Hello everyone! I'm hoping to share my writing to have it critiqued by the community. I've workshopped this before and worked on the suggestions they provided. I'm hoping it's a lot better now! It's still a current WIP progress so any feedback is helpful!

Here are some general questions for feeddack:

• Is the intro captivating enough to convince you to keep reading? If not, what do you find problematic? If yes, please explain why?
• Do you feel like the pace goes on too quickly? Would you like it to be slowed down?
• Do you feel like there are too many characters being introduced? If so, do you have trouble keeping up with everything that is being outlined?
• What is your perception of the POV character, Lord Henrik? Is there anything that stood out to you about the character that isn't explicitly said?
• Would you be interested in knowing more about the world?

Link: Docs Link for Commentors

You are more than welcome to leave commentary on areas you feel need improvement, have questions for, or feel like things should be better explained. For context, this is the first chapter of the series (after the prologue that is set in the past). Originally, the first chapter is a lot longer, about 5-6k words, but I split it because I feel this half might need more expansion. The second half also introduces a few more characters and I've been told it's quite daunting to be introduced to too many characters too quickly. Let me know what you think!

Background Summary:

A war erupted nearly 50 years ago where an ancient kingdom ruled. The wolf clans, lead by the late King Davian, and the Order took back the lands of their ancestors, ruling peacefully until his majesty's death. Now, nearly 50 years later, the Order has claimed power beyond the bounds of sovereignty. The people of Q'asta are no longer safe, and the world is crumbling under their rule.

Trigger Warning:
Violence against women, threat, hatred, racism, sexism

Thanks in advance to all who provide any feedback! Thank you :)

I recently made a post but did not make it easy to beta-read, so I made a google drive link to include in this post, along with what type of feed back I'm looking for.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/157AAEJky8wuZszwW9czKK3f0K7V-wN3xo9wx1eGNhSs/edit?usp=sharing

This story is about how a group of young adults, back from college in their hometown, will handle the world ending. A rogue planet is on a collision course with Earth and there's nothing they can do but make sure the vibes are just right. They go all out on their last night, maybe even breaking a few laws. Will it end with the end of the world? Read to find out!

Here is a blurb from the beginning:

"Selena Maderson sat attentively as she peered out into the velvet black sky. She’s looking for the world due to collide with ours. All she can make out are stars beyond her own moon. “Surely there’s been some mistake Mama, nothing seems off… the telescope’s set to the correct coordinates right?” she says exasperated, having been searching for 2 long hours. “Selena darling, we've received triple confirmation from 3 space agencies. Planet V should be exactly where you’re looking.” She sighs and takes another look out into the void. Two crescents flash to life right dab in the middle of her vision. “Looks like we just had to wait for the sunlight to hit the system.” ‘Ma says assuredly as she wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead. There it was, proof that Selena’s life would indeed end at 11:42 AM tomorrow, she would give anything to be wrong right now, for everyone to be wrong."

TLDR Feedback Requested: Dialogue, Story Structure (to summarize adventures or not, how to improve the summary), Tips on delivering the ending in a better way.

As a new writer I need help with the way I handle the dialogue, whether or not I should expand some of their adventures during the night (which I summarized to keep the short story on the shorter end), and also with the ending. Particularly how I describe it. (I still generally like how it ends, but it can use some work on how it's delivered).

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ls0d57px5xfkaZTvRaRFY7Na2fapP8o3BRNtk1Ls2cg/edit

Hello! My name is Arrie.

I want to say a few things before I give my summary.

I am thinking of ending the book at this point from where it is 239 pages long and roughly 84,000 words. I think it’s a good stopping point for the first book but I will say I have at least another 100k+ words if not more.

I have no friends and my only family is my husband. He enjoyed it but he is my husband and therefore he is biased. I’m looking for beta readers to either read most if not all of my story.

This copy is the first re-write and edit. I have gone over it a few times so there should be little mistakes but please expect to see a few more.

Warnings: Violence, blood, minor torture, implied torture, gore, graphic, mature, alcoholism, implied sexual situations, sexual situations

Please be 18+ to read

Summary:

The Aetherium, a race of demons created by a deranged man playing at being a god, are among the most feared races due to the corruption within their twisted souls, a result of being created from magic and curse alike.

Adriel, the man responsible for such creations, sets out to create perfection and succeeds in doing so.

Tatsuya is born within an explosion and after enduring pure hell and torture during his creation, turns on Adriel, vowing to one day to return the pain and torment.

Tatsuya finds he is lost without a so-called purpose since his rebellion and questions if he has such a thing called humanity.

He vaguely feels as if something is missing from his life but it is always out of reach.

These are the questions he finds himself asking and searching for over his long life.

What I can do for you:

I’m willing to exchange stories you may be working on. I’m pretty desperate for beta readers so my genre range currently is fairy open. My limit is 100k and I ask for at least a week to read. I’m a slow reader, so I need time. I will not edit, but I am willing to read and offer my input and comments. I’m willing to go over 100k but I will certainly need more than a week to read.

What I expect:

Just reading. No editing. Just input and comments. A review of sorts. Honesty is the best policy here.

Thank you!

Edit:

Here is a commenter status open link for Google docs.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ls0d57px5xfkaZTvRaRFY7Na2fapP8o3BRNtk1Ls2cg/edit

Hello everyone, I’m looking for some feedback regarding the prologue I wrote for my novel. This is the first time I’ve ever shared my writing with someone outside of my family/friends/teachers. I won’t reveal my age but I’m below 16 years old so please be gentle lol. Any and all feedback is welcome but I would specifically like to know: Is it too stiff or meandering? Is the pacing effective? What did you think of the writing style? And, most importantly, is it intriguing? Keep in mind that (since it’s the prologue) I purposefully left it ambiguous. I won’t give a blurb as it’s already very short. Thanks to anyone who chooses to read :)

Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/16IEBhTpddAF0_7xyHuZaxxV0GHOGyQHn75WwpruOR8Y/edit

This is chapter one of eight in this novella I'm writing and intend to publish. Generally speaking, I'm looking for (though not limited to):

1. Was there any point where you felt confused?
2. Was there any point where you felt bored/disinterested?
3. Are you inclined to keep reading into the next chapter?
4. Does it accomplish the following:
   1. Introduce Rihu and his goals/motivation
   2. Establish the kind of world the setting is

Blurb: Rihu answered by reaching again for his necklace, picking through the rectangular pendants until he found the one he wanted. Snapping it in two in between his fingers and thumb, a gust of hot air shot forth from the broken ornament with enough force to push Marduk back. The tavern fell dead silent as everyone within it froze.

Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1d_cqTlUdrqMkQ4mEEW0tyLErHNla3g9vmn9VvfkpEOg/edit?usp=sharing

Hello! This is my first time posting here.

I'm currently on my third draft and hopefully I won't have to make any big edits, but I'm open to them. I would like beta readers that would be ok with revising my novel in a google docs format. If you can give feedback by the end of September it would be amazing as I'm in a time sensitive situation. I'd be open to accepting swaps as long as they're in the 80K-100K range and are in the fantasy genre.

If you're interested please DM me or leave a comment, I'll give you the opening three chapters of my novel to see if you can connect with them and commit to beta reading the whole thing. If you decide to take the leap and read my manuscript, please tell me the good, the bad, and what you would change.

TW: Violence, and implied SA, but nothing graphic

Blurb of my Query Letter:

Markus’ last memory before being hanged was of his sister sacrificing herself for another, and betraying their shared dream of escaping Albion. All his miserable life, Markus feared the annual ritual in which his people were sacrificed like cattle to Vortigan, the monstrous protector of their nation. For the Gallards, death is sacred, it's the only way in which they can find freedom from the shackles of the High Lords and Vortigan. But not even in death can Markus be at peace, not when Isolde will be sacrificed at the end of the year.

In the darkness, Markus meets a mysterious woman who calls herself the Voyager. She tells him the act of defying the High Lords coupled with his sister volunteering to be sacrificed has caught her attention. The Voyager offers him the power to either raze the country to the ground or seize it from his oppressors and rebuild it anew, as long as he promises to keep her entertained. With fire coursing through his blood, Markus accepts the woman’s offer.

After his resurrection, Markus steals the face of a recently deceased noble and infiltrates Fortuna to depose of the High Lords. During his journey, Markus wants to seek a life beyond what he once knew, to live for more than just his sister. However, as the Voyager continues rewarding him for keeping her entertained, Markus grows increasingly wary of her presence. Vortigan, the High Lords, and the dangers outside of Albion are all connected by a thread which leads back to the Voyager. Markus craves freedom for himself and Isolde, but it will come at a price he’ll regret. After all, his life does not solely belong to him anymore.

SONGS OF JUSTICE is a 100,000 word Adult fantasy novel. It will appeal to those who enjoy books such as The Mask of Mirrors by M.A. Carrick, The Will of the Many by James Islington, and The Unspoken Name by A.K Larkwood. It’s a standalone book, with potential for future stories set within the same world.

Hello. I'm back after a small batch of beta readers earlier this year helped me fix some issues, and now I'm back seeking a larger amount of beta readers after making some adjustments. This is my 2nd beta version and my 5th draft, so I feel pretty good about where this novel is at, but I still want to polish it a little more.

Blurb: In a bleak and distant future, three separate yet connected protagonists roam the ashes of the world that once was: a young woman and two young men with the power of clairvoyance who will construct starkly different futures.

