#douglas being a good father for once

[nyoaeuikhoudu]

obsessed with drawing Douglas and the kids as babies. Someone get this man a coffee.

anyway this is Douglas questioning his decision to give bionic super senses to a baby (who's probably autistic too, just like his dad :D) and get woken up every night when Chase hears a car pass outside, or his blanket is a little too itchy, or the moon is a little too bright.

[leo-dooley-lab-rats]

Something I’ve always liked about Lab Rats, even back when it first aired, is how untraditional the family structure is. Not only is the family a mixed race, but is also blended family.

Once you add the idea of Donald being the biological uncle of Adam, Bree, and Chase it doesn’t take away from Donald being the father figure to the trio and they don’t start calling Douglas ‘Dad’. Donald raised them. Douglas even moves in and he’s more like uncle to Leo and the trio despite being the biological father. Going even further, Donald is father figure to Leo yet Leo never calls him dad. In fact, the trio doesn’t call him dad either. Still it’s very clear that Donald is the father figure.

What is even more interesting is how quickly Leo and the trio accept each other as siblings. It’s never step-siblings or adopted siblings, it’s always brothers and sister. This happens in like episode 2. The fact that Leo and trio are siblings are never questioned by anyone. It’s just accepted, even the villains.

Tasha from what we see from the show is quick to accept Adam, Bree, and Chase as members of the family. She even seems to pretty okay with Douglas. Granted, she never really interacts with Douglas, but we are never given any reason to think she has any issue with Douglas.

I think Daniel even adds another layer to this messy family. He’s sibling no one knew about, but calls Douglas ‘dad’. It always felt to me as someone trying really hard to fit in when calls Douglas ‘dad’. It’s implied that Daniel has an adopted family that he is very close with. Still, everyone just accepts Daniel as family right away. Daniel is interesting, unexplored, and underdeveloped part of the show.

The only person who has an Dooley-Davenport Family as unit is Rose Dooley aka Leo’s grandma/Tasha’s mom. She doesn’t like Donald all that much and seemed a little freaked out by Adam, Bree, and Chase. She never interacted with Douglas as far as I remember(correct me if I’m wrong). The narrative of the show frames this as wrong point of view. Rose is always has to learn the lesson that Donald and the trio are family and good for Tasha and Leo.

The Dooley-Davenport family is messy and confusing from an outsider’s point of view. There are tons of people in real life with confusing family structures like this. Some people are raised by grandparents or uncles or family friends. Sometimes, people can be close to cousins like they are siblings. Families are messy, but that’s okay as long as there is love. That’s really why I’ve always loved the Dooley-Davenport family it’s messy and non-traditional like so many people’s in real life.

[dailytudors]

FRANCES GREY, DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK, MOTHER OF A QUEEN

Born Frances Brandon, named after St. Francis of Assisi but also in honour of the King of France, Francis I, who was once the stepson-in-law of her mother and who had granted the marriage of her parents. Daughter of Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk and Mary Tudor, Princess of England and Dowager Queen of France, she was the eldest daughter of her parents' union and after the death of her brother their eldest child. Sister to Eleanor Clifford, later Countess of Cumberland. She had two full brothers one elder and one younger, who did not reach adulthood. By her father, she had four half-siblings, like her full brothers her younger brothers did not reach adulthood. Granddaughter of Henry VII, King of England and Elizabeth of York, Queen of England. Making her the niece of Henry VIII, King of England and per the Act of Succession 1536 the first person in line for the English throne outside of her uncle's marriages, as her mother's heirs took precedence over her Scottish cousins who were through her aunt - the elder of Henry VII's daughters - Margaret, Queen of Scotland's line. Her first marriage was to Henry Grey, initially Marquess of Dorset who later acceded the Dukedom of Suffolk after her father's death. Henry Grey was related through their common ancestress Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of England, Henry through Elizabeth's first marriage and Frances through her second. Her second husband was Adrian Stokes, the Master of the Horse to her cousin Mary I. Mother to Jane Grey, Queen of England for nine days (technically thirteen if you take the date of the death of Edward VI) who was made heir by Edward VI brushing over Frances's own claim. Also, the mother to Katherine Grey and Mary Grey, who at times during Elizabeth I's reign were considered viable heirs by the court. She had a loving relationship with her stepmother Catherine Willoughby and socialized in the same circles, including the protestant circles of her uncle's latter reign and her cousin Edward's reign. Beloved friend to her Aunt by marriage Catherine Parr, Queen of England who was also a good friend of her stepmother. Friend to her cousin Mary I, even after Mary had put her Husband, Daughter and son-in-law to death. Mary, Frances and their cousin - through their aunt Margaret, Queen of Scotland - Margaret Douglas were all close in age and brought up in the court of Henry VIII. Mary ended up on the throne, with Frances being the mother of a Queen and Margaret being the mother of a King Consort of Scotland and later the grandmother of James I, King of England.

[Anna Chancellor as Lady France Grey, in Amazon Prime's My Lady Jane]

[infiniteimaginings]

hi! Can you write a Marcus Davenport x reader? Maybe where she finds his body and rebuilds him or just pure fluff?

I Can't Fix You (Marcus Davenport x Fem!Reader)

Summary: After the fight Marcus had with Adam, Bree, Chase and the others, after you all left before the whole place collapsed, you watched as debris crushed Marcus. You went back, you found Marcus's body and you tried to put him back together. Will his memory regain or do you just have to stay known as the person who found him? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: Kind of angsty because he's assumed to be dead before getting rebuilt lol! Word Count: 3.3k A/N: (Fic can be seen as platonic or as romantic). I know what the title says, it's not full angst. Also yes, I'm just showing off my scientific vocabulary, what of it?

Marcus Davenport wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t a ‘person’ at all, he was an android and now everyone knew that was because of Douglas, his creator, his father.

Douglas knew that Marcus wouldn’t have even made it to sixteen since androids burn out far quicker than humans with bionics, but it didn’t matter. Even though he was ordered to kill Adam, Bree, Chase, Leo and you, none of you wanted him to die. You all tried to warn him, Chase told him to run but he was set on his orders. Due to that, he was crushed by the ceiling of the crumbling garage as the group all ran to save themselves.

Your eyes filled with tears as you yelled his name, your body a;most moving on its own to grab him, but someone else grabbed you first, you could only hear ringing, you barely registered that you were being dragged out of the area. You only realized when someone was holding you to their chest, their hand covering your head, they were shielding you from the debris as you screamed, as you sobbed. 

Once the damage had been done, you noticed Adam had protected you from the blast. You couldn’t say anything, tears were streaming down your face. You looked around at everyone, but they were already looking at you with deep regret in their eyes.

They knew how much Marcus meant to you.

You made eye contact with Douglas and before you could even stop yourself you stomped towards him, “How dare you!” You yelled, someone grabbing you by your waist to stop you from getting closer. You kicked and flailed as Leo stepped to your side, holding your arm, Bree holding your other. 

Douglas rolled his eyes, “What’s her problem?” He asked, no sort of sympathy in his voice.

Chase stepped in front of you, telling Douglas to just remove himself from in front of you. You couldn’t hear him, you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the ceiling caving in and crushing Marcus to the point you couldn’t see him anymore.

He must’ve been in so much pain. You knew he was an android, but he still must be so hurt and he was all alone, under so much rubble that no one can get him from under. 

You continued to cry, your body relaxing as you sobbed. Adam, the person holding you from practically jumping Douglas, placed you down to your feet, but they gave in. You fell to your knees, chest heaving from your gasping breaths, you were clawing at your throat because you couldn’t breathe. 

Bree sat next to you, rubbing consoling circles into your back gently, her head on your shoulder, “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, repeating it a few times. 

Leo sat on your other side, gently pulling your hands from your throat so you would stop clawing at yourself. He didn’t say anything, no one else said anything.

The teens all sat around you, comforting you, holding you as you cried, no longer having the voice to scream.

About a week later, the group were all at the Davenport residence, where they lived, and they hadn’t seen you for a while. They knew that they were a little out of it, they had seen someone die, it took a toll on them. Nothing they were feeling was comparable to how you were feeling in that moment. You didn’t text, you didn’t call, you didn’t send any reports which was understandable. 

No one expected anything from you because you were genuinely grieving, and they would give you as much space as possible.

You were in your own lab, a lab that was paid for by Donald Davenport himself after your help with his children, their missions, and all of their tests. Your own personal lab where you could do anything you wanted, he never had much concern because he knew you would never do anything to hurt anyone.

You walked around your lab, turning on a tablet as you reached a long table with a cloth over it. You gently peeled it off to expose a metal like body, parts separate from itself. A few pieces of rubber like skin were connected to the parts which caused you to frown. 

You inhaled a deep breath before releasing it slowly, blinking back tears. “I’m going to fix you, Marcus. Just, give me time.” You whispered to him, sitting in a chair with wheels so you could move more efficiently as you reached for a table with a few tools.

This process would obviously take more than a few days, or a few weeks, you knew this. That still doesn’t stop your disappointment when you try to activate the android, and nothing happens.

“Day 49,” You spoke into a small mic you decided to use for research. You were recording the process in case you did something different that worked better than other tests. “Skull reassembled, initiating power test.” 

You took a step back and rubbed at your eyes, you had barely been getting sleep in the weeks of trying to fix Marcus, but it would all work out in the end. At least you hoped it would. 

With a turn, you input a few codes into your system to initiate the test. You turned back to the android, pressing the start up key. A light entered the android's eyes which made your face light up before it completely put out again. 

Your body slumped as you sat on the floor, “What am I doing wrong?” You groaned, pulling your knees up, placing your head in between them. 

