#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

[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.

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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.

[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

[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!

-

[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:

[diudiudiu]

the nature of idiosyncrasies minor edits

just an fyi that i'm finally taking some time to go through and edit the nature of idiosyncrasies (grammar, punctuation, phrasing etc, nothing will change with the plot)

it'll be a gradual process so apologies if you notice any inconsistencies while i do this

tnoi was the first ff i posted on ao3 and looking back, i feel like a lot of it was me figuring out just how to write (particularly with the first 3 chaps 😅)

it took me a while to consider whether i wanted to spend time doing this or not, because while i do acknowledge that my writing style has changed (yay for growth, ig?) and i should prob leave some things be, there's def a few things in tnoi that i personally find glaringly...annoying ☠️

it's also a chance for me to fix the typos i know are there but never got around to doing so before (and i hope re-reading will help me shift the half-written draft of the sequel i have sitting around in my gdocs for over a year 👀)

the original ver (if for whatever reason anyone wants it) can be found here

ty and much ❤️ to everyone who's taken the time to read tnoi (or my other fics) 😊 your comments and messages have given me the encouragement and motivation to continue writing 🫶

[bcbdrums]

🍓🕯️🔪

"🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?"

well. one day in 2004 when visiting my cousin in the hospital after her car accident. i missed an episode of Bonanza, due to...you know, being at the hospital. this was back in ye olden days of TV guides, recording things on VCR's, and....no....wikis.... not like we have now. no sites to tell you everything, no screencaps, no youtube... and ye olde dial-up internet days. and anyway.... the TV guide descrip made that episode sound thrilling. and...and i just had to know!

and i knew... i remember, knowing in my heart. that if i went online and tried to find out what happened. i'd never get off the computer again. well, i was right. the short conclusion to this tale is i found specific Bonanza fansites loaded with fanfiction!!! and i devoured it. i wanna say within the same month? i was hand-writing fanfic in spiral notebooks for Bonanza. still have that spiral notebook and that unfinished fic, literally locked in a treasure chest. and i still remember the entire plot, what i planned to do with it... yeah.

no, i never did find out what was in that episode i missed/didn't get to record... like i said, no wikis or anything of that nature... (we had to leave from school that day so i didn't get to go home and program the VCR; i'd not known that morning we'd be going to the hospital later.) and they didn't re-run the episode again... so i've still not seen it... but, i started writing fanfic that summer. a defining moment in my life. and yes, my cousin is well!

"🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?"

ohhh, hmmm... idk if i could scale it. maybe right in the middle, a 5 or 6? this will make more sense if i describe my process perhaps.

so if i'm really in the writing zone, i just...plow ahead until i'm finished. and then i go back and edit. when i'm "in the zone" oftentimes i don't see things that could genuinely be improved by better phrasing, better language choices... they just elude me cuz i'm so hyperfixated on the story and it's so clear in my head, so, of course it's great on the page! (example: Forfeit was written this way.) usually i then just quickly fix obvious typos/grammar things and toss the fic into the void. then i'll return a few months later when it's no longer fresh, and then see soooo many things that could be better, and depending on my mood i'll go back and heavily edit, or, i won't.

the other process... if i'm not "in the zone" usually i write a few lines, get stuck, and to get myself unstuck i go back and edit what i've done. fixing things, adding things... and usually once those few lines are edited i have the next ones ready to be written in my head. it's a slower process overall.

editing for other people is a whole different ball game. i love doing that (as long as i'm in the mood/have the energy/time) because it helps me refine my writing craft too, in trying to assist someone with a totally different style than mine. it's great. and i've edited/beta-read for so many diff people now with such a variety of styles it's really making me more aware of my own, and how it's changed over the years. and i also just enjoy helping people.

the idea of something getting better just appeals to me i guess. it's a good feeling, it's productive. so in that sense, i enjoy editing. if i feel really stuck on a project, then it can become just another slow-down however. that would be the only negative i suppose.

"🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?"

haha, already answered this in a prior ask but i'll choose a different one.

i spent days learning how to waltz properly. all the techniques, and the process by which one learns... to write one character teaching another character, very, very methodically. and apparently i did it well, i received a comment about it from someone who actually waltzes professionally if i remember correctly who was very pleased with my writing of it! can i waltz? or dance at all? no, no i cannot. but i could probably talk someone else through how to learn!

thank you SO much for the ask!!! ^_^

[mousathe14]

I remember back when we were able to edit reblogs the only thing that I always did was correct people’s grammar and spelling mistakes before I did the reblog.

I’m sure that if anyone saw this on their reblogs they would find it completely obnoxious.

But it’s equally as obnoxious to me seeing the completely incorrect There/Their/They’re or Your/You’re. I may have even touched the occasional Then/Than but I don’t remember.

I shouldn’t be like that, seems unfair to people. I get it. I make typos all the time because my mind is working faster than my hands and now I have words or phrases repeated, a letter added before its place, a statement that becomes unclear because I forgot a period. But I also go back to fix them when I see the mistake in post.

