#Beta Reader Feedback

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

The First Chapter of New Book “Substack Mastery” for Beta Readers

Why I wrote this book and how freelance writers and content entrepreneurs can benefit from it Introduction to My New Book for Free A few months ago, when I publicly announced that I would dedicate 80% of my time to Substack, 15% to Newsbreak, and just 5% to Medium, I received an intriguing call from one of my book publishers. This serendipitous encounter was inspiring, much like one of my…

[satoruyes]

co-parent bakugou

katsuki bakugou x reader (part two)

   fwb! bakugou who often came by your dorm during college to drop off school work when you missed lectures and loads when you missed him.

fwb! bakugou who came by before bed to fuck you into your pillow and listen to your hushed moans, hushed so your roommates wouldn’t hear. (they did)

fwb! bakugou who’s scared of committing because he “couldn’t see you in his future” and was too focused on his.

fwb! bakugou who’s late night visits became more and more scarce.

fwb! bakugou who months later soft launches his new partner on his story after telling you he’s not ready for a relationship.

fwb! bakugou who stops breathing at the sight of your name popping up on his phone as he cuddles his partner while watching movies, and nearly has a stroke at the “Im pregnant.” text. 

_____

“well are ya sure it’s mine?” he asks, not daring to look away from you. you break eye contact and look outside the coffee shops’ window to focus on anything other than this conversation you’ve been dreading. “are you serious? you should know i’m not exactly one to sleep around,” you say to the man. he nods and his grip on his mug gets tighter, knuckles visibly whiter. “well, are ya keepin’ it,” he asks, “i don’t think  that’d be a bright idea for either of us.” you kind of glare but think over his words. “you know how my parents feel about abortion kats.. i’d be disowned. the second the press found out about it, my family would be done for,” your eyes start to water and a tear threatens to fall, you pause “.. i thought you said you don’t do relationships?”

katsuki stares at you and shakes his head, “those fuckin’ hormones already getting to your brain or somethin?“ he sighs, “you know i can’t do this *nickname*. i’m in a committed relationship with raya, we’re getting engaged next month. on top of that, i can’t be number one with a baby leechin’ of me.” your heart drops, “you’re.. getting engaged? i.. um.. well, congratulations. i’m sorry to burden you with all of this… and i can’t abort it anyway.. i.. i’m too far along.. and i cant do this.” you finish & get up from the table and leave.

________

baby daddy! bakugou who ends up losing contact with you for months after you block him on everything a refuse to meet up per your family’s request.

baby daddy! bakugou who nearly forgets about you years later til kirishima brings you up and shows him your instagram.

baby daddy! bakugou who gets home and stalks you from a burner account, finds out you still talk to everyone from college but him.

baby daddy! bakugou who sees a pretty little ruby-eyed girl down your timeline, her resemblance to him uncanny.

baby daddy! bakugou who pulls some strings and texts your number asking to meet his daughter, hana. 

___________

hana is 2 years old by now, forming choppy sentences and now waddling on her feet. after a week of texting, you finally fold and let him come over to meet his daughter. when you open the door to let him in he nearly finds himself choking on his spit at how beautiful you are. you looked even better than your posts, if that’s possible. you greeted him with a nod and invited him in. he takes his shoes off and head to the living room you led him to. you exchange stale pleasantries and small talk til you decide to go get your baby girl. “her name is ‘hana lei bakugou,’ as much as i wanted her to have my last name.”

you walk over to him and hand her to him, noticing the wedding band resting around his ring finger. you scoff, “wow so you two actually got married?” he nods and analyzes his daughters’ features. “shes so pretty, just like ‘er momma,” he half smiles and look up at you. “so i’ll have her back later tonight, gonna take ‘er home to meet the wife and all of that.” he goes to get off the couch. “woah, you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to come back back after all this time like nothing happened.” he looks frustrated for a second, “you can’t just- … yea yer right, ‘m sorry.’’

you nod, “how about we go up to her room and play?” he agrees and follows you into his daughter’s bedroom while carrying her.

“So.. how long have you two been in the area?” he asks, scanning his daughter's room. “I never really left, just moved closer to the city i guess,” you reply; putting hana down to the floor. She waddles over to katsuki. “hana, baby this is your father,” you look down at the little girl. At first she looks up at you with her glowing beady eyes then she looks over to Katsuki sitting over on a couch. “papa?” she asks and she points her dainty finger at him. you nod and smile. “yes baby, that's your papa.” 

katsuki looks at the little girl and she reaches up for him. “up.” she says, and he obliges. you two talk and rekindle for what seemed to be days. In reality it was just about 4 hours. “*name* it was really nice to see you again, let's go out for dinner sometime. with hana of course.” you lead him downstairs while he says his goodbyes to hana. 

-- 

“I told ya about this years ago raya, you can't be mad about this. What did you expect? for them to disappear?” bakugou yells at his wife. “well i didnt fucking expect you to go out of your way to to reach out either!” she pouts, anger and jealousy laced in her tone. “I have to own up to this responsibility now whether you like it or not, stop fuckin’ cursin’ at me. ‘m already stressed as is; ‘ion need yer bitchin’.” 

“oh so now i'm bitching because you went out and got some slut pregnant.. you're just full of it katsuki.” raya says, glaring at him now. “ya cant get mad at me because I wanna be a father, ‘nd not just leave some kid stranded out here.” 

