#there was also just a ton of family drama going on about my grandmother which also has added a certain flavor to the whole thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Family Drama.”

I did not sleep in today, and have written you a story.

Warning: there are a few mentions of drugs and addiction, but not a ton

He had never felt so defeated.

As the Taxi door opened, and he stepped out onto the quiet residential street he had to hold back his shame and kept his head high. What would his family think? Should he even tell them? Well of course he should, that wasn’t an option anymore. If he wanted to make them proud he was going to have to make himself ashamed for a little while.

Waffles whimpered at his heels.

He looked down at her with a small smile, “Alright, alright, you’re right, I’ll shut up.”

He rubbed her ears and walked up the concrete stepping forward onto the grass as a group of kids whirred past on hover-skates. They turned upon seeing them, voices suddenly raised pointing and waving at him as they rolled past.

He raised a hand to wave back, but quickly turned to the front door.

There was no way he was ready to interact with people that weren’t his close family.

He walked up the step and held out his implant to the door, it would open when it knew it was him.

The lock clicked, and he reached forward ready to finally relax and let off some steam.

The door clicked open, and he was immediately assaulted by a wave of sound.

“ADDIE!” He was grabbed around the shoulders and pulled into a massive crushing hug. It took his brain way longer than it should have to figure out what was one person, but then again, there was only one person he knew who called him Addie…. Like a fucking dog.

“Uncle Ben?” he grunted

The man set him down on the floor and slapped his back. Below him Waffle growled nervously, but she was ignored, “It's been YEARS. We had no idea you were coming.”

The sound of kids screaming reached his ears and a t least five of them came rushing into the hallway.

“Hey that’s not fair, I wanted to be a pony too!”

“But I was one first, you can pick something else.”

Uncle Ben turned, “Hey everyone! Guess whose back!” His legs swiveled uselessly under himself as he was dragged through the hallway and into the living room, where the entire extended family seemed to be crammed.

He blinked as the group turned into an uproar upon seeing him.

“What is that on his face?”

“Did you really lose a leg?”

“It’s been so long?”

Aunt Marry got up, “Lost all your baby fat finally.” He winced as she grabbed him and pinched his cheek, which wasn’t really for pinching anymore, or honestly had never been, but when he had more of a baby face she had always done that.

“Tell us about space!”

He was shoved onto the couch with Jeremy on one side and Grandma Vir on the other.

Jeremy gave him a look.

He grimaced back as Waffles crawled under his feet resting her head on Jeremy’s shoe.

“Where is dad?” he muttered to Jeremy, and his older brother leaned in to whisper, “where do you think. Hiding in the garage while mom entertains.”

“Coward.” Adam replied with some amusement.

That was just like their dad to avoid all extended family, even his own.

“Wait, wait, everyone calm down, our little Addie is Commander of the UNSC. You all remember when he was just a little guy who used to believe in flying saucers.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. Uncle Ben had always made fun of him as a kid.

His grandma looked at him from across the room, “What is that on your face?” She repeated.

He sighed, “An eyepatch grandma.”

“Why are you wearing an eyepatch.”

“Because I lost my eye.” He sighed.

She put a hand to her chest just as his mother came walking into the room, a Trey in one hand an apron tied around her waist and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked more than a little frazzled.

“Martha, why didn’t you tell us he lost an eye!” She sighed, “Because I didn’t want to worry you mom.”

“How is the army still allowing you to command a ship with a missing eye?” Uncle Andy wondered

“He flipped up the eyepatch and the mechanical tech hopped to life nearly freaking out as it tried to track all the faces in one place all at once.

Gasps, “IS that a mechanical eye!”

“Yes.”

His other grandma put a hand over her face, “and he used to have such pretty green eyes. Now look at them, he looks like one of those cyborgs! Did you know some of those people intentionally cut off their limbs to look more like that.”

Martha sighed, “That’s not how it works mom.”

His Mother’s sister waved at him from across the room. He smiled back, he had always liked her, “I love your eyepatch, it looks cool.”

Her husband grinned, “Space pirate.” he nodded sagely.”

Adam tilted his head across the room where he found David and Jordan squished against one wall sitting on the floor Jordan mostly sitting in David’s lap as they tried not to take up any space.

His brother grimaced at him, he grimaced back.

His mother's father leaned forward his steel grey hair and serious face set, “So tell me Adam, what are exactly your duties in the UNSC.”

The entire family rolled their eyes at once, some not even discreetly. He only got involved in conversation if he considered it “useful” and that meant all of the thing other people didn’t want to talk about, money, religion, politics, family history……

“Er, well Uh.”

“After commanding an entire fleet of ships you would think he’d be better at public speaking.” Uncle Trevor announced from where he was hidden behind the piano.

Adam frowned and cleared his throat, “I am fleet commander of fifteen UNSC deep space vessels for both exploration and military combat, but my primary directive is to foster good will with alien races , and save others from destruction, subjugation and slavery while expanding our knowledge of the universe through prolongued deep-space exploration.”

“Ohhhh his directive!” The rest of the family oooooed as well, but it was mostly sarcastic in nature.

His niece, Kimver walked into the room and crawled up to sit with him and Jeremy leaning against both of their arms as she played on her handheld. Kimber’s new obsession seemed to have shifted into vintage gaming. Glancing over her shoulder he could see her throwing tiny white and red balls and strange looking animals and a very pixelated screen.

“Have you met any sexy alien ladies.” Ben butted in

The rest of the family raised their eyes to the sky. Grandma looked almost offended.

“Ben would you stop with that.” His wife muttered from where she sat on a chair in the corner.

“What the whole LFIL thing is legal now, so he totally could have met some sexy alien babes.:

“It’s not a joke Ben, those people had a rough time of it the past few years.” David piped up from the other side of the room.

“Why the GA decided to legalize that behavior is a mystery to me. The world really is getting more wicked.” Grandpa muttered,

Adam clenched his fists, “Actually, Grandpa, I convinced them to lift the ban.”

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

Adam wished he had just shut his mouth.

“You what!”

“Look I spent a lot of time around LFIL members when I was securing the GA hall from protestors. I met a lot of them, and they are just good people who want to be left alone to do what they want. So yes, because of my position I was able to walk into the GA council chambers and convinced them to lift the ban.”

They stared at him.

“But what they are doing is wrong, it’s like bestiality.”

He felt his fists clench, “Grandpa if you ever met an alien you wouldn’t say that. They are sentient being that can consent, and if they can do that than it isn’t bestiality, and also stop calling my friends animals. My ship is staffed by some of the best alien crewmembers I know, and I wont have you comparing them to cattle or dogs or whatever else you want.”

The room went quiet.

Grandpa stepped out in a huff.

HE sighed and leaned his head back against the wall with an audible thud.

His mother walked over and handed him a stack of cookies with a smile on her face that said: Sorry about that.

He took the cookies greatfully shoving one completly into his mouth to avoid saying something else stupid.

“So, does this mean you DID find a sexy alien girl.” Ben wondered and was immediately elbowed in the ribs from two sides producing a grunt of surprise.

“So Jeremy, how long have you two been dating.” Adam looked over Jeremy’s bulk towards where a petite red haired woman with grey eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her face was squished into the other side of the couch.”

Sensing him looking, she waved a hand with a bright smile, and he waved back.

“Almost a year now.” Jeremy beamed putting his arm around her.

“Should we be expecting an announcement from you two soon?’

Everyone groaned, “Grandma!”

Jeremy’s girlfriend took it like a champ and continued to smile unaffected.

“Speaking of relationships.”

Dear god please descend from heaven and rapture him straight to hell, not that, that's how it worked but anywhere but here would have been great

“Adam, when are you finally going to settle down, how old are you now 25?”

He wondered if he prayed to satan hard enough he could summon a demon to swallow his soul whole.

“I know have you ever even dated anyone”

“Kissed anyone?” “Kissing is fun, you should definitely try it sometime.”

“You're grandmother definitely needs more grandkids.”

Oh the irony, the thought bitterly to himself.

At his feet the dog whimpered.

“You know there is this really pretty girl who works down at the corner store, I think she might do really good for you, a very down to earth girl. You could get promoted into a better paying desk job at the UNSC work 9-5 it would be a dream.”

Jeremy placed a hand on his shoulder, “Actually, Adam is more of an action guy, right Adam/”

Adam gave a weak smile, “Yeah.”

“Oh, he’ll grow out of that, besides you wouldn’t want to put a family under that kind of stress. It’s like you’re never home.”

“Space is my home.” He grumbled

“Don’t be silly, humans weren’t meant for that sort of thing, besides your obsession was cute as a kid, but now that you’re older, you really need to start thinking about the future and having kids before you’re too old.”

He wanted to scream and bash his head against the wall.

“You know what though, how about that cute younger guy that works at the DMV, he looks about your age Adam.”

“I’m not interested in having a family right now!”

The room looked at him quietly, “You asexual or something?” Uncle Ben piped up awkwardly.

Adam felt his face go red, what kind of question was that? No, no uncle Ben I am not horny, or yes, yes uncle Ben I would love to find some hot person to plow just not right now.

And in front of the entire family?

Because he really wanted to have an extended discussion about his sex life with his entire extended family.

Waffles whimpered at his feet.

And then like an angel she descended from the sky to save him, either that or a billowing superhero cape like the saint she was. He couldn’t decide, angel or superhero, but decided on both.

Supermom, and part of her costume is angel wings and a halo.

“Adam why don’t you take waffles outside, she sounds a little nervous. Maybe take her out through the garage?”

He nodded and bolted to his feet like there were rockets firing from his ass, and hurried towards the door with the dog trailing at his heels.

Voices faded behind him, and he quickly hurried through the door and into the garage, where he found his dad sitting with Thomas on a set of lawn chairs drinking cold sodas and watching the clouds pass overhead.

They turned as they heard the door open.

“Adam! We didn’t know you were coming, pull up a chair.”

He did so and unfolded it between the other two men sitting down as Thomas handed him a drink.

“They drive you off too?” Thomas grumbled

Adam looked at his brother. Thomas was looking a little better than usual. His hair was only a little bit scruffy and his scraggly beard was at least trimmed. The tract marks in his arms had faded to pale scars on his arms.

“Yeah, uncle Ben asked about my love life in front of god and all his creatures. You?”

“Rehab. “

“I thought you were out of rehab.”

“I am, which is why I would rather not talk about it.”

“You doing good?”

“Yeah, got a stable job now, so that’s nice, go to meetings twice a week. One more month and I'll be six months sober.”

“Awesome, congrats.” He paused, “You know what, bet I could get you a job as a stuntman if you wanted.”

Thomas laughed, “Maybe I'll take you up on that. Once this job bores me to tears, which it will.”

“Did grandpa bring up LFIL.” Dad asked turning to look up at him

“You know he did.”

“He’s been meaning to ask you. He’s worried that spending so much time up in space has confused you.”

Adam snorted, “Don’t stargaze to long dad, the stars will make you extrial.”

“So that’s what dark matter is.” Thomas muttered and the three of them laughed. Waffles had climbed up on the chair with him and curled up on his legs to fall asleep.

“So what are you doing back here?” Dad wondered, “I thought you had just taken time off.”

He sighed, “Yeah… but things got complicated….” He paused, “Ever feel like no matter what you try to do you keep failing at it.”

Thomas raised a hand “You mean my life.”

More laughter.

Then he got serious again, “Been so stressed lately that I can barely function as a person, has the UNSC questioning whether they should ground me or not. My friends set up an intervention, and it turns out that I am a raging control freak.”

“Could have told you that.”

“You got that from your mother.”

He glanced over at thomas, “What do you mean, could have guessed that?”

He shrugged, “Come on Adam, did you ever do anything you weren't sure you could do properly. Like riding a bike, or swimming, or how you threw a fit if we moved literally anything in your room, or how you had to have everything arranged on your plate before you ate it, or….”

“Yeah yeah ok. But I’m a fighter pilot, that's kind of not-”

“Yeah that is the most control freak job ever. You have to be in so much control that traveling at more than three times the speed of sound won’t kill you. Imagine the amount of control you need to fly in formation without killing everyone.”

“Alright I get it.” He grumbled.

“So what, you try to do everything yourself?” dad grunted

He turned to look at the older man, “how did you know?”

“Every school project you ever worked on in a group, but you just ended up doing the entire thing.”

“I thought that’s just because the other kids were lazy and weren’t going to do their jobs.”

“Or because you wouldn’t let them and they just gave up on trying.” Dad responded

Adam sighed and sunk back against his chair, “I had no idea.”

“Welcome to personal growth, how may we kick you in the balls.”

He sighed, ‘I just, how can I be a leader without losing my identity and becoming boring and stuffy. How can I still… I don’t know, be happy and have fun when I have a job like this…. Or am I just not meant for it.”

Dad waved a hand, “You were born for it, but you need to remember that while, most of the time, you can be friends with the people you work with sometimes you need to stop being their friend and be their commander, which entails doing some things that aren’t so friendly. At the end of the day it is a ship, so you have to make them and allow them to do their jobs, fun comes later.”

“How am I supposed to reduce the stress?”

He glanced at thomas who shook his head, “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be a recovering heroin addict.”

“You just have to find something you love doing, and then take a little time every day to do that thing which you love. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

He sighed and looked out at the deepening sky.

He really hoped so

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theres-a-goldensky · 4 years

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BL Show Review Series - HIStory 3: Trapped

My first non-Thai BL review is also going to be of a series that moves away from the university setting: the Taiwanese drama HIStory3: Trapped.

Disclaimer that these are my own opinions, and I don’t know where the BL community as a whole stands on these shows. If I disliked a show you loved or visa versa, no disrespect is intended!

MASTERLIST OF BL SHOW REVIEWS

MILD SPOILERS AHEAD!

HIStory3: Trapped Rating: 9.5/10

This series. This series. First, a little background if you’re unfamiliar with the HIStory franchise. HIStory is a series of unrelated BL stories. The first season had three hour-long specials. The second series got more ambitious. There are two different stories, each spanning four full-length episodes. Finally, by the time they reached the third iteration, the franchise had grown so popular that both of the series, Trapped and Make Our Days Count, were 10 full-length episodes. (Well, or 20 small episodes that were then condensed down to 10 larger ones, but semantics.)

If you’re interested, the HIStory series is available, in the US at least, on the website viki. It is a subscription site, but it gives you access to thousands of Asian dramas, including this series and South Korean BLs like Where Our Eyes Linger and Mr. Heart.

HIStory3: Trapped is a story about a mobster and the police officers pursuing him. But since this is BL, the mob boss has a heart of gold and is trying to reform the gang so that he and his ‘family’ can get out of the drug business and go legit. Meanwhile, the police officers are on the hunt for answers about a four year old incident that killed one of their own, but they are, err...not super effective.

Look, you just have to roll with the fact that this story is extremely lax about police protocol and the reality of being in the mob. It’s a set up for enemies-to-lovers and intense UST and that’s it. The police chief and other higher ups have no problem with one of their officers dating a well known mob boss who is suspected of killing a fellow police officer, for instance. So why should we? Just roll with it, ok? Roll like a bowling ball, where the pins at the end of the alley are super hot UST, pining, hurt/comfort, jealousy and bed scenes.

The mob boss in question is Tang Yi.

Since the death of his adopted father, he’s taken over the Tang operation and is dedicating himself to avenging his father’s murder and also following his father’s dream of legitimizing their company so that their family can be safe. He is...I mean. He’s gorgeous. Just, like, super super super hot. He is outwardly unflappable (unless you poke the bruise of his father’s death), dresses impeccably, and kills with these knowing smirks that get me every time.

His life is made very complicated by officer Meng Shao Fei, who has been obsessively following him around for years. The same incident that killed Master Tang and injured Tang Yi also killed his police mentor, and Shao Fei is certain that Tang Yi had something to do with it.

Shao Fei is impulsive and as straight forward as Tang Yi is oblique and mysterious. It’s clear early on that Shao Fei’s pursuit of Tang Yi is fueled in part by his attraction to him. Tang Yi can see this as well, and he uses Shao Fei’s crush to his advantage, ratcheting up the sexual tension to nearly unbearable heights in the early episodes and purposely provoking Shao Fei’s quick jealousy.

The jealousy is what brings this show’s rating down the half-point. Shao Fei is so transparent about his jealousy that it becomes uncomfortable to watch. I was cringing with secondhand embarrassment through a lot of the early episodes. However, that honest emotion works well for him once he figures out what he wants from Tang Yi.

This relationship has a TON of hurt/comfort for those of you interested in that particular trope. For Shao Fei, it’s physical h/c. The guy can’t stop getting hurt, and we get to see a lot of Tang Yi worried about him. For Tang Yi, though, it’s emotional h/c as he deals with the psychological fallout from watching his father die.

You might hear mob boss/police officer and think of, I don’t know, The Sopranos, or some other serious, dramatic show. While this story does have its dramatic moments, it is largely romantic and comedic in tone.

The plot surrounding the mystery of that mass murder four years earlier keeps things chugging along and takes some interesting turns, but the focus of the show is very much on the couples.

The main side pairing of the show is between Jack, Tang Yi’s right hand man, and Zhao Zi, another police officer and Meng Shao Fei’s best friend. This pairing is pure fluff from beginning to end. It’s where a lot of the comedy comes, and the two of them are absolutely delightful together.

The contrast set up by Jack’s dark, dangerous personality when he’s doing his job and his sweetness towards Zhao Zi is entertaining. He’s often seen idly flicking a switchblade and smiling in a way that makes it clear he has no problem using it. And then, on the other hand, he prepares Zhao Zi bento boxes and texts him cute bear stickers to make him laugh.

Neither of these sides of Jack seem fake. They’re both just part of who he is, and Zhao Zi gets the warm, domestic Jack, while the rest of the world gets the ruthless, efficient Jack.

Again, you might be asking yourself: isn’t it weird that a leather-wearing gang member who was recently arrested by that very police team could stroll into the station and hand an officer a homemade lunch and no one cares? And to that, I say, roll with it like you’re in one of those giant orb things and HIStory3: Trapped has just pushed you down a hill.

The character of Zhao Zi is adorable, naive and almost childlike. He looks like someone who has never even held a gun in his life, never mind actually shot one. That makes it pretty funny that he became a police officer. It seems to be implied that Zhao Zi is more of a tech / research guy than a field officer, but anyway, we’re rolling with it, so it’s fine.

He’s completely blindsided by Jack’s interest in him, but is easily won over through snacks, home cooked meals, and Jack’s genuine interest in Zhao Zi’s stories about his beloved, dead grandmother.

The other side pairing in this series is between Tang Yi’s adopted sister Zuo Hong Ye, who runs the legitimate side of the company, and their assistant, Dao Yi. Dao Yi is loyal to the Tang family, and is much older than Hong Ye. He has been her bodyguard since she was adopted by Master Tang, which makes his romantic feelings very uncomfortable for him.

Some people didn’t like this pairing, but I got into it by the end. The problem is that Hong Ye starts off seeming pretty unlikable, because she’s rude to our protagonist, Shao Fei. But then you realize that she’s doing it to protect Tang Yi from the police officer she thinks is gunning for him.

