#edited to fix typos and phrasings

[chaosintheavenue]

Writing-related question for American followers:

In the UK, there's a phrase 'to X for England/Britain' (I'm Welsh, and it's still often 'for England' lol), which means 'to X excessively'. The implication is that the subject performs the action on an international competitive level, representing England, since they do it so frequently.

I have just discovered that my past self has accidentally referred to an American character as 'chatting for Britain' (AKA, he talks a lot) in a writing extract, and now my brain is Not Happy. As far as I've been able to discern, there isn't a direct non-British equivalent- 'he chats for America' definitely won't be understood. So my question instead is, what phrases would you typically use to humourously express the same sentiment?

[impeccablebackside]

you just dropped the best f*cking fanfic i ever had the privilege to read. no honestly. i CANNOT put my appreciaton into words. i've been feeling down lately and this work of art just kickstarted me. actually i would like to send you a virtual hug for it. thank you, thank you. plato is too lucky. thank the everlasting cat this blog exists.

You are most welcome anon. It makes me very happy to know that the fic had quite the decidedly positive effect on your life, especially if you were at a low point. No one deserves to feel that way. At the end of the day, if I accomplish nothing else with this blog (not that it is really meant to achieve anything specific aside from horny thoughts), I now know that my words and writing have had a definitive positive impact on at least a few people over the years. That is immensely rewarding to me. This blog is meant to have an aspect to it that serves those who choose to interact with it, even if it is not immediately obvious.

As with previous messages like this or this or this, I do genuinely appreciate the kind words anon. Kindly read those linked posts over to hear about my general thoughts about the vehement appreciation from others so that I do not have to rehash them (not that I mind at all).

I do try to make each fic better than past ones (which are still good and very worthy of pride), so your praise is welcomed after the longer writing processes. This newest one comes after quite the long drought, but that is simply how things go anon. I am quite thankful to anyone one who follows along with what I post and helps directly contribute new thoughts, and all of your patience for new content is never taken for granted.

I have said it before, and I will continue saying it: This blog serves me quite well (as I made it for me) but has slowly grown to be a subjectively important / noteworthy (but incredibly small) aspect of the fandom as (what I believe is) the only ongoing NSFW spot for Cats. It serves the greater needs of the fandom as a whole in a way to have that side reflected, but obviously in a very niche way. Even with the limited followers, this blog is still important for what it represents. I am honestly proud of that. More people need to be openly thirsty and horny about the sexy cat people in my opinion.

I do sometimes feel like there could be more I could offer when not answering asks, and if you have been following this blog for a while, maybe you have your own perspectives as to what that is. I do not think too much is truly missing, but I know that a few followers have had some very good thoughts that may not have gotten exposure over time. I still greatly appreciate them and everyone else who chooses to follow this blog. It is a gift for me to read what others confess of their interests and live vicariously through that. My asks are always open for that, and I promise that this is a judgement free place.

If the only thing I can properly offer the fandom is the posts and fics that come from this blog, then it is fulfilling its intended purpose wonderfully indeed.

Virtual hugs back to you anon, not only for the horny comradery but also because we all deserve to feel supported and accepted in whatever we are interested in. Thanks as always for joining in on the fun. Knowing that there is an audience for my content is added encouragement to the satisfaction I already get from this blog, and I will continue to be the horny representative the fandom never realized it needed.

[prettybbychim]

i can’t tell if games these days are actually super lore heavy on the front end or if it’s simply my uncanny ability to be overwhelmed by a normal-sized influx of new information

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] run (with you)

Summary: LIs react when you're out of your depths while being their plus one at a work event (a protocore heist for Sylus but that's work for him) (EDIT: Typos, pacing)

Genre: Fluff, mild hurt/comfort

SYLUS

The gilded auction hall blurs around you as your grip on the champagne flute falters for the third time.

Sylus’s hand suddenly steadies your elbow, guiding you into a shadowed alcove. “Look at me.” His voice is low, but laced with equal parts command and concern as he tilts your chin up.

“Let me guess. You forgot to eat before we picked you up?”

You blink. Earlier today, your schedule was work, lunch, more work till the evening, changing and fixing your hair- oh. He's right.

But you can't be weak now, not when he has his eyes set on a protocore hidden somewhere within the auction venue.

You grit your teeth. “I’m fine-”

“Liar.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Go back to the car, Kieran is there. I’ll wrap this up.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “I won’t think less of you for needing rest.”

“Sy-”

“Unless you'd like me to carry you to the car? That can be done. Just tell me and I'll do it.”

You shake your head, “Just- leave if you can't find anything, okay? It's not worth without backup,”

He steps back slightly, crimson eyes much softer than they were in the auction hall. “I'll be fine, kitten. I'll see you in ten minutes.

"Ten?!" You squeak. For him to get all that work done in such a short time sounds impossible. Then again, he's never short of tricks up his sleeve.

He drops a kiss onto the top of your head with a hum.

That night, he slips into your room with a velvet pouch (a blood-red spinel gem won just for you) and convenience-store gourmet chips.

“Next time, let me know if you’re off your game.”

He feeds you a chip, his smirk gentler than usual. “And you're still welcome to any auction with me. I think you're starting to like seeing all the shiny gems.”

“It's more the thrill than the sparkles,” you admit.

“Oh?” His voice lilts the way it does when he's interested. He presses a kiss to your temple. “You really should join Onichynus, kitten. It suits your work style."

_____

ZAYNE

The medical exhibition hall’s fluorescent lights buzz as you stare blankly at a robotic surgery demo.

“Sweetheart.” Zayne’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand warm on your lower back. “You’ve been circling this section for twenty five minutes.”

You exhale, the weight of exploring the conference alone feeling like a heavy bag on your shoulders. “Is it that obvious?”

“I left you to attend the keynote seminar twenty minutes ago, and you're still here now that it's ended,”

He ushers you to the conference centre's cafe and seats you at a row of chairs facing the window, studying your face over his coffee.

“You’d rather be elsewhere.” He doesn't phrase it as a question.

You nod, looking out at the cerulean water glittering under the afternoon sun. “Not that it’s bad here, but…”

He exhales, turning from the window to look at you. “I should’ve asked what you wanted to do.”

“Shhh. It's nice to see Dr. Zayne three times an hour.” You kiss his cheek, laughing when pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I think this is what they call… microdosing?” You quip, bumping your shoulder against his.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “My love, I'm not medicine. And- you can check out the nearby restaurants or harbourside walkway.”

He hooks his pinky with yours. “I'll join you after the next seminar.”

You feign a gasp. “Skipping classes? What a rebel,” you whisper. He only gives you a small, secretive smile in return.

Later on, he skips the last two hours of the conference to explore the city with you.

“I can do without learning about the latest technological advancements in ophthalmology," he says, leading you into a dessert cafe. "And I heard the desserts here rival the best patisseries in Linkon."

_____

XAVIER

Your palm is damp against Xavier's as you weave through the Hunters’ gala, colleagues’ eyes heavy on your back. You extract your hand delicately with a sigh and hold into his arm instead. The movement doesn't go unnoticed and he turns to look at you, brows furrowed slightly.

“Hey,” He murmurs, then tugs you onto a deserted balcony, the night air cooling your flushed skin. “You’ve been stiff.”

You groan. “I hate small talk. What do you mean I need to talk to them more when I see them every single day for eight hours straight?! And that couple from the other department kept looking at me-”

Xavier blinks, then smiles. “Oh. That’s all?”

You frown. “Is that not enough? Because I can go on-”

He leans closer, brushing his thumb across your cheek lightly. “My starlight, you see me at work and at home. Do you hate it too?” He teases, voice gentle.

You sigh, shoving his arm weakly. “That's not it,”

“We can leave. Or… find a spare meeting room-“ He says, his breath brushing your ear as his hands come to rest at your hips. “That way we can have some time to ourselves,”

You smack his chest, laughing. “Xavi! No. Just- let's get some more canapes and come back here, then-”

He nods, and disappears in a flash, leaving you mid-sentence. In another blur, he's back, with a plate filled to the brim- and a glass of sparkling water in his other hand.

You spend the rest of the event in a corner, sharing stolen appetizers. “Best gala ever,” he whispers.

_____

RAFAYEL

The incessant chatter in the event hall is grating on your ears and you find yourself holding back sighs, eye-rolls and curses while Rafayel speaks to endless guests and art collectors.

Rafayel’s fingers tighten around yours as you politely extract him from another overeager collector.

“Darling, you’re glaring daggers,” he murmurs.

“That man called your work ‘decorative’!” You hiss, “I should glare!”

He drags you into a private lounge, cupping your face. “You’re not my bodyguard tonight. You don’t have to ward off these people.”

You slump against his touch, reaching to hold onto his hands. “But it's worse this way. I could be rude as a bodyguard, but now I have to smile and nod?! I hate seeing them disrespect you-”

He kisses your forehead. “Then let’s leave. That'll get them reaaally angry. Payback for all the disrespect.”

“Raf,” you whine, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing in the fresh linen cologne he's wearing. The scent and his warmth is like an embrace in itself. “We don't have to-”

“But why stay and suffer?” His arms encircle you and he pats your hair gently with one hand. “I hardly ever show up at these events, much less stay the entire thing. C'mon cutie, it's a perfect chance for me to leave, too,”

And so you leave, hand in his as you make your way through the garden to his car, steps much lighter than before.

