#still in love with the TIFF portrait

[senditcolton]

I Hope I Never Lose You

song inspo: random instrumentals (although this is the music for the dance scene) word count: 4.5k warnings: none, just pure romance

a/n: what started as a response to a request - a request not even directed at me specifically - has turned into an entire storyline and universe that i have completely fallen in love with. so, tiff (@smileysvech), thank you for planting the concept of Prince Andrei into my head. and a very happy birthday. 👑💙

In all the months of your investiture, the castle had never felt this alive. Usually, a ball brought in a large amount of excitement – the promise of music, food, and dancing, all which made for a palpable atmosphere. But this evening was different.

Although, if one took into consideration the fact that Carolyna’s eldest prince had returned from his year-long voyage at sea, the enthusiasm that seemed to bleed from the palace walls was completely understandable.

You had spent most of your day dodging other servants running down the hallways, arms filled with bundles cloth napkins and boxes of candles. Part of you was thankful that you were not requested to paint during the ball itself, the new portrait of Prince Evgeny deemed enough. You told yourself that you more than content to stay in your bedchambers all night sketching or reading.

However, there was a slight longing to be in attendance. To be able to see the ballroom aglow with golden candlelight, the swirl of color from the ballgowns, and feel the joy radiating from the guests at the return of their Prince.

You also wanted to see Andrei’s face when he was reunited with his brother. If you had been charged with painting anything that night, that was the moment that you would’ve captured.

Wiping your paint-stained hands off on the cloth hanging from the easel, you glance at the clock. The doors had just opened for the ball – you could hear the chatter of guests and the distant sound of trumpets wafting down the halls, sneaking into your enclosed studio. You sigh, taking in your current work in progress, debating whether you should stay here for the night or come back later.

Eventually, you decide leaving was the best option: go back to your bedchamber for a nap and some food before returning. Maybe later, when the ball is in full swing and hectic, Andrei could sneak away and visit you. It is a hope that you know is far-fetched, at least for tonight. Andrei loved and missed his brother more than anything. He wouldn’t leave in the middle of the celebration thrown specifically for Evgeny.

Still, one could dream.

As you sneak down the halls, avoiding the arrival of the guests, your mind toys with the fantasy of Andrei slipping through your studio door. He would look so handsome in his regalia, the medals hanging from his chest.

You wish that you could see him tonight.

That is the dream you hold onto as you push through the doors to the servants’ quarters – a dream that is quickly interrupted by a shriek of your name falling from the lips of one of your closest friends. You barely have a chance to turn around before Svetlana is barging into you, her calloused fingers digging into your upper arms.

“You are never going to believe this,” the younger girl yells, pulling you through the common area towards your bedchamber, despite your attempts to reign her in.

“Lana, slow down. What is going on?”

“You’ll see,” she replies, continuing to drag you down the hallway. A few curious glances are tossed in your direction as well as jealous looks cast at you from some of the other girls. You are uncertain where their anger is coming and why it is directed at you from until Svetlana stops in front of your room.

“Look!” she declares, swinging your door open and your jaw drops when you see the embroidered fabric laying on your bed.

You walk in, your eyes dancing over the ballgown splayed over the sheets. It is beautiful; the stark white contrasting beautifully with the velvet overlay, shimmering in your favorite color. The metallic floral embroidery dances across the fabric, trailing up from the trim of the skirt and the long sleeves to transform into a full garden on the bodice.

“I mean, I was helping the master seamstress embroider those flowers but I honestly thought this was for the Queen or one of the other ladies of the court but it was made for you?! That’s insane! The Prince’s personal guard dropped it off earlier today and I had to, like, stand watch outside your door to stop the other girls for obvious reasons and - ”

“Wait,” you say, interrupting Lana’s ranting. “The Prince’s personal guard?”

“Yeah! What’s his name?” Lana says, her eyebrows furrowing. “Pasha? Petrov?”

“Pyotr,” you whisper, your hands running over the gown’s material.

“Pyotr! That’s it.” Lana says, walking over to stand behind you. “Why did you get a dress?”

“I guess my attendance is wanted at the ball.”

“But you’re clearly not painting. Or at least you shouldn’t be in a gown this fine.”

“I don’t know,” you say, the words not a total lie. The information that Pytor delivered this stunning gown had you guessing that it was Andrei extended the invitation. But that was still merely a hunch. “Perhaps they want to have me there when Prince Evgeny’s portrait is presented.”

“Well, maybe I should’ve gotten into painting instead of sewing,” Lana teases as she playfully jostles your shoulder. Your eyes finally tear away from the gown, meeting with her sparkling hazel ones.

“Can you help me put it on?”

“Of course! We have to be fast; the ball has already started!”

Lana flies into a flurry, locking the door and turning to you. Her voice is a comforting metronome and you follow her instructions as she helps you into the dress. You are thankful she was there; not just because she was a seamstress and knew how to properly lace you into the gown but because her excited buzzing made the storm of anxiety in your mind quiet.

This had to be a dream, one that you were surely going to wake from at any moment. Your job as a painter was to be out of sight. The only knowledge of your existence to anyone outside of the royal family and the other servants were the painted canvases hanging on the castle walls. But now, here you were, wearing a gown that you couldn’t hope to possess even in your wildest fantasies.

Once you were fully dressed, Lana moves to your hair, retying it into a more elegant updo than the pulled back hairstyle it was placed in earlier. She doesn’t stop there, adding a tiny pat of butter to your face, smoothing your eyebrows and moisturizing your skin. She even manages to paint a bit of color onto your cheeks and lips with a piece of beetroot.

“You’re lucky that it was beets instead of radishes tonight,” she teases with a wink.

“Thank you, Lana. I could’ve never done this without you.”

“Well, maybe you could tell the royal family that the seamstresses should get an invite too. Considering their finery wouldn’t exist without us,” she quips as she smears the honey onto your lips, the gloss reflecting the light from the small candle on your bedside table.

“I’ll make sure to pass on the message,” you reply, your tone light but the words sincere. Lana didn’t know that you had the ear of the Crown Prince, one of the few men who could make that happen.

“You better,” she grins, stepping away. Her eyes rove over your face and body, admiring her handiwork before turning to look at you fully. “Perfect. You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you do. You’ll be the belle of the ball. All the other maidens will burn with jealousy. Trust me.”   

“I kind of have to considering we have no mirrors.”

“Would I ever steer you wrong?” Lana laughs, extending her hand to help lift you off the bed. “Now, come on! We’ve got to get you to the ballroom quick, before the entire party is over.”

You are ushered you out of your personal quarters and through the common room, Svetlana trailing behind you, holding up the hem your skirt to not sully the fine material. Her vocal haste pushes you to quickly jog down the halls towards the ballroom, your combined giggles bouncing off the vaulted ceilings. You finally stop at the closed double doors, the chatter of guests and the faint strains of music just on the other side. A deep breath rushes through you as you stare at the oak, your heartrate increasing.

“I still don’t understand. I’m just a painter,” you whisper but the words echo off the quiet hallways onto Lana’s ears. She finishes laying out your skirt before moving to stand next to you, gently taking a hold of your hand and squeezing.

“And yet, here you are in a beautiful gown about to enter a ball at the express invitation of the palace,” she says, her own voice dreamy. “Enjoy it.”

There is no hesitance as you turn to Lana, throwing your arms around her and pulling her into a hug. A whispered thank you is the last words you exchange before she is disappearing back down the hallways and out of sight. You take one last deep breath, steeling yourself before you knock gently on the door.

With an ease and elegance that has you momentarily faltering, the door swings open. You slowly walk over the threshold, your eyes dancing over the crowd. A few curious eyes are directed your way, drawn by the movement, but you simply breathe, walking down the first flight of steps to the landing of the grand staircase. Standing there is Dmitry, the royal caller and you catch his eye. He smiles at you before clearing his throat, his resounding voice pulling the remaining guest’s attention as he announces your presence.

You look towards the King and Queen, sitting on the raised dais and extend them a deep curtsy before rising, meeting Queen Elena smile with your own before turning your attention to the crowd. Your eyes scan over the sea of faces until they meet the dark brown irises that you were searching for.

Andrei is standing there, in his royal blue regalia, looking as handsome as you had imagined him. And he is looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

The heat rises in your cheeks under his heavy stare, your head ducking down as you descend the remaining stairs. You weave through the crowd, feeling the eyes on you and hearing the hushed whispers of other guests. But you find that the attention slips off you, like water off a duck’s wing. Your mind is only on Andrei. It seems as if his mind is on you as well because in what feels like mere moments, he is there standing in front of you.

“Your Radiance,” you say, curtsying to him.

“My lady,” he replies, returning your curtsy with a bow. There is a brief moment of silence between the two of you, where you just look at each other. “I see you got my invitation,” he whispers softly for only you to hear.

“It wasn’t your most subtle work,” you tease, a small smile playing on your lips. It is a smile that Andrei returns before clearing his throat, his posture straightening as he speaks.

“Come. There is someone I want you to meet.”

He extends his arm to you, an invitation that you gladly take before he is guiding you across the marble floor. You try to remain confident even though the stares have increased due to your presence on the prince’s arm. Andrei seems unaffected, pushing through the crowd with an ease that was proffered to him as the Crown Prince. He doesn’t halt your journey until he has stopped in front of another gentleman wearing the greys and greens of the Carolyna naval uniform.

“This is Prince Evgeny Svechnikov. My brother,” Andrei says, before offering your name and title to Evgeny.

“An honor to meet you, Your Radiance,” you say, extending Evgeny another deep curtsy. He takes your hand, placing a small kiss on your knuckles before meeting your eye with a small grin.

“It’s just Your Honor now,” Evgeny explains, his teasing grin jumping back to Andrei. “I’m not a prince, simply a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. Drei knows this but likes to pretend I didn’t abdicate.”

“You’re still a Prince of Carolyna, whether or not you have the official title,” Andrei quips back, jostling his brother on the shoulder.

“Regardless, it is still a pleasure to meet you,” you say, your voice still formal. “I hope your time at sea wasn’t too difficult.”

“A lot of fresh air and plenty of time to think. Easier being in the Navy when your country is at peace,” he replies. “So, you are the royal portrait artist that Andrei has filled pages of letters with.”

“I suppose so,” you stutter, looking back at Andrei with a raised eyebrow. The flush on his cheeks surprises you at first but soon his embarrassment relaxes you, the urge to tease him goading you on. “Pages, you say?”

“Oh yes. Every time the ship made port, there was a letter waiting for me filled with praise about the new painter that was teaching my brother to get in touch with his creative side. I must admire your tenacity, seeing as the Drei I know gets frustrated when he doesn’t perfect a skill in the first attempt.”

Evgeny’s lighthearted quips makes you relax, the smile on your lips growing wider.

“He’s been doing better. Has only broken three brushes in frustration this past week.”

The laughter that falls from Evgeny’s lips is similar to Andrei’s yet unique in its own right, filling the air as he claps his brother on the back of the shoulder. Your own giggle follows as you see Andrei’s blush deepen, his head shaking.

“Why must you turn everything into a joke at my expense, Geno?” he asks, the loving tone betraying the anger the words could portray.

“Because it’s so easy to get you riled, little brother,” Evgeny replies, playfully wresting Andrei under his arm, mussing his slicked back hair. Andrei manages to wriggle his way free, his hands smoothing his uniform and pushing back his hair before politely nodding to the few guests who took an interest in the brief commotion. It is only when their eyes turn away does Andrei jab his elbow into his brother’s side as a small payback.

There is an indescribable feeling in your chest as you watch Andrei interact with his brother. It was abundantly clear how much he loved Evgeny. His smile seemed brighter, his laughter came easier, and it felt as if he was more settled into his own body.

The conversation between the three of your flows, various topics flitting in and out like the moths in the garden. A glass of champagne had been placed in your hand and was refilled more times than you cared to admit. It felt like hours of talking before Andrei was summoned away to perform his other princely duties, mingling and brushing elbows with other dignitaries. His departure leaves you and Geno alone on the side of the ballroom. Your body turns to face the crowd, eyes taking in the couples dancing, the beautiful music lifting over the noise of the crowd. You take a sip of your champagne, a pleasant buzz running through your body.

“So,” Evgeny speaks, breaking the silence. “How long have you and Drei been in love?”

The unexpected question has you choking on the sparkling liquid, your glass quickly pulled away from your lips as you compose yourself. Once you’ve gotten a hold of your bearings, you look towards Evgeny who is smirking down at you, his own champagne flute pressed to his lips, an eyebrow quirked as if waiting for an answer.

Your eyes quickly dart around the ballroom, making sure that there was no prying attention on the conversation you shared with the eldest prince. In a room full of eyes and ears, keeping the secret of your and Andrei’s relationship was paramount. Once you were satisfied, you shoot a quick glance back to Evgeny before keeping your attention forward to not arouse suspicions.

“Did Andrei tell you?” you ask, the prior mention of you being the starring subject in Andrei’s numerous letters filling your mind.

“No, he never said a word,” Evgeny replies. “But I know my brother. The way he looks at you… it’s more than just simple admiration for the painter who is giving him lessons.”

You could blame the alcohol for the warmth that radiates from your chest down to your toes. But if you did, it would be a lie. It is Evgeny’s words, his quiet assurance that Andrei is telling the truth when he says that he loves you. That confirmation coming from someone who knows Andrei best and could figure out your shared secret within only a few minutes of meeting you sets off a blaze in your heart. You breathe deeply, reigning in your emotions as you look out across the ballroom. Your eyes easily find Andrei, his blue uniform stark against a sea of red, white, and black gowns and suits. He is conversing with what appears to be other generals, his stature strong and regal.

“May I ask you a question, Prince Evgeny,” you inquire, turning your attention back to his brother.

“Please, you can call me Geno,” he replies, that easy smile on his face. “And yes, of course.”

“Why did you abdicate? You’re the eldest son of the King so the Crown was yours by right. Why give it up?”

“To be honest, I was never very good at it. Bureaucracy,” Evgeny laughs. “Plus, it never appealed to me: sitting in rooms filled with papers, giving commands to people I never met, having every self-interested bastard whispering their ideas in my ear and having to sift through the shit to find what best served the country. I much prefer the Navy where I know and trust the men by my side, where I can feel the work I’m doing, knowing for certain that my actions are helping the country I love.”

You let his words sink in, your eyes trailing back to Andrei. The way Evgeny describes the role of King weighs on you, the pressure of such a demanding job feeding your concern for the man you loved.

“I wouldn’t worry about Drei though,” Evgeny continues as if he can sense your apprehension. “He’s everything I’m not: driven but not demanding, loyal but not blindly so, commanding while still remaining respectful. That’s a rare combination of qualities to have. Plus, he’s devoted to the people of Carolyna. I know that he will always have their best interests at heart.”

Your heart swells again at the description Evgeny gives to his brother, the pride in his voice clear. Your eyes stayed locked onto Andrei, watching as he concludes his conversation before turning his own gaze around the room. It seems instantaneous, the way they lock onto yours and your heart pounds as he starts to make his way back to you.

“Andrei loves the people,” Evgeny’s voice sounds again. There is a brief pause, your eyes still locked onto Andrei’s. You slightly jump when you feel Evgeny’s warm breath next to your ear, his words hushed and he whispers to you. “He loves you. And if there is one thing I know for certain about my brother, it is that he fights for those he loves.”

Your head turns quickly, looking back towards Evgeny, that now familiar grin on his face. He takes your hand, bowing as he places a polite kiss on your knuckles. An instant later, he is gone, vanishing into the crowd around you. You turn your head back, only to come face to face with Andrei. He shoots you that crooked grin before glancing around, no doubt looking for his brother.

“What was Geno whispering to you about?” he asks. “Talking about me again?”

“Only good things, I promise,” you reply, keeping your voice light and teasing as to not betray the emotions brought on by Evgeny’s hushed declaration.

“Lucky I trust you,” Andrei says, his smile never leaving his lips.

You simply return the smile, your head ducking down in shyness under the weight of his gaze. Around you, you can hear the music slowing, reaching its soft crescendo before the guests applaud. Your eyes glance up again, connecting to Andrei’s gaze once more. He has an indecipherable look on his face, as if he was having an internal debate with himself.

The feeling of his hand on yours startles you, but you allow him to gently remove the glass from your grip, placing it on the tray of one of the passing servers before returning his attention to you. Andrei extends his hand, his palm upwards.

“Dance with me.”

The words are a gentle demand, tinged with hope. You want to keep staring in his eyes but the weight of others looks tugs at your focus, your own eyes darting around the room filled with high-ranking individuals and many an eligible maiden.

“I don’t think we should,” you whisper, your gaze turning back to him.

You wish you didn’t notice the hurt flicker across Andrei’s face at your response. His hand curls in on itself before disappearing behind his back, a sigh lifting his shoulders. Andrei gives you a polite bow – a silent agreement – and you can tell that he is about to turn away.

“But perhaps,” you speak again, stopping him in his tracks and pulling his gaze back to you. “Perhaps I was lost. Confused. Maybe had a few too many drinks.”

Andrei’s laugh rumbles through his chest at your words, a laugh that you share before looking up at him, your eyes wide and earnest.

“And perhaps you were a gentleman and saved me before I made a fool of myself. Made sure I was alright.”

The smile that Andrei gives you is intoxicating, his eyes shining with the same desire that was surely reflected in yours. His hand extends again and this time, your reaches out towards him. There is still a brief hesitancy, made clear by the pause and slight curl of your fingers. But is a miniscule moment, one that passes when you find that last sliver of courage and slip your hand into his. Andrei’s fingers close around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as a silent comfort before he leads you out onto the dance floor.

The candlelight reflects off the embroidery on your gown as Andrei pulls you to the center of the marble floor, spinning you to face him, the velvet hem brushing against the stone. He reaches out, placing his free hand on the small of your back and you follow his lead, your own hand landing delicately on his bicep, feeling the strength of the muscle underneath the fabric. A gasp escapes you as he pulls you closer to him, your bodies almost touching. You can’t stop the way your eyes bounce around the ballroom, the stares of the other guests now impossible to ignore.

“Everyone is looking at us,” you whisper, feeling the heat race up the back of your neck, your heart fluttering in your chest like a newly captured bird.

“Just keep your eyes on me,” Andrei murmurs.

You are helpless to follow his directions, your gaze jumping up to lock with his. The instant they connect, your heartbeat stills. Andrei is staring at you with pure devotion and admiration. It was as if you were the finest painting in any gallery, like you were the most beautiful sculpture in the world.

In his eyes, you were no longer the artist. You were beauty animated. You were art itself.

“Just me,” he says again.

You swallow back the tidal wave of emotions that threaten to spill over, blinking before giving Andrei a subtle nod of your head and offering him a timid smile.

Andrei’s chest lifts in a deep breath, an action you copy before relaxing into his hold. You can hear the music begin and it is another moment before Andrei starts to move. It is slow, measured, and you just keep your gaze aligned with Andrei’s as he leads you around the dance floor, falling into the ebb and flow of the melody bouncing off the candelabras above you.

The two of you continue to dance, your dress flowing around you as Andrei keeps you secure in his hold. The curious and somewhat judgmental stares that you were previously acutely aware of fade away the longer you are in Andrei’s grasp. Soon, it feels as if the two of you are alone in the ballroom.

“I love you,” Andrei whispers. The declaration cuts through you, piercing you deep. “I know that we aren’t supposed to be together; by law or rule or general propriety. But I don’t care. I will not give up on you. On us.” He sighs, his eyes softening with melancholy. “That is, not unless you tell me to.”

“Never,” you say, your grip tightening on him as you step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. He smiles, your own fierce promise fueling his words.

