shine like thunder cry like rain

grupaok:
“Evgeny Sedukhin, Symphony of the 6th Blast Furnace, 1979
”
grupaok:
“Evgeny Sedukhin, Symphony of the 6th Blast Furnace, 1979
”

grupaok:

Evgeny Sedukhin, Symphony of the 6th Blast Furnace, 1979

  • 4,540 notes
  • Comments

putting Will in the full bite mask ensemble for his little mid-s2 field trip implies he was a Biting Risk….. who, and most importantly what, do we think he chomped down on while behind bars to earn that title?

(obviously there were doylist Reasons to shoehorn it in, and it could’ve just been a humiliation thing, but we’re talking rule of funny here. funny and/or incredibly fucked-up. c'mon, hit me.)

  • 15 notes
  • Comments

forgottenforest:

Kate Winslet
by Helmut Newton, 1996

happy stussy* sunday

stab wou-[the broadcast is abruptly intercepted and followed by an eerily distorted chorus of children's voices singing a nursery rhyme]

image

Originally posted by leeannablack-blog1

  • 11 notes
  • Comments

wardogf:

i would have liked to show you hole will.

pierppasolini:

Suspiria (2018) // dir. Luca Guadagnino

pedropacsal:

THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY (1999) dir. ANTHONY MINGHELLA

I was trying to investigate what the moral rhythm could be without disturbing the intention of the novel. It seemed to me that what was implicit in the morality of Ripley’s story was that if you have in some ways annihilated yourself to get where you need to be, there is no reward. It’s a very empty world. American film is preoccupied with public morality, with being “seen” to he punished when, actually, the important moral rhythms in life are spiritual, internal. — Anthony Minghella

  • 976 notes
  • Comments
image

this deleted bit of Hannibal 3x04 Aperitivo is WILD and it’s also got me borderline indignant, because okay sure I’ve got a predictable Type of fictional relationships I’m easy for, but I cannot fucking believe they all ultimately come back to a handcuffed John Simm sneering “So you’re just gonna… keep me?” at David Tennant

shinelikethunder:

This song still fucks me up, years after I first heard it. Something about the delicate transposition of tenderness–solace in a dark place–and a sinister, predatory edge. A thousand cults waiting in the wings to seize upon the basic, universal, cruel inexplicability of suffering and try to impose their own system on it, bleed it out with their own folk cures, each just as futile as the others but all striking the same primeval chords–something real, something resonant, a need deep down in the human subconscious.

  • 42 notes
  • Comments