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#speak my language
sizzleissues · 8 months
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Speak my language (1250 words.)
inspired by this post by @nervousbelieverstarfish
There was a girl behind M Damocles, her hands stuck awkwardly at her sides as she made herself appear small next to him. Adrien tilted his head to the side to get a proper look but the girl shuffled away. Adrien straightened and looked up at M Damocles. Why had he led this clearly frightened girl all the way to his shady spot in the school yard? M Damocles stepped aside, gesturing to the girl with a worried smile. 
“This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she's a new student here.”
Marinette whispered something quiet that went ignored by M Damocles.  There was a piece of pasta on her shoulder that she didn't seem to notice and a reddish stain on her black jacket that she definitely knew was there. Her entire face was pink as she watched him from behind her bangs.
He extended his hand — that was what you’re supposed to do when greeting new people? — and tried to make his smile warm. “Hi, I’m Adrien. You have pasta on your shoulder.”
Marinette blinked and M Damocles stepped in, clearing his throat.
“She’s just moved here from China. Very little French.”
Adrien retracted his hand. (He was glad she hadn’t understood him, why had he opened with ‘there’s pasta on your shoulder’? She looked mortified already, no need to kill her.)
“I know you’re only recently returning to regular schooling after your m-,” M Damocles clammed up, his voice trailing off. 
“My maman died,” Adrien supplied, forcing M Damocles to look him in his eyes as he said it. He was sick of people treating him like he couldn’t bear to hear the words. Maybe it was more that they didn’t want to say it, that they didn't want to deal with the consequences if he did break with every mention of her. It was a good thing then that he’d put all that childish grief away — along with everything else that would only hurt him in the long run. 
“Err- yes. That. Anyways, you’re here longer than Marinette and I read on your file you’re fluent in Chinese. You’re also in all advanced classes so you’d be the perfect fit to help Marinette get around and teach her French on the side. If you are willing to, of course.”
Adrien had half a mind to refuse M Damocles and go back to his quiet existence on the edges of the school. That was the way he liked it and nothing ever before had made him want to change that. Then he looked at Marinette and he couldn’t find it in him to refuse.
“Do you know what dialect she speaks?” Adrien asked. 
“Pardon?”
“What dialect? I speak Mandarin but she could only speak Cantonese or another regional dialect I wouldn’t understand.”
M Damocles paused, his thick eyebrows weighed with confusion. It seemed the thought had never occurred to him. 
“Marinette. Do - you - speak - Mandarin?” M Damocles asked her in broken French. Adrien saw something flick across her face that was different from her timid expression before. A flash of fire in her otherwise soft blue eyes. She silently nodded in response. Adrien saw it again as M Damocles turned back to Adrien to relay the answer though he’d already heard. He had to bite his lip to contain a snicker as he caught the sarcastic flick of her eyes. 
“Well then, that’s all sorted. I’ll leave you to it,” M Damocles said with a note of relief in his voice, glad the translation problem was no longer his. He strode off, leaving Marinette behind. She watched him leave with a surprisingly reluctant expression, even though he’d proved utterly incompetent.
“So, you’re new here?” He asked in Mandarin. Marinette swung her head around, blue eyes wide and frightened again. 
“Y-yes.”
“I’m A-.”
“Adrien Agreste. I know,” She interrupted.
“You do?”
Marinette seemed to realise what she’d done and turned bright red.
“I mean, you already said so. Earlier. I’m not the best at French but I know when someone’s introducing themselves.”
“Right…” It didn’t explain knowing his last name, he’d never given it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the Agreste name had made it as far as China. He moved on to the side on his bench and held his hand out to offer the seat beside him. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Okay.” 
She sat, bouncing her leg as she looked everywhere but at him. Had she understood him earlier with the pasta thing? He searched his head for something to say before the silence lingered too long and it became impossible to breach. 
“You have pasta on your shoulder.”
Not that!
Marinette squeaked, shaking it off and then removing her jacket altogether. She groaned into her hands. Adrien scrambled desperately for something not related to pasta to ask.
“I- I noticed you have a French word in your name?”
“Oh, yeah. My Papa is French but we’ve lived in China my whole life. Never really tried to learn the language. Regretting that now.” She laughed dryly at her own expense. Adrien smiled at her when she looked up and she immediately went back to staring at the ground, furiously tapping her foot. 
“Why did you move, if you don’t mind answering?”