“You are the love of my life,” he vows. “And I know that if I ever had to live without you – if our connection was severed by distance or by time, my heart would shatter, never to be mended again.”

Andrei’s words have captured you, enveloping you in his pure love and devotion. You are acutely aware of the warmth of his hand in yours, the feeling of his hand slowly rising from the small of your back. His fingertips gently brush against the bare skin between your shoulder blades, pushing a gasp from you at the sparks that his touch brings.

“At least, not until you returned to me,” Andrei murmurs, those dark brown irises staring into your very soul, reading you plain and leaving you bare. “That is what our love is: eternal.”

“Timeless,” you reply, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, one which Andrei returns.

“Yes. Timeless.”

His fingers dance over your exposed skin once more before his hands fall away from you. The departure of his touch throws you back to the present moment, the cacophony of applause from the guests hitting your eardrums. Andrei bows to you, your hand still in his. You follow suit, bending in a deep curtsy before lifting yourself slowly, looking back to him.

You find that his gaze is already glued to your frame and you watch with breathless anticipation as he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto your hand. Directly over the spot where the makeshift ring he gifted to you all those months ago sat.

A subtle indication of the promise that he made to you, one that he intended to keep. The promise of a love that was enduring, constant, unending.

A love that would last forever. 

taglist (join here!): @tkachvkmatthew @m00nlightdelights @cixrosie

#nicole writes #king of my heart series #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov alternate universe #andrei svechnikov fluff #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[gigakoops]

More About Our System!

I've made a post in the past about it, but we're a plural system, consisting of over 70 other folks! For more info on what that means, read the original post here.

Today we thought we'd introduce a few of ourselves at least, as some of whom may post here every once in a while! While we're still figuring out who all wants to post regularly (and how regularly), we've decided to talk a tiny bit about ourselves! Perhaps some of us will write more in the future.

The vast majority of us are fictives. Most of my headmates resemble fictional characters, but have their own identities, memories, morals and sense of self. We are not roleplayers. My headmates are unique individuals, separate from any work of fiction. They've also asked me to mention that they are not interested in seeking out sourcemates.

Below is a list of our names, descriptions we've each written of ourselves, and pictures I (Gigakoops) have drawn of the others. Feel free to send us any asks if you'd like to learn more about us, or want to learn more about how our system works!

🎵 Gigakoops -- The host of our system, and the main one using this account. Musician, rhythm game enthusiast and note charter for several games, and fan of very weird media. Also a supporter of human rights, and vocally supportive of all marginalized people. (She/Her) (No need to do a portrait, y'all can already see my fursona in my PFP 😛). ______________________________________________________________

📖 Tiff -- The one always offering advice to the others, and always a friendly shoulder to lean on. Also into reading and learning new things, as well as rhythm games like Rock Band! (She/Her) ______________________________________________________________

🐺 Wolfy -- I'm Tiff's sibling! I used to be a protective headmate of sorts, though nowdays I mostly just chill with everyone else. I have a no-nonsense approach to things, and can still be protective if needed. (Any pronouns, use interchangeably) ______________________________________________________________

🦇 Fidget -- I can be a bit of a goofball, but I'm also always sincere, and also like being there for others. (She/Her) ______________________________________________________________

🦊 Rita -- I'm very anti-authority, and also very prone to shitpost. I'm Danish, but speak a lot of Norwegian instead of Danish, and in fact have been helping Giga with hers. This fox bites fascists. (She/Her) ______________________________________________________________

🔧 Tails -- I'm really interested in technology, computers, and video games, and would also like to learn more about tech of all sorts. I'm overall sort of geeky, but also laid-back and chill. (She/Her) ______________________________________________________________

🍪 Chip -- A fun-loving little doofus who enjoys sweets. I'll likely post about being queer, and about my in-system husband, Phil. (He/Him) ______________________________________________________________

🦚 Phil - If there's one thing you've gotta know about me, it's that I'm here to spice things up every once in a while. Oh, also, I'm hella gay! (He/Him) ______________________________________________________________

🍎 CJ7 -- I'm relatively care-free, and like to goof off. That said, when someone's going through something, I want to be there to help them through it. (Xey/Xem) ______________________________________________________________

🌹 Roze -- I'm here to support my friend CJ7, and to assist in any way I can to others who need a philosophical point of view on things. I'm also interested in science and the cosmos! (Ze/Zem/Zer & She/Her) ______________________________________________________________

🎤 Retsuko -- I'm typically calm, cool, and collected, focusing on finding new ways to relax and help others calm down if needed. I'm also really into metal, in case you couldn't tell. :P (She/Her)

#plural #plurality #furry #fictive #fictive heavy system #multiplicity #the tumblr plural feed #anthro #cute #system intro #endo safe

[marvelmaniac715]

This is part six of my Chucky transferring his soul into a human at the end of Seed to raise his children au. This part doesn’t really have a narrative, it’s more Chucky reflecting on his past and comparing it to the twins as they grow up. Disclaimer that’s in front of all of these fics for this au: Glen and Glenda will be referred to by he/him and she/her respectively until they’re fourteen, because in my head canon they realised they were non-binary aged fourteen :).

————————————————————

Chucky looked down at his babies. Five months old, so tiny, so fragile. Weirdly, he could see some similarities to himself, despite the twins being unable to speak or express their own opinions yet.

Glenda was a little spitfire, quick to lose her temper and aggressive and swift in her retribution. At baby group the other week, a boy stole her rattle, and she pushed him over, grabbed the rattle and hit him in the head with it repeatedly until Chucky picked her up to half-heartedly admonish her. 

Glen was a sweet little thing, and it was difficult to find any similarities at first. But one day it hit him. Glen fiercely defended what he loved, just like Chucky did. Glenda tried to take his favourite stuffed animal one day, and he snatched it back (a move completely out of character for Chucky’s more laid-back son), before angrily patting his sister on the cheek. It looked like he was trying to slap her, but didn’t have the motor skills to do so yet.

Maybe he was crazy? Maybe those were all coincidences and the twins were nothing like him? Only time would tell for sure.

————————————————————

The twins were six now, and the similarities were slightly less obvious, but still there if you looked hard enough.

Physical similarities were little to none. The twins were a mix of the Good Guy doll and Jennifer Tilly. The fact that Glen and Glenda had the exact same shade of blue eyes as Chucky had as a human was a mere coincidence. Even if they had the same glare, or they sparkled the same way when they smiled.

But Chucky saw so many little traits and quirks that he shared with his children, even in a new body, such as the precision with which the three of them held a knife, Chucky for stabbing and the twins for cutting up meat. Or there was the artistic talent they all shared.

The twins were mostly self-taught, but their work was astonishing. Glenda preferred dark, abstract pieces, ‘like her soul’ she said. Glen specialised in bright, detailed portraits and landscapes, each piece seemed to be a joyous celebration of it’s subject. 

Chucky’s style was a combination of both, but all his pieces contained a splash of red as a sort of… homage to his past.

————————————————————

Nothing had prepared Chucky for the teenage years. This was a strange, foreign new land that he had no way idea how to navigate through. Sweet, kind little twelve year olds had morphed into hormone driven angst and rage machines overnight. The rebellions drove him and Tiff mad.

Glen’s rebellion had lasted all of one minute. He’d said the f word, causing Tiffany to cry and Chucky to nearly set the pancakes he was making on fire. He’d immediately apologised and promised to never do it again. Glen was a good boy, he was no trouble. But his sister…

Glenda would hole herself away in her room, screaming that nobody understood her over the din of her incoherent rock music, blasting out of her headphones at full volume. She didn’t want to spend time with her parents anymore. She didn’t call Chucky ‘Daddy’ anymore. That hurt more than he liked to admit.

He knew that there was nothing wrong with her growing up, that this was just a stage in her development that would get her to adulthood. But what haunted him was the similarities between Glenda and himself as a teenager.

Ah, he was so sloppy back then! He had the rage and strength to kill, but he wasn’t clever with it. He’d let the murder of his mother go to his head, and that mixed with a dangerous combination of hormones convinced him that he was invincible. He’d had to flee from his only stable home because foolish pride had clouded his judgment. They weren’t even good shoes.

He’d mellowed out with age and had realised that his actions were… irrational at best. But he had been young and hot-blooded, he’d thought that his knife could solve all of his problems. When he tried to start a family of his own he’d tried to brute force his way through it like he had everything else in life. His children had made him appreciate the value of slowing down and thinking things through.

Glenda didn’t seem to have any murderous impulses, but she was just as rage filled and impulsive as he was at her age. But some days she seemed close to bumping someone off, so Chucky made sure to keep sharp objects out of her reach just in case.

————————————————————

The phone rang at 2 am on the dot. Chucky woke up immediately. The house was so quiet since the twins had left to start their lives that the phone was easy to hear, despite it being on silent mode.

The twins were twenty one years old now, but Chucky and Tiffany still worried about them constantly. Were they eating enough? Did they get enough sleep? Are they safe? All of these questions ran through his mind at once once he realised that the person calling was Glenda. 

Their voice and breathing were shaky, as if they’d been running, they were clearly panicking.

“Dad- Daddy, I just did something really bad, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

They called him Daddy. They hadn’t done that since they were twelve. This must be serious.

“Glenda, calm down. Are you alright? What’s happened? What did you do?”

Glenda’s breathing on the other end of the line slowed to a regular pace, and they seemed generally calmer.

“I’m fine but… I think I just killed somebody. It felt awesome, but I’m scared that somebody will find out and I’ll go to jail. Daddy, I have a real chance of a future in acting, I can’t go to jail, not now, I won’t make it-‘

Now this was something that Chucky could relate to. Oh, the nostalgia was overwhelming. Not the acting part obviously, but everything else was pretty much what he had experienced when he was first human.

‘Alright, don’t panic. Did anybody see you do it? Was anybody else in the room?”

“No, I’m at a party, and what I did happened in a bathroom. I drowned ‘em in the sink. It was fuckin’ great, let me tell you.”

Creative yet painful, now that was a kill to be proud of. Chucky was filled with pride. This was his kid, and this was their very first kill.

“That sounds… impressive. Now listen to me baby doll, the sink thing sounds amazing, but it would be too obvious if you were the only people in there. A good idea could be emptying the sink and finding a pill of some sort you could crush into a foam and wipe around the victim’s mouth. Or find a knife- you still carry a switchblade, right? Use a knife and slit the victim’s wrists, leaving the knife in one of their hands. Dry their face off first of course, it could look suspicious. Got it?”

Glenda was silent for a moment, before speaking in breathless awe.

“Daddy, you’re amazing. Thank you.”

There were many differences between Chucky and his children. He didn’t understand the world of theatre, and he didn’t enjoy being vegan like Glen, but the traits that the three of them shared were uncanny. And he was thrilled to have the chance to pass on his wisdom to his kids.

#chucky #childs play #seed of chucky #chucky series #charles lee ray #teenage charles #glenda ray #glen ray #tiffany valentine #horror #fanfiction

[fanficwriter284]

Tiffany Sick Day/ Chucky Spending Time With His Kid's

Tiffany and Chucky were asleep in bed. Until Chucky woke up to Tiffany coughing and groaning.

"Tiff. You ok?"

" *Cough* Yes *Cough* Sweetface. I'm fine."

"You sure as hell don't sound like it."

He stroked the side of her face. It was hot to the touch.

"Tiff I think you have a fever."

"No. Hun I'm fine. Plus I have so much stuff to do today. *Cough* I gotta clean the house and help Glen and Glenda with their art project and cook dinner"

"Tiff. You gotta get some rest. I know how it is being sick. And it's a real bitch. Just sleep ok?"

Tiffany didn't have it in her to keep up the conversation and fell asleep.

Chucky got up and pulled the covers over her. He went downstairs and made some breakfast for himself and the twins. He made some bacon and pancakes. He went upstairs to go wake the twins for breakfast.

"Hey Dad, where's mum?"

"Oh, Mom is upstairs. She's feeling a little sick right now."

"Oh. Is she going to be alright?"

"Yeah is she Dad?"

"Don't worry. She's going to be fine."

Chucky made her some soup and took it to their room.

"Tiff. I made you some soup. Hope you like it" He whispered

He set it down next to her. He saw her head shift and tilt towards him. Tiffany rubbed her face and noticed the bowl.

"Oh, Thank you, Sweetface."

She grabbed the spoon and began to eat the soup slurping it down. After she was done she fell back asleep. He quietly left the room and went downstairs, where the twins were.

"Hey, Dad? Since Mom's resting, we were wondering if you could help us with our art project?"

"Oh Yeah, Sure. Whatcha guys doing for art? We have to pick 4 things in the house and place them and a certain order and draw them."

"Oh. Ok! Why don't you two grab the stuff you want and I'll get the art supplies out."

Chucky went to the cabinet to grab crayons, markers, and paints. He left his personal paint on the shelf. Growing up Chucky loved to draw and paint and was actually amazing at it.

He went to the table and place all the supplies down. The twins returned with random objects and placed them on top of each other. Glen and Glenda both started drawing and Chucky got out a canvas and started painting.

"DONE!"

"DONE!"

They showed their artwork to their father. It wasn't the best since they were only 6 years old but it was decent. They looked at when their dad was painting and were amazed. He was painting a family portrait of the 4 of them. It looked identical to them.

"Wow, DAD! I didn't know you could paint."

"Eh, I used to draw and paint a lot when I was about your age."

The twins put their art in their folders and placed the folders in their backpacks.

Chucky went around and cleaned the house till it was spotless.

He made dinner and took another bowl of soup for Tiffany.

He put the twins to bed and walked down to his room. As he was walking to his room, he took a moment to process his life. From being a deranged maniac serial killer to a husband and father. Sure he was still heartless and lacked emotion but when he was with his family he was capable of feeling emotion. He felt happy whenever he was around them and he felt sad when they were sad. This was all so new to him. Actually, caring for someone other than himself and was willing to die to keep them safe. He was learning to show emotion around his family. After years and years of keeping them bottled up inside until he finally broke and had a horrible anxiety/panic attack. Was he really going soft? Should he allow himself to feel? Would it make him weak? He shook the negative thoughts out of his head. He actually liked feeling empathy and emotions it made him feel good. He made his way down to the room and crawled into bed. Pulling Tiffany close to him.

The Next Day

Tiffany got up feeling better and kissed Chucky on the cheek. He was out cold. She was gonna let him sleep. She went downstairs to already fine the house spotless and pancakes in the fridge along with bacon. She heated it up and went upstairs to go get the twins out of bed for breakfast.

"Ok kids. You said you needed help with your art project?"

"Oh. No not anymore. Dad helped us."

"Mom! Did you know Dad could paint?"

"Glenda Sweet-heart. I went to school with your dad and was in the same classes with him. I know he can pain and draw? Why? Did he paint something?"

They mentioned for their mother to follow them and pointed to the family portrait he painted. Tiffany was impressed with his work. She heard her husband walking down the stairs.

"Morning"

Tiffany kissed Chucky.

"Morning Chucky!"

She whispered in his ear. "Thank you for taking care of me Sweetface."

"Anytime Tiff."

#chucky x tiffany #chucky #childs play #chuckyxtiffany #tiffany valentine #charles lee ray #raysforever #glen and glenda #chiffany #character development

[100yearoldcomics]

May 1, 1922 Harold Teen by Carl Ed: "How Things Stand."

Finally! An explanation for that bizarre time skip that took us from Beezie announcing his intentions to propose to Lillums to Harold deathly ill in the hospital between April 2nd & 3rd.

[ID: A handwritten letter from a reader. /end] Letter: Dear Harold, I am a bit puzzled by your actions of late. What happened between you and Lillums? And how did you come to be sick? I am glad the nurse was a married woman. I do hope you get somewhere with Lillums. Sincerely, Mrs. J.C.M. P.S. Why don't you get one of those new, nifty bell-bottomed suits?

[ID: Harold stands in the living room by a table, reading the letter. /end] Harold: I don't get that postscript. I've been wearing bell-bottomed trousers for months!

[ID: Lillums lies languishing on a couch, staring at a framed portrait of Harold on her wall. Her dog, Pretty, sits on the floor beside her. /end] Lillums: He never acted this way before. He seems to have taken our "tiff" seriously. I love him still, but I've got too much pride to call him up.

[ID: Harold sits at a table with a desk lamp, writing a letter with a fountain pen and inkwell. /end] Harold's Letter: Dear Mrs. J.C.M., I was down sick with a touch of "flu." Lillums and I (sigh) parted when she refused to give up Beezie Binks. I love her still. But as she seems to be satisfied with her rich suitor, I have decided to be a bachelor. ALL OF MY LIFE.

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #harold teen #transcript available #1920s #relationship drama

[buckybleu]

❅ everlasting ❅

pairing: Xu Shang-Chi x fem!reader

summary: As kids, we believed in fairytales and happy endings, that love would make it last a lifetime. But a buildup of small tiffs and one final heated argument show you and Shang-Chi that love isn't always enough.

warnings: angst, toxic relationship(?), cursing sprinkled throughout

A/N: I'm sorry for bringing the angst this holiday season, but my fingers slipped! I can't promise you it's a happy ending you want, but I guess you'll have to read and find out. I hope you enjoy it, wishing everyone a great rest of you December and happy new year! ☃️

reblogs/likes/comments are greatly appreciated! ❤️

word count: 6.5k

San Francisco is home. Your childhood took root in the three bedroom home that’s two blocks away from your high school. The park east of you held memories from your first kiss on the swings, the tree where you carved your initials into with your sister, and the water fountain where you hung out with your best friends. The uber ride from the airport to your parents’ home carried you through the city's scenic routes; the murals spread across the Mission District, the windy street of Lombard, and Jiji’s pastry shop. Home. This is home. But why did you feel like a tourist here?

The car lurches to a stop. You give the driver a kind smile, thanking him as you step onto the pavement. Everything’s still the same. The yellow street lights still flicker. The community garden once barren now lush with produce and florals. Mrs. Chen has her favorite ceramic frog perched on the window. Mom still decorated daisies above the porch, faint memories of your dad hitting his head on them make you smile. A gust of December winds pick up, shaking the Christmas lights that string across the windows and bushes. The oak floor boards croak under your boots, alerting your parents of your arrival. Doors swing wide open before your knuckles hit the oak door.

“Honey!” Your mom pulls you into a bear hug, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m so happy to see you. I was afraid those snowstorms would’ve kept you in New York.” You can see tears that brim her eyes as she cups your face.

“Mama don’t cry, I’m home. Home for Christmas like you wanted.” Her sweet smile warms your heart. Your mom gives you another look over before your dad draws you into a bone crushing hug.

“Hey Bug. Is New York treating you alright? No boys right?” He wiggles his eyebrows, inciting laughter from you.

“Yes Dad, New York is good. Work is great. And no boys...for now.” You let out another giggle when he sighs in relief.

“Good because you’re too young for boys anyways.”

“Dad!” He kisses your forehead before taking your bags upstairs.

The living room appears the same as the day you left. Same plush red sofas, TV mounted in the corner, grocery ads and mail neatly stacked on the coffee table; it’s all the same but with the addition of holiday decorations and the Christmas tree in the center. Picture frames scatter the walls as you walk towards the kitchen. Your and your sister’s photos as newborns, family portraits, and a couple toothless smiles. The final photo frame makes you grin. You run your fingers across the glass, admiring a more youthful group of teens. Goofy smiles and atrocious hairstyles. Your overly side swept bangs paired with Katy’s crisp, crimped hair. And Shang-Chi’s Justin Bieber haircut was an absolute mess.