_____

CALEB

Caleb’s colleagues’ whispers follow you all dinner, and it takes all your energy to maintain composure- polite, sincere, yet politically correct. The hallway almost feels like a sanctuary when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, just to get away from the conversation.

You text him, “Meet me outside pls? Near the toilets,”

He notices your clenched jaw when he approaches you and whisks you to the garden. “Talk to me.”

You sigh. “I know I've met some of your colleagues before, but all these new faces today- all the things they say- all the things I can't say- I don't know, Caleb. Your world is so… complicated.”

He turns your hand over, his calloused finger tracing your palm. “It is. But you-” His purple eyes lock onto yours. “You’re the only thing in it that isn’t.”

His thumb brushes your knuckles. “We can go.”

“I don't want them to start talking behind your back,”

He chuckles, “They've always done that and always will, pips. Nothing's gonna change that, especially not a work social.”

“But-”

“Okay, okay. I'll go say bye to the seniors so you can stop worrying. I'll be a polite Caleb for you tonight.”

He steals you away to a sushi train restaurant, grinning as you take plates from the conveyor belt. “No ranks. No politics. Just us and all the sushi you want.”

Note: lmk which work even yall would dread the most lol mine is Caleb's i cant with formal dinners full of new people ANYWAYS this was just a random thought I had the other day. I love writing about the LADS men being really tender so this one was super fun heheh. AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR READING!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated

✨️

[losergames]

Chop Shop is strictly 18+ for language, themes, and potential explicit content. 

🔗 - Game Intro | Bug Report | Ko-Fi

Episode Four is now available! (+ 59,000) - PLAY HERE

Debrief after your meeting with Inez.

Steal... or don't!

Yvonne has a secret.

2 more achievements.

And more!

This update comes with a patch (Version 1.2.3) For this update you will need to start a NEW SAVE. An updated inventory macro has been implemented and is not compatible with old saves. I really wish you didn't have to but it's what's best for the game and its longevity!

Patch notes + author notes are under the cut. If preferred, you can access them in game in the start menu.

STORY

PROLOGUE:

General edits and fixes.

More vague, as to not elicit any emotional connection to the crew for continuity.

EPISODE 01:

Added a new set of personality building choices when meeting KJ, Jonno, Natasha and Aiden at the bar.

EPISODE 02:

Tweaked the conversation with Dilani in the closing scene to reflect more on the situation. Added some more fearful dialogue and flavour text.

Other general edits and fixes.

EPISODE 03:

Fixed gaps and spacing issues.

Minor phrasing and sentence structure changes.

Grammar and typo fixes.

UI + TECHNICAL

SETTINGS:

Changing the font size now only applies to the game text in the passages.

Added descriptions to the toggleable settings.

UI:

The background now changes colour dependent on what theme you are using, instead of the default black.

INVENTORY:

The inventory macro has been updated! Previously V2, now V3 of the ChapelR Simple Inventory Macro.

CREATE A SAVE

Modified the randomise PC choice, setting pronouns in 'sets' instead of randomising each pronoun separately.

GAMEPLAY MODE

Players can now choose a gameplay mode when starting a new save: Regular or Challenge.

Challenge mode disables the back button, disallowing players to return to the previous passage. Players cannot redo dice rolls or try out different choices for desired outcomes.

Challenge mode is not available in Create A Save. All CAS made saves default to regular mode.

AN: hello hello! it has been a while -- episode 04 is finally here!

this ep was a long one to get through but we finally made it out of the fog. i found that i wrote a bunch of stuff that just... didn't fit? but is hopefully going to be used later down the line, so it's cool i've got shells of scenes for later.

i can't find any game breaking bugs myself and my amazing beta testers have scanned through as many possible variants as they can! of course, if there is anything funky, broken, or maybe not triggering correctly, please submit a bug report!

again i will say that you will need to start a NEW SAVE for this update. unfortunately the updated inventory macro is not compatible with previous saves. i really didn't want this to be a thing when updating chop shop but it is unfortunately just the way for this update - apologies!! i know it's super annoying when games do this but chop shop is still a wip so there will always be some teething problems along the way.

as i look through my notes, we have now completed act 1 of my outline (AAAAHH) so soooo exciting. finally pc can stop wringing their hands about being bad and actually //start// being bad.

if you've made it this far -- hello and thank you! i'm so happy we're at the point where PC is making some real decisions, taking another step into their life of crime.

happy update day and happy reading!! thank you so much for the continued support and patience!!! i hope you enjoy the new episode! - becky :-) <3

[literaticat]

Is it ethical to use Chat GPT or Grammarly for line editing purposes? I have a finished book, 100% written by me and line edited by me already--and I do hope to get it traditionally published. But I think it could benefit from a line edit from someone who isn't me, obviously, before querying. But line editing services run $3-4k for a 75k book, which is beyond my budget.

I was chatting with someone recently who self-publishes. They said they use Chat GPT Plus to actually train a model for their projects to line edit using instructions like (do not rewrite or rephrase for content /edit only for rhythm, clarity, tone, and pacing /preserve my voice, sentence structure, and story intent with precision). Those are a few inputs she used and she said it actually worked really well.

So in that case, is AI viewed in the same way you'd collaborate with a human editor? Or does that cross ethical boundaries in traditional publishing? Like say for instance AI rewords your sentence and maybe switches out for a stronger verb or adjective or a stronger metaphor--is using that crossing a line? And if I were to use it for that purpose, would I need to disclose that? I know AI is practically a swear word among authors and publishers right now, so I think even having to say "I used AI tools" might raise eyebrows and make an agent hesitant during the querying process. But obviously, I wouldn't lie if it needs to be disclosed... just not sure I even want to go there and risk having to worry about that. Thoughts? Am I fine? Overthinking it?

Thanks!

I gotta be honest, this question made me flinch so hard I'm surprised my face didn't turn inside out.

Feeding your original work into ChatGPT or a similar generative AI large language model -- which are WELL KNOWN FOR STEALING EVERYTHING THAT GETS PUT INTO THEM AND SPITTING OUT STOLEN MATERIAL-- feels like, idk, just a terrible idea. Letting that AI have ANY kind of control over your words and steal them feels like a terrible idea. Using any words that a literal plagiarism-bot might come up with for you feels like a terrible idea.

And ethical questions aside: AI is simply not good at writing fiction. It doesn't KNOW anything. You want to take its "advice" on your book? Come on. Get it together.

Better idea: Get a good critique group that can tell you if there are major plot holes, characters whose motivations are unclear, anything like that -- those are things that AI can't help you with, anyway. Then read Self-Editing for Fiction Writers -- that info combined with a bit of patience should stand you in good stead.

Finally, I do think that using spell-check/grammarly, either as you work or to check your work, is fine. It's not rewriting your work for you, it's just pointing out typos/mistakes/potential issues, and YOU, PERSONALLY, are going through each and every one to make the decision of how to fix any actual errors that might have snuck in there, and you, personally, are making the decision about when to use a "stronger" word or phrase or recast a sentence that it thinks might be unclear or when to stet for voice, etc. Yes, get rid of typos and real mistakes, by all means!

(And no, I don't think use of that kind of "spell-check/grammar-check" tool is a problem or anything that you need to "disclose" or feel weird about -- spell-check is like, integrated into most word processing software as a rule, it's ubiquitous and helpful, and it's different from feeding your work into some third-party AI thing!)

[theliteraryarchitect]

So... What Does an Editor Actually Do?

First off, “editor” is one of those words that causes a lot of confusion for writers. It seems simple—someone who works with words, right? But the truth is, “editor” can mean wildly different things depending on the context.

So, let’s clear things up.

When we’re talking about writing and publishing, “editor” usually refers to one of two roles:

1. The Gatekeeper: This is the person who commissions or selects work for a publication, like a magazine, newspaper, or publishing house. Think of phrases like “Her book was chosen by the editor at [Big Fancy Publisher].”

2. The Helper: This is the person who works directly with writers to improve their work. They might suggest revisions, clarify ideas, and polish the manuscript for grammar and style.

Both are called “editors,” but their jobs are completely different. To make things more confusing, in smaller operations (like indie presses), these roles often overlap. The same editor might choose your story for publication and offer stylistic or copyedits before it goes to print.

The 4 Types of Editing

Beyond the word “editor,” the types of editing writers encounter also vary widely, further boggling the mind. Here’s a quick breakdown of the four main types of editing your manuscript might go through:

1. Developmental Editing

This is the kind of editing I do, and the kinds of issues that are covered by the majority of my blog posts. Developmental editing:

• Focuses on the “big picture” of your story—plot, character, pacing, worldbuilding, and structure.

• Asks questions like: Does the ending make sense? Are the characters believable? Is the story too slow?

• This is the most intensive (and expensive) type of editing because it shapes the foundation of your book.

2. Stylistic Editing (Line Editing)

I don't do this kind of editing for my clients, but I occasionally publish line editing tips on this blog because I'm kind of a nerd about it :) Line editing:

• Works on clarity and flow at the sentence and paragraph level.

