#speak with them in a language they understand

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Idea for an isekai where a Horse Girl and her beloved (fairly new) horse get into a riding accident and end up in a fantasy world where equestrianism is highly prized except the girl ends up int he body of a marvellous prized horse and her horse ends up in the body of its owner, a fancy nobleman. He can magically speak the language (as characters who end up in fantasy worlds frequently can) but he has no social knowledge or graces whatsoever. Also, he is kind of an arsehole. They're telepathically linked and she has to train/bully him into being a decent enough human that they can coast on their perfect synergy as an equestrian pair (their telepathy helps a lot there). This is incredibly important because they need to be together to find a way home (they would both very much like to be their normal species again), and if he disgraces himself too badly or falls victim to the political machinations of his enemies he might lose his status and lose the right to ride such a prized horse.

The drama comes from examining both human politics and horse politics, two fish out of water trying to meet their personal goals and improving the world around them while they do it, him becoming more empathetic and her becoming less naive as they both gain wisdom, protecting themselves from social plots that they're not equipped to handle... and mostly, this guy finding ways to smuggle a very expensive horse into various places that a horse cannot be so that she can help him understand what the fuck is going on.

Why yes I am coming up with this at 2am, why do you ask.

[smurphette98]

So, I did this not with a villain, but with an NPC from a D&D campaign I’m running on a day where the group didn’t meet. It’s under the cut if you wanna give it a read!

(CW: discussion of death, resurrection, the afterlife, and murder)

Subreddit: r/relationshipadvice

Title: I haven’t seen my husband in 5 years (because I was dead) and I just found out that he left our daughter with his mother for that whole time.

Posted by u/Lovemordian

Apologies in advance if my Common isn’t great; it isn’t my first language.

I (21F) was recently resurrected by a party member of my husband’s (now 26M) after dying in his arms five years ago. Admittedly, the experience was wonderful, since I had always hoped that magic was real and not just the stuff of children’s stories, and I am not upset at living once more. The afterlife is…well, it’s beyond what I need to discuss here.

The issue I am having is this: while I was dead, I was comforted in the knowledge that our daughter (now 8F) was not going to grow up completely parentless even if I could not be with her. However, when I saw her again after returning to life, she mentioned that her grandmother, my husband’s mother, had been caring for her this whole time. She did not grow up with her father, and the one thought that had kept me sane while wandering the fields of the waiting became a lie.

He says that he left her behind with his parents to ensure that no one would use her to pressure him, that the Flesh Collectors wouldn’t use her as bait to get to him. Though I understand the logic of this, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It feels like he’s trying to be the man he was 5 years ago, but I know he’s gone through much in my absence and I wish he would just be honest with me about it. Does anyone have any advice for how to talk to him about this? In some ways, it does feel a bit as if I’m approaching him as a stranger once more.

Update: Thank you to all who replied with your advices and your recommendations. I do want to answer a few of the questions I saw most frequently:

1) Apparently, he tried to avenge my murder after the judge had been paid off, stealing a highly advanced prototypical weapon designed by a classmate of ours (27 NB) to do it. This is why the Flesh Collectors were after him and why he apparently joined a guild for thieves and assassins that, if I understood him right, was run by a staff member at the university? I don’t know; he seems more comfortable speaking Common than Lamordian, so I may be misunderstanding things.

2) Flesh Collectors are sort of like a police force, but more than anything they are scavengers who harvest body parts that scientists need for their work. The “ethical” ones wait until a body is dead to harvest. The majority of them are not ethical.

Now, onto the update: I had the open conversation with my husband that so many of you recommended. I just asked him to tell me what kinds of things had happened while I was dead, and he was honest with me, just as I always remember him being.

While he was on the run for his vengeance, he fell in with the guild I mentioned and did “less than honorable things” to put aside money for our daughter’s future. At first, I thought he was implying that he had sold intimate favors, but he clarified that it was killing people. He did put aside quite a bit, over 10,000 gp, so I do think it was well-meant. And our daughter seems to hold no resentment toward him, so I don’t suppose I should either. For anyone out there who has been resurrected after a while, is this distance I’m feeling just a symptom of that, or is it something I should be concerned about? Perhaps I should speak to my mother-in-law, as she has always been a source of wisdom in my life. I don’t think I will need to update further, but if more developments happen, I will be sure to let you all know.

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[esamastation]

ladyjazzhands: Ezio x Shen Qingqiu, somehow

There's a foreigner staying in the Warm Red Pavilion, who speaks not a word anyone can understand. Shen Qingqiu hates him on sight.

He's everything he loathes in a man. Leering and smarmy, with unkempt short hair and beard, armoured like a rough barbarian, with the manners and body language of one used to throwing his weight around, he dominates every room he is in. Shen Qingqiu can't see why, but somehow every courtesan present seems drawn to his presence and he's never seen without a woman or two under his arm.

Well, he does see why. The low, purring words he speaks to the ladies of the brothel might fall all but to deaf ears - but money speaks its own insidious language. Even though his coin is strange, it's plentiful and heavy and always easily parted to his adoring audience as the foreigner teasingly lures the courtesans to him with the foreign coins dancing nimbly on the backs of his knuckles.

They play for him, they introduce him to the local food and wine, and then they take him up stairs for more, and Shen Qingqiu wants nothing more than to see them do to him what they'd done to another barbarian, not long ago. There's nothing quite as satisfying as seeing rough men being thrown out of a window by a group of giggling women.

Alas, aside from looking strange, speaking language no one understands and acting like the worst sort of letcher, the foreigner has done nothing but favour the ladies of the Warm Red Pavilion and clearly they intend to only adore him back.

At least, until his coin purse would run dry.

"How long has he been here?" Shen Qingqiu asks the Madam, as the owner of the brothel joins him for tea.

"Oh, Ai Qiao? He arrived here this morning," the Madam says, as one of the younger courtesans pours for them. "Though he appeared in town sometime yesterday. No one is sure when, exactly - but he made his presence known late afternoon, in the market - where he attempted to find someone who spoke a language he understood. Which he did not find."

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes. "He's far inland, to be without a guide or a translator," he mutters, considering. "How did he end up here?"

"Oh, he found his way here - he might've seen one of my girls running errands," the Madam muses and gives him a look. "Does Xiao Jiu know him?"

"No," Shen Qingqiu says and sips his tea. He doesn't know the man's style of clothes either - and more damningly, he doesn't know his language. Though Shen Qingqiu hasn't ever had the time to truly dedicate to learning other languages, he is confident enough to say that he at least knows most human languages by sound. The cadence of Ai Qiao's speech alone is completely unknown to him, never mind the sound he makes, the words he speaks.

There are few things he can deduce, if somewhat begrudgingly, about the man's attire. Though the style is absolutely nonsensical, it's not without finesse - the armour was not just well crafted but to some extent artistic, with floral designs hammered into the metal. The leather straps of it are well made and well maintained and the man's clothes are clearly well tailored and well kept. White like that, on a warrior - there's only so many people Shen Qingqiu knows who can wield a sword and keep white clothes clean, and all of them are immortal cultivators.

It could be indicative of a wealthy warrior without much experience. There were many rich idiots out there who clad themselves in even more extravagant armour that would never see battle, showing off their wealth and claiming bravery where they had none. Except…

Shen Qingqiu clutched onto his cup.

Even outside the aura of mortal danger around the foreigner, Ai Qiao's armour isn't without a scratch - in fact, beneath it's shine and polish, it's quite well worn and battered. And then there is the man's armament - which is… extensive. Sword, crossbow, numerous throwing daggers, bombs… never mind the things hidden in his sleeves, whatever they are. All which the foreigner wore with casual confidence even Liu Qingge would find unnerving.

The man is a killer, there is no doubt in Shen Qingqiu's mind - if not a murderer. And he is currently in congress with who knows how many of Warm Red Pavilion's girls. Even with all the training Shen Qingqiu had given them, and all the weapons he'd done his best to supply with them… none of them are fit to face against a trained killer.

The Madam looks at him, and sees right through him. She smiles knowingly, but is kind enough to not draw attention to his white knuckled fingers or his clenched jaw. "I will have the girls prepare a room in the back," she says. "Will Xiao Jiu play for us tonight?"

"This one will," Shen Qingqiu says. "Let me know when the foreigner falls asleep."

-

The foreigner doesn't fall asleep. For more than two sichens he partakes in the women of the pavilion before making his unwelcome presence known in the hall where Shen Qingqiu is playing the qing. The man saunters in confidently with his armour askew and his knife belt loose, his hair a worse mess than before, grinning with great satisfaction.

"Li-mei," Shen Qingqiu says under his breath to his most recent student in the brothel, a fifteen year old girl who's watching him play intently. "Go see to the girls he left behind."

The girl bows and slips away to take the hidden ladder upstairs. In the meanwhile Ai Qiao is already being attended to by another courtesan at loose ends, who takes the man's arm eagerly and leads him to a table - and to an expensive bottle of wine.

Shen Qingqiu continues to play, keeping his glaring to a minimum while watching the foreign killer. Though it's clear he can't understand a word Ding-er says, they get along just swimmingly, as the man teases her into giggling with his low words and appreciative touches.