The banging of pots and stove clicking in the kitchen brings you back to reality. “Mama?” You press yourself against the door frame watching her ladle more broth into the simmering pot. “Do you think Katy’s home right now? I want to surprise her.”

She hums in satisfaction before studying your words. “You didn’t tell Katy you’re coming home?” You shrug, not wanting to bring up the topic. “I’m not sure, but Mrs. Chen should be there.”

Outside your windows you can see the porch light of Katy’s home on. “I think I’m going to head over to see if Katy’s there. I’ll be back soon Mama.” You press a kiss to her cheek, pulling your coat a little tighter.

“Don’t be too long. I’m almost done with dinner. It’s just us tonight. Your sister and her husband are coming tomorrow.” You give her one last smile as you slip out the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest at the thought of seeing Katy for the first time in a year. It wasn’t that you had left on bad terms, but had chosen to distance yourself from everyone after the mess between you and Shang-Chi. A shit friend, that’s what you felt like. Yes, you still factimed, messaged, and called one another, but rarely was it you taking initiative of those. It was Katy calling you. Katy checking on you. Katy made sure you didn’t feel alone in the big city. Katy updating you on all the things happening in San Francisco.

The familiar doorbell chime rings through your ears, your heart suddenly picking up its pace again. There was no reason to be nervous, but right now all you wanted to do was run back to home and hibernate through the winter. For a second you think nobody’s going to answer the door, no sounds on the other side, but it swings open.

“Is that who I think it is?” A youthful Mrs. Chen cheers, her arms immediately wrapped around you. Tears slowly cloud your vision, not knowing how much you really missed being home. Mrs. Chen was your second mom. Whenever your parents were working late or had to go out of town, Mrs. Chen was there caring for you, loving you as her own. “Your mom didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

“It was very last minute. I got the last flight out before the snowstorm hit New York.” You wipe away any sign of tears, putting forth your best smile for her.

Mrs. Chen tightly grasps your hands, “Oh, I’m so happy you’re home. It hasn't been the same without you. Katy tells me you’re doing big things with Stark Industries. That’s so exciting!”

You chuckle, “Nothing too crazy, but I’m having so much fun. I can’t wait to tell-”

“Y/N! What are you doing here!?” Katy rushes down the hall, stumbling over some shoes before she tackles you to the ground. “You liar! You said you couldn’t make it home!” Mrs. Chen chuckles, leaving to give you privacy to catch up.

“I know I’m sorry! I was going to surprise you!” You and Katy laugh, relishing in the hugs before you get up. “Merry Christmas Katy.”

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” Katy pulls you into a tight hug, discreetly hiding the tears falling onto her cheeks. “Wait, since you’re home you have to come to the white elephant party!”

You grimace at the thought of seeing everyone again, especially a certain brunette. “Katy, I don't think that’s a good idea. Plus my sister and her husband are coming in-”

Katy reads you like a book, cutting you off. “Look I know you don’t want to see him, but everyone misses you. Imagine the look on their faces when they see you!” You want to decline her offer, but she pulls out her puppy dog eyes and pouts, knowing you can’t say no.

You raise your hands in surrender, chuckling at her stupid grin. “You’re lucky I love you. Fine, I’ll go. Just tell me when and where.”

Katy cheers loudly, her mom softly scolding her to not wake Waipo. “C’mon let’s go to my room. You need to update with everything that’s happening in New York.” Katy tugs your hand towards her bedroom, asking you all the questions the stars held that night. It started to feel like home again.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

Highschool; Sophomore Year

“Shit!” It was the fourth time you were trying to unlock your locker. It didn’t matter how many times you read the instructions, you couldn’t get the stupid thing to open. You groan in frustration, pressing your forehead against the cold metal. You didn’t want to lug all your textbooks on your walk uphill to get home.

“Do you need some help?” A voice startles you, your lock falling out of your hands. The brunette bends down to pick up your lock, handing it back to you with a charming smile. His mouth moves, the words coming out not audible to your ears. Your heart skips beats the longer you stare at him. “Hey, you okay?”

The wave of his hand snaps you out of your daydream. “O-Oh uhm I’m having trouble unlocking my lock. Do you mind helping me?” You nervously smile, embarrassed at how long you were staring at him.

“Sure thing, here let me see that lock.” He takes the lock from you, opening it within seconds. “I’m Shang-Chi by the way.” You introduce yourself, thanking him profusely.

“Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around last year.” Your mind racks through its memory trying to remember if you’ve seen him. Shang-Chi’s face would be one that you knew you wouldn’t forget, even if you tried.

He nervously scratches the back of his neck. “No, it’s my first year here. I just transferred in.”

“Well welcome to Mission High School. It seems intimidating at first with how big the campus is, but I could show you around if you’d like.” Shang-Chi swoons at your beaming smile. For a moment he thinks he’s in love, but quickly brushes the thought away.

“I’d love that actually. Do you know if-” A loud clang of metal makes you and Shang-Chi jump. A few lockers down, you spot your bestfriend Katy kicking her locker shut.

“Hey Katy!” You wave at her, chuckling at her fatigued state. “You need help there?”

Katy’s bent over, breathing harshly. “No, I'm good. The stupid sucker didn’t want to close. Nothing a little kick wouldn’t do.” She stands up straight, wiping the sweat from her forehead before she spots your new friend. “Hi there! I’m Katy.”

“Shang-Chi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I was just going to show Shang-Chi around campus. Do you want to come with us?”

“Is that even a question?! C’mon” Katy hooks her arms around yours and Shang-Chi’s biceps, hauling you both down the hall. “And when we’re done, there’s a great boba shop a few blocks away. Oh! Karaoke! We gotta show Shang-Chi our karaoke spot!”

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

The one thing you hated during the holiday season was Christmas shopping. More specifically last minute Christmas shopping. With Katy’s white elephant in tomorrow, you needed to find a gift amongst the chaos. You aimlessly browse the department store with your sister in tow.

“What about this?” She holds up a polaroid gift set. “Or that bathrobe set looked nice too.” She scans the shelves for other options, hoping you’d choose one already.

“Those do look nice…or maybe the-” Your words stop when she huffs with a irritated expression

“Y/N, I swear if you don’t pick either, you’re going to be dealing with a very hangry pregnant woman. Don’t let your fate end like my husband’s.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You weren’t exactly sure what that fate was and you didn’t want to find out. Wanting to avoid the wrath of your heavily pregnant sister, you settle on the polaroid set and head towards the checkout line. “Alright, alright. Let’s check out and get home. Mom probably has lunch waiting for us.”

The drive home is filled with comfortable silence, the soft Christmas music soothes the void. In your peripheral you can see your sister take quick glances at you. You know she wants to ask you about the elephant in the room, Shang-Chi, but is not too sure if it’s worth bringing up.

“You can ask, you know.” You briefly peek over at your sister before returning your eyes to the road. “I can hear the gears in your head turning. It’s fine.” But is it fine? Anytime Katy or anyone brought up Shang-Chi in conversation, you would brush over the topic or completely ignore it.

Your sister rubs her belly, choosing her next words carefully. “Katy’s white elephant party is coming up…are you excited? It’s been a while since you’ve seen everyone.” She gauges your expression, unsure of how you’ll react.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens, straining the muscles in your knuckles. “Yeah, it should be fun.” Your voice is emotionless. The car stops at the red light and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “I think Katy’s more excited about the popcorn machine than me being there.”

Your forced laughter doesn’t go past your sister. The car slowly accelerates when the light turns green, your sister slightly shifts in her seat. “Do you think Shang-Chi will be there?”

“Probably. He’s never one to miss a good party.” Your answer comes off more bitter than you want it to be. You put the car in park when you pull up to your parents’ driveway, hands still tightly gripping the wheel.

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear this…” With an empathetic expression she grasps your right hand in hers. “Maybe it’s good you’ll see him. Talk to him, it’s been nearly a year and I know he’s still hurting…you’re still hurting.” You don’t say anything, not trusting your voice. She takes your silence as her cue to continue.

“I’m not saying you guys should get back together. Maybe not now…or ever if that’s the case. But closure is something you both need. I don’t think either of you got that. Talk to him, hear each other out.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. What your sister was saying is true. Small tiffs here and there and a heated argument left you hastily packing your bags and taking a one way ticket to New York. You never looked back. And Shang-Chi never chased after you. You open your eyes when you feel your sister’s soothing touch on your arm.

“Both your hearts are hurting. Closure will plant healing words there. And one day a garden of love will bloom again. It might be with Shang-Chi, it might be someone else. But you both deserve to harbor that love again.”

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

Senior Year of High School

“Shang-Chi, where are you taking me?” You giggle, cautiously following the tug of his hands. Shang-Chi blindfolded you before you hopped into the car. No matter how many questions you asked, his lips were sealed, telling you it would ruin the surprise he had planned for you. “If you’re planning on killing me, just know that you’re not going to get away with it. Katy will come looking for me.”

You collide into Shang-Chi’s chest with an ‘oof’. “I’m not killing you. You seriously think I’d do that?” He carefully guides you to sit on the soft blanket.

“No, but I have this weird inkling you’d know how to.” Shang-Chi knew your comment was innocent. There was no way you knew right? No, no, just overthinking and now is not the time for it. “Can I take off the blindfold now?”

“Here, let me.” Shang-Chi warm fingers lightly graze your skin, removing the fabric from your eyes. “Better?” Eyes slowly adjusting to the light, the afternoon rays cast behind him. You’re staring again and you know it. You blink a couple times, before his handsome features become clearer. He’s just as striking as you remember.

“O-Oh uhm yea.” Your heart skips beats like it did the first time you met. Your flustered state doesn’t go unnoticed by Shang-Chi. Shit, did he do something wrong? His doubts and anxious state dissipates when he notices you grinning at what is placed on the blanket. “Wait. Is this your surprise? A picnic? With all my favorite snacks and food?!”

Shang-Chi’s heart grows a bit bigger, loving every bit of happiness radiating off you. A stupid grin plasters across his face. “Do you like it? Katy helped me with the set up and everything.”

“Like it? I love it! Oh my gosh, and you got my favorite pastries from Jiji’s!” You squeal seeing a clear box full of macaroons and two slices of your favorite cake. “What else do you have up your sleeves?” Your eyes are slightly glossy, unable to comprehend why Shang-Chi’s doing all of this.

He chuckles, “Hold on, I have one more surprise for you.” Shang-Chi reaches behind the wicker basket and grabs the bouquet of red roses. “Beautiful red roses for an even more gorgeous girl.”

You laugh as tears delicately fall on your cheeks. “What is this all for? It’s not my birthday. What’s going on?”

With you, Shang-Chi saw the light. A glowing light that guided him to a new life; a life full of opportunities, happiness, and love. A life away from the darkness that constantly loomed over his shoulders. When he helped you with your locker sophomore year, Shang-Chi knew he might be in a little love when his eyes first set on you. Call him crazy or a hopeless romantic, but something in his bones told him you were going to be something important to him. And you are. Beyond an imaginable point where his heart breaks at the thought of you not being in his life.

“I had a whole speech and everything. And now I can’t remember anything.” Shang-Chi rubs the back of his neck, nervously chuckling. Your soft smile encourages him to continue, there was no going back now. “Ireallylikeyouandwanttotakeyouonadate.” His word vomit was too quick for you to understand anything.

You carefully place the roses down and grasp his hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. You can tell me anything.”

Shang-Chi takes one last breath, tightening the hold on your hands. “I really like you. And I would love to take you out on a date, if you’d let me.” Your eyes go wide at his confession, leaving you speechless. “I mean you don’t have to. If you don’t want to, that’s fine too. We can forget that any of this happened…hey what was today’s Spanish homework. I don’t kno-.”

Your warm lips slot against his and cut off his ramble. His hands settle around your waist as you pull him further into the kiss. Shang-Chi wanted nothing more than to keep this moment going, but the need for air betrayed him.

“Wow.” His dazed expression and slightly swollen lips make you giggle.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Shang-Chi’s mind is still processing the kiss. Anything you say seems to go in one ear and out the other. “Why don’t we make this our first official date? You already set up this picnic and it’s perfect for it.”

He gently cups your jaw, softly kissing your lips. “It’s a date.”

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

Your hands shake and fumble as you try to clasp the necklace around your neck. The delicate, gold necklace clinks onto your vanity. You don’t know why you’re putting so much effort into tonight. But every dress you tried on didn’t feel right or your eyeliner didn’t look even on both sides. If anyone were to step into your room right now, they would’ve thought a tornado tore through. Shoes were scattered around the room, clothes piled onto your chair, and makeup covered the entire bathroom counter. With a deep breath, you pick up your necklace once more and attempt to clasp it.

“You look beautiful, Bug.” In the mirror reflection stands your dad. He strides over to you and takes the necklace from your hands. “Here let me.” You lift your hair up for him to clasp the necklace. When he finishes, your dad settles on the bed behind him as you smooth out any wrinkles in your dress.

“Everything alright Bug?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” You pat on some lipstick, trying to distract yourself from the rapid heartbeat in your chest.

“Call it fatherly intuition but I can tell something’s on your mind. What’s that brilliant brain of yours thinking.”

“I’m nervous. It’s been a year since I’ve seen everyone.”

“Nervous to see everyone or nervous to see Shang-Chi?” Your body tenses at the sound of his name. You spent the entire afternoon mapping out your escape plan, thinking about what you’d say to him or if you’d say anything. Your heart wanted to see him; to apologize, to talk, to hug him, something. But the latter remembered the nights of frustration, crying yourself to sleep, petty arguments and the final fight that pushed it over the edge.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

“You have to be kidding me Shang-Chi. We had this planned for weeks!” Tears were streaming down your face, there was no saving your makeup now. “How could you forget?” The phone shakes in frustration.

Shang-Chi knows he fucked up. Your sniffles and wavering voice breaks his heart. “Baby I know, please. I promise, we can reschedule it. Hey, there’s that new pastry shop down 9th that you wanted to go right? We can do that to-”

“Don’t.” Your harsh tone halts Shang-Chi’s plea. “Don’t apologize if you’re just going to keep doing this shit, apologize when you’re actually going to change because I’m tired of having my hopes crushed every time.” The phone call abruptly ends, your voice no more.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

“Bug?” Your dad’s calming voice draws you from the memory, his concerned eyes staring at you through the mirror.

“I’m good.” You start to sift through your purse, making sure everything’s there. In the corner of your eyes you notice a photo strip of you and Shang-Chi on the mirror. Once upon a time you were hopelessly in love with him. A time where he held your heart in the palm of his hands and you had no care in the world about the what if’s, as long as you had him. You clear your throat before looking over to your dad, “Just thinking.”

“Thinking?” He takes your slight nod for now, not wanting to press you further. “Before you go I have something for you.” Your dad pulls a blue envelope from his back pocket and hands it to you. “Shang-Chi stopped by earlier, wanted to give you this.”

Your name was scribbled across the front in his handwriting. The envelope felt heavy in your hand.

“Oh..okay.” Your mind races at the thought of the contents in it. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe it was just a silly Christmas card? You shove the envelope into your purse, not wanting to ponder further. “I have to get to Katy’s. I’m already running late.” You hastily kiss your dad’s cheek before hurrying out the door and down the stairs.

“Aren’t you forgetting your gift?” Your dad stands at the top of the stairs, waving the crimson wrapped gift. He boops your nose when he reaches you at the bottom, “Have fun tonight. I love you kiddo.” You give your dad one last hug and begin your short walk to Katy’s.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

Two years ago…

The walk from the karaoke bar was filled with giggles and kisses. You and Shang-Chi were celebrating Katy’s birthday until you decided to rush out of the bar.

“Babe!” You’re twirling under the moonlight and you couldn’t be anymore beautiful. “C’mere you!” Shang-Chi pulls you into his chest, arms wrapped around your waist.

“You ruined my adventure!” You whine, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

“Adventure, huh? How about we adventure home?” At the mention of going home you pull (try to at least) away and mumble something along the lines of Katy and missing everyone and the party. Shang-Chi pulls your chin between his fingers, “Don’t worry we’ll see them tomorrow for brunch.” You hum in satisfaction when his warm lips are on yours, agreeing to head home.

“I love you Shang-Chi. It’ll always be you. You and me against the world.” Your words may be due to the alcohol coursing through you, but Shang-Chi knows you mean it. You both spent hours in bed mapping out the rest of your lives. There was no one else for him, but you. You are his end game.

“I love you too baby. You and me, forever.”

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

A couple weeks later…

“Maybe you should take a good, long look in the mirror. Because in front of me isn’t my girlfriend.” The dinner that was once on the table, was now on the floor alongside the shattered glass. The silent tension between you and Shang-Chi finally reached its limits. Anger and rage oozed from the both of you.

Your eyes narrow at Shang-Chi, knuckles turning white as you grip the sink. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean? A good look in the mirror?”

“I’m tired of this shit Y/N.”

“Oh yea? What shit? Honestly tell me, because right now all I know is the piece of shit that you’re being!” You slam the plate in the sink, shattering it into a hundred different pieces. Shang-Chi’s never seen you this angry and upset. The words that come out of him infuriate you even more.

“When you need me, I’m always here. When I need you, you’re not anywhere by my side. I needed you today, where the fuck were-”

“I told you, I had that important video conference with Dr. Banner. I couldn’t reschedule Stark Industries! It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity!” You remove the gloves from your hands, turning to see Shang-Chi running his hand across his face.

“I’m done.”

There was a sharp pang in your heart when you heard his words. Done? He didn’t mean… “Wait, what do you mean? Done? Shang-Chi? Done with what? Us?” Shang-Chi ignores your pleas, slowly breaking your heart. He pulls on his jacket and grabs his keys, starting his way towards the door.

“I don’t-I just need some space. Need to think about some things.” The door slams shut. Your shared apartment is now empty with nothing but the sounds of your shallow breathing and sobs that rack through your body. You don’t know how long you’re crying but eventually there are no more tears left for you to shed. The mess is forgotten as you drag yourself to the couch. Your sniffles and hiccups soon subside as exhaustion takes over.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

A full moon illuminates the night sky, a few stray clouds lingering. Katy’s home is a few houses down from you; it should only take you five minutes tops, to get there. But the five minute walk eventually turns into a 20 minute wander through the communal garden.

Years ago the garden was barren, filled with nothing but tall weeds and trash that was littered by kids coming home from school. Fairy lights now hang along the new wooden fence, a gravel path weaves through the garden. It’s overflowing with lush greens, rows of tomato and pepper plants, and a bench that sits in the corner under a neighbor's overhanging orange tree. But what allures you most are the bright, red rose bushes.

Three rows of red rose bushes. Three bushes in each row, each full of blooming crimson petals. You’re surprised to see erect, lively flowers in the middle of winter. Any surrounding flowers in the garden have now become desert, resting until the spring bloom. The lush flowers nod in the delicate breeze, unfazed by the ice crystals dancing on its petals.

You tuck the wrapped gift under one of your arms, the other delicately stroking the flowers. It’s floral and fresh scent wafts through the crisp air, it’s sweet honey undertones making you smile. However, citrus and ambery cedar notes slowly overtake your sense of smell.

It’s not the fragrance of the red roses, but something more familial. A scent that you once sought comfort in worn hoodies and oversized t-shirts. A warmth blooms in your chest, still unable to recognize the peaceful origin you found in it.

Home.

The sound of snapping branches and crunched leaves startles you.

“Y/N?”

Oh no. You knew exactly whose voice that belonged to. One that you hoped to avoid for the majority of the night. One that you once sought refuge in. Where you fell asleep as if it was a lullaby.

“Shang-Chi? What are you doing here?” He steps closer into the light, the moonlight showcasing his gentle smile.

