#payton makes bad jokes

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Everytime Taylor steps on that stage for surprise song o’clock she reaffirms her status as public enemy number one.

#taylor swift #the eras tour #Payton makes bad jokes #she must be stopped!!!

[dank-meme-legend]

Now I know everything…

#the politician netflix #the politician #payton hobart #the politician netflix edit #payton hobart edit #the song is ‘poison root’ by Alex G #I made this because I felt like it #my silly guy makes any bad feelings go away #that’s a joke I do not depend on Payton Hobart to combat funkiness

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume Nine, Number Eight

Spiral Joy Band

The music plays on through the end of the most disastrous summer in living memory, with Maui on fire and Arizona broiled beneath a heat dome and Vermont swept away in a 100- maybe 500-year flood.  And here’s the kicker: next year will likely be worse.  Still by force of habit, we continue on with the daily grind, cooking and mowing lawns and going to shows and listening to records.  This month’s haul includes avant-black metal, turntablism, bass-forward jazz, jolting punk and music made in collaboration with our robot overlords.  Contributors this time include Jonathan Shaw, Bill Meyer, Jim Marks, Jennifer Kelly, Tim Clarke and Bryon Hayes.

夢遊病者 — Skopophoboexoskelett (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

In past thinking and writing about this tri-continental, avant-garde, jazz and black metal project (whose name translates to Sleepwalker), your faithful reviewer has made concerted efforts to set aside any references to John Zorn’s Naked City ensemble. This time around, for the project’s Skopophoboexoskelett, such efforts face real challenge holding Naked City tracks like “Saigon Pickup,” “Punk China Doll” or “Razorwire” at any sort of distance. The atmospherics on Sleepwalker’s new LP explode with unpredictable noise, then emanate a patina of Noir-ish style and sleaze, especially the excellent final track “The Bad Luck That Saved You from Worse Luck.” It’s murky like a thick cloud of cigarette smoke, sexy like a stiletto heel dotted with droplets of blood, compelling like those cinematic moments at which Humphrey Bogart (as Philip Marlowe or Glenn Griffin) would grin his mean and tight grin, presaging antic, joyful violence. In spite of that violence, Skopophoboexoskelett may be Sleepwalker’s most listenable record. That could be a good or a bad thing, depending on how much you enjoyed being subsumed in the volatile chaos of their earlier records.

Jonathan Shaw

Agnel / Lanz / Vatcher — Animals (Klanggalerie)

Animals by AGNEL LANZ VATCHER

While the ability of great improvisers to make music out immediate company, available space, and their own personal resources might amaze a listener, after a while, that might become a bit routine. Perhaps that is why French pianist Sophie Agnel and American-born, Netherlands-based drummer Michael Vatcher have sought out the company of turntablist Joke Lanz, AKA Sudden Infant. Lanz’s aesthetics have grown out of punk, noise and actionism. But, being a man of a certain age, he’s been doing what he does for a long time, too, so his onslaught of well-timed body noises, electronic squiggles and good old-fashioned scratching further confounds by evading being confounding. Construction, destruction, mutual disregard and scrupulous attunement all come into play across this album’s 13 short-for-improv episodes of absurd grace. Never mind breaking this stuff down, the players are already doing that even as they make it up.

Bill Meyer

Vicente Archer Trio — Short Stories (Cellar Music Group)

Short Stories by Vicente Archer

Reviewing a release by the Bruce Barth Trio last year, I mentioned wanting to hear more of double bassist Vicente Archer, and my wishes have been answered. Short Stories, with Gerald Clayton on piano and Bill Stewart on drums, demonstrates Archer’s strengths as a musician and composer. The tunes are generally mid-tempo, mid-length, and with a kind of timeless post-bop feel. Three were written by Archer (“Bye Nashville” deserves to become a standard), two by Stewart, and one each by Clayton, Jeremy Pelt, Nicholas Payton and Pat Metheny.

An advantage of bassist-led piano trios is that the piano is usually not allowed to dominate the sound, and Clayton plays his role just right here, taking the occasional solo, as on the bluesy “Round Comes Round,” but giving the others plenty of space. The set includes a brooding solo piece for bass, “Lighthouse,” a playful duo featuring just Archer and Stewart, “It Takes Two to Know One,” and Stewart sitting out while Clayton and Archer recreate “Message to a Friend” by Metheny and Charlie Haden. Short Stories makes clear why Archer has appeared on 50 or more recordings over the past 25 years and makes the case for him as a band leader.

Jim Marks

BEEF — BEEF (Feel It)

BEEF by BEEF

BEEF jolts hard on the four-four, their songs a continuous up-and-down battery of guitar slashes, bass thunks and relentless, manic drums. There is nothing fancy or florid or even fluid about these songs. They rain down like punches, though there’s undeniable glee in the violence. Maybe it’s because the drummer, Takoda Hortenberry, is the main singer and songwriter that the songs take on such a percussive air. He’s not in it by himself, though. His wife Ally pounds the keyboards with equal force, while guitarist Sam Richardson (who also runs Feel It Records) keeps the riffs super short and super explosive. Whatever the secret, this is punk rock that slaps hard and makes you like it.  “I know you want it! BEEF coming,” shouts Hortenberry in the closer, “I Want BEEF,” and the thing is, you do.

Jennifer Kelly

Jaap Blonk / Damon Smith / Ra Kalam Bob Moses — Rune Kitchen (Balance Point Acoustics)

Rune Kitchen by Jaap Blonk / Damon Smith / Ra Kalam Bob Moses

Titles can tell you things, and in this case, the words on the front clue you to the lack of words in the music. Texts have their place in Jaap Blonk’s concrete poetry, but this session is improvisation most pure. It went down in a town near St. Louis during a transitional moment; bassist Damon Smith was ending one short tour with Blonk, and about to begin another with (now Memphis-based) veteran drummer Ra Kalam Bob Moses. Perhaps inspired by anticipation, Smith and Moses lock right in, playing briskly evolving sound configurations that bristle with forthright gesture and woody texture and even confronting the vocalist with swinging, time-keeping grooves near the end. Derek Bailey once opined that there are players, and then there are artists, and Blonk’s extension of century-deep Dada actions has often seemed to put him in the latter camp. But he also has a skilled improviser’s ability to detect prevailing winds and respond with strategic counter-huffs; in the company of two men playing their asses off, he follows suit. Unburdened by pages, he digs deep into the rudiments, growling like a fever dream of throat singing, muttering strings of phonemes, and uttering proclamations that sound so important, he had to invent a new language to convey them.

Bill Meyer

Cloudland Canyon — S-T (Medical)

Cloudland Canyon (MR-091) by Cloudland Canyon

Cloudland Canyon’s Kip Uhlhorn has long favored the non-organic end of the psychedelic experience, with long, wigged out experiments in synth tone like 2008’s “Krautwerk” from Lie in Light or the squiggly fogs of “pinklight/version” from 2011’s Fin Eaves.  For this self-titled album, number four in the Cloudland discography, he engages even more deeply with the machine by tapping AI as a collaborator. The result is blippy, buoyant, denatured dance anthems, like “Internet Dreams” and “Circuit City,” which sound like the mathematical average of 100 other synth popiscles. Still even robots hit the mark occasionally, and “Future Perfect (Bad Decision)” is a woozy, blurred rainbow of psych pop longing, not unlike the work of another recent Uhlhorn collaborator, Sonic Boom.

Jennifer Kelly

Annie Hart — Weight of a Wave (Uninhabitable Mansions)

The Weight of a Wave by Annie Hart

Annie Hart has made four solo albums since her days in Au Revoir Simone, an all-female Brooklyn synth pop trio beloved of David Lynch, but she hasn’t moved too far away. Weight of a Wave floats flickery synth tones over rackety drums, splitting the difference between bedroom pop and strobe lit dance. “Boy You Got Me Good” does the classic girl-group trick of lacing sweet cooing melodies with the bitter taste of arsenic. “Crowded Cloud” rides synthesizer overload like a Pat Benatar anthem, then cuts back to the antsy minimum of drum machine and whispered chants. Yet though the soft-focus, gentle bop sonics haven’t changed much from Hart’s Au Revoir Simone days, time does its work on the mood. “Nothing Makes Me Happy Anymore” layers shadowy doubled vocals over a wheedling Casio riff, as Hart enumerates the people she’s loved in various ways whose phone calls no longer suffice to cheer her up

Jennifer Kelly

Holy Wave — Five of Cups (Suicide Squeeze)

Five of Cups by HOLY WAVE

Austin, Texas quartet Holy Wave have been at it for over a decade now and Five of Cups is their sixth full-length. The band mines a similar seam to Work and Non-Work-eraBroadcast: droning organs, motorik drums heavy on the ride cymbal, spaced-out vocals, jangly guitars. Though there’s nothing inherently off-putting about this 42-minute record, the songs feel listless compared to previous efforts such as Freaks of Nurture. The performances are tight, the production is three-dimensional and the arrangements are woozy and trippy, but it sounds like the last couple of years have knocked the wind out of Holy Wave’s sails. There are some bright moments in the track list, such as the dubby grooves and female vocals of “The Darkest Timeline,” plus late highlight “Nothing in the Dark,” which is a dead ringer for early Tame Impala.

Tim Clarke

Koeosaeme — Beige (Orange Milk)

Beige by koeosaeme

With Beige, sound artist Ryu Yoshizawa throttles down his usual breakneck blipscapes in favor of expressive phrasing and varied tempos. The serial Orange Milk resident allows his compositions to breathe, to hang back and to interject when necessary. His palette remains obviously synthetic: the strings are a touch too sweet, the reeds slightly nasally. Yoshizawa coalesces these inhuman tones into lush dreamscapes, embedded with only the subtlest hint of crackling glitch. He leverages the dynamics of modern classical and musique concrète to achieve a sense of movement and surprise. Coughs, harrumphs and whispers interject at random, but Yoshizawa uses these human elements sparingly. Instead, he relies on the lushness of his (synthetic) instrumentation to set the mood. At times he lets things get a little corny, such as when a Kenny G-like sax periodically slithers into focus, but for the most part Yoshizawa’s futuristic fusion is beguiling. Unlike its neutrally hued namesake, Beige is far from boring.  

Bryon Hayes

Molly Ringworm — Despicable (Self-released)

This Molly Ringworm comes from Austin, TX, and seeks to do for hardcore what Jane Pain has done for black metal (careful with this link). Yikes. Despicable’ssongs land somewhere between energizing provocation and snotty gross-out, with the occasional nods to street punk and sludge. There’s another punky Molly Ringworm — an indie-twee outfit from Jersey whose music is more compatible with the 1980s cinema of John Hughes, with which actress Molly Ringwald will forever be associated. I prefer this band, with their snarling, trashy anti-aesthetic and their nasty sonic sensibility (which may put you in the mind of Ringwald’s work in Cindy Sherman’s Office Killer). So goes culture. I had a high school girlfriend in the mid-1980s who looked a lot like the actress, and she (the girlfriend) would spit with all the imperiousness and venom that only a 17 year old can summon, “Oh great, another movie with Molly Ring-worm.” Sorry, folks — doesn’t matter to me if you’re filthy, fractious Texas guttersnipes or ironical white kids from New Jersey. Susie E. from Berks County, PA, gets dibs on the name “Molly Ringworm,” now and forever.

Jonathan Shaw

Matt Robidoux — Music For Aluminum Corn (Crash Symbols)

music for aluminum corn by matt robidoux

Mills College may be shuttered, but its students carry on.  Matt Robidoux combines symbolic and social action with accessible invention on Music For Aluminum Corn. The title derives from an instrument that the Mills graduate devised in homage to an early Buchla synthesizer that was kept at Mills. Essentially, they wired up an aluminum casting of two corn cobs to make a touch and movement-activated electronic instrument, and then called upon their fellow graduates to help him take it for a drive. A string quartet, a reed ensemble and the other instruments in Robidoux’s studio round out the sound palette, which is applied to a series of themes which, depending on their arrangement, sound like 1970s TV show themes, syndrum exotica and texture-oriented investigations. Robidoux’s electronic instrument proves more versatile than its novelty packaging might success, and the assembled crew play with a commitment to the endeavor that signals this heartening piece of news; while Mills College isn’t around anymore, the artistic community it fostered caries on.

Bill Meyer 

Spiral Joy Band — Elvehjem (Feeding Tube)

Elvehjem by Spiral Joy Band

Without Saturn, you got no rings, right? It’s easy to see Spiral Joy Band as a similarly orbital entity, forever existing in relation to its parent band, Pelt. But, just as all those hunks of space rock would feel equally substantial if your rocket ship hit them whilst circling a planet or floating on their own through the galaxy, Spiral Joy Band has demonstrated on the recent archival recordings culled from its Wisconsin sojourn in the early 2010s, it has been its own thing, and that thing is pretty solid. Elvehjem is another album-length excerpt from Patrick Best, Mikel Dimmick and Troy Schafer’s trove of basement jams, and on this one, they assert an identity separate from Pelt. Sure, there’s plenty of long bell and gong tones, but there’s also some guitar and amp activity that’ll singe your whiskers with sheer crackle action.

Bill Meyer

Heleen Van Haegenborgh — Squaring The Circle (El Negocito)

Squaring the Circle by Heleen Van Haegenborgh

Sometimes, awareness of an artist’s inspiration will help you grasp their work. With Squaring The Circle, that’ll only get you so far. Squaring The Circle is Belgian composer Heleen Van Haegenborgh’s response to Johan De Widle’s Pi — Fugue pour les survivants, a graphic piece representing the number pi which is extended each year by its maker. While the mathematic foundation of this CD-length piece’s contents are hard to discern, their sounds just might give you a glimpse into the infinite. Performed by the composer and GAME, a percussion quartet, it combines the reverberant tones of drums, vibraphones, bells and other strikable metal objects with close-up, voltage-derived zaps. Even coming out of a home hi-fi, it creates a sense of ever-expanding space.

Bill Meyer

#dusted magazine #dust #夢遊病者 #jonathan shaw #Sophie Agnel #Michael Vatcher #bill meyer #vicente archer #jim marks #BEEF #jennifer kelly #jaap blonk #damon smith #ra kalam bob moses #cloudland canyon #annie hart #holy wave #tim clarke #koeosaeme #bryon hayes #molly ringworm #matt robidoux #spiral joy band #heleen van haegenborgh #Youtube

[serenasoutherlyns]

Connections

a/n: part one (lmao maybe) of me writing Serena being gay into episodes of L&O. you cannot tell me that Serena Southerlyn and Kay Hartley did not have an epic, tortured (for Serena, anyway) love affair in law school; and you cannot convince me that Serena isn't nice enough to fall for her tricks again. without further ado... any notes or feedback is appreciated! i love you all more than i love chocolate covered espresso beans.

Serena’s mind is buzzing. Her fingertips are on fire. She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, hoping that the rage isn’t showing on her face beyond a clenched jaw. She can’t believe she let this happen again.

Kay Hartley’s reputation looms higher than almost anybody else’s. She’s that 1L with a look that pierces, the one who’ll do anything to get what she wants, the one who’s LSAT score may as well have been perfect. She hangs in the back of classes, but the only thing that does is raise her air of mystery, she still answers correctly when called on. Kay never shows up to parties, because she’s always already there. You could call it sulking, but she prefers to think of it as observing. Tonight, she’s watching Serena.

Serena is beautiful, but no grand assumptions follow in front of her wherever she goes. She’s a couple years older than Kay, but only one ahead. She’s probably Catholic. Just a smidge below rich— she’s skirt suits, not sweater sets. Serena seems like the kind of girl who would be proud if someone said she couldn’t hang. Kay’s seen her going off on feminist rants at guys on the quad but they’ve all seemed friendly. She doesn’t seem militant. Kay can’t decide if she pings or she doesn’t.

That question is answered. Serena’s been playing beer pong (seriously? They aren’t undergrads) with a group of guys. When she misses two in a row, instead of getting all giggly, flipping her hair around, and hanging off some guy’s arm until he lets her win; she focuses in on the ball (strike one), ties her hair up in a ponytail (strike two), and high fives the guy beside her when she scores (strike three). She pings. Kay wants her.

Kay always gets what she wants. Serena’s kicking herself for forgetting that.

“She played me, Jack,” she says, trying to maintain a work-appropriate amount of poison in her words. “I all but handed her that stupid defense.” Jack tries to say something, but Serena, once in rant mode, is not about to leave it. “She comes to me, looking all forlorn and doe-eyed, telling me all about how much she loves her poor aunt, and I believed her, like an idiot--”

“You’re not an idiot, Serena--”

“She used me, Jack! As though she could have suddenly developed real emotions--”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, I mean, Arthur and I signed off on it too--”

“Because I convinced you to! And now, a murderer might walk because I let Kay Hartley and her ways” she says the word “ways” like they’re something criminal themselves, “convince me to work for her side.”

Serena’s more distressed than she ought to be. Kay’s new defense is flimsy at best, Jack isn’t all that worried. “Imminent” is a rather clearly defined word, at least in case law. Oh. Serena is-- crying? Nothing legal is likely to help here anymore. “How well do you two really know each other? If you don’t mind my asking? Because it seems like there’s something else here, I mean, did she do something to you in school? Spill coffee on your notes, steal your boyfriend?”

The glare she shoots his way reminds him that a) for some reason, the old McCoy charm has always been lost on Southerlyn and b) sometimes he should think about shutting up.

“No, Jack, she didn’t steal my boyfriend.” Serena has given up on keeping the poison out.