You almost fell asleep in that position until you were shuffling and high pitched whirring sounds. You slowly looked up, eyes wide with shock as you saw the android staring down at you. He didn't really have an expression since half of his synthetic face had been lost in the damage. 

You quickly stood up, grabbing your tablet and speaking quietly, “Power test completed successfully.” 

After a moment you walked up to him, slowly and gently so as to not set off some sort of memory with your facial expression. He didn’t react, his facial muscles didn’t move, so you were unsure if he was trying to or if he didn’t recognize you. 

“Please perform a comprehension test. Repeat the following sentence after me: Testing, one, two, three.” 

You noticed he opened his mouth, but no sound came out so he simply closed it again. “Okay, can you understand me?” You asked and he nodded, you typed it out into a document on your tablet before noting that he can’t speak.

“It seems there's an issue with the voicing function of the android. The comprehension test didn't yield the expected results. I'll need to investigate further to address this issue."

After the initial test, you couldn't run diagnostics since he couldn't speak. You powered him down and thanked the stars that it finally worked.

A few days later, you believed that you figured out the voicing issue and powered him on once again. After running the test, it gave you the proper results and he was able to repeat a few of the phrases for you. Hearing his voice again almost made you tear up, but you kept it down or the sake of putting him back together.

You weren’t worried about any sort of memory or cognitive functions at the moment, you wanted to make sure his body could move, he could feel things, and that his processors were working well.

You tested him everyday until each section was working as needed and began working on the synthetic flesh and facial details so you wouldn’t have to be staring at pure metal with a few pieces of Marcus on it. You’d be able to just look at Marcus.

You let Marcus stay powered on as you worked so he could walk around, do a few tests, live a little bit how he did before just from the comfort of your lab. He would occasionally just watch you intensely as you added details to the silicone rubber for his skin, never really asking questions. 

The time it took to complete the flesh with the silicone and thermoplastic elastomers with your determination was about two and a half months. You already knew Marcus’s design, and from the androids you helped Mr. Davenport with you knew what you were doing. 

Marcus didn’t speak to you at all really, the only time he did was when he asked to stay powered on when you applied the external details. You agreed, not minding it as you applied the  foam first to go under the silicone flesh. After the silicone, everything was easier, and was quicker to get done.

You had a ton of clothes from when Adam, Chase, and Leo stayed over so you put Marcus in a grouping of those and got started on his nails. They were resin and plastic, so they were easy to get done.

Next was his dental, the teeth weren’t as difficult as you expected so you moved on to his eyes, connecting them so he could move them on his own. 

The final thing you had to do was add his hair, his eyebrows, and his eyelashes. That took about a week as a whole, but when you were done, god you were so happy.

After months of work you finally got to see Marcus again, your Marcus. 

One of these days, weeks later, you were just testing his internal systems  so you could do more work on it. You could barely hide how giddy you were to be able to be with Marcus again, but you had to in order to finish the tests.

You sat in a chair at your desk, the reflection of the computer screen in your eyes. “Okay Marcus, it’s time for checks.” You told him, typing a few things into the document you had written up.

The boy looked over to you and nodded, waiting for your first check order.

“Initiate movement status check.”

Marcus rolled his neck around a bit, rotating his shoulders, and kicking his legs from the table before fully standing and stretching his back. “Movement systems online. Limb articulation within standard operating range. Motor functions at full capacity.” He told you, deciding to walk around for a bit.

You were used to this in the routine, so you didn’t blink an eye to it, simply moving on to the next one as you documented the report. “Sensory status check.”

He blinked his eyes and picked up one of the books you had in your lab, among the other things to keep him entertained. “Sensory receptors functioning optimally. Visual, auditory, and tactile sensors are all operational.”

“Emotional status check.” You spoke blankly, tiredly, before yawning and shaking your head, continuing to document. 

Marcus continued to walk around, humming as he ran the system, “Emotional simulation systems activated. Mood regulation protocols operational,” He had a small pause as he ran into an issue, “but experiencing minor glitches. Emotional responses calibrated to mimic human behavior, though intermittently disrupted.” He spoke, his response the same as prior testing.

You grunted a bit, “Explain the glitches.”

“Minor malfunctions detected in emotional simulation systems.” He mumbled a bit, looking at the pictures on your other desk. It was of you and the Davenports. “Glitches attributed to data inconsistencies and software irregularities. Efforts underway to rectify deviations from optimal functioning.” He spoke plainly, picking up one of the pictures, a bit distracted.

“Okay. What are your efforts?”

Marcus cleared his throat, placing the picture down, “I am currently undergoing a diagnostic analysis to pinpoint the sources of emotional simulation systems. Efforts are also being made to recalibrate my data processing algorithms and conduct hardware checks.”

You typed it out into the document, turning to your touchpad desk, “How are those going?” You asked him, pulling up his system on it.

Marcus paused once again, putting his hand through his hair before sighing. “I am unable to proceed with the diagnostic analysis, software updates, or recalibration of my emotional simulation systems.” He admitted, the comment causing you to look up immediately. “External interference or system limitations prevent me from executing these corrective measures at this time.” He finished, looking away.

“I’ll figure it out. Cognitive status check.” You waved it off, placing x’s around what he was talking about. 

“Cognitive processes functioning within expected parameters.” He answered, sitting back on the table that he was on originally, “Memory storage and retrieval systems are partially functional, with limited capacity for retention. Decision-making algorithms operating optimally.”

“What percentage of memory retention capacity are you exhibiting?”

“Memory retention capacity is currently at minimal levels.” He told you, a small flash of an expression on his face but he didn’t keep it on for long. “Able to recall initial construction, select testing procedures, and limited facial recognition. Dialogue recall is limited to brief fragments.” He told you, swallowing harshly.

You nodded and hummed a bit, “Okay, I’ll…” You huffed out a breath. “I’ll have to figure it out another day, I’m sorry, I’m tired.” You told him with an airy chuckle, rubbing your eyes again.

Marcus nodded in understanding, he wasn’t worried about you shutting him off again, you tend to let him run and he just has to sleep in a generated area to keep his system in check. His expression wasn’t because he was worried about you leaving, he was worried and he didn’t know why.

He looked down a bit, “Um…” He began as you packed up your computer and tablet. You looked up at the sound with a raised brow. Marcus clasped his hands together, “How long do you think it’ll be until I have my memories back?” He asked you, his eyes soft, confusion sparking in them.

You thought about it before ultimately looking down, “I don’t know, but I’m trying to get them back to you. Why?”

“I just feel these weird glitches, as if I should know what they are but it’s not connecting.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting your eyes. 

You smiled at him gently, “I won’t stop until you get your memories back. I promise.” You told him before leaving the lab to get some rest.

More weeks passed and Marcus could see your growing frustration because you didn’t have the original system Marcus had been connected to prior. You didn’t know how to regain his memories without overwriting the memory completely. 

One particularly late night, Marcus was in his generated when you had just shut yourself down. You picked up the mic and gently began to cry because you felt like you’ve tried everything. “I can’t fix you.” You mumbled into the mic, recording your voice for the documents, “I can’t fix you completely and I’m so sorry Marcus.” You whispered, keeping your sobs as quiet as possible, “I’m so so sorry.” You sobbed, tears pouring and dripping to the floor as you kept your head down.

What you didn't notice was that Marcus had opened his eyes and watched you sadly as you cried. He didn’t know how he could help you. There was something inside him that wanted to go to you, that hated seeing you cry, but he didn’t know which part that was. He didn’t know why he wanted you to be happy. He didn’t know why he wanted to be so close to you. He didn’t know why he felt so far.

One of the days in passing your hands were implanted onto your face, trying not to cry out of irritation. Marcus walked beside you, squatting down a bit, “What’s wrong?” He asked you suddenly, causing you to flinch a bit. 

He’s known you for months, you’ve built memories with him. He knows your name, but he only knows you because you rebuilt him. He knows your quirks because he’s had no choice but to watch you do them. 

You shook your head, “Nothing, nothing I’m just trying to figure this out.” You mumbled to him, clutching your chest since your heart was racing a bit.

Unfortunately for you, Marcus had bionic hearing, why did you add that feature? You were unsure, perhaps you missed your bionic friends after the months of locking yourself away, only hearing them through phone calls, seeing them through pictures.

The android boy could hear your heart racing and led you to the table he typically laid on, placing a pillow on it, “Just, take a break.” He told you before walking off to another section of the lab.

You couldn't deny Marcus, whether he remembered you or not so you closed your eyes for a moment, only a moment.

While you eventually dozed off to sleep, Marcus opened your laptop and looked through the documents concerning his memory and everything you tried. He went to your touchpad desk and began building something to hopefully help in the long run. Whilst he did that, he couldn’t help his gaze locking to you, softening at your sleeping figure, almost not wanting to pull away. 

After a few long hours, you blinked your eyes open, wiping the watery tears from your eyes when you finally looked through them. You looked around and didn’t see Marcus in any of his usual spots which concerned you.

You jumped up, looking a little closer around the room until you saw him sitting in a chair, holding a framed picture.

“Marcus?” You spoke out quietly so as to not scare him, walking forward. When you looked at the picture it was one of you and him, one you could’ve sworn you locked away in your drawer with a code he couldn’t have known because of his memory loss. 

He didn’t look up, he wiped his eyes with his arm. You nodded as his tear ducts seemed to be working, your mind not stopping from test runs as they’ve been on since the beginning.

You tried again, “Marcus?”

When he finally looked up at you, you saw something in his eyes click. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted, it’s as if you could see the status check already…’Facial Recognition’.

“You put me back together again…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, still staring at you in what seemed like awe.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. Your breaths quickened as you stared at him, “You know who I am?” You asked him, brows furrowing. 