“To go here. To learn art at this school and become a fashion designer. I applied ages ago, I didn’t think I got in. Didn’t think I would get in.” She leaned back from hunching over, her voice getting a little louder as she settled. “That's probably why I didn’t really try to learn French but now I’m here and I don’t know a word and it's going to screw everything up. I couldn’t find any of my classes and then this- this, bitch, threw her pasta all over me when I couldn’t understand her. She had a claim over the table I’d chosen, apparently. People had been warning me and I couldn’t understand them fully to realise. How am I supposed to become a famous fashion designer if I can’t even say it in French!”
Marinette clamped her mouth shut and turned to Adrien with an alarmed expression. His Mandarin wasn’t good enough to have kept up with everything but he got the gist. She was completely lost and alone.
“I’m so sorry. You don’t want to hear about that. You’re the one saddled with teaching me and now I’m dumping this all on you. You really don’t have to.”
Adrien looked across the school yard to where all the other students had gathered, talking amongst themselves. Groans about homework, whispers of gossip and cheers as one student presented a graded project. He’d never once bothered to join in. Now he was sitting with this girl who was on the outskirts like him and she couldn’t join in even if she wanted to. The voice that told him to shut everyone out could be ignored for now. She would be his exception.
His only exception.
(He didn’t know now but soon he’d make another. For a girl with fire in her soft blue eyes. He’d look into those eyes as her hand reached to save him and know he’d have to make another exception. But that would be the last one) (Until the next.)
“It’s alright. I’ll teach you French until it's better than your Mandarin. And you can help me improve my Mandarin in return. Does that sound like a deal?”
Marinette looked down at the hand he’d extended then up at him, her eyes flooding with relief. She shook his hand, grinning from ear to ear. 
“Deal.”
-
OK OK OK OK. I hope you liked it, i hope it was good. Let me know or whatever. Please reblog blah blah blah and have a good day
I would write more but I have so many WIPS and I’m trying to overcome doubt in my writing so I can just write again. This is an AU to the movie’s canon but also can be applied to the show if you want. I’ve also added my own slight headcanon that Adrien was only homeschooled during the period of his mother’s sickness and ‘death’ as my interpretation of the canon given to us in the movie. Take it or leave it. So he was friends with Nino prior to everything but he’s since shut him out.
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poetrybyonur · 1 year
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It's refreshing when you find someone who speaks the same soul language as you do. No translation is needed. They understand you fluently without you having to explain. These connections are rare. If you found someone with whom you speak the same soul language, keep them close.
A piece I wrote and posted last November on a different image. Images often changes the mood of the poem, which is why I’m trying a different one.
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ghoulierstudio · 22 hours
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justanerd · 2 years
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When Robert Smith's genius just can't be transcribed into words:
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azuretiger · 4 months
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Post wci comfort. Zoro always knows what's going on around him. Always.
ko-fi
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metamorphesque · 2 years
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why do all the words sound heavier in my native language?
—  @metamorphesque, Yoojin Grace Wuertz (Mother Tongue), Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky (by Garth Greenwell), Jhumpa Lahiri (Translating Myself and Others), @lifeinpoetry
˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗        
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frownyalfred · 1 year
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Bruce learns Kryptonian secretly just so one day during a JL meeting he can turn to Clark and go “hal really thought that haircut made him look good huh” with the most deadpan expression ever
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gwydionmisha · 1 year
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     Laurie Anderson - Speak My Language    
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phoenixcatch7 · 7 months
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Lmao I'd love to see a fic where batman like. Doesn't talk at all. He just 'hn' and 'hrm's his way through the story like a Minecraft villager. All the bat kids understand him perfectly.
I actually know people irl who can do this, and I've done it myself during bad migraines, it's practically a second language, so I know it's totally possible to have full conversations between two speakers XD!
It'd be another degree of separation between Brucie Wayne, the ditzy, breathy playboy and batman, who used up all his vocal spoons for the day and now communicates solely through unintelligible grunts and sharp hand gestures when he doesn't need to talk to strangers.
Unfortunately, the best way to learn grunt speak is the same way most languages are learned, and there's no written word (outside of emoji, of course): immersion. And the justice league are no longer considered strangers.
This leads to:
Hal: which way do we go, spooky? Where's the tracker pointing?
B: *grunt*
Hal: what?
B: *insistent grunt*
Hal:..... Can we point?
B: *dour look* *slowly raises arm to point left down the street* *sharp, insistent grunt*
Hal, dryly: don't strain yourself.
-
Damian: greyson. I am calling because father has had an injury and is bed bound for tonight, however Alfred is downstairs and the rest are still on patrol. I am still in the early stages of learning father's intonations. Please translate.
Nightwing, eldest, regularly called for exactly this reason by just about everyone Bruce has ever spoken with since he was a kid, ranging from arkham guards to jl members: *heavy sigh* put him on.
