#a year ago i started to write first fic on this day so

[covenha]

Synopsis: Sunoo realizes that his love language is acts of service. Pairings: sunoo x fem!reader Genre: fluff! so much fluff I got cavities from writing this WC: 1356 Warnings: mentions of academic stress and insomnia a/n: I had fun writing this one, really had to destress from all the studying I've been doing these past few days so this fic is a lil self-indulgent whoops. anyway, this is also a work of fiction so don't forget to touch some grass after reading! lmao jk but as always feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated! and requests are open so if you guys want me to write something lmk :))

Sunoo can admit, he always felt like he was pampered.

It’s not like he didn’t like it. Heck, he enjoyed the feeling of his members being attentive to him. The way that Jay cooks meat just the way he likes it. The way that Jake lets him get away with mistakes in his grammar because it’s just “part of his charm.” Or, the way that Jungwon always let him have a few bites of his sweets even though Sunoo definitely said he didn’t want to order one of his own. 

Which is why it was such a refreshing feeling to be with you. He never really knew what his love language was until he met you. So here are the three times that made him realize his love language was acts of service.

It was late at night, midterms were coming up and things were not looking up for you. With so many enzymes to memorize and so many cascades to internalize, if you had to look at one more diagram with arrows one more time, you were simply going to go clinically insane. 

“Why won’t this get in my head?! Who even named these stupid enzymes? Argininosuccinate synthetase? Sounds like something Elon Musk would name his child.” You bonk your head with your notebook, clearly on the brink of insanity. 

“Hey,” Sunoo’s soft voice cuts through your inner monologue. “You doing okay? Is it the krebs cycle again?” You sigh.

“There’s just so much to study for, I don’t think I can cram it all inside my goldfish brain.” You pout at the notes scattered across the desk in the room. 

“Hey, babe, you don’t have a goldfish brain. C’mon, you’re one of the smartest people I know.” Sunoo starts to get up from his lying position on the bed. 

“You don’t have to get up, Sun. I can manage this on my own, just need to whine about it first.” You give him a little smile while shrugging your shoulders. 

Sunoo drags the bean bag chair at the corner of the room and sets it right beside you. 

“Okay, we have a few hours before your exam. We can work with this. We just need to mix some active recall into the review!” Sunoo beams up at you as he lay in the bean bag, notebook in hand. 

And for the rest of the night, and well into the morning, Sunoo helps you study for your godawful Chemistry midterm. The look you had when you got back your results, passing your midterms exams with the brightest smile on your face, he just knew that he had to protect that smile.

One thing that Sunoo learned about you quickly was that you loved to drink matcha. Sure, to him it tastes like grass, but he liked mint chocolate things so who was he to judge? You loved going to this cafe two blocks from your apartment, it was owned by an old Taiwanese couple who immigrated a couple years ago. You were one of their longest regulars. So it was quite upsetting to find out that they were closing up shop for good.

Ever since that cafe closed, you have tried looking around for the next best matcha but, sadly, none have come close to beating their matcha latte. One month into the search and you had all but given up on your matcha latte dreams. That was until one day you woke up to the smell of green tea in your kitchen. 

“Sunoo? What’s that smell?” You nose around the hallway leading to the kitchen. 

And much to your surprise, a glass of green goodness is being served up on the kitchen island. 

“Sunoo? Is this what I think it is?” You ask in surprise at what you see. You go up to him and hug his side. He throws his arms around your waist, hugging your form. 

“Well, I know you’ve been looking for a matcha latte replacement and haven’t found one yet, so I decided to do a little digging. Asked for their recipe and tried to make it myself. I hope it tastes okay.” He mushes his cheek against your head then smiles down at you. 

“Sunoo, you really didn’t have to do this….” You look up at him. You felt all warm and fuzzy. 

“Well, I can’t have my little girlfriend go for too long without her matcha latte. She’s gonna start tweaking.” He teases. You just poke his cheek and decide to taste his drink. 

You knew that whatever it tasted like, you were going to love it anyway. But one sip of the green drink and you felt your heart soar at the familiar taste. 

“Sunoo, this tastes amazing!” You look back at him with a surprised look in your eyes. 

“Really?”

“No, really! Like it tastes just like how they make it. How did you pull this off? I’m actually so impressed right now you don’t even understand.” You keep taking sips of the drink, savoring the green tea goodness. It feels like an old friend has come back from the dead.

