#actually it kind of makes me twisted how insanely paralleled these shots are. like gripping at the walls

[lorillee]

[aivaehdaevis]

The More Things Change: Ch 5

The More Things Change

by Aivaeh

Disclaimer: Familiar characters, plot elements, and settings belong to L.J. Smith, Julie Plec, and the CW. The author of this work of fanfiction has made no money from it. Summary: I have no idea how it happened, but one morning I woke up in the world of The Vampire Diaries. Which, aside from the insanity of waking up inside a television show made real, might not be so bad—if I weren't stuck in the body of vampire magnet and doppelgänger herself, Elena Gilbert. Pairing(s): OFC x Damon, OFC x Stefan, OFC x Elijah, OFC x Klaus Rating: M Warning(s): Graphic descriptions of violence on par with the show itself. References to sex and drug use. Mind control and all the issues of consent that go along with it. Character death. Author's Note: I know there are a ton of these fics out there. Still I recently got into the show, and I can't get enough of these types of stories. The urge to write my own wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Hopefully someone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Master List External Links: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad

Chapter Five

I woke up in Elena's bed, drenched in sweat. The slanted ceiling occupied my blank stare for several minutes while I laid on my back. I was well and truly stuck. How?

There was no figuring it out. If the show were real, maybe this was some sort of parallel reality. Yes, because parallel realities—as opposed to just losing my mind—made perfect sense.

I covered my—or Elena's—face with my—or Elena's—hands and concentrated on breathing and not, you know, screaming. It took a while. The alarm clock went off.

Dragging myself out of the bed, I went on autopilot. Bathroom. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed. Makeup.

By the time I was finished putting Elena's hair up into a ponytail, I had a good hour before I'd have to leave for—ugh—high school. That gave me some time to snoop before anyone might expect me for breakfast. Not that Jeremy would care, but Jenna would probably notice if I skipped another meal.

I went to Elena's desk and pulled her laptop over. While her diary would probably tell me more about her, it felt wrong to dive into a teenage girl's private thoughts. Her search history was fair game, though.

What I found was that Elena spent a lot of time reading fashion blogs, following models and designers on their facebooks—when she wasn't looking over the hundred other pages of people she apparently knew—and browsing the online sites of high-end fashion stores. She also had a large collection of links to blogs by and for writers. A quick perusal of her drive revealed a folder full of original stories and poems. I didn't have time to read more than a few of the latter. While poetry really wasn't my thing, what I saw was pretty good.

She also had a bunch of pirated music and shows. Tsk tsk.

Shutting down the laptop, I sat back and thought. Far as fashion went, my knowledge was limited to reality game shows—and that was about it. I was going to have to be careful not to bring it up around Caroline or Bonnie, because I'd probably sound like an idiot. At least I had an idea of her taste in music and movies. We shared a love of Pop, which was good, though Elena had a more extensive collection of Indie rock. We liked a lot of the same movies and shows, too. Except she had a noticeable lack of horror in her collection which—was hilarious or sad, depending on how you looked at it, I supposed.

I had enough time for breakfast before I had to leave.

Jeremy's room was quiet as I walked by. I glanced at the door, at the sign warning others to stay out, and wondered if I should knock and see if he was awake. Elena probably would've.

But I wasn't Elena. I didn't know Jeremy beyond what I'd seen on television, and the kid was not coping with the death of his parents all that well. If such a thing could be said of any kid who'd lost their parents. He also probably knew his sister pretty damn well. I didn't want to risk saying or doing something wrong around him. Jeremy was clever. He'd put together the existence of vampires for himself. No need to go stirring up his curiosity if I didn't have to.

I decided to leave it to Jenna, his actual guardian.

Unfortunately, all there was of Jenna was a note on the fridge saying she'd had to leave early to work on research. I helped myself to some cereal and started a pot of coffee for Jeremy. Provided he ever woke up.

As the time crept closer to eight, and he still hadn't made an appearance, I muttered a quiet, "Dammit." After rinsing the bowel out in the sink, I made my way back upstairs and to Jeremy's door.

I knocked. "Jeremy?"

Nothing.

Blowing out a breath, I knocked harder. "Hey, Jeremy? It's getting kind of late."

"Go away."

Alrighty then.

I wandered back to Elena's room for her bag before going downstairs. I was about to head for the garage when I heard a car rumble up the driveway. Had Bonnie thought she still needed to pick me up?

Switching tracks, I went out the front door and into a neon-bright Virginia morning. This time, I locked the deadbolt behind me. Who knew what Jeremy was going to do? Shaking my head, I started down the porch.

Only to stop at the last step.

Damon. Seated behind the wheel of a top-down convertible. Lips already twisted into that ever-present smirk. He lowered his head until his eyes peeked over the rim of his sunglasses. "Morning Elena."

Leather creaked in my grip. Over my shoulder, the front door tempted me.

"C'mon. I'll give you a ride to school."

"I can drive myself." I'd never make it before he was in front of me. And he could get in.

His grin suggested that was the most amusing thing he'd ever heard. "Let me get this straight," he began before pulling off his sunglasses, "I am offering to take you to your little podunk high school in a classic american sports car, and you'd rather go in a—" he squinted, "Ford SUV."

Since there was no way to get away and I didn't want to keep shouting across the lawn, I walked from the sidewalk to the driveway. I stopped a good few feet from the car. "That's right."

Damon rolled his head back until it was resting against the leather headrest. "Hm." Icy eyes flickered down. "And where did that come from, I wonder?" he asked, staring at Elena's bag.

"Your brother," I bit off. "And he said he found it in the woods."

"Found it?" A side of his mouth crooked into a grin. "Good ol' Saint Stefan." He slung an arm across the passenger seat. "C'mon, Elena. Let me take you to school."

"No, Damon." I sucked down a breath and made for the garage.

And there Damon was, right in my personal space. "Wow. You didn't even take a moment to think about it." He leaned even closer, eyes big and intense. "That really hurts my feelings, Elena."

I gasped. Dry grass crunched as I stepped back. "Don't do that!"

"If you did what I asked, I wouldn't have to," Damon said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"You don't ask, Damon. You demand."

"Fine," he said in the surliest tone imaginable. "Elena," his lips stretched into a shape that technically met all the requirements for a smile, but was too grudging to truly qualify, "will you please," he pressed his hands together, "let me drive you to school?"

I squeezed the bag's strap. "No."

