#if hes ever on the lam...he can crash at my house..

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Boss Tweed -

Up in Central Park (1947)

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons

the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS

or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam

how they got away from the valar:

námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night

manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?

eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except

olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë

-

[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]

elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby

i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful

the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil

[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]

you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise

[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]

tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]

-

the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend

the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’

sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves

first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke

at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’

as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze

‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’

(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)

-

fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!

fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!

fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!

fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...

celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck

fëanor: has gone completely still

fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life

fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[aliceat97point3]

Extremely Short Reviews of Many Matthias Shchonaerts Movies (part 1)

I was gonna make a youtube series out of this but it turns out I don't wanna do it anymore.(shrug) I think I might have posted part of this last year some time I honestly can’t remember.

this post is gonna be hella long

A Little Chaos

Watched 5+ times honestly i’ve lost count

Sweet movie set is old timey France before all the beheadings. Matthias is Andre, the head gardener for The Sun King (i can never remember what number Luis he is) and Kate Winslet plays Sabine (this made kid au's very confusing at first in the Book of Nile chat) who is a gardener who builds an outdoor ballroom.

Highlights include but are not limited to:

Stanley Tucci as a Sassy Bi Prince

A brief but awesome glimpse into Noble Women Sisterhood

Andre's general sub-iness

they kinda gloss over it but if Andre doesn't get this done soon and at least close to within budget he might be executed, imprisoned or banished. So the stakes are a little higher than they seem.

Recommend to: Anyone who likes Romance, gardens, slice of life media, and Rococo aesthetics.

A Bigger Splash

Watched 5 or 6 times maybe

Tilda Swinton is a female David Bowie who's lost her voice, Matthias is her photographer boyfriend, Ralph Fiennes is TildaBowie's extremely annoying ex, and Dakota Johnson is his daughter that he just met last year. Ralph and Anastasia show up unexpectedly to crash TildaBowie and Matties vacation, drama ensues. You might want to order/make some light summer Italian food in case you're easily influenced by on screen meals.

Highlights:

Matthias in summer beach wear and lots of sex scenes.

Him and TildaBowie are an adorable couple.

If you ever wanted to see Voldamort naked this movie has that.

My personal HC that Dakota's character Penelope is actually Anastasia Steele, and her thing with Christian is an extremely long con. Maybe Penelope is her middle name.

Recommended for: ... I honestly don't know... People who like dramatic tension and can stand Ralph being annoying for 90% of the movie.

Rust and Bone

watched 4ish times

Not sure how to describe this one. "Put in charge of his young son, Ali leaves Belgium for Antibes to live with his sister and her husband as a family. Ali’s bond with Stephanie, a killer whale trainer, grows deeper after Stephanie suffers a horrible accident."~ Letterboxd summary

Highlights:

lots of good sex scenes but, Ali is kind of a dick especially to his kid.

I got very stressed every time he's in charge of Sam, his kid, because it never ends well. They're relationship really goes downhill once they get to his sisters.

Stephanie's visit to the Whales is really moving. worth watching just for that.

I love how deep Ali's sister's voice is.

Recommended for: people who love ethical dilemmas and/or philosophical questions also for anyone who wants to listen to french.

Not Recommended for: People who like kids a lot.(This is one of my least favorite of the bunch for that reason)

Mustang

Watched 1 1/2 times (once all the way through, plus 2 attempts at rewatching)

Roman is an inmate at an american prison in the southwest. He gets into a horse training rehab program and Some heartwarming stuff happens and some dramatic stuff too...  I’m not the person to talk about this one. For some reason it was really hard to get into for me. It’s definitely worth a watch though. Had interesting points about the american prison system, the damage it does to families and what it means to want freedom.

Highlights:

Matti’s at his most tank like in this if you’re into that

Horses!

the shower scene

Recommended for: Horse lovers and anyone who wants to introduce the idea of prison reform to conservative family members.

Far From the Maddening Crowd

watched 3 or 4 times maybe more

Everyone’s favorite farm boy Gabriel Oak is in house!!!

This one is in Old Timey England. Bathsheba lives with her aunt on a farm neighboring Gabriel’s land where he farms sheep. Gabe proposes to Bathsheba with a lamb but she says no. So he goes back to his farm but unfortunately Gabe is bad at training his new herding dog and when the worst happens (you’ve gotta watch it, it’s insane!) he has to sell off everything and wanders the countryside looking for work. Meanwhile Bathsheba inherits a large working farm from her an uncle goes there a fire breaks out and who turns up to put it our? Gabriel Oak!!

And that’s the first 20 minutes or so of the movie. So Fucking Much Happens in this movie! mostly because even though they call the source material a novel it’s actually the literary version of a tv series with chapters published in a magazine each month which explains all High Drama that happens. The cliffhangers are just too extra to be anything else.

Highlights:

one of the love interests is that angel from good omens that everyone seems to like (i haven’t seen it yet)

Gabe plays with a dog and is literally the happiest i’ve ever seen matthias in a movie

Bathsheba’s maid/companion is a delight!

I’m 90% sure Mathias stole the hat he wears in this.

Descent amount of flirting scenes

Soliderboy’s utter nonsense. mofo thinks it’s not gonna rain in England.smh

Recommend for: Historical Drama Lovers.

Bullhead

watched 3 times

This one was a surprise because I thought I would hate it but it turned out to be one of my favorites.It’s a really well balanced well paced film. I’ll never watch it again because it’s pretty fucking heavy but Highly recommend it.

Matthias plays Jacky a dude in the Belgian Beef industry mafia...I don’t get it either but apparently it’s a real-ish thing. Jacky has trauma. This movie a few intentionally homophobic moments that help the story but when I watched the making of video, it turns out that the filmmakers made Jacky’s childhood best friend gay because they thought it would explain why he is cowardly...so fuck that.

Highlights:

Jacky being awkward

one of the few feature length movies of his in dutch that’s fairly easy to find state side.

good balance of humor and drama

Recommended for: Anyone who wants to check it out.

Left Bank

watched twice

A runner moves in with her new boyfriend and things happen. I don’t know how to describe this one without spoiling it for you. This is 100% my favorite movie of his. I love this movie so much! It’s a slow burn supernatural mystery that becomes more and more like a fairy tale the longer it goes. If you like that kind of thing and get the chance to see this one give it a go. But it is hard to find.

Highlights:

Top notch sex scenes

Everyone’s mild reactions to Marie’s increasingly terrible knee injury including her own nonchalance about it.

Bobby transformation from perfect boyfriend to euro trash fuck boy is oddly fun to watch.

The ending is so perfect for me. just deep enough to make me feel smart and cultured for getting it.

Recommended for: People ok with mild to moderate body horror...because of the knee.

The Old Guard

watched 5+ times

The reason i started this stupid endeavor of attempting to watch the entirety of Matthias’s filmography. I was going to it with each of the five main actors but Matthias broke me so now I’m writing this and I’ll never attempt to do such a thing again.

Old Guard is the best action movie I’ve ever seen. I love this move, I love how none of the fight scenes are filler. I didn’t skip or zone out of any part of this movie. That’s rare for me with action movies. I love how the old guard are a Found Family. I love all the hugging! I love all the gayness! I Love This Film! 2nd only to LeftBank.

Highlights:

Nile is an AWESOME main character: Badass Marine + Art History Nerd + Believable Sass = Our Baby Immortal Who Comes From Warriors

Immortal Husbands( Nicky and Joe)

Immortal Wives (Andy and Quyhn)

Lykon’s ray of sunshine deleted scene (find it on youtube)

Booker you beautiful depressed bastard

The Loft

(gif by @gracesledomas )

watched 2 times

During the Great Recession 5 assholes share an apartment to save money while cheating on their spouses. then one of them kills a girl there. That's the movie. These guys deserve every bad thing that happens to them in this movie.

Highlight (singular, just one)

Matthias's charterer has a scene that is so heart-wrenching that I momentarily forgot the woman he raped was still handcuffed to the bed just off screen!!!

Close Enemies

watched 3 times

Matthias plays Manu, a drug dealer who is having a truly shitty week. His former best friend is a cop who wants him to...for lack of a better term, be a snitch. To get the deeper level of this movie you might need to do a short google on racism and assimilation in France /Paris but you might be able to pick up on that without the google now that I've pointed it out.

Highlights:

Manu and his son are too cute

First 15 minutes of the movie is just Manu having a good time with his buddies.

recommended for: people who like modern gangster flicks (although technically they aren't a gang)

[jobean12-blog]

Beefy Bucky impaling you on his (undoubtably large) cock on top of his motorcycle + reader has been doing workout outs that fill out her ass a ton and this is the first time buckys seen the progress in weeks(prob cus of a mission)

The Ride of Your Life (Pain in the Ass part 2)

Parings: Beefy Bucky x reader 

Word Count: 1,572

Summary: Bucky has been gone on a mission and while he was away you have been working on getting your ass to be as perfect as his (even though he already thought it was) and he takes notice of your hard work….

Author’s Note: This was such a fun request, thank you anon, I may have gotten a little carried away here but I can’t help myself, beefy Bucky is my weakness and I decided to have him with the shorter floofy hair and full beard and well…that is my ultimate weakness. I hope you enjoy it! I also combined it with an awesome request from my girl @lollypop-lam because it just worked so well! Thank you both

Warnings: SMUT, filthy smut, cursing, light choking, beard kink (18 + only please ;)

The air in the garage was cool but it did nothing to quell the heat that washed over your skin as you took in the sight of Bucky; dark jeans that fit tightly over his thick thighs and a greasy white tank top that clung to his body from sweat and showed off every chiseled inch of his arms, both flesh and metal. Your mind wandered to thinking about how that metal arm would feel refreshingly cool as it wrapped around your throat, a gentle squeeze with just the right pressure to have you…”hey, doll, where did you go,” Bucky asks, effectively snapping you out of your lust filled haze.

You give him a wicked smile as you saunter over, running your hand across the soft leather of the motorcycle seat, “what are you working on baby?” you ask, hip cocked and resting against the side of the bike. “I was working on changing the oil but now there is definitely something else I’d rather be working on,” he says, voice low as he slowly peels off his gloves, smoothing his hands over your curves.

“Wow, doll, I’m loving you in these tight pants, they really show off your beautiful shape,” he says as he brings both hands around to your ass to give it a hard squeeze. You lean into his chest, intoxicated by his scent, “well I’m loving this beard thing you have going on, didn’t get much of a chance to shave on that last mission huh?” you ask him as you stroke the soft hair on his face. He gives you a sly grin, answering with “pretty much and now that I know you like it, I don’t think I’ll shave it any time soon,” as his hands find their way under your shirt to touch your heated skin.

Your breath hitches and you shiver with anticipation, the low growl he lets out only fueling you on, “you should definitely leave it, I’d love to feel it between my legs,” you tell him, nipping at his plush bottom lip. In the next second he is devouring you, all tongue and teeth as he kisses your mouth, along your jaw and down your neck, your body arching into him as if he is the air you need to breathe.

“I missed you so much baby girl, I hate being away. So many nights I spent thinking about you, this body and what I want to do to you,” he whispers into your ear, carefully pulling your shirt above your head and groaning at the sexy lace bra you have underneath. “Isn’t this something pretty to look at,” he croons, tugging on your nipples through the fabric, pulling a wonton moan from your lips, “but nothing compares to what’s underneath,” he adds as he expertly undoes the clasp and carefully pulls it off to hang it over the handlebars of the bike.

Your nipples pebble in the cool air, a hard contrast to your skin that feels as if it’s on fire and you grab his metal hand to bring it to your breast and he massages the soft tissue, dipping his head down to the other, running his tongue over the hardened bud.

You’re thankful for the motorcycle holding you up, sure that your legs would give out otherwise as he continues caressing your breasts, the wetness between your legs now soaking through your panties. He pulls away, throwing one leg over the seat of the bike and picking you up to place you on his thigh. You immediately react to the friction, rubbing your core along the hard muscle of his leg, groaning at the feel and grabbing onto his shoulder to maintain your movements.

“Fuck baby girl, I love to see you ride my thigh, I love how wet you are and I’ve barely touched you yet,” he growls deep, hands tight on your waist as he guides you along his thigh. Just as the tension becomes overwhelming and you feel your stomach begin to tighten he lifts you off his leg and sets you down on the seat of the bike, saying, “I recall you saying you wanted to feel my beard between your legs, doll, I want you to soak it when I make you cum with my mouth.”

You nearly finish at the sound of his words, the thought of him between your legs sending a new wave of wetness down your thighs as he delicately rids you of your pants, brushing a metal finger along your clothed and soaking pussy. You cry out, the stimulation too much and Bucky stands, placing soft kisses up your chest and neck, gently cupping your jaw as his mouth moves languidly against yours, “I can’t wait to taste you, baby,” he says before moving back down your body and kissing the inside of your thighs.

He slowly slides your panties down your legs, hanging them on the handlebars next to your bra and you’re now bare before him, legs spread and chest heaving from panting so hard, “now if this isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says as his hot breath fans over your pussy. You grab his hair, the soft locks easily gliding through your fingers, and bring his face closer, silently pleading for him to put his mouth on you. He reaches his hands around to your ass, kneading the soft curves beneath his fingers, “I’m getting the perfect handful back here baby and I love it, whatever you’ve been doing is working, your ass is better than ever and it was always perfect,” he says, voice full of praise.

Bucky wastes no time, lightly dragging his tongue up your folds and over your clit as your legs clamp around his head and he moans into you, “fuck, Bucky, just like that, please, don’t stop,” you plea, hands still grasping his hair. Driven by your words he sucks on your clit, sending electricity through your body and as he lightly flicks it with his tongue your orgasm crashes over you, your stomach tight and your legs shaking around his head.

Bucky finally pulls away after essentially licking up every drop of your juices and your eyes meet his as you note his glistening lips and beard before he leans down to give you a kiss filled with the taste of you. “I’m not done with you yet, doll, let’s go for a ride,” he says, eyes mischievous as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down with this boxer briefs and you help him out of his tank top.

You drink him in, his perfect body on full display and you lick your lips at the sight of his beautiful cock, pink and hard against his sculpted abs, “keep looking at me like that, y/n, and this will be over sooner than we want,” he smirks, both of you knowing his stamina never lets you down.

He straddles the motorcycle, grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him, his cock sitting right at your entrance and you dig your nails into his back knowing what is about to come. Bucky easily lifts you, eyes never leaving yours as he lines you up with his cock and brings you down hard causing both of you cry out at the feeling. “Fuck me, baby girl, you’re so tight around me, feels fucking perfect,” he moans, lifting you all the way back up and slamming you down again.

You can barely see straight, his cock stretching you to the point of just the right amount of pain melded with pleasure and his grip on your hips is bruising as he fucks into you relentlessly. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the garage, mixed with your load moans and Bucky’s grunts, neither of you paying any mind, completely lost in each other.

His hands find your ass once again, grabbing the pliant flesh and massaging, now using it an anchor to continue thrusting into you, his lips finding yours as he drags his teeth over your bottom lip and sucks. You remove his metal hand from your ass and bring it to your throat and he instantly knows what you want, a growl escaping him as he tightens his hand just right, sending a jolt of pleasure to pulse between your legs.

“Oh god, Bucky, I’m gonna cum,” you scream, head falling to his shoulder as your pussy clenches around him and your body writhes above him, drenching his cock with your juices. He thrusts into you several more times, the look on his face euphoric as he lets go and you feel his cock throb inside you as he cums.  

You sit on the bike for what feels like forever, his softening cock still inside you, bodies slick with sweat and slumped together, “fucking incredible, doll, you’re fucking incredible,” he says before delicately removing you from his lap. You can’t help but giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and telling him, “that was the best ride of my life, I definitely have the best seat in the house.” His grin widens as he hoists you into his arms, moving toward the door, “where are we going, baby, we’re completely naked,” you screech as he kicks the door open with this foot, “to take a shower, I’m ready for round two,” he answers, running down the hall to the bathroom.

@annavega333 @beckzorz @buckmesideways22 @buckysbrat @book-dragon-13 @cametobuyplums @collinsstanharbour @chuuulip @cchellacat @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @jewels2876 @jewelofwinter @loricameback @lancetuckershairgel @littledarlinhavefaithinme @marvelous-meggi @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @stuck-y-together @spacemansam @southernbell91 @sallycanwait68 @tranquil–heart @sebastiansloserclub @suz-123 @kilyra

[deadrcbins]

Oneshot Requests! (Bonus: Jeffmads headcanons!)

Yeah, I’m pretty imitable and unoriginal. Sorry, Aaron. Anyway, like a majority of the fandom, I’m making Hamilton one shots! I take requests, I’m great with any angst, no smut, and I’m great with fluff, as well! 