• Addresses repetition, awkward phrasing, and other issues that muck up your writing flow.

• Happens after developmental editing—no point polishing a scene if it might get cut!

3. Copy Editing

Once in a while I give copy editing tips on this blog, but they're usually wrong and I'm promptly corrected. Let it be known: The Literary Architect is a terrible copy editor. Copy editing:

• Focuses on technical details like spelling, grammar, punctuation, and consistency (e.g., making sure a character’s blue eyes don’t randomly turn brown).

• Think of this as quality control for your manuscript.

4. Proofreading

• The very last step before publication. The proofreader checks for any typos or layout issues that might have slipped through the cracks.

Whether you’re submitting to a publisher or self-publishing, editing matters. Great stories get rejected because they weren’t polished enough. And self-published books that skip editing often lose readers due to glaring errors or clunky prose.

If hiring a professional editor isn’t in the cards, learning to self-edit can help you get your manuscript into the best possible shape before publication. That way, if you do decide to bring in an editor later, they can focus on the deeper work instead of fixing things you could have tackled yourself.

Hope this helps!

/ / / / / / / / / / /

@theliteraryarchitect is a writing advice blog run by me, Bucket Siler, a writer and developmental editor. For more writing help, download my Free Resource Library for Fiction Writers, join my email list, or check out my book The Complete Guide to Self-Editing for Fiction Writers.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Beta March 1st Update

We have just recently released the March 1st update to the public Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy beta on itchio!

This is one of the shortest spans of time between two big beta updates, but the changelog is still pretty expansive, a lot of quality-of-life stuff, clarifications, typo fixing, lots of focus on bug-hunting in general, so overall this version should be much easier to understand.

The biggest new additions are a bunch of new art pieces, and we finally finished the Module Writing Guide in Chapter 7, so you can use all 10 steps to help you get your Eureka Mystery Module Game Jam submission ready.

Now, we can finally start moving forward at speed again on copy-editing.

Full changelog below

CHANGE LOG 

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 302. Half-ass copy-edited up to p. 322.

Don't forget, we also released Eureka adventure modules “The Eye of Neptune” and “FORIVA: The Angel Game” into free beta on itch.io!

WHOLE BOOK

Removing Examples of Play for time and more importantly page count reasons. There is a small chance they may get added back in. 

CHAPTER 1 

Added an example of very rare circumstances where Ticks can just pass from a task without a roll or Scene change. 

Adjusted some phrasing in “Be Prepared to Lose”

Added “Approaching this Game” section

Added that if a Tier of Fear fear comes up mid-session that your investigator does not have on their sheet, you add it to their sheet in the tier that it makes sense right there mid-session. 

Made it more explicitly clear that failed and partially succeeded investigative rolls should not give false information.

CHAPTER 2

Edited a mistake in the Chemistry Skill 

Clarified that a character cannot have multiple instances of the same Trait 

Clarified that even with the Did You Know Trait, an investigator can still gain bonus Investigation Points from other Traits. 

Fixed a typo in the optional fears in the tiers of fear section

Slapped in a section that better explains how the character sheet works, will fix this up later

Clarified that My Glasses Trait gives a Contextual bonus and clarified Go With Your Gut

Moved “Creating NPCs” from Chapter 7 to Chapter 2.

Really cleaned up “Creating NPCs” and “Morale” and made it much more clear

Added Sunscreen to item list, for vampires. 

Added a toolbox to the item list.

Added an option for trivial items to cost 1 Tick instead of a Wealth Roll. 

Raised the price of campers and RVs

Added a section of the item list for additional property

Split First Aid Kits into three separate items, representing different levels of preparedness. 

Added Emergency Medication, such an epinephrine, to item list 

Added prescription medication to item list

Added clarification that unless stated otherwise, most items include the means to use them, such as cameras coming with film. 

Clarified that the WP price of vehicles includes the fuel to power them

Added more drugs

Added a paragraph about how WP costs are decided and how one might adjust them for different places or time periods. 

Added a note about legality for weapons other than firearms

Increased the WP cost of certain electronics 

Added remote control drone to item list

Added a separate item list section for Medicine.

CHAPTER 3

Clarified Epicenter Initiative and fixed typos

Added a lot more bullet point summaries

Clarified falling damage.

CHAPTER 7

Finished the “Setting the Stage” section

Cut “Connections (Optional Rule)” for now. We might put it back in later, but the thing that this rule does is something that most groups have little trouble doing on their own, and we really need to reduce page count.

Moved “Creating NPCs” from Chapter 7 to Chapter 2.

Reordered chapter 7

Removed “Character Moments (Optional Rules)” for now, might put it back in. 

Removed “Car stalling Out” Might put it back in. 

Removed “Clues direct the party” and “Clue redundancy”, might put them back 

Finally completely finished the mystery module writing guide but it still needs editing

Clarified that converting some “investigation” modules from other games is not as easy as it should be. 

More art has been added.

CHAPTER 8 

Fixed typo in the Wolfman “Unstoppable” section

Fixed it so that the Wolfman “Just Built Denser” section does not make wolfmen inherently be super tall

Fixed typo under the Curse section of Changeling

Clarified how the Manifest Weaponry Mage Ability interacts with other Traits.

New hunting table entry added (this one was from a submitter, those slots are still open, you can email us about getting your own custom hunting table entry at anim.contactus@gmail.com)

Added another new fan-submitted hunting table entry. 

Fixed typo in “Where Does the Blood Go?”

Clarified Telekinesis mage power and gave it an effective range.

Clarified that dogs can’t own dogs. 

Even further clarified that talking dogs are dogs. 

Fixed typo accidentally saying that there were four types of investigators. This was because Mage used to be a separate category on its own.

Changed the default modifier for the Composure roll that vampires must make upon being exposed to sunlight the first time each Scene from +3 to +5. They will still potentially lose a lot of Composure to sunlight because this roll is also modified by the huge negative modifier that is affected by how much coverage they are wearing, but when starting at +3 it was taking way too much Composure for the monster type that has the least options for restoring Composure. 

More art has been added.

[alex-wrtng]

Quick Editing Checklist for Writers:

✅ Cut filler words – Remove really, very, just, that, suddenly, etc. to tighten sentences.

✅ Avoid passive voice – Instead of: "The book was read by her." Go for: "She read the book."

✅ Check for repetitive words and phrases – If you’ve used a word too often, find alternatives or cut it.

✅ Strengthen weak verbs – Swap “walked slowly” for “strolled” or “crept” when necessary. No need to sound like a thesaurus.

✅ Make dialogue sound natural – Read it out loud. If it sounds stiff or robotic, rewrite it.

✅ Ensure every scene moves the story forward – If a scene doesn’t add conflict, character development, or worldbuilding, consider cutting it.

✅ Show, don’t tell – Instead of "She was scared," show her hands shaking or heart pounding.

✅ Check for clunky sentences – Simplify overly long or confusing sentences for better readability.

✅ Stop explaining – Trust your reader. If you’ve already shown something, don’t explain it again.

✅ Fix typos and grammar mistakes – Read it out loud or use tools like Grammarly or ProWritingAid.

[entamesubs]

How the Fansubbing Process Works for entameSubs

The delays have brought about speculation and misinformed assumptions of how our work is done.

This post explains our entire process to put this misinformation to rest, and also informs those curious of how fansubbing works.

----------------------------------

For those unaware, each subbed episode comes with a section of credits at the very end that are specific to that particular episode. For example, EP124 was translated and timed entirely by me (entame), while EP122 was translated jointly by tessa (batsugeemu) and yona (angelthinktank), while I took a proofreading role. Each episode's credits are different, and I always make sure to credit properly based on who worked on what.

Step One: Translation

The job of the translator is to just get from point A (Japanese) to point B (English). One full run-through of the script, no stops in-between. Work is not edited, proofread or checked in any way, it is simply translated and then moved onto the next phase of the assembly line, so to speak.

Leave typos in, leave mistakes in, leave phrases you cannot translate or parse alone and move on. Awkward or literal translations are fine. The goal is to finish the whole script. A couple lines missing here and there is fine - they will be caught later. The first step is just to get it done.

Translating a full script can take anywhere from 2-6 hours, depending on the episode or any extraneous circumstances. To be clear, 2-3 hours is the absolute fastest that it can possibly happen, and it is an outlier. I can count the amount of times it has taken 2-3 hours on one hand. Those are usually reserved for our dedicated "speedsub" episodes, where we have everyone on deck to work continuously, without break. This is not a norm, nor should it be assumed so.

A normal episode will usually take around 4-6 hours working time to translate. Sometimes this is done a couple hours on one day, and another couple on a separate day. Sometimes it's done all in one sitting. It varies depending on the translator's schedule.

Step Two: Proofreading

After that, the proofreader then goes through for a second or third watch to do edits and checks. The proofreader is strictly in charge of making sure the translation itself is correct as well as fixing any missed lines from the translator. Grammar, typos, various other minor corrections are not expected to be done in full here, the main job of the proofreader is to just make sure the Japanese to English translation is complete, correct, and makes sense.

Is the subject correct? Is this the right verb to use in English? Are they talking about themselves or someone else? Is the context the original translator took correct/accurate? A second/third pair of eyes is essential to making sure everything comes out properly.