A haunted wanderer with many names seeks regeneration through power. Meanwhile, guided by a cryptic dream, Joshua seeks a mysterious woman in the East. Central to the destinies of both of these young men is Twila, a young woman pregnant with her brother's child who is seeking the same enigmatic woman, who has promised her safety.

Joshua and the man with many names arrive at a dark city ruled by a sinister warlord. Meanwhile, Twila's journey becomes a spiritual and psychological confrontation with her past.

As the novel reaches its climax, reality diverges, setting the stage for a shocking revelation that recontextualizes everything that has happened.

CWs: Graphic violence, some sexual content (including SA), harsh language, violence against animals, and some drug use.

Critique swap: I'll be honest - that may be a tall order at this time. I'm currently doing a swap with someone already and after August I am going to be too busy to beta read for at least a few months. Potentially, I can agree to read something in the future (I am happy to make writing friends so I am genuinely open to the possibility), but I don't want to make any concrete promises that I may be unable to fulfill in the near future.

Additional info: I ask that only people 18 and older read, due to the NSFW content. I promise the book isn't as screwed up as this makes it sound. To put it plainly, this book is for adult audiences.

About me: I'm a 28 year old writer with a degree in history (I am a huge history buff), although I am currently trying to enter a STEM career field. I've been working on this novel since March 2023, and feel that most of the chapters are in a good place, but I still want to polish it a little more. My main inspiration was Blood Meridian, although what we write is influenced by everything we've ever read. It's been my goal for this novel to be "literary," but whether a first novel is indeed literary probably isn't my determination to make.

I don't have any real time preferences. As I said, I will soon be busy, so it will be months before I can begin my next draft anyway. There is no rush, no pressure, no fast turnaround needed. I will be happy to answer questions or communicate while you're reading, and would prefer Discord - but can also communicate over Reddit. I also have a separate document where I offer explanations of thematic devices, subtext, references and inspirations after reading, for those interested in analysis of what they have read.

It's a short one. This was written as an exercise in overcoming self-censorship. It is intentionally dark, as much as I could make it within my usual style. Not planning to do anything serious with it but was hoping to get quick feedback. :)

Sypnosis: An ageing impoverished medium is confronted with her trajectory in life. Old friends check up on her.

Content Warning: Gore

What I'm looking for:

• Is it immersive? Can you visualize the space and scene?
• Does the action make sense to you? Are you able to understand the reasons behind her frustration?
• Did it manage to gross/creep you out? Was there enough of a buildup?
• Did you like it? lol

Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1G46msOWg0le5pCMAX6EfF9PEYM2jNH-7LeCsVMriluQ/edit?usp=sharing

Thanks in advance!

Have had my friends and family read through the entire thing (and it didn't seem like complete torture for them), and gone through it myself countless times. I'd say I'm on my 2nd (maybe 3rd) draft now.

Can trade manuscript for manuscript or just the first few chapters, or whatever. Just looking for outside help to see if it scans, makes sense, and is coming across the way I want it to. Even some feedback on the first chapter would be great.

Thanks.

The young Prince Eadric has lost his closest friend, greatest ally, and true love, his squire Olivar. Ripped from Eadric by a war his Father—the King—began and does not wish to end, or else diminish his power and control over the people. The Prince has no recourse for justice, or sanction to grieve openly, lest the court discover his “sinful nature,” his desire for men. He finds comfort where he can, in time spent with his wife, the Princess Malika, and their children, but an emptiness continues to haunt him. By decree of the king, in hopes that his son may be “cured” of his “affliction,” he has commissioned the Holy Seal to assign a spiritual tutor to guide the Prince. Through fate or other pantheonic happenstance, the High Cleric Daemo is selected for the task and through their lessons spent together the pair discover a bond that supersedes duty, and societal wont.

An elve, born among the lower classes of Ullyn—their shared country—Daemo has brought to his newly established rank as High Cleric, a deep understanding of the peasant plight and fights to strengthen their rights. Often childish, and yet wise beyond his years, capable of reciting great poetry and replicating flatulent excess, the High Cleric captivates Eadric with his eccentric charm, as the Prince captivates Daemo with his gentle heart, buried beneath a societally mandated masculine stoicism.

Spanning nearly two decades, their relationship soars to beautiful highs, and crashes to withering lows, throttled by unrest and the pressures constantly laid upon the Prince as the son of a man who has done more wrong for the kingdom than right. Eadric could resign himself to the traditional expectations that generations past have established for him, or fight for newly formed convictions—social justice—fostered by feelings he never thought he could find again, those of true love, with Daemo.

Link to First Three Chapters...

Excerpt for those who don't want to follow the link: (Chapter One)

-I-

It has been said that Ullyn's numerous Horsemen conflicts were at once costly for its peasantry and exceptionally profitable for its gentry. There are of course those who knew loss on both extremes of the social hierarchy, none so prominent as the heir himself, Prince Eadric, who not only endured the loss of his Brother—Prince Gaeron—but that of his loyal squire and closest companion, Olivar Proulx. So deeply did he care for his friend that he personally saw his body returned from the front. Eadric stayed with Olivar night and day as he was prepared for burial, and wept openly at his funeral. How empathetic a Royal he must have been to befriend one of his subjects and feel so strongly for their passing. But one must question—as many at the time were want to do—if such a display is becoming of a ruler? Are we to anticipate strength from such a man? Truly, what is one dead squire compared to the trials all future Kings must endure?

• From ‘The History of the Ullynian Monarchy: Volume Three: The Plains Campaign’ As Writ by the Historian Orton Hybrand

Everything. Olivar had meant everything, and now he was dead.

The passing brought with it an emptiness Eadric had not yet experienced. The loss of True Love. It manifested as an ember in his chest. Not quite burning but at the same instance refusing to be extinguished; a dull searing sensation that swelled each and every time he was reminded of his partner’s absence. Often. And without warning.

On the rare occasion he could forget, the memories flooded back just as suddenly, drowning his mind under the recollections of the thousands of small moments one can share with their beloved. Eadric thought that if he lived a thousand thousand years he could never devise a form of torture worse then what he had endured in the months without Olivar.   

Eadric laid in bed as he had done most days. The bed he had shared with his love, and as far as the Court was concerned, shared with his wife. From the goose down mattress Eadric examined his quarters, eyed the tomes on his shelf, the window, obscured by a heavy drape, the mural that encompassed the entire ceiling, some distant ancestor cleaving a dragon’s head off its thin serpentine neck. He had spent so long confined to this single room he had taken the opportunity to count each brick, wall to wall. Anything to centre his thoughts, hoping that the distractions would craft for him a spigot that he could use to drain his mind of the depression. A futile strain. The mere exercise of it, attempting to obfuscate the despair only served to remind him that there were feelings worthy of obfuscation and the dread followed with it. Even the bed held reminders of Olivar. Eadric had ordered the old sheets burned—the silks they had rested upon not so long ago—in a vain endeavour to purge the squire from his thoughts. Unsuccessfully. 

The heavy oak door, elaborately carved with the royal family's sigil, creaked open, the metal latch firing upward with a harsh crack. Eadric dabbed his cheeks with the covers and shifted his body to face the approaching figure. The Princess Malika walked across the cobble floor so smoothly she appeared to be floating like a spirit in a storybook. 

‘Goodmorrow Husband,’ She said with a delicate air.

All Eadric could manage was ‘Malika…’ in an exhaustive moan. Not the sort of exhausted that comes from a hard day’s work or countless hours toiling away at bureaucratic nonsense, but the kind that came with emotional exertion.  The room was marked with a low darkness that begged to dissipate, where the universe knows that light is out there and yearns to show itself in. Despite this Eadric could see Malika’s concern plainly across her face. 

‘I’m going to draw back the drapes,’ Malika said, almost with a questioning tone. She pulled apart the ruby fabric and let in the sun. The morning light crawled into the room with a desperation only seen in those that had been lost at sea and found themselves touching land once again. It filled every inch of the space it was able, even the shadows cast were weak and would gladly have given themselves over to light were they not bound by the laws of three dimensional existence.  Eadric’s eyes fluttered, he remained prone, enveloped by cloth. All that could be seen of him was his head from the neck up, his beard had grown so dense that the light failed to catch and died in its black mesh. 

Malika came to his side, sat next to him and gently massaged his scalp. ‘How are you faring today? I see your head is above the coverlet, much improved from yesterday.’  Pressed firmly against his pillow Eadric managed a small exhale of a laugh, the barest acknowledgment of a jest. Malika smiled. The joy came to a swift end, that he should be feeling at all happy when Olivar was not there to share in it brought Eadric lower, his eyes shut hard, the lids sealed with tears. Malika’s expression shifted, she continued to run her hands through her husband’s thick strands of dark hair. As her finger tips reached the ends of the curls they bounced back into place and the process began anew.  

‘There is naught that can mend this…’ Eadric eked out between wet inhales. Malika brought her face close to the Prince’s, her body hovering just above his. ‘Hasani and Gailen miss you,’ Malika and Eadric’s twins, the young Prince and Princess. Since Olivar’s funeral Eadric had asked his Wife to allow him sanctuary in their marital bed, which they shared sparingly. For months the Princess had slept in her children’s quarters and kept their queries concerning their Father at bay. ‘You were absent from their seventh birthdate…’ She bit back her tongue, regretting the critical tone, she corrected softly, ‘They need their Father.’  

