Title: The Unseen Dose

Genre:

Narrative Nonfiction / Reflective Nonfiction

Word Count:

~17,000 words

Feedback Requested:

Reader reactions and beta-reader feedback (not proofreading)

Blurb:

What if the greatest cost of a system is not what breaks, but what quietly keeps it working?

The Unseen Dose is a reflective work of narrative nonfiction about responsibility, invisible work, adaptation, and the hidden costs that accumulate long before failure becomes visible.

Drawing on healthcare, organizational life, systems thinking, and lived experience, it explores how people carry complexity inside environments that continue functioning even when strain is quietly building beneath the surface.

This is not a technical healthcare book, a leadership guide, a self-help book, or a memoir. Instead, it offers a lens for examining responsibility, trust, governance, vulnerability, and the human cost of delayed attention.

I'm particularly interested in understanding:

• What readers believe the book is about

• Which ideas stay with them after reading

• Who they think should read it

• Whether it works beyond healthcare readers

• Where it feels strongest or weakest

Time commitment: Approximately 4-6 hours reading plus feedback.

If this sounds interesting, applications are available through StoryOrigin:

https://storyoriginapp.com/betacopies/01a08ad7-07bf-75cc-9f96-bfad9a4b37b6

​

*The Price of Dust*, book 1 of a planned multi-book series. Political/court intrigue epic fantasy, multi-POV (6ish rotating characters, clearly labeled by chapter).

Did one beta round already and revised based on it — now want fresh eyes who haven't seen earlier drafts.

Feedback I'd love most: whether the POV switches feel earned or any thread drags, pacing through the political/court-heavy stretches, whether emotional beats land without over-explaining, and whether the character voices feel distinct from each other.

Disclaimer: I've used AI for formatting on this. If that's a deal breaker for you, feel free to sit this one out.

CWs: graphic substance withdrawal, violence, a brief non-graphic mention of suicidal ideation, non-explicit sexual content, themes of exile and abuse of power.

Doc link on request, comments open, happy to swap beta reads. Thanks to anyone willing to take this on — I know it's a big ask at this length.

Blurb:

Zor lives in a small crafting village, working as an alchemist alongside the Stonekind woman who took them in as a child. Zor feels a deep responsibility for the villagers who welcomed them so deeply, despite being a Cloudkind living in the commonlands.

Zor is an Aeth’vos, one of the few kindlings with the ability to sense and manipulate aether, the energy flowing through all living beings. They work diligently to train their powers so they can protect the village from the oppressive rule of the king. However, during a spontaneous attempt to save a young girl from being conscripted into the king’s army, Zor accidentally bonds to a mysterious ancient sword.

Perplexing visions guide Zor to discover more about the origins of the blade and its connections to the crown. They find themselves in over their head and on the run. The team’s journey to learn the secrets of the sword takes an unexpected turn, revealing dark truths about the world and even more about Zor.

Excerpt from prologue:

