#writing instead of sleeping

[black-flames-and-cherry-flowers]

Visions Of Her (Kakasaku)

While all the ninjas in the five great shinobi nations were mobilized for the war against Madara and Obito, most of the renegades and traitorous shinobi took that time to create all the chaos they desired without any interference. Because of that, after the war ended, Konoha, aside from continuing to rebuild the village after Pain's attack, still had plenty of work for its remaining healthy shinobi.

The mission description was simple. Some of these rogue ninjas had found a notebook that once belonged to Akasuna no Sasori, containing several formulas for his poisons, and they were using them to threaten and kill those from small villages that didn’t comply with their demands. Their job was simple: stop the ninjas, heal anyone affected by the poison, burn the notebook, and return home.

The first task was the easiest, these rogues were a pathetic bunch who saw the book as the perfect way to intimidate others, but their combat skills were nonexistent. The second task was also easy, at least for Kakashi, since Sakura handled most of the hard work. In his defense, he could say she made it look easy, identifying the ingredients and their antidote effortlessly, then preparing and administering it within minutes of her diagnosis.

Since she was busy with that, Kakashi used his time to help the village elders with their tasks. Since the rogues had targeted the younger villagers, many tasks were too taxing for the elders at their advanced age.

The third task turned out to be the most difficult for completely unexpected reasons. After tracking a couple of the surviving rogues and discovering their base, Kakashi and Sakura realized this cowardly group didn’t stop at attacking innocent people, they were experimenting with every poison from the notebook on young children, even infants.

The sight was a vision of hell. They had to fight the urge to vomit on the spot. Most of the victims had already perished, but they managed to find a couple who were still alive, though gravely ill. Sakura managed to heal them, holding back her tears.

On any other occasion, Kakashi might have shaken his head at her open display of emotion, but even the toughest shinobi would be unprepared to face such horror, something beyond what most of the world would call evil and despicable.

Unfortunately, most of the children were too young to leave any clue about where they came from. Neither Kakashi nor Sakura found any clues, tags, or documents with their names, addresses, or family information.

This meant they couldn’t return the bodies to their parents, nor could they reunite the surviving children with their families. They had no choice but to bring them to the nearest orphanage, hoping they might one day find their way back to their families. Sakura was especially heartbroken by the outcome of their mission.

Even back when she was young and he was still her teacher, Sakura had always shown a soft spot for younger children, treating them with utmost care and patience, unlike with anyone else. So, seeing her cradle a baby against her chest shouldn’t have taken his breath away.

At first, he tried to rationalize it, they were the only adults in the midst of a nightmarish situation. Watching her care for the baby, soothing and comforting it, made it perfectly natural to be drawn to her figure and her display of love. Just as she tried to shield the older child from the surrounding horrors, she was a beacon in the darkness amid such a violent, death-filled environment.

It was only natural, especially since he wasn’t sure how to interact with the baby and the child. He could only admire how effortlessly she managed everything and let her take the lead.

Yet, once they returned home, with the mission behind them, his mind kept conjuring the image of her holding the baby in her arms. The way she cooed at the baby with affection, lifting it close to her heart while softly singing a lullaby to lull them to sleep, safe in her embrace.

The warmth of her protective presence, Sakura, was so much like Mother Nature. Able to nurture the most delicate creature back to health with a touch of her fingertips, yet just as capable of delivering a gruesome death to those she chose to destroy with those very same hands. That vision cast her in a new light.

Long gone was the pretty yet scrawny girl who once squeaked after Sasuke, so easily impressed despite her intellect, their own little light, whose innocence they fought so hard to preserve, even if it meant relegating her to the role of a damsel in distress. Long gone was the blossoming teenager, filled with fierce determination, one who drowned her sadness in hours of training and dedicated herself to helping others, hoping their hearts would never know the ache of the losses etched into hers.

Gone was the girl whose relentless work saved countless lives in war, the chakra prodigy who mastered the Byakugou Seal in the heart of battle. Gone was the selflessness that allowed her to pull Sasuke back from another dimension. Gone was the girl who punched a goddess in the head because she dared to overlook her for her normalcy, never knowing how deeply Sakura understood the weight of her own effort.

Gone, too, was the hopeless girl in love. Though her love didn’t die, it simply transformed, shifting from romantic to familiar. She was still more than willing to knock out a few teeth if necessary to reaffirm that, regardless of no longer loving Sasuke in that way, she wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect toward him, not after what Konoha had done to his family. But she was also ready to do the same for every member of Team Seven.

