#it's poetic cinema or whatever

[primordialruin]

The units speak for themselves

[cowboykissing]

so the women sam has sex with end up killed whereas the men who fall in love with dean oh. fate worse than death in most cases

[lesbiancolumbo]

“All of my work is with educational distributors like Women Make Movies, Third World Newsreel, and Cinema Guild. If those institutions didn’t exist, my films would have been lost, so to speak, because as a filmmaker, I don’t want to have to deal with doing invoices, or whatever college or community group is wanting to show it,” said Davis. “I could keep being on the creative side of filmmaking, and these organizations really saved my work, and the work of so many filmmakers because they existed, and they reached out to those audiences who wanted to see the film.”

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

i despise Ben Hope as much as the next person but I was literally sobbing at his arc, every time he was on screen, I couldn’t help but feel my heart break a little because this is a 16 year old boy who’s living with homophobic parents, who has a friend group filled of arrogant, asshole-ish jerks and has spent years cultivating his ‘bad boy’ image because men are raised to be like that. If you’re not a bad boy, your masculinity is questioned. And in between all this hatred, this boy is coming to terms with his sexuality and hating it—he hates himself and who he is. Which turns him into a bitter and hateful and a horrible person altogether and it doesn’t excuse how he treated Charlie and the assault or any of the horrible thing he’s done ofc, but I hate how this kid was turned into this shitty scumbag of a person because of circumstances and whatever. And the last scene, kudos to Charlie for saying fuck off to him, but also wishing him to change, because I feel the same, I wish Ben works on himself and stops hurting others and himself and that last shot of the rainbow making it’s move towards him and him stepping back—poetic cinema honestly.

I wish that Ben and boys like him find the courage and strength to take that step and jump into that rainbow.

[heart4buddie]

But what’s so funny is that no matter whether Buck calls Eddie to come over or Eddie just shows up, it’s going to be fucking magic! Like Buck waking up with a boil or whatever and calling Eddie? Brilliant. Amazing. Showstopper. Eddie just showing up to Buck’s loft on his own? Amazing. Brilliant. Poetic cinema. I love every possible way that this situation might have happened!

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

I've been thinking about my boat show (shocking, I know), and some facts about Maura that I like to linger on occasionally that make me want to scream cry and throw up when put in the context of her and Eyk together.

Maura is a character that is so obviously terrified of losing her mind. She is more afraid of losing her sanity than losing her life, which is understandable. We can see that the moment we meet her. She's standing in front of a mirror, trying to convince herself she isn't crazy.

The best representation of this is when she's standing in front of a literal firing squad and she doesn't care. Some of these people had just thrown a boy of the railing into the ocean, she knows very well they're going to shoot. But she needs answers. Something strange is happening, and she needs answers. When time stops, she's questioning that, she's questioning Elliot, but she's completely unfazed by the fact that a dozen people had just shot at her.

And then comes Eyk. From the moment the two of them meet, he's never once doubted her judgment. He's turning a blind eye on her rule breaking. He lets her come with the crew to inspect the Prometheus because she asks. He seeks her out and wants her opinion on Ada's death. And when he starts losing it, he doubts his own mind, but never hers. He wants her thoughts, her expertise, her opinion. He wants her to tell him that he isn't going crazy. Even when he thinks she's hiding something after he finds the passenger list, in spite of being angry, he never completely loses that trust in her.

All throughout the insane things happening on the ship, they stick together. They seek each other out, and they always turn to one another.

The hallway scene in episode 6 isn't just important because of the loaded moment they share that makes us lose our minds every time. That scene is my roman empire exactly because of the things I'm talking about here. Before this, Maura had told Eyk everything. She told him about her father, her brother, her potential insanity, everything. She literally told him she used to be locked up in a mental institution. And what happened? He's still here.

Only a dozen people of the whole ship survived, none of it makes any sense, but he's still there with her. She thanks him for not thinking she's crazy. Because for her, her mind is something she can't lose, and she had just spent every single moment on this ship doubting it, but this man in front of her has never once doubted it. Not for a second. We see that again, in the same episode, when they're in the asylum. She begins losing all hope, actually starting to believe she's gone mad. What does he do? He stops her, he reassures her that it isn't over, that they should keep searching for answers.

When Daniel tells her the story, she becomes even more confused because he never really gives her any true answers.

In the end, when everything starts falling apart, when everyone leaves because they think she's talking nonesense, Eyk is the only one who stays. He stays with her until the very end. And when he loses hope, she's the one trying to stop him from despair this time.

