What are you writing? Over what period does it take place? Does the pace spend time on months or years flying by? Generations? Or is it moment to moment the entire narrative through.

Have you invented an esoteric calendar system? Ever follow the French revolutionary calendar or any other solar calendar?

Also I apologize for weekly quality taking a dive. I'm not the usual mod for that, and we're short staffed :3.

#The Summons

The knock came as Mithios knelt in his chambers, scrubbing blood from his gauntlets—their blood, the elves he’d broken that morning. When the Prince’s page announced the summons, Mithios’ hands froze. His throat tightened, his pulse spiking like a hunted animal’s. Him. Now. Alone.

He arrived at the Prince’s quarters reeking of sweat and iron, his hair hastily tied back, his collar askew. The guards smirked as he passed; they knew. Everyone knew. The way his voice cracked when he said the Prince’s name, the way his eyes lingered too long during war councils. Mithios’ shame was a public spectacle, and he reveled in it.

The door opened before he could knock.

The Prince stood bathed in lamplight, shirtless, his lean torso glistening with oil—a living statue carved from moonlight and venom. Mithios’ breath hitched. The Prince’s beauty was a weapon, all sharp angles and serpentine elegance, his eyes like shattered glass catching fire. He held a goblet of wine, the liquid dribbling down his chin as he drank. Mithios watched the droplet trail down his throat and felt heat coil low in his gut.

“You’re late,” the Prince said, though he hadn’t been.

Mithios fell to his knees, forehead striking the floor. “Forgive me, Your Radiance. I—I came as quickly as—”

“Silence.” The Prince’s boot hooked under his chin, forcing his head up. “Look at me when I waste my breath on you.”

Mithios obeyed, trembling. The Prince’s beauty was unbearable this close—the cruel curve of his lips, the scar cutting through his brow like a crack in porcelain. Mithios’ hands clawed at his own thighs, nails biting through fabric, anything to distract from the throbbing in his veins. He was painfully hard, and the Prince’s smirk told him he knew.

“Pathetic,” the Prince purred, crouching to eye level. His scent—sandalwood and rot—filled Mithios’ lungs. “Do you think I summoned you for this?” He gestured vaguely at Mithios’ body, his lip curling. “You reek of desperation. Like a bitch in heat.”

Mithios whimpered, tears pricking his eyes. Yes. Yes. More. He hated himself for it. Hated how his pulse throbbed in forbidden places when the Prince’s fingers brushed his jaw.

The Prince leaned closer, his breath hot on Mithios’ ear. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you? Break you. Humiliate you. End you.” His hand slid down, fingertips grazing the scarred flesh beneath Mithios’ tunic. “You’d thank me for it.”

Mithios nodded frantically, a wet sob escaping him. “Y-yes—please—I’ll take anything, give anything—”

The Prince’s laughter cut him off. He stood abruptly, leaving Mithios swaying on his knees. “You’re not even worthy of my disgust.” He tossed a dagger at Mithios’ feet. “Pick it up.”

Mithios scrambled for the blade, his hands shaking. The Prince stepped back, languidly unbuttoning his trousers. Mithios’ gaze snapped upward, his mouth dry.

“Not for that, fool,” the Prince sneered. “Cut yourself. Here.” He pointed to his own bare chest, where a pale scar marred his skin. “Match me. Prove your… devotion.”

Mithios’ vision blurred. The Prince’s beauty was a sickness in him, a poison he’d swallow gladly. He pressed the blade to his chest, his breath ragged. The Prince watched, bored, as blood welled and dripped.

“Deeper,” the Prince commanded, sipping his wine.

Mithios obeyed, gasping as the pain crested—sharp, sweet, sacred. The Prince’s eyes flickered with something like hunger.

“Good dog,” he murmured.

The praise unraveled Mithios. He moaned, low and broken, his body betraying him utterly. The Prince’s lip curled in disgust, but he didn’t look away.

“Tomorrow,” the Prince said, turning toward the window, “you’ll lead the raid on the elven nursery. You’ll slaughter every squalling brat. And you’ll enjoy it.”

Mithios collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the Prince’s boots. “Yes,” he panted. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you—”

The Prince kicked him onto his back. “Get out. You’re staining my floor.”

......................................................................................................................................

Critique of "The Summons"

Writing Style & Tone:

The writing style is vivid and evocative, effectively creating a tense, charged atmosphere. The descriptive language and sensual imagery draw the reader deeply into the scene. The tone is oppressive, dark, and psychologically intense, matching the twisted dynamics between Mithios and the Prince. However, it may be important to consider if this level of intensity throughout the narrative is sustainable or if it risks overwhelming the reader.

Characterization:

Mithios is portrayed as a deeply conflicted character, trapped in a destructive cycle of desire, shame, and submission. His internal struggle is palpable, and his vulnerability makes him both pitiable and dangerous. His reaction to the Prince's dominance is detailed with emotional depth, giving the character complexity, yet it’s essential to evaluate how far this dynamic is pushed without losing nuance.

The Prince, while a striking embodiment of power and cruelty, risks coming across as somewhat one-dimensional in his sadism. While his beauty and dominance are emphasized, there could be moments of subtlety or conflicting emotion to round him out, especially considering his commanding position. Is his cruelty absolute, or does he wrestle with any deeper motivations or vulnerabilities? This might add depth to their interactions and make the Prince more compelling as a character.

