#punctuation errors

[dwuerch-blog]

To Err is Human…..But Who Likes Erring?

I spend many hours of my day on my computer. As we travelled back to Austin, I was typing my next blog. My computer is one of my best friends. I spend more time with it than anything else. With all the typing, editing and publishing I do, I have apps that correct spelling errors, punctuation errors and even word arrangements. Most of my social media posts are mistake-free because of those apps.…

[lurkinginnernarrator]

au where SQQ does undergo the 'qi-deviation' and is 'changed' but in reality the twin of Shen Jiu, Shen Yuan made a comment one day about how all Shen Jiu did was bitch about his martial siblings. Never one to turn down a golden opportunity,

Shen Jiu: bet

And so the twins decided to switch lives!

The qi-deviation is just so they can explain away any differences of temperament and so sj can hightail away easier.

Shen Yuan: this is going to be so easy

(spoiler. it wasn't)

Between useless sect meetings that could've been not even an email but a text message, reading fifteen different preteens attempts to sneak in dick jokes into their poetry assignments, the head cook alerting him to the fact that they've somehow run out of rice??? They're the greatest cultivation sect??? How does that happen???

Anyway, two of his Hall masters eloping together and taking an extended honeymoon (he's happy for them, but. Who's going to teach those classes now??? Him. Apparently.), sect politics and his 'martial siblings' barely even attempting a farce of civility or courtesy AND his guqin strings needing to be replaced and restrung ?

Shen Yuan is sorry 🙏🙏please come back🙏🙏🙏

Cue the allotted period of switching ending and Shen Yuan dramatically throwing the fan on the ground as Shen Jiu rolls up and goes "thanks for the vacation didi"

[maidenborn]

Detective Love-struck!

Shoto x reader in which Reader discovers a love letter in her locker, and recruits deku to help her. fem reader, maybe oc deku and shoto idk, reader has an older brother, first little fanfic thingy, I haven't written in god knows how long don't burn me at the stake plz

Word count: 1,707

When you were younger, stupider and shameless, you and your only friend Shoto, would play detective during your free time together. At the age of five, you and your comrade had already solved ONE case, the infamous 'who stole older brother's motorbike?!' case, which you and shoto apparently 'took credit for' or whatever that means. Despite how much you swore to your brother how you and Shoto knew where it was before the police. And how you tipped the cops off with your super secret telepathy quirk that no one but shoto knew about.

He responded with a, "well if you're so smart why don't you figure out where my old 3DS is?? by the way, you don't have telepathic powers, forehead." You'd clench your fist every time that cursed nickname left his lips, but anyways, you accepted his challenge, walking away cursing him with the most vulgar name you could think up, telepathically of course. you swear you heard his breath stifle in shock as you stomped off, coincidence? I think not.

Your winning streak of problem solving ended with anger at your rivals, the police down the road, when they refused to let you into the station after you relentlessly demanded that they let you see the files of fifty year-old unsolved homicide case. The next day you sulked to Shoto during lunch, who stared at you with that blank stare he always does."you tried to break in again?" An accusation?!?!?!? The tipping point.

You fake-angry threw your paper cut-out detective badge, that you and your best-friend made during arts and crafts, with all your strength, only for it to slowly flutter to the ground awkwardly. That day you announced your retirement from the force. Claiming all the hard thinking was giving you wrinkles, that only caused shoto to look more confused, tilting his head to the side. "Wrinkles?"

"On my forehead." You huffed.

Your interest for the antics of detectives on tv and corny live-action crime thrillers died off as your ambition and hope to become a real life pro hero ignited, as did your connection with Shoto, even if you started to see him less frequently as the years of your childhood passed by. It was a blessing that you managed to land a place in class 1-A alongside your companion. Your bond reinvigorated, grew stronger as you were reunited with the boy, the lingering figure of his father, Endeavour had dissipated, granting the boy a newfound freedom. You found yourself spending almost all your free time with him now, way more than you ever did when you were kids. And you were grateful for it. So very grateful.

