#i basically have to make it from scratch

[otherpigeon-moved]

past me. why.

[quess-art]

I was going to do a house warden series but got too busy

[lichfucker]

I am making an entirely vibes-based pasta sauce which means I can use a truly unconscionable amount of shallots and no recipe will stop me

[litleo123]

me and my friends couldnt go to the bravern cafe back in march, so we coped by making our own cafe merch

[righthonyakutranslations]

Please, Jeeves - Translation Proofreaders Wanted!

Update: We've got the proofreaders we need! Thank you so much, everyone!

Hello, all! You may have heard tell of a fan translation project for Please, Jeeves - the Japanese manga adaptation of the Jeeves and Wooster short stories by P. G. Wodehouse! Well... we at Right Honyaku Translations (yes, it's a group started solely for this project) are quite happy to announce that the translation of the first chapter is complete!

However, while I (Red, the translator and moderator of this tumblr) may have a lot of dedication and enthusiasm, as well as several years of Japanese under my belt, in truth I am not entirely fluent in the language and still make mistakes. As such, we are looking for proofreaders for the translation! It may be a long shot, given that there are a lot of moving parts and the whole thing is a volunteer project, but in a perfect and ideal world we would love to have the following:

A Japanese speaker, preferably fluent, with experience editing English-language texts. This is in order to make sure the translation of the original Japanese has no mistakes. (Familiarity with the Japanese translation of Jeeves - specifically, Morimura's translation, as it differs in many respects from the newer translation by Iwanaga and Koyama - is not a requirement but would be a great bonus.)

A British English speaker, preferably with some knowledge of old British literary style, and P. G. Wodehouse's writing in particular. This is in order to make sure the English translation does not dip into any non-British pitfalls we as Americans are unaware of, and sounds suitably Wodehousean.

However, if you don't fit those descriptions, but think you can lend a hand, let us know! We'd appreciate all the help we can get.

There are also two things to note, so the translation doesn’t look utterly strange. I'll stick those under the cut if you're interested.

Firstly, since much of this manga is taken from Morimura’s Japanese translation of the original Jeeves canon, a good deal of this is back-translation i.e. rather than literally translating the Japanese, I am often replacing it with its original English line as written by Wodehouse. This will only change if a scenario in the manga is extremely dependent on the Japanese wording over the original, which I have not yet encountered. One thing this manga does a lot is have partial alterations made to Morimura’s translation in its dialogue, in which case I translate it by combining the original Wodehouse line with some changes of my own.

Secondly, given that Japanese is a radically different language from English, it does not really possess equivalents for all of the broad, hyper-specific Edwardian slang as used in the original stories - for example, you end up seeing “cove” being translated simply as 「男」or “man”. So I have endeavored for my translation to be not just a translation, but also something of a Wodehouseification - in short, making the translated dialogue sound as if it would fit into the written world of Jeeves, even if it means putting extra Edwardian flair in the dialogue that wasn’t present in the Japanese original. A bit like a localization, what? I’ve done something similar while translating Japanese fan comics of The Great Ace Attorney (since the official English version adds a great deal of Victorian flavor in its structure and word choice and I thus wished to mimic that), and I’ve written fanfiction in the world of Jeeves before, so I hope that I am reasonably up to the task.

[daisywords]

\

[vaguely-concerned]

nothing makes me feel like a golden god quite like a new recipe turning out delicious on the first try. unfortunately, conversely nothing makes me feel more 'I am god's mistake' than spending all that time and effort on something and having to make a sandwhich b/c the results were inedible if you want to retain your capacity for delight. the duality of home chef

[fallout-fucker]

Crows Of The Commonwealth

I was on CrowTok and it made me come up with an idea.

So, obviously a lot of the crows in the Commonwealth are made by the Institute, though I personally like to believe that there are still a lot of crows that are regular ones, too.

Crows are an incredibly smart species of bird, which makes sense as to why they're the ones the Institute use. To my memory, I don't think there are any other birds in the game. Again, I'd like to headcanon that they're not the only ones left but if only a few species of birds managed to survive the bombs and the aftermath, I wouldn't put it past crows to be one of those species due to that intelligence.

