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Wibbly-Wobbly Ramblings

@nekobakaz / nekobakaz.tumblr.com

Hi!! I'm Corina! Check out my About Page! Autistic, disabled, artist, writer, geek. Asexual. nekomics.ca .banner by vastderp, icon by lilac-vode
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reblogged

Since you're at the doctor's, medical headcanons. Who's afraid of needles, who's the biggest baby when sick, who insists that everyone just let them die, etc. etc.

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Short answer before long one bc I have to drive but:

They're all deep, deep into the morass of the horrors and miracles of The Flesh.

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The Karakura kids are weird because Ichigo's dad is an emergency trauma doctor and Ichigo's family loves above the clinic. Any time his friends come over there's a round of "so what wild shit happened in the ER since last time?" Uryuu's dad is also a surgeon, and the thing that gets him and Ichigo back on speaking terms again is more or less second-hand shop talk. Orihime has been obsessed with emergency medicine since her brother died. She wanted to know what she should have done, and can do so it won't happen again. Keigo has been carrying a first aid kit in his backpack since he became friends with Ichigo and Tatsuki in middle school. He's got an exceptional talent for patching someone up enough to get through English class without the teacher noticing the injuries after a lunchtime brawl. Tatsuki started peeking over Orihime's shoulder at her notes on joint trauma and developed a talent for targeting her kicks and punches to deal maximum damage in karate tournaments. Mizurio knows a suspicious amount about neurology and how pain works because his "uncles" keep telling him about techniques used by enforcers to extract payment or information. Chad got heavily into Oxacan folk medicine because once he stopped getting in fights, he needed something else to occupy him, and his abuela decided to teach him how to cook. There is not a huge difference between good food and good medicine. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of chemoreactive plants and chemistry you can do on a stove.

Every single one of the Karakura kids has had something medical happen to them or a loved one, and every single one is now peering into the mysteries of the flesh about it.

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The shinigami are worse.

Shinigami broadly have better physical resistance, esp because they're reaping the injury stabilizing benefits Senjumaru wove into the Shinigami Shushako.

But they live in a feudal society that has only SOME of the benefits of modern medicine, and the few instances of disease-mitigating infrastructure are far between. It's COMMON for the souls of the rukongai and Seireitei alike to have a sibling who died in infancy or a parent who died in child birth or of an infection.

Societally, they are still in the very earliest phases of the war against pestilence and it gives one a very warped perspective on all things medical. Especially if you happen to be in the immediate sphere of influence of soul society's greatest warrior against death:

Retsu Unohana.

I cannot overstate the impact this woman has had, and you don't do things like "decimate the nationwide infant mortality rate" or "pioneer organ transplant surgery" without being a bit mad, and she has lived so long and done so much that the madness has clarified into a single extremely dense point of determination and she warps the reality of those around her. Woe and Blessings alike to those within her event horizon.

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The Arrancar are even worse.

Hollow resilience to injury allows them to body much, much worse injuries than the humans and it has an impact on etiquette. Biting off a hand because someone won't stop bothering you is a normal way to establish a boundary. Limb loss and regrowth is common, and disembowelment about as serious as a bad cold.

The food situation is even more dire. Smaller hollows, ones that used to be plants or animals or human-hollows who have a modicum of self control are weak, but lucky. They can survive off the ambient reiatsu in the atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, or the naturally cleaving fragments of soul that fall off the living.

Everyone else needs to hunt. And the more powerful a hollow becomes, the more it needs to consume, and the richer it's prey must be. The only really rich souls are other sapient beings. Any hollow at the level of Shrieker or Grand Fisher or higher is trapped in a hellish metabolic cycle of cannibalism, and the only way out is through.

The primary killer of hollows is other hollows. They know what they're doing. They're looking their fellow beings in the eye, the ones who understand them best, and deciding that their own life is worth their friend's. For all their ability to handle the slings and arrows of physical trauma, hollows are worse at handling the emotional consequences of this cycle. Monstrous Egotism is a best case scenario for them.

In practice, this means that while it's perfectly acceptable to bite someone's hand off for annoying you, it would be rude of you to spit it back at them. At least eat it!

I realize this last bit is not, strictly speaking, medical, but you can see how the ability to survive being turned into an anatomical Venus and having to live on a diet of the flesh of others would completely recontextualize how hollows think about Illness.

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I will do the fun individual headcanons when I get home, but this is a good broader framework to consider for now.