At the invocation of those treasured names, Eadric lifted his head from the pillow, damp with grief. He met his Wife’s gaze, her image a watercolour mirage filtered through his tears. ‘Send for the servants, I’ll not meet our children in this state.’ 

To see her husband come to life, if ever so slightly, forced her lips upward in a hopeful grin. Malika reached for the rope that dangled above the carved headboard and gave it a gentle tug. From the hall a chime rang and soon after a pair of well dressed Servants entered.

Their attire was crafted from the finest fabrics sourced not only on the Continent but across the Ship Breaker Sea. Fine ruby dyed doublets inlaid with white finishings that matched their soft linen shirt collars, as well as the Royal sigil’s colours. It was said that the Ullynian royalty's palace workers were better clothed than other Province’s Kings, and these Servants certainly embodied that notion. Uniform and without delay, the Elvish pair bowed to their Prince and Princess. ‘What do you require your Grace?’ The Taller one asked. 

‘See that the Prince is made presentable, he plans to join his children in the breaking of their fast.’ 

‘Right away Princess,’ the Shorter of the two replied. 

‘My thanks.’ Underneath the layers of fabric Malika found Eadric’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, she leaned in close to him and whispered, ‘I have not known such loss, but you must be strong for them.’ Eadric nodded. 

Once the Princess had made her egress Eadric pulled his upper body upright from under the sheet’s accumulated warmth. His chest was bare, and he wore naught, save a wrapping over his groin. He threw his legs over the bedside and stood. His thighs trembled and he steadied himself on the Taller servant. The months he had spent in battle in the plains, the untamed and savage Ullynian lands had sculpted his already impressive physique into an instrument of war. His years practicing with sword and shield, lance, axe, hammer, bow and arrow, all had turned him into a specimen akin to the sculptures of great mythological heroes. The months abed, only having left to make appearances at the most crucial diplomatic feasts, and relieve himself at the privy, had withered Eadric to a flabby mass, the structure remained, still broad and imposing, but the details had blurred, the muscles atrophied. 

The Shorter one pulled over a stool, hidden under a nearby desk pressed beneath the window. Eadric accepted the seat with a limp descent, his shoulders slouched.  ‘Would his Grace prefer to be shaven?’ Taller asked. 

Eadric nodded. 

With a snap Taller ordered Shorter out of the room, a nonverbal cue to retrieve other items. Amid their egress, Shorter removed the Prince’s chamber pot. They returned in moments with the necessary shaving supplies, an assortment of outfits the Prince might wish to wear, and a pristine freshly sanitized pot.   Rolling his sleeves to the crux of his elbow, Taller dipped their hands in a cool stone water basin. He began by shearing the lengthier threads until they were flush to the skin. The servant lathered the Prince’s face first in the liquid then in the thick cream, unlatched the razor and carefully cut away the remnant facial hair. The process was done in silence but for the harsh sound of metal cleaving minuscule stubble against its honed edge. 

Shorter reached over the Prince’s shoulder, displaying a handheld mirror before him. Eadric peered into his own eyes and inspected his face. He wore his heartache plainly. With the back of his hand he nudged the reflective surface out of his view. Next the servants washed the most critical parts of Eadric’s body from the same basin. Wetted and dried his hair before brushing out the knots and tied it back into a simple braid.  

Choosing his attire was simple, before the servants could fully explain each set he had already declared for the first option he saw. A loose fitting garb that had been tailored for his former proportions, he donned a black tunic the edging of which was sewn with golden thread, a set of matching leggings and a pair of slippers.  With a sigh he stepped out into the walkway, allowing Taller to open and close the door for him. 

Eadric made his way down the Palace halls. Unlike the finely crafted and decorated walls of the individual rooms the walls of the pathways that adjoined them were crudely carved into the rock. Tapestries, windows, and the occasional portrait dotted the jagged stone and helped to alleviate the sense that the Palace was nothing more than a hollowed out mountain, but not considerably. Just as the freed Elvish slaves had toiled for years to carve out the royal’s home, so too did Eadric carve his path toward the Central Hall. He came to the entrance, a set of massive iron doors that reached from floor to ceiling and told the abridged family’s history in the form of individual smelted figures fixed into place with nails. It stopped halfway down the structure, plenty of room for future descendants and their exploits. Eadric peered past his Father’s likeness and to his Great Grandfather’s, which showed the larger than life man leading his forces against his own Brother's Revolutionary rabble, one army composed of only Man, and the other a mixture of Man and Elve alike. On either side of the doors an armoured guard was stationed. One of the race of Men as Eadric, the other an Elve. ‘Good morrow your Grace,’ the pair said. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you about the Palace again,’ continued the Elve.  

‘Thank you Quinton,’ He said to the Man. ‘And you as well,’ to the Elve. ‘Open the door,’ Eadric ordered. With a slight bow the guards took a handle with both hands and started to pull. The hinges moaned a low metallic hum as they were strained. ‘Your Grace,’ a small laboured voice called from down the hall. It echoed off the cave walls and landed clearly in Eadric’s ear. He turned just as the source came into view. A pair of black eyes stared up at him. ‘His Majesty the King requests you see him at once,’ the aged Elvish Footman explained. His long pointed ears twitched ever so gently as his hands did whenever visible, not hidden in the roomy sleeves of his robe. 

At the mention of his Father, Eadric’s disposition seemed to worsen, his already sunken shoulders finding new depths for which they could plunge. He looked back at the half open hall doors, and the guards frozen in place. He sighed and looked down at the servant. ‘My thanks Paetho. I’ll go to him at once. Inform the Princess and our children that I shall join them as soon as I am able.’ 

Paetho lowered himself a few inches, in what had become his version of a bow at his extended age. ‘Of course your Grace,’ He said, as shakily as his ears bobbed. Bent down, in this position Paetho’s balding head better displayed a fading scar seared into his forehead long ago. A deliberate marking, a symbol that denoted him as a Holdslave, not meant for the field. Eadric cringed at the sight, a living reminder of their countries’ savage past.     

The guards opened the door fully at the servant’s approach and sealed them behind as he passed. Each half wrenched shut with a thunderous clash of iron on iron. To Eadric it almost seemed that the figures of his ancestors were joined in a unified and somehow defiant yell. As if they refused to let anyone living or dead forget that these lands were theirs. 

The King’s office was deep in the bowels of High Heart, the official name for the Palace, the royal family’s seat in Ullyn. Away from the contaminants of the outside world, as one ventured further in the air became cool and damp, the walls emitting a vague wet that seeped into the bones of whoever came near. No windows could be made that would reveal light, the entirety of these inner tunnels were illuminated by torches stuck into metal sconces. The journey was not so long, but involved a descent down several gypsum staircases. He came to the door—a plain thing, oaken, with a circular gilded knob—behind which his Father toiled most days, running the Kingdom through ink and parchment. No knights or workers stood sentry, this far into the fortress the King had nothing to fear and projected that arrogance openly. Eadric rapt his fingers against the wood. 

Hearing from behind the thick barrier, what he assumed was the word ‘Enter,’ Eadric did just that and closed the door as he passed the threshold.  The room was finely adorned with trophies his Father had won in this battle or that war. The Ori Masks taken from Horsemen Hairns, the swords of petty Kings who attempted to rebel and were quashed under the fine leather boot heel of the Ullynian Dynasty, and a third equally symbolic trinket that rounded out the set. The most prized and well preserved among the spoils was the skull of Eadric's Great-Great Uncle Leton, who fought to uphold Ullyn's long proud tradition of Elvish enslavement, and died trying. Executed personally by King Alton, Eadric's Great Grandfather. Here his remains stayed entombed in a glass box, the word Traitor carved into his forehead. Behind his wooden desk, the supports of which were carved in the shapes of Elves struggling to hold the flat top, King Aegos sat and scrawled his name at the bottom of a long parchment piece, densely packed with decrees and legal jargon. A scroll surfeit varnished the fine woodwork beneath, keeping the artisan design to themselves.

With his unoccupied hand and without a gaze in Eadric’s direction, the King motioned for his son to take the seat before him.  It seemed to Eadric that the legs of his chair were made shorter, as he became level with his Father. Perhaps it was coincidence, but more than likely a petty stratagem, Eadric thought. His Father was always one to never cede any ground to his opponents, in verbal sparring or in life and death combat, why he felt the need to use the same tactics with his children, Eadric had so far failed to discover. He braced himself to the armrests. 

Silence creaked as the King wrote on. Only the sharp sound of quill tattooing ink to paper. Eadric would not speak first, not out of spite, some childish refusal to give someone the satisfaction of hearing their voice, but out of a sense his Father had distilled in him.

The room was pleasantly warm. Pipes ran throughout the Palace pumping steam from the natural hot springs found in the base of the mountain. They insulated the heat within themselves and emanated a balmy room temperature in key spaces. A masterful work of Orcish Engineering that King Aegos affectionately called The Blood of High Heart. Despite this Eadric felt a chill, his Father’s cold demeanour actively fought against the heat, making it all seem moot.  

Finally the King had completed his task, and to most efficiently utilize his time, he spoke to Eadric as the ink dried, at last meeting the Prince’s gaze. ‘Son.’  ‘Your Majesty,’ Eadric replied with a deliberate ice in his voice. 

‘Paetho found you I trust.’ 

‘He’s a good servant.’ 

‘He’s getting old. We should all be so lucky to reach his years. However many that is,’ He dabbed the edge of a word with his little finger and cursed as it smudged. ‘Damnit!’ 

