Hello!
My name is Finn but please call me Robin if we aren't friends
I go by they/them pronouns
Feel free to talk to me!! Especially about your stories or characters :D
This is really just a blog for all my interests!
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@robinswise
Hello!
My name is Finn but please call me Robin if we aren't friends
I go by they/them pronouns
Feel free to talk to me!! Especially about your stories or characters :D
This is really just a blog for all my interests!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Heās so right actually
hello new rtc fandom. I have come to bring you an offering
@lesbiansandwich
YOU hates terfs
rb if u hates terfs
Hate them
Imagine RTC but there's Mr Beast instead of Karnak

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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every time someone on here uses the footage of cas watching dean rake from āthe man who would be kingā I unfortunately flash back to this tweet from earlier this month where someone deep in the replies to the official supernatural account was trying to argue that cas coming out retroactively made all his behavior predatory and cited āunconsensually watching dean rakeā as an example
saw a grown woman on tiktok snidely calling gen z the christopher columbus generation bc someoneās fifteen year old son āthought heād discovered weezerā. newsflash every generation finds out about the music of the previous generation at some point it comes free with being fifteen. being annoying about music also comes free with being fifteen. a kid saying yeah iāve just found this band nirvana have you ever heard of them should be a thing of joy
Shout-out to the autistics who crave hugs. Shout-out to the autistics whose love language is touch.
And shout-out to the autistics who were denied a timely diagnosis because a misinformed professional thought you were "too affectionate" to be autistic.
You aren't any less autistic because of how you show affection. And you aren't nearly as rare as pop culture and outdated research would imply.
Stray cat breaks into Lynxās enclosure at zoo
(Source)
while the stray cat story may have circulated in 2020 and 2022, this story is actually from the Leningrad Zoo in 2014. (here's the original russian article as well.)
these two felines were introduced at 6 weeks old in order to give more enrichment for the lynx and for education purposes, however they got along fantastically from the start and were eventually moved to permanently live with one another.
a much less exciting story, but a much cuter one as well.
(source, source)

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Huh? wha- what? Wha huh
My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.
do they smoke weed?
Yes, actually.
you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?
Itās called a buntā¦. Not weed cigarette⦠And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)
They donāt look like they smoke weed.
Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Iām so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down Iām so mad.
YourĀ āweed smoking girlfriendā has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.
I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerpā¦. Donāt ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Donāt wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNINGĀ
Well that escalated quicklyā¦ā¦
What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they arenāt worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. Iām yelling so loud and now Iām crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I canāt take anymore. Iām opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*
haha oh my god
who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.
love how he keeps reminding us that āI HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDSā, āTHEY ALL KISS MEā, and āTHEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURRā.
and letās not forget the āBlaizā and her āwicked tatā, or that he doesnāt āwanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever againā, and that this is āthe FINAL FUCKING WARNINGā.
āthe goo pile that is now your bodyā
iām dying over here, jesus
please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, itāll be fun.
*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot⦠*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*
this dude playin omgĀ
Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. Iām clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and heās muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals Iām still Ā at the bar. You look to the exit, thereās still time. But thereās not, thereās not, thereās not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. Ā I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I havenāt shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and Iām missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, itās like that only instead of boots itās my muscles and instead of walking itās punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family⦠Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insultedĀ theĀ Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing⦠no playing you fuck. No playing⦠it was real.. the realest thing Iāve ever know.. felt⦠Love. I loved them⦠Blaizā¦. Chas-Chas⦠Funk⦠I loved all three of em⦠but theyā¦*My face is wet with tears and Iām blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me⦠left⦠*Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?!Ā *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging.Ā āPft, you brought this upon yourself dude.ā He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me⦠* I fall to the floor and sob.* Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
Happy 420
sometimes i feel like people forget autism is a disability. and thatās not a bad thing! iām all for disability acceptance, im proud of my disabilities. but i feel like we forget autism can hurt.
it hurts that i have to put more time and energy into socializing than others.
it hurts when i need to move so bad, usually cause im overwhelmed by either my surroundings or emotions, that i thrash and hurt myself.
it hurts that i cant be in places that are too loud or too bright, which on bad days can be as simple as a small, quiet noise or dim lights.
it hurts that i struggle to tell when im hungry, thirsty, tired, etc. so i canāt properly take care of myself. it doesnāt help my insomnia and i get very nauseas and get UTIs.
i 100% believe in autism acceptance. i donāt want a cure. but i also want us the acknowledge that it can hurt. it doesnāt mean my entire life will hurt, but some parts will. and i want a community where we can see both sides, see the hurt, and celebrate it anyway.
a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints
I have so much trauma about this, that all those friendly like "your friends don't hate you, they're just busy!" posts honestly grate on my nerves at this point.
Because like, yeah, sometimes they do hate you. Sometimes you're fighting for your fucking life, masking so hard so you have no fuckin' clue who you even are, and the dissociated shell of a copied personality you're remotely piloting manages to make some friends.
But then they start seeing all the cracks in your facade. You're not really like them. You're just several raccoons in an extremely ill fitting skin suit and they find your chittering off putting.
But our society has no script for that. So they just pretend to like you. And you just pretend to be the person they could like. And on some level everyone knows we're all pretending and everyone hates it, but no one says anything.
And then school ends and you drift apart and that happens at least two or three times while your brain is still solidifying shit, and at some point you just start to believe that You're bad at making friends.
When in reality, you were never given a chance to be who you are to attract the kinda folks who would actually enjoy being your friend in the first place.
So yeah, what OP said, bottom fucking tier.

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a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints
Good cat!
Yeah, I'm on the cat's side here, don't turn to the internet to shame him!
Me too. Give the kitty the chicken.