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not-the-blue

oh you're in a horror film/book and your phone died/has no bars? how boring. I think phones in horror SHOULD work. they should ding only to have the protagonist check and find nothing. they should get calls from somebody you don't know but is still somehow in your contacts. google maps should lead you to one place, no matter what address you type in.

phones are such a big part of our daily lives, removing them from horror removes the horror from our experience. what if the horror felt like it could happen to you, right here, right now? what if it felt like it was already happening?

call 911 and something that is definitely not a person picks up.

call 911 and get an operator only for the call to become increasingly weirder and more sinister until you realize that whatever picked up is not there to help.

text messages from someone who's dead. voicemails that sound like dead air until you turn the volume all the way up.

emergency alerts for weather that doesn't happen on earth.

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adhdedrn

Your phone rings - but it's your phone number on the screen. You answer it, but all you hear is heavy, laboured breathing. You go to say something, only to hear your voice on the other end tell you "It's too late," and hang up.

You get a message from a number you don't recognise. It's a picture of you from behind. You turn and see there's nobody there. When you look back at your phone, you see the sender has sent another text - "Sorry, wrong number."

Your phone rings - it's a private number. You answer it, only to feel the sensation of something licking your ear.

You wake up to find a voicemail. You play it back, only to hear an autotuned version of your own voice reciting a Bible passage - 1 Peter 2: 18-20.

You get an emergency alert. It says "I'm sorry."

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roach-works

every time you try to call anyone, the version of you that didn't get trapped in the hell maze picks up instead, and she's getting increasingly scared and angry to hear from you

Or have it work perfectly fine! You call 911 the operator answers, they take your call seriously, they says they’ll send help but based on location it will take aprox 90 min (movie duration) so through the entire movie we see protagonist look down at the clock on his phone, just counting down the minutes as they try to survive until help arrives, make the very last scene the police lights.

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reblogged

dear buckaroos. chuck woke to find that CAMP DAMASCUS has remained steadfast on USA TODAY BESTSELLER LIST for a second week. first week includes preorders which means most books drop off suddenly yet camp damascus remains and this is ONLY because of one thing: YOUR word of mouth.

so thankful buds are resonating with this story and  recommending it to buds who need it. i have given my art and you have given me this love and kindness in return. you have seen my outsider way and STEPPED UP to say 'i sign off on this too' and for that i am awash in gratitude.

for years ive talked on buds sayin 'i love chuck tingle but i would never read his books’. well meaning buckaroos say this because what i do has a specific ‘queer outsider way’ and there is a subconscious block to proclaim: ‘YES I PERSONALLY AND PROUDLY SUPPORT THIS UNIRONICALLY’

but no longer. i am so moved and impressed with way that TOGETHER we have shifted this timeline towards love and acceptance of UNIQUE TROTS. of the way i have been embraced. so this one is for the 'strange buckaroos' because ultimately we are ALL strange buckaroos in our own way

so support of camp damascus is officially no fluke and we have remained on the dang bestseller charts for a second week. the strange and unique and joyful trots are here to stay. the queer and neurodivergent trots are here to stay. THE BUCKAROOS ARE HERE TO STAY. LOVE IS REAL

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 just making a little post with update on way of CAMP DAMASCUS trotting onto this timeline next month. preorders are doing GREAT, vibes are doing GREAT, ITS ALL COMING TOGETHER. chuck wanted to take moment and say from bottom of heart 'thank you for being on this journey with me'

i have been creating this art for a long time, at one point there were no more than a dozen buckaroos and now we trot in the dang hundreds of thousands. every DAY i am overwhelmed with gratitude at this way we have built as a force of OUTSIDER ART sayin ‘here is a different way'

and to see this way now accepted by mainstream is hard to describe without tears of joy. i have always had faith in buckaroo message but DANG BUD seeing it happen like this AND TO BEND THIS TIMELINE towards a path that celebrates queerness, neurodivergence and LOVE is so powerful

just wanted to say THANK YOU for being here in this moment, a divergence of timelines where we kick down the wall and chart a NEW path. whether you are old time buckaroo or a fresh faced bud i appreciate you SO MUCH. we are heckin TROTTING right now and this is only the beginning

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prokopetz

Horror protagonist who's immune to being jumpscared because they work in the plumbing department and their conditioned response to some huge fucker popping out of nowhere right in front of them with a crazed look in their eyes is that they probably just need help finding the half inch to three-eighths inch faucet supply line adapters.