“it's not just about the kid is it? do you miss the bitch or something? do you miss the sex? did she give you better head than I do?” raya accuses, bakugou sighs and goes to leave the room, “‘nd yea- she did give better head.” as he walks to their shared room he can hear her still yelling in the distance.

katsuki bakugou goes to sleep confused tonight. He wonders why was he such a prick. he wonders why did his heart pound so fast- why were his hands so sweaty when he saw you.

he couldn't do this. he has a wife. hes happily married, regardless of any arguments. his wife was the mayors daughter and promised him various things, she promised him glory. of course he didn't need her but it's definitely more helpful to have more "support." plus you hated him, only putting up with him for the sake of his daughter. no, it wasn't attraction- it was just nervousness. he loved his wife.

katsuki woke up to his wife, raya in his arms. she looked so pretty and peaceful like this. he snapped out of his daze and got out of bed to catch a shower. he couldn't help but find his hand reaching down to take care of himself. usually when he finds himself touching himself; its of thoughts of his wife from the night prior. but today it was you. he felt shameful but he just couldnt help it. he couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. hes only human.    

[writingwithfolklore]

Questions from Beta Readers are Rhetorical

You know when people leave you questions on your work during the feedback process like, “why is she doing this?” or “who is this again?” or “how does this relate to what was just said?” You’re not meant to reply back and answer those.

They aren’t asking because they want you to explain it to them—or at least, that’s not very helpful to the actual work. They’re asking because something in the manuscript is unclear. Most readers won’t have the benefit of having you next to them to answer questions as they go—the work has to hold up on its own. If something is unclear, it should be addressed in the text, it’s pretty useless if it’s addressed only in your answer back to your beta reader.

So actually, when people ask me questions about my manuscript, I don’t answer them at all. I go back into the work and try to clarify, and then I have them read it again. If they have the same question, it means I need to try again until the confusion is cleared up.

Sometimes the people I edit for reply back with paragraphs of explanation, and I tell them that it’s great that they understand it, but I don’t need or want them to explain it to me afterward. I was asking the question so they knew what exactly was unclear to me (a bit more helpful than saying “this is confusing”). I want the understanding to come from just reading the piece.

That being said, some beta readers might want you to chat about it further with them—it’s up to you guys! But if you don’t also address the question in the work, you’re not doing yourself or your piece any favours.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Fuuuuuck. The new comic is up to 13 pages and I still haven’t stuck the landing. Fuck… do I ruthlessly cut or do I lean in and make it a three parter?

[1wh4re1]

Okay so more Ghoap x F!Reader. Just a blurb. Also, these will definitely be in whatever order inspiration strikes me first.

You're covered in sweat, tendrils of hair sticking to your face and you swear you swear you can still feel your left side despite the epidural. You've been at this for what feels like days despite it being less than 10 hours.

This wasn't how you imagined the birth of your baby. One partner whose remains had drifted over that beautiful cliffside and the other god knows where who chose to walk away from you. Still, you are grateful for the man holding your hand beside you now.

John Price never imagined he'd be in this situation. Your hand gripping his (quite painfully god your grip is strong), and him wiping away your sweat and tears. He knows he isn't the man who should be here and he knows that he shouldn't have sent Simon to chase a lead so close to your due date even though the man doesn't even know you're pregnant at all.

He watches you flush, tears leaking from your eyes through another round of pushing, and thinks he is quite possibly the biggest bastard on earth for keeping this secret for you.

You're exhausted. Worn out. Dead beat tired. The doctor between your legs encourages you. Only a few more pushes she says and you're almost there. You sob, heaving breaths as more tears stream down your face. Squeezing Price's hand you start to push again, praying that this is the end.

The relief of hearing your baby cry for the first time is overshadowed by the blood rushing through your ears and the wooziness you feel. You can't make out what the doctors are saying.

"What...what are they saying," you slur, tongue feeling heavier than lead in your mouth as you roll your head over to look at Price. "Where's my baby, why can't I see my baby?"

Price tries to reassure you but the room is erupting into chaos around him. The monitors attached to you start to wail.

"BP is dropping."

"She's hemorrhaging."

"We need an OR stat. Page them and tell them we are on the way."

"Sir, we need to move her please go to the waiting room."

The last thing you feel is Price's hand leaving yours before you slip under into a cool abyss.

@thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99

[commanderfoxdeservesbetter]

Volunteer Beta Services

I don’t want to write but I still want to improve my editing skills so I’m offering volunteer services to beta other’s works from September 23 - October 23

Since October is prime for short fic prompts, I thought this would be a great opportunity

My services include:

• editing grammar and spelling

• offering constructive feedback on dialogue and characterization

• pacing and consistency

• or rhetorics and theme analysis

Again this is voluntary so I’m subject to refuse any work I don’t feel comfortable beta-ing just as you are subject to ignore any and all feedback that you don’t like!

My DMs are open and will be until October 20th. You can DM me here or through discord (add me through username commanderfoxdeservesbetter) or you can email me at commanderfoxdeservesbetter@gmail.com - whichever works.

I hope to provide great services and that this motivates you to write or finish those fics!! 🫶

[dansemacabre]

pinesconers. for my x files au.

[dockett]

All The Very Best of Us II Din Djarin x Reader

Born to Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave.

Summary: You take some initiative.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only! Smut!! Oral/fingering (f! Receiving), unprotected p in v.

Word count: 2.6k

Hello my friends! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come out with another post, but here you are! This takes place after Everything I Love! Hope you all enjoy!

You fidgeted, nervous as you pulled at the bra you were wearing. You watched your reflection as you listened to Djarin move about the ship. You sighed, looking over yourself. The lingerie was a deep red, crimson as blood, and it hugged your body in all the right ways. You felt… pretty. A rarity. 

Would he think the same? 

You pushed away the immediate thought of rejection that followed, your brain conjuring the image of the Mandalorian refusing you—dismissing you even. Shaking your head, you tried to focus on the facts: he allowed you to sleep in his bunk now—encouraged it, even. You had learned in your time with him that his primary love language was physical affection, his arms always wrapped around you at night, his hands always finding a place at the small of your back during the day. You had danced around your affection for each other, never verbalizing it.