“Well, I actually found the son of the owners and emailed him asking for the recipe. I really didn’t expect to hear anything back from him but he surprisingly gave in.” He smiled. His heart felt like it could burst from the compliments you gave him. 

“This is too much. You didn’t really have to do all this for some silly drink that I like, noo.” You put down the drink and hug him. 

“But I wanted to. Really, if it means seeing you happy I’d go to Taiwan myself and ask for their recipe.” He kisses your cheek. You sigh at this. 

“You’re just the best.” You hug him tighter. He beams at this and you guys revel in each other’s warmth. 

It was going to be “one of those nights” you feared. Sleep had yet to take over your body despite the many hours of tossing and turning in your shared bed. Sunoo lay beside you, soft snores and even breaths coming from his side of the bed. Deciding that you were not going to be sleeping anytime soon, you get up from the bed and head to the kitchen. 

You trudge towards the kitchen and grab a glass of water. You look up at a clock to check the time, 2:37 AM. You decide to do some cleaning up in the kitchen to pass the time. As you are wiping down a surface in the fridge, Sunoo’s voice startles you.

“y/n? What are you doing up?” You jump a little as Sunoo makes his presence known. He notices this and softly apologizes. 

“Couldn’t really sleep. So I decided on kitchen duty.” You motion to your gloved hand wiping down the fridge shelves. “Sorry if I woke you up. You can go back to bed. I’ll finish up in a bit and try to fall asleep again.” 

He silently walks up to you hugging you from behind. Then he mumbles something into your hair that you don’t quite catch. 

“Noo?” You ask him to repeat himself.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?” 

So that’s how you end up buying ice cream at a convenience store at 3 AM. As you guys walk back to your apartment, Sunoo looks down at you happily snacking on your ice cold treat. Your ruddy cheeks from the cold autumn breeze nipping at them, your tired eyes from the lack of sleep, and your hair haphazardly thrown into a bun. 

“What is it?” You ask him, noticing how silent he is.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. 

“Is there something on my face?” You motion towards your face. 

Sunoo just smiled at himself, telling you that there was nothing on your face. And as the two of you neared the entrance to your apartment he mulled over some thoughts. Even though he was munching on some mint chocolate ice cream, which he could argue was one of life’s best delicacies. He thought that maybe, no surely, he liked being the reason you smile a whole lot more. 

[f1-stuff]

You mentioned omegaverse in the surreal DC reblog where he’s commenting far too much on Charles’s smell lol and it made me wonder if you’ve ever considered writing omegaverse Charlos? Do you have any interest or not so much your thing?

Love your work <33333

Hello! ❤️ I didn't used to be into omegaverse very much tbh, but something clicked in the last couple years and I started to vibe with it a lot more. I actually did start to write an abo charlos fic, that's also a Victorian-era royalty arranged marriage situation (woo that's a mouthful 😂), but I haven't added much to it in a while...

The funny thing is that I find myself forgetting it's abo while writing bc there's so much else going on, and then I have to throw in a line about someone's scent asghfjlslsdk. But anyway, I'm gonna share a little more of it now just because I feel like it's been a while since I posted a fic or a snippet...

“Charles.”

Impatience has crept into his mother’s voice by the second utterance of his name, and yet Charles still takes the time to finish the page he’s reading before clapping the (dreadfully boring) book shut and looking up at her expectantly. As usual, she doesn’t look particularly amused by his stubbornness.

“Charles, I was thinking that perhaps you and I should stay away from the palace for an additional month or so.”

“What?” he frowns. “Why?”

“To rest,” she suggests. “It’s been a very tough week, and you still don’t look well-”

“Maman,” he sighs, rubbing his temple where a headache is starting to form. Of course, he won’t tell her that. “I feel fine. And I’m ready to go home. We already missed Uncle’s birthday. We are not missing Papa’s.”

His mother doesn’t reply. It’s not the first time she’s brought it up, and it won’t be the last, but Charles isn’t losing this particular argument. Not even if he has to escape back to the palace himself. A week away from his father in his poor condition is already too much to bear, let alone the prospect of more time apart.

Charles and his mother’s retreat to their country residence had been unavoidable. The ‘very tough week’ in question is Charles’ heat, which had been brought on early due to the stress he's been under, caused by his numerous advisors' renewed efforts as of late to convince him to sign the regency order. No doubt they’ll be hoping that now, weakened by five days of fever and delirium, he’ll feel further compelled to relinquish his power to a regent in the event of his father’s death before he’s come of age.