Present Sakura is a young woman, a beauty like no other, with a nice body and curves in all the right places. She’s undoubtedly wiser than her younger self, and though the role of the damsel in distress is long forgotten, she still knows when to let them guard her back if needed. But she remains careful never to be pushed into the background again, helpless and consumed with worry for them.

Her infamous temper remains, though now it’s far better concealed. The poor soul who stumbles upon it never realizes they’ve walked straight into her trap,until it’s too late. The mirth in her laughter, the twinkle in her eyes, and the depth of her care have all endured the trials of time.

Night after night, the memory transforms into something else, the baby exchanges its brown hair for silver or pink-colored tresses. The dark hideout, heavy with the stench of death, now shifts into his bedroom or living room, bathed in the golden hour's glow against her form. Her red dress and black combat shorts morph into a flowing red sleeping robe.

The baby, once pressed against her trembling body, shaking with fury after saving it, now peacefully suckles at her breast as she is overcome with joy. Now the baby is no longer a nameless, kidnapped child but their baby, safe and sound within the walls of their home, resting against her embrace.

This vision of her, which shifts from his nights to his daydreams, has made Kakashi hyper-aware of her—of her relaxed posture next to him at team dinners, the way she bites her lip when deciding what to eat or when she’s nervous, how petite she looks beside him, the conspiratorial glance she shares with him when Naruto remains oblivious to Hinata’s feelings. And how, despite the fourteen years between them, she likely doesn’t see him in the same way.

Yet, he finds no shame or guilt when he imagines lazy mornings with sunlight kissing her body in his arms. When he wonders about her reaction to his bare face, the feel of her lips against his in a heated kiss, the touch of her flushed skin beneath his, the sound of his name on her voice, thick with pleasure, or how lust might cloud her gaze. Or even the thought of milk filling her breasts, making them fuller. 

It’s all in his head, and even if, by some miracle, the same thoughts occupied hers and actions followed, she is old enough to be with whomever she chooses. Their union would be uncommon, but not forbidden. There is no shame in him, but neither is there hope, for he knows these are nothing more than fantasies.

Kakashi is appointed as Hokage, and at first, the job serves as a distraction from his own wishes and desires, too busy to focus his mind on anything else, too exhausted to remember his dreams each night. But once he settles into his new routine and the threatening towers of papers demanding his attention feel less oppressive, enough that he can excuse himself for arriving late to work again, the vision of her returns to him with full force.

And with it, the longing for her company, the sound of her laughter, the feel of her smaller hand closing around his larger one, the scent of her hair lingering on his pillows morning and night, the heat of her body in an intimate embrace. Kakashi longs for many things, things he has never known but desperately wishes he did.

It’s only when Naruto finally leaves them at Ichiraku, after experiencing his own revelation about his feelings for Hinata, with no one else around, that he feels it. Her head resting on his shoulder, an amused smile playing on her lips. As she moves her hand to grasp his, he finally lets go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

And for the first time, he believes the vision might become reality as he gently squeezes her hand in return.

I made a few small tweaks to the story since I first posted it, just to polish it up. Nothing major has changed.

[starryslyii]

If life were a novel, this would be the part where the protagonist—you—finds their strength to keep turning the pages.

Hang in there my friends & fellow writers! ✨

[lixiesstorys]

Migraine = dead Seungmin?!

Sickie: Seungmin

Caretaker: yn, I.N (yes, actually!)

Trigger warnings: maybe emeto, migraine. dramatic Seungmin in the building

Seungmin has migraine. It's nothing new to him. Howerver his migraine always comes, when he really doesn't need it!

Yn fic. Genderneutral yn. FRIENDSHIP yn

Seungmin sighed annoyed. He had migraine. AGAIN. And again on a day, on which he REALLY didn't need it. Okay to that point, who needed migraine in their life?! Right. NO ONE!! First it started just with a little headache. He could just ignore it. But soon he would realize that that wasn't his smartest decision...

Yn knew Seungmin since their childhood. They were in the same kindergarten and in the same school. Best friends forever. Yn also knew I.N since ten years soon. And really nothing changed. Both Stray kids members were the dumbasses they always were and they always would be. But wasn't that the thing that made both of them so lovley? Today was one of their friends 'meetings'. They would probably just talk and eat something. But yn was happy to see both of them again. It was a long tim since they last met. Okay one month, but still. It was a long time!

