#not for the squeamish

[skinetom]

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Charles Birkin - The Kiss of Death - Award - 1969

[johnschneiderblog]

‘Banshees’ not for the squeamish

Even when a movie really grabs me by the collar, I’m sometimes reluctant to offer a blanket endorsement because I’ve learned over the years that my cinematic tastes may be quirkier than most.

A notable example was the 2014 movie “Birdman,” directed by Alejandro Iñárritu and starring Michael Keaton and Edward Norton.

I loved it and recommended it indiscriminately. More than one of my friends, after watching it, came back to me asking, “What was that ...?”

So it is with “The Banshees of Inisherin.” After our kids sang its praises, Sharon and I watched it Monday night on HBO (the big advantage there over a movie theater is closed captioning; the characters, all Irish, speak English but you wouldn’t always know it.)

Written and directed by Martin McDonagh, “Banshees” tells the story of two lifelong friends -  Pádraic (Colin Farrell and Colm (Brendan Gleeson) - living on a remote island off the coast of Ireland in the 1920s.

Colm suddenly ends the friendship and a devastated Pádraic can’t figure out why. Pádraic’s attempt to fix the situation leads to horrific consequences.

“Banshees” is not for the squeamish, but a week after seeing the movie, I’m still thinking about it. It’s possible you would be, too. It’s also possible you wouldn’t make it  through the whole movie.

[creppersfunpalooza]

thinking abt Nothing Special rn 👍👍 (save me)

[sanguinifex]

You gotta read and watch some old books and films that aren’t 100% modern politically correct. I’m not saying you should agree with everything in them but you need to learn where genres came from to understand what those genres are doing today and where media deconstructing old tropes is coming from.

Also, more often than you might think, they’re not actually promoting bigotry so much as “didn’t consider all the implications of something” or just used words that were polite then but considered offensive now.

Kill the censor in your head.

[official-penis-posts]

Stop sexualising penises, they are for peeing >:(

Joke’s on you, we’re also sexualizing peeing

[lucabyte]

i feel like people are sleeping on the occam's razor situation of how buckwild it is to outright accuse a guy of being a clone of your friend even if you DO have a lot of circumstantial evidence. there's other options is what im saying. they could just be like. a guy. that's a sensible deduction. you should explore that deduction. ignore my shirt that reads I <3 RED HERRINGS.

i still think odile has the correct theory on lock but she's smart enough to know it needs like... a real smoking gun to be able to bring it up without sounding insane.

anyway. (mirabelle voice) i know its rude to speculate but has anyone else noticed the grieving? they seem to be grieving. does anyone have any thoughts on the grieving? i have some thoughts on the grieving.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Halloween! 🧼🥩🎃

[onlyhurtforaminute]

TOMBSTONES-SHRIEK WELL BEFORE DYING

[st-hedge]

What was that really beautiful wording used to describe characters I like— ah that’s it, sad sacks of issues. That’s this guy right here

[jellinuy]

౨ৎ incl. husband! higuruma + lots of fluff!!

he thinks for a second that he may be dreaming.

it’s possible. he could still be at work, hunched over asleep at his desk, the ache in his back and his neck keeping him on the border betweeen actual rest and a quick but uncomfortable nap. but he pinches himself and warrants a faint sting, so he’s definitely awake.

now confirmed that this is real, nerves set in quick, spreading like wildfire throughout his body and rendering him near-immobile and — for the first time since he can remember — scared. he's genuinely scared. hiromi approaches his wife’s hospital bed like he's a bull and you’re made of porcelain, completely disregarding his mussed tie and the gentle beading of sweat on his forehead.

he looks down at you with the most loving eyes, stubborn traces of fear and uncertainty lingering in them, swirled into his dark pupils like creamer in black coffee. he’s so in love, but so afraid.

against his wife’s chest is their crying daughter. his baby girl.

“look who it is!” you mutter happily, tired lines seeping into the smile hiromi so adores as you swirl the small tufts of hair on top of your baby’s head between gentle fingers. “look, d/n, it’s daddy.” you gesture him closer to the bed, a faint giggle on your lips. “she’s not gonna bite you.”

“are you sure i can hold her?” he doesn't know what to do with something so tiny. something so loud. he rushed here with the sole intention of seeing his wife. he watched you give birth, and he told himself he was ready, but now that it’s happened, he’s terrified. when you nod with that familiar warmth in your face, he leans down to kiss your forehead, then your cheek. then he worries, “what if i drop her on accident?”

you smile at his unease, trying to hand him the baby. “just make sure her head is supported; you won’t drop her.”

after a second, he reaches his arms out for the newborn, and the minute they make contact, he swears all the stress leaves his body. he feels connected to her forever from this point on, an invisible tether rooted deep in their hearts and wrapping around one another. he holds the tiny head of his daughter in his palm — “she’s so small,” you hear him mumble and watch his eyebrows elevate when he discovers that her entire head fits in his hand — and cradles the rest of her in the crook of his elbow, tucking his other arm under her for good measure. you smile despite the fatigue, your heart melting into goo at the sight of your little family, complete. there’s a sticky sweetness about it, a content air to watching them: like nurturing a flower garden and watching it bloom.

“heyyy… hey, d/n,” he mumbles, trying to rock the fussing baby in his arms, the sound of her crying and the sight of her scrunched-up face already breaking his heart. “it’s daddy.” god, did that taste so sweet on his tongue. “daddy’s here… shh. don’t cry, princess, ‘m here.”

higuruma’s pulse thrums in his ears, watching the baby’s gum-mouthed cries turn to whimpers, then soft little coos as big black eyes meet the matching set of his own, and immediately he makes it his duty to thumb her tears away.

he loves her.

“hi, my baby,” your husband whispers, nuzzling into her soft, supple cheeks with his large nose to kiss her, his heart swelling so big he was afraid it would pop out of him when her hands patted at his face, exploring the soft skin of his jaw and the apples of his own cheeks while her legs kicked (giving him a slight heart attack, thinking she’d wriggle out of his arms and onto the floor somehow) curiously. you notice (and smile) when his eyes so obviously gloss over with tears at the surrealism of the moment — that this was his daughter. this was the living, breathing, essence of him and his wife’s love.

the spring in which he’d married you was the same spring that he began to see the little things for what they were. higuruma had always had a sort of fast pace about him.

but now he hopes time will slow down, stretch like the thick pour of molasses. he wants to milk this life for all it's worth.

[skinetom]

FRIGHT RELEASE!!

NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH! DOCTORS ARE ON STANDBY!!

60’s HORROR!

[hey-hey-j]

Viva's earring escapades continue

(★ Ko-fi) | (★ commission info)

[soup-is-here]

I think we should've started throwing rocks at Jimmy when he got mad at Anya for getting nauseous while giving Curly his meds as if his ass didn't know she was pregnant

[achromicrain]

Blue Roan Shorthorn Steer x Penicillium

Funguary Day 7

[mih4nn]

Welcome to the operating table 💖