A choked sob left his lips as he looked away from you, not really answering your question, “You did that alone, and I didn’t remember you the whole time.” He spoke breathily, putting the picture down and turning back to you.

You couldn’t speak as he wrapped his arms around you, holding your head gently, his other arm around your waist as he gently kissed your head. “I’m so sorry, thank you.” He whispered out to you, “Thank you, thank you for not giving up on me.” He softly cried, holding you tightly.

After a moment you slowly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly, hearing the heartbeat you added which you were so glad you added now. “You remember who I am?” You began to cry, your shoulders shaking harshly as you gasped out your cries.

Marcus cradled your head gently and nodded against you, “I remember you, I promise I do. I’m so sorry for forgetting in the first place.” He continued to cry, holding onto you as if you were the one who disappeared.

The two of you stayed holding each other in the lab, shedding tears, not letting go. You guys may have spent months together, but it felt like you guys had been apart for the entire time and even longer.

You finally got him back, you finally had your Marcus back.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Warren H. Muck was about the millionth kid our age to be named after Warren Harding, a fairly popular president from 1921 to 1923, when a lot of us World War II kids were being born. No wonder he preferred “Skip.” We were different in some ways. We couldn’t have grown up farther apart—Oregon and New York. He was from Tonawanda, just north of Buffalo and along the Niagara River. My roots were Irish, his German; he even spoke a fair amount of it. When it came to drinking and gambling, I was a major leaguer while Skip was happy to bounce around the minors, playing here and there, but the more we got to know each other, the more we realized we had lots in common. We both had that adventurous spirit; while I was swinging across ravines on the branches of Douglas firs in Oregon’s woods, Skip was swimming across the Niagara River in New York. We were both about five-seven or five-eight, he a bit more wiry. We were both a little ornery, mischievous, and athletic; he played wide receiver in football and was on the swim team. Both of us liked a good laugh. Both of us were nuts for music: Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Harry James, The Mills Brothers singing “Paper Doll,” and Frank Sinatra’s “Moonlight Serenade.” At the end of a day, we’d go to the PX—it wasn’t much bigger than a boxcar—and were usually so tired that we’d sit on the floor, our backs to the wall, and with a beer or Coke in our hands listen to that jukebox until I thought we were going to wear out the grooves in those 78rpm records. It wasn’t just the sound of the music, it was what it could do to you inside: take you away from endless days of sweating, grunting, and cussing beneath your breath at Sobel.

The Depression had been hard on both our families. In some ways, we both were forced to become the “man of the house.” My dad essentially bailed out in 1938; his dad abandoned his family in about 1930, deciding he’d rather play in a jazz band and travel the country than be a father. Beyond that, we both were happy-go-lucky, witty, a little nutty, prickly when provoked, and, here and there, prone to laugh in the face of the odds if we thought, after doing so, we’d survive to live another day. How else do you explain our trying to become paratroopers? How else do you explain a guy swimming the Niagara? Or me defying an ROTC colonel? Skip was the real deal; didn’t have a phony bone in his body. Unassuming and yet had a personality that drew people to him like cold hands to a fire. He was the barracks peacekeeper on occasion. Not the guy who demanded to be in the spotlight but probably the best-liked man in the company. A guy who could make each of us feel as if he were his best friend. Deep down, I felt honored that he even had time for a maverick like me.

In some ways, Skip had replaced my family and my pals at the Sigma Nu house as the person I was closest to on earth. Once, on our way back to the barracks from the PX, Skip and I were having a smoke when he asked me why I chose airborne. I told him about growing up with the stories about my uncles both giving their lives for their country. “I dunno, Skip, I think I was just born to do this,” I said. His response didn’t surprise me in the least: “Me, too, Malark.” But we never talked about not making it home. We only talked about what it would be like when we did, how we’d visit each other and he’d show me where he’d swum the Niagara and I’d take him fishing on the Nehalem, maybe out in the ocean for salmon. “Going out over the Columbia River bar makes swimming the Niagara look like kiddy stuff,” I huffed. “We’ll do it,” he said. “But, remember, I swam the Niagara at night.”

~ Don Malarkey

[elusiveclownbox]

SOME ANDREIL/NEIL/ANDREW CODED SONGS (in my humble opinion)(with links to listen)

(because i have the biggest brainrot, they’re also just great songs so please give them a listen!)

Neath The Grove Is A Heart

Yaelokre

“Home is where we are now. Home is where you are. Home is where I am standing. Where I'Il be staying forever now”

this entire post is just gonna be my biased interpretations of songs but honestly the entire song gives vibes to me…the places that one would refer to as “home” being a constant ever changing cycle of different places, never being able to stay and settle in a physical place. but finding a home in someone else.

Room By Room

Shayfer James (I’ve almost exclusively been listening to him, so the rest of the songs are his oops)

“If the keys in my hand turned a lock of your hair I would walk through the glance, but I'd stop at the stare. And I'd follow it down To the very last step and I'd wait by the room where your secrets are kept”

THOSE ARE THE FIRST LYRICS cmon mannnn,,,learning the brutal past of someone you love as they allow you in, do i even need to say it?

First Date

Shayfer James

“Tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine, I think we will get along fine. Tell me your riddle, I'll tell you my rhyme, I think we will get along fine. And if the rules change, don't hesitate to say you've had enough of me”

It’s literally the whole beginning of their relationship, a truth for truth, trade for trade. The game of, maybe not necessarily originally trust, but of mutual understanding that grows into trust and respect.

Your Father’s Son

Shayfer James

“So if you're any good at bluffing, I suggest you do it quick 'cause everyone is next to nothing, and every tock will have a tick. It fits so well. What you've become is your father's son which will never be much of anyone”

Oh Neil, you poor boy cowering in the shadow of your father, his legacy locked within your image and the face you share with him. No matter what new name and identity you create, you know your father will never be far behind, you will always be his son. At least, that’s how it used to be.

Learning to Be Lost

Shayfer James

“I am a plagiarized autobiography of wreckage, a shipwreck in sheep's clothes. Be patient with me, I am learning to be lost. Don't be gentle. Never gentle. Be mindful of me, I will sink at any cost”

This I feel resonates more with Andrew, but one could argue resonates with both. They both have tortured pasts that are unspeakable to almost all but each other, but Andrew shoves that past and those memories behind a face of calm indifference and apathy. But they are both navigating a relationship with each other that they are unfamiliar with, and didn’t necessarily intend to enter. As they reveal bit and bit of their pasts, they don’t want pity or sympathy, their pasts are what created them and they refuse to be treated as though they are broken, especially Andrew.

Lullaby

Shayfer James & Kate Douglas

“People can't be trusted and we have to fight to stay alive. We'll always be the enemy, oh. Eye for eye and limb for limb, The blood that I've been swimming in, oh. Mother, I've grown tired of this. Mother, I've grown tired of this. There's beauty and there's empathy, some people might've cared for me. I hid my heart, and stayed inside, instead of moving with the tide”

THIS IS ALLLLL NEIL BABYYY. Blindly continuing to follow his mother’s words and advice, she kept him safe for so long after all (in her own way). He trusted that she loved him, wanted to protect him, but he missed out on so much because of her. Missed out on friends and life in general, people who might have been able to actually help him. If it wasn’t for meeting people more stubborn than him, for wanting to just exist for once, he could’ve been on the run and never settling for so much longer. Or have died.

Carve A Smile

Shayfer James

“And with every kiss you make a better man of me. The safe disguise of accidental lies won’t hide us here, no more, my dear. And I would sacrifice the air that makes my body breathe, if it keeps you safe”

They are both so willing to put themselves in harms way to protect the other, even before they came to realize just how much the other meant to them. Andrew with the intention of winning, and Neil half the time not caring if he ends up dead as long as Andrew is alright.

PLEASE DROP YOUR OWN SONG REQS i love good music.

anyway if anyone has actually made it to this point thank you for listening to my babbling. I can associate any and every song i listen to to whatever i am currently hyper fixating on and i need to express it outwardly. Hopefully yall like the music at least, even if you disagree with my interpretations!

[mayusteapot]

The start of this chapter has such Anne vibes. A drive through blossomy June sounds like Anne's arrival to GG.

What really stuck with me about this chapter was the way Aunt Elizabeth keeps goading Emily. She keeps calling her "the child" even after Emily asks her not to. It's as if she's trying to goad a negative response which she can then be justifiably mad about. One theory is that Elizabeth, like many people (I work in customer service), wants to take out their discomfort on others, but do not want to take the blame for not being able to deal with the real emotion, so they get angry. Another is that Aunt Elizabeth is trying to keep Emily at arm's length. She did, after all, lose Juliet. Aunt Elizabeth clearly tries to keep her feelings in check, she was, after all, once a girl who pushed her cousin into a well.

The dichotomy of public and private is also interesting here. Why is the bookcase not to be looked at, but both Emily's body (having to undress in front of Aunt Elizabeth) and her feelings (demanding why she's crying) are to be displayed. I was going to write "shared" but that's really not the right word, as Aunt Elizabeth is not very compassionate here.

I guess through this chapter it's as if Aunt Elizabeth is trying to make Emily a sort of possession that she can set aside, in a rather inconvenient place in her house, but Emily is her duty. And the duty is contained, and simplified into explainable facts. But clearly Emily is never going to be "a good and contented child and conduct [herself] with becoming prudence and decency".

I laughed at Jimmy saying Elizabeth thinks ice cream as a newfangled thing. Also got lost a bit in ice cream history there, but managed to escape the sticky rabbit hole in time.

