#games sincerely before Frontiers. i was always of the 'lol i hope the next game sucks because then the lets plays will be funny'

[rabbithaver]

When I see sonic stuff I think of you bc we’ve been mutuals for so long, so I come to you with this: I have never been into sonic but I Want to buy a game to see how I like it. Do you have any recommendations? Also I bought a sonic lego keychain on impulse… he is my frend :)

SONIC FRONTIERS. SONIC FRONTIERS IS SO GOOD AND VERY ACCESSIBLE IN TERMS OF GAMEPLAY. AND THE MUSIC WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND I MEAN THAT

[fangirl-on-bitches]

Bittersweet

Javier Peña x Female!Reader.

Word Count: 4k approximately.

Summary: You and Javier have a particular way of saying goodbye, so particular you get a surprise when you get back to the US.

Warning: a lot of cursing, a bit of pregnancy shenanigans, a lot of dialogue and a little messy plot and timelines lol.

A/N: Okay, listen before you continue. When I was younger I used to write, maybe not with the best grammar or the best plot, but sure as hell with a lot of creativity. Now I just can’t be that creative to write a complete fic or hc, so if you find this boring or a waste of time I’m really sorry. If you like this, I appreciate it as I really made an effort to finish it (a crapy ending anyways). I’ll be sincere, I had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my head so I wrote it. I feel like the scenarios aren’t realistic to what could happen in real life (I feel like they are forced or way too dramatic) I really hope I don’t waste your time. (and yes, I chose the name in honor of Pedro’s role in triple frontier)

-----------------------------------------------------------

You were cursed. Definitely.

You were back in the states, had been for a few weeks, enjoying the warmest sun Miami had to offer along with Connie. You loved relaxing by a peaceful beach after years of chasing after Escobar with your life on the line every hour of every day.

That day you were really excited to wake up and meet Connie to go to the beach, it had been so long since you saw her and little Olivia. You felt at the same time a little uncomfortable with your body that day, bloated and kind of heavy, like there was extra gravity, but the excitement overwhelmed whatever other feeling you might be having.

The beach had some people because it was a nice day, so you lounged along Connie and baby Olivia, eating fried fish with chips as it was beach food. You were laughing at something Connie said about Steve, something about being a pain in the ass, which you agreed with. It was all fun and games until you felt horrible nausea and a pushing need to vomit. Connie, being observant noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” before you could answer you ran to the restaurant’s bathroom, puking whatever food you had that day. Connie came close behind you. She gave you a paper towel so you could wipe your mouth.

“Okay, I might be sick.” you admitted flushing the toilet.

Of course, your mood just plummeted to the ground when you were sitting in a private room in the hospital. Connie couldn’t check you, but she was looking for her friend on-call, meanwhile, you looked as baby Liv (as you called Olivia) slept peacefully by your side.

You didn��t like hospitals. They reminded you of your time in Colombia, and although you weren’t shot, your compañeros might have been shot multiple times. There had been too many close calls and so many lives lost, you just got the creeps whenever you heard a gurney moving.

Soon, Connie came back and carried Olivia outside, leaving you with her friend. She presented herself, and asked routine questions. How are you feeling? What happened? Does something hurt? Is your period late? Did you fall and hit your head? Do you have any diseases? Or do you take any medication?

“I do have nausea and I threw up after eating.” She nodded as she took your blood pressure. Then you started thinking. You were thinking really hard.

Your period was late, you didn’t remember how late, but it was late. Two months ago, Steve and you caught Escobar. Steve went straight back home and you had to stay, to finish completing paperwork. Then Javier was back in Colombia to follow the Cali Cartel, but you were assigned back to Miami and couldn’t stay.

To be fair, you were glad to be back home, but you really missed Javier. When shit went down with Los Pepes you were pissed off at Javier. You knew he usually overstepped the line to get intel, but this time he had stepped so far off the line, he wouldn’t be able to see the line.

The night before he left you decided you would drink your consciousness off because you hated to even think that Javier Peña was living in Colombia; after a glass of a really strong Rum and Cola you decided against it and knocked on Javier’s door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suggesting that he wasn’t up to listening to more of your nagging. Your head had a million thoughts racing, you wanted to tell him so many things varying from ‘you are an idiot’ to ‘why the fuck did you do this?’ but the only thing you articulate was something like ‘I don’t want you to go’

Javier’s face softened, although you cast down eyes couldn’t actually look at his face, he had stepped aside and invited you inside. “Do you want something to drink?” you shook your head, looking around the apartment. It was almost empty, but it has been pretty empty since the beginning. You sat on the floor, Javier following with a beer in his hand.