Now, both you and him had matured, albeit not a lot since you were both fifteen, but in a fifteen year olds eyes, it was a lot. The boy's once chubby cheeks now had a more slim-chiseled appearence. His head of hair was the same length, perfectly split down the middle, not one stray hair misplaced on either side. His eyes were more narrowed and stern, still fronting that blank look that his eyes always held. However hard his stare was when he looked at others, he'd never dare look at you with that coldness, whenever he caught himself glancing at you his creased brow would almost immediately flatten. His gaze defrosted into liquid, a softness so delicate and reminiscent of the early days of your relationship. The days where he'd follow you around, craving the warmth of your presence, your smile, you, and everything a five year old brat could offer. In your case, it was friendship.

You and him were two peas in a pod, Detective Shoto and his partner, Sometimes in class you'd daydream about playing detective with him, like how you used to, but you guess you both were a little too old for that now. Besides it's not like there was any mysteries to be solved in the halls of Yuuei.

Not until today.

"a love letter!?!? oh wow!" Deku shrieked a bit too loud for your liking. His whole body shook as he held onto the straps of his backpack. A few students lingering around the halls looked towards the commotion.

"Yeah but shhh!" You leaned closer to the boy pressing your finger to your lips harder and harder. " I don't want anyone to know, it's embarrassinggg! What if they're messing with me? I don't even know who wrote it! I don't wanna get my hopes up you know..." You mumbled that last part, your finger silencing yourself made it hard to talk. You've never been popular with the male species, only ever receiving confessions as jokes from more popular, less disliked, boys. Not that you minded all that, you had a best friend after all, and he was a boy! You were considered popular and you were liked by him!

You tossed your head about to shake the thought of Shoto to no avail. You felt you cheeks heat up. "Can you read it out to me? Maybe they gave a clue as to who they are!" Deku ignored the redness in your face, chalking it up to nervousness. Yeah, you were nervous alright, nervous about what Shoto would think. He's always been relentless in the pursuit of your attention, you couldn't help but wonder how he would react to all this. Would he be mad? No why would he. He has no reason for all that.

You take your time reading out the letter you found in your locker, looking up to meet Izuku's eyes after every sentence, waiting to see if he caught on to any hidden meanings written in-between the lines of the confession. You'd read the letter countless times, scanning over every word to no avail. Only deciding to drag Deku into your conundrum as he was walking past. Whoever had written the letter gave no clue towards their identity. It was just a confession. No 'can you meet me behind the school later today?' or ' will you go out with me? Just an ordinary love letter. Apart from the last section. At the bottom of the paper read a slightly threatening, ominous quote:

"I'll set your heart alight. "

The words made your chest tighten, but not in a good way. It gave you a funny feeling in your stomach, such a normal letter ending so strongly, you were kind of unsettled. "Don't you think that last parts s'a little odd?" You mentioned after finishing up reading. "Kinda sounds like a threat to me." You suddenly gasp, "What if our undercover lover is a villain! They could be plotting to kidnap me ..or worse!" Due to recent events, everyone had the possibility of kidnapping looming over them.

" Umm.. I doubt that a villain could sneak into Yuuei, especially now. I think it was maybe just an attempt romance." Deku chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

"No I seriously thi-

"Yn. Midoriya." Shoto Todoroki stood behind you. You hadn't even noticed him sneaking up on you, whether it was his intention or not, he scared you straight.

"Oh! Hi Shoto!" You calmed yourself, turning your head to make eye contact with him. He only grew closer to you, taking the eye contact as permission to get closer. You could feel the air get hotter as he lingered next to you, reaching his head forward so he could peek at what you were holding so tightly in your hands. His eyes offering no insight to his current emotion whatsoever.

"What is that?" Tilting his head. Suddenly embarrassed you smushed the paper into your chest, crinkling it. "Uhhh.. I got a letter! I don't know who it's from though. Not that it matters." You shrugged. Nice, the nonchalant approach.

"What kind of letter?" He strained his neck for a moment longer before backing up. Face still, ice cold. You sighed at his retreat. Anxiety welling up in your stomach, 'why the hell am I so paranoid for?' You thought.

You were about to dodge the question when Deku asnwered for you, "Its a love letter! From someone unknown, we're actually trying to figure out who it could be from!" At that you crumpled in defeat. Thanks a lot Izuku. Why the hell are you trying to cover it up so much anyways? Huh?!? Your inner monologue accused you.

