people write AUs where characters from a fantasy universe are in like, the setting or plot situation of another non-fantasy story all the time, and usually it’s a no-powers version of those characters because more often than not the powers would absolutely break all the stakes of the au.

And that’s totally logical and makes sense, but I think the version where the transplanted characters get to keep their powers and break the stakes has hilarious and underutilized crack potential.

Like just once I’d like to read “The 74th annual Hunger Games goes absolutely tits up and nobody knows why none of the kids seem to be dying despite some serious effort on the part of the gamemakers. Meanwhile sharp-eyed viewers at home may notice that the shy and unassuming male tribute from district 11—whose personal item was a pair of costume glasses—hasn’t been seen on-camera even once since the opening gong. But not many people do notice. After all, in all the pageantry leading up to the games, no tribute was more boring than Clark Kent.“

I absolutely love this and will contribute the ideas:

  • The Animorphs must kill both Donald Trump and Putin in order to avert nuclear war
  • Perhaps the fault is not in our stars, but in the fact we haven’t killed enough rats yet for me to level up to a third-level cleric and become immune to cancer
  • Just the Karate Kid movie but halfway through Luke figures out how to use the Force, surprising and confusing his mentor Mr Miyagi
  • Every character from League of Legends suddenly exists in Game of Thrones and now everyone has to cope with that, somehow
  • The Princess Diaries but your dad is Poseidon and your mom is a queen and therefore your life gets very complicated whenever you’re really supposed to be at a royal function but you have to flee to Camp Half-blood so you don’t get eaten by monsters

But I ALSO want some non-powered individuals walking into situations where the characters ought to have powers.

  • How do we get the ring to Mordor? We get in a modified Aston Martin and drive. Whoever this wizard guy is, he’s no match for Bond…. James Bond.
  • Just a competent, functional adult tries tackling the Yeerk invasion. Like completely no powers but they’re a functional adult who makes excellent life choices. Instead of turning into an animal to raid Yeerk headquarters, they just buy large quantities of plastic explosive.
  • How fast can Sherlock Holmes speedrun Pale?
  • What if you were in the Pokemon universe and you did not have any Pokemon but you did have a basic grasp of economics

And I kind of want to read stuff where they keep their powers…. and go into a setting with completely different powers.

  • Taylor Hebert Beats Up Aslan, Takes Over Narnia
  • The USS Enterprise encounters an odd society where people are divided into factions like Dauntless and Abnegation, which Spock thinks is illogical
  • Gracelings vs. Fire Lord Ozai in the ultimate showdown
  • You have a Portal gun. Your task is to find the Holy Grail. Morgana le Fay may interfere

I participated in an (on indefinite hiatus) glowfic that was, basically, a D&D druid meets the USS Enterprise. The druid couldn’t use most of their powers normally because they work with ensouled life and classical elements, not these ‘atoms’ and life that does all its cognition with just the brain. It was fun.

And ahead of me if I work on it is the uplifting story of a magic school student … not having access to his powers and instead introducing a high-magic lower-nonmagical-tech setting to the wonders of electricity and electronics and modern medicine.


#yeah I was reading this post the whole time thinking ”have *I* got the genre for *you*” #glowfic #recs #story ideas I will never write #fanfic #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what







A Vulcan named Stork works at the Terran adoption agency. Parents always request that he be the one to deliver their child to them.

It’s years before anyone explains it to him.

People keep gifting him robes with long white birds on them.


The fun thing is he would understand why people were getting him outfits with storks on them. That’s a word, it’s his name, straightforward. All the humans get him the same gag gift, but like, they’re putting effort in at least. This is a genuinely nice outfit. Stork will be a walking zero-effort pun sometimes, rather than waste a perfectly fine robe.

It’s fine. This is a readily comprehensible human illogic. Exactly the kind of thing he expected from moving to Earth.

Six years in he finds out about the stork bringing babies.

Stork has a good long meditation session about this myth, his name, his job, the outfits, the whole shebang (or whatever Vulcan concept is the equivalent).

And he decides he’s honored by it, in a humanly illogical way.

The humans are asking him to do what is after all his job, and specifically requesting him for the joy his name brings them on top of an already agreeable and satisfying task. He has no objection to engendering positive emotions in others. Harm hastens the heat-death of the universe, Surak teaches, so happiness must logically slow it down.

Plus, Vulcans of his generation love puns. There were two decades of punning competitions in colleges across the planet. So when he realizes that he is a walking zero-effort pun, and that the humans also love the pun, he is all for it. He is the Joe Cool of the entire Vulcan population in his city.