What a fucking joke, Serena thinks. Six months. Of, frankly, mind-blowing sex; soft mornings in each others’ beds, late nights studying with Kay in her lap, anxious looks across crowded rooms. Certainly she’d heard the whispers. Serena didn’t believe them. When they were confirmed to be true the first time, Serena thought she could fix her. Evidently, that would not be possible.

They’re at another house party. Serena honestly doesn’t like them very much anymore, but, and she hates this the most, social connections would likely turn out to be a blessing for her upon graduation. Hers aren’t built in like Kay’s are. Serena has a job. She makes so many expensive lattes a week that the texture of milk foam makes her gag now. She does it with a smile, and then she goes to class all day, and then she does her studying, and then she gets up at 5 AM to make more lattes. All things considered, it’s not a bad gig. At least she’s not footing the bill for school itself. Still, watching Kay catch up with kids she went to prep school, summer camp, with at every party and lecture had been hard to learn to handle.

Serena’s getting a cup of water in the kitchen when she hears a song she actually likes finally come on over the speakers. She sips quickly. Surely, she can get Kay to dance one dance with her before the night is over, despite her usual routine of hanging back.

Clearly, that won’t be happening. Because, when she gets out into the main room again, Kay is practically in Bobby Myles’ lap, laughing along to something he’s saying. Bobby Myles is a sexist pig, Kay has said about as much to her before. Serena guesses that doesn’t matter in the end.

It’s not like she has to shout it from the rooftops. Serena’s not stupid, she knows that neither of them are going to be coming out any time soon. It would be a lot easier to handle if Kay could at least pretend to respect her.

It’s the most relief she’s felt at a conviction in a long time. She gets the jury’s sympathy, she really does. But the look of, not despair, but panic on Kay’s face-- priceless. Relief might be the wrong word. Serena feels smug. It feels good to finally win one. Kay even called her to try and grovel for a sentencing recommendation. She’ll do what she can, for Mrs. Payton’s sake, though thought of Kay not getting something she asked for is tempting.

“We all deal with things in our own way, I guess,” Jack says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Serena asks him. Wherever this is going, she wants to see its conclusion.

“Just that,” Jack is off to a running start, it would appear, “there’s got to be something deeper here, right?” Serena raises her eyebrows at him, curious as to what on earth his guess is. “I mean, it’s one thing to squeeze you once, Serena, but a second time? She must know you’re not going to fall for it again.”

“You’d be surprised, Jack,” Serena says, wondering how much hinting she can get away with, “Kay can be quite,” she pauses looking for the words, “convincing.”

“How so?” Jack seems to truly not have a clue here. Serena decides to throw him a line.

“How did Kay look at you?” she asked. Jack is not going to bite, so Serena does her best desperate, seductive, emotional look. “Like that, right?” Jack laughs.

“Guess so, just about. Lots of women look at me like that,” Jack says, cutting himself before he finishes that sentence with not you, though.

“Good for you. How did Kay look at me?”

Serena has, at this point, led him to the conclusion. It dawns on him. He says all he can think to. “So she definitely didn’t steal your boyfriend, then.”

“No, no she did not.” Serena says, glad that he didn’t freak out on her. It’s impossible to avoid the rumors about Jack, and at first she’d been worried that he wouldn’t want a deputy who wasn’t interested in extra-curriculars. She wasn’t going to bring this up, but Kay had waltzed onto her turf with her ways; and Jack was not a man who could leave curiosities alone.

“Maybe keep this away from Arthur?” she asked “I’m still sussing him out.”

“Of course,” Jack says. “And I’m glad it wasn’t me all this time.”

Serena rolls her eyes at him as they step onto the elevator.

---

tags: @nocreditinthestraightworld @imaginaryoperagloves

#law and order #serena southerlyn #your honor she should've been gayer #the rarest of pairs #canned rare pairs in syrup #oh my god i'm loopy #law and order fanfiction #lesbians of law and order #law and order fanfic #kay hartley

[cherubcow]

“Invincible”, Season 1 (2021) Review

Somehow both very cool and very fucking stupid :D

About Created and written primarily by Robert Kirkman (principle writer for The Walking Dead comic and TV show), this Young Adult cartoon basically synthesizes a number of comic book characters (e.g., Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Hellboy, Wonder Woman, Gambit) and tries to balance their heroism with cynical twists and dark realities. It's an exercise like Brightburn (2019) in that it mirrors existing comic writing all too closely in order to make violent twists. The cool stuff arrives pretty much immediately. You can tell right away that the physics have some level of realism, and it quickly gets serious because of this. The easy comparison would be to The Boys (also by Amazon, also about violent heroes, and also very well-produced). So, if you like The Boys (2019–), you'll probably like Invincible only a little less.

(( Some spoilers but nothing too specific ))

Wrong Focus But, the stupid stuff comes from the same error that the Kick-Ass movie (2010) made: it focuses on the wrong person(s). In Kick-Ass, the error was focusing on.. well.. "Kick-Ass", an irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. Invincible makes the same mistake, focusing on.. well.. "Invincible", a (so far) irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. So, despite its virtues, this show cannot escape that it made the decision to go for the Young Adult viewing demographic. It reminds me of Alita: Battle Angel (2019) in that way too: some very cool adult concepts ruined by the dramatic devices of unrepentant teenage stupidity and irrelevance. I didn't even like that stuff when I was a teenager, though Jordan Catalano gets a pass.

Main Cast and Characters The supporting characters were also very stupid. The most annoying was definitely Amber Bennett (voiced by the otherwise cool Zazie Beetz from Deadpool 2 (2018) and Joker (2019)), 

who is supposed to be attractive somehow to Mark Grayson ("Invincible", voiced by Steven Yeun, who played Glenn on The Walking Dead) 

despite the fact that she constantly judges him, fails to understand him, often fails to give him any kind of benefit of the doubt, and continues to scowl at him and be hurtful towards him even when she has information that should change her outlook towards him. And because she is part of the love triangle shared between herself, Invincible/Mark, and "Atom Eve"/Samantha (voiced by the awesome Gillian Jacobs from Community (2009–2014)), 

audiences simply have to bear with it that Amber's annoying character will be present and wasting time until Mark can realize that Amber is in fact toxic and that Eve actually understands him and can improve him in more positive directions. That love triangle should have been a 20-minute distraction, but I'm guessing that it will eat up a season or two more, especially if the writers become cowardly and fail to change things for fear of messing up a perceived "winning" formula. In my ideal story line, they would skip ahead 10 years, drop the teen drama, the love triangle, and the stupid jokes and have Invincible and Eve paired in defense of Earth, with the main tension being from their worry that the other would be horribly gored in front of them during lethal fights against cosmic enemies ;)

Aside, I am aware of Amber’s motivation for being a bad person, I just think her justification is not based in understanding, empathy, and a regard for the gravity of Invincible’s situation. In a strict political sense, Invincible should not commit a lie of omission by keeping her in the dark about his identity — even if for the “noble lie” reason of protecting her — but in a real sense, he is a fucking teenager who just developed his super powers. For her to pretend that he should reveal his entire identity to her — a potentially transformative and even dangerous decision — after a few months of teenage romance paints an absurd portrait of her mind. It does, however, align her with Omni-Man, because where Omni-Man forces Invincible to become an adult in the fighting sense (pushing with full force early on), Amber forces Invincible to become an emotional adult by getting him to understand that toxic people such as herself need to be given boundaries — and he needs to learn to clearly delineate and communicate his real desires. By knowing that he does not want Amber, people who regiment his free time, or people who do not suit him, for instance, he can realize why Eve was an obvious decision: Eve understands, can make time when they have time, and will let him find his decisions. Part of a coming-of-age story tends to be realizing what one actually wants, and Invincible’s hesitation in telling Amber his identity shows that he does not truly want her. This separates Invincible from, say, Spider-Man, who avoided telling Mary Jane his identity not because he did not want her but because he wanted at all costs to protect her.

The next most annoying character has to be Debbie Grayson (voiced by TV-cancer Sandra Oh and who luckily was not animated to look like the real Sandra Oh and who should have been voiced instead by Bobby Lee due to Lee's successful MadTV parody of Sandra Oh). 

Debbie basically fills the role of Skyler in Breaking Bad, except that Debbie's character tends to be slightly more understanding before her inevitable and toxic Skyler-resentment and undermining behavior. Despite having an 8-episode arc of change, Debbie's character flips too quickly and lacks the empathy and Omni-Man motive-justifying that would make her interesting (the comic's development may vary). For instance, if she refused to believe that Omni-Man meant his own words, that would make her empathetic and perhaps virtuous even if misled, but instead she dropped their "20 years" of understanding after viewing Omni-Man in action, which makes her appear shallow, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. That was a definite "Young Adult" genre move because it shows immaturity by the writers to break apart a bond of 20 years so quickly. Mediocre teens might accept such a fissure because their lives have not yet seen or may not comprehend that level of time, but adults know that even long-standing and problematic relationships (which, beyond the lie, Omni-Man's and Debbie's was not shown to be) take a lot of time to break — even with lies exposed.

Omni-Man The biggest show strength for me was of course Omni-Man, who in a success of casting was voiced by J.K. Simmons in a kind of reprisal of Simmons' role as Fletcher from Whiplash (2014). 

The Fletcher/Omni-Man parallel shows through their being incredibly harsh but extremely disciplined and principled, forcing people to become beyond even their own ideal selves (this via Omni-Man's tough-love teaching of Invincible — comically, Omni-Man was actually psychologically easier on Invincible than Fletcher was on Whiplash's Andrew character). Despite the show's attempts to villainize Omni-Man, he, like Fletcher and also like Breaking Bad's Walter White, becomes progressively more awesome, eventually representing a Spartan will, an unconquerable drive, and a realistic and martial understanding of a hero's role.

To the show's credit, while it wrote Omni-Man to be outright genocidal and from a culture of eugenicists (again, Spartan), they could not help but admire him and his "violence" and "naked force" (for a Starship Troopers reference), giving him a path to redemption. That redemption comes in part because — despite the show's attempt to be often realistic and violent — its decision to be directed at young adults via dumb jokes, petty relationship drama, the characters’ reckless lack of anonymity and security in their neighborhood (loudly taking off and landing right at the doorstep), and light indy music also made the portrayed violence far less literal. With a less literal violence, the real statement becomes not that Omni-Man really did kill so many people (though he certainly did kill those people within the show's plot) but that he was symbolically capable of terrible violence but could be reformed for good. That's the shortcoming with putting violence under demographic limitations. If it's a PG-13 Godzilla knocking down cities, the deaths in the many fallen skyscrapers don't matter so much (the audience will even forgive Godzilla for mass death if it happens mostly in removed spectacle), whereas if it's Cormac McCarthy envisioning a very realistic fiction, every death rides the edge of true trauma.

By showing light between the real and the symbolic, it is much easier to identify and agree with Omni-Man. For instance, when Robot (voiced by Zachary Quinto of Heroes and the newer Star Trek movies) 

shows too much empathy for the revealed weakness of "Monster Girl" (voiced by Grey Griffin), the audience may have thought, "Pathetic," even before Omni-Man himself said it. And this because Omni-Man knows that true and powerful enemies (including himself) will not hesitate to use ultra-violence against these avenues of weakness. "Invincible" can make his Spider-Man quips while in lethal battles, but he does so while riding the edge of death — something that Omni-Man has to teach Invincible by riding him to the brink of his own.

Other Cast/Characters and Amazon's Hidden Budget It was impressive how many big-name actors were thrown into this — a true hemorrhage of producer funding. Amazon has so far hidden the budget numbers, perhaps because they don't want people to know that the show (like many of its shows) represents a kind of loss-leader to jump-start its entertainment brand.

Aside from those already mentioned, the show borrows a number of actors from The Walking Dead (WD), including.. • Chad L. Coleman ("Martian Man"; "Tyreese" on WD),

• Khary Payton ("Black Samson"; "Ezekiel" on WD),

• Ross Marquand (several characters; "Aaron" on WD)

• Lauren Cohan ("War Woman"; "Maggie" on WD)

• Michael Cudlitz ("Red Rush"; "Abraham" on WD)

• Lennie James ("Darkwing"; "Morgan" on WD)

• Sonequa Martin-Green ("Green Ghost"; "Sasha" on WD) 

There were also connections to Rick and Morty and Community, not just with Gillian Jacobs but also with... • Justin Roiland ("Doug Cheston"), who voices both Rick and Morty in Rick and Morty,

• Jason Mantzoukas ("Rex"),

• Walton Goggins ("Cecil"),

• Chris Diamantopoulos (several characters),

• Clancy Brown ("Damien Darkblood"),

• Kevin Michael Richardson ("Mauler Twins"), and

• Ryan Ridley (writing)

That's a lot of overlap. They even had Michael Dorn from Star Trek: TNG (1987–1994) (there he played Worf) and Reginald VelJohnson from Family Matters (1989–1998) and Die Hard (1988), and even Mark Hamill. Pretty much everyone in the voice cast was significant and known. Maybe Amazon got a discount for COVID since the actors could all do voice-work from home? ;)

Overall Bad that it was for the Young Adult target demo but good for the infrequent adult themes and ultra-violence. Very high production value and a good watch for those who like dark superhero stories. I have heard that the comic gets progressively darker, which fits for Robert Kirkman, so it will likely be worth keeping up with this show.

#invincible #tv review #robert kirkman #invincible tv series #invincible tv show

[angstyaches]

Roommate’s Girl

This is a jump back in time for Payton and Autumn, back when she was dating Donnacha! It takes place about a year and a half before the hunger fic/”modern day” (if such a thing even exists in my fics anymore).

It’s very long and disgustingly self-indulgent because, well, it’s my blog and I’ll do what I like. 

CW: stomach ache caused by stress, brief nausea, not much comfort, teasing objectification, brief nude moment (but no details are given), anxiety, having a crush, guilt. Donnacha (sort of) genders Payton by calling them a “dude” (Payton is he/they and is fine with most masculine terms). ALSO, it has a sad/inconclusive ending, but don’t worry, everything works out!

 ___

Over the past week or so, Lucy and Payton had made a habit of play-flirting any time there was a moment of silence between them. Payton walked past while Lucy happened to be sitting at the kitchen table? A wolf whistle. Lucy carried the printer all the way from from the cupboard to the table? Oh, Lucy, you’re ever so strong. Payton had a feeling it would die out pretty soon, but they were enjoying it while it lasted. Their self-esteem had been low lately - for reasons they’d rather not focus on - and joking around with Lucy was starting to have a positive effect.

So when they were standing, dripping wet, in the bathroom without their towel, and heard soft footsteps come through the hallway, Payton thought opportunity had come knocking. Donnacha was not light-footed at all, and Henry always made a point of sighing and huffing the entire way through the flat when he first got home, so that meant the person in the hallway must have been Lucy.

Payton stopped short of rubbing their hands together with devious intent, but then remembered they were alone, with no one watching, so they rubbed them together anyway. They crept across the tiles and cracked open the door slightly, careful to duck behind it in case Lucy caught them at an unfortunate viewing angle.

“Wife?” they called gently through the opening. “Wifey darling, could you and that cute little ass of yours grab my towel from the chair?”

There was a beat of silence that shook Payton’s confidence somewhat. They held their breath for a moment, finally hearing footsteps coming closer to the door. A grin crept across their face, though part of them was wondering why Lucy hadn’t made some snarky response yet.

“Here,” a soft voice said. A voice that was not Lucy’s.

A smooth hand touched Payton’s, just before they felt the rough towel fabric against their palm. Payton yanked it through the gap in the door, feeling the colour drain from their face as quickly as their stomach dropped.

“Autumn?” they croaked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh!” Payton shut the door, heart thumping as they pressed their back against the wood. Their reflection stared back at them from the bathroom mirror, stricken with horror.  “Autumn, I’m – oh my god. I’m so sorry, I thought you were Lucy!”

“No worries, Payton,” Autumn said sincerely from behind the door. “Donnacha’s running late so I let myself in. Sorry to scare you.”

Payton pressed the towel against their face and let out a voiceless scream. They wished the towel would swallow them and then drop to the floor, empty. It took their mind a full ten seconds to calm itself down enough to process Autumn’s apology.

Their lips shook as they parted them to reply, “You – you didn’t...”

It was a little late. There was only silence behind the door. Autumn must have gone back to wherever she’d been when Payton had starting yelling nonsense throughout the flat.

Payton quickly got dry and pulled on the tracksuit pants and t-shirt they’d brought into the bathroom with them. Damn, if they’d known Autumn was going to show up, they would have picked something nicer to wear. They would have planned to do something with their hair. Maybe they had time to stop by their room for a spritz of something that smelled good?

There was a dull thump in the pit of Payton’s stomach, which didn’t so much cut off their train of thought as smash it into oblivion. No, they thought, no, no, no, you’re not supposed to think things like that. Don’t think things like that about Donnacha’s girlfriend.

They scrubbed at their hair in the mirror, trying to introduce some volume while it was dripping wet. The weird feeling in their belly didn’t dissipate, and they rubbed at it gently for a moment before headed for the door.

The smell of coffee and baked goods lingered in the tiny hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen-living room. Payton couldn’t see her yet, but they could feel Autumn’s presence on the other side of the wall as they crept up to the door and laid their head against the doorframe.

She was wearing a dark blue blouse and black pinafore, legs crossed as she read from a well-thumbed script printed on A4 paper and stapled together. She was also sipping on something in a to-go cup. Her eyes flicked up at the movement in the doorway, her cheeks dimpling with a smile.