"Oh." He stepped back even more, No longer feeling his warmth, the hall seemed a whole lot colder without him so close, you urged to scuttle up to him, Only to turn to see Shoto preparing to leave.

"Would you like to help us Sho?" You offered, not wanting him to go so soon. Leaning at the hip towards him, head tilted down, eyes looking up at him.

"No thank you. I have to go, Goodbye Yn, Midoriya, good luck." And at that he started to walk away. You rushed to find something to say, deciding to just let him go, offering a small, "Bye Sho." Along with Izuku's cheery goodbye. 'Was something wrong? Did I do something wrong?' Your spiralling thoughts were soon interrupted by Deku," I wonder what that was all about." The look on Izuku's face mirrored yours, laced with confusion, only less angsty than yours.

"he's probably just busy with assignments or something, wants to get ahead." You chirped, lightening the tension.

"weird of him to turn down an opportunity like this though, he's usually all over this kinda stuff, he's a real hardcore theorist sometimes!... don't tell him I said that."

"oh really?" you jest. Tension dissolved, nice. As if you and him weren't attempting to solve murder mysteries during break time a couple years ago. The memory returning to you, you can't help but feel a little sad.

A couple moments of silence and then, "Ive got it! we could track them down through their handwriting!"

"yeaahhh... but the letters printed!" you retired the letter from your iron grip with an obnoxious groan, provoking a handful of glances from students passing by. "good idea though." You shrink into yourself a little, eye twitchy as you try to disappear through sheer willpower.

"the culprit has thought this out really well.."

"Yeah.. no clues or anything. Apart from the curse at the end."

"Yeah."

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH PLZ LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOYED THIS IM WORKINT ON A PART TWO!!!

I don't rlly know how to write stories like this, perchance ill turn it into a mini series or something

part 2

[bigbigtruck]

This weekend

I'm prepping the collected edition of TJ AND AMAL for its third printing. It's a strange feeling. ICC offered me the chance to make any revisions I wanted and while it's tempting to clean up all the old art and things I'd do differently now than 10-15 years ago, that way lies fucking madness. So I'm just making some text and formatting corrections. And friends, I had never done this before but going through that comic ONLY reading the text was goddamn wild

[hungrydolphin91]

Font replicated from Dawn of the New World

Font replicated from Tales of Graces

[godblooded]

uh impromptu english bite sized lesson from your local literature graduate:

to compliment someone is to say something nice to them or indicate that you think something about them is pleasant.

to complement someone means that you complete them to a perfect degree.

you pay someone a compliment when you say they look fly.

you complement someone when you look fly and also so do they, thereby completing you both having infinite rizz or whatever the fuck the kids say these days.

(you look fly today.)

[house-of-mirrors]

Menace: "This could have benefited from a editor" is increasing

[vtoriacore]

✧ truly, he can’t hate you

note: since it was his birthday vv recently, i decided malleus needs to suffer and be sad and feel the thousand winds of torment and misery (this isn’t me wanting to see his OB form early at all or anything don’t look AT ME LIKE THAT GRRRR) ! but man did i miss writing angst and it just works so well with him so like . . . 🤭

tw: yandere, angst [no comfort]

synopsis: in which malleus cannot bring himself to be happy, having bound you both to shackles of anguish that he isn't willing to remove - no matter the cost.

Silence. It had been like this for quite a while now; he counted all the days, turned to weeks, turned to months. And yet, despite the crushing pressure of the unspoken words he knew you'd utter if you were more responsive, he finds that he doesn't mind it all too much anymore.

Or so he tells himself each time the dull ache comes back as his brilliant green eyes take in your form once more. He knows you can feel him gazing at you, and he knows that your policy of ignoring his existence will not be disturbed. He really should hate you for it but he doesn't.

He can't bring himself to, as after all he was the one to take you back with him all the way to Briar Valley. You always used to say that you hated the atmosphere of the place, and how often everything seemed too dim and sombre. He would always recount the way your once shining eyes settled on every grand structure, and how you'd grimace at the way the gargoyles on many of the stone walls would tower over everyone - never knowing if they were scrutinising or safeguarding.