Damon's breath blasted through his nose. "You have to make everything so much more difficult than it needs to be, don't you?"

"I didn't ask you to come over."

"That's what makes it a surprise." His brows shot up. "Surprise!"

Lips mashed into a thin line, I glared.

"Fine. We'll do it the easier way." Ducking his head, Damon stare bored straight into mine, until I could make out the fine flecks of silver growing around his iris like frost crystals. His pupils contracted to points. "You want to ride with me to school."

Was he trying to compel me? "No, I don't."

He went still as night, pinning me beneath narrowed eyes. "You don't," he murmured.

The gentleness of his voice made the fine hair on my arms and neck stand on end. "No."

Damon's hand flew to his mouth, fingers rubbing across his lips as he stared. "Hm." His eyes were fever bright, like two chips of ice reflecting the winter sun. "Alright." His hand fell away. "We'll do it the hard way."

"What do you mean—"

"The blonde. Caroline, isn't it?" He smiled, and this time, it was closer to genuine. "She's cute."

My guts twisted.

"Mm. Yeah." Closing his eyes, Damon stretched his neck to the side. "I bet she'd like to take a ride with me." Eyes meeting mine again, he folded his arms and pursed his lips for a moment before wondering, "Or your other little friend. Bonnie." Damon's black shirt stretched as he shrugged his shoulders. "Personally, I could go either way."

Static filled my ears. Heart speeding up, my chest turned to ice that spread outwards all the way to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know what Damon had planned for Elena—for me—but I was pretty sure he'd do worse to Caroline or Bonnie. I knew what I needed to do, but it was hard. My knees trembled. I had to move, but every instinct in me screamed to stay. I was pulled in two directions, unable to move in either. I stood still and hated myself.

"Just tell me what you want from me, Damon," I asked—pleaded—quietly.

"I already have. This is not a difficult concept, Elena." His smile was all teeth. "I want you to get into the car so that I can take you to your boring little high school. And when you're finished, I want you to get back into my car, so I can take you home."

"Why?"

Damon shrugged again. "Because I want to."

It couldn't be that simple. Damon had to have some ulterior motive. I just couldn't figure out what it was. Unless toying with me was that fun to him. "You swear that's all."

"Mhm." He lifted his hand, two fingers up and the rest curled down. "Scouts honor." His grin returned with a vengeance. "You can do that if you eat one, right? It still counts?" At my horrified expression, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, ease up, Elena. Just a little vampire humor."

"Eating people. Hilarious."

"You'd be surprised. I'll tell you some stories sometime."

"Please don't."

"Spoilsport." He plucked his sunglasses from his collar and slid them on. "So, c'mon now. Wouldn't want to be late." His brows drifted up. "Unless you actually don't like your friends and won't mind if I eat one of them." His grin took on a sardonic twist. "And I'm not joking this time, bee tee dubs."

I sucked down a deep breath and managed to slide a foot towards the car. The second step was easier. The one after that even moreso, as if the momentum was building once I got going. So it went, until I had made it all the way to the passenger side of the convertible.

Damon appeared in front of me again, making me jump. He ignored my startled breath, opening the door for me. Peering over the rims of his sunglasses, he wiggled his brows. "Miss Gilbert."

If my heart kept jumping whenever he got near, I was going to have a heart attack before the day was out. I slid inside and let him shut the door. He appeared at the other side of the car. Sitting inside and pulling his door closed, Damon looked over and said, "Seat belt."

I pulled the strap out and buckled in, trying not to feel as if I were wrapping a chain around myself.

Damon grinned and started the engine. "Now this, Elena," he started before the engine suddenly roared, startling me into gripping the edge of the door, "is a nineteen sixty-nine Chevrolet Camaro." He shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. "Try not to look so terrified." He threw the car into drive and took off down the street. Even though we were just cruising down neighborhood streets and not going very fast, the wind still picked up. I was glad I'd tied Elena's long hair back into a ponytail.

"Can't imagine why I'd be scared. Who wouldn't love a joy ride with a psychotic vampire."

"This isn't a joy ride. You'll know when I take you on one of those."

I noticed he didn't dispute the psychotic part. And I didn't like his use of when instead of if. I hoped he was talking about the trip to Georgia he drags Elena on later.

He didn't have a modern stereo in his dashboard. Instead, it looked like the original radio that came with the car. It was tuned to the classic rock station. I was somehow unsurprised that Damon liked eighties hair bands. I tried to picture him with a mullet and nearly broke into peels of nervous laughter.

"Cute turtleneck." The high collar of my shirt pulled slightly out, right where I'd put a pair of band aids over the puncture wounds.

My heart rabbited. I jerked aside, slapping his fingers away before I could think better of it. "Don't touch me."

He smirked as he took his hand back, holding it up.

My heartrate stayed elevated. I leaned slightly towards the door instead of settling back into the leather seat. As the neighborhood houses morphed into brick storefronts, I wondered what the point of this was. Damon wasn't talking. He seemed content to just soak up the sun as he navigated the streets.

I wasn't about to break the silence. Who knew what he'd start talking about. One of his 'funny' stories?

I let out a relieved sigh as soon as the school appeared. Not that I thought Damon was taking me somewhere to murder me, really. He wouldn't have needed to leave the house for that. But it was still reassuring to know the ride was almost over.

The camaro purred like a sated tiger as it glided into the parking lot and rolled up the lane. Damon, arm slung over my seat and sunglasses on his face, soaked up the stares of the students like an attention starved sponge. I hugged my bag tighter. "See," he said as he pulled near the curb, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yeah. It's been great." I had my hand on the door handle as soon as the camaro rolled to a stop. "Bye."

His hand landed on my shoulder, a firm warning grip keeping me in place. Suddenly he was leaning into me, his face right next to mine. I stared, wide eyed, as his breath stroked my lips. He stayed like that for a moment and then, ever so slightly, tilted his head to the side and stared over the rim of his sunglasses at something behind me.

"Have a lovely day, Elena," he murmured into my ear. Straightening back into his seat, he winked.

As soon as his hand let go of my shoulder, I was shoving the door open and jumping out.

"I'll see you after school," he added as I shut the door. My answering glare bounced off his smirking face.

Head down, I quickstepped away. I was up onto the sidewalk when I heard the convertible's engine growl as he pulled away. Sighing in relief, I lifted my chin.

And immediately saw Stefan.

Jaw clenched, backpack strap straining in his white-knuckled fist, he glared at the shrinking camaro.