There may be a large age difference between the characters, but the actual actors are very close in age, so that part of the story line comes off a little weird. But I found them an engaging couple, in particular Dao Yi’s stoic pining for Hong Ye.

In conclusion: watch this series! It’s great! The bed scenes are hot, the characters are well drawn, the acting is good, the story is interesting. Big recommendation.

And if you’re interested in fanfic, I put together rec lists for multiple BL shows including this one that can be found here and here.

MASTERLIST OF BL SHOW REVIEWS

(Send me an ask if you have a show you’d like me to review - with the understanding that I will be completely honest - or if there’s anything you think I forgot or got wrong in this review.)

#history3: trap #history 3: trapped #history 3: 圈套 #tang yi #tang yi x shao fei #Meng Shao Fei #jack/zhao zi #bl review series #taiwanese bl #HIStory series

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ryanjdonovan · 3 years

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DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2021

We all knew it was coming: The Oscar nominees are now almost literally handpicked by Netflix and Amazon. We thought it would be a few years away, but it's just one more piece of fallout from the pandemic. It won't be long now before I'm making my predictions for the Flixies or the Amazies. (By the way, streamers: I just want to watch the friggin' credits, why is that such a problem??)

In case you haven't been paying attention (and I'm pretty sure you haven't), Nomadland is going to win the big Oscars. Haven't seen Nomadland? Or even heard of it? Or any of the Oscar-nominated films? Or didn't even know the Oscars were happening this year? You're not alone. With no theaters this past year, the non-bingeable, non-Netflix-welcome-screen movies were pretty much an afterthought. (But if you asked the streaming services, the nominees this year each accounted for a billion new subscribers and topped the worldwide digital box office for months.)

Well, I'm here to tell you the Oscars are in fact happening, albeit a few months late. Fear not: my 22nd annual Oscar predictions will provide everything you need to know before the big night. (You don't even need to watch the movies themselves -- reading this article will take you just as long.)

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: Minari WILL WIN: Nomadland GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Pieces Of A Woman INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

If you're a fan of capitalism, this is not the year for you. Nominees like Nomadland, Mank, Judas And The Black Messiah, The Trial Of The Chicago 7, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Hillbilly Elegy, Minari, and The White Tiger are all (to varying degrees) indictments of a capitalist system, or at the very least are suspicious of those who benefit from it, and focus on those left behind. It's certainly fertile ground for angst and high drama, if not belly laughs. (Don't get me started on the ironies of all these movies being distributed by billion-dollar conglomerates. The filmmakers, producers, and actors can tell you that the checks cash just fine.) Like Austin Powers said, "Finally those capitalist pigs will pay for their crimes, eh comrades?"

There is no way for me to talk about Nomadland, which will win Best Picture, without sounding like an a-hole. It's a gorgeous work of art, and a fascinating character study, but I struggled to connect to the story. (You should know that for me as a movie watcher, story is more engaging than artfulness or character. But hey, why can't we have all three?) I wanted to like it, I really did. I'm content to drift along with Fern, the resilient main character played naturally by Frances McDormand, but she has no true objective or antagonist. She's a nomad on the road, either searching or hiding, either with the world or against the world, we're not quite sure which. I thought it might be driving (literally) toward a bigger revelation or resolution, but no. (Same with life, I guess.) It's meandering, reticent, languorous, and ethereal (I'm trying really hard to avoid using the word "boring" here). This is all quite intentional, by the way -- the film moves at the pace of its protagonist, and the effect is palpable. (And don't worry, it's not lost on me that I'm watching this movie about people barely scraping by, on a large ultra-high-def TV on my comfy couch in my warm home under an electric blanket, using a streaming service that the movie's characters probably couldn't access or afford.) Am I wrong about all this? Of course I'm wrong. Every critic out there is doing backflips over this film. And not surprisingly, the movie's mortality themes are playing well with the Academy, whose average age and closeness to death are extremely high. (Like the nomad Swankie, they're all anxious about that final kayak ride down the River Styx.) But beware the movie whose 'user/audience score' is significantly lower than its 'critic score' -- it means that regular people are not quite buying it. For me, the biggest problem with slice-of-life films is that I don't really want to go to movies to experience regular life -- I have life for that. Then again, I'm also a superficial, materialistic a-hole. But you knew that already. (Added intrigue: Hulu, Nomadland's distributor, might score a Best Picture win before Amazon, and gives Amazon a subtle middle-finger in the movie with its depiction of seasonal workers.)

Remember when feel-good movies were a thing? It didn’t mean that there were no conflicts or problems for the characters, it just meant that they were enjoyable to watch, and you came out feeling good about humans. Minari is the rare feel-good Oscar movie, and my personal pick for what should win Best Picture. It easily might have been a tough sit based on the premise: A Korean family moves to rural Arkansas to start a farm, and must overcome a drought, financial calamity, a complete lack of agriculture experience, a crumbling marriage, the son's potentially-deadly heart condition, and a grandmother that drinks all their Mountain Dew. In keeping with Oscar tradition, it could have been a constant assault of upsetting scenes. But instead, it's a warm, sunny, optimistic, funny movie. The family faces struggles and hardships, to be sure, but the story is treated with positivity, not negativity; with a sense of community, not isolation; with an attitude of resolve, not blame. And they get through their problems with mutual support, togetherness, tenderness, humanity, and of course, love. (Not to mention grandma planting some weeds that may or may not miraculously heal physical and emotional wounds.) All these things combine to make it a more engaging experience for me than Nomadland. Not only do I wish this movie would win the Oscar, I wish I could give it a hug.

A lot of pundits think The Trial Of The Chicago 7 has the best chance to upset Nomadland. But I'm not seeing that happen. It was an early favorite and has been getting tons of nominations in the awards run-up, but it hasn't actually been winning much, and seems to be losing steam. (The lack of a Best Director nod is virtually a killer.) I think Minari has a small chance to sneak away with a victory, as it's gotten almost as much universal praise as Nomadland, but hasn't had the same audience. Judas And The Black Messiah is an interesting case, in that it's a late entry that had little early awareness (it didn't plan to be eligible until next year's Oscars), but it scooped several unexpected nominations. Debuting a contender late and taking advantage of recency bias has been a successful strategy in the past, so don't be surprised by a surprise. (Had Shaka King scored the last Director slot over Thomas Vinterberg, I think Judas would be a fairly legitimate threat.)

If you had asked me in September, I would have predicted that Mank would be the wire-to-wire favorite to win Best Picture. Aside from being a prestige David Fincher film (more on him later), it's a smorgasbord of Classic Tales of Hollywood. And the centerpiece couldn't be bolder: It's an homage to, a making of, a dissection of, and political dissertation on Citizen Kane -- only the most deified film of all time. Simply recite the synopsis, describe the film's 1940s black-and-white aesthetic, and mention Gary Oldman's name as the star, and just watch the Oscars come pouring in, right? Well, not quite. It netted 10 nominations, more than any other film, but it's looking like it might not win any of them, certainly not Best Picture. I don't think the film quite knows what it wants to be; at least, I'm not sure what it wants to be. Centered on Herman Mankiewicz, the man credited with co-writing Citizen Kane with Orson Welles, it's a distorted, polemical, impressionistic portrait of a man I barely even knew existed. Though Welles is only briefly portrayed in the film, it demystifies him a bit, suggesting that he's maybe not as responsible for this work of genius as we thought. If the film was framed as "Who actually wrote Citizen Kane?", it would be a little easier to get into. But it feels somewhat academic and circuitous (in a way that Kane itself doesn't). And while the script is clever, it's clever to the point of being confusing. Of course, a film of this pedigree invites a lot of scrutiny, maybe more than any other awards contender (or any film that actually got released this past year, period). It has a lot to appreciate, and surely would benefit from a second viewing. I also can't help but root for the fact that it's been Fincher's passion project for almost a quarter-century. (Then again, tell that to any indie filmmaker who spends their whole life on a single passion project that ends up getting completely ignored, and they’ll tell you where to shove your Fincher pity.) Ultimately, it's an admirable work, but if you're looking for a Rosebud, it's not there.

Promising Young Woman continues to defy expectations. Not only did it rack up six Oscar nominations, it's likely to win one or two of them, and for a while, was gaining on Nomadland for Best Picture. Now that the chips are falling into place, we know it won't win in this category, but it remains one of the most talked-about films of the season. What I like most about the film is not necessarily the literal story (I should have seen the main twist coming a mile away), but the way writer/director Emerald Fennell elevates it in an interesting way. Instead of showing the whole story, she starts her film at the end of a typical revenge thriller (several years after the incident and the legal aftermath). In fact, the victim is not even in the movie, and the victim's best friend is already far along on her path of retribution. (It also challenges the definition of "victim".) The film is not voyeuristically exciting in any way; it's unsettling, but also oddly charming in unexpected ways. The key for me is how it serves as a metaphor for the secrets people keep from loved ones and the toll that it takes on them, and the penances we give ourselves instead of allowing ourselves to heal. It also made me realize that movies could use more Juice Newton. (Paris Hilton, not so much.)

Sound Of Metal and The Father were probably the last two films to make the cut in this category, and are the least likely to win. Their best chances are in other categories. (Pro Tip: If you put the word "sound" in the title of your movie, there's a very good chance you'll win Best Sound.)

I don’t recommend Pieces Of A Woman to anyone who's pregnant, or partners of pregnant women, or anyone planning to have babies anytime in the future, or any partners of anyone planning to have babies anytime in the future, or people hoping to be grandparents anytime in the future, or doctors. (And I'm certain midwives are not giving this a ringing endorsement.) The film starts with an infant death, and then gets worse from there. It's not just an unpleasant experience, it's a series of unrelenting unpleasant experiences: Depression, extra-marital affairs, guilt, a domineering mother, lying, manipulative spouses, abandonment, feelings of inadequacy, sexual dysfunction, litigation, sibling jealousy, public shame, borderline domestic abuse, bribery, courtroom drama, financial problems, baseless blame, and drug addiction. And if that's not upsetting enough, they also manage to throw the Holocaust in there. (This should be a movie sub-genre: "Parade of Horrible Events". This fraternity would include: Manchester By The Sea, Mudbound, Uncut Gems, 12 Years A Slave, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, The Family Stone, and of course, The Revenant.) And then there are the characters. It would be one thing if these were ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. But these are extraordinary a--holes making extraordinary circumstances much worse. It's literally laughable. If I didn't understand what the word 'melodramatic' meant before, I do now. I'm aware that this is based on the experiences of writing/directing spouses Kata Wéber and Kornél Mundruczó, and I don't mean to trivialize their pain or what they went through. Nobody should have to suffer that trauma. And I realize art is a healthy and oftentimes beautiful outlet for grief. But… did I mention the movie is unpleasant? There are certainly wonderful fragments and ideas in here; if the components added up to something moving, I would be much more receptive to it. If I were a snarky (okay, snarkier) reviewer, I might call it "Pieces Of A Better Movie".

Soul is a lovely and inspiring movie, but I'm at the point where I have to judge films by my experience while watching them with children. Try explaining this movie to a 6-year-old. Way too many existential/philosophical/theological questions. I guess it's good for parents who like to talk to their children, but if you're trying to keep your kid occupied and quiet (the reason screens were invented) so you can do something else, it's a bust. (It's no match for the hysterical self-explanatory antics of a certain motor-mouthed, overweight, black-and-white, martial-arts-fighting bear with a penchant for sitting on people's heads and, more importantly, keeping kids silently dumbstruck.) And: Did they have to make the entrance to the afterlife -- a giant bug zapper -- so terrifying? If that's how you get to heaven, what is the entrance to hell like??

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) WILL WIN: Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Pete Davidson (The King Of Staten Island) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Delroy Lindo (Da 5 Bloods)

This one hurts. I usually don't feel a connection to or an overabundance of sympathy for celebrities, but this one genuinely hurts. When Chadwick Boseman wins Best Actor (for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom), it will be a wonderful celebration, but also a painful reminder, not just of who he was, but of who he was yet to be. If ever there was a unanimous vote, this would be it. Before this movie, we had seen him play heroes and outsized personalities, but there had been nothing quite like his role as Levee, the gifted and demonized trumpet player in Ma Rainey's band. His brash, wounded performance is astonishing, revelatory. Since the film debuted after his passing, we can only watch it through the prism of his death. It's hard not to feel parallels: Levee is just starting to scratch the surface of his talent, giving us hints of his abilities with composition and brass before his breakdown; similarly, we have only gotten a taste of Boseman's range and depth. For both the character and the man, we're being deprived of the art he would have created. Boseman's passing makes the performance more resonant and unshakeable, but I think under different circumstances he would still be the front-runner in this race. The only difference would be, we'd assume this would be the first prize of many.

Anthony Hopkins picked an unusual time to go on a hot streak. He recently left a memorable impression on the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Odin, got an Emmy nomination for Westworld, and scored 2 Oscar nominations (after a 22-year drought) -- all after his 80th birthday. This year's nomination, for playing a man slipping into dementia in The Father, probably would have been a favorite to notch him his second Oscar in a different year. He seems like he should be a two-time winner, and we just don't know how many more chances he'll have. (I stand by my declaration that he should have won last year for The Two Popes, over Brad Pitt.) To those aforementioned aging Academy members who fear mortality and probably consider Hopkins a spry young man: Maybe you shouldn't watch this movie.

Riz Ahmed's performance in Sound Of Metal establishes the tone for the entire film, making the experience feel grounded and real. I appreciate how his outward, physical performance is very still, while his internal performance is frenetic, like there's a live wire in his head that he's trying to conceal from the world. His quietness leaves us with an uncertainty that feels like authentic; he's not going to tell us all the answers, because his character is figuring it out as he goes. Speaking of questions, I have a few about his band in the movie (before the hearing loss): Are they any good? What kind of living do they make? Is their cashflow net positive or negative? Are they considered successful (in whatever way you want to define that)? What is their ceiling, commercially and artistically? Are they one lucky break away from making it, or is it a lost cause? Most importantly, if Ahmed and fellow nominee LaKeith Stanfield (Judas And The Black Messiah) had a sad, doleful, wide-eyed staring contest, who would win?

Steven Yeun has been a recognizable face in film and TV (and a prolific voice actor) for a decade, but we haven't really seen him front and center until Minari. And after this bright, heartwarming turn, I think you can expect him to remain in the spotlight for the foreseeable future. His understated and remarkable performance carries this beautiful story of a family finding its path through a new way of life. Despite scant dialogue and minimal exposition, we seem to always know what his character is thinking -- that he's facing daunting odds but has a steel resolve. He and screen partner Yeri Han (who deserves as much credit as Yeun for this film) create one of the most tender crumbling marriages I've seen on screen in a long time. (Though a marriage counselor could have given his character some helpful "dos and don'ts" that might have saved him some headaches.)

What's more improbable, Mank's meandering, decades-long journey to the screen, or the fact that we're supposed to believe 63-year Gary Oldman as a man in his 30s and early 40s? Well, once his performance begins, it's so hammy that you forget all about the ridiculous age discrepancy. He's playing Herman Mankiewicz, whose bombastic writing and sozzled demeanor helped mold the script for Citizen Kane into the legend that it is. It's a bloviated, ostentatious, spectacular exhibition of affectation and panache that only Oldman could pull off. It's a lot of fun. (It must be exhausting to be his wife.) It’s as if Mank wrote the story of his own life... and gave himself the best part.

I'm naming Delroy Lindo for my snubbed choice, for his intense and crushing performance in Da 5 Bloods. I've been hoping he'd get an Oscar nomination for 20 years, and by all accounts, this was going to be his year. Even in the fall, after a slew of critics' awards, he was the odds-on favorite to win. So it was a disappointment that his name wasn't called when nominations were read. For now, he'll have to be content with being everyone's favorite never-nominated actor. (But here's to hoping The Harder They Fall is frickin' amazing, so he can end that drought next year.) There are plenty of honorable mentions this year: Adarsh Gourav (The White Tiger), Mads Mikkelsen (Another Round), and Kingsley Ben-Adir (One Night In Miami) come to mind. (By the way: How often do Kingsley Ben-Adir and Sir Ben Kingsley get each other's take-out orders switched?) But my runner-up is John David Washington (my snubbed pick two years ago), who undoubtedly became an A-List movie star in the past year… but not for the reason you think. Yes, Tenet was a blockbuster and the cinematic story of the summer, but he had special effects and storyline trickery supporting him. Instead, Malcolm And Marie is what stands out to me -- he has nothing but his performance (as abrasive as it is), and he still commands the screen and our attention. When he gets hold of a juicy monologue, he starts cooking… but when he starts dancing on the countertop? Look out.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Andra Day (The United States Vs. Billie Holiday) WILL WIN: Andra Day (The United States Vs. Billie Holiday) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Anya Taylor-Joy (Emma.) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Jessie Buckley (I'm Thinking of Ending Things)

Coming down to the wire, we've got a race where three women have a chance to win, and the favorite depends on who you ask and when you ask. Carey Mulligan, Viola Davis, and Andra Day have each won precursor awards, and seem to leapfrog each other daily. Mulligan has been picked by most prognosticators, with Davis right behind. But I'm going to put my untarnished reputation on the line and predict a long-shot upset for Day. (And when that doesn't happen, I'm going to say that I actually thought Mulligan or Davis were more likely.)

Maybe I'm picking Andra Day because she's also my personal favorite, for her star-making debut in The United States Vs. Billie Holiday. The movie itself is serviceable but not stellar (some of the scenes and dialogue are absurdly expository), but Day is an absolute dynamo as the Lady Day. The film is a fairly rounded picture of her life, including her drug abuse, health issues, singing the controversial-at-the-time civil-rights song "Strange Fruit", and an investigation by the U.S. government (hence the title) -- all of which is intriguing for those of us not familiar with her personal story. (I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn that, despite my curmudgeonly ways, I was not in fact alive in the 1940s.) Day has seemingly come out of nowhere, because there was no early hype about the film, and nobody even saw it until a few weeks ago (and even now, it hasn't been seen by nearly as many people as the other contenders). Known primarily as a singer before this (I'm a big fan), she literally transformed her voice (straining her vocal chords, taking up smoking) to capture Billie Holiday's unique vocals. The singing alone might be enough to get her a nomination, but it's the dramatic work that puts her ahead of the field. More than any other nominee, we really get the feeling that she's laying her soul bare onscreen. Even for a seasoned actress, the depth of this performance would be impressive. Her film doesn't have the popularity or momentum that Mulligan's or Davis's do, so she's heading into Oscar night as an underdog. But if voters judge the actresses strictly on performance, not on the movies themselves, she might just pull an upset. And, if you haven't heard Day sing outside this movie, do yourself a favor: Stop reading this article (you might want to do that anyway) and browse her catalogue -- she has the best voice of any contemporary singer, period. Forget Billie Eilish, why isn't Day singing the next James Bond song?

