#Kate Tempest

[omegaremix]

Pandemic Blues (Spring).

When Dad passed away, I knew it was a new era. No more of his presence meant things would change on the inside and out, for better or worse. He almost had hit the U.S. average of male life expectancy by a pinch (78.54 years to his 78.19) so he’s had about his money’s worth. God couldn’t have cashed him out at a better time.

To start 2020, I took two weeks off from work for the first time in the six-plus years I’ve been with the company. I’ve met friends I haven’t seen in ages. I’ve abandoned non-successful projects in the name of self-care. I’ve re-wrote my diet for the better now that Dad wasn’t pumping me with free food ‘round the clock. I’ve also become the store champion in revenue for the year once again, and learned how not to get stress get the best of me. I had only one sunny day out of the twelve off in February which was extremely disappointing. As all you devils know, heading to New York City never leaves my mind. I promised myself that I’d make a visit to both Modern Pinball and Sunshine Laundromat, visits I’ve been waiting three years for. I came close. I did visit the city in early March for a check-up and visited Central Park as I called up my Godmother Laura to make Easter plans, leaving only after a half-an-hour when it started to get dark. By then I’d started to receive inklings of pending changes. The coronavirus was only in the back of my mind, and you normally don’t think of these things unless it pertains to you. I dialed up my aunt Theresa and she told me that the city schools and offices were contemplating closing down. I brushed it off like it was nothing, until…

It was a weekend at work like any other. A regular Sunday. Then it started. A customer asked me for nine mid-range laptops for himself and his co-workers to work from home. I sold them all to him. That’s a $3,100+ ticket. Another older man came in looking for five printers and ten monitors for his business. I could’ve hit the jackpot if only we had enough but we didn’t, but we piece-mealed whatever we could from other stores and that was another $1,500+. More customers and business owners came in to buy buy buy whatever they could to work at home with no limit and we now had a weekend clearance sale we never planned for. Every man and woman for themselves rushed in to save their jobs and tried grabbing whatever they can. When the weekend was over, they wiped us out of all our essential stock. Webcams, budget laptops, and monitors went clean off the shelves. We were fucking bewildered.

One outstanding memory I had of last year’s outbreak was seeing someone eye-ing over all-in-ones. After twenty minutes of no one asking him for assistance, I finally got him. He already had as much time under his belt deciding which way to go: Windows or Mac? He had lots of questions for me, and took me on a world tour of my own department to see which of three units he wanted to take home with him. Fine by me, because being in the presence of his brown-eyed peanut-butter haired daughter was all that mattered. Imagine Jessica Chastain in her late twenties and neck-length hair wearing a green St. Patrick’s Day shirt with a beige clover on it and blue jeans. Somewhat conservative and reserved but she was nice 100% all throughout. That’s more I could say than most people on the island or in my life I’ve met. An hour later, her dad finally decided on a high-end unit. “Wrap it up” he said. “Thank you for your time and purchase” I say, and it’d be the only time I would ever see her. Eventually, I noticed more customers coming in wearing masks. A different father-and-daughter pairing didn’t get it right wearing theirs under their chins, a half-assed way to at least fend themselves from the poison going on. Later on, two young female best-friends asked me for a Nintendo Switch. When they saw I had the Animal Crossing version, they suddenly asked for two more. Done. Knock yourselves out.

Within one week our store changed operations on a near-daily basis. We shortened our hours, then limited our total number of occupants to appointments only. By mid-week our store was closed to the public and it was all phone-orders and curbside pick-ups. Salespeople became impromptu warehouse and back-end runners. We couldn’t believe what we were experiencing. We were literally witnessing the slow gradual death of our traditional operating model. Corona- finally arrived and everyone was on edge not knowing what was coming next. Then we got the call from corporate: “all New York stores to be shut down indefinitely until further notice. Pack it up and go home. Expect a call from us in a few weeks”.

This was unreal! Our positions were in limbo. It felt like we were let go yet still employed otherwise. Meaning: furlough. We’d be fortunate enough to hold our titles and be kept on the payroll while we were mandated to stay home. Later as I learned, the ‘essentials’ as deemed, still had to work on through as a necessity to others; pegged to deal with the public who had no foresight as to how serious it would be. Before heading home indefinitely, I walked next door to the market. Never had I seen meat and paper shortages. Bare shelves of canned goods, frozen vegetables, pasta, and rice like the world was ending. There was no timetable for lockdown or how it’d last. I was now in competition with everyone else to stay alive. Count my high cards that an long-term food shortage was not the case.

27, 47, 81.

If only Dad would’ve lived long enough to see this unfold. He’d be forceful enough for me to stay home with him like some early exits from my location did. I can imagine that even if my bro- didn’t yell at him to stay home, Dad would say “hey, fuck you!” and drive out to see his friends. He literally fell of heart failure, and if that didn’t get him, would the -virus? Could he survive it with his expiring health and the spectre of death on impatient delay? Since Dad fed me almost daily, he’d feel very sad and broken if he couldn’t bring food home for me. He’s not here on this Earth anymore to do that, so it was time to change it up. The haunt of immuno-compromization had me thinking to cut the crap and go healthy.

245, 332, 417.

My ex- Yenny, the most cautious person in the world, sent me directions on how to make my own mask which I did out of old worn-out tees. Welcome to the new real dystopia. The first aesthetic of the pandemic was in the form of this makeshift cloth mask dampened with my own carbon-monoxide emanating the smell of damp stale cotton. Back to the neighborhood Chop N’ Drop I go. I stockpiled on fruits, vegetables, broth, anti-oxidants, juices, dark chocolates, nuts, and seltzer water. The moment of spending money on real food was the moment I started making real meals; the mixture of Idaho and sweet potatoes, celery, carrots, and vegetable broth aerated a distinct spring of fumes forever tied to these months in isolation. A daily carousel of apricots, oranges, cauliflower, tomatoes, and green peppers were a wonderful much-needed addition I had to have from now on. Visits to Bullseye had plenty of food, albeit the shelves were disorganized and the essential workers were overwhelmed. Idolatry was only steps away and to stock up on whatever non-perishables I could find, then threw them on the belt where the young silent Spanish girl who didn’t feel like being there was waiting for me at the register.

I noticed all around me that things were a little…different. Most of us were given things we never imagined. You’d never think of being home for months to have the opportunity to catch up on a life they once had no time for. People finally caught up on cleaning, pursing through personal belongings, old photos and memorabilia, reading lists and vinyl records that piled up. Imagine all the things said about not having to travel to work, or staying home to work, or not working at all. They were right. No such thing as stress. No managers shoving daily quotas or finding faults down your throat. No awkward moments, lack of courtesy, rudeness, or interruptions. No immature adults turning into bus-ride children competing for your attention or older women stamping their feet when being reminded of how out of line they were. It was total bliss.

486, 548, 753, 819. 

Most of us had all the time in the world to shit ourselves in our front-row seats for what we were seeing. It’s all happening next door in New York City, fatally crowned the epicenter of the worst pandemic of our lifetimes. We were The Death Nation. The deaths came at such an expedient rate that literal dead bodies were lined up outside the city’s funeral parlors. By then, restaurants closed. Businesses closed. Stadiums, theaters, arcades, bars closed. Schools and universities were canceled. Even Easter, the next social holiday in line…closed. The nation’s unemployment rate spiked high as 15% as people pounded on the doors on a broken system to have their unemployment benefits or loans in hand as soon as possible. No meta-game suffered distinctly than the music and venue industry. Artists, operators, and promoters had their livelihoods taken away from them in an instant; forced to make a living improvising on live-streaming. They just lost their selves overnight. Now, they held on tight for their own stability and sanity; hoping to reach for that brass ring while riding on a lagging carousel engulfed in flames. 

Over at WUSB, the show still had to go on. Our general manager disallowed any further staff to enter the studios. As most planned to live-stream from their homes, I opted to send my shows in. For the entirety of spring (and summer) I’d hand my shows in our engineer’s at-home automation for broadcast. Saturday 10:00PM Eastern Standard Time on the dot, no error. I had all the time in the world to post on Ω+, my portfolio VMFX, and get Our Lady Omega finally up to speed without worry of deadlines, distraction, or needless interruption. It was when I rifled through many auditions burning on the hard drive. Cleaners From Venus’ “The Jangling Man” couldn’t have come at a better time, signifying a cancelled Easter intended to be spent with my Godmother now at home. I never heard it ever but it yet it sounded familiar before. The cassette fidelities and a certain ‘89-’90 recorded feeling that took me back to my Nintendo youth becomes a new forever memory. Shoegaze and post-punk cuts such as Ing’s “Closet”, Milly’s “Talking Secret”, Es’ “Hidden Track”, and Miserable’s “Loverboy”, to name a few, have indisputably defined the pandemic era’s soul.