“Will you come back?” you asked him, but you already knew the answer.

“I don’t think so, it depends on the higher ups in the states” you nodded, looking at him. You were really going to miss him. “Look, it’s not like we won’t see each other anymore, when you guys catch Escobar-” you laughed humorlessly. How long would that be? Months, another year perhaps? 

Both of you stayed in silence for a while. “I should go.” you told him, standing up, he stood up as well.

“You shouldn’t go.” He told you, squeezing your shoulder tenderly, a familiar touch. You looked at his sweet dark brown eyes, a silly small smile playing on the corners of your lips.

“What do you mean? You have a plane to catch tomorrow.” you remind him, wondering if he was drunk, he clearly wasn’t. His hand, which was still on your shoulder, moved to cup your face. For a second, you were lost and didn’t understand what was happening, until you looked at his eyes again and understood. You didn’t wait for him to lean down, you just wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

You would lie if you have never felt curious as to why every informant in Colombia gave Javier the intel he wanted. After that night you understood why. He was passionate, attentive and a really generous lover. You might have even believed him if he had blurted out an ‘I love you’.

The only reason why you let this happen was because Javier was supposed to stay in the US, officially he wasn’t your (or Steve’s) compañero anymore. And that was true, even when he came back.

“Okay, so your results are in. After you told me you’ve been missing your period for quite a while, I drew some blood to analyze it.”

“Yeah, it must be stress. You know, I worked in Colombia with Connie’s husband and moving back here plus all the work I have to do was really stressful. Also, I had a UTI back in Colombia, I wasn’t drinking enough water and I read that the strain might move my period a little.” you started rambling. For some reason, you felt jittery, almost anxious at the look on the Doctor’s face. She had a grin in her face, really big and excited.

“That may delay your period for two weeks, but it won't magically make it disappear, dear.” She read the results once more and nodded to herself. “As I suspected, you are pregnant.”

“W-w-what?” you mumbled. “But I didn’t pee on the stick.” clearly, your brain had short-circuited.

“I have some pregnancy tests if you wish to take them yourself, but the blood analysis is pretty accurate.” she offered with a nice smile. You nodded and took the box going to the bathroom, trying to focus on reading the instructions.

The stick said you were pregnant. And you knew exactly who was the father.

You sighed at the papers you were reading, the office already empty, way past dinner time. Since catching Escobar, hours were cut short, but to you they were really slow. Steve wasn’t there, he had left a few weeks ago, Javier obviously wasn’t there. It was just you, some files and occasionally some booze to help you relax before sleeping. Thankfully, you would be leaving shortly.

On your way back to the apartment complex you stopped by a grocery store. You needed ice cream, and lots of chocolate, and some chips. Probably some booze too. You had bought a flask of whisky that reminded you of Javier, although whisky might not be your first choice of booze.

That same flask almost fell to the ground when you saw goddam Javier Peña entering his apartment, a big suitcase by his side.

He also noticed you, the dark bags under your eyes and messy hair evidence of your hard work. 

“Oh my god” you whispered, unbelieving. You walked and hugged him, relieved to see him again. “You are back?” you stupidly asked.

“Yeah, they want my intel and help to track down the Cali Cartel.” he answered.

“Well, that’s weird.”

“What?”

“My orders are to finish paperwork and return to Miami. They didn’t tell me to stay to help.”

“Well, it’s a different operation this time, more discreet.” he tried to hint you that it wasn’t just DEA business anymore, it was more a CIA kind of work. You invited him to your apartment, that had two boxes of things you were going to give to charity, you didn’t need all this stuff back home, you already had them.

He explained his situation while you shared the flask of whisky and bid good night like the old times, no kisses or sex, or nothing like that. Which was fine.

Everything was fine for the next few days. Javier even helped you pack your stuff and sort it out. The night before returning home he offered to go to the bar you always went to with Steve and him on Friday’s or Saturday’s (sometimes even a Monday)

Both of you drank like you always had, but instead of bidding goodnight and going to bed separately, you both had sex. Again. It was probably a coping mechanism, the way both of you said goodbye to each other. Such a complicated method.

So, so complex that now you were pregnant.

With a child.

Javier's child.