Bruce: hrng...
Nightwing: He's telling you to close the curtains and keep the noise down, he's got a headache.
Damian, over the sound of footsteps and fabric rustling: it truly is just like another language.
N: nah, it's a lot of probability. I've known b for years, I can guess pretty well. There's a lot we can say. For example, that grunt actually carried a lot more meaning, I just trimmed it down.
Damian: truly?
N: yup! If I had to be pedantic, it actually meant 'I am in quite a lot of discomfort, the cause of which is my head, and I am struggling to manage it on my own. Please aid in my cause, my darling sons whom I love dearly -'
Damian: *muffled noise through the phone*
N: that'll be him telling us to shut up. But you can see why I asked you to close the curtains.
Damian: fascinating. I shall take this under advisement.
-
B, exhausted after a long day of board meetings as Brucie: *moody silence*
Gordon: Batman, how's it going?
B: *glower* *drawn out grunt*
Gordon: that bad, huh?
-
Supes, during a briefing: I believe it would be best if we attacked from the north, we've enough flying members to crest the mountains and ambush then that way - Batman?
B: *quiet grumble, with pointer fingers moving in semicircles*
Supes: ah, I see. You're right, we'd be too visible if the sun rose behind them*turns to see the other members standing behind him* what?
Flash, bowing at the waist, palms together over his head: teach me your ways, oh mighty bat-speaker.
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htub · 10 months
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I really like that they made Jor-El speak Kryptonian and Clark unable to understand him. The whole "aliens speak English" thing that happens in every goddamn media has bothered me all my life. Ik sometimes Clark just gets zapped in the brain for insta-second language but that always felt like a cheap shortcut.
Jor-El had a lot on his mind when he set up that magic spaceship okay. The world was ending and he was trying to do as much as he could before time ran out so he could be there for his son. He was rushing. He likely didn't consider Kal would be raised with a whole different language and not know any Kryptonian nor have anyone to teach him.
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wasabi-gumdrop · 3 days
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oh
i am. unwell.
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sizzleissues · 8 months
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We finish each other’s (2015 words)
Speak my language AU ala @nervousbelieverstarfish again
(warnings for tired possible spelling errors that mysteriously crop up only after I post it)
AO3 or below
Marinette waited at the step of the school, her face splitting into a smile as he walked towards her. 
“Did you check out the trailer I sent you?” She asked from the outset, hardly waiting until he was a metre before her to continue their text conversation as though it had never ended. 
“I did. I can’t believe they’re already making another Majestia movie. It's been like a year since the last one came out.”
“Six months actually.”
“No way. It can’t be any good if it’s only been six months.”
“So are you going to watch it?”
“Duh. Do you want to get tickets?”
They climbed the steps into school and navigated the halls, keeping up their private conversation in Mandarin. It used to garner them some weird looks but by now their peers had learned to back off. They’d reserved mornings for improving his speed in Mandarin and afternoons for working on Marinette’s French. Through this little system, both made progress at record speed. They split apart to go to their lockers, joining back up outside their classroom. 
“They’re probably going to make a movie about Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Adrien said. 
“That would be strange.” It came out more like a thought.
“Why?”
“Err- Because they’re like our protectors and stuff. They aren’t movie characters.”
Adrien pressed his thumb to his ring on his hand. Definitely not a movie character. 
“Who would even play them?” Marinette continued.
“Well I’d be Chat Noir and you’d be Ladybug.”
“Me? Ladybug? What makes you think that??” 
“No reason. I think you just suit the role.”
Marinette stayed silent, the panic slipping from her features like it had never been there. Instead she smirked.
 “I think I’d be better as Chat Noir, you look better in red polka dots.”
They moved in the classroom, the conversation shifting. 
“There was this girl at my locker.” Marinette said, sitting into her seat beside him. It wasn’t in every class they sat beside each other but they usually tried to be as close as possible. “She kept whispering something. I don’t know what.”
“That’s weird. Was she being mean?”
“I don’t think so. Her face was kind. I think she was probably on her phone.”
“Still, tell me if anyone ever bothers you.” 
“You already did enough with Chloé-.”
There was a slam at the top of the classroom, interrupting her. He whipped his head around — yelping as he did— his face aghast until he saw it was just Ms Mendeleev getting the class's attention. Adrien sank low in his seat, his cheeks pricking with heat as Marinette giggled at his expense. It was like the sound of something bigger echoed through the book dropping. A door and a scowl blending into a mundane act.
“Are you okay?” She asked with a smile still bunching her cheeks. He tried to join in on her laughter but it was hollow and she knew it immediately. Their proximity over the last few months had her learning all his tells, searching for them in the creases where the facade cracked. Her smile faded and her hand met his under the table. 