Pacing & Structure:

The pacing is deliberate, building tension slowly, with the scene developing into a crescendo of humiliation and submission. This slow buildup mirrors the psychological torment experienced by Mithios. However, the constant intensity may wear on the reader. Consider balancing the dark moments with intervals of contrast, allowing for breathing space to increase the emotional impact when the moments of cruelty hit.

The sequence of events—the Prince’s commands, Mithios’ obedience, the tension between them—flows with a sense of ritual. However, introducing more subtle actions or interactions could deepen the emotional complexity, breaking the repetitive pattern and adding variety to the psychological games at play.

Psychological & Emotional Impact:

The piece effectively evokes feelings of discomfort, pity, and intrigue. Mithios’ self-loathing and yearning for the Prince's validation are rendered in an intense, almost suffocating way. However, the emotional toll on the reader can be significant, especially with the graphic depiction of pain and submission. If this scene is part of a larger narrative, consider how this moment fits into the overall emotional trajectory of the story.

One area to explore further is the contrast between Mithios' emotional state and his physical reactions. His body betrays him in a way that creates a stark juxtaposition with his mind, heightening the tension between his desires and his sense of self-worth. This is an excellent thematic exploration, but perhaps more moments of internal conflict or reflection would make this dynamic even more poignant.

Sensory Imagery & Symbolism:

The sensual imagery is strong and layered throughout the scene. The Prince’s beauty, the scent of sandalwood, the dripping wine—these sensory details serve to heighten the emotional and physical tension. However, the intensity of these details may distract from the deeper psychological themes of power and submission. Balancing this sensory overload with moments of silence or internal reflection could help emphasize the mental landscape.

The recurring symbols of blood, pain, and scars (e.g., the dagger, the Prince’s scar) are effective in illustrating the bond between them. These elements create a visual and thematic link, reinforcing the idea of both devotion and destruction. One suggestion is to explore more abstract symbolism, such as the Prince's beauty being both a literal and metaphorical weapon, to further explore his role as both a seducer and destroyer.

Dialogue & Interaction:

The dialogue is sharply drawn, contributing to the oppressive and manipulative atmosphere of the scene. The Prince’s words are laced with cruelty, commanding Mithios in a way that reinforces his power. However, at times, the language could benefit from more variety. While the Prince’s commanding tone works well, including moments of sarcasm or detachment could add another layer to his character.

Mithios' responses, on the other hand, are often framed in terms of desperation, which works for the emotional stakes but may risk becoming repetitive. Introducing a moment where Mithios questions, resists, or has a fleeting moment of clarity might offer a more dynamic interaction and a deeper look into his character.

Thematic Exploration:

The themes of power, dominance, submission, and self-loathing are explored vividly in this piece. Mithios’ torment is central to the scene, and the Prince’s cruelty is a dark reflection of this power dynamic. However, the scene leans heavily on humiliation and self-destruction. Consider exploring the themes of power and devotion from other angles: How does Mithios’ obsession with the Prince impact his sense of identity or his capacity for agency outside of submission? Does the Prince see any value in Mithios beyond his willingness to suffer? These questions could lead to an even more complex exploration of these themes.

Potential Areas for Improvement:

Character Depth: Consider exploring the motivations behind the Prince’s cruelty. Is it purely sadistic, or does it stem from something more intricate, like a deep-seated fear or past trauma? Adding this dimension could make the Prince more layered and multifaceted.

Pacing and Balance: While the intensity of the scene is well-crafted, adding moments of quiet or introspection could amplify the emotional weight when the cruelty is unleashed. A slower build to the climax, with moments of tenderness or vulnerability, could create a sharper contrast.

Symbolism and Imagery: The use of physical pain, scars, and beauty is effective, but weaving in more abstract or complex symbolism could elevate the themes of devotion and destruction. Consider exploring more metaphoric references to power, control, and submission.

Final Thoughts:

The piece succeeds in establishing a powerful, dark atmosphere and a complicated relationship between Mithios and the Prince. The emotional and physical intensity of the scene is felt keenly, and the character dynamics are compelling. However, for further depth, the exploration of both characters' inner worlds, as well as the themes of power and submission, could be expanded and diversified.

Hi all! This is the first chapter of an urban fantasy novel I'm working on. As someone who mainly writes fanfiction I'm most worried about character and exposition as I haven't had much practice with those, but would be grateful for feedback on anything. Thanks in advance!

Crit - Land of the Really Free [1765]

My work - How to Make Fresh Potting Mix Chapter 1

Thank you in advance!!

I am trying to get better at writing, and I thought I would start here. This is my first go at short stories, so feel free to rip into anything. I don't know that I know enough to know what I need.

Story link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wgTlfmxQX2ycedaWAwgKtJ7Qk5uDQZZ-vyRmuIixO_Y/edit?usp=sharing

Critiques:

[1451] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1iaprji/comment/ma5u7vh/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

[1228] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1icbzk4/comment/ma5n46i/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

A year ago, I posted a messier version of this chapter and (apparently lying) told myself this 5-year-long project was almost done.