“Hey, Payton.” Autumn’s voice was quiet and painfully kind, like she’d lowered it to try to coax a cat to come to her. They weren’t exactly close friends, but wasn’t as though the two of them were complete strangers either. They were certainly too close for her smile to be this polite.

“Hi,” Payton mumbled, too nervous to even step into the room, yet knowing it would be weird to duck back out again.

Autumn sat forward on the sofa and scooped up another paper cup that she’d left waiting on the floor by her feet. “I brought donuts and coffee for me and Donnacha, but his latte’s going to be cold by the time he gets here.” She extended the spare cup towards Payton. “You want it?”

No, they thought, no, say no.

But her hazel eyes and freckles were far too endearing, meaning that Payton couldn’t help smiling back at her, despite the nerves and embarrassment.

“I’d love to. It.” What?! Payton rubbed at the still-damp back of their neck. “I’d – I’d love to, um, join you.”

Another tight smile crossed Autumn’s face as Payton took the cup from her and sat at the far end of the couch, putting as much space between them as possible, without making it seem too weird. Hopefully. Then again, couldn’t this already be classified as weird? Payton certainly felt weird, particularly in the pit of their stomach, where it seemed an entire swarm of butterflies had decided to move in.

“Hey, um…” Payton cleared their throat and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom door. “That – that thing I said before, it was a joke.”

Autumn blinked, giving another flash of that polite, nervous smile.

“Yeah, it’s a – a private joke kind of thing. Lucy’s been teasing me all week, and I thought I’d – I was joking.”

“It’s okay, Payton,” Autumn said, though her cheeks seemed to flush at the subject of the conversation. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

But I do, Payton thought miserably, sinking back into the sofa cushions, because I want you to know I’m not attracted to her.

In place of those words, Payton just mumbled another apology and took a couple of long, focused mouthfuls of the latte. It had cooled to the perfect temperature for gulping down, which was bad news for any insects still trying to flutter about in their belly and muddle up their thoughts. Payton tried to picture them getting drowned and washed away, leaving them in peace.

They inhaled deeply through their nose and focused on eliminating the buzzing nerves, when a whiff of something unusual made them look down at the box of donuts next to Autumn. Could the smell have been from them? It was sweet, but – but it wasn’t just sweet; it was light, and bordered on floral. It smelled like taking a walk after rainfall during early spring. It smelled like waking up with a smile on your face. It smelled like…

Payton gulped when they realised it wasn’t the donuts they were smelling. The butterflies made one last attempt at turning their stomach over as they glanced shyly at Autumn, who was most definitely the source of the beautiful smell. She was already the source of all of the radiance in the room, so why not this too?

No, no, no. This was Autumn. Donnacha’s girlfriend. Everything about this was wrong; indulging these thoughts, these feelings, even for a second, was wrong.

Payton sank further into the sofa curtains, staring past the paper cup they were holding in their lap. Their stomach was beginning to ache, no longer full of butterflies, but full of stone-cold guilt.

“No work today?” Autumn asked lightly.

“I – no. No – no rehearsals?” Payton asked, nodding to the script in her lap. They wished they could think of the name of the play she was currently part of, but their brain seemed to have slowed down to a crawling pace.

“Not until this afternoon.” Autumn ran a hand over her hair and glanced down at the paper. “God, you know, I’m really nervous about this one. I’ve got so many long lines. I need all the practice I can get.”

Payton could barely sit still, both from the discomfort in their stomach and the frustration of seeing Autumn’s confidence deflate. Had Payton done that? Had they reminded her of something she’d been trying not to think about?

“I’ll listen to you practice, if you want.”

Autumn’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Love to.” Payton felt a little breathless as Autumn leaned over to put her coffee cup away and settled into a more comfortable position on the couch. They quickly relaxed just as Autumn did, watching her melt away into the role even as she sat here in the living room on a dull Saturday morning. She could have gone on for hours, and Payton could have just watched her lips forming the words.

She stopped after a while, and Payton snapped out of it, butterflies making a momentary comeback at the soft, watchful way she was looking at them.

“What?” they half-laughed.

“You’re so good,” she said.

Payton blinked, and the fluttery feeling intensified. They barely managed to find their voice. “At – at listening and being quiet?”

“Oh – well, yes.” Autumn rolled her eyes and laughed. “But what I meant was that it’s really nice of you to help me out.”

“No, really, I – I enjoy listening to you. You’re incredible.” Reddening at their own words, Payton rubbed a hand across their own stomach, subconsciously working at the achy spot that had, for a moment, been filled with warmth and excitement. “And, I mean, I had to make it up to you, after mixing you up with Lucy earlier.”

“Hey! We moved past that, remember?” Autumn laughed, tugging at the end of her skirt. “I probably shouldn’t be letting myself in when Donnacha isn’t here, anyway. It’s kind of weird, I suppose.”

Payton shifted, turning onto their side to face her a little more. “Um… no, you don’t have to feel bad about letting yourself in. I’m just an idiot and didn’t think.”

Autumn laughed and reached across to smack Payton’s knee. She did it so gently too, as though she was somehow afraid of hurting them with the playful gesture. Payton wanted to grab hold of her hand before it could slip away across the sofa again.

“You’re not an idiot, okay?” she said. “So stop that.”

Yeah, please stop it, they pleaded with themselves, leaning over to rest their latte on the floor. Their stomach was hurting too much to keep drinking it. They were starting to feel hot too, impossibly uncomfortable and nervous. As they leaned into the sofa cushions again, they held their forehead in their hands for a moment. This was so, so bad.

Autumn was undoing the lid of the donut box, distracted long enough not to notice Payton cradling their head. “You want first pick, before Donnacha gets here?”

Payton sighed weakly, barely hearing the question as they shifted yet again, so that one leg was slightly curled across the sofa and the side of the head was nuzzled against the cushions. They slipped one arm around themself, subtly trying to cradle their stomach.

Autumn looked up from peering at the donuts, holding the box closer to Payton. A whole host of smells overpowered the soft, warming Autumn smell, and the flurry of colours made Payton’s vision blur a little. There was a vague hollow pang that reminded them that they hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, and that they should be hungry, but the feeling just didn’t stick.

“Cookies-and-cream is your favourite, right?” Autumn asked, pointing to the single cream-frosted, cookie-crumb adorned donut in the corner of the box.

She was right, and the fact – and everything else – made Payton ache all over. They shook their head at the box, heart sinking as Autumn took it back with a sagging expression.

“You were right, that is my favourite. Sorry,” Payton said weakly, gaze dropping to the sofa cushion that marked out the space between their bodies, which wasn’t all that much. “I’m just not hungry right now.”

Autumn closed the box and stowed it next to her feet, her attention snagged by the drop in Payton’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Resolve weakened all too easily by her concerned eyes and gentle voice, Payton tried to smile but ended up curling their lip in discomfort. Amidst a mixture of the pain, and a fresh wave of tearfulness, their voice came out sounding small, and a little bit like a pout.

“I’ve just got, like, a stomach ache.”

Autumn’s eyes dropped down towards Payton’s waist, where their arms were folded loosely around their belly. “Oh. I’m sorry, I – I wouldn’t have kept you here listening to me, if I’d known you weren’t feeling well…”

“No, no, it’s okay, it started after I first sat down,” Payton said quickly, more and more heat building in his neck. They nodded towards their paper cup on the floor. “Maybe the milk was bad or something.”

“I drank it too though, and I feel fine.” Autumn’s gentle features were clenched in worry as she leaned forward, grasping for the cup that Payton had abandoned. “Are you lactose intolerant or anything?”

“Mmm, I don’t really know,” Payton mumbled, though they knew for sure that they weren’t. With all of the cheese-drenched pasta and flat whites they consumed weekly, they’d have figured it out by now if they were intolerant to dairy.

Autumn sniffed at the contents of Payton’s cup, frowned inconclusively, and placed it next to her own empty one.

Payton parted their lips to say something reassuring – they weren’t quite sure what yet – but closed them again when Autumn’s hand returned to their side of the sofa, rubbing gently against the outside of their arm. The motion made Payton’s hair lift, starting with where she was touching and then sweeping over their entire body.

“Can I do anything to help?” Autumn asked, and Payton wondered if there was something deeper than just sympathy in her hazel-green eyes as she waited for an answer.

Hold me and don’t let go?

“I’ll be fine,” they grimaced, not sure if they were trying to convince Autumn or themself. There was a twist of jealousy and guilt and sadness in their gut that made them wriggle in their seat again, part of them hoping Autumn’s hand would be shaken off in the process. They couldn’t quite bring themself to ask her to stop touching them, because it felt good, but it also felt intimate, and they wanted to lean into it, lean into her, let her make everything better –

A low groan made Payton shift a hand over the middle of their stomach. The clenched organ rolled around, churning the milky coffee and making their mouth water with nausea for a moment, before everything settled with yet another gurgle. They gingerly rubbed their tummy back and forth, hyper-aware of Autumn’s eyes watching them do it.

“I’m going to feel so bad if I’ve poisoned you,” she said, half-laughing even though the sound was forced and brittle. She was already feeling bad; that much was clear. It was probably why she was being so nice, why it felt as though she cared so much.

Payton knew the smart thing to do was to bite their tongue and leave things as they were, but the words were on the tip of their tongue and their heart felt so lonely, holding onto words that only it knew to be true.

“A-actually, Autumn, I – I’ve been feeling…”

The click of the front door and the jangling of keys falling into the bowl made Payton’s heart seize up and their insides quiver. Autumn felt the urgency too, and seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing. She sank back a little, towards the opposite side of the couch, hand slipping off Payton’s arm.

“Hey!” Donnacha called out, poking his head around the door and kicking off his runners in the hallway. “Finally made it. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Autumn ran her hand over her hair as she observed her boyfriend. “How was practice?”

“Great, but I’m really fucking sore.” Donnacha rolled his neck as he came into the living area. “I think only donuts and cuddles can cure me at this rate.”

Autumn giggled as Donnacha sank down on the couch between her and Payton, leaning his weight into her as she curled her arms around him. Donnacha hummed in response and turned his head to place a quiet kiss on her forehead. Payton knew they shouldn’t be watching this intently, both because it was weird and it hurt. Autumn was Donnacha’s girlfriend, had always been his girlfriend for as long as Payton knew her, so why was seeing them casually show each other affection so fucking painful now? The way her eyes closed when he kissed her was beautiful, yet to Payton, it felt like a punch to an already-aching gut.

Payton blinked and looked away as Donnacha looked at them, shifting into a more relaxed position where just one of Autumn’s arms was looped around him.

“Everything okay, P?” Donnacha asked.

“Yep,” Payton chirped.

Autumn threw them a confused look before turning to Donnacha again. “Actually, Payton’s not really feeling well. We just had lattes, so we were wondering if they’re lactose intolerant.”

“What?” The look on Donnacha’s face made Payton’s heart drop, letting them know that they were about to get hung out to dry. “Come on, haven’t you seen this dude destroy a quattro-cheese pizza? If Payton had lactose intolerance, they’d have died on a toilet somewhere a long time ago.”

“Thanks, man,” Payton sighed, absentmindedly running their fingers back and forth across their stomach as it was hit with a deep, dull ache.

“Huh, okay,” Autumn said, skimming over the toilet comment, much to Payton’s relief. “Well, I hope it’s not a bug or something like that.”

“Yeah, hope not.” Now that Donnacha had cracked his joke, he leaned forward on his knees, peering at Payton with something closer to concern than teasing. Payton’s skin crawled under the scrutiny, the sympathy they definitely didn’t deserve. Would he be looking at them that way if he knew what had been going through Payton’s mind just a few minutes ago?

“Hey, is something bothering you?” Donnacha asked. “Is it like that time when you were interviewing for jobs?”

Donnacha nodded towards the bedrooms, frowning a little harder as his eyes saddened. Autumn tilted her head and sat forward too, watching Donnacha with curiosity.

“You were curled up on your bed all day, remember? You said you were feeling sick to your stomach over the interviews,” Donnacha went on, though for the sake of Payton’s memory or Autumn’s ignorance, who could tell? “We didn’t know you very well then, but me and Henry were worried about you.”

“You were? You… god, you remember that?” Payton felt the guilt writhing a little deeper in their belly. Tears pricked the backs of their eyes, tears that hopefully wouldn’t fall until they were alone. Or not at all, if it could be helped. Why, why did Donnacha have to be such a nice person on top of everything else? Why did he have to be a sweet boyfriend and a thoughtful friend?

“Oh. Payton,” Autumn sighed, looking up at them with so much sympathy it almost made them break. “If something’s bothering you, you can always talk to us. You know that, right?”

Us. Meaning me and Donnacha. Donnacha and I. The happy, beautiful couple, of which Payton was not a part.

Payton couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped from deep in their chest. They leaned forward on their knees and rubbed their hands against their face. It was like having an out-of-body experience, seeing themself having this dramatic reaction through another pair of eyes. The panic was making them feel reckless, irrational, stifled.

“Hey,” Donnacha said, and Payton felt his hand on their shoulder. “P, what is it?”

“I can’t.” Payton flinched at the sharpness in their own voice, which made Donnacha take his hand back. Payton stood up from the couch, just about managing to hold in a wince as their stomach muscles cramped from the sudden movement.

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t talk about it with you guys.” Cold sweat tingled all along Payton’s hairline as they heard the words you guys emphasised in their own sentence. They cleared their throat. “I mean, I – I can’t talk about it. It’s…”

On the couch, Autumn laid the side of her head against Donnacha’s shoulder as she peered up at Payton, that same emotion lingering in her eyes again. The emotion was probably just sympathy, but it seemed like so much more, if you were looking for it. And although they hated themself for doing so, Payton was looking for more.

Payton swallowed, shuddering at a queasy roll in their stomach, and pushed themself up from the sofa. Their hand hovered over their gut as they tried to bury the panic. “I’ll be fine, I’m – I’m sorting it out. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

Donnacha sighed lightly. “You sure?”

Payton nodded, allowing their hand to press a little harder against the ache in their belly, palm working gently at the tightness. They felt absolutely awful. “Um, I think I’m gonna go lie down. See if that helps…”

They didn’t see how Autumn or Donnacha reacted to that, because they lowered their gaze and walked to the hallway like that. It probably looked rude and weird, but seeing the closeness between the two of them just hurt too much, and Payton was already on the verge of breaking down. Or maybe throwing up. They didn’t want to find out which.

“Payton,” a soft voice said just before Payton got to their bedroom door.

They turned and breathed in the smell of Autumn’s hair just before she wrapped them in a hug, her arms looping around their waist. The two of them had only ever hugged once before, when Donnacha had first introduced them, and neither had known what to do or say. This felt very different though. Payton could tell they were being hugged by Autumn on purpose, and they quite liked how that felt.

Payton rested their chin against her shoulder and hugged her back. Their stomachs pressed together as they embraced, and the knots in Payton’s loosened and tightened again repeatedly, torn between relief and longing.

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” Autumn whispered, and the longing won out at another mention of us, of Autumn and Donnacha as a unit.

“Thanks,” Payton choked out, pulling away from her with a swirl of nausea.

She gave a sad smile before turning back towards the living area, her swishy, shoulder-length brown hair disappearing from view. Payton blew out a deep breath they hadn’t realised they’d been holding, and slinked into their bedroom.

The bed was still unmade from last night, so they crawled back in with minimum effort, flipping onto their back and working a hand in slow circles over their stomach. Now that they were alone in silence, they could hear their own belly quietly gurgling and rumbling away, protesting all the tension. Payton closed their eyes as they filled with bitter tears, hoping to fall asleep before overhearing any voices or movement from the living room.

#lucyverse #stomach ache fic #stomach ache #stress #stress stomach ache #angst #pining #crush #stomach kink #no emeto fic #OC Payton #Autumn #Donnacha

[pagingevilspawn]

Can u write a one shot where jolex's toddler gets bitten by a poisonous spider and they react quickly to help her and has alex calming jo down as she starts freaking out

WARNING: THIS IS SO BAD! Okay, you asked for spiders. That meant doing research. So I looked up poisonous spiders and I saw pictures of spiders. So dear anon, you get a sting instead, because spiders are terrifying to look at and I couldn't glance at it without feeling like they were crawling all over me ;) enjoy! this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written, yikes. 

(another installment of the “payton loves evan peters too much series”)

float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

Jo Karev rested in the chair that sat on the back porch of her house, overlooking the backyard where she watched her three year old son run around with the family dog Muffin. The now full grown Golden Retriever chased after the slobbery green tennis ball the little boy had thrown into the bushes with a great deal of clumsiness, nearly tripping over his own four paws on the way. Jo lets a small laugh escape her lips, picking her glass of lemonade up from the table beside her and taking a leisurely sip, savoring the cool taste it still held since the ice cubes had yet to melt completely.

It was an unusually warm day in Seattle, temperatures reaching eighty-eight degrees despite the fact that it was only spring break, not even summer yet. The sky was clear of any clouds and the light blue proved to be comforting while she sat outside. School had been out for a few days now, so she had heard the neighborhood kids playing around in their yards, a large difference from the usually close to silent street. Only her and one other family on the block had a child that wasn’t in school yet, so the outside noise levels had steadily increased since the rest of the kids joined in on the early morning activities. More than once she had heard a couple of pre-teens race down the streets on their skateboards. Not that she minded, she loved seeing all the kids enjoy themselves, and she loved it even more for her son. Growing up she never had a life like this. It was refreshing to know that her baby boy wouldn’t grow up the same ways she and Alex had.  