There wasn’t any meaning behind it, she hadn’t thought it through enough to think about it. That touch would chase him into the darker patches of the night when two faces kept blending together, red fading to pink and then intermingling until he was left utterly confused. She clutched a little tighter and leaned a little closer.
“No. But not now,” he whispered. 
She let go, understanding, and turned to the lesson with interest. 
When she slid her sketchbook his way that lunch, he knew — just like she’d known — what she meant. He paged through it, careful not to damage any of the drawings. They were beautiful. It was unlike anything his father had ever created and made Adrien wonder how he could even dare to call his trite ‘fashion’. He noticed a particular fascination with the man of midnight cropping up in her later work, replacing the golden boy that populated the early pages. He could have easily been dark, an inkly blotch of contempt (his first appearances were exactly that) but instead she designed him playful and curious in long cloaks and pointed boots, dancing across the page. In a neat script she penned Chat Noir under the final drawing.
Her eyes pressed intently on his as he finished. Do you like it?
“I love it.” He meant so much more.
Her face broke into a visage of the sun, accepting back her sketchbook and with less gentle hands shoved it back into her bag. 
“I was worried you wouldn’t. It’s different from my usual.”
“How could I not?”
“I don’t know. I guess since your father is the Gabriel Agreste, you’d have an eye for what’s good and bad.”
“I do have an eye for it and I’m telling you your work is amazing and this series takes it to a whole other level.”
Marinette bowed her head and went about eating her lunch. Their quiet little corner remained theirs. 
-
Adrien made it through half of Marinette’s tutoring before an akuma interrupted it. He felt lame making an excuse to leave her but he would do a better job protecting her as Chat Noir then as Adrien. 
He found somewhere to hide and ignored Plagg’s exhausted mumblings as they faced their fourth akuma of the week. It was Wednesday.  
Adrien wasn’t sure his life could be peaceful anymore. That was the responsibility of the ring on his finger. It tied him to something greater, what his existence must have been molded for. Being Chat Noir was like finally stretching out his limbs after a long time being boxed in a car ride fifteen years long. It had been so long he’d forgotten his arms could reach the moon if he stretched them and his legs could carry him across oceans if he dared to step. Chat Noir did those things and more. 
It wasn’t easy, that said, nothing was. But Ladybug made it look so. They were partners, completely in tune. If he believed she would be at his side, nothing could go wrong. 
They landed simultaneously at the scene, staring up at the akuma floating in the air.
“Let’s make this one quick,” she said. 
“Stronger?”
“Together.”
-
He rubbed the ring with his thumb, spinning it around as he feigned interest in the lesson droning on around him. In the desk below his, Marinette fretted with her notes, switching between French and Mandarin seemingly at random. She’d sat in the seat below him today, even though the one next to him was free. He tried not to think about that. His eyes fell on her hand as she scribbled, mesmerized as she produced a design doodle in the middle of her writing. Little drawings like it peppered the page, her seeing no problem in quickly sketching a design idea when it came to her. Even when it interrupted history notes.
She’d improved her French, picking it up quicker than he’d expected. Listening to it as a kid from her father had more of an effect then she’d thought and her listening skills could keep up with most teachers if she stayed focused. He wished he could say it was his excellent tutoring but the truth was Marinette was extraordinary. Nothing could stop her.
“That’s it for today. I don’t want to bore you with my voice. Pack up and leave when the bell goes,” the teacher said. He laughed like he hadn’t bored them already. (Though the class was bored because they hated history and Adrien was bored because he’d already covered this during his time away.)
“Marientte? We're finished,” he whispered down. Marinette twisted around, smiling gratefully.
“Oh, okay. I just need to finish this.”” She jotted down a few final characters and packed up.
To her left, another girl leaned in, her trepidation visible. Adrien knew her as the girl Nino was hanging with now, Alya, that was her name. Alya slowly with a unsure voice whispered something. 
“Pardon?” Marinette said. Alya paused, drawing in her lips before she spoke again, loud enough for Adrien to eavesdrop. 
“How-are-you?” Alya asked in broken Mandarin.
From this angle it was tricky to see but Adrien watched as Marinette’s face transformed from cautious to grinning.
“I’m good! You’re Alya, right?” 
Alya nodded, speaking in French next. “I am. And you’re Marinette. But let me introduce myself again because I spent so long learning how. Hi, I’m Alya Cersaire, your friendly locker neighbour!”
“You learned Mandarin to speak to me?” Marinette asked in French, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. 