Eadric caught a short breath and shut his eyes in an especially rigid blink as his Father’s volume rose. He opened them just as quickly and consciously eased his fingers into a relaxed state, having involuntarily pressed them into the rests.  The King lifted the parchment from the table top and presented it to his son. ‘Blow on this would you,’ He ordered. 

Tilting his head forward, Eadric blew on the scroll. 

‘Ah,’ the King exclaimed once the deed was done. He rolled the paper into a tight cylinder, ‘I was informed that you were out of bed,’ and flattened it against his desk. 

‘My despair has taken too much from my children already, I need to be with them…’ 

‘Yes, your children,’ Aegos melted a dob of ruby wax on the paper crease, using one of the many candles that lit the room. ‘Should I take it to mean that you are finished with your grief,’ He said, searching for an unknown object, first in the drawers then on the shelves behind him. ‘Do you see the stamp for this—’   Eadric plucked the tool from under a stack of letters and held it before the King who took it without a word. ‘My grief for Olivar knows no end.’ 

Removing the cap from the stamp, the King scoffed. ‘Your obsession with that boy is unnatural.’ 

"Unnatural." As if some witch put a curse on me, Eadric kept to himself. ‘We were of an age Father—’ 

Interrupting Eadric, Aegos slammed the emblem into the wax. ‘The Court is talking. I hear murmurings. Slanders. Accusation the likes of which paint you a sordid colour. The gossip is a disease that will slowly but surely infect our reputation. We are beholden to things greater than ourselves Boy, and thus far you have not kept up your portion of that bargain.’ 

Eadric slunk back into himself. 'You speak of the Holy Seal.' 

Before the wax settled, Aegos pulled the device from the melted mass, leaving behind an impression of the Family Sigil, a broken chain with a waraxe cleaved through the links. 'I speak of a great many parties, but yes, the Seal is chief among them. They have the support of the people.'

'Since when have you ever cared for the people?' 

'There are thousands of them for every one of us,' Aegos replied, reclining, hands entwined against his stomach. 'The plebs could kill each and every one of us should they come together. They must be placated, and that only happens if the Seal is behind us, telling the people that the Gods chose our line to lead. And we only acquire that support if we contribute to their charities, legitimize their leadership and follow their laws,' He came forward and put his elbows on the desktop as his sentence concluded. Eadric crept back ever so slightly in his chair, his back firmly pressed into the uncushioned wood. 'I may not agree with their Hiariette about every interpretation of Casca's writings, but where it concerns your affliction and others of your kind, I can sympathize.' 

Eadric clenched his jaw, his lips came together in a fierce line. 'What is it you request of me, your Majesty?'

'I cannot have you falling into further despair. It makes us appear weak. And now with the war in the state it's in…' the King paused. Eadric drew closer. '... It has become clear to me that my attitude towards you has engendered this delinquent behaviour. I have been too lenient with you. I mean to send you to the—’ 

The Front, he heard his Father’s voice vibrate through every centimetre of his skull. Eadric’s muscles tensed. Suddenly he was short of breath—Comrades skewered by spears fell before him— —arrows seemed to be materializing from nothing and finding themselves planted in the bodies of fellow soldiers— —fields of tall grass turned to mud, metal and blood under the heels of mounted cavalry and Horsemen alike coming to blows— —Olivar clinging to his stomach as his life’s blood coursed between his fingers— He swallowed back a throatful of panicked bile, Eadric interrupted his Father, ‘You mean to send me back to the Plains, against the Horsemen.’

The King scowled, his wrinkled face emphasizing the disdain from chin to widow’s peak. ‘Gods no,’ He scratched at his beard, a thick chinstrap stretched ear to ear—King Aegos kept no moustache—He let his son sweat as he raked his neck. His loose sleeve fell to the cleft of his elbow as he dug deeper into the itch. ‘You will travel, under close guard, to the Seat of the Holy Seal—’  ‘For what purpose?’ Eadric asked hastily. 

Aegos let his uncovered arm settle on the desk. He held his gaze without a word spoken for a few moments and unexpectedly lunged after his son. He caught him by the collar and brought him within an inch of his face. Whether by a combination of the Prince’s diminished strength, or the power Aegos held over his child, Eadric could not say, regardless of the circumstances, he found he was unable to resist the King’s grip. ‘Do not speak over me again Boy! The purpose is irrelevant to you! You are my son and you will do as I command!’ 

Attempting to dodge his Father’s piercing look, Eadric's eyes darted from distraction to distraction and settled on the King’s exposed skin. The inner forearm flesh bubbled with discolouration, heaving lesions that appeared close to bursting just under the papery epidermis. Aegos witnessed his son’s stare and released him, quickly covering the infection. ‘Father are you—?’ 

A crash, the King brought his fist down onto the hardwood, causing three piles of scrolls to come cascading to the cobble floor. With a near beastly grit the King said to the Prince, ‘Our High Cleric, that raisin Jasper, has died in his sleep. On the morrow you will start for Airden, there you will meet with his replacement the Holy Seal has chosen. Along with his standard High Cleric duties he will also serve as your…Spiritual Consult,’ He threw away the last words as if they had as much meaning as a mummer’s confession. ‘You will return with them and—Gods willing—they will help cure you of this perversion. Am I understood?’

‘They know? You’ve told them about Olivar and I?’ The Prince asked, with verklempt horror.  

‘Do you take me for a fool? That I would offer that information freely, forever taint my legacy by admitting that my only son—Gods—My only child, is a lecherous indulger of sterile sexual desire. They know only that your squire has been killed, and that you were good friends. That you are now broken, weak, and in need of the Gods,’ the King spewed in a vituperative verbal onslaught. ‘Keep your condition to yourself, share only what is necessary to rebuild what little of your manhood remains.’   Eadric’s lower lip quivered, ‘Your Majesty…Father, I…’ His eyes stung.  

‘Weep in my presence Boy and I’ll send you back to war against those animals. Do your duty as Prince. As my heir,’ the King reclaimed his seat and took up his quill once more. ‘Gaeron did not shed a tear his entire life, not since he was a babe. Not even in death if the reports were accurate,’ for a moment the King withdrew, lost himself in a memory, he grinned. When he came back and looked at his son before him the King’s expression hardened. ‘Go,’ He commanded. 

Before Eadric had made his exit Aegos had returned to his bureaucratic toil. The Prince closed the door as he left. 

He rushed to a broom closet and slammed the door shut, as if barring a beastly pursuit. His knees met the floor and he sobbed, muffling the sound with his hands. Once enough of the dejection had poured from him Eadric stood, wiped the dust off himself, fixed his appearance, and made for the Central Hall. 

Hey guys, I'm new here. I'm creating a graphic novel (writing and drawing/painting) and I had a pretty good idea about the kind of story that I want. For context, our setting is going to be much like a middle-age earth, but with a small twist of magic. Nothing big, but it is mainly a medieval vibe with slight elements of a soft magic system, mainly magic incorporated through biology. Anyway, I would like some critique on the introduction to our main protagonist, Edmund. This is our first POV character, and we will introduce two more after him, but that's it. I just need to know if the story and the dialogue are coming off as "cringe" or cliché.

This is going to be for a graphic novel, as stated before, so keep in mind that the text itself is not the focus, rather the plot and the dialogue. (I know the text is not traditionally descriptive, it's just an easy way for me to remember the visualization when I draw the panels.)