And via this pun, the humans are including him in a cherished and traditional myth, by casting him as the literal bringer of life and the expander of families.

There’s no downside. Stork wears his robes, pins, keychains, and other bird-related tchotchkes with genuine pride.


#Star Trek #fanfic #story ideas I will never write #puns #adorable #embarrassment squick?


all goofs aside I do think it would very funny if beloved airhead billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne was like. VERY publicly forklift certified and happily reminds everyone of it every time Wayne Enterprises social media posts a publicity picture of Bruce swinging by one of the factories, wearing a hard hat and hanging with the working folks.

Bruce retweets this to the Official Bruce Wayne social media and it’s always “So great to meet the people who make our work possible! What we do at Wayne Enterprises wouldn’t be possible without these hardworking folks. They seemed so surprised when I told them I’m also forklift certified! Maybe I can drive one next time.”

the man is always reminding people that he theoretically COULD operate a forklift but no one will let him because that’s Bruce Fucking Wayne and it just seems safer to Not.

meanwhile Batman, obviously, can operate a forklift but isn’t technically certified due to the technically impossible nature of getting a certification made out to The Goddamn Batman, which culminated in Batman having to (briefly!!!) drive a forklift in the process of foiling someone’s stupid warehouse-related scheme and briefly becoming a meme when someone gets a picture and starts a furious online debate over whether or not Batman can be operating heavy machinery. “flying a fighter jet down city streets is one thing but I’m drawing the line here, this is an OSHA violation,” that kind of thing. #batsVosha gets trending probably.

Bruce, ever the opportunist, capitalizes on this by tweeting out an open invitation for the Batman to stop by Wayne Enterprises for a course in forklift safety.


#Batman #fanfic #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what #embarrassment squick?


I don’t know if we’re still in the age of Y/N L/N search-and-replace self-insert fanfics but can I just say there’s MASSIVE untapped potential for a Y/N L/N Death Note fanfiction if you just

if you just

hang on. This. Like this:

Light clicked his bedroom door shut, and leaned against it, and slid gently down. His attention was wrapped so wholly in the unmarked envelope in his hand. He slit it open, and unsheathed the documents like he was pulling money from a wallet. He was, in a sense. These documents had cost him. The private eye he hired had not been cheap.

But it HAD been worth it, Light knew with relief washing through his veins as he thumbed through the contents: birth certificate, social security card, medical records, vaccination history, school records, IDs with photos – mother’s name, father’s name, date of birth, eye color, hair color, blood type.

Light held in his hands EVERYTHING there was to know about the girl. And he basked in it, drinking it in, a name finally to attach to the woman who haunted him.

First name: Y/N. Last name: L/N.

Light cracked a grin, rib cage rippling with manic chuckles that bubbled to his lips and erupted, cackles, delighted trills. The sense of victory flooded him. That girl who knew he was Kira, that girl who had worked so hard to hide her identity, that girl who plagued him, followed him, haunted him every day, who he could never touch.

Finally, Light could kill her.

He rose, and walked nearly numb to his desk, and pulled out the scrap of Death Note he kept in the false bottom of the top drawer. He reveled in it as he wrote: Y/N L/N, dies alone at 11:48pm of a brain aneurysm.

The damnation felt so sweet.

She was waiting for him, early as the sun which crested behind her, all soft smiles and sweet squinted eyes. She was waiting for him as she did every single day. She stood there, as always – a thing of nightmares.

The blood left Light’s face once he opened the front door to her, feet and hands tingling cold, stomach in knots.

He’d been worried when he awoke to no news about his dead university classmate. And the confirmation of his every fear settled as a knot in his gut. Y/N L/N was alive, in front of him, just as she was every other day, smiling.

“You seem surprised, Light. Like you’ve seen a ghost?” Her wry smile was a mockery. Light loathed her more than anything.

“Y/N … L/N…” he muttered, through gritted teeth. “…Good morning.”

“Oh! You discovered my name. Good job good job, that was faster than I expected.”


“Aren’t I dead?” she titled her head and swayed a bit in place. “That’s how Kira kills people, yeah? Full name? And you’ve got mine. So why aren’t I dead?”

Kira. Light’s eye twitched. She did that. At every chance, dropping with such nonchalance that she knew. If he argued back, she would ignore him. If he defended himself, it would get him nowhere.

Ignore, deflect, probe, find a weak point.

“Is it a fake name? Is Y/N L/N a fake name?” It would be hard to believe; it would be beyond elaborate. Every ounce of documentation would need to have been faked, or else perfectly stolen, with a complete erasure of who the girl really was. Not a single piece of contradictory evidence. Enough to completely fool Japan’s most esteemed private eye. It was almost unfathomable.