Then we also have Eyk's questionable at best, insane decisions at least, and her defending him every step of the way. Like nothing he would ever do would make her not choose his side. When she hears the words from Franz "He's not the man you think he is.", she doesn't hesitate for a single second to talk back to him in defense of Eyk.

He never let her lose what she was most afraid of losing. She never hesitated in defending him to everyone's face and justifying his questionable behavior. Whatever this means for them in the real world, that is poetic fucking cinema.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go scream into the pillow because it's just one of the reasons why I will never be able to free myself from the chokehold that is mauraeyk.

[eemamminy-art]

22 and 25, for the choose violence ask game

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Okay... hear me out... The Doma part of Stormblood (4.0) msq

🍅🍅🍅 WAIT!!!

So like the argument is that Hien has this plan to use the auri warriors of the Steppe to aid him against Garlemald and people frame that like it's this mastermind plan to make them do his bidding. But like, not even a minute before he presents the plan he is ready to sacrifice himself to the Garleans to ensure Doma's safety and peace. Like fully ready to die. And a few lines after he says he wants to participate in the Naadam and enlist their help, he also says:

Hien: Furthermore, by championing the Mol in the contest, I can at last repay their kindness. Lest you forget, they saved me from certain death─and a man who suffers such debts to go unpaid is without honor and unfit to lead.

Doing not only the msq there but also some of the side quests, you come to learn that Hien made himself quite at home among the Mol and followed their customs. He's been nothing but respectful the whole time! There's some lines Lyse has with some Mol children about what a nation is and what it means:

Lyse: Um…I'm not sure how to answer this… Lyse: A nation…is a place, I suppose. A place…and the people in it…and maybe the things, too… Lyse: But more than that, it's the history, the traditions, the words. The stories we tell ourselves and our children. Everything that came before and everything that comes after. Lyse: The place we were born is part of who we are. We carry it with us, no matter where we go. Whoever…whatever we become, that part remains─that link to our fathers and their fathers before them… Lyse: It's…it's not important to everyone, I suppose, and that's fine. But it's important to Hien. And to me.

And I think it speaks so much to not only Lyse's character, but Hien's too, especially when Hien not long after that decides to level his ancestral home for the sake of liberating his people.

As for the argument that the Dotharl and Oronir are being disrespected by being "forced" to fight alongside the Domans, they are on board with it from the moment the Naadam ends:

Hien: Before I fought for the Mol, I fought for my homeland─for Doma… Sadu: To Doma would you have us go, to fight your war and win your freedom? Sadu: Very well. The battlefield matters not, nor else the enemy. In battle do our souls burn bright. Sadu: And better the Mol's law than that of the Sun. Arrogant and foolhardy were their pronouncements. Already you and yours show better sense. Magnai: The Sun shall answer your call, Doman. Wild as the wind the udgan and her brood may be, but they will deliver you naught. We will deliver you your kingdom. Cirina: Weak and few as we are, the Mol will fight for Doma too. If you will have us.

Anyway justice for Doma, justice for Hien, I'm their new PR manager 😂 At least in 4.0. Um. I can't really abide by some of the stuff Hien says/does in the Tsukuyomi arc of 4.2/4.3 but the Doman arc of 4.0 is poetic cinema and I get so exhausted seeing people claim stuff happened that didn't. Maybe replay Stormblood before you complain so much about how "awful" it is!

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

I think honestly just people complaining that there's too much of one ship/character and not enough of another. I've been guilty of this before too, but it is NOT helpful. You just alienate yourself from other fans, and make fan creators dig their heels in to not make what you like because you're being so whiny about it lol. If you want more of your rare pair, look to the people writing and drawing it-- encourage the FUCK out of them!! If no one is making it at all? You should give it a try! Or maybe commission someone to make it for you! It really makes a world of difference to do positive actions rather than be like "[popular thing] sucks/is problematic, we need more of [thing I like]" because really truly you are just pushing people away with that kind of attitude. Maybe people who like popular stuff will see the merit in the niche thing too if there's mutual kindness and respect between fans, wild concept! I get not liking stuff especially when it's popular and thus everywhere, but that's what muting terms is for if you really can't stand to see it. Hype up the stuff you like, positive reinforcement has more impact than negative reinforcement ever did!!

Choose violence ask game

[dramadramallama]

Love Supremacy - brain rot part 2

As Myung-ha rejects the idea of a predetermined fate, he sets off to change it for Yeo-woon, who’s mirroring him in every way. When we first meet our Myung-ha, we also meet the most mysterious character of the show. Is it Death? A guardian angel? God? Whatever it is, he knows more than Myung-ha, and has some wisdom to share. Thus, a sunbae. 