(The cover is John Laurens approved, even though he preferred birds to turtles, the background looked nice.)

SO, onto ships!

I do:

~Jeffmads, since that’s my OTP

~Lams, since it’s also OTP

~Mullette, because it’s OTP in the fandom and in my heart

And literally ANY other ship in the fandom. ANY. If I name them all, I can go on for days!

The exceptions are incest between the Schuylers, and Washette/Whamilton unless there’s no age gap. 

Anyway, thank you so much for reading!

PLEASE NOTE THAT I’LL DO HEADCANONS BEFORE I DO MY ONESHOTS! THANKS!

~

Jeffmads Headcanons:

Let’s start with Madison:

How do they react to a breakup?

James will usually cry a lot and shut himself inside the house for a bit until Thomas comes over and forces him into a Disney movie marathon, complete with ice cream, pillow forts, and a lot of blankets. Of course, this was before Thomas and James professed their undying love for each other. He also becomes very moody and becomes the ULTIMATE emo kid, often dressed in dark and everything. He’ll also contemplate what he did wrong in the relationship and wallow in his self-pity for a bit. This span stretches out for two weeks before he’s back to normal, and so far, he’s only had two breakup episodes.

What would they do if they caught their soulmate cheating?

James’ entire world would crash down. Everything falls out of orbit, and it’d be exactly his worst fear. Thomas is a real good-looking guy...why would he even want to be with James when there are so many other people much more impressive than James? He’d definitely fall into depression. It’d be horrifying for him. Life’s colorful palette would surely turn monotonous. 

Would they leave in the middle of an argument?

No, never. Thomas and James have an envious relationship with each other, and it never becomes that extreme. They’ll talk it out and compromise when it gets to this point. This is quite seldom, though, and over odd issues. 

“Tommy! You’ve burned my favorite pan! Now my omelette won’t taste as good!”

“Buy a new one, then, Jemmy! That YouTube video was so hard to follow!”

Would they make up after a huge argument?

Most definitely. They’re a power couple, a force to be reckoned with!

If James would break up with Thomas, for what reason would it be?

Thomas is too easily jealous of anyone even looking at James the wrong way. He’s a bit clingy, as well. Also, Thomas ends up in a lot of fights with Hamilton, and James gets worried for Thomas’ safety. Gremlin though he may be, he also went to summer military academy, so Hamilton is stronger than he lets on. Thomas has height and build, but can’t channel much of it.

Moving on their S/O?

Jemmy would be horribly depressed, but life has a way of moving on whether you wish to or not. He’ll most likely never find passionate love again, and Thomas remains etched into his memory for life.

Emotions while arguing?

Mostly irritation and annoyance, and afterward, regret and sadness.

How do they and their S/O deal with loss?

It was Thomas who experienced loss, between losing his father at fourteen, and Martha Wayles, his high school sweetheart. James comforted him both times. Madison lost his grandmother to cancer a few years back, and he immediately fell into a grievance for months. His grandmother was his only confidant after Thomas left for Paris, and it disheartened him greatly. He’d never felt so alone in the world, and on top of that, while Thomas was gone, James’ parents pressured him in the first place to go to that highly competitive boarding school for the gifted and talented. He developed his anxiety and anxious introvertedness (Is that a word?) that would plague him for quite a while after. He fears not being good enough, and he constantly feels incompetent and unimportant, despite Thomas’ protests. He kept a secret from Thomas. He tried to take his own life. He stopped hurting himself after Thomas and James got together. 

Biggest regret? 

James’ biggest regret was not being able to maintain the best relationship with his grandmother, who was the one pillar in his life, as he lived with her for two years while James’ parents sent him off to school two hours from there, in the same town Gramma lived. 

Thomas’ Headcanons:

How do they react to a breakup?

Thomas has only been in two relationships before James. Before he met Martha, there was this girl named Sally who dumped Thomas for someone named William Clark. He was depressed, quiet, reserved, and sad for a week with Sally gone, and he was horribly self conscious about his tics, he was fidgety, too. It was horribly out of character, and even Hamilton bought Jefferson a cupcake. He compared himself to everyone else for ages after that. Luckily James was great at comforting, and he was so kind to Thomas afterwards. James made Thomas Mac ‘N’ Cheese and they both pranked Hamilton secretly just for fun, He bottles his emotions until the last day of his phase, then cracks. The next day, he’s back to normal.

Would they ever leave in the middle of an argument?

Again, no, never. Thomas might get stressed out trying to compete with Hamilton at work and work itself, and/or might have had a bad day occasionally, so he’ll be extra moody those days. James knows that he’s anxious about something, so he tries to give Thomas space those days, often reading or watching TV or doing something quietly until he cools off.

Would they make up after an argument?

Most definitely. Thomas is a little puppy. He’ll always come back, loyal and a tad clingy. They enjoy talking out their issues and compromise. 

If Thomas were to break up with James, for what reason would it be?

Thomas loves James and you cannot convince anyone otherwise. Cons

Moving on from their S/O?

Thomas actually had to do this with Martha. In the beginning, it was difficult, and he fell down a vortex of emotions, feelings he wasn’t used to feeling, and like with Sally, Hamilton tried his hardest to console Thomas so that they could fight again. Thomas hates being alone, and losing James as well...it’s unimaginable.

Emotions while arguing:

First, it’s annoyance and irritation, then guilt and sadness. 

How do they and their S/O deal with loss?

It was Thomas who experienced loss, between losing his father at fourteen, and Martha Wayles, his high school sweetheart. James comforted him both times. He likes to keep it private, you won’t even know he cried. Mostly his way of accepting is helping and comforting other people, and shuts his emotions and mourns privately.

What is their biggest regret?

Not getting to say goodbye to his father and Martha, who both died in car crashes. Martha died, she was going with her friend Merida, who survived, on their way to A La Mode, and Peter, Randolph, and Thomas were involved in a car crash the year before, after coming back from a guys’ day out fishing trip. He feels he distracted the drivers both times and deaths were his fault, though it wasn’t. Thomas rode shotgun, giving him his cane, and Randolph had his spleen removed. Elizabeth, their sister who had autism and brain trouble, went crazy after hearing of the crash and refused to sit in a car. They give her Benadryl or sleep medicine. now for necessary trips. A secret Thomas kept from James was that he failed a suicide attempt, but doesn’t self-harm anymore after James and himself got together. Little did he know, while he was in France...James, ever depressed, tried the same thing.    

[fakemuggle529-blog]

"HARRY DID YOU PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE?!?!"

I could go on for days about the differences between the HP books and the movies (just ask my wife). 7 books, 8 movies, 4 directors, 2 screenplay writers, a myriad of actors or varying levels of talent, but this 1 line haunts every single Harry Potter fan. One comment about this line was "we're never going to get over this, are we?" That one comment sparked this post, which was originally meant to be a list of my least favorite movie moments and why.

But Harry Potter is my favorite subject, and my rant about this became a separate post to answer that rhetorical question.

Simply put, no, we're not going to get over it. But why won't we?

As with any adaptation, since the world isn't ready for a 10 hour movie based on 1 book, bits and pieces of the Harry Potter books needed to be cut out. (I'd be down for that movie, but I digress)

Things like the Draco/Pansy romance, Rita Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus, or winning the Quidditch cup ultimately don't have an impact on the plot of "evil wizard finds path to immortality, boy wizard must stop him with the help of his friends," so they can get cut pretty easily.

Even things like the Marauders' full moon adventures and creation of the Map, Umbridge setting the dementors on Harry, and Neville's parents' fate are secondary material, meant to give more weight to the main story:

- The world would still be in mortal danger without four teenagers creating a map of their school, but that map helped stop that danger;

- Umbridge would still be a cruel bitch if we hadn't known she sent the dementors, but that tidbit show her own demented state of mind and how far she'll go to get what she wants.

- and we'd still want Voldemort dead even if we'd never heard of Neville Longbottom, because we've seen the impact he had on Harry. The info about the Longbottoms just gives more depth to the characters involved.

But regardless of what they left out, the basics stayed the same: "evil wizard finds path to immortality, boy wizard must stop him with the help of his friends" continued, except the written version had more information than the visual. The fans already knew what was missing, so our brains filled it in for us. And leaving out that bit of info for the adaptation process allowed people who hadn't read the books to know what was going on and how the information fit together, even if they had less information than the fans.

(I think of the miniseries Chernobyl, when the general asks how a nuclear reactor works. He gets a bare bones explanation, and can parrot it back to his subordinates later. He might not me able to do the math or understand all of the technical jargon, but that simple explanation has given him enough info to get things going.)

As the movies progressed, we saw more and more get left out since the books only got longer, or more in depth, or both which each new addition, but no matter what, that skeleton was still there, "evil wizard finds path to immortality, boy wizard must stop him with the help of his friends." And the 'friends' part was even more accurate with supporting characters!

Hermione was the nerd from the books, Ron was the goofy best friend, Neville was the underdog, Draco was the bully!

Every single character was fitting their book counterparts perfectly, they just couldn't be as in depth in this medium!

Lucius was the oily bastard you knew he was, Sirius was the Godfather who wanted to be there but couldn't, Bellatrix was the psychotic fanatic who'd do anything to earn Voldemort's praise, Dumbledo--

And that's where the similarities stop.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is a lot of things: he's the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (the Wizard High Court), honoree of the highest medal of Honor possible for Wizards, one of the most notable contributors to the field of alchemy, and from what I understand a PHENOMENAL dancer.

He's human, and fallible like any other human, but he is definitely not stupid.

Just in book 1, before Ms. Rowling had even gotten into her stride as a storyteller, we see Dumbledore:

Send Harry to the safest place possible; watch over him as much as possible; send updated owls to Harry with every change of address; send Hagrid as the most friendly way to introduce Harry to his true world; Send Harry the invisibility cloak as a connection to his dad; say that he 'doesn't need a cloak to become invisible;' RETURN the cloak after Harry lost it; and turned around on his trip to London on some intuition, barely managing to save Harry's life.

While he might not be the warmest of people, probably due to a tendency to think too deeply, Dumbledore shows the strongest of power when he needs to fight, the quickest of words when he needs to talk, and what seems to be a clear sense of right and wrong (the waters get a little murky with that last one, but he stands up for what he sees is wrong, regardless of what he thought at 18), and a calm dignity, even while getting his feathers ruffled.

And that's exactly why this gets under our skin so much.

As fans of the books, we see Dumbledore do it all, in great detail. Even that infamous line is ended with "he asked CALMLY" (All Caps is my addition). We see Dumbledore:

-sit next to an 11-year old who nearly died recently and promise to some day tell him about the first time he nearly died as an infant AT THE HANDS OF THE SAME GUY... Calmly, because this is a conversation he's been dreading for years, so he's prepared.

- hire a clear fraud just to fill his staff; have two 12-year olds crash an illegal flying car into a living tree AND talk down the teacher that wanted to skin them alive; deal with an unknown threat that was attempting to kill his students; get forcibly removed from the school, only return ready to console grieving parents AND watch the same 12 year olds from earlier emerge from an unfindable chamber WITH the 11 year old who was thought to be dead....calmly, because he's lost loved ones, and he knows what it is to grieve.

- Hire a werewolf; keep that a secret from his students, their parents, and maybe even the government; and have two 13 year olds illegally time travel to save an animal an a convicted felon...calmly, because an innocent man's life is important.

- Host a death tournament specially designed to 'not kill;' and slowly watch a plot to revive to worst wizard ever unfold before his eyes....calmly, because he didn't have all of the information yet.

- Get slandered by the entirety of the government, and forcibly removed from his position in the Courts; have a government spy forced onto his staff; purposefully pissed her off; evade arrest and go on the lam...calmly, because he knows he's right, and the truth will out. THEN come back, fight every Death Eater in the ministry, fight Voldemort, convince the government not to arrest him, then talk Harry through his Godfather's death....calmly, because he knows he messed up, he even says that Harry show be so much angrier, and 'please, by all means, destroy my possessions'.

- Find out he's dying; find out there's a hit on him; recruit an old colleague, and use Harry as a means to reveal a crucial part of Voldemort's past, which he's been teaching to Harry all year; find a horcrux as well as pass on as much info about them as possible; AND get psychologically tortured mere moments before being murdered....

- AND, postmortem, we find out that Dumbledore has been playing pretty much everybody, but especially Harry....calmly, because for once, it really was "the greater good."

But he was fun loving too, maybe childishly so due to the fact that he had to grow up so fast.

- Some of His first words after Harry starts school are, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! And tweak!"

- He did what was best for the school AND Firenze by hiring the centaur, but he clearly enjoyed shoving it in Umbridge's face.

- and let's not forget the night he picked Harry up front Privet Drive. He obviously made those glasses hit the Dursleys as some small payback for how they treated Harry.

That's Dumbledore. Serious, wise, and seriously wise, with a penchant for mischief.

The movie Dumbledore gave none of that, especially with that terrible, terrible reading of that line.

That one line changed the entire character of Albus Dumbledore. Instead of the cool, calm, and collected man he always was, he lost control. In front of his foreign and governmental guests nonetheless. That would never happen to Dumbledore. He's seen the signs, and can tell something is up. That's WHY he hired "Mad-Eye."

Even that stupid Christmas scene added to the HBP movie, as much as I freaking HATE it, doesn't CHANGE anything. The Death Eaters attack and for some reason burn the house down. Boo hoo. Nobody gets hurt, nobody dies, the house is back to normal the next movie. No big deal. They just wanted to add to the drama some, instead of the usual deduction from the cuts.

This change is why we hate SO many other adaptations, or "cuts" as they call them.

-Those of us who are old enough to remember will freaking riot over the "Han shot first" argument, because we knew that there was no way in hell Han would sit and let Greedo take a shot at him, ESPECIALLY since they freaking showed it first, then changed it later.

-It's why we all hate M. Night. Shyamalan's fucking guts, because he took the single greatest cartoon masterpiece ever created, and tried to make it better. The one scene that sticks out to me is when they're trying to escape the earth-bending prison camp. First, they had to be removed from the land entirely, or their pride would cause a rebellion instantly; second, 6 benders did what we see Toph do her first lesson as a blind toddler. Unlike Lucas, Shyamalan wasn't trying to appease anyone. He just wanted a name for himself, so he decided to take on the most popular cartoon ever. Pass or fail, he has that fame now.

Some of the fault might lie with the director, or possibly even the actor himself. Michael Gambon is a respected actor, and probably had a sense for how the character would play, even if that sense might not have been based in the books. Couple that with multiple directors by this point, multiple actors having playing Dumbledore, and the books still gradually coming out, and the information and range for the character of Dumbledore might have been quite limited.

And let's not forget those cuts that needed to be made. With a shorter story comes a need to get the information across faster.

Instead of mulling it over for a moment while the rest of the group argues (and probably for a good year or so by this point), and calmly asking Harry if he entered himself in the tournament, the quick explosion both saves time by cutting the opening argument AND gives the audience a cue for suspense. They know something is wrong NOW, and they don't know what, but they'll find out as the people on screen do.

Personally, I believe that this system can be broken by a rather simple solution: TV show.

Instead of one movie, each book gets one Season, and every couple chapters or so gets an episode. I foresee problems as we get to the later books as opposed to the early one, since they start getting thick AF with GoF.

But I think the pros outweigh the cons.

-The locations for HP are actually incredibly limited. They pretty much go back and forth between the same dozen locations all seven books, so you could make sets to switch out whenever needed, and just reuse the exact same sets for seven straight years, with little to no change in between.

- We have all of the books now, and then some, and then some extra BS on top of that, and the plethora of headcanon out there, so we have more than enough information for every single thing about this place, excluding literal physical dimensions. Find a kid who looks like Harry, another actor who can flawlessly pull off Snape, and some old guy who wants to be goofy sometimes, and you've got gold.

- We could actually include the minor characters too. Peeves could pop in and out every few episodes, Dobby can play the role he was meant for, Kreacher can exist as more than 3 lines. The vanishing cabinet could actually be introduced in year 2, then addressed in Year 5, then revealed properly in year 6. Moaning Myrtle has her scenes, Bill Weasley has his, Tonks could be the most important female character besides Hermione or Ginny.....

Anyway, you get the picture. This whole thing was inspired by one comment, and I've been working on this for almost 6 hours now. Pretty sure I've worked harder in this post than any papers in high school...

Hollywood, if by some miracle you see this, I'll totally be a screen writer for the Harry Potter TV show. In the meantime, goodnight.

[inksandpensblog]

“...”

“...well? You’re the one who came to visit. You gonna say anything?”

“...”