It had to be his, you only had sex with him within the last 3 months. Since Colombia you hadn’t have sex.

This was bad. It was complicated. You didn’t plan for a child; working at the DEA (chasing after Escobar) left you almost no time to think about dating, much more less building a fucking family. 

Could you do this? Hell yeah, you are an awesome strong woman.

What you couldn’t do was tell Javier.

When you came out the private room, you were fidgeting with your hands, Connie came and took them. “I’m pregnant.” you blurted out. Connie looked at you shocked; then you noticed little baby Olivia wasn’t on her arms.

Steve, in all his blonde mustache glory stood with his daughter on his arms, looking as shocked as Connie. “What?” he asked.

“Who is the father?” Connie inquired.

“What are you doing here?” You asked Steve.

“I came to pick up my wife and daughter for dinner. Why don’t you come with us and tell us more about this?” You nodded out of inertia, but you looked at your hands while walking, Connie hooking her arm with one of yours.

As you sat on traffic, you tentatively touched your belly. It was... normal. No kicking, no large or really hard belly. It was like there was nothing there.

You would have declined dinner if you knew the questionnaire that would come from the Murphy’s. Well, questionnaire would be an exaggeration, but you didn’t really like the single question they were asking.

“Who’s the father?” 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

“Why? We don’t know him?” you sighed and reassigned. You knew they would ask forever.

“Please, please, please you have to promise me you won’t tell anybody. Both of you.” you looked pointedly at Steve. He nodded but held your gaze, trying to figure out what you were really trying to say. A second later he muttered something.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

“What?” Connie asked but soon realized. “Oh, no way. Javier?”

“It’s Javier.” you confirm their suspicions.

“Are you certain?” Connie asked.

“Of course.” you paused and then added. “You can’t tell him Steve.”

“What? Why?” he sounded slightly offended.

“I should tell him first. He should hear it from me.”

“I can’t believe this. The minute I come back home you two just pound at each other.”

“It wasn’t like that, and technically you were still in Colombia the first time.”

“The first time?” he asked with a chuckle, he looked very happy.

“The second time I was the one leaving!” you paused, moving the food around your plate. “How the fuck am I going to tell him? I can’t just call him and be like, ‘hey I’m pregnant and you are the father. How’s the Cali stuff going?’. This kind of news aren’t told over a call.”

“But it’s different, it’s not a normal situation. Javier could be in Colombia for years.” Steve reminded you.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. He can’t come back until his work is done.” You rolled your eyes, there was no good alternative.

“So you plan to just hide this from him?” Connie asked, her look full of pity, if it was for you or Javier, you didn't know.

“Only until I know he’s coming back. I’ll check on him every once in a while. I’ll need you to call him too, Steve. I don’t want him to suspect me.” He sighed but nodded nonetheless. You sighed as well, a million thoughts racing through your head.

You called Javier that same week. Of course, it was unexpected for him but really welcome. Colombia was not rainbows and sunshine. “So how’s the Cartel treating you?”

“It’s a fucking nightmare, but hopefully it won’t take long. I can't talk too much over the phone about this, who knows who might be listening.” he sighed, sounding really 

“Yeah, you are right.” for a minute, you thought about telling him. Then you decided. “Please take care and be careful.”

“Of course compañera.” he assured, you could practically hear the smirk in his lips. After ending the call, you pressed the heels of your palms in your eyes. How in the world were you going to tell him?

–––––– 

A month turned into two, and then five months flew by in the blink of an eye. Javier was not coming back for the time being and your belly was starting to pop. Your head was still working on how in the world were you going to tell Javier, which was the only problem you had right now. It wasn’t even a big problem, if Javier wanted an out of fatherhood he was free to go, but you had been so happy since day two (day one was a full shock) that you honestly didn’t care.

You were getting way too ahead of yourself. Maybe Javi wanted to be a father and he would be really happy with the little baby. But that wasn’t the Javier you knew, and that’s why you were so afraid to tell him. 

Today looked like the best day to tell him. You were going to probably get to know if the little baby was a girl or a boy. You were waiting patiently for him to pick up the call in the hospital public phone. After a while, he picked up.

“Hello?” his voice sounded gruff and stressed.

“Hi, compañero. How are you?” you asked, a hand on your belly.

“As fine as I can be here,” he answered. “What did you want?” he asked abruptly, almost tired of talking to you. It stinged a little.

“I just called to check in…” you lied, maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell him after all.