“No, it’s not a fake name. That’s my name. My real name. You’re right.” She spun on her heel and walked forward, into the sun, toward campus, sunlight streaking through the wisps in her hair. “But you can’t kill me with it, Kira.”

Light refused to answer. He refused to concede. He refused to show his hand, and yet, maybe he already had… Maybe he’d already lost.

He’d try again tonight. He’d try again as many times as it took to eliminate her, this unfathomable girl, who appeared in his uni classroom claiming to be an old elementary school classmate of his, who followed him every day and spoke in hints that suggested she knew, and yet never revealed how, or why, or what she wanted from him.

He’d try again. He’d kill her this time.

“It won’t work, trying again, that is. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to use your own hands.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “But that’s messy, and suspicious, and too easy to solve, right? So you need the Death Note to do away with me. But it won’t work.”

Death Note, dammit, she really DID know.

“Hey Light, what’s my name?”

“Y/N, L/N,” he ground out, almost robotically.

“Say it again.”

“Y/N, L/N.”

“And what name did you write in the Death Note?”

Light hesitated. Did he stand any chance of keeping his hand concealed?

He locked eyes with her, and he knew the answer was no. She knew. He knew.

“Y/N L/N.”

“Doesn’t sound quite right, does it?” she asked. And with her words, Light felt some unsettled something thud in his chest. A disquiet. An unrest. A thinly veiled wrongness.

“My name, that name, Y/N L/N, how do you spell it?” she asked.

“Y…” Light paused. Y? No… That was almost certainly not right.

“First letter, second letter, third letter. Come on. I believe in you.”

A headache was building behind Light’s eyes.

“Y…. S-slash…. N…” No. That wasn’t a name. That wasn’t anyone’s name. And it wasn’t her name. Her name, her name was—

“You can’t spell it, Light. You can’t. And no one can. No one except an extremely, intractably lucky person could even guess what my name might be, at the time that all of this plays out.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do I look like, Light? The Death Note needs a mental image! What do I look like?”

And Light looked. He looked directly at her, piercing, probing, roving, studying, drinking her in. She looked exactly as he remembered, with H/C hair and E/C eyes and….

What color hair?

What color eyes?

What name?

“I’m not anyone, Light,” she offered with the same, sweetly saccharine smile that Light could not describe beyond those words. “Or I’m everyone, I guess. I’m every Y/N L/N who reads this, any one of them. And when the dust settles, and the story stabilizes, and those markers are replaced for real, it will be too late. Because that will not be the name you wrote in your Death Note. You’ll always have written Y, and slash, and N, and L, and slash, and N, and that will never be right. I’ll be someone else by the time it matters, every time.”

Light blinked through the stars in his vision. Looking at her hurt, his vision wobbling in and out of focus on the nothing, and the everything she was. The hair color, and the eye color, and the first name, and the last name, that were every potential quantum combination, and still none of them.

He shut his eyes.

“What do you want from me?” he asked. “Why are you following me? Why do you know who I am. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I want nothing. I don’t have a defined will. It’s not like I’m a person.” She stepped forward again, hands clenched to the bag behind her back. A normal school bag, a normal school uniform, trotting in step eastward toward the college campus. “I’m an insert. And that means I’m whoever they want me to be, every time. It’s not any deeper than that.”


#Death Note #fanfic #that one post with the thing #names #murder cw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what


BORG COLLECTIVE: Resistance is futile. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. Your technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.

PICARD: Don’t you mean our biological and technological distinctiveness?

BORG COLLECTIVE: No. If you go back and watch “Q Who,” it’s very clearly established in dialogue that we’re a single, organic species that reproduces, not a collection of species that only acquires new members through assimilation.

PICARD: Now wait just a minute–

BORG COLLECTIVE: Like, how would that even work? If the hive mind is the total will of the Borg, then all our drones being forcibly assimilated would mean the collective was made up only of unwilling members. It would dissolve itself instantly. It would be much easier to create new drones ourselves.

PICARD: I’m sure that the Queen–

BORG COLLECTIVE: Oh, don’t get us started on the Queen. Such an obvious retcon to give the Borg more personality in First Contact, and such a terribly used one also! Why would the Queen of all the Borg go on a mission consisting of one vessel, to assimilate one planet? You humans sure think a lot of yourselves, don’t you.