Carey Mulligan returns to the Oscar game for the first time in 11 years, for Promising Young Woman. (Is she bitter that her performance in An Education lost to Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side? Probably not as bitter as I am.) Promising Young Woman is getting a lot of attention and accolades, and much of it is due to Mulligan's strong turn as Cassandra, a woman on a revenge crusade that has taken over her life. It's a layered performance; we see a lot of Cassandra's facades, but we don't know if we ever see the real person. Her best friend's rape and subsequent suicide has left her stunted; by the time we meet Cassandra, she's literally and figuratively become someone else. As rough as it sounds, Mulligan is able to make it… well, 'fun' isn't the right word, but 'enjoyable'. We see Cassandra refusing to sit or be bullied; she has agency and kinetic energy in situations where many do not or cannot. Whether or not the film works rests largely on Mulligan's shoulders; it's a good thing she's such a talented actress, because not many could pull it off. The more people see the film, the more she's been picked to win the prize. Will she get enough support for a victory? (Ms. Bullock, you owe her a vote.)

Out of all the nominated performances this year, Viola Davis's is the most amusing. Playing the titular singer in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, it's clear she's having blast. When she's onscreen, Davis owns every single inch of it. She doesn't just drink a bottle of Coke, she guzzles the whole thing with gusto and verve, serving notice that this is going to be the most entertaining consumption of soda you've ever seen. And so it is with the rest of the performance. (Though the lip-synching is not particularly believable; but then again, that didn't hurt Rami Malek in Bohemian Rhapsody.) It will be interesting to see what happens on Oscar night. She's been up and down in the predictions. She was down after losing the Golden Globe (it's taken us until now to realize the Globes are a waste of time??), but rebounded strongly with a Screen Actors Guild win. She is universally adored, but she's also won an Oscar already for Fences, so voters may not feel quite as compelled to give it to her overall.

And we haven't even talked about Frances McDormand in Nomadland yet. Early on, this category seemed like a sprint between McDormand and Davis. But when neither won the Golden Globe or Critics' Choice, it became anybody's race. As we near the end of the contest, McDormand has pretty clearly fallen toward the back. I don't think it's her performance; instead, she's been discounted due to her own victorious history. She's already got two Oscars (in 1997 for Fargo and 2018 for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri); a third one would require extraordinary circumstances. By comparison, it took Meryl Streep 29 years (and a lot of Ls) after her second to get her third. But if McDormand hadn't just won for Three Billboards three years ago, I think she'd be a lock here; Nomadland may even be a superior performance. She's probably the only actor alive that could pull this off; if she gave up acting, this is how I assume she would be living in real life. It's remarkable how she internalizes everything, yet informs the viewer how she's feeling and what she's thinking with very few words, just her physicality. This project seems particularly challenging. Her character doesn't have the answers; she's searching, but she doesn't even know what for. "I'm not homeless. I'm just house-less. Not the same thing, right?" It's as if she's posing the question to herself, and she really doesn't know. She gets lonelier as the journey goes on, a sort-of self-imposed isolation, and the viewer really feels it. (What does she ultimately find? Well, that's one of the frustrating ambiguities of the film. Don't get me started.) No matter what happens in this category, what McDormand will find is Oscar gold: She's a producer on Nomadland, so she's a strong bet to walk away with a Best Picture statuette.

Saying Vanessa Kirby is the best thing in Pieces Of A Woman is a bit of a backhanded compliment. My distaste for the film was made pretty clear in the Best Picture section, and anybody acting opposite Shia LaBeouf is going to look like Streep. But Kirby is legitimately great, and I think a welcome surprise to those who know her from the Mission: Impossible and Fast & Furious franchises. (And how many fans of The Crown thought Kirby would beat Claire Foy to an Oscar nomination? Don't lie.) Kirby makes the most of her role as an unpleasant person in an unpleasant situation enduring a barrage of unpleasant events surrounded by really unpleasant people. (An infant tragedy is the least of their problems.) But ultimately the film fails her, and unfortunately I don't really believe what any character is doing in this movie. Her nomination has been bolstered by a whopper of an opening scene: a 24-minute single-shot of a childbirth that ends horrifically. But I can't help but feel like the shot comes off as gimmicky; the immediacy of the scene was effective, but the filmmakers seemed to choose stylistic camera movement and choreography over intimacy and realness. The scene may be emotionally truthful, but hoo-eey, Kirby is dialed up. (My personal favorite ridiculous scene? When she's on the subway, wistfully watching children giggling pleasantly and behaving like angels. Ahhh, seems so blissful. Have you ever taken kids on public transportation? They would be fighting, screaming, climbing over the seats, kicking her, throwing goldfish everywhere, getting yelled at by the parents, bumping into passengers, licking the handrails, wiping snot on seats, and saying inappropriate things to strangers. That's parenthood.)

When the movie gods decided to create a remake that would be the exact opposite of what I would like, they conjured up Emma.. (That's "Emma.", with a period at the end of the title. Seriously. It's a "period" piece. Get it?) Anya Taylor-Joy is undoubtedly talented, but she's a letdown as the fabled matchmaker. She also believes that she can bleed on cue. With regard to her climactic scene: "I was in the moment enough that my nose really started bleeding." Wow. No words. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but her performance actually makes me miss Gwyneth.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: LaKeith Stanfield (Judas And The Black Messiah) WILL WIN: Daniel Kaluuya (Judas And The Black Messiah) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Shia LaBeouf (Pieces Of A Woman) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Glynn Turman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom)

Can you have a movie with two main characters but no leading actors? If you're wondering why the two stars (and title characters) of Judas And The Black Messiah -- LaKeith Stanfieldand Daniel Kaluuya -- are both competing in the Supporting Actor category, congratulations, you're a human on planet Earth. That's Oscar politics for you, and it's nothing new. They are both unquestionably leads; nevertheless, the shift to Supporting has worked out well for both of them. The assumption was that Stanfield would campaign in the Lead category and Kaluuya in Supporting so as not to cannibalize each other's votes, and to have Kaluuya (the stronger awards bet) compete in the less crowded category. (It's been clear for half a year that Chadwick Boseman would be winning Best Actor.) Stanfield was considered an unrealistic shot to crack the nominees anyway (he was probably 8th for Best Actor, behind Delroy Lindo (Da 5 Bloods) and Tahar Rahim (The Mauritanian)). So when the nominations were read, it was a pleasant shock that he had been slotted in the Supporting Actor category. (And wouldn't you rather have him here than Jared Leto?)

But won't they split the vote, resulting in the very problem they were trying to avoid in the first place? As it turns out, no. Judging from other major awards, voters had made up their minds for Kaluuya long ago, so any votes to support this film will likely go to Kaluuya. It's not hard to see why: As Black Panther leader Fred Hampton, he's dynamic, steely, and charismatic. It's very different -- more confident, self-assured and domineering -- than we've seen him in other roles, like Get Out. (This movie is a like a mini-reunion of Get Out. Dang, now I want a sequel to Get Out.) But I'll be the dissenter, and cast my personal vote for Stanfield. I'm conflicted; they're a close 1-2. But for me, Stanfield's role (as an FBI informant infiltrating the Panthers) has more facets to play, and Stanfield's signature tenderness brings me into the character more. Plus, he also has the bigger challenge: he has to play the Judas (a role he initially didn't want). Like another character actually says to Stanfield in the movie: "This guy deserves an Academy Award."

Leslie Odom Jr.'s quest for an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) has hit a speed bump. Already armed with a G and a T, he was the presumptive favorite heading into the Golden Globes to collect more hardware, for playing singer Sam Cooke in One Night In Miami. But that was before anybody had seen Judas And The Black Messiah. As the lone acting nominee for Miami, he's got a lot of support from anyone looking to honor the film and its stellar cast. And as the singer, he gets to show off his lustrous Hamilton-honed pipes several times. In many ways, he's the most relatable character in Miami, the one that (despite Cooke's fame at the time) seems the most mortal. So though he'll lose Best Supporting Actor, fear not: He's the favorite to win Best Song, and keep the EGOT dream alive. (Unless… 12-time nominee Diane Warren finally gets the sympathy vote for her song for the little-seen The Life Ahead. Wait, you mean she didn't win for Mannequin's "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now"??)

Paul Raci is a fascinating nominee, for Sound of Metal. He was virtually unknown before this movie (best known as Eugene the Animal Control Guy on Parks And Recreation), but his background is intriguing. He's a Vietnam vet who started as a small theater actor in Chicago (he has a Jeff nomination!). With his upbringing as a hearing CODA (Child Of Deaf Adult), he's a frequent player in ASL theater and is the lead singer in an ASL metal band. (Am I the only one who was gotten CODA confused with ACOD (Adult Child Of Divorce)? Is there such a thing as ACODDA (Adult Child Of Deaf Divorced Adults)?) And in the understated role of Joe, who runs a facility for deaf people and serves as a guide for Riz Ahmed's character, he's fantastic. It literally seems like he's been preparing his whole life for the role, and it pays off. (Though upon further examination of his character… Joe seems like a benevolent, trustworthy guy with altruistic motivations, with a shelter focused on mental healing, addiction recovery, and self-sufficiency. But he also appears to foster an environment that isolates its members, severs contact with all loved ones, preys on those who are unstable to begin with, and convinces members that they will struggle if they leave the community. Ultimately Joe runs every aspect of members' lives, and in return expects unwavering devotion and complete submission to his methods. As soon as Ruben says one thing to challenge him, Joe accuses him of sounding like an addict, knowing it will trigger shame and self-doubt, in a clear effort to control his actions. Joe even slyly suggests that he personally knows how to reach heaven, "the kingdom of God". Is there a chance Joe is actually running a cult??)

They may have just picked a name out of a hat to see which member of The Trial Of The Chicago 7 ensemble would get an Oscar nomination (now these are all supporting actors), but however it happened, nomination day was a good day for Sacha Baron Cohen. (He also got a writing nod for Borat 2.) He is effective in the movie -- maybe the best of the bunch -- and it's a (slightly surprising) affirmation that he's a good actor in addition to being a talented performer. Is his performance actually worthy of an Oscar nomination? I'm fairly impressed (except for his I-love-you-too-man scene with the inert Eddie Redmayne, which plays cheap… but you can probably pin that one on Aaron Sorkin). But there are several other people I would have nominated over Cohen. For starters, my snubbed pick, Glynn Turman, is exceptional as a musician holding his own against Chadwick Boseman in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. (It seems like just yesterday he was the colonel on A Different World, one of his 150+ acting credits.) Honorable mentions include 7-year-old Alan Kim (Minari), Clarke Peters (Da 5 Bloods), Charles Dance (Mank), and Arliss Howard (Mank).

Wow. Shia LaBeouf is not the only repellant part of Pieces Of A Woman, but he's probably the most repellant part. I'm sorry, but anything he does, or is involved in, instantly becomes less believable. At one point he seems to be trying to creepily make out with his wife… while she's actively pushing in labor. Then later, in a distressing "love" scene, he looks like someone who has never had consensual sex with a partner before; I know the film is going for emotional rawness, but it just looks like assault. Bottom line, I have no idea what he's doing in this movie. (And I guess I don't care what he's doing, as long as it's not another Indiana Jones movie.)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Yuh-jung Youn (Minari) WILL WIN: Yuh-jung Youn (Minari) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Nicole Kidman (The Prom) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ellen Burstyn (Pieces Of A Woman)

Oh, sweet revenge. Don't you just love a rematch? It was just two short years ago when Olivia Colman, in a flabbergasting upset, tearfully apologized to presumptive victor Glenn Close in her acceptance speech. (…Or did she condescendingly mock her? We can't be sure about anything in that speech.) Now they are both nominated again -- Colman for The Father, Close for Hillbilly Elegy -- and the bad blood between them couldn't be boiling hotter. Since there are no nominee lunches or in-person media parades this year, I'm assuming they drunk-Zoom each other at all hours and call one another every cruel British and American curse word in the book. Colman even reportedly tweeted, "Glenn, this will be your Hillbilly Elegy: You never won a dang Oscar." Nasty stuff, but nothing unusual during campaign season. Colman is facing a tough challenge (besides playing a woman whose father is in the grips dementia). Voters will be hard-pressed to hand her a victory again so soon (and without any losses). Additionally, she didn't even get nominated for a BAFTA award -- the British Oscar-equivalent -- on her home turf (and they nominate six actors in each category). (But, she would be quick to point out, Close didn't either.) All the talk around The Father is about Anthony Hopkins. Colman is facing extremely long odds.

Which seems to perfectly set up Close to swoop in for the kill. Six months ago, on paper this seemed like a slam dunk. The word was that Hillbilly Elegy featured two of the losing-est actors (Close and Amy Adams) in transformative roles in a heart-wrenching adaptation of a successful book. It was going to exorcise the demons for both of them. Then the movie debuted. And the response was lukewarm. But then the response to the response was harsh. People hated the movie, hated the performances, and hated the participants for shilling shameless Oscar bait. (If you think there's a different kind of Oscar bait, I'm afraid you haven't been paying attention.) The film was weirdly derided as political, and faced a sort of anti-Trump backlash (which I don't understand, considering the movie takes place in the 1990s and early 2010s, when Trump was just known for being an inept USFL football owner and a silly reality-TV host). Entertainment Weekly actually used these words in a single sentence to describe the film: "ham-handed", "smug", "Appalachian poverty porn", and "moralizing soap opera". (I guess people felt about this film the way I felt about A Star Is Born.) And no, the movie is not great; it fades soon after the credits roll. But Close is compelling; at the very least, she's working her tail off. (If you think she's just hamming it up in drag, stay tuned for the end-credits images of the real Mamaw. It's uncanny.) I think the voters really want her to win (but I thought the same thing two years ago). The question is: Do they want her to win for this movie? The answer increasingly seems to be No. The general feeling (which I agree with) is that the role feels a little lacking, and below Close's other lauded performances. People realize that if she wins, it may get dismissed as being a flimsy career-achievement award, which would tarnish it.

So, which one will claim victory this time, leaving the other groveling at her feet, Colman or Close? Neither, it turns out. In a shocking turn of events, Yuh-jung Youn has emerged as a favorite over both of them. (Fortunately, she's blocked Colman and Close on Zoom.) Calling Youn the heart of Minari would be trite. She is, but she's much more than that. She's the conduit for connection: to the children, between the parents, and to the audience. Before her arrival, it feels like there's something missing. (The young son has a heart condition, is constantly chugging Mountain Dew, and is hiding his wet underpants. And the dad thinks he doesn't need a babysitter?) It's when Youn enters the film that the film excels, and we start to feel like part of the family. She also challenges our (and her grandson's) ideas of what a grandmother is (including possibly having magical healing superpowers). A lot of people are looking for a way to reward this film, and this category is its best chance. Heck, even if voters only hear Youn's one line of English dialogue ("Ding-dong broken!" -- referring to her grandson's wiener), that could be enough to win.

Maybe the most curious nomination is for Maria Bakalova, starring in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm as the notorious Kazakh's daughter. A lot of things in the past year would have been impossible to predict, but an unknown Bulgarian actress stealing the spotlight and getting an Oscar nomination for a surprise-release Borat sequel would have to be near the top. And she's actually the only one in this category who's managed to score a nomination from every major organization. She won't win, but her performance (and memes) may live on the longest.

I must be missing something in Mank. (Granted, I haven't watched it the requisite four times in order to truly appreciate it, according to the Fincherists.) But I just don't understand what the fuss is about with Amanda Seyfried. She certainly plays her part well (as Marion Davies, the illicit love interest of William Randolph Hearst and the platonic love interest of Herman Mankiewicz), but I don't see how she elevates it or brings anything extraordinary to it. Her character plays a pivotal role in Citizen Kane (Davies was the inspiration for Kane's second wife), and I presume she's supposed to play a pivotal role in Mank's literary epiphany, but I fail to understand why. (Or maybe I failed to understand her Brooklyn accent.) But more than that, her narrative thread seems distressingly incomplete. She appears to be set up for a meaty final scene, but then her character simply exits, leaving Mankiewicz (and me) baffled. I've been more impressed by her work in other movies, like First Reformed. Of course, perhaps the most significant implication of Seyfried's nomination: Two of the Plastics now have Oscar nominations. (Gretchen, stop trying to make an Oscar nomination happen. It's not going to happen!)

Just in case there was any confusion, 88-year-old Ellen Burstyn is here to let us know she can still bring the thunder. Pieces Of A Woman is a mess, and her character is dubious, but she gets one powerhouse speech to shine and (somewhat) anchor the movie -- a declaration of strength, resilience, and survival. And she delivers a two-handed, rim-hanging, backboard-shattering jam. Oh, right, there's the woman who scored an Oscar, plus four other nominations, in a 9-year span in the 1970s. And who's been an Emmy fixture the past 15 years. And who has four more movies already in the works. Just another not-so-gentle reminder that she's one of the great actors of her generation. (Honorable Mentions go to The United States Vs. Billie Holiday's Da'Vine Joy Randolph, who continues her scene-stealing ways after Office Christmas Party and Dolemite Is My Name; and Dominique Fishback, whose performance adds emotional heft to Judas And The Black Messiah.)

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) WILL WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ryan Murphy (The Prom) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Christopher Nolan (Tenet)

The second-most-certain thing this year is Chloé Zhao winning Best Director for Nomadland. She's dominated the narrative and the awards circuit this year; nobody else is close. In fact, she might win four Oscars, which would be a record for one person with a single film. (In 1954, Walt Disney was a quadruple winner for four different movies… but do short films really count?) Odds are that she'll win three, but if she wins Best Editing early in the night, the record will be hers. Historically joined at the hip, Best Director and Best Picture have surprisingly been split between different movies several times in recent years. The voters will align them this year, but I'm going to malign them. (Disalign? Unalign? Who am I kidding, I will malign them too.) As tepid as I am on Nomadland for Picture, Zhao is my Director choice. She is clearly a masterful artist and impressionistic storyteller. But more than that, she's able to conjure a mood and state of mind with her pseudo-documentary hybrid style. She gets us to feel what the character is feeling and put us right in the environment -- and makes it seem effortless. The film's long, languid takes allow us to breathe the air, drink in the scene, and live in the moment, unhurried. Zhao augments the nomadic quality of the film in every shot. But (oh, you knew there was a 'but'), on the down side, I also find the style to be a bit tedious and overdrawn at times. Because of my lack of investment, the film often struggles to keep my attention, or more accurately, my curiosity. And despite the film being touted as a tale of community and interconnectedness, it mostly suggests to me (via the main character) feelings of pain, loneliness, coldness, and sadness. But ultimately, I think those things speak more to the story than the directing. This will doubtless be a crowning a achievement for Zhao, but I'm more excited to see what the future will bring, and what she can do for a story that I'm invested in.

