This is that essay I mentioned in the tags on the semiverbal post yesterday: An extended metaphor to explain my struggles with speaking as a verbal autistic person. If you’re allistic, I know it’s long but please open this and read it because it’s something you should understand-- autistic people cannot easily be sorted into fully nonverbal and hyperverbal, no matter how a million infographics make it seem. Maybe also open this and read it if you’re autistic and consider yourself “fully verbal” because it might make you realize something.
Most people can run, right? Most people are capable of running. You might run out of the building when you’re late for work and then walk the rest of the way. You might even run all the way to work and you’d be pretty spent but you could manage it. But you wouldn’t run everywhere. You would get tired pretty quickly, you’d hurt your body, and soon you wouldn’t even be able to walk anywhere.
Speaking is like running for me. Walking is like writing or typing. I could run to work every day but it wouldn’t take even a week for me to be so drained and hurting that I couldn’t even walk. That is to say, using words at all, typing, writing, would all become very difficult. I would have to drive next time I wanted to go somewhere (that’s like, say, using an AAC app), but there are problems with that; it’s expensive, not as safe, and you have to learn how to do it first. And let’s pretend I can’t afford gas prices right now, let alone a car, and that I don’t know how to drive yet. For the hell of it let’s also say that I worry about my safety on the road, which is mostly threatened by other people.
So I try to conserve energy for walking. That’s why I sometimes avoid social situations that require speaking. Not because I’m depressed or anxious or shy. Just because I’ve spent the past week running everywhere.
Sometimes, also, the terrain makes it very difficult to run. For me an example is Zoom calls. I can do my best running up a hill so steep for so long but by the end I’m gonna be too tired to walk home, so it’s in my best interest to quit early. Different terrains are more difficult or less for different people. For some people it’s oral presentations. That’s not difficult terrain for me, but it is like a marathon, which you can’t do without getting some rest afterwards. And sometimes, you know, you get an injury that prevents you from running or even walking. I remember times when I’ve been surprised with difficult conversations that made it very hard to write, or when I overworked myself, or dissociated, or there were fireworks outside, you get the idea. But “injuries” are just temporary.
And, y’know, sometimes walking is fun. I like to go for walks by the lake and get some exercise. I like to write poetry and short stories. In fact it’s kind of my aspiring profession. So I would rather not run everywhere, because I don’t want to be too tired for a nice walk. I would rather use text-to-speech or sign language when it’s possible because I don’t want to be too spent to write important papers or my poetry.
But like. Now imagine that everyone around you runs everywhere, all the time. Or that everyone in your life is an Olympic sprinter and/or regular ultramarathon runner. They can’t understand how on Earth you get tired after running for only an hour! That’s unthinkable. Because running doesn’t require any energy for them. It’s as if, they can just glide along and they don’t even have to think about what muscles they’re using and their brain doesn’t have to manually move their legs. Mine does-- it’s not automatic for me, it’s a conscious effort. I cannot turn on autopilot for speaking, it is stuck on manual. And the way I run and how I run so slowly and I can’t keep up, that’s weird and unnecessary to them too.
But when I ask very politely if maybe I can walk somewhere, they don’t want to have to wait for me, and I can run, so I should have to. Then of course, they get frustrated that I don’t run the correct way. Wouldn’t you start to quietly wish you’d just break your leg so you wouldn’t have to run at all? I used to be ecstatic when I got sick enough to lose my voice and people were ok with me writing to communicate, and I wished it would happen more often. I’d get jealous of people who got surgery on their throat -- I genuinely had no idea why they were upset that they weren’t allowed to talk for several days. It seemed like a dream scenario to me. I didn’t know speaking didn’t require effort for them. I even wondered briefly if I had BIID because I wished I couldn’t talk at all.
I know that all sounds ridiculous but that’s legitimately what it’s like. I can speak, so there is never any reason whatsoever I should be allowed to use text-to-speech or sign language when I don’t “have” to, and the people in my life who know I can “run a marathon” when I have to will never allot me any sympathy or lenience.
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my family is fucking addicted to macgyvering and it's becoming a problem. every time something in this house breaks, instead of doing the sensible thing of replacing it or calling someone qualified to fix it, we all group around the offending object with a manic look in our eyes and everyone gets a try at fixing it while being cheered on or ridiculed by the rest.
it's a beautiful bonding activity, but the "creative" fixes have turned our house into a quasihaunted escape room like contraption where everything works, but only in the wonkiest of ways. you need a huge block of iron to turn on the stove. the oven only works if a specific clock is plugged in. the bread machine has a huge wood block just stapled to it that has become foundational to its function. sometimes when you use the toaster the doorbell rings. and that's just the kitchen.
it's all fun and games until you have guests over and you have to lay out the rules of the house like it's a fucking board game. welcome to the beautiful guest room. don't pull out the couch yourself you need a screwdriver for that, and that metal rod makes the lamp work so don't move it. it also made me a terrifying roommate in college, because it makes me think i can fix anything with enough hubris and a drill. you want to call the landlord about a leaky faucet? as if. one time my dad made me install a new power socket because we ran our of extension cords
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I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.
Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.
Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.
Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.
I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.
He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).
First, we get this:
Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.
They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.
It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.
We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.
What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?
He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.
In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.
Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!
...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.
Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.
And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.
I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.
And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.
Meals are the privilege of the living.
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I think it's mean how some people talk about fics on AO3.
'Oh you gotta wade through literal trash to find the good stuff'.
Were you not a beginner once? Did you not write crack fic or self indulgent things for your own entertainment?
Maybe don't speak that way about your fellow fic writers? Just because some fics aren't as polished as others, or involve fetishes and tropes you don't enjoy, or are not the style you want your fics to be doesn't mean they're trash.
It's a horrible thing to say and beginners are going to be discouraged from writing knowing that their fics might be considered trash because they're just starting out.
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