How is it new moon again when Emily arrives at New Moon? Emily's father lived two weeks, and then some days after Emily got to New moon, but 3 weeks at most, which isn't a whole moon cycle. Maud, you should have let Douglas live a bit longer.

Anyway, New Moon is another house we arrive at in twilight, but this time rose coloured sunset. I love everything about New Moon. I feel like it's a place I used to spend my summers because I always read these books during the summer. I don't live in a huge house, rather a tiny one, but I do have columbines in the garden, so there must be fairies here too. [I am very eager for the garden descriptions, since after I've last read these books I've trained as a gardener. ]

I love the ending of this chapter. Despite everything, being thrust into this new world where everything, even the air seems unfamiliar, despite Elizabeth's attempts at control, Emily escapes to her own world that is filled with other likeminded creatures as her.

[bluegoblinzz]

Fur, Tail, Teeth and Beaver Grow

On one October morning, Douglas and Dylan trudged through brown fallen leaves in the forest. Douglas was wearing some boots, a flannel shirt, and some overalls. Dylan wore sneakers, jeans a hoodie, and a pointy hat. Douglas had a beard, and was much more heavy set than Dylan. Dylan, on the other hand, had no facial hair, had glasses, and his hair was long, passing his jaw. They looked and acted so different that it was hard to tell they were twins. 

“Did ya have to wear that freak-hat?” Douglas grunted, “You do realize you’re not at that freak-job anymore.”

“Doug you don’t understand,” Dylan mumbled, looking off to the side, “a witch his who I truly am. I don’t care that my shop closed down. It doesn’t change who I am.”

“You’re not a witch,” Doug grunted, “We’re lumberjacks. Pa has been real mad at you for leavin’ our business and disrespectin’ him.”

Dylan scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Besides,” Doug said, “Witches are girls. Why are you callin’ yourself a witch? What are ya, a sissy?” 

“Boys can be witches,” Dylan insisted. 

Doug scoffed, “Yeah right.” He looked up at a tree, and then stomped his foot into the ground, stopping where they were. 

“This is a good one,” Doug said, “Now you stand back. Watch me chop this one down, and maybe you’ll remember how to be a man.” Doug took out his axe, widened his stance, and prepared to hack at the tree. Dylan glared at his brother, and put his hands on his hips. 

“I’ll show you,” He grumbled, “Things may be bad for me right now, but I will make it! My craft is not a waste of time!” 

“Shyeah,” Doug scoffed, “You keep believin’ that, Dill.”  He struck the tree with his axe a few times. And once he was able to get the right angle and the right amount of force, he began striking the tree in a rhythmic manner. And as he struck the tree he began to sing a song to the sound of each strike of his axe. 

“First the farmer sows his seed, 

He stands up straight and takes his ease,

Stamps his feet and claps his hands, 

And turns around to view his land.

Oats, peas, beans and barley grow, 

Oats, peas, beans and barley grow. 

Can you or I or anyone know; 

How oats, peas, beans and barley grow?” 

Dylan glared at Doug as he worked. It was his first day back on the job, and he was already being harassed, and for what? Wearing a silly hat? He remembered exactly why he wanted to leave so bad in that moment. He remembered how angry he felt all the time at his brother, and his father, and how suffocated he felt not being able to be himself. 

In a fit of anger he snapped a twig off of a branch of a nearby tree, and pointed it at his brother, who was still chopping away at the tree. 

If you love wood so much, then why don’t you eat it? 

A heavy breeze blew as Dylan waved the twig. He pictured Douglas with a tail, how embarrassed he would be about the tail, and how satisfying it would be to see Doug yelling out in horror as a tail grew in. And as Dylan envisioned that scene in his head, the back of Doug’s overalls twitched. Something on the inside pushed outward, and pushed out farther and farther, until the denim tore, and a wide flat brown tail flopped out. It was long enough to reach his knees, but then continued growing longer and wider until the end of his tail rested on the ground. 

But Doug didn’t notice; He kept singing and hacking at the tree, and now each time his axe made contact with the tree, he flopped his tail up and it thumped on the ground. 

“Next the farmer waters the seed, 

He stands up straight and takes his ease. 

Stamps his feet and claps his hands, 

And turns around to view his land.”

Then Dylan had an idea… maybe he wouldn’t need to go back to being a lumberjack and working for his family. Maybe he could continue being a witch without much of a problem. He kept his makeshift wand pointed at Doug, intending for the changes to keep taking hold of his brother. He knew that if he wanted the plan to work, he couldn’t bring much attention to the changes. If he alarmed his brother he would try to get away. Changes needed to be slow, and suggestion needed to be subtle.

Eventually the tree fell with a loud thud, and the snapping of many branches. 

“Wow!” Dylan gasped. 

“What?” Douglas said, turning around to face Dylan, “Ya never heard a tree fall before?” His big floppy tail lifted as he put on a snarky grin. 

“Well, yes I have,” Dylan said, “But isn’t it beautiful? The sound of all that… crackling and crunching wood?” 

Douglas frowned and furrowed his brow, his tail dropping to the ground with a thud. He didn’t glare at Dylan or look at him with any annoyed expression, seeming to be troubled with the question itself. 

“Just… C’mere and help me,” Doug grunted, thrusting his thumb behind him at the tree. Dylan nodded and wandered over to the other end of the tree. He started snapping off the branches, so that way the two of them could carry the log, but after about a minute, he began ripping off the branches slowly, looking over at his brother as he did. 

“What are you doin’? Work faster!” Doug shouted, glaring at his brother. 

“Oh but… listen to that…” he slowly peeled one branch away from the trunk before giving it a tug and snapping it suddenly, “isn’t that satisfying?”

Doug furrowed his brow again. After a moment his lips curved into a smile, and his teeth poked over his upper lip, his two top incisors expanding and stretching downward until they naturally rested over his lower lip. The dizzying effects of his magic were doing a lot of the heavy lifting, but Douglas’s obliviousness was a key part in having the changes continue without a problem 

Soon the work on that tree was done, and they were surrounded by twigs and branches. And as they were, the wind was picking up and the sky turned grey. Dylan knew it would be time to go inside, but their family never cared, they would work in the rain regardless. The next step was to hoist the log back up and take it to the truck. So as the two bent down to pick up the log, Dylan looked back at his brother. 

“Hey Doug,” He began, “you ever notice how wood looks so… crunchy?” 

“Hmmm, crunchy?” Doug asked, his tail flapping uneasily, “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know,” Dylan replied, “Like… You just wanna bite down on it like a cracker, and gnaw on it… feeling the rough texture and nice, earthy flavor.”

“Wha-what kind of question is that?” Doug grumbled, “Why would I-“

Right on cue, and saving Dylan from suspicion, Doug’s nose turned black, and his ears perked up and became fuzzy. His eyes glazed over for a split second, and then he glanced over at the sticks surrounding them, he grinned and nodded. 

“Yeah… it does look crunchy,” Doug muttered, “Good call.”  Before the two hoisted the log up, he picked up a thick stick with his free hand, and as the two of them carried the log on their shoulders, Doug began gnawing on the wood with his big buck teeth. As he did, his eyes rolled backward slightly with satisfaction at the flavor. It made him feel more grounded and calm. The texture of the wood was rough and gritty, and it was stimulating to chew on. It was to texture as crinkling paper was to sound. 

Dylan grinned as he looked back to his brother, seeing him totally dazed as he chewed on the branch. The sky continued to darken and the clouds turned black. 

“Are you getting tired yet?” Dylan asked, “I see you put on a few pounds, and you aren’t as strong. It must be hard for you.”

Doug raised an eyebrow. As soon as Dylan said those words, Doug’s face got chubbier and rounder, his cheeks pushing outward to the sides. His fingers swelled, and his hands became meatier, before the swelling continued up his arms, putting pressure on the sleeves of his flannel shirt. And then his hair grew thicker on his hands and arms as well, at first just growing into long brown hair, but then layering up into brown fur. His stomach bloated and puffed, making his loose flannel shirt tight. His shirt then got so tight that one could see his stomach between the two sides of the shirt, the buttons barely holding it together, except his stomach was also covered in shaggy brown fur, just like his arms and hands and then, one by one, each button popped and sprang away from his shirt, leaving his shirt open, but even that didn’t stay for long, because then both sleeves tore, reducing the flannel shirt to a bunch of torn rags. 

Doug panted the further they walked and the fatter they became, and eventually he nodded, and stopped walking. 

“Yeah… we should take a break here,” He muttered. Doug moved his right foot out of the way and then dropped his end of the log. Dylan did the same. Doug settled down on the ground, and panting, shutting his eyes for a moment, his big floppy tail settling over the log. Dylan took a few steps toward  Doug, and to settled down in the leaves next to him. 

“This is some hard work,” Dylan said, “You deserve some rest.” He pat the fur on his brother’s arm. 

“Mmhm,” Doug muttered, his eyes still closed, a smile washing over his face while. Doug’s hands continued to change, an extra flap of skin emerging between each of his fingers, and fusing together to make webbing. The legs of his pants were puffing up, suggesting that fur was growing along his legs as well. 

“It’s such a warm day,” Dylan said, as the winds got faster, “making you feel all warm and fuzzy…” as he spoke, he leaned over and began untying his brothers boots. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes you wanna kick off your shoes, and just make yourself at home.” 

Doug shook each of his feet, making his boots jump off his feet. Underneath his white socks his feet twitched, as he wiggled his toes. While his feet weren’t visible, they seemed to morph and change shape under the socks, multiple digits moving together at first, but then they seemed to swell and fuse. Soon his feet as a whole swelled, growing twice their size, and tearing through the socks. They had become covered in black fur, and were webbed like his hands. 