I was really close to picking Lee Isaac Chung for my Should Win, for his rich, captivating film, Minari. (Really close. You, the fortunate, insulated reader, will never truly know how much I agonize over this. Some suffer for art, I suffer for unsolicited criticism.) Honestly, I was tempted to give Chung a clean sweep of Picture, Director, and Screenplay; but instead I've opted to spread them around (I can play Academy politics all by myself). So many of the qualities of Zhao's film are present in Chung's film as well; his toolbox is just as full and varied. His quiet, atmospheric shots are unburdened by haste yet always nudging the story ahead. Chung draws us in, as another member of the Yi family, our hopes rising and falling with each challenge and trifle (and sexed chick) they face. There's a real confidence in his style; he knows how to best engage the audience for the specific journey. For me though, what I appreciate most is the warmth of his filmmaking; while the story has tribulations, the film itself is compassionate, never harsh or aggressive. That stands in stark contrast to Nomadland; the palette is one of the main things that sets them apart. Chung also scored points by showcasing the best accessory on the virtual Golden Globes telecast: a ridiculously adorable child. (Was that his own kid, or a rental? Only his publicist knows for sure.) Careful, I might accidentally talk myself into flipping my pick to Chung.

This was supposed to be his year. Goddammit, this was supposed to be his year! That was the sentiment from cinephiles all over the internet this year. Throw a rock in any direction and you'll hit a podcaster (and possibly me) ranting about how David Fincher was robbed in 2011 when he lost Best Director for The Social Network to Tom Hooper and The King's Speech. (Was the Academy justified? Since then, Fincher landed a third Oscar nomination, fourth Golden Globe nomination, and two Emmy wins; Hooper directed Cats.) In early winter, the pieces seemed to be lining up for a Fincher victory with Mank: a big, mainstream, Hollywood-y underdog story; an ode to the most revered film of all time, Citizen Kane; a scenery-chewing performance from beloved thesp Gary Oldman; a film that was more accessible (read: less weird and violent) than most of his other fare; and a passion project that he had been developing for decades, written by his late father. The only question was not whether the film could win all the Oscars, but whether it could cure pediatric cancer or pilot a rocket to Jupiter. But that was 2020… and we all know how that year went. Maybe it's the fatigue caused by the prolonged award campaign season, maybe it's the lack of theaters that would have showcased his visual marvel, or maybe it's the fact that the film didn't quiiiiiiite live up to the hype, but one thing is clear: Fincher is out of the race. I'll say what a lot of the other film snobs won't: This is probably not the film we want Fincher to win for anyway. We want him to win for something sharper, weirder, more incisive, and more upsetting; in short, something more Fincher-ish. Mank is fantastic, to be sure; and in (mostly) pulling it off, Fincher demonstrates his mastery of historical and contemporary cinema. But the hiccups are puzzling. The film is structured like Citizen Kane itself, which makes it at times equally difficult to engage in; but while Kane's flashbacks feel natural, a handful of Mank's feel shoehorned. The dialogue is in the style -- but not the pace -- of hard-boiled 1940s films, which alone is a recipe for difficult viewing; further peppering every retort with unnatural irony makes for wit but not necessarily comprehension. The Kane-esque echo effect doesn't help; neither do subtitles. (I tried.) While it turns out that it's not supposed to be his Oscar year after all, I commend Fincher on an effort like this -- the singular vision, the vigor, the risk -- even when I don't necessarily love the movie or connect with it. We need his art, we need his beautiful mess. (But next time maybe throw in a grisly murder, perverted romance, or crippling heartbreak… and acquire a charming child for the awards telecast.)

Emerald Fennell impressively scored a nomination for her first feature film, Promising Young Woman, an inventive genre-mashup of a Rape Revenge movie -- a new spin on a 1970s grindhouse staple. Like a lot of people, I don't quite know what to make of the movie (I don't think I've ever actually seen a Rape Revenge movie… though I've seen plenty of Dognapping Revenge movies). It's a film that could go badly a thousand different ways, but Fennell makes choices that keep it fresh and thoroughly watchable. The primary word that comes to mind is 'subversive'. From the candy coloring to the pop music to the meet-cute to the campy suspense, she toys with convention at every turn (in some cases more effectively than others). Even the support casting -- the kooky, on-the-nose (or 180-flipped) cameos spice up the movie, but also tend to undermine it and give it a B-movie vibe. (Do we really need Jennifer Coolidge and Max Greenfield doing what they do best, but not as well as they usually do it? Probably not. Do they make me chuckle? Yes.) The result is an oddly entertaining movie on a subject that is anything but. The patina of playfulness is helpful; if it was an avalanche of distressing, horrifying scenes, it could be a tortuous watch. All in all, it might be the most enjoyable Rape Revenge movie you'll ever see.

Perhaps the biggest surprise nominee in any category is Thomas Vinterberg, for the Danish film Another Round. (The lion's share of the Oscar buzz had been for star Mads Mikkelsen; the film is also up for Best International film.) This movie is in the grand tradition of celebrating alcohol because excessive drinking is awesome. And the Academy has recognized Vinterberg because he has so astutely captured how booze is a tasty balm for every wound -- an ancient and failsafe key to enlightenment and inner peace. Wait, what's that? I'm sorry… I'm being told that this movie is actually a cautionary tale. Hmmm. I guess I should have watched it sober. In light of that, I suppose the film is an interesting examination of middle-aged ennui and the tendency to overlook that which is right in front of you. (Anyone that has gotten this far in the article knows exactly what ennui is, and should have overlooked what was right in front of them.) It's also an unintentionally apt allegory for pandemic life: When it started, we began drinking a bit at home, enjoying Zoom happy hours, and generally having a good time; pretty soon we were day-drinking out of sheer boredom, trying to teach our home-schooled kids long division while buzzed, and it got very sad and depressing; now we're all pretty much ready to jump off the pier. In general, I like the film (though I prefer my mid-life drinking crises more in the mold of Old School), but the story and arc are fairly telegraphed. You mean their problems can't be fixed by increased alcohol consumption? The more you drink, the harder it is to control? Drinking at work as a teacher around minors might go awry? Instead of booze, have they tried rest, exercise, healthy eating, or appreciating the good things in their lives? (Who I am kidding, those are a waste of time.) Ultimately, there are several directors I would have chosen over Vinterberg (Christopher Nolan for Tenet, George C. Wolfe for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, and Florian Zeller for The Father come to mind), but it's interesting to see the continuing trend of nominating non-American filmmakers in this category, as the Directors' branch of the Academy becomes increasingly international.

I want to talk about the ending of Another Round for a moment. If you didn't see the movie (and I'm betting you didn't), just skip this paragraph. Most of the reviews I've read online interpret the ending as a hopeful, happy one. I think that's crazy. The ending is a Trojan horse. It looks joyful, but just underneath lies tragedy: The trio resume drinking after they've seemingly hit rock bottom and lost their best friend to booze; they believe they're in control and having a good time when really they're spiraling into chaos; they think they've found a balance, when they're actually sliding endlessly further into alcoholism. They don't realize that they cannot enjoy life sober. I think one of the reasons why I like the movie so much is that it masks that ending as a "happy" one, much the way a drinker would see it when they don't realize there's a problem. The ending is denial. A lot of people have seen the final scene as uplifting and life-affirming (even Vinterberg seems to say this in interviews, which is puzzling), that the friends have come to terms with their drinking, and have found a way to drink in moderation and still invigorate their lives and celebrate the small things. I don't understand that take at all. I would buy it if they had found a way to celebrate life while sober. Instead, I think it's the surest sign that they are destroying their lives, because they don't even realize it's happening. It's the 'darkest timeline'. They ask themselves the wrong question, "What would Tommy do?", instead of "What would Tommy want us to do?", and we know exactly what Tommy would do because we see him drink himself to death. Martin has gotten a reconciliatory text from his wife, but just as he's about to go to her, he instead joins the party, quickly gets plastered, and literally goes off the deep end. What's truly heartbreaking is seeing that they've (gleefully and unknowingly) perpetuated the cycle, having encouraged the next generation to drink in order to cope and be "awakened to life". I think there are hints in the final song lyrics ("What a Life") and the movie's poster (the image of Mikkelsen recklessly chugging champagne in a blurry stupor is from the final scene). To me, the seemingly exuberant ending is a fallacy… and utterly tragic.

In a surprise move that everyone saw coming, I'm naming Christopher Nolan as my Snubbed choice, for his twisty, backwards-y spectacle, Tenet. Did I understand the movie? Of course. Oh, you didn't? Dummy.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Derek Cianfrance, Abraham Marder, Darius Marder (Sound Of Metal) WILL WIN: Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Aaron Abrams, Brendan Gall (The Lovebirds) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Sam Levinson (Malcolm And Marie)

Did his name have to be Ryan? No, that wasn't my biggest takeaway from the script for Emerald Fennell's Promising Young Woman. But it was a big one. As Carey Mulligan's chances fade a bit, Screenplay is the movie's strongest chance to strike gold, making a strong run in the precursory awards. The ending of the film has been pretty divisive, but I like that it's completely unexpected. Maybe it's contrived, but it's what makes the movie memorable for me, and separates it from other revenge thrillers. Or maybe it's inevitable, given the themes of the movie and the character pursuing her mission past the point of no return. Either way, did his name have to be Ryan? Unless Fennell's role (she's an actress, too) as Camilla Parker Bowles on The Crown accidentally embroils her in recent royal family controversies, she should be collecting this award on Oscar night.

Most of the praise for Sound Of Metal has been specifically for its sound design. But it starts with the script (written by director Darius Marder, along with Derek Cianfrance and Abraham Marder), which is the blueprint for the sound and experience of the movie. And it's my pick (by a hair) for best screenplay of the year. It has -- hey, whaddya know! -- an actual narrative, with a main character who has an objective and opposition. It's always impressive to me when a story has very little I can directly relate to, but it still manages to resonate, and strikes a tone that feels real. I also appreciate the skill in the writing -- it's minimalistic, yet thorough in the ways that matter. The film doesn't explain a lot or give us much exposition -- it doesn't lean on voice-over, window characters, or monologues. It's quiet. Which may seem obvious considering it's about a man losing his hearing, but even the man himself and the real world he lives in have a muted vibe (despite his mind being anything but calm). The film has also been lauded for its authentic portrayal of deaf people… but not for its authentic portrayal of audiologists. (I mean, how bad is Ruben's audiologist consultation, that he is in no way prepared for how things would sound after getting cochlear implants? I get more information from my dentist when getting a cavity filled.) Also: What does metal sound like? I still don't know.

Aaron Sorkin would seem like the obvious pick here, for The Trial Of The Chicago 7. It's the kind of sonorous, social-consciousness word-porn we've come to love and expect from him. But he's already got an Oscar (though most people assume he has three), and the fight-the-system theme isn't exactly unique to his script this year. Not surprisingly, the movie feels like a mash-up of The West Wing and A Few Good Men, complete with humorous exchanges of smug cleverness, heart-warming declarations of overly-simplified principle, and his own trademark Sorkin-esque version of facts. Sure, the story of the Chicago 7 is intriguing, but would I rather watch a movie about a Chicago 7-Eleven? It's tempting…

I've previously talked about the reasons I appreciated Minari so much (written by director Lee Isaac Chung). A lot of the sweetness of the film is present in the screenplay. He cleverly tells much of the story through the eyes of a 7-year-old boy, so it's told less fact-by-fact, and more through the filter of a child's memory. (Chung based the screenplay somewhat on his own experiences growing up.) Charming as it is, I can't help but view it through the filter of a parent's anxiety: 1) Is moving across the country to live in a small town where you don't know anyone, living in a trailer, and starting a farm with zero experience the best way to solve marital problems? 2) One of the main promotional photos for the movie is a of the little boy holding a stick. Am I crazy, or is that the same stick that the father was going to use to beat the boy when he disobeyed? Did the marketing person keep their job after that? 3) The friend's deadbeat dad leaves the kids alone overnight, presumably out carousing and drinking, then shows up at breakfast hammered, saying, "Tell your mom I was here all night." How many times can you get away with that? 4) When the boy cuts his foot, is it bad that I did not think of the wound or his safety, but about the blood getting on the carpet? 5) Why aren't these kids in school??

Perhaps the script (and movie) with the biggest head of steam coming into awards night is Judas And The Black Messiah, a late entry that has been picking up acolytes left and right. The film has been lauded for its approach to the story of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton -- by telling it as a gritty, 70s-style, cat-and-mouse thriller, from the perspective of the FBI informant sent to help stop him. Director Shaka King (who wrote the script with Will Berson, based on ideas from the Lucas Brothers) has said that structure, instead of a more traditional biopic style, helped get it made by a studio. Despite the inevitability of the ending, the dramatic conflict and ferocity of the performances make for a satisfyingly tense ride.

This is going to come back to bite me, but my snubbed pick is Malcolm And Marie (or, as it should have been called, Things You Shouldn't Say To Your Girlfriend At 2 AM When You're Drunk And She's In A Bad Mood). It's like a really long Bad Idea Jeans commercial. Now, I'm not necessarily recommending this movie. You should know that most critics and regular people hate it. It's two hours of a couple arguing. It's a rough ride. It's indulgent, overwrought, and well, chock-full of mental and emotional abuse. But (stay with me here), if you can get past all that, those elements have a purpose, and there is a point to the film. I think the key is that it's not intended to be literal. It's allegorical for how we talk to ourselves -- the internal conflict we have, when we wrestle with ideas that are hard to reconcile. It's also lyrical; there's an elegance in how the characters spew eloquent vitriol at each other and rhapsodize (okay, rant) about some opinions that seem dead-on and others that seem wildly inaccurate. In some ways, the words seem like the most important thing; but in other ways, I think the movie could work as a silent film. (Either way, it's inventive: It was the first major film to shoot completely during the pandemic, so it takes place in a single home, with 2 actors, in more-or-less real time.) Writer/director Sam Levinson poses interesting questions about storytelling and authorship: Sure, write what you know; but also, and maybe more interestingly, try to write (and learn) about what you don't know. (Case in point: I don’t really have any experience or expertise about the Oscars, yet here I am.) Levinson has gotten a lot of criticism for what appears to be his point of view. I think that's fair, but I also disagree. I believe it's a bit of a misdirection. I think he believes in both sides of the argument; he's been the irrational, emotional one, and the cool, calculating one. The characters are halves to a whole. There's also the frustration with how the couple end up. The film is ambiguous, but audiences seem to think they stay together. I think the girlfriend actually decides before the movie starts that she's leaving him, and this is their breakup. That's why she lets him say all the horrible things he does, because she knows he has to get it out -- it affirms what she already knows, and reinforces her decision. Did I sell you on the movie yet? No? Well, how about this: It's the best autobiographical movie that Burton and Taylor never made.

As an honorable mention, it would have been a nice story had Mank been nominated here, as it was written by David Fincher's father, Jack Fincher, over two decades ago. The elder Fincher was a life-long newspaper man, who had an affinity for 1930s/1940s cinema, a strong knowledge of Herman Mankiewicz, and a fascination with a famously-dissenting Pauline Kael article that disparaged Orson Welles's contributions to the Citizen Kane screenplay. David Fincher had hoped to get his passion project off the ground in the 90s, but hasn't been able to until now. A nomination would have been a touching tribute to his father, who died in 2003. (Another interesting connection: John Mankiewicz, Herman Mankiewicz's grandson, was an executive producer on David Fincher's House Of Cards.) Despite my frustrations with the overall movie, the script is slick, and analyzes some intriguing inside-the-snowglobe aspects of Citizen Kane. It's a crackling, showy piece that jauntily goes out of its way to flaunt its writerliness. (For you keen-eyed writers out there, you'll notice I just made up the word 'writerliness'.) It doesn’t necessarily require you to believe that Citizen Kane is the greatest film ever made, but a healthy sense of awe doesn’t hurt. (It also helps to have a working knowledge of the film's lore, pre-WWII Hollywood, and 1930s -- or some would say, 2020s -- California politics.) The script simultaneously adores and gives a middle finger to Hollywood. Isn’t that what art is supposed to do? (That's not a rhetorical question. I'm actually asking if art is supposed to do that. Because I don't know.)

I've picked The Lovebirds as my Gloriously Omitted choice, not because it's a bad movie, but because it's a missed opportunity. It should have been amazing. The premise, the trailer, the choice of leads, and the chemistry are all fantastic, and set lofty expectations. But the movie itself is just… underwhelming. Maybe hopes were too high, but it's not as clever, tight, or funny as I wanted it to be. The problem isn't the actors -- Issa Rae truly holds the screen, and Kumail Nanjiani is naturally funny (though his character doesn't stray far from previous ones). I think it's the script (from Aaron Abrams and Brendan Gall), which feels rushed and half-baked, like a collection of sketch ideas. It's as if the screenplay left chunks blank, with a note saying, "The actors will figure out something funny on set." For these actors, I'd rather see a taut thriller story, and let them imbue it with humor and humanity. Or better yet, let Rae and Nanjiani write it themselves next time.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Christopher Hampton, Florian Zeller (The Father) WILL WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Jane Goldman, Joe Shrapnel, Anna Waterhouse (Rebecca) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ruben Santiago-Hudson (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom)

Adapted Screenplay is going to get swept up in the Nomadland tidal wave on Oscar night, but to me it's probably the film's weakest element. I've talked about my lack of connection to the story. I understand the opinion that it's resonant, but is it revelatory? I can certainly see how it would strike a stronger chord during the pandemic, when we are all isolated; it makes the main character's loneliness feel more real. We've all been living in Nomadland, and whether it's David Strathairn shattering our favorite plates, or our kids shattering our iPad, we're just about at wit's end. But Chloé Zhao's script also plays up the theme of community and interconnectedness, and I didn't really feel that. The main character seems to be closing herself off from connection (though the ending suggests a change that we never actually get to see). A red flag is a movie description that says, "It asks more questions than it answers." Ugh, that's tough. For me, narrative is king. I understand that the movie is literally about a drifter with no plan, and the structure of the film is supposed to make you feel unmoored, but a little plot direction would be nice. Then there's the emotional climax, when Bob the Nomad Guru comes to the rescue to explain the whole theme. He tells Frances McDormand (but really, us) that he gets through grief by helping other people: "For a long time, every day was, How can I be alive on this earth when he’s not? And I didn’t have an answer. But I realized I could honor him by serving people. It gives me a reason to go through the day. Some days that's all I've got." Hmmm, where I have I seen that exact sentiment expressed before? Oh yeah, an award-winning short film called Through The Trees. (Available now, for free on YouTube.)

Dementia Mystery Thriller… is that a movie genre? Well, it might be, after success of The Father (written by Christopher Hampton and Florian Zeller, adapted from Zeller's Tony-winning play). "Exciting" is hardly the word I would use to describe the horrible crumbling of the mind that is dementia, but in this movie, it weirdly fits. The film has a way of presenting the disorder in a unique manner, that goes a long way in conveying the helplessness and frustration of the victim. With copycat movies inevitable, I can almost see Christopher Nolan's version now: Demento, where a mumbling Tom Hardy (unrecognizable under heavy old-man makeup) kills his caregiver twice because he can't remember if he already killed her… or her identical twin. The big twist comes when he discovers whether he killed them in the past, or in the future, or if he's remembering the memory of someone else who killed them. The scenes of the movie play in a different random order every time, and the only score is the constant deafening sound of the old man's heartbeat. Marion Cotillard plays the twins -- apparently the only females in the universe -- using whatever accent she feels like, because she has limited, unrealistic dialogue, and has no compelling story or agency, or any useful traits for an actress whatsoever. Hardy's son may or may not be a British crime lord or an undercover MI6 agent, played by Michael Caine (digitally de-aged to look the age that Hardy actually is). An emaciated Christian Bale, who manages to lose 3 inches of height for the role, makes a cameo as Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Revolutionary practical effects include a life-size recreation of Westminster Abbey inside a zero-gravity chamber, for one massively-complicated but forgettable 5-second shot. It will only cost $723 million, and will go straight to HBO Max. I will name it the best film of 2022.