“I’m going to be as clear as I can. Don’t call me, unless you are fucking dying.” you felt a piercing pain in your throat, a tight knot forming, making it really difficult to talk.

“Fine.” you hissed and hanged the phone, tears slipping down your cheeks. Fucking hormones. Fucking Javier. 

Connie, who was waiting for you anxiously to come back, hugged you. “It’s okay sweetie, it’s okay.” you nodded and wiped your tears.

“I’m okay. I just need to focus on my baby and myself right now.” you told her and rubbed your belly.

“Of course honey.”

––––––– 

It had been a really smooth and sweet pregnancy, you were really happy with your 5th month old baby boy Francisco. He was really sweet, but he had so, so much of his father, the resemblance was uncanny. Deep brown sweet eyes, and a mop of soft brown hair.

Javier had not called you since that horrible last call. You knew he called Steve every once in a while, but you asked Steve please not to tell you anything about him. Both Murphy’s just assumed you had told Javier about the pregnancy and that he had not taken it well.

This was a lie. Javier had no idea you were pregnant, much more less with his child. But he was still in Colombia, so unless you told him he would not hear it from anyone. 

It hurted you deeply, not being able to tell your son who his father was. However, all around your house there were pictures of Steve, Javi and yourself from Colombia. Connie and Olivia were there too, even Carillo. 

Anyways, the baby was too young to notice the absence of his father. Maybe by the time Francisco starts wondering about daddy, Javier would be around the USA to talk.

Your son cooed and asked to be held up, it was time for his nap. Just in time, you thought, Steve was coming over to pick him up as you were going to meet your best friend in an hour or so. Your baby boy soon fell asleep, you held him in against your chest, rocking him gently.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Steve, you are early. Fran just fell asleep.” you told Steve. But it wasn’t Steve. Javier fucking Peña stood in the door way, his eyes looking at your son. You frowned and tried to hide Francisco’s face sneakily from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, compañera.” he said, but his mind was not entirely focused on whatever he was saying. His mind was in the baby, and about how quickly you had moved on.

“Don’t compañera me.” you hissed, in a hushed tone, the baby in your arms sleeping soundly. “Come in.” you told him, as you turned around to leave your baby on his cradle. 

Javier looked around, looking for any sign of the baby’s father. But he only found pictures of you, Steve, Connie, baby Olivia and other people he knew. Then he started thinking, what if the baby was his child?

No, that’s not possible. 

“So?” you asked, really anxious. You had no idea he would be here. You were not prepared for this. But really, would you ever be prepared?

“I came to apologize.” Javier simply said, his hands on his hips.

“Took you a little long.” you said, rubbing your hands together. “If you apologized sooner I could have…”

“Could have what?” you exhaled and sighed, trying not to cry. 

“You are not supposed to be here.” you whisper, your voice cracking softly as you sit on your sofa. Javier sat by your side and you felt the weight of your decisions constrict your chest, making it harder to breath.

You were a horrible, horrible person. How could you deny him knowing he was a father? That he had a child? It didn’t matter how angry you felt, or how much of an asshole he had been. The baby was made by both of you. He had the right to know.

“I’m sorry.” he was not sure why, but he really was sorry. You shook your head, and started to tell him that you were sorry, repeating like a prayer. “Hey, hey” he tried to calm you down, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “Breath, baby. Breath.” you complied, breathing deeply. After a minute of silence you took his rough big hand and held it, squeezing it slightly.

“Javier, I got news for you.” you started, and felt his hand tense. “The baby boy, Francisco, he’s your son, our son.” He looked at you, his eyes wide, looking like a deer in the headlights. “That time I called you, I was pregnant, and I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me after?”

“You told me not to call you unless I was fucking dying.” you exhaled and stood up. “Look you don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to, I had Francisco because I wanted to, but I didn't expect anything from you.”

“Not getting involved? What are you talking about?” he asked offended.

“I’m sorry, and I mean no offense, but you don't strike as the kind of guy who would want a family, or children.”

“And what the fuck do you know?” he raised his voice a little, making you cringe a little.

“I’m sorry, and I can’t do anything to return back time.” you told him sincerely. A loud whine was heard from your room, where the crib was. You sighed and went to your room, to calm Francisco down. Unbeknownst to you, Javier followed you looking how you delicately held him and rocked him. The baby’s eyes were still closed, he was just a little disturbed.