Now, I am actually done with all writing and just have a bit more polishing/editing to wrap up. I'm looking to submit to some first chapter contests soon, as well as get some beta readers etc. within the next month or so. This post here is mostly for the contests, as I just want to make sure Ch. 1 is as tight as it can reasonably be and also get some vibe checks. :)

If anyone here is still alive from a year ago, awesome, but I am also very, very interested in 100% fresh eyes who have never seen me around here before.

A few guiding questions:

1. Do these two PoVs feel suitably distinct? How does the characterization (and narration) feel for both? This is intended to be a close third.

2. This is a pretty low concept and messy/busy world (that's what 5+ years of writing the same story will get you, I guess)—how does the presentation of setting/story feel? Too much in one direction? Overwhelming as a first time reader, or just fine?

3. How is the prose/voice? I have wrestled with having a heavier voice in the past and since some of my favorite authors are people like Gene Wolfe, it's a hard allegation to beat. I would, however, like to know if it's ever Too Much.

If you're curious about the broader premise/story for the sake of a beta swap or something, it's (not really a spoiler, but just marking for people who want 100% blind read of this excerpt): >!a secondary world fantasy tech'd rouuughly to the early 1900s with a lot of real-world fin de siècle and Belle Époque themes/costuming. An entrenched aristocracy is tumbling apart with the rise of capital, a not!Communist movement is on the come-up, terrorist plots are hatching, etc. There's some low-level magic (it is still a fantasy world, if again low-level), but most of it outside the ensemble PoV cast's grasp. Most of it. There also heavier-than-air metal airships, which were originally the big founding theme, but have kind of become just a part of a bigger whole.!<

Don't worry too much about the title, it's just a project name. In all likelihood I'd dig up something else to actually submit/query (when/if it gets to that stage).

My submission - Vainglory Ch. 1 [2345]

† Critique 1 - Second Chance [1776]

† Critique 2 - First Chapter for a Lawyer Thriller [1670]

Note: So I feel I did a disservice to all those giving feedback by 1. submitting a half-written short story and 2. not explaining that in the body. After a drive to complete the story (You all gave some great feedback) this is what I have on 1st draft. Curious to know what you think, especially those who read through the first story and gave feedback ! Thanks and hope you enjoy this 1st/2nd draft.

Crit

I noticed the red blemish on her face before I noticed the rest—the long black boots, the matching skirt. That blemish grew in my mind until I truly saw her.

We wandered through the downtown streets of Detroit. It always reminded me of New York, a city tossed around in the dumpster of media references, but it had its own twisted beauty. We got turned around on our way to the restaurant, laughing about it.

“You get bit today?” I asked.

“No, but my coworker got stabbed. I just got scratched,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad the glass is see-through. It has to be, in case one of those little fuckers attacks me.”

She worked with juvenile delinquents. I had been one, still dipping my toes into the wrong even after I’d clawed my way back to something some might call success. But I was always looking for another mountain to climb—or tumble down.

“What set him off? Why’d he claw you?”

“He wouldn’t stop reaching for the pens. The first time, I told him nicely. The second time, too. But the third time, I yelled.”

“So, an interesting day?” I asked, casual as her. Her bangs blew in the wind, dark against the Michigan winter. She wasn’t from here.

She shrugged. “It was a day.”

We reached Adelina, the Italian restaurant I had picked. She held the first door open; I held the second. A quiet dance of small courtesies.

“Reservation for two.”

We sat across from each other, conversation rolling until Valium came up. Not the kind served on trays—just the topic itself. Then, needles. Then, years ago.

She had stabbed herself with them, heroin included, falling into bliss until she could no longer get up. But she was clean now. On the outside, at least. Inside, I imagined she still wanted to get dirty. I saw it in the way she bit her lip across the table.

We ate well and ended up in her car, smoking cigarettes in a towering concrete garage, tapping ash out the window. I didn’t smoke—at least, not cigarettes. It had been years. I only vaped, the modern equivalent but without the 'lung disease,' so they say. But I missed the fire. The spark. In university, I’d sneak into stairwells when the mounting pressure of finals told me I must. That reason seemed silly now.

She had two kinds of cigarettes: the lights and the cowboy killers, Marlboro Reds. Which she chose depended on the day—whether she got scratched or stabbed.

Speaking of nicknames, she told me about a young Mexican boy named Nutella. That wasn’t his name, of course, but he took it with blissful ignorance, his heart following hers. But hers sat beside mine. If hearts could sit. Mine could only pulse—steady, relentless—while she placed her legs on the dashboard, tattoos sneaking out from under her black dress, slipping down just far enough for the blood to rush somewhere besides my head.

“NUTELLA!” she shouted at her phone, snapping me out of my growing want to see what was really under that black exterior she’d done up so well. She had changed on the way from her job to our date, reapplying her makeup, but that red blemish she couldn’t conceal.

We had a hotel booked. You might assume it was for sex, and maybe that was part of it, but I wanted to talk with her, too. Still, we both knew what hotels were known for.

“You look good,” I said. And she did—not just in how she looked but in how she sat, twirling her hair around her finger. All the signs you like to see.

“We should probably head to the hotel now,” she said. “I’ll beat you there.”

I hopped out of her car, drove fast, weaving in and out of traffic, pushing past 103. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. The thrill. The risk. Some are worth taking. Others, not so much.

