Solveig Robin @solveigrobin - Tumblr Blog

One time I ate probably way too many mushrooms and I could feel my trip going bad. So, I turned to my roommate and I said something along the lines of,

"I feel amazing but I feel like this sensation has a price and I'm about to pay it."

To which he responded, "What are you, catholic?" And that knocked me so firmly out of my mental state that the rest of the trip was hands down the best time I ever did mushrooms.

rose-kalliope

chainmail-butch

Yeah that's fair, those tags should part of the main post

catchymemes

infinitydivine

I am not taking a risk

darlingsstern

Not risking it pals

doralimasstuff

U know what I want potato of luck

shrewreadings

Damn right I’m reblogging. See previous post re wrath of whatever from high atop the thing.

caitmayart

potato I will never ask you for anything else in my lifetime please potato for fuck's sake

magicmadethemdoit

kindsoulbuddy

I love finding out new things about Saint Robin Williams

not-a-regular-mom

#i think people forget sometimes that being a good ally #sometimes means guarding the closet door [via @anais-ninja-bitch]

ostropest

BEING A GOOD ALLY SOMETIMES MEANS GUARDING THE CLOSET DOOR

lonestarcupcake

It's a real banger...

realmarysue

Me outside my doctor's office with this on the boombox .

manicpixiesdreamdragon

@thebibliosphere

gothiccharmschool

I love this. LOVE.

zizicat

laterovaries-deactivated2017022

This will always be my favorite gifset. Ever.

onceuponamirror

im morally obligated to reblog this every time i see it

netherworldpost

“Why should rich people pay more” because fuck ‘em

“So you are okay for paying more when you have money” I am not excluded from ‘fuck ‘em’ when relevant

pedulum-chronometry

“I am not excluded from ‘fuck ‘‘em’ when relevant” is surprisingly powerful as both a statement and philosophy

miniar

So you don't like being called cis?

There are some folk out there that object vehemently to being referred to as cis, saying it's derogatory, even going so far as to claim that cis is a slur.

In case you haven't been informed already, cis is neither derogatory nor a slur.

Cis is merely a prefix, it means "on the same side as".

In the context of gender, cisgender Only means that your gender is the same as your assigned gender based on the presumed appearance of your primary sexual characteristics at birth.

In the context of social groups, cisgender is comparable to terms such as able bodied (not physically disabled), allistic (not autistic), perisex (not intersex), and neurotypical (not neurodivergent), to name a few.

And here's the thing, if you personally dislike being referred to as able bodied that doesn't change whether or not you are able bodied. If you're uncomfortable with being referred to as allistic that doesn't change whether or not you're allistic. If you don't like being called right-handed that doesn't change whether or not you're right-handed.

I know that sometimes finding out that there's a word for something that you've simply taken for granted to be something so universal that it doesn't need one can be a little confusing, but that doesn't change whether or not that word applies to you.

It means what it means. It either applies or it doesn't.

Most of the time it's used in the specific context of discussing the difference in lived experiences between the two groups.

As in, when we talk about the difference between the lived experiences, challenges, needs, etc, of cisgender and transgender men. Or when we talk about how both cisgender and transgender men share certain lived experiences, challenges, needs, etc.

Same for women.

Sometimes people will remind individual cisgender people that their personal lived experiences, needs, challenges, etc, aren't universal. That you aren't the protagonist of all existence, by reminding them that they only belong to one group of people, varied as it is. And when you're used to thinking of your lived experiences, challenges, needs, etc, as "normal", that reminder can be jarring.

Because you're not more normal than everyone else.

Nothing about your life is "universal".

And if that upsets you, you might want to sit and think about that for a while.. because you clearly needed the reminder.

inkskinned

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

inkskinned

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

tinykitchenvegan

Teriyaki Cauliflower Rice Stacks

thegrumpycaterpillar

Break the stigma

deakysgurl-deactivated20240308

I could not reblog this fast enough

lordenvergortash

Imagine if Astarion was able to taste something off about Durge's blood. Like, he feels extra strong after the first bloodsucking scene right, but what if the reason he felt so powerful was because he drank the literal blood of a GOD.

Now, imagine he just thinks blood from all thinking creatures does that to him. Thinks that's the reason why Cazador never let him drink from any humanoids while he was under his control.

UNTIL he's in battle and he takes a bite from one of their enemies and sure, it's definitely better than animals, but it's not that same power surge that Durge's blood gives him. It's not the same high.

Slowly, the more people he bites and the more times he drinks Durge's blood, the more he gets suspicious that there's something that sets them apart. Then, he meets Dame Aylin and smells her blood. While definitely different, it has a suspiciously similar quality to it. And he realizes before everyone else, that it's a DIVINE quality. That Durge is the child of a god.

thedomesticanthropologist

I like this

fatmasc

U say to urself "i dont need notches, ill know how to orient the pieces when sewing bc i made the pattern" this is the devil speaking. Put notches in ur pattern and cut them into ur fabric. Youll be glad for it

draculasdatter

u say to urself “i don’t need stitch markers, ill know which stitch to attach when crocheting because i can tell” this is the devil speaking. Put stitch markers into your pieces

emthejedichic

u say to urself, "i don't need to mark the beginning of the round when knitting, I can tell where it is by the tail" this is the devil speaking. u'll be glad for that stitch marker when you're 37 rows in and the tail is a distant memory

derryderrydown

u say to urself "I don't need to grid my aida when cross-stitching, I can count perfectly fine" this is the devil speaking. Grid ur fabric or you'll spend half an hour trying to figure out which stitch in which of thirty shades of grey is one block out.

eroticcannibal

U say to urself "I dont need to leave a long tail, thats a waste of yarn" this is the devil speaking. Leave a long tail or you'll spend the next half an hour trying to pull the tails through with a crochet hook instead of weaving them in in minutes with a needle.

catscraftsandcommentary

You say to yourself "I don't need a stitch marker for every lace repeat." THIS IS THE MOTHERFUCKING DEVIL, DO NOT MOTHERFUCKING LISTEN. USE THOSE GODS-DAMNED STITCH MARKERS LIKE YOU MEAN IT.

Do you want to restart your project six different times? Not using stitch markers is how you restart your project six different times and then give up in frustration. ASK ME HOW I KNOW.

kaiyonohime

You say to yourself that you don't need a life line in your lace, you know how to tink without issue. This is the devil, use a damn life line in your lace!

amysnotdeadyet

You say to yourself, you don't need to erase every extra pencil line before you ink onto real paper, you'll remember which ones not to draw. This is the devil speaking, clean your damn sketches, there is no undo on paper.

cricketcat9

Devil speaks A LOT to crafters and artists

roach-works

if you think, hey, i don't need to nest my seams OR press them when im quilting, the batting layer will forgive a lot. you're actually right. but the devil is laughing at you. just suck it up and press the fuckin seams.