The Magic Toyshop, Angela Carter
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@vamqira
The Magic Toyshop, Angela Carter
Morgiana (1972) | Dir. Juraj Herz
lots of arms emerging from behind doors is a familiar image across various horror mediums. and that’s because everyone knows there isn’t anything scarier than a human centipede
I feel like not enough people realize that people under enormous strain act really really fucking Weird
There was a parenting-kids-with-trauma book I remember running into around 2010 (I was not and am still not a parent, but I am an older sibling) that had a lovely little slogan I like to quote all the time:
“It’s not about the Cheerios.”
This was in reference to a story about a kid flipping the HELL out into a full-blown panic about running out of their favorite cereal. Not a tantrum, not a whine-fest, but an all-hands-on-deck, code-red, world-is-ending blowup.
The kid had originally come from a very unstable situation and experienced food deprivation. The new adoptive parents were stumped, because look at all the other food! You’re safe! We can get the Cheerios tomorrow!
But it wasn’t really about the Cheerios, it was about that first flicker of unease triggering all the old trauma. From the outside, it looked ridiculous. To the trauma-trained reaction of the kid’s brain, it made perfect sense.
Human brains are weird, and we’re all out here trying to survive. Sometimes our brains do this in socially acceptable, convenient ways. But not often.
(The book was titled “Beyond Logic, Consequences or Control” I think, I’ll look it up and edit this in a bit.)
i’ve genuinely never felt the urge to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes/etc., not only because i’ve seen the cognitive damage it’s done to my father (and because it likely caused my paternal uncle’s death from colon cancer), but also because i was molested by a drunk adult as a child at a party while my parents were getting similarly smashed.
i’ve forever associated alcohol and drug use as a form of potentially dangerous escapism that ultimately wouldn’t even benefit me because i’ve never really had to escape from myself. i was and still am not really here.
I’ve been showing my hamster your blog and it seems to really like it, biting at the screen. I also have a hamster(the small animal kind) too and he seems to like your blog as well
the fuck is the first hamster then
ok i’m done being crazy lol
no i’m not
"Man Shot Moments Before Proposing to His Partner" drawn with markers
i was training a young person at work, and she referred to sexual assault as "SA" out loud, and i immediately was like, "no, it's sexual assault, call it what it is," bc idgaf if the algorithm overlords have taught y'all that you should fear direct language, how tf do any of you expect to ever address real issues with any amount of seriousness if you can't even say the words? imagine an advocate looking a sexual assault survivor in the eyes and asking "did he grape you?" it's absolutely fucking absurd, but these young interns and new hires are coming into an environment where we deal with survivors of all different kinds of abuse, and they're coming with the mindset that the words are as bad as the actions, and that makes them shitty at the job and look juvenile af
i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience
say the fucking words, guys. just say the goddamn words before i go insane!!!
throwback to when studios would just bury massive quantities of silent films because they couldn’t bother to maintain them and couldn’t conceive of a world in which anyone would perhaps want to view those films again. and that’s when the films weren’t spontaneously exploding due to improper storage.
i want to get into customizing blythes. but i already have a box of monster high dolls i need to work on and i cannot keep impulsively switching from hobby to hobby. if i don’t finish something soon i may just die
Kopalnia soli Wieliczka (Southern Polish Salt Mine) 2006 / flickr
every spelunker should go in with a cyanide tooth capsule so if they get stuck they can take the gentle way out instead of being tortured by the earth for 72 hours and then dying anyway
@kropotkindersurprise said:
it should be an explosive device, so they widen that part of the cave at the same time and no other spelunkers will get stuck there
beautiful vision. i love the idea of a minecraft-style world where if you explode underground it just clears a radius
“what’s up with you and vampires, man?” we don’t have the time to discuss this
Andreas Feininger - Grass Spider Tunnel, 1951
— The Incest Diary
At the hotel we had separate rooms, but in the middle of the night she came sobbing into mine, and we made it up very gently. You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.
— Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
“this art has soul” “this art is soulless” well this butt is hairy…
Show us your hairy butt art