“I could ask you the same thing. I was going to turn on the heater for the roses before I headed over to Katy’s.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “Heater?” Shang-Chi softly chuckles at your expression and flicks the switch on the outdoor patio heater. A glowing orange light emits from above, warm rays now kissing your nose and cheeks.

“It helps melt the frost off of them. Keeps them alive in the winter.” Shang-Chi shoves his hands into his pockets, his eyes focused on your figure. It’s been nearly a year since he last saw you. The night he last saw you, you had tears streaming down your face, a hoarse voice from the screaming match. And before Shang-Chi could do anything, you were out the door with two large suitcases stuffed with all your belongings.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

“New York? You got the job at Stark Industries…th-that’s great.” Shang-Chi’s disappointment couldn’t be concealed. He was truly proud of you, knowing how hard you worked to get where you were. But New York was across the country. Three thousand miles from San Francisco. From him. He felt his heart break at the thought of you being taken away from him.

Your face drops a little. Was he not happy for you? “Yea. New York. It’s a huge opportunity for me. I’d work alongside Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho. And the Avengers.”

“When?”

“Shang-Chi, it’s not confirmed yet. I still need to-”

“When.”

You sigh, wringing your hands before you look at Shang-Chi, “They want me to start next month. The sooner the better they said.”

“What about us?” His voice is small and wavering. Shang-Chi can’t look at you, the tears threatening to fall if he did.

“What do you mean? There’s still going to be an ‘us.’ Just because I’ll be in New York…doesn’t mean we have to-wait, would it be over if I left?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. When Dr. Banner had reached out to you with the job offer, you were unsure. It meant uprooting your life in San Francisco and moving across the country. You’d leave behind your friends, your parents, your memories. Leaving behind Shang-Chi. But Shang-Chi had urged you to accept the meeting, saying it’d be good for you. Saying that whatever choice you made, he’d be by your side no matter what.

“No, I’m happy…for you and the job offer. But…New York? How is that going to work out for us? It’s three thousand miles between-”

“I can fly out every weekend. We could facetime and call, it’s not imposs-”

“It’s not practical Babe.”

“We can make it work.” Tears fall onto your cheeks as you plead, hands reaching for Shang-Chi, “We c-can do it. It’s us against the world. Remember? O-or you can move to New York with me?”

Shang-Chi shakes his head, not understanding why you can’t see his side. If you left, you’d take his heart with him. Frustration guised his sight, anger slowly bubbling within. “And do what there? Sit at home and wait for you? There’s nothing for me there!”

You slowly step back, eyes wide and startled by his yelling. “Shang-Chi, it was just a suggestion. I wasn’t try-”

“Trying to what? Trying to hurt my feelings? Well it’s too late for that. You seem to jump at the idea of going to New York. Not a care in the world for me or anyone else!”

“Not a care? You think I don’t care? I LOVE YOU! You don’t think this decision isn't killing me?! And there’s nothing in New York for you? What about me?! At least I’m doing something worthwhile for me and my future! It’s not like parking cars at that stupid hotel is going to get you anywhere.”

Your last sentence rolls off your tongue before you can stop. And that sets Shang-Chi off.

“You know what, go to New York. I don’t want your fucking excuses, I don’t want you to say sorry, I don’t fucking care anymore. Not about us, our future, or you. You can take the next flight out to New York for all I care. I wasted my time fighting for us and loving you. If I knew you’d shatter everything in the end, I would have avoided you all together! Go make it worthwhile for yourself in New York, because apparently me parking cars isn’t enough! Fuck you and New York! ”

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

The man standing in front of you was once your home. But all you see before you is pain and heartbreak. The many sleepless nights you had in New York were spent thinking of all of the things you’d say to him. About how much you resented him for thinking you didn’t care or would leave him behind. How you would’ve still fought for him and your future if you chose New York.

“Why did you let me walk away?”

“Babe-”

“No, stop! You don’t get to call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore!” His words of endearment made your heart break a little more. “You only called me that when you loved me. The last time I remember you said loving me was a waste of time.”

Shang-Chi sighs, he wasn’t expecting you to spring this conversation right now. He had hoped you’d read his letter, understanding a little more. “I’m sorry.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You know we’d always talk about us and our future. How I was your ‘forever’ and that there was nothing we couldn’t work past. I always thought we were made for eachother, and maybe we were…but not to love. We were made to break each other.”

“Please y/n. I look at you now and still see everything we could’ve hoped for.” Shang-Chi’s voice wavers, his heart shattering all over again at the thought of losing you again. “I was angry and scared of losing you.”

“And you think I wasn’t scared?! Wasn’t scared when you left that one night and didn’t come home a couple days later?! I cried so much, so so much. Sometimes I thought us loving each other would be enough. Be enough to bring us back together, but this…” You gesture the gap between him and you, “this wasn’t a relationship, this was mutually assured destruction!”

Shang-Chi wants nothing more than to pull you into his chest and reassure you that everything would be okay. But the tears streaming down your face remind Shang-Chi every night that he broke you. How eventually he’d remind you of your love and that it would fix it all. And it did…temporarily until the next fight erupted.

“I just needed you to stay.” Shang Chi confesses, “I needed you to stay a little longer.”

“Longer for what? For us to restart the cycle again?” You shake your head when Shang-Chi tries to hold your hands, lip trembling. “C’mon Shang-Chi, as much love there is between us, there is just as much manipulation and toxicity…from the both of us. We wanted to believe it’d work.”

“It can work.” Shang-Chi finally grasps your hands, placing warm kisses on your knuckles. The tears he tried to hold, now fall freely. “Please…I don’t want there to not be a ‘me and you’. I’m sorry for everything I have done and said. I’d give you everything and anything you want please. W-we can try therapy or some-.”

“Shang-Chi. What more could we want from each other? What more do we have to give to each other that we haven’t already given…that we haven’t already taken from each other?”

The few seconds of silence feels like hours. There’s nothing left that Shang-Chi could do that would change the outcome.

“I love you Shang-Chi. I always have and I always will. And I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever said to hurt you. I don’t care if you park cars or change the world, I will always love you for you. But we need this time from each other. We’ll ruin each other if we don’t.”

Shang-Chi doesn’t say anything, but you can hear his silent sobs. He pulls you into a tight embrace, hoping to memorize the way your body perfectly molded to his. He presses a final kiss to your temple, giving you a tight lip smile. The distant Christmas music dances with sounds of your hiccups as you wipe the tears from your face, Shang-Chi doing the same.

There are no more words exchanged, but the sound of your boots rustling through the leaves and the gate closing behind you. Shang-Chi kicks his white elephant gift to the side, slumping onto the bench.

The rose bushes silently wave, it’s fragrance drifting through the delicate breeze. When you had left for New York, Shang-Chi planted nine rose seeds in the barren communal garden. He had hope by the time they bloomed, you’d be back to see them. And you did.

Shang-Chi finally gets off the bench and rolls his sleeves up. He grabs the shovel sitting in the garden shed and starts to plot a patch of dirt. Nine perfectly holes are dug. Nine rose seeds are planted and watered. Shang-Chi dusts the dirt off his hands as he shakily draws in a breath.

Three rows of red roses. Three rose seeds in each row. And hopefully by the next time Shang-Chi sees you, they'll bloom. Beautiful red roses for an even more gorgeous girl.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

1 year later…

“Babe! You almost ready? We gotta leave in five if we want to make it in time.”

You chuckle at your boyfriend’s eagerness. The movie doesn’t start for another 20 minutes, plus movie advertisements. You quickly grab your wallet, shoving it into a random purse hanging on your door. Your wallet doesn’t slide in, something at the bottom of it takes space. Your fingers dig around until it grazes a bent envelope.

A blue envelope with your name scribbled in his handwriting makes your heart skip a beat. Curiosity eats away at you, before the letter is ripped open. Your face scrunches into confusion when you pull out a plane ticket and a letter

Flight 143 / SFO → JFK / DEPART 6:10 AM / ARRIVE 8:27 AM

Y/N,

I wanted to chase after you. The funny and stupid thing is that I didn’t. I bought the ticket and stared at it until it was too late. It haunts me everyday for the last year and half. I want you to achieve your biggest dreams and discover the greatest things. Stark Industries gained a brilliant mind. I lost the love of my life. If you come back and decide to give us another chance, I’ll be by the roses.

I love you always,

Shang-Chi

The letter falls from your hand, eyes stinging with tears. A strange feeling slowly sprouts in your chest. It’s not pain, but yearning and desire. A melodic whistle from your doorway makes you turn, a smile spreads across your face. You’re swift to stop any tears from falling before tackling Sam with a hug.

Sam chuckles when you press a kiss to his cheek, his hands cupping your face. “You alright gorgeous?”

“Never been better.” Sam takes your chin between his fingers, sweetly kissing your lips.

The sprouting feeling in your chest now blooms; a garden of love flowers through your heart.

○•*•○※○•*•○※○•*•○※○

*all mistakes and errors are mine!

main masterlist // Xu Shang-Chi masterlist

#shang chi x reader #shang chi imagine #shang chi fanfiction #xu shangqi x reader #shangqi x reader

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

Thoughts on the female gaze?

Thank you for this ask @palominojacoby​ because I have so many thoughts! Too many to contain in one answer. 

So, I’ll mull over what’s top-of-mind, related to the female gaze. In a nutshell: 

- I’m digesting Joey Soloway’s wonderful Tiff Talk on the female gaze. It’s funny and poignant and a great primer on the subject. You can find it on Youtube, or there is a written transcript you can find here. 

- I’m thinking about what terrifies men about the feminine gaze (my preferred term for it): one, that they won’t be the objects of it and; two, that the feminine gaze is out of their reach. It is a space or a viewpoint that they don’t have access to but feel entitled to. They want to capitalize on it, and exploit it, just like they are allowed to exploit everything else. This needs to be watched and it needs to be called out. 

- The older I get, the less interested I am in consuming or experiencing art or media created by heterosexual white men. I’ve been in their head space long enough. I’ve been consuming their media and their opinions and their gaze for thirty-four years, and I think, by now, I know what they have to say, and I’m no longer interested in it. It does not inspire me. 

I want to be submerged in the feminine gaze. 

 For the long version, read below the cut. Buckle up, it’s going to be long: 

While eating lunch today, I watched Joey Soloway’s Tiff Talk on the female gaze. Early in their address, after they defined the male gaze, and after they did a funny riff about all the things that the female gaze isn’t (Magic Mike if it were written, directed and produced by a woman/placing women into male roles in your typical Dude Movies), they remind the audience that men have had control of the camera more or less for 100 years (and control of the everything else forever). 

Then they say this: 

So for there to be actual gender parity in the gaze – the kind that would actually make it reasonable for a reporter on the red carpet to say to me – things are getting better for women, right?

We would need the next 100 years of almost every single movie to be produced, written and directed by women. Like, let’s check in again in 2116, people.

And then after that – we could start on the 50/50 thing.

It was that very math – which is perfectly reasonable math – that made me realize that not only do women have to be inspired and funded to start making a fuck of a lot of things in record numbers, but for things to even out, well that’s why I asked that audience of cis men to please: STOP MAKING THINGS.

It did not go over well. 

They then explain why this matters; why it matters that Cis men have controlled art (and everything else) and why it is so important to wrest that control away.

ART IS PROPAGANDA FOR THE SELF.

Yep, TV and film-making and fuck, all culture making, is people going, “I’m okay! And people who are similar to me are okay! Watch this ½ hour then be more on my side! In case of Armageddon! Zika! Trump! Hitler!” 

We all need friends and so we make tribes with our art.

Simply put, Protagonism is Propaganda. Protagonism is Propaganda that protects and perpetuates privilege.

So if only cis men are creating art (or the only ones whose art is amplified), their point of view, their selves, their gazes are the only ones that are going to be privileged in spaces far beyond the art world. Protagonism as propaganda affects politics, personal relationships, economics, etc. etc. etc. 

Joey Soloway’s definition of the female gaze: 

The female gaze is a conscious effort to create empathy as a political tool. It is a wresting away! Perhaps a wrestling away of the point of view. [A wresting away] of the power, of the privilege propaganda for purposes ---​of changing the way the world feels for women when they move their BODIES through the world, feeling themselves as the subject.

It’s a great speech. I highly recommend it. 

During the Q&A after, the third question is from this Cis old white guy, who asks this fucking nonsense: 

My body, right now, is feeling shaken and inspired by everything that you said. So, I just want to ask you, I might be misunderstanding, but I think you your definition of a cis male, is those of us who were born with a penis and identify as male. [Joey Soloway affirms this definition] I’m wondering how you would feel about differentiating those of us who get it and those of us who are perpetuating...

And I just...lost it. (Note: Joey was extremely gracious in their response. I will not be.) Like, holy shit dude. You just sat through this extremely thoughtful, extremely funny talk about the female gaze and how the male gaze and perspective has been privileged for a millennia, and maybe, just maybe, it’s about FUCKING TIME to center other perspectives and YOU IMMEDIATELY TURN THE CONVERSATION BACK ON YOURSELF. YOU INSECURE, FRAGILE LITTLE MAN. SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR 2 FUCKING SECONDS. 

Holy fuck....

Again, you’d think after so long in power, men would be just a tad more secure, but they just fucking aren’t. They’re insecure little bastards (don’t come into my comments and “not all men” me on this). 

I think they are afraid of two things. 

1) That if feminine creators are actually given the space and the funding and the amplification to create feminine gaze works, cis men aren’t going to be the objects or even the subjects of that art. 

I think this terrifies them. Not only are they not going to be behind the lens, but they might not be in the picture either. This is something I’m still mulling over, and don’t have much more to say about it at this time.  

2) They really don’t like being told that a space isn’t theirs. They don’t want the feminine gaze to be out of their reach. They see feminine gaze works gaining notice and prestige and critical acclaim, and they want in. 

This had me thinking about something I’ve noticed in film. Every time a feminine (or queer) gaze film gains critical acclaim, there is almost IMMEDIATELY a rush by white cis male filmmakers to capitalize on that success. 

And it’s exhausting. In Joey’s speech, they say this: 

Sometimes the first gasp of this re-centering of ourselves is a kind of paralysis when it occurs to us how we have been groomed to stay quiet simply by having TAKEN IN all of this work, all of our lives of consuming such an overwhelming amount of cis male artists splashing in their privilege, by telling their stories which work like propaganda that suggest how we should act, for access to their attention. 

And how that stops us from gathering our own attention on ourselves. Like, I wish I could put into film the feeling of being eleven years old, to look around the classroom. Walls lined with presidents, looking around the ceiling of the whole damn room -- ALL of them men? And to think, I’m going to be the first woman president, and then on that very same day, same body, walking home listening to Rod Stewart, because he was my favorite, singing along to Tonight’s the night. Thinking I’m going to be president and then singing “Don’t say a word my virgin child / Just let your inhibitions run wild / The secret is about to unfold / Upstairs because the night’s too oldTonight’s the night? Gonna be alright / Cuz I love ya babe / Ain’t nobody gonna stop us now.” 

Singing along to a pedophile grooming an underage girl to have sex with him. When I sang along, was I Rod or the virgin child? It didn’t matter: my presidential power dreams got lost throughout all of my adolescence, or had to do extreme high jumps throughout my life, dreams of power getting lost in being sister golden hair sublime, sugar magnolia, being the lady in red, your body is a wonderland, you look wonderful tonight, you do, you look so wonderful night. 

I can’t even listen to the radio anymore, I mean, it’s a problem. This Female Gaze is a political platform, it means we start to call out how awful it is to be offered access in exchange for succeeding at being seen. 

We are so tangled up in the male gaze, that one or two or three or four or a dozen, or fucking one hundred feminine gaze stories ISN’T GOING TO BE ENOUGH. 

So when I see a feminine gaze film like Portrait of a Lady on Fire gain critical acclaim, I applaud and I’m excited and I want more.

But then...

Inevitably...

A shithead like Casey Affleck produces and stars in The World to Come, a tale about two women who fall in love on the frontier, adapted from a short story written by Jim Shepherd (if you couldn’t guess by the name, spoiler: he’s an old white guy). 

and...I’M SUSPICIOUS. 

I haven’t seen the film. And I’m not saying men can’t make films that center women, or women loving women. They can, and they obviously have all the resources to (so don’t come at me about cancel culture or gatekeeping), but... 

I’M SUSPICIOUS

and furthermore....

I’m just not that interested. I’m not interested in what Casey Affleck or Jim Shepherd have to say about the experience of being a woman who has lost a child, or is struggling with her marriage, or with material comforts, or is falling in love with another woman. 

I’m interested in what women have to say about those experiences. I’m a woman who has experienced those things. I don’t need, nor do I trust a dude to tell me what that feels like. 

Which brings me to my final thought. 

I want to be submerged in the feminine gaze.

I want to consume media created by feminine artists for feminine viewers. It’s what inspires me. It’s what makes me curious. It’s what I want more of. 

#my asks #female gaze #feminine gaze #film theory #joey soloway #protagonism as propaganda #art is propaganda for the self #I didn't even touch intersectionality #or my thoughts on own voices literature #these are such BIG topics #and are worth discussing in so much detail #but again #these are some thoughts I have right now #laura mulvey

[angst-fairygodmother]

Happy Holidays (Nathan Young x Reader)

A/N: Just a fun little Christmas party with the crew, referencing some things from the Christmas Special but not most of them, because we’re pretending they had a bit more of a nice, normal holiday. Winter Prompts: Gingerbread; Mistletoe Word Count: 2118 Cross Posted to AO3: here

Humming along to the carols belting out from the tv speakers in the next room, you bustled about the kitchen. Nathan had been barred from “assisting” you today while you made a variety of treats to bring to Simon and Alisha’s Christmas Eve get together later, after he ate as much of your sugar cookie dough as you managed to get onto the baking sheet. Your friends had been surprised when you offered to handle all of the desserts for the shindig, but you loved to bake and always looked for any excuse to. Besides, it had been a while since you’d done something elaborate, and you had a plan that, honestly, your friends would probably just dub cheesy.

The plan was gingerbread, but you set aside seven of the cutouts that you were going to turn into cookie-portraits. You wanted to make sure these were perfect, carefully rolling bits of gingerbread to create Nathan and Alisha’s curls, using a fine-point food color pen to draw on Curtis’s cross, custom mixing the shade of blue icing for Simon’s eyes. It was incredibly time-consuming, but honestly, you loved the work, and couldn’t wait to see their faces. 

You were piping icing on some of the more generic gingerbreads when Nathan’s voice startled you, making you jump and leave a mess of icing smeared across one. 

“Y/N!” you boyfriend whined from the next room. “Ye must be done by now. Ye’ve been at it for hours and I’m so bored!”

“Have you wrapped the gifts?” you called back. 

You had a pretty good guess what his answer would be, but you weren’t letting him get away with doing no work to get ready for the party, or for Christmas dinner with his mom and her boyfriend (a prospect that still had you sweating, since this would be your first time meeting them as Nathan’s girlfriend). 

“Why d’ they need ta be wrapped? It’s just gonna get torn off again. Figured we’d just stuff em in some leftover takeaway bags.”

“Nathan, we are not wrapping our presents to our friends and family in shopping bags.” You came to the kitchen doorway to glare at him, hands planted on your hips. 

Suddenly he sat up from where he lounged on the couch, looking at you with a hungry gaze that made you swallow nervously, even as your stomach twisted in anticipation.

“Ya know,” he mused, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “I’m not one for food in the bedroom, but I might make an exception with ya lookin all cute and frostinged like that.”

“Don’t even start. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work,” you scolded.

He quirked an eyebrow, rising to his feet and stepping closer, a challenge written across his face. 