“Come on, whaddya want me to say? ‘Haha, look, I’m finally incarcerated and you don’t even get to say you did it?’ Look, that policeman said we only have ten minutes, so talk already.”

“...”

“Hey, I didn’t tell them you’d been letting me crash at your place, so you don’t have to-“

“That’s not why I’m fucking here. I don’t care about that.”

“That frizzy redhead in the blueish business suit who follows you around seems to.”

“Cassie can handle any controversial press I may get. I wanna know why you suddenly decided to turn yourself in after two months on the lam and one on my couch. What happened yesterday? You’d been off since you got back from the grocery.”

“It’s not like I didn’t think about it. I came home first.”

“Ignoring that you just called my house ‘home,’ stop stalling and tell me what the fuck happened at the market that shook you up worse than me defeating you.”

“...I ran into my second.”

“You have a second?”

“Marvin. You might’ve seen him, the day you ruined my life? Sandy hair, fit, dresses like a camp counselor?”

“It rings a bell. How did I never see him before, if he was important enough to be your second?”

“I kept him out of the public eye. I know this’ll sound hypocritical, but he was a good kid. Had a good head on his shoulders. Amazing work ethic, and really good at listening.”

“Perfect worker drone, huh?”

“No, I mean like, he’d actually listen when I talked. Pick up nuances I didn’t even know I had. I told him everything, and he’d find an answer. I knew he was iffy about people finding out he worked for me, so I made sure nobody did. As a favor to him. Because I didn’t want to lose him.”

“...I didn’t know.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Like that day, when you toppled all my plans and threw everything I’d worked for into chaos, I told him to lay low and break contact, just to make sure he didn’t get caught up in the whole mess I knew would come after. He did. I had no idea how he was doing until our paths crossed at the market yesterday.”

“...and?”

“I almost couldn’t believe it. He was...fine. Just fine. He looked better than ever. He was just walking around, putting things in the basket. He didn’t even notice I was there until I said his name. And then he saw me. I tried to talk to him. And you know what he said?”

“...”

“He said that he was terrified every second he spent with me. All those times he found flaws in my plans for me, all those times he explained my own thoughts to me, all those times he found humor in a situation that I was only angry about...he did it all because I put him on edge. He thought that if he didn’t help me, I’d hurt him. That I’d threaten his family. Because I knew about his family. He told me about them. I gave him a bonus because I knew about them. He told me about them to placate me when I was in a mood one time. Because he was scared. Of me.

.

.

.

“All this time, I’ve been worrying about him. And he’s been trying to forget me.”

[hymntotheseas]

One Night (Lams)-Chapter 2

The loud September sun beams through the curtain directly onto John's face, waking him up. He slowly opens his groggy eyes to a headache that feels like a jackhammer at a construction site. When he finally gets his eyes to open he sees a brown shag carpet most likely from the seventies and brown paneling. This is definitely not his apartment. Panic quickly sets in as he notices the noise coming from the bathroom. He can make out the sink running and (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction playing quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake him, but loud enough for whoever is in the bathroom to enjoy. He spots his phone on the coffee table and grabs it. Just as he is about to call Lafayette in attempt to figure out where the fuck he is, the creaky bathroom door swings open, almost hitting the wall. A guy who looks about twenty-three exits in a towel wrapped around his waist, a toothbrush in his mouth, and his wet hair is sitting on his shoulders. John takes a second to look at him. His abs are slightly defined, but soft. His arms are painted with a few tattoos and his face is soft, covered with a little stubble.

“Oh hey man! You’re awake! Let me go get you some Advil and shit,” Alex says to him.

“Uh, um, thanks,” John responds in a confused voice.

Alex ambles back to John and hands him a glass of water with two Advil. John stares at him a little, still totally lost as to why he is here and who this guy is.

“Are you gonna take it? Do I have to hold the glass for you while you take them?” Alex says a little sarcastically.

“Uh, no I got it. Thanks.”

“No problem man. Again, I’m Alex. I’m guessing you don’t really remember much, you were pretty far gone last night.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m John. And honestly, I’m a little lost. I just woke up on a strangers couch with very little memory of last night.”

“If you want answers, you’re asking the wrong person. I only got involved ‘cause you came up to my porch asking about dogs and then threw up on me. I mean, I couldn’t let you go back into the night like that.”

John can feel his face flush as some memories from last night whirl around in his head. Oh my god, I really did throw up on this guy's feet. Fuck. Before any of that happened, John remembers going to a club with Herc and Lafayette. They had to go to help John take his mind off of some things. He had just broken up with his long-term girlfriend, Martha. In his head, he can see himself doing shot after shot while grinding up against anyone he could. However, sometime in the heat of it all, he took a break. He remembers the cool September air hitting his face as he pushed his way through the club doors. The air was a little bit rejuvenating and gave him the courage to walk back to his apartment. Except, it is clear as day that he did not make it back to his apartment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck, my friends are probably so worried about me. What time is it? I have class today,” John says frazzled.

“Relax. I talked to your friend Lafayette last night and he is coming to get you at 10. It’s only 9 right now.”

“Oh thank fucking god,” John says while rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“I can’t believe this fucking happened,” John says distressed.

“Relax, shit happens. One drunken night isn’t going to ruin your life,” Alex responds.

“It’s not even that, I broke up with my girlfriend yesterday,” John tells Alex.

Alex can feel his heart sink into his chest. Well, there goes any chance of having him, Alex thinks. He starts to pick at his already non-existent nails.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s shitty, what happened?” Alex asks with a gleam of interest in eyes.

“Nah, you don’t want to hear about it. I shouldn’t be dumping my problems on some stranger who let me sleep on their couch,” John says as he laughs stiffly. “Anyway, you look like you were in the middle of getting ready. I’ll just chill here until Lafayette comes.”

“Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that,” Alex lies, he is well aware of what he is wearing. “I’ll just come back out when I’m done getting ready.” He says with a grin on his face.

John watches him carefully ask he ambles back into the bathroom. He likes the way the towel sits on his hips and the way his hair curled near his face. Great. Just what I need right now.

“Fuckin’ feelings,” John grunts. His head continues to pound while he thinks about the other day. Breaking up with Martha was the right thing to do, he tells himself. He couldn’t the fakeness of the relationship. It truly wasn’t fair to her, even though she had agreed to go along with it after he came out to her. John and Martha grew up together in South Carolina. His father, Henry, always pushed John towards Martha. Ever since John could remember his father was trying to set them up and when John found out they were both going to the same college up north he figured he’d give it a try. It would get his dad off his chest and once they started dating the ‘Why don't you have a girlfriend yet?’ questions stopped. It felt good, really good, to have the constant questioning stop. His father laid off him even more than usual when he was dating Martha. Martha wasn’t upset with John at all. In fact, she was proud of him. To her, this was the first step to him coming out completely. There’s no fucking way I’m ready to do that. He hasn’t even come out to his friends yet, Lafayette and Herc wouldn’t mind, at least he thinks they wouldn’t. In the midst of his ongoing internal dialogue, a loud ringing catches him off guard. Thank God. That must be Lafayette.

John slowly rises off the ratty couch in an attempt to not get too dizzy. He begins to wander to the door. On his way there, he makes note of the dullness in Alex’s home. There are no pictures hanging on the brown paneling. No photos of Alex smiling with people who would probably be his family.

“Huh, strange,” John says aloud.

“What’s strange?” Alex asks while coming up behind John.

John jumps a little bit and puts his hand on his chest.

“Jesus Christ man!” John says.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Alex says with a smug smile on his face.

“But, really, what’s so strange about my house?”

“You-”

John is cut off by the loud ringing of the doorbell.

“Coming!” Alex yells.

John stands behind Alex as he goes to the small wooden door. Alex is wearing slacks and a button down. Huh, he must have a serious job. As he opens the door the strong Autumn scent fills the entryway.

“Hello! I’m Lafayette. I’m here to get John,” Lafayette says a little too loudly for 10 A.M.

“Alex. Nice to meet you. I like the accent,” Alex says as he extends his hand to shake Lafayettes. However, instead of returning the gesture Lafayette goes in for a hug. Alex grunts and shimmies around in the hug a little bit, clearly uncomfortable. Behind him, John is trying to hide his laughter. After releasing Alex from a hug that seems much too long for people who had just met Lafayette heads towards John.

“Mon Ami! I was so worried about you,” Lafayette announces.

“Yeah, but not worried enough to come get me last night,” John says with a little bit of frustration in his voice.

“Well, I’m not the one who took it upon themselves to get shitfaced and then venture out into the world!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get going. I’ve extended my stay long enough. Thanks again for letting me crash here,” John says while turning towards Alex.

He goes to shake Alex’s hand after witnessing how uncomfortable he was made by Lafayette's hug. Alex returns the gesture and gently grasps John’s hand. John lifts he head to look Alex in the eyes and ends up looking at them longer than normal. Alex’s eyes remind John of waves. There is so much happening in them and John wants to find out about all of it. He could drown in them, but they also bring a sense of comfort to John, like he could float around in them in peace.

“Bye, I’ll see you around,” Alex says to John after letting go of a handshake that lasted much longer than he intended.

“Yeah, thanks again,” John says to Alex while walking out his door. He can feel his face start to flush as he jumps down the porch steps. As he ambles over to Lafayette’s car, he thinks about running into Alex again and hopes that it happens. Alex is thinking the same thing.

[lgbt-teenager-support]

books about bisexuality?

(books and captions from barnesandnoble.com) 

Not Otherwise Specified - Hannah Moskowitz

Etta is black, bisexual, and in recovery from an eating disorder, and that combination of things doesn’t mesh with being a ballerina living in Nebraska. It certainly doesn’t help her stay friends with her old lesbian besties who consider her tainted. But Etta refuses to be put in anyone’s neat little boxes, and as she finds the right people to surround herself with to help her love who she is, she also discovers they may be her key to getting out of town and finding her best life in the future. Putting this book at the top of the list is a Bi Visibility Day no-brainer; if you’ve ever wanted to feel the literal urge to fist pump from the bi pride in a YA novel, put a copy of this in your cart, plus one for everyone you know.

Far From You - Tess Sharpe

Mina and Sophie were best friends, even through a car accident that changed their lives. But now Mina’s dead, and Sophie’s determined to find out who killed her. Along for the ride is Mina’s brother, Trevor, who not only wants justice for his sister, but wants Sophie as well. But as the two get closer, Trevor learns Mina and Sophie were more than just BFFs; they were in love. For many YA readers, Sharpe’s debut is the first time they saw the word “bisexual” in a novel. For still others—present company included—it’s the first time we saw an on-page sex scene between two girls in a YA. Whether it was a first for you—or will be—there’s no question this is one of the most important bi YAs the category has to offer.

Coda - Emma Trevayne

Anthem has a passion for music, but as a conduit for he Corp, most of what he listens to is work, powering the grid through him while shortening his life span. All he has to live for are the twin siblings he takes care of, the girl he’s smitten over, and his friends, including his ex-boyfriend. Sexuality is a non-issue in Trevayne’s dystopian society, but passion for music and rebellion? Is everything.

The Art of Wishing - Lindsay Ribar

You know the drill—girl finds genie, girl gets three wishes…girl falls for genie, who happens to be in the form of a high school boy, and learns the villain gunning for them both is her new guy’s ex-boyfriend… totally run of the mill, naturally. While I loved the first book in this duology a lot, I managed to like the sequel even better—it’s in The Fourth Wish that Margo and Oliver discuss not only what it means for him and for them that he’s bisexual, but the gender fluidity inherent in his continuously taking the bodies that would be most pleasing to his new masters.

Otherbound - Corinne Duyvis

If the fact that this debut has a bisexual protagonist doesn’t sell it to you on its own, consider this: 1) it’s a super-rare standalone fantasy, 2) that also has disability and racially diverse representation, and 3) is the closest thing to Sense8 in YA form. Amara is a mute slave girl, charged with protecting a princess. Nolan lives in an entirely different world, but when he blinks, he is transported into seeing through Amara’s eyes. As dangers grow for Amara, and the control dynamic between her and Nolan changes, the two of them will need to work together to keep themselves, and the princess for whom Amara has begun to develop feelings, safe.

Under the Lights - Dahlia Adler

Actress Vanessa Park may be new to realizing she likes girls, but Brianna Harris, the publicist’s intern sparking that discovery, has been an out-and-proud bi girl for years. While Vanessa works to process what it would mean for her friendships, family, and career to come out, especially with her being Korean American already putting her in a precarious place on the Hollywood food chain, Bri’s experience with bi erasure tie in to her own hesitations about moving forward with someone who’s not ready. As its author, I’m probably a little too biased to tell you if this book’s any good, but there sure is a lot of making out (and then some).

Trust Me, I’m Trouble - Mary Elizabeth Summer

When you read this book’s predecessor, Trust Me, I’m Lying, you don’t know the main character, teen con artist Julep Dupree, is bisexual; frankly, neither does she. She falls for a guy, things happen, and…well, that’s all I’ll spoil about that. But she also meets Dani, a 19-year-old Russian mob boss who’s back with a vengeance in the sequel, resulting in my personal favorite girl-girl couple in YA this year.

About a Girl - Sarah McCarry

There’s no missing from that cover that there’s a relationship between girls in this book, the third and final of the Metamorphosis trilogy. But as the book opens, main character Tally actually has feelings for her best friend, Shane, which he seems to reciprocate, resulting in a fan-yourself-level sex scene. The emotional aftermath isn’t quite as fun or romantic, though, and when she sets out on a quest to find her maybe-father, she’s free and clear to fall for the mysterious and alluring Maddy.

Over You - Amy Reed

Max is the calm, responsible girl to her best friend Sadie’s wild child, but when they go away together for a summer to a farm commune and Sadie gets mono, Max finally gets to emerge from her shadow and be her own person. Newly independent, she finds herself drawn to Dylan, the very same guy who piqued Sadie’s interest before she got sick, and an unusual choice for Max, since she usually prefers girls. I loved this book for being a great novel about toxic friendship, and it’s a great pick if you’re looking for a novel with a bisexual main character that doesn’t revolve around a romantic relationship.

Empress of the World - Sara Ryan

This was my personal first read with a bisexual main character, and I suspect I’m not alone there. When Nic goes to spend the summer at a program for gifted youth, she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for a girl; after all, she likes guys. But when she falls for the beautiful and talented Battle, she falls hard, and the girls’ mutual and confusing feelings give way to a sweet romance that transcends labels or expectations.

Grasshopper Jungle - Andrew Smith

It’s hard to put Smith’s neon-covered apocalyptic opus into a genre, but it’s here for its rare bi male character in YA, caught in the confusion of having feelings for both his best friend, Robby, and his girlfriend, Shann, while also fighting to survive an infestation of human-size praying mantises that have descended upon their Iowa town.

Pantomime - Laura Lam

Gene is the daughter of a noble family, but she doesn’t feel at all at home in female trappings. Micah’s a runaway, who joins the magical circus of Ellada as an aerialist’s apprentice. As he becomes a bigger star in the show, he also finds himself drawn to two other performers—female aerialist Aenea and male clown Drystan. But Pantomime isn’t about a character who falls in love; it’s about a character’s evolution and understanding of identity. Winner of the 2014 Bisexual Book Award for Speculative Fiction, the story continues with Shadowplay.

Cut Both Ways - Carrie Mesrobian

Will’s finally had his first kiss, but he didn’t expect it to be with his gay best friend, Angus. Determined to put it behind him, he starts to date Brandy, but it doesn’t stop him from gravitating back to Angus over and over again. The thing is, Brandy’s no beard; he genuinely likes her, too, and he has no idea how to balance them both and make a choice. Though Will doesn’t consider bisexuality or use the word (which is addressed in the author’s note), to the best of my knowledge, this is the first realistic contemporary YA from a major house to be narrated entirely by a male character engaging in sexual activity with both a male and female character, and that’s no small thing.

Adaptation - Malinda Lo

When birds start flying into planes all over the country, it’s impossible to call that many collisions a coincidence. Then Reese and her crush, David, get in a crash of their own, and when she wakes up a month later, she has no recollection of what she missed. Her life only gets more confusing when she meets the beautiful Amber, and realizes she’s confused about more than just what’s going on outside; apparently her sexuality isn’t quite what she thought it was, either. As she works to solve the mystery of what happened to her during the month she was unconscious, she also must confront her feelings for both David and Amber, an issue which continues in sequel Inheritance.