I may be picking The Father, but I'm rooting for The White Tiger, written and directed by Ramin Bahrani. Set in India in the recent past, it's a striking, chilling tale of what men may be willing to do (or forced to do) to escape poverty. Bahrani constructs a fiery examination of themes that never get old: power vs. agency, freedom vs. choice, complicity vs. culpability. His script uses a lot of devices that shouldn't work: excessive, expository voice-over; explicitly-stated metaphors; speaking directly to the audience; and on-the-nose correlations to current times. But the story and acting are strong enough to make these feel integral. Given the themes and foreign setting, it has the misfortune (or great fortune) of being an easy comparison to Parasite, last year's Oscar grand prize winner. But I find The White Tiger far more accessible and scrutable than Parasite (maybe partly due to the devices I mentioned). A win here would be a welcome surprise. By the way, Bahrani's first Oscar nomination is an interesting footnote to Hollywood lore: In the 2014 Roger Ebert documentary Life Itself, we learn that Ebert was given a legendary token by Laura Dern -- a puzzle that had been passed on from several film icons, with the understanding that each would pass it on to someone truly deserving. Dern had gotten it from revered acting teacher Lee Strasberg, and it originated when Alfred Hitchcock gave it to Marilyn Monroe years before. And now Ebert was giving it to Bahrani. 60 years of movie history, from Hitchcock to Bahrani, and into the future. (Good thing it's not at my house, we would have lost several pieces by now.)

Four of the most famous and popular men in the country walk into a bar… so shouldn't the patrons be freaking out more? One Night In Miami plays out a very intriguing hypothetical scenario: When Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Jim Brown, and Sam Cooke all met one night in 1964, what did they talk about? The compelling script (by Kemp Powers, based on his own play) and naturalistic direction (by Regina King) make for a highly enjoyable think-piece and character study. It's a daunting task, to say the least: Not only are they representing extremely visible and important figures, but two of the actors (Kingsley Ben-Adir as Malcolm X, Eli Goree as Ali) are reprising roles already played by Oscar-nominated performers (Denzel Washington, Will Smith) who may be more famous than the actual figures themselves. I guess my hang-up (besides the horrendous Johnny Carson impersonation) is, what are the stakes? Historically, we know the stakes for these four people, in the larger context of their lives and the civil rights movement. But in the film itself, in that single night, for these specific characterizations, what are the stakes? What are they each looking for that evening? I think the movie doesn't fully address this, structurally. Ultimately, due to their fame, we know where the characters' lives go from here -- how it "ends". While that makes it interesting culturally, it feels like it puts a ceiling on the movie in a way, like it's holding something back. With these outsized characters, plot-wise, I wanted a little bit more.

Released in October with almost no warning, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm either single-handedly swung the presidential election, or had no absolutely no impact whatsoever, depending on who you ask. It's a rare feat for an original movie and its sequel to both score Oscar nominations for screenplay; I can't think of another time it's ever happened for a comedy. The fact that it's even under consideration -- given its improvisational nature and whopping nine (nine!) screenwriters (I'm not going to name them all, I'm trying to keep this article brief) -- is fairly astonishing. Even more baffling still, it's been placed in the Adapted category instead of Original. (Pesky Academy rules: Any sequel is automatically defined as an adaptation of the original.) The movie itself is unfortunately a shell of the unrelentingly funny original (Sacha Baron Cohen looks more like a middle-aged man doing a mediocre Borat impression at this point). When the big night arrives, the film will either single-handedly swing the Oscar vote, or have absolutely no impact whatsoever, depending on who you ask.

One of the biggest surprises on nomination day was the exclusion of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom from Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, assumed to be a lock in both categories. It was even thought to contend with Nomadland in this category (it would have gotten my vote, had they asked me). I think it was diminished by the perception of being a fairly straight recreation of August Wilson's play, which is a shame. The film version (written by Ruben Santiago-Hudson) makes wonderful use of the physical space, the confinement, the claustrophobia. And I'd say the movie feels more like an album than a play -- a collection of "songs" (monologues, exchanges, and actual songs), each with its own rhythm, beat, lyrics, and theme, but coming together as a cohesive piece. The composition is effective; it draws you in the way the best albums do, and challenges your brain to think one thing while your heart feels something else. (My only complaint is that I wanted more of Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman together! Their personalities are electric, and their personas overtake the room. Their conflict is brief (it mostly flows over to conflicts with other characters), and I really wanted to see them alone, head-to-head and unbridled. I realize their distance is purposeful, and important thematically, but damn, it could have been a showdown for the ages. Just another reason to wonder… What might have been?)

The remake of Rebecca was written by a few people, including Joe Shrapnel, whose name may have been a bad harbinger for what was to become of this script. Keep it simple: Please leave Hitchcock alone.

#oscars #oscarpredictions #oscarpredictions2021 #oscarprognostication2021 #donovansoscarprognostication2021 #oscars2021 #academyawards #academyaward

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jamielea81 · 5 years

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Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.” She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

If you are crossed out, I can’t tag you.

Tag list: @southerngracela @chrisevansforever @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob@patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @jennmurawski13

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #keanu reeves #actor fic #Chris Evans Fan Fiction #just a simple lie #Chris Evans x Reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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bolbianddolanhouse · 4 years

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Book 3 FAQ!

Need to catch up? Heres all the previous FAQs 1 * 2 Heres the master post of all three books 1 * 2 * 3

Wow...you would think that with the whole pandemic that I’d get these chapters out faster. But alas this year got the best of me too. I’ve been a lil vulnerable in the tags with y’all and the check-in messages really touched me. So thank you very much to everyone that has checked up on me and enjoyed the chapters! I appreciate all of you :3 So lets roll out the questions!

Q: Who is Iwata based off? A: Iwata is based off my self-insert, which is also me. I know that sounds a lil narcissistic but it’s that real life reference that you’re a spitting image of your parent. Iwata was designed to look and act very similar to his mother based off that. What made him a little more original and not a copy of my self-insert is the tropes I added. I mirrored the trope of that of the relationship between Steven and his mom in Steven Universe; where he adored, then hated but then came to terms that he is not his mom but someone better. A whole journey of self-discovery and self-worth.

Q: The representation is amazing! How did you come up with these queer characters? A: Glad you liked them! Like I’ve said in previous FAQs and in the tags, all these characters were dreamt and I just build upon them in writing. So yes, most of my characters were created queer in my dreams but I make them more in depth by setting up how they discovered they’re queer. I did a bit of research on coming out stories and self-discovery epiphanies to have these characters more relatable so a fellow queer reader feels seen in a way. There’s already too much hetero works out there, I just want to gay it up in a respectful way.

Q: The culture mixing is really good and consistent, how do you do it? A: For starters, I am latina. But the culture mixing stems from my knowledge about other cultures through language. I’ve been studying Japanese for almost a decade now and Chinese for about 4 years, so it’s no surprise that I’m referencing them in my work. Maybe what I depict isn’t what other half-Japanese half-Latinx families do, but it’s what I’d do if I started such a family. Plus there’s some overlap within those cultures and it makes it easy to put into writing.

Q: So. much. drama! Why is this book more dramatic than the previous two? A: Book 3 is were main on-going plot gets picked up more and shows signs of resolution. In book 2, it was to focus on not only Lili and the family dynamic but to remind the reader that life moved on with little resolve for the self-insert character. Iwata has a HUGE role in the resolution but in his own special way. And I’m not saying the answer is love...but it’s leaning there.

Q: You reference specific food and snacks in this AU/ what are your favorite Cheetos? A: Like I said, I’m latina! Of course I write in the food of my home culture. Mainly the home cooked meals my mom would make for me and my siblings. It might not seem like much to the reader, but those simple meals add to the narrative of being home and traditions that help them embrace their mixed heritage. The reference of Cheetos are all over this AU because they’re my favorite hot chip. Naturally, my favorite Cheetos are the Hot con Límon with chamoy.

Q: Love that there’s no canon character deaths in this book so far, but are there any major deaths planned? A: Just one but it’s not a tragic, hero fallen type death. It’s a natural death but it’s gonna be a tear jerker. That death won’t come until the WAY end of this AU, so I’m not gonna spoil anything yet.

Q: Can’t believe you predicted Dabi’s true identity. A: It was obvious tho. I didn’t really predict anything canon if you’re an anime only for BNHA. In this AU (without spoiling too much) there’s no Endeavor redemption and Dabi doesn’t cause that big drama on live TV. So if you’re an Endeavor hater like me, you’re gonna love what I have in store for them in the next book!

Q: I love Tenya being a dad and loving husband in this AU! Will we see more dad moments? A: Glad you like those snippets of dad Tenya! I love writing them for my own indulgence since there isn’t enough love for this character in the fandom. Plus I see a whole lot of consistent readers are Iida-stans and that makes me want to write more married fluff whenever I can.

Q: Beizu is best boi/Who is Beizu based off of? A: Beizu is the genius trope in this book. I made his character a more chill version of his mom but with that ‘who is my dad’ trope. Beizu is part of a trio that’s to mirror the agent trio of Ita, Jin and Mimi. The third member is yet to be revealed but they’re a BIG plot device in the coming book. But Beizu is one of my favorite OCs, maybe I’ll do a ranking of my OCs when everyone is introduced.

Q: The villains and Hawks plot has me SHOOK! What’s going to happen to hero society when this case gets solved? A: Without spoiling it, the truth is going to expose the corrupt higher ups in hero society. The kids in the household has a part in taking down hero society as well but in their own, special way. Iwata has the biggest part in closing the case (but it’s spoiler if I say how), Lili and twins help tearing down minor things like education systems and laws. I will say though, the case gets resolved after the trio retires because Ita gets to return to America and found an heir to the company before they could draw to a conclusion. Which is a happy ending at the end of the storyline, no major deaths!

Q: Confirmed weddings? A: Yes :) because Lili and Iwata deserve good things and love. The twins have it easy in the coming book. Lili’s comes first and Iwata’s comes later than expected (can’t say why yet, gotta keep reading :3). I guess I can say that all of them get married but Lili’s and Iwata’s are the only queer ones. All the spouses that marry into the family take the Iida name, so Lili and Hanaka don’t change family names when they get married! Y’all already know those wedding chapters are gonna be lavish and take up most of the chapter, you’ll love them.

Q: But are the kids Joji stans? A: Oh jeez...they are the same way we like 80′s music. It’s pleasant to listen to but kinda cringe when you see your parents dance to it. I don’t really portray it, but the family digital library has all of Joji’s music in a playlist called ‘Sad hours Soundtrack’. If you ask Mr Muffins 2.0 who last listened to the playlist, they’ll snitch who and how many times it has been looped. That’s how Tenya knows who needs cheering up.

Q: I love the little references to their childhood, what else can you tell us about their pre-book childhood? A: As I said a few times in the tags, I cut a ton of stuff that isn’t relevant to the plot. Most of it was their childhood and how they manifested their quirks. Lili really liked to scream before she learned to talk, a very fast learner and at 3 years old got her engine quirk and later that year showed signs of a second quirk. Iwata was very quiet child, hardly cried or gets upset but latched on to mom a lot. His first words were in Spanish but struggled a bit with Japanese before entering kinder. Tensei was born first, then Hanaka followed 10 minutes later. Hanaka’s fire quirk manifested after the first breast feeding when she was getting burped by mom in the hospital. Mom likes to believe Tensei came out first to warn everybody that Hanaka can breathe fire. Tensei didn’t manifest his metal quirk until the age of 7, making him a very late bloomer. Though very different in personalities, Hanaka and Tensei get along and get very creative when it’s playtime. Up until the age of 5, mom would place Hanaka in kindling to get the BBQ grill or bonfire started. Hanaka has been known to randomly burst into flames as a baby, so Tensei had to sleep in a different crib for his safety. Tensei spent more time reading as a child because everyone was focused on managing Hanaka’s flames, thus making him a very studious boy.

Q: Not an AU question, but how are you doing?/ We don’t mind waiting for the chapters! Please take your time. A: I’ve been getting check ins and validation in my asks for the inconsistent schedule. Too many things came at me this year, both good and bad. I was doing well in speech and debate that I went to nationals and prepared myself for some serious competition, leaving no time to do chapters. Then I fell in and out of depressive episodes during lockdown where I’m from. In the summer my grandmother passed away from the virus in Mexico, then my beloved dog Mr Muffins passed away of old age. Those deaths hurt me and my family the most that I was having a hard time trying to cope plus trying to be responsible by adhering to CDC guidelines (I’m in the immune-comprised group). In my want to get over my grief, I trained and received my certificate in ordained ministry (yea I know that’s not the best first step, but I just needed to feel like I’ve achieved something being cooped up at home). I’ve very grateful that theres some readers that see the tags and check up on me. All your kind words gives me a little strength to write and finish every chapter at my pace.

Q: More art please? A: Yes :3 I have one coming up real soon! After the end of this book is where I’ll be releasing some art as a sort of place holder.

Q: Is the the estate drama eluding to the ending? A: Yup! And it will show up every now and then in the next book.

Q: This is a really good self insert AU! There’s complexity to your character and others...how do you write these interactions/relationships really close to actual ones? A: Thanks for the complement :3 When I first started this AU, I was in the middle of my semester of a creative writing course. Near the end of book 2 was when I finished the course work for it and by then you could see the progression in writing. ALSO, I’m a communications major as well! Writing these relationships and other social things were things that I remembered learning in my interpersonal communications class. I was a bit on fence on whether or not to start this AU because I didn’t think my writing skill was at all that good. With some encouragement from my classmates and friends, I pushed myself to write this whole AU out. I don’t plan on stopping until I finish the storyline, plus I hate leaving things unfinished.

And that wraps up this FAQ! Hopefully I got everyone’s questions since most were check-ins for me. But expect the last chapter for book 3 in the next few days. After Book 3, I’m going on a lil hiatus until the end of February. I have so many life events happening in the upcoming weeks that I’m gonna need time to recharge before resuming this AU. Y’all know I bounce back as promised, in the meantime, I have some art things queued to remind y’all that Book 4 is in the works. Only 2 more books to go! Thanks again for reading and I’ll talk you y’all again later in the tags~

-Love, Palma-sama

P.S. Heres the end of Book 3 for your connivence :3 other links are at the top of this post!

#mha #bnha #self insert au #not canon #FAQ 3 #Book 3 #ask me anything

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ellaintrigue · 4 years

Photo

I need my peace.

I've struggled with PMS on and off for years, and let me tell you, PMS mixed with PTSD is so rough. I've heard of women getting murderous with that type of shit but I can still rationalize, fortunately. The first day of it I'm mad, the second day I'm emotional, the next day mad, etc., and it lasts about 5 days until I bleed.

My mother tells me to not discuss health issues in blogs or when I talk to men. She tells me to be less emotional, and not cry, especially in front of people. I've never wanted to cry in front of people, and in fact, I barely cry at all, but during PMS + high levels of stress it does happen. And sometimes I just cry and let it out and feel better. When my grandmother lay dying in hospice I got choked up and my mom turned to me and snapped, "DON'T START THAT" and I felt so trapped and miserable. My grandmother was doped up with her eyes rolling up in her head and gasping breaths from her heart failing and it was very hard to watch. And I may be a coward but I honestly would have felt better if I could have just cried a little. Not sobs but just some tears. After I left that day I bawled my ass off in my Oldsmobile. She'd never tell me to stop.

I hate censorship. I hate people saying racist things, gay-bashing, and calling women bitches and hoes, but when it comes to raw emotion and expression, where is the harm? Am I hurting someone that reads this, in admitting that I cry? In admitting I have period problems? In showing my body? I'm just... a human. A messy, scarred up, bubbly, angry, happy, sad, fucked up human. I can't write about happy beautiful things every day because that's not realistic and I don't want to.

Yesterday was eventful and also full of emotion, but not a negative day. I stayed up until 10 PM which is rare for me, and didn't eat. I last ate at 1 PM and woke up this morning starved and weak.

I definitely have some PMS still, and, any day, I want to lay in bed for 15 minutes after I wake up, either with my eyes closed or while listening to some music. I seriously need that little pause before I start my day, but some days IT IS. SO. HARD. TO GET.

I woke up shortly after 5:30 this morning, stretched, and did some thinking over the events of yesterday. I was in a good mood. Then I hear FaceBook messenger go off twice. Okay, whatever. I should turn the notifications off for the night but it's just too much to remember and fuck with somehow. I wish people would just not message me between 9 PM and 7 AM lol. But I do enjoy talking to my cousin, and let her know I had to go soon because I hadn't eaten in 16 hours.

Then the cats start slamming at my bedroom door, my dad texts me, my friend Trent dings messenger, and I'm just like, holy shit. Then my cousin mentions this gentleman she keeps saying I should talk to. I said if he wants to say hi, he can. She initially marketed it as the guy worked a lot and needed friends. You know, whatever. She first brought it up two months ago, then brought it up again today.

I'm not judging, not trying to complain about my cousin trying to be nice to me, but I talk to a loooottt of people. If someone wants to say hi to me, they can, but regardless of whether this guy wanted a friend or someone to date, I'm going to be more focused on people my own age. I know so many people over 40 that I really just want people under that and he appeared to be 50. For a while I had trouble finding friends so I participated in a social site outside of FaceBook and now talk to whoever from wherever. I also find men to talk to sometimes, to see if there's a dateable connection, but that isn't something I put much pressure on at this time.

I was involved with someone amazing mid-pandemic and am capable of getting men, it's just not something I'm going to write about or tell everyone. I think people have the misconception that because I'm a survivor of violence and a feminist that I have trouble dating but that's more my own pickiness. When I whine about dating scene things I'm just blurbing and blowing off steam, not exuding desperation. It would be lame to blog about who I'm actually talking to at the moment and spoil things. I do not need people making connections for me. 🤷‍♀️

I finally excuse myself from my talk with her, close off my computer, and leave my phone upstairs to do chores. Put my two male cats in their kennel while I clean their box, clean the old cat's box, and she whirls around my legs. She's become increasingly manic after developing a skin allergy to dry cat food. She's fine now physically but just constantly underfoot, trying to bite me all the time and generally being annoying as fuck. She has always had severe behavioral issues but this takes the cake. She wants the dry food so I try to give her a little bit throughout the week but yesterday she just woofed it down, puked it up then begged for more. That night she tried to bite my legs repeatedly. This morning she didn't want the vet-recommended wet food and tried to trip me and bite me the whole time I was trying to do chores.

I hurt my left foot so I'm having trouble moving it and I have to juggle that to avoid her, then I go outside and the black cat walks in front of me and stops and tries to sit on my feet over and over. Oh my God, I love all of them but I honestly don't know how people have kids and shit, they drive me fucking crazy. My ex's dog even drove me crazy, I hate noise in the morning, being tripped in the morning, my phone going off in the morning, people in the morning. It all drives me batshit crazy.