Malleus hated to admit that it hurt. Absolutely loathed to admit that it stung and stabbed at his pallid skin until he'd have to forcibly stop himself relaying your cold disregard of his home, his culture, his identity. It left him feeling cold to the core and each time he'd only be more numb to your cruelty than the last. But it was never easy to bear nonetheless.

He supposed this was the only good thing about the ever present silence, but the knowledge of you despising anything and everything about his very substance still had him faltering and grasping at even the tiniest sliver of perceived reciprocation. He hated how you made him feel so desperate and fragile, but he could never hate you.

Admittedly though, he had begun to hate the circumstances you both found yourself in. First and foremost he didn't want to own up to the fact he had brought you here against your will (and he so wishes you'd understand it's for your own safety!) and that you were very clearly discontent with his actions. However, Malleus had hoped you'd show even the slightest bit of gratitude - he had to fight tooth and nail to get you to where you are now.

He shed blood, but not his own, to have you sitting beside him on this emerald bejewelled throne as a rightful ruler of the Briar Valley, and yet when you used to defiantly reject every concession he had ever made all you uttered with disgust was a curt "I hate this" followed by a prolonged "I hate you."

When you had learned of his slaying of an advisor for even suggesting to remarry someone else, you had stopped talking completely though. There were no more simple, short words to be spoken, but he understood the silence very well. He was after all, used to being alone. Used to the discreet glances of rejection from majority of those he had crossed paths with. But he just couldn't understand why you didn't see things the way he did.

Why couldn't you comprehend all the sacrifices he had made? Why couldn't you see the way he defied Lilia, his most trusted bodyguard, when he had gone against bringing you here? Why couldn't you realise the painstaking guilt he felt for imprisoning Silver for trying to help you escape? Why couldn't you discern the way he banished Sebek for an attempt on your life and how it made him want to claw at his throat to atone for his actions?

Were you this content to let every relationship of his dissipate into dust, as if they had never carried an ounce of meaning? Did you take pleasure in the way his feelings, very raw and ready to boil over, were being torn to shreds every passing second? Are you satisfied with how his memories spill out into a mirage of a sullied dream as he clutches at his chest until he loses awareness of his surroundings?

He honestly couldn't tell, and maybe -he rationalised with himself- that was for the better. Because for as long as you don't voice these thoughts and split his heart open, he'd be able to keep hanging onto the hope that one day you might just change your mind and be his last meaningful relationship. Ignorance may not be complete bliss, but it's far better than the awareness of his growing misery.

[melodyatlas]

me, whenever other writers are telling me they can't post yet cause they have to edit still

[awallflowerspoet]

as a writer it is my sole purpose to make sentences as complicated and overly punctuated as possible in order to show my immense knowledge of the craft (i don't know what half of these symbols mean)

[sentientsky]

you're in a car with a beautiful (not-) boy and you don't know how you've managed to stay intact this long, how you haven't fractured at the edges yet, lit up from the inside with all that aching, cataclysmic want you've fought so hard to keep quiet—to keep from thrashing in your chest like a sparrow against glass.

you're in a car with a beautiful not-boy, and you're not human but if you were, you're certain this longing would have killed you by now, would have left you in the cool green earth—rotted you down to the quick—a thousand times over (and if that didn't kill you, then the look in his eyes now certainly would). and you don't, can't, won't believe in god because how could She create such a being and then not let you press your palms to the side of his face, not let you hold him, not let you open your mouth like a confession box and tell him, there is a bird inside my chest and you are the center of every solar system and i'm willing to play the part of icarus if only you'd let me. and you don't/can't/won't believe in god, but his eyes open and its like the sun in a three-piece beige suit and you're pretty sure you stopped breathing the moment he got in the car (hell, you haven't tasted oxygen since the moment he stood on the cliffside, hands all empty of swords and fire).

you're in a car with a beautiful not-boy, and you're all spitfire and grief and six thousand years of whispered half-syllables into the dark of a lonely night, of savouring the way his name burns your tongue like sacrament (holy, holy, holy).

and he's handing you a thermos now, and his hand brushes yours and it's been nearly thirty years, and still you'd let him turn you to salt if it meant he might touch you again.

