#and Zach’s knive from home song????

[sapphic-squid]

Episode 37: Hungry Lost Survivor Games is actually so good this may be a top 3 episode for me

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 14

A/N An accusation...

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The music played softly through the car as we passed through Las Vegas and headed farther into the desert towards Utah. Vast sprawls of flat land spread out along all sides of us and the shades of mountains rose up in shadows in the far distance. The sky was a bright sunny blue and the few clouds that offered moments of shade were brilliant white. It looked almost picturesque and I suppose I could had admired the scenery more if it wasn’t for the task that was weighing on my chest.

Being the passenger, I was able to spread out all the clues we had collected over the previous twenty-four hours across my lap from my phone to Avalon’s and her mysterious letter she had received as well as my list of suspects I had started the night before.

I spoke my thoughts out loud to Jonah as he drove, going over everything we had been through to as close detail as I could. He listened patiently and quietly, focusing on the straight shot of road ahead of us.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t you?” Jonah tried.

“100% positive. We fought in the kitchen and she left to sleep in the studio on the pull-out. I remember watching her walk out.” I stared ahead at the road too, squinting in the desert sunlight as I took myself back to that night, speaking slowly as the pieces started to fit together even more, “I remember…the security alarm ringing from the monitor on the kitchen.”

I had just crouched down to pick up the worst of the broken glass on the kitchen floor with a steady hand when the pling of the security camera alarm peaked my attention. It rang steady from the monitor’s spot on the front counter and I headed over to it to check on the cameras, but the alarm was disarmed from the studio before I could reach it, sending the kitchen back into silence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket at that moment and I pulled it out to read the text from my older brother,

Did you get home okay?

I hesitated as I read his message, not particularly wanting to be honest with him and have to endure his confessions of his dislike of my new wife and her very personable opinions on my job. It was our private relationship and Christian seemed to like to weasel his nose into it sometimes. Ah, well. He meant well. Before I could decide if I wanted to answer him right away or not, I heard a faint scream from the backyard and my head shot up to look towards the sliding glass doors. I paused, expecting Avalon to come running in to ask me to kill a spider any moment now.

But there was nothing.

“I remember her scream.” I breathed. “Holy shit, Jo, I remember her scream.”

I pressed my hands over my ears as the sound of her faint agonizing shriek echoed through my mind. How I had managed to forget in the first place was beyond me. I must have followed her out there to have woken up on the floor beside her…if only I could remember enough to piece together who was in there with her. I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes until I saw those little dancing shapes in the blackness of my eyelids, trying to remember anything more.

“Don’t give yourself another headache, bro.” Jonan said gently.

I sighed tiredly and sat back up in my seat, “Yeah. Might need another Aspirin soon at this rate.”

Jonah chuckled lightly and turned up the music a little more as the song switched to one of his favourites. I hummed softly along to the music as I skimmed my social media, being careful not to show any activity in case my accounts were being watched. I was used to seeing my name pop up on my feed from my social status with Jonah but not like this; not with the equivalent of Wanted stamped across my forehead. New accounts had my licence plate numbers everywhere and were asking for any leads for my whereabouts in exchange for a good amount of money. Maybe if I turned myself in after I figured all this out I could turn my millions into a solid billion.

My mother texted me. The message popped down from the top of my screen.

Hey little boy. Give me a call when you can please. Love you x

I swiped the notification away and locked my phone with a sigh.

“Where are the notes you took yesterday in the car?” I asked Jonah flatly.

“Top of my bag in the back seat.” Jonah answered.

I shifted around to grab the corner of the pad of stationary that was peaking out of his bag and I dropped it on my lap. I compared it to my more detailed notes from the hotel paper and copied them over to the larger sheet that Jonah had started. I then added Corbyn to the list and his motives:

-Would do anything for a story/money

-Threatened her a few months ago

-Knows where we live

-Pushes boundaries

-Can talk his way into (or out of) anything

“Leaning towards a lead?” Jonah asked.

“I was thinking Zach but Corbyn seems pretty guilty honestly.” I answered flatly as I skimmed the list, tapping the end of the pen against my lips. “Still want to know how he just found us at that resort though.”

“If he’s with the paps he probably followed us and we didn’t know.”

“Son of a bitch.” I grumbled.

“Yeah.” Jonah exhaled deeply.

“His motives line up but it doesn’t answer the question of the missing security tapes.” I mumbled more to myself than anyone, shuffling the papers to set the letter on the top of the pile on my lap.

Jack’s writing on the jacket didn’t seem to match the penmanship on the letter. The letter was a bit messier and slanted in its print. I tapped the pen against my lips again in thought as I pulled out our original list to lay beside the letter. My tapping slowed to a stop as my eyes flicked between the two matching pieces of lined stationary and similar penmanship on both. The yellowish tinge to the papers and the brand stamp in the bottom corners were identical.

I quickly grabbed Avalon’s phone and went into her text messages, passing by her aggressive messages from Christian and the flat conversations with Jack and I scrolled through her list of threads. What I was looking for wasn’t there. I switched over to contacts and scrolled down to the J’s.

The single J was Jack as I had discovered earlier; then there was Jenna her hair stylist, Jon our finance manager, and Jonah. I clicked Jonah’s contact name to open up his information. His number was filed as ‘blocked’ in her phone. If he needed to contact her for whatever reason but was blocked…the only way would be through mail.

I felt the air drain from my lungs as I looked back down the mysterious letter and list of suspects on the matching page beside it. More questions swirled around in my mind and I mentally added to the list.

Jonah was certainly behind the letter and she obviously had some sort of falling out with him in order to block his number. He knew our address, of course, had a key and everything and knew when we were going to be home. He was in charge of putting the wedding gifts in the studio so he knew exactly where the knives were. And, to top it all off, he knew the code to the security cameras.

Holy shit.

He killed my wife.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[ericsonclan]

A Comforting Melody

Summary: Clementine wanders around Ericson with Maisy to find Louis who has a new song to show her.

Word Count: 1796

Read on AO3:

Clementine walked through the silent hallways of the dorms, her footsteps the only sound save for the muffled voices outside in the courtyard. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the peace of the moment before Maisy stirred in her sling. Her baby began to cry softly and Clementine rocked her lightly as she walked forward.

“Hey, it's okay. I’m right here,” Clementine smiled down softly at her daughter. Maisy looked up at her mom with large eyes and seemed to calm down a bit. Clementine gave a small sigh of relief, glad that Maisy had settled down. She continued down the hallway and noticed that the sun was setting which meant that dinner wouldn’t be too long from now.

