.

Ever since Contestant 2, named Ed apparently, had come onto the show, it was like everything had fallen apart. Something had infiltrated the parkour palace's entire system, and it was dedicated to keeping this guy safe as he ran around the place. Morgan could respect the attempted cheating, but the infuriating part was that Ed seemed as baffled as they were about the entire thing and was more dedicated to finding a way out.

They were not going to lose to this idiot.

The Bluetooth reconnected.

"My dear? There's a raccoon."

"Mark its location, I'll get it later," they huffed, turning and marching towards the nearest vent. It wouldn't be the first time some pest had broken in. "Where is-"

"I mean," Frankie said, voice getting just a bit higher. "The raccoon is the one in the system."

The Contestant paused. "What?"

"HI!"

The yell made them drop the vent cover, whirling around. Next to them was one of the screens showing the chat responding to the show. Last they looked, it was full of confused anons, both enjoying the twist to the show and getting really annoyed at how it was dragging on. Now, it was blank, all except for a purple raccoon in a red bandana, smiling placidly at them like the greeter at an amusement park.

"...hi?"

"I don't like you." The raccoon said it so sweetly that the Contestant wasn't sure how to react. "If you hurt my friend, you won't like what me and my friends will do to you."

And with that ominous message, the raccoon disappeared. The chat screen remained blank and empty.

Over the intercoms, the jingle played, followed by what sounded like a scream of frustration from Frankie.

The Contestant had no time to react to that. They opened up the vent and slipped in, feeling the weight of the hunting knife on their side.

They had a show to win and a loser to deal with.

[thedevillionaire]

Chosen

Much shorter than it has any right to be, given how long it's taken me to actually finish. Plot? Uh, no, not really. But anyhow... She's been away. He's been unwell.

---

He looks at her like she’s the most welcome hallucination he’s ever had.

Kia closes the door slowly behind her as she takes in this chaos of a makeshift apothecary, the loungeroom in an utter state of disarray and her beloved not faring much better, red-nosed and unshaven and dressed in a black silken pyjama and robe ensemble which, while inarguably stylish, was very definitely not his usual late afternoon wear.

And not at all what she had been expecting to come home to.

A miscellany of potions and concoctions and gods-know-what-elses lie scattered across the coffee table. A teacup, mostly empty. Two tissue boxes, one apparently even emptier than the teacup. Some sort of book...no, manual. Looks instructional. A wilderness of failed curatives.

Oh my god.

She walks further into the room. The air smells of menthol and embers.

“Babe, what are… Are you… What have you even been doing h…?”

You absolute beautiful total disaster.

“Trying not to… hh-HH …let thi…this-damn-cold…” Cerberus turns from her as his sentence dissolves, the syllables collapsing against one another in a desperate rush to give way to greater need and deep breath of purpose, and he raises a finger in urgent, undeniable pause. "Huh-TSSCH-uu!" Hurriedly claiming a series of tissues in a brief, expectant hiatus, he surrenders completely and sneezes again. "Hh-AATSCHH-uu! *snff-FF!*" A quiet groan in the aftermath. He excuses himself, adds another tissue to the set, blows his nose and immolates the lot. "Pardon me." He sighs. "Trying not to let this godsdamned cold win,” he manages, with an accompanying sharp sniffle. Neither heavy congestion nor the way his voice cracks slightly lessens any of the seething distaste in his tone.

“Oh, honey.” Kia brushes some errant hair back from his face. :Bless you.: She touches a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re getting your ass kicked.”

She offers him a soft smile to hopefully lessen a little bit of truth's sting. "C'mon, shift over," she says gently as she joins her beloved on the couch, nestling up beside him, resolutely ignoring every caution he tries to give her advising against doing so. Notably half-hearted as those cautions are.

Because while it’s true that he very much doesn’t want her to catch this, he’s also well aware it’s more than likely already too late for such concerns. The entire house is probably some sort of incubation epicentre. And, sincerity of expressed warnings aside, the entire sorry vista surely constitutes warning enough. He's fairly certain he couldn't look more biohazardous if he tried.

