#the problem

[questintheskies]

[redandright]

[jupiterjunebug]

Marina is so cool once every 1-2 months in seattle, washington btw

[pratchettquotes]

"The problem with Mister Nutt is that people want to kill him."

"What people?"

Ridcully stared into Ponder's eyes. His lips moved. He squinted up and down like a man engaged in complex calculation. He shrugged.

"Probably everybody," he said.

Terry Pratchett, Unseen Academicals

[kayfabe-is-king]

“See this… is a woman not to be trifled with”

[awkwardpossum0]

Harlock Saga and some filler doodles

[cosmoweirdkid]

[jc-writes-bullshit]

Guys should I start a series on what happens to the rest of the world during The Problem because I’ve been thinking thoughts

[amyjustcos]

The problem isn’t how I’m perceived, but that I’m perceived

[elcycyromem]

the problem isnt people. its people.

[supakixbabe]

Marina Shafir edit!

[jupiterjunebug]

[granulesofsand]

Christmas Spin

🗝️🏷️ TBC programming in some detail

The spin feeling is subsiding. I can kind of describe it. The memory (or symptoms, ig) seems tied to her. She is a feminine alter, which is uncommon without being specifically told that’s what we should be or that’s what our role is.

She is literally spinning, arms out spinning. She’s smiling, hair flying. The lights aren’t actually around her internally, not that I can see. They do look like Christmas lights, warm string lights in mostly warm shades. I see them at front while I’m near her, but not inside around her. I feel pinned down by gravity, and it looks to me like the room is spinning. I’m aware my eyes are moving, but it doesn’t make sense to me because I thought it was fluid in your ears that gave that effect.

Was she afraid when it started? I don’t recall. I wasn’t there until she needed help with trigger warnings. I find it distressing, but I don’t feel any emotional charge besides growing confusion as I get dizzy. Digging at it, I can half access the memory. I don’t know where this is, but I’m hurting. I feel a shade of helpless that’s somewhere between deference and fear, but not panic. Our hair has never been that long, I don’t think. Or that color. My scalp hurts, Bobbie pins holding a wig maybe. I don’t know that’s related, or if the hair thing got added in because it’s her memory. Her hair is like that. The wig thing was real, but maybe not then. Fear fades to wonder as it all goes dizzy. Does it? Or is that her now?

Yoink. It was real. I don’t remember the scalp pain though. I liked the lights. Concrete floors and cold, frosted windows as the lights blur. It was fast, too, but I was standing. I couldn’t move my hands, but I can now. I still assume my hair is long and black, so probably that was me adding it in. And I’m probably some shade of nonbinary, thanks for asking, dipshit. Nah, I love you. But it’s rude to assume. I could correct the pronouns, but then why did I write this. Live with your mistakes. There’s no yellow text, travesty.

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

Losing one's way is nothing; the problem is finding it again.

from In Search of Lost Time, Book 3: The Guermantes Way by Marcel Proust