Her eyes wandered back down to the sling and noticed that Maisy looked rather sleepy. Maybe she could sneak in a quick nap time for Maisy but Clementine also wanted to check in with Louis. Considering her options for a moment, Clementine opted to find her husband before settling Maisy down for a nap. Wandering towards the doors Clementine carefully opened them and was hit with the sounds of her friends happily going about their daily lives.

Aasim had just gotten back from hunting and immediately went over to Ruby after setting down the catches for the day. He always made sure to find Ruby first to reassure her that he was okay after a day of hunting. Aasim smiled softly at his wife and stole a quick kiss before holding out his hands to hold his son. Ruby handed Zachariah over and Aasim gently held his son and placed a kiss on his forehead before rocking him softly.

To the right of the happy family Willy was busy trying to learn how to braid hair from Violet and Prisha. Renata seemed just as intent on learning the special art of hair braiding. Allison sat before Renata and seemed somewhat reluctant about being her guinea pig for this but the small smile on her lips made it clear that Allison wouldn’t say no. Meanwhile James was busy helping out with dinner prep with Omar. The pair spoke softly as the faint sound of knives slicing through the vegetables filled the air around them.

“Willy! It’s your turn for watch!” AJ called out from the watchtower, cupping his hands around his mouth. Willy groaned in annoyance, his hands hovering over Prisha’s hair. He was just about to start the first few steps on his journey to becoming the best hair braider of all. .

“Don’t worry, you can always practice later,” Prisha smiled back at Willy who returned the smile.

“Okay,” Willy hopped up from his spot and jogged forward towards AJ who was already waiting at the base of the watchtower. “Any funny looking walkers today?”

AJ thought deeply for a moment at that question. “I think one was stuck in a tree,”

“Really?” Willy snatched up the binoculars from AJ and scrambled up the ladder to the watchtower. He immediately looked out to see a walker who had its hand stuck in a tree. With a groan the walker yanked on its arm, causing it to tear off as it continued after a rabbit that was far too speedy for it to catch. Willy laughed and continued to watch on. AJ watched his best friend for a few seconds before his eyes caught sight of Clementine.

“Clem!” AJ ran forward with a huge smile. His eyes grew large when he noticed his little sister sleepily blinking at him from inside the slink. “Shit. I mean, shoot!” AJ quickly corrected himself before he realized he was talking too loudly again. A look of frustration covered his face as his lips pulled into a pout.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Clementine laughed and ruffled the top of AJ’s afro. “Maisy and I are just going to say hi to Louis before Maisy gets her nap time.”

“It’s Maisy’s nap time? I gotta grab my shiv and go on patrol!” AJ didn’t wait a single second for Clementine to respond and was off like a shot.

“AJ, where’s Louis?” Clementine called out but he was already long gone. With a soft chuckle she shook her head and continued forward. She’d just have to find Louis on her own. AJ tended to get like this whenever Maisy was settling down for a nap. He’d either insist on going on a patrol to make sure no walkers got in and there were no threats around or he’d sit on the bed nearby his sister and keep watch. Either way AJ was determined that no one ever hurt Maisy in any way. Clementine found the whole thing very sweet, how AJ always wanted to protect his family so fiercely and how deeply he loved Maisy. It warmed Clementine’s heart.

Clementine strolled forward, lightly bouncing Maisy as she walked. If Louis wasn’t in the courtyard and most of the daily chores were done, then there was only one place he would be. Clementine immediately made a beeline to the admin building and knew her hunch had been right. For as soon as she had entered she could hear the warm, soft melody of the piano. Clementine felt a smile pull on her lips as she wandered forward towards the music room. Peeking her head inside she saw Louis, lost in his music as his fingers danced upon the piano keys. He continued to play for a few more seconds before he felt Clementine’s presence. Glancing over, Louis’ face instantly brightened when he saw his wife. Sliding off the piano bench, he strolled forward and captured Clementine’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.

“Hello, my darling. What brings you here? Did my alluring music draw you in?” Louis grinned before his smile softened as he became lost in Clementine’s eyes.

“It definitely helped me find you.” Clementine reached out and gently squeezed Louis’ hand. Her heart felt calm and light like it always did when she was around Louis. The two shared a smile before Louis noticed the sling.

“And who is this a-Mais-ing bundle of joy?” Louis gently picked up Maisy and began to rock her. Maisy smiled and gave a small laugh as she reached up to try and grab one of Louis’ dreadlocks. “Damn, how did our kid turn out to be so cute?” Louis looked over at Clementine with a warm smile.

“I think we’re both pretty cute so it only makes sense. Plus she has some of our best features, like your freckles,” Clementine poked one of the freckles on Louis’ face before bopping his nose. Louis’ nose crinkled with joy and he leaned forward and kissed Clementine once more. He looked down at his daughter with pride and love.

“Well, she had your smile,” Louis felt his heart grow warm when he looked at his daughter. “Oh, how about Maisy takes her nap in here? She always loves the sound of the piano plus the rocking chair is in here,” Louis motioned with his head over to the rocking chair that Willy and Prisha had made during the months leading up to Maisy and Zach being born.

“I thought the rocking chair would be on the porch of the admin building,” Clementine commented as she walked side by side with Louis towards the rocking chair.

“It was but as it turns out Zachariah also finds piano music calming. So sometimes when Ruby or Aasim want a quick break from their kid crying they sneak in here with Zach and soon enough my music conks him out.” Louis smiled over at Clementine and gently placed Maisy back into her mother’s arms.

He pressed a quick kiss to Maisy’s forehead then was pleasantly surprised when Clementine captured his lips in a kiss. Louis’ heart soared and he felt like he always did around Clementine, filled with hope and joy. He gave a dorky grin then pulled on the sides of his coat. “I happened to be working on a special little piece for our family when you strolled in. I’ll have to play it again when AJ is around. Where is he by the way?”

“He’s out on patrol. I told him Maisy was taking a nap,” Clementine gently rocked back and forth in the chair.