The fact that he is represented as some sort of Author is not lost on me, but I do appreciate that his identity is vague enough to be interpreted many different ways. No religious connotations, no punishment, no judgment, we cheered.

In theory, Myung-ha finds the idea that some people just don't live happy lives unfair. He doesn’t like the story’s ending (he doesn’t like his own ending either, as he regretted it in the last moments) so he sets off to change it through this new opportunity (the Game). When asked, "would you do things differently, if it were you, then?" he unequivocally answers that he would, that he would make it happen differently. Looking back, it’s clear his sunbae is not asking hypothetically. The underlying conversation is obviously about his own life being re-written, not (just) Yeo-woon’s. 

1. Mirrors/Symmetry ▶️2. Fate, Free Will, and Happiness 3. Game/Reality

So in theory, he’s all for doing things differently, but in practice, though, it's not that easy. He’s struggling not to make the same mistakes, which is represented with the in-game instability. When Myung-ha makes progress, when he both shows love and accepts it in return, the game (life) is able to go on in spite of the glitches.

Golden moments keep us going, literally.

After experiencing some system errors, some setbacks, his sunbae comes back to the rescue with some more not-so-hypothetical questions.

Through the lens of a loving relationship, he hopes to show Myung-ha that the choices we make out of despair are still our own (free will). It’s a direct parallel to Myung-ha deciding to cut his life short (break up, no pain, no hard feelings), instead of living longer (delaying it, enduring the hurt, getting scars, coping with regrets). 

Myung-ha is not quite ready, and has trouble understanding what is being implied. Because he hasn’t reached a state of self-love, he unknowingly doubles down on the fate he’s assigned himself once, and chooses to repeat it. 

He chooses to give up (again), he chooses to avoid the suffering (again), which he associates with unhappiness. It takes just as much courage to live as it does to die, and happiness doesn't exempt you of pain, but Myung-ha doesn’t know it just yet. He falls back into his old habits, and symbolically gives up staying longer in the game (of life), worried about Yeo-woo’s happiness more than his own. 

After working tirelessly to get Yeo-woon to happiness, and becoming the reliable person Yeo-woon can lean on, he hits the wall of his own contradictions. The relationship is uneven, the choice too biased. The gap widens, the fragility of the whole thing is apparent: the game is bugging, as Myung-ha doesn’t align his needs/desires with his actions/reactions. 

Not only does he refuse Kyung-hoon’s and Yeo-woon’s offer to lean on them (he hurt his leg following a system error), he also struggles accepting his own feelings. In spite of the time running out, he fails to tell Yeo-woon he loves him properly, retains important info about himself, and breaks up with him in the exact same location where they share their first kiss (loud wailing sounds of poetic cinema)

Myung-ha’s core issues are bursting out in the open (increasingly alarming error messages appear): because he doesn’t let himself be loved, he can’t love properly. Because he can’t lean on others when he needs it, he fails to be there when it matters. 

Myung-ha misguidedly keeps choosing a sad ending for himself when the whole game, his whole life, is fighting to give him a happy one.

That’s not to say his entire journey until now was in vain. In fact, Myung-ha is incredibly resilient (child...❤️), and opens himself to change at the end. He’s just missing a piece of the puzzle for it all to fit into place. It is, in fact, quite a big pill to swallow that happiness doesn’t happen to you passively like destiny, but instead is something that you actively choose. Hell, I struggle to even comprehend or believe it, tbh.

The game being littered with questions, answers, and possible choices/options is a visual representation of our everyday pondering, and choice making. What goals are we setting for ourselves? Myung-ha's sunbae is there to remind Myung-ha that if we refuse the existence of fate, then we should make use of your all-powerful free-will. 

At first, he blindly runs towards the game’s main goal--happiness--and doesn’t realize you can’t find it at the finish line. If he only wants happiness for someone else and not himself, why would he get a different ending? By the end, he learns that happiness can, possibly, be found on the way there, though.

The hand, the love he extends to Yeo-woon one-sidedly in episode 1, he accepts it when it is returned in episode 8.

The story comes full circle, but doesn't repeat itself; he gets a different ending through a new start.

From a pure stylistic standpoint, I'm obsessed with repeated lines/motifs in media because they give a lot of rhythm to a story. Like a poem or a song.

The story reaches its final stanza, he listens to himself, and resolves the error, his own contradictions. He found the will to fight for happiness, a way to love himself, chooses to stay longer, chooses Yeo-woon, chooses to maybe suffer along the way a little, but he chooses life. 

Notice how the question does not have Myung-ha's answer this time. Now, we choose.

Life is not an express lane, and if you're short 5,000 won to take the bus, or if the bus breaks down on the highway, you might have to fight and make a run for it. It'll suck. But it's not in vain; you might just get rewarded with the happy moments you created for yourself. Myung-ha does.