He had told you weeks before that he had wanted you, but he wanted to take it slow. You hesitated again. Would this be pushing the boundary he had wanted to hold with you? You finally met your eyes in the mirror, and you heard him make his way into the cockpit, no doubt doing his final check over everything before getting settled to rest with you. 

You nodded to yourself as you came to a conclusion, you would try, and if he wasn't ready, it didn't mean he wouldn't eventually be. Before you could second guess yourself, you opened the fresher door and made your way to his bunk. 

You sat down on the bed to wait for him and you felt the seconds tick by, slow and agonizing. 

When you heard his footsteps, you leaned back, staring at the door. He knocked once, asking, “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” you called, bracing yourself. 

The door slid open and he stepped once before stopping completely. His helmet was focused on you, visor gleaming in the low light. He didn't move or speak, making no indication of what was on his mind. You glanced away, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

“I… I hope that this is okay,” you mumbled. “I was—well, I am—nervous.” 

He shook his head after a beat, stepping fully into the small space and closing the door behind him. You swallowed, bare feet rubbing against each other in anxiousness. He took another step, and lifted his arms, slowly reaching to discard his gloves. You held your breath as his golden skin came into view. His hands reached for you as he got closer, fingers wrapping around your ankles and pulling your feet apart. 

A shudder ripped through your body as he finally spoke. “This is more than okay.” His voice dripped with desire and a feverish heat ravaged through your body, lighting your skin on fire. “Do you think you can do this to me and get away with it, mesh’la? Maker, you're tempting me.” 

He knelt down onto the bed, his hands now tracing up your thighs. You breathed harder, head tilted down as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Tempting you?” You asked coyly. “I'm not doing anything.”

He hummed. His hand gripped your hip as the other came to your cheek, cradling it in a gentle hold. His thumb brushed over your lip. You knew he was staring at them from under that visor. You were seized with an idea, and slowly, you took his thumb into your mouth and without looking away, you sucked. 

His hand tightened its hold on your side and his chest heaved. You smiled, delighted by the effect you had on him and released his thumb with a loud ‘pop!’

“Senaar…” he groaned. Your thighs trembled and wetness pooled between them. 

“I want you,” you told him, moving to kiss the palm of his hand. You had wanted him for a long, long time. His body pulled away, and you frowned, reaching to keep him close, but he was too fast for you.

Panic ensued, and you felt that maybe you shouldn't have said what you said. The room was plunged into darkness a second later as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

“Need to taste you,” he growled, stepping back towards you. Then, you heard the sound of metal being set down. A harsh realization struck you. He was taking off his armor.

“Stop,” you said. All movement halted. It was impossible to see anything with the lights off. “Are… are you sure?” 

A pause before you heard, “I am.”

“Wouldn't that be—”

“It's fine, mesh'la.”

You hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

Nervousness tingled in your stomach and he told you to take off your bralette. More soft clinking sounds echoed through the room, and then the unfamiliar hiss of his helmet being detached. The bed dipped with his weight, his hands reaching and finding your legs in the dark after you had discarded the lingerie. You startled when you felt his lips, and the faintest scratch of facial hair, along your calf. 

His hands trailed up the tops of your thighs, fingers curling around your underwear before sliding the pair off and down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor. He kissed up your leg, and you shuddered. Was this even real? Was Din Djarin really between your legs, helmet forgotten, or was this another dream?

He meandered, taking his time with you. When his breath coiled over your pubic mound your hips bucked. He chuckled, the sound almost foreign without the modulator in the way. Your breath hitched in your throat as his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you down firmly in place. 

You whined, shivering as he kissed the junction of your pelvis and thigh. You could feel his smile against your skin. Maker, his smile. You trembled again, gasping out, “Don't tease me.” 

“Getting impatient?” He said back, tone light. Your thighs threatened to slam close around his head, his voice shaking you to your core. He laughed again, and then leaned in closer. “I've been waiting to taste you, senaar. Teach me.”

Your hands reached for him then, your skin on fire from his breath. Fingers pushed into his hair—curls—and pulled him closer to you. His tongue tentatively licked up through your folds and your back arched off the bed. You'd been waiting, too, you realized. You'd wanted this for a long time.

A soft hum came from the man and then without hesitation as you tugged on his hair, he ate you out like he was starving for it. Maybe he was. 

His right arm moved, releasing your thigh as he brought his fingers to your pussy, dipping a digit into your entrance. He licked small circles around your clit, an action that had you seeing stars. Your hand tightened its grip, and your moans increased in pitch. 

You could feel it rising within you, your orgasm threatening to break you with its growing intensity. He listened to every change in tone, every jerk of your body, repeating his patterns and inserting another finger. He curled them inside of you. Your body arched off the bed again. “Djarin!” 

“Again,” he growled. “Say it again.”

You did so, repeating his name like a prayer until you couldn't even think of anything else. All that was in that moment was him, his hips grinding into the bed in time with the thrusts of his fingers, his mouth sucking on your clit, his breath insanely hot against you. It was all too much. 

“Yes, yes! Right there!” 

“I want you to cum on my fingers, mesh’la. Want to taste—” 

Your thighs abruptly slammed closed around his head as your climax ripped through you, exploding inside your abdomen, causing your body to tighten over and over again as you shook. Liquid fire filled your veins and you felt like you couldn't get enough air into your lungs. You groaned his name as he worked you through it, pace slowing but not stopping. You could hear him talking, little words in Mando’a—mesh'la, kandosii’la, ner riduur. 

You didn't know what the words meant, but you craved them all the same. You scrambled to try and get away from him as the attention became too much, hissing through your teeth. 

“Nayc, mesh'la,” he asserted. “I'm not done.” 