Two sichen with who knows how many women and the man still has an appetite for more.

Shen Qingqiu plays, keeping his posture proud and his movements elegant, not letting his worry or disgust show. He doesn't relax until young Li-mei returns to him to tell that, "They're sleeping - all of them," with a giggle. "I think the patron wore them out!"

It takes effort not to verbally express his abhorrence and keep his fingers moving smoothly over the strings. "All of them - how many of them did he have?" Shen Qingqiu demands with disquiet.

"Four," Li-mei giggles.

Incredible - no, impossible. The girls of Warm Red Pavilion might not have the stamina of cultivators, but they have more stamina than to be laid low by a mortal man. Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, still playing, and asks, "And they were all… well?" Had Ai Qiao knocked them out - had he struck them, drugged them?

"They looked quite snug and comfortable to me," Li-mei answers, amused. "And the patron left enough coin to cover all their services."

Shen Qingqiu casts a look towards Ai Qiao, who's now listening to Ding-er speak, smiling even though he can't understand a word and urging her on with his hums and murmured encouragement. His fingers, Shen Qingqiu notes, are gently stroking the edge of her collar, where her hanfu leaves her shoulder exposed. The touch is as covetous as it is appreciative. One could even call it proprietorial.

It's nothing he's not seen hundreds of other men do to the women of the brothel, and he's not stupid enough to interject - this is their occupation, and men like Ai Qiao is how they make their living. And a man like this, lustful and generous in his lustiness, is exactly the kind of customer a brothel loves - one who showers several girls with coin and doesn't hold back. And yet…

There is something about this one Shen Qingqiu cannot stand. At first he thinks it's the beard, the attitude, the foreign manners, the way he can't even sit properly. The low tone of his voice, the smarmy smiles he gives everyone, how freely he expresses his desires despite the language barrier. But no.

It's the look in his eyes - dark, shrewd, calculating. It sends cold shivers down Shen Qingqiu's back.

Ai Qiao would be out of the brothel by morning, Shen Qingqiu swears, even if he had to throw the man out himself.

-

Ai Qiao is plied with wine and snacks but doesn't let himself be drawn into a bedroom - instead he sticks to the main hall, chatting nonsensically with Ding-er and then with many other of the women who find themselves at loose ends as the night wears on. The courtesans take turns trying to teach Ai Qiao new words, giggling uproariously at his horrendous pronunciation as he struggles over sounds his own language clearly lacks.

Shen Qingqiu keeps playing and watching and gritting his teeth as the foreigner lets himself be humiliated by the giggling courtesans that have once more begun flocking around him, seemingly as entertained by them as they are by him. Every now and then someone would find their way in his lap and the man would dote upon them, but beyond that he seems satisfied in simply being there and enjoying their company.

And he refuses to tire and go to sleep. He outlasts all the other patrons, who either get ushered into rooms or outside once their coin begins to run out. Ai Qiao's purse remains quite heavy, even with all the coins he's so happily shared with the girls around him, and so he keeps going and going - until finally the hour grows so late that even the women, used to late nights, start tiring.

Shen Qingqiu himself would be asleep by now, if this was a normal night - but he is still on high alert and Ai Qiao doesn't even seem drunk anymore, bidding the sleepy ladies fond good nights with kisses to their hands and some more coins in their palms. Infuriating man.

"Xiao Jiu," the Madam murmurs, coming to his side. "It's late."

By which she means, most of the patrons of the brothel are asleep, and she doesn't want him to play anymore lest he wake them up.

With a slow breath, Shen Qingqiu brings his last piece to a conclusion and then rests his aching fingers on the qing strings. "Very well," he says. "This one shall have some wine now."

Giving him a look, the Madam sighs. "He's been the perfect quest all night," she says quietly. "You need not be so wary. All is well, I promise."

Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to answer and with a shake of her head the Madam rises and goes to seek her own bed for the night, trusting her women to care for the last patrons they have - namely, Shen Qingqiu and Ai Qiao. Scoffing after her, Shen Qingqiu takes his time going over the Qing and easing it into its case before accepting the bottle brought to him by Ling Ji, one of the older courtesans present.

"Xiao Jiu played beautifully, and for so long," the older courtesan comments while pouring for him. "It has made this a lovely night."

Shen Qingqiu accept the compliment with a nod and distractedly accept the cup - and by then, Ai Qiao is watching them, his eyes considering, his lids low. In an instant Shen Qingqiu is back on the very end of his already frayed nerves, his face growing hot with fury - and, to his utter revulsion, Ai Qiao smiles at him.

Most of the girls are yawning around the man now, and with more kisses and coins bestowed to their hands, the man bids them goodnight - and then he rises. With clear intent and that confident swagger he'd entered with, Ai Qiao approaches the dias where Shen Qingqiu had been playing and is still sitting - and it's plainly obvious what the man's purpose is. He's still smiling - and then one he's smiling at is not Ling Ji.

Shen Qingqiu goes from hot to cold and then back to hot as his fury blazes into pure rage.

Shen Qingqiu rises to his feet in outrage and, clearly delighted, Ai Qiao bows to him - completely wrong and all too theatrical, swinging his arm strangely. The man says, "Ezio Auditore da Firenze, mia cara signora," clearly an introduction. "È un piacere conoscerti." And then he tries to kiss Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Shen Qingqiu throws his wine at his face before he can.

-

And Ezio absolutely took it as a challenge, haha.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Dialogue Tags

Dialogue tag (or speech tag) - a phrase that precedes, breaks up, or follows a bit of written dialogue and establishes who the speaker is and often how they are delivering the dialogue.

Properly Punctuating Dialogue

Here are the 3 most common ways to punctuate dialogue seen in literature:

Quotation marks. In English language literature, dialogue usually appears in quotation marks, as in the example above. If you put your dialogue in quotation marks, note that punctuation—like periods, exclamation points, and question marks—go inside the quotation marks. Also note that you should use a comma of a terminal punctuation mark when a piece of dialogue is part of a complete sentence including a dialogue tag. For example: “I’m going out to buy some milk,” she said or “Stop,” she said. “I already bought milk yesterday.”

Em-dashes. Some writers use an em-dash to notate a line of dialogue, like this: —What do you want for dinner? Jack asked his friend John.

No punctuation. Some writers don’t notate dialogue at all. For example, Nobel Prize-winning author José Saramago treats his dialogue just like the rest of the narration, like this: Jack asked his friend John, What do you want for dinner, and John replied, I don’t know, you decide.

Writing dialogue requires a good deal of information be communicated to help your readers understand who is saying what.

At the bare minimum, good use of dialogue tags keeps your reader from getting too disoriented or confused.

Some writers believe that "said is dead" and prefer to use more descriptive words or to put an adverb before the word “said.”

But generally speaking, you can write an entire short story or novel using only “said,” without having to resort to more descriptive verbs like “shouted,” “seethed,” or “consoled.”

Stephen King, whose famous opinion that “the road to hell is paved with adverbs,” finds them especially annoying in dialogue attribution. (Tags like “he said cheekily” drive him crazy.)

In suspense writing specifically, Angels and Demons author Dan Brown advises you to keep your language from jarring the reader out of the story. This means sticking to “he said” and “she said,” and keeping adverbs or other words for “said” to a minimum.

Are Dialogue Tags Always Necessary?

Not every piece of dialogue requires a tag.

If your reader can be reasonably expected to assume who is speaking, you don’t have to use dialogue tags.

This is especially true during lengths of ongoing back and forth dialogue between two characters.

Oftentimes quotes will follow one after the other, with a line break to denote a change in speaker.

Source �� More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Dialogue References

[filmabyy]

«Heart On The Window» Cho Hyun-ju x Male!Reader Part 1?

Cho Hyun-ju x Male reader!

Summary: Y/N has always had a crush on her neighbor across the street, Hyun-ju. He has never had the courage to speak a word to her. Until one day they meet again in the most unexpected place.

«English is not my first language and I'm sorry if I get some words wrong» 😔🤍

The sound of the alarm clock early in the morning woke Y/N from a deep sleep. When he opened his eyes, he felt an empty feeling in his chest, like an inexplicable nostalgia.

He got out of bed, got dressed, and put the finishing touches on his uniform. However, the sky was overcast and the weather seemed as gloomy as his emotions.

Just as he was about to leave the house, something caught his attention: the neighbor across the street was leaving her apartment. It was Cho Hyun-ju.

Although they had barely ever spoken, Y/N always saw Hyun-ju from her door or sometimes they passed each other in the elevator, every day at the same time. His gaze would linger on her and his heart would race slightly.

But he never found the courage to approach her and talk to her... He didn't think he was someone handsome, someone who could catch someone's attention because of his beauty. He just wanted to catch someone's attention and that someone was only Hyun-ju.

That morning, Hyun-ju seemed to be taking longer than usual. Her gaze was lost, as if something was tormenting her. Y/N watched her from afar, growing increasingly worried. What could be tormenting this beautiful girl?.