... but you go too fast for him. you always go too fast, with all your ugly, hollow-boned want and your burning yellow eyes and your hands, sullied with the weight of sin; fingertips that look more like claws than anything you'd ever want to touch with any scrap of volition.

and you're in your car with this beautiful boy who is not a boy and you're burning up, plummeting like a waxen-winged thing. and he's looking at you and you're falling, and the world is twisting around the edges, and he's stepping out of the car and your ribcage is becoming a slaughterhouse—an abattoir with all its knives turned up towards the sky. and then you're in a car, and you’re alone. and that is all.

[causenessus]

locked in so hard...I outlined two chapters...but wait, it gets worse. I was so locked in my outline is 20 pages long already...and I only have three chapters....the power of a silly drink and three hours at the library

[justalittlebluetiefling]

The Mighty Nein: Episode Summaries Episode 22: Lost Treasures

Bonus:

[helenoftroysam]

samjohn where John lives past s2 and holds a dead Sam in his arms instead of Dean in ahbl? How do you think he’d behave?

This is not something I had ever considered before and it made me lose my mind a little bit when I let myself think about it.

I LOVE this scene for Sam and Dean but oh my god can you imagine if it was John in the mud on his knees, rocking Sam back and forth, telling him he's going to be okay because his dad's got him now, he'll keep him safe.

He knows there's nothing he can do, tries his best to keep the tears from his voice as he holds Sam's face in his hands, memorising his features. Wipes the blood from his mouth with a shaky thumb. He wants Sam's last memories to be of him, of someone who loves him so much. He can't let Sam go with his last memories of being stabbed in the back.

He's glad that Dean isn't here to see this, that he doesn't have to see his brother die in front of him.

He's failed both his boys in so many different ways but he never wanted to end up here, could never fathom ending up here even when he considered the thought that he might have to ...

He can't even finish the thought.

Sam isn't dying by his hand but it still feels like a personal failure, like it's his fault somehow. It's like the pain of losing Mary all over again and please God no he can't do this again, he can't breathe as he cradles Sam to his chest and holds his limp head on his shoulder, dirty hand buried in dark curls.

"Shh, Sammy," he whispers, not able to speak any louder than this. He keeps talking, even knowing Sam won't respond to him again. Keeps rocking him like he did when he was trying to soothe a fussy baby Sam. He suddenly thinks of the baby he brought home from the hospital with Mary, of placing him in Dean's arms for the first time. "It's okay." His tears are soaking into Sam's hair, but he doesn't think about how Sam can't feel it. "You ... you'll be with Mary. You'll be safe with her, Sammy." He doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, knees numb from the cold mud and his head and chest aching with a grief he never wanted to feel again. He doesn't believe in happy endings or heaven anymore but if he has to lie to soothe himself Sam, he'll do it. He'll do it if it means he can pretend he made his son's last moments comfortable. He doesn't think about how Sam stopped moving before he started talking to him. He can't stop pretending, he doesn't want to.

[not-poignant]

how do ao3 authors generally (or you specifically!) feel about readers pointing out small spelling/grammar mistakes? i sometimes tack it on to a comment i’ve already written, but am not sure if it’s helpful or a breach of etiquette or something.

Hi anon!

I imagine every author feels differently. I'm generally fine with it, as long as it's something I can fix in like a minute (so a typo, a grammatical error). If it's something bigger like a continuity error that's going to take hours / days to fix then it's like 'I do not see it and I would like if you also pretended not to see it' lmao

That being said, if a reader only comments to correct grammar and doesn't talk about liking or enjoying the chapter, it can sometimes feel a bit pedantic, or like they're not even enjoying the process. So it doesn't hurt to just...also say you're enjoying the chapter at the time lol. If you're tacking it on to comments you've already written, for me that's perfectly fine and really helpful! I usually fix the error ASAP even if I don't reply to the comment immediately.

It's also completely fine if someone wants to reach out to me privately to point out a grammar/spelling/punctuation thing but don't want it to be seen in the comments! I've had people reach out via Discord or through the Ask system here so I can go and fix something in a chapter. So for folks who feel a bit like maybe they shouldn't (though it is okay!) you can try reaching out privately too.

Different authors feel differently about it! I overall find it really helpful, especially in things that are the easiest for me to miss (like substituted names which editing software won't pick up, or a dropped word) - but all of it's helpful if it makes for a smoother reading experience for everyone.

[meatmensch]