Damon had been taunting Stefan. Damon had threatened Caroline and Bonnie, manipulated me into getting into a car with him, so he could put on a show for his brother.

Bastard.

My anger started as a smoldering heat in the pit of my stomach, climbed up my spine and set my cheeks on fire. Flushed and quivering, I struggled against the childish urge to kick at something, shout at someone. Mostly a certain smug-faced blood sucker.

While I silently fumed, I realized that while Stefan may have been Damon's intended audience, he hadn't been the only one. Half the school must have noticed—or so it looked like from the crowd of teenagers who had nothing better to do than stand around and gossip.

Including Elena's friends. I could see Tyler and Vicki over on a nearby bench, watching me and trading words that made each other snicker. Matt was frowning from his spot beside his truck. Caroline had been holding court by the doors but was now marching across the grounds towards me. Bonnie, who'd also been arriving from the parking lot, was the first to reach me. "Who was that."

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Surprised, Bonnie fell in next to me as I headed for Stefan. "No, pretty sure I do."

I realized she wasn't going to let this drop. Why would she? Her best friend had just arrived with a hot mystery guy in an expensive sports car. "Damon Salvatore. Stefan's older brother."

"That's Stefan's brother?" She shook her head. "Wow. The gorgeous gene must run in the family."

"Yeah, well. He's nothing like Stefan. He's arrogant. Selfish. Cruel."

Bonnie's eyes widened with each cutting, nearly-spat out description. "Then how'd you end up with him?"

I didn't know what to say. Bonnie didn't believe her grandmother yet. At the same time, she'd have to work with Damon—would even one day become best friends with him. Say the wrong thing, and I'd poison the well.

On the other hand, Damon had threatened her, and she wasn't able to defend herself yet.

"Because he's good at getting what he wants," I sighed. "Try to steer clear of him, Bonnie. He and Stefan have issues. And he's not beneath using people. You don't want to get into the middle of it."

"But you're in the middle?"

"Apparently."

Caroline had reached us. I could see the questions forming as she took a breath to speak. "I thought you weren't going to need any more rides."

"So did I," I muttered.

Hands on her hips, Caroline ordered, "Spill."

"His name's Damon. He's Stefan's older brother," Bonnie answered for me. "And he's a jerk who we should stay away from."

She gave a disbelieving huff. "We should, should we?"

Oh no. "Caroline, he's bad news."

"Then why are you riding around with him?" Caroline demanded.

"Because he's using me to get to Stefan."

Caroline's lips mashed together before she said, "That doesn't explain why you got into his car." She turned suspicious. "Unless you're trying to make Stefan jealous?"

"I'm not," I said flatly. "There's nothing to be jealous of. Besides, Stefan and I are friends."

"Friends."

"I mean, we just met, but I'd like to be. I think we are. He agreed to hang out."

Caroline stared. "I don't even know where to begin," she declared, throwing her hands out to the side. She strode back to the small gathering of girls she'd been talking with.

Frowning, Bonnie and I shared a look. "She'll get over it," Bonnie soothed.

I grimaced and rubbed at my forehead. "I'm messing everything up."

"No. Care's being Care."

"I better explain things to Stefan," I muttered.

"Okay. Meet you at my locker?"

I nodded. Bonnie headed off to the doors, parting with an encouraging grin. I couldn't wait till she could give Damon aneurysms. It would make dealing with him so much easier. At least until he got over his fixation with Katherine and started giving a damn about Mystic Falls.

Stefan was seated on top of a picnic table that had been set up beneath a giant maple. Patches of sunlight and shadow flitted around him like butterflies. He'd had his head down in thought but straightened up as he noticed my approach.

His stare was searching, wandering all over my face. "Are you alright?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but then what? Stefan would try to enact his, 'Lock Damon Up,' plan early? All that would accomplish was getting Zach killed sooner than it had happened on the show. I don't think Zach had even shown him the room of vervain yet.

But Damon was a problem. Something had to be done.

I settled on saying, "Your brother is an ass."

Stefan cracked a slender little smile. It was the barest lift of his lips, but it eased some of the lingering anger from his face. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

Brows furrowed, Stefan glanced down. I remembered he did, in fact, blame himself for Damon. "But you're okay?"

"Aside from a bad case of windswept hair," I patted at the loose hairs that had fallen out of my ponytail, "I'm fine."

"Your hair looks lovely."

Fighting the urge to look away from the intensity of his stare, I swept a few of the strands behind my ears. "Well. It was a lot neater before Damon insisted on driving me."

That little smile ticked a bit higher. "I stand by my earlier comment."

Grabbing my upper arm, I turned to side to look at something other than his earnest, handsome face. I settled on the line of buses dropping students off.

"I looked for your phone this morning." Stefan said, drawing me back. "I'm sorry but I couldn't find it."

"Oh." I adjusted the bag's strap before letting my hand fall. "It's alright. Thank you for going to all the trouble."

He shook his head. "It wasn't."

"I guess I'll have to talk to my Aunt about getting a new one." That would be a fun conversation.

He nodded. I noticed the crowd of students around us were starting to thin out as more trickled inside. "I better go. I promised to meet Bonnie before class."

Stefan hopped off the table. "My locker isn't too far from yours. Mind if I walk with you?"

"'Course not."

As we walked, we talked about the reading list for our upcoming English class. We had both read everything on it, not that the news surprised me. He'd probably read most of it when it was originally published. Stefan and I went our separate ways once I met up with Bonnie, and after we headed towards my locker, went on to class.

The rest of the morning passed a lot like the first. Well, there was more discussion and lecturing. I knew the way to English and was able to find a better seat—which happened to be near Stefan and Caroline. A pop quiz in Biology really made me regret not doing the homework the night before.

Which led to History before lunch. Stefan again sat fairly close, and it wasn't long through the lesson that I was glad for it. The instructor was really on a tear about a Civil War battle called the Battle of Willow Creek.

After he'd subtly insulted Bonnie and Matt, it was my turn. "Elena. Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town's most historic events?"

I glanced down at the textbook, flipping through a few pages, skimming for Willow Creek. Would this even have been in the reading? I thought it was a general American History course. Was the Battle of Willow Creek so pivotal that it'd be in a standard textbook?

"Willow Creek?" I asked, squinting.

"Yes, Elena. It was fought right here in Mystic Falls."