Seungmin was the first one who came. he looked a bit paler than usual, but is eyes started to glow when he saw yn. "Yn, there you are!" he shouted and cma closer. Both hugged each other. "You okay puppy? You look paler than usual" yn asked a bit worried. They knew about Seungmins migraine (of course). "Yeah it's fine just a little headache" "well, if you say so. Where did you leave I.N? Didn't you guys have the same way?" "No, he should come from the studio. He had to record something with Bang Chan" "Okay, that could take a while."

After some tim I.N showed up. He looked at Seungmin a bit awkward before he was forced into a hug by yn. "You doin' that on purpose yn-ah?" "Never!" "If you say so... sorry Chan wasn't fine with the recording, we recorded like 30 times!" Seungmin and yn laughed. "Well then, can we eat something? I'm starving!" yn shouted.

They went into some random restaurant and ordered something to eat. However, as soon as Seungmin walked into the building, his migraine got worse. It was too loud and full of smells. He just ordered a water, which gave him some weird glances by I.N and yn. "You sure you okay dandy boy?" I.N asked. "Yeah, my migraine just got worse, but it's okay" "really?We can also go to your dorm". Seungmin wanted to answer, just as a wave of migraine (can I even write it like this XD?) washed over him. He didn't hear yn's and I.Ns voices good but felt, how someone guided him out of the door.

Seungmin didn't really know how they came to the Stray Kids dorm. He only remembered that I.N (was it I.N? he wasn't sure) carried (?) him into his room. When he woke up, he felt sick. Of course, his migraine always made him sick. He looked around slowly. Yn was sitting next to him and smiled. "How are you feeling cherry?" they asked in a gentel and quite voice. "Sick... I feel like throwing up...". Yn reacted fast enough to help him sit up and holding a bucket under his chin just as a thin stream of vomit left his mouth and splattered into the bin. Just in that moment I.N came into the room and was right in action. He started to rub Seungmins back, while Yn was holding the bucket. After Seungmin was done with vomiting, Yn rinsed the bucket. "Feeling a bit better mate?" I.N asked. "I think I'm gonna die" I.N rolled with his eyes. "I wouldn't say that but okay" he helped Seungmin laying down and putted the blanket back in place. In that moment Yn came in. "Wow I.N, you can be in physical touch without vomiting" "Shut up Yn, I just vomit if I have to hug you or something like that". Yn started to pout and placed the bucked next to Seungmins bed. "I will make him some tea, will you stay here?" without waiting for an answer Yn left. Seungmin already dozed off and I.N layed down next to him. He started to massage the olders head. When Seungmin started to relax and cuddled closer to I.N, he started to hug him.

After 20 minutes Yn came back and found both of them asleep. Yn smiled and left the tea on the nightstand.

When Seungmin woke up, it was already dark, which was good for his migraine. He looked around the room, only to find I.N next to him asleep. He was a bit stunned by that sight. The I.N, maknae of the group and a hater of physical touch, cuddled with him. Just in that moment Yn came in the room. "How are you feeling cherry boy?" Seungmin had to think about that a moment. How was he actually feeling? "My head still hurts a lot, but I don't feel like I have to vomit because of it." Yn nodded. "You think you can handle some painkillers?" "I guess so - wait before you leave just one question: is I.N sick or why does he cuddle with me?" Yn laughed silently. "No puppy, he is just carring for you and not pushing you away" with that Yn left again to search the painkillers. They found them really fast and wondered how long it would've took them to find those medications, if Chan would let the kids do the organization of the house.

Just when Yn wanted to go upstairs, they where greeted with the unmissable sound of vomiting. Now Yn wasn't going, but sprinting upstairs into the room of Seungmin and I.N. Seungmin was hunched over the bucket again, clunching his head and stomach at the same time. I.N sat next to him, holding him up and rubbed his back in slow circles, while whispering something. Yn took the bucket out of Seungmins hands, because they were scared it would be a mess. After some minutes (that felt like hours for I.N and Yn and like days for Seungmin) he spat out some salvia and leaned back slowly. "Thought you didn't feel like vomiting puppy" Yn said while heading to the bathroom to rinse thr bin again. "Well I didn't but my head decided to hurt that much suddenly, that it had to hurt like it would explode". I.N who was still rubbing Seungmins back looked gently at his friend. "Wanna try the painkillers mate?" Seungmin just nodded and the painkillers actually helped after some time. Glancing at the clock they noticed it was 4am. "Omg sorry guys! I just ruined everything! The day and now you couldn't even get enough sleep!" "Jesus Seungmin are you always that dramatic when your sick?" Yn asked "you didn't ruin anything okay? It's not your fault. Because I don't think you went like: oh I meet may friends today. Let's just get a migrain that sends me into bed and puking my guts out, right?" Seungmin shook his head. "There you go Now I.N stays here and I'll go downstairs. Chan should be back soon and I want him to know what happened. After that I'll go home if that's okay?" I.N nodded "sure do that, but Chan-hyung isn't home?!" "I didn't see him and I was on the couch so..." I.N and Seungmin groaned at their leaders behavior and Yn had to chuckle.