A large grin paints her lips as she watches her son try to hug Muffin, since he had quickly gotten bored with playing fetch. Not to mention, the little boy always hated how wet the ball got after it had been in the dog’s mouth. Jo couldn’t blame him, she felt the same way. Alex teased them both relentlessly for it, frequently making sure to toss the slobbery ball in their direction, just so that they would need to be the ones to tear it out of the golden’s mouth.

A small kiss on the top of her head tears her gaze away from the scene in front of her, looking up to meet her husband’s eyes. He, like her, was still dressed in pajamas, despite it already almost being eleven am. They both had gotten the day off and were relishing in the free time they got to spend by themselves and with their son. 

“Kyle, careful.” Jo chastises the boy as the little Karev almost falls face first into a patch of flowers. She sees Alex sit beside her on another chair out of the corner of her eye, his brown hair messy and out of place falling into his eyes, a cup of coffee clutched in his right hand. He had gotten up the same time she did that day, eight thirty on the dot, also known as the time their son came bouncing into their room, jumping up and down on them until they finally gave in and didn't try to go back to sleep. Alex had a long night, not getting home until close to three am, only to wake up a few hours later with a bunch of paperwork he needed to do. She had a feeling he had fallen asleep halfway through, since he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. 

“Morning” he greets her, taking a sip of his drink, watching her from the side as he does so. His wife was beautiful every single time he looked at her, but something about seeing her make-up free, hair pulled up into a messy bun, and oversized clothes was when he always thought she looked her best. Then, he could see the light freckles she had sprinkled on her nose, something he had found annoyingly cute the first time he first saw them (he teased her about them way too often for her own liking). 

Jo hums in response, reaching for his hand and quickly entangling their fingers. A quiet peace settled around them, the only sounds in the air were Kyle’s laughter and faint voices of kids down the street. She closes her eyes and leans back into her seat, feeling the warm sun hit her face, causing a small smile to appear from the heat. Moments like these were rare, no matter how much they both tried to make them happen. They were both constantly getting called into cases, Jo even more so since she had switched to OB and now not only delivered babies, but preformed fetal surgery on them as well. Spending time with their son together was tough, since they worked late nights and had complete opposite schedules some days, so they grasped onto days like these and held them close. 

Ask either one of them, the scene in front of them was almost comical. If someone were to tell Alex Karev ten years ago that he would be married to the love of his life and have a three year old son he would’ve thought they were crazy. The same goes for Jo. When she was just an intern she was fearful for her life, her identity, knowing that at any second Paul could find her. The wide-eyed twenty-six year old would’ve never expected she would’ve gotten to such a happy place in her life. 

It was essentially a perfect day. The sun was out and Kyle was enjoying himself with Muffin, both Jo and Alex had time to relax and not stress about upcoming surgeries or patients back at the hospital. But of course, their perfect bubble popped when they heard a wail come from the corner of the yard, where their son was clutching his upper arm, face red and puffy as tears streamed down it. 

The two sprang into action immediately not only their parent side, but the doctor side coming out in a split second, jumping out of their chairs and dashing across the lawn, a hundred of different scenarios running through their heads by the second. 

Did he break his arm?

Trip and fall?

Get a deep scratch from a bush?

Hit his head?

Twist his ankle?

Run into something?

Jo gets to him first, pulling the little shaggy brown haired boy into her arms and wiping away his tears, his pink lips trembling as he tries to put on a brave face. He was always a show off around his mom, ever since he was born, constantly trying to earn her praise and make her laugh until she had tears coming out of her eyes. (It surprisingly wasn’t that hard of a task, Kyle was quite the comedian, as it turns out.) 

“What happened baby?” Jo coos, sad hazel eyes looking to Alex, who was trying to peel the boy’s tiny hand away from his arm. 

“A w-wasp.” Kyle buries his head into the crook of Jo’s neck, a few stray tears making its way down his face and onto the collar of her ratty old t-shirt that was actually her husband’s. She sees Alex let out an audible sigh of relief alongside a small chuckle, but Jo just sends him a glare. Harsh? Yes. But her baby boy was hurting, which was no laughing matter in her book. She didn’t care if Kyle had a papercut or had broken his leg, she would react the same way. 

Alex uses the end of his shirt to remove the stinger from Kyle’s arm, making sure to pick it up and toss it to where the three year old wouldn’t be able to step in it. “I’ll go get some ice.” he murmurs, ruffling the little brunette’s hair before jogging back to the house, returning a few minutes later with a bag of ice wrapped in a layer of a thin paper towel.

“Here you go buddy,” he places the ice pack on the slightly swollen red area, seeing his son wince slightly at the cold. 

Jo rocks him back and forth in her lap, placing tiny kisses on the top of his head, listening to his quiet sniffles. Her strong boy, never wanting anybody to know that he was hurting. Granted, it was just a wasp sting, but Kyle had gotten barely any injuries except for a scrape on the knee here and there from running around. For only three years old, he was surprisingly agile, differing greatly from his parents, since Alex practically tripped on anything in his path and Jo was prone to stubbing her toe at least once a day. (Her record was five just at the hospital; one gurney, a nurse’s counter, a doorway, a couch, and a table in the attendings lounge. She had lost count once she got home.)

Jo feels uneasy, protective mommy instincts kicking in and flow through her like a rapid river. “Should we take him to the hospital?” she runs a hand through the boy’s hair, untying any little knots that had formed from his mini adventures. 

Alex snorts, chuckling to himself. Real funny Jo. 

He feels a pair of eyes on him, looking up tentatively to meet his wife’s narrowed slits, glaring at him harshly. He raises his eyebrows, “You’re joking right?”

That only seems to set Jo off, as she opens her mouth in offense. He knows he’s about to get a lecture.  

“Are you joking?” She questions, her tone borderline terrifying as she sends daggers to her husband. 

Alex sighs, running a hand down his face. “Jo, it’s a bee sting.” he puts his hands behind him, leaning back onto his palms, ignoring the grass was still partially wet, despite the fact that the sprinklers hadn’t been on for over an hour and a half now. (Their grass seemed to not have the ability to absorb water, which might actually be because of the soil and not the actual grass itself, but who knows.)  

“And how do we know he’s not allergic!” the brunette argues back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, gaze never wavering from his. 

“Jo, he’s not allergic.” he says exasperatedly. He knew for a fact that he and Jo could go at this for hours. More than once they’d been able to turn a thirty second argument into a two hour back and forth, switching the subjects more times than they could count, but somehow it always still came back to their original topic of discussion. He loved those fights, and he knew she did too. They thoroughly enjoyed getting to pick apart the other’s brain in something other than a new surgical procedure, suture technique, or way to get Kyle’s clothes to not look like they had been thrown in a pile of mud by the end of the day. All couple’s had their thing, and theirs was bickering like they had been married for sixty years. 

But as much as he loved those fights, he didn’t want another one of those right now. All he wanted to do that day was spend his free day off with the two most important people in his life without a care in the world. Of course, part of that had already gone down the drain, since his son had a swelling red spot on his arm and his wife was pissed at him. 

The woman glares at him, “You don’t know that”.

Alex sighs, “Jo.” he deadpans. “Is he wheezing or having trouble swallowing?”

Jo looks away, avoiding eye contact as she purses her lips. “No.” 

“Is there swelling on his face, throat, or tongue?” He hears Jo’s voice get quieter, still making sure not to look at him. 

“No.” 

“Is he experiencing dizziness, hives, a rapid p-” 

She cuts him off, throwing her hands up and sighing in defeat, “Fine! He’s not allergic.” she mumbles, causing Kyle to look up at his mom, nerves etched onto his face. 

“Mommy why are you yelling?” he questions, placing his small palm on her cheek. Jo takes his hand and pretends to eat it, making the little boy shriek with glee as he squirms in her lap like a wiggly worm. 

“Daddy was just being a big butthead because Mommy was worried about you. Weren’t you being a big butthead Daddy?” Jo smirks at him, more than glad to have her son on her side. Kyle was a momma’s boy since birth, and it didn’t seem like he had plans on changing anytime soon. Thank god, because she didn’t know what she would do when Kyle stopped coming to her for nightly cuddles. She supposed she had a few more years until that happened though, much to her relief.

Alex playfully narrows his eyes at her, taking Kyle from her hold and standing up with him latched onto his hip. “Yep, I was a big butthead. Don’t say that word though bud, it’s not nice.” 

The boy grins, his smile toothy and crooked. “Then don’t be a butthead.” he says matter-of-factly, wrapping his arms around his dad’s neck as the three make their way inside the house, Muffin trailing not far behind, wet paws making small spots on the wood. 

Alex laughs, giving Kyle a pat on the back. “I won’t be a butthead buddy. I won’t be a butthead.” He gives Jo a smile, taking in the way her eyes light up at the sight of her two favorite boys joking and playing around with each other. 

Alex leans closer to Jo, whispering so Kyle couldn’t hear them. “I’m the peds surgeon Jo, which means I'm always right.” he smirks triumphantly. 

The brunette’s mouth opens wide, partially scandalized. She slaps him on the arm, the grin never leaving her face as they enter the kitchen through the backdoor. “Asshole!”

#jolex #jolex fic #jolex fanifc #jolex fanfiction #jo wilson #alex karev #jo karev #jo wilson karev #greys abc #greys anatomy #greys #ga #greys anatomy fic #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy fanfiction #alex x jo #jo x alex #camilla luddington #justin chambers #baby karevs #jolex babies #screw 16x16 #jolex is endgame #this is positively terrible #payton writes #when i dont even follow the prompt #bee stings #overprotective mommy jo #what are these tags?

[allisonxmoynihan]

she’s mine ~ t. zegras

Request: I have a request for tz, you and him have been keeping your relationship private and you go to the beach with all the BU boys, and Trevor gets jealous bc all the boys are seeing you in a bikini 

Word Count: 1745

Note: This was also posted on my old account, and I promise this is the last of the reposts before I start working on new stuff! Let me know if you have any requests!

“babe, come on, we don’t want to be late,” trevor yells from outside your dorm room door. You were going out with him and some of the BU boys to the beach to enjoy the sudden warm weather that you’ve been deprived of after a long and cold boston winter.

“trevor, hold on,” you shout back as you tie your bikini top around your neck. you look in your mirror and do a quick turn in your swimsuit making sure you looked okay. it wasn’t that you wanted to impress anyone, but you also didn’t want to look like a fool, especially since you were a little nervous being one of the only girls going today. You grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and throw it on over your swimsuit as you slide on your flip flops. 

you and trev find yourselves walking down commonwealth avenue as you head towards the beach, and he’s telling you all about this crazy story.

“Yeah, and then she was like ‘well don’t call the cops,’ and i was like, ‘what and let him die?’ anyway, yesterday after practice dom and i got pizza and i gotta take you to the place…”

you laugh slightly shaking your head.

“What, is there something on my face, because you know i didn’t wash it after i ate and i had some chocolate pancakes today, we should get them some time.”

“Trev, slow down, okay? I’m still confused about the police story? Was that real? you jump around from story to story so fast, it’s hard to keep up,”

Trevor frowns looking down at you, “so, anyway, those pancakes were really good, Wendy at the good dining hall made them for us.”

You smile shaking your head at your boyfriend of the last eight months, you were totally and completely head over heels over him and his endless, goofy antics. 

Trevor grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers in yours. 

“Trev,” you start, “we’re in public, we shouldn’t, i mean what if someone sees?”

Trevor shrugs, “so they see? No one important is around right now anyway. The boys are already at the beach.”

You force a smile so he knows everything is okay. And it was, you wouldn’t ask for any other guy in the world because trevor treated you amazingly and you knew he was the one you wanted to grow old with. But you couldn’t lie about the rock that formed in the pit of your stomach every time you and him were out in public. you hated keeping your relationship a secret from every single person in your lives, but you knew it was probably for the better. If something did happen between you two you didn’t want his fans and hockey world coming after you or thinking he was some sort of destructive monster. 

Trevor drops your hand the minute you turn the corner and the beach is in eyesight, “i’m going to walk a little ahead since, well you know,” he says, offering a shy, boyish smile at you before he walks ahead. 

you wave to his back and slow down your pace. you knew he didn’t mean to hurt you by doing things like this every time you guys were going out with the boys, but it always stung. If you were being honest you were getting sick of keeping the relationship secret, especially when he would openly flirt with other girls in front of you, earning him some cheers and a couple of words of encouragement from his teammates. 

you finally reach the beach to see the boys gathered in a game of beach volleyball.

“y/n! You’re here,” Alex Vlasic, probably your closest friend on the team besides trevor, exclaims.

you nod as the boys quickly turn their interest back to the game in front of them. 

Payton, alex’s girlfriend comes up to you, “Hey, girly! Did you get my text about smoothies tomorrow morning?”

you nod as you slide your shorts off, “yeah, i’m totally down, i’ve been wanting to try the new place anyway.”

Payton smiles as she lays out two towels for the two of you to lay on while you tan, “i know, right? I’m so happy they’re finally putting a smoothie bar in the sea of coffee shops that they call boston.”

you laugh, taking off your shirt and laying down on your towel. “I know, coffee does get old after awhile,”

Payton starts talking to you about her movie night with vlasic last night, and how he tried making cookies for her, and you smile at her excitement and how in love she is with him.

“Zegras, what the fuck man?” Farrance shouts.

“Come on, Z, that was an easy hit!” Ethan whines, as Dom, Cam Crotty, and Vlasic snicker. 

“Maybe you should take your eyes off of the girls and pay attention so you don’t get hit again,” Dom remarks towards his roommate. 

“Yeah, yeah,” trevor says, finally peeling his eyes off of you and kicking the volleyball back over to Crotty. 

“Damn, y/n’s got a nice body, we should invite her to the beach more often,” Ethan jokes, glancing at trevor to see his reaction. It was a shared suspicion on the team that you and trevor were a thing, or at least had feelings towards each other.

Trevor’s jaw clenches as he sends an icy glare at ehtan, “shut the hell up.”

“Awe, Z, are we talking about y/n inappropriately?” Farrance ridicules.

Trevor’s eyes find their way back to you, laying on the towel as you laugh with payton. His eyes flick up and down your body as a smirk erupts on his face, “whatever,” he grumbles, his voice stern and cold.

~*~

you and payton had decided to build a sand castle after the picnic lunch Crotty had packed for everyone. 

“Hey, why does trev look so pissed off?” she asks?

you look up to find him with an emotionless face staring at you with a tight jaw. you also don’t miss the other five boys staring at you and payton in your swimsuits.

you shrug, “ummm, i am not sure. Probably lost some bet the boys had going on,” you cover up, knowing that the real reason is the boys were clearly looking you girls up and down and enjoying every second of it.

Payton squeals, “nooo, a wave is coming!” the two of you giggle as you scramble to try and block the wave from destroying your sand castle. you two topple over laughing at your failed attempt at saving your creation.

Vlasic walks on over, snaking his arms around payton’s, “can i take her away for just a moment?” he asks before leading her down the shoreline, the two of them hand in hand. 

you smile softly over at them before walking back to your towel and sitting down, not really sure what else to do. you grab a textbook out of your bag that you brought with and decide to get caught up on your sociology reading.

Out of your peripheral vision you see someone sit down next to you on payton’s blanket. you look up and find trevor looking at you with a goofy grin adorned on his face.

“Nerd,” he laughs out at you, closing your textbook and throwing it on the towel in front of you.

“Trevor! I’m behind on reading and need to finish the chapter,”

He shakes his head, smiling down at you as he pushes himself up and extends his hand out to you.

Your eyes go wide, “what are you doing?” you ask, looking around you to see where the boys were at. Trevor huffs in annoyance, so you place your hand in his so he can pull you up to your feet. He walks with you by his side down to the water, him bumping his shoulder playfully into yours causing you to smile at the gesture. 

“Just want to spend some time with my girl” he smiles, wading into the water with you.

you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks, “trev, they can see,” you start.

“Shh, let’s just forget about them, okay?” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his body. you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. It wasn’t often trevor showed his emotions towards you and was all cutesy and romantic in public, so you were going to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

“The boys kept making comments about you being hot and all that and i think it’s time they know who you belong to,” he pouted, causing you to laugh.

“Oh, do you now?” you smirk back at him, a grin blossoming on his face.

“You’re mine and i’m sick of the guys always expressing how attractive you are and how they should make a move. I’m sick of sharing you with every single fucking guy in boston. You’re mine and i’m not sharing anymore”

you press your lips gently to his and he lets out a small moan, you pull back raising an eyebrow at him. you were beyond happy that you didn’t have to keep your relationship on the down low anymore.

“I love you so fucking much baby,” he says leaning his forehead against yours, just holding you close to his body, not wanting to let go. 

you smile, lightly pecking his lips, “i love you too trev,”

“Get a room!” you hear some of the guys shout as the others make exaggerated gagging noises at you and trevor. The two of you laugh at his teammates as trevor puts you down and walks you back up to your towel, which he happily wraps you up in. 

“Hey Z, how long has this been going on?” Farrance asks as he points between the two of you.

Trevor looks down at you smirking, “about eight months.”

you can’t help but laugh at the boys as their jaws all drop open, “oh wow,” is all they can muster up to say.

Trevor leans down and whispers in your ear, “how about me and you go to froyoworld tonight?”

you smile up at him, “i’d very much like that trev, but i’m not paying this time.”

He groans, “of course you aren’t” but he can’t help the inevitable grin that’s plastered to his face because he wouldn’t give you up or the moments, the good and the bad, you share together for the world.