—-------EDMUND

• We open with a distant wide shot of men excavating ruins and clearing debris. The morning sun creeps over the hill, casting long shadows over the ruins. Torches light up every other area, signifying that the men have been working through the night.
• Our view changes to Edmund and Vesper, his pet fox. Edmund is sketching the ruins as Vesper chews on a small rodent. Edmund squints as he sees a figure approach the other men, much larger than them and clad in armor. He hands them a rolled-up paper and looks around. Edmund is met with a firm grip on his arm, sending a shock up his spine.
• “You shouldn’t be here” the voice sharply whispers to Edmund. Edmund turns to face a man, old, but not too old to be a knight. A gold lion’s head points in Edmund’s face, roaring at him in silence. Edmund stares at the hilt, standing up slowly.
• “Sorry, Sir Odwynn. I was only-” Odwynn puts a cold leather-gloved hand over Edmund’s mouth. “Silence, son. The king would have our heads.” Odwynn signals Edmund to follow him, and so he does. His sketch was only half-way finished. Vesper scurries behind. As they all sneak away, the giant knight in the background faces them.
• Odwynn, Edmund, and Vesper approach the gate, but are met by a stern guard, clearly on high alert. “Sir Odwynn, were we not told to stay put?” the guard questions. “We were just hunting right outside the walls. Vesper here needs fresh meat.” Odwynn grunts. Vesper lets out a small “hup” as he carries the small rodent in his mouth. “Yes sir, of course. Good luck today, sir.” The guard allows them in, gesturing them inside. He then signals for the men to close the gate behind them as he looks off into the distance, clearly concerned.
• “Go get cleaned up, you don’t want to show up like that. You too, fox. Don’t want blood all over that mouth, makes for a bad impression.” Odwynn leans down to tussle Vesper’s fur, but Vesper rolls over on his back for a pet on his belly. “You little shit.” Odwynn giggles and pats Vesper’s belly and the fox smiles back with meat still hanging from his teeth.
• “Yes, sir. Come on Vesper.” Edmund heads to the keep, feeling a bit of guilt from sneaking out. He lets out a small sigh with a disappointed look on his face as he climbs up the steps. He passes a group of old men dressed in robes huddling over each other, whispering about something. As Edmund slows and tries to listen, one of the men slowly turns his head to meet Edmund’s stare with a mixture of fear and curiosity. All of the men look up. A scribe, younger and slimmer than the rest, turns with a calm and reassuring, but firm tone. “Keep moving, squire. Don’t want to miss the tourney.” Edmund quickly faces forward and hastens his steps. He starts to feel their stares enter into his soul. “Do you think they know, Vesper? Would we really get in trouble?”
• We enter Edmund’s bedchamber, which is small and cramped, but filled with sketches of landscapes, castles, and people. There are two crudely-carved wooden figurines. One of a knight on a horse, and another of a dragon, a bit larger than the former. Edmund grabs the knight and inspects it, then tucks it in his satchel. He grabs a cloth, dips it in a bowl of water, and starts wiping away at Vesper’s mouth.
• “I can’t do this. I’m scared.” Edmund tells Vesper. “Sir Odwynn seemed almost terrified of those ruins, or something. What if we got caught? Would we be hanged?” Vesper screeches back. Edmund looks worried, but he decides to smile instead. “You ready?” Edmund asks Vesper. The fox jumps up on all fours, his rear facing upwards as if he were ready to play. Vesper jumps off the bed as Edmund opens the door, and they both head down the hallway, giddy with anticipation.
• As Vesper chases Edmund through the hallway, one of the scribes stops them at the base of the steps. He starts off looking down as if he were nervous, but fixes his face to a smile. “Off to the tourney, eh? You’re a bit late, but enjoy the fights.” The old man stops to look at Edmund and continues smiling, staring into his eyes for a second. “Y-yes sir. Thanks.” Edmund looks bewildered, but then continues on, making his way down the steps in a hurry.
• Edmund makes his way through the inner bailey and out of the gate and the sounds of chattering, cheering, and music playing in the distance. Edmund finds his excitement being washed away quickly when he approaches a corner and hears whispers. “-somethin’ wrong ‘bout it. The guards ‘ere swarming it this morn’. One of ‘em went in, I ‘eard. Down at the pub, a miner said he spotted a knight leavin’ the ruin at the thick of night, an’ he had somethin’ tucked under a cloth.” Edmund slowly creeps away from the corner and hurries down the side of the alley, then he spots a large man dressed in decorative armor marching past the shops across the street. Edmund feels his heart suddenly beating like a horse’s and pins himself to the alleyway’s walls. A flash appears in his head of the large knight handing the man the paper. Edmund starts sweating profusely and he can only hear his heart beating out of his chest. “What has he done? How could he be so stupid?” He makes his way down the alley, stumbling a bit from the panic. “He said they were forbidden, why-” he stops and tries to gain composure. Vesper nudges his muzzle against Edmund’s leg, letting out a whine. He signals Edmund to pick him up, purring. Edmund grabs Vesper by the belly, softly laying him on his shoulder.
• Edmund enters the crowd. “We’ve come just in time.” he says to Vesper, sweating profusely. He seems to be the only one not cheering as the drums start beating. A brass horn lets out a loud and obnoxious blair and Edmund cringes at the noise. As Edmund sees Odwynn approach the ring, he grips the wooden fence between him and the ring. Blood. All over the ground. The announcer shouts something, but Edmund can hardly hear it over the booming crowd. Odwynn lifts hand up, waving to the crowd. He meets Edmund’s eyes, which look worried, like always. Odwynn lets out a soft smirk, tilting his head at Edmund, almost mockingly. Then he points to his opponent, who enters the ring in a fit of laughter, sticking his tongue out to the crowd and licking his blade. “Plea- -come -ring, MAD MYRON!!”
• Odwynn stands silently ready for his opponent and walks to the center of the ring. Mad Myron lets out a roar and lowers his visor, but stops in his tracks. He slowly lifts it back up and the crowd cheers. He lowers it, and they boo. Mad Myron rips the helmet off of his head and tosses it towards Edmund, landing near his feet. Edmund picks it up and looks confused.
• A man lights a torch with an odd metal covering and it lets out a loud bang. Odwynn and Mad Myron clash blades almost in an instant. Mad Myron pushes Odwynn back with a grunt, sending Odwynn to slightly stumble backwards on his feet. Mad Myron laughs once more and points his blade at Odwynn. “OLD… MAN!” his thick northern accent coming through. Odwynn decides to play defensive. “And young enough yet” Odwynn whoops. As the lunatic approaches Odwynn, the old man quickly spins around, his cloak twisting and flowing around his armor, making him look like a true knight. Edmund grips the fence tighter. Odwynn grunts and swings his sword down, cleanly slicing Mad Myron’s ear off. The crowd and Mad Myron both holler and scream, but then Mad Myron shows no pain. Instead, he looks up and smiles at Odwynn, then slowly reaches down onto the dirt, picking up his ear as he drips blood onto the ground. He lifts up the ear, throws it in his mouth and chews, smiling and lifting his arms up over his head, fiddling with something. As he drops his arms back down, his chestplate does the same, crashing onto the ground. The crowd is going insane over Mad Myron’s showmanship. “You’ve fucking earned your name, lad.” Odwynn shouts, amused and bewildered at the same time.
• Mad Myron signals a pause and lifts a hand in the air, catching another sword from the air with his empty hand. He drops the swords. “Oh, come on, you cunt!” Odwynn shouts. The audience sends back an overwhelming “BOOOO!”. Edmund looks annoyed at the crowd’s reaction. “You lot are pigs, go fuck yourselves!” He tells the crowd behind him. Mad Myron looks at Edmund, grinning with blood dripping down his mouth and his face. “Makes for a bad impression” Edmund growls. Mad Myron takes off his shoulder plates and his gauntlets, then his gambeson, leaving only a muscular, but lean man in boots and legplates. He picks up both swords. The crowd clamors, shouting and hooting. Some of the women blush. “Fucking jester, he is.” Edmund says softly. Vesper growls.
• “Are you done showing off, you dog?” Odwynn shouts. Mad Myron spits out his ear toward Odwynn and lets out a howl, then a couple of barks and some northern words, surely mocking Odwynn. He lunges toward Odwynn, slashing both words downward. Odwynn blocks them and dashes to the side, not letting himself be cornered. As he swings sideways, Mad Myron does a backflip and the crowd lets out a cheer. He paces around the center of the ring, mirroring Odwynn. Odwynn lets Mad Myron get his energy out with another backflip and he follows up with a thrust of his sword, slicing right through Mad Myron’s stomach. The crowd gasps and hollers at Odwynn while Edmund and a few other people cheer. 
• “ He’s going to bleed out!” Edmund says, confused. A man faces him, returning Edmund’s confusion. “Are you daft, boy? They’re fighting to the death. New rules. More fun.” The man chomps down on a sausage, juice pouring down his chin as he smiles with his teeth. Edmund’s eyes grow big and his heart starts racing. “I know…” He notices the large knight stepping up to the ring and whispering into the ear of a very wealthy-looking young man, handing him the paper. The lord opens the letter, reads it, and nods.
• Mad Myron starts to look more and more tired already, and is starting to grow pale. He lunges at Odwynn, stumbling ever so slightly. Odwynn effortlessly dodges the attack, returning with a slash to the back. Mad Myron’s skin splits open, causing the crowd to wince and Myron himself to howl in pain, hunching over and kneeling. A few more people cheer. “You are a fool, but I am still sorry.” Odwynn lets out with a winded breath while sending his sword through the skull of Mad Myron, ending the fight. Odwynn drops his sword and the crowd cheers. The lord applauds, and then ignites the torch with another loud bang, interrupting the crowd’s cheers. Without a beat, the crowd is silenced as they look around, confused and murmuring. The large knight picks up a large warpick and enters the ring. Edmund’s face grows pale and his eyes widen, sweat dripping down his brow.
• The lord lifts up a letter and starts speaking. “This man, Sir Odwynn of House Greycliffe, is known as a traitor to-” the crowd clamors and hoots. The lord unsheathes his sword and lifts it in the air, silencing the audience once more. “ a TRAITOR to the crown by King Maegor of House Blackrose, Lord of the Isles and the West Lands, King of Ashes, and is hereby sentenced to death.” The crowd hollers once more and start shuffling around anxiously. “SILENCE!” the lord is being awfully patient for a man of his stature. “This don’t make ‘ny sense” a man grumbles behind Edmund. The lord continues “He has committed treason, theft, conspiracy, and an attempt to murder the King.” The crowd gasps in shock. “That don’t sound like Sir Odwynn”  the same voice behind Edmund mutters. The lord lifts up his sword once more and points it at Odwynn. “I, Prince Caewin of House Blackrose, Son of King Maegor of House Blackrose, Lord of the Isles and the West Lands, King of Ashes, hereby sentence you to death.” He gives a pause and gives a look of soft regret. “However, in light of today’s tourney, I would honor you with an assisted death by combat. And, it pains me, but since you and your squire were both conspiring together, I shall sentence him as well.” Prince Caewin looks at Edmund and a man grabs his cloak. Edmund grips the helmet and smashes it on the man’s head, drawing blood. Another man grabs his other arm and sends a punch flying to Edmund’s face, landing right on his nose, sending blood gushing down his mouth. “Fuck you!” Edmund cries, spitting blood onto the man’s shirt. They drag him around the fence while pushing people out of the way.
• “No, please! He is innocent, he’s just a boy.” Odwynn panics. “I beg of you, let him live. If you do so, you will understand. Take him to Maegor himself, he will show you!” Prince Caewin looks to Odwynn, puzzled and amused. Then he turns to Edmund. “I think I can be swayed. Well enough. If he lives, he can be spared. Edmund.” Caewin points to the ring, and Edmund stumbles in after being shoved by the guards. He swiftly stands on his feet and looks down at the helmet in his hands, then places it on his head. Caewin tosses a sword at Edmund’s feet and he hesitantly picks it up. “Don’t be afraid, my boy. Just let nature take its course. All will be well.” Odwynn says to Edmund in a shaky tone. He hesitates and nods, standing in a fighting stance as he faces the tall knight. Another loud bang lets loose and Edmund flinches. The three men engage. 
• Edmund is panicking, and he feels a sudden heat take his brow. He is flooding with shock, but lashes out to swing at the knight and is met with a shield to the face. As Edmund falls to the ground, his body is taken over with a fire inside. His panic fades and then he feels nothing but rage and tingling all over. Odwynn shouts at him to get up as he takes a swing at the knight. He makes impact due to the knight being distracted, but the knight returns with a swing to Odwynn’s chest, denting his chestplate and sending him into a coughing fit, gasping for air. He keels over and struggles to breathe. Blood spews out of his mouth as he coughs and gags. The crowd gasps.
• Edmund stands tall, swinging the sword around his hand. He mirrors the knight’s movements and stares him in the eyes, nothing but pure anger behind Edmund’s. The knight takes a swing at Edmund, but misses and Edmund stabs him in the shoulder through his armor. The knight lets out a scream into the sky and drops his arms. He throws his shield at Edmund, hitting him in the chest and pushing him to the ground once more. 
• The knight turns to Odwynn, screams, and slams his warpick down with his left arm, and it lands on his chest, the pick going through his armor. Odwynn’s scream is bloody and gurgling. The pick is stuck in Odwynn’s armor, so the knight decides to go for Odwyn’s head with his hands. Odwynn lifts his sword and thrusts it into the knight’s chin, the other end sticking out and causing his helmet to come off. The knight falls and crushes Odwynn, further wounding him. Edmund rushes over to Edmund, stumbling in the process.
• Odwynn lets out a bloodied gurgle. “E-Edmund, y-you are-” Prince Caewin hops over the fence and slashes down at Odwynn, slicing everything above the nose completely off. The crowd screams, but not louder than Edmund. Caewin points his sword at Edmund, blood dripping off the blade. “You have won, dear boy, but you will be taken under custody for accompanying a traitor. I’ll be sure to have you sent straight to King Maegor so that His Highness may decide your fate.” The guards enter the ring and, as Edmund drops his sword, they grab him once more and drag him out. All he can feel is anger inside, but his body won’t seem to let anything out but a blank stare and blood from his nose. Edmund looks up to see the old man in rags carrying Vesper, nodding at him and turning away. Vesper lets out a shrill cry, piercing Edmund’s ears. The guards throw a sack over Edmund’s head and tie his hands and feet with a rope, then drag him further through the streets and past the gate, where he hears it lower behind him.
• Edmund hears the crowd’s roaring grow quieter, and he starts to hyperventilate. “Please, I can’t lose anyone else, he’s all I have!” Edmund shouts, muffled behind the sack. “Odwynn’s gone, boy. I’m sorry.” The familiar sound of the gate guard’s voice replies. The men pick him up and throw him over the back of a horse, and it whinnies a bit. “Make sure he goes unharmed.” The guard tells the rider. The horses trot down the road, and Edmund starts to weep as he feels a wave of shame wash over him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