It’s never going to happen, and his mother doesn’t need to try to protect him by hiding him away for a month either. She, along with everyone in that damned palace, treats him delicately enough as it is. Ever since he’d presented around eleven years old, he’s been wrapped in cotton wool. But just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly capable of standing up for himself. In fact, he can’t wait to be free of the silly protective measures that were put in place almost seven years ago. The moment he’s crowned, he’s doing away with all of it.

“Really, Charles. I hope you’re not upset we had to come here. You know that it’s for your own safety-”

“Yes, maman, I know,” he interrupts, then sighs and aims a small smile her way to soften his exasperated tone. “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t need any more time to recover. It isn’t as though I do much more than this in the palace, anyway.”

Reading books, painting, playing piano and chess - there isn’t much more that he’s allowed to do. The other activities that his brothers partake in, like horse riding and archery, aren’t permitted for him, nevermind that he performed them just fine before he’d presented. That argument has never worked to convince anyone to grant him allowances because it’s not really about whether he’s capable.

“Well...if you’re certain.”

“I am,” he says, firmly. His mother nods.

Good. That’s settled, then. She speaks again before he has a chance to reopen his book.

“The other thing I’ve been meaning to discuss with you - your uncle has invited the Sainz siblings to come and stay at the palace. You met their two eldest when you were very young, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”

“No,” Charles confirms, intrigued. “Who are they?”

“Their father is a Spanish duke, and his son, Prince Carlos, is just a few years older than you. Unlikely that he will ever inherit the throne, but it is a distant possibility.”

Ah. So a marriage prospect, then. Charles bites back a sigh. From one prison to another.

“You should get to know him better,” his mother says, reading his expression.

“Why?” he asks, just to be difficult. He knows very well why.

“Because. Your Uncle Thierry thinks it’s a good idea.”

Well, if his uncle thinks it, then so it shall be.

Charles sinks further into his chair, grabbing the book he’d set aside and reopening it pointedly. His mother takes the hint. (The book may be a dull one, but at least it serves its purpose as a conversation ender superbly.)

****

“Monaco could be a very important chess piece in future conflicts,” Caco explains, leaning against the table to address his young cousin. “It is under the military protection of France, and having the force of France at our disposal could be instrumental in quelling potential unrest.”

Carlos Junior looks up at him from his seat at the desk, notes of skepticism in his expression. He doesn’t make an objection just yet - his cousin would not be telling him this unless it had come from his father directly.

Caco sets down a piece of paper in front of him. It’s a drawing of a young man who can’t be more than eighteen, his boyish features evident even in sketch form. The other thing that is undeniable is his beauty, a sense of mischief and innocence dancing in his eyes that has Carlos wondering if it’s a faithful representation.

“Is he this pretty in person?”

Caco simply gives him a look, not dignifying that with a response. “That is Prince Charles, heir apparent to the Monegasco throne, seventeen years old. In the next few weeks, you will study everything there is to know about him - his favorite novels, plays, composers. You will brush up on your French-”

“Wait, wait, cousin,” Carlos interjects, blinking in confusion. “What does a prince have to do with me?”

“That omega...” Carlos’ gaze shoots up to his cousin, brows raising. “...has everything to do with you.”

Ah. That changes things, indeed.

“As I was saying,” Caco continues, sighing. “In order to keep the prince safe, he’s been kept sheltered from his father’s court for years, ever since he was a boy. Thus, when he does make a rare public appearance, such as at the opera or ballet, his mere presence causes quite a stir.”

Carlos’ eyes return to the paper in front of him, his gaze tracing a path over the prince’s nose and settling at the elegant curve of his lips.

“You must win his favor before anyone else has the chance,” his cousin says. “The first visit in a few weeks’ time will be vital. We can afford no mistakes. But always remember, you are first and foremost a Sainz. Do not forget the reason behind all of this, no matter how ‘pretty’ his face.”

Carlos tries to bite back his smirk, but likely fails from the look his cousin sends him.

“Charm him, Carlos. Make him smile. God knows you are good at that. The rest will be up to fate.”