But enough of that for today. Down comes Mario, my five year-old nephew who’s yearning to play. Dad / Pop is no longer here, so it’s me he’s looking forward to seeing every day to try and win me on Uno or Candy Land while ginger-superior Madelaine Petsch / Cherry Blossom or Hayley Orrantia were on the flat-screen. We had nights where he’d chose a deck from my collection and we’d make separate piles out of suits. He’d play some good ones, too: the “Junior” of Hearts, the “Mom” of Diamonds, and the “Dad” of Spades he calls them. Aces were “sooper!” and the jokers had their own narrative: a clown on the unicycle was riding to 7-11 to get some Slurpees for us. (Once in a while, a horse-head or the word “MAVERICK” in cowboy caps- for those wild ones.) What kind of an imagination is this? And he loved Monopoly, too. We played so much that it inspired another aesthetic forever tied to the pandemic. Solid oranges and sky blues against the CRT’s, and Monopoly symbols of trains and utilities helped create sets of icons for a series of graphics templates I’ve made.

800, 814, 1036.

Red bottles with blue and red labels of now-discontinued blue liquid soap. Blocks of green and white cleanser cubes cased in plastic. Bulbs of blue and purple diffusing liquid. Cucumber sanitizer. They’re all symbols of cleanliness. All the time in the world posting, sound-editing, and layouts prove exhaustive at times. It’s 1AM Eastern Standard Time in New York City / Long Island and an open window allows the smoky cold chill of a 50°April breeze to vacate downstairs. It’s an invitation to step outside and admire the clear moonless skies. No clouds, only the stars above. I sit in my backyard to hear near-total silence emanating from the expressway. The asphalt rushes were a bare minimum because no one had a reason to travel. The utmost quiet was enough for the nostalgia to vacate right in. The cold, clear, quiet spring Saturday and Sunday nights spent with my Plainview circle of friends. We’d talk shit about everyone we knew, what our favorite Green Day, The Offspring, Collective Soul, or Nine Inch Nails songs were, and matching up with the alternative girls I never met before. The post-dinner April starlights spent shivering with Cath- off the busy Sunrise Highway admitting how much I missed her and how it felt when she succumbed to the heroin demon, the drives down random gas stations to save her ass, or the rare night rides from campus to take her home after my Wednesday radio stint. The temperatures also matched the experience of visiting Central Park for the very first time while an essential contact was in the back of my mind, her text asking how my day in New York City waited for me when I arrived home. It kills me that these are rare moments I’ll never have back. To this day that I’m still paying emotional interest on them.

142, 103, 101.

Rinse, repeat. For two months there was no place to go. No work shifts, classes, ballgames, weekend traffic, or Sunday dinners demarcating the days of the week. Saturdays were Tuesdays. Sundays were Mondays. No one ever humanly experienced a blur of time where every day was literally the same. Then a phone call. “Operations are re-opening. Be here Sunday and ready to start packing.” What my manager should’ve said to me: “be ready to be crucified”. I told myself it’s the last week of May. Three days to get back into it. The spoils of staying home from work once again with financial security and benefits intact will end. Slowly but surely things will pick up again. The floodgates will soon open and here come the entitled Karens, ugly kniving fishwives, dumbshit Tony’s From Brooklyn, and whatever unkempt messes who somehow still manage to breathe will tug my shirt for attention or see me as a whipping boy for their insignificant grievances I never asked for. 

If the quarantine made many lives a nerve-wracking unbearable hell for some people, then what happened next would be the breaking point: footage posted of Minneapolis police murdering George Floyd sent people into the streets in an outrage, and rightfully so. Short-Term Memory America didn’t learn and repeated their mistakes once again. No surprise there. The unnecessary needless precursory murders of Breonna Taylor and Armaud Arbury led up to the state’s latest nationwide collapse of unrest.

It took the latest event of racism and murder for everyone to finally come outside since the start of the pandemic and show what they were hiding for the longest time. Frustrated adult-male mouth-breathers acting out like total jerkoffs throwing their childish ignorance and building blocks in more reasonable mature people’s faces, and unattractive vanilla pig females turned into cartoon versions of themselves as they yapped multitudes of n-bombs and were damn proud of it. Cutting noses and spiting their own faces; doing whatever it takes at all costs to preserve their personal right and false constructs in treating people-of-color like garbage. Bulletin-board bruisers and ultimate keyboard warriors finally brought it out for all of the world to see. Others, however, had enough of their friends, family, co-workers, and fellow human beings being shot, beaten, or killed based on the color of their skin. They came to protest, picket, fight in the streets, and set it all in flames because enough was enough…enough of a corrupt racist celebrity president who’s done absolutely nothing except write off white supremacists and dismissed the coronavirus as a hoax. It all came down to this after living in an irrational anything-goes backwards presidency, all because the Fascist-in-chief cared for no one but himself, his family, and those who pledged their allegiance to him.

If the last four years provided us some out-of-this-world ridiculousness, what else would’ve been possible? We’ve experienced a hell like no other. We genuinely lived in fear that we could reach the point of no return. No one had any idea what was in store for us or how bad it could’ve been; during an election year, nonetheless. 

Where I’m heading is another story. I drive home down Rt. 25 and there are clusters picketing on the side of the road. One supporting Black Lives Matter, one for Tr*mp 2020. Summer’s on her way and the new heat was here; the allegory of pent-up frustration and emotion which everyone was feeling exacerbated by the pandemic. The possibilities were spring-loaded in the back of my mind and made me on edge, not knowing what could happen. 

All I, and us, could think about was when this would all end, and when we could go back to life as we knew it. We were holding out on all hope that something had to give. When will we be open for business again? When would be all go back to what it used to be, or what would ‘the new normal’ be? Will we change course and advert a national crisis, or will be dig ourselves a totalitarian grave so deep we won’t crawl out of? Will we have reason, rationality, science, humanity, and common sense back again, or will we have hatred, nastiness, cruelty, and contempt kept in place for tradition’s sake and have it rammed down our throats until we die sick of it?

It was the three most surreal months of my life. True uncharted territory; no map, no compass. And Spring wasn’t even over. Not just yet. As everything was unfolding and unraveling, something else was headed my way. A season that was anything but normal was going to end on an even more bizarre and curious note. Not in the form of more shutdowns, sickness, emptiness, or despair; but of someone who reached out to me.

(To be continued.)

Cleaners From Venus “The Jangling Man”

Damp “Death, Sex & Arby’s”

Ing “Dust”

Crumb “Ghostride”

Future Islands “Day Glow Fire”

Lisel “Digital Light Field”

Milly “Talking Secret”

Stardeath & White Dwarfs “What Keeps You At Night”

Miserable “Loverboy”

Districts “Cheap Regrets”

Snarls “Walk In The Woods”

Es “Hidden Track”

Strobobean “Keep It Together”

Katie Tempest “People’s Faces”

Penelope Isles “Round”

Shopping “All Or Nothing”

[jonathanjudge]

[d1shsoapart]

(Pt2) WIP for uni - the plan is for an 8 page book based on a poem (in this case, "These Things I Know", Kae Tempest)

The character is Weylin-Trinket Brittlebrush, pronouns ze/zir :)

[Post Image Description:

Second image shows Weylin-Trinket stood alone, holding a rag doll which looks like zir; dressed the same with similar hair, and red right eye and left yellow eye. Text around them reads "Poetry trembles alone, only picked up to be taken apart."]

[whimperingwishes]

THE POETRY PHARMACY RETURNS | WILLIAM SIEGHART

Silver Linings | Fear of Loss (p. 56 - 57)

THE POINT | KATE TEMPEST

[russianreader]

Discourse

“My supervisors would prefer the text to be British English. Is that possible?” What makes the Expanding Circle Englishes real rather than abstract varieties? This article highlights that it is culture that makes the specifics of an English variety whereas linguistic features might be shared by a number of other varieties Russian English as a linguistic entity is based on the specifics of…

[songsofgodtalesmoderngriotte]

8

[writing-for-life]

The Truth of Mankind…

…Is Also Dream’s

These quotes are from episode 5 (24/7):

“Garry dreams of proving his father he was wrong about him.”

“Kate dreams of running away where no one will find her.”

[But you do, and we see your star in so many panels of The Wake 🥺]

“Bette dreams of creating something that matters to people.”

You are the magician who became the man, Morpheus. And you are the king who left his kingdom, but not without making sure everyone else would be okay first--perhaps that is a different definition of a graceful ending, but it is graceful nonetheless.

You’re so painfully human, and yet, you are also not 😭

[tempesttamers]

Imagine how awful it must have been for Javi to not know what was going on with his friends, calling out over the radio but never receiving a reply. How long was it before he learned he lost three of his best friends??