“Gotta hand it to that little dude, he’s nothing if not protective. It's adorable, him being so protective of our family,” Louis smiled softly; the pride for AJ was clear in his voice. “Well, he’ll have to hear this song later but for now I can give you a sneak peek,”

Louis’ smile was infectious and Clementine couldn’t help but return it. “I’d love that. Let’s see what you wrote this time, Freckles,” Clementine watched as Louis spun around dramatically, causing his tailcoats to flutter lightly. Louis pushed the tailcoats back and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he began to play the song. It was a soft, joyful song. The notes slowly filled the air, complementing each other as the song progressed. His fingers brushed against the keys and fluttered around.

Clementine listened to the music, closing her eyes to soak in every single note as she rocked back and forth in the chair. Louis’ music had always been special; the emotions that he captured in them were always so strong and clear. The notes danced around the room, filling it with the passion that was poured into the song. The joy of it, the tender love, the feeling of comfort and safety. Clementine felt like she could listen to this song forever. Before she knew it the song had ended.

“There, first time played,” Louis spun around on the piano bench and gave his wife a loving smile. Clementine opened her eyes and looked over at Louis.

“I loved it. Does it have a name?”

“Shelter,” Louis awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Not the most original name, I know.”

“It's perfect.” Clementine’s words made Louis’ eyes shine with joy. Without thinking twice Louis got up and quietly jogged over to steal another kiss from Clementine. Looking down, he saw that Maisy was fast asleep.

“Works every time,” Louis gently took Clementine’s hand and brushed his thumb on top of it. The two watched their daughter for a moment before Clementine spoke up.

“Could you play the song again?”

Louis’ smile grew and he placed a quick peck on Clementine’s cheek. “Of course, my darling.”

Giving his wife’s hand a soft squeeze Louis moved back over to the piano and began the song once more. Clementine closed her eyes and took in every single note. Her heart filled with peace and abundant joy. To think that she had a home and a family. Clementine couldn’t help but feel extremely lucky. She was home.

[let-it-raines]

another kind of green (3/?)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: for @xemmaloveskillianx​ as her gift for my giveaway ❤️ 

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2| 3 |

-/-

“Emma, do you want a salad with your steak?”

“Do I want it? No. Should I have it? Probably.”

Mary Margaret laughs at her and then turns to start cutting up some more lettuce. Emma always feels horrible whenever she comes over to the Nolans and they cook for her. She offers to help, but they all know they’re better off if she stays far away from the kitchen. One time she put the rolls in the oven, forgot about them, nearly burned the apartment down, and they haven’t let her near the oven – or stove for that matter - since.

She can definitely cook rolls. That was an accident.

“So,” Mary Margaret begins, “how did your dress fittings go yesterday? Did you like the dresses?”

“There was so much lace, Marg. Like, I have never seen so much in one day. It’s obviously going to be a trend next summer.”

“Yeah? I’ve always loved a lace wedding dress. You know, my dress was – ”

“A strapless, fitted dress that was a mermaid style and overlaid with lace. I know.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and holds her knife up at Emma. “I may be a sweetheart of a human being, but I know how to defend myself.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Emma scoffs and rises from the barstool the pour herself a glass of wine. “Is Ruby coming tonight?”

“She’s got a date with Mulan tonight before she goes to New York for two weeks for a few shoots.”

“What? They didn’t want to spend a romantic evening with you, me, and David?”

“You know, believe it or not, I don’t think the two of them think we’re a great time.”

Emma mock gasps. “Shocker.”

“Okay, ladies,” David sing-songs as he walks back into the apartment from where he’s been up on the rooftop grilling in his ridiculous apron, “I come with your steaks grilled to perfection, and I won’t hear a word otherwise.”

The three of them sit down around the small table in the corner of the Nolan’s apartment and eat their steaks, which are grilled to perfection actually, and share about their days. Mary Margaret only did paperwork from home today while David had a particularly difficult new police officer that isn’t quite catching onto the rules, which isn’t great when they had him out on patrol. Being a Lieutenant obviously isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be for David, but Emma knows he’d never want to be anything else.

“Hey, speaking of that, how strict is the background check part of becoming a cop?”

Both of them stop eating, the metal of their forks and knives clanking against the porcelain of their plates, and blink at her.

“Emma,” David hesitates, picking up a napkin to wipe his mouth, “you know you can’t. I mean, I would love for you to but – ”

“No, no, no,” Emma interrupts, raising her hands, “not for me. I don’t…you know I know I don’t want to be a cop, right? Like, super thankful for you, but with my history, I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

David sighs. “I still hate how much of your life that bastard has fucked up. You should have so many more opportunities for what you want to do with your life.”

“I don’t want to deal with that. I just…ugh.”

If she buries her face in her hands and groans all night, she doesn’t have to tell them this, right? There’s no need for her to share what has to be one of the stupidest decisions she’s ever made. She can hoard that little secret forever and no one has to know what she apparently did while drunk off her ass in Las Vegas like the biggest cliché in the world.

Bradley Cooper and Zach Galifianakis have nothing on her. Except for maybe the tiger and missing teeth and all that.

“Emma? Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” Emma mumbles, not meaning it. “Igotmarried.”

“What?”

“What do you mean you got married?”

“Married?” David shouts before coughing and having to hit his chest. “What do you mean you got married? Who did you marry? I didn’t know you were seeing someone!”

“I’m not,” Emma explains, wanting to die a little inside. “Remember when we went to Vegas for that weird convention thing last month?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret answers while David continues to drill lasers into her head. You’d think he was her father and not her friend. “What about it?”

“Well, the guy who played the groom and I…spent the night together.” That gets her a groan from the both of them. She knows. She gets it. They’re not fans of her spending nights with men she doesn’t know, but she can handle herself. “And then we decided to drink too much instead of parting ways and somehow, we ended up at a chapel and got married. Legitimately. I checked. Our license is online and everything.”

She lets the two of them have their freak out for the next ten minutes or so. Mary Margaret never stops asking questions while David keeps muttering curses under his breath and seems not to have a fully functioning brain. It’s a lot to comprehend. She understands. She spent her entire day yesterday trying to figure out how this happened and what she was going to do about it.

Get it annulled, obviously.

Killian mentioned that, and when she got home after her fittings yesterday, she looked it up and made sure they qualified – the both of them not being in their right mind definitely qualifies them for an annulment. Killian probably had whiskey dick or something after the marriage, so she’s guessing they didn’t have sex afterward either. Before, yes. That’s a definite. After, nope. And apparently not consummating the marriage is still a legal reason for annulment in most states.

“How did you find out about this?” David finally asks when his brain starts working again.