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reblogged

CONTENT WARNING be careful watching somewhere where a loud noise could scare the heck out of you

hey buckaroos did you know my first traditionally published horror novel comes out this upcoming summer. it is about a christian conversion therapy camp, and it has a queer autistic main character. i am VERY proud of this way. it is also a very cathartic story, i think.

here is the book trailer and i think it is good example of fact that even though chuck is working with traditional big timer publisher i am still unique in my ways. i do not think you will ever seen a book trailer like this.

THANK YOU to my buds in band THE LOCUST for allowing chuck to use their song. 

anyway buds if you want to preorder CAMP DAMASCUS you can right here

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children in horror movies are great bc they Commit. trying to get an adult to scream in terror requires them to unlearn all the societal teachings that tell them not to be loud or startling. children are ready to put 110% of their lung capacity into making a noise at any time.

adult: i trained with a vocal coach so i knew i wouldn’t strain my larynx during filming…

child: you want me to scream? ok-

AAAAAAAAAAA

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autistic-af

One of my favourite pop culture useless pieces of information that I know is the fact that trends in horror movies can tell you about the general fears of the world at any given time in cinematic history.

Sorta!

1940s - You have people still alive that remember Jack the Ripper, you have the Axeman of New Orleans and two world wars. The classics are being made for shock escapism and dark stalkers are also popular (usually trusting people turning out to be the enemy).

1950s - post-nuclear bomb. Giant monsters, or unknown blobs are the trend.

1970s/1980s - modern era begins, and serial killers are becoming known and prominent. Slasher films are the trend. The Cold War also drives the fear of invasion, so a few alien films come out in this time.

1990s - a horror movie lull, and lull in wars and disturbances.

2000s - fear of invasions and biological warfare. Zombie movies become the trend.

Here you go! It's just a random article, but it's a fun starting point. It outlines the ideas better than what I did above. Fears, politics etc all play a role.

I literally did a 100k PhD thesis on this. I can recommend you a different scholarly book for every decade of American horror.

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archiemcphee

Nothing banishes Monday blues like discovering that a decidedly sinister, 100-year-old H. P. Lovecraft poem, entitled “Nemesis,” maps almost perfectly to the 1973 song “Piano Man” by Billy Joel.

If you already know the song, then simply reading the poem below is enough to see that the two really do match. But listening to “Nemesis“ being sung by songwriter and performer Julian Velard as he also plays “Piano Man” is one of the most unsettlingly sublime things the internet has ever produced.

Velard is no longer Velard. He’s H. P. Joelcraft, the Cthulhuman. Listen above and follow along here:

@meganphntmgrl oh my god

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glumshoe

This is the king of cursed posts.

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god i can never stop thinking about certain sculptures used in modern art and how they can be used to elicit the beautiful and terrible feeling of true and genuine horror in ways that a lot of horror movies can never do

like when you ask people “what is horror?” they’ll tend to give examples of monsters, of killers, of dark places, of sharp teeth and too many legs and lots and lots of blood. which is true, that can be used as horror! but i’d like to call that “the horror of being eaten/hurt/killed” or more succinctly “the horror of vulnerability”. it’s a horror that something, whether it’s a killer or a monster or some phenomenon, has the ability to cause us harm. we see large amounts of teeth and we think “that thing is going to tear us to pieces with those teeth” or we see spilled blood and we think “someone has been hurt, there’s a chance we can be hurt too by whatever spilled this blood”.

but what certain modern sculptures can do is elicit a very physical visceral reaction of a completely different kind of horror. 

it’s “the horror that something is a thing that SHOULD not exist, and you are absolutely powerless to understand what it is, but it is existing in your space, right now, it is real and you cannot make it unreal no matter what you do”

or perhaps, in a shorter fashion, it’s “the horror of wrongness

like one of the sculptures that made me feel this way is this sculpture here, named “Monekana” located in the American Art Museum in Washington D.C:

“okay,” you say, with a shrug. “it’s a horse made of wood? what’s so scary about that?”. but this is the lie of the photograph! a photograph of a sculpture rarely grasps the experience of standing next to a sculpture. you have to picture yourself walking into this room, practically devoid of people, and coming face to face with this sculpture that is very large and very real.