[ikatako38]

Squidmas Special ‘23

Rating: G, Word Count: 4,863

This special was originally posted on AO3 in two parts between Chapter #22 - 1 and Chapter #22 - 2. It takes place 8 years after the end of TPWCH. Ryland, Three, and Captain are all the same person! I also made this relationship chart to help since there’s so many characters being introduced so quickly. And yeah, Koi’s birthday is on Squidmas, so they’re celebrating both events together. The story starts below the cut!

“You’re sure it’ll be okay? It’s just… there’s gonna be so many people��”

“Yes, Capa. It’s gonna be okay. We have to let Tsuku spread her wings. She has to be able to take risks in order to live her life. We took plenty of them.”

“I know, I know…”

“And, hey. If anything goes wrong, we’ll both be there to protect her.”

The Inkling took their husband’s hands playfully. “I think that would just be you.”

“You’re telling me the Captain of the New Squidbeak Splatoon wouldn’t be able to hold off a couple of fourteen-year-olds? Because I know they could.” Eight bopped the white puff on the end of Captain’s Squidmas hat.

“I get nervous around little kids! I don’t know what to do or say! You know this.”

“Is that what it is? You’re nervous the kids won’t like you?”

“I mean…” Captain shrugged. They hadn’t been consciously thinking about that, but now that Eight mentioned it, maybe that was part of their hesitation.

“It’s all right to feel nervous… but kids always love you! Remember that one at Tako Bell who—”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m probably worrying for no reason.”

“Such is life.”

“And… what about the other parents? They’re probably all cishet Inklings, and we’re so much younger than everyone else…”

“If anything goes wrong, we can leave, okay? Or you can leave and I can stay… or whatever works in the moment.”

Captain nodded, and after a moment he raised his head to kiss Eight. “Okay, now where’s Tsuku?”

Captain made their way to their daughter’s bedroom door. “Hey Tsuku, it’s about time to go!”

“Ah, sorry, sorry… just five more minutes!”

“Okay koko, just come out to the living room when you’re ready!”

Returning to the living room, Captain saw Eight waiting, now with his shoes on.

“Tsuku’s still going to be about ten minutes,” Captain explained.

Eight checked his phone. “We’re going to be late…”

“That’s okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Captain ended up opening one of the dumb word games on their phone, and Eight did his best to help, until Tsuku appeared in the hallway. She was wearing a cute little red dress with white flats. Captain bent down closer to her and gushed, “Myushi-myushi ba~!

“Oh my cod, Fufu.”

Captain kissed the top of Tsuku’s head. “C’mon, let’s go!”

It was only a short train ride, and then they were standing at the front door of Koi’s family’s house.

“Um… do we knock…?” Eight murmured.

They looked at each other, and Captain shrugged. Then they both jumped back when Tsuku stepped up between them and gave the door a confident rap. Koi opened the door a few seconds later, and her orange pigtails flopped over Tsuku’s shoulders as they hugged tightly. Captain and Eight threw each other an awkward glance as they waited in the blocked doorway, and the two young Cephalings didn’t separate until another voice from inside the house called out, “Tsuku! You made it!”

The Inkling who had just started going by KJ ran up to them and hugged Tsuku too, although—both Captain

and Eight noticed—this one was much shorter.

Meanwhile, Koi stood on her toes and said, “Hello, Mr…. um… and… uh… sorry, are you… Tsuku’s parents?”

“Yep,” Eight said. “You can just call us us Eight and Captain… or Tsuku’s dad and parent, if that’s easier. The last names are sort of complicated.”

“Oh, okay! Welcome to our home… sorry again.”

“It’s totally okay! No harm done.”

As they entered, following behind the girls and KJ, Captain made a whining sound and whispered to Eight, “That was so awkward…”

Eight gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “I know it’s hard. You’re doing great.” Eight also slipped his hand into Captain’s for support.

A few seconds later, they arrived in the kitchen, where René was at the dining table trying to explain the rules of chess to Cody, seemingly rather unsuccessfully. Beyond that was the living room, where eight adults sat on several sofas and armchairs arranged in a U-shape around a low coffee table, conversing in groups of two or three. A Squidmas tree in the corner glistened with ornaments and tinsel.

When René and Cody saw them, they both got up and raced toward them. Cody got there first and gave Tsuku a quick hug before rattling off a long stream of almost unintelligible words while bouncing on his heels excitedly. Then René hugged her too, but, unless Captain was mistaken, it seemed a bit more awkward than the others had been.

“Hi boys, nice to meet you. I’m Eight, Tsuku’s dad.” Eight shook each of their hands.

Captain just kind of smiled at them.

Thankfully, Cody interrupted: “René was just showing me this game called chest!”

“Chess,” René corrected.

“And there’s all these little figurine things that are so cool, my favorite is the little horse!”

“Knight.”

“And to win the game you have to trap the other player’s king, and it's called a checkmake!”

“Checkmate.”

“C’mon, René can show us how to play, he’s so good at explaining things!”

Tsuku, Koi, and KJ looked at each other, shrugged, and then started to gather around the table.

Eight squeezed Captain’s hand. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be…”

They hadn’t stepped two paces into the living room when a woman with long orange tentacles jumped up from a sofa to face them. “Oh, welcome! You must be Tsuku’s parents, then? Eight and Captain, right? Here, take our seats!” She started tugging at the arm of the man next to her until he stood.

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” Eight tried.

“No, I insist. Have a seat.”

So Captain and Eight scooted in next to a pale woman with frizzy purple tentacles, just like her son.

“You must be Cody’s mother?” Eight said.

“Yep. Alicia. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Eight.

“And you’re Tsuku’s parents?”

“Right. We—”

“Oh, of course!” Koi’s mother interrupted, now sitting on the floor with her legs folded. Her voice was so strong that the other conversations quickly fizzled out. “Everyone, these are Tsuku’s parents, Eight and Captain. Eight and Captain, you’ve just met Alicia.” She pointed to a Black family with green tentacles sitting together on the sofa against the left wall. The husband and wife seemed to be the oldest out of everyone there, while the third person was the youngest. “These are Atlas and Jeane, René’s parents. And Atlas’s son Alex, just next to them.” Now she gestured toward the couch on the right, where another couple sat, this one with magenta tentacles. “And KJ’s parents, Vanessa and Robert. Have I missed anyone? Oh, of course! I’m Koi’s mother, Amanda, and this is my husband Glen.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Eight said.

“Nice to meet you,” Captain managed to squeak out, adding a little wave.

“You know, you both look so young for your age,” Amanda continued. “I’m so jealous!”

“Actually, I’m only 26…” Captain explained.

“Oh!” Captain could see the gears turning in Amanda’s head, trying to do the math.

“Um… we adopted her when she was six. I was only eighteen, so it was a hard decision, but she didn’t have a home, and we were the only ones who could take her in. I’ve always been… something between a sibling and a parent to her.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear from Koi, you’re doing a great job.”

Captain thought of several things to say, but he couldn’t get his mouth to form the words.

“Oh… have I said something?”

“Sorry, sorry! That just… means a lot, is all. Thank you.”

Amanda directed her next question at Eight, which Captain was grateful for. “So how long have you two been together?”

Eight looked at Captain with such a reminiscent, loving expression that it nearly made Captain blush in front of everyone. “We met each other eight years ago in July, and we started dating in November. We got married three years later, and we just had our fifth anniversary in August.”

Captain was frozen the whole time, staring down at a certain spot on the carpet. But when Eight shifted and leaned into him slightly, it broke the trance, and Captain looked up at him. They shared a smile.

“Remember our fifth anniversary, hun?” said Vanessa. “That feels so long ago.”

“Well, we are getting dangerously close to our twentieth, aren’t we?” Robert said back with a chuckle.

“At least you’re not staring down your fiftieth birthday,” Atlas remarked, with such an even tone Captain wouldn’t have known what to make of it if the smile hadn’t given it away.

“Fifty? No~!” Glen said with incredulity.

“Only two months left. I might as well start digging my grave now.”

“Oh my cod, dad…” the son, Alex, groaned.

“Oh, like you’ve never been dramatic about your age. I’m 14, I’m basically an adult,” Atlas mocked, using a deeper voice.

Alex rolled his eyes and went back to scrolling on his phone, but just after the conversation picked up again and everyone else had turned their attention elsewhere, Captain noticed that Altas nudged his son, and they both shared a smirk that somehow seemed to convey a strikingly strong bond of love between them.

Captain snapped to attention when they heard their name; it was coming from Amanda again: “Thank you again for coming, Captain, Eight. I’m sure Koi will love having Tsuku here. And it’s so nice to finally meet you both! And the same to you too, of course, Atlas and Jeane.”

A knock came from the front door. Captain whipped their head around toward it and made a confused face. They were sure that their family had arrived last, and everyone who they had expected to to come was already there. So who could this be at the door? Perhaps a pizza delivery or something?

They all already knew that the kids would beat any adult to the door, so they just waited, and Captain watched the archway to the kitchen anxiously, until finally someone stepped through—

“Lyle? What…” Captain couldn’t stop the exclamation before it was already out of their mouth.