“Isn’t it?” he asked, smirking as he got close enough that he was looming over you. 

“Simon and Alisha’s party is in an hour and I’m nowhere near ready, the cookies aren’t done, and you still need to wrap the gifts for Secret Santa. I will not be distracted.”

“Yer face says otherwise. I see the way yer checking out the goods.” He leaned in, eyes drifting to your mouth. “We can be quick. Or fashionably late.”

“No. Absolutely not. I know how hard Alisha worked putting the whole thing together, I am not ruining it by being late because you're too horny for your own good.”

Suddenly he surged forward, licking a long stripe along your cheek. Recoiling, you grimaced and wiped aggressively at your face in an attempt to get the saliva off. 

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I told ye, you look good enough to eat, all covered in frosting. Even better than the cookies. Couldn't help myself.” He shrugged, shoving his hands nonchalantly in his jeans pockets. 

“You're disgusting.”

“Ye love it.” He grinned cheekily at you.

As much as you hated to admit it sometimes, he was right. Rolling your eyes, you headed back into the kitchen to finish decorating the gingerbread, trying your best not to think about his tongue on your skin, cheek or elsewhere. 

--

“You didn't have to wear the sweater, you know,” you teased Nathan as the two of you rode the elevator up to Simon and Alisha's loft. 

“I know, but ye gave it to me, so it's special. Plus it'll drive the others nuts with how hideous it is!” He chuckled, pre-amused at their reactions. 

“Terrible,” you said, shaking your head ruefully.

He blew you a cheeky kiss before hauling open the door and making an ‘after you’ gesture. The next few moments were a blur of greeting hugs - especially from Alisha who was so excited to be able to actually hug you that she actually willingly gave one to Nathan as well - and being bustled about to set your things down (coats on the bed, presents under the tree, goodies on the counter). Keeping the littlest box with you, you sat down on the couch, and your friends gathered round curiously. 

“I went a little overboard,” you said sheepishly as everyone settled in, Kelly on one side of you and Curtis on the other, the others taking up whatever spaces they could. “So...I made y’all something.”

They all leaned in as you worked the lid off the little tin, revealing your gingerbread creations.

“Oh!” Kelly shouted in surprise. “Y’ made little gingerbread us?”

“They’re so cute!” Alisha added, reaching in.

You grinned, passing them around, particularly enjoying Nikki’s shock that you had made one of her too.

“Of course I did,” you answered with a shrug. “You’re one of us now.”

“I didn’t know you could bake like this,” Curtis said, inspecting the details on his cookie. 

You shrugged. “It’s just art in another medium. I love to, though. Used to want to open a bakery as a kid.”

You felt a familiar green gaze on you, Nathan watching in surprise and delight that there was still more for him to learn about you after all your time together.

“But you didn’t make one of yourself?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, I ran out of dough. Besides...self-portraits never come out well.”

“Is it cannibalism to eat these?” Nathan asked suddenly. “Because they look delicious.”

“Since it’s yourself, it would be autocannibalism,” Simon corrected.

“Unless you’re made of gingerbread, I don’t think it’s anything,” Nikki countered, rolling her eyes. “Except enjoying a cookie.” She turned to you and offered a rare smile. “It really was sweet, Y/N, thanks.”

--

You sipped at your eggnog, feeling warm and tingly from the heavy dose of rum Nathan had included when he poured it for you, amusing yourself by conjuring mistletoe over your friends’ heads at random. Curtis and Nikki seemed done with your antics after you had made them kiss about four times (every time Nikki seemed about to start in on Nathan), and you had played it safe with Kelly and Andrew since you weren’t sure where their relationship stood (still in that adorable newborn awkwardness if both their blushes were anything to judge by). Alisha and Simon on the other hand seemed thrilled by your game, basking in the sheer joy of being able to touch each other and happy to kiss as often as you grew something to prompt it. 

Suddenly, Nathan flopped down beside you, bouncing the whole sofa as he brought his curly head to rest on your shoulder. 

“I’m bored, Y/N,” he whined.

“You’re always bored, Nathan. Unless we’re shagging. And I’m not about to do that here,” you countered, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he grumbled.

“Excuse me?” 

He was silent, and you could feel him shift uncomfortably, settling further into the cushions and crossing his arms petulantly. 

“Nathan…” you said threateningly, ready to demand he talk to you if you had to and sleep on that very couch if he wouldn’t. 

“I just can’t help noticin’,” he grumbled. “That everyone else is gettin’ plenty o’ kisses, courtesy of ye, but I’m not gettin’ any.”

You laughed. “When you say it like that it sounds like I’ve been snogging all of our friends.”

“That’s not what I mean. But I’m glad my pain amuses ya.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing at his dramatics. But he was right about one thing. Somehow you two had managed to go the whole party without kissing. Suddenly he thrust himself up off the sofa, still clearly frustrated. 

“I’m gettin’ more cookies,” he said, half-storming off. 

“Is he really upset that you haven’t spent the whole party snogging him?” Alisha said a moment later, sitting down in the spot Nathan had vacated. 

“Apparently,” you sighed. “I should probably go talk to him…”

“Let him stew for a bit,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s an ass and totally deserves it.”

--

Twenty minutes later, you were surprised to notice that Nathan still hadn’t come back, and glancing around the room, that there was no sign of him. Your gut twisting nervously at the idea that he might have actually been upset with you, you started asking around to see if anyone knew where he’d gotten to. Curtis told you that he went out for a smoke and you grimaced, sliding your boots back on to follow your errant boyfriend. 

“Nathan?” you called into the darkness, squinting to see if you could spot any sign of him and shivering at the winter chill. “Are you out here?”

“Over here,” he answered. 

Following the sound of his voice, and now spotting the faint glow of orange from the end of his cigarette, you made your way over to where he leaned against the side of the building. 

“Hey,” you said, pausing to stand in front of him, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans. 

“What are ye doing out here, Y/N?” he asked, reaching out to pull you closer. 

Instinctively, you stepped into his space. Trying not to let him feel you shiver, you wrapped your arms around his waist under his coat, feeling immediately warmer.

“Looking for you. I felt bad about our little tiff earlier…” you admitted sheepishly. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyways.” 

You bit your lip, hating how sad he sounded when he said it and afraid it was about to turn into one of those self-deprecating moments. 

“We’re supposed to be partners. I should have been paying more attention to how you were feeling,” you argued. 

“What I’m feelin like right now is that we should get inside before ye turn into a popsicle.”

“Nathan, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N. It’s fine, let’s just go back up.” He wrapped an arm around you to hold you closer and leaned in to purr in your ear. “Unless you’re ready to blow the place and go home? I can finally give you your Christmas present?”

You shivered with desire as much as the cold. “I left my coat upstairs.”

“Who cares? I’ll keep ye warm while we walk.”

“It’ll take two minutes to go back for it. And then we can say goodnight.”

“Fine, but I’m only comin with to make sure ye don’t get dragged back into a conversation and forget.”

--

You sensed it before the elevator door even opened, and couldn’t help the sly smile that crept across your face. 

“What’s with that look?” Nathan asked, arm still in place around your middle. 

“Nothing,” you said impishly as you stepped out into the room.

For once your upward gaze wasn’t solely to look at your boyfriend, instead moving past him to the plant hanging above your heads.

“Well, that,” you said, nodding to it. 

Thick brows knitted in confusion, he followed your eyes.

“Oh ho ho ho, what’s this then?” he turned back to you with a smirk. “Trying to con me inta kissin ye, are we?”

“Nope. That sprig? Wasn’t me.”

“What do ya think we should do then?”

“With all the shit we’ve been through this year, I can tell you what we shouldn’t do, and that’s tempt bad luck.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond (after all, banter was fun, but you had better things in mind), you stretched onto your tiptoes to plant your mouth on his. Kissing you back, Nathan tightened his grip to pull you flush against him and ran his tongue over your lower lip. Eagerly, you parted your lips for him and he groaned as your tongues danced together.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nikki chimed in after a moment, reminding you that you and Nathan were still at a party and decidedly not alone. “Some of us want to keep down our Christmas dinner.”

#I just want them to have a nice chill time #no drama #no creepy Jesus guy #happy holidays #also revealing a bit more about the reader #and doing cute/silly things with her powers #Nathan Young x Reader #Misfits fic #winter prompts

[letterboxd]

The Eyes of TIFF.

Programmers for the 46th Toronto International Film Festival chat about the degrees of intensity they look for in a festival film, and help us zoom in on the gems from TIFF’s 2021 program, by genre and region.

“Intensity can be achieved in so many different ways. I know it when I feel it. You feel it in your gut.” —Cameron Bailey

It’s almost business as usual for TIFF this year. In-person events and red carpets return, but a healthy virtual program is also available for Canadian-based folk unable to travel, as the Covid-19 pandemic continues its onslaught.

TIFF co-head and artistic director Cameron Bailey has been with the festival for just over half its life, and says while some of the technology has changed in that time—“you’re no longer sitting in front of a TV monitor with VHS tapes… or waiting for 35mm prints to be spooled up and projected for you”—the “basic process of falling in love with movies” has not.

It’s a challenge, Bailey says, to winnow down the films he falls in love with for the final TIFF lineup. And even then, it is an annual challenge for film lovers tight on time to narrow down their own selections. So, ahead of the fest, Bailey joined fellow TIFF programmers for a Twitter Spaces conversation with our editor in chief Gemma Gracewood, in order to help Letterboxd members make some watchlist decisions.

Joining Bailey were Thom Powers (TIFF Docs), Peter Kuplowsky (Midnight Madness), Robyn Citizen (senior programming manager), Diana Sanchez (Special Presentations, Spain, Latin America, Portugal and the Caribbean), Diana Cadavid (International Cinema) and Nataleah Hunter-Young (Africa, “the Middle East” and the Black Diaspora).

Edited highlights of the conversation follow, so have your watchlists close at hand.

‘The Eyes of Tammy Faye’, written by Abe Sylvia and directed by Michael Showalter.

Thank you all for joining me today. You watch a lot of films as you’re going through the selection process. How does one make itself stand out to you? Cameron Bailey: For every programmer it’s going to be something different. For me, it comes down to an intangible quality of intensity. That can be emotional intensity, it can be the intensity of formal elements, the cinematography, the performances, the writing. Some sense of concentrated emotion and momentum, where you get the sense that a filmmaker is trying to find a way to distill the essence of what they’re trying to do and communicate it to an audience through all of the tools that cinema provides. That doesn’t mean the movie has to be fast-paced or have a lot of dramatic jolts, as intensity can be achieved in so many different ways. I know it when I feel it. You feel it in your gut.

What would you say are some of the performances that have struck you the most this year? CB: Jessica Chastain is the lead in a film we’re premiering called The Eyes of Tammy Faye, directed by Michael Showalter. If you were watching TV in the ’80s and ’90s, you will remember Tammy Faye Bakker, and her husband, Jim Bakker, who were TV televangelists. You couldn’t miss Tammy, as she had these giant eyes and makeup with giant eyelashes, and this is essentially her story. It’s hard to know at first that it’s Jessica Chastain underneath all of that makeup, but she gives a performance that’s not just about the exterior. It’s about a woman who is shaped by a difficult upbringing, shaped by this incredibly deep need she has for affirmation, to be on TV, to be in front of the camera, and that guides her decisions into extremes. She’s fantastic in it.

Benedict Cumberbatch is back with two films. He is the lead in Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog. It’s an understated, slow-burn performance in some ways, which he can do so well. He’s also in a film that’s on the opposite end of the dramatic spectrum, The Electrical Life of Louis Wain. It’s based on a real person, and when you watch the film you will be amazed that this person actually existed. Wain, in the early part of the twentieth century, was a prodigious painter who turned his talent towards painting thousands of cats. Cute cats, big eyed cats, fuzzy, adorable cats. He’s largely responsible for cats becoming as big as they are as domesticated pets. It’s a wild story.

I’m still recovering from watching The Power of the Dog’s trailer earlier today, and had to promise myself that I wouldn’t take up this entire time talking about Jane Campion’s obsession with hands. The Spencer trailer dropped as well, which has a lot of buzz around it. CB: Yes, Spencer is a remarkable portrait. Some of us remember Princess Diana, some of us have watched The Crown, and so have a very recent image, but this is a completely different performance that Kristen Stewart gives. She’s remarkable in it. I think everybody’s going to want to see this film.

‘Charlotte’, written by David Bezmozgis and Erik Rutherford, directed by Tahir Rana and Éric Warin.

Are there any other titles you’d like to get the buzz started for, Cameron? CB: On the animation side, I would say people should look out for a film called Charlotte, by Tahir Rana and Éric Warin. It’s a Canadian film telling a story based in World War II Europe about a woman in a Jewish family [exiled] in France during the occupation of France by the Nazis. She can feel what is coming. She decides to paint everything about her life, and her family’s life, trying to document what she feels is going to be very fragile, and what she might lose altogether.

As it turns out, before the end of the war she was taken away to a death camp by the Nazi regime, and she didn’t survive, but her paintings have survived and they were turned into a book, along with the story of her family. The animation is just gorgeous. I think that’s one that awards bodies are going to be paying attention to. It’s one of the best animated films I’ve seen in quite a while.

Thom, what are some of the documentary titles that you and the team think those awards bodies will have their eyes on? Thom Powers: A big one to pay attention to is The Rescue, by Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin, who won the Oscar for their last film, Free Solo. Their new film is looking at the Thai cave rescue [in 2018], when a group of young soccer players and their coach got trapped by monsoon floods in a cave. When we were watching the news, we were seeing the journalists reporting from outside the cave. What this film does is bring you inside that rescue using footage that’s never been seen before. Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin are masters at the documentary adventure genre, and also [at] bringing a real human side to the people involved, which they do again here.

I’ll also mention Becoming Cousteau, by Liz Garbus, and Julia, a film about Julia Child, directed by Julie Cohen and Betsy West, who made the Oscar-nominated documentary RBG a few years ago. So many of us during the pandemic had to rediscover ourselves in the kitchen, and Julia Child’s life was about making people feel more comfortable in the kitchen, which makes it a terrific film to watch at this time.

‘Saloum’, directed by Jean Luc Herbulot.

Peter, what’s a movie from this year’s Midnight Madness lineup you’d love to recommend? Peter Kuplowsky: We’ve got a lot of firsts at Midnight this year. We have Saloum, the first time a West African film has ever been in Midnight. We’ve also got Zalava, which is the first Iranian film to play in Midnight. Our opening film for Midnight Madness is Julia Ducournau’s Titane, which is playing at the Princess of Wales theater, and will be a spectacle to behold. When I’m looking for Midnight Madness, I like hearing the audience make certain noises in the room, whether that’s a gasp or screams or laughter. I feel that every note on the scale is going to be played during Titane by the audience.

Brilliant. Now, we’re going to bring in some audience questions. First up is Vincent, who says that one of their favorite films is Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face, and asks if there are any films in this year’s TIFF lineup you could recommend for a fan of that film? PK: I’ve really been encouraging people to check out the films I just mentioned, Zalava and Saloum, and I think Zalava especially would fit here, as it’s more of a horror-drama. It begins as something that is steeped in the supernatural, but as it escalates it becomes something of a pitch-black comedy while still maintaining a gravitas to it. I think it’s one of the most fascinating discoveries in the genre space this year.

CB: I’d also add Good Madam, by Jenna Bass, from South Africa. It is a chilling movie, with a bit of an Eyes Without a Face vibe. If you like that sort of approach to cinema, I think you’ll like that.

PK: Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash just won the Golden Leopard at Locarno. With a title like that, this is a film that feels like it’s going to be sort of a strictly pulp crime film, but it’s so much more. It’s deeply romantic, incredibly eclectic, and beautifully shot on 16mm film. It feels like a film that was hidden away, shot in the late ’70s or early ’80s. It’s a throwback to 1980s Hong Kong action films, while also, I can’t stress this enough, being one of the most romantic films in the festival. You’ll fall in love with this relationship while it’s also working in fight sequences and magical realism.

Nataleah, what’s something you would recommend from your TIFF selections from Africa, “the Middle East” and the Black Diaspora? Nataleah Hunter-Young: One I’d highly recommend is Costa Brava, directed by Mounia Akl, from Lebanon. Even amidst what’s going on in Lebanon right now, the film offers a beautiful and engrossing portrait of a family that includes a grandmother who’s a non-actor, but has impeccable comedic timing (that travels through the subtitles if you don’t speak Arabic).

‘Snakehead’, written and directed by Evan Leong.

Robyn, what’s a movie that surprised you most during your selections this year? Robyn Citizen: I always recommend that people check out our Discovery section because that’s where we find new talent and nurture new voices. The film that really surprised me this year was Snakehead, by Evan Jackson Leong. Some people will know him from a documentary called Linsanity, and he did another documentary about evangelism in Korea. Snakehead has been a ten-year labor of love for him. He had to do a Kickstarter for the film, which is loosely based on the life of a woman named Sister Ping, who had a human trafficking ring that was the biggest trafficking ring for about 20 years.

The film tackles what’s going on now with vulnerable populations being trafficked into America, in particular Chinatown in the US, and the main character, played by Shuya Chang, has to fight to find her daughter. It’s an exciting film, and very moving. It’s extremely tightly edited, and it looks fantastic.

We’ve got our next question here from a member who says their favorite genre is science-fiction. While Dune is at the top of their watchlist, are there any other sci-fi selections you could recommend? PK: I would recommend After Blue (Dirty Paradise), which is a perverse science-fiction by Bertrand Mandico. It reminds me a lot of the French animated film Fantastic Planet. This one is about a planet which is inhospitable to men because of the way hair grows. The plot follows a young teenage girl who accidentally unleashes a notorious criminal that she and her hairdresser mother have to stalk through the alien landscape that is full of bizarre creatures and liquids and gases. I feel it’s kind of like the inverse of Dune, and an opportunity to explore a bizarre ecosystem.

NHY: I would totally insist that this member see Neptune Frost, from Saul Williams and Anisia Uzeyman. It’s a difficult film to put into words, but I’ve been summing it up by calling it an Afro-sonic sci-fi musical.

Whoa, that sounds like a whole new subgenre. NHY: That’s just the beginning. There’s a lot to experience in this film. It’s a cosmic romance that follows an intersex hacker and a coltan miner who make their way to this kind of dream space where they connect with others as they travel through these lush mountainous regions of Rwanda and Burundi. It’s a beautiful anti-narrative that is impeccably colored and totally consuming. It’s a must-see for anybody who loves cinema.

Diana, what would you say is the best debut feature that you’ve seen among this year’s international selections? Diana Cadavid: There are so many wonderful new talents, but I think I’ll go with an Argentinian filmmaker named Agustina San Martín. Her film, To Kill the Beast, is a co-production between Argentina, Brazil and Chile, and she worked for nine years to put this all together. She started working on it when she was 21, and we were actually having a conversation yesterday about her process, and how it’s a film that deals with the growth of a woman, and female desire. There’s this idea of the beast, something that’s either from inside or from outside forces, trying to control the human mind and body. It’s a very interesting film, gorgeously shot and very atmospheric.

‘Yuni’, written by Prima Rusdi and Kamila Andini, directed by Andini.

We’ve got another question here from David, who says their favorite films are humanistic dramas, citing Hirokazu Kore-eda as one of their favorite directors. Would anybody have any recommendations for David? CB: I can recommend at least one film, called Yuni, an Indonesian film from Kamila Andini. This is a naturalist drama about a high-school girl who is one of the top students in her class, and has a great group of friends. We slowly begin to see that her life is being constrained by one man after another, and then something happens at school, which begins to narrow her possibilities for her future. She’s trying to figure out things like sexuality and romance and what she wants to do with her future, and all of these obstacles keep getting placed in her path. It’s told in a very gentle way, but very incisive as well. Each scene really matters, taking you deeper inside this girl’s life.