Oh. Well then it must've been bullshit, because Mystic Falls wasn't a real place. Annoyed, I pressed my lips together before admitting, "I don't know."

"I was lenient last year, Elena. For obvious reasons." Oh. Wow. Right. This guy. "But that ended over summer break."

I wanted to ask if it was because her—my—parents magically came back to life, but I kept my mouth shut. Let the asshole dig his own grave.

Wait. Damon kills him. Bad metaphor.

"There were three hundred and forty-six casualties, unless you're counting civilians," Stefan interjected. And Stefan would know.

The whole class looked from him to the teacher. "That's correct. Mister—"

"Salvatore."

"Any relation to the original settlers here at Mystic Falls?"

I couldn't help but turn to watch Stefan, careful to keep my amusement from showing. He glanced aside before answering, "Distant."

Liar.

"Very good. Except there weren't any civilian casualties in this battle," he said before moving around his desk.

"Actually, there were twenty-seven, sir," Stefan corrected, halting the teacher in his tracks. "Confederate soldiers fired on a church. They believed it housed weapons. They were wrong." Stefan's voice was the embodiment of confident. No wonder. That was the night he was turned, and the other vampires entombed. "It was a night of great loss."

And then Stefan delivered the knockout. "The founder's archives are stored at Civil Hall if you'd like to brush up on your facts, Mister Tanner."

You could hear the 'ooo's throughout the room. The teacher, Tanner, could only respond with an attempt at a face-saving smile. Didn't work.

I glanced at my notes, grinning. That was beautiful.

Tanner flipped open his book. "Thank you, Mister Salvatore. Everyone, page thirty-three."

I flipped forward the required pages before peering out the corner of my eye. Stefan met my glance. His mouth lifted into that small smile I was really beginning to adore.

The rest of the class was filled with history that was actually covered by our textbooks. I made a mental note to memorize dates and figures. It seemed like he'd be one of those history teachers. I was good at the cause and effect when it came to history, remembering the context and environment and the events themselves, but I hadn't been wholly lying when I told Stefan I was terrible with numbers. I was horrible at remembering dates, too.

Wouldn't that make the rest of my time here fun. Monsters and sacrifices and homework. Oh my.

When the bell rung, I was happy to stand and get out of there. I waited just outside the door for Bonnie and Stefan. I didn't miss the look Tanner threw him as he walked out, either. Stefan had not endeared himself with that little stunt.

I remembered there would be another incident between them. Stefan rattling off dates, showing Tanner up again. Tanner wouldn't be a Stefan convert until he saw him play football.

And then Tanner would die.

My buoyed mood fell. If I knew about it ahead of time, did that make me responsible for it if it happened? This seemed like one of those Good Samaritan debates.

"Right, Elena?"

Bonnie and Stefan watched me with expectant looks on their faces. I had no idea what they'd been talking about.

I offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, can you repeat that? I kind of spaced out for a minute."

Bonnie's brows pinched together in concern. "I was telling Stefan he should join us for lunch."

"I don't want to intrude."

I wondered if he was being polite or looking for an excuse to go hunting. I decided to reassure him. "You wouldn't be intruding. But if you have other plans, that's fine."

"No." He shifted his bookbag higher up his shoulder. "I'd like to sit with you."

We headed to the cafeteria, picked our food up from the line and ended up at the same table with the same people as the day before, plus Stefan. Caroline made the mistake of asking Stefan about his brother.

"We don't speak." Stefan poked at his salisbury steak. I wondered if he regretted his choice to follow us.

"Ever?" Bonnie asked, surprised.

Stefan paused in his inspection of the food to look up and add, "Whenever we have to talk, we end up fighting." He accepted the packet of ketchup I handed to him and looked to Caroline. "Wherever my brother goes, someone ends up hurt. Take my advice and avoid him."

"Elena doesn't seem eager to take your advice," Caroline said.

"You should," he said quietly to me.

I folded my arms and stared down at the rest of my lunch, appetite gone.

Sensing the disquiet, Bonnie thankfully changed the subject back to classes. Which was how Stefan and I got back to our earlier conversation about books we'd read. That led to a discussion of our favorites. And while Elena was a Victorian romance lover, at least on the show she'd been, my tastes were more for modern historical romances and thrillers. Stefan and I got into a discussion of which was the better book: Red Dragon or Silence of the Lambs. I was firmly on the side of Red Dragon, he stuck with Lambs.

The rest of the day passed too soon. By the time the last bell rang, and I was done dragging my feet to my locker, it felt like only a few minutes had passed instead of hours.

Outside, the parking lot was filled with cars backing out and lining up for the exits. I scanned the front of the school, where a line of cars had parked along the curb in front of the entrance. Damon's car wasn't among them. I wondered if he'd forgotten.

I should have known better.

The distinctive growl of the camaro's engine came rumbling down the lane. He parked alongside the curb. The car's sleek sky blue lines gleamed in the sun. Damon's arm was draped over the wheel, his sunglasses tilted down as he met my nervous gaze. His lips curled.

I managed a tight smile at Bonnie. "See you tonight."

Bonnie, shielding her eyes against the sunshine, smiled back.

"Elena." Stefan placed a hand on my arm. "You don't have to do this."

But right as he said that, Caroline strutted past us and walked right up to the passenger door. "Hi. I'm Caroline. Elena's friend."

Damon tilted his head, sights roaming over Caroline. "Damon."

"This is a really amazing car," she said while leaning forward, forearms resting on the door.

"Why, thank you. It's nice to know there are people who appreciate her." His hand ran along the wheel with a lover's caress.

I rolled my eyes. I appreciated the car. It was the driver I had a problem with.

While Caroline continued to flirt, and Damon replied in kind, I met Stefan's concerned stare. "I kind of do." I mustered another smile for him. "See you at the Falls."

He nodded. I adjusted my bag's strap and, as if going into battle—which I kind of was—marched over to Damon's car.

Caroline was laughing at something Damon had said as I approached. Damon's sights flicked over her shoulder to me. He winked. I frowned.

"I like your friend, Elena," Damon called.

I fixed him with another unamused look before shifting my attention to Caroline. She straightened back up, smile stiffening as she regarded me. "So where are you going?"

"Home," Damon and I answered simultaneously.

I started, looking over at Damon. He turned his head to stare out the windshield. "I did say I'd take you home."

"Sounds boring," Caroline pouted.

Damon rolled back around. "So boring."

"You should come to the falls tonight," Caroline went on.