#trevor zegras #jack hughes #patrick moynihan #alex turcotte #anaheim ducks #hockey #ntdp #ntdp imagine #last of the reposts

[rcbirth]

[ CHELLA MAN, TRANS & GENDERQUEER, HE/HIM ] shh ! FISCHEL “FISH” ABRAMS, the ( TWENTY-TWO ) year old THIRD year SOCIOLOGY & PUBLIC POLICY major from CHICAGO, IL is known as an EMERALD around here. HE was invited to join because HIS TED TALK ON THE COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION & RESTAURANT HE COFOUNDED HIT OVER 500MILL VIEWS, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE SMELL OF DINNER COOKING FROM THE NEXT ROOM OVER, SWIMMING ON A SUMMER NIGHT, RUNNER’S HIGH AT THE END OF A RACE. // @opalsmedia

howdy pals! my name is del ( she/they ), and i am jazzed to be here! i’ve been peaking at this rp since it showed up in the tags, so to say i’m excited about bringin my kiddo fish in is an understatement. a lil about me before i get into some basics and links for more info about fish... i’m twenty-three from the cst timezone. i work full-time, but my hours are funky, so you may see me at random hours of the day. big music fan, lover of public health things, over-using kermit the frog memes, & thriller shows and books ( anyone else almost lose it during the season finale of the undoing ??? )! warning: i rant a lot.... and am.... so long winded.... pls forgive me.

now for the fun part.... bby fish! i’m just going to give you basics to reference here, because the link ‘extended info’ has much more extensive head canons, wanted plots, stats, and his full bio.

born into a really well off & successful family ( dad = doctor & professor at UC’s med school, mom = big wig in dem establishment & advisor to ... oop! state senator obama ), fish had just about everything that he could ever need growing up. fish was super eager to please his parents and really ??? everyone. 

his grandma was and still is his favorite person to have ever walked this earth. probably has a tattoo for that woman but like ... she’s a peach 1/2 so rightfully so. 

two things about his grandma.... first! her maiden name was fischel, and when fish was growing up, she’d always call him her little fish. it just stuck, and that was that! he would forever be known fischel for business™ and fish for the pals. second! she was his biggest advocate and always believed in him. ( food tw ): she helped encourage his love and interest in cooking, food, food soc, etc. they were big julia child fans. a lot of grandma/fish time was literally just them goofing around in the kitchen and trying to recreate things they saw her make. also.... chicago just has a phenomenal food scene in general, and those two really soaked it in, trying out the various signature dishes of the various neighborhoods, and learning about the history behind them. ( tw end )

he loves anthony bourdain & samin nosrat. big fan.

( divorce tw ) parents got divorced and didn’t really say much other than that he would stay with his father in chicago and visit his mom on alternating holidays and summers. there wasn’t like The Discussion ( tw end )

while he was doing a lil medical internship and staying out with his mom ( cancer, death of a loved one tw ) he got the news that his grandmother’s cancer had gotten to the point where she had been put on life support. his father made the decision that it was in her best interest and fish’s to end her support. fish found out after she had already passed. he tried to claim that it was in his best interest since fish had always been too emotional and the family’s so there wouldn’t be this massive fight.... ( tw end ) cue beginning of resentment of the fam & realization that he’s got no one in his corner except himself

our table <3333 ( food tw ) okay so taking inspiration from his time touring chicago neighborhoods with his grandma & idolizing bourdain and nosrat, fish created what began as an after school club with some of his pals. the idea was to learn about food accessibility, urban farming, food sociology, & cooking from peers, but fish had Big Big plans & wanted it to turn into a bit of a safe haven for kids & young adults on the southside. ( tw end ) utilizing both support from partnerships with other chicago based non profits, school, and locals in the food scene, he helped start the building process for an actual brick and mortar place for our table. 

this got some buzz, and when a journalist came to interview fish and the other co founders they even received national attention... leading to what would be a ted talk appearance in the future, but back to entering strathmore...

fish hopes to utilize both sociology and public policy degrees to help him become a policy advocate and researcher. he hates how slow moving and formal things always were with his mom’s work. his goal is to utilize research about community based efforts and organizations ( like our table ) and science, to create substantial and sustainable policy for politicians that aren’t scared of being seen as “””too radical””.

his invitation into the society came months later after his ted talk reached over 500 million views. although, he’ll tell you it's because word got around to the members who heard about how good of a chef he is .... he loves it. he literally longs ... yearns some might say .... for community and is very committed and protective over his circlet. 

grief, guilt tw: poppy’s disappearance has him borderline unhinged a bit. she was one of the people he considered himself closer too, and it’s just an unearthing of some of the feelings he had right after his grandmother’s death of anger, confusion, guilt etc. he won’t openly express that or talk about it, but it definetely manifests itself physically. tw end

inspiration-wise, he is a mix of laurel castillo from how to get away with murder, pope heyward from outer banks, grizz from the society, dani clayton from bly manor, emily prentiss from criminal minds, and a bit of payton hobart from the politican. 

music inspiration: willow tree by tash sultana & jerome farah, ain’t it fun by paramore, barefoot in the park by james blake, bad bad news by leon bridges

his personality is that he’s a sociable guy for the most part, but he’s definetely an introvert really enjoying his time for himself. he’s very methodical despite how emotional he is and can be. very creative, protective, blunt .... this can run him into issues even if he just means it as a joke.... many times its not though, he’s pretty critical of others and esp himself, but also v loyal and thoughtful when it comes down to the pals.... will be dropping off some homemade soup and crackers if he knows you’re fighting a lil cold.

BIG THINGS: a lot of his character is based around the subtle, warm intimacy of small dinners with loved ones??? this is what he longs for more than anything and always has??? it’s not super overstated or in your face, but you know its there because you can feel it. in the past you saw him being more passive, kinda allowing himself to float in the background, but now he really is his own advocate and creates community wherever he can. he’s v intentional in his relationships and conversations, not wanting to have just surface level connections or chats. he is v much a Scorpio™.

see more. pinterest. plots. template credit.

#opalsintro #// #i cannot look at this anymore or i will lose it #anyways happy to be here and excited to chat & start writing with yall <333

[redjennies]

The worst is the well meaning but ultimately dismissive ‘you don’t know x+y’s friendship’ or ‘they’re so close they’re fine’. Right. But a) the whole basis of their company is trading on these parasocial relationships b) sometimes friends can be shitty to each other even if they love each other in the same way family can be shitty and c) people aren’t necessarily mad AT Liam (which is where I think his stans come in) but I think they’re upset by the way it feels to see him repeatedly in character aggressively cut off a woman. For most of the people who have been upset I feel like it’s less Liam bad and more, wow I’ve been there and I’m glad Travis said something it’s not a good feeling.

note; I've since deleted the original post I made that this ask was in response to because I was being incredibly flippant about a serious issue in a way that I felt I should have been more maturely handled. the gist of it was "I am angry that some fans are being openly anti-feminist and lesbophobic." I'm leaving this ask because I think ambassadorofchill said some really good points about friendship and how it intersects with what I'm personally upset about. my full unedited response is below the cut.

I get what you're saying but the worst right now for me is that I'm literally just upset about being reminded, once again, that lesbians are evil if they are rude about men, even if the man in question is leagues more privileged than them. even if I didn't personally engage in it, I'm kinda fuckin tired of seeing like a handful of lesbians be rude about something they have every right to be rude about and it's like "hey here's why you're all evil fuckin dykes if you step out of line." sorry I don't mean to nitpick phrasing but I do need to address that I am really like very upset that was like "gee I hope this doesn't turn into just people shitting on lesbians and feminists. gonna keep making my silly jokes and believe the best in people. :)" and then...yeah.

a is actually a really good point that I am just too tired to address right now but damn that one kinda hit the nail on the head.

re: b & c honestly same. I hung out with one of my guy friends last night and like he fuckin said something that made me feel all "why are men like this? :/" and it was just another one of those moments. it doesn't mean we're not friends. it doesn't mean he doesn't like me. it's just the way fuckin privilege works whether people want to address that shit or nah. I said this on Friday, I really am not feeling "Liam bad Travis good" so much as "oh I'm glad Travis did that" but what I didn't say on Friday is that the reason it's not "Liam bad Travis good" is because honestly every single dude in the cast has made me go "ugh men" at some point. I think it's kinda stupid to focus on Liam specifically when like yes, even sweet boy Matt has said things that struck me a little :/. honestly even the women have made some "yikesy" jokes about various different subjects and no one's a bad person for pointing that out.

idk I don't get how people who believe in social justice and oppressive power structures can be so vitriolic about women criticizing a man in a pretty clear cut case of "casual, unintentional sexism." like there's literally nothing Marisha has on Liam, privileges wise. it's not like everyone is out to get Khary Payton or Taliesin on Marisha's behalf where it might be more complicated because of race or sexuality. Liam did something, albeit unintentionally, that negatively resonated with a lot of women but somehow that's the women's fault and worse yet, it's somehow the fuckin lesbians' fault.

#@the person who sent me the other ask if you're not too turned off by me venting I'll have that for you tomorrow when im less bummed out #im just not feeling very fun right now #the drama #asks

[sunnyie-eve]

1 | Supposed To Be The Best Day

Series: Don't Make It Personal  (American Assassin Mitch Rapp)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Death, Terrorist attack

"Babe, do you really have to film everything we do on our vacation?" I laugh as I walk backwards into the ocean. "Yes, I'm making a little video that's going to be a gift." He smiles jogging into the water recording me. "Who's it a gift for?" I ask putting my head back to get my hair wet. "Us in the future." He wraps an arm around me getting in the frame too. "I don't understand you at times." I stare up at him. "That's what you love about me so much though." He leans down giving me a kiss. "I love that I don't understand you?" I laugh and he gives me a goofy smile, "Duhhhh!" He kisses the top of my nose.

"Oh my god! Sam? As in Samuel Raider?" We hear a female's voice a few feet away from us. "Katrina Harper?" He smiles and I see the guy with her tilt his head confused like me. "Baby, this is an old friend of mine from high school." Sam tells me as he walks us half to meet her. "It's been so long." She gives him a hug. "This is my boyfriend Mitch Rapp." She pulls her boyfriend over to us. "Hi, dude. This is my girlfriend Payton Kline." He introduces me to her. "Hello." I give her a small smile.

"Man, it's so funny seeing you here." She laughs, shaking her head. "I know, especially when we always talked about coming here back in high school." He laughs and I look at her boyfriend Mitch who was eyeing Sam. "Oh my god, yes. Well look at us we are and with someone we each love to death." She smiles up at her boyfriend. "I'm guessing you guys dated?" Mitch says and they nod their heads. "Yeah, he's the one I told you about that I could never understand at times. Is that the same for you?" She asks me. "Oh yeah... I actually told him that just a few minutes ago." I laugh and Sam gives me a kiss.

"Yo Mitch, I know we just met but can I talk to you for a second?" Sam asks him and they walk off some. "So, how long have you been together?" Katrina asks me. "Oh, a few years now. We met when I was working at a store as a cashier and he would always come buy something to talk to me." I laugh and she tells me that's cute. "In case you were wondering how we broke up, it was mutual because we were going to different colleges. I'm happy he's got someone like you. You seem wonderful." I thank her as the guys come back and we go back to our spot.

"What was that about?" I ask as he messes with his phone. "Guy talk. He told me he's going to propose to her." He wiggles his eyebrows before filming again. "Really Samuel? Just have some fun with me." I pout. "I just need your reaction for this." He laughs, making me roll my eyes, "Ugh fine..." I giggle, spinning around. "Payton Kline, you are literally the love of my life and I'm so happy my roommate sent me to the store." I stop to see him pull out a ring making my jaw drop but then laugh. "I'm also happy your checkout line was the shortest or I would have never seen you." He says getting closer to me, making me smile up at him.

"I just hope you love me as much as I love you... Will you marry me?" He asked and I wanted to joke for a second since he was recording. "Samuel, is this a bad time to say I wanted to break up?" His face drops and I take the phone recording him. "I-..." Was all he could spit out. "I'm just playing with you. Of course I would marry you! You are the love of my life too." I wrap my arms around him kissing him and he puts the ring on my finger. "I fucking hate you but I love you too." He pinched my sides making me squeal.

"Congrats man!" Sam turns to Mitch and Katrina. "You too man!" Mitch tells us making me and Katrina laugh. "Since I played a rude joke on you, I'll get us drinks." I give him a kiss before making my way back. "Love you Babygirl! You're my everything!" He shouts as I get farther away getting out of the water. As I make it out Mitch does too, "Congratulations to you." He gives me a smile. "To you too." I return one and people cheer for each of us. "Are you getting engagement drinks too?" He asks as we walk together. "Yeah, I sorta joked saying I wanted to break up so I said I'll get the drinks." He shakes his head at me. "That's just totally messed up. You don't do a guy like that." I nodded my head agreeing, "He was recording and I wanted his reaction." I jog ahead of him and he follows.

"Hola. Como estás?" He asks the bartender. "What can I get you?" The guy asks. "Um, can I just get four drinks, please? Cuatro bebidas, if that's right... Um, We each just got engaged, so something special. It can be anything, though." Mitch tells him and I thank him for getting ours too. "Oh, you two are lucky." The bartender says. "Oh, can they be kinda strong too? Is that cool?" He asks the guy then thanks him. "It's funny to see two ex's together." I laugh as we look back to see Sam and Katrina waving at us next to each other so we wave back. "Oh, whoa. Maybe not that strong." I told the guy before gunshots were fired making us duck down and people started to scream and drop around us. "Run, run!" He grabs my hand and we run into a guy making us fall into the pool.

I get out before Mitch and scream Sam's name trying to avoid shots. "Son of a bitch!" I scream when a bullet hits me in the right thigh making me fall. I get up then help Mitch up next to me and he starts to limp with me. "Just keep your head low and push through the pain." I tell him before calling Sam's name as people drop dead around us. "Payton! Watch out Katrina!" Sam gets in front of Katrina to protect her and gets shot in the head. As he falls to the ground the guy shoots Katrina too. "SAMUEL!" I scream as I get shot from behind on the right side going through my chest making me drop into the water.

When they were gone I pulled myself to sit up groaning in pain crawling to Sam. "Sammy." I cry grabbing his and just my other hand to close his eyes. I look over to see Mitch in pain crying about Katrina. When help finally arrived they asked us a few questions then took us to fix us up. They told us and a few other people who made it out alive would have to wait a few days before we could leave. "Payton." Mitch takes a seat next to me. "Why does one of our happiness days have to turn into a bloodbath and the loss of a loved one?" I cry looking at the ring in my finger.

"I wonder that too." He looks at the ring he gave Katrina. "I wonder if Sam would have still died if he didn't try to protect Katrina. At least he died trying to help someone." I close my eyes looking up. "I don't know but I regret leaving her to get drinks." He tells me. "I do too. Instead of losing them we all could have probably ran to safety. Also thank you for trying to help me when we started to run." I turn to look at him. "Thank you too. For helping me up and giving me tips." I give him a slight smile, "My uncle, who is a veteran, gives me random tips all the time." He lets out a chuckle, "It's good you listen to him."

Next

#dylan o'brien #mitch rapp #american assassin #american assassin ff #mitch rapp x oc #mitch rapp fanfiction

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Taylor during surprise song o’clock.

#taylor swift #the eras tour #Payton makes bad jokes #I’m sorry I had to

[magneticmage]

I'm in the mood for it (plus it's Disability Pride month) so here are all my disabled ocs;

Under cut for Length

Additional Notes; Please do not judge me too harshly. While I have a few of these disabilities (most notably PTSD, anxiety-depression, and visual impairments) myself and personally know people who have some others, every person and their experiences are unique. I try my best to give these disabilities the space and gravity they deserve in my writing, but it is difficult for ones that I have no personal experience with. In addition, I am still learning and only human. If I have done something wrong or phrased something badly at any point now or in the future, let me know and I will do my best to fix it/do better. Apologies for the abrupt disclaimer but there we go.

Anyways!!!!

On the the List!

RWBY;

Selene Argent=Has PTSD, one prosthetic eye, and some physical scars on face and torso. I'd safely say she counts.

Baldur's Gate;

Sable Shades=Is an albino and was rendered mute at birth. He sunburns extremely easily and is near-sighted. He also often communicates through sign language.

Roan Roarke=Beyond some minor PTSD symptoms (increased anxiety and stress levels) surrounding fires, he's perfectly fine.

Faenerys Elendir=Has PTSD from her time imprisoned particular involving whips and brands as torture implements.

Rune Mistsea=Post-lycanthropy encounter, he is notably more short-tempered around the full moon along with a distinct craving for meat and violence. Otherwise, nothing else of note.

Lucine Mistsea=Beyond a notable paranoia issue when it comes to demons and cambions (but not fellow tieflings), she's fine.

Lyr(e/a/an) Lovemoor=Autistic. Too much light and noise and surrounding activity is draining and makes them short-tempered with occasional blowouts/meltdowns. Has a Thing about certain textures (very much hates slimes and oozes and squishy things for this reason, likes silks and furs and leathers). Has a fascination for all things shiny and glittery (gems and currencies are a special interest). Also often fidgets with their daggers.

Saga Musehart=Was rendered blind due to torture at the hands of prison guards. She also lost a hand (initially) and a forearm (later due to infection) and wears a prosthesis.

Cei Gloomdraft=Autistic or at least neurodivergent of some kind. Might have some ADHD, it's not quite clear yet in the few pieces I've written so far to help develop her.