It is such a hopeful, kind, gentle message.

I am alive too.

[superoscars]

I think On Cinema and TimGregg is fundamentally about two codependent people who are so self-obsessed that they can’t acknowledge how much they need and desire one another. I still think that the series should end with Tim and Gregg losing everything except for their relationship with each other.

the extended ongoing tragedy that they both need each other really badly, but to tim being with gregg is like settling for the life hes spent the last decade running away from. his relationship with gregg does not fit into the idealized (and unattainable) fantasy of being a cool action movie star or having a family or being a politician or whatever other identity hes cooked up that season

season 13 would have been a good ending to the show, though i like everything thats happened since then and i kind of just want them to make it forever. the end of the latest oscar special felt sort of poetic to me, if they die together at the end of the series i think at this point that would also feel right

[spellofwinter]

poetic cinema or whatever

[themousefromfantasyland]

Why haven't I watched Hamilton before?

The musical is amazing. It definitely deserves the hype. F@#* up haters, Lin-Manuel Miranda is a musical genius.

That's what I said. His lyrics and his songwriting are the best parts of whatever production.

But what I really want to talk here is not the music, but it's the anachronism of the story and how it's the main point of the whole thing: The past told through the present; the children of immigrants and slaves appropriate the founding narrative of America for themselves, pointing out the importance of the values and the impact of the hypocrisies and faults of the founding fathers.

Anachronism is the basis of everything, and this is the type of anachronism that can only work on stage. That's why Disney opted for a recording of the stage show instead of adapting into the screen.

Theater is allowed to be, well, theatrical, and surreal, and ANACHRONISTIC.

For some reason we are stuck with a cinema that's obsessed with being realistic and naturalistic.

But sometimes being surreal, poetic and anachronistic with a story is the thing that helps drive the main point home.

[adamsvanrhijn]

this really drives me insane.... Aurora Fane with her concerned realization face on .... Charles Fane perturbed and seemingly desperate to end whatever is happening here and make this look like a more heterosexual interaction .... john adams shamelessly flirting with oscar wilde in front of basically everybody he knows and then trying to look Oscar van rhijn his ex that HE dumped directly in the eye about it but Oscar quickly looks away..... this is what people mean when they say poetic cinema i think

[thedailydigestcmc]

Nadine Lustre: The Icon Who Redefined Stardom

Few names in Philippine entertainment are as impactful and enduring as Nadine Lustre. She is a trailblazer, style icon, and multi-talented artist who has captured the hearts of many with her authenticity, fierce individuality, and groundbreaking work.

From Girl Next Door to Box Office Queen

Nadine’s journey to superstardom began humbly, with early roles in teen shows and her membership in the girl group Pop Girls. However, it was her breakout role in the 2014 hit Diary ng Panget that catapulted her into the limelight. With her on-screen chemistry alongside James Reid, she quickly became a favorite in romantic comedies, further solidified by their partnership in the immensely popular On the Wings of Love.

Yet, what set Nadine apart from her peers was not just her undeniable acting chops or her girl-next-door appeal; it was her willingness to evolve. As she moved from rom-com sweetheart to dramatic actress in films like Never Not Love You and Ulan, Nadine showcased an emotional depth and maturity that cemented her as a force to be reckoned with in Philippine cinema. Her transformation was more than a reinvention—it was an artistic reawakening.

The Rise of a Multi-Hyphenate Artist

Acting was just one facet of Nadine’s expansive talents. Her venture into music took her popularity to new heights. In 2020, she released her first full-length album, Wildest Dreams, which was an introspective, ethereal dive into her thoughts and experiences. The album’s unique mix of electro-pop beats and poetic lyricism was a far cry from the mainstream sound that dominated Philippine pop, showing once again that Nadine wasn’t afraid to break the mold.

Her music, just like her acting, was deeply personal. It spoke of self-love, healing, and empowerment, and resonated with her fans, who saw in Nadine not just a star, but a role model who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable.

Fashion and Advocacy: A Style Icon with Substance

Nadine’s influence extends beyond entertainment. She has become a fashion icon known for her fearless approach to style, often experimenting with bold, edgy looks that challenge conventional beauty standards in the Philippines. Her collaborations with major brands like H&M, where she launched her own swimwear line, cemented her position as a trendsetter.

But it’s her authenticity that sets her apart. Unlike many celebrities, Nadine isn’t afraid to speak her mind or showcase her true self, even when it means going against the grain. She is known for her unfiltered social media posts, her advocacy for mental health, and her dedication to environmental causes. Nadine frequently speaks out about the importance of caring for the environment, especially the Philippines’ fragile natural resources.