RC: Our senior programmer Giovanna Fulvi programmed a film called Aloners, a South Korean film by Hong Sung-eun. This is her first feature, and it’s very much a film of our time. It is about a woman who works in the gig economy at a credit-card customer-service call center. It’s a very transient existence. She doesn’t talk to anybody, she eats by herself, she doesn’t really want to associate with the people in her apartment building. One day, one of her neighbors who has tried to talk to her many times passes away, and she has to re-interrogate the way that she’s been living her life, and figure out if it’s worth starting to form some human connections.

Next up is a question from Matt Neglia, from the Next Best Picture podcast. Matt says that he’s a massive fan of epics, whether they’re three hours long or just telling an expansive story with lots of world-building. Apart from Dune, are there any other films in the lineup that you would describe as epic? CB: While Joachim Trier’s The Worst Person in the World might not strike you on reading its synopsis as an epic, I think it actually is an emotional epic. It’s the story of a young woman who’s trying to figure out her life. Her romance with one boyfriend doesn’t quite fit the bill for her, and she begins this looking and exploring. Trier and his writer and lead actor do remarkable work, blowing open the idea of a person trying to define who they are at this turning point in their life. They make these stakes massive and they have all kinds of interesting, innovative, formal elements in [the film] as well. It’s incredibly cinematic. If you’ve seen Joachim Trier’s other films, this is kind of the conclusion of a trilogy that he’s made.

‘Listening to Kenny G’, directed by Penny Lane.

Next up, we have Sarah, who is looking for movies about music, and also some body horror. CB: We’ve got a number of great music docs this year. I have to mention Dionne Warwick, the queen of Twitter, who is the subject of Dionne Warwick: Don’t Make Me Over. It tells the story of this incredibly talented, determined and glamorous musician who broke so many barriers. She toured in the south during the Jim Crow era, making gains as a Black woman in the music industry and in the pop-music industry, not the so-called race-record or Black-music industry, which simply wasn’t done at the time. This documentary tells that story, and also shows her later work in the ’80s contributing to the fight against stigma and hysteria during the AIDS crisis.

PK: I’ll follow up Cameron by mentioning the Alanis Morissette film Jagged. We’ve also got a film about the great jazz pianist, Oscar Peterson, called Oscar Peterson: Black + White. Lastly, there’s a film about Kenny G, called Listening to Kenny G.

Diana Sanchez: For the body horror, I’d like to mention the debut film by Ruth Paxton, titled A Banquet. It’s about a young woman who insists her body is no longer her own, and is a service to a higher power. Her mother has no idea what to think. She stops eating, and her mother doesn’t know [whether] to believe her or not. I love Ruth Paxton’s work, the way she shoots the film, the way she shoots the food. It’s almost, as she refers to it, pornographic. It looks delicious and gross all at the same time.

I’d also like to flip to comedy quickly to mention Official Competition. The film stars Penélope Cruz, Antonio Banderas and Oscar Martínez. Cruz plays a filmmaker who puts together a well-known theater actor and a well-known box-office glamor guy, played by Banderas. The film speaks to the tension between high art and more popular art, testing those boundaries. It’s incredibly funny.

We’d love to squeeze a few more films out of everyone for our watchlists. Could you each recommend one film and try to sell it in ten words or less? CB: Let me try. Sundown, by Michel Franco. Tim Roth falls apart beautifully in Mexico.

TP: I’m going to go with the Mexican documentary, Comala. Filmmaker Gian Cassini explores the legacy of his father, who was a Tijuana hitman.

PK: I’ll go with Saloum, which is basically From Dusk Till Dawn in West Africa.

RC: I’m going to say The Wheel, a movie by Steve Pink. If you like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, this is like that with a younger couple in a much more humane, intimate key.

DS: I’ll say I’m Your Man, a sci-fi where Maren Eggert dates a robotic Dan Stevens.

PK: I know Diana has been recommending a film called OUT OF SYNC, about an artist who begins to experience the sound of the world going out of sync. She starts hearing sounds from the past because people and things are out of sync with their surroundings.

NHY: I’ll go with The Gravedigger’s Wife, directed by Khadar Ahmed. It showcases the horn of Africa unlike you’ve ever seen it on screen.

Finally, for Cameron: with fall coming, what is the best TIFF 2021 movie to watch under a blanket, either because it’s cozy or because you’re terrified, or both? CB: Great question, which gives me a chance to talk about Earwig, the new film by Lucile Hadžihalilović. If you’ve seen Innocence or Evolution, her two most recent films, you’re prepared in terms of tone, but you’ve not even seen Lucille make a film quite like this. It’s eerie, disturbing, hypnotic, mesmerizing. You can’t stop watching, but you’re always afraid that something awful and horrifying is about to happen… and maybe it might.

‘Night Raiders’, written and directed by Danis Goulet.

To bring it all back home, what would you say is the Canadian film of 2021? CB: It’s always hard to say, but I think in a year where we have Danis Goulet’s feature Night Raiders, that’s got to be the one. Danis has made some exceptional short films over the last few years that people might know. Her feature takes on the horrific, devastating story of residential schools and children torn from Indigenous families and put in institutions where the goal was to erase their Indigenous identity. She takes that terrible, real history that we’re grappling with right now in Canada, and turns it into a piece of speculative fiction, a kind of propulsive thriller.

By turning it into fiction rather than reality she can use all of the tools of cinema to tell a terrific story that’s exciting and has high stakes, but also has this deep resonance of a truth that we are, I hope, coming to terms with in this country.

The Toronto International Film Festival runs from September 9 to 18. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Follow TIFF on Letterboxd, and follow our Festiville HQ for regular festival updates.

#tiff #tiff21 #tiff 21 #tiff 2021 #toronto #toronto international film festival #cameron bailey #midnight madness #jessica chastain #jane campion #benedict cumberbatch #saul williams #danis goulet #canadian film #letterboxd #festiville #letterboxd festiville #gemma gracewood #thom powers #nataleah hunter-young

[polaroislucas]

Hi 🙋‍♀️

I am still trying to comprehend today’s clips lol. 😂 They were definitely different than I expected. But in a sense I liked them.

Lola finally (& rightfully!) expressing how Tiff hurt her was soo good! And I liked that they did it before Tiff’s big reveal. As I expected, this automatically made her pitiful, and after that Lola should always have been the one who added insult to injury. And now she wasn’t; she just made her point.

About the response: I understand both Max (blame it on the testosterone! 🙃) and Jo (she already knows Tiff in a different way for three weeks; besides she’s the type of person to be open minded but welcome newcomers), but I feel both Bilal and Redouane gave themselves away a bit too cheaply (“Tiff you’re amazing, I’m in love! 🥰” really guys, really??? 😤). But I like the way they responded; it somehow feels a bit more authentic to being a teen. As I remember it, it’s a period where you’re very much secluded to yourself and your own microcosm. And 1 other thing: Lamif essentially only knows about the events of the bullying through Lola. They weren’t there and they didn’t see the impact (as much) that it had on Lola. Which doesn’t excuse them, but (considering the microcosm) makes it a little bit more understandable.

As for Maya, this is something I still don’t get. Because Maya experienced almost as much as the audience during s6 how bad it got for Lola. Bc if everything already happening in her life + how that was accelerated by being bullied. I genuinely don’t understand why she did not stand up Lola. Not why she allowed the champagne in front of her gf who just got out of rehab!!

On to the things I actually wanted to say:

I am low-key sad we didn’t see the aftermath of the afternoon clip. I just want to know what happened after the “group portrait” 📸 (gosh that was 😬)

What’s the deal with Skam🇫🇷 & WhatsApp chats?? Are they unable to create them as an image?? Bc I find it a bit weird that Tiff & Max texted over WhatsApp yesterday and are back to IG dms today. 🤔

Did Tiff have a talk with her dad during dinner (or at any point this week after Tiff broke the 🏺)?? About the photograph, or whether she might be open to seeing it? Or just about anything that happened before? Bc if my teen daughter randomly texted me in the middle of the night for a picture of the daughter she gave up for adoption... I would at the very least ask her whether she’s absolutely sure about this. And if it’s not a better idea to talk about it in the morning. Besides, if his wife finds out, all hell breaks loose!!

Well, that’s all my ramblings for this night! 😴 It’s a bit long, sorry! 🙈 Anyway, I ❤️ your input, thanks for that! 💐

Goodnight/ morning/ afternoon/ evening!! 🌛⭐️🌞🌨

Love,

cameranon. 📷

Hey.

- Lola had every right to be angry and she was right to express her feelings.

It was just her last sentence that was wrong 'Her life is cool' when she should know that everyone has struggles and problems in her life.

For Max, I think he reacted this way because he is close to Tiff and he got to know her and knew that her mean side of last year was just a facade. And he saw that she has really changed.

And for Jo as you said, she knows Tiff better than the others.

Redouane and Bilal were exaggerating, but it's mostly a way of speaking, but yes, maybe they should have been a little more discreet towards Lola.

For Maya, I didn't understand the reaction either. Maybe she just judged that it wasn't the right time for this argument and that Lola and Tiff should discuss among themselves in a frank and sincere discussion (which I hope will happen) instead of talking in front of everyone?

- I too would have liked another clip with LAMIFEX and Tiff but in any case it's just the beginning of the relationship between Tiff and LAMIFEX and a lot of nice things are waiting for us 🥰

- Concerning the WhatsApp/Instagram conversations. I stopped trying to understand how Skam France works. They always sucked at the social networking part, I learned to accept it lmao.

- I think Tiff and his dad, were talking since the clip on Sunday but avoiding the subject of adoption. In the clip where she is looking for the keys, the way her father talks, it is clear that there was no more tension between him and his daughter. I get the impression that her father really wants (maybe selfishly) to get to know tue baby and when Tiff asked him for a photo he jumped at the chance to do without asking his daughter if it was a good idea.

And sorry again, I missed the message among all the notifications 👋🏼

#skam france #ask

[suchalilyofthevalley]

wanted to ask a pr question cause celebs like this always confuse me. not really pop stars cause they always do pr but more about actors. a lot of actors are notoriously private obviously they call the paps when they have releases coming out but we see them less than pop stars. but how come actors like leonardo dicaprio are always papped like does he call the paps or is he just too recognizable for his own good, cause everytime i see pap photos of him he always has a hood, cap, sunglasses on [1]

and never wears flashy clothes and tries to just blend in i guess but you can't really when you're LEO. he doesn't even do late night interviews! and he always looks annoyed when he spots paps taking pics of him eating alone, catching him leaving a restaurant, during vacations, on yachts, in aspen, at coachella, etc. and he doesn't really need to call him cause he is the type of celeb you don't forget. so does he call the paps or is he so recognizable that people see him and call the paps? [2]

last question: those pics that came out where zendaya and jacob looked like #couplegoals and so in love. i believe their relationship is legit, but it was so obviously staged for euphoria cause it was going to start shooting again. also timothee and lily rose depp were only together during a movie they did - the king and then after that broke up! like pop stars want all the attention but actors give this image of being so lowkey and private, but still call the paps? [3]

sorry for the super long 3 part ask, i'm just so curious about pr and how this all works. i wanted to ask the right source lol

There *are* paps that are just out there working for a living aside from the ones that get called, especially in hot spots like New York and LA. They are like freelancers who will shoot wherever, however, whatever then try to sell the photos to agencies or specific outlets. Think about the paparazzi ala what chased after Princess Diana. 

There ARE those types here in the states, granted because of what happened to her laws have changed a lot, but still - there are creepy dudes in hunting vests and cargo shorts with cameras in hand trying to get a money shot to sell-off. They’re the ones that will stalk out celeb known hangouts or hot spots or find out where celebs are living and hang outside their residences. It’s also based on, with this type of paparazzi, what photos will sell and how much they can make off photos. Leo, Ben and Jen, Brad, etc. - they’ll make $$ off those. If it’s some like MTV reality star like Snooki, no not so much. 

There are also paps from agencies, a step above that but not so much, that get the calls, that have contracts with publicists and tipped off. They’ll shoot celebrities opening a car door if they’re called/contracted - why you’ll see so many Q list celebrities that you’ll think WTF how did they get papped and their photos end up on Just Jared, Perez or HollywoodLife. 

Like random Joe Smith walking down Rodeo Drive in LA and spots Jennifer Aniston shopping or if like you’re flying into LAX for vacation and spot Chris Rock and Channing Tatum, you can’t pick up the phone ‘and call the paps’ it’s not like 800-TIP-A-PAP hotline. Like they could email or tip-off a TMZ or Page Six, which is just as heinous and awful, but those folks are always ASKING for people to send shit in. 

Also - a fun fact that I think needs to be cleared up. Getty Images, WireImage, FilmMagic, Shutterstock, AP Images, Reuters Imaging. These are legit photo agencies, some of which tied to legit press outlets. THEY ARE NOT PAPARAZZI. Example: I would call to either invite Getty to shoot a red carpet as editorial content ala media OR I could hire Getty for a bespoke event, have rights to the photos for my own use AND then have them hit the wires for editorial purposes. 

BFA is borderline, they can get trashy but they try to consider themselves as the others. However, they’ll do some good work like the NYT portrait series for TimesTalk.

WENN, Backgrid, Splash News - those are all legitimate paparazzi agencies. Either they go out for hire, they’ll send their own staff folks out for stuff or they’ll buy from those freelancers. 

There are also databases out there that can give you access to calendars of what’s going on in a city in regards to press events, premieres, even who is booked on a Kimmel or a Fallon. I had access to it at my last full-time gig, I’ve used it before for clients. It’s helpful from a PR perspective so you can see who would/could be in town to book press ops or see about getting a client into an event. But at the same time, paps and their agencies, or the freelancers, can easily buy a subscription (it’s like 15-20K a year so not super cheap) and keep tabs on that to know when celebs would be in and around town.

You see all this paparazzi nonsense happening more in the hotbeds: New York, Los Angeles, London on the reg than like a Chicago or dare I say Miami. Other cities will get an influx of them when things are going on ex: in Palm Springs/Indio for Coachella, Toronto during TIFF, Chicago during Lollapalooza, Austin during ACL, Miami during Art Basel, etc. Like there were paps in MINNEAPOLIS during the Super Bowl in 2018. They would not be there otherwise. 

Hope this helps clear up some of the questions on paparazzi and give a little clarity as to how they work/operate. 

#getting on my PR soapbox #cause publicists don't stop working #anon #Anonymous

[sweetsmellosuccess]

TIFF 2020: Days 5 & 6

Films: 5

Best Film of the Day(s): New Order

Good Joe Bell: Or, The Education of a Straight White Father. What Reinaldo Marcus Green’s film lacks in depth, it tries hard to make up for with earnestness. Mark Wahlberg plays the real-life father, who was in the process of walking across America in honor of his gay son, who committed suicide after being badly bullied in his smalltown Oregon high school, before he was accidentally hit on the road and killed in Colorado, six months into his planned two-year sojourn. The story is cut up between the present, with Joe on the road, doing terse speaking engagements (as Wahlberg plays him, the taciturn Bell isn’t much for public speaking), at local high schools and churches, and flashbacks to the past, as his son, Jadin (Reid Miller), attempts to get through his high school experience while being the subject of bullying, both in-person and via the Internet, until he reaches his breaking point. The message is certainly resonant, and Miller plays Jadin with the right amount of heartbreaking pathos, but Green’s film feels unnecessarily mechanized in order to put Joe front and center of the story (using a hallucination of Jadin at the beginning, which allows Joe to interact with him feels more than a little manipulative). Bell, with his quick temper, and impatience for anything that’s not directly to do with him, is a reasonable stand-in for exactly the type of straight white male who should be watching the film (but more than likely won’t). Wahlberg is gifted at playing this sort of character, who wants to have the full attention of everyone any point in time he chooses (“Did you hear what I said?” he asks incredulously after making an announcement and not receiving the proper praise for it). He’s a complicated dude, which the film alludes to without entirely capturing: He’s ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but shies away from directly confronting any of Jadin’s tormentors; has the good intention to take action to draw attention to the problem, but doesn't seem the least bit prepared to give a speech that really makes an impact (one detail the film does make work: His manner of saying “I love you” to his wife or sons, but only as a way of getting them to say it back to him). Connie Britton plays Lola, Jadin’s mother, a largely thankless role as the nurturer of the family, loving both her sons (Jadin’s brother Joseph is played by Maxwell Jenkins), and staying supportive no matter their father’s attitude. Near the end of his journey, as Joe begins to see the true folly of his ways, he meets a Sheriff (Gary Sinise), whose oldest son is also gay, which allows the two men to sit on the front porch of the sheriff’s house and contemplate the ways in which their lives didn’t go as expected. It’s clearly meant for the kick-ass Wahlberg audience (as Jadin says earlier in the film, they’re the actual problem), but I very much doubt they will be heading in droves to see it.

New Order: Meet the new boss, only in Michel Franco’s damning portrait of a society locked forever in cycles of oppression, revolution, and new oppression, it makes no difference who you are, what your belief system is, or whether or not you subscribe to a moral set of ethics. After an ominous opening montage of imagery largely taken from the film to come, we shortly begin at a resplendent wedding held at the city manse of a wealthy businessman for his daughter, Marianne (Naian Gonzalez Norvind), and her betrothed, Alan (Dario Yazbek Bernal). As Marianne’s mother, Pilar (Patricia Bernal) happily secrets away the envelopes carrying the new couples’ gift money in her safe, and rich and powerful families co-mingle, the distant danger of a furious revolution, lead by violent rioters raising up against the economic disparities of the city, seems at first to be light-years away. Until it isn’t. As rioters infiltrate the house, with the help of an insider, chaos reigns and bullets fly. The next morning, many people have been shot, the house has been utterly pillaged, and Marianne has been taken hostage by a rogue group of military, who snatch up wealthy-seeming refugees and hold them for ransom at an undisclosed outpost. By film’s end, Franco, working from his own screenplay, leaves no man, woman, or child unmarked. The wealthy are callous and vain, the rioters bloodthirsty and cruel, the hostage takers unbelievably greedy and horrible, and the righteous vanquished by further corruption at even higher levels of power. It’s a bit like the ending of a Coen brothers picture (Burn After Reading comes to mind), in which all loose ends are closed, and few, if any, people are any the wiser for it; only, there’s nothing the least bit arch in Franco’s thrown gauntlet: We aren’t spared the worst of it by indelible Coens’ proxies. We are all to blame, it would seem, and it has nothing to do with original sin: Our conniving, violent nature will undo any and all attempts to curb it. Insatiable avarice is our continual undoing, washing over us like the green paint the rioters hurl at passing cars and pedestrians, marking them as the enemy. In Franco’s thunderous film, nobody emerges unscathed; we’re all set on fire.