You looked at the door frame, Javier stood there, looking at the child. You walked to him, your intentions clear. “Do you want to hold him?” you asked your voice soft and soothing. Javier gulped, feeling suddenly nervous, he didn’t know how to hold a baby, what if he dropped him? “Don’t worry, I’ll help.” you offered, a kind smile in your face.

Javier extended his arms and you walked closer, softly passing your son to Javier’s big arms. Francisco whined a little and Javier’s face cringed, making you smile. “Hold him against you,” you helped, gently pushing his arms, closer to his chest. Francisco was fast asleep again. Javier just looked at him, marveled. You guide him to the sofa, making him sit there with your son. “I’ll be right back.” you tell him, and at the panicked face he made, you had to quiet your laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

You called your best friend, telling her you wouldn’t be able to meet her. When you stepped back on the living room, someone knocked on the door, it must be Steve. You opened the door and gestured to him to be quiet, pointing at the couch, were Javi sat (finally) relaxed.

Steve did not enter the house as you promised to call later. You returned to the living room and sat beside them, contemplating how peaceful they looked. Javier had moved your son, laying him against his broad chest. You caressed the baby’s hair, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Want to stay for dinner?” you asked standing up. Javier nodded and then lay his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. You smiled and entered your bedroom to change your clothes into something more comfortable.

You had nothing figured out, but you were happy knowing your son had a loving father to grow up with. You’ll figure your relationship out (if there was going to be one).

After some minutes, you heard some gurgles coming from the living room. Javi fell asleep, and Francisco was wide awake, looking at his father curiously, moving his little hands. You took the baby from him, kissing his chubby face. “Your daddy is sleeping, baby. C’mon, let’s give you some mashed banana.” you told him, caressing Javier’s hair back.

You spent some long 20 minutes feeding and nursing your baby boy while you also checked dinner. Javier, still fast asleep on the couch, woke up with a start, touching his chest, as if missing something. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, looking around.

“He’s here, Javier.” you told him from the kitchen, a silly smile on your face. Javier sat by the table, feeling self conscious at the baby’s gaze over him. His son’s arms moved up and down, talking unintelligible gibberish. “He likes you.” you commented, cleaning his chubby face. Javier held his hand out and Francisco took one of his fingers, squeezing with his baby strength. Javi’s heart skipped a beat.

Eating together was really weird, but at the same time it felt right. You noticed Javier’s tired face and wondered if he came straight from the airport. So you asked, sparking some conversation. You talked about what finally happened with the Cali Cartel.

“You got a place to stay?” you asked, but you knew the answer. “You can stay here if you want. Hotel’s are really expensive right now.”

“You sure?” you nodded. You forgot how well you clicked with Javier, it was a nice reminder.

He helped you with the dishes, and then went to shower, getting his suitcase for clean clothes. You prepared Francisco for bed, giving him his formula bottle after changing his diapers.

You saw Javier getting out of the bathroom, and thankfully had the decency to wear full pajamas, you would have fainted at the view of his bare chest.

“So, I’ll go to the couch, do you have a blanket?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I was going to tell you to sleep in the bed with me. We already shared a bed before, so I don’t see a problem. Plus, I could use the help if Francisco wakes up.” you commented with a cocky smirk. You usually wore just a t-shirt to bed, but today you had to use full pajamas, like Javi did.

“Okay.” Javier said, not really convinced. Francisco was asleep already, his father caressed his little hand with his finger. You were already under the covers, ready to hit the bed, Javier looked tired too.

He laid down, under the covers as well, looking at the ceiling. He moved looking at you, you were both face to face, generous space between both of you. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, and took his hands on yours.

“Sleep Javi, you look tired.” you kissed the back of his hands and closed your eyes, sleep getting the best of you. Javi smiled, his face soft, getting a little closer, leaving his hand on yours, then he shut his eyes. He had never felt more at home. 