You shivered as his arm grew tighter around you, holding you down. His fingers curled inside of you. Your body jerked in response, a high pitched whine dripping from your lips. Everything you could feel and hear in the dark was him, and Maker you wanted this to be how it was every night.

He laughed, a deep rumble from his chest that had you reeling. You had said the last part out loud. Your face burned. He licked a broad stripe over your folds and your insecurities were pushed away and out of your brain.

“Din, please,” you mumbled as your head lulled to the side. Another swipe of his tongue had you shaking, hips jerking against his hold. 

“Please? What do you want?” He asked as the hand you had in his hair slid down to caress his cheek. Din leaned into your touch. 

You swallowed, relaxing back into the bed. “I want you inside me.”

His head pulled away and you twitched when his lips pressed against your stomach. Climbing his way up to your chest, he kissed you every inch of the way and you reveled in the feeling of his powerful body sliding against you, of his lips on your skin. 

The Mandalorian’s mouth was hot on your nipple when he licked over it, his teeth experimental as they grazed over your breast. Your body arched into him and he eagerly began to suck on your nipples. Soft sounds escaped from your mouth, which seemed to encourage his tenacity. 

His mouth, after satisfied with both nipples, began to trail up to your neck, where he kissed up and across your jaw. You turned to meet him, your lips locking together in a surprisingly chaste kiss. He exhaled loudly and pulled back when you brushed your hips against the hard bulge of his flight suit. Your hand fell to his shoulder, the other entwining in his hair. 

“Will you fuck me, Din? Please?” You whispered into his ear. 

All Djarin could do was nod before pulling away completely. 

You heard a shuffle as he took off the last layer of clothing he had on. When he came back down and reached for you, you grabbed onto him and rolled you both over, until you were on top, legs straddling his hips. 

His hands slid up your thighs to your hips, where he gripped them firmly. You shuddered at the feeling of his hard cock pushing up against your core, and you rocked your hips against him. He huffed, his fingers tightening on your flesh. You repeated your movements, filled with delight and excitement when you heard him groan. 

“Mesh’la,” he gasped. “Please… want to be—”

You listened as he cut himself off with a gasp as you reached down, wrapping your hand around him and pumping several times. You continued to hold him against your folds, covering him in wetness. Din breathed hard, his body shaking under yours. When you were ready, you slid him inside of you. 

His whole body jerked under you as he hissed through his teeth. You let out a growl of satisfaction, feeling his hard and delicious length fill you up in every way you wanted. His grip was sure to bruise as he panted beneath you. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you tested the waters by shifting your hips slowly. 

Your hands tightened on him in return when you heard Din whine. You couldn't help your bodily reaction as your thighs squeezed his hips a little tighter. You were making him, the mighty Mandalorian, into nothing but a whimpering mess beneath you. Fire lit inside you, burning through your veins, and you leaned down, moving one of your hands up to his jaw, where you tilted his head up. You brushed over his lip with your thumb in the dark before you brought your lips to his. 

You rolled your hips, drinking down the sounds he gave to you with each rise and fall of your body. Your lips moved together as his hands moved and brushed up to your hips. He gave a gentle push and pull, diligently keeping time to your rhythm. You pulled away from the intimate kiss, before peppering kisses down his jaw and neck to his collarbone. You pulled yourself up and began to set a harder pace.

Djarin’s moan then was a deep and gravelly growl, his hands pushed you harder as he brought his own hips up, slamming into you unexpectedly. You pitched forward as his arms came up, wrapping around you and holding you tight to him. His mouth found your neck, placing wet and sloppy kisses over your skin. Your body jerked against him, a gasp dripping from your lips as he started to fuck you. 

He moaned softly against your skin, “So… tight… senaar.”

Your body tightened as his voice, thick with the fog of pleasure, washed over you. You quickly began to grind your hips down, meeting him thrust for thrust. His mouth came up the side of your neck until he found your earlobe. He gripped it gently with his teeth before tugging on it, which caused your body to jerk. You quickly became overwhelmed, trying to focus on shifting your body to keep up while he distracted you with his teeth and lips. He continued to breathe hard against you. 

Placing your hands on either side of him, you pushed against his grip. His arms fell away, and his pace slowed, letting you take back the control. You felt elated and ravenous, beginning to bounce up and down, hearing the slap of your skin against his. His name dripped from your lips and he jerked up in response. 

You could feel it rising within you, an impending orgasm being pulled from deep within your stomach. Your body began to tense, fluttering around his cock as your eyebrows furrowed. You moaned, loud and uncontrolled, as he shifted up against you once more. His hand reached up, moving to grab onto your breast as he sat up. He found your nipple with his mouth, sucking it eagerly, and then you were lost in the darkness. 

Your eyes slammed closed, brightly colored dots dancing in your vision. You felt yourself shake against him, your body twitching and jerking with each wave of your release. Din stilled, gasping and pressing you down onto him to prevent you from moving further. 

“Where can—senaar’ika—I can't—”

Through the trance of pure pleasure, you could see him holding back, waiting for you as best as he could, wanting to please you. You rocked your body forward and back, signaling to him as best you could without words. You felt too overwhelmed to speak. Within seconds, he was pushing in and out of you, your thighs a twitching mess, before burying himself as deep as he could. A strangled grunt dropped from his lips, a strained whimper of your name, and then he was twitching inside of you. 

You practically collapsed, body falling against his. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you off of his cock while keeping you pressed close to him. You both breathed hard in the dark and suddenly you felt like crying. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this safe. 

“Rest, cyar’ika,” he said to you, his breathing finally calmed. “I will be here when you wake.” 

You immediately felt comforted, curling even closer to him, and soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting into sleep. You felt him settle down beneath you, both of you enveloped in the darkness, and basking in the presence of each other until you couldn't think anymore. 

[vesleezyon]

the hunter.