“Killian found me yesterday and told me. He’s trying to become a cop in the A-1 district, funnily enough, which is why I asked about the background check thing. He was having his done when they came upon our marriage, which he didn’t tell them about…obviously.”

“You can’t say you don’t have a type.”

Emma flicks a piece of lettuce at Mary Margaret. “Remember how you threatened me with that knife earlier?”

“What?” David screeches, hands slamming against the table. They’re going to cause him to have an aneurism.

“Nothing, honey. So what are you two going to do about this marriage?”

“We’re going to get an annulment. He’s supposed to text me on when I have to go down to the station to talk to his recruiting officer about the whole situation, which I’m sure won’t really help his case, and then we’re going to find a lawyer or figure out how to do the paperwork ourselves.”

“And you’re okay dealing with a lawyer again?”

“I mean, I’d rather not, but all of the paperwork online looked…confusing. I don’t know. I’m not sure what exactly we’re going to do. I haven’t really processed it all. I still think I’m going to blink and it’s all going to be a dream.”

“Shit, Emma,” David sighs, the beginnings of a chuckle creeping into his voice, “you got married.”

Emma chunks her a throw pillow at him.

After the Nolans have finished interrogating her, but mostly laughing at her for this situation she’s ended up in, she tells them she’ll talk to them later but she’s going home. This has exhausted her, and she wants to sleep. As soon as she walks in her front door, she throws her keys on the entryway table where the envelope of her wedding pictures are still sitting, kicks off her shoes, and reaches under her shirt to take her bra off with all of the sweet, sweet relief that comes with that.

Her apartment is messy enough that it needs to be cleaned, but it’s a quarter until ten, and no one but her is going to see this place. Cleaning isn’t a priority.

Then again, when is it ever for her?

She’s not a slob by any means, but she’s not going to die if there are some clothes on the floor and a dish in the sink.

Sighing, she walks toward her couch and plops down onto the soft cushions, wondering if she’s going to fall asleep before she has the time to watch an episode of Downton Abbey, her newest mindless television show that most of the world has already seen. Emma’s turning on her TV when her phone buzzes in her hands.

Unknown number: Can you meet tomorrow?

Emma Swan: That entirely depends on who this is.

Unknown number: Killian Jones.

“Oh shit,” Emma mumbles under her breath. She was expecting to hear from him, but she’d almost forgotten in the last hour that she had this situation to deal with. She spent the whole night talking about him, but for a little while, she allowed herself to forget.

Emma Swan: I can meet tomorrow. What time? At the station?

Killian Jones: Does 1:00 PM work for you?

Emma Swan: That’s fine.

Killian Jones: See you tomorrow, love.

-/-

It’s been three years since Emma’s been in front of this police station. Three years, give or take a few weeks, but nothing about it has changed. Same red doors that need painting and same grimy concrete steps that do not make it an inviting prospect no matter your reason to go inside. Then again, who really wants to go to a police station? That’s not exactly what someone would consider fun.

Emma doesn’t exactly consider this fun.

The wine she had last night helped ease her into sleep, but this morning when her alarm went off to very annoyingly yell at her to go to the gym, all of her anxiety over having to be here today came back in full force that she channeled into her hour-long run on a treadmill that made too much noise. She should have taken a Pilates class or something instead. That way she wouldn’t have had to listen to the groan of the treadmill and would have had the voice of the instructor to distract her.

(Mulan always kicks her ass.)

God, why are police stations the absolute worst?

“Are you always so jumpy?”

Emma stumbles over her own feet with her jump, and Killian’s chuckle does not amuse her, not at all.

“Point proven,” he continues, swaggering up to her and down the rest of the steps that lead to the entrance. He’s got on a leather jacket despite it being sweltering out here, and she has no idea how he’s not sweating. She was sweating simply putting her bra on this morning. “It’s a pleasure to see you, love.”

“Did I not tell you not to call me that?”

“I don’t believe you did.”

“Well, I’m not your love, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me as such.”

Killian bows – he freaking bows – and rolls his hand in circles in front of her. “As you wish, Swan.”

He’s a cocky son of a bitch, isn’t he?

“So,” Emma starts, taking a deep breath, “what do you need me to do in here exactly?”

“Tell the truth. It doesn’t exactly make me look too great to have gotten drunk enough to get married in Vegas while on a job, which I’m sure will be a reason to have my ass handed to me on many occasions, but I need you to tell the truth and explain that I honestly did not realize I had a better half.”

“Fine. Sounds simple enough.”

Killian nods, his lips pressed into a tight smile, before he opens up the door to that station for her.

“What? Are you a gentleman or something?”

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

On instinct, Emma walks into the station and starts walking past the front desk like she still has access to the place, but she quickly holds herself back and stops, stepping backward and hoping that no one noticed her. When she sees Killian’s raised brows, she knows that he did. Dammit.

“Hello, Marlene,” Killian drawls out, laying on the charm a little too thick for whoever the new officer at the desk is. “I’m here for a meeting with Captain Roberts.”

“Is everything alright? I thought the tests for our new officers weren’t until next month.”

“Everything is just fine, love. He simply wanted to meet my lovely wife.”

Oh, son of a bitch. Why would he say that?

“You’re married?” Marlene gasps, eyes full of murder glancing over at Emma. Homegirl is plotting out ways to get rid of Emma’s body right now, and if she gets murdered, she is coming back to life to murder Killian. He’s probably met this woman two or three times in his life, and he’s already got her wrapped around his finger. What must it be like to be able to charm someone like that?

“It’s new. Roberts has heard me talking so much about her, and he’d love to meet her, aye?”

“Uh, o-okay,” Marlene stutters, her jaw still dropped open. “Let me ring him, and I’ll let you back.”

“Thank you, lass.”

Killian turns back toward Emma, waggling his brows and then winking, and she has absolutely no idea how this is the man, of all the men in the world, that she accidentally married.

What a sentence.

“Do you always use your looks to get what you want?”

“Are you saying I have the looks to be able to do that?”

“I do not have to do you this favor.”

“True,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She almost shrugs him off, but then she sees Marlene looking at them again. “You’re doing me a kindness I don’t deserve.”

“Yeah, well, it takes two drunk idiots to get married.”

Killian quietly snorts underneath his breath while there’s a buzzing sound coming from the other end of the station with two doors opening and a group of cops walking out the door. She doesn’t think anything of it, doesn’t pay any attention, until she sees familiar brown hair and the same boots that he wore every single day.