“Heya, Captain. And everyone,” Lyle said with a smug grin. Eli stepped into view a moment later, holding his husband’s hand, and with his other hand he towed little Tempest behind him.

“Hi Amanda, thank you for having us!” Eli said.

“Also, um… Tempest’s bio moms wanted to come too at the last second, I hope it’s all right that we brought them along.”

And now the Meer-Hannon family stepped forward to reveal Agents Four and Neo Three—but they really should be calling them Aubrey and Yuki in a context like this. Each one was holding an infant with yellow ink.

Amanda jumped up from her seat again to greet them. “Oh, of course! Thank you so much for coming, I’m sure Betta will be delighted to see Tempest. She’s outside with Ava and Kate.”

“Do you wanna go outside?” Eli asked Tempest.

Tempest looked toward the sliding-glass door but shrunk back away from it, into Eli’s body. “You don’t have to,” he soothed. “You can stay in here if you want.”

Then Koi’s younger sister Betta poked her head in from outside. “Tempest?”

“Betta!” And any apprehension disappeared.

Captain jumped when Alicia called out from right next to him, “Kate? Is everyone doing okay out there?”

Now the older Larsen’s face appeared in the door. “Yep, all good, mom! Betta bit Aaron’s finger, but he’ll survive!”

“Aaron, are you sure you’re okay?” Alicia called back.

“Yes, Ms. Caruso, I’m fine!” a slightly strained voice called back.

“Betta!” Amanda called over them, jumping up yet again and heading for the door. “We do not bite our guests!”

“You want me, you get the whole package,” Kate joked.

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Aaron said, coming just far enough into view that Captain could see him staring into her eyes. The scene was sickly sweet. Cod, had Captain and Eight been like that when they were younger?

Yes. Yes, they had been.

Then Captain’s thoughts were interrupted by a desperate cry of “FUFU!”

“Koko… woi’e bare?” Captain responded instinctively. Then they froze. Terrified, they shot a quick glance back at the other parents. None of them seemed to be staring at him—at least not directly—which he took as a good sign.

“What is it, Tsuku?” Captain said, hoping it would encourage her to respond in Inkling.

It worked, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway since Tsuku got close and whispered, “I forgot the gift for the Secret Snowsquid!”

The gift… had they left it at home? Wait. Captain felt his pocket and, sure enough, he felt a small box covered in wrapping paper. “Oh, I have it here! I grabbed it just in case.”

Captain held it it to her, and the distress was replaced by a huge grin of relief as she took it. “You had it the whole time? Why didn’t you tell me!”

Captain lifted their hands in a shrugging pose. “I forgot.”

They both giggled. “Thank you, Fufu!”

“Of course, Koko. Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah! I just beat everyone in Super Splat Squids!”

“I’m glad all the years of indoctrinating you into video games paid off.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go back now. Thank you!” She gave them a quick hug.

“Of course.”

And now everyone was staring at them.

“Aww, you have such a cute relationship with her!” Vanessa said.

“Oh. It’s uh… nothing special,” Three murmured.

Now Amanda returned from outside.

“I’m so sorry about that again, Alicia.”

“Oh, I’m sure Aaron will be fine. As long as Betta doesn’t have rabies!”

Everyone laughed except for Amanda, who gave a tight-lipped smile. Then she seemed to notice Lyle, Eli, Aubrey, Yuki, and the twins. “Oh! Please, come sit! Oh… oh dear, we really should have planned for this better… you know what, I’ll go get the lawn chairs!”

“No no, don’t bother! We’ll manage. I think Mako wants down, anyway,” Aubrey assured her.

Amanda looked frantically around her before finally managing to calm herself down. “Very well, then. And you must be…?”

“Aubrey. And this is my girlfriend Yuki.”

Yuki braced Seki against her chest with one arm and raised the other hand in greeting.

“Good to meet you! Good to meet you…” Amanda seemed on the verge of a panic attack.

Four and Yuki took up spots on the floor and let Mako and Seki start toddling around them. Meanwhile, Eli sat on the arm of the sofa right next to Captain, and Lyle gave everyone an almost defiant look before plopping down right on Eli’s lap.

“Wow Eli, thanks for the up-close view of your ass,” Captain murmured.

“No, thank you! That’s the first time you’ve ever complimented my ass before.”

Captain gave a clearly forced smile.

They got along fine with Eli nowadays, but they couldn’t completely ignore the small part of them that got nervous every time they were around Eli, or even Lyle. It just dug up too many old memories.

The group got to asking about the twins, and how one of the hardest times was right after they start walking because you have to chase them around everywhere, and Jeane said something about how lucky Aubrey and Yuki were to be young and agile. Aubrey seemed to relax more after that.

“You seem awfully quiet. Yuki, isn’t it?” Atlas said eventually, holding eye contact with the Octoling.

Noticing his stare, Yuki signed I’m deaf with one hand, sort of dismissively.

Aubrey nudged her and explained, “Yuki is deaf.”

“Oh, my sister is deaf, so I know some of the local sign! Um…” Robert then signed something Captain didn’t recognize, probably in Inkopolis Signed Vernacular.

“Um…” Aubrey began, also clearly not recognizing it.

Japen. Japen! Japenese Sign Language! Yuki signed to her fervently.

“Oh, we use… uh… Japenese Sign Language, since Yuki is originally from Japen. It’s… an obscure local dialect.”

Yuki signed something else Captain didn’t recognize, looking a bit less confident with the hand movements, and Yuki and Robert conversed for a few minutes.

About two hours had passed since the Meer-Hannons and Kekoa-Johnsons’ arrival when the doorbell rang again, and this time it really was just pizza. Everyone gathered around the kitchen counter, where Amanda was frantically trying to set out plates and plasticware. “Okay everyone, if you want a drink, write your name on your cup with this Sharkie, and be sure to put it back when—” But the rest of Amanda’s words were drowned out by the commotion.

Captain hung back a ways away from they’d had the the first chance crowd, figuring they’d let everything die down before going to get their food. Eight waited with them, and a moment later his hand slipped into their hand. “Doing okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah. I think so. I wasn’t expecting to see Lyle and all of them.”

“Yeah, that was a bit of a surprise! Is it okay that they’re here?”

“Of course! Of course it’s okay that they’re here. It’s nice to see everyone.”

Eight met Captain’s eyes, and he didn’t look away until he seemed satisfied with Captain’s reassurance. “You can always step away if you need to, I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks.”

They shared a smile. “Pizza?”

“Sure.”

Everyone huddled in the kitchen, making use of any chair, barstool, or—in Mako, Seki, and Eli’s case—lap that they could find, while Captain and Eight leaned against the kitchen counter, putting as much distance between themselves and the commotion as they could. Captain nodded in Eli and Lyle’s direction and scoffed. “How are they so confident? Lyle didn’t figure out he’s gay until like five years after I did. And Eli took even longer!”

“Yeah, but it went over a lot better for them. They don’t have the same trauma. And besides, it’s Lyle and Eli. Did you really expect anything different?”

Eight reached an arm around them and gently pulled them in closer.

“Merry Squidmas, Capa.”

After a glance to make sure no one was watching them, Eight gave Captain a quick kiss.

“Merry Squidmas, Eight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was followed by Koi opening some presents from her family and sharing some hugs with her parents.

Finally, Amanda announced that it was time for the gift exchange. They all gathered in the living room again, with Tsuku, Koi, Betta, René, Cody, Ava, Kate, and Aaron sitting in a circle on the floor near the tree. Each held a gift wrapped in colorful paper, ranging in size from the wallet-sized rectangle Tsuku was holding to a box as tall as Betta. Captain found themself staring at each of the wrapped gifts, as if staring hard enough would allow them to bore through the wrappings and see their contents.

Who had drawn Tsuku’s name weeks ago? What would they have gotten her? What if something went wrong?

Captain somehow missed Amanda’s explanation of how the gift exchange would work and the first few gifts being given. He didn’t even notice what the gifts were, only that Betta was shouting in joy, and everyone was laughing, and everything had suddenly become very, very loud.

Captain made eye contact with Eight, who was already giving him a concerned look. Eight nodded, and Captain got up, trying not to seem too hurried as they made for the bathroom. They sunk to the floor and put their head between their knees, left by themself with their thoughts, and took several deep breaths to try to calm down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen years ago

Ryland stared listlessly at nothing in particular as the students around him filtered into the classroom and found their seats. He didn’t even notice when someone sat just to his right.

“Hi, Ryland!”

Ryland snapped out of his daze. “Oh, Ophie. Hi.”

Ryland's and Ophelia’s fathers knew each other from work, and Ryland was pretty sure his father was trying to set him up with her, but she had always been nice to him.

She leaned toward him conspiratorially. “Who did you get for your Secret Snowsquid?”

“We’re not supposed to tell,” Ryland said.