—aemond targaryen x original oc

just a snippet from the first chapter of my fic on ao3. literally in its fetal stages im writing the third chapter rn 😭

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

—takes place while Prince Aemond and Princess Viena are eleven, so just innocent fluff here :) plsssss lmk any opinions pleaseeee I wanna switch up the style to be more renaissance-ey but we will see

Preparations for the afternoon's feast are in full swing. The castle is crowded with lords and ladies from all corners of the realms, dressed in their best, smiling and greeting the Princeling as he rushes by them. Aemond gives them cordial nods and curt hello’s but nothing more, making his way to Viena’s room before Rhaenyra could sequester her away.

At last, he sees her. She turns the corner in a soft turquoise dress, adorned with flowers and hummingbirds beaded into the bodice, chiffon draping from her shoulders and skirt. Dainty, heart-shaped diamonds and delicate sapphires hang in her dark curls, pinning her braids into pretty little twists.

She scans the crowd and her eyes are led to him like a moth to flame. “Aemond!” She screams, breaking into a sprint, and he runs to meet her halfway. They throw themselves at each other, bursting into laughter as they nearly fall to the floor. “What’re you doing here?” She asks him, gently pulling away and taking his hand in hers.

“I was looking for you.” He answers plainly.

“Well, I’m not doing anything fun. My mother wants me to go out to the courtyard to listen to the music with my brothers.” She whines, rolling her eyes.

He chuckles. “Since when do you follow orders so easily?” Aemond challenges, but Viena looks over her shoulder and points to the two kingsguard following behind them.

“Since they’ve been babysitting me.” She says, looking back at Aemond. “I can’t do anything on my own anymore. And I used to sneak away sometimes, but I guess they’ve… adapted,” she shrugs, looking up to the lords and ladies as they greet her and Aemond. She gives them that pretty little smile, a polite nod, all the while squeezing on Aemond’s hand.

Aemond felt his heart flutter at her touch. “We’ll find a way.” He whispers, and she scoffs.

“I know we will. Just you wait. I have a surprise for you, remember?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Aemond nods, soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I haven’t forgotten, Princess. I have a surprise for you, too.” He says, watching her face light up with excitement.

“Really? What is it?” She asked eagerly, but he shook his head.

“I can’t tell you. But you’ll get it at dinner. I promise.” Despite her protests, some of the lords caught her attention as they pass and greet her, quickly distracting her.

Oh, Viena. She shone like a star among these nobles, her charming smile and that enchanting spirit making her a cherished little delight, just as her mother was at her age.

Hand in hand, giggling and whispering to one another, Viena led Aemond into the courtyard. The music is loud and lively, Viena skipping her steps in rhythm as they bounce down the steps. The courtyard was a riot with color and sound, the bands playing cheerful melodies as the nobles chatter loudly over each other.

Viena’s laughter is infectious. The expectations to be prim and proper were forgotten in her presence. They spent their day lounging in the shade, playfully pushing and pulling on each other and calling it dance, screaming with laughter while they weave through nobles and play chase. Together, they’re more than Prince and Princess. They’re children.

As the golden hues of the afternoon rolled in, the servants wove through the crowds ringing the dinner bells. Aemond and Viena sit knee to knee, seeking refuge from the summer sun under the leafy embrace of a bushy oak tree. They share a shortcake between them, gossiping and giggling with each other quietly. Despite the crowds of people surrounding them, they felt alone in their own little world.

Their solitude was serene until Jacaerys and little Luke found them, insisting they come in for dinner. Jace pulls her up off the grass and, despite her whining and dragging her feet, coaxes all the children inside.

Still brimming with energy, Viena squeezes Aemond’s hand while chattering all the way. And he listens with a smile and occasional laugh, because despite talking about nothing particularly interesting, he delighted in hearing her voice. To him, she sounds like the morning birds that woke him, with the gentle coo of dragons woven into her tone. She was the sound of home.

Their family waits for them near the entrance to the ballroom. Viserys, already tipsy and wobbling on his feet, beamed with pride as his little grandchildren round the corner. Viena let out a joyous scream, releasing Aemond’s hand and sprinting into Viserys’ arms.

The King let out a hearty chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her. “There’s my devilish little girl,” he says, giving her a warm squeeze before pulling back to look at her. “You look lovely. The little belle of the ball. Did you choose this dress, Rhaenyra? Such exquisite beading-“ He goes on, turning his attention to Rhaenyra.

Aemond, ignoring his mother’s watchful eye, grasps Viena’s hands and guides her into their proper place, front and center. They enter together, sit together, and leave together. It’s assumed that, despite the hardships, they’d spend their lives together as well.

Aemond reaches into the pocket of his tunic and pulls out a small, decorated wooden box. The craftsmanship is simple yet delicate, the shapes of dragons and fires carved into the wood. “I have your surprise,” he whispers, offering her the gift. “Happy early name-day, Princess.” He said with a tender smile.

Viena tilts her head at him and her eyes soften. She releases his hand and takes the box, giggling as she carefully unlatches the top. When she opened it, her giggles halted, replaced with a sharp gasp and a face glowing with delight. “Oh my—Aemond! Where did you get this?!” She screams, pulling the necklace out of the box with a gentle hand. Sapphire teardrops hang from a silver chain, the gems glimmering in the evening lights.

“It was made for you.” He says, trying to maintain a stoic and nonchalant demeanor but failing as a wide grin spreads across his face. Her joy is more contagious than a plague, and she hopped from foot to foot, bubbling with glee. “I made the box myself. You’ve always got all this jewelry scattered around and-”

Before he could finish, Viena tossed herself at him, cutting him off with a burst of laughter. “I love it! The necklace, the box, all of it,” she gushed, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him.

Aemond holds her gently, his heart swelling with pride. He knew she’d adore it. Who knows sweet Viena better than he does, after all? “I’m glad you do.” He murmured.