Wildfire: It’s a hoary Hollywood staple to substitute individuals as emotional stand-ins to capture the direness of historic catastrophic events, scaling everything down so we care more about the couple in star-crossed love than the war going on all around them. In Cathy Brady’s Irish drama, however, a pair of sisters are reunited after a year’s absence in the North Ireland bordertown in which they grew up, products of the uneasy peace, post-Troubles, in which everyone is meant to get along as one country, though hard feelings still abound. Kelly (Nika McGuigan) returns to the staid home of her sister, Lauren (Nora-Jane Noone), after taking off on her own the year before, and, by all appearances, living as a vagabond. Initially thrilled to have her sister back, Lauren is also still angry with her for taking off suddenly and not making any contact since. When the girls were little, their father was killed in a political bombing, and their mother might have committed suicide as a result (the car accident that killed her was, apparently, suspicious). Left to their own devices, then, they developed a fierce protective shell against any outsiders, including, it turns out Lauren’s increasingly concerned husband (Martin McCann), and longtime family friend Veronica (Joanne Crawford). The film changes gears when Lauren finally accepts Kelly again, and the two reform their partnership as intense as it was before. As the film points out, in a real sense, they are all each other truly have in the aftermath of their tragic childhood. The film clicks better into focus as well in its final act, when the sisters are reunited against all comers, and the world around them is better revealed for what it is: They represent the schism still very much a part of their community that no one else wants to see. Instead, people hang about in bars, or at work, nursing the bitternesses and hurts of the Troubles in private, and putting their public energy to getting along. Kelly, with her wildnesses and significant impulse control issues (trying to teach a young boy how to hold his breath underwater is, perhaps, not best accomplished by holding him down until he begins to panic), is at least honest with her feelings, open to her various wounds, and refusing to put the past behind them. Their mother gets referred to as “crazy” in the town’s estimation, but it’s more likely she, like her two daughters, represents the clear-eyed view of someone who refuses to live in denial.

Concrete Cowboy: Philadelphia as an open prairie has a nice vibe, and Ricky Staub’s film about a troubled teen who mother takes him from Detroit to where his father, an urban cowboy, lives in North Philly in hopes to setting the kid straight, is made with genuine care and gets solid performances from its mixture of professional and amateur actors. If this sounds like faintly damning praise, it’s only because despite its strengths, it still feels like a great set-up in search of a suitable story. Based on the real-life Fletcher Street stables (and the novel from Greg Neri), in which locals on the rough streets of the city shelter and take care of a group of horses for the sheer love of riding, the story follows the difficult maturation of Cole (Caleb McLaughlin), a decent enough kid, but searching for his place in the world, and the tough-love tactics of his dad, Harp (Idris Elba), a longtime cowboy, who hasn’t been in his son’s life in more than a decade. Cole starts out hating everything about his new situation, from Harp’s barebones lifestyle (not only are the cupboards empty, and the fridge filled with nothing but Coke and Bud Light, Harp keeps one of his horses in the living room, sharing it with his son), to being forced to muck the stalls out at the stables to earn his chance to ride, takes up with an old friend, Smush (Jharrel Jerome), a charismatic kid caught up in the drug life. Naturally, Cole’s choice comes down to which sort of life he wants to have, his father’s hardscrabble but honest approach (made more attractive when Cole develops a bond with his own horse, Boo), or Smush’s push for increased market share and more money to buy his own piece of land out West. Shot on location in North Philly, and around the city  —  one shot, in which Cole sits astride boo in full silhouette against a mottled purple sky, the lampposts standing in for saguaros, hits just the right note -- Staub’s film has a properly gritty texture, and the use of some of the real Fletcher cowboys adds further verisimilitude, but the story moves predictably enough, beat-by-beat, that it doesn’t hit with the potency it might have been capable of with a less predictable narrative arc.  

In a year of bizarre happenings, and altered realities, TIFF has shifted its gears to a significantly paired down virtual festival. Thus, U.S. film critics are regulated to watching the international offerings from our own living room couches.

#sweet smell of success #ssos #piers marchant #films #movies #tiff2020 #toronto international film festival #concrete cowboy #philadelphia #caleb mclaughlin #idris alba #new order #michel franco #revolution #good joe bell #mark wahlberg #reid miller #Reinaldo Marcus Green #wildfire #cathy brady #ireland #nora-jane noone #Nika McGuigan

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Krypton 7

Previously on Krypton

“Are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

At the very idea of it, Lena balked, though that was more of a true statement than either could admit. It was nearly completely dark in her room, but still she was afraid Kara saw the look on her face. She didn’t look down at the girl between her legs, just felt the steady circles of her fingertips on her chest and her cheek against her ribs. There was a warmth there, to it all, Lena thought, as she played with the curly ends of Kara’s hair.

“Is it because tomorrow I’ll be going up to something called The Matrix, and I’ll be doing something, though no one can tell me what, and it will decide if I’m the right person for you to spend forever with?” Lena listed quickly, her words running together as she ran out of air. “Or that there are not only personal, but very political connotations to the idea of whatever it is? Or that it could tell me I’m trash and don’t deserve you and then we’ll be done and this could be my last few hours with you adoring me so completely that I feel different? I can’t imagine why I’d be slightly nervous, though I’m totally not.”

“Totally not,” Kara agred emphatically with a grin that spread with how worked up the overthinking girl from Earth truly got.

They sat in the quiet as Lena caught her breath. Kara pressed her ear against Lena’s sternum and heard each gust of wind. She yawned slightly and adjusted her legs.

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“You have to sleep. You love sleep.”

“Everything changes tomorrow,” Lena sighed.

“Like what?”

“Well.... everything, of course.”

“Right, right, but like what?” Kara asked curiously.

The head at the top of the bed tilted to the side and considered it before deciding what the best course of action was for the obstinate blanket that refused to see such severity.

“Tomorrow, I’ either alone or I’m with someone forever, and I don’t know which is more terrifying.”

“Why would forever be terrifying?”

“It’s very different from what I anticipated.”

Worried fingers moved along Kara’s shoulder and finally settled on Lena’s ribs where she intertwined them and waited. Numerous words and thoughts were inhaled deep where they buzzed around, swirling in the tornado in her lungs before being exhaled in an annoyed sigh of inability to put them in a cohesive order or confession.

“When you go to the Matrix, you will comune with the universe, and you will see where you’re supposed to be.”

“Someone should really market that.”

“I’m not worried,” Kara insisted again, resting her cheek against Lena’s stomach and adjusting further, putting the discussion to rest with her comfort.

“You should be,” Lena murmured. “You might end up with me forever.”

“There are much worse fates,” she smiled and closed her eyes as Lena’s fingers massaged her scalp.

“I don’t know about that.”

XXXXXXXXX

The day was uncharacteristically warm for the season. The sun was out despite the morning, and the moons crested to the southeast, full in their quarter of the sky. Not a cloud could be seen across the entire expanse of the planet, and Kara knew it was a good omen-- if she were to believe in such things as superstitions.

At an early age, she  decided to never pay too close attention to the little sayings and folklore her mother told her, about omens and monsters and the past and the future. She didn’t listen, but she heard it all and embedded it innately in her DNA, so that despite herself, she couldn’t help but remember that no clouds was an auspicious thing on a day of worry.

For the briefest of moments, there was some solace there. And standing atop the Capitol building, Kara peered out until she saw a speck of a cloud, just a wisp of a thing at the very edge of the world. She shook her head and pretended to not believe in superstitions.

Slowly, Kara made her way down the large staircase to the interior of the building. It was open on all sides, and the day’s heat hung through the halls and toward the interior. Large portraits of those gone by, of the times before, of the formula that governed mass thermodynamics on their planet as a way to harness its power. The entire city was created to function as an example, a conglomeration of the ideals brought back from other worlds. It was preserved buildings from the beginning of time, and it was brand new advanced buildings that defied all expectations.

As she made her way to the ground level, Kara thought about all the city she saw through Lena’s eyes, and how perfect it’d been through the past few weeks. Everything made sense, and had its place, when Lena saw and had questions, it only made Kara think of how well she fit into this world, her world, her life.

The thought made Kara content and then sullen a moment later. She didn’t even see her cousin as he sat on a bench and read the recent updates  on his tablet. Like everyone he was curious about the idea of someone from earth using their Matrix. So intrigued, he made the trip from another town just to see what happened with his own eyes.

“You’re pacing,” Kal admonished after a few moments.

“I am not.”

“You are walking back and forth in a relatively straight line while anxiously rubbing your hands together. I think that’s textbook pacing.”

“I’m not pacing.”

“She’s been in there for almost four hours,” he finally acknowledged. “You can pace. It makes sense.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re going to wear out the floor though, but by all means.”

Kara huffed and crossed her arms as she finally stopped moving. She set her jaw and flared her nostrils for a moment, not sure what to do now that she wasn’t moving. If she was moving, she had something to do, and now that she didn’t, she felt the worry crash into her.

For a second she debated. She bit her lip and she stared out at the horizon without really seeing anything as her brain toiled along until she got annoyed at herself for proving her cousin right, and she flopped down on the bench beside him in a tiff.

“I’m sure it’s going fine,” Kal sighed as he continued to read. “What's the worst that could happen?”

“I can’t even begin to calculate it. Death, probably. Followed by an unfavorable outcome for myself. A human has never interacted with the Matrix. They are an unknown species in its files.”

“Well, it’s been hours, so it’s safe to say she’s interfacing.”

“That’s true,” Kara nodded, somewhat relieved by that notion.

Kara sat on the bench in the quiet halls as time trudged forward at such a slow rate that she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Each breath felt like it took six hours. She lived entire eternities in a few seconds.

“You want to Choose her?” Kal finally asked. “Are you certain? This isn’t something you can come back from. This is forever.”

To her credit, his cousin looked like she was thinking about it. She furrowed and bit at the inside of her lip while she stared quite bitterly at the lone cloud that whafted across the horizon, much larger than it first appeared and heading toward her at a direct angle.

“She’s perfect because she’s hugely imperfect,” Kara smiled, finally relaxing for the first time in twenty some odd hours. “She appeared and I can’t remember what life was like before her. Lena is smart. She’s very smart. She’s kind and fierce and beautiful. I feel like--- I feel like-- I feel like I’m at peace. I feel very happy when she’s around.”

“You have a lot to consider, with your standing.”

“She fits well with the family.”

“You’d have to go to the professors in Atomic Town to have children.”

“We are far away from that.”

“You should think about it. It’s important to our family name.”

“I have to make sure she gets to stay, first.”

“Would you leave?”

“I hadn’t…. I don’t know,” she shook her head.

“You still have a lot to think about.”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

The two sat there and didn’t say anything else. The cloud passed across, the shadow trailing behind it across the city. Kara closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a large sigh.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from farther down the hall. “But they’re finishing.”

XXXXXXXXX

The crowd outside grew, though it was no way a huge riot. Kara’s family stood around while a few of Lena’s closer friends from the Earth delegation joined, nervous and still trying to figure out what all of it meant. In some form or another, all of the foreigners fell in love with the new planet. Homesickness was at a minimum and only felt if it was willed into existence. For the most part, minus daily reports and figures sent back and forth to help with the problems, Earth was a distant memory and an abstract concept.

But Lena Luthor took it a step further and fell in love not with Krypton, but with a Kryptonian, which was still foreign to the newcomers.

The large doors, gilded and wrought, loomed ahead of the park where the group waited impatiently. Kara stood in the middle of it, anxiously peaking at the doors as often as possible while still holding a polite and strained conversation with her father.

The sun began to set, its slow descent took hours, but it still triggered something in Kara that left her feeling even more exhausted, more aware of how much time had passed since the girl she thought she loved disappeared.

The dull murmur of the guests stopped as soon as the thick doors creaked open enough for Lena to squint and make her way outside. Kara’s mother stood behind her, careful to shut the door.

The first person Lena saw was Kara. Face slightly long and muscles taunt and waiting, her eyes darted over Lena’s face for a clue as to what was going to happen. The only thing that occurred, however, was Lena smiling and launching herself into Kara’s arms, squeezing her neck as tight as she could and inhaling as if she’d never breathed before in her life.

“You have to tell me,” Kara whispered, holding Lena to her, hiding the words in her shoulder.

“We’re a match,” Lena sniffled slightly before laughing. She kissed Kara’s cheek and clung to her so close she couldn’t kiss her, though she wanted to badly.

It wouldn’t have mattered. As soon as those words were understood, Kara cheered and swung Lena around by the waist, unable to contain her own excitement.

“We’re a match?”

“A match,” Lena nodded, finally set down again on her own feet. “I fit into Krypton somehow.”

“With me.”

“More than that. It’s like… it’s like I was meant to be here, with you,” she explained, shaking her head slightly as she tried to come up with words to articulate what happened in an accurate way though no words seemed right.

“I get to keep you,” Kara sighed, her smile unable to be anything less than blinding.

With a bit of a lurch, Kara leaned forward and finally kissed the girl she loved.

“Forever, if you want.”

“Let’s get until next week and go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lena grinned.

The entire crowd cheered happily, overjoyed for their friends and loved one, overjoyed at the spectacle that was true love, overjoyed by the idea that this was fated by high powers. It was a lot of things to consider, but most didn’t think of anything other than how happy the two looked together.

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND July 4, 2019  - SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME, MIDSOMMAR, MARIANNE & LEONARD

It’s the 4thof July weekend, which is often the bane of my existence because I’m never invited to do anything with anyone. Fortunately, I’m going back to Ohio for the first time in nine months so I’ll be spending this 4thof July with family, and hopefully, that will include some movie-watching.

The movie I’m most excited about seeing again is SPIDERMAN: FAR FROM HOME (Sony), the sequel directed by Jon Watts that returns Tom Holland to the Spidey-suit and brings back all of his friends and classmates, as well as throwing Jake Gyllenhaal’s Mysterio into the mix. You can read how much I enjoyed the movie in my review below, and also, check out my interview with the director, also below.

MY REVIEW OF SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME

INTERVIEW WITH JON WATTS ON THE BEAT

The other wide release this weekend is Ari Aster’s sophomore feature MIDSOMMAR (A24), starring Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor (Sing Street) and Will Poulter as a group of friends who travel to Sweden to observe a Midsommar ritual held by the community of their friend, but things are not what they seem. Before you can say “The Wicker Man,” they’re finding out the real intentions for their hosts.

Mini-Review: Like most, I loved Ari Aster’s Hereditary and saw it as the advent of a fantastic new vision in filmmaking and horror, specifically. Whenever a filmmaker delivers such an amazing debut, his or her follow-up is going to be eyed with equal parts anticipation and scrutiny, and that’s truly been the case with Midsommar.

Like Aster’s previous film, this one begins with the death of family members, in this case those of Florence Pugh’s Dani early on in the movie.  Dani’s boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor from Sing Street) is ready to break up with Dani, because he can’t handle her family drama. At the same time, Christian has been invited by his friend Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) to go to his small Swedish community to take part in the Midsommar ritual along with friends Josh and Mark (Will Poulter). When Dani finds out about it and Christian invites her (think she’ll say “No’ – she doesn’t) – it soon becomes obvious Dani will be the fifth wheel threatening to bring down the mood. That’s okay because Pelle’s friendly community might have ulterior motives for the visitors.

There’s a lot to like about Midsommar, particularly Aster’s clever way of exploring The Wicker Man territory in a new way that offers terror and horror often in the brightest of daylight, an achievement in itself. Other than the film’s look and the production design that went into making it such a unique-looking visual film, it’s hard to ignore the fact that this is the exact same “stupid young people on vacation getting slaughtered” motif we’ve seen in so many horror films from Eli Roth’s Hostel movies to Touristas to so many more.

For the most part, Aster has another strong cast --  Florence Pugh is quite fantastic in a very different role, although she does a lot of crying in this movie. Jack Reynor could begin stepping into a few of Chris Pratt’s roles without anyone batting an eye, because he has similar rugged looks and charm. I actually liked Will Poulter’s obnoxious American to the point where when he mysteriously vanishes halfway through the movie, it loses quite a bit.

Beyond that, Midsommar explores some of the same themes Aster explored in his first movie, including death and grief and family squabbles with one character crying a lot, and of course, diabolical cult rituals and lots of nudity. Aster also use the same upside-down camera shot he used in Hereditary, which itself was borrowed from Darren Aronofsky. Maybe I’d have liked Midsommar more if it didn’t feel like Aster was retreading familiar territory. I do have to wonder if Aster has ever had therapy, because he certainly seems to have issues, maybe even with a sister, driving him to kill sisters in both his films?

Owing as much to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as the more obvious Wicker Man, MIdsommar is still not your typical horror movie by any means. If your favorite part of Hereditary was its crazy ending and you didn’t think it was crazy enough, then Midsommar is the movie for you!

Rating: 7/10

LIMITED RELEASES

Because it’s the 4thof July this week, we’re getting far fewer limited releases but I do want to call attention to a couple docs opening this week.

But first, I want to draw attention to a movie that opened at the Film Forum last week, Lila Avilés’ The Chambermaid, an amazing portrait of a Mexican maid in a high-end hotel as she goes through the day-to-day while trying to achieve her goals and dreams, all which seem to move further and further away. I was a fan of last year’s Romaand though The Chambermaid is a different type of movie, it features another amazing performance by an indigenous Mexican, Gabriela Cartol, who had appeared in a couple other movies before, but she really keeps the viewer drawn to the movie and the things that she goes through. At times, it feels like there’s no way for her to fulfill those dreams, and it’s something to which we can all relate.

A doc that’s a must see for all Leonard Cohen fans is Nick Broomfield’s MARIANNE & LEONARD: WORDS OF LOVE (Roadside Attractions), an amazing look at the relationship between Cohen and Marianne Ihlen, the Norwegian woman with whom he lived on the isle of Hydra in Greece, one of his early muses and the inspiration for the song “Goodbye, Marianne.” It’s an amazing film by the award-winning documentarian that has a lot of revelations, including the fact that Broomfield as friends with Marianne going back to the ‘60s, making him the perfect filmmaker to tackle the subject. It opens in select cities including the Angelika Film Center in New York Friday.

Opening at the IFC Center in New York is Rob Fruchtman and Steve Lawrence’s The Cat Rescuers about New York City’s 500,000 street cats and a group of volunteers who go through Brooklyn getting these cats fixed and returning them to their colonies or getting them adopted. It’s a movie that cat lovers will probably enjoy similar to the film Kedi from a few years back, but it’s also kind of sad when you realize that some of this cat population will have to be put down, because cats are adorable and you don’t want them to die. 

Opening at the City Cinemas Village East in New York  almost two years since premiering at TIFF is Tali Shalom-Ezer’s My Days of Mercy, starring Ellen Page and Amy Seimetz (Pet Sematary) as sisters Lucy and Martha who attend state executions to demonstrate against the death penalty. At one such event, Lucy meets Mercy (Kate Mara), the daughter of a police officer whose partner was killed by a man about to be put to death. They quickly bond before Lucy confesses that her own father (Elias Koteas) is on Death Row.

The only other limited release this weekend is Frédéric Petitjean’s directorial debut Cold Blood (Screen Media), starring Jean Reno as Henry, a hitman who is living in a cabin by a lake in the Rocky Mountains when he encounters a young woman who survived a snowmobile accident and has to decide whether to save her life. It opens in select cities and On Demand Friday.

STREAMING AND CABLE

There aren’t any big movie releases on Netflix this weekend but that’s because Season 3 of Stranger Things will premiere on the 4thof July, and I expect many people will be spending the early part of the weekend watching that.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

Unfortunately, I missed something last week in terms of repertory series at the Metrograph as I didn’t realize that former Village Voice critic J. Hoberman was doing another series in conjunction with his latest bookMake My Day: Movie Culture in the Age of Reagan. The series Reagan at the Movies: Found Illusionsincludes a mixed array of films including 1951’s The Day the Earth Stood Still, a new restoration of Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985), Clint Eastwood’s Firefox (1983), Hal Ashby’s Being There(1979) starring Peter Sellers and more!

Also on Wednesday, Metrograph will be premiering a special 20thanniversary restoration of Takashi Miike’s horror classic Audition, which I think is so perfect for the remake treatment due to the #MeToo movement and its implications. Can you imagine how well a revenge thriller about a young woman getting revenge on sleazy movie producer types would go over in this day and age? Call me, Jason Blum!  