After half an hour Chan came back from the studios. He looked completly drained out. "Chan?" "Yn! What are you doing here?" Chan pulled them into a gentle hug "Well I was supposed to meet with I.N and Seungmin today, but Seungmin got a migraine, so we came back here. He threw up twice and is asleep now. I.N is with him." "You just stayed here to tell me?" guilt washed over Chans face "I'm sorry, you could have just called me instead of waiting here" Yn just shrugged "it wasn't a problem for me" both of them went up and silently into the room where Seungmin and I.N were sleeping. Both of them snored slightly curled up next to each other. Chan smiled at the sight of his younger members being so close to each other and Yn just said "awwww" and took a picture of them, which is now standing next to Seungmins bed (with I.Ns complaining about that of course!).

END

my gosh, this was hard! i hope it fits and is fluffy enough! I'm going to bed now and if it's night in your country while you're reading this, you should do the same ❤. Good night and send me ideas >:3

(I overworked it and now it's a bit longer 😆)

[icarusthebird]

Writing fluff at three thirty AM instead of sleeping 👍

Yes it’s gay

Yes it’s JayVik

Yes it’s to cope about season two finale

No I will not sleep

[latulla80]

Hello fellow fanfic writers, I have a problem that's been bothering me. I'm working on a long slow-burn enemies-to-lovers Lestappen fic.

So far, I've been faithful to the real race results, including Las Vegas. But I already have an ending in mind that definitely won’t align with the outcomes of the last two races. And Losail is just two days away.

What should I do? Should I wait for the results of the final races and adjust my ending to stay true to reality (and maybe use my original ending for another fic), or should I stick to my current idea and move forward?

[richy-the-trans-assbutt]

Y’all think Hughie would be the kind of ally where he’s the embodiment of “he’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit” or do you think he’s more of a “I really don’t get anything any of you said but if you’re happy, I’m happy” kind of ally?

This is for a stupid one shot I might not even post 😭

[ratelysium]

“I love watching you when you’re half asleep”, she said as she saw the guy she had fell for in the last few weeks, a stranger to her the first few days he arrived to the city. They were on the top of an building, the air hitting her head as she looked down to the boy laying on her lap, he had brown messy hair, which she was softly caressing, the days she knew him were fun, maybe a bit too much fun. They went from arcade to arcade, from restaurant to restaurant, he shared the music he liked, and it was after one of those adventures, in a setting very similar to the one that day when they shared their first kiss, on the night he would take her to slow walks, slowly she started trusting him with her stories and her feelings, in exchange he told her adventures, some of which she never believed, but he narrated them with such excitement it was imposible to not be compelled to indulge him, sometimes she would even laugh, as he acted like a small kid, then he would stop, blush and give her a kiss. After that he usually would take her dancing, sometimes it would be in the middle of a lonely street, to any music playing on the phone, other times it would be to clubs, or concerts, louder places that he seemed to enjoy, it was as if the loud sounds comforted him, as if he wanted to forget everything but that.

“Im not” said the guy as he pulled himself up next to her, his brown eyes looking at the distance, as if there was something only he saw. “Hey, is everything okey?” She asked worried “Did something happened?”. He gave her a quick glance, then his eyes drifted, as if there was guilt, some sort of damage he made to her. “No… no im good, lets ditch this place”. A worry flashed in the girl eyes, this was not the first time he acted like this, and every time he wanted to go, as if he needed the distraction. “You know you can trust me, i know there is something wrong, please tell me” When she said this his expression went somber “It truly is nothing, i just… you know, feel tired” in a swift movement she grabbed his head and put it on front of him, they were seeing each other, eye to eye, yet his eyes were trying to scape, as if something trapped them. “I really like you, and I really trust you, but I need you to do the same for me” As the sunset fell, his eyes then were filled with disappointment, not in her but in himself; but also with something deeper, guilt.