Why the hell could Marlene not have gotten them inside any quicker? She was probably staring at Killian’s ass too much to put in the call quick enough. For a moment, Emma almost turns to Killian and asks him to do something dumb like kiss her so he can’t see her face, but she knows it’s too late. Besides, all two people making out in a police station will do is bring more attention to them.

Shit.

“Emma?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Killian’s arm tightens around her shoulder, and she can feel him taking everyone in as they walk by.

“Hi, Graham,” Emma sighs, forcing her smile. “How are you?”

He mumbles something to the other cops, guys she recognizes but can’t put a name to at the moment, and they keep walking while he stops right in front of them, taking in she and Killian and Killian’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“I’m good.” His smile is genuine, and she really doesn’t need him to be a good guy right now. But he will be. Of course he will be. “How about you? What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, well…it’s a funny story, you know. I – ”

“She’s the wife of one of new prospective officers,” Marlene, like the helpful soul she is, tells Graham. Killian barely manages to stifle his snort.

Graham’s brows nearly hit his hairline. “Is that so?”

“Killian Jones.” Killian sticks his hand out to shake Graham’s, the veins in both of their forearms popping out the slightest bit, and if a sink hole wanted to come and swallow her whole right now, she wouldn’t say no to that. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective.”

“Same to you. Where are you in your application?”

“I have the PAT scheduled for a few weeks from now after I finish all of my medical exams.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything. A friend of Emma’s is certainly a friend of mine.” Graham nods at her then, that same genuine smile still there. “I’d love to catch up soon, if you’d like.”

Killian’s arm feels like one thousand pounds on her shoulders. “Yeah, Graham, that’d be nice.”

“Good.”

As Graham walks away, Killian turns to say something to her, his mouth gaping, but he doesn’t get a chance to before Marlene is telling them to go upstairs to talk to Killian’s Captain…or almost Captain. She’s really not sure how all of that works. On the entire walk through the double doors and up the elevator, she can tell that Killian is practically vibrating out of his skin to ask her about whatever just happened, but he seems to have enough human decency not to do that.

Or maybe he’s terrified that she won’t go along and tell his Captain that he didn’t lie and this isn’t really a big deal. Though, he seems to have no issue telling other people in the station that he’s married.

If she ever does meet up with Graham again, which she probably won’t, she has no idea how to explain this to him. Then again, why the hell is she wondering how to explain to her ex-boyfriend that she’s married but she’s not really married and he probably shouldn’t beat himself up over the fact that she committed to someone else but not him even though he’s a really nice guy.

She really screwed him over, and Emma still hates herself for that. It’s just…she wasn’t ready.

This should really not be her focus right now, especially as she puts on that fake smile again and relays information to Captain Roberts about her and about Killian and about how they got into this whole mess. Killian getting drunk enough to not remember getting married is not a good look, but his Captain seems to understand. It’s awkward as hell, and she’d very much like to get this entire day and situation over with, but it drags on for at least an hour, going a little longer when he and Killian start talking about the football game last night. It takes her five minutes to figure out they’re actually talking about soccer. Who decided that America needed a different name for that sport than the rest of the world?

But eventually it’s over, which is a huge sigh of relief, and Emma is so damn ready to get out of this station and move on with her life.

“Thank you for that, Swan,” Killian says as they step out of the station and walk up the stairs, cars speeding by and the cranes of the nearby construction whirring so loudly it’s the only noises she can hear. “Can I buy you a coffee or something in thanks?”

She almost says no. she really does. That whole thing was draining, but a coffee sounds so damn good right now. “I like anything with hazelnut.”

“I can handle that.”

-/-

“So, how do you know Humbert? He’s how you knew where the precinct was, aye?”

“How do you know his last name? He didn’t introduce himself.”

“It was on his uniform.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs as she sips on her coffee. She doesn’t know what exactly it is that Killian bought her, but it’s fantastic…and much better than whatever gross thing he’s drinking. There’s no sugar or milk or creamer in there, and she doesn’t understand how anyone does that.

“I’m quite perceptive, darling.”

“I’m picking up on that.”

“And I’m guessing Detective Humbert is some kind of former lover. I’m not sure what exactly the relationship was.”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Killian raises his hands. “I understand. It’s just that I quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me asking how the hell we ended up getting married in Vegas. All I wanted to do was get to know you a bit.”

Emma huffs and flicks a sugar packet over at Killian. “You are full of yourself sometimes.”

He shrugs. “It happens.”

“And no offense, but I’m not entirely interested in getting to know your deep, dark secrets. What I am interested in, however, is figuring out how to get this marriage annulled. So why don’t we do that?”

“Discussing my divorce over a cup of coffee in a public café has always been a dream of mine.”

“Annulment, not divorce.”

“Touché, love,” Killian sighs, furrowing his brows as his lips curl into a smirk that has her stomach doing that fluttering thing that she is most definitely ignoring. “Touché.”

He flicks the packet of sugar right back at her.

Killian’s not going to make this easy, is he? At least she’s going to get a free coffee out of it.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @xemmaloveskillianx​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​

[dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition]

the first annual “movies” awards

everyone’s doing their fake oscars, so why shouldn’t i do mine?

there will be five nominations per category, based exclusively on whether or not i liked it or not. my experience in film criticism is copy-editing film reviews for a major media group, but i also have terrible taste. if you are mad at me, it is just because you are angry.

thank you. let’s begin.

best ensemble: -knives out -the farewell -booksmart -hustlers and the winner.... parasite! fucking obviously. the film is a well-oiled machine, with its cast working together to shine a massive spotlight on each others’ performances. the chemistry, the dedication, and the choreography of it all. brilliant, show-stopping, etcetera.

best supporting actor: -willem dafoe, the lighthouse -brad pitt, once upon a time... in hollywood (i’m sorry! it was a good performance!) -song kang-ho, parasite -daniel craig, knives out and the winner... tom hanks, a beautiful day in the neighborhood! i am one of those people who cries at videos about fred rogers on the reg. tom hanks is an actor i have actively tried to dislike, but i’m completely unable to do it! this performance was like a warm hug, and sometimes, that’s what you need from a performance.