Ophie giggled. “That’s the right answer!”

Ophie seemed to be waiting for a certain response, but Ryland had no idea what it could be, or what she had meant from her last exclamation. He just kind of smiled awkwardly at her.

Luckily, a few seconds later, the teacher saved him from having to respond. “Good morning, class. Does everyone have their gift?”

“Yes, Mrs. Ippy,” chorused about a quarter of the students. Most of the others did have gifts; they just weren’t paying attention. “We’re going to be gathering by grade, so everyone find the others in your grade and sit in a circle. First graders, up here by me…”

Ryland automatically tuned out the extraneous information, but by the time he tuned back in, it was too late, and everyone had already started moving. Ryland just followed Ophie back to the corner of the classroom near the door, where they sat on the carpet. About thirty of them gathered around in a circle, out of whom Ryland recognized Billy and his clan—Lyle,

Eli, Clyde, and Blitz. Ryland and Billy made eye contact, and the smirk on Billy’s face turned Ryland’s stomach.

Instead, he scanned the rest of the circle, trying to remember which one Cairo was—that was the name he had drawn a week ago.

“Okay everyone, put your gifts in the middle of the circle. The Class Leader will go first, and then go around the circle one at a time,” Mrs. Ippy called from somewhere far away.

Billy was up in an instant and making his way toward the growing pile of presents.

“Hey! It’s not your turn!” shouted one of the girls—Emily, he thought.

“Hmm, I’m sure the Class Leader doesn’t mind, right?” he glared at Blitz, who quickly shook his head. So Billy sauntered up to the pile and dug around for a while before finally pulling out a package. He tore it open and revealed a box of chocolates. Ryland thought he heard Ophie gasp next to him, but she didn’t say anything.

They continued around the circle, and eventually Ophie tore open her gift to reveal a pack of orange gummy candies. She frowned, probably because she didn’t like orange flavor. She looked at Ryland, and he just shrugged. “I’ll swap with you if I get something you like.”

“Oh. So… you didn’t get me?”

“No, I got Cairo. I don’t know who got you.”

Then Billy’s perpetually whiny voice interrupted them. “C’mon Ryland, that’s enough chit-chat! You’re holding up everyone else.”

Something felt wrong as Ryland got up and walked to the center of the circle. He squirmed as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. The whole room seemed more quiet than it should have been. It felt like it took an eternity to dig through the pile of presents in search of one with his own name.

And there it was: a small box about the size of a pack of playing cards. And for a minute he thought that might be what they were. He went back to his seat and sat down with it, hoping that that would reduce the number or eyes on him, but it was no use. Everyone was staring at him, as if expecting something to happen. Finally, Ryland realized he couldn’t stall any longer, and he slowly began to tear open the package.

But it wasn’t a pack of cards at all.

It was a pack of cigarettes.

It only took Ryland a few seconds before he understood what they meant. He started to shake, staring uncontrollably at the pack of cigarettes in his hand until it fell to the floor with a crash, spilling some of its contents.

Ryland could feel Billy’s triumphant glare on him, and he didn’t dare look up.

“Ryland! Are those cigarettes? Hand them over!” Mrs. Ippy was glaring down at him with her hand outstretched. Ryland shoved the cigarettes back in then grabbed the box and tentatively raised it toward her until she snatched it away. “And what were you doing with these?”

“They’re not mine! Obviously someone gave it to me as their Secret Snowsquid gift. I don’t want them!”

Mrs. Ippy just kept glaring down at him with a suspicious look on her face. Desperate, Ryland looked around and saw Billy staring directly at him with a malicious grin. And he gave Ryland a small nod, as if saying Go on. But Ryland didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, and even if he had there was no way he was letting Billy get away with this.

“Like I said, the person who brought them in the classroom was whoever got me for Secret Snowsquid! It was B—”

“Fine, then I’ll go check the lists,” Mrs. Ippy said, spinning on her heel and always making it halfway back across the classroom before Ryland could finish. Ryland looked to Ophie for comfort, but she looked just as nervous as he was.

A moment later, Mrs. Ippy was back, this time holding a clipboard. All she said was, “Ophie, I’ll be accompanying you to the principal’s office. You’re being expelled.”

Ryland was barely able to put any words together as he stared at Ophie. “No! No, it was… wait… Ophie? It wasn’t you, right?”

But Ophie was already standing. “It’s okay Ryland, don’t fight it or we’ll just both end up expelled.”

“Wait… Ophie…”

“I’m sorry, Ryland. I hope I see you again.”

But he never did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain groaned and slowly pulled his hand back from his head as the memory finished playing.

Of course, that night he had remembered Ophie’s gasp and had realized that the chocolates had been for him, which of course meant that Billy had swapped out the gifts—perhaps just the tags. But Ophie had already been expelled, and who would have believed him, anyway? Ophie had been right. Mrs. Ippy had already been suspicious enough of Ryland, and Billy hadn’t left any traceable evidence. Ryland probably would have been expelled, too, if he had tried anything.

But maybe that would have been for the best.

Captain pushed themself back up into an upright position and took a deep breath.

Tsuku’s gift exchange wouldn’t be like Ryland’s. She was surrounded by good friends and responsible adults. Tsuku may have a secret just like Ryland had, but maybe Captain could muster the optimism to believe that, unlike Ryland, Tsuku would be accepted.

Captain’s hand rested on the door handle. Yes. Everything would be okay. They truly believed it.

And they pushed the door open. A few strides, and they were back in the living room. It was still chaos, but the smiles on everyone’s faces reassured them. Especially Eight’s.

They sat down next to their husband, and Tsuku ran up to them almost immediately. “Look, Fufu! Look what Koi got me!”

Tsuku was bouncing around with such excited energy that Captain couldn’t discern the object in her hands until they reached out and held the corner to steady it. It was a sketchbook, and on the cover… a silhouette of an octopus.

“Oh… that’s great, Tsuku…” Captain tried to muster enthusiasm in their response, but they just couldn’t stop staring at the octopus emblazoned on the front.

“What is it?” Tsuku finally asked.

“Tsuku… does Koi know you’re an Octoling?”

Tsuku looked at him curiously, almost confused. “Yeah, of course! All of them do. They’ve known for a while.”

Captain looked around the room at everyone, beginning to question his original impressions of each of them. “And their parents…?”

Tsuku nodded. “As far as I can tell. It’s not really a big deal.”

Captain suddenly pulled in Tsuku for a tight hug, and they were holding back tears. “I’m so glad you found them. I’m… so happy for you, Koko.”

Tsuku started pulling back after a moment, and Captain realized that they might have hugged her for too long. But she still had a big smile on her face. “I love you, Fufu. Merry Squidmas!”

“I love you too. Merry Squidmas.”

They shared one more smile.

“Now go have fun with your friends!”

Captain watched them all for a few minutes, seeing René blush as Tsuku asked whether he liked the Tableturf cards she had gotten him, seeing KJ make a remark that they all laughed at, seeing Cody wow them by doing tricks with his new yo-yo, and seeing Tsuku wrap Koi up in another hug.

“You did this, you know,” Eight said, leaning into Captain. “I mean, Tsuku deserves some credit, and I guess I was there, too. But you made all this possible.”

Eight was right, wasn’t he? Nothing could ever be perfect and easy, but Tsuku was never going to have to endure the hardships that they had.

They had broken the cycle.

“Yeah. I did it.”

[books-in-a-storm]

Currently Reading 💛

Tempest Awakening & Silent Jay

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for April 11, 2020; #226.

The Districts “Cheap Regrets”

Squid “Cleaner”

Vivian Girls “Something To Do”

Heavy Lungs “Blood Brother”

Don’t Try “Melancholy Chapters”

Jehnny Beth “I’m The Man”

Pom Pom Squad “Heavy Heavy”

Dahlia Sleeps “Settle Down”

Snarls “Walk In The Worlds”

The City Gates “Checkpoint Charlie”

Tempers “Undoing”

Kewl “Glamour Muscles”

Future Islands “Day Glow Fire”

Algiers “Dispossession”

Georgia Maq “Away From Love”

Shana Falana “Darkest Light”

Blackwater Holylight “Death Realms”

Soviet Soviet “Ecstasy”

Gentle Heat “A Lure”

Fawns Of Love “December”

Chasms “Shadow”

Stardeath And White Dwarves “What Keeps You Up At Night”

Penelope Isles “Round”

Crumb “Ghostride”

Yeah Yeah Yeahs “Diamond Sea”

Khruangbin “Friday Morning”

Kate Tempest “People’s Faces”

Pre-Easter broadcast; all indie and top shelf sounds.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

asia kate dillon as a spirit in the tempest via shakespeare theatre company in 2014

[d1shsoapart]

(Pt8) Final page of my little book!! Character shown is Markus Winterwish, pronouns he/him :)

What do you think? :)

[Post Image Description:

Image shows Markus standing facing the right of the canvas, holding the end of a paintbrush close to his mouth in thought with a little smile. He's removed his academic robe and suit jacket, shirt sleeves untucked and rolled up. He is looking at a blank canvas, excited to start something creative for the first time since early childhood. The chair behind him has his academic robe discarded over the back of it.