He gathered his courage and approached her cautiously. “Oh, hello Hyun-ju…” He greeted her in a soft tone with a shy smile. Trying to feign confidence, him nervously grabbed the straps of his backpack as he stood beside her to wait for the elevator as well.

Hyun-ju turned around upon hearing his voice. She looked a little surprised to see the Y/N greeting her. She smiled slightly, but it was clear that she was distracted from something else.

“Hello…” She replied in a soft tone, and returned her gaze to her phone in hand.

"What a busy day, huh?" Him asked timidly. But he mentally scolded himself for the somewhat silly question.

It was obvious that he was having a busy day but he didn't know what to ask anymore, the words wouldn't come out. And he let go of the straps of his backpack to play with his hands, it was a hint of nervousness that he usually had.

And he tried to start a conversation but he was probably being stupid.

How could he not be when the pretty woman was by his side and made his heart beat faster with just her presence.

Hyun-ju sighed deeply. Her seemed a little exhausted and distracted. “Yeah, too much…” She said, her gaze fixed on her phone.

She was short on time and the elevator was about to arrive, so she was aware that the reader was trying to be nice.

Seeing her, he tried to lighten the mood a bit and maybe make her feel comfortable.

“I understand… as my grandmother used to say, after the storm there’s a rainbow right around the corner.” He said jokingly and laughed softly as he looked at her.

Him was trying to take the awkwardness out of the conversation, but he was probably being a weird jerk. If she saw him, his grandmother would surely scold him for how silly he was acting.

Hyun-ju laughed softly, her expression relaxing a little at Y/N joke. "I hope so," she replied with a small sigh.

The elevator arrived, and the doors opened in front of them.

The two of them entered the elevator in silence. It was the opportune moment to continue talking, or to stay quiet and keep their distance.

After a silence, I turned around to look at her and admire her at the same time.

That was the effect Cho Hyun-ju had on him.

"You know... ehh... I know we don't know each other very well but if you need help with something... you can knock on my door, you know... between neighbors we help each other." He joked the last bit and fell down a few seconds later.

*You're acting like a weirdo, react*

He told himself mentally and looked back in front of him. He had surely made Hyun-ju uncomfortable and maybe ruined it with a few words.

Hyun-ju seemed a little surprised by Reader's offer, but soon sounded grateful. "Thank you," she replied softly, as her gaze met his. And she gave him a gentle smile.

At that moment, Y/N could see that beautiful sparkle in his eyes. And she almost fell over if it weren't for the fact that he was gathering strength to maintain the composure of a love-struck fool.

It was the first time she had conversed with him seriously, and his presence had already lightened her mood a little.

The elevator was close to reaching the lobby and the door was about to open.

They both disconnected their conversation and headed to the lobby of the building. As they headed towards the door of the place, silence filled the space again.

Would he have the courage to say something else to her? The moment was still there, waiting for a word, a question, a gesture, an acknowledgement of the other's presence.

It was his chance to invite her to eat something or something she liked to do. He had to muster up the courage and do it. It was just a few words and that was all.

Could he do it or not?.

Because everything seemed to be so difficult for him.

Without further ado, his steps stopped at the door of the small hall and he looked at Hyun-ju.

Before he could say anything else, her words simply played a trick on him.

"Goodbye Hyun-ju..." He reluctantly said goodbye to her.

Hyun-ju stopped at the sound of his farewell and turned to look at him.

His gaze finally connected with Y/N's, and a sort of sense of recognition flashed across his expression.

"Bye, Y/N. See you later." She said as he gave her a small smile.

Though there weren't many words, that brief exchange of goodbyes seemed to have dissipated some of the tension of the moment.

The connection felt brief, but meaningful...

As Y/N walked away, the feeling of sadness and self-loathing settled in his chest.

He knew he was a fool for not being able to communicate with Hyun-ju properly, for not having the courage to get closer to her.

What would have happened if he took more of a risk?.

Doubt flooded his mind, and the weight of the lost opportunity became more visible with each step he took away from the building.

But only time would tell, he just had to gather more courage and try to start more conversations so she could get to know him better and feel comfortable talking to each other.

I had to keep trying.

[jarenka]

tags by @gffa

(sorry for using your tags for that rant about translations, don't feel yourself obligated to answer or something like that)

I don't want to disappoint you, but there are many edits in English translation of The Three-Body problem. I assume you can learn more about them here (I don't have access to an article itself) and also here Ken Liu says that he updated some outdated info. I don't think it's bad itself if done in a tandem with an author, but original and the translation will feel different. The Chinese reader would say that The Three-Body Problem has a natural prose flow, sexist language and uses outdated info from 2006, the English reader would say that The Three-Body Problem has unusual prose (honestly, I don't know, my knowledge of English is not enough to make judgments about qualities of the prose), no sexist language and uses info from 2014.

For me this approach that it's ok to edit the content of the book but the reader should feel that they read a translated book feels very performative to me. Honestly my first thought after reading this post and various tags was "Yes, guys, only 3% of your book market is translated literature, so you want to feel really special while reading Exotic Foreign Literature". But also, what kind of "rhythm of another language" you all are taking about? It's not that I don't know any other languages other than my own (I write this in a foreign language), but there is no specific "rhythm of the X language", literature in any language is very diverse in rhythm and style. Do you feel like Dickens, Sara J. Maas and Hemingway have the same rhythm and cadence because they all write and English? Transporting the style of the prose into another language is a very tricky thing. Ironically, I know one Russian translation that spectacularly failed at it. The Catcher in The Rye was translated in English in USSR and unfortunately was censored, so in 2008 another translator attempted to translate it, and this translation was... controversial. Imo, it was just absolutely horrendous in its tone and style. It sounds like an attempt of a middle aged Russian dude who has never spoke with a teenager in their life to write from POV of the edgy teenager.

Yes, literary translation is a big can of worms, and every translator choses between different strategies of translation what book and for which audience they translate. And some things are untranslatable at all.

For example, regional dialects. For example, German and (British) English has super distinct regional dialects, so people in different cities in Germany and Britain speak very differently, people in different cities of Russia speaks almost identically with very minor quirks in some regions. There are more difference between Russian speakers in rural areas, but even of we use these differences German guy from Bavaria speaks like a guy from the village near Tver. Cockney dialect is absolutely untranslatable to Russian.

Same goes to some artistic effects. The beginning of the War and Peace novel is (in)famous for dialogues in French. They amplify for Russian readers how actually common for Russian aristocracy to speak in French. But when you translate it into French, what are you going to do with them?

(I mean yes, you won't translate it, but the artistic purpose of these paragraphs is lost in French translation)

The same with Russian translation of A Clockwork Orange. It has slang in Russian that is supposed to alienate the reader, but in Russian translation they are just Russian words written in Latin alphabet, and they are completely understandable for Russian readers.

Some jokes are untranslatable. Some set expressions might have significance for the plot/dialogue, so translator need to use a footnote to explain this nuance for the reader.

Anyway as someone who read majority of books and translation (which is normal for avid Russian-speaker reader) and specifically goes out their way to read mystery/thriller and literary fiction translated from different languages, I feel like linguistic aspects of foreign literature is just a miniscule point of my interest. Yes, I find out about Finnish slang word for lesbian, but overall it's more interesting to see what people in other countries are writing about. Of course my experience is severely skewed by the fact that book should be translated into Russian for me to read it, but they are still books that are written for an audience in another country and about things that are interesting and important for them. For example last year I've read three books by French writers of African decent, all with different plots but with similar themes of French colonialism and relationships between France and its (former) colonies. I just don't think that you would be ever able to read from this perspective if you don't read in French or you don't read books translated from French.

"The best translations into English do not, in fact, read as if they were originally written in English. The English words are arranged in such a way that the reader sees a glimpse of another culture’s patterns of thinking, hears an echo of another language’s rhythms and cadences, and feels a tremor of another people’s gestures and movements."

— Ken Liu, Translator’s Postface to The Three-Body Problem

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 1 (2025)

By Aj, Dion, Briar and Peter

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

New year, new edition of WNiIF!

We’re excited to continue this project through out the new year! Check out Announcements to read about some changes we’re implementing.

Check out the Events!

Are you looking for new exciting projects to play? Then don’t forget to check out the Events!

Games featured in jams are usually not included in New Releases because there would be too many of them. So if you’re trying to find something new, check there too!

Small Talk with Harris Powell-Smith! @hpowellsmith

We had the absolute pleasure of talking to Harris Powell-Smith and discussing their work. Check out this post to read about their new release Honor Bound and more!

We hope you enjoy this new issue!

AJ, DION, BRIAR AND PETER

~ ANNOUNCEMENTS ~

Most importantly:

WNiIF? is switching to a bi-weekly schedule!

Keeping up with news and releasing a new Issue every week is exhausting. We have decided to change it up a bit, hopefully preventing a possible burnout. We also hope that this will give us more time to make every Issue a bit better.

We thank you for your understanding.

What else?

Our X/Twitter account is no longer active. Please check out our other social media to keep an eye on releases and news.

We plan on releasing a special What’s 2024 in IF? Issue summing up all Issues that came out last year. This will include New Releases, Event Highlights, Columns, Game Highlights and more, making it easier for new readers to check out the Zine. The date of release is not set yet, but hopefully soon!