I beat her to the wrong hotel.

“Sure ;),” she texted when I explained my mistake. The right one was just a few hundred feet down.

Inside, the Courtyard Marriott wrapped around a snow-covered center, each room with a balcony overlooking the emptiness below. We shared another cigarette outside, then went in. I pulled out a surprise—a bottle of fancy French wine. She had modeled in Paris once. She had a taste for French wines, but not the cocaine ingrained in the fashion industry. Maybe that was why she left.

No wine glasses, just paper coffee cups. But we made it work. The red wine stained the cup, prettier than when they were empty.

“Cheers,” we said, drinking deep, staining the sheets as our plastic cups sloshed with intoxication.

“You smell amazing,” I told her as the space between us disappeared. Her hair didn’t smell like perfume, nothing from a mall department store. Just natural, like the shampoo label read made for men to sniff because I couldn’t help but do so.

Her red panties slipped into view as she laid back on the bed. But before they came off, she asked a series of questions.

“Say you’re in a gladiatorial ring. They’re all eight-year-olds with clubs. They don’t die, but for each one you take down, you get a million dollars. How many could you kill?”

“Eighteen,” I answered, then revised it to twenty-two when I realized I could steal their clubs. “But if one of those fuckers hits my knee, it’s over.”

“That’s what my dad said,” she laughed. More violent hypotheticals followed, then lighter ones.

Then, her legs opened further.

We fucked. Long, hard, dirty. Fell into each other, into the bliss of it all. Then—a knock. Pounding. The police? No.

“WHAT?!” I shouted, ignoring it. But the banging continued, forcing me up, stumbling naked to the door. I cracked it open.

A man. Soft voice. “I saw what you were doing,” he said. “Can I suck your dick?”

“I’m gonna have to get back to you on that,” I said, flabbergasted. Back to the bed. She confirmed what I heard. We sat, saying what the fuck over and over.

Another knock. She answered this time.

“He told me I have a beautiful figure,” she said, still in shock. “And craziest of all? He was wearing high heels and a red dress to match.”

We forgot to close the blinds—the ones that kept our imperfections hidden, that shielded the raw, unfiltered moments from prying eyes. The ones that let him see only what was on the surface, never knowing how we got there, the deeper truths that even we hadn't fully uncovered. She wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to be god-knows where but somewhere. 

So, we snapped them shut, smoked, and let him fade into the night, talking until We fell asleep. When we woke, her makeup had faded. The red blemish? Maybe it had faded too. Or maybe, after everything, I just stopped noticing it.

Excerpt from a fiction story I'm writing about a zombie outbreak. Comedy/drama. I don't perceive it much as a total fantasy novel, probably reads more like realistic fiction. I would love to hear what you think, the good, bad, and awful. Thank you.

Also, this is technically a Resident Evil 2 fanfiction LOL but it only has minor aspects that relate to the franchise. If you're a fan you'll probably notice a single reference. It is intended for all (adult/ya) audiences in that regard. NSFW flair because it has strong language and mentions of drug use, death, and threats of violence.

Critiques:

[1228] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1icbzk4/comment/m9sufkk/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

[1145] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hkxjoe/comment/m9s1xoz/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

[1765] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i7vz4e/comment/m9r8jdr/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1etuNZAkuslt_coafncoweYUqHmULY1DH5AW4C8xRbTM/edit?usp=sharing

Short story about faith and grief. Any/all critique welcome. Thank you in advance for any feedback :))

Story: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AFHv1yhaSwU583fOxOc7MNwKZlshUl_MQXhK4kMIIUU/edit?usp=sharing

Critique [1994] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hi4vt2/1994_dragon_entombed_chapter_1/

This is the first chapter in a book I’m writing. Would be grateful for any critiques.

Synopsis of First Chapter: Amidst the festering corpse of New Veles, Kael and Veyra carve through irradiated wastes and Architect-spawned nightmares, their frayed humanity crumbling like the city’s calcified bones as cryptic symbols and squirming walls whisper of elder atrocities. When Kael surrenders to an alien relic’s liquid embrace, his metamorphosis cracks the world open—unleashing a primordial hunger that dissolves flesh, loyalties, and reason, leaving only the Architects’ deranged hymn of evolution screaming across the dunes.

Story link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-Bz-Bh9f0eJnopU_LBMmvq-UEp5bTspaR_re1XyHnMI/edit

Critiques:

[1313] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/s/UfyDlZSzKf

[1451] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/s/RmYCY4iaa9

Hello all,

A wee bit farcy. Similar to my previous Action Man post, this is aimed toward sharing as a spoken word piece - it should work as written too.

'Performed' Action Man yesterday - went down fine. Turned into a reading rather than a performance. Almost cracked my screen from holding the phone too tight. 1st time sharing live, another set of skills to acquire, anyone got experience?

Hope you all have a good week.

My critique is from 93 days ago - crossing my fingers. Its the last of my 'banked' critiques.

Standing in From the Crowd

Critique - [2544] 10 Hours of Black

This is a short romance story in a fantasy setting about a girl who has trouble fitting in.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/141KsAXuIYwZ3U6zBzBXXnSu7Kah6D__2oDgMiWHrbuo/edit?usp=sharing

Critiques:

[1283] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hvwxs2/1283_murder_on_the_menu/m5xzrc6/?context=3

[1670] https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1iai4vk/1670_first_chapter_for_a_lawyer_thriller/m9bt0vh/?context=3

Hi all!