Text around the image reads "If your life is killing you, take a fucking risk for once".]

[rastronomicals]

7:14 AM EST January 22, 2025:

The Comet Is Coming feat. Kate Tempest -   "Blood Of The Past" From the album   Trust In The Lifeforce Of The Deep Mystery (March 15, 2019)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Impulse!

[kitkatpancakestack]

Cheryl Strayed, tiny beautiful things | Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 | Mary Oliver, the fourth sign of the zodiac | Mary Oliver, upstream | Susan Sontag, Reborn | Homer, the Iliad | Albert Camus, notebooks | Kate Tempest, people's faces | Vincent Van Gogh, irises | Roald Dahl

[cowboybeepboop]

i’ve never made a request/idea before so i thought i’d try !!

i keep thinking about the reader being there the day the tornado took up kate’s friends !! like the reader walking home from work because her car stopped working, not knowing what to do when the tornado comes, so kate and her friends help her go to the underpass. with her, javi, and kate being the only survivors.

and because of this, kate ask the reader to come with her to help javi because the reader is the only one who can understand how kate feels. maybe the reader is from a small town in texas, and she stands out with storm parr in her cute little jean shorts and cowboy boots that spike tyler’s attention 😏

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, angsty and romantic 

Word count: 5.6k 

Warnings: [TW: deep scarring, talking about the scar, etc.] unprotected sex, p in v, handjob, soft Tyler, kind of angsty.

a/n: I kinda wanted there to be angst in this so I tried to incorporate it, I really don’t know atp 😣 I also did not proofread this one so 😭 ALSO I JUST SAW THE TEXAS PART MY BAD

The winds picked up, sending debris spiraling through the air like a malevolent kaleidoscope, as the ominous rumble grew louder. Your heart raced as you sprinted down the desolate street, each step echoing the chaos that was fast approaching. The sky darkened to a shade of green you had only seen in your worst nightmares, the clouds swirling into a frenetic maelstrom that stretched from horizon to horizon. In the midst of this cataclysmic dance, you caught sight of a vehicle swerving off the road.

Without a moment's hesitation, you dashed towards the car as it skidded to a halt, the doors flying open. Kate and her friends, their eyes wide with terror, clambered out. "Over here!" she shouted, pointing at the sturdy overpass looming ahead. You didn't need further prompting. The group sprinted through the storm, the deafening roar of the tornado now a constant, terrifying soundtrack to your desperate flight. As you reached the concrete shelter, the fury of the winds grew more intense, snatching at your clothes and hair. 

Kate's grip on your hand tightened as she let out a blood-curdling scream, her eyes searching the swirling chaos for any sign of her boyfriend. A heartbeat later, you saw him, a mere silhouette in the howling wind, being mercilessly dragged away by the tornado's inescapable pull. The world around you seemed to slow as you watched him disappear into the gaping maw of the storm. You both screamed in unison, raw and visceral, as fear and grief clutched at your chests. Yet amidst the horror, you felt her hand tremble, and instinctively, you squeezed back, grounding her to the present. 

As the tornado's fury began to wane, its retreating roar sounded like a mournful cry echoing through the ravaged landscape. The air grew eerily still, yet the chaos around you seemed to pulse with a life of its own. You felt a sudden jolt, a violent tug at your body, and for a terrifying moment, you were almost ripped away from Kate's grasp. 

Your arm burned with pain, and you realized it was sliced open, blood seeping through your trembling fingers. Despite the horror, Kate's grip remained firm, her eyes locked on yours, filled with a fierce determination that mirrored the dwindling storm's intensity. She screamed, her voice piercing the calm, as the world around you swirled with debris. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the nightmare to end, and held onto her hand with every ounce of strength you had left. Together, you waited for the tempest to pass, hearts racing in rhythm with the fading thunder.

You shake the memories as you glance in the front seat at your two best friends the storm brought to you. You were the only person Kate kept contact with, you both moved out to New York, sharing an apartment. So when Javi reached out to Kate she agreed to join the team as long as you came with. 

Shaking off the chilling recollections of that fateful day, you cast a sideways glance at Kate and Javi, who are now your inseparable companions, riding shotgun in the car. The tornado had been a terrifying twist of fate that bound you together, but it was the friendship that grew from the aftermath that truly defined your lives. 

Kate, ever the pragmatic one, had insisted on staying in touch after the ordeal, and when she made the life-altering decision to move to New York, you were the first person she called. The Big Apple's allure had always sparkled in your eyes, and with Kate's offer to share an apartment, it was an opportunity you couldn't refuse. 

When Javi reached out to Kate to ask her to join his team, she had one condition: you had to come with. You agreed without hesitation. The storm had brought you to them, but it was the shared experiences, the laughter, and the unspoken understanding that turned acquaintances into family.

Javi pulls into a rest stop where the rest of the storm par team was waiting for your arrival, you hop out of the truck stretching your arms while following behind Javi. Kate steps out of the car with you, her mind racing back to the events that had started this journey of yours. Her eyes drift over to you, her gaze holding a mix of gratitude and melancholy. Despite the years passed, she can't help but feel a slight pang as she thinks about what cost this new life came with.

She tries to shake off the thought as she looks around, her eyes settling on the rest of the team standing nearby. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before nodding in greeting.

You cross your arms over your waist, not really paying attention as Javi introduces the team. You wander off to the side, eyes trained on the sky as you take in a deep breath. 

Javi glances over to you as you make your way to the side, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he continues introducing the team to Kate. 

Once he's done, he walks over to where you're standing, his hands shoved in his pockets. He stands beside you, silent for a moment before he speaks. "You alright?"

“It’s just a little odd,” you glance over to him. “Being back.” He gives you a soft nod. The loud noise of music fills your ears as a red truck comes pulling into the lot, catching your eye. 

Javi's demeanor changes the moment he sees Tyler's truck pull into the lot. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He scowls, his eyes darkening as the truck parks. 

He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Tyler get out of his truck. “Who’s that?” You nod in Tyler’s direction as he greets his fans, noticing the way Javi reacts to him. 

Javi's eyes narrow, a slight sneer appearing on his face. 

"That's Tyler Owens," he mutters, his voice laced with disdain. "He's a big shot storm chaser, thinks he's the king of chasing storms." 

You nod as he speaks, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you should get back to Kate. Better find out if she’s found your storm.” He gives you a small smile as you continue to watch the sky. 

Tyler's eyes linger on yours as you keep your face up to the sky. He smirks, making his way over to you. 

"Now that's a good view." He crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest. Glancing over your shoulder you notice his grin. 

“And what do you mean by that?” You raise an eyebrow at his comment, arms crossed under your chest. 

Tyler's smirk only widens as he takes a step closer to you. “I think you know exactly what I mean, sugar.” His piercing blue eyes rake over you, taking in your jean shorts and green long sleeve shirt.

You turn to face him, running a hand through your hair. Your lips press into a firm line as you take in his appearance.

Tyler stands inches away from you, towering over you. His eyes roam over your face, lingering on your lips for a moment before meeting your gaze. 

“You're not from around here, are you?” He asks, his deep southern accent rolling like the thunder outside.

“What makes you think that?” You give him a soft smile. 

Tyler's eyes rake over you again, his gaze lingering on your long sleeves in the heat of the day. "Most of the locals know better than to wear long sleeves in this weather," he points out, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You stiffen as he mentions the long sleeves, he unknowingly hit a soft spot since you always keep your arms covered due to the dark scar that covers your left arm.

You subconsciously grip the arm, “Yeah, guess that gives me away huh?” Tyler's observant eyes catch the subtle shift in your body language. He notices the way you subconsciously grip your arm when he comments on your sleeves. He tilts his head, his gaze fixed on your arm.

"Yeah, it kinda does," he replies, his tone softer now. There's a slight pang of curiosity in his eyes as he glances down at your arm. You give him a soft smile as you walk past, heading back to the storm par team. 

________

Over the past few weeks, Tyler had been relentless with his flirting, always seeking an opportunity to be near you. Despite your secretiveness, he had become completely infatuated with you, drawn in by your enigmatic nature. Even with  your best efforts to keep him at a distance, he can't help but be drawn to you. He can't explain why, but he's determined to get closer to you.

Tyler, the renowned “Tornado Wrangler,” seems to captivate you with his carefree attitude towards chasing storms that bring destruction. There's a morbid fascination in the way he seeks thrills amidst chaos. He leaves you questioning his intentions, torn between curiosity and concern. What drives him to pursue these dangerous pursuits? Is it merely for the adrenaline rush, or does he have a deeper purpose? You can't help but feel a mix of intrigue and confusion as your thoughts dance in the whirlwind he seems to have conjured.