More exciting stuff is to be unveiled in the upcoming Issues!

~ ENDED ~

Did the start of the new year leave you somber and melancholic? Then check out the Dying Year - Visual Novel Jam to match your mood!

Winter Visual Novel Jam 2024 is here! You have until January 1st 2025 to submit your projects.

Are you familiar with Decker? Then why not take a part in the Deck-Month 2?

Velox Turbo 2 - The Eye of the Beholder is now over and results are in! Check out the results!

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is a year-long "jam" meant to collect and showcase Interactive Fiction games completed in 2024, and show how diverse the Interactive Fiction scene is! This year had an unbelievable number of 270 entries!

Partim 500 numéro 9 is a French language interactive fiction jam, this time with a theme: Dénanti!

~ VOTING ~

Feeling nostalgic about the golden age of text adventures? Relive those days by participating in PunyComp 2024!

IF Short Games Showcase 2024 is a great way to shine some new light on projects made in the past year (Jan 1, 2024 to Dec 31, 2024). You now have until January 15th 2025 to vote.

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Media depicting healthy examples of polyamory isn’t that common. The PolyJamorous 2024 is trying to break the status-quo!

The Queer Winter Game Jam is in full swing. Those interested can submit their work until January 16th 2025.

ShuffleComp is a musical interactive fiction competition where you make games based on songs, which are submitted by other entrants. Creators have until January 20th 2025 to upload their works.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

SeedComp! is a 2-round interactive fiction game jam, focusing on creativity and the growth of ideas and the Sprouting Round has just started! Check out the Planting round for inspiration.

BL stands for Boys' Love, a genre that focuses on romantic and emotional relationships between male characters. The Ultimate BL Visual Novel Game Jam is all about that!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Over a year has passed since asking too many murder-related questions online (for your book) got you invited to a serial killer chatroom. You’re now a bestselling writer, desperately in love, and have come to think of the server as family - it's like a dream come true. Sure, most of them still think you are a serial killer, your boss needs you to write another hit ASAP and your one true love is definitely technically a murderer, but look on the bright side - it’s A Very Killer Chat! Christmas!

Jessica Jane Has a Crush!? (Ren’Py) And to make matters worse, a crush on her best friend Rena! Follow Jessica as she navigates these complicated feelings, all while dealing with the struggles of attending an art university and coping with her mum's strict parenting.

Hamlet meets Sharknado. Not Your Mother’s Shire is a dark romantic comedy set in a fantasy world ruled by unusual dragons. Comparables: Dragon Age, Rick and Morty, Monty Python, Discworld, LotR.

Your world is a desert, both figuratively and literally. Speech is prohibited, books are outlawed, and any meaningful human interaction is nonexistent. Humans are reduced to the job they do for The City. There are no names; instead, everyone is identified by a number. You are H-313, a healer. - Viatica (Twine) @fir-fireweed

When the clock strikes midnight, The Dance of the Red Rose Begins (Ren’Py). - Princess Briar is finally of age to attend the illustrious Dance of the Red Rose, having dreamed of taking part since she was a child. There is just one problem, she does not have a dance partner! Will you help her confess her blooming feelings to one of the guests and secure a place on the ballroom dance floor?

Scales of Justice (CScript) - Rumours circulate the streets of Capital. Rumours of an artefact, as dangerous and powerful as one can only fear. Some claim it’s capable of twisting one’s true nature, shaping it much to the owner’s whim; others say that it can identify a soul’s essence, putting the Ritual of Fate in a tight spot for the first time in centuries. Many want to get it; many others, to destroy it. You? You are none of those–you just want to live. And yet, your (almost) safe and peaceful life as a humble adventurer is threatened by a letter with today’s date on it, written in your mother’s hand… @myimaginedcorner

It wasn't long ago that the Mother Superior dragged her out of her cell, forcing Hedwig to break her oath to God as an Anchoress and face the outside world. Acting as a spy for the leader of Linbarrow Abbey, Hedwig was given one seemingly simple task: Discover who really murdered Sister Catherine. In Misericorde Volume Two: White Wool & Snow (Ren’Py), Sister Hedwig must steel herself. Time is running out, and so is sympathy for her situation.

An unexpected apocalypse takes you away from your hi-tech metropolis, sending you to a distant, very different world. In this new fantasy world, elemental magic permeates the soil, Buddhist philosophy leads people’s lives, and Hindu demigods (Devas and Asuras) fight for supremacy. Why did you get here? Is there a way back home? But most of all, is this reality, or is it just a dream? Play Last Dream (CScript) to find out.

It's nearing the holidays and you find yourself with less plans that usual to fill your end of year schedule, as friends are out of town and most of your family is delayed in travels. Being in a season of giving, your bestie is at least appreciative to have you around to cover her shift for one day before she is back from vacation. Serve customers as a barista at the Brewspout -- filling in on one of the busiest days of the year, the Holiday Mixer (Ren’Py) special.

The fledgling Union Army is yet to meet the Confederates in a major battle. The north expects a swift and decisive victory, but they are overconfident. They will soon discover the brutal, drawn-out nature of industrial warfare. As a regimental commander in the Union Army, you must navigate a series of desperate decisions to keep your men alive and prevent military disaster. Serve alongside the real officers and regiments who fought at First Bull Run (CScript) in this historically accurate depiction of the battle.

"The wildest journey begins with a single step. Sometimes that step is straight down into an open trap-door. Commit or stay home!" - Advent Window (Inform 7)

A coincidence lead you and Marley to both find each other online at the old chatroom from when you first met. You had been waiting and trying to get him to listen and talk properly for a long time...

Will your separation be amicable, or will things go too far in Divorce Chatroom (Ren’Py)?

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Buried beneath the sprawling castle at the heart of Minare is a room most think is legend: the Library of Souls. As a member of the royal cleaning staff—and one with Fae-blood—sneaking into The Eternal Library (CScript) is a dangerous idea, but you risk it for a ritual that gives you the skills of your warrior ancestor and a mission that spans lifetimes. Destiny calls your warrior spirit to wake. Assassins are infiltrating the castle. The kingdom is ripe for change, and it needs your help. Your soul has waited lifetimes for the chance to put things right. Now, it’s time.

You play as a 13 year old girl desperate to get back to her big brother who will protect her in a zombie apocalypse. - Zomrizen (CScript)

Get to know two characters from the upcoming dating sim Love Life + NIGHT LIFE (Ren’Py)! Through this demo, you'll have the chance to ask the characters questions, go on two dates only available in the demo, and even...access their computers?

~ UPDATES ~

After Dark (CScript) has updated their demo. @dalekowrites

Ashenmaw - Dragons of Marrowoods (CSscript) added new content to their demo. @ashenmaw-if

High School Revenge (CSscript) released Chapters 3 and 4.

Lost in your eyes (CSscript) released Chapter 3.4 and 3.5. @kathrinesadventures

Merry Crisis (CScript) released Chapter 5. @merrycrisis-if

Sense & Sorcery (CScript) added new content to their demo.

Shattered Eagle: Fall of an Empire (CScript) updated Chapter 5. @shattered-eagle

Spire, Surge and Sea (CScript) added new content to their demo.

Unneeded Script (Twine) released Part 2 of Chapter 1. @unneededscript-if

Villain Intern (CScript) updated their demo. @villainintern

Voiceless: Siren’s Song (CScript) released first part of Chapter 3.

War of Beasts (CScript) updated their demo.

Exit Through the Gift Shop (CScript) added new content to their demo.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart (CScript) updated their Patreon demo. @doriana-gray-games

Grey Swan - Birds of a Rose (CScript) added new content to the demo. @reinekes-fox

The Second Sight (Twine) released Chapter 6 on Patreon. @spoiledblogif

The Wroth Ode (CScript) added new content to their demo. @thewrothode-if

~ OTHER ~

The Retro Adventurers - Episode 13 - 2024 Year-End Chatisode is out! Hear about Tim Gilberts' Heathkit, Scott Adams' next professional moves, adventures in ADABAS / Natural, and a long-overdue callback to the Clarion Beauty Computer!

Saturnine (CScript) has received its final content update and it will now enter an “open beta” stage. @satur9-if

@hpowellsmith just released a rundown of CScript releases, new WIPs, and updated WIPs for the whole of 2024!

@interact-if is officially back in business! Good luck to Allie as the new mod!

When Twilight Strikes (Twine) released a Christmas short. @evertidings

~ SMALL TALK… ~

> WITH HARRIS POWELL-SMITH @hpowellsmith

Joining us is an award-winning narrative designer and writer: Harris Powell-Smith, Author of the Crème de la Crème series, “Blood Money” and many more!

⟶ Hello, Harris! Welcome to Small Talk. We are absolutely thrilled to have you here with us! Before we officially begin, would you mind sharing with us a bit about yourself?

Hi! I'm a narrative designer and game writer who's worked on a few indie and mobile games including the multiplayer King of the Castle and the mobile Love Island tie-in game. Currently I'm freelancing and mostly creating choose-your-path text games with Choice of Games, which I've now been doing for eight years.