So I found a cool little prompt online, “The horse Came Back Alone,” and this is what I did with it. Feedback welcomed and appreciated :)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/18xzDnl-TEYUg8DuqeNw9zbuURVqZEZWCWmHWn1yKbaw/edit

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JflbukFZuTiJkaKOtSGwZs4B7rpyNqVYFyc2yY0piG8/edit?usp=sharing

This is a book about love, religion and pseudoscience.

Any feedback welcome.

Blurb:

As Alexei and Ester opened up to each other more, bolder roles became available.

Risking the very foundation of their relationship, they would help each other up by assuming the exact roles that the other needed. Laughing and crying, they moved forward.

This bond ran deeper than what most people would call “love” or a “relationship”.

This was the kind of love two timeless beings felt for one another. Its crux was constant change and evolution, continuous improvement, a balancing act on the edge of “now” and “never”.

I’m currently writing for first book and am looking for some beta readers to give feedback on the first five chapters. I hope to do this every five to ten chapters or so. Trigger warning there is a scene with SA scenario in the beginning but nothing that I would describe as extreme or full dark scenario.

The book starts out in the real world. The main character Raina is a 25 year old female who lives with her father on a secluded mountain. When a traumatic event takes place, Raina escapes only to find herself being hunted by real live monsters. In order to survive the man who saved Raina’s life ends up taking them both to a portal that leads them into a realm where gods, monsters, and magic run free. There is action, twists, special powers, romance, and a whole lot of deception.

My goal is to complete a manuscript by the end of the year so let me know if you’re interested and I’ll shoot you a PM!

 Blurb:

Amelia is used to being referred to as an “acquired taste,” but never as literally as when she becomes a professional valentine: a vampire’s companion.

Overnight, Amelia goes from working late nights at a greasy LA diner to a neo-Regency world of beautiful ballgowns, glittering galas, and blood tasting notes. But her debut into vampire society only stokes her worst fears. Everyone wants to sample the unique flavor of her blood, yet nobody wants her as a long-term companion.

Nobody, that is, except for the mysterious Sebastian de Celeste. She's shocked when the handsome, notoriously reclusive vampire lord chooses her as his valentine. Yet he whisks her away to his gothic mountain estate only to avoid her company as much as possible.

Still, Amelia soon finds herself growing fond of the cranky vampire. But Sebastian has secrets, and skeletons in his closet (or rather, buried on the grounds). Amelia has had bad luck in love before, but the world of vampires is far more dangerous than the life she’s used to. This time, if she trusts the wrong person, the consequences could be deadly…

You can read the first three chapters here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18f9IFYyfP7kw0VTkK-Ii-cNmV6zyL_786HWvB_6mv8M/edit?usp=sharing

--

I am looking for mostly “big picture” feedback on the romance, world-building, pacing, etc. I do not have a strict deadline but would love feedback within a month or so.

I also am open to swapping manuscripts! I read most subgenres of romance, fantasy, sci-fi, and horror, either for a YA or adult audience. I am likely not a good fit for contemporary romance, sweet/clean romance, or literary fiction.

Please note that my manuscript includes explicit sex and violence. Feel free to ask about specific CWs if you have any concerns.

I’ll read your work if you read mine. (Excerpt from chapter 11). Thanks.

If I had one vice left to spit it’d drool down a dragon’s scaly expression onto the smoldering floor of its volcanic lair and evaporate sooner than the thought of you mustering enough fear or patience to vulgarly confront me. I wish there was some way in all purposeful vanity I could find a place to scream so loudly that no one could hear. The absolute rage and perfection outlining my throat. I’d find a word that could let me vent into complete destruction of my voice and lungs and throat and mouth and fuck, let there be a time for that last needed breath to escape my body in sooner vengeance than before the great undoing of all spontaneous grandeur. Rape the air with taunts of agony and threaten the foundation of modesty. Remove the failed jailing of conformity and the socialized menace I’ve grown to resent. Carve out a new valley filled with horrible, putrid, and vanishing sound meant only for the less fortunate to rebound. The geothermic uprising, finding new reason to blast out of the person I've grown bottom up, would suffocate the eroded sides of man and its lesser bodies, finally forming a reasonably sized tomb barely dense enough to be scratched into the twisted damaged rock. If I could cry through clouds finding themselves to house embers of saddened volcanic eruptions, thundering into each other in terrible and ruthless conflict, I would then maybe lay in contempt of the whirlwind left to roll over these hardly barren lands. I could only hope the sways of the almighty earth wouldn’t fear the commands of dire circumstances in need of fulfillment on deeds meant only for larger solar masses. Hurdling through the black wilderness of space finds the peddled star palpitating with extrusions of chance and glimmer: the bastard that dared to hope. The wrought fear of the sun and the impaling anxiety of the next largest being of radiating plasma fails to creep, but stalks the individual of dimming luster. And to the next unworthy sufferer balancing on the ring of seduction, to the last unwavering, berating, and ignorant depth of matter, find a new rim of empty to circle under servantry. Landing on the behavioral method of supervision, you couldn’t help but struggle with the frivolous maturity of ancient celestials. After eons of experience in collapsing ecosystems, or solar systems, don’t you dare expect a natural response from the self proclaimed giants of eternity. Give them another trillion years and you’ll have forgotten where you’ve left them. Absoluteness derives from naught, and the vacancy of is, within be. Cheapened clerics of swole titans raise delicate arms onto heavenly fathers known to no one but themselves. Quit your buffoonery, it makes you seem arrogant to those you deem blasphemous. Ringing and sickening sounds penetrate your headspace within its captive suit outside of atmospheres of ripening breezes proving if anyone dared to scribe your expressions you’d be all but embarrassed to reread your tune of lunacy.

You stand there like I can’t see you.