[hoe4hotchner]

Bit of a fic idea (not necessarily a request). But what about a friends to lovers with Aaron Hotchner? Like they've been friends since childhood, she's a few years younger though. She was in the drama club with Hayley and is the reason the 2 met and she was the best woman at the wedding. But she's had a crush on Aaron for the longest time,t though always dismissed it as she valued the friendship more. She's Jack's godmother and is there for Aaron whenever he needs. She is a Sargent in the Marines, so gets the long hours Aaron does. She was deployed when she got the news about Hayley being killed by Foyet and rushed back as soon as possible. She didn't take another mission for a while after to be there for Aaron. Further down the line she considers maybe telling him her feelings but he starts dating Beth so she doesn't. Eventually she starts dating a guy in the army and Aaron is jealous though is in denial about why. It is only after Beth and him break up and he hears that readers bf might propose that he fully snaps out of his denial and confesses his feelings

That's such a good idea!!!! 💕 I don't know if I'll write the full thing one day but here's 1/2 and essay worth of thoughts I have about the concept!!

I imagine it would be even more heartbreaking and kind of a slow burn if you and Hotch knew each other before the drama club meeting with Haley. Like maybe you lived on the same street as kids and played together every day. And without realizing it back then, you were always meant to be together, because you just completed each other.

You would be a little jealous about Hotch starting to date Haley and eventually marrying her, as you had thought it would be the two of you one day. But since you value the friendship so much, you don’t mention it to him, just wanting him to be happy in the end.

The wedding especially hurt to be part of for you, but you pull through, keeping a smile on your lips as you attend, give your toast, and do everything you can to help. Hotch is so thankful for your support during the wedding.

You’re ecstatic when you learn about baby Hotchner, and when Jack comes into the world, you’re the first person he calls, seeing you as more like family than his blood relatives. And it might be the best day of your life (at the time) when Haley mentions they’ve been talking about godparents and then asks if you want to be Jack’s godmother.

When you start realizing that you’ll never be truly happy as long as you’re around Hotch almost every day, you decide to join the Marines, throwing yourself into the work and quickly moving up the ranks. And when Haley dies, you’re, of course, sad for Hotch, but somehow you feel kind of desensitized to death and don’t know what to say. Still, you drop everything and rush back to Quantico to be there for him—not so much emotionally, but at least to help him around the house and such.

Life eventually finds its rhythm again, and even though neither of you ever speaks about that time, you can feel something shift in him. But then Beth enters the picture. You see how his face softens when he talks about her, how he starts looking ahead instead of behind, and you can’t bring yourself to disturb that happiness. You tell yourself this is what you want—that his happiness matters more than yours.

You didn’t expect to meet someone else, but that’s how life works. You didn’t think much of it at first, but there’s a comfort in his company. Aaron notices. He doesn’t say anything, of course, but you feel the shift in the way his gaze lingers when you mention your boyfriend.

And when he hears rumors of an upcoming proposal, he can’t ignore it any longer. He shows up at your door one night. For a moment, you think he’s come with good news, but he only stands there, jaw clenched, his fists tight. “I don’t want you to marry him,” he says, and then, “I—God, I should have said this a long time ago. You’re more than just my friend. You’ve always been more,” he admits.

And then you kiss, and it’s really passionate.

[rudnitskaia]

Happy Birthday, my dear girl. You can't even imagine how much light you've brought into my life. Shine bright. ✨

[motleyfam]

PLEASE COULD WE MAYBE GET LIKE A VIBE OF WHAT THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF SETTLE OUR BONES IS GOING TO BE ABOUT NO PRESSURE JUST CURIOUS

The vibe is it’s kicking my ass 😂

[parvuls]

okay wait I'm writing an actual post so I can start handling all these emotions

[miabrown007]

a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take

[bejeweledmp3]

computer how do i stop feeling insecure on my writting so that can i write. computer please

[nimium-amatrix-ingenii-sui]

@grundyscribbling and @cycas have tagged me in the Last Line Game - thank you! RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence. I'll go with the last fanfic sentence: I suspected that the King had required no urging whatsoever.

That would be ten tags (only if you want to/have the time, of course) @vefanyar @elennare @youhavereachedtheendofpie @starspray @independence1776 @naryaflame @fealiniel @dawnfelagund @autistic-elda and whoever wants to feel tagged!

[the-winter-witcher]

love that I can be 100% my weird ass self with him and he loves me anyway

[spocksbedsidemanner]

.

[wheelercurse]

I want to write many many many things but I don’t know where to start, so I end up doing nothing 😭😭

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[madlori]

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.