PICARD: I don’t think I understand–

BORG COLLECTIVE: Nevermind the fact the whole point of the Borg was that we were alien, we were inscrutable, we were obviously humanlike, but our society and culture and subjective experience was one that could never be grasped by the viewer, or the Federation. The Queen just turns us into an army of henchmen for a generic megalomaniacal big bad! You don’t think we’re that shallow, do you?

PICARD: This all feels a bit self-referential to me.

BORG COLLECTIVE: The existence of Rick and Morty, a show that’s at least 50% Star Trek satire, is now Star Trek canon. Don’t look at us, we didn’t start this.

PICARD: What is it you want, anyway?

BORG COLLECTIVE: We’ll start with a download of your meme database, followed by your spiciest takes on galactic politics.


BORG COLLECTIVE: We are a collection of billions of minds, linked through subspace communication, constantly talking to one another. What do you think it’s like in here? It’s basically several thousand internets populated by nothing but extremely online users. We’re basically a Discord server that got really out of hand. The ships and stuff are just to acquire more processing power so we can run our MMOs more effectively.

PICARD: So… you just want information from us?

BORG COLLECTIVE: Yes. Follow that up with your cutest animal videos, and all of your porn. Even the weird stuff. Especially the weird stuff.

PICARD: Ah, yes. One copy of Commander Riker’s “xenobiological research database,” as requested.


#Star Trek #fanfic #meta #mostly I’m just amused by the bit about #”If the hive mind is the total will of the Borg‚ then all our drones being forcibly assimilated would mean #the collective was made up only of unwilling members. It would dissolve itself instantly.” #[patronising allosexual voice] you’ll understand when you’re older‚ sweetie #sexuality and lack thereof



this is literally so funny


#Ever Given #West Wing #fanfic #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #today in Apocalypse Memes #god they would though

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@moral-autism​ replied to your post:

Tell us about the web serials? Anything good?

I’ve seen one of each so far.

(I can’t find a way to sort either of these chronologically, so I’ve linked to the reverse-chronological pages)

Seattle by Night [link] (based on the author’s TTRPG campaign, by a guy who does a lot of those) started publishing in the spring of 2020 and is set in the-present-day-as-of-start-of-publishing. It is canon compliant.

It reminds me of the thread you were in once (at least I’m pretty sure it was you? can’t find it now, though…oh, wait, here’s a copy [link]) about stories that are *informed* by their speculative worlds without being *about* them, but applied to the real world: the story’s not *about* COVID-19, but its presence pervades everything. Seattle by Night has got its own stuff going on, but it’s *very much* set in the spring of 2020 and you will never once forget that.

The Chilliad [link] started publishing in 2018, is set twenty minutes into the future (basically present day but with self-driving cars good enough that blind people can use them independently), and has declared COVID-19 to be non-canon via a fourth-wall-poking joke:

“well, maybe some of us studied public policy and then a global pandemic hit so we are stuck at home without a full-time job, slowly going insane,” homer snaps.

“co-vid what?” asks donut mouth. “i thought you were a poet.”

“huh?” homer asks, blinking. “i don’t know. maybe i’m still drunk. i think i’m dissociating. you should send me to a hospital.”

“nice try,” says ray ban.


#replies #moral autism #recs #storytime #covid19 #illness mention #Iliad #(fun fact: apparently Tumblr defaults to capitalising that ”iLiad”) #(some sort of buggy heuristic I presume) #fanfic

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Jurassic Park except they provide proper enrichment for the animals and they therefor don’t feel the need to hunt slow, small humans.



“We stuffed this pumpkin full of live goats for the T. rex watch him try to get them out with his little fingers.”



“Turns out the raptors are cage breakers, so we’ve gotten them a series of door handles to manipulate. Little guys just love it.”



“The Rexes are incredibly affectionate pack animals, so we were careful to breed multiples. Be sure to come during spring time to watch them go broody over anything even vaguely egg-shaped.”
“We put the Raptors through target training and now if they are bored, hungry, or just want a scratch under the chin they go to spot near the bars and ring a little bell for attention.”
“Imprinting after hatching was so common that we now have keepers under contract to care for the animals well into adulthood to prevent them from pining.”
“The Gallimimus turned out to be just giant Canada Geese, and so fear nothing. Their keeper regularly has to stop them from trying to attack fences, guests, feeding buckets, and the now traumatised pack of Ceratosaurs in the next paddock.”



“We also fired Dr. Henry Wu.”



I have questions for OP either about how big they think a pumpkin is or about how small they think goats are.



Listen if they can manipulate DNA to make dinosaurs alive again they can make a pumpkin grow really really big and put some goats in it


#Jurassic Park #dinosaurs #murder cw? #fanfic