#temporarily mute

[jamiebluewind]

My friend @winterpower98 is going to school to become an ASL interpreter, so we've been practicing together for a few months. I mostly just checked her signing and didn't sign myself because I was slower and didn't want to take up her valuable practice time clumsily trying to sign. Still, I intend to learn if for nothing else than having a way to communicate when I had a migraine.

Then I got sick.

I'm honestly not sure what's wrong with me, but in early January, I got a bad cough, asthma issues, and other various NASTY symptoms (leaving out to not get too tmi). The symptoms got worse quickly and I ended up at doctors and urgent cares and ERs. They found that I didn't have any of the major contagious things, but still my lungs were crap, my voice was nearly gone (just a whisper), and I was badly malnourished and dehydrated. One very scary phone call from a relative and two days of forcing my raw voice to work well enough to talk to police and relatives later, I lost my voice completely (save for little squeaks and rumbles). That was six weeks ago.

Winter and I didn't practice ASL the first two or three weeks I was sick (and I was honestly in no shape to do it anyway). Being mute was... okay at first. Annoying but manageable. But then as time went on, it got ROUGH. Being trapped in my own head and unable to convey things in real time took a toll on my mental health that I honestly wasn't expecting. Imaging being unable to even laugh or make frustrated noises or make sounds when you're crying hard and having a panic attack? It was hell! I couldn't got to therapy, see a doctor by myself (had to write a script for whomever came with me), contact services and doctors that didn't have messaging/email (they'd call back anyway despite me saying that I was completely unable to talk), tell people what I needed during a panic attack or sensory overload, or get my intrusive thoughts out (I say the out loud and work through them to see they aren't logical). When one doctor got really frustrated with me and proceeded to insult and lecture me for a solid 30 minutes (in front of my other friend who got very close to losing her temper), there was no way to report it because I had to CALL to place a complaint. I was limited to typing on my phone when I needed to communicate and even THAT was slow and not always possible (can't type during a coughing fit or if I had to leave my phone charging). Getting people's attention to notice me or read a message was also difficult, so I had to sit quietly AND patiently AND ignored so much of the time that I eventually broke down crying.

Eventually, I started doing a little ASL again. I wasn't expecting how hard it would be to sign things when I had only watched before. My movements were slow and clunky, sometimes I did the wrong sign, and I could only "talk" to one person, but the growing pains were worth the feeling of ACTUALLY communicating again. It's only been a few weeks, but I can already express my emotions/frustration and convey simple concepts during a conversation (instead of typing and having the conversation move on before I finish or just not feeling like my words were worth the effort on top of breaking the flow of a conversation). Yesterday, my bestie/roommate decided to start practicing the ASL alphabet and asked for a list of words I used the most so she could understand me too.

ASL has giving me back some of my autonomy. With a few signs and some finderspelling, I was able to tell Winter that I needed to eat, wanted leftovers, there was a bowl in the fridge, and to please add water (easier to swallow with my irritated throat). I can ask how people are, tell them how I'm doing, or just be a little goofy because I want to (like quoting NADDPOD and telling my friends "fuck you, I love you, eat a rat").

While being unable to talk for 6 weeks (and limited a bit before that) is nothing compared to the experiences of the deaf/Deaf, mute, and nonverbal communities, it made me realize how hard it is to navigate the world when your speech is impaired. It also made me develop a new appreciation for ASL. Originally, learning ASL was a novelty to me that might come in handy when I had a hemiplegic migraine (makes it hard to talk), but it was mostly to help Winter in her studies. Now it just feels... important. Like something more people should learn, be aware of, and accomodate for.

Tldr; Being unable to talk for over 6 weeks (and probably many more weeks after that) made me realize how important being able to communicate is to mental health, how society is not made to accomodate people with limited to no verbal communication ability, why learning ASL is so important, some of the struggles that people with limited to no verbal communication go through, and the fact that I am privileged in a way that I've never considered before.

[hostilemuppet]

man, i wish ha'penny was around. i bet they would actually cheer up floyd :o(

if penny was around, they would try and cheer up floyd by making a balloon animal of creek. since floyds arms are very much broken, penny would put it on floyds chest, so he can look at it. the balloon creek would then pop

penny mimes walking down the stairs to escape that awkward situation

[alvinmichaelmurphyseville]

“Greetings, once again. It is I, Nerdy Alvin or Full-Nerd Alvin. I’m not sure what I’m calling myself.”

“I am delighted to inform you that one day of the 12 hour ADHD medication has helped me ace two quizzes and one big exam.”

“Computer Science class, meet my untapped genius. I am EXCELSIOR!”

“I shall miss this soon. It’s late and I can feel the effects fading. It shall feel nice to hyperfixate on random things again though. It’s impossible to do so while my brain is “Simonized.”

“I don’t know why I said I hate taking these things. They’re not so bad when I reassure myself the side effects I don’t enjoy are temporary.”