I’m having a go at writing in a new genre and I wanted to get some feedback on my first chapter.

I haven’t written in this kind of fast-paced page-turning style before, so I’d be interested to hear how the pacing feels, but feedback on all aspects of the writing would be appreciated. I’ve also tried to keep a lot about the protagonist ambiguous, so you’re left wondering why he’s so cool under pressure, so please let me know if that worked for you or just felt unnatural!

Thanks in advance!

The Chapter.

My Critique.

Hi all, This is an excerpt from my current project. It's from chapter 26, so it's pretty late in the story. I know it's not perfect and probably needs a lot of work. So, all feedback is welcome. Thanks in advance.

TW: Drugs. Cocaine, specifically.

My work: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sWTICv5Yij0h4QwDS8I5mJXVrtMcdxTHhhnax7FKpjc/edit?usp=sharing

Critiques: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sWTICv5Yij0h4QwDS8I5mJXVrtMcdxTHhhnax7FKpjc/edit?usp=sharing

https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i4ky43/317_on_corentyn/m91id59/

There's been a lot of talk in the last few days (in the USA, anyway) about the relationship between your citizenship and where you were born. In light of this, I dusted off a story I wrote 20+ years ago that has something to say about the idea of birth-location vs. citizenship. The story takes place in the near-future (or the near-future as I imagined it when I wrote this). So I guess it might be called sci-fi? If The Handmaid's Tale is sci-fi, then so is this.

My goal is to put this story on some appropriate subreddits and my website as a way using fiction to communicate my views on the current citizenship debate.

This is the first third-or-so of the story.

My question to the reviewers here: Is it any good? Like, Handsmaid's Tale good? Would you keep reading? Also, what's a better name for this story?

Submission: The Land of the Really Free

Reviews:

[1648] From the Banescar to the Vael'ren. Chapter

[1576] Acid Washed Desert

I wanna hear all about your antagonists this week. Hope everyone is staying safe. Americans, know you are loved here and the meandering terf and fash core spam from your gunernmint isn't going to effect this place. By minimum, you're safe here, and to publish your writing accordingly regardless of identity.

Hello! This is my first time posting here, I am working on my story and I wanted to know right off the bat if i'm heading in the right direction/establishing the right mood with my prologue. I'm used to write small snippets here and there but less so at actually setting scenes with descriptions and character monologues.

Here is the link to my doc:

• https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pGpBrEZ0STFoLBno22AMqh_KunNX1pDeadt8R9qCqQw/edit?usp=sharing

Previous Critiques:

• https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i03b4y/comment/m8ml2z6/
• https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i9fijn/comment/m9gwigx/

Update:

I modified my original document based on the critiques i already received, the correct count is now 1927.

A flash fiction piece about a woman and her brother who doesn't want to get in the car.

Previous version

Critique

Frank's New Place

My brother Frank would never tell me what bothered him. He couldn’t, with his Down’s syndrome and autism. So when he shuffled along the front porch and I urged him to move, he just huffed at me.

“No… Frank…” I groaned. “It went well so far.”

Our mother’s passing had dragged me into this. Her funeral, my life in smithereens. As if to underline my frustration, Frank held his head and moved it up and down as I approached him.

I said, “Come on, Frank. Don’t do that.”

His head bobbed harder and harder.

I worked my butt off to get him into this assisted living place nearby, but he’d never understand I did.

“Don’t like my car?” I tried.

He stopped, puffed, but ignored the question. Called me Sissy. Great. You give Frank a name to call you, and it’ll stick with you forever.

“I’m forty-five,” I sighed.

The more he nagged, the later I’d be in the office. It took me some doing to get that time off each morning, to drive Frank to the day care until he would finally move out today.

Perhaps I could make him walk if I were to act all nice. Yet after I gently patted his shoulders, Frank’s usual stone face came right in mine, eyebrows raised. His tongue hung out. Thank God I managed to brush his teeth this morning.

“Shall we go?” I asked.

He stared at me slant-eyed. “Frank not new place.”

I said, “Stop making a fuss.” How stubborn he could be.

He bobbed his head again.

“And stop doing that!” I clutched his arm. “I’m not gonna be late.”

“Frank not new place.” He tried to yank himself free.

“Darn it, Frank!” Like I cared about the neighbors right now. “It’s not always about you!”

My hand tingled after he cut loose and stormed back in, sobbing. I felt like doing the same as I followed him, but instead quietly closed the door to calm myself.

Inside, Frank arranged his toys on the floor in one neat line. When I squatted down, he held some big eight-piece frame puzzle of a smiling sunflower. In moments like these Mother excelled, but I had gotten far in life in not listening to her, and I sure wouldn’t do so now. I’d tackle this on my own. Still, I didn’t know where to start, so I asked him whether he liked the sunflower. He puffed.

“Come now,” I cried. “What’s the matter with my brother?”

Frank scratched his head. “Sissy puzzle.”