Crows are known for recognising people, which also works in favour of the Institute as to why they'd choose them specifically. If you are able to tell the difference between individual crows, you'll be less likely to question if a specific one if following you if you are aware they likely recognise you.

However, they're also known to bring gifts and trinkets if treated right, or actually attack people who don't. And they remember faces. I don't get the impression that the Institute treats them too kindly if they don't even consider Gen 3 Synths as people, who are literally created with technology and human biology/DNA.

If we imagine that the Institute Crows work like Synths do, then that means that they are also able to become independent like Synths can. We know they have the level of intelligence, more so than another species of bird, to perhaps reach that level of independence. That's exactly why the Institute picked them. Wouldn't it be ironic if that became part of the Institute's downfall.

So imagine a Sole Survivor, fresh out of the Vault, scared and cold on their first few nights. Hungry, tired, likely sick, grieving. Alone. They have Dogmeat. They have themselves. A few strangers they saved. Nothing else.

They're trying their best one night to settle. They've only been unfrozen for a few days by now, but have yet to leave Sanctuary. They chose to stay for a couple days to prepare for their long journey ahead, and rebuild their home so they had somewhere to go back to. Preston has taught them basics self defence and survival, Sturges has helped them temporarily fix the holes in their walls. They're not close to these strangers yet, but there's a small comfort in knowing there's still people, and people nearby to run to if anything not friendly comes knocking on their door.

They're picking at a 200 year old box of stale cereal, not able to stomach the taste just yet. In the end, they end up leaving it in a bowl for Dogmeat to have, preferring to sleep, hunger be damned. They sleep on the floor that used to hold the dinning table, not ready to sleep in the now-too-empty bedrooms.

By morning, their sleep is interrupted. Not by the cold October air that their thin, makeshift blanket- That doubles as their coat during the day- barley keeps away. Not by the sunlight that seeps in by the broken shards of class where the window used to be. Not by drops of rain that fall through the cracks in the ceiling. Not even by Dogmeat licking then awake, like he did yesterday morning. This time it's the sound of pecking and squawking that has Sole prying their eyes open.

A small group of grows picking at the bowl of cereal. They must've gotten in through what once was the window, or literally any of the holes of missing metal panels scattered throughout the building. Sole barely has it in them to care. They know they shouldn't waste food that could've gone to them or their new furry friend, but they truly cannot bring it in them to mind. They wonder if the birds have a hard time finding food, too, and decide it might not be a waste at all.

They sit up. A few of the crows fly up onto the windowsill at their movements, one stays enjoying their breakfast, unfazed. Sole waits, sitting still until the birds realise they have no intention of harming them. They glide back down onto the floor, going back to eating.

After a few moments, the crow that stayed perks his head up, neck twitching into an angle that lets him look at Sole. He hops over, stopping just before he reaches their lap. Sole raises their hand, thumb and index finger moving slowly until they land on its neck. His feathers bristle under Sole's pets, his feet dancing happily beneath him. The other crows finish their breakfast. Salem, Sole decides to call him, joins his friends who hop back onto the windowsill. They fly off. He turns his head to the side, a beady eye looking at Sole again. He squawks at them before flying off to join the others.

Sole spends the rest of their day taking metal panels from some of the completely collapsed houses to fix the holes in their walls. They're able to find paint at the old Red Rocket down the road when looking for more equipped tools. Repainting isn't exactly their priority right now, just making sure the house will be fit to stand against the weather, and for when it gets colder in the next few months. The paint will be useful when they get to the stage of being able to consider making it look presentable, however. Unfortunately, the only paintbrush they find is snapped in half. They toss it in frustration. Less so because of the brush itself, and more so because Sole has a lot of anger built up from the events of the last few days that they have no other outlet for.

They end up going home when the sun starts to set, having avoided the empty tomb of memories for as long as possible. It wasn't safe to be out so close to dark.

When they set down their tolls by the door, something on the kitchen counter catches their eye.

Upon inspection, they realise it's an intact paintbrush.