I'm most known for my dark academia Crème de la Crème series, and most recently released Honor Bound, the fourth standalone game in the series!

⟶ To read the rest of the Interview, check out the Itch version or the separate post! (A new thing we're testing out to make these posts more readable. Please let you know what you think!)

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Exit/Corners by Moon Moth Games (???)

A suspenseful VN with puzzles à la Zero Escape. It's got a lot of heart for a death game story.

//submitted by Sera//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

Sera

For sending us a Highlight!

And everyone who participated in our end-of-the-year survey for their feedback and lovely messages.

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

See you in two weeks!

AJ, DION, BRIAR AND PETER

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2025-ISSUE 1

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

Contact us through Tumblr asks, Forum DMs, or even by email! And thank you for your help!!

[sunsetno4]

A comic for small headcanons. In the immediate Nanosurge/Void fight, Ven's mind kinda falls back to 'factory reset' type start of mind, operating more on emotions and instinct and impressions, instead of masking and performing and over-analyzing everything.

Ven's mind eventually catches up and recenters itself but the first day or so after was a bit of confusing trip for all involved given Ven was talking in nir own little language and/or Re-Gene.

And the translations~~

Jello : Ortega's nickname.

Listen : One of Vendetta's treasured words, 'given' to Ortega because Vendetta is a sentimental troll at times. It's a bit like 'you're important. you're family. i love you'.

Vendetta : Ven's name, Number One Treasured Word, but also the word ne wholeheartedly associates with safety and sanctuary and shelter. Ne will often repeat it to nemself when ne is trying to feel safe and/or calm down (or, you know, calm down others).

The More You Know~~ 🌈🌟

[hoiststowline]

laughter lines

ratchet x reader tw:// very minor mentions of injury

Ratchet would rather choke than admit such a sentimental observation aloud, but it would be a flat lie to say he did not care in reference to you or your wellbeing. In a current instance, he feigned annoyance, graveling about completing such a menial task, but it's secretly a breath of fresh air to escape the stuffiness of the base.

He watches with tired optics as you stand on the sidewalk, conversing with fellow employees as they yap happily, yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot as if to display mild impatience. Your body language speaks it all, struggling to keep up with the conversation but unable to pull yourself away successfully, wanting to linger to some degree, but knowing there was a eager bot somewhere wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

But he doesn't wish for you to rush on his behalf, from late-night conversations of loneliness and enervation, he understands that you are in short supply of those whom you can confidently label close. Though you've mentioned heavily that most of your co-workers are nothing but aggravating, it is tender to see how you throw your head back in laughter, locks of hair tugged gracefully by winters icy chills.

These coworkers he does not recognize, their faces only illuminated and visible by a few scattered streetlights. They don't put up a front that they are doing this for a careless reason, more so to have a chat with you after work hours, away from others. Ratchet has come to familiarize himself with some of your peers, the ones he sees when he arrives to pick you up, but these he has not seen before, at least at your side when you leave.

They appear to be around your age, talking wildly with their hands as you nod eagerly in agreement, fingers slipping into your jacket's sleeves to combat the frigid air. It's a comforting sight, getting to see you act naturally as if no eyes were on you but those at your front.

"This was fun, y/n!" One of them laughs, their car keys dangling from their fingers. "Have a good night!" He observes you watch them walk across the parking lot, waving them goodbye. When they disappear into their respective vehicles, then do you turn to survey the empty lot, catching his dimly lit headlights not far off.

The walk over to the hidden ambulance was hurried, swiftly hiking your bag back onto your shoulder as it had slipped down your arm again. Feeling immense guilt, you fight the bitter gusts headed your direction and step off the curb, looking both ways before crossing the intersection.

"Hey," His passenger door pops open upon your arrival down the sidewalk, your small hands easily finding the handle that rests just beside the hinge, using it to haul yourself up and into his cabin. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I wasn't expecting to talk for so long,"

"Don't worry about it." He drawls, but there is no usual irritation in his words. "I haven't been here long."

His unusual but familiar patience is relaxing, enough that it causes the culpability to dissipate languidly from your shoulders. Before long, you're settling into the passenger seat of the ambulance, the door closing over once your bag was placed on the ground between your sneakers.

"It was nice." You decide, running fingers through your hair to tame it, thrown askew by the incoming storm.

"Good," Ratchet replies easily, engine turning over once he ensures your seatbelt is adjusted properly, clicking over your waist effortlessly. "That's what I like to hear."

Humming in agreement, your head tilts back against the headrest, exhausted. Scrounging up some courage, you mumble a gentle: "But I did miss you, Ratch."

Though he's used to your overflowing schmaltz by now, it still rings him with surprise at how soft your voice goes when you've simply hit your limit. "Long shift?"

"Something like that." There's an overwhelming curiosity that begs you to wonder if he understands the true emotion behind your sentences, but you're too anxious to inquire him of it just yet. "Those girls had their first day last week. They're sweet, they make the shift go by just a little bit faster."

"And no injuries this time?" He asks before gently throwing the gear shift in drive, beginning to head towards the road. "No burns, cuts, or gaping wounds I need to know about?"

He's referencing the last time he picked you up, yourself walking down the stairs with a gauze shoddily tapped to your finger as you nipped yourself on something you don't care to remember, a totally common accident. Ratchet was entirely displeased, scoffing at your medical analysis before wrapping it up properly, a permanent frown etched onto his face-plate.

"Nah. Injury-free night." You somberly laugh, watching the landscape slip by. "What are your plans for the evening, Ratchet?"

"I have plenty of work to do." There's a pause like he wants to say something more, but doesn't, leaving you to pick up the exchange.

You bite your bottom lip, making a distracted noise of acknowledgment. "Right. That makes sense."

"By your inquiry, it sounds like you had something in mind." He continues, toying with the idea to entertain your likely insane request. Your next set of words surprises him, not quite expecting them to be so disheartened after he saw you so elated-peaceful even-moments before.

"No," You start, head rolling lazily towards the center console as if to address him properly. "I just...I don't wanna be alone with my thoughts right now." Sighing, you try to push your emotions aside, the next words you mumble are more so for yourself than for Ratchet. "Is that annoying? Am I being annoying?"

Ratchet finds himself never in short supply of absolutely certifiable sentences that stumble forth from your mouth, yourself finding never-ending ways to leave the mech completely stunned, unsure of how even to dignify such a query. Most often, it's a jest not even worth the moment it takes to refute. However, in this instance, he dissects something within your words, and his knee-jerk reaction of deflection likely would do more harm than good this time.

"Where the hell did that come from?" He rumbles, observing how fingers wringing together timidly in your lap like you were afraid to say anything further. "That's random, even for you, y/n."

Given his profession, if there was one thing he was best at, apart from his medical expertise was spotting a lie. He's a damn near expert when it comes to other mechs, but your roundabout ways and unspoken gestures were a bit more difficult to assess, but not impossible. Ratchet thinks he's gotten it nailed down, now watching as you try to backpedal, body tense and unable to maintain a cohesive gaze.

"Ah, forget it. It's not important-" You start, leaning your head to the right as your eyes move downwards, hinting that you were not being honest with him. "Sorry. Yeah, I don't know where that came from either."

This is a side of you he has yet to see, partial to always nagging him for multitudes of ridiculous reasons, but it appears this is an answer you don't quite have the stomach to hear, but have been wondering for some dedicated time. You're being reticent, obviously just having subconsciously gathered the courage to approach him about such a subject but sensing something overlaying in his response, even if it was unintentional.

"Hold it," While silently processing your words, you had already attempted to change the subject, hopefully unnoticed. "We aren't glossing over that. Rewind."

At your withdrawal from the conversation, stiff shoulders jump to your ears, easily finding his abrupt tone. "Ratchet-"

"I'm not arguing with you." Even in his alt-mode, you could feel his stare, a scowl likely on his lips. Knowing he is dead serious, you sigh, seatbelt tugging against your now deflated stance. Ratchet frowns, adamancy high and unrelenting. "Tell me what you meant by that."

The urge to say 'By what?' is almost undeniable, but it's clear that he was extremely unwavering since it was the two of you alone. "It was pretty straightforward."

"Yes, but the context isn't." He counters, tone losing its snide aspect for a brief sliver of time. "I could understand if I said something to lead you to believe that, but it isn't true."

"Are you sure?" Ratchet sputters at your weak tone, wanting to quell the tears he knows are on their way. “I mean, I know I’ve got to annoy you. A lot.”

“Did those slagheads say something to you?” He grouses, now irritated with himself for not intervening, finding a route for you to escape the conversation. “You looked so happy."

A swarm of something settles in your stomach, feeling the urge to cry nag behind your eyes. "What? No. They didn't- I was happy, I mean, I think I was happy-" 

"There are many who can only hope to have a personality as gratifying as yours," He was being genuine, being kind, and some awful part of you thinks it's out of pity, but then again, when has Ratchet ever said anything that wasn't the truth? He's blunt, doesn't have a filter most of the time, and doesn't hesitate to point out when you're giving yourself the short end of the stick. 