My eyes widened as I attempted to get her attention. "No way." At their combined stares, I forced my cheeks to pull the corners of my mouth up into something resembling a smile. "I'm sure Damon doesn't want to waste his time at some high school party," I tried to keep it light, but ended up sounding frantic.

"Don't be silly, Elena." His lips twisted. "I love high school parties." He focused on Caroline again. "You'll be there, won't you?"

"Obviously," she laughed. "I'm helping set everything up."

Of course she was.

"Then I'll definitely be there." His smile was a wicked thing. His sights shifted to me. "Better get going."

"Aw. So soon?" Caroline pouted.

Damon sighed. "'Fraid so. Elena made me promise. There and back." He crooked a finger at me.

My frown deepened, but I did as he bid. Sliding around Caroline, who glowed with triumph, I pulled open the car door and lowered myself into the leather seat.

As soon as the door was shut, Damon sent a sinful grin Caroline's way. "See you around, Caroline."

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, flicking her blonde curls back behind her shoulder.

Damon's grin widened before the engine growled and the car took off.

"You said you'd leave her alone if I rode with you," I accused as he swung into one of the parking lanes that headed back out of the lot.

"I didn't do anything. She came to me." Damon sighed. "These looks. They're a curse."

Sonofa—

"But don't let it be said I'm not a man of my word." I eyed him doubtfully. He lifted a hand. "I won't touch a blonde hair on her head. So long as you remain—" he pretended to think about it, "agreeable."

"Fine," I all but growled.

Damon turned out of the lot and onto the main road without signaling. "Jealous?"

"Concerned." I fell back against the seat and folded my arms. "Caroline doesn't deserve to be the rope in the Salvatore brothers' latest game of tug-of-war."

"There's a simple solution to that. Don't give my brother the time of day."

I'd rather not give him the time of day but had enough sense not to say it. "Why do you really want to go to a party full of drunk teenagers, Damon?"

"Because it's a party full of drunk teenagers." His eyes sharpened, like a pair of slate flints. "And I'm thirsty."

I swallowed and slid further down in the seat. "Please don't hurt anyone."

He hummed. "Hurting is kind of necessary."

"No, it's not. You could drink out of blood bags."

"And deny them to the poor soul who needs a blood transfusion?" His nose wrinkled. "Besides, blood tastes differently when it's been refrigerated."

"But you could do it."

He sighed. "I could. But why should I?"

"Because it's not right to attack people." I couldn't believe I had to spell this out.

Damon shrugged. "Don't care." He stretched his other arm out over the wheel before drawing his right back. "That's the best part about being a vampire, Elena. The old rules just don't apply anymore. Do what you want, whenever you want."

"And you want to hurt people."

"I want to quench my thirst." He glanced over. "I'm a vampire. I drink human blood to survive. It's natural."

"But you can do that without hurting or killing."

"But I don't care."

I thought for a moment, weighing the risk. But, hell, I had to push on his rusty moral compass at some point. "I don't think that's true."

Behind his shades, Damon rolled his eyes.

"I think you do care. You're just determined to pretend you don't."

"There's a switch we have. We can turn our emotions off like," he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, "that."

But I remembered the look on Damon's face when he'd finished feeding. How tender his gaze had been, his expression wistful as he lost himself to a memory. "Except you haven't."

"'Course I have."

"If that were true, you wouldn't care about what your brother thinks so much."

"We all have our hobbies."

"Say whatever you want, Damon." The car turned into Elena's driveway and idled. Damon lounged in the driver's seat, an arm stretched over the wheel as the other rested across his door. I took in the way his posture screamed indifference and saw it for the act it was. "But you don't fool me."

"Or maybe you want to believe I'm capable of caring whether people live or die to convince yourself I won't kill you," Damon suggested airily.

I forced myself to smile, even though he probably heard my pulse racing. "You say the sweetest things."

He turned his head and grinned. "See you tonight, Elena."

I worked to stay calm as I got out. His stare followed me all the way to the door. As soon as I was on the other side, I fell against it, sliding down to the ground, bag dropping beside me. He pulled out of the drive, and only once the rumble of his car disappeared down the street was I able to breathe freely.

Sinking my head into my hands, I wondered what I was going to do tonight. Both Salvatores at a party full of rowdy, drunk teens. Damon still trying to make life hell for Stefan.

It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

The Great ATOG Reread; Grey part 3

Well shit, the liveblogging is back. Why? Because the next arc is brutal and I will probably have a lot to say.

Oh by the way, I revised my plan for their problems (for instance, I decided to stop using those hashtags), so:

Blaine

Sidekick and everything involved, aka why not me? Why does my fandom fuck up for me?

Longing for something ‘normal’ and kinda regretting some of his choices.

Being afraid of himself and of what he’s capable.

Kurt:

Losing grip of his powers.

Afraid Blaine won��t love him anymore because he doesn’t long for ‘normal’

Chapter 7

Time for probably one of the biggest arcs ever. Even later, they still talk about ‘the bank’ (the Ghost vs. Karofsky) and ‘the bridge’ (the Illiad).

A baby gets kidnapped and they want the Ghost to meet them.

He can imagine if it was the other way around, and he knows - he knows even as it sucks under his stomach like a tide going out, what the hell do they want with him . . . ? He knows that Phalanx has the harder task here. He knows that he has to be the braver one, because he has to let him go. He doesn't know how he could watch him walk off into this alone. He kisses his hand, and watches his eyes, and his entire face twists with it all before he hangs his head, eyes closing, and nods his defeat. The Ghost lets go of his hands to run his gloved fingers through his hair, to hug him around the shoulders and whisper to his forehead, "Very brave soldier."

How can people still pit them against each other? They mean so much to each other.

As can Kurt-in-private, ignoring closed doors in the apartment and plucking safety pins from his sewing jar without even opening it. Blaine casually makes a shield-shelf for resting hot baking trays on when moving things around in the oven and Kurt doesn't even open the cupboard door when he knows where the exact jar he needs is; their powers are just there, to them, like breath, and yet how the world wants to make them work for every gasp they're allowed. It can't be fair to be so little allowed to simply be what's natural to you, can it?

Aside from all the heavy shit that’s about to go down, this is actually really interesting. When it comes to superpower, it’s all about saving people, fighting criminals, and coping, but it’s also about domestic shit. This is part of them. They cannot imagine living without it. That’s probably why they both fucking panicked the moment they lost their powers or when they thought they had lost them.