Cerberus sighs again, sniffling again immediately afterwards, and gives his bonded a look of resignation.

Further elaboration hardly seems necessary.

But also he doesn’t press the issue because in truth the last thing he wants is to send her away. He’s not even sure he has the energy to insist on it, anyway; he’d be infuriated about this entire ridiculous circumstance if he wasn’t so damn exhausted. So, small obligatory protests done, with another damp sniffle Cerberus shifts some disarrayed blanketry out of the way and wraps an arm around Kia’s waist, drawing her close.

Her soft perfume of violet, strawberry and vanilla is lost on him anywhere outside of memory right now, but her presence is more than enough and he closes his eyes for a moment, just appreciating the simple fact of her being here beside him at last; he's missed her immensely, constantly.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to come back, if you wanted me here,” Kia muses as she nestles further into his heat, adding, “It wouldn't have been a big deal,” without accusation. She leans her head against his shoulder and looks up at him with gentle azure gaze, her unspoken thoughts of I’d always choose you. How do you still not know that? readable despite her not voicing them.

And he does, of course, know that – in fact, it’s the very reason he wouldn’t ask. Cerberus sniffles thickly, wiping his nose. “Ah, love. I'd hardly ask you to put yourself anywhere near this—" He gestures around the room in a general presentation of contempt for the whole situation. "—vortex of infectious absurdity,” he concludes, thick congestion lacing his words. He clears his throat but it doesn’t make any notable impact against the wreckery his voice has become. "And it's about your... *SNFF!* ...your autodoby."

Kia peers at him. “My…what?”

“Your au…” Cerberus, all too aware that several critical consonants are unequivocally not working for him, rolls his eyes at himself. Honestly. Taking another fresh succession of tissues from a very rapidly depleting supply, he blows his nose forcefully but completely ineffectively.

He excuses himself once more and tries again; it goes equally badly.

Kia, baffled, raises her hands in a friendly but very clear nope sorry babe no idea expression, accompanied by a gentle little laugh that she just can’t help.

A long-suffering and immensely frustrated look comes her way, followed by a resigned, defeated sigh as her beloved entirely gives up. “Free will.”

For a moment, this makes even less sense to Kia. “Why would…” she begins, but cuts herself off in triumphant realisation. “Oh, autonomy!” She laughs. "Oh, sweetheart."

“That’s what I s… hh-hh! I...” And even this is hijacked, and the Demon king capitulates entirely, doubling over desperate into crooked elbow, “Huh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-HEHTSCHuu!” 

He takes some moments of bleary recovery, Kia's heartrate spiking alongside the :Gods, forgive me: Cerberus Mindsends her.

"Oh, bless you, babe." Kia doesn't try to fight the thrill that flashes through her and she wraps herself around her bonded to kiss him again; a kiss deeper, more needful, than is probably wise. But wisdom isn't what she's craving right now.

“You know what? You’re going to stop talking and let me make my own choices.” She brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes, touches the softest of lingering kisses to his forehead and meets his gaze. :Talking really isn't working out for you anyway.: "And besides—" Another kiss, deeper again, and she presses her arousal against his, salacious, wanton.

:—you know we both want the same thing.:

---

[osachiyo]

help why did gordon ramsey x reader smut show up on my dash..

[seleneprince]

How the fuck I haven't seen anyone talking about this?

I was going to log in my ao3 account to have some fun, as usual, and this is what I see as soon as I click:

Uhhhh what in the actual FUCK??

Please please, someone tell me this is temporal. That it'll pass. Tell me I don't have to choose between giving up my personal information to the US or renounce to my safe place forever.

SERIOUSLY WTF IS THIS

[joshnekuu]

Fic idea I probably won’t ever write but plagues my brain

Instead of getting sent to Shinjuku after being shot, Joshua somehow sends Neku back in time, tricking Shibuya’s UG into accepting his soul into the Game again because he technically hasn’t played it yet at that point.