Mass Effect;

(Solo Shepard Canon)

Annette Shepard=Has some lingering PTSD symptoms from surviving a raid on Mindoir, then thresher maws in Akuze, and then being spaced at the beginning in Mass Effect 2. She also suffers from some survivor's guilt Post-Virmire due to losing Ashley, and then all of Mass Effect 3 puts such a huge burden on her that she's fighting off some severe depression and despair from all the losses. She's got an old war injury in her shoulder that acts up from time to time, occasionally making her biotics misfire a barrier. She's on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent her body from rejecting her Cerberus-added cybernetic implants and upgrades, and also some antidepressants for depression and anxiety symptoms for said lingering PTSD symptoms. Girl's a walking disaster-fire mentally but she keeps on surviving and she still looks for the good in life as it comes, so there's that.

(Shepard Siblings)

Joanna=Like Roscoe and Riley, she's also on immuno-suppressants to prevent cybernetic implant rejection. Notably, she's the most well-adjusted of the three mentally, although the losses and struggles of ME 3 start to take their toll due to depression. She spends an awkward month on the Normandy adjusting to the new medication while adjusting the amounts needed. In addition, she also goes through a whole existential crisis come the Citadel DLC about if she is really Joanna Shepard or a clone (which Riley, Roscoe, and the Normandy crew snap her out of). Her survivor's guilt is much less pronounced than Riley's though she does start the early stages of a martyr complex (it's a source of frequent and well-humored debate between Riley and Roscoe if it was already there or not) about the of Thane's death. But she does her best and keeps on going.

Roscoe=Definitely mentally ill. He's got some trauma around abandonment that starts to get fully addressed around ME 2 in part due to Jack and Miranda and is mostly resolved around ME 3 though naturally scars remain. It often manifests as anger, depression, and even callousness. Like Joanna's and Riley, he is on immuno-suppressants to prevent the potential rejection of his cybernetics. He's also got an old wound from Torfan in his abdomen that acts up under stronger pressures like before a rainstorm or different gravity levels as well as drastic temperature changes such as cold (he HATES Noveria for that reason in particular though it isn't the only one, man). Beyond all that, he's very strong-willed and gives no fucks to shit.

Riley=Much like Annette except a bit more well-adjusted due to a larger support network and character drive. Has notable flashbacks/triggers around batarians, thresher maws (this one includes panic attacks once the direct danger has passed), and hardsuit complications (they always makes sure that their helmet and everything is in working and optimal order). Has survivor's guilt from their losses on Mindoir and Akuze but between meeting Talitha and Toombs in ME 1, they confront and deal with it, beginning to heal from it. Even on Virmire with the loss of Honora and all the failures of ME 3, they do better at handling it though it still remains to varying degrees. Like Joanna's and Roscoe (and Annette again), they're on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent issues with their body rejecting the cybernetics, with the additional ones of antidepressants to help manage some of their anxiety-depression symptoms. They also have some degree of chronic pain (maybe some kind of cystic fibrosis?) due to past overuse of their biotics that damaged part of their nervous system and occasionally causes it to misfire for no reason, often causing intense pain. Rarely and only if the pain isn't treated with extensive biotics-free rest periods and numbing agents in the form of more pills, the biotics will manifest and they'll accidentally move shit around, including themself a few times. This is most notable in ME 3 due to the nature of the larger and longer combat sequences with shorter and shorter rest times between. Though they manage as best they can with the help of their crew and family, it is still a struggle and they notably stop joking about retiring when they're dead and seem to consider it more seriously around ME 3 but save the final decision for the end of the Reaper Wars.

(Shepard Family)

Honora Hartford=She had an eating disorder when she was younger that left some lingering issues with her health but overall she's fine up until her death.

Riley's deceased siblings were overall healthy though Payton had Down's Syndrome and Brooklyn had ADHD. Harley had moderate asthma and used an inhaler.

Clover has anemia quite often and takes iron pills daily

The rest of the Shepard cousins don't have any disabilities to much knowledge though I am still fleshing them out.

(Andromeda)

Sara and Scott Ryder have some lingering damage from their cryopod accident and the Kett leader fucking with them, but otherwise they are okay.

Asher has ADHD while Shiloh struggles with a mild form of chronic fatigue. Evander, Rebecca, and Lucas are all able-bodied.

Dragon Age;

(Fereldan Wardens)

Lynera Mahariel=Dunno if this counts, but am putting it here anyways since it affects her overall health. Occasionally suffers from a type of sleep paralysis that is mixed with night-terrors. It doesn't appear to have a rhyme or reason as to when it occurs beyond perhaps stress and it's only every few months. However, it often leaves her completely drained for at least a week afterwards. She also occasionally has insomnia post-terrors as well which she self-medicates with sleeping draughts. She also has crippling period pains that appear to be consistent with ovarian cysts on her left side (though she later has it removed by Catriona once it ruptures due to injury). She also suffers from bouts of depression during Origins but that could be due to the extenuating circumstances she was under at the time.

Isemaya Tabris=When overly stressed, being exposed to strong amounts of concentrated Taint in a short period of time, or sometimes simply for no apparent reason, she suffers from intense migraines that are often treated with herbal painkillers and lying still in a dark and quiet room. Also due to a past injury to her left eye by humans, she has a harder time seeing on that side but is not completely blind.

Catriona Surana=She seems to be autistic due to her ability and predilection to hyperfocus on various studies (often Blight and magic-related but other areas do occur) as well as her obliviousness to social cues (she didn't realize she was liked by her suitors until Cale outright told her and by then she had decided she liked them already). Notably, she adapts a bit better Post-Origins due to Alistair and Leliana's influences but it still happens.

Cale Amell=Had some minor amnesia surrounding the exact events leading to his magic manifestation but later learned it was because he had set his eldest brother Azul on fire and believed he killed him as Raven helpfully supplied (Azul had instead faked his death as Cale discovers around the time of Awakening).

Fion Cousland=Briefly suffers from a minor alcohol addiction but has treatment while he is still in the functional phase courtesy of Catriona. Since then, he heavily monitors his intake and even helps Oghren get treatment for his own. He also occasionally has painful muscle twinges due to an injury that stretches from his temple to his eye and ear down to his neck on the right side. This is most notable in bad weather or when he is sick.

Barran Aeducan=Suffered from a superiority-inferiority complex towards his siblings growing up though it has greatly lessened with time and experience. It is mostly gone by the time of Inquisition though prominent traces still remain.

Tatha Brosca=She is hard of hearing and has manged to cope by learning to lip-read (not always successful, however, especially with languages she is not familiar with) in Origins and a pair of hearing "horns" designed for her by an admiring Smith caste man by Awakening. She often jokes that now she has even more in common with her Bronto companion, Salroka, due to their shared horns.

(Origins)

Vireth Mahariel=Suffers from epilepsy and often treats it with various herbal remedies, though it is not completely effective and large amounts of intense stress on his body make it worse. He also begins to develop cataracts around the time of Act 2 of Dragon Age 2, though the cause is unknown (presumed genetics or simply age at the moment).

Elthorn Tabris=Has a stutter speech impediment.

Alaros Surana=Unknown at the moment as I haven't written too much about him.

The Amell Siblings=Probably doesn't count but Azul gets motion sickness, especially on boats. Raven, Carmine, and Reed are all perfectly healthy and fine, however the latter two are the ones I've written least at the moment. Marigold has asthma that she treats with herbs.

Aelynne Cousland=Nothing comes to mind. She does have some old injuries (mentally and physically) she acquired from the attack on Highever by Arl Howe that color her later interactions with the family during the Fereldan Civil War.

Valda Aeducan=Has a notable visual impairment that is corrected with glasses, albeit there is nothing to be done for her slight colorblindness (she has a hard type distinguishing between greys, greens, and blues).

(Orlesian Wardens)

Dion Caron=Suffers from sleep apnea that is eased by a special breathing herbal-incense infused mask he wears as well as whomever in his group is on watch to check on him periodically to ensure he still breathes (most often this is either Victoire-Ainsley or Garam). He also snores and coughs due to this. Loudly.

Victoire-Ainsley Caron=Nothing of note.

Isenna Andras=She's an albino and so burns and rashes in intense light and heat. She also has a lame leg that cannot be fixed with magic and so wears a reinforced brace to aid her walk. This creates a noticeable limp.

Garam Kader=Alcohol makes him sick and he suffered from intense gender dysphoria before paying a huge sum to have an ex-Tevinter magister turned fellow Warden help him transition.

(Hawkes)

Jasper, Skye, and Violet Hawke are perfectly healthy. Albeit with some diet restrictions due to various allergies.

Gray Hawke=He is diabetic and so often has to monitor his energy levels to ensure his health. It's part of the reason he doesn't actively endanger his life like his siblings (not that he won't, just less often in comparison). He acquires a truly impressive diet regime and treatment plan upon becoming a nobleman of the Amell family, allowing him much more freedom than before.

(Marquises)

Aurore and Marcel de Serault both suffer from mild hemophilia. Marcel also has a lyrium drug addiction he is trying to break (and is actually doing quite well via weaning himself off it) due to a brief stint as a Templar while serving the Chantry.

(Inquisitors)

Armashok Adaar=Poor eyesight that cannot be fully corrected by glasses and later loses an arm due to the Anchor. He also lost a few fingers and some right hand mobility due to pre-nquisition injuries as a mercenary. He also wears a brace on his left shoulder. He wears a prosthetic eye and replacement arm.

Ransley Trevelyan=Like Cullen, he is working on breaking his own lyrium addiction from his time as a Templar and, like the other Inquisitors, loses his arm due to the Anchor. He had it replaced with a prosthetic arm for his shield side.

Paeriel Lavellan=She loses an arm alongside all the other Inquisitors, but takes the loss much harsher due to her archery skills suffering. While she will wear a prosthesis in battle or when hunting, she doesn't wear it in her day-to-day life, instead preferring to make due as needed. She also has anxiety.

Naranka Cadash=She loses her Anchor-wielding arm and gains a crossbow-and-dagger prosthetic one courtesy of her Inner Circle, much to her delight. She also suffers from some damage to her reproductive tract due to past injuries and is uncertain if she could have children.

(Inner Circle)

Kara Adaar=Beyond an intense hatred of slavery due to being kidnapped and almost sold when she was younger before being rescued by her father, she's perfectly healthy. She does require bedrest for her periods though.

Emilyse Trevelyan=She suffers from some PTSD from her abuse at Templar hands in the Circle, though she begins to recover towards the end of Inquisition.

Samrel Lavellan=Has dyslexia and uses reading aids and memory devices.

Pyrmar Cadash=He might have some PTSD from his Carta days due to a notable cave-in that lasted for a few days before his rescue.

#disability mention #trauma mention #amputation mention #eating disorder mention #my ocs stuff #mentions of addiction to drugs and alcohol #gender dysphoria mention

[onestowatch]

Molly Payton Breaks Down the Process Behind Her New ‘Porcupine’ EP

A lot of Molly Payton’s tracks have been written in the tube, when the night is over and booze courses her veins. “It's where I do my best writing,” she laughs. “When I'm absolutely hammered and angry at someone.” It figures: her music is drenched in melancholy, laced with yearning vocals and cutting lyrics about boys who read too much Kerouac and wish they lived in 1972. Still, she has her reservations about the habit. “It's not good,” she jokes, “how as a musician you capitalize off heartbreak. I'm at a point now where if I have a bad experience with a guy I'm like, ‘Sweet, thanks mate! Great song.’”

The New Zealand-born artist moved to London with her mum when she was sixteen. The plan was to stay for only a short stint, but when Molly’s music started taking off that turned into two years (and counting). While Molly had been writing songs and singing for a while at that stage, she hadn’t yet considered making it a career. “In New Zealand I just never really thought of it as a possibility,” she explains. Back then, the main Kiwi artists she knew that had made it big were a couple of bands her parents liked, and Lorde. And while she notes that’s changing, it wasn’t until she’d trekked halfway across the world that pursuing music felt like a tangible possibility. “Moving to London,” she explains, “I was meeting people who it just happened to.”

Those people were the likes of bedroom pop turned breakout rock star beabadoobee, and Oscar Lang, who’s signed with The 1975’s label Dirty Hit. Alongside Molly, they’re part of a crew of talented young London creatives, the kind that make you feel very old and uncool. “They were a really influential group,” Molly says. “I definitely wouldn't have done anything if I hadn't met them. Just being around young people like that who've made what they want to happen was really good for me, to see that it's possible.”

While Molly’s mates may have helped nudge her in the right direction, she’s clearly got the talent to make on her own strength, as evidenced on her debut EP Mess. Released earlier this year and produced by Oscar, it’s a collection of fuzzy acoustic-leaning tracks, inspired by the likes of Jeff Buckley and Leonard Cohen. They’re like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket of nostalgia and show off a voice that could melt steel.

Now Molly’s just released her second EP, Porcupine. This time round she’s taking notes from the 90s bands she has on repeat, including Nirvana and Pavement. It’s aided by the fact after an extensive two-year search, she’s finally got a band of her own to flank her on stage and in the studio. The result is a slick collection of fuller, grungier tracks, the kind you can imagine swaying to in a dingy underground club with sweat lining the walls.

We caught up with Molly from opposite ends of the world to chat writer’s block, pre-show rituals and coming home for summer.

Ones to Watch: Are you someone who's constantly writing?

Molly Payton: I used to be. But in lockdown I didn't write anything. I think it was partly because I got back from a trip to the States two days before lockdown, and when I was there, I was in writing sessions every day, and I felt like I'd just been squeezed out. I just didn't feel like writing for the first time in my life. But it's coming back now.

Do you have a process?

Not really. Most of my best songs I wrote in like 20 minutes.

Is that just you picking up a guitar and writing everything at the same time?

Throughout my day I'll be having things in my head, but it won't feel like a song, just ideas. Little melodies or playing around with chords. And every once in a while, - it's so nice - I'll just sit there and play something and be like, ‘Oh that sounds good,’ and keep playing. Then I get my phone out and go into my thousand notes of like, two lyrics at a time, and start putting stuff together. And it just happens. It’s the nicest experience. Though in the second EP, two of the singles actually, Warm Body and How to Have Fun, those are the first two songs I wrote with other people in writing sessions.

It must've been a pretty different experience having had that experience of songwriting on your own, then sitting in writing sessions. What was that like?

It depends. I hate some writing sessions. There have been a few that I just wanted to leave. But those two sessions were just fun. I wrote Warm Body with Oli [Barton Wood] who produced the EP. It was the first time we met, and I was so nervous because it was my first ever proper writing session. And he just gave me a guitar and put heaps of distortion on it, then gave me a really shitty mic. Which I think was probably the best first session I could've had.

How come?

Because most of the time it's just someone will have either an acoustic guitar and they'll be like, 'tell me about your ex-boyfriend', or they'll have a drum machine and put a little beat in the computer, and you'll do things really systematically. Whereas Oli was like, just play something and I'll play along, and we'll see if something happens. And that's how Warm Body happened.  

You have a really powerful voice - is that a thing that you had to - excuse the cliché - find?

Oh god yeah, I had a really good singing teacher for two years. I wasn't a good singer. I always wanted to, I always sang, but I didn't start singing singing until I was about 15. My teacher was really about giving you confidence. And that's my thing, because I have really, really bad anxiety. Which is funny, because I was such a performer when I was a kid. But the idea of going on stage to someone with such bad anxiety, especially at that age, was terrifying. Which is hard - wanting to be a musician and being fucking terrified of going on stage.

Do you have any pre-show things to help that now?

Beer. [laughs].

Fair.  

But I don't get nervous anymore, I don't know if it's because I have a band now... Probably. I have the best band in the world. They're all a bit older and have been doing music forever, so they're crazy talented musicians. And I know when I go on stage with them that if I fuck up, Simon the guitarist will do some crazy shit on the guitar and distract everyone while I get my shit together.

Did moving to London change how you wrote at all?

To be honest I was 16 when I moved here, and in [home country] New Zealand I was quite a shy kid. I hadn't experienced much, then was suddenly thrust into this crazy world. Because the school I went to here, and the people I was mixing with, were so far away from any kind of world I'd experienced before. It was very different, very intense. Going out all the time, having freedom for the first time in my life - and very suddenly - was a bit scary. I don't know if it changed my style of writing, I think that happened more through writing heaps and getting better. But my sound would've changed if I’d stayed in NZ. I met different people, and that would've changed the subject matter. It's hard to say. I don't even know if I’d be writing if I'd stayed in NZ. It's a bit nuts to think about, y’know.

Do you miss New Zealand?

So much. I miss my family, and how fucking pretty it is. London's beautiful but it's beautiful in a sad way. Everything about London makes me feel melancholy.

I lived in London for six years, so know what you mean.

Maybe it's because I’ve watched too many films. I always feel like I'm in a movie here, whereas in New Zealand I feel like a human being. It's also that weird feeling of separation here where no one knew me before. When I moved here, I had this freedom to be who I wanted to be, which was really fun for a while. I was like, ‘I'm gonna be confident, that's my thing now.’ Which was great, and it's nice to have that thing of, ‘No one knows that embarrassing thing I did when I was a kid.’ But after a while you miss having that. I've got four siblings, and I'm the baby. So just missed getting teased. And Christmas. I had Christmas on my own. In London. It was so sad. My mum was back in New Zealand.

That’s tough.

But whenever I say that to people who are living here, they're like, ‘Well why don't you just go back?’ And I’m just like, no of course not, I want to be here. It's London. In the same way it's sad, it's amazing. But I'm coming to NZ for a while so i'm gonna get my feed.

The dream is to just do summer to summer.