Breaking the Stereotypes, Inspiring a Generation

More than just an actress or singer, Nadine Lustre represents the modern Filipina—strong, independent, and unapologetically herself. She has broken countless stereotypes about what it means to be a female celebrity in the Philippines, proving that you don’t have to conform to traditional standards of beauty or behavior to succeed.

Her journey—from a teenage dreamer to an empowered artist and advocate—has inspired a generation of young Filipinos to embrace who they are and to chase their dreams, no matter how unconventional.

The Future Is Bright

As Nadine continues to push boundaries, it’s clear that her story is far from over. Whether through her music, acting, or advocacy, Nadine Lustre is an artist who refuses to be boxed in, and that’s exactly why she remains at the top of her game. Whatever she does next, one thing is certain—she will do it on her own terms, and the world will be watching.

In a time when authenticity is rare, Nadine Lustre stands as a shining example of what happens when talent meets courage.

Non-fiction Writing // Shekinah Grace Dinagsao

Image From Nadine Lustre's IG

The Daily Digest

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

lies are only as good as the person who tells them (and you've never claimed to be)

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: sarah black | the bishop/john hartley | also the bishop, pining from our dear nolan here

Word Count: 3086

The first rule about running a con is that if you ever find yourself believing your own lies, it’s time to get out. 

Did he believe that he really cared about Agent Built-Like-A-Brick-Shit-House Hartley? At first, no, because he was just an angry wall of meat that was always conveniently placed between him and anything he wanted—namely, the eggs—and it was not hard to hate angry walls of meat. Then it became yes, he did actually care about this massive lug hauling himself alongside because hey, more people equals more variables equals more things he has to prepare for when everything goes tits up. 

Then…yeah, okay, maybe then. 

Maybe. 

Like, gun to his testicles he probably wouldn’t say anything but if Hartley was throwing a party, he’d turn up. Maybe. Just to snatch the most expensive bottle of booze, crack a joke, and leave. 

No, you know what? This is a dumb place to start. Try again. 

He wishes he would’ve just left with the fucking egg. 

He wishes he would’ve jumped off the car and onto the other car and rode away on it. 

He wishes he would’ve let the Bishop shoot Hartley in his fucking chest. 

He wishes he wouldn’t have included him in that prison escape plan. He wishes he’d never told him the long story about his dad. He wishes he’d’ve let that fucking train rip him in half.

He—

Nope. This sucks too. Starting over. 

The oldest rule to a con is that it’s got three parts. Hook, line, sinker. 

Hook, get your target to admit you’ve got a point. Get them interested. A foot in the door, no matter how gnarled, gross, disfigured, or warty it is. Even if it’s just a single toe. Get it in the door. 

Line, feed them something they’ll want to eat. Hint at what you want them to be paying attention to. Get them talking, get them on your side. 

Sinker. Ride the gullible sap all the way to the bottom of the ocean. Like dead weight. Reel them in. Make them eat your bait until their little fish mouths are so full they’re gasping before they’re even out of the water. 

…yeah, that metaphor fucking sucks. Start over. 

Any minute now. He’ll think of something. Don’t you worry. 

…it’s really fucking hot out here. 

Didn’t even give him any sunblock or sunscreen or sun tan lotion or whatever the hell else people call it. You know how hard it is to be inconspicuous with tan lines? Maybe he should be grateful that he’s getting his vitamin D now since wherever Das is gonna stick him now likely won’t have panoramic views. 

Also the cuffs. Hurting like hell, thanks. 

He wasn’t lying, not really, when he says he’s got no hard feelings for them. They’re good. Holy shit, they’re good. They fooled him, that’s saying something. And the whole thing with the dramatic build-up and the kiss? Poetic cinema at its finest. Sure, he also wasn’t lying when he said he had notes for Hartley’s performance. A little less of the posturing, yeah, maybe a little less heavy-handed with the I became a cop to get back at my old man who despised the law and everything it stood for bullshit, and maybe a little less of the I’m-going-to-pretend-to-be-asleep-after-you’ve-just-confessed-your-tragic-backstory-since-that-time-with-your-third-therapist, that was a dick move. 

But everything else…yeah. Really great. Top notch. 

Great performance. 

Nolan sniffs and tries to adjust his arms so he’s resting a little more comfortably against the tree. Which is hard, considering he’s standing in the middle of a fucking jungle with his hands cuffed around a branch and his chest is currently doing its very best to fucking explode. 