The catch? It’s the game that Joshua first played, as an actual player. If Neku wants to get back to life and back to his time, he needs to ensure Joshua wins the game and becomes Composer, so he can send him back.

This is of course easier said than done, as Neku knows things he shouldn’t, and makes himself look very suspicious to Josh- especially since he sought him out to team up. A fun inversion of their original dynamic, with Josh not fully trusting Neku, and Neku having to hide things from Josh in order to avoid screwing with the timeline.

As they work together and Neku learns more about Josh though, and his reasonings for wanting to become Composer, Neku starts to feel conflicted about whether he should actually help Joshua, or whether he should encourage him to win the game and come back to life. He knows this could potentially ruin the timeline as he knows it, but he can’t help feel like he’s helping Joshua make a huge mistake, and he isn’t sure if he can make himself sit idly by while he does it.

Of course, he knows there would be major consequences to altering the timeline like this. He would never have to experience the Reaper’s Game, but that would mean he’d never meet his friends, might never grow or change as a person. He doesn’t want to give that up, but he isn’t sure what the ‘right’ thing to do is in this situation. And Mr. H isn’t particularly helpful either.

Also if Josh does become Composer and send Neku back you could have the fun implications of a stabilized time loop where Joshua seeks out Neku to be his proxy because of the time they spent together in his own Game.

[kindaasrikal]

I haven’t written a fanfic in so long what has possessed me

[bobfloydsbabe]

To the anon in my inbox who’s upset I only recommend fics written by my friends:

They became my friends because I talked to them about their stories. Because I reblogged their fics and commented on them. They’re my friends because I support them. If there’s an author or fic you think I’m missing out on, please let me know, but don’t send bitter anonymous asks like that. It’s not cool.

Goodnight 😴

[angelsaxis]

ooh this video essay is good. i forget the whole quote but the gist of it is about how media consumption in fandom is so focused on the individual and the self and how they can project themselves onto a work that youve got people who approach a work and their immediate goal is to change some aspect of it (headcanon, fic). the OP doesnt think fics and hcs are bad btw and neither do I. but theyre also right

[compacflt]

hi! im learning so much from your blog and its endlessly fascinating to me, im not american so i knew next to nothing about the us military before getting into tg (still dont know that much but. more than before), i never cared about or defined myself by us political terms but now i really want to know and understand the tg characters and its fascinating to me how much politics is a part of that, so thank you for sharing your views on that on here, id be lost without them!

(i havent read your fic yet because idk if im emotianally ready for it yet but when i do. im sure its gonna be great)

haha I do sort of worry that I’ve made top gun too political. I think I’ve always just been trying to come to terms with the fact that… top gun wasn’t really made for me.

I saw Top Gun: Maverick for the first time in a movie theatre in rural southern Oregon…. Which, if you’re not American/didn’t know, is a part of the country characterized by Jesus-loving gun-toting “patriots.” The theatre was a full house. Everyone loved TGM. It’s NOT an apolitical movie. It pushes a WWII-era narrative about the “American underdog” military that appeals to a certain subset of the population: the military deserves more resources because our heroes are disadvantaged on the battlefield (F-18 vs SU-57), though of course in real life no more than a dozen SU-57s have actually been produced, and American fighters… don’t engage in dogfights anymore. Cain was right, no matter how much TGM wants to sensationalize the adventurism of real life pilots: drone warfare is making extinct manned fighter jets. TGM is geopolitically out of date. —And whether we like it or not, it is straight-up recruiting propaganda. The main emotional thrust of the movie is that we (audience) are supposed to sympathize with Bradley, who wants nothing more than to Join The Navy. We are supposed to be mad at Maverick (and later, conveniently, our scapegoat Carole) for preventing Bradley from Joining The Navy. The story of TGM does not make sense if the Navy isn’t the most desirable place to be. Top Gun: Maverick isn’t just recruitment MATERIAL; fundamentally it is a recruitment STORY. I feel like that’s an important metatextual aspect to engage with & acknowledge.