The thing is, I'm a winter person, I love winter. I think it's ‘cause I just love a good coat. I love hot drinks.

That's true. Two winter USPs.

There's nothing better than New Zealand winter. We'd go skiing and stay in this rinky dinky little hut and had to hike up the mountain because the lift didn't go. So, you'd have this horrible hike carrying your skis and your bag, then get into this warm hut and sit down and have a hot chocolate. Ugh. I miss winter.

I’ve just had two in a row so you can have one of mine. What are your next music goals?

I’d love to do a proper tour. That's the dream, I'd love to be able to play just every day. But it's weird, I'm such a homebody. Deep down I'm a huge grandpa, it's my secret to surviving London. I have some friends who go on tour and I'm like, ‘How do you survive, how do you manage this lifestyle every day?’ Because they go out after every gig, get trashed and do it again. Whereas I can't handle a hangover. I’m like 'Cancel it all. I’m sleeping today.'

Fair enough.

#Molly Payton #rock #Porcupine

[batskulldrag]

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

here’s chapter fourteen, sorry for dropping off the grid

Trigger warnings for anxiety attacks and panic attacks. As well as abuse mentions

Also innacurate representation of a court of law. I pieced this together from all my research. But it’s probably wrong

Chapter Fourteen: Burn from the Hamilton soundtrack

 Patton buttoned the last button on his suit jacket. The deafening silence was not helping his nerves. He glanced over to Logan who was pacing dazedly from one side of their room to the other.  

“I haven’t worn this since my last job interview.” Patton added to the void. “I’m surprised it still fits. I’ve had a lot of cookies since then.”

“What?” Logan stopped walking and looked over as if he had been snapped out of a trance.

“I was just trying to joke.” Patton dismissed it. “Are you ok?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re stimming.”

“My pacing has nothing to do with Asperger’s.” Logan said quickly and unconvincingly.

“I’m scared too.” Patton looked at his shoes. “Not only does Payton have a lawyer, but he is one!”

“So? He can’t alter reality.” Logan shrugged. “And we have all the evidence. We can stop him from so much as looking at a picture of Virgil ever again.”

“I guess.”

“And I know.” Logan walked over and untied Patton’s tie. “Who taught you how to tie a tie?”

“I never learned how. I was busy and my hands were tied.” Patton smiled.

“I’ll let you have that one.” Logan sighed, retying the tie.

They were interrupted by Virgil screaming. They both sprinted over to him, and Patton burst inside.

Virgil was on the floor beside his bed staring at his arms in horror. Both arms, his face and neck were pink and covered with hives.

“I’ve been nuked!” Virgil yelled in dismay.

“It’s ok.” Patton said more out of instinct than optimism as he ran to Virgil’s side. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Virgil, do the hives itch?” Logan asked, kneeling across from him.

“Yeah?” Virgil replied, confused. “What are they? Am I gonna die?”

“If I had to guess I’d say they were stress induced.” Logan felt his forehead.

“I can’t show up to court looking like this!” Virgil gestured at himself. “They’ll assume stuff!”

“What will they assume?” Logan asked seriously.

“I don’t know! They’ll assume that I’m too stressed out here or something.”

“It’s ok sweetie.” Patton cooed, stroking his hair. “They’re not gonna jump to conclusions.”

“He’s right.” Logan continued. “The only assumption they are going to make is that a young man, who was diagnosed with severe anxiety, is having a reaction to the stress involved in testifying in court.”

“How can you be so sure?” Patton could feel Virgil’s heart pounding.

“I can’t. And I’m not asking you to trust the court, I’m asking you to trust us. We’re not going to let Payton get his hands on you ever again.”

“Sure, but there are limits to what you can actually do about this.” Virgil’s breaths started getting shorter.  

“And everything is in our favor.”

“He’s going to deny everything, he’s going to lie about you! He’s not just going to let this slide!”

“I know.” Logan pushed Virgil’s bangs back. “But he’s already been outed as a liar. And no one is going to believe his hearsay arguments so easily. Maybe people are inclined to believe the adult, but nobody believes the liar.”

“But we don’t know what he has up his sleeves.”

“Prison tattoos probably.” Patton chimed in bitterly.

“Payton had better have the infinity gauntlet under there if he wants to win.” Roman said from the doorway.

“How long have you been there?” Logan turned around suddenly

“I heard Virgil scream too.” Roman rolled his eyes. “I just didn’t have anything to add until now.”

“We’re going to find out that you’re just a ghost that haunts this place, aren’t we?” Virgil added.

“That’s the spirit.” Patton impulsively took the opportunity for a dad joke.

“Virgil.” Roman ignored Patton. “I have plenty of make up if you wish to cover up those irritants.”

“No.” Logan interrupted. “Make up would worsen the irritation.”

“I have baby lotion.” Patton smoothed Virgil’s hair back.

“Why?” Virgil looked dismayed.

                                                               #             #             #

“Boop.” Patton enunciated as he smudged a bit of lotion on Virgil’s nose.

Virgil didn’t seem too impressed with that. He just sighed and looked at his arms.

“Ok, Virgil, drink this and then I’ll give you one of your pills.” Logan added, placing a mug of warm milk in front of him.

“What’s this supposed to do?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“It’s supposed to settle your stomach and relax you.” Logan felt his forehead. “Given your history of throwing up when you’re stressed, I don’t want you eating anything heavy. But you shouldn’t be taking your tranquilizers on an empty stomach. And milk, especially warm milk is known to have calming properties.”

“Do you think I need one of the sedatives?” Virgil added, taking a sip of the milk.

“You did kinda break out because of stress, Kiddo.” Patton set the lotion down. “And you’re doing a pretty scary thing today.”

Virgil rested his head on the table and Patton started petting his hair.

“You can still change your mind at any time.” Logan added, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I can’t just duck out at the last minute.” Virgil mumbled.

“Quack.” Patton added, looking down at his anxious little baby hopefully.

Virgil didn’t even crack a smile.

“I’m gonna do this even if it’s the last thing I ever do.” Virgil sat up with determination.

“Ok.” Patton wrapped his arms around him. “But you don’t have to. Ok? You don’t need to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I know.”

“Do you wanna take your bear with you? Or your hoodie? You know, to make you more comfortable.”

“I don’t need a security blanket.” Virgil looked disgusted at the thought. “Can you imagine? If Payton saw me walk up to the stand with a fricking teddy bear, he’d drop his bullshit and start reaming me out right there. I don’t wanna see that.”

“He’d lose the case in an instant though.” Roman added. “It is normally considered bad form to abuse your child in the middle of a custody battle.”

“That’s a valid point.” Logan somehow agreed with Roman. “Payton is completely incapable of hurting you anymore. His hands are tied.”

“Metaphorically?” Virgil looked up at him.

“No, they had him in hand cuffs last time I saw him.”

Virgil laughed at the idea.

“Ok, Kiddo.” Patton kissed him on the forehead. “You go get dressed. And I promise that everything is gonna be ok from now on.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just can.”

                                                               #             #             #

The courtroom looked exactly like every court room from TV. Patton looked into the gallery and saw several strangers. Roman veered off from them and sat in the gallery as well. He shot them a thumbs up.

“Why are there a bunch of people here?” He quickly whispered to Logan as they sat down at their weird table.

“Most trials are open to the public.” Logan explained. “People can just walk in and sit down.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. Trials are open to the public barring a specific order from the judge. It’s in accordance with the sixth amendment, a fair and public trial.”

“I don’t know any of those words.” Virgil shuddered from between them.

Logan silently checked Virgil’s pulse and felt his forehead.

“Am I gonna live?” Virgil said flatly.

“Very funny.” Logan sighed. “In half an hour you can have another pill. If you feel like you’re going to have an attack tell one of us.”

“And if you feel like you need to take a break, just say so and we’ll tell the judge.” Patton rubbed his shoulder.

“And deny the spectators such an epic show?” Virgil sneered.

“Never mind them.” Patton shushed.

Virgil dropped his annoyed expression and stared across the room in numb horror. Despite his rash his face went pale and he started panting and wheezing.

“He’s here.” Virgil squeaked.

“Shh,” Patton wrapped himself around Virgil like a shield, making sure to block his line of sight. “It’s ok, he can’t hurt you. Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. He can’t do anything.”

Logan made eye contact with Payton and stared back at him with a blank face. Payton’s empty eyes were no match for the cold stoicism that Logan wore so well. This mere lawyer had no clue how to intimidate him, nor anyone else that realized that he had no power over them. Payton didn’t look away though, he had a lot of arrogance for a man with no real control, no real power, no permanent impact. Foolish sociopath.

“All arise.” The bailiff ended their staring contest. “The honorable Jack Douglass Presiding.”

Patton continued to insinuate himself between Payton and Virgil as they all stood to attention. Familial attachment was flaking off of his conscience like an old sunburn. The idea that Payton didn’t want to be his friend started to harden him rather than hurt anymore. All that he really felt was the determination to make sure that no one threatened his baby ever again. And if Payton thought he was going to sit over there and shoot death glares at an innocent kid, then he needed to get used to disappointment and fast.

“Thank you, bailiff.” The judge snapped him back into the room. “You may be seated.”

The crowd sat down on command. It was kind of impressive.

“Mr. Pent.” The Judge looked at Janus “Yesterday I asked you if you were really going through with this. I’m going to ask again.”

“The defendant is insistent on having this out in court your honor.” Janus answered professionally.

“Is this correct?” The judge looked at Payton and his lawyer.

“It is your honor.” The lawyer answered.

“Alright,” The judge replied. “Proceed with your case. Why do believe Mr. Foster to be an unfit parent?”

“We have documented evidence of both physical and emotional abuse as well as neglect.” Janus pulled out a folder.

“Interesting.” The judge looked at Payton. “Mr. Foster, how do you respond to these allegations?”

“The claims against me are completely fabricated.” Payton said coldly. “I have never laid a hand on my son, nor have I abused him emotionally.”

“Why would your brother make up something like this?” The judge countered.

“I assure you. I have no idea.”

“Let’s see your evidence.” The judge, his honor? Turned back to them.

“I have with me a portion of the fire chief’s report from Mr. Foster’s home.” Janus read. “It states that Virgil’s bedroom had no door, which caused the fire to spread to his room much quicker than normal, and that his window was nailed shut.”

“Mr. Pent,” His honor looked annoyed. “Do you have children?”

“I do not your honor.”

“Did you have a window when you were a teenager?”

“Yes, your honor.” Janus was somehow playing this straight.

“Mr. Foster,” His honor turned to him.

“Yes sir, I mean your honor?”

“Since staying with you, has Virgil had access to a functional window?”

“Yes, your honor.” Patton shook, he had no idea what was happening.

“How about a door, does he have a door?”

“Yes. Your honor.”

“Mr. Pent, how about you? Did you have a door when you were a teenager?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Mr. Foster,” The judge turned. “When you were Virgil’s age, did you have a functional window?”

“Yes, your honor.” Payton seemed confused as well.

“How about a door?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Why is it that your son has neither of those things?”

“Virgil was in the habit of bringing friends over uninvited and sneaking out at night, I removed the door and sealed the window to prevent this.”

None of the three had it in them to be surprised by this anymore. They barely had it in them to be disappointed.

“Firstly, taking off the door won’t prevent any of that.” His honor retorted. “Secondly, he nearly died in a fire because you nailed his window shut. You’re either abusive or stupid.”

“Your honor.” Payton’s lawyer added. “Neither of these examples indicate abuse, making the evidence irrelevant.”

“That is fair, he could just be stupid.” His honor nodded. “Unfortunately, that kind of ignorant endangerment is still grounds to call him an unfit parent.”  

Patton saw Payton’s eye twitch, it must have been killing him that his current defense was ‘please, I’m very stupid’.

“Mr. Pent,” Judge Douglass turned to Janus “Give me something more relevant to your case.”

“Here we have documented images of the bruises Virgil sustained, and several hospital records detailing various injuries.” Janus held out the folder and the bailiff took it to the judge.

The judge looked over the documents quietly and stoically.

“Virgil,” His honor looked up. “You’re planning to testify as a witness, correct?”

“Yes…Your honor.” Virgil grabbed Patton’s hand.

“Ok, why don’t you come on up?”

“Yes sir. I mean your honor.” Virgil stood up and looked at Patton desperately.

“It’s ok, just don’t look at him.” Patton whispered, rubbing Virgil’s hand.

The bailiff took Virgil up to the box and they swore him in. The poor baby was visibly shaking.

“So, Virgil.” Judge Douglass was surprisingly gentle. “I’m going to start by asking you why your window was nailed shut.”

“Payton, my dad, told me he didn’t trust me to not sneak out.” Virgil said frankly. “So, he nailed the window shut. The door was a different thing entirely.”

“Well, what was the door about?”

“He found a journal that I was keeping for a class when I was about eight.” Virgil tensely rubbed his arm. “And he got mad at me for keeping things from him while also telling my teacher things that were none of their business.”

“If I may, your honor.” Payton’s lawyer added. “This is not relevant, nor does it prove abuse.”

“I disagree,” Janus argued. “It is important we know why Payton felt that there were aspects of their home life that were meant to be hidden.”

“In that case, maybe we should ask what secrets Virgil was willing to share with his teacher and not his father.” Payton’s lawyer countered.

“Absolutely.” Jan agreed. “Virgil, what exactly were you writing about?”

“I was eight.” Virgil looked around uncomfortably. “I mostly just drew pictures. I had maybe two passages about how my dad made fun of me whenever I wet the bed. and the rest was dedicated to talking about the Goosebumps series. I wasn’t allowed to read them, so I always figured that was why Payton was mad at me.”

“Taking the door off is kind of an extreme reaction.” Judge Douglass stated blankly.

“Excuse me, your honor.” Patton added timidly.

“Yes, Mr. Foster?”

“How would Payton know what Virgil was writing about unless he read the journal?”

“We’re just wasting time with this.” Payton interrupted. “Nothing I’ve been accused of so far is child abuse, in fact I admitted to removing the door. Because Virgil and I were having some trust issues, with just cause. And none of that is illegal.”

Payton made direct eye contact with Virgil while he was talking, and much to everyone’s surprise Virgil stared right back at him.

“Alright.” His honor stared at all of them. “Let’s move on to the allegations of physical abuse.”

Virgil bit his nails and pulled at his tie.

“Let’s start with how Virgil managed to get a perfect belt buckle mark on his back.” His honor’s eyes scalded anyone who looked directly into them.

“A question I have been wanting answers to as well.” Payton glared at Virgil.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t know how that got there?” His honor almost seemed to laugh at Payton.

“I can only speculate that Virgil bruised himself to frame me for abuse or that my brother put those marks there to further his own agenda.”

“And what agenda is that?” His honor spat.

“Since last month Patton has started a campaign to discredit me, starting by accusing me of lying about my past. I have no doubt that once he learned my son was in the hospital, he decided that the best way to ruin me was to accuse me of abuse.”

“Why?” The judge asked leadingly.

“I have no idea why. Perhaps because I managed to make something of myself while he’s still living in the house we grew up in.”

“You’re a member of the one profession that everyone hates.” Judge Douglass retorted. “You know what everyone told me about going to law school? They said don’t. As far as I’m concerned you made a mistake by pursuing law. Maybe other people are impressed, but I’m not.”

Payton looked like someone had slapped him.

“And the bruise in question was a month old when Mr. Foster was given physical custody of Virgil.” Janus pointed out. “At that time Virgil had no contact with anyone without his father knowing about it. In fact, by Mr. Foster’s own admittance Virgil had no secrets from him and no way of doing anything without his knowledge.”

“With all due respect, your honor.” Payton’s lawyer commented. “This only clears Mr. Foster from having caused that bruise. Virgil could have very well done it himself or received it at school.”

“Virgil,” The judge went gentle again. “Can you explain how you got this bruise?”

“Don’t bother asking him, we know what he’s going to say.” Payton snapped.

“When I want to hear from you, I’ll call you.” Judge Douglass pointed the little hammer at him. “Virgil, answer whenever you feel ready.”

Virgil looked as if he were about to be hit by a train. He shook his head and blinked repeatedly.

“Payton and I were arguing, and he grabbed one of my belts off a chair or something…” Virgil inhaled sharply through his teeth. “And he hit me with it.”

“Did he do that a lot?”

Virgil gagged and slumped back into his seat, breathing hard.

“May I have some water?” Virgil whispered.

“Of course.” Judge Douglass said gently. “Bailiff, could you bring him some water?”

“Your honor,” Payton interrupted. “With all due respect, you’re not really going to humor him, are you?”

“I’m interested in what you mean by humoring him.” Judge Douglass looked down at him.

“Humoring him in his so called ‘anxiety attacks’. He only uses them as an excuse, and now he’s using it as a pity ploy.”

“I’m really not.” Virgil panted, looking like he was going to faint.

The bailiff brought Virgil a bottle of water. He fumbled opening it. Patton started to stand up only for Logan to pull him back down.

“Are you feeling better?” Judge Douglass addressed Virgil.

Virgil nodded.

“Mr. Foster. The older Mr. Foster.” The judge turned again. “Virgil has been diagnosed with severe anxiety by two doctors and is suspected to have PTSD. The fact that you deny this is concerning.”

“Your honor, this disorder is merely him being overly dramatic.”

“Doctors would disagree.”

“Of course, they would, their entire business is based on humoring these people so they can take advantage. No doctor benefits from Virgil acting his age instead of behaving like a toddler.”

“Virgil.” The judge ignored Payton. “Did your father hit you often?”  