When he bobbed again, it clicked. We both didn’t like this new place in life. Frank and me, we’re siblings together. I silently pledged that now that he’d move out, I would come visit him twice a week. He wouldn’t register promises made, but would love that regularity.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and, after I wrapped my arms around him, “watch out, Sissy’s gonna give you a kiss.”

Frank laughed.

Feedback:

Any! Nit-pick if you like, this is my first book I'm writing in a very long time and am woefully out of practice with immersing a reader rather than stating facts to them.

For this particular instance, I was hoping to get the lecture to be the most interesting part and avoid drowning it in too much detail about room, class, professor, etc. I focused on her appearance a bit because she will be making more debuts throughout and I'd like to get her character and energy out there early on. But would just like to have this be enough to encourage a reader to keep going.

Whatever pops out to you is welcome.

Genre: Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Work: https://docs.google.com/document/d/16xkXZo8BoBqfN-zc4Z0LtfePx-QnvHnJlWVLBTnPpdg/edit?usp=sharing

Critique: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i5tnuj/comment/m88q67s/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Hey! I'm considering turning this piece into a short story and wanted your feedback on it. I mostly want to understand what feelings (if any) were evoked when you read it. English is not my first language, any feedback is welcomed :)

Here is the critique:

https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i5azos/1045_omens/

Here is the piece:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oeeFFRsB6M5FD5-eAEuEr_4-yBc5vgyzeDUI0crQwpc/edit?tab=t.0

Hi all, This is a chapter in my current project. This would be chapter 24 if reading in order, so it's late in the story. There is no character introduction.

These two characters fought pretty violently earlier in the evening. Then Jeremy went out looking for his friend. He wasn't able to find him so he came back home. This is what happens when he comes home.

Also, just because I know this will confuse people, Uncle Victor's painting has been a recurring symbol all through this book. Victor is Jeremy's dead uncle who was a really good artist. One of his paintings was hanging in Jeremy's house when he was growing up. The painting was of a desert, but it was really trippy and colorful. So, the references to brush strokes in the desert, etc, are referring to that painting.

TW sexual content.

All feedback is welcome. Thanks in advance.

My work: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cCuCq02OcveOmyWHNVHMT8RSHJOYeiAsIO6IRvYtxt4/edit?usp=sharing

Critiques: https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i2uhue/1242_the_nameless_island/m833f7p/

https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hxbpl0/491_action_man/m837r7m/

First time submitting here so please be super duper nice to me! Seriously though, anything goes. I did this piece in 3 days (2 of which were editing, mods) so we're not joined at the hip. It's a standalone piece that might become a bigger project. Yes, the ending is the reference you think it is. My main areas of interest are;

Structure: Not a strength. Voice: How did he sound? What did he make you feel? Commas: Bane of my life. Tense: I drop the ball here more I should. Overall style: Does it flow? Are the images clear? Formatting: Google Docs may have fucked it

Here's the piece:https://docs.google.com/document/d/12H4KbgY6wwCgOGoSqZe32G6v72BFIqMzSjqRrSEctyg/edit?usp=sharing

Here's my critique (part one):https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i03b4y/2284_transparent_as_glass/m81iiwg/ Part two:https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i03b4y/2284_transparent_as_glass/m81iqut/

Thanks!

i'm trying my hand at writing in a TTRPG "flavor text" kind of style. this is linked to the Pathfinder universe, but i've kept it pretty generic. the main aim is to be totally timeless and faceless; to describe a process rather than a singular event.

i find it terribly difficult to critique my own work. i never feel like my opinions on it are well-formed, one way or another. please let me know what you think!

here's my critique

and here's my writing

thanks a ton!

edit: formatting

Hey!

This is a little poem thing that doesn't make a huge amount of sense but I hope people enjoy.

PDF

Doc-based alternative

Does any of the imagery track?

Is there any kind of narrative?

Have I been reading too much TS Eliot?

[491] Critique

Thanks for any and all feedback!

PS If anyone has been to the Neue Wache, lmk!

Hello all,

This is the prologue, or at least what I planned to be the prologue, of a novel-length story I'm working on. I'm still on my first draft at time of writing, but I've come to think that the flashback part of the prologue might be better off separated from the rest of it as the prologue while relegating the present time parts to Chapter 1. I wrote the flashback with the purpose of setting the tone and atmosphere of the story, but I feel like I might be able to start the story with a slightly better hook if I separate it. I'd like to hear your opinions on it, as well as for its writing quality in general.

Genre: Fantasy, Coming of Age

Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_XPsOBn9FPsgLZ2JxiTb3qKEpLk_JdEzsRPWnU7lw1o/edit?usp=drivesdk

Critique: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/s/ahaVkogSO0

This scene is the inciting incident for Callum, a 12-year old boy. Genre is fantasy, mild gore in fighting.

Here is the google drive: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TkS8jVuQ5RyRayfcz-pL3EJaq8TbhpBx_sFdcX2Y-qI/edit?usp=sharing

Critique: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1i03b4y/comment/m7dpm1b/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Let's also submit names to color and orange here please if you notice someone doing a great job that we might have missed

Weekly question: who is the best three pokemon?

NEWS LETTER 29 :

###SIDE BAR UPDATE ---: 1-13-25 : ::: : : ::

ANyone haAnyone aAnYOne Have Uggestions On HOw To PRIMVE IMPROVE OUR COMMUNITY?