Back to action, it’s so fucking sick that this is all done by a fucking kid who got bored and just decided to almost kill thee people FOR FUN.

- and after a half-second's confusion the Ghost's heart goes, so suddenly, so small and tight with fear. It's not about him. That man in Greek armour, they don't want him. They want Phalanx.

This is kind of new, because before people have always hurt Phalanx in order to get to the Ghost (HE GOT SHOT), but oh how the tables have turned.

Which leads to Blaine regretting problem 1.

They don't even care about him. They asked for the Ghost. They didn't want the sidekick. And through the terror and the agony of waiting and the bitterness so black like something burned inside him he can't even find it funny that he's basically thinking, Why didn't someone kidnap an innocent baby to get a chance to murder me instead?

Be careful what you wish for, sweetie, because they’re coming to get you. And yeah, you’re about to almost die. You get the more in depth thing of his problem. It is caused by, to no one’s surprise, the team, aka Psyche. Then, it got refuted by his own fandom, and the Ghost’s. Is he starting to resent ‘Ghostlanx’ for this? Well, fuck.

Blaine basically lives in the fandom, he knows what they can do.

"There's no need for that kind of language." The voice of the kid comes from a little distance - another garage out there, presumably underground and hidden again. "There's no place for homophobia in our institution. We're very modern criminals." The Ghost swallows, and says through his throat too dry, "Equal-opportunity sociopaths."

This is so weird? He’s so against homophobia, so he has some sense and a kind of conscience, but he still decides it’s fun to almost kill FOUR people for fun. (I’ve come to the conclusion that Achilles is a victim too).

Something in Phalanx's guts has just stopped burning with all his unspent, unspendable rage and has gone so, so, so cold. Like deep ocean ice, like heavy, leaden mercury. Something so cold and so awful, as he doesn't understand, and then, slowly, as (oh god no, no, no) he wishes that he didn't understand.

Your knowledge of Greek Mythology started as a joke. You never chose your name and costume, so you never had a reason to be invested. But here you are. You understand. And oh how you wish you didn’t.

"I don't know! I just know that - god damn it." He drags his hands through his hair. "They say video games are a bad influence on people, Jesus. That baby could get killed because of a two thousand year old poem." Finn says, "What?" Phalanx looks up at him, and feels very, very alone. "I don't - suppose - you've read the Iliad . . . ?"

I have, actually, because of this story.

Chapter 8

  "Then quickly he reached his well-founded house       But he didn't find white-armed Andromache in the halls . . ."

And so it begins.

The guy currently guarding him, remote in one hand and gun in the other, says like he's genuinely curious, "Is it part of the gay thing, being good with babies?" "I think it's part of the being a mature and intelligent human being thing," the Ghost says, keeping Hector tucked close to himself, trying to ignore that lethal cuff around his pudgy arm with its one small flashing green light, letting him know that the electricity's still stored up and ready for them. "I suppose you wouldn't know anything about any of those things."

Look at that, the Ghost has some of Kurt’s snark.

He understands what's been done to him. He's less than a hero, less than a human, he's been reduced to less than a name, even; he is chattel. There's nothing he can do while they've got the baby's life to hold over him. They want to kill Phalanx. The Ghost they'll just sell, he means nothing to them but a price tag, and someone else -

You can actually parallel this to Schuester’s shit. They look past their humanity. Callum looks past the humanity of his four victims. To him, they’re characters in his play and New York is his stage.

Well, you picked the wrong stage.

Callum is probably the evidence of bullying gone wrong. Whereas I still think he should die, he’s a boy who’s too intelligent for the people in his class, and he probably got bullied because of his intelligence. 

Bullying in high school can fuck people up. Callum is an example, but so is the Ghost. Both of them are bitter. Both of them use large measures to cope. But whereas Callum lets his bitterness overtake him and wants to kill four people for FUN, the Ghost uses it to make sure no one has ever got to go through that.

He wants to beat him to death. If he survives that they'll shoot him.

This kid is planning on doing that or fun. Cause he’s an artist. Cause he���s ‘special’. He might’ve been once, but he no longer is anything important. I’m not like the Ghost or Phalanx. Sure, this kid is still human and shit, but he’s also nothing. I don’t have to care like the Ghost does.

Is this some kind of joke? Is this some kind of elaborate sick joke that's going to get them killed? Or is it - do they mean it? What if they think he means it? What if they're insane and they actually think he's an actual - an actual hoplite and all of this is just a way of getting to hi

Both. Callum thinks it’s all for FUN, but Parker actually thinks he’s Achilles.

But he's not the Ghost. That's been the problem all along. The Ghost knows himself, Kurt knows himself, and Blaine hasn't got a clue who he really is and if the only thing he can save the Ghost with is himself - how the hell does he know what he's worth, if he's capable of saving him, if he doesn't even know who he is?

Jesus Christ, Phalanx is on a rollercoaster of emotions, uh? First, it’s problem 1, now we’re at problem 3.

He’s not the Ghost. He’s capable of killing someone. He reminds himself that he’s almost killed someone once and wow, he admits to himself that he’s willing to kill. Now, he’s kind of high on emotions so he doesn’t care. He’s all like ‘fuck it I’m gonna kill a bitch’, but later, this will only make problem 3 bigger.

I guess the Ghost is also on a roll. The battle is about to start and Callum is still a psycho. He’s smart and he knows he ‘doesn’t have to do this’, which makes it more FUN for him. And because he knows that, he can undermine the Ghost’s attempts to help him.

He's cleared space around himself by flinging cars out of the way, Phalanx lands on clear road and the enormous man in bronze Greek armour, burning in the light of the rising sun, calls, "Hector of the shining -" Phalanx slams a shield into his head.

Seriously.

Phalanx is not fucking around.

Unfortunately, he is once again pushing himself to the limit. He’s very aware this is his first solo fight against a super, who’s also a monster. This Achilles is so strong, his shields can barely take it. 

This terrifies him, because they’re his shields - his everything.

He stares at the fight, and his cloak flaps and flies in the wind. "You wanted me to watch," he says, and he's so tired, so spent, so helpless, he feels like he's already fallen. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted me to stand and watch him get beaten to death." "Just trying to make things interesting!" "You are a sick self-absorbed little boy who has no clue what he's doing." he whispers in a rush, and hikes Hector higher in his arm, tries to catch some of his rattling, unwieldy cloak around him to shield him from the blast. His voice chokes him. "You wanted me to watch -"

You know, they meet a lot of villians in this story, but there are a couple or so that I want dead. No kidding. I am against violence and death penalties and that shit, but sometimes, this becomes the ultimate solution. Not many people in this fic ‘deserve’ that solution. 