[42inchtv]

Some Thoughts On The Best Movies Of 2019

Honorable Mentions: “Always Be My Maybe” (dir. Nahnatchka Khan), “Avengers: Endgame” (dirs. Joe and Anthony Russo), “Her Smell” (dir. Alex Ross Perry), “The Highwaymen” (dir. John Lee Hancock), “Joker” (dir. Todd Phillips), “Knives Out” (dir. Rian Johnson), “The Laundromat” (dir. Steven Soderbergh), “Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story By Martin Scorsese” (dir. Martin Scorsese), “Spider-Man: Far From Home” (dir. Jon Watts), “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker” (dir. J.J. Abrams), “Toy Story 4″ (dir. Josh Cooley), “Triple Frontier” (dir. J.C. Chandor), “Under the Silver Lake” (dir. David Robert Mitchell), “Waves” (dir. Trey Edward Shults), “Yesterday” (dir. Danny Boyle)

10. “High Flying Bird” (dir. Steven Soderbergh) Steven Soderbergh loves process movies, films where collaboration has to take place in order to achieve a set goal. So, heists. Almost all of Soderbergh's movies have a heist element in the text -- often literally, as with the "Ocean's" franchise or "Logan Lucky"; sometimes deeper, as with "Magic Mike" or "High Flying Bird." This new Soderbergh joint is a fucking blast -- and right from the start, with Andre Holland rat-tat-tatting his way through a fancy lunch with an NBA rookie who's still wet behind the ears (Melvin Gregg, good stuff). On the face of it, "High Flying Bird" is a heist movie, one where we watch Holland's Ray and his dogged former assistant (Zazie Beetz) use shoe-leather to stop an NBA lockout and make themselves a lot of money in the process. But its deeper reading is about a disrupter trying to disrupt again without falling behind the curve (it might as well be about Soderbergh himself). The ideas presented in "High Flying Bird" are so modern its almost as if Soderbergh has seen the future, one where athletes democratize sports in the way so many other fields have been democratized by social media. The production and release of "High Flying Bird" -- it was shot on an iPhone and dropped on Netflix -- are timely too. Soderbergh continues to get over on all these guys, doing it better and faster than most people half his age. Maybe he loves heists so much because he's made a career out of pulling jobs on the unsuspecting for 30 years.

9. “Booksmart” (dir. Olivia Wilde) A classic right out of the box, even in spite of the ponderous discourse surrounding its release. “Booksmart” takes the one-crazy-night structure and core relationship of "Superbad" and mixes it with the heart and sincerity of "Lady Bird" to create a coming-of-age movie that transcends gender and time and finds room to turn Beanie Feldstein into a giant star. This is a god-level performance, paying off what everyone hoped would happen after she played the beta in "Lady Bird." She's the alpha here and tears the movie to shreds. Give her a goddamn Oscar.

8. “Parasite” (dir. Bong Joon Ho) There is always another bottom. “Parasite” starts as one kind of movie and becomes another and the deftness with which it transitions is but one of the many delights buried within what has become a landmark release. Two things to note, before hitting the next blurb: first, the ending montage is unforgettable, quite literally as I’ve often replayed it in my head during quieter moments; and second, the score is the best of the year.

7. “Little Women” (dir. Greta Gerwig) Bigger in scope and bolder in construction than “Lady Bird,” Gerwig’s adaptation of “Little Women” stamps her as one of the best filmmakers working today. No one is able to be as honest in depicting complicated human feelings and as unafraid to portray outright empathy amid conflict. The only downside to Gerwig hitting the rarefied air of an auteur is that she doesn’t seem to want to act anymore. But we’ll take the role switch if there are more movies like “Little Women” on the horizon.

6. “Marriage Story” (dir. Noah Baumbach) Noah Baumbach is never really mentioned when conversations turn to best directors; he’s always felt a tier behind the Tarantinos and Scorseses of the world. But given a second thought, it’s hard to imagine why. Baumbach has been knocking out four-star movies since the ‘90s and “Marriage Story” might be his best. (Thanks to Netflix, it’s also by far his most widely seen; my parents even watched this one.) The divorce drama turned meme generator is typical Baumbach: smart people arguing about life with a bite that doesn’t shy away from showing the underside of humanity. But it feels like his most complete film, a perfect marriage of his earlier cynical work and his buoyant Gerwig period. It goes without saying but let’s say it anyway: Adam Driver is remarkable in this one, giving the best performance of the year. But Scarlett Johansson matches him scene for scene, a reminder of the raw talent she displayed during the “Lost in Translation” years when she was basically Andruw Jones for actors.