There could not be a twig of a forest, nor an alley of a metropolis that would save you from all sight. And how do you compose yourself? You’d rather call draw and meet my hand in the middle of this arena of fate than face the compassion of a chanting colosseum. Enough of fear and slighted insults, spread your darkness just ten feet further.

My first short story looking for input. Genre is 'Weird Fiction' but nothing supernatural about it.

When a twenty-something is left an inheritance by his great-Uncle he must go and speak to the people who have been tending to it for years to collect it or leave it behind.

This story takes place in 'The South' in the US and contains racism but no slurs or significant violence.

First paragraph:

"Every time the 20 year old SUV slowed to a stop, Joey Harkin worried that it would not start moving again. It had not started moving again a few times, but not recently, and it was usually running a lot rougher than it was now on those few occasions it attempted to 'give up the ghost'. Mostly red with plenty of peeled paint, the '92 Jeep had seen better days, and decades. Joey reassured himself that of all days for her, he thought of the Jeep as a her because it was the love of his life, to give up on life it could not be today. Joey was on the lower peninsula, Calhoun and East Ashley, looking for a parking spot near the front door to the law firm."

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rPu_yCkt3wnhPgknFvRnzbAz0V6feQmo9ro3mzNSmPo/edit?usp=sharing

Hi everyone. I am currently working on a short story just for fun. If anyone is willing to help me out here is the link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-w4LdYYaP1PnrHQArHR5VUBRPOzktaYrjX9fm34LmQA/edit?usp=sharing

Any help would be greatly appreciated.

(Description)

He can't remember why he's out in the Sonoran Desert, miles away from the nearest city. Hell, he can't even remember what the nearest cities are, or why hover cars bound back and forth between them, or his name, or what year it is.

Amidst the aftermath of his head-on truck crash with a saguaro, he's alone, or so he thinks. Just him, zip ties, tape, and a handgun. "What the hell am I doing?" When he gets his bearings, he finds himself in the presence of a thirteen year old girl, whose body came to rest on the rocks not far from the crash. Ok, so he's not alone. After rushing to her aid, he finds he's not the only one armed, as the 9mm barrel pointed back at him clearly states.

(Beta request)

Hey everyone, I'm seeking beta-readers for my upcoming novel listed above. It is heavy in the aspects of police policy and investigation.

There are explicit themes in the book, including scenes of human sex trafficking and kidnapping. There is a little romance, but it is very low key and not detailed. There aren't any grotesque sexual assault scenes are anything of the sort, just implications of such.

I am willing to swap, I read thrillers, suspense and love near future settings. I can be particularly helpful if you need assistance with police policy and the legal system. I'd prefer not to beta read something much longer than my own, but I can adjust if it's in the genre I like. It may just take me awhile but we will discuss timelines.

Hello! I've had wonderful luck with this sub before and I'm back again with something NEW!

Kill a King in Eight Easy Steps is Knives Out meets Bridgerton in fictional world of intricate detail and court intrigue. I'm hoping if you liked Tricia Levenseller's Shadows Between Us but want something spicier, my book is right up your alley.

I'm looking for honest beta reactions between now and the end of August (when my kid goes back to school). My hope is to find out what's not working in my plot so I can fix it before sending to more literary agents.

I've had 4 full requests so far with 2 rejections with 40 total queries sent - so I think something in the middle or end of the manuscript isn't working! Sign up and get the full list of tropes/trigger warnings here.

Hi all!

Looking for beta readers/story swaps :)

I have my completed novel ready for some serious feedback. I'm looking for feedback mostly on story structure/plotholes/characters, etc. (not knitpicky things like spelling) but any type of feedback is appreciated :)

I'll include first 500 words below so you can get a feel if we are a good match.

trigger warnings: violence, prostitution, murder, drugs, human trafficking

I don't yet have a final query or comp titles, but here is what I have so far for a summary/query:

Minnow wants to turn her life around after working as a prostitute. She is looking for a job in a rundown rust bucket city on Lake Erie in the country of Allegheny, a quasi-anarchist state left behind in the wake of a government collapse. But it’s difficult to find a job when her reputation in the small city has been ruined.

Since the war overseas ended, the population has fallen. The unstable country needs more men and women to operate the factories before society collapses. The government is conducting medical research on identical twins to pursue cloning to make up for the declining population. They will pay a lot of money for these medical trials. Minnow is a perfect candidate. But her twin Cascade has been estranged for years. Seeing this as an opportunity for financial security, Minnow decides to put aside her differences with her sister and find her to sign up for the research.

Just when Minnow is about to be evicted from her apartment, a stranger slips a note under her door. He is demanding she return a treasure her father stole many years ago, a treasure that contributed to the government falling apart. If she doesn't, he will find and hurt Minnow or her family. She never knew her father stole this treasure, and has no idea where to look. Her twin sister might.

Minnow needs someone with experience hunting people down. The only person willing to help her is Wenlon Laffrey, a cutthroat grifter feared by the city. Together they must overcome obstacles to find the treasure and her sister before the people chasing her catch up to them.

First 500 (Sorry if it copy/pasted weird)

Chapter 1

Help Wanted

Minnow folded the help wanted notice between her fingers before tucking the rippled paper into her pocket. As her fingers caught on the tattered threads inside her dress, she drew a deep breath. broke from the fabric of her dress.

Boarded-up windows and DO NOT ENTER signs lined the brick buildings of the streets where shops and restaurants once stood. Every month, more closed, more workers laid off. There wasn’t much left but despair in the once-great city of Erie.

Eight years ago, the soldiers returned from the war. Few survived. Those who did were not the same. Some tried to go back to work in the factory. Most didn’t attempt to return to a normal life. Many killed themselves. Now, clusters of veterans lined the streets. Clad in rags, curled into their chests, sleeping off a night of drugs, or sipping at a bottle, they still lived the battles in their minds.

After fastening her grip around the metal handle, polished smooth with use, she thrust the door open. Dust and alcohol wafted over her.

Minnow had worked away from the front, but she’d seen the youthful faces that left and the hollow stares that returned. The factory workers lamented about changed husbands, brothers, sons.

Even with more women entering the workforce, there were not enough bodies to keep up with production. Factories shut down or moved to Steel City. Minnow had hopped between several jobs over the past months. Now she was in search of another.

Rays of light filtered through the windows. Other than two hunched figures with half-drunk pints, the bar was quiet. The bartender counted bills at the register.

She swallowed against her dry throat. One of her boots was breaking at the heel, but she walked tall as she approached the counter and made her voice confident. “Good morning. I’m here to answer the notice.”

He was a clean, well-groomed man, but his eyes were dull as he looked her up and down. She had donned the nicest dress she had—presentable but not revealing. No mistakes yet.

“Did you bring a job history?” he asked.

She reached into her leather pack and produced the file. As he flipped through the pages, eyes fluttering back and forth over the lines, he nodded to himself.

He returned the papers without meeting her eyes. “I’ve heard about you from other bar and tavern owners. You’ll do.”

Relief swept through her until she processed his words. “What have you heard from the others?”

“They spoke highly of you. At one bar in particular, they said you were willing to do whatever you could to keep customers.”

Her fingers curled against the papers.

“Those types of services,” he said, “will be required of you from time to time in your position here.”

“What services?”

“You know what I mean, Miss Feey. We don’t just sell drinks.”

Her jaw clenched. “The notice doesn’t say anything like that. It specifically said you were looking for a barmaid.”

A harsh chuckle left his lips. “Any bar or restaurant would be crazy to let a young woman like you go to waste, especially with the way things are.”

Hello fellow readers, I've come here to get your awesome advice. This is my first short story ever. It's about how a group of young adults, back from college in their hometown, will handle the world ending. A rogue planet is on a collision course with Earth and there's nothing they can do but make sure the vibes are just right. They go all out on their last night, maybe even breaking a few laws. Will it end with the end of the world? Read to find out! If you're interested PM me, I'm trying out betareader.io for feedback. Willing to offer feedback on your short story/blurb in exchange!

(Besides the Sci-fi part I'm not sure which subgenre this is. Not exactly comedy, but it's funny at times and sometimes sad tugging on your heart strings)

“Greet Suzon for me” is set in turbulent seventeenth century France. The autocratic Sun King Louis XIV is bent on eradicating all Huguenot devotees in the name of the One True Catholic faith.

Gédéon is a young lad, who finds himself responsible for helping his family flee to Jersey to escape persecution. He also questions the reasons for the religious intolerance and struggles to know what he truly believes.

No explicit violence. Teenage romance plays a minor role in the story.

I'm looking for feedback on the credibility of the main characters, and examples of where I seem to be 'telling' the reader things the characters would know.

I'll make the MS available via email if you're a young adult, seriously interested in beta reading this WIP, and can give feedback by the end of September 2024.

I am able to beta contemporary fiction, literary fiction, young adult, dystopian and I prefer books that touch on important issues that pertain to real life such as mental health.

I can provide feedback on prose, pacing, character development, structure, overall enjoyment, readability and flow.

Critique swap: yes I am wanting to find a partner that has similar tastes and reading preference to elevate each other with our manuscripts. We will start with swapping the first chapters or sample chapters to ensure we are a good fit.