best supporting actress: -jennifer lopez, hustlers -zhao shuzhen, the farewell -laura dern, she just had a good year and i like her even if i didn’t like marriage story at all and i thought her work in little women didn’t stand out among the rest -margot robbie, same as ms. dern and the winner... florence pugh, little women! she managed to convincingly portray a 13 year old despite being florence pugh, which is a fucking miracle. i want to see her doing more comedy!!! her delivery as amy was delightful, and she succeeded where one of her co-stars, who i will not name in this post, failed, in playing a complex young woman with a great deal of internalized misogyny in a way that is real, relatable, and interesting. i also just fucking loved little women, is the thing. please break up with zach braff.

best director: -greta gerwig, little women -pedro almodóvar, pain & glory -sam mendes, 1917 -taika waititi, jojo rabbit and the winner... bong joon-ho, parasite! this feels like a given, tbh. parasite is a fucking masterpiece, and it’s so artfully and passionately crafted that it kills me. again, well-oiled machine.

best adapted screenplay: -hustlers, lorene scafaria -the lighthouse, max & robert eggers -the irishman, steven zaillian -a beautiful day in the neighborhood, micah fitzerman-blue & noah harpster -and the winner... greta gerwig, little women! listen. listen. ten year-old me kinned jo marsh. gerwig made a perfect adaptation of the book--changing and transforming as needed, and just. i fucking love that the heterosexuality-ever-after is presented as comedic and fake and stupid. it made me happy, and it made me want to reread the book. thanks.

best original screenplay: -parasite, bong joon-ho & han jin-won -the last black man in san francisco, joe talbot & rob richert -portrait of a lady on fire, céline sciamma -the farewell, lulu wang and the winner... knives out, rian johnson! i did not go into knives out expecting to love it. i knew i’d like it, of course--i love a good whodunnit, the cast is spectacular, all that, but as much as i love brick, both looper and tlj were not really for me, so i wasn’t really sure about how johnson’s work would vibe with me in 2020. anyway. i was so pleasantly surprised. the script is so sharp and pointed and fucking funny, and it made me want to play along with the mystery, so fuck yeah.

the oscar isaac award for making me remember that men can be attractive: -idris elba, hobbs & shaw (dq’d because cats happened, and i think it scarred me -richard madden, rocketman -jake gyllenhal, spiderman: far from home -lakeith stanfield, knives out and the winner... winston duke, us, because he’s very handsome and i think he has a charming personality.

best lead actor: -jimmie fails, the last black man in san francisco -eddie murphy, dolemite is my name -it is with great pain that i must say this, adam sandler, uncut gems -antonio banderas, pain & glory and the winner... taron egerton, rocketman, another movie i did not expect to love at all. but egerton’s performance makes it! it really does. much like the largely indistinguishable from him ansel elgort in baby driver, he managed to make me overcome my extreme dislike of him so as to deliver a charming, tragic performance. good job, taron.

best lead actress: -saoirse ronan, little women -alfre woodaard, clemency -renée zellweger, judy -elisabeth moss please leave scientology, her smell and the winner... lupita n’yongo, us! which, uh, duh. fucking horror performance of the century. maybe of eternity. i had nightmares for a solid week, and horror movies aren’t usually nightmare fuel for me. she manages to play unhinged masterfully while still serving as a grounding force, and it’s just magical. god. this performance was great, we have no choice but to stan, etc.

best picture: -knives out -little women -the last black man in san francisco -portrait of a lady on fire and the winner... parasite! i feel like i’ve explained that well enough. okay. thanks for tuning in. fuck the academy. love you bye.

[youngbradford]

Xmas Message For 2019

And here we go, my 19th annual year-end love letter online …Georgi Balinov and I rang in the new year at a giant party in Bangkok, halfway around the world. That foreign location, its beauty and tastes, set the tone for my 2019, a year of seeing the world, while stabilizing my life. Though often in flux or movement, 2019 was a year many things normalized over the year.

In January, almost immediately after arriving stateside, I crossed the pond and saw Michelle Visage perform in the West End with Peter Wish. Afterward, I played with her wigs backstage and walked her towards the queer kids lining up for selfies and autographs. I am very lucky to have Peter and Michelle in my life, kindred spirits both. One reminding me that fame, fortune, ebb, and flow, but that being real is what matters most. The other, a reminder to stay forever young. I visited Berlin yet again and did the usual, working, and playing, hard.

February appeared and I traveled to Philadelphia with Sandra Hansel, Georgi, George Sapio, and Anthony DeFilippis. We toured Lisa Roberts’ house, saw a Dieter Rams exhibit, dined with George Alley. In Lambertville, that Sunday, I bought vinyl and vintage hats. Later that month, I got a swallow tattooed on my hand, a symbol of flight and travel, and Warhol’s knives, blackened into my shin. An Eames exhibit in Oakland was a sweet way to end the month.

In March with my crew, Georgi, Khadyon Reid, Luis Urribarri, Anthony, and George, descended upon Salvador for Carnival. It was insane! I watched Anitta live, and danced in a sea of pushing, fighting, kissing Brazilians for days upon days. I felt unsafe and alive, threatened and excited. It was intense. Back home I got my other hand tattooed, again honoring my love of seeing the world. I traveled to Portland, came back to NYC at the end of the month, finally moving into our apartment, the one we bought 1.5 years before, that I designed, and had renovated head to toe. Finally, we had our dream home. The weekend we moved in, the place was still not ready, but we were sick of living without our things and in other people’s beds. Peg Kendall and Georgi’s mom came, and we worked our asses off unpacking and starting to make the 2800 square foot loft on west 13th street a home. We’d lived in Airbnbs and friends’ places for 19 months and it was tiring not having a home, not having most of our things. My art! My toys! My shoes!. Those months taught me how important a home, a safe place, and the oasis of my collections is to my mental health. From March on I felt more on solid ground and dedicated more energy to my career and friendships as a result.

In April we went to Coachella, seeing Ian and Jose Seronni, JJ and Andrey Lunin, and dancing in the desert of California. Multiple trips to San Francisco, catching glimpse of old friends, scaling my team at work, as I took on more and more responsibility.

In May, George Sapio and I celebrated (me a little early) a shared, fun birthday weekend at Soho Farmhouse. Joined by Matthew Kelleher, Mark Silver, Jaime Tanner, Matt Lynch, and others, we went shooting and feasted on pheasant in the English countryside.June was really busy, insanely so. 