This is my own making since I have 4 cats because I had so many pets with my ex, and as I've mentioned before, I won't have more than 2 animals at a time after these eventually age and pass over the rainbow bridge. Anyway, this is my blurb for the week. I haven't had time to blog photos or do anything I want to do in days, it's all been work, family drama, and tons else.

Maybe one day I'll have a nice morning without noise, bullshit, and two-legged and four-legged creatures getting on my fucking nerves. Lol!

#Selfie #Vent #Life #Struggles #Annoying #PTSD #Emotions #Pinup #Womanhood #Real #Me #Trauma #Peace

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sleepymouses · 5 years

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tagged by @littlepetbee, thank uuuu <3 i spent way too long thinking about htis lol,

Rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions, tag a bunch o ppls to do it too (if y’all want to, supes no pressure or anything!)

Natsume yuujinchou (a teenage orphan who sees spirits/monsters sets out to free the spirits who were bound in magical contract by his grandmother after he inherits a powerful book, aided primarily by a spirit who appears as an exasperated fat cat (who is just as fun as he sounds). Titular character is like my Fave boy in the whole world, he’s so kind and soft despite all the hardships he’s faced, the series has very gentle pacing/character development, and each episode is a carefully crafted lil story that have often moved me to tears, chuckles, or outright chinhands of fondness as u watch natsume slowly find a home in the world and amongst the humans &spirits around him. big focus on friendships, there’s like no romance with any of the main characters, lots of cool different creatures (most of whom arent all that scary once u get to know them), its just literally everything i could ever dream for in a show and it exists! <3)

Leverage (team of modern day robin hoods ruin rich peoples’ lives via delightfully crafted spy cons to give back to the regular folks the rich people hurt. Extremely good, strong found family vibes, and v cathartic)

Brooklyn 99 (follows diverse cast of character who make up a NY precinct. Hilarious, immensely wholesome & groundbreaking, & probs the most lighthearted crime show besides like psych tbh)

Blackspot/Zone Blanche (spoopy french/belgium crime series set in a small village way out in the mountains surrounded by misty, mysterious and murdery woods. eerie and atmospheric, but also like one of my fave characters (everyone calls him teddy bear) keeps a pet guinea pig at work, so it’s not entirely grim and bleak)

Longmire (a modern western crime drama centering around the titular sheriff and others in their small town wyoming county, well written and lot of chracter development revealed alongside some really good case mysteries bc i love trying to figure out whodunits apparently based on a book series well adored by dads btw)

who is your favorite character in 2? (leverage) ahhh,,, this is hard... Eliot maybe? like Hardison is baby ofc, but i relate to elliot a ton (i think if i was on a team i would want to be the hitter tbh?) and love the subversion of so many action hero tropes that he is, also endlessly amused by how very put upon he is despite all his rad/random skills

who is your least favorite character in 1? (natsume yuujinchou) oh seiji matoba for sure, he can go eat a mouldy tree stump. absolutely evil nasty dude

what is your favorite episode of 4? (blackspot) the end of the road. great opening, didnt end up too devastating unlike a lot of the cases, Hermann was gr8, cool twist i hadnt super expected in the plot which was neat.

what is your favorite season of 5? (longmire) probs 1, walter reeally started to piss me off being Such A Man in later seasons, also me being extremely anxious about Henry and his life choices later, that creepy stalker storyline starting up with Someone and when Someone else in the main cast got died really suddenly and upsettingly later on as well, also when a weird relationship started between some of the characters that i really aint feeling so. before all that happened was nice (also sorry if this is super vague, im trying to avoid spoilers)

who is your favorite couple in 3? (B99) Besides Jake/Amy and Holt/Kevin (bc oviously theyre gr8) uh.. i know it was a long time ago and didnt last very long, but i thought rosa and marcus were really sweet? it brought another layer out to her character, even when they broke up that helped rosa starting to show emotional vulnerability and all, even tho it ended it was still just, idk, i liked them.

who is your favorite couple in 2? (leverage) Does trio count, cos Parker/Eliot/Harding 4 life yo

what is your favorite episode of 1? (natsume yujinchou) i have sooo many faves ahhh!!! i dont think i could pick just one on pain of death, every episode is acrefully cosntructed gem all on its own and i have too many that i love and adore to pick jsut one :((

what is your favorite episode of 5? (longmire) Dog soldier!! ive rewatched that one a ton, so so many good bits, really satisfying resolution of the case despite the shitty system that was revealed, and i rmr getting chills by the end the first time i saw it.

what is your favorite season of 2? (leverage) i guess season 1? just, idk, everything being set up and watching all these grumpies/less grumpies who have no plans to stay together start working together as a baby team, and just the joy of seeing their first heist together with the first plot twist, just.. such a delight, but all seasons that ive seen so far were all excellent, it’s a stellar show

how long have you watched 1? (natsume yujinchou) oh idk exactly, like years and years man... defs the longest out of all on this list

how did you become interested in 3? (b99) i think it was just on netflix way back in season 1 and i started watching it, loved it and never stopped? i think that might have even been before it got rlly popular lol

who is your favorite actor in 4? (blackspot) i dont rlly know any of these french peeps? but teddybear’s one of my fave characters, so hopefully the person who plays him is also cool, in which case hubert delattre (if not, Suliane Brahim does a v good job as the lead)

which do you prefer, 1, 2, or 5? (natsume yujinchou, leverage or longmire) um... real torn between natsume and leverage here, they’re both such lovely gems that do found family so, so well.. leverage is a team of modern robin hood-esque spies with brilliant writing and exciting heists and multiple delightful plot twists every episode and great character building and so much catharticism in ruining evil rich peoples lives.

but natsume’s title character is one of my very favorite characters ever, hes been through so much but he becomes the most kindest and thoughtful boy ever, and its so, so soft and gentle in its development of characters and their slow build of getting to know each other and becoming friends, and the interactions with the paranormal world are very rarely entirely malicious/scary, and there’s pretty well no romance, at least like no romance for plot/with the main characters anyways, and there’s lots of female characters who have important roles but arent sexualized/killed off for man feels/exist for romo (which sadly cannot be said about a lot of media, especially manga/anime tbh, even leverage does not win entirely on that front).. its defintiely my favorite anime ever (i dont watch loads, but literally no other one can ever come close to topping its perfection),

i guess tho, leverage is over, and natsume is still technically ongoing, so i guess for that then i have to go with natsume?

which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3? (natsume yuujinchou or b99) Natsume for sure, they’re so short its easy to power thru like half a season in an afternoon

if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be? (blackspot) i would probably want to be someone who didnt live in villefranche actually haha uh, it’s a pretty spoopity place.. even some of the characters i do like make some Bad decisions that are v bothersome. Dr. Leila barami seems to have a good head on her shoulders tho, so if i Must be a character here then let’s go with her

would a crossover between 3 and 4 work? (b99 or blackspot) oh god... the cheery upbeat department at the 99 meet up with a grim, misty tiny mountain forest village with bleak day to day life, solving crimes amidst small town paranoia and weird maybe cult-related conspiracies and honestbhly something/s paranormal and menacing going on in the woods?? i just... cant see any of the characters even interacting lol, im just picturing jake’s confused befuddled face when he hears something weird but like x 10000

pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple? (natsume yujinchou) hm... i mean, one of the things i love about Natsume is that there arent really any romo relationships tbh? at least not with any of the main characters in the main storyline (so far), just like the odd one-off of minor characters (and takashi’s adopted parents ofc, but that’s different). so, yeah, i cant really think of one (although i think the big fandom fave ship of takashi and his worst enemy is rlly.. nope, and i dont know what’s going on there? takashi and tanama however, that would make sense, tho it is not unlikely so i cant answer this question with them)

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5? (b99 or longmire) b99! cos ya know my annoyances with some of the stuff happening later on in longmire lol, b99 just got better n better as it went along, and it’s still going :’)

which has the better theme music, 2 or 4? (leverage or blackspot) blackspot has a real good eerie atmospheric theme which is gr8 and i love it <3 (leverage’s tune is like, elevator music/cheesy jazzy spy tune, which does suit it tho lol)

and idk, anyone bored and stuck at home who wants to do this? no pressure if ur like nah but if u wanna go ahead.... @creepy-friend-of-darkness @anna-wa @rhinky-thingz @rexbasileus @aeolian-harp @warrenkoles @softbrobarnes @damnitttana @cluelesswolf @moondoggiestyle @blloodorangeisthenewblack @my-nail-beds-suck @frankiecolours @savvylikeyeahhh @lake-effectkidx @justhugharry @casualmisandry @j4ya @galaxygalpals @thesecondwarm @dealwright @knipperdollin @curlycombover @kaspbrakeddie (and if i didnt tag u and u still wanna do this, consider yeself tagged)

#littlepetbee #long post #littlepetlouis #thank u for tagging me in these <333 sorry im rarely here to do them but i appreciate em and try to keep track when im on #heather watches things #also this was a fun thing to think about bc urgh i am so tired of same old shit day in and out these days oof #natsume #k now im real emosh about natsume ahh #leverage #also come scream at me if u watch any of these ahh #longmire #askables #black spot #b99

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one-piece-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Tempest

Notes: It’s been too long since I’ve written anything even remotely wholesome, so here’s something nice in these trying times. Also, hello, I’m alive.

Length: 5k

He’s a pirate. That’s the first thing Nari thinks when he walks into her tiny café, grin on his face as he chats with her father. Her father, who has never once abandoned his greeting post outside the door to continue a conversation with a customer in his twenty years of working it.

She doesn’t know how she knows it. It’s certainly not experience; her island is a footnote in the Grand Line, so small that most log poses don’t even acknowledge its existence. Only a trade agreement with a larger island nearby keeps them on the maps. Pirates don’t come here. Marines don’t come here, at least not often. The last group came by more than three months ago.

The pirate is abruptly at the counter, leaning on it with both elbows and looking up at her like she’s the most important person he’s ever seen. It’s enough to set her face aflame.

“Your father tells me you make the best fruit tarts on this half of the world,” he says.

From behind him, her father clears his throat, and she finds her voice. “I’ve never heard a complaint, if that counts.”

His smile widens. This close, she can see that it’s a little crooked, a little rough around the edges. Maybe that was what tipped her off when he walked in. That, or the knife strapped to his belt. Combined with the orange hat that has to be askew on purpose, the tattoo on his arm, and the unmistakable air of a swashbuckler around him, he can only be a pirate.

“Good enough for me,” he says.

Nari goes to get one from the little display case by her left knee, only to remember that she sold the last one ten minutes before the pirate arrived. She purses her lips, then stands. His gaze is far more curious than impatient when she meets it.

“We’re sold out,” she says, and before the disappointment takes hold, tacks on, “but I can make you a fresh one, if you’re willing to wait.”

“For what your dad promised? Absolutely.” He leans back, slides into a stool. Sits there as comfortably as any of Nari’s regulars. As he moves, the cords of his hat shift, making the animal skull they connect to move over his chest. Then his stomach growls, and he goes a little red under those freckles of his, though not as red as the beads of his necklace. Nari wonders if her freckles look as endearing as his; with her olive skin, they’re certainly harder to notice from far away.

His voice turns sheepish. “Been on the water for days; I didn’t ration right.”

Her father, though he has retreated back to his post outside, clears his throat again loudly enough for Nari to hear. She shakes her head a little and tries to remember at least some of the customer service that’s been drilled into her since she was old enough to understand the concept of money. Putting on a bright smile that is only about a quarter faked, she starts filling a glass of water. How she managed to forget even that basic service, which she should have performed the moment he sat down, she doesn’t know. No wonder her father is hovering; she’s forgotten all of her training.

She takes a breath, then picks one of her many conversation starters, tweaked to have a little personalization. “So what brings you to our island? Was it just a need for food?”

A pleasant breeze laced with the salty tang of the sea blows through the slatted wooden partitions that make up the entrance wall. The pirate drains half of the water she sets in front of him and shrugs, but the relaxed air to it undercuts any apathy.

“No, I like to visit out-of-the-way places,” he says. His eyes gleam. “Never know what you’ll find out here.” The gleam loses its edge, and his smile takes on a flirtatious tint. “Like delicious pastries baked by beautiful women at lovely island cafés.”

Her blush, which never fully went away, comes roaring back. Nari busies herself with taking her apron from the hook just outside the kitchen door and doing up its various ties. “You’re quite the flatterer.”

“It’s the truth.” When she sneaks a glance his way, there is nothing even remotely disingenuous about him. Evidently, he can turn the charm on and off as he pleases. “Is this your family’s place?” She nods, and he looks around with an appreciative whistle. “You must be proud.”

“It’s been in our family since my great-great-grandma founded the island,” she offers, and his eyebrows shoot towards the brim of his hat.

“Really? Did she found the café too?”

How he finds this history so interesting, she doesn’t understand, but she wants to keep him talking. His eyes have this sparkle to them when he gets excited that she doesn’t want to go away. “Yes, with her husband. They did all the carvings on the brick.” Finished with the apron ties, she gestures towards the other two walls of the café that are not taken up by wooden shelves full of various trinkets collected over four generations of café owners. That honor goes to the wall behind her, which separates the main space from the much less tasteful kitchen.

“I saw those same designs on the shutters of all the homes here. Is it a tradition?”

“Unofficially. We just like how they look, I guess.”

“Huh.”

Another cleared throat from outside, and Nari nearly slaps her forehead. The pastry. Right. “I’ll start making your tart. Just call if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do.”

It’s a good thing she prepares fresh cream and dough each night; all that chatting really ate into her cooking time. It’s never good to keep a customer waiting. She starts heating the oven, then pulls the dough out of the icebox, leaving the custard for later, and lays it out on the counter. She lifts the parchment paper to lightly flour one side, then flips it over. Her trusty metal rings—which, according to her mother, have been passed down since her grandmother’s time—are still in their place of honor on a shelf over the sink, so she grabs one. It, like all is fellows, has tons of tiny holes punched through its gleaming surface.

She pushes the ring into the sheet of lemon-yellow dough and lifts, and the circle of dough that will be the base comes out perfectly. Setting that to one side, she cuts a strip out of the remaining dough. After years of practice, she doesn’t even need to measure it; it fits the circumference of the ring perfectly with just the tiniest bit of overlap on itself. After she presses the dough into the ring, pushing it into those tiny perforations without having any actually go through, and also presses the connecting seam between the base and the sides, she cuts the excess sticking up over the top of the ring and slides the whole ensemble into the special freezer. An invention of her father’s, it freezes the dough far faster than a normal freezer without damaging it. It took him six years to get it working right.

While the dough cools, Nari cleans off the tools she won’t need for the next steps and lays out the ones she will. The mesh oven mat makes an appearance, one section of it still a little uneven from when a much younger Nari had misused it in her baking experiments.

The special freezer beeps. She transfers the pastry onto the oven mat and then into the oven itself. While it bakes, she prepares a glaze for the fruits, using some apricot preserves she had made the previous week as a base. She hesitates on the final ingredient, glancing towards the door.

“He’s a pirate, he’ll like it, won’t he?” she says to stuffed dragon she had, as a child, declared the kitchen supervisor. It now rests in a place of honor by the door where it is far from any fires. It doesn’t answer, but she takes its silence as an affirmation, and so puts a tablespoon of brandy into the bowl. She warms up the glaze, strains it, and sets it aside for use later. Its aroma fills the kitchen, making her mouth water, but she’s sampled enough of her own work already to push aside the old urge.

She glances into the oven as a perfunctory check, but as always, the sides of the shell are holding their place, no sign of collapsing.

The cream emerges from the icebox. She whisks it until it’s more pliable, then puts it into a pipe.

Since the oven still has five minutes on its timer, she heads back out to the counter to check on the pirate. He’s moved from his seat to stare at the old bounty board on the left wall. It’s the first time she’s seen his back, and the sight takes her breath away. The tattoo on his arm is simple, understated, just letters. But the one on his back is a massive cross made of purple bones, with a grinning purple—mustached?—skull in the middle. It’s a Jolly Roger, but whose, Nari has no idea. Unlike her late grandfather, she and her father have never had a great interest in following the drama playing out every day in the Grand Line. They just like visitors. Maybe her father saw that tattoo, and that was why he was so excited to talk to this pirate. Or maybe the pirate just made a good impression; her father has always appreciated politeness.

Still, it’s good form to talk to guests. Nari refills his glass while calling, “Looking for yourself up there?”

The pirate glances over. For a moment, his expression is sharp, dangerous, but it clears like a cloud passing in front of the sun, so fast and strange that Nari dismisses it. Of course he’d be on his guard after seeing bounty posters, but there aren’t marines here. She quickly clarifies her words, not wanting him to feel unwelcome.

“I’m afraid you’ll be out of luck; those are all from my grandfather’s era,” she explains. “He loved to collect them and put them up. My father and I just haven’t found the time.”

The pirate ticks an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that everyone puts up the bounty posters these days.”

Nari shrugs. “Not us. I just think those are nice decoration, you know? All back from before the craziness now.”

The pirate glances back at the board, expression, for a moment, inscrutable. “Craziness, huh?” Then that easy smile comes back. “It’s pretty neat, I’ll give you that. I haven’t heard of most of those guys.”

“Neither had I.” She passes him his water as he returns to his seat. She doesn’t know why she feels comfortable enough to joke around a man so obviously dangerous, but she’s speaking before she can question it. “I can tell you a lot of stories about them, if you’re interested.”

The pirate leans forward. “I might be.”

Unsupervised by a brain too focused on the way his soft black hair frames his face, her smile turns completely genuine. “They’ll all be made up, of course.”

He blinks, then barks out a laugh. “Guess I should’ve seen that one coming.” He shakes his head. “You got me,” he trails off, and she realizes abruptly that she hasn’t given her name. Her father, as though realizing she would be looking towards him in that moment, gives a pointed look from the doorway.

All her years of hospitality, and all it takes is one pretty face about her own age to make it all go flying out of her head.

“Nari,” she says, and sticks out a hand.

“Nari,” the pirate repeats, shaking it. “I’m Ace.”

His skin is warm, distractingly so, and calloused. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ace.”

She will never get enough of that grin. “Likewise.”

Ace takes another sip of water. “That tart you’re making smells great,” he offers.

“Thank you, though it’s really just the glaze right now.”

“What kind of glaze?”

Nari bites her lip. It’s always a risk to deviate from the recipe, but Ace’s presence alone invites a little mischief. “Apricot brandy.”

She guessed right; Ace’s expression lights up with anticipation. “Well, now I’m really excited.”

“I just hope my tart lives up to expectations.”

“With the way your father talked about it, I’m sure it will.”

As though cued, the oven beeps. Nari excuses herself with an encouraging wave from Ace. While the dough cools, she takes out various fruits from the icebox. Mrs. Truli, the old woman who tends to the orchards and farms on the other side of the island with her family, will make her biweekly delivery within the hour if she’s on time, but Nari doesn’t want to keep Ace waiting. The slightly older refrigerated fruit will still be delicious.