5. “Hustlers” (dir. Lorene Scafaria) From the opening tracking shot -- an unbroken take that follows newbie Destiny (Constance Wu in her best performance yet) as she tries to scratch together some cash during her first night at the klerb -- Lorene Scafaria makes her case for a Scorseseian tribute previously done best by Paul Thomas Anderson. But “Hustlers” isn’t a mere riff on “Goodfellas” or “Boogie Nights,” it’s a Trojan horse packed tight with big statements on the long-lasting ramifications of the 2008 financial crisis, the bonds of true friendship, and the way parenthood literally changes the mind of a parent (”motherhood is a mental illness,” Jennifer Lopez’s Ramona says twice during the film, first with a laugh and then later with a tear). It all culminates with a finale that doubles as a punch in the gut, with a monologue delivered by Lopez that should replace Ben Affleck’s juicy dialogue from “The Town” for aspiring actors on YouTube. Through it all, Scafaria controls every frame and sequence with confidence and ease not portended even by her previous solid work. It’s some masterful stuff, as is the way she’s able to tease out powerful performances from her motley crew of actors: Cardi B (lol sure), Lizzo, Lili Reinhart, Keke Palmer, Wu, and, of course, J.Lo, who does Robert De Niro in “Goodfellas” better than anyone else who has tried since 1990.

4. “Us” (dir. Jordan Peele) Oh, hey, “Us” is awesome. A “Twilight Zone” riff mixed with a greatest hits of references (including but not limited to “Scream,” “Jaws,” “The Shining,” “Signs,” “Funny Games,” “The Cabin in the Woods,” and “C.H.U.D.”) that throws a bunch of big, lofty ideas into the batter. Chief among them: How the ruling class must be taken out by the disenfranchised and how the disenfranchised, after wresting power from that class, will not go quietly into the night. (Alternate take: Bury the unwoke person you were as a youth before they can come back and ruin your life.) It all works so well — thrilling and hilarious, often at the same time. Lupita Nyong’o is otherworldly here (best actress 2020) and Winston Duke does an outrageous Jordan Peele impression that should please dads everywhere. Highest praise: During a year when we celebrated the greatness of 1999 movies, “Us” would rank up there with the best of the lot.

3. “The Irishman” (dir. Martin Scorsese) I've never thought to cry while watching a Martin Scorsese movie. That's not the kind of filmmaker he has been previously -- and even the movies he's made that pack an emotional wallop do so with almost surgical precision. Perhaps he's getting softer in his old age, or maybe I am: on my third viewing of "The Irishman" (but really, let's call it what it is: "I Heard You Paint Houses"), I teared up on more than one occasion. The elephant in the room after its release became Peggy and the wrongly perceived lack of agency given to her character. But watching how her relationship with Frank unfolds from birth to death with so few words is the movie's greatest trick. The first time we see Peggy, as an infant, she casts her big eyes on dad; those same glances -- angry, heartbroken, disgusted, pitiful stares -- make up their entire relationship. Only once does Frank experience something similar: after he kills Hoffa (a 20-minute sequence that features little dialogue and no music; we stan), Frank is next shown watching from a church pew as Bill Bufalino gives away his daughter at the altar on her wedding day; it's an act of fatherly love and joy that he'll never experience, not after what he's done hours before. Frank knows it too; just look at his face. A fucking masterpiece from our greatest filmmaker.

2. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” (dir. Quentin Tarantino) Speaking of masterpieces: “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is Quentin Tarantino’s best movie in 20 years and his most introspective ever; cinema’s former enfant terrible has finally grown up. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” grapples with what happens when masculinity runs its course and when one generation loses prominence to the next. But it’s also just super hilarious — filled with moments that are best described as lol. This is the best performance Leonardo DiCaprio has ever given. It’s a remarkable tight-rope walk: he's an actor playing a slightly worse actor who himself is giving a performance and then having to also give another performance as the actor he's playing? As his sidekick-slash-lifemate, Brad Pitt is so effortless that it's almost redundant to praise him. And while there are other delights to enjoy among the cast (Margaret Qualley, Julia “tha God” Butters), let’s highlight Margot Robbie: She finds such warmth and grace within Sharon Tate that it's hard not to leave the film feeling a tremendous amount of sadness and regret. "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" might rewrite her history, but the real world did not. Unfortunately, this legend was never printed. But at least it exists in the movies.

1. “Uncut Gems” (dirs. Josh Safdie, Benny Safdie) What if the last 30 minutes of "Goodfellas" was actually 120 minutes and starred an all-time Adam Sandler, Mike Francesa, and Kevin Garnett, and prominently featured Billy Joel's "The Stranger"? The Safdie Brothers wrote and directed my fever dreams and it resulted in the best movie of 2019, 2018, 2017. This is a landmark; why bother writing anything else?