You weren't digging for compliments, though hearing such a sentiment from Ratchet did tug on your heartstrings just a bit. The evening's events were typical, annoying, and infuriating, but a small slow patch of time left you with your thoughts and a broad study. Your co-workers got along, they were friendly amongst themselves and laughed at each other's jokes-but somehow you never seemed to fit within that puzzle just right. 

Your interactions were forced and strictly work-based. Though these new staff were kind, part of you only seemed to think they interacted with you because they had to, given you were the unlucky one selected to train them. But that meant something, the fact they went out of their way to walk outside with you, thanking you for the time and effort.

"To answer your original question," The medic says, and you find no indignation in his tone, eyes darting straight to the rearview mirror. "No, it's not annoying to not want to be alone. Also, no, you are not annoying," 

"Thanks." You rasp, reaching forward to pat his dashboard affectionately. "I needed to hear that. Is it okay if I hang out with you? Just for a little bit?"

If it was anyone else, Ratchet has the piles of work on his desk committed to memory, knowing any interactions would only lead to intruding hindrances. But he's come to learn from several instances of your pleading to 'hang out', it means just sitting in his presence, just simply enjoying the company without uttering a word most of the time. It's the only reason he'd ever say yes to such an outlandish request, only when it comes from you.

"You already know the answer to that," He dismisses you easily, but there's something contrasting within his words.

Wordlessly delighted to hear your true laugh, your lips erupt into a small smile, comforted by his habits. "You're the best."

He doesn't answer, but there's something about the way his engine sputters just vaguely is all the reply you need, gaze moving back out the window once more.

[snakesafraidtodie]

Okay, so it makes sense that Kryptonian sounds like ghost speak because it's a dead language, but how come ghost speak sounds like Kryptonian?

Option 1: All speakers of dead languages automatically understand ghost speak

Option 2: Ghost speak just sounds like the closest dead language to what a the nearest living can understand

If the latter, then that would explain why so many spells are in latin maybe?? Or other dead languages. Some mage hears ghost speak and thinks, "Hey, this powerful being sounds like they're speaking (insert old root language here) that must mean it's magically significant!/I should learn it so I can communicate with them"

I mean, it just tickles my fancy that maybe the only reason old dead languages are seen as mystical and spiritual and magical is just because that's what the ghosts sound like. Some dude saw a couple of ghosts cussing each other out in Old Norse and now we have runes and shit thrown about like they're not just tossing around blocks of the ABCs.

There was a man fighting Superman.

A man with flaming hair and red eyes, who would honestly look like your average biker if not for said flaming hair, red eyes, and the fact he's fighting Superman.

The man was going blow for blow, punching Superman through buildings, being punched through buildings himself and laughing as he fought like he's feral or something. Which, unfortunately, results in a large amount of property damage.

Until it was stopped by a kid wearing nothing but an oversized pair of sweatpants, slippers, and a Nasa shirt.

"I'm going to disassemble and hide the parts of your beloved bike if you don't stop." Danny said, arms crossed. "You wouldn't dare." Said Dan, copying his pose exactly.

To Superman, it looked like a perfect mirror between brothers.

The silence lasted for a few full minutes, toxic green staring into glowing red as they both refused to budge. Before the older shrugged and looked away.

"You know? Fine, have it your way squirt." Danny scoffed. "Well excuse me when you're trying to fight Superman of people!" It was Dan's turn to scoff. "You're overreacting."

"I'm going to punch you into Mars I swear."

Dan smirked as he cracked his knuckles. "Aw, does the lil dude wanna fight me again? You already know how that panned out last time and you don't got the element of suprise anymore."

Danny scowled, before cursing at him in Ghost Speak. Dan's face twisted, before he started growling back his own cruses.

Superman stared.

He clearly his throat.

"Excuse me, but are you two perhaps, Kryptonian?" Superman asked in near perfect ghost speak. Which didn't exactly say much since it was more about intent and, well, if your language was dead or not.

Both Danny and Dan paused, slowly turning to stare at Superman in undisguised shock. Dan quickly pulled his younger self closer and turned away from Superman to whisper into his ear. "When the fuck was Superman a ghost??"

"How am I supposed to know!?" Danny whisper screamed.

Both forgot that Superman had super hearing, and could listen to their conversation. Out of respect, however, he chose not too.

[loganhowlettssweetheart]

thinking about logan dating a mutant he met in the x-mansion but who isn’t from the states originally.

logan and his partner who compliments him in their native language knowing he cant understand.

logan and his partner who makes him try food from their country which he pretends to love even though he’s the plainest man ever and only eats basic foods.

logan and his partner who takes him to their home country, showing him all the famous sights and their old favourite spots.

logan and his partner who decide to purchase a house up in said country just as a place to spend time in between missions with the x-men.

logan and his partner who tries their best to teach him their language as he grumbles under his breath about how much he hates it, knowing full well he loves listening to them speak their language <3

(yes i only made this because i was making pelmeni and i thought about how cute it would be to make some with logan)

[vaguely-concerned]

do you ever think about how, when we get lucanis' ossuary mind note on what he was thinking during the fireplace scene at the end of his recruitment mission... what's implied to be his instinctive internal reaction as he's saying "you'd have to kill me" out loud sure isn't 'and I don't want to die'. it's '(and spite would die)'. do you think spite's gremlin-y candle-hungering give-me-FIRE! >:D presence has maybe saved that guy's life even more times and in more ways than are immediately obvious at a glance. do you ever. cry.

it's also very. him that the thing that would stay his hand on killing himself partially might be that he just isn't willing to visit the same cruelty or harm on spite as zara, even when accepting his passenger spirit as collateral damage would at least offer a chance to put an end to his own pain, which at that point he seems unable to see any other way of truly escaping or find real relief from than to die. there's so much resentment and fear and other understandable fraught emotions in spite and lucanis' relationship early on, but it's just as clear that deep down lucanis conceptualizes spite as fundamentally innocent in what's happened here -- perhaps, indeed, more innocent than he manages to conceptualize himself until someone else can help him get in there and start to untangle it with him. he's protective of spite in some subtle ways right from the start, taking pains to point out several times on the jog through the ossuary that the spirits here were just as much victims in what was done to them as anyone else. when spite acts out during the fireplace scene... how much of lucanis brushing it off the way he does is about the '*actively bleeding from the eyes* don't worry about me' avoidant side of it all, and how much is him trying to shelter spite from the eyes of people he does not know well enough yet to predict how they’ll react in response — towards himself or spite. (additional idea to really bring on the heartache: do you think he has maybe intervened in pretty much the same way between illario and caterina over the years and that’s how he does it so smoothly and automatically; it’s basically psychological muscle memory. Haha. ow.) 

Between that and the pretty consistent language he uses that frames spite as child-like, even when he means that in frustration/enfant terrible flavoured terms lol, you get the sense that regardless of how much Lucanis is aware of this on the surface, there is a deep instinctive protectiveness in him for spite. I think that even comes across in the scene where lucanis tells you he’ll continue to pursue a way to separate him and spite on the minrathous route. So I was kind of picking up on/working with that already subconsciously, but when I found that note it hit me like a sledgehammer that clearly in some part at least, the reason lucanis is still here is that he knows now that spite would die with him and doesn’t find that price acceptable. Spite thinks that lucanis mentally locking himself in his (torture :() room and refusing to speak to him is an act of rejection or trickery, but to my eyes taken with everything else we know about how lucanis’ brain tends to work… as much as it’s an expression of avoidance and fear and overwhelm and trying to get away from the voice pushing him towards action when the mere prospect of action fills you with despair to even contemplate (“There’s nowhere to go”), I think it’s also a mark of lucanis’ affection and protectiveness of spite. The guards along the way make it very clear that more so than to keep the outside world from coming in, this place is for protecting people from what might break out. 

And that’s why I think this is also such a good case study to look at lucanis' internal freeze logic and why it has been so adaptive for him up until now when faced with completely impossible emotional situations to which there are no good answers or causes of actions available, even though it's inherently and unavoidably one of those 'what's worse, the medicine or the disease' solutions a brain cooks up. lucanis by the point of inner demons is facing this conundrum: 1) I can't live like this, it hurts too much. I've been in pain so long I’ve got screams where my blood should be and it just keeps getting louder, and nothing really touches or helps that. 2) I can't die to escape this, because that would also kill spite (and also I've got a job to do I guess *working 9-5 slowed with reverb and with underwater sound distortion effects is playing in the background*). those are of course not actually his only options, but in the state he's in they are the only options he can conceive of. (that's not infrequently how it works, when the suffering is that intense and unrelenting. Nothing gives you tunnel sight quite like ‘I just need this to stop’ agony that has gone on long enough to add sheer soul exhaustion to the mix)

so what happens in the end? his freeze brain -- honed, I'm sure, through many long years of attachment trauma and abuse and loss for exactly this kind of 'uh-oh. Incoming FUBAR situation alert let’s go' -- kicks into action and makes him do nothing except what's externally required of him, so he can stay just functional and momentarily distracted by a plethora of avoidance behaviours enough to get through his daily life, if like not particularly happily so... and otherwise, as it were, locking himself in his room deep inside where nothing can touch him, where nothing gets in and nothing gets out, no harm allowed to either escape from within nor allowed to pierce through and get inside. numbness isn't actually a cure for that kind of suffering, but it's the closest thing you're likely to get with any immediacy and if you’re desperate enough by god you take those. It’s how he survived his upbringing, and it’s how he survived the ossuary — as he tells Davrin straight out, the trick to just shut down every part of his soul he can to get through intolerable pain, loss or helplessness. I don’t think that mechanism came to him in the ossuary the first time, I think that blueprint was deeply embedded in his neurons and went ‘ah. My time again. Not to worry I’m a bit of an expert at this I’ll get us through this yet (though you may not thank me for it by the end of it all)’. 