Love in the Time of Global Warming - Francesca Lia Block

It’s the end of the world as Pen knows it, and with her family disappeared after natural disasters rock Los Angeles, there’s nothing for her to do but search for what comes next. As she embarks on her Odyssey-mirroring quest, while thinking about her parents, her little brother, and her best girlfriends—one of whom had been on her mind in a new, kissing-related way for a while now—she finds a new band of friends to join her, which includes the alluring and mysterious Hex, taking her sexuality in yet another turn as they fall in love against the backdrop of a world falling apart.

you can find more bisexual books here, here, here, here, here, and here

hope this helped!

-Mod Charlie

[fourteenacross]

For the fic summary, would you be able to do "The world turned upside down" with Lams?

I’m NOTICING A TREND in the choice of titles for all of these XD

OKAY, so I started writing this one at work Monday and then got distracted by boredom and life, so SORRY FOR THE WAIT, I still have two more to do after this.

ANYWAY.

PART ONEAlex and John have been friends since practically FOREVER. Or at least it feels that way. They met during college orientation and ended up dorming on the same hall freshman year and then moved into honors housing together their sophomore year and stayed there until graduation. They got an apartment right after school and lived together all through grad school, while John worked on his masters in elementary and secondary education and Alex dove into law school. They stayed together after grad school, too–Alex got a job at a firm in the city and John got a teaching job in Rockland or Westchester or something like that and it was easier to just commute on the MetroNorth than find a new place and a new roommate and all that.

Or, at least, that’s what John told everyone, because it was less embarrassing than saying, “Actually I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend like some garbage soap opera cliche and I’ll take any excuse to stay near him even though I know we’ll never have the kind of relationship I want us to have.”

Because Alex doesn’t do relationships anymore, and John has intimate knowledge of that. John watched Alex date around in college and drag a years long friends-with-benefits thing out with a girl in their friends group, the closest he would let himself come to a real relationship. In grad school, when Alex admitted that maybe it was time to settle down, John introduced him to a classmate of his, the nicest girl he’d ever met, the only person he could see himself not resenting, should she and Alex fall madly in love and get married. Except that blew up in Alex’s face, too–he was so busy with school and with life that their schedules never meshed and, in the end, it was easier for Alex to cheat on her with his old college fling than it was to build time for her into his already complicated life.

(“It’s not your fault, John,” she said after, while John, guilty for too many reasons to list and far more than he felt comfortable admitting to, gave her hugs and tissues and brought over a bottle of wine. “He needs to grow up and learn to take other people’s needs into account–there’s nothing you can do to change that. There was nothing I could do to change that. And I told him all of that.” She paused. “And then I set a box of his stuff on fire.”)

Right after law school, Alex tries one more time–this time with a guy they both knew from college, someone from history that I’d poke around and come up with, maybe John Andre–some too-suave asshole that John never liked much, but tolerated for Alex’s sake. And it was mostly fine at first, but it started to get stilted and awkward and eventually the dude ghosted him. John took him out for a consolation drink and tried not to be too pleased that it crashed and burned.

“The shitty thing,” Alex said, three vodka tonics into the night, “is that we’re not friends anymore! Like, I don’t have a ton of friends! And I liked him! I liked him, I liked…all of them. Eliza. Maria, too! When we were just hooking up, it was fine, but then I went and messed up with her and Eliza and…that’s what I need again. No more relationships–they ruin friendships. I can only date people I don’t give a shit about or like…hook up with my friends.”

“That’s…a way to go about it,” John says, and ignores the sinking feeling in his chest.

“You gotta keep me from crashing and burning like this again, man. Pinky swear.”

And he holds up his pinky and John fucking does it, even though he knows it’s the final nail in the coffin of any relationship they might have had.

So, yeah. John knows nothing’s going to happen and he knows he’s a little pathetic. He tries not to be. He dates around a little. He does his best not to be pathetic and pining. And why should he be? He and Alex are partners in everything–they live together, they make financial decisions together, they go everywhere together and do everything together. Alex sits through awkward Christmas dinners with him and his family in South Carolina, John goes with Alex to all his terrible office holiday parties and company picnics. Alex comes to fundraiser nights at the school when he can get off work, cheering John on in the kids-vs-teachers game nights and spending an embarrassing amount of money at the tricky tray.

(And it only sucks a little to say, over and over again, no, Alex is just John’s best friend, yes, John knows the school has a very strong non-discrimination policy, no, he’s not in the closet and trying to hide their relationship.)

There’s nothing more John could want except, you know, the kissing and the sex. All of the rest of it is already there, and if that’s the only thing he’s missing, then that’s okay.

This goes on for a few years, right up until John’s thirtieth birthday party. Their friends make a big fucking deal of it, Alexander leading the charge. There’s dinner out at their favorite dumb hipster restaurant with all their friends, then it’s back to their apartment for video games and cheaper drinks and cake and dancing. Everyone drinks too much–it’s like they’re all twenty-one again, except they’re too old to sustain it for long and by midnight, the living room is littered with their friends, curled up on the sofa, on pillows on the floor, leaning against the walls, but instead of being passed out from drinking too much, they’re just genuinely asleep.

John and Alex, meanwhile, are sitting in the bathtub side-by-side, fully dressed and passing a bottle of champagne back and forth.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for twelve years,” Alex says. “It feels like less and more at the same time. I can’t remember my life without you.” He puts his head on John’s shoulder and John’s heart sighs.

“I know what you mean,” John says. “It’s all a blur.”

“The future, too,” Alex says. “I can’t imagine a future where you’re not my best friend. Where you’re not there with me all the time, everywhere, you know? I can’t imagine my life without you.”

And he looks up at John and reaches up to push his hair out of his face and John forces himself not to do something really, really stupid.

“Same,” he says.

“Yeah,” Alex says, but he’s clearly not really listening any longer. He’s staring at John, like he’s a puzzle to solve. “Hey, why have we never hooked up?”

John blinks rapidly. “Um. I don’t…know.”

“Just…you’re fucking gorgeous,” Alex continues. “Like, you always have been. I can’t believe we’ve never had sex.”

“You’ve never…asked,” John says carefully.

Now Alex blinks rapidly. “You would if I asked?”

“I…think so.”

“Huh.” Alex keeps staring at him, then wraps a hand around his jaw and pulls him down for a kiss that he knows, John knows he should stop. He should push Alex away and say, I can’t do this if it means nothing to you because it means something to me.

He doesn’t.

Alex kisses him once, very sweetly, and then pulls away. “I think,” he says gravely, “we should definitely have sex. It would be fun. I mean, we do everything else together, might as well do this too, right?”

And it’s a terrible idea, because it’s crystal clear that Alex isn’t saying, I love you! Be my boyfriend! But John is drunk and it’s his fucking birthday and he only has so much self-control.

“Okay,” he says.

So they do. Alex gets up and he pulls John up out of the bathtub and they stumble first into John’s room, where Eliza and Peggy are sleeping in his bed, and then into Alex’s room where they kiss and laugh and joke while they strip each other and then have really good sex. Like. Annoyingly good sex. John is actively annoyed that sex with Alex is fucking excellent. It would be better if it was awkward enough to kill his feelings, but no, it’s great, OF COURSE IT’S GREAT, so there goes that hope.

In the morning, John is afraid things will be weird and ruined but that’s normal too–Alex kisses him when he wakes up and says, “That was awesome. We should do that more often, right?”

And John, still half-stunned by the whole affair and a smidge hungover, says, “…yeah, sure.”

And he knows it’s a terrible fucking idea, but he can’t make himself give it up. He’s not strong enough.

It becomes a thing that is simultaneously all he’s wanted and the last thing he fucking needs. Because things are totally normal! They go about their daily lives! They do everything exactly like they’ve always done it, except that sometimes, Alex will melodramatically throw himself across John’s lap on the couch and say, “I think you should kiss me” and sometimes he’ll get into the shower with John and sometimes he’ll just outright say, “Will you come to bed with me tonight?”

And sometimes he doesn’t even want to have sex! Sometimes he’ll crawl into John’s bed and they’ll spoon and just talk like they did in college, when there was five feet of floor space between their beds and John was fucking longing for it to disappear, imagining what it would be like if they were doing this instead, curled up together, skin against skin.

And if he ups his usual trips to box at the gym from twice a week to three or four times a week–well, he’s gotta get all of this misery out somehow and now that he’s a public school teacher, assault charges from bar fights are not exactly stellar additions to his resume.

Ninety percent of the time, it’s fine. Ninety percent of the time, John can pretend they’re in love and they’re dating and that’s why they live like this. But every once in a while Alex will hook up with someone else or dance with a stranger at a bar or make a throw-away comment like, “I feel like you used to date more” over dinner, and it all comes crashing down and John has to get drunk with Eliza or Martha or even, twice, Alex’s partner at the firm, this guy Aaron Burr who’s kind of a cold asshole at times, but is one of the only people who will straight up say to John, “This is the stupidest thing I have ever seen, you’re ruining your own life and happiness.”

Sometimes, that’s what John needs to hear.

PART TWOFrom Alex’s point of view! It’s been a little over a year since Alex and John started their arrangement–it’s just after Thanksgiving and yesterday they had a very nice dinner with Alex’s boss and his family and today they’re taking out their Christmas decorations because it’s tradition. John is fighting with the boxes, standing on a kitchen chair as he reaches up to the very top shelf in the closet to get them down while Alex “directs” and thinks absently about how nice it is to have traditions, how comfortable and happy he is having built this routine with someone he loves so much.

It’s a Friday, they’re both off, most of their friends are away to visit family and whatnot, so it feels quiet and comfortable and relaxing in a way Alex’s time off sometimes isn’t. There are only so many hours free in a given week and sometimes he gets overwhelmed with the need to fill them all with friends and work and things, like doing nothing and relaxing will waste them. Today, though, there’s nothing to do but be here with John and that feels…okay. His thoughts aren’t overtaken by the ticking of a clock that reminds him that he only has so many more hours left on this earth and he still hasn’t written a book or done anything Worth Something.

John is updating Alex on all the family gossip so he’ll be Prepared when they fly down to South Carolina next month, sitting crosslegged on the couch as he untangles the tree lights, monologuing about why no one likes Henry’s new girlfriend. Alex is sitting on the ground in the corner, setting up their tree, and he doesn’t even really mean to look at John–the things he’s saying are just background chatter, nothing Alex can’t read between the lines from Facebook–but he turns around and maybe it’s the lighting or the smile on John’s face or the way he still has bedhead or his too-big hoodie or…well. Alex doesn’t know what it is. All he knows is that he’s overcome with the urge to burst into tears at the sight of him. He’s suffocating in how much he loves John.

And of course he loves John–John’s been his best friend for over a decade, the most important person in his life. John is his family, his partner, his…his whole fucking world. He has been for forever. It feels like forever, at least. Of course Alex loves him, John knows Alex loves him, Alex knows that John loves him back. But it’s like he’s seeing it for the first time. It’s like…it’s not just that he loves John, like he’s in love with John. Like he’s passionately, breathlessly, hopelessly in love. Like his heart is going to explode with it, like he can’t breathe right.

Which is…it’s bad, right? Because relationships do not ever work out for Alex, relationships just ruin his friendships, they always have. He’s fucking lucky he’s been able to salvage some of them, and really, the only reason he was able to patch things up with Eliza is because she was John’s friend first. He can’t fucking lose John–if he loses John, he loses his entire fucking life.

So he’s a little panicked. John notices, eventually, and asks him if there’s something wrong and he makes a vague excuse and goes to put on another pot of coffee, where he lets himself freak out quietly for the length of time it takes to brew.

Ultimately, this realization means nothing in the scheme of things. Life will go on–he and John have it good, now, they have a life together, they have the perfect relationship, romance be damned. Hell, they even sleep together sometimes! More than sometimes, lately, if Alex is honest with himself. He hasn’t really slept with anyone but John for at least four or five months, now. There just hasn’t been any point–if he wants sex, why chance it with some rando when he knows he can have great, fun, amazing sex with his best friend without leaving the house?

They have it good, is the point, and Alex absolutely cannot ruin that by getting his fucking feelings involved. He needs to think about this objectively. He needs time.

He gathers himself together and brings coffee in for him and John and if he shivers a little when John grabs his hand and pulls him down onto the couch next to him, he came blame it on the drafty windows and cool November air.

Alex gets through the weekend by sheer force of will, by pretending nothing has changed. Monday is a different story–he’s already at work, chewing on his fingernails and trying to focus on a legal brief when Aaron Burr comes in to join him.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. He raises one eyebrow when he says it. John can raise one eyebrow at a time and Alex has always thought it was a neat trick and pretty hot, but now that he’s seeing it in his mind’s eye, it’s turning his insides into putty.

“Nothing,” Alex croaks.

“No, seriously,” Aaron says. “Are you alright? Is John alright?”

And something must change in Alex’s face because Aaron immediately looks smug and bored. Both. Simultaneously. That shouldn’t even be possible.

“Ah,” he says. “I was wondering if you’d ever get there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alex huffs.

“You just realized that you’re ass over teakettle for the guy you’ve essentially been married to for as long as I’ve known you,” Aaron says.

“We’re not….” Alex says awkwardly. He can feel himself blushing.

“You are,” Aaron says, sitting at his desk and booting up his computer. “He’s even worse than you. I think he’s always known, maybe as long as he’s known you. He certainly acts that way.”

“Wait, what?”

The look Aaron gives him over his computer screen is condescending as hell. “Alexander, if you hadn’t realized that your roommate is obsessively in love with you by now, you have no business being this good of a lawyer.”

Well, fuck.

“Let me give you some advice,” he continues, and Alex settles in, arms crossed, preemptively glaring. The last time Aaron gave him advice it was to keep his mouth shut and be more pleasant, the sort of neutral garbage that Aaron does best. But this time, he surprises Alex. “You overthink things and then you sabotage yourself. You do it every time. Don’t ruin this by overthinking it.”

For once in his life, he’s speechless. All he can do is nod in reply.

Alex spends all day picking this new information apart in the back of his head. John doesn’t seem in love with him. John seems the same way he’s always seemed. Of course, if what Aaron said was right, then maybe that’s because John’s always been in love with him. But he would have said something if that was true, right?

He leaves work with a headache and being around John that night shouldn’t help it, but it does. John can tell something’s wrong, so after dinner he drags Alex to the couch and makes him abandon his work to watch a dumb movie on Netflix. They cuddle under a blanket. John kisses his forehead. Alex wants to marry him and adopt a million babies with him and kiss him in front of all of their friends. It’s horrible.

Because the core issue here is that Alex is fucking terrible at relationships. He’s ruined every single one. And if John is in love with him, maybe he’s already ruined this one. Maybe years and years of not noticing have burned out John’s feelings. Maybe John has built this up to something so perfect in his head that Alex can’t compete. Because Alex isn’t perfect–far from it. Alex is going to hurt him. Alex is going to completely destroy John, just like he completely destroys everyone around him. His beautiful, sweet, obnoxious, bullheaded, asshole best friend. His favorite person in the world.

He has no idea what to do.

And because he’s just the absolute fucking worst at this shit, he has to go and make it a zillion times more complicated.

He can’t help himself. He’s always had terrible self-control. So when they stay in on Friday night drinking and playing video games and John murders him in Mario Kart and does his dumb little victory dance, Alex can’t help but grab him and kiss him. He’s so fucking cute what the hell else is he supposed to do? He grabs John and he kisses him and John laughs and kisses him back and they stumble into Alex’s bedroom, laughing, and start to undress and halfway through the whole thing, Alex just gets…completely overwhelmed.

He doesn’t mean to make it different or weird or whatever, but it turns so quickly into something new and strange, something soft and tender and deliberate. Normally, they laugh and joke all through this, they rib each other and poke fun and grin, but tonight Alex thinks he might cry. He’s careful and slow and John goes quiet and soft, a little shaky with something not unlike desperation. It’s…it’s…intimate. It’s different and perfect and he’s never felt like this, never, and he knows it’s a terrible idea, but he falls into it fully, completely, embraces it.

He says, “I love you” in the quiet moments afterwards. He’s said it while they were having sex before, but he’s never said it like this, soft and sweet and honest. John looks like he’s about to burst into tears–he just lays his head on Alex’s chest and doesn’t say anything at all. They fall asleep that way.

In the morning, things are…weird. Alex maybe starts it–he normally gets out of bed long before John on the weekends, but he feigns sleep until after John has woken up and slipped out of bed and left Alex alone in the bedroom where he spends a few minutes just breathing and re-centering himself. Once Alex does go out to the living room, John is quiet and won’t make eye contact with him and every time he does, he flushes and looks away quickly. He’s trying so hard to be normal, but Alex can see right through it. He can’t blame John, though–he can’t quite seem to find “normal” either, stumbling over his words, self-concious about everything from what he’s doing with his hands to where he’s standing and how his hair looks.