“And the sun is so bright… its beams hitting your face, and making you feel so warm…”

“Ahhh.”

There was, in fact, no sun, and the warmth spreading across was brown fur at last growing in, covering the last of his human skin. His ears shrank and began moving to the top of his head, his brown beard thickened, existing hair growing longer, and more hair sprouting and layering, turning into thick fur. His blackened nose twitched and grew larger, and around his nose, some whiskers began  sprouting, and then his nose and mouth pulled forward slightly into a beaver’s snout, his face morphing and ceding any remaining features that resembled a human’s. Doug smiled, and placed both his webbed hands on his belly, settling into slumber. 

Dylan grinned, realizing the changes were complete and he had won. Doug’s body had completely changed and his mind was at the whims of Dylan’s suggestion. But he realized he wasn’t satisfied. Before he did anything else, he needed to show his brother that he had won. So he stood up in front of Doug and snapped his fingers. Doug woke with a start, blinking and looking around very confused. 

“Huh?” He asked. He looked down at his webbed hands, then patted the fur on his stomach, and then prodded his nose with a finger, his eyes getting wider and his expression getting more fearful

“What the-“

Before Doug could do anything else, Dylan pressed his heel against Doug’s stomach. A powerful gust of wind ran by as he did.

“Rise and shine, Douglas.” 

“Get off me!!” Doug shouted, “What are ya, crazy?!”

“Look at what my ‘useless’ power did to you,” Dylan said. 

“Change me back! Ya better fuggin’ change me back, or else I’ll-“

Dylan snapped his fingers. Doug stopped talking, stared straight ahead, his jaw dropped and his eyes glazed over. Dylan snapped his fingers again, and Doug stirred, returning to reality but appearing more uneasy than angry. 

“I wouldn’t talk that way to your master if I were you?”

“M-master? Don’t be ridiculous,” Doug scoffed. Although: his macho vibrato had dissolved. 

“Your mind is already mine to play with,” Dylan shrugged, “So deny all you want, but you know deep down that you really want to chew on wood.” 

“Huh?” Doug asked. His hands moved by themselves and picked up the branch next to him. And began lifting it toward his face. 

“Wait no! I don’t want it! It’s…” Doug’s eyes glazed over, “So…” The sides of his mouth curled into a smile, “crunchy.” The big beaver gnawed on the wood, breaking off many pieces of the bark with his incisors. Then he held it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back. 

“Oh it’s so tasty… no… but the flavor is… mmm ARGH! Dylan, make it stop! It’s so confusing!” 

“Don’t worry,” Dylan cooed, “soon you’ll just be a beaver and you won’t need to be confused. 

“You motherfucker! Pa is gonna kill you when he-“ 

“Shut up!!” Dylan roared. The strong wind blew his hat off, and messed up his hair, making it wave wildly. 

“You and dad always want me to be something I’m not!” He continued, “I’ve worked so hard and gotten so good at magic and you just bully me! I can’t stand working with you! I can’t stand being around dad! I am not going back to him!” 

Douglas’s jaw was dropped, looking at his brother in awe. Dylan had always been such a wimp, easy to push around… when did he get this scary?

Dylan pulled a bright green pendulum from his pocket. It was made for divination, but here he would use it for another purpose. He leaned forward, getting a little closer to Doug, and flashing an evil grin, his hair ruffled like a madman. 

“And neither are you,” He whispered. Dylan released the pendulum from his hand, letting it dangle, and then let it sway back and forth in front of Doug’s eyes. Doug watched in fear and confusion, his eyes fixated on the green gem but looking with a wide eyed gaze, clearly afraid of what might happen. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and but then his eyes fell closed. When he opened them again, they were glowing, two ethereal disks embedded inside each eye, each one made of green spiraling energy. His jaw was dropped and his eyes were wide, an expression of pure shock. 

Dylan stepped off of his brother’s stomach and off of his tail, still standing in front of him but still swinging the pendulum in front of Doug’s eyes. And as Doug watched, Dylan began singing a mocking song at Doug, and Doug’s tail flopped to the beat of the song. 

“The witch goes against the grain,

Tricks his brother, scrambles his brain.

A flop of a tail, and a crunch of the wood

The reprobate’s mind is gone for good. 

Fur, tail, teeth and beaver grow

Fur, tail, teeth and beaver grow.

Can you or I or anyone know

How fur, tail, teeth and beaver grow?”

The more Doug watched the pendulum, the happier he became and the fewer thoughts crossed his mind. A heavy sleepiness washed over him and he his head kept falling downward, nodding it up as he struggled to stay awake. His eyelids drooped in a similar manner. As Dylan sang, he didn’t register the meaning of the song, but it made him feel happy, and lifted his spirits up. He decided it was his favorite song.

���Eat more wood,” Dylan commanded. 

“I’ll eat s’more wood,” Doug said in a daze.  It crossed his mind as if it was his own idea. Why wouldn’t  he want to gnaw on wood? He was a beaver after all. He picked up his stick and gnawed at the edges again, slowly crunching on the bark. 

“Just let that taste ground you, relax you… And listen to my words. You’re not a lumberjack, you’re my familiar.”

“I’m not a lumberjack,” Doug droned, “I’m your familiar.” Whatever a ‘familiar’ was was unfamiliar to him, but he was eager to find out, eager to become one. It sounded much easier than being a lumberjack. 

“A dumb, helpless animal that needs to be cared for.” 

“Dumb… Helpless…” Doug felt good saying this. It felt good to cede responsibility, and to be taken care of again. 

“You will aid me in my spells and obey my command.”

As those words sank in, Doug noticed the strong desire to follow them. The calmness and security in the idea that he didn’t need to think for himself was alluring to him. 

“Obey your command…. Master?” 

Dylan grinned at that. 

“Yes, I am your master and you will give me the respect I deserve.” 

Doug realized he was wrong before. Being a witch wasn’t bad or wrong, and his brother worked very hard to learn this magic. He shouldn’t make fun of him and he should support him. He suddenly felt a strong affinity for his brother, a brotherly love that was buried under rivalries and remarks. 

I must obey him… I must protect him. I must… love him. 

Doug continued to watch the pendulum, and continued chewing on the bark on the stick, his eyes drooping a bit more, but suddenly, his eyes opened really wide devoid of their green spirals. The wind stopped, and sunlight peeked through the clouds. Dylan grinned at first, thinking that Doug was completely gone, but then he noticed his eyes had changed back to normal, and his expression was agog. The big beaver looked up at the witch and tilted his head. 

“Dill?” He asked, a playful smile forming on his face. Dylan looked back and forth, snapping his fingers trying to get the spell to work again, but Douglas wasn’t falling back to sleep.

“No, no,” He muttered, “Why did it stop working?”

Doug stood up, flopping his tail on the ground when he did, and looked down at Dylan with an affectionate smile. Dylan looked up at his brother, in horror at the beast he had become, and in fear that his magical creation would turn against him. Instead, the big beaver wrapped his arms around the witch, and tightly embraced him in a fluffy hug. His tail thumping happily behind him.

“I love you,” The beaver said, “you’re the best brother.” Dylan stood dumbfounded for a moment. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The spell wasn’t supposed to work this way. Doug was supposed to be gone, and a mindless beaver was supposed to be in his place… But then he processed what Doug said. He hadn’t heard that from anyone in years. He hadn’t been hugged like this…  ever. A few tears rolled down his face, then a lump formed in his throat, and then he sobbed, pressing his face against the beaver’s fluffy stomach as he cried. Before he knew he deserved better, but this new Douglas he knew he didn’t deserve. This new Douglas was too kind, too loving, too fluffy for an evil witch like him.

“Oh no!” Doug said, “Don’t cry! I want you to be happy.” He pat the back of Dylan’s head with one of his webbed paws. Still crying, Dylan opened his arms and hugged the beaver tightly. 

“Here,” Doug said. He lifted his brother up, off the ground, and readjusted him so he was cradled in his fluffy arms, “We’re gonna go home now, and I’ll do whatever you want. Okay? … It’ll be okay, I’m here now.”

Dylan shut his eyes, tears still streaming from them, flowing down his cheeks, and he rested his head on his brother’s arm. He didn’t understand this kind of love, as he had never received it from his brother, but he embraced it in that moment, hoping it would last, and hoping he would build a more genuine relationship with Doug. 

The clouds were parting and the sun was coming out once again. It was a nice day, how could Dylan be sad? It wasn’t right that he was sad. He knew he needed to do whatever it would take to make him feel better. For now, he decided it would be good to sing to him. So as they walked back to the truck, Doug sang his favorite song. 

“My brother is a witch named Dill

I act and think upon his will

Because I love him and he’s good

And he gives me some tasty wood.

Fur, tail, teeth and beaver grow

Fur, tail, teeth and beaver grow.

Can you or I or anyone know

How fur, tail, teeth and beaver grow?”

[renee-writer]

Frank Chapter 62

AO3

“He is a beauty.” Claire cradles Arthur Douglas in her arms a few days after his birth.

“Thank you. Your wee ones are darling as well,” They sit in Claire and Jamie ‘s room. Geillis holds Faith and Fergus for the first time since their birth, “It is a grand thing your parents arrived when they did, with both healers recovering from childbirth.”

“It is most fortunate.” She knows that it was planned that way, not that she can tell Geillis this. It is a good thing her parents supposed death isn’t common knowledge. The explaining of that would be insane.

“It is always good to have your parents about after giving birth. Unfortunately my own have been gone for quite awhile.”

“I am sorry.” The other woman shrugs it off.

“Dinna let it trouble you. I hear you grandfather is also about and he is a most extraordinary man.”

Claire smiles. “That he is. My father must have gotten most of his mum for there is little of my grandfather in him.”