In that state he's unable to himself reach out and meaningfully ask for help (and also like... why would his inner world have any framework for that as even being on the table? this has never been an option before in his life, not in any safe or consistent way; he's fucked up the way he is because the same things/people that should have been and partially, comparatively, were the sources of help and relief and safety growing up are also the sources of pain and abuse, that eternal irreconcilable ambivalence, the double edged sword of unpredictable insecure attachment), but it also keeps him from doing anything uh drastic the other way too, on acting impulsively in ways that can’t be taken back. (that seems to be more illario’s role/dubious privilege in the family lol.) at many points in his life and especially growing up, freezing and going numb around the pain is as close to having control of anything as there was any hope of. 'harm will be inflicted on me unpredictably, but fuck you I don't have to truly feel it as long as I shut all this other stuff down as well, that's what I can control' nervous system logic. (it'll get you every time.) for what it’s worth I’m not so sure his nervous system judged that one incorrectly, I think that is the kind of rebellion you would have to cling to while being raised by someone like caterina, because look at illario if you want to know how much she respects and rewards anything more overt or active. (I mean, if you don’t succeed, at least. swing at Grandma Dellamorte you’d better not miss or you’ll meet that cane swinging at you the other way and she will not miss)

I say all this because I think it's as easy to demonize the freeze response as it is to demonize anger, to conceptualize it only as an obstructive force that, as bellara puts it, is one of the purest forms of a heart not seeming to want to let you be happy, or a mindless byproduct of trauma. But in my experience, the brain doesn’t generally come up with ‘stupid’ defense mechanisms. Even in the most maladaptive of coping mechanisms, there is at the core of it some part of you that once meant to save your life, no matter what trouble it is wreaking for you today. when you look at the setup of Lucanis’ soul, as it were, you can see the dual and in some ways genuinely noble and even tender qualities this response has in him, however misguided: it does imprison, but it also protects, and it means to protect; for all the pain along the way it has sheltered all the parts of his soul that are most precious and breakable, the most vulnerable parts that want to live and so so importantly love completely and freely. Lucanis thinks he’s protecting not even primarily himself but everyone he loves by staying where he is. (“It would be better for me to stay here than to risk losing you”) A child’s logic, to be sure, but logic of a kind and clearly one that caterina has encouraged in him because that’s a conception of love it’s been very useful for her for him to have. Freeze looks like utter hopelessness on the surface, but in some ways I think it’s the utmost triumph of hope — a spare and unrelenting winter that exists because it thinks one day spring might still come, and the things too precious and fragile to thrive in your life as it is now might bloom then. 

He is an adult now, and Caterina no longer controls his entire world, physically and emotionally. There’s finally room for other things, other people, himself, in his life, without everything having to defer to the gravitational force of what Caterina wants from him at the end of the day. And while I think her jumpscaring him with the First Talon position is partly her attempt to wrangle him back into the status quo of control she once had, I’m not sure it’s going to work quite the way she might hope — at least in the Treviso saved route, there are just too many fresh spring shoots in his life at that point that could grow into something new, it’s too late to trample all the saplings growing up through the cracks in time (and indeed some of them might also fight back). (The outlook on the Minrathous saved route is um. Perhaps less convincingly immediately hopeful to me and the prospect of actually getting around to healing further down the road, but I refuse to give up on him that’s my little guy and he’s above all incredibly smart and stubborn and not a quitter and all the rest of this still remains true beneath it all, just like. Give him a moment here.) His hopes and dreams have diversified while she had her back turned lmao he suddenly keeps them with so many more people than just her and Iillario now. She doesn’t hold the monopoly of meaning and connection in his life the way she used to. And whether out of love (you know. Hope is every man’s prerogative I suppose) at seeing him really happy for perhaps the first time or sheer pragmatism, I think she’s going to have to accept that and adapt her ways of doing things with him accordingly, or else have him drift even further away from her.

Spite is the urgent impatient voice that starts to break through to go ‘that moment is now it HAS to be now. We need to shake off the shackles and illusions and face what’s actually here so we can learn to properly live now, or this winter will starve us to death as surely as anything Zara could do to us’. And he is right! As crucial as this soul-starvation landscape has been in survival, it has clearly reached the end of its sustainability, you can’t survive permanently on frost alone. I just also want to recognize the credit Lucanis (and his fucked up but valiant nervous system <3 pour one out for a real one) also deserves for stubbornly holding on in any way he had to until Spite’s true escape project is even an option for either of them. Especially since Lucanis seems to harbour a lot of self-loathing and frustration over his own propensity for freeze — “You know him. You can open the door, but he won’t walk through it”  (still one of the saddest most painful things I’ve ever heard. In case you were wondering. He knows. He knows what he’s like, and he despairs of it, he thinks it means it’s his own fault he still feels like this. Augh.) The real point at the end of the day is not that spite saved lucanis or vice versa, but that as traumatic as it was to get there and against all cultural expectations, it is ultimately their enmeshed condition, their togetherness, that saved them both. (which, again, when you consider the cultural narrative of possession and spirits most andrastian nations are working with…what a radical conclusion to come away with haha. Not unprecedented at all, if you look at Wynne and her spirit, but on a deeper and more psychological plane than ever and even more impactful for it, to me.)

[harrystylesfan2686]

Languages

Just a snippet of something I was working on but then got bored of the concept so didn't write it but I still want everyone to read the fluf. Tell me if y'all are interested in this, maybe I'll continue it with public demand<3

Plot: reader is kinda reincarnate. She was cursed in her first life by a witch because she had an affair with the witches husband. (Don't judge okay, my girl made a mistake!!) And the curse was to be reincarnated in every lifetime with her memories of last life still intact, and to find someone she loves and watch them die (Because why not).

Masterlist

○●○●

"Do you remember the languages?"

"Of course, I do. Cursed to do so, remember?" You smirk.

"Tell me something in them." Azriel's eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"我过了愉快的一天。It means, I had a good day." He looks awed by the foreign words. And then excitedly asks for more, like a child wanting to know new facts.

You laugh and amuse him, speaking in different languages, repeating a few when he asks to learn them. Speaking in these tounges, many that you forgot even existed in different worlds, it feels nostalgic, the words awakening all the happy and sad mamories that you had buried deep in your brain.

"I also remember my first language, the one I spoke in the life I got cursed."

"Oh? Tell me." He smiles softly.

You smile at him, bluntly admiring his beautiful face.

"હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ."

You look deep into his eyes, speaking the truth that was buried within your heart. Even though you've said it before, it feels somehow different, even more intimate in your native language. Azriel seems to have sensed the raw emotion in your words, his face filled with adortion as he asks, "What does that mean?"

You want to answer him truly but think to mess with him a little and smirk up at him. "You are weird."

The two of you bust out laughing, looking at each other, him shaking his head in disbelief with the smile still on his lips, and your head tossed back, eyes closed in pure contentment.

"I hate you." Azriel still shakes his head, looking elsewhere for a moment, trying to look annoyed but failing.

When you finally pause laughing, you crook out a reply, "I'm sorry! You are not weird-" He finally looks at you, an eyebrow raised. "You are just- odd," He scoffs. "But good odd, I promise!" The last sentence barely understandable through your laughter.

"Well, હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ, too."

You freeze. All signs of amusement leaving your face as you gaze at him. Your eyes widened, mouth agaped. Hearing those words, in your language, from his mouths, ignited something in you.

Also, how did he say it without mistakes after hearing only once?

He frowns at your reaction. "What- Did I say it wrong? Oh god, I made a mistake didn't I?" He winces, thinking about all the possibilities about what he could've said to have a reaction like this.

"No,You-" Blinking at him in shock, you put your hands on his neck and gently kiss him. He instanty melts into the kiss, moving his lips with yours with passion.

You pull back after a moment and say, "You said it perfectly." You're lips curved into a soft smile.

"Yeah? Now tell me what it really means."

"Huh?"

"Considering the kiss you gave me, it can't actually mean what you said."

You laugh. "Well, guess you'll never know." He sighs dramatically, then smirks. "Then I'll just keep saying it until you tell me."

"Darling, હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ."

●○●○

(હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ. = I love you. In gujarati.)