and your brain screams that “THIS IS WRONG. MAKE IT GO AWAY. THIS IS WRONG”, like at any moment you expect it to move, to twist its head, to follow you with eyes that aren’t simply there. it looks like a horse but it is no horse. you could almost argue that maybe it isn’t even an art piece at all, but it wandered in from god knows what kind of world and it’s blending in with everything else. maybe it’s fooling you. maybe it isn’t.

anyways, i’m not trying to say that this sculpture in particular is SUPPOSED to be scary, it may make other people feel nothing at all (or even positive feelings!), but what i’m trying to say is that feeling i had that day, when i saw this thing, when i felt this fearful instinct to stay away and not stare, it’s THAT feeling that i feel so many writers and makers of horror don’t completely understand. you don’t need teeth. you don’t need blood. you don’t need to make Spooky Scary Skeletons or chainsaw-wielding villains. all you need is to create something wrong in its existence, something to make parts of us fear the fact that we can’t entirely rationalize what we’re seeing.

that’s horror, to me.

This is amazing

This post makes me think of Klaus Pinter’s work:

The experience of sculpture absolutely gets lost in images. I’ve walked into museums and been like WOW THE FUCK even when I knew it was coming.

I love this subject, though. I love “implication horror.” You see something, and the realization of what it means, which often comes a few moments later, is where the real horror lies—not in how splattery or gratuitously shocking it is. The wrongness of a thing in fiction, when done well, is the best. I was watching Melancholia the other day, and what a terrifying example of wrongness horror.

Anyway this is such a great post thanks for putting the whole idea into words so well. <3

This is how I feel about wind turbines (I tried to walk up to one once and felt the most inexplicable terror I’ve ever felt in my life), or most things that are ridiculously large, for that matter. Ships fascinate me but make me feel very uneasy. Certain buildings, especially if they look old-timey in any way kind of freak me out. 

Examples: The Halifax shipyard building made me feel almost nauseous, and I have to drive past this cold storage building in Winnipeg every time I go to visit my boyfriend’s parents. I do not like it one bit. Also, I got to see that sculpture of a giant newborn baby last year. That was very surreal in the way that is described here.

WHAT AMAZING ADDITIONS TO THIS POST, thank you! I didn’t know of Kalus Pinter’s work and now I REALLY want to see it for myself, goodness.

Honestly, I’m so glad so many people have responded and reblogged this post with examples and stories of their own!! It’s so cool to see just what people think and perceive as this horror of “wrongness”. I also see some people saying that this is essentially the uncanny valley effect, which is only an aspect of this kind of horror - the uncanny valley primarily deals with something we perceive that looks close to human and yet doesn’t quite make it there. It’s just one subset of a really uneasy sort of horror that can be found in so many forms, which may really honestly differ from person to person.

Overall, THIS HORROR IS WIDELY UNDERUSED IN FICTION and I’m so glad to see so many examples of it posted here!!

I feel this way about kangaroos. If you really look at a kangaroo for a minute it’s deeply unsettling, they’re bipedal and they have insane abs and they move wrong, it’s too human and I get that creeping horror that this thing exists. If I look at kangaroos too long I feel like I’m going insane

Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculptures did this to me, a bit. It was less the shape than the form–the lumpiness, the uneven shine–but mostly it was the scale. Most of these examples of horror don’t feel quite so wrong when they’re at a scale we can look “down” on. But when they overshadow us, or at least when they overshadow our general certainty of control, even for just a moment, the disorientation can slip suddenly into horror.

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specimen-jar

consider the Gelitin collective’s enormous pink rabbit left to rot in the Italian alps for the next 10 years

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reblogged
My friend is a DVD distributor, and he’s like, “You know what people love?  Horror movies, cause teenagers…. they love to pay to be frightened.” I go, “That’s because they have not lived long enough to know that real life will scare the shit out of you. There is no reason to go pay to be scared, ‘cause at this age, I could care less if a vampire walked in my house.  I truly wouldn’t even blink an eye.  But look at this mole [points to arm].  Yeah, that scares me.  Look at that mole. Yeah.  It’s got ridges on it now, it didn’t three weeks ago.”

–Kathleen Madigan, Madigan Again, 2013 Netflix comedy special

I’ve always wondered something similar. Not about age, though. I think plenty of teenagers, hell, many toddlers and even infants, have worked out that the world is unpredictable and terrifying and dangerous in a lot of ways. Even when they are too young to really understand, this is still something they notice. It’s like this argument I used to get into with this lady, eons ago by online standards, where conversations would go roughly like this:

Her: I care about autistic people who have real problems. Who don’t even know the words you so-called self-advcoates throw around so easily, like “freedom,” “injustice”, etc.