The translator may mark specific lines that stumped them or they need a second opinion on for the proofreader to pay special attention to. Maybe the translator can't think of an appropriate way to make something work, or need pun ideas.

Proofreading and translation roles are entirely switchable on request, because both proofreader and translator must know Japanese.

Step Three: Timing

At the same time, the timer begins the tedious work of timing the subs to the episode itself, making sure sentences show up at the correct place, for the right amount of time.

They ensure subs cut at scene changes, that the lines shown on screen are properly broken up if a character pauses, and are instering forced line breaks where necessary so subs don't awkwardly fill the entire length of the screen and are instead always centered.

Step Four: (not) "Final Check"

"Final Check" as I'd like to call it, is always done by me. Once proofreading and timing are both done, the sub files are sent to me.

I add in the opening and ending, I do all the fancy text effects if need be (such as scrolling text, rainbow text, gradient text, translating signs or posters shown on screen and blending them into the episode, etc - this is all under "Typesetting"), and I also do a third check of the script on a watch through to further edit any lines that may feel awkward to read on screen or I have thought of a better translation for.

The state that the subs come in pre-final check are subs that only contain the very middle of the episode itself. This means the prologue, the opening, the ending, UTS Report and preview are entirely unsubbed, alongside any signs or extraneous text on screen. Subs are not done pre-final check. There is a reason they must go through me first and that is because I am the only typesetter on the team.

To be clear, timing and typesetting are two entirely different skill sets. Getting the subs timed properly is one thing, getting the subs to look nice, flow well, and not feel awkward to read is another.

Typesetting is usually known as an "invisible" job. When it's done poorly, you notice it. If it's done well, you don't.

At this point, I also go over and double check things like character voice and make sure it's following our style guide. While this is a consideration made during step one and two as well (translating and proofreading), this is the point where things are tightened up.

Extraneous TL notes may also be added here in-episode if needed.

Step Five: Quality Checks

After everything has been bundled together and ready-to-go, it gets sent to our Quality Checker for the very last and final run-through. QC checks spelling errors, typos, grammar, weird English, missed casing, missed lines, style guide errors, etc.

The QC does not need to know Japanese (though it is a nice bonus if they do!), they only need to know English so they can check for grammar and weird phrasing. At this point, all of the translation work and check has been done, it is just making sure stuff makes sense to an English audience now.

After QC sends in their changes (or lack thereof), the timer usually goes back to fix up the final file for publishing.

Step Six: Distribution & TL Notes

Finally, the person who hits publish and uploads the episode file to all relevant sites is me, since I know how to setup, run, and seed torrents.

A lot of people may not know this, but all anime pirate sites (R.I.P.) pull their content from Nyaa's feed. If it's not on Nyaa, it won't be on a pirate site. In order to actually ensure proper distribution of the episode, it needs to be uploaded through Nyaa. Once it is on there, the pirate sites will all update of their own volition.

Translation notes, if any are necessary, are also written entirely by me, even if the episode may not have been translated by me initially. These are usually only written if I have time or if there is a specific concept/idea that I really want to make sure comes across properly.

Final Words

I hope this gives you better insight into the entameSubs process and how episodes are usually worked on/made.

A lot of our team is scattered across different timezones, with one person being 9 hours ahead, and another one being 6 hours ahead. This means things are done at different times and at the leisure of whoever is in charge of their role. If someone is busy, then there is nothing else anyone can do but wait.

It may be that after waiting for someone to finish, someone else in the chain becomes busy, and the process of waiting starts all over again. Steps are done like this so that we have appropriate checks in place. This is just how it is. None of us are paid, and all of us are doing this for fun.

Most of all, I take a lot of pride in the team's work. If something is not up to snuff, or I don't feel comfortable publishing it until we've been able to correct something that's been bothering us (whether that's a line, typesetting, or etc), it doesn't get published. These subs are not just "my" translations, but the work of the whole team.

Call it arrogance, but I'd much rather put out something we're proud of than something rushed through the wringer just for the sake of getting stuff out. You may disagree with lines or certain translations, but they are our work at the end of the day.

And it is a lot of work.

Thank you.

[sircantus]

I used to reread Chosen by the Stars every day for probably a year. I became that guy with the Detective Board whenever you went through and made edits to specific phrases, texting my sister like "He always makes edits right before he updates! He's gonna update it soon! Why else would he have changed this ONE SENTENCE? There are 4 different parts of this fic he changed its happening I swear".

I became more normal about that fic, but that was still a significant part of my life. I'm fairly certain I could have recited the first 3 chapters from memory at one point lmao.

THATS SO FUNNY??? and i was completely unaware just laladee time to fix up some typos meanwhile in the background “ITS HAPPENING HES DOING SOMETHING EVERYONE HES DOING SOMETHING”

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 ONe Shot: "On Wings of Storm"

This canon divergent AU was intended to be a shifter one shot, but I don't know that the character is a shifter in the strictest sense, as there is a curse and magic involved. It is set sometime post Milah's death in Season Two, and then embarks on a different path from there...

I apologize ahead of time for any errors that I might need to come back and fix; I was writing this right up to midnight and didn't have enough time to edit fully. My beta for this year's @cssns @myfearless-love did absolutely brilliant work, catching so many typos and run-ons and confusing phrases. She was invaluable and deserves so much love for all her help! Anything left over is 100% my fault for hurrying to finish.

**I am thrilled to be reposting now with the gorgeous cover artwork created for me by @motherkatereloyshipper! She captured so well the drama and intensity of the ship's danger during the storm and the petrel coming to her aid. I just love it!! Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH @motherkatereloyshipper!**

Please enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think!!

Summary: Killian Jones has lost everything and everyone he ever held dear. All that is left for him is vengeance and pain. None could have expected the strange twist of Fate that would change everything, or the surprising companion that will come to touch his heart in ways he would have no longer thought possible.

“On Wings of Storm” 

By: @snowbellewells

“Attention, you bilge rats!” His angry voice rang out unmistakably over the planks of the majestic ship - carrying clearly despite the buffeting wind and rolling sea beneath. The power in the sharply accented words cracked like a whip, causing every member of his crew to flinch nervously and stand at attention to do their captain’s bidding and avoid his ire. Those who made their home and livelihood upon the Jolly Roger - even the few remaining grizzled veterans who’d once served on her decks when she was the Jewel of the Realm - knew her captain’s temper was perpetually on a knife’s edge. The harshness and cruelty of the lives they all lived, and the loss and betrayal Captain Jones had weathered, would bow and break many. It was understood not to cross those who had survived and been hardened by it.

Yet, even with that knowledge, the cause of his current tirade was unclear. When the ship had docked at the remote port, some had stayed aboard to handle various duties and keep watch while others went ashore to roam and shop, or to visit inns or brothels, but all had been attending to their assigned duties and nothing was amiss. However, the thunderous look upon their Captain’s dark brow spoke volumes. Something was amiss, and he would see it put to rights. Pity the fool who was found at fault. The cutlass at his hip bounced gently against his leg, and the still awe-inspiring metal appendage which had replaced his left hand mere months ago glinted menacingly in the low moonlight as he paced back and forth, eyeing each man with an intensity that would make anyone tremble.

It was old Mullins who finally dared to put the question to the Captain gingerly when no further explanation or action seemed forthcoming. “What is it that’s angered ye, Cap’n?” he queried respectfully, head bowed in deference as his speech drew Killian Jones’ attention. “We’ve been here aboard the Jolly and at our post since ye left. Did something happen on shore?”

Killian’s attention zeroed intently on the graying Mullins, who quickly gave another bob of his chin in respect or acknowledgement. Not about to contradict their captain, but also not knowing what had upset him, none of them could move to make it right. Those piercing blue eyes, like ice chips in Mullins’ shuddering imagination, beneath the dark, forbidding brows he used to great effect, seemed to be searching his subordinate’s face and sifting his words for any hint of dissension or deception. Finding nothing of the kind, the volatile man’s gaze swept over the rest of the crew assembled around him nervously for some time before offering the explanation in a menacing growl.

“It has come to my attention - and make no mistake, even a scoundrel such as meself has loyal allies - that some of you are dissatisfied with your position aboard this vessel. Let me be crystal clear; a place aboard the Jolly Roger is an honor and a prize - she is a marvel unmatched in speed and quality throughout the realm. However, your presence here is entirely voluntary. I have never, and will never, tolerate the enslavement of any crew member on the Jolly. Such dishonor shall not taint her decks. So, if any of you wish to depart, then by all means, leave now. But be warned; spreading false tales of captivity or coercion, thereby sullying our flag and reputation, will not be tolerated. Such lies will be rooted out and those responsible will face severe consequences.”

He paused, clearly waiting for any who might be bold enough to disembark under his watchful eye and be noted for their decision. None upon the deck moved or spoke, and old Mullins noted sadly that the only sound or hint of motion was the heavy breathing that escaped the Captain’s mouth and the heaving of his chest, evidenced by what had clearly been an angry charge from the town’s center and his impassioned outburst.