Fuck, not even Schuester deserved that solution.

But Callum does.

Again, I’m not like them. 

And shit son, Phalanx is going to die. AGAIN. The how maniest time is this. Why does Phalanx always find himself in these situations. The press is here. The cops are here. But Phalanx is going to die. His shields aren’t working, he has nothing less.

As a reader, you know he won’t die.

But then again, Phalanx doesn’t know that and the fear is real.

The Ghost lowers his head, blinks and blinks to try to clear his eyes of the tears, looks down at the walkway they're standing on, the curve of the metal under his boots, the ridge where the huge tubes of metal are fixed together, held by - His breathing is still hurting him, but it's beginning to slow. . . . held by bolts so enormous that their heads are as thick as a baby's arm. There's no time to think, no time to question, no time to second-guess anything; he's invisible and dropping backwards, ghosting through the walkway, holding Hector's arm out as the baby yelps in shock, only one chance to get this right -

The Ghost isn’t a physical fighter like Phalanx. The Ghost thinks things through.

And for the first time ever, the Ghost killed someone. And I am very satisfied with the fact that he did.

Twenty seconds, Phalanx had thought; the Ghost drops him in ten. 

It’s over.

Oh God.

You just want to cry from relief, cause it is finally over. Hector is back to his parents (in a, uh, non-conventional way), Phalanx’s face is open and bruised, but he lives, Mike’s already waiting for him, Finn survived the bullet... it’s over.

But it’s not.

While Mike cleans up Blaine's bruises and cuts Kurt stands in the shower and cries, not because he just watched Blaine almost die because of him, not because he never meant for that boy to get electrocuted and fall, not because a baby could have died in his arms, not because that woman screamed at him that it was all his fault; he cries because when he reached for the shower gel his hand went right through it. He holds his hand in the other, fingers gripping it hard while it pretends innocence, pretends that solidity is nothing unusual to it, and he cries, and tells himself that he's just too tired, he's just too tired. There's Blaine to worry about. There's Blaine. He has to think about Blaine. Put your head up and let the water wash it all away. This time his fingers do close on the bottle, even if they are still shaking.

[kayskasmoviereviews]

Movie Review Catch-up for Fall 2017

I’ve had a busy semester and haven’t had time to review everything I’ve seen in quite a while. It’s been too long now for me to post individual reviews for each and every movie I’ve seen the last few months, but I’m going to post here a list of quick mini-reviews for each one I saw on DVD or streaming. I will later make individual reviews for those films I’ve seen in the theater this past semester. Here are the 37 movies I’ve seen outside the theater since my last update:

Split - M. Night Shaymalan is well and truly back with this fun, weird, twisted movie. I genuinely enjoyed it quite a bit, and was pleasantly surprised both by its overall quality and by its ultimate direction.

Murder by Death - Okay, so, yeah, Peter Sellers doing a yellow-face Asian caricature as the Charlie Chan-parody character is pretty racist, and definitely would not fly today. Still, this is a fun, funny movie with affectionate parodies of Poirot, Sam Spade, Nick and Nora Charles, Miss Marple, and other classic detective fiction characters. If you like Young Frankenstein, you’d probably like this movie too.

Metropolitan - Whit Stillman’s first film is a weird little delight. His gift for impossibly mannered dialogue and witty satire is fully evident from the beginning of his career. I wish this guy got the chance to make his movies more often.

Suzanne’s Career - I did not find Eric Rohmer’s second of the Six Moral Tales series as memorable as the first, The Bakery Girl of Monceau. In fact, I barely remember anything about this movie a few months after watching it. Ah well.

Starman - John Carpenter’s late-70s to early-80s run of films is one to be envied. He mastered so many different tones while generally staying within the rules of genre cinema - suspenseful in Halloween, horrifying in The Thing, campy and goofy in Big Trouble in Little China, satirical in They Live. Here he does sweet and romantic, and it works. Jeff Bridges’s performance as an alien is awesome.

Colossal - A sneaky, brilliantly written movie that at first seems like a fun mash-up of romantic comedy and Godzilla movie, but turns out to be something darker and more serious than that. A great example of a film built on a single, smart metaphor.

War on Everyone - This is a genuinely awful movie,which is a huge disappointment considering that the writer-director John Michael McDonagh’s previous film Calvary is one of my all-time favorites. I don’t know what went wrong here, but I hope McDonagh course-corrects.

Your Sister’s Sister - This is a cute, emotionally keen little indie drama. If you know who Mark Duplass is, you know the types of movies he does. This is one of them. Not the best example of the style he’s associated with, but a solid one.

Bob Roberts - This early ’90s political satire, written and directed by and starring Tim Robbins, is only kind of funny, but it’s insanely perceptive of how the American right manipulates and deludes people. It foreshadows the rise of Trump in many ways. It’s good enough to make you wish Robbins had more of a directing career than he’s had.

A Single Man - This visually stunning first film by the fashion designer Tom Ford centers on a melancholy performance by Colin Firth at his best. It’s definitely a movie for people who appreciate thoughtful storytelling and imagery.

Filth - Fuck this movie. It sucks.

Gerald’s Game - This claustrophobic thriller/horror movie makes the most out of its single main location and an excellent performance by Carla Gugino. This is a very solid Stephen King adaptation, and is consistently engaging for the way it constantly teeters on the edge of absolute horror.

Stray Dog - This early Kurosawa film isn’t his most exciting or visually distinctive, but it’s still a solid crime drama and a fascinating glimpse into Tokyo right after World War II. 

Incendies - This was the breakout film for director Denis Villenueve, who went on to direct masterpieces like Arrival, Blade Runner 2049, and Prisoners. It doesn’t quite have the stunning visuals of his later films, of course, but this drama benefits from an insanely strong script and storytelling. It hits you quite hard.

The Duke of Burgundy - This is a genuinely one-of-a-kind film. It’s a meditative, visually lush character study about two women in an intense lesbian S&M relationship. They live in a beautiful European countryside somewhere, in a society that apparently consists only of female entomologists. It’s truly weird. I was engrossed by it.

In the Loop - This acidic satire from Veep creator Armando Iannucci isn’t hilariously funny, but its jabs do land well thanks to an uncompromising performance by Peter Capaldi.