Viena pulled away from him, a bright smile glowing on her lips as she held the necklace out to him. “Can you help me put it on?” She asks.

His body softens. He nods, “Of course.” He says, taking the necklace from her. She turns and pulls her curls into her hands, careful not to ruin her braids as he gently fastens the chain around her neck. Then, he wraps his hands around her wrists and watches her hair fall down her back, heart shaped diamonds glimmering like stars in the darkness.

Viena touched the necklace with a certain softness that made Aemond’s heart flutter. “Does my hair still look okay?” She asks, looking over her shoulder to meet his soft eyes.

Aemond’s eyes fall back to those curls, the braids, the sapphire pins and heart-shaped diamonds. Doesn’t she realize? “It looks perfect, Vi.” No part of her would ever look any less than flawless in his eyes.

Her smile widens. “Thank you.” She says, turning to face the doors again. “I really do love them.” She tells him, her hand finding its proper place in his again.

She deserves nothing less, Aemond thought, but before he could voice the sentiment, Alicent laid her hands over her son's shoulders. She whispers to the children that it’s time for them to be announced, asks if they’re ready, to which they both eagerly nod.

The lords and ladies of Westeros have found much joy in watching the young royals grow up together. Aemond’s modest and courteous demeanor lent him a certain charm, especially when his cradle-mate who, in her spirited exuberance, flits about like a little bird, stirring delightful disorder wherever she graces.

Together, they’re harmoniously leveled. They’re the sun and moon locked into a celestial dance, the oceans and earth united in a timeless waltz, ice and fire congealing into a magnificent spectacle, one soul reborn and split in time by just one day. The grand doors swing open before them, a respectful hush falling over the dinner guests. The herald’s voice rips through the crowd, announcing their names with a tone of reverence. Prince Aemond Targaryen, and Princess Viena Velaryon.

Even as the names of their esteemed family were proclaimed, all eyes were on them. Viena squeezes his hand, lingering close to him. The whispers around them fade into nothing as Viena leans into his ear, forging a path through the throngs of nobility.

“Did you see how drunk Aegon was already? Such a slob. I meant it when I said he’s a pig.” She whispers lowly, forcing Aemond to betray his stoic expression and giggle as they make their way to the great table.

“Shut up, Vi.” He mutters back, trying to maintain his composure.

“What? I’m just saying. He’s probably drunk more than a braavosi sea lord already.” She whispers, her tone playful, “And my mother worries about me embarrassing the family. Unbelievable.” She scoffs, lifting her dress slightly to follow him up the steps.

Aemond’s grin widens. Some call her mean and nasty-mouthed but Aemond thinks she’s honest. She tells the truth as it is, a trait he’s found hard to find in anyone but her. Her irreverence has always had a strange way of lightening his mood, reminding him he isn’t alone in this world.

They take their seats at the center of the table, side by side. Viena’s quiet whispers, telling him her every thought and observation, granted a sense of comfortability to the grand occasion. In a room full of people watching him, she still managed to make him feel like they were hidden away in their own corner of paradise.

The room was alive with laughter and chatter as the music swells into soft, smoother rhythms as the night wore on. Meals filled with exotic foods were served, as well as simpler dishes the children could stomach a bit easier. Viena and Aemond got to sip an expensive wine, which made the Princess especially giggly.

After their fifth course of desert, Viena and Aemond excused themselves to dance, running off before Alicent or Rhaenyra could tell them no. They sprinted and jump down the steps, their laughter echoing through the room as joined the nobles swaying on the floor below.

They lock hands and jump and spin, playing more than dancing. They apologize gently as they bump into lords and their ladies as they sway on the dance floor. Their mothers could never guess where those two get all the energy from, but if they were honest, it’s a relief to see them choose youth over duty. It’s a luxury many children in this family aren’t granted.

Viena leans in close to his ear. “We’ve got to go now. They’re not watching. Come on.” She whispers urgently. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and dove into the crowd, running past the exit and slipping into the servants’ passage without being spotted.

She’s always so quick to disappear. Her insatiable desire for adventure is the root of all her trouble, he thinks. Mayhaps the root of all his, too. It doesn’t matter. He jogs to keep up with her as she pulls him through the narrow corridor.

“Where are we going?” He asks.

“It’s my surprise for you.” She answers, navigating the winding corridors with ease. “Did you think I forgot?” She asks.

Viena leads him down all kinds of steps, all kinds of twisting turns and winding passages that easily scramble his sense of direction. These tunnels are dark and damp, save for a few torches hanging here and there, but Viena acts like she’s running through the lines of her palm. She’s ecstatic, bouncing and skipping, brimming with energy as Aemond struggled to keep pace.

“Okay, we’re close.” She whispers, turning to him as the corridor opens into a cave. “Cover your eyes.” She says, walking backwards and releasing his hands. She’s smiling ear to ear, biting her lip, and the sapphires on her neck glimmer in the soft torchlight. He chuckles and covers his eyes with his palms, hearing her giggle and hop behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders and guiding him through the cave.

Slowly, he began to hear the crashing of waves against the rocky mountainside, then the stone give way to sand under his shoes. “Where are we, Vi?” He asks, curiosity piqued. She giggles and pushes him a bit faster.

“Not yet! Don’t look yet!” She exclaims. She brings him out onto the sand, the cool night air hitting his face with a soft chill. He could smell the salty sea from where he stood, furrowing his brows as he listened to Viena run to stand in front of him.

She tilts his head upwards towards the sky. He hears her shuffle in the sand, then sigh with contentment. “Now open your eyes,” She says.

Aemond removed his hands, going still as he stared up at the sky above him. The heavens stretched out above them, laying out an intricate kaleidoscope of stars, their lights shining against the inky darkness. The moon, full and luminous, casts a silver glow onto the waves and leaves its reflection dancing with the water's wake.