They exchange babies as it is feeding time. Once they are all content, “Do you think Arthur Douglas looks enough like me to mask his true paternity?”

“For now. They grow and change so fast though. May I ask why you didn’t just have a child with Arthur?”

“My husband is a dear man and I love him as much as I can. We have relations but not very often. He is so much older and it is difficult. I wished for a child. I love Dougal.” She shrugs.

“I understand. Life can be complex.”

Geillis laughs. “That it can. Have you seen Laoghaire’s baby?”

“Not yet. Mum and dad are keeping an eye as the baby is a bit premature. They report mum and baby are doing well.”

“Your ex struts about like a rooster. The lad is all him, to hear tell.”

Claire nods. She has no doubt. Frank and Black Jack being so close in looks, the child was sure to satisfy as his own.

“What are they naming him?”

“They? Huh, the former Miss Mackenzie has little to do with him, outside of nursing. Frank has named him Franklin Jr.”

Claire frowns. “Laoghaire hasn’t bonded with him?”

“Reports are her husband has given her little chance. Outside of nursing, he sees fully to him. That will change, of course. He won’t be allowed to remain in the birth chamber not working for much longer. Himself won’t allow it.”

“You’re right.” Still her frown remains.

[tabl3]

elaborating on the mm trio's relationship with each davenport family member

donald: they all despise him. he hates them back. that's about it lols

douglas:

skylar - skylar and douglas are good friends. he appreciates that she gets his dry humor and is approving of her and bree. at first he was apprehensive because the idea of aliens was whack, but she grew on him really quickly. he especially appreciates that she took on what had been adam's role in the original team, protecting his kids. skylar thinks he's a silly goofy guy that loves his children and reminds her of her own father (horace), so she likes him a lot too, and teaches him about calderan tech/biology

oliver - douglas likes oliver well enough because he's quiet and doesn't get on douglas's nerves 24/7, along with taking an interest in douglas's nerd science and being a good assistant when chase isn't around. oliver likes that douglas is incredibly blunt and doesn't ever hide his opinions, meaning he doesn't have to sift through whatever he says to figure out what he means. they aren't super close, but have a mutual respect for each other (and douglas is fatherly to him on accident a lot) even though oliver pissed douglas off a lot in the beginning because of his nasty attitude, once oliver got over it, they became chill

kaz - kaz drives douglas up the wall ALL the time lols. he doesn't trust him nearly as much as he trusts skylar, making him be more overprotective of chase around him. they started out with kaz being a general annoyance but just in a teenager way, to douglas approving of the way he treated chase, to decimation and flipping the idea on its head. douglas hasn't fully trusted kaz since. kaz himself tries his best to prove himself, as well as calls douglas sir/goes to attention if douglas addresses him which is very funny imo. they're a case of opposites do NOT attract. even though douglas isn't kaz's biggest fan, or a fan of chase telling douglas to fuck off about it, douglas still very deeply cares about kaz, and kaz respects him back and wants to show him that he's better now

tasha:

skylar - tasha adores her, and skylar pays that back in full. she never had a maternal figure in her life, so tasha does a similar thing to what she did with bree when they first met, having those mother-daughter relationship moments. tasha thinks skylar is a great partner for bree, a great friend to chase, and a great leader for the team. she also loves how good she is with naomi :)

oliver - complicated. (spoiler)oliver has lost three maternal figures at this point(end) and isn't comfortable around tasha most of the time. it's nothing that she's done, and they both know that. it's simply that oliver reacts very poorly to motherly affection because of everything that has happened. he thinks she's a very kind and warm person, but he tends to stay arms-length with her. tasha completely understands this, and respects his boundaries. the only time she will ever give him individual affection is when he expresses that he needs it

kaz - tasha is one of kaz's favorite people. he loves her like his own mother, has accidentally referred to her as mom before, and holds her in the highest regard. tasha also loves him very much, despite decimation-requite's events because she knew he was a lost child that needed some sense of stability in his life. he's also really good with naomi, and takes care of chase. all-in-all they have a close bond and he considers her more of a parent than either of his biological ones. she likes to tease him and skylar that it's okay to call her mom because they'll eventually be family through marriage, solely to embarrass her kids

adam:

skylar - at first adam was semi-wary of her because he's overprotective of his sister, but that faded quickly. they understand each other very well, being the only ones who understand their struggle of both strength and invulnerability and the fear that comes with that. skylar likes adam a lot because they click well and provide similar roles in their teams. adam likes skylar because he thinks she's fun and a good protector for his siblings. they have scheduled dates in the future when the chaos ends to be gym buddies :)

oliver - oliver and adam aren't particularly close. adam sees him as a friend of his siblings, and oliver sees him as bree and chase's older brother. that's about the extent. they don't have any animosity at all, but just don't hang out or interact enough to be friends. they're friendly, and adam still crushes him with bear hugs, but they're probably the least close of any pairings so far and ones to come

kaz - they started out rough. adam was chill with him until he found out about him and chase being in a relationship. due to what happened to chase on the island and adam's intense guilt over it, he immediately associated those feelings with kaz and straight up hated him over it. kaz didn't reciprocate it as much but was put off by chase and adam's unconventional dynamic with adam seeming physically aggressive (he isn't at that point in the story and stopped far before) and verbally aggressive too. read tension on ao3 for more in-depth stuff lol. after their catharsis moment, they're actually bffs and adam keeps complaining that he wants him and chase to get married already so he can have a new little brother

leo:

skylar - leo and skylar aren't super close, but they both get along easily with people, and transfer that to their relationship. leo was in awe of her for a hot minute because he's a nerd and there was a comic book hero casually chatting with him, but they're completely chill with each other. he is grossed out by her and bree though lol

oliver - leo and oliver have gradually become more friendly throughout the series. leo is very respectful of oliver's boundaries and his monophobia, which makes oliver more comfortable around him. they often have shared rooms because leo volunteers to do so to help ease his anxiety. oliver greatly appreciates that, especially because leo never makes a big deal about it. in summary they're very wholesome and leo slays :)

kaz - they're best friends. in an accidentally setting fire to everything they touch way. they have similar interests and hobbies and click well together. even though they don't see each other often they love it when they do because they're genuinely very close :) although once again leo gets traumatized by him and chase lmao

[untracked]

about.

NAME: Kenan N. Shaw A.K.A.: "Shaw" GENDER: Cis male BIRTHDATE: 13th April SPECIES: Human OCCUPATION: Search and rescue officer (wilderness team; national park level)

HEIGHT: 186cm (~6'1") HAIR: Dark brown EYES: Brown BUILD: Fit

SEXUALITY: Bisexual RELIGION: Protestant (non-practising) FAMILY:

Douglas Eugene Shaw -- father, alive

Katherine Isabelle Shaw -- mother, deceased

Dorothy Jacqueline Shaw -- older sister, missing (presumed dead)

impressions.

VISUAL: Standing at six feet, Shaw is tall but not excessively wide. He doesn't invest in physical aesthetics, and is lean, toned, and wiry, with surprisingly firm and dense muscle beneath his skin. His cheekbones and jaw are defined, contributing to the sharp profile created by the striking line of his nose, and more often than not a well-kept, trimmed beard covers his face (with some grey in it, too, depending on age). Shaw's hair is dark and thick, and long enough that having it disrupted from its usual pushed back style has strands curling over his forehead. His lashes are long, his eyes are dark brown, and he has a light tan from all the time he spends outside. ATTIRE: Outside his uniform, Shaw favours comfortable sweaters, plaid buttoned shirts, and t-shirts of the grey and white variety. He wears pants that fit well without being tight, and usually opts for casual ankle boots for a regular day outside. He wears a standard digital watch at work, but outside it wears a Seiko Presage SARX029 (with a black crocodile leather strap to match its black dial). DEMEANOUR: Shaw stands confidently without any intention of intimidation. He doesn't really smile unless spoken to, at which point he always makes it a point to pay close attention to who's speaking to him. He's a good listener-- we have two ears and one mouth for a reason-- but this doesn't necessarily mean he's easy to sway out of his own opinions. Shaw knows politeness, but it doesn't take a lot for him to grow disinterested in anyone too invested in simple pleasantries. AURAL: Shaw's voice is crisp and comes from his chest. He's great at modulation-- his clear voice makes him a favourite for announcements or calling out during searches-- but in personal situations, it's often difficult for him to keep any emotional affect out of his tone. OLFACTORY: Clean; Shaw also tends to carry notes of sandalwood and other earthy tones, if caught outside of work. When he's fresh from duty, he does carry the scents of nature with him-- grass and leaves, the air that's carried by the wind, or the scent of the sun after it's been on his hair all day.

personality.

FOR ONCE I'M WRITING SOMEONE WITH HOBBIES

background.

content warnings: death, mentions of suicide, mild child neglect.

FIRST, YOU ARE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER. In an absurd, almost comical way (even if he'll claim this more or less set the tone of his life forever), Shaw's life only began after a tragedy. He has no significant memory of anything before his sister disappeared, but he was also so young there wasn't any reason for him to experience significance to begin with. The day she was taken into the wilderness, Shaw's otherwise nondescript life changed enough to be considered abnormal: the house felt emptier (especially after his mother burned all the pictures they had of his sister), his parents spoke less, and despite his overall rambunctious, troublesome behaviour, nobody paid attention to him any more. After hours spent playing outside at varying levels of danger, Shaw had to take care of his own cuts and bruises, and the only one left to kiss his band-aids was his stuffed puppy, Captain.

Most kids might have clocked that something was wrong with their family, and a fewer percentage of that subgroup might have even figured out that the whole thing was unfixable. Shaw was none the wiser-- as clueless and naive as he had been when he watched his sister get taken away-- until he found his mother dead in his parents' bathtub after school one day.