You have to get really good at listening to your body when you do what he does for a living. You have to know when you’re in pain and understand where your limits are. Extends to other things too, knowing when you’re hungry, when you’re tired, any of that stuff. Sure, once you know your limits you can start to push them, can start telling your body to fuck off and all that good stuff, but you’ve got to learn them first. 

Nolan Booth is not a fucking rookie. He’s been around the block. Over it, under it, through it, he’s practically circumcised it. He knows what he’s doing. 

Which means that it’s probably a good thing he’s handcuffed to the tree right now so he has an excuse for not knowing what the fuck he’s doing. 

Is he mad that they got the drop on him? You bet your sweet ass he is, he’s supposed to be the one victorious at the end of all of this, he’s supposed to have his walk-off into the sunset moment. Sure, it’s tempered a little bit by the fact that yeah, okay, game can recognize game and that was good. 

Is he mad that he doesn’t get to keep any of the eggs? Again, you bet your fucking ass he is. He did so much of the work to get those eggs, he fucking unearthed deep-seated childhood trauma for this shit, and no payoff? Rude. 

Is he mad that the stupidest, easiest lie in the fucking world is the one he fell for? 

Does he even need to say it this time?

Nolan clenches his jaw and tries to ignore the press of his forehead against the bark of the tree. It rasps against too-sensitive skin and doesn’t do anything to alleviate the sting of the cool metal cuffs. 

He tries to tell himself that this is fine, that the lie isn’t as stupid and entry-level as he thinks it is. Hartley may not have actually worked for the FBI as a profiler, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the skills. Hell, he’s worked as a circus performer and he didn’t even have to pad out his CV that much. Hartley knew him, better than he’s let most therapists know him, and adjusted the lie accordingly. It was tailored specifically for him, that’s why it worked so well.

Never mind that it’s impossible to get that much stuff without actually talking to someone, never mind that it’s almost insulting how easy it was for him, if that was the case, it means they looked him up and did the job they knew he would fall for. 

Of course they did, a traitorous part of his brain whispers, they’re con artists. That’s what you do. 

Nolan grits his teeth and tugs at the cuffs again. It’s useless, he knows, he’s actually going to have to work to be free of these blasted things, but his hands aren’t working properly right now and he’s still too distracted by the pain blossoming in his chest. 

He wonders if Hartley knowing how badly he wanted to believe the lie was a part of how they came up with it. 

Who is he kidding, of course it was. 

Hartley’s words still ring in his head. Worthy of your father’s love. That had been the first time he’d conceded to the big hunk and he…he’d honestly thought it might be the last. But it hadn’t. 

Not when he’d gotten caught right next to him and found that not only is the man strong, he’s smart.

Not when he’d actually been hurt when he’d heard the fake snore coming from underneath him. 

Not when he’d watched him about to handcuff the Bishop only to stop, an actual fond smile coming to his face before sharing what might be the most tender kiss he’s ever seen with the woman who was supposed to be their greatest rival. 

His greatest rival. 

Nolan resists the urge to slam his head against the branch. Barely. 

We. When did this become a ‘we’ thing? When did he start thinking of this operation not as Booth and some agent he’s dragging along, but Booth and Hartley? When did he start to care that someone else was here, to the point where he left the fucking egg?

As with all good cons, the target can’t point out a singular moment where the switch flipped. It’s a slow burn, the kind where you put a frog in water and it doesn’t jump out even when its skin starts to peel off. 

How hot was the water when he heard Hartley laugh for the first time? Like, genuinely, I’m-not-shitting-you, you-genuinely-caught-me-off-guard laugh. His whole face had broken out into this smile and Nolan hadn’t been able to look away for a second. 

How hot was the water when he’d heard Hartley gasping for breath behind him and his chest had seized, trying to make him spit out the information just so he could get Sotto Voce to stop?

How hot was the water when they’d both been scrabbling around in the dirt like children, their sides pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, until the heat was almost unbearable?

He’d been boiled alive at the bottom of the waterfall. 

It doesn’t matter what you do, only what they think you’ve done. 

It doesn’t matter that the gasps he heard from Hartley made his throat cry out in agony, only that he lied to Bishop about where the last egg was. It doesn’t matter that his hand shook as he fitted the watch into place on that Nazi bunker, only that it worked to get inside. 

It doesn’t matter that his heart feels like it’s tearing itself in two, only that he got them what they wanted. 

The cuffs jangle as he yanks on them. 

Hartley…with his gruff voice and short sentences and jokes that slid just underneath Nolan’s skin. Even when they’d been fighting, he’d never hurt Nolan, not really, not badly, and the way they just seemed to match each other. Even with their insults and when they’d been squaring up in front of guns and technology and behind enemy lines, they’d been—he could look at Hartley and feel some sort of security. 

