The Magic Toyshop, Angela Carter
Sade Olutola
The Bowery Presents

#extradirty
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
taylor price

pixel skylines
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
tumblr dot com
d e v o n
official daine visual archive
cherry valley forever
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Product Placement
đ
almost home

tannertan36

oozey mess
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Argentina

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Austria

seen from Germany
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from Japan

seen from United Kingdom
seen from India
seen from Netherlands
seen from Venezuela
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from United States
@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 thatâs because everyone knows there isnât 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:
âItâs not about the Cheerios.â
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! Youâre safe! We can get the Cheerios tomorrow!
But it wasnât 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 kidâs brain, it made perfect sense.
Human brains are weird, and weâre all out here trying to survive. Sometimes our brains do this in socially acceptable, convenient ways. But not often.
(The book was titled âBeyond Logic, Consequences or Controlâ I think, Iâll look it up and edit this in a bit.)
iâve genuinely never felt the urge to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes/etc., not only because iâve seen the cognitive damage itâs done to my father (and because it likely caused my paternal uncleâs 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.
iâve forever associated alcohol and drug use as a form of potentially dangerous escapism that ultimately wouldnât even benefit me because iâve never really had to escape from myself. i was and still am not really here.
Iâve 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 iâm done being crazy lol
no iâm 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 couldnât bother to maintain them and couldnât conceive of a world in which anyone would perhaps want to view those films again. and thatâs when the films werenât 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 donât 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
âwhatâs up with you and vampires, man?â we donât have the time to discuss this
Andreas Feininger - Grass Spider Tunnel, 1951
â 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.
â Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
âthis art has soulâ âthis art is soullessâ well this butt is hairyâŚ
Show us your hairy butt art