“Not very often.” Virgil inhaled sharply. “Just when he lost his temper. Like if I argued with him or if I got bad grades. He, he, uh. He normally just grabbed my wrists. And kind of, squeezed them really hard. Sometimes he dug his nails in, but he didn’t like to leave marks on a body part that couldn’t be covered up that easy.”

Patton quietly rubbed his own wrist, phantom pains returning.

“Do you have a clear recollection of when the hitting started?”

“Payton started hitting me when I was around ten.” Virgil squeezed the bottle, crackling the plastic. “I don’t really remember why he started. I just remember that he slapped me one time. And then he never stopped.”

“What do you say, Mr. Foster?”

“I maintain my innocence.” Payton said harshly. “Even if you they can prove that Virgil was injured, they cannot prove that I was the one who injured him. Which I was not.”

“Virgil says differently.” The judge countered.

“Virgil is thirteen! He’s a child, and most likely has been coerced into testifying against me.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

“Really, because so far, he not only says you hit him, but is saying why you thought it was ok to hit him all those times. The only case that is falling apart here is yours.”

A cold silence hung over them.

“Mr. Pent, please continue.” His honor sighed.

“Certainly, your honor.” Janus didn’t blink. “I would like to call the court’s attention an event on the fifteenth of August that led to Virgil being hospitalized. The official claim was that he fell down the stairs, but his injuries suggest repeated blows, inconsistent with a fall. There is also the fact that the defendant claimed at the time that Virgil was morphine intolerant, while recent tests proved that Virgil has no such allergy.”

“Mr. Foster, would you care to explain that?” Judge Douglass asked.

“The official reports say that Virgil fell down the stairs because he fell down the stairs.” Payton insisted. “His doctors didn’t feel the need to interrogate me at the time. Which is telling of this case’s validity.”

“And Virgil,” Judge Douglass asked softly. “What do you say happened?”

Virgil inhaled tensely and closed his eyes quickly. Tears leaked out.

“I got held back in school.” Virgil exhaled. “Payton yelled at me the whole ride home. When we got inside, he slapped me. And… and… he just started hitting me. I don’t remember much, but I do know he threw me down the stairs.”

Virgil wiped away tears with a shaking hand.

“Ok, why don’t you go back and sit with your uncles?” Judge Douglass said gently.

The bailiff brought Virgil back to them and Patton instantly took him into his arms.

“Now, as to Virgil’s supposed morphine allergy?” The judge asked.

“I may have suggested the allergy in error.” Payton said. “I thought he was intolerant because both me and his mother are.”

“Medical records from your family disagree.” Janus argued. “Your mother received a good deal of morphine while she was ill. Patton was on several morphine related opioids after an accident that ruined his teeth. And you yourself received morphine during a surgery. Not only that but, Hazel Drake, Virgil’s mother, has no such allergy listed either. Records also show that Virgil had never been tested for this intolerance prior to his so-called fall down the stairs. So, you would truly have no way of knowing if he had an allergy or not.”

Payton had nothing to say. Patton and Logan breathed a sigh of relief. Virgil looked at them nervously. He was chewing on his sleeve. They each took one of his hands.

“Virgil has also been diagnosed with both severe anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder since his stay in the hospital.” Janus continued, looking like a cobra about to strike. “So, I would like to call Dr. Emile Picani to the stand.”

Dr. Picani walked professionally to the stand and was sworn in.

“Dr. Picani, what was your diagnosis of Virgil Foster?” Janus asked coolly.

“Virgil is suffering from severe anxiety due to an extremely stressful home life and post-traumatic stress disorder resulting from physical and emotional abuse.” Emile began. “Over the course of our sessions I learned that Virgil had been wetting the bed throughout his entire childhood and up until now.”

Payton scoffed; it was clear that he didn’t think anyone would hear him. But all eyes turned in his direction.

“A very telling sign of emotional abuse.” Emile continued, ignoring Payton. “Virgil also reported daily panic or anxiety attacks, night terrors and a complete loss of appetite. The fact that he hadn’t been eating was obvious when he was admitted because he was roughly twenty pounds underweight.”

“Did Virgil mention any instances of abuse in any session?” Janus led.

“He told me that if he would wet the bed, his father would mock him severely. He also mentioned one instance, which we talked about earlier, when he tried to defend himself to his father and was hit with a belt.”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Payton’s lawyer stood up. “Dr. Picani is only repeating something he heard during this trial. There is no proof that Virgil told him this in therapy.”

“Overruled.” His Honor retorted. “The evidence that Virgil is suffering mentally still remains.”  

“Your Honor.” Payton’s lawyer continued. “Virgil’s bed wetting could be a result of being rehomed after the arrest of his father.”

“We already established that it had been happening for a long time before that.” Janus said smoothly.

Janus moved gracefully, almost as if he was slithering.

“In that case.” Payton’s lawyer argued. “it could be the result of a learning disability or a ploy for attention.”

“Dr. Picani,” Janus looked back to the stand waving a gloved hand. “What such disabilities would cause bed wetting at this late an age?”

Virgil looked down and covered his face with his hands. Patton noticed that his ears were turning red.

“It’s ok, Honey.” Patton whispered, petting him tenderly. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

���Any disability that would cause bed wetting for this long would be apparent in other aspects.” Emile answers. “Low functioning autism, severe Down Syndrome or Locked-In Syndrome to name a few. Virgil clearly has none of these. And the bed wetting gets worse when he’s stressed out. I can guarantee that it’s not an attention ploy because prior to receiving therapy Virgil was avoiding fluids altogether so he wouldn’t wet the bed. This led to him being severely dehydrated when he was admitted.”  

“Anything else?” Judge Douglass asked the room.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Payton’s lawyer continued. “Dr. Picani only has Virgil’s word that he had been having panic attacks or anxiety attacks regularly. The same goes with the night terrors.”

“Virgil nearly had a panic attack while he was testifying.” His Honor said deadpan. “And showed clear signs of having an anxiety disorder. As for the night terrors…”

He turned to Patton and Logan.

“Mr. Foster, Mr. Berry, has Virgil had any night terrors since staying with you?”

“Yes, your honor.” Logan nodded calmly. “He has had both night terrors and nightmares almost regularly. Both those and the bed wetting have decreased with anti-anxiety medicine, therapy and a less stressful environment.”

“Objection.” Payton argued. “We only have their word that Virgil has had such episodes. And there is serious doubt as to Mr. Berry’s credibility.”

“Why is that?” The judge asked.

“He is on the Autistic spectrum.”

“Mr. Pent, have you presented all the facts for your case against the defendant?” Judge Douglass looked to Janus.

“I have evidence to suggest neglect.” Janus added, coldly. “But I’ll make it quick.”

“Do it then.”

“Virgil was diagnosed with Strep throat when he was admitted. He had a severe case, due to not seeing a doctor about it. As Virgil’s guardian, Payton Foster would be responsible for taking him to a doctor, but it was revealed that Virgil had dealt with the illness for ten days. Virgil was also twenty pounds underweight. His father would have noticed this but did nothing. We also know that Mr. Foster, the defendant, denied his son pain killers based on an assumption of an allergy that he had never been tested for. There is also Virgil’s window being nailed shut and the fact that Mr. Foster, the defendant, had no smoke detectors in his home. Which led to Virgil’s nearly being killed in a fire. We also established that Virgil had a bedwetting problem that his father never sought medical advice for, and potentially mocked him for. Even if you doubt abuse, you cannot deny that gross negligence was at play.”  

“Alright.” His Honor nodded. “Mr. Foster, you may present your case.”    

#logicality #romile #parentalmoxieity #parental logicality #platoniclamp #pattonsanders #logansanders #romansanders #emilepicani #janussanders #sympathiticjanus #humanau #famILY

[paytonfischer]

BLACK OUT EVENT LOCATION: THE MEN’S RESTROOM

Featured: @ckrongold, Payton, @mrjames-saint & @themiguelfuentes

Mentioned: @jennifcrkrongold , @akrongold , Marissa Diaz & @joshuakrongold

PAYTON: With the limited light source, Payton was unsure if the others had noticed them yet. But at the suggestion of a gun, he nodded his hand, holding it out towards Christopher. "Give it here." And as he spoke, he saw the approach of another, their features caught in the shadows. "Get the fuck back." Side stepping in front of Christopher, he gritted his teeth ready for just about everything. "Maybe it's a good time to get off the phone now, bro." Glancing over his shoulder towards him, he lifted a brow. "I'm sure your Aunt would understand."

CHRISTOPHER: Pausing for a beat, he thought about it. Out of anyone, Payton was best and most equipped to be holding the firearm, even if it meant leaving his own self defenseless. Christopher eventually pulled out the gun he had toted all night long, placing it in Payton's hand. At that point, he cared for discretion no longer; it was best if the Devils knew that they weren't blind and unprepared. Noting the sudden charged energy, Chris quickly clicked the call off, standing behind Payton, looking over his shoulder with tense features. "Don't you lot even try." he snarled, directing his focus onto the two other men in the unfortunate room with them.

JAMES: James stood next to Miguel, while he was concerned about the bleeding, he was much more worried about the gun in Paytons hands. Funny how earlier the three had be joking at the bar and now they were here. His gaze flicked to Miguel, knowing his was armed before his eyes landed on Christopher. He heard words spoken on the phone, 'he can have her'. In an instant he was pushing forward. "Tough words from the man hiding behind someone else." He said, his tone mocking him. "You must be scared then, pussy."

MIGUEL: He could feel the warm liquid trickling down his neck, threatening to soak his shirt. His weight was completely held up by the metal stall, fully aware he wouldn't be able to pull a trigger in that moment. Letting his gaze fall on James, he simply shook his head. Miguel couldn't prevent his head snapping in the direction of the mans words, the pain from his wound threatening to intensify. Watching the man move forward, Miguel made the effort to stand in front of James. His hand found the opposite wall, his balance completely off track. "Not here. Not now."

PAYTON: Naturally, it all somehow came down to a girl as Payton sighed and cocked the gun. This room was much too small for this much testosterone, and heated levels. “I said get back." The words were repeated, taking a step forward towards James. "Whoever she is, she ain't worth a bullet hole, buddy." Never taking his gaze off the two in front of him, he kept the weapon near his side. "Plus Chris is more a lover than a fighter, so let's quit with the nicknames." Was he trying to lighten the mood in a dire situation? Of course he was, but as his finger hovered over the trigger, he realized that something wasn't right. It seemed the gun was jammed, probably from Christopher's original fall, which meant they were down a weapon. However the other two didn't need to know that. 

CHRISTOPHER: His ears rang at James' cocky tone. "Fuck you, Saint." The audacity of the other man was astounding, and did nothing but make Christopher want to punch him in the face. "After you took my sister as your date, you're lusting after Marissa?" Add this revelation to his already bad night considering Marissa' s betrayal, and the fact that the other Devil guy with Marissa moments before was there as well, the Krongold male was beyond ready to let his frustrations out. Every fibre of his being was itching to have a go. He was only being held at bay by Payton's physical blocking, and the fact that the room could give and kill them all. Hence, the curled up fist by his side, as he shot icy glares at the other two. "You Devils are going to regret this." 

JAMES: James' lip curled into a snarl as he heard how the other used his name, but it was his use of Marissa's name that pushed him. "You don't get to say her fucking name, ever again." He shoved his phone into Miguel's hands, if he couldn't pull a trigger then he could hold the fucking flashlight. Chris' words sounded like the words of a child, someone who'd never had to fight his own battles before and James was ready to show him what regret really was. It took a few short steps to shove Payton and his jammed gun aside, hearing him crash into something without bothering to see where he fell. One hand grabbed the collar of Chris' shirt, his other pulled back before his fist connected with the side of the others face, his full strength behind it.

MIGUEL: Fumbling to take ahold of the phone, there was no stopping James' fury. Fully aware of what his fist were capable of, Miguel stood to the side. "What are you, a fucking child?" His form managed to adjust against the now crumbling tile, pointing the flashlight in the direction of the pair. As far as he knew, they weren't involved in making a building collapse. He knew the moment Chris mentioned Marissa, it was over. It was a line that Miguel knew not to cross with the man, even as a simple joke. He knew what James was capable of, especially when his buttons are pushed. Letting his tongue click against the roof of his mouth, he watched as James' grabbed ahold of Chris. "Bad fucking choice, little Prince." 

PAYTON: This was some shit as he stumbled back, falling to his ass as he glared towards the others. James had been cocky, acting even while Payton had a gun in his hand, which meant he didn’t care. Which was a whole lot more dangerous than someone with something to lose in his book. “Shit,” Pressing his palms into the dirty ground, he heaved himself up, the gun still in his grasp. "--get off him.” If he couldn’t shoot it, he might as well as use it as a weapon. Stumbling forward, he used the wall as leverage. "Could we stop with the fuckin' nicknames?" God, his head hurt. Everything hurt but his gaze was set on Christopher, determined to help his friend in any possible. 

CHRISTOPHER: Everything went to hell real fast. Yanked by James, Chris felt the force hit him, impairing him; his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. With one hand grasping and clawing at James' curled fist by the fabric of his dress shirt, he immediately retaliated with a defensive punch to the other's face. He hated violence, but this was the only language their enemies spoke in. "Fuck you!" he bellowed, blood and spit flying as he delivered another blow, unwilling to be bested by this Devil. 

PAYTON: Making his way towards the two males, he lifted the gun, swinging it towards the back of James head. Using the blunt end to knock the balance off of the Devil, his fist now twisting into Jame's shirt. 

JAMES: The punches from Chris felt like nothing, James spent his time with real fighters not spoiled kids who thought they could step in like a big man. He could hear his blood roaring in his ear and while he saw Chris' lips moved there was no sound as he pulled his fist back, landing another blow, then another, and another. His fist was raised for another when he felt something hit his head, releasing his grip on Chris' shirt with a growl. He turned on the spot, his rage blinded him as he swung, his fist connecting with Paytons nose.

MIGUEL: The male watched as James' unleashed the anger, the anger he felt was evident from the blood forming on Christopher's face. Holding the phone up, he let the light flash overhead as James continued to lay blows. A slow nod came from Miguel as Chris attempted to withdraw from the man, unaware of the background James has. His gaze flickered as Payton moved towards James, the gun reaching to send one blow to the back of his head. Letting his free hand reach behind his back, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the pistol. A shaky hand raised the gun, the nose of the pistol pointed at Payton; but threatened to shift towards a tangled James and Chris. "Do we want to play this game?" 

PAYTON: There was a crunch and immediate blood flow from his nose, followed by a few curse words. “Come on, fuck.” This time as he lunged forward, he brought the shard of glass with him. If the other guy wanted to shoot him, he was gonna do it, it wouldn't stop Payton from doing his job. But as he was ready to deliver it into his side, but before he could have the chance, the door busted open, revealing a swarm of cops and paramedics. However, Payton didn’t care, not when his hands were still on Christopher and so he swung his arm, pushing the shard into the other’s shoulder before shoving his full weight into him and knocking him down. 

CHRISTOPHER: Chris could taste the blood on his lips, certain that his face was messed up, no thanks to James' doing. But the adrenaline coursing through his veins wouldn't let him back down just yet. It was, however, the pointed pistol at them that caused him to pause the fury that fueled him, giving him a split-second to decide. If he was gonna die in a men's restroom in the hands of a Devil, then Lord help him, he was gonna go down fighting. Just when Chris has accepted his fate, the door burst open, disrupting the flames of tension within the room. That is, as Payton drove the glass of shard right into James. On his feet with whatever energy he could muster, Chris forcibly pulled Payton back, untangling him from the other man. But the damage was done. 

JAMES: The sight of Chris' blood made James smirk, he'd told Jen if it came down to a fight with her brother he could take him, and he was right. The sound of the door bursting made him turn, automatically lifting his hands away from the fight. Then the shard of glass stabbed into his shoulder. He let out a pained yell, falling to his knees as his hand gripped his arm just under where the glass now penetrated his shoulder. His gaze landed on Payton and Chris, his eyes dark. "This is far from over you Royal pieces of shit." He said, spitting at their feet.

MIGUEL: Miguel couldn't help but chuckle as James' fist connected with Payton's nose, causing a rush of blood to trail down his face. Even two versus one, James was more than capable of taking them on. The gun wavered between the two, watching as the fight continued to unfold. Suddenly, the door began to break open; a rush of officers pointing flashlights. Letting the phone drop, Miguel shifted the gun backwards; tucking it back into his waistband. His legs threatened to give out as Payton rushed forward; a shard of glass piercing into James' shoulder. Letting his attention turn to the pair of Royals, he couldn't help but spit in their direction. "We'll see you around, boys." 

PAYTON: Glancing towards Christopher, he allowed himself to be pulled back as the officers rushed in. "Shit." He muttered out of breath, wiping the crimson stains on his palms against his pants. "Are you alright?" That was all that mattered as he panted, staring towards the other male, completely ignoring Miguel's comment.

CHRISTOPHER: Collapsing backwards, he let the exhaustion give way. Never mind his bloody, beat up face; Christopher surrendered from the ordeal, allowing the officers and the paramedics to take control of the scene. "I'm fine." he panted, continuously keeping his heated gaze locked onto the two Devils. Even as the two left, spitting at them like the  barbarians they were, there remained the rage and wanting to throttle them by their necks. Once gone, only then did he realise the damage the two of them suffered. Looking at the state he and Payton were now in, Chris was left with a conclusion: "We're in trouble now, Payton."

--fin.

#interactions . { and he spoke as if every word was a prayer } #rivalsofnewyork: blackourevent