And Bishop…god, where does he even begin? The attention she’d paid him, the way she said his name, the way she’s crafted the narrative of them together as art thieves, even the way they teased Hartley for being so Johnny Law…

He tries to observe his own flaws with the way he does others, if only to make sure he can account for them when he goes to work. He knows he has a need for validation, for attention, but god had he underestimated how much he’d turned into a fucking lapdog. 

The pit in his chest opens a little bit more and two hands twist the knife. 

Whoever said that true friends stab you in the front because it’s quick and painless is a filthy liar. 

Of course they knew. Of course they knew. They’re too fucking smart not to know. He knew as well, that this was just a game. This was a game of them trying to one-up each other, seeing who could get the other to give up a weakness first. He knows he lost. He knows he’s lost badly and he’s a gracious loser. But that doesn’t mean it’s painless. 

He wonders who figured out he was starved for affection first. His money is on Hartley, just because the man is the one who figured out how to walk the line between giving Nolan enough to make him follow the crumbs like a stupid pigeon while still believing it was all his idea. But Bishop…oh, Bishop did so well with toying with him that he has to believe she knew it too. Little boy, perfectly molded into what they needed him to be by a daddy who didn’t talk to him for over a year and there he was, a pawn they moved effortlessly across the board, hand in unlovable hand. 

Another lie he told himself, another lie he knows he won’t ever be able to believe. 

Thank god he’s tied up in a jungle. The breeze ripples through the trees and insects whine like it’s their job to suck his brain out of his ears and he’s panting as he pulls at the jangling cuffs. It’s not quiet, it won’t ever be, not here, and he’s just a little bit grateful to them for that. 

“Do you ever shut up,” Hartley had grumbled on the flight to Argentina, “or am I cursed to just put up with your noise?”

“Aw, don’t complain, sweetheart, I’m sure I’ll make plenty of noise for you if you just ask nicely.” Never mind the fact that he would, he knows he would, if only that shamed and shunned part of him weren’t so buried. 

Hartley had glared at him. “I’m sick of you.”

And unbidden, Nolan had laughed. Genuinely laughed. “You think you’re sick of me? I have to listen to me all the time, even when I’m not talking.”

Hartley had given him another look, one that he now knows means he’s filing that information away to be turned into a weapon later, wielded by him or the Bishop, it doesn’t matter. Back then, he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, it’d been something like…regret? Compassion? Something?

Nolan isn’t sure that Hartley knew what he was saying. 

I have to listen to me all the time, even when I’m not talking. 

The worst thing about prison is the silence. Of seeing so many people and knowing they’re there and no one saying anything. Of being ignored because of course he’s there to be ignored. No one cares, no one will, and he will drown in silence until he can’t hear himself scream. 

Maybe he should. 

His throat closes up and aches to be let free and he wants to, he wants to, but the lingering fear that someone might hear him keeps a lock on it. 

Because he’s under no illusions that he’s saved face, but he has some pride left. 

He settles for the most pathetic whine he can think of as he buries his face into the bark of the tree. There’s no one but himself here to lie to, not in the safety of his own head, and he knows better than to try right now. 

He thought his legs were going to give out when he realized what had happened. He’d stared at them looking so smug, so perfect, so annoyingly perfect when they revealed what the jig was. And then to see them comforting each other, reassuring each other, apologizing to each other because they cared about each other. Seeing the fake warmth fade to genuine affection and fondness as they proceeded to treat him like a wall. He wasn’t there. He didn’t matter. He never did, he was just the Bishops’ pawn, and he would never be anything more than that. 

Nolan’s eyes squeeze tighter. He’s not going to cry alone in this jungle, handcuffed to a tree. He’s not. 

He’s not going to think about how stupidly condescending that last speech was. He’s not going to think about the part of him that still yearned to reach for Hartley during that moment when he said they had nothing but respect for him. He’s not going to think about how much he felt like a kid again, begging for scraps of anything from a father that wouldn’t give it to him. 

He’s not going to think about how easily they moved around each other. He’s not going to think about how, even when they were still supposedly enemies, they moved around each other as easily and comfortably as only intimate lovers could. He’s not going to think about how well he could see that in how they took turns tearing him apart. 

He’s not going to think about where they’re going now. He’s not going to think about the Bishop in some extravagant evening gown with Hartley taking her arm, the power couple they are. He’s not going to think about how much they care for each other, how much they depend on each other, and how little of anything they ever gave him was or could have been real. 

Because it wasn’t. It wasn’t real. It won’t be real. They don’t think of him. He is nothing to them, not in the way they could be to him. 

So he’s not going to think about it. 

