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#hate talking
dreamdropsystem · 2 years
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more some content for the people who hate talking, are selectively mute, nonverbal/semiverbal, have verbal loss, etc
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autisticdreamdrop · 1 year
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forcing yourself to be verbal all the time is exhausting. i like the silence..
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sicksadstar · 1 year
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youtube
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hartmannyoukaigirl · 2 years
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a girl should never make phone calls
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baconpncakes · 10 months
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It’s like Dr. House always said
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notbrucewayne48 · 3 months
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"aphobia doesn't exist"
bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it
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bli-o · 4 months
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hey autistic people who get overwhelmed by large groups or noise or conversation or etc etc etc you’re not evil for wanting to leave a family gathering. just so you know.
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inkskinned · 6 months
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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FNAF puppet and Michael Afton got beef,,
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tomboytwentynine · 11 months
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2014: oh wow! some social media platforms have started "verifying" prominent users with a little symbol next to their names! this is a great way to separate them from all the copycat accounts, what a neat idea
2023:
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nerdpoe · 3 months
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Alfred is getting up there in age. It's time for him to go see the Ghost King, and uphold his end of their deal.
He tells Bruce that he needs to return to England for a bit, to meet up with some old friends.
Gets the Manor prepared for life without him.
And as he's standing in his room, luggage packed and ready to go, Bruce knocks on the door.
"You don't have any plane tickets purchased," Bruce starts, looking concerned.
"Indeed, I have not."
"There's no correspondence between you or your friends to indicate a visitation."
"I suppose I should have expected your insatiable curiosity would lead to that breach of privacy," Alfred sighs, resting a hand on his luggage.
"...Where are you really going?"
Alfred doesn't answer. Bruce has dug enough, and perhaps he deserves a little confusion.
What Alfred does do is snap a small, glowing crystal. One that looked like Kryptonite, but was not.
A portal opens before him, and before Bruce can reach him, Alfred calmly steps through.
The portal shuts behind him.
He turns to face the Ghost King.
"Ã̵͙̤̚͜r̶͓̓ȇ̵̢͝ ̸̝͂͠ẙ̶̘̳̿o̷͈̎͋̽u̵͈̔ ̸̖͉̔ṛ̸̅̀͆e̸͉̓̂͒a̴̻̓͝d̵̬̉̏̉ỳ̶̬͂̕?̴̼̈́͗̀"
Alfred nods.
The Ghost King's face breaks out into a wide smile.
"I believe I have put together a menu that will satisfy you, My King."
~~~~~~
Two months later sees Alfred being given another crystal, and a portal opened for him back to the Manor.
Alfred steps through, a bounce in his step and not a speck of grey in his hair, looking for all the world like he's twenty again.
Now, how is he going to explain this to the very sleep-deprived looking Master Tim sitting on his bedroom floor, staring at him with unfocused eyes?
Or: Alfred made a deal with the Ghost King when he was twenty and dying in the remains of his ship, just after the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. If he can cook food the King has never tasted before, and keep it up for two months, the King will put forward his case to the God of Time and rewind him to the point in his life three days before he was grievously wounded. Basically, he gets to go back to being a 20 year old. He staves it off for as long as he can, often getting quite elderly, before breaking that crystal and serving two months of full courses to the King of the Dead. He hasn't told anyone this.
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cloverstellar · 3 months
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BECAUSE LEARNING HOW TO DRAW NEW CHARACTERS KILLED MY GRANDMA OKAY
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autisticdreamdrop · 1 year
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semivebral/semispeaking pins
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sicksadstar · 11 months
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autistic things 31
feeling the way you talk is weird and bad.
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ajaxthedishsoap · 1 month
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To my mutuals or followers, or just anyone who sees this:
Please reblog the kosa bill posts from me and others. This bill is EXTREMELY dangerous to the queer community and especially queer minors. As a queer and trans minor in a bad home situation, I and many others would be in so much danger if this bill is approved. Its actually so horrific. One of the senators who introduced it, Marsha Blackburn, said that "protecting minor children from the transgender in this culture" was a top priority. As a trans minor, I find this disgusting and harmful to my existence, I'm sure many others my age feel the same way. So please: REBLOG THE KOSA BILL POSTS.
EDIT: IT WILL ALSO CENSOR THE PALESTINE GENOCIDE POSTS AND MANY MORE THINGS!!! WE WILL BE BLOCKED FROM THE TRUTH!!! Also I do not know many things about the kosa bill, this is the limit of my knowlege, so I can't answer any questions. I'm sorry!
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copepods · 1 year
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the demons. they’re coming for me (fic ideas that i will never write but theyre soso good i promise)
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