“Vi… this place is…” he trails off, realizing he didn’t have the words to tell her how beautiful this is. His vocabulary simply was large enough to capture the wonder he felt.

“I dreamt of it. That I was here with you.” She says, watching the stars fade in and out between the soft clouds. “I didn’t want to come looking for it without you.” She skips ahead of him, kicking her shoes off.

His eyes fall to the back of her head. Diamonds hang in her curls like heart-shaped stars, sparkling in hues of pink and blue as she kicks off her shoes and sinks her toes into the soft sand, staring up to marvel at the night sky. She never knew the night could have so many colors, gems of blue and brilliant white painting the sky above them.

“The stars almost look like sapphires,” he says, following her out onto the beach, tearing his gaze away from her to look at the stars.

She giggles and nods. “They do, don’t they? It’s so beautiful. Please tell me you like it.” she pleads, turning to him with eyes large as the moon.

He looks down at her with a softness that only she could pry from him. “I love it, Viena.” He tells her earnestly, watching her grin grow with satisfaction.

“I’m glad.” She replies. “Happy late name-day, Aemond.”

He stares at her as she turns to the ocean, lifting her satin dress above her knees and pressing her bare feet into the wet sand, her shoulders shivering as the cold sea rises to tickle her toes.

Her curious eyes follow the tiny fish and tadpoles fleeing through the shallow water, wiggling her toes to startle them when they’d get close. She’s adorable, making him smile as he inches closer to the water’s edge.

“Do you remember the stories I used to tell you about the constellations?” He asks, watching her nod as she curiously wades deeper into the salty sea, the water now lapping at her bony ankles. “Do you remember the Hunter?”

She looks aimlessly up to the sky, drawing in a sharp gasp. “Can you see it!? Oh, you have to show me! Show me!” She squeals, jumping back to the shoreline and standing with him.

He looks down at her with a grin, holding her shoulders and turning her away from him. He took her hand and told her to stick her pointer finger out, listening to her laugh as he guided her to point up at a row of three bright stars.

“See those three in a row? That’s his belt.” He says, and knows she’s seen it once she gasps.

“Where’s the rest of him?” She asks.

Aemond slowly guides her finger to trace the three stars. “Follow the line of his belt, Princess. To the left is his arm holding the bow, to the right his other arm is drawn back, ready to release.” He softly explains, her big brown eyes following her finger, tracing the stars, grinning ear to ear.

A silence lingers between them as Viena slowly outlines the constellation, finding his head and legs on her own. She holds his hand at her side, too distracted with the stars to notice him staring at her.

Devilish Princess Viena. She’s more beautiful than a hundred starry skies. Without her, this cove would be a desolate and lonely spot with no worth to him. Such sentiments, he knew, would fall short on her innocent ears. His mother would say he’s too young to harbor such thoughts, but he couldn't help it. He cannot control his emotions no matter how he battles them.

He couldn’t tell how long they spent there. Long enough that by the time they returned, the party was long over and the guards were scouring the castle for the Prince and Princess. She’d tried to sneak as much as she could, but Ser Harwin stopped them as they crossed a hallway trying to slip into the servant’s passage.

Before Harwin could take her away, Viena reached her hands into her hair and pulled a heart shaped diamond from her bed of dark curls. A section of hair came loose, falling over the side of her cheek. “Here.” She offered, holding the thin hair pin out to him. “Happy late name-day, Aemond. I’m sorry it’s not the best.” She says.

Gently, he took the hair pin from her. The edges of the diamond turn pink and blue in the soft candlelight. Ser Harwin rested his hand on her shoulder, making her turn her head to him before Aemond could catch her eye.

He watched the diamonds and sapphires glimmer between her dark curls, clutching her gift tightly in his fist. “I like it, Vi. Happy early name-day.” He returned, and she turned back to him as Ser Harwin began to pull her off. She gave him a smile and reached her fist out to him. He touched their knuckles and earned her giggles.

“Tomorrow, my Prince.” She bidded, yawning as Ser Harwin hoisted the small girl into his arms.

“Tomorrow, Princess.” He replied.

Nobody came to retrieve Aemond and guide him to his room. No one ever does, and he figures that’s okay, because he’d never run off like Viena would. She needs it more than he does, of course.

[sircantus]

Hi! Do you have a beta for your fics? Or do you just release them into the wild without outside feedback first?

Oh yeahh no i just straight up post my chapters with only myself as my own proofreader. No beta i die like cwilbur. A while back i think?? I used to ask for people to look over my writing? Like as i was still making the chapters i would tweet “would anyone like to look over this i cant tell if its good” and if they said yet i instantly sent them a google doc. But im really impatient and i have to usually post my things the second they are done so thats why i didnt always bother with the feedback as i made it

Technically im now on a posting schedule so i could theoretically get a proper beta reader now but like. I fear being perceived in the proximity of my google doc

[northern-passage]

i've been thinking a lot about the word "representation" and what it means and how it's changed over the last few years, particularly when it comes to the writing/publishing landscape but also in movies and tv shows… and i really don't like it anymore. to be clear, of course i think it's important to have diversity in your work, i'm not saying i hate the concept of representation. but i do really dislike the way it's used now, and i really just hate the word itself

in a broader sense it's just become a marketing tool. i'm not impressed by any publisher or author who just describes their book by listing all of the minorities/identities the characters represent as if that should be enough. it feels very gross, very exploitative and disingenuous. it also really bothers me because it's always marginalized identities- which i understand Why, but it feels very othering to me (and again. Very exploitative as an advertisement). you would never list out "cishet able-bodied white man" as a character description to pat yourself on the back over. so why do it to everyone else? why insinuate that one is the "default" and the other one is "special"? (and when i say this i'm mainly talking about advertisements/marketing. i understand why people would specify about characters in descriptions with the plot, but i don't like to see an ad that's just "this book has gay people!" with nothing else)

which then leads me to my other point, which is that a lot of people treat "representation" as if it's "too hard." like "oh i don't know enough to write about that, i don't have that experience, etc" which is a fair way to feel! however… it's weird that people only say this about writing trans characters or characters of color. i'm writing a story right now with a character who is really into motorcycles. i personally do not know that much about motorcycles, so i researched what parts are what & what different kinds of models there are & what basic bike care looks like. i guarantee Most people will have to google something at some point in their writing process. so what's the problem? it also, again, feels very othering when authors treat certain groups of people as "impossible" to write, "too hard" to understand. they are just.. people. you write them as a person. and then you figure out the rest later.