[biggestqiblifan]

In Bangla, tones mean like 90% to what you want to say, words don't matter much

But the thing is, tones and ways of speaking vary region to region to the point of it being a signature. Like, people will know where you would be from just from the way you talk (haha they know I'm overseassssss)

Anyways, I hear my relatives commenting "I can't even understand them/impossible/that sort of thing- like the way that people joke about the British accent stereotype, but they mean it literally

Y'ALL ARE SPEAKING THE SAME LANGUAGE WDYM

It's like the American English, Aussie English and British English thing but all in one country where even the tones (which means a lot!!!) don't give a fuck, don't even TRY to look at grammar

Trust. Me.

tumblr: on languages

[mim16s]

Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

•I'm not autistic, but I have a brother and a cousin who are, so I used my experience living with them to write this character. English is not my first language, but I tried my best to write this without spelling errors. This is my first story on this app, so I hope it is good.

This wasn’t what you wanted for your life. Honestly, you didn’t even understand how you had gotten to this point. All you wanted was to take care of your mother, to repay all the effort she had put into you. And you knew how hard it had been for her.

She got pregnant young and raised you on her own, with no support system. Your father? Well, you never knew him. He disappeared as soon as he found out about the pregnancy. Your grandparents, embarrassed that she had gotten pregnant so young and without even getting married, abandoned her too. That’s how your mother faced the world alone, with you in her arms.

And things got even harder. You knew that being autistic made everything more challenging for her. As a child, you didn’t speak, and your first words came only after many therapy sessions, which were expensive. But she never gave up. You remembered seeing her come home, exhausted after a long day of work, but always with a smile.

— Mom is fine. You’re everything I need to have strength, — she would say, trying to hide her exhaustion.

But you knew the truth. You knew how much she fought, how she struggled to meet all your needs, to make sure you never lacked anything. Everything fell apart when she got sick. You were 19. The illness took all her strength, and she could no longer work. That’s when the weight of the world fell on you. You had to find a job, but no matter how hard you tried, no one wanted to give you a chance. When they saw you weren’t neurotypical, they wouldn’t give you a chance.

Life became a daily struggle. You survived doing small jobs here and there, while some kind neighbors helped with food baskets. But the money was never enough, and the debts started piling up. Your mother’s treatments were expensive, and with each unpaid bill, the despair grew.Then he appeared. The man in the suit.He appeared out of nowhere, as if fate had sent him. With a piercing look, holding a briefcase in his hand. He stopped in front of you while you were resting in one of the subway chairs, with a smile that made you just as uncomfortable as it did curious.

— Looks like you need an opportunity, don’t you?—You hesitated, unsure of what to respond. He seemed to know exactly who you were and what you were going through.

— I want to propose something to you.

And that’s when you got a card with geometric symbols and a phone number. You stared at it, your heart racing without fully understanding it.

---

And now, here you were: in a strange hall, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in a place you had never seen before, wearing clothes you didn’t even remember putting on, and the fabric itched. You weren’t the only one confused. Perplexed looks crossed the room, and nervous whispers filled the air.

Then they appeared: masked soldiers, wearing uniforms that seemed more threatening than functional. You couldn’t help but shrink back, a heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.They began to speak, explaining what was happening.

— Excuse me! — A voice echoed. Your eyes followed the sound until they landed on a beautiful woman, who seemed just as indignant as she was confident. — They said it would just be some games, but you kidnapped us. And you still want me to believe this?

— We apologize, — one of the masked soldiers replied, the voice distorted by some sort of modifier. — It was a necessary measure to ensure the confidentiality of the games we are organizing.

Questions started popping up from all sides, but the answers provided no comfort, only more tension. You wanted to understand better, but it was hard to follow. The questions, the sounds around you, the smell of sweat and fear in the hall, everything was pulling you in different directions. You began to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus. It was something that always helped. But the discomfort persisted.

---

You were led to a large open field, surrounded by high fences and cameras that seemed to record every movement. It was announced that the first game would begin soon. When a desperate man screamed that, if anyone was eliminated, they would die, a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be true... right? But when the game began, the illusion of safety shattered. The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the air. Your eyes widened, shock paralyzing you. That sound — loud, deafening to your sensitive hearing — seemed to hammer in your head. You instinctively wanted to cover your ears to block out that deafening noise, but you felt someone hold your hands firmly, preventing any sudden movements.

— Don’t move, it’s dangerous. — The voice came from behind. It was the beautiful woman from before. There was something in the firmness of her tone that managed to cut through your panic, bringing some calm.

— My ears hurt, — you murmured, your voice trembling.

— I know. But you have to hold on. Just a little longer.

Chaos spread around you. People were screaming, some running in desperation, while others were falling to the sound of new gunshots. You felt terror take hold, a heavy knot in your throat. Your legs felt like stone.

— If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you! Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras that scan for motion! But it's not able to detect you if you're behind something! — screamed one of the players, his voice desperate. — So if you short, line up behind someone who's taller than you!

Your body wouldn’t respond. You were frozen, the noise and the fear trapping you in place.The beautiful woman stopped in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the field.

— Keep going. — Her voice was urgent, yet gentle. — You need to keep going. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you. Just follow me, okay?

You couldn’t verbalize, but when the music started again, you followed her. Each step behind her felt like an eternity, but she kept her promise, protecting you as you moved forward.

After the game ended, everyone was taken back to the room. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with fear and despair. Lost looks, uncertain steps — everyone seemed terrified, and you were no different.Sitting on one of the beds, you rocked back and forth, an automatic motion, a desperate attempt to find comfort. But it didn’t help. Your breathing was uneven, the sounds around you seemed amplified, and all you wanted was to leave. Your mind raced in circles, always returning to the same question: Why me? You just wanted to help your mother. Everything you did was for her, and now you were trapped here, too scared to do anything.Then the voice of the masked soldiers echoed through the room, imposing order, the man from before who said he had already participated in this game proposed the vote.At first, the idea of voting seemed like an escape. A chance to get out of that terrible situation.

But then they revealed the amount of money accumulated by the people who had died. The sum gleamed in a giant safe suspended in the room. The shine of the money seemed to hypnotize some. Murmurs started to arise. Many were considering staying. You felt a tightness in your chest.

When the vote began, the sound of buttons being pressed was like a constant drum in your ears. You watched the people go to the ballot box, one by one, pressing their votes. Some hesitated, others went with determination.When it was your turn, your hands trembled as you walked up to the ballot box. The panel blinked in front of you: a circle to stay and an “X” to leave. You could barely see properly, your vision blurred by the tears at the corners of your eyes.Your finger pressed the “X.” You wanted to leave, go home. You needed your mother as much as she needed you. But when the final vote was recorded and the numbers were revealed, your heart sank.The majority had chosen to stay.Panic took over you again. Your fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and you went back to your bed, feeling your whole body tighten. Your mind was in chaos. The rocking movement returned, but this time even more intense, as if your body was trying to compensate for the avalanche of emotions.You felt helpless. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was try to hold onto the little control you still had.

The terror was greater than anything you had ever felt before. And, even worse, it was just the beginning

Part 2:

[chryza]

Actually while my brain is on the subject I just want to gush about Executor for a moment because he is such a good and nuanced representation of an autistic person. At first glance he seems to be the pretty standard white male savant trope, but his character was really fleshed out with Executor the Ex Foedere and his appearances in Hortus and Zwillingstürme (and the prelude manhua).

I don’t think his icy, robotic exterior is cultivated, but I also think he was never given the chance to develop anything else. In a world where everyone around you can feel each other’s emotions (if they’re Sankta of course), to be cut off from that entirely? Of course he came to the conclusion that emotional expression was unnecessary or meaningless. He was never understood, he did not speak their language, so to say. And that very literal distance between him and the other Sankta is such a good representation of how it can feel to have autism. How many of us described it like a wall between us and the rest of the world, that we were only ever looking into?

And sure, he’s ruthlessly logical and straightforwardly blunt, but to mistake that for a lack of depth or a lack of feeling at all is not only incorrect, it’s sort of what he’s dealt with his entire life. Hortus de Escapismo especially highlighted a more tender, emotional side of Federico that soothes my wounded heart. He acts on feeling, without understanding why, he shows compassion and true empathy to the people of Sanctiliminium Ambrosii. He’s good with children because he treats them with the respect that children so desperately crave (which again is a very common experience amongst autistic people). What seems at first like a blank slate is simply a canvas in colors others refuse to see.

And that’s why I think Arturia is so important to him. She never treated him like he was any different, she saw the heart of what he was trying to say, she accepted and embraced his idiosyncratic behavior. And of course Arturia is a thousand more essays. But I will say I don’t think Federico missed that shot accidentally. Someone else maybe would have missed out of a lack of skill or being caught off guard by Arturia, but not him.

I think he really speaks to the heart of an aspect of autistic representation that is so often sorely missing—the struggle of existing in a world you feel cut off from. Trying to breach the barrier between yourself and others, to reach out and communicate in a way that matters. I wouldn’t say he feels any sort of grief about it, but you can feel him desperately clawing through the walls of reason he’s constructed around himself at the end of Hortus. It is a deeply human struggle. They don’t have to say on paper that he’s autistic. His entire story is one that so many autistic people know intimately as their own.