Man from Reno - Here’s an interesting oddity - a half-Japanese-language, half-English-language contemporary film noir about a Japanese novelist taking a vacation in San Francisco and getting caught up in a criminal’s web. It’s odd, stylish, and unpredictable.

Headhunters - This Norwegian crime thriller starts out promising to be an Ocean’s Eleven-style heist thriller about a smooth art thief, but that promise turns out to be a deliberate lie. What it actually is is a totally bonkers chase movie that turns out to be way more violent and chaotic than you were led to believe it would be. Highly recommended.

Meek’s Cutoff - I really liked this extremely slow-paced feminist anti-Western, but most people probably wouldn’t. The movie deliberately downplays everything you expect from the Western genre to instead focus on an unforgiving, harshly realistic portrayal of settlers who have no real idea where they’re going or how to get there. It’s up there with Valhalla Rising in terms of “this is how history actually would have looked and felt, and it kind of sucks” movies.

We Are Still Here - What at first poses as a quiet, “oh the ghosts are metaphors for something” quasi-horror movie takes a sharp left turn into full-blown, ultraviolent horror insanity. Kudos to the effects people, and to the actors for putting up with it.

An American Werewolf in London - I have to admit I was actually kind of disappointed by this one, given its minor-classic reputation. Sure, the werewolf effects are amazing, and Griffin Dunne is a ton of fun in a supporting role, but the romance is incredibly forced, and the story abruptly just ends on a really nothing note. The script needed more work in this case.

A Monster Calls - Beautiful, well-acted, incredibly moving drama about a boy facing the possibility of life without his terminally-ill mother. It made my friend Laura sob.

Lake Mungo - A genuinely spooky Australian horror movie posing as a documentary about a girl who haunted her family after her drowning death. This movie understands way better than most how to make something incredibly creepy without trying too hard.

Thesis - A gripping, quasi-Hitchcockian Spanish thriller about a film-studies student who discovers the existence of a snuff film in which she knows the victim. The ending does feel a bit disappointing, but the build-up is superb.

Wes Craven’s New Nightmare - This is the only Nightmare on Elm Street movie I’ve seen besides the original, and it’s pretty fun. The metafictional concept for the movie - Freddie Kreuger breaks out of the movies and into “the real world,” targeting the actress who played the heroine of the first movie - is very clever and thoroughly integrated into the entire story. The scares and special effects are mostly fun. My only problem, oddly enough, was that Freddie himself wasn’t really characterized enough.

Stretch - I can kind of see what Joe Carnahan was going for here, but the end result just kind of sucks.

My Life as a Zucchini - This is a beautifully animated, sweet, moving film about orphans. Despite the cute stop-motion style, the film is honest about the pain and trauma its characters experience.

Trick ‘r Treat - This campy little anthology horror movie doesn’t add up to much more than some creative special effects, a fun monster character, some darkly humorous scenes, and an overall feeling of mischievous fun, but that’s fine. I think the film largely does what it sets out for, and it eventually led the director to the superior Krampus.

Dark Star: H.R. Giger’s World - This documentary captures the surrealist artist H. R. Giger in the final year of his life. Giger was best known for designing the Xenomorph creature in Ridley Scott’s Alien, but he produced decades’ worth of dark, unsettling art on either side of that film. The movie doesn’t follow a standard biographical format, but gives you a thorough look at his late life.

Dragon - This is a visually engaging, exciting, often funny martial-arts/detective film starring the great Donnie Yen and Takeshi Kaneshiro. It’s an oddball film, and the ending may not be satisfying for some, but I quite enjoyed it.

Gremlins - Somehow I had never seen this wonderful little horror-comedy classic before, but I finally did on Thanksgiving. The story is only serviceable (I can barely remember the protagonist now), but that’s fine, because this movie is all about them gremlins. And boy, do they gremlin it up. It’s just so much fun, of the kind you only really find in those pre-CGI ’80s movies.

Stations of the Cross - This intense, aesthetically rigorous German drama about a fanatical Catholic teen is a harrowing and moving experience. The movie is made with only 14 individual shots, each of them lasting for quite a long while, and each scene paralleling one of the stations of the cross from Jesus’ crucifixion. Not light, obviously, but a great film.

Henry Fool - This strange, novelistic comedy-drama from ’90s indie filmmaker Hal Hartley is a weird, mannered, sometimes-ironic, sometimes-not study of the relationship between a pretentious would-be artist and a garbage-man who might actually be a great poet. There are tons of jarring tonal shifts and out-of-the-blue incidents in this film’s long run-time, yet it all feels of a piece, somehow. 

Knights of Badassdom - I liked the premise of this film, and I’m convinced a good movie could have been made with the same premise (and even some of the same cast), but this one ain’t it. The end product is sloppy and tonally adrift, and the ending in particular is incredibly stupid and unsatisfying. I wish this movie were way better than it is.

Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry - This is an intimate documentary about the contemporary Chinese artist, activist, and social-media personality Ai Weiwei. The movie follows him in the creation of some of his art pieces, his encounters with Chinese authorities, and his attempts to communicate with the people of China. I came away from the movie very persuaded of the social value of Weiwei’s efforts to stand-up to the repressive communist regime in China, but less persuaded about the intrinsic interest of some of his art.

Phoenix - This stylishly-made German drama in some ways replays Hitchcock’s Vertigo in 1946 Berlin. The film follows a Holocaust survivor (Nina Hoss) who, apparently rendered unrecognizable by facial reconstructive surgery, is recruited by her unwitting husband (who may have betrayed her) to pretend to be...herself. It’s like Hitchcock without as much suspense or immediate danger. The ending is excellent.

To Have and Have Not - As others have pointed out, this 1944 Humphrey Bogart movie in many ways plays like a rip-off of a certain 1942 Humphrey Bogart movie called Casablanca. I mean, in both films, you have Bogart playing a cynical American ex-patriate living in a foreign location and getting roped into schemes to smuggle French resistance fighters under the nose of corrupt local authorities at great risk to himself, while falling in love with a woman. There’s even a piano player featured prominently in both. Ultimately, this movie isn’t as good or as memorable as Casablanca, but then most aren’t. On its own terms, it’s still quite a solid film. Bogart’s as appealing as ever, and Lauren Bacall oozes sexy confidence. Walter Brennan is pretty fun in a supporting part as well.