and i think part of the refusal or fear to write something outside of your experience is because of the way representation is treated as So Special. these characters are So Special that they aren't allowed to be anything other than "representation." they're Not allowed to be characters with complex emotions and interesting motivations, they have to just be Trans or Gay or Disabled or whatever. they're not allowed to be people. which means, at the end of the day, we loop right back around to where we were at the start….

there is bad representation. there are depictions of certain marginalized people that are harmful and that are damaging, i'm not trying to minimize that or argue against it at all, in fact we should all be mindful of that while writing and reading. but i also think it's possible to swing too far in the opposite direction as well and put certain groups of people on a pedestal and not allow them to do anything at all but be Perfect Representation, if that makes sense.

[emeryleewho]

I actually find it really sad that people's response to missing some allusion in fiction is to say the story did a bad job of explaining it rather than to think "maybe I should read closer next time" or "maybe the target audience for this piece has some context that I don't and it's worth my time to gain some of that context before reading more stories like these". And I mean sad, not in a condescending way, but in an "it genuinely hurts my heart and I wish I could help" way.

[hauntedaugust]

Yuuta x gn! Reader

WC: 222

Summary: reader feels the weight of being Yuuta's second love.

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

As a child I never wondered what it felt like to be second to a ghost.

As an adult I know the feeling more than any other.

I tried not to be resentful of the way he would stare into the distance at the very mention of her name.

I tried not to notice the gentle smile that graced his features when he saw her favorite flowers.

And I tried more than anything to stop the pain in my heart when he let go of my hand to fiddle with the ring on his finger.

I stood before the doorway of our shared home and gathered my courage. And I felt it rise in me.

The words I recited in my head were bold and underlined.

When the door swung open I saw him and love swelled in me like a tide, and its waves washed away my words like they were nothing more than lines in the sand.

A dopey smile graced his face as he asked me about my day.

And I fell into his embrace.

And I tried to ignore the feeling of the cold ring on his finger as it laid against my skin.

One day I will be brave enough to quit a race I cannot win, but until then I will continue to remain second best.

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Translate Feedback

              Beta readers are awesome because they see the work strictly from a reader’s perspective. However, this also means that their notes sometimes require a little interpreting to understand how it impacts the craft—translating, one could say.

Every interpretation of a piece is valuable, and often what your readers assume about things, what questions they have, and what they guess comes next is very telling for the messages your piece is delivering and how effective your lines are working together. Let’s get into some common comments you might receive:

“I was confused about this line…”

              Even if the line is explained in the next paragraph, or even the next sentence, don’t disregard this feedback. A confusing line is going to stop up readers, interrupting their mental image of the scene and sometimes concentration on the story. Confusion around a line tends to mean there isn’t enough context to make it feel seamless, or like it fits where it is. You shouldn’t have to be playing catch up with your descriptions.

              Take for example a story I wrote when I was in fourth grade (yes, literally):

Tracy took off her coat as she entered her cabin. She crept across the floor very silently. If she was too loud, she’d wake the howler monkeys and never be able to get to sleep!

              Notice how there’s no context provided for why she’s trying to be quiet, so you kind of get caught up on that line. I would fix it like this:

              Tracy took off her coat as she entered her cabin, eyeing the sleeping monkeys out of her window cautiously. She crept across the floor… etc.

              Now we have context, it reads a lot more seamlessly.

(If they guess something is coming that isn’t)

              This one hurts because I hate feeling like I’m letting down my readers, and an excited “ooh is this foreshadowing??” for something that definitely isn’t coming back up again feels like exactly that. Usually, when a reader guesses at a plot point or character detail that isn’t true or isn’t going to come back up again, it means you drew too much attention to it, making it seem more important than it is.

              I tend to take out the description of the thing, or adjust it so it points less heavily towards one thing and points more towards another. While yes, readers can make incorrect guesses all the time, it’s important to pay attention to where their expectations are being raised—both in the correct places and incorrect ones. Too many disappointments, and your story may leave a sour aftertaste.

“This feels out of character/I don’t understand the motivation”

              When writers get this note, they tend to want to add a paragraph explaining from the character’s POV why they’re doing what they’re doing. Unfortunately, all the explanation in the world isn’t going to fix something that feels out of character or out of the norm. This might mean that you’re trying to force a scene or plot point that doesn’t fit, or that the circumstances aren’t extreme enough to justify your character acting out of sorts.

              Try ramping up the stakes or intensity if a character has to make a tough decision that might seem unlike them—usually a time limit or ticking clock helps here. If you’re only using internal motivation, try adding an external force pushing them towards action (or vice versa).

              If all else fails, consider how you can progress the plot in a different way that’s more in-character.

Shoot me some more common notes you get and maybe we'll do a part 2 :-)

[malarkgirlypop]

Hi, does anyone want to do any beta reading? It’s for the next few chapters of medic. Idk if its flowing right, hahah.

Please let me know!

[manjiroscum]

sooo who's interested in an enemies to lovers dark romance-fantasy story?