For my 43rd in early June, I had a 30-person dinner party in our new place! We ended up at Club Cumming after, but before friends, new, and old, showered me with a vinyl record, the admission fee I’d set for my party. Lauren Foster, who has shared her home with us, was, appropriately, our first overnight guest. London, again, Berlin, too. Then home for Pride. Willam Ralphie hosted Bingo at eBay, Zach Augustine, David Mason Chlopecki, other loves attended. That weekend danced to both Madonna and Grace Jones on the pier and danced with 15K others at Javitz, where my favorite singer, Cyndi Lauper, belted “I Drove All Night,” her best song, at midnight. I stayed until the sun came up. NYC was electric that weekend. Parties, icons, friends from the world over … the city has an energy you could literally see and taste. I caught a few moments of the parade, overtaking lower Manhattan, and I smiled really big. God, it can feel good being gay! God, the world has improved for gay people (and yes, I know, we still have ways to go, especially for more marginalized LGBTQ groups). But I still took a moment to acknowledge the things that are better, that I have seen in my very gay lifetime. NYC that weekend was the ultimate place to reflect.

July 4th I went to Hamptons, with Ricardo, Brian, Felipe L. Mollica, others, guests of Anthony. Hosted Fab.com reunion, walked the Brooklyn Bridge, and took my team to Korea (where I shared a traditional Korean meal with Jae Hah), China (where I ate bird’s nests, jellyfish, sea snails, saw a Yves Klein show with Adnan Abbasi, and danced to 90s pop in a packed gay club), and Moscow (where I was amazed at how clean the city was and where I went to a traditional sauna and was whipped, naked, with tree leaves in front of dozens of Russian dudes in the nude). While in Russia a protest erupted, literally below the rooftop bar I dined in. Russia seemed freer than I’d expected, way more Western, up until this moment. I ended the weekend at a club at 3 AM, Russian women in high, high heels, dancing on the bar, vodka flowing like water. 2020 saw me traveling to places I romanticized as a child. Russia, one such place. I thoroughly enjoyed the friendships formed in Moscow, the food, and history. I want to return.

August, I was back in San Jose and Portland for work, then off again to Europe for vacation. We started our trip in Croatia, where Georgi and I kayaked around Dbruvnik’s harbor. Croatia’s cliffs and turquoise water did not disappoint, as we boated to islands and swam in caves. Driving south into Montenegro, the architecture reminded me more of Polish, Bulgarian trips, the water, greener. At the Amman we laid out next to The Beckhams, watching David kick a soccer ball with workers of the hotel, and watching Victoria read a book. Georgi and I then ventured to Mykonos, sunning til sunset and dancing til sunrise. A weekend trip upstate with our besties (including a guest appearance by Eric Lee, riding rides at the Colombia County fair, cooking pies, and grilling meats, ended our summer.

In September I went to Berlin and did Folsom and a speaking gig in front of 1K eBay sellers. I went again to Tel Aviv, meeting gay Israeli technology workers and a bevy fo Israeli start-ups. In Jerusalem, I returned to the wonderful Machneyuda with Gilad Ayalon, where they remembered me from my birthday the year before.

October saw us hosting my mother and my niece for a visit. We fell in love with Company XVI, a dance/burlesque/performance art troupe in Brooklyn. I took my mother to see Madonna, a night I will cherish forever. And we saw Dear Evan Hanson. A weekend in Miami with Lauren Foster and K was needed warmth. I took Georgi to see both acts of The Inheritance (so good!).  Then off to Berlin, again, and Paris, where I looked at art and went shopping for fall clothes. Halloween, in NYC, was brilliant and over the top; I went as white Pierrot clown. In Brooklyn, to Honey Dijon, we danced all night. Ralph Rucci, the American couturier reposted our photo on Instagram, calling it high-fashion, however, it was Georgi who won the night as Spock.

November I was in NYC early on, shopping with Thomas Cawson (who hooked me up with pink denim Helmut Lang), eating Christmas cookies, and being interviewed by Buzzfeed, a segment on 90s toys. I imitated a Furby. Then a week in Portland (I glow-in-the-dark-miniature-golfed), and off to Helsinki, catching up with former friends from Fab, One Nordic, Hem. Then to Lapland, with Georgi, George, and Anthony, lapping up wine, winter wonderlands, and dining on reindeer and elk. Dog sledding, snowmobiling, Northen lights! Another childhood desire checked from the list. Dinner with Michelle Case in London closed the month.

In December I went back to Berlin (my second home) and hosted a fundraiser for Single Step in our home. In one night Georgi and I helped raise $50K to help build Bulgaria’s first LGBTI center. It was also an impromptu holiday party: so many old friends together again in one room. And now Georgi and I sit in an airport lounge, awaiting our flight to Baltra, in the Galapagos. Once we land, we’ll board a 7-day cruise on a mega-yacht/small cruise ship. This, I feel, I have been waiting my entire life for.

I often write about how I was lonely as a kid. I was gay, I had a drug-addicted father, I grew up very poor. I oftentimes say music saved my life. But, I don’t write enough about the joy animals gave me too. I had so many pets: newts, turtles, tortoises, tree frogs, geckos, crabs, salamanders, etc. Caring for them, feeding them, gave me peace and allowed me to love. One turtle I had had a cracked shell. He lived in my room for many, many years. I always preferred him, with his defects, to the others. I think I feel the same about people.

As a child, I became obsessed with the Galapagos Islands, and mostly the tortoises. I would read about them in encyclopedias and race to see them at zoos. I always felt connected to turtles. They were my spirit animal. Later in life, I’d bloom, my feathers growing, my pride, alive. I’d no longer consider myself a turtle, my spirit animal changed. I told this story to my colleague Eben Sermon, who runs eBay’s German business: I always wanted to be a turtle. But I ended up a cockatoo. Eben brought this up last week in Berlin and it made me think a bit more about affinities for animals and how I have not had that connection as often as I probably should.

So this week, before we ring in New Years in Rio, I will honor the old me, the kid, the quieter Bradford, the sadder Bradford, by visiting those turtles, finally.

And I’ll marvel at the wonder of nature and evolution, both the evolution of animals and this world, and also the very real and dramatic evolution of my spirit and happiness.

Happy Holidays, Peace & Big Love

[rainydawgradioblog]

RDR Essentials - Hard Rock (4/26)

RDR Essentials is a weekly newsletter of alternating genres that outlines key releases of the past month, upcoming events around Seattle and happenings in the specified music genre.

Made in collaboration between Rainy Dawg DJs and the Music Director.