She washes and slices strawberries, kiwis, and peaches, putting them on a small plate, then repeats the washing for the last of her blackberries. That part of the preparation done, she returns to the dough and lifts the ring off easily, putting it by the sink for washing later.

The cream pipes into the shell easily. They are almost identical in color, though the cream is a gentler yellow. On top of the cream goes the fruits, artfully arranged into a delicious rainbow of color. As the final step, Nari brushes the still-warm glaze over the fruit, making it shine. She plates the ensemble, drizzles chocolate around the edges for presentation, and gives it one last visual inspection.

It looks, in her humble opinion, damned good. Ace, when she brings it out, straightens up immediately.

“That looks amazing,” he says, staring at it hungrily. She sets it in front of him and steps back to take off her apron.

“It’s all yours.”

He picks it up, spending a couple seconds tilting it this way and that to find the best angle of attack, and then takes a bite. The shell cracks under the pressure, a couple pieces falling before getting stuck on his face thanks to the cream.

Ace sets down the pastry, pushes the errant bits stuck to his face into his mouth, chews, and swallows, nodding in approval all the while. He takes a drink of water, then grins at Nari once more. “Do you have a rule about sharing this recipe? I’ve got a friend who’d love to try it.”

“Mom never said anything about a rule like that,” Nari says, and Ace’s smile turns radiant.

“Awesome.”

As he devours the rest of the pastry, making approving noises all the while, Nari pulls out a piece of paper and scrawls the recipe, making sure the include the specifics of the ring and the brandy she added to the glaze.

A breeze, far stronger than before, blows through the café. Nari’s apron flutters, and she’s too distracted holding down the recipe note to see the glass ship catch the wind and fall from its perch on the highest shelf. It shatters against the floor, intricate clear sails and cabins reduced to so much powder. Nari shrieks despite herself. Ace is on his feet, looking ready to vault the counter, but the wind abates, and no other ships fall.

Her father darts inside, almost slamming the door and pulling the storm bolt closed. “Nari! The cover!”

Acting on reflex, Nari sidesteps the glass shards and yanks the cord hanging all the way on one end of the shelves. A heavy brown tarp unrolls from the ceiling. Her father joins her behind the counter, and together, they secure the cover over the shelves. The trinkets are safe.

Glass crunches under her shoe, and she winces. Most of them.

The wind blows again. Their furniture is heavy enough to resist all but the most violent gales, but that’s no reason to leave everything exposed to the rain. She and her father work together to carry the removeable wood panels out from the small storage closet in the kitchen back out to the front, where clever notches and latches hidden among the wooden diamonds.

Quite abruptly, the panel they’re carrying gets lighter, and she glances over to see Ace holding up the back end.

“I don’t like sitting and watching,” he says. Nari, grateful for the help, ignores her father’s prideful shoulder-straightening. With his assistance, they finish quickly, leaving one last step.

Her father tells Ace to stay inside, and he does, more curious than worried. He has to know about the sudden storms that plague the Grand Line, and their preparations have hardly been subtle, but he doesn’t look concerned about the inclement weather at all.

They have to temporarily undo the storm bolt to get to the shutters. Outside, the wind howls, and clouds so dark they’re practically black have rolled across the sky. They have less than a minute until the rain starts, so Nari hurries, lashing the storm shutters closed. She catches glimpses of their neighbors doing the same; soon, they’ll all be huddled inside, waiting out the storm behind locked doors and shuttered windows.

She closes the last pair just as the rain hits. Cold and stinging, it pelts her skin like tiny needles. Nari holds up an arm to shield her eyes and meets her father by the door, calling over the din of the water on the stucco roofs that she’s finished. They both duck inside, her father puts the bolt back in place, and Nari falls into a chair.

“I’ll never be used to that,” she admits to the ceiling.

A clap of thunder loud enough to rattle the glassware makes her jump. The rain comes down even harder, drumming against the roof and beating against the shutters with every shift of the wind.

Without natural light, the café is dark. Her father fetches a couple lamps from storage and lights them, putting one in front of Nari and one on the counter. After a minute, Ace shifts from his spot at the counter to plop into a chair at Nari’s table.

“Guess I’m not leaving for a while,” he says. Nari manages a chuckle.

“I guess not.”

Another rumble of thunder shakes the earth. Ace absently fiddles with the tassels beneath the strange skull charm attached to his hat’s strings. In the firelight, the smiling and frowning faces resting on the brim of his hat look pretty creepy.

Lightning shines through the tiny gaps in the shutters and wood planks, casting the whole café in an eerie blue glow that battles the warmth of the lamps before it fades. The relief is temporary: flash after flash streaks across the sky. Nari stares past Ace, at the front door and the storm beyond, and sighs. Her fresh fruit delivery will have to—

“Wait,” she whispers. Ace glances at her, but Nari ignores him and turns to her father. “Did you see Mrs. Truli before you came in?”

For a moment, he’s confused, but then realization dawns, and he shakes his head. “No.”

Nari purses her lips, but she can’t stop her knee from bouncing. “You don’t think she got caught in this, do you?”

Her father, trying too hard to look relaxed as he sweeps up the glass behind the counter, shakes his head. “I’m sure she headed home the moment the sky changed.”

She couldn’t shake her feeling of dread. “Are you sure? She was supposed to be here—” she glances at the clock, only to realize it’s behind the tarp—“well, any minute now, I think. What if she was almost here and couldn’t go back in time?”

“She’s fine, Nari.” Her father disappears when he crouches to sweep the remnants of the ship into the dustpan, but Nari can still hear the shards skittering over themselves between waves of raindrops loud enough to be bullets. He stands and empties the dustpan into the trash bin.

“Who’s Mrs. Truli?” Ace asks, looking between the two of them. Her father sighs.

“She delivers our fruit twice every week from her orchards across the island.”

“It’s not that far,” she clarifies. “I mean, we’re a small island. It’s only a mile. I’m just worried she got caught in the middle of that. She’s in her seventies, and there’s a stretch where it’s just grass. She’d be in real trouble if she got caught out there. Everyone’s got their houses closed now; they might not even hear her if she asks to be let in.”

Ace casts his gaze towards the door, with is shaking, ever so slightly, in its frame as the wind buffets it. “I’d imagine.”

The longer she thinks about it, the more worried she gets, until she can’t sit still. She stands.

“Nari—” her father starts, but she ignores him. Going through the kitchen and up the stairs to the café’s small second floor where she and her father live, Nari rifles through her things until she finds her raincoat. She jams a baseball cap on her head to keep the water out of her eyes and hustles back downstairs to find her father waiting in front of the door with his arms crossed.

“You’re not going out there,” he says. As though to reinforce his point, another rumble of thunder breaks through the rain. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll only go halfway,” Nari says. “Her family’s probably looking through the other half right now. They’d trust me to do the same over here. I’m not letting them down.”

Her father is unmoved. “Too dangerous, Nari. You don’t even know if she was on her way here; you’re putting yourself in danger out there without even knowing whether there’s a reason or not.”

Nari hasn’t raised her voice at her father in years, but right now, she can’t help it. “She could be in trouble!”

“As will you, if you keep this up!”

“I have an idea.” Ace’s voice, a calm counterpoint, is unexpected enough that it snaps Nari out of her whirlwind of worry. She’d completely forgotten about him, and judging from the surprise on her father’s face, he had too. The pirate is still at the table, but he’s looking at them with one hand tipping his hat up to avoid any shadows over his eyes. “I can look for her.”

Her hopes lift, but her father’s frown remains. “I couldn’t possibly ask a customer—”

“You’re not asking,” Ace interrupts, his usual manners pushed aside by urgency. “I’m offering.” He stands, pushing the heavy chair aside like it weighs nothing at all. “Besides, I’m a pirate. I don’t handle people telling me what not to do all that well.”

“Still,” she says, recognizing her father’s complaint, “it’s terrible out there.”

Ace shrugs. “I’ve been through worse. I know what it’s like to worry about someone in a storm. Which direction is the orchard?”

Nari gives brief directions, though she knows landmarks and signs won’t be useful in a storm like this. She almost has to shout to do it. With how hard the rain is coming down, Ace probably won’t be able to see more than a few feet in front of him. Ace takes it all in with a level of calm that she can’t help envying.

Her father still won’t move from the door. Behind him, rain pounds against the wood hard enough to make it shake. For a few seconds, he faces off against Ace, who, while not a giant, still manages to make him look small. Then he sighs.

“Be safe,” he says. Ace nods.

Nari helps her father with the bolt; the moment it comes undone, the door leaps against their hands, shoved by winds that howl through the café like an invisible beast. Ace braces himself against it, shouts that he’ll be back soon, and staggers into the storm.

It takes them several seconds to get the door shut again. When the bolt slides into place, Nari lets out a huge breath. Her hands are shaking. She takes herself back to the table and sits. Her father, equally shaken, sits next to her. He rests his hands in front of him, squeezing them together.

Knowing she’ll feel too guilty to do anything but wallow if she looks at him, Nari chooses instead to go into the kitchen. Regardless of whether Ace finds Mrs. Truli or not, he’ll be coming back inside from the freezing rain and bitter wind. Something warm would be best.

The hot chocolate ingredients—the ones that can be stored for a while, all but untouched in the summer months—are a little dusty but otherwise serviceable. She assembles them on the counter in the kitchen and pulls out a pot to put on the stove. Whole milk, heavy cream, vanilla extract, brown sugar, and cocoa powder all go into the pot over medium heat. She stirs slowly, attention turned towards the door to the main room. She’d undoubtedly know when the door opened, but she can’t help checking every couple of minutes.

Her father comes in and out of the kitchen several times with armfuls of blankets, pillows, and towels. She is very careful not to let him see her small, satisfied smile.

The powder and sugar have all combined, so she pulls out mugs for later and leaves the pot on low heat. After helping her father arrange his relief station by the door, there is little left for her to do except wait.

When the pounding comes at the door, it startles both of them despite their vigilance. Nari is first to her feet, and she yanks the bolt out of the way. The door flies open, nearly pinning her to the wall before she slides out of the way, and Ace stumbles through. Nari fights the door shut and her father puts the bolt back into place. Panting, Nari circles to Ace’s front, trying to make sure he’s okay.

His hat has been blown onto his back, and his hair hangs around his face as a shiny, wet, windblown mess. But, in his arms, he holds Mrs. Truli in a bridal carry. He’s even brought the two baskets of fruit, which are slung over one arm, pinned until Nari and her father can get Mrs. Truli out of his arms. While Mrs. Truli, gray hair dripping and clothes plastered to her wrinkled skin, shakily accepts her father’s help, Nari takes charge of the fruit.

It’s waterlogged, drowning in the baskets too well-woven to let the water escape. She takes them to the kitchen, sets a strainer in the sink, and dumps them out. She can clean it all later.

When she hurries back to Mrs. Truli, she draws up short. Ace is steaming. He catches her look, then glances down, where his clothes are dripping all over the floor. He quickly grabs a spare towel, but that isn’t at all what Nari has been focused on. Mrs. Truli isn’t steaming, so it isn’t as though the rain outside has suddenly become boiling instead of freezing.

“Ace,” she says, trying to be polite instead of deeply confused, “why are you steaming?”

He pauses in the middle of rubbing the towel around his leg, says, “Oh, I ate a devil fruit,” and then continues as though he did not just say something absurd. Sure, Nari knows what a devil fruit is, but she’s only seen one in her twenty years of life, and it belonged to a marine captain passing through when she was a child. Even her father and Mrs. Truli share looks of shock.

“Really?” Nari manages.

“Yeah, the Flame-Flame Fruit.” He raises a hand, the other still occupied with the towel, and it bursts into flames. Just as quickly, the flames go out, leaving untouched skin behind. Ace nods at Mrs. Truli. “She was really cold when I found her, so I tried to run a little hotter than normal on the way back to warm her up.” He moves the towel up to his hair, which is also steaming. “Figured I’d just keep doing it, since I got pretty soaked. I’d turn to fire now to dry off, but I don’t want to scorch your floor.” He glances up in a disconcerting indication that he’s measuring how high above him the wood beams are. “Or your ceiling.”

“Thank you,” she says, hearing her own voice like an echo.

They tend to Mrs. Truli while Ace continues to steam. Mrs. Truli is fine—chilled and embarrassed about getting caught unawares, yes, but fine. Nari finally remembers the hot chocolate she prepared and pours it into the four mugs, adds marshmallows, and then brings them all out on a tray.

Mrs. Truli gets hers first, followed by Ace, then her father. Nari gets hers last and sips it slowly. They have all gathered around the nest of blankets, pillows, and towels that Nari and her father set up. By some silent signal, Nari and her father sit down to be level with Mrs. Truli, though not before her father brings a lamp over for better light. Ace follows suit a moment later. He’s still steaming, but the wisps are becoming thinner and less numerous. His hair almost looks dry, though his boots audibly squelch when he sits.

For several minutes, it’s enough to sit there in communal silence, drinking hot chocolate and listening to the roar of the storm outside. Ace has a decidedly non-pirate expression on his face while he stares down at his mug, which he holds in both hands. Despite his devil fruit, he seems to be enjoying its heat.

She doesn’t know if it’s a rude question, but Nari can’t keep it down. “Are you travelling alone?”

Ace starts a little, another sign of how deep he was in his own head, and then nods. “Yeah, for a bit. A friend of mine got me a boat, and I’ve been testing it out.”

So no crew, then. Pretty rare. “A boat for one person? Like a kayak?”

Ace’s lips twitch. “Not exactly. She’s pretty fast.”

“What’s her name?”

“Striker.”

“Sounds—” intimidating—“intense.”

Only after she speaks does Nari realize that she was able to talk at a normal volume. She glances up, listening. The rain is still coming down, but the thunder is far away, the lightning so distant it barely reaches the room.

“Looks like the worst of it is done,” her father says. “Won’t be much longer now.”

While the storm breathes its last, Nari collects the empty mugs. On her way back out of the kitchen, she catches sight of a stray piece of paper blown onto the floor. The recipe. She’d never actually given it to him.

Ace is by the door, chatting with her father and Mrs. Truli, who is looking much better than twenty minutes ago. He has his hat back on his head, and his boots aren’t squelching anymore. Nari overhears her father tell him there’s no charge for the fruit tart. Ace doesn’t protest.

“Here,” Nari says, holding out the paper. Ace lights up, taking it and stuffing it into the little blue pouch on his leg.

“If I ever come back here, I’ll let you know how his compares,” he promises.

Nari can’t help her smile. “I’d like that.”

He leaves, the door closes, and Nari’s smile remains.

She’d really like that.

#Portgas D. Ace #one piece fanfiction #one piece #op drabble #opd #one piece drabble

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offacades · 5 years

Text

hellooooo, kim here, once again. and this time i’m coming to you with one of my little munchkins; camila bronte, but pls call her cami. don’t be deceived by her kid face & doe-eyed look. this is a side blog, so therefor i can’t follow anyone on this blog, but hey !! i was too lazy to start up an entire, new main blog for her. under the read more you will find some more information on her. pls hit me up for plots & chats. i’m sorry for the rubbish intro.

[ lili reinsert , cis female , twenty one ] it looks like CAMILA BRONTE is late to class once again . how do they expect to get their degree in LAW by skipping class ? it’s a wonder that they made it to their SOPHOMORE year . then again , i heard that they were + JOYFUL which may give them a pass with professors , but they are also - DECEIVING so maybe not . all i know is that they remind me of PERFECT LUSCIOUS HAIR, THE TOUCH OF VELVET & LACED BRALETS so watch out . oh look , SHE just walked in !

° ☆— F A C T S:

full name: cami ‘camila’ bronte nickname: she prefers to be called cami. her father used to call her cami & it gives her some sort of comfort hearing her nickname age: he’s twenty one years old city of birth: manhattan, new york sexual orientation: straight major: she’s a law major parents: her father passed away when she was ten years old. the poor man got ill and died three months after he was diagnosed with cancer. her mother is currently facing life sentence. she has always been a daddy’s girl, so her world practically caved in when he passed away.

° ☆— B A C K G R O U N D:

CHILDHOOD. the bronte family is your typical white picket fence kinda family, only living in manhattan; in one of those carrie bradshaw-likey houses. and honestly, the girl had a perfect life. her parents both had busyjobs. as an only child, cami missed having someone around to play with her sine her parents were working most of the time. yet, they loved her tons. as a little girl, cami loved dances she LOVED it, especially ballet. she continued ballet until she got transferred to whitton university (will get to this later). everything was just fine until her father was diagnosed with cancer and died three months later.

TEENHOOD. this was a rough period for her and for her mother. her mother started taking time of her grandmother around this time as well, who recently moved to new york and lived with cami and her mother. yet, the only light in her life was whenever she was dancing ballet. it was the only thing that kept her sane midst all the madness that was happening around her. it was hard for her to watch her mother trying to stay strong, taking care of her own mother and making sure the family made ends meet. as she grew older, cami slowly turned into a rebellious teenager and would come home at ungodly hours. sometimes drunk, sometimes stoned or even both. but she was a master in hiding it all from her mother, because she didn’t want the poor woman to worry about her. as her senior year approached, she was offered a scholarship at Juliard because of her ballet talents and at this time things started to look up for her. just as she was in her peaking days, it crashed down just as quick. she injured her hip around her graduation time, forcing her to quit ballet. she was devastated and wouldn’t leave her room for days. then summer turned around the corner and she found herself a way to keep on dancing and go to juliard.

PRESENT. in the midst of all the trio drama going around at whitton uni, she got transferred to whitton uni. why? her injury got the best of her and forced her to leave juliard. and honestly, the girl is in a pretty rough shape when she first arrived at whitton. not physically, but mentally. her dream shattered right in front of her and all because of a stupid injury. she took up a major in law, but it’s not something she enjoys at all. she’s trying to figure out her way around whitton.

THE TRIO & CAMILA. she has no connection to the trio whatsoever. she only saw them at the party before two of them disappeared and that’s all she’s ever seen of them. she feels bad for the family of jacob wright, but that’s about it.

° ☆— H E A D C A N O N S:

i. ok first of all; this girl seems to be sweet, but it’s all an ACT. she will act sweet with you, but once something doesn’t go as she planned, she will snap so badly. she has lies upon lies upon lies. ii. ever since she left for juliard, she hasn’t returned to hew home in new york and hasn’t told her mom she had to drop out because of her injury. iii. she deals drugs on the side to pay for all her expenses and to keep on living her luxurious life. iv. the girl has perfect, luscious thick hair & i like to believe she’s one of those girls that will light up the room with her presence; even though she isn’t as sweet on the inside as she seems on the outside. she has used her good looks in her advantage many times and keeps on using them for her own good.

v. she hardly ever talks about her past because she hates to bring up the bad memories of what happened when her father passed away and thinking of the good times before he passed, makes her emotional and she HATES being emotional.

vi. even though she might not be one of the sweet girls, but honestly the girl is as loyal as a dog. she will do anything for her friends, go to any lengths for them. she will put their needs for her own needs.

vii. she’s very driven and very organised. even to the point where it drives her crazy when one of her planned things don’t go the way she wants them to be.