As Jones finally seemed to regain control, sending him back to work with a brisk order, Mullins couldn’t help thinking resignedly about how much the Captain had changed, in the past few months especially, but also in the years since his brother’s death. The man Captain Jones had once been - that promising but naive young lieutenant - seemed like a distant memory. Few of the current crew members had served under Jones’ proud and honorable older brother, Liam, who had been tragically struck down in his prime by treachery. Liam’s untimely death had altered the course of all their lives in ways none could have anticipated. Mullins found it painful to remember the wide-eyed, gangly lieutenant Killian had once been. That young man had spoken passionately of glory for the crown and the name of Jones, ready to follow his Captain anywhere. He had believed in righteousness and the power of individuals to shape their own destinies. That idealistic youth had hardened into a bitter and implacable man. The once-noble Killian Jones now sought only vengeance, becoming known and feared across the seas as the dreaded villain, Captain Hook. Mullins sighed and returned to his task; there was naught to be done for it.

Meanwhile, Killian Jones stood at the helm, staring out into the dark night. He sought fruitlessly for the rhythmic comfort of the waves against the hull of his beloved vessel, the solid planks beneath his feet, and the cool night air brushing over his face to ease his inner turmoil. These familiar elements had soothed him many times before, yet his agitation remained as he waited, forcing himself to take steady, regular breaths.

As he stood there, alone amongst his crew, Killian’s gaze drifted towards the gray, evening-darkening horizon. A shape materialized from the gathering twilight, drawing nearer - an unmistakable bird on the wing, yet not the familiar silhouette of gull or pelican often seen at sea. Morbidly curious, Killian watched as the creature approached, strangely silent compared to the trilling calls of most avian species he knew. Its relatively small body rose and fell on the air currents, rather than gliding with ease, weaving unsteadily in its course.

Despite having recently displayed harsh temper and callousness, Killian found himself holding his breath with each flap of wings that sent the bird painstakingly higher in the sky again, inexplicably concerned it might plummet into the rolling waves below.

As if drawn by his thoughts, the bird’s flight began to descend lower and lower. The men diligently working around him on the deck - and avoiding eye contact to steer clear of his ire a second time - seemed completely unaware of the creature’s plight. Killian finally released a tight breath as the dark-feathered bundle nearly landed at his feet. Though it seemed more a collapse than a graceful landing, it had found a resting place. He did not wish to closely examine why it mattered to him whether it had succeeded or not.

Glancing around surreptitiously, Killian stooped to gather the bird into his hand, his hooked arm wrapping around to steady and secure it against his chest. He hoped the dark attire he wore would partially conceal the fragile creature. Rescuing helpless animals contradicted the brash and dangerous pirate persona he had donned irrevocably, which had grown even more dark and forbidding of late. Yet, he simply could not leave the small, fragile bird on the planks, its strength almost spent and plaintively vulnerable.

Seeing that all was as it should be, he slipped below deck without a word, carrying the strange passenger in his arms into his cabin. Closing the door firmly behind him, Killian hurried to place the weakened creature on the table and lit a nearby lantern hanging from the ceiling to inspect its small form for injuries. It appeared fine, simply near the end of its endurance after a clearly long journey.

Just as when the bird was approaching the ship, he could not really understand why it mattered so much to him that the creature was alright. It did though, and so he obeyed his instincts and tried to tend to it as best he knew how. His new compatriot didn’t seem at all troubled by his admittedly anxious dithering and attempts at aid. The bird neither flapped nor made any attempt to flee. After a few full-body shakes to settle its plumage, the bird remained largely still, only moving with its breaths and blinking its dark brown eyes calmly at him, seemingly taking in its new surroundings. The creature exhibited an almost human awareness that it was safe, facing no threat from him.

As Killian watched, enthralled, the bird eventually seemed to settle enough that it tucked its head beneath its wing and appeared to fall asleep. Satisfied that his charge would be fine for a few hours, and needing to rest himself while his crew and ship were in order, Killian extinguished the lantern after preparing for bed. The churning anger and restlessness which had plagued him since boarding his ship was strangely lulled, and for the moment, he was too grateful to question it. Stretching out upon the Captain’s berth, he gave himself over to sleep, for once wrapped up enough in its comfort to be dreamless.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Killian rose with the sun the next morning, habit waking him early enough to see the gray pre-dawn melt into the peach and pinkish glow of a clear new day. He stretched his lanky frame, washed and dressed before moving to the table to check on his unexpected guest. As he neared the makeshift nest he had created, he was surprised to see his small stowaway still appeared to be asleep. Startled by how calm the bird continued to be in such confined surroundings, Killian merely smiled tightly, his hand unconsciously rubbing his chest. He tried not to dwell on why the peaceful sight of a bird resting on the table in one of his old rags lifted his spirits so, as if the whole cabin felt less lonely in its presence.

He had a litany of his usual tasks to attend to, and he knew the rest of his crew would soon be active - if they were not already. Killian exited the cabin swiftly, hoping nothing would disturb the creature until it was restored enough to wake on its own, once the heavy sound of his boots against the wooden planks faded away.

However, he couldn’t avoid one quick stop before heading topside. Killian was pleased to see Turley, the ship’s cook, alone in the kitchen. He ducked beneath the low door frame and cleared his throat to get the grizzled man’s attention amidst the numerous pots and pans bubbling and sizzling on the stovetop.

“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Turley offered, with a gap-toothed smile. “What can I get ye?”

Killian lowered his voice, stepping closer to the aging cook as he explained that the rations he sought were not for himself, but for the seabird he had rescued the evening before. As he pondered why the bird’s fate concerned him, Killian found himself unsure why he felt compelled to hide his anxiety for the small animal. Anyone daring to question or mock him would regret it – if not immediately, soon enough. Was he questioning himself then?

He discarded the thought almost as soon as it entered his mind. Turley seemed pleased with his captain’s request, assuring him they still had some canned herring in their stores which he could fetch after the noon meal. Killian nodded approvingly and thanked Turley before turning to leave. Just as he did, Turley added, “Sounds like you found a storm petrel, Cap’n.”

“Oh, aye?” Killian asked, tilting his head with renewed interest, despite his desire not to seem overeager.

“Indeed, for how you have described it anyways, Sir. They’re quite rare in these parts, or so’s I’ve always heard. They tend to nest much further north, preferrin’ the cold.”

Killian nodded his understanding but remained silent, encouraging Turley’s talkative nature with a patient gaze. He was rewarded when Turley continued without pause.

“There’re many folks who consider ‘em an evil omen, Cap’n. Portents of storms and such like, but they’re such wee buggers, them petrels. I always wondered meself if they weren’t just allowin’ the winds to blow them to safety rather than heraldin’ the blast.”

Killian shook his head with begrudging humor. Even after nearly three years leading a crew of pirates rather than the formal naval sailors they had once been, he was continually surprised by their superstitious beliefs. They claim to be black-hearted, fearless outlaws, yet frightfully unwilling to take a woman aboard (even Milah at the beginning), sail under the red morning sun, or set out on a Friday.. All due to tall tales of downfall and destruction. It was just a bird, wind-rattled and knocked off-course, needing to regain its strength; certainly not some ill stroke of luck.

“I heartily agree with you, mate,” Killian said when Turley’s words trailed off, giving him a clap on the shoulder before leaving the galley. “I appreciate you finding the herring. I’ll be back for it once lunch has been cleared.”

Turley assented readily and turned back to his task, humming idly. The Captain seemed in a better state of mind than he’d been in since losing his hand, and witnessing his love’s death. To Turley it seemed nothing but good luck, and he was simply glad for it.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Feeding the petrel at noon was a more awkward and messier business than Killian had anticipated; first he was struggling to open the sealed tin with just one hand, then handling the pungent small fish and their juices in his attempts to coax the bird to eat. Once it snatched the first bit in its delicate, curved bill, however, no more coddling was necessary. Soon, the petrel was grasping tiny herring right from the can, swallowing chunks as fast as it could manage. It emitted a rough sort of squawk in his direction once it finished its meal. Chuckling, Killian could certainly admit it was no nightingale’s song, but he chose to see it as an enthusiastic thanks all the same.

“I’m afraid that’s all for now, you shameless beggar,” he chided gently while clearing the empty tin away and wiping the table clean. To his surprise, the bird stepped nearer, lightly pecking at his fingers, almost playfully or in gratitude, not at all sharply enough to hurt. Holding his breath, Killian turned his hand open and palm up; the petrel nuzzled against his warm skin. Improbable as it seemed, the gesture could almost be called affectionate.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” the pirate murmured, scratching one finger lightly over the bird’s dark gray cap. He chose to ignore how his voice sounded equally fond.

When he returned that evening, the shadows outside his cabin’s windows were already long, and the sun had long sunk in the west. After its performance at midday, Killian was sure the petrel would be hungry again and eagerly awaiting its dinner. Yet, upon entering his cabin with canned anchovies, hoping they would not prove too salty for his animal guest, he found the bird absent from the center table altogether. Instead, it flitted for one spot to another at the desk in the room’s far corner near the window. It fluttered, then paused to alight upon the various open books strewn over the surface, cooking its tiny head and peering down intently at the pages. Had Killian not known better, he would have thought it was actually reading the words in Liam’s beloved tomes.

By this point, Kilian was charmed by the petrel’s odd antics, his lips stretching into an ill-accustomed smile as he watched before he moved to lay out his offering. The dark cloud that had hung over him before the bird’s arrival had dissipated. Though he couldn’t explain why, Killian welcomed the lighter mood, hoping it signified better days to come.