But it’s one of those little bugbears that gets in my head and really bothers me when I see it. Like intent isn’t enough unless it’s done effectively. Like I know what you mean that doesn’t make it any less of a problem. Like, how is one supposed to take it when you’ve used the contraction for “They are” in place of “there” for a place or position?

I never did it for plural v. possessive apostrophe “s” because I’m not an English teacher even I don’t know how that works

I don’t know where I’m going with this, it was just a random thing I was thinking about.

[olderthannetfic]

This orphaning/deleting discussion is really interesting. I wonder what people think of editing? I often post early drafts and then edit later, sometimes months later and sometimes substantially (i.e. erasing or rephrasing entire paragraphs). If we are to treat AO3 like an actual history-preserving archive, each new version would be its own document. But AO3 is not ONLY an archive but also a place to read fic, which means that it has to be usable, and having several versions of the same story reuploaded as a separate body of text would obviously clog up tags. Maybe there could be an editing history available to readers? Idk, I'm mostly just curious if heavy editing is generally frowned upon :)

--

I hate it with a burning passion.

The most I'll do is fix a few typos. Once it's posted, that's the final version.

As a reader, it's disconcerting to find phrasing I remember suddenly missing.

[ambersock]

I love seeing how writers work, so: 8, 14, 16, 19.

Thanks for the ask other Anon!

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Best Wishes. Because I adore writing stories where Dean actually suffers the consequences of his actions.

14. where do you get your inspiration?

Usually from extreme annoyance at biased/hypocritical narrative from SPN source material or glaring gaps in exploring Sam’s trauma that would provide balance. Also from late night tumblr ramblings from other disgruntled Sam fans. But the best inspiration I've gotten was from a Summergen prompt that took me out of my comfort zone.

16. talk about your writing and editing process

I usually write in small chunks, maybe a few sentences or paragraphs at a time. When I sit down to write, I go back and reread what I had so far to get back into the story, make some improvements, and then come up with a few more sentences or paragraphs to move the story along. If I get stuck, I’ll skip ahead and write a more pivotal scene I had in mind and fill in the rest later. I focus primarily on the plot first, then once I have a draft I go back in later passes and add descriptive details to create the mood/tone I’m going for. I reread the whole thing from beginning to end several times and fix awkward phrases, typos, grammatical issues, and make improvements to the pacing and tempo. When I get to the point where I’m just tweaking a word here and there with each run-through, I know it’s time to post it.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

Hypovolemic shock. Highly useful for hurt/comfort stories.

[secret-third-option-editing]

What I offer

Developmental Editing

I will be happy to brainstorm and use my natural powers of seeing possibilities and drawing connections to help you arrange the puzzle pieces of your story, through either written or video communication.

“Sophia helped bring greater realism and consistency to my scenes and characters, and elevated my story." Daeus Lamb, authour of God of Manna and other novels

Help with research skills

Whether in a written medium or over video call, I would be happy to geek out with you over the delights of research, whether you are 'worldbuilding' historical fiction, or practicing research for school assignments (it's all about chasing your curiosity and knowing how to ask good questions)! This is one of the parts of writing I am most passionate about, and one often neglected.

View an example here, in collaboration with Daeus Lamb: Sophia's Beta Read - Time Travel Story.

Line editing

Line editing, where we catch so many things spelling- and grammar-check will never show you! Line editing is not proofreading. I will not fix your grammar (for example) for you, but I will suggest corrections. If they seem to be a pervasive quality and not a slip of the keyboard, I will explain where the rules come from and why, so that you come away from the edit having grown in your own writing skills, not just with a quick fix. I can recommend books on the craft of writing for those looking to put even more effort into growth!

“She not only caught typos and other mechanical errors, but suggested re-phrasings which I incorporated into the text. Sophia is not only a good writer, she is a good editor, and I will certainly hire her again to edit the draft of my next article or book.” David Pichaske, authour of The Music of Failure and other works

[sunpoweredog]

Introduction? kinda

my name is Ingrid (she/it/they, xe/xem also acceptable), i am a biologist and an artist, but whats important here - i'm a silken windhound

A therian, alterhuman, otherkin, nonhuman, however you'd like to call it. I've known myself as a creature since early years, and labeled myself as otherkin since ~2012, but decided to make a little side blog dedicated to personal experiences in around 2023.

Please note that I sometimes use the words "sona"/"fursona" /"truesona" meaning "my dog appearance" or noemata and am okay with being called a furry!

I am an adult, but will keep this blog sfw. if anything changes i will add a special tag so you can block it! And yeah, sorry, there is no tag system in my blog because I'm old and lazy

I am very open to any interactions, so feel free to chat or send an ask! I like and follow from my main art blog @ingridskogstad

English isn't my first language! I may phrase things weirdly but will try elaborating or paraphrasing if asked. There will also be a lot of typos that usually get fixed as I edit the post.

I don't have a set DNI, just don't be mean to me or to other beings, thank you. I also sometimes block users because of my very specific triggers, please don't be upset if that happens - it has nothing to do with you, I'm just not that mentally strong.