We have been told adding AI bots is a very unpopular idea. Something about it wastes water? I think you're being ridiculous.

We will probably keep the old algorithm bot--and disable any "advantage" of a 'modern' chat-mod-AI bot, which tbh ABSOLUTELY COULD replace our entire function in about 15 seconds of learning. It would probably do it better.

But it wouldn't have a soul.

Truthfully, I've always preferred the human economics and spiritual balance here. It's a rabbit hole, one I've occasionally opened up about over the years--taking inspiration from from Mark Rosewater (the designed of MTG) in his news style open-letter web-blog. This system of RDR and the leeching vs submission silently approved paradigm probably seems very intuitive, and as the creator, I agree.

However, it was a lot of stumbling to get it correct over the years...

I could write a whole book about this place, over the last 11 years I've held this place to function. I couldn't ever hope, nor do I aspire to run this place alone. The folks who volunteer with my loose instructions and take it above what I could alone manage make this place a great interactive web space.

We've had help with code, and with wording things clearly for humans.

We've recently added a bit more expressive language regarding "It's not against the rules to be a leech". That's truly the rule, and the mod top down policy there-above. We don't support leeching--however, neither do we punish leeching. We allow it, but only for 12 hours. Fragile egos and big dreams are shattered and crushed in those hours. It's a speed bump most don't expect to hit--being labeled for laziness, rather than FOR FREE on the internet immediately getting feedback. Like go ask chatGPT. . .

This rustles a lot of our jimmies, but we much prefer even the extremists and zealots of our cult do not heckle the newbies who might not (even if they should) know better. This means, do not tell people to critique, or to read the rules. You read the rules, dummy. it's in the rules to not tell people to read the rules. What are you a mod?

We do not want a community facing FACE of our community to be some random {user-name} saying "durrRRr DHURRUR HDUr hur >:V DONT LEECH BUDDY!! UR IN TRubLE!"

The fear after jumping out of the plane is the feeling we want. You pack your own chute. You trust when you post, like an emotional jump from a plane, that your chute is packed and you're going to be okay -- and that you will be amongst others who also jumped and also packed their own chutes. Only the brave and hard working here tend to get saved. The rest splat after 12 hours. We know the post is dead, and we know the user has zero interest in returning -- or they'll be back for a second jump attempt next time. Do we want to remake the entire RDR to be a parachute mixed metaphor? No, but it's funny.

During those 12 jump-from-plane hours, many dreams are crushed. Real nightmare 1st hour or 2 after submission where mods DONT tell you hey good job. We do not want the anxiety of making people wait alone in the darkness to be spoiled and polluted by some extremist RDR lunatic saying ">:V now you have evoked the great wrath of the RDR community! YOU ARE CONDEMNED WITCH! from evil forth which you came, now bastard I reverse double-anti summon from the depths of LEECHING LAZY HELL FROM WHICH YOU SPRANG!!!! READ THE RULES READ THE RULES READ THE RULZZZZ"

And then it's like bro pls just like (its usually Grauz) or me do this bro i promise you we got this bro BRO WE GOT YOU BRO (<substitute other words if youre not into the word bro, we don't mean to bro you without permission to bro). And worse we actually have an explicit rules about this, for the reason I just explained.

Anyway, we've made that more clear.

Also, we are taking open suggestions on how to improve our community again. We get these infrequently via mod-mail, and always tell people to wait for our 1/4th yearly open submission threads.

<3

Hi all, This is a chapter in my current project. Please keep in mind this is chapter 23. So, there is no character introduction, etc. For context, my main character is having a really awful night. Earlier he was forced to be part of a crime he didn't want to commit, he got the crap beat out of him, he was almost drugged against his will, and he just snuck out to get away from the guy who did that to him. This is what happens after he leaves.

My work: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-vmVS1q7hEqn8Y8I1xV3GYUj9uOhXfX8OB1LRRV9bAM/edit?usp=sharing

Thanks in advance.

Critiques: https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hug2t9/2550_untitled_chapter_one/m6tg6sr/

https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hyaluy/941_been_meaning_to_short_story_13/m6unwem/

I’m planning a creative writing project for a friend in another country. We’ve known each other for 5 years and met in person 6 months back when I visited her with some friends; it was a fantastic experience, and now she wants to visit my country. We also exchange creative, long-winded letters from time to time, but I haven't sent one for a while.

To address both the missed letter and her potential visit, I’m crafting a series of letters that frame her visit as a "mission." The first version I wrote was too goofy, but after rewriting several times, it developed quite a dramatic/conspiratorial tone, which I like (link below). I'm tryna walk the line between believable and fantastical such that there's just a tiny seed of plausibility about it from where the excitement can flourish.

Right now I'm just trying to plan it as much as possible so I have lots of directions I could take it and lore set up that is cohesive, etc.; so the first letter is quite important.