° ☆— W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S:

i. tba

#whittonintro #kind faces are a lie; intro.#this is?? idk #took me some time too #sigh #this is a mESSS #also i'm still not feeling well #tw drugs #tw cancer

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Note

Yo yo yo I need to kno more about Cleo!!!

After nearly a month (possibly more) here are some answers! Thanks for your ask, love

Tradition states that only rival heirs of the Moriyamas are sent to the branch family. As a girl, Riko was never a threat. However, since Riko’s mother died giving birth to her, Kengo blames the death of his wife on Riko and banishes her. The thing about the Moriyamas are that they’re coldhearted bishes so, when they love, they love with everything they’ve got. With Kengo’s wife dead, his life is cold and empty once more. The name Riko is not be uttered in the Moriyama household, especially not near Kengo. He will scream and cry and throw things. His grief is loud and violent. Many of Kengo’s men are from his wife’s family or were saved by her from disease and poverty. They owe her their lives and in her dying moments she called them all together to ask of them one last favor. She asked them to renew their pledges to Kengo and be there for him, no matter the cost. None of them refuse. Many silent tears are shed at her funeral. Anyway, all of the men are exceptionally loyal to him bc of this promise. Knowing Kengo’s frenzied grief if over the loss of the woman who loved them all as if they were her own children strengthens their bond with him. All of them secretly keep tabs on Riko, though. She looks just like her mother and it soothes their ragged souls to see their Mistresses features on her daughter.

Kengo’s men aren’t the only people secretly seeking solace in Riko. All the mystery shrouding the existence of his sister is the reason Ichirou was so intrigued by her. You know how Ania has a binder full of snippets of Kevin and Riko and their achievements and stuff? He has one too, dedicated solely to his sister. He secretly watches her games and interviews.

Kengo’s sister, Kana, is always around. She is Kengo’s best friend and closest advisor. When Kengo’s grief gets too much for him, Kana is the one that picks up his broken pieces. At all of the ridiculous fundraising functions they have to attend, Ichirou catches Kana making funny faces at Kengo from across the room. He's stunned by the sight of the soft twitch of his father's lips as he shakes his head in amusement. Unlike his father, Ichirou is all alone. He blames his father for it. It’s hard being the heir to the most feared crime syndicate in America, especially when you’re going it alone. Riko isn’t alone. She has Kevin and Jean and soon she shall have the Wesninski girl too. Ichirou is just a little bit bitter. He spends a lot of time day-dreaming about the day he’ll meet his sister. Never in a thousand years did he imagine it with a gun pressed to her head. As he pulls the trigger, his heart shatters into a thousand pieces. He stares emptily out the window of the car.

He doesn't find out about Cleo until Riko’s funeral. Everyone thinks he’s crying because his sister is dead. No. He’s crying because he’s an uncle and he hadn’t even known. After some investigation, he finds out the circumstances of Cleo’s conception. I’m not going into detail but let’s put it this way: Tetsuji doesn’t survive Ichirou’s wrath. It isn’t a quick death either.

Ichirou loved his sister wholeheartedly but he never got to tell her so. Knowing what he does now, he realizes that she was just as lonely as he was. More than anything, he does not want Cleo to suffer as he and Riko did. His first instinct is for him to take Cleo back. He’ll raise her as every Moriyama woman is raised: a Goddess to be feared and revered. At the funeral he has seen the child sleeping soundly in Wesninski’s arms and now a small part of him stalled. Life as the daughter of Riko and Tetsuji Moriyama will not be easy. If the public ever found out the circumstances under which Cleo was conceived, they’d riot at the very idea of her being raised by her uncle. Ichirou had already denounced his uncle and cut ties with him. He was a blemish on the Moriyama name that now threatened to bring them down entirely with his careless actions. No, Ichirou could not take Cleo back. Not if he wanted to preserve some semblance of his family's dignity. Or so her told himself.

Unlike his father, Ichirou wasn’t quite as coldhearted. Warmth still bloomed in his chest at the laughter of children and smiles still tinged his lips at the sight of the joys of others. Pain still stabbed through him at the sight of men bleeding out on the concrete before him and guilt kept him up at night, tormenting him with thoughts of the families of women left husbandless and children now fatherless. Above all else, he felt nothing but love for his baby niece and he wanted her to love him too. There would come a day when Cleo learned the truth herself. What would she think of Ichirou then? No matter what she might say, there would always be a hint of doubt in her mind insinuating falsehoods about him. Anguish washed over Ichirou at the very thought. He didn’t think he’d survive Cleo harboring so much as a single seed of hate in her heart for him. Staying away from her was for the best.

It’s a lot harder than he thought it would be, though. Cleo now lived at Palmetto State in the care of Abigail Winfield and David Wymack. Riko was Evermore’s unofficial mascot and now Cleo was Palmetto’s. Her face is plastered across every screen in the nation. Many Raven fans are livid with rage. This is the highest betrayal. Riko Moriyama had a child and no one said anything?!?!?! Riots are a thing. Someone tried to kidnap Cleo to take her back to Evermore.

The attempted kidnapping is the final straw. First of all, they’re dismembered parts were sent home to their family in a UPS box. Second of all, Ichirou holds a press conference in which he reveals the truth about Cleo’s birth, explaining why he can’t take her in, and making a thinly veiled threat to the remaining Raven fans about what would happen to the next person who tried to harm her. No one ever bothers Palmetto State again.

Cleo grows up hating Riko. For a long time, she doesn’t know she’s Riko’s daughter. All photos of Riko are banned. The adults only ever talk about her when they think Cleo is asleep. Cleo wakes in the middle of the night for a drink of water and creeps over to the kitchen. She can hear the adults angrily hissing at one another. They’re talking about someone named Riko with as much hate as Cleo’s ever heard. Wymack is always mad but this is something else. Abby seems upset as well, a truly rare sight. She doesn’t know who Riko is but she hates her now.

Cleo only finds out when she goes to school. After intense debate, the Foxes decided to keep her last name as it was. It was already too well known to do anything about it. Some kid comes from an exy obsessed family and mentions that she looks a lot like Riko Moriyama. Cleo gets sent to the principal's office for punching the kid.

Wymack and Abby can no longer hide it. They sit her down at the kitchen table and tell her the truth. Cleo doesn’t take it well. Maybe I’ll talk about the specifics later but there’s quite a bit of work that goes into that and I need to clear the asks that are already in my inbox.

She knows who her father is too but the details are limited because of course they are. She’s like 7 rn.

After all this drama, she learns about her Uncle Ichirou. She goes behind Wymack and Abby’s backs to send him a letter. It’s written in red crayon on a sheet of black construction paper: Evermore’s colors. Ichirou flips his shit. His beloved little niece has just found out the truth about her birth and the first thing she did was write to him.

It’s after this that Ichirou ends up abolishing the branch family entirely. He keeps all three of his kids, one daughter and two sons, by his side. He’s still the head of the yakuza tho so I mean… he still tortures and kills people. His kids grow up the same way. He’s literally only soft for his wife, kids, and Cleo.

Ania has a bunch of galas and charity balls that she has to attend because she ‘donates’ to the Moriyama foundation. Ichirou makes her bring Cleo along so he can see her. Erin doesn’t like the thought of Ichirou being around Cleo so the three of them always arrive together and Erin is never far from Cleo. If she can’t be around, Jeanie, Jeremy, Kevin, or Thea are there. Ichirou is never left with Cleo unsupervised for obvious reasons. He wishes it didn’t have to be that way but he understands their concern and lets it go.

Since Ichirou isn’t really allowed to show physical affection towards her, Cleo gets spoiled rotten by her uncle. Every Christmas, there’s a shit ton of presents on Wymack’s doorsteps. All the labels read To: Cleo From: Santa in Ichirou’s unmistakable handwriting. There’s also just a bunch of presents that show up out of the blue. At least once a month, there’s some very expensive-as ‘thing’ in the mail. I mean, this shit belongs in museums. They’re almost always Japanese bc Ichirou doesn’t want her to forget her heritage. She’s got a lot of kimonos and a few samurai swords and ornate hair clips and umbrellas and shoes. She’s got a lot of scrolls written in Japanese too which is why she asks Kevin to teach her to speak and write it. Some of the scrolls are actually letters to her from Ichirou. These all go in a special box that she keeps on the top shelf of her closet.

Speaking of Kevin, Thea is an absolute miracle worker. It’s a long road to his recovery but Thea is there for him the whole way. Cleo is the biggest hurdle on this road. She looks just like Riko. She’s got the same bright laugh and brilliant smile. She has the same features as her mother, and grandmother by default, and has the same build. Looking at her, all Kevin can see is Riko.

One day he goes to pick her up from daycare. He can only watch as one of Cleo’s friends pushes someone else off the swings and offered the seat to Cleo. Kevin’s heart stopped. Riko would most definitely take the seat, kicking up the mulch in the other child’s face. Instead, Cleo shoves her friend aside and extends a hand to the boy on the ground. She helps him to his feet and wipes away the tears on the little boy’s face. She picks the mulch out of his hair and the splinters from his hand. Kevin is close enough to hear her say to him that a kiss will make it better. She kisses his palm and turns back to her friend. She tells the girl off. Before they know it, the little girl is bawling her eyes out. Cleo hugs her but insists that she needs to apologize to the boy. Satisfied by her friend’s meek apology she offers the kid his seat back. He shakes his head and asks if the girls want a turn. It’s the first time Kevin realizes that Riko and Cleo aren’t the same person. Kevin totally isn’t crying when he calls her over and checks her out of the daycare center.

Growing up at Palmetto, Cleo meets a lot of kids from broken homes. As a result she becomes really compassionate. She also becomes really touchy-feely. When the kids are sad she likes to give them hugs and hold their hands or pet their hair. She also makes? Them? Presents? Like little beaded necklaces and friendships bracelets. She makes an orange and white rubber band bracelet thing for Wymack and now he keeps his keys on it.

As I’ve mentioned, Cleo is ten when Erin and Ania get married and ask her to come and live with them. Wymack and Abby drive her up to the girls’ apartment in New York. Cleo is all nerves when she arrives. She’s grown up calling them Mom and Mama but now she’s going to live with them. Like…. Permanently!!!!!!!!!!

Standing in front of the door, she can’t bring herself to knock. Wymack kneels down in front of her and asks her what’s wrong.

“What if they’ve changed their minds?” Cleo whispered.

“Worst case scenario?” Wymack asked. “You’ll come back with us. I don’t think Abby and I are all that bad.”

“You’re not,” Cleo replied, hastily. Wymack stood back up.

“Look, kid. It’s not going to be easy for them to adjust to having you around but they will. There isn’t a soul on the face of the Earth that loves you more than they do. How could they not? You’re pretty fucking great,” he said. Abby pursed her lips at Wymack’s language but said nothing.

“You ready, Cleo?” she asked. Cleo nodded and Abby’s face brightened with a smile. The door opened just as Cleo mustered up the courage to knock. Arms wrapped around her and picked her up off the ground. Ania’s laughter rang in Cleo’s ears as the crushing weight of the hug knocked the air from her lungs. Kisses were speckled all across her face as Ania stepped out of the apartment and swung Cleo around until they were too dizzy to go on. The world was still spinning as Cleo collapsed beside Ania.

“She’s been here less than a minute and you’re already trying to kill her?” The familiar rough voice caught Cleo’s attention. As her vision settled, she saw Erin leaning against the door frame.

“Mom,” Cleo whispered, in awe as if Erin was an apparition. Erin remained in the doorway, stone-faced and covered in flour.

“Not going to give your mom a hug?” Erin asked finally. Cleo was on her feet in less than a second. She barrelled into Erin’s open arms, nearly knocking her over. Tears gushed from Cleo’s eyes. “The hell are you crying about, Little One?” Erin muttered into Cleo’s hair. Cleo loosed a shaky laugh. She let Erin pick her up and heard the voices of the others as they entered the house.

Cleo loves living with Erin and Ania. Like Wymack said, there’s an adjustment period but it’s not super long or uncomfortable. Erin is really good with kids and Ania really loves Cleo so they make it work.

Sometimes Cleo gets sad, though. Her moms have games that they have to go to often so they’re always flying out to them. Fortunately, Aaron and Katelyn are living up in New York too. It’s about a two hour drive out to Uncle Aaron’s. Cleo loves being with him and her cousins, the twins, Lila and Leena. They’re really nice and Cleo gets along with them really well. They stay up late braiding each others’ hair and whispering secrets and telling stories. Katelyn makes the best mac and cheese on the face of the planet Earth and she always makes it whenever she knows Cleo’s especially down. They all sit on the couch together to watch Cleo’s moms’ games. Cleo catches her uncle hasilty scrubbing tears from his eyes at the sight of his sister’s rare, fierce grin.

Uncle Nicky and Uncle Erik are great. They don’t have kids. Instead they have two corgis named Micheal and Jude that fight all the time. The only time they ever seem to get along is when they’re with Cleo. The two of them like to sit on opposite side of Cleo, sandwiching her in the middle.

Uncle Erik is a pastor at the church and he sings in the choir. He’s almost as good a singer as Erin… almost. He teaches Cleo how to sing. He also really likes to bake. Often, Cleo’s moms go on dates where they wander around Stuttgart together and just enjoy each other’s company. They almost always come home to find Erik and Cleo coated in flour and sugar and chocolate. Cleo uses her newfound baking skills to make things to her mom. Erin is living for it. Ania doesn’t approve of the unhealthy diet but she knows Cleo bakes with love so she limits how much Cleo is allowed to bake and instates portion control.

Cleo is mildly claustrophobic and the worst of it happens on planes. Ania and Erin have a pre-flight ritual that they extend to include Cleo in as well. Every time Erin has to get on a plane and Ania is there to see her off, she has Erin roll back her armbands (she doesn’t wear them anymore but this was back in college) and draws a little heart on the inside of her wrist. Once it dries, Ania will press a kiss to the little heart. Growing up, Ania didn’t like plane either so her mother used to do this for her to quiet her fears. It makes Erin and Cleo feel very loved and protected. I mean, they know it doesn’t actually doing anything but it always makes them feel a lot better.

On Saturday mornings, most kids wake up early to watch cartoons. Cleo wakes up to go snuggle with her moms. She’s around 12/13 when she starts this. Most of her moms’ games are on Fridays and they get back late at night or really early in the morning. Cleo wakes up at 9 a.m. and makes breakfast for the three of them and set the table. Everything is usually ready around 10 so she’ll creep into her moms’ room. Both of them are light sleepers so they’ll hear her come in. They sleep spooning each other but they always make space between the two of them so Cleo can wriggle in between them. Their cats, Sir and King, usually come in too. It soft and warm and all of them are happy.

Cleo is obviously a part of an exy team. She’s the biological daughter of Riko Moriyama and is being raised by Exy stars Erin and Ania Minyard-Josten. What did you expect?

She’s a striker. A much better one than her mother was. Better than Kevin too. The only person that outshines her is Ania but it doesn’t bother Cleo. In fact, it gives her something to aspire towards. She and Ania spend a lot of late nights out at the court with Erin in goal. Family bonding time :’)

Cleo likes getting her nails done. She usually does this with Ania. Ania only ever gets her non-dominant hand done and Cleo doesn’t understand. She only starts to understand once she gets married but I’ll get to that in a minute.

There’s about a 3 year difference between Cleo and Amalia. Okay, look. Kevin’s grad party was wild and he and Thea might have had a little too much to drink. That’s how Amalia is conceived. Thea is mortified. Kevin asks her if she wants an abortion. Both of them are pro-choice, especially after learning everything that went down with the birth of Cleo. Thea believes in the right to choose but she could never have an abortion herself. She gives birth to Amalia and it devastated her. Her entire career is put on hold so she can have her baby. Kevin is stressed. He wants doesn’t want to sacrifice Thea’s happiness for that of their child. The only compromise they can work out is to have their contracts transferred. They join the team based in Columbia, an hour and a half from the Foxhole Court. They wouldn’t dare ask Wymack to raise their child but they do ask for his help. Whenever they travel, Wymack and Abby babysit their granddaughter. The Monsters are at Palmetto for one more year so they help out too. Ania isn’t good with kids other than Cleo but she does her best to help. Jeanie and Jeremy get named the godparents but they don’t get to see Amalia often until Thea and Kevin move out to the West Coast. The Muldani-Days live in Seattle and the Knoxs remain in California. Visiting them is painful for Ania and Erin but they make new memories with them and so it isn’t all bad.

Cleo and Amalia are best friends. Kevin and Thea live on the West Coast, on the other end of the nation, so the girls skype a lot. They binge watch shows together like this and help each other with homework too. They always get to see each other when their parents play each other at games and during holidays. Sometimes Kevin will let Amalia stay over with Erin and Ania or vice versa. All of this takes a serious mental toll on Cleo. She’s head over heels for Amalia. Sleeping literal inches from her is going to drive Cleo insane. Amalia is as much of a clingy sleeper as her father so she will often throw and arm over Cleo while asleep and draw her close. Cleo is certain she’s going to die then and there.

Anyway, Kevin is shook. All his ptsd comes crashing back in a massive wave. He remembers how Riko treated him. What is Cleo does the same to Amalia? It doesn’t take him long to snap out of it. Cleo was raised in a loving home by Wymack, Abby, and the Foxes. All of them are broken but it's part of what made them such good people for her to around. Cleo has learned compassion to a degree that Kevin could only imagine. She is kind-hearted and loving and incredibly genuine. No one was ever going to be good enough for Amalia in Kevin’s eyes but Cleo was definitely as close as he’d hoped to find.

He doesn’t say anything to Amalia. He doesn’t want to hurt Cleo’s chances but he doesn’t want to force his daughter to pick Cleo for his sake either.

Amalia picks Cleo of her own free will. Their wedding is massive. Kevin breaks down crying as he walks her down the aisle to Cleo. Cleo rushes off the altar and helps him to his feet. She and Amalia walk him to the end before depositing him in a seat beside Thea. They’re all giggles and bright smiles as they stand together at the altar.

They honeymoon in the French countryside. They spend most of it in bed together. Amalia is asexual so no that’s not what I meant, you heathens. They just curl up beside one another talking and giggling and kissing bc they’re happy and in love.

Amalia and Cleo become foster parents. They do adopt but it usually older kids, late teens. Due to their age, few of them live with their moms but they all come together for the holidays.

Holidays are hell. Cleo and Amalia have like eight kids and then they’re usually fostering someone. A lot of their kids are married and have their own kids plus their parents and uncles/aunts + grandparents show up. This is the only reason Cleo and Amalia live in a mansion. They need to be able to accommodate all these people.

They grow old together. They have those shared tombstones with their graves side by side. Cleo dies first. Amalia doesn’t cry. She laughs and dances and tells stories about her wife. Cleo’s funeral is a celebration of her life not the mourning of her death, just the way she would have wanted it to be.

Every day up until her own death, Amaila places pink and white carnations on Cleo’s grave. She’ll sit by her grave and read all her favorite books to her. Amalia misses Cleo dearly but she believes that she’ll return to her beloved when the time comes.

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