The petrel let out its brash trill a few more times before fluttering over to feed quickly on the anchovy, as enthusiastically as it had eaten the herring. Upon finishing, however, it did not relax as it had done previously. Instead, it flitted across the room, hovering near the window and making its distinctive call. The bird then fluttered around Killian’s head and shoulders before returning to the window, its desire for freedom as clear as if it had spoken the words aloud.

“Of course, little one,” Killian sighed reluctantly, no longer embarrassed about speaking to it as if it were human. “Naturally you would wish to return to the air.”

As he opened the window pane, the bird uttered a softer note, unlike its previous raucous cries. Killian smiled ruefully as he watched it slip through the opening and fly away. He had never considered refusing to let it go free; still, he missed the petrel’s presence in his cabin almost immediately. It might have been only a lost bird, but for a flicker of time, he felt a connection, a kinship, that had been sorely lacking in his life.

Yet, to Killian’s pleased astonishment, it was far from the last he would see of the storm petrel. While he would have expected the bird to be gone, never to return again, as days and weeks at sea went by, the small bird reappeared often - usually at first light, near the wheel where Killian was often steering, taking the night’s last watch upon himself as captain to be certain all was well when the Jolly was perhaps most vulnerable. After his intriguing initial encounter with his new feathered friend, he had learned that petrels were largely nocturnal and - like pirates and sailors themselves - rarely came ashore unless nesting. Again, that strange sense of kindred closeness swept over him; more than he had known for entirely too long. He had also learned that pairs of storm petrels were largely monogamous, and he could not help but wonder if the small gray co-pilot had lost its mate, leading it to return to the ship and humans where it had been shown kindness, strange as the attachment might seem. At any rate, once “his” petrel had begun to make recurrent appearances, Killian deliberately took the shift which found him at the helm when dawn’s first light crept over the horizon.

Though wise enough not to voice any notice or question him, the more observant and early-rising members of Captain Jones’ crew began to notice the bird’s repeated arrivals at the wheel near their captain. It seemed the small creature came solely to visit Jones and to snag a brief ride perched on the ship’s side, the sea breeze rustling its feathers until it either fluttered below deck to follow Killian at the end of his watch or took to the sky again.. Killian naturally sought to avoid seeming overly fond or doting on the petrel. For the leader of a band of miscreants and outlaws who lived a rough life by their wits and the sweat of their brows, it was dangerous indeed to show any sort of weakness. Any appearance of “going soft” could be a death sentence if his crew began to doubt his capabilities because of it.

All the same, those who worked nearby sometimes saw glimpses of his twinkling eyes or more mischievous smiles from time to time - things that had seemed lost to the past before the bird’s arrival. The cabin boy Killian had taken aboard at a port several months before - to save him from a life of abuse and privation - sometimes thought he heard snatches of the Captain singing or humming shanties under his breath when the petrel was present at Killian’s side. The boy’s loyalty, however, was unassailable and absolute. He’d never dream of breathing a word.

This continued for some time, the petrel’s comings and goings becoming an expected part of the rhythm aboard the Jolly Roger. Its diminutive gray form and rapid flight over the nearby waves became an easily recognizable sight to all who sailed upon the ship. What was more, the bird’s presence was gratefully welcomed - Captain Jones was less volatile and less prone to strike out against those who displeased him.

If the petrel had not yet proven its worth to any sailors reluctant to accept it, then one stormy night it would have silenced any doubts once and for all…

They had not taken an enemy vessel in some time, and the cargo taken in their most recent haul had been offloaded at the last port nearly two days prior. It was a good thing, too, because as shadows began to lengthen in late afternoon, wind whipped up wildly, frothing the waves and rocking the ship violently. The extra weight of a full cargo might have caused them to take on a frightening amount of water as the hull rose and fell. 

At first, the men manned their posts with calm determination. A storm at sea was always serious, easily spelling the difference between life and death in how one met its ravages. They had faced many such squalls, and Jones guided them through with an indefinable but comforting mix of experience and assurance. This gale, however, seemed different, bent on their destruction as the walls of water rose and then dropped the Jolly as though it were a toy in a child’s bathtub. As they dipped, the rising swells threatened to pour over the sides and sink them permanently. The crew gripped their ropes or boards, holding tightly to whatever piece they manned, but more and more fervently sending prayers for mercy to Poseidon, Davy Jones, or the sirens that would greet them below the surface.

Amidst the rolling chaos, the rapid beating of wings swept low over their heads as a dark,  familiarly recognizable form sailed across the deck and landed heavily, talons clinging to the worn leather on Killian’s shoulder. Though it had clearly fought mightily against the drafts, their petrel was claiming its place heedless of the danger.

Hardly able to acknowledge the delicate weight where it roosted at his side, even nearer than usual, Killian quickly raised his hook from the spokes of the wheel, brushing its curve over the bird’s downy underbelly in a single stroke of greeting. The bird trilled and seemed almost to rub its head against his rough cheek in affection. The exchange lasted only a moment, and in their heightened anxiety, few, if any, bore witness. Then, Killian gripped the wheel tightly once more with hand and hook, roaring out orders and encouragement, exhorting the men not to give up the fight, though the storm raged on and endurance flagged.

The petrel, not content to merely watch and ride along, was hardly finished - nor did it perch silently idle. Instead, it took to the air again, if only just, fluttering rapidly about the captain’s head, repeating its sharp, strident call, almost in his ear, and making itself nigh impossible to ignore. At first, Killian instinctively waved his hand to ward off its advances, calling out in consternation at its unusual behavior. However, it quickly became clear the tiny bird’s determined efforts would not falter.

Brow furrowed in thought, Killian squinted in concentration at his companion, finally sensing that it was trying to tell him something. Swiping the driving rain from his vision, Killian gave in and murmured low under his breath, “Alright, little one, I understand. What is it you wish to show me?”

Again, reacting as if it understood his every word, the petrel chirruped a sort of agreement and took flight again. It had to dip and bob against the lashing wind and rain in order to stay aloft, but it flapped madly, its wings battling back against the heaves of the storm. Valiantly, it hovered within sight, just ahead of the ship’s bow and almost seemed to look back expectantly, as if asking whether or not he meant to follow its lead.

Despite the tension in his shoulders, the worry and responsibility weighing upon him as the storm attempting to break them apart and bear the pieces to the depths, Killian couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter at the bird’s assumed insistence. “Aye, we’re with you,” he uttered aloud, turning the wheel just slightly to accommodate the direction in which the petrel led, shaking his head in disbelief even as he did so. It seemed a mite crazy, true enough, and yet birds survived the wild, its brutal conditions and weather, all the time. And what other chance of survival did they have at this point if the tempest didn’t slake soon? He could not see the way before them clearly enough to navigate by any of his normal methods. At the end of the day, they were all at the whim of Mother Nature, whatever their skill or experience, so the chance or fate that had brought this small creature to him and the feeling in his gut that urged him on seemed as good a course to follow as any.

Some few further agonizing minutes followed, as they still rose and fell in the grip of rolling waves. The entire crew seemed to hold their breath as the ship bobbed and soared, up and down, over and again, eyes riveted on the dark clouds and forks of lightning ahead of them and straining to glimpse in time the jagged rocks that lurked portending their doom.

Slowly, and yet more and more certainly as they persisted, the wild rocking, the careening to and fro, lessened, as though the churning water itself had begun to loosen its massive grip. They were moving into miraculously calmer waters, Killian noted with a breath of relief. The storm still howled around them, but in a bright flash of lightning, he saw that the ship had entered the sheltered lea of a hidden cove. The tall rock faces rising on either side as the Jolly sailed into their cover lessened the buffeting of the waves and allowed the ship to maintain its ballance once again. He would not have seen the entrance with the elements obscuring vision as they’d been - not without the petrel. It had led them to safety.

As if on cue, the bird came to rest atop the wheel, perching on the curve of wood between the two spokes where his hand and hook were placed. Blinking placidly, it seemed to look at him with a bit of pride before cooing softly and burrowing hits head and beak under its wing to snatch a moment’s well-earned rest.

Nodding and allowing himself a look around to take stock, Killian saw the reassurance on his crew’s faces as all realized they had made it through. Killian called out a few orders to check various parts of the sip for any damages and make certain the ship would stay in place until the storm blew itself out. This petrel with its almost sentient ability to sense when it was needed, come to his aid, and raise his spirits, would always have a safe place to rest with them on the Jolly Roger.

~~*~~*~~

Until the day it didn’t return.

The storm petrel had taken to arriving regularly every two or three days, wherever they might be sailing or how much distance they had covered, but then one evening it failed to appear. It didn’t come that night, or the next. Soon a week had passed, and still it didn’t come back to the Jolly, worrying Killian more than he dared let on.

He could not simply drop anchor and wait, nor could he leave his post, his men, and his ship, to search for his tiny companion - far dearer than even a pet could ever be. He had no way to call the bird; it had always come to him of its own accord and in its own time… but it had never stayed away for so long.