“I shan’t need them tomorrow. I’ll be back to short release ONLY IF my classes aren’t going well. It’s a pity. I hate to leave this (what’s the word I’m looking for?) significantly more competent and mature state of mind. But, the cycle continues. I must depart. Farewell.”

[marshmallowloves]

okay getting back on track with my Master Kohga brainrot can anyone explain to me why they told Erik Braa to sound like that. like there was absolutely no reason for them to do that. illegal even

[bijoumikhawal]

Florida's passed a law wanting the death penalty for child sex crimes and now everyone's gonna pat themselves on the back and not enough people are gonna think about how kids are hesitant to report already and this'll just make it worse

[ninas-gf]

oops i think i just broke my dash,,,

[utvarpcity]

ok valtteri slay

[quinndelightful]

i have cleverly deduced from that reblog that your birthday is a week from tomorrow

anyways who’s your favorite oc? definitely for no particular reason ;]

Oh God Is It That Soon?

But ye :] 'Tis soon, I've been so busy with finals I like, kinda forgor lol

As for favorite Oc I don't really have one, I love them all equally.

I Do however have small preference in AU bois tho- which is literally all of the Bonely Hearts Club dude, and FSG Coffee lol

[slavicbee]

I am going to be INSUFFERABLE tonight. And then Thursday evening. And then Saturday evening. GET READY BITCHES.

today we’re eurovision stans first, humans second

[shuvva]

Tragic: Someone you loathe also does one of your little idiosyncratic quirks so now you want to light yourself on fire whenever you do that thing.

[smalleevee]

guys how tf am i supposed to avoid spoilers for the dan and phil tour when it starts tomorrow but my show isn't for TWO MONTHS

[arsen1cs4ng0]

what the fuck was that :fearful:

[ilibelle]

Imagine that your uniform is made up of several layers of different types of fabric and bulletproof shields. In addition to the extra fabric, you wear a mask and helmet that cover your entire face. Your costume makes it impossible to identify whether you are a woman or a man, and to top it off, you never speak. This leads people who aren't part of your squad to believe that you're just a short man who never speaks.

You work for the squad led by Colonel König. Recently, there were some situations that resulted in Kortac temporarily joining Task Force 141, two squads united to capture a terrorist.

You are not and have never been a sociable person. You don't talk to people you don't know and you always let someone else do the talking for you. As much as you are an adult woman, mature enough to make decisions on your own, you are shy. Very shy.

It's not unusual for other people to ask your teammates about you, always wondering why you don't speak up. They ask about the many layers of fabric that make up your outfit, whether you don't suffocate from the excess cloth and pockets.

And these people always refer to you in the masculine.

Always.

Soap is a bit of a curiosity when it comes to mysterious people who don't interact much with others in the room and who just stand in a quiet corner, far away from any living thing in the room. No wonder he made Ghost his best friend.

So believe me when I say that he's intrigued by you. The mysterious, masked guy in the dark corner of the room, who so far hasn't interacted with anyone since he arrived. You've caught his attention, but he won't talk to you because something inside him tells him not to come up to you out of the blue.

Something inside him tells him to take it easy this time, because that something inside him thinks that the outside of that guy should be molded slowly to reveal the inside. Does that make sense?

The first person Soap will ask about you is König, because them strangely hit it off, much to the unhappiness of Ghost, who didn't like König. Perhaps it's because he's taller and has stolen the role of being the tallest in the room from Ghost.

And also because he saw König talking to you about something, but you didn't use your voice and just nodded. Which led him to think that maybe you were mute.

Soap approached König with a smile, bringing up some other subject before starting to ask questions about you. He doesn't want to sound weird.

"Hm... You know, I keep asking myself..." Soap begins, waiting for a signal to continue.

"What is it?" König asks, crossing his arms and smiling beneath his mask.

"That guy in the corner... Why doesn't he join the others?"

"Oh." König straightens his posture and looks at you, standing in the corner of the room and staring at an interesting spot on the floor. "She's a bit shy, don't worry."

The gears turned slowly in Soap's head after this information.

"IT'S A WOMAN?!!??!!!!?"

It wasn't Soap's intention to draw the attention of everyone in the room, Including you, to him and König. But it just happened.

Hello:)) it's my first time posting something written by me and my English is terrible, but I tried my best with a translator 😞

[invinciblerodent]

it's kinda funny how the content filter appears to catch usernames too, not just text that's within the post body, BUT the site will still recommend posts and blogs "based on your likes" that are just. completely hidden. because of that same tag.

i know the two have nothing to do with each other, but tumblr really works in ways that are simultaneously great and godawful

[marvelstarwarshero]

Still not even halfway through season 8 so I guess I just can't go online for at least 2 weeks? Absolutely cannot let the Daryl Dixon spinoff be spoiled for me

live look @ me watching from the distance as everyone else watches the show and has a nice time on this website:

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley's expression twists from one of grim anxiousness into one of perplexity. We may. Or we may not. What does she mean by that? That they may or may not be looking for their missing coworkers? What else is there to do? Aside from escaping? Stanley can't imagine any other sequence of events. He isn't sure if it's because the Story has been ground into him by the Narrator so many times for so long, or if it's because he really wants to find his coworkers and escape, either way, he firmly believes this is what they must do, and so for the Duchess, his Boss, to give such an obscure response leaves Stanley feeling like he is back at the Room with Two Doors, only with no clear reason to choose one door over the other.