They’re like that all day. It’s awful. It’s just–it’s the opposite of what he wants. It’s the opposite of what he and John have had for fucking years. He had to go and ruin it all with his goddamn feelings, just like he always does.

So, in the end, he makes a half-hearted attempt to hit the reset button.

“I think I’m gonna go out for a drink,” he tells John after dinner. “Just, like…to the place around the corner. Do you want to come?”

John is surprised. He can tell. And maybe hurt? At the very least, he looks resigned for the brief second he glances up at Alex before turning away.

“Nah,” he says weakly. “Go on. I might. Um. I guess I’ll just…go to bed early.”

Everything in Alex wants to follow him into the bedroom, wants to hug him and hold him and explain in a rush all of these feelings.

He does not listen to that part of himself. He makes some vague noise in affirmation, grabs his coat, and heads out to the bar.

The bar is loud and full of people and getting lost in the crowd helps him relax for the first time in a week. No one here knows him, no one here has any expectations of him. He can’t disappoint any of these people. He orders a drink that he finishes too quickly, then orders another, then takes it over to the corner, where there’s a woman standing at a high-top on her own, glancing coyly in his direction.

The music is so loud he needs to speak nearly directly into her ear for her to hear him and vice versa, which might be by design. He pulls out a few of his best pick-up lines, but the delivery is off. He keeps thinking about how terrible her perfume smells and how it will probably be a hike back to wherever she lives. He can’t bring her back to his place. Maybe they can hook up in the bathroom like they’re in college. But that seems like a lot of work too, especially for some stranger. She’s pretty, sure, but…he’s having trouble mustering up the energy to do anything about that.

He’s also not been listening to her for the past five minutes, zoning out completely as he weighs the pros and cons of sleeping with this woman.

Pro: She’s pretty. He has all of this energy that he needs to expend. He’s jittery. She’s here.

Con: He can’t stop fucking thinking about John.

Will John make him move out? Or maybe John will want to move out–Alex knows it’s only been luck keeping him in the city since he started teaching. He could have a much better commute and a much larger place for the same price if he left the city. John will probably move out and get a nice little apartment and he’ll start dating again and meet some gorgeous, smart guy. They’ll invite Alex over every once in a while. It’ll be awkward as shit. Alex will be John’s best man at their wedding and then probably barely ever speak to him again.

Fuck.

The woman is still talking and Alex is nodding along and now he’s definitely gonna sleep with her, because he can’t stop thinking about John and some mystery hot guy who’s gonna make him so fucking happy, so happy he’ll leave Alex behind. Alex who’s broken, who can never do this shit right without ruining it, without sabotaging it.

And then he’s thinking about what Burr said on Monday morning. Don’t overthink it. Don’t sabotage yourself. And, weirdly, from there, he’s thinking about the night Eliza broke up with him. You need to grow up! she had shouted at him through her tears. You need to realize that other people have feelings and needs and the world doesn’t revolve around you! If you really want to love someone besides yourself someday, try thinking about someone besides you for once!

He pulls away from the girl, abruptly, and then realizes she won’t be able to hear him, so he leans back in and says, “Hey, wow, I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” and pulls back again. He can see her lips form what? and he just smiles apologetically and starts to weave in and out of strangers towards the door.

He’s about ten feet away from it when it swings open and John is there, looking red-eyed and resolved.

“John?” he says, and John meets his eyes and says something that he can’t hear. “What?” John starts to speak again and then rolls his eyes and shoves his way forward. He grabs Alex’s arm and pulls him back towards the door, into an alcove next to it.

He’s still holding both of Alex’s wrists when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then opens them again and stares right at Alex as he begins to talk, half-shouting to be heard. “Look, you should know–you should know I’m in love with you. And I have been for a long time and I just–need to tell you. I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t just go off and let you do this and pretend it doesn’t fucking kill me because it does. I’m in love with you, and I’m not saying that to guilt you or to…to force you to be with me. I’m saying it because it’s been going on for too long and I can’t let this be the rest of my life. And if–if you want me to leave, that’s fine. If you think this is going to make things weird, that’s fine. But I can’t sleep with you anymore, I can’t kiss you. And I can’t keep this up if you don’t know. So.”

John drops Alex’s hands and shrugs. They stand in…well, it’s not silence, because the bass is still giving Alex a headache and he still can’t hear himself think, but.

He grabs John’s hands, weaves their fingers together.

“Can we go outside?” he shouts, and John nods gratefully. Alex lets go of one of his hands, but keeps hold on the other and pulls John back out to the street.

It’s cold and windy, but Alex is filling with resolve. He’s not sure where it comes from–Aaron’s words or Eliza’s or John’s, the silence around them begging to be filled, the churning in his gut when he thought about sleeping with a rando at the bar, the way John’s hand fits perfectly in his own and always has, the fact that he’s thirty fucking years old and needs to stop being afraid of things he can’t control, the cautious, nervous look in John’s eyes.

“So,” he says, and turns to take John’s other hand again. “So. I was just coming to find you, actually.

John blinks at him. “Okay?”

“To like…basically say the same thing, I think?” Alex continues. “I just…yeah. I think I’m in love with you. And I think I probably shouldn’t try to, like…torpedo everything between us just because that’s really scary. Which it is. But also you’re my favorite person in the world, ever, and for the past week all I’ve wanted to do is like…kiss you and pick out china patterns.”

“We already have china,” John says automatically, and Alex can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him.

“Oh my god,” he says. “That’s really…you’re right. We already fucking have good china. Jesus.” He wraps his arms around John, still laughing, hugging him tightly. He practically melts when John returns the embrace just as fiercely. “I think we should probably get married or something.”

John sputters a laugh or maybe it’s something closer to a sob. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to–like, I’m probably gonna be an asshole and panic every other day for the first few weeks, but you’re gonna have to be confident that I love you and I’m just a goddamn lunatic.”

“I already know those things,” John promises him. “I’m gonna be an asshole too, but probably not about this, just because…you know, I’m an asshole.”

“I already know that, too,” Alex says. “Aaron says he thinks you’ve been in love with me for forever.”

“At least since you stole that freezer full of ice pops from the dining hall freshman year and made me pinky swear not to tell the RA,” John confirms.

Alex suddenly, deeply wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes that his realization had come with some knowledge of one event, one day that he can pinpoint as the day he fell in love with John. It doesn’t, though. Maybe he’s always been in love with John or maybe it really happened just last week. It’s all a muddle of everything they’ve always been to each other. He doesn’t know when one stops and the other begins.

“I wish I had known sooner,” is what he says instead of me too. John laughs again and pulls back. He’s definitely crying. Alex is pretty sure he was crying before he came to the bar, too, and it makes him feel a little sick.

“I don’t,” John tells him flatly. “You were a fucking nightmare boyfriend in college and in grad school and even just after. Eliza’s a good person who limited herself to one box of your shit–I would have torched your whole closet.”

There’s a pause and they both crack up again and then start to stumble back towards home, still laughing, with their arms around each other, and Alex is a little scared and a little nervous and a little uncertain, but while he might doubt himself, he’s never in over twelve years doubted John for even a second, so he thinks they’ll probably be okay.

EPILOGUEBack to John for this. It’s about seven months later, the middle of the next June. John is finishing up final grades for his kids and Alex is lying on the couch typing something on his laptop. He keeps sighing theatrically and finally says, “Hey, can I run this by you?”

Without looking up, John says, “are you done with your vows, then?”

“No,” Alex says, “that’s what I’m running by you.”

John doesn’t know whether or laugh or roll his eyes or throw something at Alex. “You can’t have me workshop the eternal promises you’re going to swear to me in front of all of our friends!”

He throws his pen at Alex, just because. Alex ducks.

“No one would know better than you though, right?”

“If you don’t stop, I’m not gonna marry you at all.”

“That’s an empty threat, we’re spending a stupid amount of money on this thing.”

And they are. They almost went to the courthouse the weekend after they got their shit together. They would have if, of all people, Aaron Burr hadn’t caught wind of the plan and demanded they throw a party.

“You’ve made the rest of us suffer through this for years, the least you can do is give us cake and beer for our trouble,” he had said.

(Alex, he told John privately at their friends group’s holiday gathering a few days later, has not shut up about how smart and perfect and great John is since they first started sharing an office. Burr honestly thought they were married for the first month. He never wanted to say anything to John before because he was afraid to get his hopes up, but now that they’re two seconds from eloping, he’s happy to bitch extensively about how maudlin and affectionate Alex is all the fucking time and has been for years.)

So there’s going to be a wedding–a bigger one than either of them imagined, if only because they have a lot of friends and, somewhat surprisingly, a nice chunk of John’s family is interested in attending as well.

(“Does this mean we have to go to Henry’s wedding?” Alex asks. He is, by this point, very aware of all the reasons Henry’s girlfriend drives them all crazy.

“Unfortunately, I think so,” John admits.)

So there’s going to be a party, and it’s not like they had to spare expense. They already live together, they already have stupid adult stuff like furniture and matching bath towels and blenders and, yes, good china. No one has to move, no one is changing their name, nothing is changing, really, so they folded all those parts of a newlywed budget into an open bar and a nice venue outside the city. Almost every single fucking RSVP invitation is returned with some snarky remark scrawled on it, it’s about time or glad you stopped kidding yourselves about this. Every time he opens one and sees something like that, he throws it at Alex.

“Your fault!” he announces.

And then Alex, inevitably, says something ridiculous and cheesy and emotionally candid like, “Yeah, but I needed to work through my growing pains to really understand how much I love you” or “It is, but I would do it a hundred more times if it meant I could be as sure as I am that I’ll never want anyone else,” and John gets wibbly and lets him get away with it.

It’s so fucking annoying how sweet Alex can be sometimes. It drives him up a fucking wall.

So here they are, finishing up the last of their real life shit before the wedding. John’s got a week left of school, Alex has one more big case and some background interviews and research for one smaller case and then it’s July and they’ll be packing up to spend a long weekend in the country where they’ll get married in front of all of their friends. Married. Alexander is going to marry him.

He has to put his head down on the table.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. “I was only joking about workshopping my vows. Well. Sort of.”

“I’m fine,” John says. “I just…can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe it’s real.”

Alex gently urges him to sit up and then pulls him away from the table and over to the couch. He slides his laptop under the couch and they both fall into a sprawl over it.

“I mean this, you know,” Alex tells him seriously. “I’ve never meant anything more than this. I want to marry you. I wanted to marry you six months ago.”

“No, I know,” John says. “I know you do. I trust you. I just…for a very long time, this seemed impossible.”

“I know,” Alex says. He frowns for a moment, then holds out his pinky. “But this is us now, okay? Forever and ever. Like I said, I can’t imagine my life without you and I don’t wanna, so this is me promising that we’re gonna be together for the rest of our lives. I’m not leaving you behind.”

And John links their pinkies together and they shake three times and then Alex is grinning at him brilliantly and maybe this meant more than any vows in front of a justice of the peace could possibly mean. Maybe this is all John really needs–him and Alex, alone and quiet and making this solemn promise to no one but each other.

Of course, they’re still going to have a party and a wedding–they’re still gonna sign paperwork and eat cake and dance in front of all their friends and listen to a million smartass speeches that start with, “I’ve known this day was coming for five hundred years.” But all of that will be icing on the cake of this quiet, private promise that John isn’t going to break for as long as he lives.

The end!

[awriteroncaffeine]

Remember (Lams)

John got in a car crash a few days ago…he was totally fine but he had forgotten about his family and his friends. All he knew was his name. The first time Alex saw John after the crash…John seemed scared. He wondered why this strange man, day after day, would walk into his room and leave him flowers. A young boy by his side. John. Of course never said anything about it because he didn’t want to seem rude. on top of that these other strange men, holding hands, would leave him get well soon cards. He didn’t know who these people were.

Alexander, Philip, Hercules, and Lafayette all knew that John was suffering from severe amnesia. They didn’t know how bad it actually was until John said something when Alexander and Philip came in one day.

Alexander set some roses on the end of Johns bed. “Hey, these were your favourite flowers. Remember?”

“No…I don’t. W-who are you?”

Alexander looked at John and then down at the floor. “You don’t…you don’t remember?”

“I’m sorry…no. Were we friends or..?”

“Dad…” Philip said as he looked at John. “Dad please tell me you remember me…”

John looked down at the white hospital sheets. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Philip looked up at Alexander. “Papa. Daddy doesn’t remember us…”

Alexander looked at Philip, then at John. “I’m Alexander Hamilton. Your husband…this is our son, Philip.” He smiled softly, holding back tears.

“I…I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything about you…how do I even know if you are?”

“The ring on your hand…” Alexander held up his. “Both of ours have our names carved in it…”

John looked down at the silver ring on his hand. He looked back at Alexander and Philip. “C-can you tell me about my life? What happened before I crashed?”

“Y-yes. We can…” Alexander sat in the chair by the bed and Philip sat down on the edge of the bed. “We met in 6th grade and became really good friends. We both developed feelings for each other but never told anyone. Our friend Hercules just figured it out in his own. Then in eighth grade he couldn’t take it anymore and shoved me into you and…well I…accidentally kissed you…” he wiped his eyes, still refraining from crying.

“So…I’m guessing that’s when we started dating?”

Alexander nodded. “Y-yeah.” He looked down at his lap. “I…I remember that you w-were bullied for being gay…I was too but nobody dared to say anything to me cause I have a big mouth.” he chuckled softly. “But…in our freshman year of high school this group of older boys b-beat you up. I hadn’t seen you at all that day and I was looking for you…I f-found you crying i-in a bathroom stall…you were so unbelievably scared…you were all bruised up and shaking…then the…the same group of boys came in…I grabbed you and held you in a cradle in my arms…when you heard them enter you tensed up and I tried to ignore them…t-that didn’t work and…I fought them with words and I walked you to the office…”

“Is that why I have so many scars on my arms?”

“N-no. You were depressed. Between your father and all the shit happening at school- you couldn’t handle it. S-so you cut yourself…I helped you stop.”

“Oh…”

“papa, tell him about Uncle Hercules and Uncle Lafayette.” Philip said eagerly.

“Okay.” Alexander chuckled softly. “Our best friends, Hercules mulligan and Marquis Mulligan, he used to be Marquis DeLafayette until they got married. You’ve probably seen them come in before. One has a beanie and the other has his hair pulled back into a pony tail…anyway. You knew Hercules before you met me and Lafayette. You met Hercules in 4th grade and you met Marquis in 10th grade. We’ve all been best friends ever since…”

“So they are married, correct?”

“Y-yeah. Since last July.”

“Ah."  John nodded. "They don’t seem like a very happy couple…”

“Oh belive me, they are more than happy the problem is that neither of them can keep it in their pants.” Alexander snorted. “So they always seem unhappy when they are in public.”

“Oh.” John chuckled.

Philip looked at John. “Dad. D-do you still love Papa?” He had a worried look in his eyes.

John looked at Philip. “I-” he looked down at his lap and fiddle with his fingers. “I…don’t…k-know.” He said at a bit louder than a whisper tone.

Alexander looked at him as a disbelieving sadness fell apon his face. He looked away…he still loved John. Very much…the thought that John might not love him hurt. It felt almost like a bullet right through his ribs. They had so many memories. They got married, bought a house together and most of all, raised Philip. Their son, their beautiful son who was only nine. The son that looked most like John but acted a lot like Alexander.

Philip looked at Alexander. “Papa..?” He walked over to him. He hugged him.

John looked over at them. He felt really bad. They obviously loved him but he didn’t know exactly how he felt. He cared for them, yes, but he didn’t know if he loved them. “I-…I’m sorry. I-if I could just remember you guys wouldn’t be so…sad.”

“Dad…” He looked over at John. “What  if you never love papa again? Will I be left with only Papa?” A sheer look of fear and sadness glazed his eyes.

Alexander looked at Philip. “Philip…honey, you will always have two dads…r-right? John?”

Now John felt horrible. He didn’t want Philip, supposedly his son, to have to worry about not having two parents. “R-right…” He said shakingly.

“Me and your father will always be here for you Philip…I know it. I doubt that John wouldn’t belive you are his son…” he hugged Philip. “You two look way to much alike to not be his son.” He chuckled softly.

There was a knock on the door. “Mr. Hamilton.” A nurse said as she walked in. “I’m sorry but it’s time for John to rest.”

Alexander looked at her and let go of Philip. “Come on. Let’s go home philip.” He stood up, leaving the flowers on the edge of the bed. He gave one last saddened glance at John. The longing for him shone visibly on his face. “G-good-bye…John.” he want to say that he loved him but knew that it wouldn’t be the best thing to say.