My novel is 92k words, a contemporary fiction novel. Here is a general description of the book and themes

Elizabeth knows she's not okay. She's dissociative, impulsive, and is still coughing up water from a traumatic event in her past. Per her family's expectations she is trying to sweep it all under the rug and move on. There is nobody she admires more than her older brother, James, but as her inner sadness and anger holds its grip on her and seems to be all consuming, she can't help but notice how he keeps it all together, loves his family and is always able to be the voice of reason. She's jealous of him and she's lucky to have him. He's her favorite person and living in his shadow makes it hard for her to accept herself in any capacity. In desperate attempts to feel something, anything at all and dwindling self-esteem, she inadvertently finds herself in a destructive pattern of construing chaos into her own life including starting a secret relationship with her brother's best friend, Derek. The collateral collective deep dives into all of the things that make us who we are, and all the parts of our story that make us whole and human. As well as the disaster that unfolds as Elizabeth, in lieu of healing, hurts the people she loves and simultaneously hurts herself.

Hello! I’m trying to find some beta readers for my debut novel. I’m working on the third draft, but I’d love some feedback from an outside reader perspective. I am very willing to do critique for critique, especially if you write fantasy, romance, and or science fiction.

Hemmed in by Blood takes common tropes like enemies to lovers, the chosen one, forbidden romance, the one bed hotel room scene, and flips them on their head in a refreshing way. Something that I think sets this novel apart from other vampire retellings is how vampirism is tied to speculative fiction. The science behind the vampires is fantastical and yet so attainable that it begs the question of whether or not something like this is plausible in our modern era.

With her college graduation at her fingertips, Hannah is reeling to step into the adult-world and out of her toxic home situation. She wasn’t thrilled to join her boyfriend at his new college club, especially when she had to lie about her whereabouts to her hovering mother, but she never anticipated the group would try to murder her. In an attempt to become the next prophets of God, the men in the group purchased a spell and potion off the dark web. Fortunately, their attempt to kill her did less than work, though there are worse things than death. While the potion managed to off each of her assailants, it turned Hannah into something different. Something not entirely human.

In comes Atticus, the government agent who has been trailing the supplier of the potions and spells. He may have been too late to save Hannah from her fate, but he wasn’t too late to save the world from her. Or so he thought. After arriving on the scene and attempting to kill Hannah himself, he found that he wasn’t capable of the job. Not out of the kindness of his heart, rather the shot gun shells to her head just wouldn’t cut it.

With Hannah in tow, Atticus travels to his headquarters where they can get a better look at her ailment, and how to kill someone of that caliber. Obstacles arise at every stop, though, and with each decision Hannah makes, Atticus finds himself sympathizing with her. After she saves his life for the second time, he’s rethinking whether or not someone with such sentience, with such a conscience, should be killed.

Just as their relationship molds into something new, something flighty, they come head to head with the supplier of spells, and he holds an evil that no one could have anticipated.

Let me know if you’re interested and I can share the first 3+ chapters with you! I’d really like some feedback on the over all story, the characters, and just anything really. Thanks guys!

Link to chapter one: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Y9XhHG-lhZcc-9dAbrvlyXxSOdT16qRge1RZcgP9fNo/edit

So I’ve had these stories floating around in my head for a while, and I have complete outlines for 4 books and ideas for others. In this first book I have the prologue and first three chapters fleshed out and am looking for some feedback on whether this is even worth continuing. This is a male/Male gay romance, one MC is an alien, not the abducting race, the human MC undergoes some trauma including off page abuse and SA. Any thoughts and feedback back would be appreciated

https://docs.google.com/file/d/1ivo8YS7LjQ2nqsbO9ZEgePmewbs0Atqy/edit?usp=docslist_api&filetype=msword

This adult fantasy involves xenophobia, friendship, sexuality, heartache, and violence in a copper age jungle setting with magic, slavery, and werefolk. An outcast has found a new family but is pulled into a brewing conflict among the peoples who destroyed his own by an enchanting maid. A priestess of the goddess of passion seeks revenge, if she can survive long enough. A royal family hangs in the balance as a princess must choose between her heart and peace. They all must face the wrath of the gods’ chosen people. 

I have finished a fourth revision of this novel, and would like a writing swap if possible. I have good beta readers who come at the story from a straight white middle aged Christian male perspective, and would prefer a diverse viewpoint. I plan to submit for agents, publishing, or start self publishing at the end of the year. Let me know if you are interested. 

I came up with a story while wondering about the kind of person who would actually attend a witch-burning and see it through.

Something in the Night starts from the point of view of one of these people, Tero, who remains a character throughout the story. The POV soon switches to the main protagonist, Ainsley, an imperial detective who was sent to investigate the witch burning, something the empire outlawed decades ago. While investigating the original crimes, she discovers something far more vile than mere superstitious townsfolk, and must reach deep within herself if she's going to last the night.

Short story, 7,400 words long. Horror set within a fantasy universe. **Adult rated; gore, language, sex, dark humor - if that stuff turns you off, go the other direction, lol.

Something in the Night: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Fvk5bs59d88DK4Q3mzxX96OiOM7r7uyhyZ_IxmxdR8c/edit?usp=sharing

This is the first thing I ever really wrote to the point of wanting to share it with beta readers. I'd love to hear what you think. All input, comments, criticism, etc., is welcome. Will trade for commenting on someone else's writing. (If you charge for beta reading just let me know your rates, I'll see if that's an option.)

Other stuff I'm working on: I started writing a novel series, realized I sucked at writing, so I wrote four short stories (set within the same universe) for practice. This is one of the four. They're all very different, and this one is the only horror themed. My stuff isn't usually quite so graphic or dark, but dark scenes do occasionally bleed into my stories. I'll have the other three short stories up for beta reading soon enough.

Thanks, everyone
Cody

Hello people,

I have come in search of your sort to get feedback. I am also willing to read for reads if you want to link your stuff in PM's. You can find it on Royal Road or PM me for a link. I appreciate any effort you can put forth to assist my craft.

The story is primarily sword and sorcery with a touch of intrigue. It follows a single character's journey to overcome a significant obstacle. The first part of the series is a coming-of-age tale with school aspects, but the subsequent parts will explore different genres. Here's a brief synopsis: A narrow perspective of events leading to the end of time.

Again, thank you for any input you can offer.

***A story blurb:*** “The Great Sol War” is a collection of short stories/found documents/interviews of people from Earth, Mars, and the Asteroid Belt who lived through the War and its consequences. Right now I am only looking for a Beta Reader for a very short sub-chapter. It is a eulogy from a wife for her late husband, who was murdered while looking into the sketchy past/war crimes of a famous ‘war hero.’  The main character/author of the book is named Kieth, and he asked Tom (the deceased) to do the interview that got him murdered. The chapter also includes a eulogy from Tom's mom, Kieth, and a reading from the Christian Bible.

A short excerpt: The actual length I am requesting to be read is 750 words. Here is the first paragraph: 

“I wasn’t sure how to write this. People keep coming up to me to tell me that Tom died too young. That I’m too young to be a widow. As many of you know, Tom was working on the War history project at UO. I looked up how old the average military casualty was in the War. Twenty-three. 21.6 for Martians and 23.8 for Earthlings. By that metric, I guess we’re lucky to have had so much time together.”

Any content warnings: It is a eulogy, so it is inherently about death. Specifically a murder. It also mentions and implies suffering during a War, including the deceased being orphaned. It is also a Catholic funeral. 

The type of feedback: I am looking for an emotional connection. This is probably one of the more outwardly emotional parts of the book. What emotions does this generate? Obviously a lot of the context is missing, but does it have some emotional weight on its own? How can I strengthen this?

I am also looking for sensitivity. Generally, does it sound like a realistic eulogy? Does it sound like a spouse giving a eulogy for their S.O.? I have not experienced a loss of a loved one in this way, so I worry about getting into that headspace. 

It is a Roman Catholic funeral; the couple are also both Hispanic. I am not Catholic or Hispanic, so I want to make sure I have represented those identities with precision and care. I am looking for any reader, but if you have specific and experiential knowledge with these identities, and are willing to read, that would be extra appreciated. I also understand, though, that the job of a cultural consultant is a professional one, and I don’t expect any Beta Readers' input at this stage to be the end-all-be-all of this process. In other words, I want to hire a cultural consultant/sensitivity reader later on, so don’t feel like you have to be an expert to comment on this draft of the sub-chapter.

Preferred timeline: The next couple of weeks. I am currently working my way through editing my entire novel. This was sort of a last-minute edition before I start querying publishers. Tentatively I want to do that in roughly a month-or-so. If you’ve found this post weeks later and are interested, I am still likely looking for a second pair of eyes! 

Critique swap availability.: I am able to do a swap for another chapter or sub-chapter! Any genre, but sci-fi is my favorite.

About a year ago, I made a post here asking for Beta Readers for the first two chapters of my novel, "Whack!"

It’s set in a world where the psychological issues people deal with deep down manifest themselves as abilities akin to superpowers. It takes place in a small town and it follows an eleven year old boy named Henry who has just begun to awaken to an ability of his own.

link to my original post: [In Progress] [12K] [Fiction, Slice of Life] Whack! : r/BetaReaders (reddit.com)

Since my original post, I finished my novel and have also gained a bit more experience when it comes to writing. As stated in my original post, this is something I’ve been trying to get off the ground for awhile and now that I've completed it, I'd like to know what you beta readers think. Thank you!

Link to the first two chapters: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SiHkE1eKFwyjFf8A8VSQvefHu3oUASNZGdOPcMiGFPo/edit?usp=sharing

Message me if you're interested in reading more.