As Javi pulls into the motel parking lot you notice the familiar red truck, parked with Tyler in the bed, fixing something that broke during the earlier chase. 

You exit the vehicle, arms wrapping around Kate’s shoulders as you lean into her body. She laughs softly at your familiar clinginess, listening to you whine about how hot you are. Something about the heat of today has left you fully exhausted, you're sweaty and unbelievably hot. 

Tyler can't help but let his eyes wander down to your bare legs, revealing quite the view, given your shorts were already rather short. 

He watches with a smirk as Javi teases you, offering to carry you. Tyler crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms straining against the fabric.

“Hey city girl.” Tyler’s voice rings out, capturing your attention instantly. You give him a dazed smile, the intense heat leaving you drained and dizzy. 

“Hey Cowboy.” Tyler couldn’t help but smile at your dazed expression, the heat clearly taking a toll on you. 

“Looks like the heat’s got you all dizzy,” he chuckles, leaning against his truck. “You doing alright?” The concerned look in his eyes betrays his usual cocky demeanor.

“Mhm,” you murmur, “doing just fine.” Kate keeps walking, bringing your tired form with her toward the stairs. He can see how tired you are, the heat clearly taking its toll on your body. 

He pushes off from his truck, following after you and Kate. "You sure about that, sugar? You look ready to fall over."

You let go of Kate, holding the railing as you try to pull yourself together with a few steadying breaths. You’re exhausted from being outside in the heat all day as you usually spend your days inside at a desk. 

Tyler's eyes are fixed on you, watching as you struggle to pull yourself together. He steps closer to you, reaching out a hand to steady you. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Let me carry you up to your room.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it..” you sigh, straightening up as you regain your composure. “Just not used to this,” your voice is a soft murmur as you give him a reassuring grin. 

He crosses his arms, his muscles straining against the fabric again. He shakes his head at your stubbornness. "You're not used to the heat, but you're a storm chaser?” he teases, his southern accent rolling like thunder.

“Mm, not much of a chaser.” You respond, taking a few steps up the stairs. 

Tyler's eyebrows furrow in confusion as he follows you up the stairs. "What do you mean? You're not much of a chaser?" 

His gaze is fixed on your legs as you take each step, your legs looking damn gorgeous in those short shorts.

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s a long story,” his hand moves to your lower back as he comes up behind you. 

Tyler's hand on your lower back sends a subtle shiver down your spine. He can feel the tension in your body and the exhaustion that's weighing on you.

"Long story, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "I've got time." He guides you up the stairs to your room, Kate giving you a suggestive smile as she says goodnight.

“I’m not much of a talker, cowboy.” You open your door, stepping inside the cool room. You let out a soft moan at the change of temperature, thankful to finally be in cold air. 

Tyler follows you into your room, his gaze following your every movement. He takes in the moan that escapes your lips as the cool air hits your skin.

A soft smirk appears on his face at the sound, his eyes rake over your body as you revel in the coolness of the room. 

"Maybe I can change that, sugar," he teases, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is that so?” You plop down on your bed, slipping out of your shoes. “And how do you think you’ll accomplish that?” 

Tyler's smirk deepens as he watches you kick off your shoes and flop onto the bed. His eyes roam over your body, lingering on your legs before meeting your gaze. 

He pushes off from the doorframe, strolling over to the bed and sitting down beside you, his body radiating heat from being outside in the hot sun all day. 

"Oh, I have my ways," he responds, his voice dripping with an underlying hint of desire. 

“Yeah?” You glance over at him, laying on your side, eyes tracing his body. Tyler's smirk never falters as your gaze scans over his body. He can see the desire in your eyes, and it only fuels his own. 

He leans back on his hands, his torso flexing slightly as he does. He turns his head to meet your gaze, his blue eyes flashing with a mix of cockiness and desire. 

"That's right, sugar," he murmurs. "I know how to make you talk." You reach out, fingertips brushing over his ribs softly. 

“I have a feeling you’re wanting something more than just a talk..” you reply, eyes tracing his face. 

As your fingertips graze his ribs, Tyler can feel a shiver run through his body. He watches you intently, the feeling of your touch fueling the desire in his eyes. 

He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "You're a perceptive one, aren't you, sugar?" His muscles ripple under your touch, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You could say that.” You move to straddle his hips, hands pressed against his chest as you gaze down at him. 

Tyler's eyes widen for a moment as you move to straddle his hips, his hands instinctively reaching out to grip your thighs. 

He looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and desire, his breath hitching at the feel of your body on top of his. He grips your thighs, his hands moving up just slightly to rest on your hips as he pulls you closer to him. 

"You're full of surprises, city girl," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with lust.

“Enough talking.” You mutter, pressing your lips to his is a gentle kiss. Tyler responds to your kiss instantly, his lips moving against yours with hunger. He lets out a low moan, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he pulls you down against him. 

He breaks from the kiss, his eyes locking with yours as he breathes out in a soft tone, "Yes, ma'am." He captures your lips in another forceful kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, desperate to taste more of you.

With surprising gentleness, Tyler flips you both over so that you're lying on your back, the mattress cool and welcoming against your overheated skin. His kisses become more urgent as his hands deftly unbutton your shorts, sliding them down your legs and revealing the lacy underwear beneath. 

The fabric whispers against your skin as he peels away your bottoms, exposing your nakedness to the air-conditioned room. His eyes are filled with a raw hunger that mirrors the previous storm, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body. 

His hands trace the lines of your curves, memorizing every inch of your body as if it's the first time he's ever seen a woman, and his touch sets your skin alight with passion.

As Tyler kisses your neck, his calloused fingers gently tug at the hem of your shirt, raising it inch by inch. You gasp at the feel of his lips on your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in their wake. 

His hands skim over your stomach, pausing briefly at your navel before continuing their ascent, revealing the lacy bra that matches your discarded underwear.

“N-no..” you push his hands away, desperate to keep your shirt on. As you pushed his hands away, a confused look washed over his face. 

"No?" he questions, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and confusion. 

He props himself up on his forearms, hovering over you as he looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed. He glances down at your hands, which are gripped tightly to your shirt.

“Leave the shirt,” you murmur, hands going to his belt. Tyler's eyes darkened with desire at the sound of your voice, his body thrumming with anticipation as you go for his belt. 

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks in a gravelly tone. "As you wish, ma'am." He lets you remove his belt, his gaze fixated on your face, trying to discern the reason behind your request. You pull his jeans away, legs wrapping around his waist pulling him close. 

Tyler lets his jeans fall to the floor, his attention now solely on you. He groans as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The feel of your body against his ignites a fire within him. 

He plants his hands on either side of your head, his body hovering over yours. He gazes down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and curiosity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you breathe out, cupping his face, pulling his lips to meet yours. Tyler responds to the kiss immediately, his lips moving against yours with a fierce hunger. He lets out a low moan, the sound rumbling in his chest. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. He lets out a soft chuckle, “Can’t help it, sugar, you look like a damn dream under me like this.” 

His hands slide under your shirt, roaming over your covered breasts. His hips rock into yours with a steady pace, soft moans escaping your lips as his clothed erection pushes into you. 

You pull Tyler's boxers down, revealing his rigid length. His hands glide under your shirt, finally feeling the softness of your skin, as his lips trace a path down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses. 

He groans against your skin as you guide him to the edge of your wetness, the anticipation making him ache with need. With a gentle push, you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, and with one swift movement, he sinks into you, filling you completely. 

His eyes fly open as he watches your face contort with pleasure, your grip on his shoulders tightening as he starts to move inside you with a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. 

His name is a whispered chant on your lips as you rock against him, the coolness of the room forgotten in the heat of the moment. Each thrust and moan is a silent declaration of desire that neither of you can resist.

As Tyler's mouth finds your breast, kissing and teasing the sensitive skin, his hand cups the other, his thumb brushing over the nipple beneath the fabric. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your toes curl and your back arch. 

You gasp into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he continues to explore your body with a hunger that's only grown more intense since you first met. 

His hips move in a steady rhythm, each thrust hitting a spot deep within you that has you moaning and writhing beneath him. His kisses become more fervent, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. 

With a need to feel him completely, you tug at Tyler's shirt, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over his head. His muscular chest is now bare, the heat from his body only adding to the blaze between your legs. 

As his bare skin meets yours, you can't help but let out a soft whimper, the contact sending a fresh wave of desire through you. His eyes darken further as he watches you, his breaths coming in ragged pants as he continues to rock into you. 

The friction is delicious, his hardness sliding against your slickness with every movement, and you can feel yourself inching closer to the edge of something incredible. Your nails dig into his back as you urge him deeper, the world outside forgotten as the only storm that matters is the one raging in this room.