“Please, dont, dont fall in love with me”.

Her eyes filled with tears, confusion and growing resentment “What do you mean dont fall inlove with me?, then why? Why all of this?” His eyes met with fear, like trying to scape “Because I dont wanna ruin this, i dont wanna hurt you” She didnt want to believe it, she didnt really understood. “I really like you, but i dont know how to love” He said, a glimpse of hope passed trough her eyes. “Then let me show you, I know you’re afraid, i am too, it is normal” He looks then at the floor, “No, I can’t love you” She asked then “Why, what’s stopping you, if you leave then ill talk to you every day, i dont care about that” She was desperately searching for his eyes “No, i- its just”. She was desperate, He was afraid “What, please tell me, i trusted you please trust me”. He went silent.

“Please”

He looks at the other side, tears leaving his eyes. She got up, and went to the door, she gave her one last look, tears falling down her eyes too, “You know? For a moment, i really thought you were the One” She opened the door and left, the boy was left there, crying, while the girl, too, criad her eyes out, as a series of Polaroids of both of them observed her from her bedroom wall.

*hey this is my first post here so… yeh. Constructive criticism is very appreciated :D*

[martyrdeer]

SANGLANTE IMMORTALITE

synopsis: wracked with cultural fears and personal dreads of the aging process, elara retreats from the world behind her lover, isolde. the two take comfort in one another, sharing tender dinner preparations and solemnly wordy discourses on the nature of beauty and immortality within their silent house. but buried beneath the apparent serenity is a dark reality: their search for eternal youth obtained by consuming the vital essence of others. while elara is battling the haunting whispers of society's expectations, isolde's mysterious charm and their shared rituals become at once a source of refuge and a chilling epiphany regarding the extent they will go to preserve their ageless beauty.

tags: my original characters!! themes of aging and societal beauty standards! cannibalism, implied violence, mentions of murder, body horror, & dark romance!!

word count is 1.2k!!

The smell of the comforting melancholy rainfall took residence in my bathroom. I opened my window ajar earlier because the weatherman on the radio predicted a storm. Now I'm sitting at my vanity staring into my pale complexion. I look rather sickly, my purple eyebags betraying me. I roughly drag my fingers against my cheek. They leave a faded red mark afterward. I started to get that unsettling feeling that the patriarchal society was right. That women start to become ripe at thirty. All of my precious dollars flushed down the drain along with the false promises of those nonsense anti-aging creams.

“Elara?” My darling, Isolde calls out to me. Her soothing voice snaps me out of the madness. My head turns to the side where the door is. My senses come back to me. I hear a muffled Nina Simone play on our record player. I glance back at my reflection before slipping back out to my kitchen. My silk robe fluttered behind me as I paced to the kitchen, Isolde doesn’t like to wait. Once I got into our kitchen, I smelled a new yet delectable scent. I beamed as I saw Isolde stirring something in the pot. I sneak up on her with a devious smile on my face. When I was up against her, I slipped my hand down her back.

I lean in to look down in the pot & I chuckle. Surprisingly I didn’t frighten her. Her stiffened back eased into my touch. I sniff again, taking into the smell. “What’s this one?” I whisper to her. I felt her lovingly glance as she lifted the spoon. She stayed silent as she held the spoon up to my mouth. I slid my hand under it, tasting it. “Les poumons de notre ami,” Isolde finally tells me. I smile as she says it, she’s always naming her crafts in French. “It's incredible,” I insist, my grin still plastered on my face. She nods as a thank you, “I thought it would be nice to have a friend for dinner.”

I huff while preparing the table, “You’re right. And I’ll always provide the ingredients. Anything for you, my dear.” I place our wine glasses next to our plates. My eyes seem to trail back to Isolde. She’s pouring the soup into the bowls cautiously. When she was done, I strolled back to assist her. Isolde hands me the bowl, I glance down at it while taking it to the table. The soup has Gruyère & bay leaf melted on its surface. If I wasn’t smiling enough, I was now. I place my bowl down as I sit. I look up at Isolde, patiently waiting for her.