Their confusion lasts barely five seconds, as they hear a familiar squawk. Hoping on the windowsill is Salem. His eyes study Sole. He's waiting. Sole smiles, pulling open the duffle bag they'd taken on their supply run. They pull out two wild mutfruits, which they'd harvested from bushes near the station. Sole cuts them into smaller pieces, before tossing them gently into the grass of their back garden from the car porch. Salem glides to the pieces, now satisfied in knowing that Sole approved of and appreciated his gift. Sole looks up to the trees that border their garden where other crows have started to also descend from to join in on the food offering. Apparently, there's a lot more in this group than what Sole had assumed from the smaller one earlier. About twenty feathered creatures dance about on branches decorated by orange and brown leaves or nibble at the mutfruit in the grass.

Salem flies over once he's had his fill, taking a seat on Sole's shoulder. His friends also begin hopping over gradually, and Sole ends up sitting down to welcome them and pet their small heads. Dogmeat also seems to love the attention, or perhaps just the warmth that radiates from Sole's body as he curls up next to them. Every so often, one of them drops a trinket into Sole's lap as they snuggle into them. A random screw, some gears, even some bottlecaps. Bits and bobs that a few days ago, Sole would've considered mostly junk, even if they'd still been appreciative, but everything now is useful. They even drop a few things by Dogmeat's snout, who sniffs them, tail wagging. Sole doesn't think Salem appreciates the happy licks Dogmeat gives him, though.

Regardless, Sole breathes out slowly, deeply, as they take in the sunset and birdsong before them. It's the first time they've honestly felt any peace since leaving that godforsaken Vault.

Sole makes a mental note to redesign the kitchen window when they get around to fixing it so that it'll be able to open widely. They also begin thinking about designs for birdhouses, feeders, and small fountains.

It's safe to say Sole feels slightly better than they did when they went to bed last night.

They feel less alone.

For some reason, as Salem nestles into their lap, against their stomach, a small pressure builds in their gut. They can't quite shake the instinct, the thought that comes with it. The feeling that Salem feels less alone now, too.

[teeayohess]

i love hopping from wip to wip like a deranged little gremlin*

*person with adhd

[sibyl-of-space]

menu navigation is the bane of my existence but that bitch is CODED

[constelationprize]

My main takeaway from TSC now being the second trilogy is that I'm gonna spend the next two books waiting for Stuart to do his routine of showing up out of nowhere, being an absolute cunt for no reason, and then leaving at least one more time. Do I think it will happen? No, I didn't even expect it the first time. But a girl can dream.

[randomnameless]

This guy is really something alright. Screenshotting from accounts that blocked him or don't want to talk with him, criticizing a fanfic for not being accurate to canon, being so dead set on that he would tell you "yeah akshually Tellius handled racism great and 3H did it too and 3H handled everything great because Fodlan well written"

To be honest,

Tellius is in this weird situation that it starts like your usual Tales of game, two races who hate each other, racism everywhere, the hero and the cast accepting to work together despite differences and wanting to create a world for everyone...

But it drops the ball hard with the Branded. So hard, that its entire message, as a game in a doylist POV is, imo, inaudible.

It reminds of prehistoric a saga I was reading - a period where neanderthals were coexisting with "modern humans", and one of the neanderthals understood that his race was bound to disappear tin the future, when the new "modern humans" will continue on living.

FE Archanea had the same premises - dragons who are bound to degenerate because apparently it's now time for humans to run the show, and even if the technicites suck, they can still find a way to "coexist" if they nerf themselves and use dragonstones.

It sucks, but at least they don't lose part of themselves like Laguzs in FE Tellius, they just have to seal it and can unseal it when they want.

Still, it completely tanks the main message, how can you have a anti racism message when you know one race will ultimately die out?

As for Fodlan and how it deals with racism...

"Dragon blood is the reason why the world doesn't work" "I want to free the world of Dragon blood" - not withstanding the various depiction of Almyrans lol

[ghostorbz]

Adjustments

[voidimp]

maybe now that i have adhd meds i can attempt Language again

[thematicparallel]

looks like i'll need to work on the weekend. big yikes!

[trashpremiium]

i wish i knew how to keep friends :( making friends is… hard, but doable. if i have a reason to be near someone and they’re amenable to my Autism Beam of infodumping, i can usually make them tolerate being around me for as long as that activity lasts.

but semesters end. mutual interests fade. activities wrap up. and then those people leave. not to say i’m not thankful for however long their friendship lasted, i just wish people were more likely to want to be friends because they liked me, not because i was a body near them to spend time with.