I wanted to attach a code sheet of secret words/phrases to the first letter too; could use some advice on how this. I'm not sure if I should be overt about who is sending the letter from the outset or start anonymous and slowly reveal my identity over letters. Also, once she and her friends arrive, it might be fun to continue it with some real life "clues" hidden in locations for them to find. For the bits in bold, suggestions would be useful, and, generally, if anyone has any line-by-line editorial advice or creative ideas to build up the lore behind the whole endeavour, then please share!!!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1j2ERi5f2BigWkU2oyeNhLHYbTBqA9NNijfbPqUhGL-c/edit?usp=sharing

Critique:

https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hyfjki/703_void/

This is the first written chapter of my attempt at novelizing the D&D campaign that I have been running for my friends for the past several months. As a result, the story begins in media res, beginning during the scene where the party meets instead of their "inciting incidents," which is buried in their backstories. I have a feeling that my attempts to avoid bogging down the pace with exposition have led to too little information for the reader, but I invite your opinion. I will probably need a prologue. I'm primarily seeking insight on my writing style, prose, grammar, and overall competency to ensure I'm not too far off base before I begin writing a first draft for the rest of the campaign.

Content warning for fantasy violence.

Submission: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lfG3BvBlno_f3hbbJ8GEEFCxilZ-wFWf0PAn-BAitwo/edit?usp=sharing

Critique: https://old.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1hydbej/2167_medieval_fantasy_but_in_southcentral_asia/m6jjgys/

EDIT: Thank you all for the critiques so far! They've helped guide me a lot, and since submitting this for criticism, I've shifted gears substantially in response.

There are many flaws inherent in my original approach, where I was essentially transcribing the events of our tabletop campaign with a little authorial flair. I'll go through some.

The story structure. Tabletop campaigns are long and winding, with many tangents that don't transcribe well into the more focused story framework of other storytelling mediums.

Lack of introduction. In traditional stories, there is an introduction to the characters, their everyday life, and the world around them, especially important in a high fantasy world with many, many "proper nouns." Then an inciting incident that spurs the characters into the rest of the story. In D&D, however, all of that is buried in the characters' backstories, meaning the actual campaign starts well into the second act of that character's journey.

Tropes/shallow worldbuilding. D&D is inherently filled with tropes, as it builds on the zeitgeist of fantasy culture and focuses more on fun than originality. This includes the magic system, which has to include all of the many forms of fantasy magic to appease the whims of players. It also includes races, with a long list of fantasy races, a number of which have D&D-specific connotations and meanings.

Copyright. Speaking of D&D-specific meanings, D&D has copyrighted intellectual property, as does the setting of the campaign, Tal'Dorei. As a result, changes would need to be made to make this publishable in the first place, if that eventually became my intent.

Lack of character arcs/growth. The players play their own characters, and it can be difficult, outside of a very long campaign, to show that character changing significantly in their beliefs and worldview. Meanwhile, a novel, especially one with multiple POV characters, needs to have a character journey for at least some, if not all, of the main characters.

So, what did I change?

Story structure- Instead of starting the story in the middle of the action, I've extended the plot to include a more gradual introduction to each character and their world. This is specifically intended to address the valid criticism that my submission drops people in the middle of "death by proper nouns." I've also taken the original story of the campaign and split it into three different stories that each have solid conclusions, making way for a potential trilogy if the first one works out. As a result, the new version of the scene I've submitted here happens at the midpoint of the first novel under my new outline. By then, the work of establishing the world and characters should be well underway, allowing the scene to focus on the action and character moments.

Characters- I've taken each character and deconstructed them, finding at least one character arc/journey that resonates for each of them, and threaded those journeys across the plot moments of the novel. This will, ideally, lead to better characters that the readers will care about.

Magic system- I've created what I believe to be a fairly original magic system for the novel that both reduces the amount of "introduction" that needs to be done compared to D&D magic and increases the opportunities for compelling character moments. This change will also lead the world to be more "low fantasy" than "high fantasy," which fits the tone of my writing better.

Fantasy races- I've scrapped the fantasy races from the campaign in favor of humans, though I do intend for there to be subtle differences in features for people from different areas. This is to reflect the influence of magic, which has different effects regionally (part of the magic system rehaul mentioned earlier). The major benefit of this is reducing the amount of onboarding and "suspension of disbelief" necessary to bring the reader into the world. No need to discuss how hobgoblins are different from goblins, which are different from bugbears.

What didn't I change?

I'm actually continuing to write what I'm now calling a "written account" of our D&D campaign, as it was played. This will be a combination of describing the action that happened in the campaign, and exploring how to write social scenes in compelling ways. This is because I want to use it as an opportunity to focus on my writing skills, revision skills, etc., and I still want to give it to my players for their enjoyment.

There were several great criticisms of my writing habits in this thread and others that I intend to focus on as I continue writing. My current pace goal is 1000 words per day, so I will ideally have plenty of opportunities to exercise the writing muscle and discover the good and bad of my writing as I go, implementing the advice I've been given in the process. Ideally, the result will be a much more refined writing style by the time I take on the new-and-improved novel outline that I detailed above.

That said, please let me know if I'm headed in the wrong direction with any of this! I'm figuring this out as I go, and I'm certain that I have more blindspots to discover.

This is a single-page story I'm writing for a competition. It's technically canon with the Tarquin and the Hat, and tells the creation myth of its universe.

My wife thinks I am insane.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/143QW2qbJhMnMF3BmmUBa86O3q3CpSD4ok8WrUGLSIVI/edit?usp=sharing

Critique [1333]: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1huk8ga/1333_we_chase_the_sun/m5r9ujh/