It's clear he is looking to her as his leader, to make the decisions, at this point, not only because he is literally looking up at her, but also because as soon as she starts to move, to walk in a particular direction, Stanley moves with her, follows, right there by her side by half a step behind, like a little animal following behind a person it believes has food.

But he's also sensing something... strange, something off. It takes him a moment to realize it's because the Narrator hasn't said anything. The Narrator has gone strangely quiet, and it's like the Duchess has taken the lead, and now Stanley is wondering where the Narrator has gone, why he's being quiet, and it's in the middle of all this wondering when he's jolted to full awareness by the jarring shout of the Duchess, his Boss.

Stanley flinches back, his hands going to his ears at the sheer magnitude of her voice, at the force behind it. He knew she was a mountain of a being, but somehow he didn't stop to think about the strength that could be contained within her, within her voice. It's enough to rattle him. Enough to get him to react.

"Hey! What- What are you doing? Why are you- Why are you yelling-"

Stanley is cut off by the crack of her fist against the wall and all he can do is stand and watch in horror while she breaks not just the wall, not just her mental status, but her own hands. Surely she's broken her hands, hasn't she? Stanley is sure of it.

He is frozen. For a few moments he is frozen in shock, having never seen anything like this before, and without the Narrator there telling him what to do- It's not until he sees her blood that he finally whirls into motion, flying forward in an effort to- do what? He has no idea, she is easily at least two or three times the size of him, maybe more, she could crush him, and she's in a blind fit, maybe she will, maybe she will, but he has to do something, and maybe it won't matter, but he has to try, he can always restart, he can always come back here and try again, can't he, if this was the wrong choice, he can always come back to this point in the Story and try again-

"Please stop- Please stop-! You- You're hurting yourself!" he says, trying first to grab her around the middle and pull her away from the wall, knowing full well that he wouldn't even begin to get his arms around her. But he has to try something.

Out the corner of his eye he sees something quite strange. An object, like a weapon of some sort he's sure wasn't there a moment before, made all the more strange by the fact that it's sitting inside a yellow circle drawn around it on the floor, like it's meant to draw him there to it. It's a firearm of some sort. Stanley doesn't know much about weapons, much less firearms, but it certainly looks powerful. Powerful enough to stop the Duchess, should he get his hands on it. And, should the Duchess get her hands on it, it would most certainly be powerful enough to stop Stanley. Or maybe put holes in other things.

But Stanley ignores it and continues to focus on getting Duchess to stop hitting the wall. He certainly doesn't want to shoot her...

The Duchess does not know whether Stanley is real. But when her hand lands on his shoulder, he is as solid as any other living being. He is small and anxious, gazing upon her with his dark eyes like a cornered animal, caught in her mighty grasp. Yet, the giantess remains as stiff as her prey. She is frozen in that moment with him, her bold yellow stare clouding behind her spectacles. There is nothing that Stanley can do for her. There is no reason for her to reach out to him, other than that he is there. He is the sole spark of reason within the irrational, which seeks to suffocate her.

It is not until Stanley speaks that the Duchess regains her awareness. Her hand pulls away and she straightens, until she reaches her usual presence. "We may. Or we may not," she speaks. In a landscape as unpredictable as this, she could not promise anything.

"In fact, I may have a… solution…" she mumbles, "A simple one." Her tongue moves wickedly along her misaligned teeth, as she scouts along the wall for the perfect spot. Yes, an unpredictable place, where anything can happen. If she were having an involved nightmare, perhaps all she needed was a bit of movement, enough to jostle her awake. A bit of pain, imagined.

The Duchess squirms out of her jacket, striding toward an empty section of wall across from the fireplace. "Enough!" she shouts, "I've learned my les-shun! You bassht-ard, wake up!" She tosses the fine fabric and her cane into a pile on the floor, squaring herself with one foot behind, her fists at the ready.

"Wake up!" She lands a thunderous blow against the wall. A few decorations tumble to the floor. Her breath quickens, as the pain is enough to spring a few tears to her eyes. Her hand trembles away, leaving a dent in the wallpaper.

"I'm in control!" she cries. Her second fist impacts the wall, "I'm in control!" She hits again and again, until the black blood pools against her white gloves. Tears have begun rolling down her cheeks, drool dribbling down her chin, but so fixated on the point ahead of her, the Duchess does not notice.

Left on her own, she would continue on, until the paper fell away, until the wooden backboards splintered, and all that remained was the hollow.