Releases:

Nocebo - Elizabeth Colour Wheel

Elizabeth Colour Wheel is one of the my favorite emerging bands right now. The Boston-based 5-piece just released their debut album Nocebo on SF dark music label The Flenser, whos expansive roster includes releases by Deafheaven, Have a Nice Life, Panopticon, and so many more powerfully oppressive and depressive acts. Musically, in the 8 tracks on the album, Nocebo touches on a ridiculous amount of experimental metal and rock subgenres but still manages to meld them together into something cohesive. Even just the opening track, Pink Palm, manages to hop from slowcore to shoegaze, then over to punk and ends with an absolutely massive doom/drone section, all within 6 minutes. The seven tracks that follow don’t give any sign of settling into a singular sound either. Somnambulist and Bedrest provide a quick ambient breather between more energetic cuts like Hide Behind (Emmet’s Song), which leans more into the black and doom metal influences, and the thrashy noise rock and unrelenting chug of 34th. 23 and Life of a Flower and verge slightly more towards post-rock and make beautifully jarring use of the band’s dynamic range, slowing louder sections to a more serene crawl so they can crank it up again and make themselves seem twice as loud as before. Head Home wraps the album up with a massive few minutes of cathartic feedback and incredibly thick guitar drones. RIYL - Have a Nice Life, Thou, Isis

- Elliott Hansen

Dog Whistle - Show Me The Body

Show Me The Body, a banjo-brandishing hardcore punk trio from the Corpus collective (home to other innovative acts like Dreamcrusher), has quite a lot on its mind. The band’s political leanings are worn on its sleeve: affiliations with the Occupy movement in their home of New York City, the Stop Mass Incarceration movement, and political silent films populate its history. In an interview with The Intercept, vocalist Julian Cashwan Pratt commented “I don’t really even like to think that’s political, in a certain way. Because I think when you live around so many damn people, it’s more of, like, a decision or not a decision to engage.” This mantra thrives in the bands latest release, Dog Whistle. Album opener “Camp Orchestra” hits with a slowly marching bass line with tangential guitar riffing that explodes into condemnation of forced labor in concentration camps by Nazi scum, “no work will set you free”. The band further explored themes of exploitation, abuse, and genocide in their silent film birthed after their recent tour of concentration camps through Europe, and investigations into the prison system of the United States. On droning interlude “Animal in a Dream”, Pratt speaks, “every institution has hand in the business of death” before stepping back into the more industrial influenced “Badge Grabber”. My favorite tracks on the record make full use of hardcore punk buildups, which can be found best in the  “Forks and Knives” and “Arcanum”. The former withholds fury until the last moment with glitched-out sample loops, and the latter slowly adds instruments on top of a consistent banjo riff with nihilistic spoken words until its breaking point. These tracks were especially excellent in their show on Sunday at Black Lodge, where the band’s noble energy was put on full display. Keeping with the inclusivity of the bands beliefs, Pratt declared during an pause between songs that “this ain’t no gang shit, if we knock somebody down we help them back up”

- Max Bryla

Bidet Dreaming - Sea Moss

Sea Moss is the most danceable noise band I’ve heard in a hot minute. The Portland, OR duo consists of Zach D’Agostino on drums and electronics and Noa Ver on vocals and electronics. They’ve released two EPs, Bread Bored and Ugh, in the past two years or so of their existence, which feature irresistibly groovy drum beats, mangled contact-mic vocals, and raw, squelchy electronic sounds coming out of mysterious little hand-built boxes decorated with all manner of knobs and switches. Their debut album Bidet Dreaming is due May 10th via Crash Symbols, and they’ve released the titular opening track in advance. Pulsating electronic tones backed by a persistent kick drum explode into frantic squealing and blast beats before locking into a groove punctuated by mangled yet rhythmic vocal lines. Although I can’t yet speak on the rest of the album, titles like “Appease the Peas, Please,” “Knock Knock Joke” and “Fancy Shit” have got me very excited for this release.

- Elliott Hansen

Upcoming Releases:

~ 05/2 Protomartyr - No Passion All Technique

~ 05/3 Empath - Active Listening: Night on Earth

~ 05/3 Fury - Failed Entertainment

~05/3 Body Type - Ep2

~ 05/3 Versing - 10000

~ 05/10 Greys - Age Hasn’t Spoiled You

~ 05/10 Pottery - No. 1

~ 05/23 Petrol Girls - Cut & Stitch

Events Around Seattle:

04/26 - Iceage @ Vera Project

7PM / AA / $15-$17

05/13 - Splatter @ Funhouse

7PM / 21+ / $8-$12

04/27 - Slow Code/Prison @ Kraken

8PM / 21+ / $7

[vipers-nest]

recently:

I’m not volunteering you, I match his laughter, startled, from across the room/world/line/bed. it’s all right, he says softly, it just hadn’t even occurred to me. I’m ten years older than you. new kid shrugs, grins, says, I don’t care about that, obviously, but it’s fine. it was nice, though. earlier. we all think about earlier. it was nice.

Eames this morning, just going, right, come on. we’ve got to do it. when I had the phonecall about work he sat on the bed and rubbed my shoulder like a - person, I was going to write. I don’t even know what I mean. he’s just - I don’t know where we’d be. any of us.

holy shit dude, are you in chastity? we both burst into incredulous laughter I was glad couldn’t actually be heard by the extremely beautiful woman on the other end of Zach’s zoom call as he told us to shut up, fuck, it’s just for an afternoon while trying not to laugh in the real world. I don’t know, man. I just really love him.

every time we watch anything or look at anything it’s only a matter of time before new kid’s hand will just - twitch, empty, mourning. in their group chat she called herself Mourning Dove for a year and it still hurts him deeply to think about. when he texted her to say he wished he could text their dead friend he called her Mal because he couldn’t bear anything else.

I was a menace to society, Zeke said, staring into the mirror and thinking about all the things he said last night, and about - more, worse, older things. it was way too close to home. I stood next to him and stared into the mirror myself and thought about madness, about knives, about the song in my YouTube favourites that goes said he likes crazy girls but he hates when I act crazy, that everyone else hears daddy instead of said he and so did I. about the other morning, when new kid watched me for a few minutes and shook his head and went, of course you need a fucking parent.

ah, he said, as though we’d only just left off our conversation instead of it having been - what, two years or some fucking thing? I explained about work and the plague and I said don’t go this time please stay, you’re so lonely and he was silent for a moment and then said, I am. but here, I have to be aware of that fact - constantly. and I mean, people in here survive it, they do, but he’s not wrong. I can never do enough.