As clueless as ever, Shaw did not call the authorities. Instead, his father came home to his son sitting on the bathroom floor, temple to the tub and his mother's cold hand held against his cheek.

SECOND, LOVE IS CONDITIONAL. It's a truth no-one wants to believe, but a truth nonetheless. Shaw came to terms with it sometime in tenth grade, over a decade since his sister disappeared and a little less than since his mother died. Driving his friends home from a party that was only "good" because there was free-flowing alcohol, it occurred to him that his friends got in trouble with their parents way more than he did. They called him lucky for it, saying they wished their dads didn't care if they were home after three in the morning, and all Shaw did in turn was grin and blow cigarette smoke in their faces. Cry about it, losers, he'd teased, only to get shoved around and noogied for being an asshole.

When Shaw was very little, on his father's birthday he would smile as he kissed each of his family member's foreheads: his wife's, his daughter's, and his son's. I love that you all have the same eyes, he said once, so full of affection and gratitude. And thank goodness for that, because your mother's definitely the pretty one.

With all his friends in their houses-- the one who owned the car was the last to be dropped off, car and all-- Shaw walked the rest of the way home. It was cold that night, so his hands never left his pockets the entire thirty minute duration, and every breath he exhaled fogged the air. His house, much unlike his friends' houses, was dark when he arrived-- not even the outside lights were on. Shaw was used to this, though: to unlocking the door with his key, locking it behind him, and navigating the pitch black halls until he crashed in his sister's old room.

But that night he stopped in front of his father's shut door, and when Shaw tried the knob, it was locked like he expected. He crawled into bed feeling heavy in his chest after, but accepted there were just some things he couldn't change.

"Do you still like my eyes, Dad?" "Where's this coming from?" "When I was little you used to call them pretty." "Oh, well... you're handsome, if that's what you mean." "It isn't. I was asking about my eyes." "Why?" "Because you don't kiss me on your birthday any more." "What does my birthday have to do with anything?" "It's just what I remember. You used to look at me more back then, too. Why don't you look at me now?" "I... I'm going to be late for work, Kenan. I'm sorry. Maybe we can talk about this later?" "Yeah. Maybe. See you later, Dad."

THIRD, NO MAN IS AN ISLAND. Opting not to go to college, Shaw spent his first year out of high school following U2 on their Elevation tour. He went into trade school for construction after that, and got a job as soon as he finished. He lived with his father until he was twenty-six, then moved to a house he built with his own hands (and some hired help) in a quaint little neighbourhood where everyone knew his name.

Shaw was a pretty sociable person in general. He made friends at his trade school, then made friends with people he met at all the eclectic hobby-adjacent classes he took after that. He made friends with people at the bars he and his band (named "Judgment Crisis") played at, and made friends with the familiar faces he saw at the movie theatre. The friends he had in high school visited him often when they came home, and Shaw made efforts to stay in contact with them even after everyone entered the real world, attending birthdays, bachelor (and bachelorette) parties, weddings, baptisms, and every other event under the sun.

Contrary to all this, however, Shaw was never a sentimental person. If he really stopped to think about it, he'd recognise that he had some sort of issue connecting with people-- not because he couldn't make and keep any friends, but because he couldn't care about them the way people were supposed to. He was always present when needed, and he'd drive anyone to the airport or the hospital if they called, but this was less because he loved them and more because he knew it was what friends were supposed to do. He enjoyed that his friends were loyal to him, and in fact thrived knowing that they'd do most anything for him. He was hypocritical, though, as far as feeling loyal to them were concerned. Whatever deep emotion a person is supposed to feel for other people just doesn't exist in him, and Shaw feels nothing towards family or community besides knowing he needs them to survive. Shaw isn't delusional enough to believe he's "above" needing other people in his life; he isn't pompous or arrogant in this respect at all. He is, however, completely content in knowing his definition of "love" will never be enough for anybody. FOURTH, THERE'S A WHOLE WORLD OUT THERE. Shaw started volunteering with the local search and rescue the year before he turned thirty, spurred on by a story on the news about a death out in the nature site his sister disappeared from. He started out only working on weekends, then appeared thrice a week, four times, even five. When he wasn't busy with carpentry work, he found himself drifting towards the wilderness, and ended up so fascinated by the whole thing that he was working sixteen hour days: eight hours at his regular job, and then eight on the trail.

Shaw was thirty-two when he stopped working in carpentry entirely. His search and rescue mentor was retiring, and when the man said he wanted Shaw to take his place, he was hard-pressed to refuse getting paid for what he'd already been doing.

As a serial class taker, Shaw had a fascination with learning and entertaining himself with an eclectic collection of hobbies. But with classes came mastery, and with mastery came the reality that if a hobby wasn't your passion, then you would simply plateau. Most of his endeavours ended this way: Shaw became good at it, and then he became too bored to become great. Search and rescue, though, was full of surprises. It was without a doubt the most interesting thing he'd ever done, even more than the whole "joining a rock band and getting some CDs out" experience that defined his mid-to-late twenties.

Even if he'd stumbled across it, there was a measure of fulfilment in the search and rescue job that Shaw didn't get elsewhere. As far as he's concerned, that's as good a reason as any to keep pursuing it.

FIFTH, LIFE IS MEANT TO BE LIVED.

Danger, of course, lurks for everyone. Shaw just traded the mundane experience of being concerned about things like his blood pressure for concern towards the well-being of total strangers.

[nyoaeuikhoudu]

my favourite quote from the show, my friends and I use this one way too much.

Douglas is a much better father than Donnie, which is saying a lot considering he was literally the villain for half the series.

[skellyuniverse]

What is Facing the Future? Part 3

Other characters:

Douglas, Tristan and Mavis Cross (Triplets), Cody Bukowski, Lucas and Journi Esteban, Holly Icecap, Dahlia Sundrown (OC), Sydney Stickman, Sofie Mac. There is some more but I didn't design them yet. Adult characters I made up: Mr. Olan - The group's principal Mrs. Vinetrail - The group's main teacher Mr. Sundrown - Theatre Teacher at the group's school, Dahlia's father Daniel Tunis - Henry's Co-worker and good friend Lucille Vin - Henry's boss Summer Landon - Henry's Ex-coworker. Tried to flirt with Henry and was fire for being obnoxious. Currently reforming and Jacob Rose's girlfriend. Hugo and Aurora Stickmin - Henry's parents. Hugo used to have some run-ins with an evil group (NOT Toppats) in the past. When one day him and Aurora came home, they found it set ablaze. Believing their infant son died. In reality, Henry was saved by the family's black lab. The dog managed to reach the city and some people took Henry to an orphanage. The dog himself died from some inhalation. Currently, Hugo and Aurora live in Canada (unspecified location). They were reunited with Henry thanks to Charles. They visit when possible. Canon Characters I don't write about much: General Galeforece - He only shows up when characters visit the Goverment Base. I am just not confident writing about someone this serious. Dr. V - I don't write her in at all. She only gets mentioned once when giving Douglas Cross a robotic arm as a prosthetic, since he was tired of bullying over being born with no arm. After that I just had no usage for her. Dimitri and Grigori - I just don't know where to put them. I already have an evil group. Confirmed Dead, canon characters: Ahnoldt Shwarz, Johnny Panzer, Fredrick Muenster. Also Matilda Ivy is at unknown location to the characters. Canon Characters with made up backstories: Henry, Ellie/Jacob, Sven/Earrings, Dave (others are WIPs) Characters with made up, named, family members: Henry, Ellie/Jacob, Sven/Earrings, Burt, Dave, Calvin/Konrad.

[girljeremystrong]

✨️ read them before the adaptation! ✨️

homeland elegies by ayad akhtar

truly incredible book, one of the best i’ve ever read. part family drama, part social essay, part picaresque adventure — at its heart, it is the story of a father, a son, and the country they both call home.

black buck by mateo askaripour

very fun book where a lot happens all the time. a satirical debut novel about a young man given a shot at stardom as the lone black salesman at a mysterious, cult-like, and wildly successful startup where nothing is as it seems.

the art of fielding by chad harbach

such a wonderful book about two co-dependent friends. at a small school in michigan, baseball star henry seems destined for big league stardom, but when a routine throw goes disastrously off course, the fates of five people are upended.

the nickel boys by colson whitehead

absolutely incredible book. one innocent mistake sends elwood to the nickel academy, a chamber of horrors, where abuse is rife. stunned to find himself in this vicious environment, elwood tries to hold on to hope, but his fellow inmate and new friend turner thinks he’s naive.

tin man by sarah winman

a perfect beautiful & sad love story. ellis and michael are twelve when they first become friends, and then one day this closest of friendships grows into something more. fast forward a decade, ellis is married to annie, and michael is nowhere in sight. what happened in the years between?

interior chinatown by charles yu

a truly beautiful and unique book. willis wu doesn’t perceive himself as the protagonist in his own life: he’s merely ‘generic asian man’, always he is relegated to a prop. he dreams of being 'kung fu guy’ — the most respected role that anyone who looks like him can attain. or is it?

shuggie bain by douglas stuart

very sad but very good. the unforgettable story of young hugh "shuggie" bain, a sweet and lonely boy who spends his 1980s childhood in run-down public housing in glasgow.

nothing to see here by kevin wilson

a great book that’s also very sweet.  a moving and uproarious novel about a woman who finds meaning in her life when she begins caring for two children with remarkable and disturbing abilities (they spontaneously combust when they get agitated).

a gentleman in moscow by amor towles

a novel about a man who is ordered to spend the rest of his life inside a luxury hotel, in an attic room while some of the most tumultuous decades in russian history are unfolding outside the hotel’s doors.

we begin at the end by chris whitaker

this book is so good. read it. a fortysomething-year-old sheriff and a thirteen-year-old girl may not seem to have a lot in common. but when trouble arrives they will be unable to do anything but usher it in, arms wide closed.

the great believers by rebecca makkai

beautiful and sad and dazzling. a novel of friendship and redemption in the face of tragedy and loss set in 1980s chicago and contemporary paris.

age of vice by deepti kapoor

big succession vibes. equal parts crime thriller and family saga,it is an intoxicating novel of gangsters and lovers, false friendships, forbidden romance, and the consequences of corruption. binge-worthy entertainment at its literary best.