His men noticed as well, whispering amongst themselves when the Captain began taking his evening meals alone at night rather than joining them in the galley, when the door to his cabin slammed with such heavy finality that all knew it was a barrier not to be crossed until the Captain emerged again. They shook their heads in dismay when orders were bellowed more harshly or conversations were more clipped and terse. Killian Jones was too diligent a man to shirk his duties or lead them astray, yet all felt his unease and knew its cause. Many of them were aware enough to know the petrel had saved them from the storm, just as Killian did, and had grown to enjoy its visits and watch for it in their own ways. Its absence had stretched on long enough that it seemed clear something must have happened to the poor bird - not that any would say such to the Captain.

Turley and the cabin boy were the only ones genuinely close enough to ask Killian about it, and the youngster only dared question hesitantly one night as he brought the Captain his dinner tray if he had seen his gray bird lately. The dulled acceptance in his expected denial bowed the boy’s head and forestalled any further inquiry.

But that night, as young Billy left, Killian heard a light rapping sound at the small window above his bunk. Even knowing better, his heart leapt with a small flicker of hope. It was the portal by which his petrel had entered and left his cabin so many times. Scuffling and scratching followed, so weak and soft as to have gone unheard if he hadn’t been sitting alone and quiet at his desk. Hustling to the window, Killian unlatched it and carefully opened the glass pane.

To his astonishment and joy, quickly followed by rapid alarm, the storm petrel toppled from its weary perch on the windowsill and landed on the ledge just inside the room. Its tiny frail quivered, its little feathered breast rising and falling rapidly. It wasn’t a large bird to begin with; Turley’s familiar voice echoed in Killian’s head at the thought, needlessly rambling about petrels being some of the widest ranging seabirds known to man, despite being naught bigger than swallows. ‘Hardy little critters, they are,’ Killian could still hear the cook yammering internally until he finally shook his head clear. What he needed to do now was ascertain what the bird needed and what he could do to help.

Having been small already, the petrel looked terribly frail on the dusty, cushioned ledge amidst heavy tomes, navigation tools, and the other detritus of several years. It was obvious the poor creature had not been eating and was wasting away half-starved as a result. Along with that, it was soaked, its feathers in bedraggled disarray and missing in places. The bird lay still for so long without uttering any sound or even trying to right itself of explore the space that Killian feared for a horrible moment that it must be near death.

Peering closer with careful, gentle movements, he saw that the petrel was injured as well as weakened. Not immediately apparent because of how ruffled in was in general, Killian noted that its wing was bent at an awkward angle along its side rather than folded up properly in repose.

The bird hardly lifted its head as Killian stroked one finger down its back, hoping to soothe and offer even the tiniest bit of comfort. Striding urgently across the room, he swung the cabin door open, calling urgently down the hall for Whale, the ship’s doctor, to come on the double; he was needed in the Captain’s quarters.

Whirling to re-enter the room, Killian’s eyes quickly passed over the space, noting the crust of his bread left from supper and the seeds which had been baked atop it still littering the plate. He brought it quickly to his patient, then poured some water for the pitched by his washstand into the empty saucer which had held soup, hoping he might coax the petrel to eat even a morsel and gain some nourishment.

Next, he grasped a plush cotton dressing gown, hanging untouched on the door of his closest, purposefully out of easy sight. It had been Milah’s favorite to wrap up in after the rare luxury of a bath, and the sight of it or the feel of its material beneath his fingers had wrung his heart until now, bringing the hot, raging need for vengeance back to the fore. He was suddenly glad he had not parted with it though. He didn’t dare jostle the injured bird overmuch for fear of hurting it further. But while he couldn’t rub it down to dry it fully, he could tuck the robe’s downy layers around it and warm its shivering frame.

“There now, little one,” he crooned gently. “Take a bit of food and catch your breath. You’re safe now…” his voice caught and he swallowed before adding, “We’ll put you back to rights, don’t fret.”

Killian didn’t actually know if a ship’s surgeon could set a bird’s wing as he would a human man’s broken arm, but he could hear Whale’s footsteps pounding down the hall toward his cabin, and knew he would find out soon. Before Whale - or anyone else - could arrive to see him, Killian bent to carefully lean over the bird’s small form, not sure what possessed him, but following the instinct before he could question it. As delicately as possible for someone who’d had no cause for gentility in longer than he could remember, for just one breath, one single heartbeat, he brought his lips to the bird’s tiny head. Maybe it was brought on by some long-buried memory of his own mother, lost to his mind’s eye other than a voice whose soothing singing sometimes echoed in his sleep, but the kiss seemed an offering to ease fever pain and fear with hope and good wishes.

It was the barest brush contact - a mere moment’s touch - but the air in the room abruptly changed. Something seemed to shrink and then expand; the atmosphere held its breath. Glittering rainbow hues flashed in front of his eyes, and Killian jerked backwards in alarm. The petrel’s shape went a bit hazy as Killian strained to understand what was happening right before his eyes, and then his small friend began to grow and change, forcing him to take a few more stunned steps backward and wonder if he had somehow hit his head and addled his brain. His accustomed companion was transforming even as he watched.

He heard a shout as Whale - and probably a few curious others too - came to a halt behind him. Exclamations of awe and surprise were heard but left unacknowledged over his shoulder. Killian blinked, trying be sure he could trust his vision and to reconcile what shouldn’t be possible, but sat before him.

Where the storm petrel had lay near death just seconds ago, stood a blushing, beautiful young woman. She was equally soaked to the skin, long blonde hair plastered to her head and shoulders. Her lithe, slender frame trembled where she stood clutching the dressing gown around her tightly. Still, there was something about her eyes as she stared back at him silently; something that he knew deep within despite never having seen her before.

She cocked her head curiously, as if she too was trying to understand where she was and what had happened. With that motion, Killian knew without a shadow of a doubt. This young woman had been his petrel; his long lost avian friend was this lovely woman. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he was absolutely certain. And he was drawn to her just as he had been to her former guise. She took a cautious step toward him, and he held out a hand to draw her near and hold her close. Whatever had brought them together, whatever magic was at work, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld.

~~*~~*~~

By the time rays of morning sunlight came slanting down the walls inside Killian’s cabin, he and his soulmate - he knew that now - had talked the whole night through. She was no longer a storm petrel but a princess what had been cursed to take on avian form, and his act of True Love - aware of it or not - had set her free. The jealous witch who’d cast the spell had falsely believed the princess was luring her chosen partner away rather than accept that he had a roving eye. Petrels were a migratory species, keeping her far from all she knew and loved - and of course, unable to speak or gain help for her affliction. For hours they sat side-by-side on his bunk, hands clasped tightly as this woman - Emma, her name was Emma - told him what she’d experience ever since the curse took hold, shifting her very reality to something unfathomable. Tears pooled in her eyes, glistening on her lashes, both while recounting her own trials, and then again while listening to the betrayal and loss that had shaken Killian’s world to its foundations as well.

The connection between them from Emma’s first appearance on his ship drew them ever closer as they talked, and touched, and inevitably joined in another kiss. This time it was two souls meeting on equal footing, and they drank deeply of the perfection that shook them each to the core. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way; the two of them bound to meet long before they ever knew. Neither could explain the pull, but it also couldn’t be denied.

As they went topside the next morning and Killian began to introduce her to an eagerly enthusiastic crew, he didn’t even try to explain, but simply savored the moment, thrilled that all the heartache and pain had finally brought him there, with Emma at his side. Her smaller frame tucked seamlessly into his side as she beamed at his new ally and charmed them one and all.

When they stood at the wheel - just the two of them again at last - Killian behind her, his arms encircling her as he steered the ship, he felt the same joy he had when she’d kept him company perched on the wheel so many times before, but magnified exponentially now that they could fully communicate and understand one another. With the salt air in their faces and the horizon in view, they set sail - a happy new beginning stretching out ahead of them.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @scientificapricot @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @lenfaz @jonesfandomfanatic

@eastwesthomeisbest @grimmswan @stahlop @belovedcreation @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @caught-in-the-filter @resident-of-storybrooke

@the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @goforlaunchcee @mie779 @kday426 @iamstartraveller776

[kuai-kuai]

some writing talk~ mini essay? very messy. comparing edit versions and misc thoughts

of course I won't compare every single change -- that'd be too much and some problems are redundant, so I'm just touching upon some stuff only

a lot of this is more technical and specific to the act of using words and conveying ideas.. "prose"... not so much about concepts or story crafting. plenty of that out there already.

I have multiple versions:

1.0 from july 2024

2.0 an edit from february this year

3.0 an edit I did just the other day.

I'll focus on 1.0 and 3.0 because the changes are more drastic.

in 1.0, I was too concerned with "smooth transitions." there was a "never-ending wordiness" to it that made it difficult to read. at least, for me. these days I prefer when it sounds like I'm speaking to someone, and much less like I'm "writing a story"

1.0 had a lot more descriptors -- visual and other senses. a lot of them were redundant or felt like I was "forcing" a feeling.

I removed a lot of these by 3.0:

---

joseph wasn't as developed back then during 1.0. he was just a creepy guy. I don't think the concept of him being a teen dad was realized back then, but he was always "just some guy" in appearance.

so wordy and redundant. hard to read! I got rid of that, and also added a hint towards teen dad-isms.