The climax crashes through you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath. Tyler's pace falters as he follows you over the edge, his body tense and shuddering with his own release. 

He collapses against you, his weight a comforting warmth as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone. 

Your heartbeats synchronize, the rapid beating slowly returning to a steady rhythm as you both revel in the aftermath of your shared passion. The room is filled with the sweet scent of sweat and desire, the air thick with the electricity that still crackles between you.

“Let me see you,” he whispers, hands sliding up your shirt. “All of you..” you gasp softly at his movements. 

Tyler's body is a mixture of fire and sweat, his eyes filled with a soft, almost pleading look. His breaths come in ragged pants, but his voice is steady and firm. 

"Please," he murmurs, his hands gently pushing your shirt up to reveal your bare chest. A soft gasp escapes his lips at the sight of you, and he lets his eyes roam over your body for a long moment. 

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he takes in the sight of you above him. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined.."

You pull your shirt the rest of the way off, exposing the thick scar embedded in your arm. 

Tyler's gaze falls to the scar on your arm, his eyes widening slightly. He reaches one of his hands out, gently tracing the outline of the scarred tissue. 

He looks back at you, his expression a mix of concern and surprise. "What happened?" he asks softly, his touch on your scar still as light as a feather.

“It’s a long story..” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw.

Tyler lets out a soft sigh as you press a kiss to his jaw. His grip on your hip tightens slightly, as if he's anchoring himself to you. 

He can sense the hesitation in your voice, the hint of something unsaid. But he doesn't press, not wanting to ruin the moment between you. 

"I'm a patient man, sugar," he murmurs, his voice deep and rough. You slide off of his body, snuggling into his side as you press your cheek to his chest. 

As you settle into his side, Tyler drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his body. He takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of you snuggled against him, relishing the intimate moment.

He can feel the warmth of your cheek against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. Tyler gently rubs his thumb back and forth along the soft skin of your shoulder, a comforting motion that speaks volumes without words.

His comforting movements give you all the reassurance you need, “It happened when I was visiting Oklahoma last..” your voice is soft as you begin to explain the scar. Tyler's rhythmic rubbing pauses for a moment at your words, but he quickly resumes his soothing motions, encouraging you to continue with a soft hum.

His blue eyes, filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern, remain fixed on you, silently urging you to share more of your story.

“There was this huge tornado, I normally wouldn't have been anywhere near it. But I went out on a run and I got lost.” you sigh softly, your eyes fluttering shut as the memories flood back over you.

“It’s how I met Kate, she saved me. We hid under an overpass and I almost got ripped away.” your voice breaks, heart rate picking up. Tyler's hand stills on your shoulder once again as he listens intently to your words. His free hand slips into yours, his strong grip holding yours tenderly, giving you a silent, supportive squeeze. 

His expression turns somber as he senses your shift in mood, concern deepening in his gaze. His gruff voice is soft as he murmurs, "Take your time, sugar."

“A huge piece of metal came out of nowhere and it ripped through my arm. The pain. It was so bad, I thought I was dying.” your nose brushes against his skin as you press your face closer into him. 

Tyler's arm around your shoulders tightens, pulling you even closer to his chest. He holds you firmly yet gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand, the one he's holding. His heartbeat thumps steadily under your ear as he listens to your story.

His voice is low and steady as he murmurs, "But you survived. You're here now." you nod, eyes finally raising to meet his gaze. 

When you finally raise your eyes to meet his gaze, Tyler's expression is a mixture of worry and admiration. He can see the pain and fear you experienced in your eyes, but there's also a hint of strength and resilience. He holds your gaze for a few moments, the silence between you filled only with the steady beating of his heart beneath your ear.

He breaks the silence with a soft question, his thumb still tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand, "Does it hurt?"

“Not so much anymore,” you shake your head, Tyler's strong hands guide you back onto him, positioning you so that you're straddling his hips once again. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes raking over your body with a mixture of desire and concern. He keeps his hold on your hips, his fingers gently digging into your soft flesh.

His rough, calloused thumbs brush over the scar on your arm, his touch tender yet firm. "Can I ask you somethin' else?"

“Mhm, ask away.” your hands brush over the contours of his abs, relishing in the feeling of his muscles under your fingers. 

Tyler can't help but shiver slightly under your touch, his muscles flexing reflexively at the feel of your fingers tracing over them. His eyes darken with want, watching intently as you explore his body, but he stays firm, his expression serious.

His thumbs continue to rub gently over the scar on your arm as he asks his question, his deep, gravelly voice almost a rumble, "How come you always wear long sleeves?"

You take a second to think of the right wording, “I just..” you look down at his expression. “I don’t like how people stare, like the scar is all I am. I hate seeing the pity in their eyes..” 

Tyler listens intently to your words, his expression turning thoughtful as he takes in your explanation. His eyes soften as he witnesses the vulnerability in your gaze, and his grip on your hips loosens slightly.

He gives your hip a gentle squeeze as he responds, "Trust me, sugar, that's not all you are. You're beautiful, strong, and I can tell you're a pain in the ass." He chuckles softly before continuing, his tone serious once more, "I ain't lookin' at you with pity."

You grin at him, “No, you’re not.” you press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Looks more like lust,” you whisper into his ear, lips moving against his jaw. 

Tyler lets out a low growl at your words, the gravelly sound sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers flex on your hips, gripping you tighter as he leans into your kiss.

He turns his head to murmur in your ear, his voice a rough whisper, "You're damn right, sugar. I can't keep my eyes off you." He presses another kiss to your jawline, then pulls away enough to look into your eyes, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "And trust me, it ain't just lust."

“Yeah?” you cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “What else is it then?” 

Tyler’s expression softens as you cup his face in your hands, your touch bringing a sense of calm and tenderness to his usually rough exterior. He lifts his hand to cover one of yours, holding it against his face.

He lets out a soft exhale, his warm breath brushing over your skin. “It’s more than that, sugar.” he mutters, his eyes searching yours. “It’s this intense, pull toward you that I can’t explain. You’ve got me tangled up somethin’ fierce.” 

You kiss his lips hungrily, enjoying his softness and honesty, something about this feels like a stronger connection than just lust and you both know it. Tyler groans against your lips, responding to your hungry kiss with equal intensity. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest, craving the feeling of your body against his. 

The heat and passion between you is tangible, but there's a depth to it that goes beyond lust. As your lips meet again and again, you both feel the pull, the connection growing with each shared touch. He lets out a guttural groan, his hands sliding up your back to fist in your hair.

“Ty..” you sigh out his name, body shuddering at his touch. Tyler shivers as you whisper his name, the sound of it on your lips sending a jolt through his entire body. He breaks the kiss for a second to look at you, his eyes darker now, filled with lust and desire.

He gently tugs at your hair, pulling your head back to give him access to your neck. Tyler's lips find your pulse point, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His voice is barely more than a growl as he murmurs against your skin, "I like the way you're sayin' my name, sugar."

You gasp at his lips on your skin, eyes closing as you reach back, hand grasping his erection. Tyler groans loudly at your touch, his hands clenching involuntarily around your hips. He moans, his head falling back against the pillow.

His breathing is ragged and uneven as he gasps out your name, "Mmmf- fuck." His hand that's not on your hip grips the bedsheet, the fabric crumpling under his strong grip, "Jesus, sugar..  that's not fair." he mutters, his voice strained.

As you grip Tyler's erection firmly, you feel his desperation pulsing beneath your hand. His hips buck into your touch, seeking more friction, more movement. His eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth gritted as he tries to hold back the groan that builds in his throat. 

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his neck as your hand works him in a slow, torturous rhythm that's driving him wild. His breathing hitches, his body tensing as you whisper his name, your voice a sweet torment that sends shivers down his spine. Tyler's fingers dig into the mattress, his body arching off the bed as you continue to pleasure him with a masterful touch that seems to know exactly what he craves. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable, his muscles tightening and releasing in a silent dance of passion. "Tease," Tyler groaned, his eyes snapping open to lock onto yours, filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He could feel the tension coiling in his core, begging for release, but you seemed to have other plans. 

Your hand remained a steady pressure, moving in a deliberate, agonizingly slow motion along his length, making him rock his hips up to meet your touch. "Fuck, sugar," he ground out, his voice thick with desire, "You're killin' me." 

You knew you had him wrapped around your finger, and the power was intoxicating. But the storm outside was nothing compared to the one brewing within the confines of this room, the thunder of his voice matching the rumble of his need. With a quick flick of your wrist, you increased the tempo of your strokes, his hips rising to meet you, seeking more. 

The friction grew, the pressure building, and with each stroke, you could feel him getting closer to the edge. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. His hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples. 

The sensation sent a bolt of pleasure through you, making your grip on him tighten. Tyler's groan grew louder, his body tensing as he approached climax. With one final, firm stroke, Tyler's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a loud moan, his grip on the sheets turned to a clutch at your hips.