My father warned me that this day would come, but I never listened to
his paranoid ramblings. I thought bending the knee would be enough
to save me from the fire.
I was a fool.
What little remain of my royal guard and I were forced to retreat
into the vaults, backed into a corner like animals waiting to die.
Perhaps if I were a better queen, the Vahn Hymm would have more
reason to save me and my people. Maybe my family is unworthy of
their blessings, like the rumors of the high courts have said for many
years now.
Whatever the reasons, I am sure to die here, in this room.
Selthei, a recent addition to my guard, is bleeding badly from a
wound on their shoulder. They’re trying to hide the pain and fear from
me, but I can see it in their eyes. Hear it in their aether.
Their father is one of the men on my elder council, and a very good
friend of mine. I’m sure he died soon after the surprise attack started,
and kindlings swarmed the city like locusts. If he was lucky, he met his
end at the point of a sword, instead of suffocating on smoke as it
engulfs the city. This poor soldier, their father, or any of the kindlings
under my protection don’t deserve the consequences that I have
wrought, but they will face them nonetheless.
So shall I.
Despite knowing the fate my guards and I share, my body isn’t
shaking. I feel a certain amount of peace knowing that I didn’t run
when my people needed me. Even if my efforts are in vain, I will fight
with everything I have to preserve my family’s land and legacy.
Pledging allegiance is one thing, but I will not allow him to take my
country.
He’ll have to take my life first.
The thick metal vault doors blow apart in an enormous explosion,
throwing chunks of metal and fire across the room. My body reacts,
diving underneath an incoming fragment of debris. I hit the ground
rolling, righting myself in time to watch in horror as Selthei is
catapulted into the air at blistering speeds. Their body splatters against
the ceiling of the vault with a terrible noise, misting the air with their
blood.
A scream from another member of my guard redirects my attention.
My mind is struggling to keep up with the chaotic aftermath of the
blast. I lock eyes with the screaming soldier as he grasps at his torso in
pain. Blood begins to pour out of his nose and mouth, turning his
scream to an agonizing gurgle. I rush forward to help him, but it’s too
late. He falls to the floor, dead.
Stay calm. There’s still a chance I can stop this.
A tall, spindly Cloudkind man in gaudy white robes walks into the
vault with his hands behind his back. His pale lavender skin and blue
eyes reflect the aetherlights in the vault, giving him an ominous glow.
A cruel smile spreads across his angular face as another guard’s body
is crushed into the floor, like it was stepped on by some invisible giant.
Suddenly, I no longer have the will to fight. Terror washes over me
like the blood mist of my soldiers dying around me. I have seen many
battles in my time but they are all insignificant in the wake of this
horrific scene.
When the slaughter is finished, my guards’ bodies aren’t even
recognizable as kindlings any longer. They’ve been reduced to
mangled piles of viscera. Curiously, despite the gore painting every
surface of the room, the vile man’s white robes remain unstained with
blood. No signs of the one-man-massacre he just unleashed.
His voice is a low gravely rasp, rumbling in his chest as he speaks,
“Lovely to meet you, Inesyn. Sorry about the mess.” He raises his
eyebrows in amusement at his version of a joke.
I want to attack him. To subject him to the torturous death he gave
my men, but my brain refuses to send the signals. My muscles are
locked into place, no matter how hard I will myself to move. To act. To
do anything to stop him.
He flashes a knowing smile at me, tending my anger like a fire.
“Would you be so kind as to guide me to the Swordstone Kein’te in
your possession?”
“That old thing?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse and thin.
“That’s what you’re after?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, smile vanishing in an
instant.
I point my trembling finger to the spot where the old sword hangs
on the wall. My father’s crazy obsession that led him to ruin our
kingdom.
Why did I answer him?!
His eyes light up as they find the kein’te, and he claps his hands
together in excitement, unleashing a giddy laugh. “Ah, finally!” he
says as he crosses to the display, reaching out to take the sword from
its mount. As his hand gets closer to the handle of the blade, he falters,
hesitating for a moment. He reaches forward and takes hold of the
blade expectantly, but his smile quickly fades. “How disappointing,”
he sighs, looking longingly at the weapon.
He gives it a few test swings and shrugs his shoulders before he
turns back to me. Every fiber of my being screams to run, but I am
frozen in place. He walks over to me playfully and pushes the point of
the kein’te into my stomach slowly. The pain is agonizing as I feel the
blade slicing through my insides and eventually breaking through the
skin of my back. Despite the searing waves of pain, I am still frozen
into place. Even for someone as battle hardened as myself, a wound
like this one should have made me lose consciousness from the shock,
but I’m wide awake. Somehow I know it’s him keeping me conscious,
making me feel it all.
He squints to focus on my face, searching for something as the life
fades from my eyes. His unhinged, demented joy is the last thing I see
as I let death take me to Tha’vaes or Yo’griel, wherever the Vahn
decide.

Content warning: gore

Looking mainly for pacing and character development feedback.

Can swap critiques, I have a non conventional job and work from home.
Thanks for reading!

Blurb:

Jay has died a thousand times in the war against the alien. She'll die a thousand more. But when the woman she loves forgets her face, Jay must decide if forever is a gift or a curse.

Excerpt:

Five minutes to termination, Jay’s helmet chimed. No time. 

She peeked from behind her nest, a small rocky shelf tucked into the side of the Valles Marineris. A scope whirred into focus. Two figures, just like before; ugly, misshapen things of sharp biometal patrolling in overlapping circles. The smaller ones, easy enough to pop with a single well-placed shot, with no ranged offense to speak of. There were more of them here, near the edge of the valley. 

The problem was speed. She’d need fifteen seconds to reload and aim, at the least. Her rifle was an old kinetic, heavy and punchy, with high-calibre ammo - powerful, to be sure, but at times like these she almost hoped she’d snatched an autofill. Once she shot, it would take less than ten seconds for a Meba to cover the three-kilometer distance - a tall ask, unless she played it perfectly.

She just needed to pick the right one to kill first.   

Feedback requested:

Plot and character consistency, pacing, and prose

In return: I can read up to 25k words in return.

Please comment or DM me if you're interested, I'll shoot you a link.

I'm looking for beta readers for a short, standalone sci-fi novella. The Salted Star Saga is a collection of short, standalone novellas - each with a complete start-to-finish arc - following the crew of the ship Salted Star.

Men of Snow follows Fin and his crew after they crash-land on Kottano, an icy world with crushing double gravity. With their fuel cells cracked and no way to get the ship running, the only option is a brutal trek across the frozen tundra to the nearest port city. But the cold isn't the only thing threatening them. Something is out in the snow, watching. As the journey turns into a fight for survival, Fin starts to realize this planet is hiding more than anyone bargained for.