---

using quotations feel "loud" and "present" which is good for certain stories. but there's a "memory"-like quality to this story that I wanted to hone in on

I changed it to italics.. and removed what I call "stock phrases".... cliche phrases that are overused in writing and have long lost their effect. I think they can be utilized like anything else, but most of the time I feel like they have an overpowering "flattening" effect

---

joseph was characterized different back then:

so cocky! well, he does have a form of confidence. but that comes from stupidity..

joseph is always getting caught up in the moment.. bad impulse control.. he can't help himself.. and then he feels bad afterwards. turned the command into a request. almost a plea.....

---

I feel some people might find the "obscuring" or "stripping" nature of my edits to be undesirable, but I wanted to remove pieces that don't feel relevant to the overall feeling of the story. I feel like focusing too much on "what's happening" has too much of a grounding effect. I like having a bit of a dreamlike vibe.. it focuses the world inward, which is important with these two, whose world is confined in their home.

as most of my characters have at tendency towards..

plus, I don't want to just tell the reader what to feel!

most other edits followed similar lines of thinking that I've covered, these are just some I found while rereading.. also spotted some typos! fixed them now..

with 1.0, I was lacking confidence in my prose.. wrote more than I needed to, and didn't really know how to convey what I wanted to convey. I'm a bit more experienced now, with a more formed voice..

changed wordy, on-the-nose, redundant prose into something more streamlined and turned the world a bit more inwards..

not perfect, but I didn't want to perform too big of a surgery...

that's all. thanks for reading :)

[starfragment1979]

I know some writers don't like the editing phase, but, christ, I love it. I get to take out all the extraneous commas and trim the bloated sentences and fix the awkward phrasing and crank up the tension and really polish the work and make it shine.

I print out everything I write and go at it with a red pen, partly because I am Old but also because changing the format like that helps my brain see the work from a different angle which helps me catch typos and also helps me see the work as a whole rather than as a collection of sentences. So this is my work in progress right now:

And here are my writing companions on the shelf next to my desk:

[hpowellsmith]

Happy birthday, Royal Affairs!

It's been a year since Royal Affairs came out and I've been over the moon about how it's been received. It's meant that I've been able to write full-time, make Honor Bound as rich and detailed at high speed, and do a lot of physical and mental health recovery after various periods of burnout. I'm really grateful for everyone's support, here and elsewhere, and it really makes a huge difference.

I had so much fun returning to the characters after a while away for the epilogue - if you enjoyed the game at release and haven't replayed for the epilogue, I very much recommend giving it a go!

After beta testing, I wrote up a retrospective about what came up and how I organised my work. I thought I'd share it for some insight into my process, for players and authors. Here it is:

In Crème de la Crème I ended up adding large branches to the plot during beta, but I was fortunate not to have to do it this time around. Mostly it was building on what was there or bringing certain things to the forefront, or adding a few different ways of navigating situations.

As feedback came in, I was lucky enough to have so much that it became unwieldy to act on it in one go, so I made a priority list.

Highest priority was game breaking bugs or large continuity problems like Dominique's final game scene switching to Beaumont's.

High priority was smaller continuity bugs like the game confusing who you were romancing or whether you had or hadn't done a particular action earlier.

Medium priority was things like small scene additions or multi romance responses, or tweaking first impressions of characters, and so on.

Low priority was nice-to-haves like allowing a character to be romanced only late on.

Alongside this, I fixed typos and made small adjustments - easy wins that added polished. There were also some major sweeps that I did: a stat test clarity sweep, a stat change sweep, a reduction of tests in casual conversations, and repetitive words or phrases.

Stat test clarity:

I picked 3-4 stat tests at random from each chapter, copied their text into a separate document, and highlighted words that reflected the stats. For example: for Authoritative I had things like "I order them to..." "I tell them what to do", "I stay aloof to maintain my authority..." and so on. I edited testing choices to include these keywords, and also edited the stat guide to include them.

Checking all this had the side effect of helping me spot unnecessary tests or points where the stat being tested just didn't match the situation at hand.

Stat changes:

There are a lot of points where stats can change, and not all of them made sense at the start of beta. I did variations of this sweep several times, including the Action Skills, NPC stats, and adding a lot more chances to boost your Powers of Persuasion. Again doing this check helped me spot unnecessary or unintuitive tests and changes.

Tests in casual conversations:

This was again something that I iterated several times. Some of the commentary about Crème de la Crème said that the stat tests felt punishing or too difficult, and an early playtest from my wife flagged that some of the tests in Royal Affairs felt unfair. Why should a character's relationship reduce when you're trying to be affectionate, if the circumstances aren't in a state where that makes sense?

So I stripped out a lot of this, generally replacing a success/failure with flavour text (such as a Subtle MC perhaps being, well, more subtle about holding hands with someone). In some cases, where a character needs to be drawn out of themselves to talk more emotionally (Beaumont or Hyacinthe, on occasion), or they see the conversation as a contest or challenge in some way (mostly Javi or Trevelyan), I left them in. But I liked that they were a rarity rather than default.

Repetitive words or phrases

As I was writing, sometimes I noticed that I was overusing phrases, so if I got that feeling I would make a note for the sweep. In the end there wasn't as much as that as I thought, but there were a lot of qualifier-type words that reduce the impact of a sentence - "a little" was one, or "really", usually in dialogue - or filler words like "down" in sentences like "you sit down beside them".

I also looked for phrases like "you know" or "you suspect" to spot places where I could express whatever it was that the MC knows more elegantly (this is something a former colleague told me once and I've never forgotten it!)

More involved edits

With some major things that I did change, I'd put them on my to-do list before beta but they were either unwieldy and I wanted to start testing sooner rather than later, or I wanted to check whether other people agreed. It was great to have more opinions and mostly they confirmed what I'd thought. With others, I studied the feedback to gauge whether the effort of making the changes would be worth the payoff. In most cases, I decided to go for it.

In general, this stage involved adding things, including:

more worldbuilding details to give more context to the plot

more teacher interactions throughout; added scenes as well as offhand references to other classes; more about Clemence and Vere and expanded outcomes to their storyline

romanceable characters responding to players romancing other people: in the moment, checking in about where your relationship was at, and a set of final breakup conversations if it was left until the very last minute (this was a very big undertaking and would have been better to do earlier - a lesson I've taken to Honor Bound)

lengthening the main suffrage debate

adding slow-paced romance dynamics for two characters (I was really keen to do this but was disciplined about making it low priority - it was a lovely idea and I knew I'd enjoy doing it, but it was very much a nice-to-have compared to other things. I was delighted to be able to do it!)

more communal scenes with classmates to give more of a sense of living in each other's pockets

adding an option to confide in Asher about a particular plot point and for them to assist with it if wanted (I was so happy about adding this: it's one of my favourite Asher moments, even if few people see it!)

tweaking some of the friendship/romance conversations to add more emotional chat (mostly this applied to Javi and Hyacinthe; there was a bit added to Asher and Dominique at Verdancy)

more pet time

more narrative and conversational responsiveness about whether an imperilled character was romanced

more Javi asexuality chat

more detailed outfit descriptions throughout with more choices about what to wear

generally expanding some scenes to give more breathing room to important moments

In the end I added 45000 words to the game during beta testing, thanks to feedback from editor review, continuity testing, and copyediting. Testing took place during late December 2022 and January 2023, and I massively appreciate everyone who contributed to make this big game as polished as it is!

-

[bedlamsbard]

For anyone that missed it earlier, Of Home Near chapter 21 went up today! It usually takes me between 3-5 hours to do final line edits, prep, and posting, today it took...more than that. I think 20 was also one where the prep took far longer than usual, which shouldn't be that unusual given how both this fic and this year have gone. What that usually entails is that I'll go through the whole chapter at least once, fixing phrasing, checking for typos, and often adding in somewhere between 100-500 words along the way. Depending how much I added I might go through the whole chapter again, then I add in the HTML (which I do with find and replace in Word; I don't do it manually anymore, though I did up until...Backbone, maybe). While I'm doing all of this I'm usually frantically going through my fic/character playlists trying to find a chapter title; I won't start uploading to AO3 until I have that. Then I start uploading to AO3, preview, fix the HTML for the section breaks because I always get it wrong, post, and then have to pull up my previous fic Tumblr posts so I can do the announcement here. And since Tumblr screwed up its link posts a while back this ends up being kind of an Ordeal since I have to do that formatting semi-manually. (I copy and paste the HTML from before they messed up link posts; I'll do something different for the next new fic, but I didn't want to change mid-stream for Home.) Then I figure out what section I want to pull out for the chapter preview (usually in the 200-300 word range), finish formatting that post, post, do a quick Bluesky announcement (MUCH less formal), emotionally resign myself to people not reading it, and try to walk away from the computer for a while. This time I had to keep giving myself ten minute breaks instead of powering through, partially because I screwed up my hip/ankle/knee somehow and was trying not to be stuck in one poor position. (BTW, on days I only seem to be posting purely fannish posts and only intermittently, it's because I'm prepping to post and trying to only reblog thematic gifsets/edits, I don't know that anyone's ever picked up on this.)

I actually did a daily progress report yesterday, I just...forgot...to hit...post. Which I realized when I turned on the computer this morning.