I’ve said elsewhere on my blog, the target audience for TGM is Republican dads of teenage boys: men who were teenagers when the first Top Gun came out, and have that nostalgia for a more dangerous/more exciting military, and are in the position to influence their sons to join up. The Navy would not have let Tom Cruise et al rent their $20,000-an-hour-operating-cost airplanes if that weren’t the case. Top Gun wasn’t really made for people like me.

Obviously how people in fandom engage with the source text is their decision. But engaging with Top Gun & Top Gun: Maverick is to engage with the Reagan-era reactionary, hawkish Cold War foreign policy that inspired Top Gun (the 1981 Gulf of Sidra incident really springs to mind—it would’ve been in the minds of many people watching Top Gun in 1986), and then the subsequent NOSTALGIA for that time period that inspired Top Gun: Maverick. They’re not apolitical movies at all; they have an agenda. It’s good to take their agendas seriously.

I hope if you read my fics you enjoy them 😊

[dreamieclvbs]

me screaming into the void cause even though i'm cringe and free, i also embarrass easily and can't say this to my twt mutuals:

I FUCKING LOVE TROLLS

I CAN'T STOP WITH THE FUCKING BROPPY

I'M OBSESSED

[thenevarranaccord]

Summary:

"Gellert was well aware that, under international wizarding law and according to basic ethical principals, the fact that Albus had left a love potion out and then abandoned his drink with Gellert for several minutes was not an invitation for Gellert to drug Albus and rape him. Yet, as Gellert poured Albus a cup of coffee that was more love potion than coffee, he knew that he would never have to defend this particular decision before the ICW. Albus wouldn’t tell anyone."

tw: sexually explicit, dubcon/noncon

[starsfic]

Indigo Park employees express some...concerns over the new animal mascots that the higher ups commissioned from major toy brand Playtime Co.

The history between Indigo Park and Playtime Co. was a long one. It was well-known that Isaac Indigo and Elliot Ludwig had been good friends, meeting at a convention about children's entertainment when their companies were just starting and commemorating how the joy of children was one of the best ways to ensure the future was bright.

So it was no surprise that, once the old suits started falling apart, even though new suits had been ordered, Indigo Park commissioned Playtime Co. to make them animatronics for the park.

The animatronics of Playtime Co were known to exist, welcoming visitors for tours and interacting with kids. While not as well-known as Fazbear Entertainment, they didn't have a history of possibly being used to hide bodies. That was enough for Indigo Park.

Until today, for at least one employee.

"Oh my god," the employee whispered, barely hitting their twenties. They would blame that hormonal stupidity for losing their temper with Rambley when he knocked over the stack of boxes. They should've had their break an hour ago, but they had been stuck unloading merch and now had a mess to clean up. That anger had been the fuel to lash out with the box cutter they held, stabbing into Rambley's throat. Instead of wires, however... "Is that...blood?"

Rambley didn't answer. At least, not in the cheerful canned phrases he used or soft chirps like regular raccoons made.

Instead, a deep growl echoed through the room.

The employee stiffened further. The box cutter slid from trembling fingers. There was nobody nearby. The others had gone for their break and wouldn't be back until ten minutes from now. Damn that stupid rule that said at least one employee had to be in the merch room, that was the second reason why they were there...with Rambley, stalking forward, with furious, all too human eyes.

"I'm sorry," they tried, their steps back getting more frantic. "I'm sorry, I really am, I-" Their back hit the door.

It did not open.

Rambley lunged forward-

-_-

...we have decided to retire the Rambley the Racoon animatronic and suit for the time being. Instead, our business partner Fazbear Entertainment has graciously offered us an exciting new opportunity with the wonders of AI...