This week’s Late Nites at Metrograph is Penelope Spheeris’ Suburbia (1983) while the Playtime: Family Matinees is Robert Zemeckis’ Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988).

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Weds has a special matinee screening of the Bond film From Russia With Love (1963) and Tarantino’s theater isn’t taking off on the 4th of July. In fact, it’s holding a special event screening of Red Dawn (1984) and Rocky IV (1985) (You might notice a theme there… USA! USA!) Weds and Thursday are also double features of The Happening  (1967) with Anthony Quinn and Land Raiders  (1970), starring Telly Savalas. The Friday/Saturday double features are the 1966 sci-fi classic Fantastic Voyage with 100 Rifles. The weekend’s KIDDE MATINEE is the Disney classic The Love Bug (1968), while Friday’s midnight screening is Tarantino’s Django Unchained and Saturday at midnight is a 35mm print of Richard Rush’s Getting Straight (1970), starring Elliot Gould and Candice Bergen. Sunday and Monday is a double feature of Dean Martin’s Murderer’s Row (1966) with Ann-Margret’s Kitten with a Whip  (1964).

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Elaine May’s Mikey and Nicky (1976) gets a new 4k restoration that begins on Friday, plus May’s 1971 film A New Leaf will also screen through the weekend. The restoration of Jennie Livingston’s Paris Burning continues to play through the weekend, while the Film Forum will also continue showing Elaine May’s Ishtar and the Coen’s The Big Lebowski through the 4thof July.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

The Friday after the 4thof July sees a double feature of Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975) and Hard Ticket to Hawaii (1987), co-presented by Beyond Fest. Saturday is a screening of the classic Lawrence of Arabia (1962) in 70mm, while Sunday sees a double feature of The Return of the Living Dead (1985) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2  (1986).

AERO  (LA):

Oh, look… Spielberg’s Jaws is playing here, too… but on Wednesday. Director Peter Hunt will be on hand Friday to screen his movie musical 1776 (1972). On Saturday, you can see a double feature of Jaws 3-D  (1983) and A*P*E (1976), co-presented by Cinematic Void, and on Sunday is a Baseball Double Feature of 1993’s The Sandlot and Penny Marshall’s A League of Their Own  (1992), both in 35mm!

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

MOMI is having another screening of Stephen Frears’ My Beautiful Laundrette  (1985), starring Daniel Day Lewis on Saturday, wrapping up Grit and Glitter: Before and After Stonewall. This weekend’s See It Big! Action movies are Robocop (1987) on Friday and the Wachowskis’ The Matrix on Saturday and Sunday.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

Opening on Friday is a 4k restoration of the Director’s Cut of Daniel Vigne’s The Return of Martin Guerre (1982), starring Gerard Depardieu.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

On Saturday, you can see Alfred Hitchcock’s terror masterpiece Psycho (1960) on the big screen again!

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

Friday’s midnight screening is Tommy Wiseau’s midnight movie “classic” The Room (2003).

Next week, things slow down with two lower-profile films, the comedy Stuber, starring Kumhail Nanjiani and Dave Bautista, and the alligator horror film Crawl, from Alexandra Aja and Sam Raimi.  

#SpiderManFarFromHome Midsommar TheChambermaid MarianneLeonard Movies Reviews

[maiaboncan]

Boncan: Art-inspired summer fun

published in SunStar Baguio on July 20, 2017

THERE are a variety of ways to spend summer vacation, and one of those ways could be learning about an art medium that peaks your interest.

Every year, the Cordillera School of Digital Arts, Inc. (CSDA) arranges a workshop called the Summer Arts & Animation Workshop (SAAW). Thankfully, CSDA has grown over the past ten years and developed their workshops, and therefore is now able to teach a wider variety of the arts. It consists of four classes: drawing, animation, digital photography and painting classes. First off, in the drawing class, students were taught basic techniques and fundamentals. It starts with drawing simple shapes and then progresses into more complex subjects such as figure and landscape drawing. One of the joys of working in an animation school is that we feel fulfilled and delighted when we see our students begin to be confident in drawing because of the fundamentals that were taught to them. Aside from that, one of our goals is to guide the kids so that they can build confidence in themselves for creating their art works. Second, for the animation class, the students were enthusiastic and excited to see their characters brought to life! These creative students were guided to animate their own original characters. It was a great help to them that they were taught the twelve principles of traditional animation. Another concept and skill that they were introduced was 2D digital animation using Adobe Flash Software. Third, for our digital photography class, students were taught how to use a DSLR, its different functions, and a wide range of photographic techniques. They also did other activities like: a photo-shoot in a car show at the Baguio Convention Center, take photos of delicious food and of the scenic outdoor sites of Baguio City, studio photography wherein they get to learn the different techniques of lighting. Interestingly enough, the students woke up early in the morning to take pictures of the scenic sunrise. Not to mention, professionals Mr. Carl Cariño Taawan, a local photojournalist, gave them some tips and Tiff Bahni, a professional photographer, came in as well to instruct our students. Another guest lecturer presented them with a variety of vintage cameras, like the plate camera. Finally, for the painting class, a student was taught the color theory and also a variety of painting mediums such as: watercolor painting, coffee painting, acrylic painting, and oil painting. Gabrielle Jude Lizada had exquisite paintings that ranged from the scenic views of nature to Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away to still life to a Van Gogh-esque night city skyline to a detailed portrait. With all that said, we as a school are more than happy to witness our students translate their intangible concepts and raw ideas on different kinds of media. Moreover, we are thrilled to see our students be able to express themselves in a way that they love.

© Rifqi Ali Ridho on Unsplash   

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Oscars 2021: Frontrunners and Predictions

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This is weird, right? In a normal year this kind of article would have been written closer to New Year’s Day, and the awards season red carpets would’ve been rolled up weeks ago. But 2020 really was a weird experience, to put it mildly. And among other problems, it caused the Oscars race to bleed all the way into April. Indeed, it’s mid-March and the weekly Sunday night ceremonies have barely begun.

Nevertheless, and despite hand-wringing from this time last year about whether there would even be anything worthy of nomination in 2020, we’ve just come through a resilient and even hopeful period for quality cinema. Movie theaters remain largely closed throughout the U.S. and Europe, yet filmmakers have found a way to get their passion projects out via streaming, video-on-demand, and for a precious few in limited capacity movie theaters. Through it all, the industry endured and quality work found an eager audience anxious for the catharsis of shared art—or at least a good Borat joke.

Thus the weekend before Oscar nominations are officially announced, we are providing our final predictions of who’s leading the race for Best Picture, and where the frontrunners might also stand in other Academy Award categories. The movies below are ranked from most likely to get a Best Picture nod to least likely.

Nomadland

The obvious frontrunner has long been Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland. This held true months before the Searchlight Pictures release picked up Best Picture prizes at the Golden Globes and the Critics Choice Awards in the last two weeks… but those certainly helped.

As a beautiful and lyrical elegy to the people America has left behind, and the fascinating American Nomad culture that has flourished from these hardships, Nomadland struck us as a modern day Grapes of Wrath when we saw the film at TIFF last year. In fact, the movie won the coveted People’s Choice Award at that festival, a feat achieved by recent Best Picture frontrunners La La Land and Green Book, with the latter succeeding at winning the top prize.

More impressive than tea leaves derived from historical precedent though is that Nomadland is the rare major Hollywood release from a studio (Searchlight Pictures, which is the prestige arm of the now Disney-owned 20th Century Studios) that opened in theaters for a limited period of time before debuting on Hulu last month. That commitment to the theatrical experience—although not absurdly so—will play well to Academy voters who’ve long resisted awarding streaming originals the Best Picture over the last decade.

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Additionally, Nomadland is an achievement wherein the line between narrative storytelling and documentary filmmaking is blurred. That unusual alchemy has become Zhao’s specialty, and in a year of acute self-consciousness, finally awarding the talented Chinese filmmaker with Best Picture and probably Best Director is a refreshing nigh inevitability. Also expect nominations for Best Actress thanks to the ever riveting Frances McDormand’s haunting turn, as well as nods in Adapted Screenplay, Cinematography, and other technical categories.

The Trial of the Chicago 7

The new old adage of “if it wasn’t a Netflix movie…” applies heavily to Aaron Sorkin’s otherwise Academy-friendly The Trial of the Chicago 7. A truly terrific drama that recounts a gross miscarriage of justice enacted against eight men deemed “radical” for protesting the Vietnam War by the Nixon administration, The Trial of the Chicago 7 is a life-affirming period piece about a subject near and dear to Baby Boomers’ hearts: the culture war of the 1960s. The fact Sorkin finds direct parallels between its story about civil unrest and social injustice during the Civil Rights movement and modern demands for social justice at the tail-end of the Trump Years makes it doubly potent.

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The Trial of the Chicago 7: Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin Were the Martin and Lewis of the Radical Left

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(It probably also doesn’t hurt its chances that Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s powerhouse performance as Black Panther Bobby Seale is supporting while Eddie Redmayne’s all-American embodiment of the New Left is the closest the film’s ensemble has to a lead). Sorkin’s ability to turn dialogue into spectacle has long appealed to the Academy, with his scripts previously earning him three Oscar nominations, and one win for The Social Network. We imagine though that he’ll again have the best chance to win in the Best Original Screenplay category, as Chicago 7’s Netflix status might just make it first runner-up, as Roma was to Green Book. However, don’t be surprised if Sacha Baron Cohen also pulls an upset in the Best Supporting Actor category for his resurrection of Abbie Hoffman’s ghost.

The movie is also a near lock for the Best Editing prize.

Minari

One of the best films of 2020, Minari has had a quiet ascent to the top. In actuality, the film has been cruelly misrepresented by other awards bodies. Categorized as a “foreign language film” by the Golden Globes’ Hollywood Foreign Press Association, as well as the Critics Choice Awards, this all-American story about Korean American immigrants attempting to make a go of it as Arkansas farmers is as American as Apple pie. And Lee Isaac Chung’s visibly semi-autobiographical portrait of his young family in the 1980s heartland, complete with a nuanced empathy for the plight of his parents and even his grandmother, make this one of the most beautiful triumphs about the human spirit committed to cinema this year.

The film was snubbed by the Globes from the Best Picture race, but the much more prescient Hollywood guilds, including the Screen Actors Guild (SAG), the Directors Guild of America (DGA), and the Producers Guild of America (PGA), have all recognized Minari’s brilliance. Indeed, Chung getting into the competitive DGA short-list speaks highly of its competitiveness. One year after Parasite shocked the world by winning Best Picture, here’s an American story that supported the theatrical experience thanks to A24, and whose inclusion speaks well about the future of American cinema. Putting it in its rightful place at the top of the ticket, as opposed to Best International Film, is also a very good look. Hopefully, nominations will also include Best Supporting Actress, Best Cinematography, and Best Original Score.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Perhaps showing the relative sparseness of this year’s cinematic offerings, I suspect we’re already past the point on this list where contenders have a sincere shot at winning Best Picture. However, a movie like Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom will surely be nominated. As a sledgehammer film about the pressures on Black artists in America, and the corrosive influence of white money used to appropriate that art, George C. Wolfe’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom hits like a ton of bricks.

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Ma Rainey’s Life and Reign as the Mother of the Blues

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This is in no small part due to the harrowing performances of both the late great Chadwick Boseman and Viola Davis. Expect both to be nominated in the Leading performance categories, with Boseman as close to a lock as possible for winning the Best Actor prize with his final, heartbreaking performance. The movie should also do well in the Adapted Screenplay, Costume, Makeup, and Production Design categories. 

Mank

A personal favorite of mine from 2020, Mank is an admittedly acquired taste. A meticulously researched and authentic portrait of the creative process and the uglier side of Hollywood’s Golden Age, David Fincher’s Netflix production is less a love letter to the industry than an affectionate middle finger. That abrasiveness has rubbed some audiences the wrong way, as does its expectation you know about the the debate of authorial credit on Citizen Kane. Nonetheless, this is a swaggering triumph of presentation and performance.

Ergo expect a large amount of nominations for Best Director (Fincher), Best Actor (Gary Oldman), Best Supporting Actress (Amanda Seyfried), Best Original Screenplay (Jack Fincher), and multiple technical nominations including Cinematography, Editing, Score, Costumes, and Production Design. For above the line nominations though, the best shot at a win may be Seyfried’s enigmatic turn as Marion Davies. Although, given the chances of two performances below, she’s now the underdog in that race.

Promising Young Woman

One of the most original and talked about movies of 2020, Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman is a pitch black comedy/tragedy that’s as intentionally uncomfortable as it is bleakly amusing. A passion play for the post-#MeToo era that examines our culture’s treatment of women through the gaze of an avenging loner named Cassandra (Carey Mulligan), this soon-to-be millennial cult classic may honestly be too outside-the-box and ballsy (pardon the phrase) for the the typically more conventional, older sensibilities of Academy voters when considering the top prize.

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Promising Young Woman: Director Emerald Fennell Breaks Down the Ending

By Rosie Fletcher

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Mank and Amanda Seyfried’s Quest to Save Marion Davies from Citizen Kane

By David Crow

Still, expect Fennell to also get nominated for Best Director while also being the frontrunner to win the Best Original Screenplay Oscar over Sorkin. It is a long established tradition for the Academy to award the most challenging (and stylish) Best Picture contenders a Screenplay Oscar over Picture or Director. Meanwhile, Carey Mulligan is likewise the frontrunner in the Best Actress category—deservedly so.

One Night in Miami

Despite premiering on the globally accessible Amazon Prime, Regina King’s One Night in Miami feels like it’s fallen a bit under the radar for most folks. Which is a shame, because this is a superb directorial debut for King and one of the most thought-provoking movies of 2020. Another adaptation of a play about the intersection between the soft power of celebrity and the hard responsibility of Black art, we personally argue One Night in Miami is the more challenging and intriguing adaptation: one that imagines what words might’ve been said on a mysterious night shared by Cassius Clay (soon to be renamed Muhammad Ali), Malcolm X, Sam Cooke, and Jim Brown.

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The Internal Debate Within the Writer of One Night in Miami and Soul

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Judas and the Black Messiah Ending Shows Horrific Legacy of COINTELPRO

By David Crow

With this being such an actor’s showcase, as well as one directed by a great actress herself, expect the Academy’s large thespian wing to power this into a Best Picture nomination. Leslie Odom Jr. also appears to likely be nominated for Best Supporting Actor due to his turn as Sam Cooke, as will Kemp Powers’ adaptation of his own play likely land him in the Best Adapted Screenplay race. However, after the DGA snub, I fear King will be ignored in the Best Director category.

Judas and the Black Messiah

At this point, we are examining films on the bubble of actually getting a Best Picture nomination. One contender that may yet squeeze in is Shaka King’s fearless depiction of the death of Black Panther Party Chairman Fred Hampton. Executed by police officers working on intelligence gathered by the FBI, the film of Hampton’s life is told from the vantage of William O’Neal, the man who betrayed Hampton to the feds.

A film with a more revolutionary heart than the similarly themed The Trial of the Chicago 7—in fact, Hampton is a supporting character in the Sorkin picture—Judas might be too zealous for more conservative Oscar voters; it also is a little narratively messier. It should be nominated for Best Picture, and its odds grew with a nod from the PGAs, which remains the best prognosticator for this category. However, it very well may wind up with only nominations for Daniel Kaluuya in the Best Supporting Actor category and a nod for Best Original Song.

On the plus side, Kaluuya is the clear and away frontrunner for Best Supporting Actor after winning in the same race at the Globes and CCAs.

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm

Borat 2 is a legitimate Oscar contender. Brave new world, indeed. While I’m still skeptical about it actually getting into the Best Picture race, that idea doesn’t seem impossible after Borat Subsequent Moviefilm earned a dark horse nomination at the PGAs. Granted the producers guild is always more eager to shower love on successful audience entertainments than the Oscars, hence Deadpool and Wonder Woman also getting recent PGA nominations while being shut out by the Academy. But those movies didn’t have a scene where a fictional character unmasked Rudy Giuliani as a dishonest creeper with his hand down his pants. So…

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Either way, expect Borat 2 to pick up a Best Supporting Actress nomination for Maria Bakalova’s star-making turn as Borat’s daughter, Tutar. It’s a performance that demanded as much spontaneity and improvisation as Baron Cohen’s, with Bakalova arguably being even more impressive as she also creates a sincere heartbeat underneath the snark. The performance was snubbed from winning a category it should’ve been a shoo-in for at the Golden Globes—Best Actress in a Comedy/Musical—but Bakalova recovered momentum by winning in the more 1:1 Supporting Actress category at the Critics Choice. She faces steep competition from Olivia Colman in The Father and Amanda Seyfried in Mank, but neither of them embarrassed Donald Trump’s personal lawyer weeks ahead of the election he was trying to undermine.

The Father

As someone who has watched a loved one suffer from dementia and the effects of aging, I can attest that Florian Zeller’s The Father is an accurate, and arguably too devastating of a portrait of a mind in deterioration. For that depressing element, I suspect Zeller’s film will play too tragically for Academy voters, who tend to prefer life-affirming stories in the Best Picture category. But The Father has an outside shot for nomination. And it will definitely get nominations for Best Actor (Anthony Hopkins), Best Supporting Actress (Olivia Colman), and Best Adapted Screenplay. The odds makers similarly say Colman’s the frontrunner in her category (even though she’s lost the major awards thus far), although I still have my doubts about that too.

Sound of Metal

Darius Marder’s depiction of a punk rock drummer going through early hearing loss got a boost of confidence from the PGAs nominating it for Best Picture. I could also see it sneaking into a Best Picture slot over Judas and the Black Messiah and Borat 2, especially with its story of a man learning to live again. However, it will most likely walk away solely with a nomination for Riz Ahmed in the Best Actor category.

Da 5 Bloods

Spike Lee’s follow-up to BlacKkKlansman may be one Netflix film too many for Academy voters this year. Which is a shame since this is an underrated slice of cinema that merges Vietnam War dramas with Treasure of the Sierra Madre thriller elements, and Lee’s singular dreamlike stylizations. At the very least, Delroy Lindo should be nominated for Best Actor. However, I fear Da 5 Bloods will be shut out, save for perhaps a Best Cinematography nomination.

News of the World

An underrated Paul Greengrass Western starring Tom Hanks, this is old school moviemaking that I suspect would’ve found a larger audience in a normal year. Instead it opened to mostly closed theaters and has gone strangely overlooked. At the very least child actor Helena Zengel should be considered for Best Supporting Actress for her poignant turn as a child torn between two worlds. However, this may only end up nominated in a handful of technical categories, with its best chance at a nod being for James Newton Howard’s rousing score.

Soul

Pixar’s Soul is excellent and will almost certainly pick up Oscars for Best Animated Film and Best Original Score. That might also be the extent of its nominations.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday

Lee Daniels’ by the numbers musical biopic about one of the defining voices of jazz being hounded to her death by the federal government will not be nominated for Best Picture. Sadly, this is a movie that should’ve been much better. Still, Andra Day will definitely be nominated for Best Actress.

Pieces of a Woman

An interesting (if somewhat cold) piece of cinema, Kornél Mundruczó’s Pieces of a Woman was always a long-shot before allegations of abuse against star Shia LaBeouf took it entirely out of the Best Picture running. Yet you can expect Vanessa Kirby to be nominated in the fifth spot for Best Actress for her raw essay of a woman who’s lost her child. Ellen Burstyn also has a dark horse shot at getting in for Best Supporting Actress thanks to her ruthless depiction of a grandmother denied.

Academy Award nominations are announced on Monday morning, March 15.

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