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by gabrielle zevin

two friends-often in love, but never lovers-come together as creative partners in the world of video game design, where success brings them fame, joy, tragedy, duplicity, and, ultimately, a kind of immortality.

the nightingale by kristin hannah

the story of two sisters caught up in occupied france during the second world war and their struggle to survive and resist.

sea of tranquility by emily st. john mandel

a novel of art, time travel, love and plague that takes the reader from vancouver island in 1912 to a dark colony on the moon five hundred years later, unfurling a story of humanity across centuries and space.

the guncle by steven rowley

a warm and deeply funny novel about a once-famous sitcom star whose unexpected family tragedy leaves him with his niece and nephew. very sweet.

razorblade tears by s.a. crosby

two ex-cons with little else in common other than a love for their dead sons, band together in their desperate desire for revenge.

washington black by esi edugyan

washington balck is an eleven-year-old field slave who knows no other life than the barbados sugar plantation where he was born. then his master's eccentric brother chooses him to be his manservant. it tells a story of friendship and betrayal, love and redemption, of a world destroyed and made whole again.

exit west by mohsin hamid

in a country teetering on the brink of civil war, two young people meet. they embark on a furtive love affair and are soon cloistered in a premature intimacy by the unrest roiling their city. when it explodes, as the violence escalates, nadia and saeed decide that they no longer have a choice, they find a door and step through.

sorrow and bliss by meg mason

martha knows there is something wrong with her but she doesn't know what it is. the story is narrated in the aftermath of martha and patrick’s separation, when she is thinking back over her life and trying to understand it, and herself.

maybe you should talk to someone by lori gottlieb

gottlieb invites us into her world as both clinician and patient, examining the truths and fictions we tell ourselves and others as we teeter on the tightrope between love and desire, meaning and mortality, guilt and redemption, terror and courage, hope and change.

the family chao by lan samantha chang

the residents of haven, wisconsin, have dined on the fine chao restaurant’s delicious food for thirty-five years, happy to ignore any unsavory whispers about the family owners. but when brash, charismatic, and tyrannical patriarch leo chao is found dead―presumed murdered―his sons discover that they’ve drawn the exacting gaze of the entire town.

crying in h mart by michelle zauner

a memoir about growing up korean american, losing her mother, and forging her own identity.

young mungo by douglas stuart

growing up in a housing estate in glasgow, mungo and james are born under different stars--mungo a protestant and james a catholic--and they should be sworn enemies if they're to be seen as men at all, yet against all odds, they become best friends.

[yamperzzz]

A short post about the bandit trio I'm rewriting, I've mentioned before that the bandits existed for years, but I needed to give them a much-needed upgrade since I got back into MadCom several weeks ago. Though I don't have a lot of info saved about them back then and even forgot some info, I thought I'd share what I do remember for fun and to show how much things changed ^_^

General Info

Though the bandits were always intended to work with Mr. M since the early days of me modding M:PN, it was never as extensive as I intend for it to be now. The tone was less serious, and it mostly followed them getting into funny situations. Since the beginning, Mr. M would make the trio be his errand boys, though his personality was more shallow and basic.

Douglas

I said a while ago that I forgot what all the names of the bandits were when I decided to rework them, and I eventually had to replace pretty much all of them in the end. However, I believe(?) Douglas' name was the only one that stayed untouched. The statement that Douglas was once a regular bandit stayed the same, but old Douglas never really decided to change after meeting his version of Duffus. His behavior was unchanged and he remained a cannibal, he was only just more careful around old Duffus in general. He's more mad in this version, and greedier/selfish, although ultimately I think he remained the least changed overall.

He is "PSQUAD1" in these old cutscenes.

Duffus

Arguably the most changed bandit in the trio. I had completely forgotten his old name (I have a feeling it was Dugal or Dougal but I couldn't be sure nor did I care for this name anymore). His personality and story was also completely different. Old Duffus was much more infantilized in a way that bothered me looking back. He was simply a bandit brute rather than a regular G03LM, and was overwhelmingly friendly but dumb. He met Douglas by simply getting lost, and followed him like a dog afterward. He was treated more like the comic relief of the group, and though I think there's always a time and place for that, here it just didn't come out good in my opinion. I'm thinking about going as far as allowing Duffus to view Douglas as a father figure, but I don't think going as far as it used to be was good at all. I'm glad I reworked him.

He is "PSQUAD2" in these old cutscenes.

Duncan

I believe Duncan's old name was Daryl, but I can't be sure, nor do I care because it's a dumb name. Old Duncan was a lot more one-note, mostly serving as the one logical thinking person of the group who pushes back against Douglas' insane ideas. He wasn't as aggressive as new Duncan is, as old Duncan was usually used as comic relief as well for when the other two would ignore his thoughts and thus get themselves in trouble/danger. I personally this his was the least developed, especially when you consider that his old backstory involved him just visiting the duo when meeting them for the first time for no good reason, really. Overall, he was just kinda meh back then.

He is "PSQUAD3" in these old cutscenes.

Overall, I love being able to go back and give new life to old OCs when my frontal cortex develops a little more LOLLLLLLLL

[nitrateglow]

Spooky Season 2024: 37-38

The Vanishing (dir. George Sluzier, 1988)

During a road trip through the French countryside, a young woman named Saskia inexplicably disappears at a gas station. Last spotted getting into a stranger's car, she is never seen again. For three years, her boyfriend Rex-- who had accompanied her on the trip-- is torn with grief and obsession, the uncertainty of Saskia's fate ruining his life. However, he is contacted by a person who claims to have been the man last seen with Saskia. He offers Rex a chance to find out just what happened that day, though the offer may be deadly.

I'm just going to be upfront: a movie hasn't disappointed me so much in a long time. The Vanishing is a beloved piece of work, often hyped to hell and back as the most chilling movie of all time. Stanley Kubrick allegedly thought it was the scariest film he'd ever seen. As a result-- and this is embarrassing to admit-- I was lowkey nervous about watching The Vanishing. I literally put off watching it for years.

Well, I finally saw it and... it's fine. A decent psychological film, but nothing I would deem a classic. I wasn't chilled and the ending-- which so many people describe as a sucker-punch-- well... I did not have the same reaction. The payoff didn't seem worth what struck me as a very tedious film.

I love me a good slow-burn, but this film's story didn't grip me like I thought it would. You're told who the kidnapper is from the start and the movie is more about learning WHAT happened than WHO dunnit. It's about the main character finding closure after this terrible thing happened to a loved one. He isn't even interested in getting justice, only getting knowledge. I love that idea and think it's a unique angle on this kind of thriller, but the execution was just lackluster. The characters are presented in a cold, emotionally detached way, and I didn't really feel much suspense, especially once the protagonist and antagonist started engaging in lengthy philosophical discussion. It's all very remote emotionally-- that's likely the director's intention but it just didn't work for me.

That being said, it's not like I hated this movie, because it does a lot well. The sociopathic kidnapper is especially interesting. He's presented as an unassuming family man and not an obvious creep, making his malevolence more chilling and believable. The creepiest thing in the movie for me was not the shock ending, but the scenes of the villain figuring out how to lure women into his car so he could sedate them with chloroform. The matter of fact presentation worked well there. (Also, his weird facial hair is terrifying enough on his own.)

Now, it could be I just hyped The Vanishing too much in my head. I was expecting something like Don't Look Now, a slowburn chiller about grief with a horrifying ending that stayed with me for days. That movie brims with passion though and this one is much icier. Now, that clearly works for most people. It just didn't click with me.

Pearl (dir. Ti West, 2022)

It's 1918 and Pearl lives a life of lonely tedium on a Texas farm with her German immigrant parents. Her mother is a harsh, cold taskmaster. Her father is paralyzed and borderline vegetative. Her husband is off to war. The farm animals are dying off and poverty lurks constantly. The one thing keeping her going is her dream of movie stardom. However, when this dream proves tougher to achieve than realized and her home life deteriorates even more, Pearl's sociopathy pushes her over the edge.

Tonally and visually, Pearl could not be more different from The Vanishing. The Vanishing is no frills and detached, while Pearl sports a Douglas Sirk color palette and boils its lead character's emotions to a fever pitch by the finale. Writing-wise, I was disappointed by both, largely due to pacing. The middle sections in both movies drag a bit.

However, I had a better time with Pearl and that goes down to Mia Goth in the title role. She is ASTONISHING, one of the best villain-protagonists I have ever seen. Her loneliness and desire to escape her bad home life make her understandable and even sympathetic to a degree, but she is still a dangerous character, unable to empathize with other people. At turns, she broke my heart and scared the shit out of me.

An important thing to note is that this is a prequel to an earlier film by the same director, X. I have not seen that movie and know basically nothing about it, other than it's a pastiche of '70s exploitation horror. That being said, I still thoroughly enjoyed Pearl and didn't feel I was missing any key information. It's a stylish, slowburn thriller and though the middle sags a bit, I would still highly recommend it.