“Bye Daddy…” Philip said grabbing onto Alexander’s hand. Just before Alexander and Philip walked out the door way John spoke up.

“Wait…i-i’ll try and remember you guys. I will try my hardest…I promise.”

“O-okay.” Alexander said, choking up a bit. He walked out the door and Philip looked back at John one last time before following Alexander.

[To be continued]

[foolishham-blog]

Oblivion

Word Count: 16k+

Warning: angst, fighting, car accident, hospitals (that’s it i think?)

A/N: A modern time Lams story! My first one on top of that. This is the first story i have up here, so no stress haha i'm dying. I hope you enjoy! I cried writing this.

~

“I can assure you that Maria is just a friend. I don’t know why you always jump to conclusions!” Alex yelled while clutching the wheel. Stealing glances to his boyfriend John who had his arms crossed over his chest looking down at his lap holding a scowl.

“What do you want me to think, Alex?! You’re never home, and when I call you at 12 in the morning when i'm up and thinking if you're okay, she picks up with her sultry “Mr. Hamilton's busy” or whatever” John says turning his body to face the man he loved, and who he hoped loved him back.

Or was that a joke? Did he just want a man for once?

John never thought that Alex would cheat, but with stories of his past he wouldn’t be surprised, heart-broken, yet not surprised. He never held what happened with Eliza close to mind, but maybe he should of, if he had just payed attention.

Alex held the wheel closer staring out the window silently, thinking of a careful way to calm down his boyfriend. But how do you calm someone down when your anger levels seem to burst out of the car. Alex loved John, with all of his heart, but he couldn't blame him for his thoughts. John had been very cautious in their relationship, especially in the beginning. Yes, Alex had told everyone he had cheated, he had ruined his relationship to a beautiful girl, but this only lead him to realize his love for John.

Alex being pulled out of his thoughts with a scream coming from his right. Waking from his daze, bright lights aimed right to the front of the car. Alex turns the wheel away from the car, but unfortunately, luck was not on either Alex’s or John's side as the car rolled off the embankment of the road they seemed to take every Saturday.

With blurry vision, Alex looked over to John, who’s hair seemed to be a floating cloud, his face covered in scratches from the glass that left blood upon both of their faces. But Alex didn’t care about himself, he needed to help his boyfriend as much as possible, before he was gone. As alex tried to reach out to John to give his best attempt to help his boyfriend, he only felt a hand grip his softly. In blurred vision he could see John, just hanging on, trying to squeeze all of his pain into Alex’s hand. Just like that Alex’s vision only showed tiny black dots and a sharp ringing in his ears, but above all he could hear the faint voice of the man to the right.

“I’m sorry.”

~

The lights seemed dark, but seemed to burn his eyes, a slight pitter patter of the rain seemingly close, but no where to be seen. A warmth seemed to cover behind him, consuming him like he would. He knew he did no wrong, but he also didn’t know how else to feel along with him.

Being with him felt like oblivion, a dark closed room with nowhere to go, but it was okay. The dark seemed to cover him like he would on nights John didn’t feel okay. Even though his work screamed for him in his office across the hall, he would leave it all to protect his turtle from all the frightening things.

They planned to grow old with one another, to age with grace. There minds ran together. They planned it perfectly, to share a family, to share one love, one house, and to embrace the feeling of oblivion together, the soft and warm oblivion of each others bodies. To hold and cherish one another till they were old.

They planned to adopt, of course with marriage coming first, but that was inevitable. It was a plan, Alex loved to plan. Alex wanted to share his life with John to share his heart, his mind, his words with him forever.

Forever , was that the correct word to use in between the two. The plan was forever, to lie in the soft warm blanket of oblivion together. To hold each other close and to never let go.

Alex once wished upon a star for happiness, and he never thought he would find it in this oblivion called love. To love John was an essay to good for anyone to see, for anyone to hold something so beautiful and courageous. To love him seemed so little above all, but it took over his heart, his mind, his lungs. He felt as if this oblivion was to hard to escape, but why would he want to escape him. He didn’t want to let go.

~

A bright light shone in the room, a light beeping seeming too far for his ears to obtain. The overwhelming smell of bleach seeming to mix into the tubes in his nose. He felt powerless and heavy, it was hard to move with out shooting pains coming from all parts of his body. His eyes blinking fast, desperately trying to gain a clear view of the room around him.

He was in the hospital, the room was pristine, but gloomy, the soft taps from the rain outside the window. His leg lifted into the air, arm embraced in a cast and an IV placed in his other arm. The events of what happened in the car, it all waved into him like a punch to the face. The screaming, the fighting, the accusing, the crash, John.

Was John okay?

Panic rushed over Alex as his heart monitor peaked up, allowing nurses to rush in, screaming for something. But Alex couldn’t hear them, his thoughts overpowering everything else. Is John okay?

“Mr. Hamilton please calm down, this will only do you better” an older lady said holding down Alex’s arms. Alex gave up the fight, feeling to weak to fight, or to stay conscience. The only thing keeping him awake, John.

“Where’s my boyfriend, John, that’s his name he was in the car with me where is he?” Alex croaked out, fear and paranoia rushing over him more harsh than the stinging pain from talking.

“He’s in the next room, please sir cal-”

“I need to see him” Alex cut off the woman, quickly croaking “Please, he hates me, God, I did this please” Alex say’s tears leaving his eyes. If only he had listened, if he had not been so stubborn, If only he was better.

“Sir, you nor your friend are in a good enough condition to see each other.” she said sympathetically.

“Please” Alex’s voice cracked, the woman handed him a cup of water to help him out, if only she had done this before, he could’ve won this argument by now. Alex gulps down the ice cold water giving him some relief. “I beg you, and I never beg for anything, this is all my fault, I need to see. Please” he grabbed the woman’s hand looking into eyes, giving him some sort of leverage.

The woman looked towards the door and back to Alex with a sign.

“I could get in trouble for this. But, I can tell you love him. I will try my best to get you to him.” She said getting up and walking out of the room. But trying wasn’t enough for Alex, he worked hard in his daily life, and that’s what he’ll do and more for John. Just as he was about to pick himself up to get a better look of the room, the woman from before walks into the room with a wheelchair.

“Dr. Hansen is currently in another wing for a “supply check”, let’s get you to your friend.” She smiled trying her best on her own to help Alex out of the bed. Although not perfect and hitting a few soft spots on Alex, he was still getting to John.

“Boyfriend, by the way, he’s not just my friend, he is my life” Alex says as she hangs the IV, a tear slipping down his face. The woman stayed silent as she wheeled Alex carefully out of his room into the one directly across from him. Tears continuously leave Alex’s eyes as he looks at his little turtle hooked up to machines. Johns face tattered up, cuts and bruises adorning his face along with those of so familiar freckles. Alex was pushed next to John’s bed, just causing him to let out more tears. His heart monitor says that he is alive, but that’s not all what Alex is worried about. He destroyed him, It was his fault.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

The love of his life, lying there helplessly. His warm blanket of calmness, left with only the marks that Alex had caused. Alex reached out for John’s hand, lifelessly hanging in Alex’s tight grip.

“I am so sorry John. This is my fault, nothing you can say or do will ever make me think otherwise. I should’ve just came home on time all those nights, I was to caught up with fighting off Jefferson. I don’t know why I became so close minded to my work. I should be with you always, not some silly job in fighting Jefferson. I plan on, for the rest of my life to be with you and to show you everything. You hold captive my heart, my mind, and our future. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please turtle, pull through, I love you so much.” Alex sobbed, leaning his head onto his and John’s interlocked hands. Maybe his tight grip with bring John to consciousness. “I’m Sorry” Alex sobbed out holding his hand tighter.

Then suddenly a tiny and soft squeeze to Alex’s hand caused him to smile just a little, letting out a sob. The oblivion, he knew, was here to stay.

[chiseler]

Signed JACK BLACK, Reconstructed Yegg

In a long letter to his friend Fremont Older, the big wheel San Francisco newspaper editor, just prior to each man’s publishing a life-and-times memoir (both books were issued by Macmillan in New York in 1926), Jack Black, the former burglar and gunman now for a decade a species of upstanding citizen, states: “Dear Friend of Mine: Your stories take me back thirteen years. Do you remember our meeting at the Ingleside jail…you did not ask me if I were guilty…you said, What can I do?”

It was the beginning of a beautifully unlikely friendship. That first meeting was back in 1911 and an improbable year later—a long year that for Jack entailed a lam from jail, an opium addiction cure, another arrest in Canada, extradition back to California to stand on appeal of a twenty-five-year sentence for highway robbery, and resentencing to a year in San Quentin—Jack had his bell rung to the good by justice squared for the last time in a courtroom, thanks to Older’s influence, where, prior to this, he’d never gotten anything but the worst of it.

He was discharged in the fall of 1913 and after convalescing at Older’s ranch south of the city for a couple of seasons went to work for “the Big Fellow” at the San Francisco Bulletin. He was a payroll clerk, a circulation manager, even a sometime crime beat cub reporting directly to the editor from the police courts. Eventually he took up the pen himself, inevitably perhaps, and the Bulletin printed two true story serials by John Black in 1917. His unflinching autobiography You Can’t Win was issued a decade later and, following that, his unusual life—most of it in shadows underground or in prison—took its final fatal turning. In a series of letters from these years, addressed primarily to Older, we can partially chart his course.

In a letter to Older dated December 17, 1928, from New York City where Jack had brought a play he’d been working on—he wanted it “to have the New York background,” he explained in another letter about the work-in-progress—he reports, “I found myself quite well known here through ‘You Can’t Win’ and could be going about all the time if I weren’t so anti-everything. I am sure I could make a living here.” This is quite a jump from sneak thief to ex-con to news agent to bestselling author at large in the big city back east. In fact he did make a decent sort of living writing topical reviews and essays for several magazines including Harper’s and the New Republic—with that, in the same letter, he throws away this telling line: “You know I’m too hard-boiled to get excited about selling a story”—and giving talks on prison reform on behalf of the new American League to Abolish Capital Punishment, Clarence Darrow, president, where he was offered a spot on the league’s national advisory committee. (The damnable attorney himself, a public admirer of his book, offered Jack the post.)

Then in his letter to “My dear Fremont” of August 19, 1929, Jack speaks of his being offered an opportunity to give a brief talk on the radio (WJZ in New York) on capital punishment and that “I’m not getting paid for it and am doing it to get publicity (God forgive me) for my forthcoming ‘lectures.’ There was a time when I made a whole lot of money by keeping my mouth shut and minding my own business and now here I am doing just the opposite.” It was the kind of wicked contrast that Jack relished.

Yet later in that winter the attention began drying up and the work naturally lessened. When he returned to the city again in the fall after a summer in the West he was scuffling. He’d just enough to “dissipate the chuck-horrors and room-rent nightmare, and put an Oregon Boot on the bill collector,” Jack told Older in a December 1930 letter written from a rooming house on the Upper West Side. Even so, he added in this first year after the crash, “There’s no news about the town but gloom stories.” And by the following February his pockets were near empty of “sheckels,” as he liked to say. He wrote mindfully on February 10, 1931: “Dear Fremont—I’ve been writing you every day for the last month but it just didn’t get on paper—that’s all—probably because there’s nothing to talk about but hard times, unemployment, bread-lines, bank failures, police scandals, etc. but they are not news.” He mentioned though that he’d find some way of working his way back to California in the spring, come heck or high water. He did so, stopping in Chicago and Wichita and Denver along the way for some of his last paid lectures, arriving at the Older homestead around May 1. Apparently it was his last trip west.

When he returned to New York City in the fall of ’31 it was with the news that at long last the play, cowritten with his former Bulletin colleague and friend Bessie Beatty, originally titled Salt Chunk Mary and now reworked and retitled Jamboree, was to be produced for the Broadway stage. He remained in New York the entire following year preparing for the opening, which occurred on November 24, 1932, at the Vanderbilt Theatre on West 48th Street. The next day the Times lightly panned it, stating, “Black and Beatty have just missed.”

It was a predictable blow somehow. When the play closed in just six weeks in December Jack found himself at loose ends. The Depression made failure even tougher and when he wrote, broke but resigned, to Older he neglected to speak of the play’s flopping and, worse, gave no indication of returning to California in the spring as he’d always done before. Years earlier when he’d first arrived in New York he’d said, “If we ever sell [this play] I will pull out for the West [for good]. Away from this wild and wooly country.” (He’d called New York “lousy” in a letter to the photographer Edward Weston written from Older’s place back in June of 1930, indicating his wish too not to have to return.) His movable desire to pack it up once again he could not now realize. All the effort put toward a public life had been vexatious, troublesome, against his nature in fact, and he was tired and sick. Even so he was well liked and he understood he’d be missed. He was sorry for his silence but as of old it was necessary in his mind. The steadfast Fremont Older had written telling him to come on, as always: “[My home] is your home as long as I am on this earth.” Jack it seems refused to borrow any money for travel, especially from those he was fond of. It just wouldn’t do. And he no longer carried a gun, of course; he’d promised the Big Fellow long ago and he wouldn’t break it. He did not want to put himself in a position to let anyone down.

In that same purposeful letter to Older writ upon the eve of the publication of their books Jack, after going on at length about some basic truths and intimate understandings between the two of them, cuts to the chase: “Enough of this ‘I’ and ‘me’ stuff. I must get to the point. You have a big, true story. Tell your readers how to help the underdog. . . If there is a thought in this letter that will help you in your fight for the outcast . . . take it.” He signs off, “Sincerely, Jack Black, Reconstructed Yegg.” He couldn’t know I suppose that long after his unwept, unsung, finally unknowable death it’d be his book that, in its eloquent and let’s face it damned exciting challenge to society to observe more deeply its “underdogs,” would be read and reread for that informed (he would never say of himself that he was “reformed”) perspective.

When Jack did not arrive in California in spring of ’33 as hoped and a mutual friend in New York reported that he had pawned his favorite watch Older in despair was convinced that Jack was dead and gone. Jack’d been known to say on more than one occasion that he’d “never be a burden to anyone.” Yet another newspaperman colleague reported years later that Jack had told him, “I did not ask to come here therefore my life is mine. I will take it as easily as I will flip away a cigarette butt.” Not just Older but other close friends were convinced he did just that.

Older would write to a mutual acquaintance, in mourning, “Darrow would say Jack is better off than we are, with death behind him,” but he was in no mood to be philosophical. He’d lost a decades-long dear friend. But yet we don’t know for sure when or how Jack died, the record shows no such cold facts. Having no word his friends surmised then and we can only speculate now. Jack Black vanished from sight, is what, we know only that much. He disappeared himself for his own reasons, moved out of the spotlight. The noted burglar always said he did his best work in the dark.

by Donald Kennison

[imthemonaluisa]

Confess

Summary:  You weren’t exactly sociable. You had moved to New York 3 years ago, yet you had little to none friends, including your best friend Marquis de Lafayette. Christmas is coming, and he’s throwing a party a week before, like usual. Little does he know about your secret…little does he know that hooking you up with Alexander Hamilton would never work…for a million reasons.

Word count: 3.287 (they keep getting longer jesus christ)

Warnings: Cussing, homophobia, crying, just a lot of angst. 

Pairins: Lams; Laurens x Alexander; John Laurens x Thomas Jefferson. 

A/N: Some very big plot twists in this one. I’m super proud of it to be honest. In this one you get to know what happend with Laurens...and what has been happening with Thomas for a long time. 

Part one

Part two

Enjoy!

If I can prove that I never tried to hurt you, would you promise not to tell another soul what you saw?

John’s side of the story.

 The muffled laughter and shouting voices from inside the house were beginning to disappear, as John was running through December’s cruel freezing wind, his tears strolling down his cheeks, unstoppable, and his breathing speeding up, heart about to pump out from his chest and leave him. He was angry, he was sad, he was truly feeling broken. And he was determined to run away from the scene as soon as possible, wishing for it all to be a stupid nightmare, one of those where he would wake up later to the calming sound of Alexander’s snoring against his neck, as he cuddled him, not one bit aware of John’s movements. But now everything was over, there was no hugging, no kissing, no calm, no trust. Hell, he didn’t even know if there was any love left. Maybe Alexander always lied. Maybe he was straight, and Laurens was just an easy target for some experiment.

When he reached his apartment door, he couldn’t breathe. He looked for his keys, his whole body shaking, as he tried to slow down for a second. He was tense, overwhelmed and even dizzy, but not for the alcohol, just because of his messy feelings and thoughts that were physically hurting him. He didn’t live too far away from Lafayette’s house, so he didn’t take so long, but he still ran like five blocks in that freezing weather, with nothing but his t shirt on. He was not about to take time to look for his coat after seeing what he saw.