He’s not. 

He’s not. 

Nolan Booth ducks his face between his elbows as tears squeeze themselves from his eyes. 

He can’t stay here. Das is going to come looking for him. He’s going to be escorted back to prison and he’s going to have to deal with this. He has to plan. 

So he lets himself have this. He slumps against the cuffs and lets them dig into the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrists and he lets the ache in his chest send him almost to his knees. Because the second Das finds him, the game is on and he’s going to need all of his strength for what comes next. 

He has to rest now. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much he wants to scream, he has to rest now. 

He’s as silent as he can be in the middle of an abandoned jungle. 

He lets Das and her men throw him roughly into the back of a truck. He lets his restraints be fastened so tight his circulation is about to be cut off. He lets himself be shoved into the back of a silent truck that means he can’t hear anything other than his own breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. 

He lets the boat spray hit him too hard in the face as he rides it out to the yacht in the middle of the ocean. He lets his shoulders ache and protest as he squeezes himself into a too-small space. He lets the sounds of passionate, real love and affection nestle into some soft part of his brain and stay there. 

He lets Hartley look at him like he’s a pest. He lets his words that say I don’t give a single fuck about you and you wish I cared enough to be angrier strike him where Hartley knows it hurts. He lets Bishop persuade her partner—her partner—to take the score because Booth can be a valuable asset and Hartley trusts her, one hundred percent. 

And he never again lets himself believe that, even for a second, any affection they show him could possibly be real. 

[taraxippos]

PREDATOR SERIES DEFINITIVE RANKING by ME

Predator: I get why it's a classic and it has a few iconic moments and great lines but ultimately it is just a movie that exists. I guess it's nice that there's a movie where a bunch of bodybuilders get hunted for sport in the jungle, but like, whatever. 2.5 stars.

Predator 2: A movie that exists-er. Danny Glover gives a great performance and has some fun lines but that's about all I can say. 2.5 stars.

Alien Vs Predator: Stupid in a good way. Wonderful movie. I like that the Alien and the Predator fight each other. Awesome! The main character gets the respect of the predators in the end and teams up with one to fight big alien and it's like 'yay yayyyy'. She gets made into a blooded warrior and it's like 'wow cool'. We love to see it. Fun stuff. 3 stars.

Alien Vs Predator 2: Stupid in a bad way. Unmemorable. Painful watch. Occasionally manages to be funny (mostly unintentionally) but humor does little to aid this sad little production. Easily the worst of the franchise. 1 star.

Predators: Stupid in a bad way. Not even funny. Only saved from being the worst of the series by being a technically competent movie. The somewhat fresh premise is wasted by them doing pretty much nothing interesting with it. Cast of asshole characters falls flat because they're the boring kind of assholes. Not even such inspired lines as "Die you space faggot" can drag this movie out of its own irrelevancy. 1.5 stars.

The Predator: Stupid in a transcendent way. Hilarious. The hamfisted callback references to the first movie make me physically cringe and wince in a way that borders on sexual. Cast of stupid asshole characters shooting nonstop quips at each other somehow loops right back around into being delightful. 'Autism superpowers' pseudoscience subplot is absolutely baffling. Lame ass sequel hook at the end is just the cherry on top, like oh you beautiful little thing. "The Predator" 2018 you stupid, sexy thing. There will not be a sequel to this shit. They're not making a FUCKING sequel. Wonderful. Poetic cinema. The best film in the Predator franchise. I won't even call it a movie. 5 stars. 6 stars even.

Prey: Preddy good. The period setting is fun and refreshing. Not just a good predator movie but a solid movie on its own merits. It sounds like they're making a sequel and I look forward to it. 3 stars.

[grandhotelabyss]

Say more about “Truly imaginative movies like Prometheus and Alien: Covenant” (I’ve only heard bad things about them but critical judgement of sci-fi and horror is generally even worse than the at least sometimes-accurate criticism of “drama”)

It was 12 years ago, but my recollection is that Prometheus got denounced by Reddit/nerd-culture types because it had "bad world-building" or whatever irrelevant objection neglecting that a movie is a dream, a view that moreover dismisses its heady mythological and poetic-archetypal narrative about humanity meeting its maker. (One of the last posts on Livejournal that went anything like viral before Tumblr took over was a Frazerian reading of Prometheus.) I wrote about Covenant here; it takes these cosmic themes further by wittily invoking art and sexuality—fusing Frazer with Freud, we might say. I don't claim that they're the best films qua films ever made, but they're more profound than most movies on that blockbuster level, such as (unfortunately) Alien: Romulus. They are both, for that reason, much more unpredictable and unsettling than conventional genre cinema.