When she sits, I am reminded of her immortal beauty. I recall that December night at my father’s work party. The first time I saw her across the room drinking her white wine and talking to a relative of mine. I never understood Sappho’s ramblings until I met Isolde. She was so breathtaking that it made me envious. I remember staring into her perpetual virtue, cursing myself for letting my looks slip away. I asked her how she stayed so fresh-faced, dying to let me in on her secret. The way the seasons change with her. How she had the universe under her control. I will never forget how she batted her eyes at me. Spoke softly in my ear with a gentle laugh, “If I told you, I would have to kill you.”

I came home the next day around noon. My day was shorter than usual, I struggled to walk without aching through the door. Some days I begin to feel my age. I was met with a silent welcome. Others would become worried if their partner didn’t come to them. But I’m not that codependent of Isolde. I can still feel her presence throughout the home. That’s what comforts my pain. I slip off my shrug as I stroll to my living room, I search for her. I find her resting on her wool chair peacefully reading. Like many times before I sneak up behind her and kiss her cheek. I mumble against her cheek, “Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh.”

Isolde’s eyes lit up as I spoke, she stared down at me as I sat next to her. “I feel I stand in a desert with my hands outstretched, and you are raining down upon me,” She quoted to me. My eyes scan her face while I smile sweetly at her. I feel like an idiotic fool when I stare at her. I want to devour myself into her beauty & soul. Isolde grazes my face with her hand, her touch is gentle. She brushes a strand of my hair out of my face and pushes it behind my face. My vulnerability starts to grow as her thumb hovers over my cheek. She whispers to me, “You have a cut.” I raised an eyebrow when Isolde’s thumbnail pressed into my cut. My voice is low because I am lost in her touch, “I didn't even notice.”

That night, Isolde was cooking dinner like clockwork. And I was doing my daily routine where I mindlessly gaze into my reflection. The leftover rain smell began to rust in my bathroom. My main focus is my cut, I fear that it might scar. Despite being the size of my nail, it was deep. Isolde promised me that if it did, she would kiss it every day for me. And she gave me a quote along with her oath. “Scars are the threads that weave beauty and bravery into our souls." I wonder where she got it from. After I was done with my insecurities, I went back to where Isolde led. I watch her as I rest my chin on my hand. I temporarily forget everything else in the world while watching her prepare the food. “And this one is called?” I politely pander, referring to the food. She beams up at me and says, “Coeur de ton ennemi.”

At dinner, we eat in solitude. A beguiling harmony plays in my head as I feel myself age backward while eating my meal. I take a sip of the white wine that tastes so rich & refreshing. I can taste Isolde’s endlessly laudable remedy in the meat. The constraint from a chauvinistic coterie that found its way into society’s consciousness was lifted off my shoulders. I start to smile as I take another sip of my wine, feeling celebratory. Isolde notices my happiness and she dittos my simper. “Why are you so happy?” She questions, a hint of curiosity in her voice. I sigh as I collect my words, “The explorers of the Fountain of Youth are so oblivious.” I see the confusion on Isolde’s face. I continue to explain, “They don’t know the real answer to immortality.” I place my wine glass down as she catches on. She nods with a chuckle, “Eternal youth comes from within. The flesh gracefully blurs. Somebody’s instrumental chamber of existence becomes our orchestra. In their grim slumber, we craft a melody of beauty. We absorb their souls & reservoirs. We battle against Father Time. And so far, it seems like we’re winning.” I see a smirk on her face before she sips her wine. I began to feel giddy as I opened my mouth again, “Dévoreurs d'existence."

[ladycatastrophe7]

FANTASY WORLDBUILDING INSPIRATION: How Does Power Work?

Power is an interesting topic because of its broad scope; it's simply "who influences who?"

I think considering how your fantasy culture would affect social norms, who gets power and who dosen't, and considering new ways for that power to be used for good and bad is such a powerful way to deepen your worldbuilding.

Who controls the newsflow (who spreads news, who controls the news, how credible are the news)?

How vounerable are those news to propaganda?

Are majority of the people literate (and can read primary sources) or does someone literate have to verbally convey the news (making everything they hear a secondary source). Is the speaker impartial and honest?

Who controls the trends? (What is "normal" and what is "abnormal"? Who decides? Why?)

Who has control over natural resources and valuable commerce (who has the money) - who can provide valuable, high quality products for a low price? (Is there a moral price to pay for producing valuable products cheaply, ie, low pay for workforces or other shady stuff)

Who are the inventors, artists, thinkers and researchers in your world? Who does the public trust, and why?