“A little bit. I took a class back home but I’m still very bad. You probably noticed my attempt yesterday.” She gestured with her hand to the aforementioned ‘yesterday’, cringing at it.
“Don’t worry about it, you sounded good now. Where is home?”
“America. I moved here nine months ago.”
“That’s nearly as far as China. Did you have to learn French?”
“I did. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, I thought we could relate.”
The bell rang, interrupting their conversation. Good. Marinette grabbed her bag and waited at the step for Adrien to join her. He moved to her side before she could change her mind and leave with Alya. They walked side by side to the next class like always, except this time Marinette stopped to say goodbye to Alya. Adrien gave a small smile and tried to brush off the ugly folding in his stomach as Marinette filled his stoney silence with random thoughts. 
“Are you okay?” She asked, interrupting herself. 
Adrien swallowed something thick in his throat. He’d known Marinette improving at her French meant she’d start to branch out. That was what he’d promised he’d help her do on that first day four months ago. It was wrong to hold her back now, just because of his silly feelings. She wouldn’t need him anymore soon and he could get back to his solitude. 
“Yes-.” 
The school shaking interrupted him.
He brought his ringed hand forward, using his other to hold back Marinette as they listened to where the shaking came from. 
“Should we-?” Marinette asked.
“Yeah, you should hide.” He turned to her, praying she’d listen and run away so he could transform. Her jaw was set when she nodded, dashing down the corridor in the opposite direction to the noise. He watched until he was sure she had hid safely and then found somewhere secrete to call on Plagg.
Moments later he landed beside Ladybug on a rooftop not too far from the school. He glanced back at it, to confirm it hadn’t been destroyed since he’d last checked and once he was sure it hadn’t disappeared he found where Ladybug was looking. Her gaze was already locked on the akuma in the distance, a plan forming between her brows. He opened his mouth to ask what weighed between them but Ladybug beat him to it.
“You’re upset.”
“Huh?”
“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet. So you must be upset. Why?”
Adrien frowned slightly before painting a smile onto his face. “I’m alright. Is that what you were thinking about?”
She must see the underpaint of his facade because she nodded and then pointed at the akuma. “Stronger together, remember? If one team member is down things won’t work.”
“I know and I’m fine.”
“I’ll believe you because the akuma has just climbed on top of the Eiffel Tower with a hostage but we’re talking about this after.” Her voice was kind in the stern way Ladybug’s voice often was. It took on that leadership quality she denied was there because it suggested Adrien wasn’t equal to her. They were partners, not leader and follower. Their powers worked in tandem, their bodies designed to start where the other finished. According to observers, sometimes with all the action it was easy to believe it was one hero, not two, that saved them. 
She casted her yo-yo out, zipping away. Adrien followed.
-
HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!! Hope you got it and I successfully conveyed the narrative themes of this and the further exploration of Adrien’s silly little psyche. Let me know.
(I will explain if its not clear)
This is missing a Ladynoir one shot that’s supposed to come before it but I wrote this first and tumblr voted for me to post it so I do as the people say. So just superimpose a relationship like the movie’s Ladynoir onto this
Also im very much avoiding addressing akuma’s because I don’t know whether I can them to be like the show’s or the movie’s, I don’t understand the movie’s but I have been so far sticking to its canon.
This is also probably the latest chronologically thing you’ll get and everything else will be dumb silly adrienette time with some silly dumb Ladynoir time as well.
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genderkoolaid · 19 days
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european italians when italian americans have their own pronunciations & spellings because we are a linguistically isolated diaspora & most of our families spoke regional dialects instead of standard italian when they immigrated anyways:
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ghoulierstudio · 5 months
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glitterghost · 8 months
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Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like there is a particular kind of sadness (or loneliness, if you will) that ace/aro folk feel.
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rattusn0rvegicus · 9 months
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Man I feel like a lot of leftist activists would do a lot better to just use common fucking language to talk about things rather than dense academic shit that's only understandable to people with PhDs and people who spend 95% of their waking life on Leftist Twitter lmao
Like, you're talking with other academics? Great, use academic language. You're a social media account trying to interact with the general public? Don't say "decarcerate", say "find alternatives to imprisonment". Don't say "collective liberation", say "freedom for all". By GOD don't say "bodymind autonomy", say "the ability to have control over our own minds and bodies".
Yes it takes a little more effort to explain shit in common language but I promise you people will stop looking at you like you have two heads and dismissing everything you say as Woke Bullshit if you like, actually get on their level, goddamn it. Not everyone has the privilege to have a graduate-school level understanding of this type of language or spend so much time reading leftist theory that they can perfectly understand this stuff.
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