Before he could finally enter his home and break down properly, some figure running in the middle of the dark New York street caught his attention. A tall man was blaring his name. When he was close enough, John was so surprised he re-considered the it all being a dream option. But when the curly haired man put a hand on his shoulder to shake him a little, he realized that it wasn’t just a horrible dream creating in his head, but his ugly motherfucking reality.

“John, snap out of it” Jefferson laughed, and removed his hand away. He was catching his breath, or trying. He bent over and put his hands on his knees. He looked rather worried as well, as if John crying made him feel anything else but amused.

“Wh-who-what the fuck, Thomas, why are you even here?? You followed me??” John found his keys on his pocket and opened the door. No use in arguing with goddamn Jefferson in the middle of the street. He was shaken and freezing to death. If Thomas had to come in, then he was going to let him be. No time to be against anything, no will, no power left in his body to do anything else than cry.

“Yeah, I figured you needed some support” He came in and closed the door behind him. What he saw was everything he expected, but nothing he was ready for.

John threw the keys on the floor, threw himself on the couch, and began to sob violently. And with that, I mean his eyes were shut, his chest was coming up and down in short motions, his tears were unstoppable and the only sounds coming from his mouth were the ones he did when he- unsuccessfully- tried to breathe. His whole life, his happiness, the reason he came out of bed every morning, the reason he always tried to be better and better, the love of his goddamn life, everything he ever did just to be trashed, to be ran over, to be forgotten. Maybe Alexander wasn’t in love with him, maybe he was holding on to a dream, but he surely was. He was deeply touched by that man, with his ponytail, his fits of passion, his stubbornness, his shouting, his complaints. With his infinite caring, his sweet words, his charming attitudes, his late-night caresses. Everything Alexander was as a person was enough for John, and he almost convinced himself he was enough for Hamilton too, but it seems that life always brings you down to the deepest holes right when you are at your highest, just to make the fall even more painful. He was never more in love, and he was never more heart-broken.

He completely forgot about Jefferson even being in the same room, until he felt him sat down next to him, and slowly but confidently start rubbing his back, trying to somehow comfort him.

“Please leave me. I don’t know why you came and I don’t wish to. I want to be alone” Laurens whispered, not strong enough to speak any louder.

“No, you don’t. You wouldn’t want to be in your own right now” He kept rubbing his back very softly.

“Why are you here?” John glanced up at him, with a very mad and confused expression. His eyes were red and he looked exhausted. New tears kept appearing on his hazel little windows. Through them, you could see all his pain and fears take place, comfortably gaining weight and power inside him.

“Because I know you deserve better” Thomas was half smiling at him, and he didn’t look like the guy John knew. He didn’t look like a douchebag, like someone who just went around hurting people because he had the chance to. He looked like he truly cared. And maybe it was that way, maybe he was different around the smaller guy. Maybe the Thomas everyone knew was nothing but a disguise, a character he created on his mind, to hide under it, to protect himself, to fit in.

“How would you know that? And anyway, since when do you even care about anyone else than yourself? As far as I know, you’re another asshole like the rest of your friends. Homophobic bastards who just have fun hurting people” He remembered Alexander again, and his voice broke in the last sentence. He brought his legs to his chest and hugged them, burring his face on his knees.

“I’m not like them” He sounded a bit hurt “I know I seem like them…I’m just…under pressure. And hey, I know I fuck up all the time but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you-“

He stopped himself before he could fuck up anything else.

Care about you?

What did he mean?

John slowly looked up and stared. Thomas’ big brown eyes were staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact. His hand went from John’s back to his pocket, and he swallowed. Laurens just kept staring in disbelief.

“Care about me? What do you mean? You barely know me” His crying became silent. Only single tears running down his cheeks, the little ones left.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you exist” Thomas was still not locking eyes with John.

“But what do you mean? Care? Like, the only thing I can think of is that you lied to everyone and you’re not straight or something” He sighed, not able to laugh, but a bit amused at that thought.

Thomas wasn’t laughing.

He was extremely quiet, to be honest. Like if someone cut his tongue. Like if his biggest secret was revealed and he was too afraid to respond.

Hold on.

Oh.

Oh god, no.

“Oh my god, Thomas, you’re-“

“Yes” Now everything made sense “Yes I am, I’m gay, I am” Tables turned, Jefferson was crying now, and he was not good at controlling himself at all. That was a sentence he never thought he would say ever, and he just did, in front of one of his goddamn classmates. Now everyone in collage would know.

John could do nothing but hug him. Thomas Jefferson was gay and into him? How was he supposed to react? The guy has a girlfriend, and he always acted like the straightest fuck boy you could meet. Now suddenly, he’s a nice person who has been pretending his whole life?

John felt miserable for him, if he could even feel more miserable. He knew how hard it was to open yourself up like that, to share that part of your life. By the time John came out, he already had been through the process of accepting himself and he had friends to support him. Now, Jefferson? He was all on his own.

“I never meant to be so mean to yo-you, I’m so so-sorry for everything i-I ever called you, I-“ He was stopped by more sobbing.

“No no no hey it’s fine, hey, it’s okay, please, relax, it’s fine” Now John was trying to comfort Thomas, caressing his shoulders softly. He didn’t know why he was doing so…probably because he knew exactly how he felt. Coming out, and feeling like you were alone and unwanted by everyone. Been there, done that.

“N-now everyone will ha-hate me” Jefferson crying, not being able to steady his voice…that was something he would’ve laughed at if he didn’t know why he was in that state.

“They won’t, cause I won’t tell, and you only will when you’re ready to” Laurens gave him an encouraging smile, to make him feel like for once, he had a someone beside him that understood his pain. Maybe not a friend, but someone.

He had no idea how he was helping Thomas while his own heart was crashing inside him, and Jefferson surely realized the huge amount of effort he was doing.

“I shouldn’t even be bothering you, after what happened, what an asshole, I better leave now” He spoke so fast, Laurens just caught the general idea. He stood up, whipping his tears away, heading to the door.

“No, Thomas” John stopped him, taking his hand “…. maybe we can spend some time together?” The freckles boy blushed but didn’t let go “I need some company and I think you do as well”

“……Sure” He sat down again, and smiled softly. He breathed and as John still had his hand on his, he giggled and intertwined fingers. He liked his touch, and his advances didn’t get any complaint. John just looked up and smiled as well. And then, he laughed.

“Jesus, what’s even happening” He sighed, but didn’t pull his hand away, instead, he sat closer to Thomas. They both looked like a mess, but they didn’t mind. They were longing for attention, for affection coming from the other. But for complete different reasons.

Thomas took his chance, and brushed a curl from John’s face, very sweetly.

“I have no idea, but I’m not against it” He shrugged and cupped his cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb, and looking at him lovingly. Slowly, John saw him lean forward, just the tiniest bit. And he panicked. What was going on? He was about to kiss Thomas Jefferson, and why? How? So much happened in one night, he went through an emotional rollercoaster and now he’s wobbly after the ride, not being able to react or reason his actions.

Everything that happened after was a blur. There was kissing, passionate kissing and very sloppy slow kissing. There was hair grabbing and pulling. There was straddling, caressing, rubbing. There was a shirtless Thomas, there was neck kissing, neck biting, neck licking. And then there were tears, shaking, and infinite self-disgust. Everything happened in a flash for John, and he could only come back to his senses when he managed to pull away from the kiss and get off Jefferson, back to his previous position on the couch next to him, instead of on top.

“No…no what am I doing….” He couldn’t stop shaking “I’m cheating…Alexander will hate me…no…I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But he cheated on you!” Thomas was panting, all the pleasure he was feeling gone from his body.

“No! I don’t care I still can’t…I…. oh, god, I’m a monster” Guilt took over him as he curled up in a ball. He wanted to undo everything that happened that night. It was too late.

“So, you regret it all?” Thomas sounded so hurt, it was painful to hear. He revealed something he swore to himself never tell to a guy he pretty much liked a lot, to be rejected in that way?

“I shouldn’t even had kissed you at all!”

John knew he shouldn’t have. Thomas’ self-esteem was basically buried already, and that wasn’t going to help much. But he couldn’t stop his guilt talking for him. He loved the kiss, but he knew it was going to make everything worse.

Thomas was going to shout something at him when three knocks on the door stopped him. He looked at John, deeply offended and emotionally wounded, and he went to look for a mirror. It was obviously Alexander, and he knew this was his chance to revenge himself.

It was going to be hard to let go from his old self.

John couldn’t speak. He knew what was waiting behind the door.

He wasn’t ready.

After fixing himself up, Thomas glared at John one last time before opening the door as he put his best cocky smile on. God knew he had plenty of those ready for when he needed to pretend.

“Hey, fag” He started smirking a lot, knowing he had to sell it.

Alexander said nothing.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were too busy fucking your lady friend”

“You…you…. you….what….you aren’t…what…you don’t…”

“What, Alex?” He was giggling at his mumbling “You know, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover…”

“Where’s John”

“Where. Is. John”

“WHERE THE FUCK IS JOHN”

Thomas was going to answer with some witty comment, but he was cut by John’s choked voice.

“I’m here” John’s view was devastating. He looked truly depressed and Thomas was trying not to let that win him. He was proud, and he was too hurt to think straight. He felt betrayed, and he wasn’t gonna let anyone go over him. Not even the guy he was almost in love with. Again, he had to work a lot on his personality. He barely knew who he was, to start with.

“JOHN, John baby John, John my John” Surprisingly, Laurens pushed him away “John…John you know I’d never do that to you it’s just that Thomas was harassing me and I didn’t know what to do, I was so afraid about how people perceive me, I was scared to death baby I’m-“

“Please leave” John cut him off, muttering that single sentence, that brought Alexander’s whole world down

“Honey, no, why”- “Leave. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Now leave”

Alexander realized John had a love bite, and John tried to cover it but it was no use. Thomas felt the sweet taste of victory.

“I think you heard him” He said. And as soon as Alexander was out the door, he spoke loudly so he could hear.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m here for you know”

He closed the door, and John walked to him, still shaking. Thomas just stared. His mask was gone. All there was left was anger in his expression, and deep sadness in his eyes. He had so many pieces to pick up and fix. And so did John. They couldn’t fix themselves and they couldn’t fix each other either. Laurens knew he didn’t do all of that out of hate. He did that because he could barely control his own feelings.

“Go home” John ordered. He didn’t have time to resolve Jefferson’s life puzzle. He had his own.

“You know, I came here only for you” God knows Thomas would regret everything that happened that night the morning after.

“And I never asked you to come” John’s voice was sharp, but low and shaky. “You are as broken as me. Neither of us is stable enough to be around each other. I’m sorry if you have feelings that I can’t have for you. But I’m in love with that son of a bitch that just left and even though I hate him now, that’s not gonna change anytime soon. So please, I beg you, grab your stuff, and go home”.

Thomas opened his mouth, but he shook his head and went to grab his t shirt. He had also forgotten his coat, and he didn’t realize his stupid mistake until he opened the door. It was almost subzero degrees, and he had to walk god knows how many blocks to reach home.

He was about to say something before leaving, but he regretted it immediately. He closed the door behind him, and left John alone, who quickly became a crying mess. Everything was fucked up now. What was he even gonna say?

What could he say?

He couldn’t apologize.

Right?

If he texted him, would he reply?

Or even worse

Was Alex alone? Was that girl still around?

He decided that thinking about it so much made no sense. He needed to act immediately. If he had to cry, he was going to. If he had to take Alex’s hand across his face, he was going to let it be. If he had to stay silent and just listen to Hamilton screaming through the phone, he was surely going to shut up and let him. He would do anything for that man, absolutely anything. Even death.

So, he called. It was 2 am in the morning. Not exactly the best time, but who gave a damn.

No one answered, until he was about to hang up, and Alexander picked up the phone.

“John oh my god” He was whispering, and Laurens could hear muffled footsteps. Alexander was trying to find a place to talk where he wouldn’t wake anyone up. “John baby john I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened in that party I don’t know why I did it I- “

“No baby I am sorry, Thomas just came to me and he said he was gay and then kissed me and I don’t know I just miss you so much and- “He stopped when he realized they were both ranting on each other’s ear and both almost about to cry. He giggled a little when Alex did, both amused at how similar they always acted.

“We should probably talk all this through face to face” Hammy said. John heard a soft sob.

“Yes, please” John wiped some tears away “Where are you?” He was ready to walk again if he had to.

“I’m at Y/N place” John opened his eyes widely “WAIT, before you panic, she invited us all to sleep on her house. Herc, Laf and me. Just so I could feel better. She’s a friend,truly”

“Okay…okay, I believe you” He knew they had to work on trust, among other stuff. “Text me the address and I’ll be there as soon as possible”

“Don’t you want me to go?” Alex said. Both men would do anything for each other and it was adorable.

“No, I don’t want you to freeze. And anyway, everyone is there, and I feel like I owe some explanations…and by the way, I’d like to meet Y/N” He didn’t say this out of jealousy. He was truly curious about her. And he wanted to meet his boyfriend’s new friend after all. She was doing a lot for him.

“Okay…hey, hold on, you said Thomas Jefferson is actually gay??”

“Seems like it. Long story, I’ll tell you when I get there” He giggled a little, and so did Alex.

They both just stayed silent for a while.

It was going to be a long day.

“Babe?” Alexander finally spoke. His voice was calming every inch of John’s body. And he felt his heart jump a little hearing that pet name come out of his baby’s mouth.

“Yes honey?”

“I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too. More than anything”.

[one-of-us-blog]

The Living Daylights (1987)

Today Drew is forced to watch and recap 1987’s The Living Daylights, the fifteenth James Bond adventure. It’s a new dawn for Bond, and that means it’s time for another globetrotting adventure. Bond is tasked with helping a KGB general defect, but that spirals into a plot involving gunrunning, stolen diamonds and opium. Can Bond get to the bottom of this ouroboros of a scheme?

Keep reading to find out…

Eli, you’re still killing the recap game! I agree with your thoughts on both “One Old Lady to Go” and “Ebbtide for the Defense”, but I would have sworn Rubin was played by Chong! And it’s always kind of bummed me out that Rose gave such a downer of an ending for Alma after we got to see her so vibrant earlier in The Golden Girls. I’m still playing catch up right now, though, so it’s time for me to hit the bricks and get this recap going!

Buttocks tight!

Screenplay by Richard Maibaum & Michael G. Wilson, film directed by John Glen

We start off with a brand new barrel sequence, now proudly displaying Timothy Dalton as 007, and then we jump into a 00 training exercise. The 00’s need to infiltrate a radar instillation on the Rock of Gibraltar, and it… doesn’t go great. 002 gets taken out of the game right away, then 004 and our own 007 start scaling a cliff face when a real life assassin kills 004 and leaves a note reading Smiert Spionom behind. 007 goes after the assassin, resulting in a rollicking jeep chase that ends with the jeep carrying the assassin going off a cliff while a parachute-wearing Bond lands in a woman’s yacht. He yanks the woman’s old timey cell phone out of her hand, plops down like he owns the place and then delays informing MI6 about the details of his fellow 00 agent’s death by an hour so he can bang this random lady.

With that out of the way we jump into the super saturated title sequence featuring a-ha singing “The Living Daylights” while some ladies pose in water and shoot revolvers.

With that behind us, we cut to Bratislava, Czechoslovakia. Bond is here to help Saunders, head of Section V, with the defection of a KGB general named Georgi Koskov (Jeroen Krabbé). The defection starts alright, but the KGB has a woman sniper (Maryam d’Abo) set up to take Koskov out as he’s trying to flee and Bond just can’t bring himself to shoot a pretty woman. Bond is then a total dick to Saunders, leaving him to lose the KGB agents tailing them while he drives off with Koskov and refuses to tell Saunders how he plans to get him out. Bond’s plan involves shooting Koskov out of KBG territory in an oil pipeline with the help of the Soviet Union’s answer to Rosie the Riveter. Q is there to greet Koskov for no reason, and Bond picks Saunders up like a mom picking her kid up outside the roller-rink while Koskov is sent off in a jet.

At MI6, we meet our first Miss Moneypenny following, with the role now being played by Caroline Bliss. We get an honestly cringe-worthy moment where Q brags about his deadly new boombox (called the ‘ghetto blaster’) before Moneypenny sends Bond off to see M (after he gives her a good natured pat on the ass). Bond is sent to a house in the country where an assassin is posing as a milkman. He meets with M and the cheery Koskov for the debriefing. Koskov informs the Brits that the KGB is now being headed by General Pushkin, who’s hungry for both power and dead spies. Pushkin started the KGB’s anti-spy program known as Smiert Spionom (better known to us as SMERSH). The assassin, who’s name is Necros (Andreas Wisniewski), murders his way through the safehouse and eventually kidnaps Koskov.