What is the biggest problem in your world? Is there someone who promises to solve that problem? Do they have monopoly over the solution to the problem? Is this person honest and good - or is there a price they demand in return for solving the problem?

How much does your fantasy characters trust the current body of power? Are they satisfied enough to trust the current body of power to provide education, information, healthcare, protection etc - or are they turning to alternative solutions instead? Are the alternative solutions efficient, or dangerous?

I wrote a (free) blogpost on this that goes in more depth over the topics information/education, ideology, problem solving (brutal force or state providing practical solutions) and money and different ways that they could shift powerdynamics in your world, if you want more inspiration to nerd over in your fantasy worldbuild.

Interact with the post if anyone else is interested in this but me - I could chatter about different forms of newsspreading throughout history, cultural history and sociology and psychology for fantasy writers forever and ever. Just tell me you're listening, and I won't shut up I swear.

[literateowl]

I wrote like 4 sentences during the whole day.

But now I take a shower and get ready for bed and suddenly I'm on a roll and have added like 500 more words to this fic

[runninriot]

who needs sleep anyway ✍️

“What did you tell him about me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eddie answers all secretive and Steve can practically see the self-satisfied smile on his face he always gets when he’s being a teasing little shit.

Two can play that game.

“Oh pleeease, Eddie. Please tell me,” he croons with a voice so sugary sweet he’s sure Eddie will take the bait.

“Well, if you ask so nicely… Told him I made a new friend. A very nice and handsome young man. So polite. Always says please and thank you. Told him we’re working on a biology project together.”

“You did not!” Steve laughs shyly and feels his cheeks heating up at the thought of Eddie basically telling his poor uncle that they’re having sex.

“Might’ve. Guess you’ll never know. How was your weekend? Did you miss me already?”

Steve did. His mind keeps wandering to the other man constantly because he is a hopeless addict already longing for his next fix, another taste of Eddie’s sweet poison.

“Did, yeah,” Steve breathes into the phone.

“My poor baby. Sorry I had to leave so early yesterday. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Next time?”

Please, let there be a next time soon.

“Could make it up to you right now, if you want.”

For a moment Steve thinks Eddie is going to ask him to drive over to his place despite it already being so late but that question never comes.

“Are you alone?”

“Y-Yeah? Robin is- she’s in her room. I’m in mine.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting on my bed. Was going over some notes before you called.”

“Hmm, on your bed you say. How about you forget those silly notes. Let me be a bad influence and offer you something a little more... fun.”

Conditioned like a Pavlovian dog to start drooling to the sound of a bell, the deep sound of Eddie's voice offering him a fun time goes straight to his dick. He can already feel the swelling in his sweatpants growing.

“You’re always a bad influence.”

Eddie laughs and it’s followed by a deep almost-growl that sends shivers down Steve’s spine.

“Yeah, but you love it. You can’t get enough of it. Using me as an excuse to misbehave when you always pretend to be so good.”

“I am good.”

“You’re my naughty little fuck-toy, that’s what you are.”

Steve bites down on the back of his hand to suppress the whimpering noises coming out of his mouth. He has to be quiet if he doesn’t want to scar his best friend in the other room for life. The walls really are thin.

“N-No. ‘M your good boy.”

“I don’t know, doll. Think I need proof of that to believe it. Let’s see how good you are at following orders. Are you wearing a shirt?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Take it off. And then I want you to make yourself comfortable on your bed.”

In a single moment of clarity, Steve scrambles off the bed and stumbles through his room to turn off the light and lock his door.

Better to be safe than sorry.

[theprestigegirly]

guess who got back to their fic and is almost done with chapter five 🙀🙀🙀🙀

[dragonflylady77]

I guess I'll work on my Dirty Dancing AU before I go to bed (it's 1.23am, my alarm goes at 7.15am and I need to take my car in tomorrow morning)

[professorscrooge]

This inspired a small tangentially related ficlet.

On Coruscant, there is a bar. It is but one of a great many, to be fair; the ecumenopolis has more bars than some planets have people, but this one is a rarity in the Imperial era. If the ISB had an inkling of the unspoken feelings expressed there, it would surely have been shut down in an instant, and its patrons likely sanctioned or imprisoned for treason.

Open defiance hidden behind a veil of unassuming nature is nearly as shockingly common in this era as is their oppressor's inability to see it for what it is.