Picture credit - tisheritsa (deviantart), commissioned by me several years ago.

Pfp - Tangaloor Prizzi's Honor

[aihoshiino]

Hello everyone! With the absolutely incredible audio drama adaptation of Viewpoint B dropping earlier this week, I was able to revisit my initial translation of Viewpoint B and make various tweaks and improvements – my hearing comprehension is uh a lot better than my reading comprehension so the audio drama was incredibly useful in clearing some things up for me.

My next goal will be to complete my own translation of 45510 to go alongside Viewpoint B and I am also interested in translating some of the Bluray and artbook materials if anyone is able to provide them. If you have anything official you think would be cool to see translated, feel free to drop it into my DMs!

TL NOTES:

1) As mentioned previously but is worth reiterating here: in the process of adapting Viewpoint B into English, there are places here and there where I lightly reordered or combined certain sentences in to flow a little better in English. For example, there's times where a character's monologue will be interrupted by some single sentence aside in the narration that makes things read a little stuttery and occasionally confusing as to which character was speaking. The content should still be largely the same, I just wanted to make sure nobody got lost in the more dialogue heavy exchanges (as I almost did!)

2) Various tweaks to spelling, phrasing and word choice were made. Nothing is massively different but with the audio drama to reference, I had a better idea of dialogue tone and mood and made some changes to my phrasing to better match Takahashi's interpretation of the text.

3) Ai's age is referenced twice in this story, once as fourteen and once as fifteen. I initially assumed this was a typo either in the original text or transcription of the pamphlet as the relatively short timeframe the story takes place in makes it unlikely she would've had a birthday without comment. However, Takahashi can clearly be heard saying both 14才 (juuyonsai) and 15才 (juugosai) in the audio drama so I have no idea what to believe anymore!!! As such, I kept my initial translation of 'fourteen' when her age is first mentioned and changed the second occurrence to the more neutral 'teenage girl' because I genuinely don't know what the intention is here. Unless the birthday celebration that gets mentioned in the story is Ai's?? Is Ai's birthday that close to Christmas???? I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE

4) There are a few sentences and lines of dialogue that were a little ambiguous in terms of subject and who was speaking. Two of these lines I accidentally mistranslated or misattributed (Kanan's first speaking line, a mention of management dictating B-Komachi's romance-first focus) have now been fixed.

5) A line in Part 3 was accidentally erased during a previous editing pass and I didn't catch it while proofreading. Whoops! It's not a major line but obviously it should be in there, so it's been restored.

[semperintrepida]

Process Talk: Final Edits

It may come as a surprise that I don't actually delight in making my readers wait several days between updates. As I've mentioned before, I use that time to work on "final edits" for upcoming chapters.

But what is a final edit? Allow me to show you my secrets.

At this point, the entire text of "The Breaking" has already had two to three edit passes. An "edit pass" involves refining the text at a certain level of detail. The first edit passes are at a high level, improving aspects like narrative structure, plot, and themes. Subsequent edit passes focus on improving characterization, dialogue, description, etc. at the scene, paragraph, and, eventually, the sentence level.

For the final edit, I'm primarily working on sentences, inspecting every word and punctuation mark. The first thing I do is throw the latest version of the book onto my tablet and give it a read:

This is where I make every word count. If I can swap five words ("shaped roughly like a crescent") for one-ish word ("crescent-shaped") I'm going to take it. A shrinking wordcount is a good thing!

Why do I read the book on my tablet? Because on my tablet, it looks closer a real published book (fancy!) and I like handwriting my notes. By now, I've looked at this story thousands of times in a text editor, so having the words appear in a different font and justified word spacing gives me a fresh perspective.

Once I've annotated the whole chapter, I return to my text editor and start fixing all the things I've marked, deleting or substituting words, reworking lines marked in brackets. I don't usually need to make any big changes, but it does happen on occasion, like when I decided to reorder some scenes in chapter 26.

When I'm done with my annotated changes, it's time to pull out the fine-tooth comb. The "comb" is a python script that searches for words and phrases in a text and highlights them:

Words like "before," "after," "even," and "always," are considered weak by traditional editing standards. (I've linked some good explanations why.) I'm also looking for filter phrases like "I hear," "I think," and "I know," as well as the words and phrases that are my writer tics: "crush," "a bit," "merely" to name a few. I like certain turns of phrase far too much!

Why did I write a fucking python script to highlight this stuff? Because my eyes literally skip over them when I read my own work. I couldn't find a tool that highlighted these words in a way I liked or trusted, so I had to write one myself. (If you'd like a copy of the code, hit me up via DM and I'll send you a link.)

Anyway, I go through the highlights and improve what can be improved (it's about 50/50 for each highlight—sometimes I leave things be!)

The last step is to read the chapter out loud, listening to the rhythm of the text as well as looking for typos.

And then I'm done!

This process has worked well for me, but I'm not sharing this because I think it's the only way to fly. Perhaps my writer friends will glean something of interest from it. At any rate, I hope this gives y'all an idea of why it takes me so damn long to write. 😅