Me: Leaving aside your first part of the statement, since it’s flat-out ridiculous (autistic people anywhere on the spectrum can have what you would call real, even life-threatening problems, you justwon’t admit it)… you don’t have to understand the word freedom to feel the strangulation of it being taken away from you. You don’t have to understand the word injustice to feel the blows of it landing on your face. You don’t have to understand the words _ hate crimes_ to feel what it’s like to be singled out for violence or intimidation based on your disability.

Her:

Me:: These are all things that can be experienced directly, and very few people are going to enjoy them. People who are more vulnerable to abuse – whether physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexaul abuse, caregiver abuse, abuse of power, being on the wrong end of any of these things – need to be given more resepect, more boundaries, etc., for their/our1 own safety. Because if you get someone used to having their boundaries respected, then they will react a lot more adamantly when you don’t respect them — even if they don’t know what any of the words surrounding this mean.

Anyway, the conversations of that nature rarely go well, but I occasionally feel obligated to have them.

To get back off of this tangent – I think there are a lot of different ways to handle the stress of knowing how dangerous the world is for people like you.

For me, in part, this involves avoiding horor rmovies – I already have enough adrenaline-sucking events in my life without blasting a ton of cortisol out of the way on purpose.

Other times, though, I have handled PTSD by immersing myself in the disturbing material that triggered me until I wasn’t so easily triggered anymore. And I can see how that could work with horror movies too, including acclimating yourself to adrenaline, looking at the one place where things are visibly as fucked up as the real world is mostly-invisibly-to-others fucked up for us. Sometimes horror and other things like it are the only things that give you a clue you’re not alone in the world

Both approaches – and others that are neither – can be great or terrible by context. So I am not recommending one or the other. Just pointing out, yeah, I noticed this trend too, even though putting an age on it may be simplistic at best..

Footnotes

To avoid the tangents I go off on, going on for too long, and muddling up my writing.

  1. By some standards, at some times in my life, I have perfectly fitted their descriptions of the people they are alking about. By other standards, and at other times, I have not. The most aggravating such conversations by far are ones where the person in question (mostly parents or professionals of disabled kids, sometimes, sadly, disabled people themselves) is siting there describing my life perfectly and then telling me this is not my life. I never know whether to laugh or cry at that point. At any rate, “their” is for when I don’t fit it (or don’t seem to), and “our” for when I do fit it (or seem to, or can be spin-doctored into looking like I fit, which is a tactic they use all the time in the opposite direction). For a further discussion of our vs. their in these contexts, read I Witness: History and a Person with a Developmental Disability by Dave Hingsburger. ↩
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Anna Dressed in Blood Series

“Cas Lowood has inherited an unusual vocation: He kills the dead.

So did his father before him, until he was gruesomely murdered by a ghost he sought to kill. Now, armed with his father’s mysterious and deadly athame, Cas travels the country with his kitchen-witch mother and their spirit-sniffing cat. They follow legends and local lore, destroy the murderous dead, and keep pesky things like the future and friends at bay.

Searching for a ghost the locals call Anna Dressed in Blood, Cas expects the usual: track, hunt, kill. What he finds instead is a girl entangled in curses and rage, a ghost like he’s never faced before. She still wears the dress she wore on the day of her brutal murder in 1958: once white, now stained red and dripping with blood. Since her death, Anna has killed any and every person who has dared to step into the deserted Victorian she used to call home.

Yet she spares Cas’s life.”

By Kendare Blake

Get it  here

Kendare Blake is the author of several novels and short stories. Her work is sort of dark, always violent, and features passages describing food from when she writes while hungry. She was born in July (for those of you doing book reports) in Seoul, South Korea, but doesn’t speak a lick of Korean, as she was packed off at a very early age to her adoptive parents in the United States. That might be just an excuse, though, as she is pretty bad at learning foreign languages. She enjoys the work of Milan Kundera, Caitlin R Kiernan, Bret Easton Ellis, Richard Linklater, and the late, great Michael Jackson, I mean, come on, he gave us Thriller.

She lives and writes in Kent, Washington, with her husband, their two cat sons (Tybalt and Tyrion Cattister) and their red Doberman dog son, Obi Dog Kenobi.

[Follow SuperheroesInColor faceb / instag / twitter / tumblr / pinterest]

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