For along the back wall of the bar is a large display of wanted posters; some recent, some old, each flickering with holographic faces wanted for, above all else, Treason. Dead or Alive, their bounties tower from the mere small fortune to unimaginable wealth. The landlord keeps them as up-to-date as possible, the images coming down direct from the Inquisitorius by way of the ISB.

Each and every one is for a former member of the Jedi Order.

Some are Padawans who haven't been sighted in a decade or more; some are wizened Masters who surely should have passed from age if nothing else; others bear far more recent holos captured in some near scrape with security forces. Obi-Wan Kenobi's still shows an image from a Clone Wars era propaganda poster for lack of a better one. (The implausibly high remuneration that still ticks up year-on-year offered for information leading to his capture still grants him pride of place in the display).

The average Imperial citizen who walks into this obscure drinking house that steadfastly refuses to update its outdated furnishings probably assumes it is a greatly patriotic establishment. Or, perhaps, that the owners' suffered some kind of injustice by those traitors to the Empire.

The long-term patrons know the truth, though.

Many have been forced to move away for work, but the area is still close to the former Jedi Temple (now the Imperial Palace) and the accommodation blocks that housed its employees. Such a megastructure at the heart of Coruscant had employed a great many, after all, whether directly or indirectly; cooks, cleaners, maintenance staff, administrators, drivers, even lawyers. As an organisation that had once housed, clothed, and fed hundreds of different species in a single building (many with unique dietary or accessibility requirements) on missions across the entire Galaxy every day, their supply chain was arguably oversized. It was these people who had actually known the Jedi. Politicians and planetary leaders may claim to have met a Jedi, but it is these people who had seen them with their guard down. It was these who had truly interacted with them, some on a daily basis, some merely when they wandered into their business to order another bulk of tunic fabrics or ration packs. To them, the Imperial Propaganda Machine made no impact; it was hard to overwrite the memory of a kind stranger offering spiritual advice, or the sympathetic healers of the Temple, with claims of attempted regicide. They knew the Truth, for all the good it did them; there was little they could do about it, particularly in the heavily policed heart of the Empire.

Still a tiny handful of people in the wider galaxy, or even the dodectuple population of the city planet... but sometimes a handful is all that is needed to keep a memory alive. It's enough to keep a bar afloat, for instance.

A bar where, perhaps, the round of drinks when a wanted poster is taken down from the display is more solemn than celebratory. It's not like Palpatine would ever notice such little people, far beneath his purview; after all, what possible threat could they pose to the monolith of an Empire a millennium in the building?

And so the great dam of the Imperial Truth leaked a few more droplets, creaked that tiny bit more under the strain from the ocean it held back.

After order 66, the surviving Jedi gained the habit of watching the Most Wanted list (expect those that can’t access the holonet). (No one has ever beat Obi-Wan as number 1, but a few came close).

Now imagine one day when Kanan is checking it, seeing if anymore names have disappeared or even the very few times that new names were added, he sees a name and face pop up, one that he knows. Just imagine the relief of knowing that a fellow padawan, an age mate was alive, and then the immediate confusion on what the hell did Cal do that got him that high on the most wanted list.

[viaalterego]

[latulla80]

Clearly, I have some problems. I'm writing the first long fic of my life, and it's turning into a monster that's taking over my mind. At this point, it's practically writing itself, and I can't stop it... So yeah, we're at 22 chapters, over 64k words. And there are at least 4 more to go... Send help...😱

Chapters: 22/25 Fandom: Formula 1 RPF Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Giada Gianni/Charles Leclerc, Charles Leclerc/Charlotte Siné, Charles Leclerc/Alexandra Saint Mleux, Dilara Sanlik/Max Verstappen, Kelly Piquet/Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen Characters: Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen, Kelly Piquet, Charlotte Siné, Dilara Sanlik, Alexandra Saint Mleux, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz Jr, Andrea Ferrari (Formula 1 RPF), Silvia Hoffer Frangipane Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, I promise I'm trying, Max Verstappen Needs a Hug, Charles Leclerc Needs a Hug, enemy to friends to lovers to enemy to friends again?, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author Regrets Everything, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Lestappen forever, Slow Burn, Twenty years is slow burn enough?, We will have the happy ending, I promise Summary:

Two boys born just sixteen days apart, sharing the same passion and talent for racing. Two names that are always mentioned together, two racing prodigies destined to shine and forever duel side by side.

Or

when you need two decades to understand what is in front of you...