MI6 assumes Pushkin is behind this, so Bond is tasked with tracking him down. Bond gets a round of gadgets from Q, including car keys with a lockpick, sleep gas dispenser and an explosive. Moneypenny identifies the sniper Bond refused to shoot as cellist Kara Milovy and Bond tracks her down in Bratislava. Bond arrives in time to see Milovy dragged off a bus and brought before Pushkin (John Rhys-Davies). Bond finds blanks in Milovy’s sniper rifle and deduces that Koskov’s entire defection was a ruse and Milovy is actually his girlfriend. He convinces her he’s a friend of Koskov and she agrees to go to Vienna with him (after first retrieving her prized cello). The KGB are hot on Bond’s tail and we get a standard 007 car chase, this time with extra goofy car gadgets, but eventually Bond, Milovy and the cello make it into Austria.

Meanwhile, Pushkin goes to meet with an American arms dealer named Brad Whitaker (played by the ever repugnant Joe Don Baker) in Tangier. Whitaker is batty and has festooned his complex with grotesque wax sculptures of famous military leaders with his face plastered onto them. Pushkin tells Whitaker that they’re cancelling a contract made between the KGB and Koskov, which Whitaker isn’t thrilled about. We see Bond and Milovy flirting their way through Vienna before we cut back to the actual movie we’re watching and see Whitaker meeting with Koskov and Necros. Koskov lets Whitaker know Bond’s snooping around, and they plan to eliminate him. We sit through Bond and Milovy watching an opera before Bond meets up with Saunders at the Prater. Saunders informs Bond of a history of financial exchanges between Koskov and Whitaker, and then he gets blown up by a bomb placed by Necros.

Bond and Milovy head to Tangier, where Bond confronts Pushkin in his hotel. Puskin denies any involvement with SMERSH getting started up again, and also informs Bond that Koskov is on the lam after embezzling government funds. Pushkin signals for a guard and Bond brutally rips the top off of Pushkin’s girlfriend in order to distract the guard. Bond’s nice enough to throw her a towel before he finished interrogating Pushkin. Later, Necros prepares to assassinate Pushkin but Bond stages a fake killing to save the general’s life and trick Whitaker and Koskov into carrying out their little scheme. While running from the fake assassination Bond jumps into a car with two women inside of it, and they promptly pull a gun on him and take him to a yacht where he’s reunited with our old friend Felix Leiter (John Terry). It’s been a while, Felix! He’s probably been too busy taking care of his son Gordo to spend much time with his buddy James. Bond assures Leiter that Pushkin’s assassination was staged, and then they plan to order some big stuff from Whitaker.

Milovy is left alone too long and gets nervous so she calls Koskov, who tells her Bond is actually a KGB agent and convinces her to drug him. Once he’s passed out, Koskov has Necros load him into a plane with Milovy and an organ transplant container that actually contains an animal’s heart and ice mixed with illicit diamonds. The plane lands in Afghanistan, where Koskov hands both Bond and shocked Milovy over to the local coppers. They escape thanks to the stun gas in Bond’s key fob and free another prisoner (Art Malik) just for kicks. It’s a good thing they did, because it turns out that guy is Kamran Shah, leader of the local Mujahideen. Shah helps Bond and Milovy get to safety, but he’s not willing to help Bond out on his mission. The next day they ride out and Bond discovers there’s yet another link in this unbelievable scheme chain. Those diamonds from that fake organ transplant container? They’re being sold in exchange for opium from the Mujahideen.

Bond plants a bomb among the opium and Milovy inspires the Mujahideen to attack the airbase where the opium is being shipped from. Bond gets caught by Necros and Koskov before he can leave the plane with the bomb on it so he hijacks the plane while the Soviets are distracted by the Mujahideen attack. Milovy manages to catch up to the plane in a stolen jeep and avoids Necros shooting at her long enough to get aboard the plane. She takes the wheel while Bond defuses the bomb. Turns out Necros also managed to get on the plane somehow, though, so he and Bond have to fight before Milovy opens the hatch and causes Bond, Necros and the opium to dangle out of the plane. Bond cuts loose the opium and sends Necros falling to his death, still managing to get back inside the plane in time to defuse the bomb and stop Milovy from steering into a mountain. Bond sees that Shah and his men are being chased across a bridge by the Soviets, so he reactivates the bomb and throws it down onto a bridge the Soviets are crossing. The Mujahideen lives to fight again!

Unfortunately the plane being in a gun fight led to the fuel tanks getting plugged full of holes, so this jet’s goin’ down fast. Bond and Milovy managed to ride Milovy’s jeep out of the plane before it crashes, and they head to Whitaker’s palatial estate. With some help from Leiter, Bond makes it inside and confronts Whitaker. Whitaker is enraged by the destruction of his precious opium, which was supposed to be sold on the streets at heroin in the US, which would have given him and Koskov more money to run weapons and so on and so on. Bond and Whitaker scrap for a minute and Whitaker is killed. Puskin arrives and then Koskov, who’s been found by KGB agents, is brought in. Koskov tries to suck up to Pushkin, but Pushkin orders he be flown home in a body bag.

Later, Milovy puts on a cello performance which M and Pushkin both take in. The Mujahideen also show up, much to Milovy’s delight. Milovy finds Bond waiting for her in her dressing room, and the two celebrate her performance with a duet of their own. A… sexual duet.

The End

~~~~~

Woof, somebody get me a CliffsNotes version of this movie! I know I’m still smarting from the loss of my beloved Roger Moore, but there was just something about this movie that rubbed me the wrong way. There was a smugness to Dalton’s performance that I just didn’t like, and I can’t quite articulate why. And I’m sorry, but I simply cannot take Joe Don Baker seriously as a villain. The plot of this one was really convoluted, and I feel like it took itself way too seriously. Again, I might just be used to the lighter Moore-era romps, but going from A View to a Kill to this was way too jarring for me.

Overall, I give The Living Daylihgts QQ½ on the Five Q Scale.

We’ll see you again soon as Eli gears up to recap “Can’t Stand Losing You” and “Seems Like Old Times, Part 1”, the next two episodes of The Golden Palace, and after that it’ll be my turn at the mic as I cover Licence to Kill, the last James Bond adventure to star Timothy Dalton.

Until then, as always, thank you for reading, thank you for celloing and thank you for being One of Us!

[lookatthedawn]

Nanning (Part I)

I'm never ready to disembark when I get to my destination.  My first reaction is usually "do I have to?"  I like the ride.  I plan for the ride and I'm curious about the people around me.  Is it a coincidence that leads us to share that limited space and time with someone?  We've chosen the same transportation, same destination, at the same time.  What else do we have in common?  What if something happens, --  the series Lost comes to mind -- how will we relate to each other then?  Will I see your worst moments, will you see mine?  I think of reports of "passengers of aircraft number so-and-so". In tragedy, a whole group of diverse people is reduced to "passengers".  Sometimes the families of such groups get to know one another.  I once heard of a man and a woman who met through the losses of their spouses in a plane crash and later fell in love and got married.  And yet we sit next to each other hoping that we won't need to learn their name, that we'll be polite and keep out of each other's hair, and say goodbye as soon as we arrive at our destination. What a waste! Enjoy the ride, we often say to others, but most of us don't. I have had some memorable conversations while traveling, some of which are over twenty-five years old and I still remember.  Many times something the person said, a suggestion about the destination or a warning, had a huge impact on my choices.  And yet, I often take my seat in a plane or train with a mental list of things I want to accomplish; write, read, listen to music, usually in this order, and keep to myself.  I stop at movies and TV series because I'd rather get to know my fellow travelers than watch something I can watch from home. Does my attitude carry a deeper meaning?  If life is analogous to a ride, how best to spend that time?  With the people around me, I'd think.  And will I get to the end of my life feeling like I'm not ready to step out of this vehicle, my body, and into another realm?  Am I reading too much into it?  After all, I've slept less than five hours and who can blame me for not wanting to leave the comfortable bed in the air-conditioned room for the scalding sun and heat in Nanning? Besides, sleeping we don't have any problems, such as the three I must face as soon as I step out of the train; I don't have a return ticket; I don't have a cent in the local currency (yuan) and I don't know how to get to my hotel.  Unlike Gia Lam, the train station in Nanning is big and crowded.  I step out and follow the crowd through a long, grayish/white pavilion, which is clean with no seats.  In fact, there is a sign warning against sitting here.  I hope my fellow passengers know where they're going.  I locate the exit, then explore the station a bit.  The restrooms are not bad, but you must carry your own toilet paper.  Almost no one speaks English, but talk to you in Chinese anyway.  I find the ticket booths, one of which an "English" sign, so I get in line.  The email I received told me to leave the station and walk for six minutes to find the ticket office, but I think the girl behind the counter will know something about it.  In the same line is the girl who was in my cabin since she doesn't speak Chinese either.  She greets me and we talk a bit while we wait.  I realize I have a ticket number in my email and decide to try my luck at one of the machines on the other side of the room.  But the machines have no English option.  Travel, and you realize how much you don't know.  I go back to wait in line.  The clerk takes the printed email, looks it over and hands it back to me.  "You have to go here," she says, pointing to the address, "to get your ticket." "Yes, I understand that.  Can you tell me where that is?" "I don't know," she says impatiently.  I really don't know why she's in a hurry since there's nobody behind me.   I examine the map in my hand, but it's so poorly printed that I can't even tell where I am.  I leave the station.  Outside it's unbelievably hot.  I try to make sense of the map.  It's hopeless.  I look for someone who speaks English.  No luck. I enter a Comfort Inn near the station, (thank God for air-conditioned!) and hope the receptionist speaks English.  She does, but very little.  I show her the address and she points to a street in front of the hotel.  I ask her where I can exchange money and she tells me to go to the bank.   I brace myself and face the sun and heat again.  My bag is getting heavy, but that's okay.  As soon as I change the money I'll go to the hotel and take a nice, cool shower.  But I want to get my return ticket first.   Numbers in Nanning are not as straightforward as in the U.S.  My guess is that the characters refer to the house/commerce numbers, but I can't tell.  The fact is that I don't know if I'm on the right street, and I'm not seeing many numbers.  The numbers I do see are far from the number in my hand.  After walking down this street and finding nothing, I decide to take a right, onto a busier street.  A kid of about 16 sees me consulting the paper in my hands and asks if I need help.  Relieved to be spoken to in English, I show him the address I'm looking for.  He tells me the street I'm looking for is the one I just left, and we must go back to it.  It makes sense, so we go back to the first street and look for the number.  We finally find it, but there's absolutely nothing remotely resembling a travels agency there.  He asks around, nobody knows about it.  We keep looking, walking up and down the street.  At one point he places his hand on my lower back and I automatically jump.  The gesture is out of place and therefore offensive. Cultural differences apart, when did I ever give him the least opening to touch me? "Please don't touch me," I say and move farther from him. After that, I wish he'd stop 'helping' me, but he has taken it upon himself to find the address.  Now I have four problems, and the one I decide to solve first is his presence.   I tell him thanks, but I can find the address by myself.  He continues to follow me.  I stop and wait for the traffic light -- unlike in Vietnam, Chinese rules demand obedience.  He stops right behind me and waits as well.  Around us there are, perhaps, six people, also waiting to cross the street. When it's time for me to walk, I slow down, and the group of pedestrians, like a wave, take him across the street.  I turn instead to the sidewalk and rush down the street, without a look back. 

I have seen a bank before, and now I make my way back to it and ask if they exchange money.  The one clerk who speaks English says they do.  I tell her I need to exchange VNDs.  She comes around the counter and asks for my passport.  She examines it as closely as a border control officer.  She checks passport origin, visa for China and visa for Hanoi.  She consults with the guard, then makes copies of several pages of my passport.  I'm not in a hurry, after all, the bank is cool and has a place I where I can sit.  Once she makes sure my documents are alright, she tells me to wait.  After a while, she calls me to the counter, where I place a couple hundred VNDs.  She looks at the money and shakes her head.  "We don't exchange Vietnamese Dongs here," she tells me.  I sigh! After all the bureaucracy and wait you'd think she'd exchange family secrets!  Vietnam is a neighbor country, dropping hundreds of people in Chinese territory daily, so WHY NOT? Her English is very limited and she just shakes her head and repeats, no, no Vietnamese Dong.  "Where, then, can I exchange it?"  The Bank of China, she quickly tells me and points to its direction.   At the Bank of China, I'm told the same thing in definitive and curt manner.  I check with other banks and hotels, but no cigar.  Some people are nice, even though the language barrier, but others seem annoyed by my inquiries.  I spend some time working on one problem, once I get to a dead-end, I switch to the other; finding the ticket office.  A helpful receptionist in a hotel points to a tall grey building a couple blocks away.  The building has many stores on the ground floor.  Filled with hope, I show the address and ask around. My first challenge is to find someone who speaks English, the next is to find someone who can read Chinese in Western letters.  Sometimes they're self-conscious about their poor English and giggle more than speak.  I want to tell them that their poor English is ten thousand times better than my Chinese, but I don't have the words. A girl of about eighteen figures out the address and tells me to go to the back of the building.  Once there I ask the receptionist about the travel company but she's impatient with my questions so I decide to take the overcrowded elevator to the 17th floor and take a look around. I find the office number and it has the travel agency logo on a door, but it is locked. I knock many times, but it remains closed. This is Saturday around noon.  Have they closed for lunch?  Have they closed for the day?  For the weekend?  I sit on the hallway, rest my legs and arms, drink water and eat a snack I brought from Hanoi.   After about half an hour I decide to go down and ask the receptionist if the people from this office will be back today.  But time only worked to increase her irritation and she tells me she doesn't know, even before I ask the question. I try showing her the address on my email.  She sighs, picks up her cell phone, presses a few keys and turns the screen for me to read: this is not a train station.  You have to go to the station.  I try to explain that I've just come from the train station but she won't hear it, she wants me out of her hair.  Fine, I relent. As I get out of the building I'm so frustrated I can cry.  So I switch to my other problem; exchange money.  (Some defense mechanism, I suppose). I ask around, go from one bank to another, but everywhere I hear the same thing; we don't take VND here.  I walk back to the station, thinking that someone there might have some information about currency exchange.  I consider myself a resourceful person and anybody who knows me knows I don't give up easily but I'm tired, hot and hopeless.  I don't know how to get to my hotel, I can't pay for a cab, I don't have a return ticket and can't even get a meal since I don't have yuans. Around me impatient people walk, most holding an umbrella over their heads, hurrying here and there.  Nobody makes eye contact or even looks my way, even though I'm the only Western around.  

Then I see him, a tall Western man walking in my direction.  "Excuse me," I call to him.  "Can I ask you a question?"   "Yes," he turns to me with an open face, ready to listen. I ask about exchange houses.  He doesn't know any, because he's not from Nanning, he's just passing by, about to leave, actually.  He supposes they'll exchange at the bank.  I tell him I've been to a couple of banks but they won't take Vietnamese Dong. He tells me he's actually on his way to Hanoi, and maybe he could exchange the money for me.  He's holding an umbrella and his luggage, as we stand in front of the station and discuss the situation.  He decides he doesn't need as much as I want to exchange -- although I'd gratefully a smaller amount -- and that maybe we better go to a bank.   "How do you like the Chinese?" He asks me. "Well, I, uh... I think they're quite rude, to be honest." "Rude? No, they're the opposite.  They're really helpful and friendly."   I tell him of my experience thus far.  He can't understand it, that's not the experience he has had with the Chinese.  As we walk away from the station, we introduce ourselves.  He's an Englishman, who has been living in China for the last six years.  We walk from bank to bank and I notice that Thomas is treated like royalty.  The same people who were curt to me now stop whatever they're doing to greet, try to help and joke with him.  "It's not that they don't want to help you," he explains, "it's that they don't speak English.  They're frustrated at their own inability to help you." "Oh!" That little piece of information served as a paradigm shift and it made me see them completely different.   They're indeed helpful, but do not take Vietnamese dong.  The guard at a bank tells us that he knows a lady who does this kind of business, and if we want, he'll call her and she should be there in a few minutes.  Thomas tells him that we'll discuss the matter and get back to him.  Would he mind if we sat down for a bit?  No, the guard doesn't mind.  So we sit in the air-conditioned bank, rest and talk about our interests and life philosophies.  He asks me how I’m liking Sebastian Faulks and we talk about writing and literature. He also decides to buy my Vietnamese Dongs. After we finalize the transaction, the exchange lady walks into the bank and does business with other customers.  I wonder which currencies she carries and what kind of agreement she has with the bank.

(To be continued.)