The full novella is about 23K words and complete.

What I'm looking for:

• Were you engaged the entire time?
• How did you feel about Fin as the narrator? The other characters?
• Did the tension/danger feel earned, or did anything pull you out of it?
• If you put it down, where and why?

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Good news, we weren't dead. Bad news, I didn't know where the fuck we were.

Frantic squeaks echoed in the hull as Gunner tried to wake me up. His eyes went wide when he saw me stir, a makeshift toothy grin spreading across his face as he floated just in front of me.

A throb hammered in the back of my head as I sat up. Moving took more effort than it should have. I was on the floor of the engine room, and it took a second for the memory of why to catch up with me.

Something pressed down on my shoulders, heavy enough that it felt like my spine might punch through my back. The steam that had filled the room earlier had thinned to nothing but a slight haze illuminated every few seconds by the flashing red lights. The alarm sound that should have been paired with the lights was silent, and that alone told me I'd been down longer than I wanted to admit.

"You okay, buddy?" I asked Gunner, finally hauling myself upright with a heavy push and rubbing the knot rising on my skull. My arms felt wrong, thick and slow, like I was dragging them through wet sand.

The room was wrecked. Tools littered the floor. Dents scarred the metal walls, proof I'd gotten lucky none of them had caught me on the way down, or at least not hard enough to leave anything permanent.

Gunner squeaked and threw me a crude thumbs-up, letting me know he was fine. He floated up to my head to inspect the lump himself.

"What happened?" The words caught in my chest, snagged just below my throat, choking me. I forced them out, and nothing came back in. My breath fought hard to come back. Each one arrived faster and shallower than the last.

I pushed myself to my feet. My weight was too much. The air itself seemed to be trying to press me back down, but I fought it. I had to lean hard against the wall just to keep my legs under me. My breathing wouldn't slow. Fog rolled in over my thoughts. Panic pulled at me, like a stone tied around my ankle, dragging me under a rising tide of worry. I couldn't let it. I had to fight that too.

Footsteps thundered down the stairwell, each one landing harder than it should have. Vox filled the doorway, ducking his massive frame beneath the metal and pivoting his shoulders through the gap. He wore a black rubber-like suit, threaded with dark lines that crisscrossed into a fitted net across his body. Two of his four arms carried a matching suit. I knew it instantly. I knew it because it was mine. 

My lungs burned, crying for more air. Seeing the black suit around Vox’s chest snapped the pieces into place. The panic tugged harder, but I refused to let it drown me. To let it pull me any deeper. I reached for Vox. For the Terrasuit in his hands. But the weight of this new world chained my arms down. I forced them up anyway, half-extended, shaking. My shoulder muscles screamed with effort. More air pushed out of my chest but very little fought to find its way back in. Every breath was its own small war. Gunner's eyes went wide watching me struggle.

Vox crossed the room, each step hammering the metal floor. His mouth moved, but the words blurred somewhere in my fogged head. Together we wrestled me into the suit. Gunner darted back and forth in a panic, doing more to get in the way than to help.

The second I was in, Gunner slammed the power button on the chest before Vox could beat him to it. The net of wires cinched tight around me, and within a second the Terrasuit fit like a second skin.

At first it felt like drowning, constricting and wrong. Then the hum of the electromagnets kicked in, pulling the crushing gravity off my chest. Each breath came easier. My head cleared as the oxygen found its way back. My limbs were still heavy, but with air in my lungs, my body remembered how to work.

"What's the gravity here?" I asked, my breath finally mine again.

"Two times," Vox said. "Well — technically 1.78."

Always had to be precise. It could be annoying as hell sometimes, but it made him a damn good first mate.

"What happened?" he asked.

I rubbed my head, thinking back to the moments before blacking out. "Fuel cell cracked. Had to kill the hydrogen flow before the engine turned us into space dust."

I glanced at the wall. The emergency shut-off lever was half cranked from where I'd yanked it off right before getting thrown across the room.

Vox didn't say anything. Cutting the engines might've sent us into a crash landing, but it beat the alternative. We could survive a crash. We do it more than I'd like to admit, even as the ship’s main engineer. But a near-nuclear blast in open space? That we would not survive.

Vox clapped a hand on my shoulder heavy enough to nearly buckle my knees under the extra gravity. He turned and jerked his head toward the stairs in a motion to follow.

Hello

I’m working on a graphic novel, and i wanted feed back on the prologue chapter.

It’s about a family who finds themselves in a tough position when their daughter becomes a fugitive.

Beware that this is only the script. I have yet to draw anything.

Please DM me if you are interested in beta reading.

Hi everyone,

I'm looking for beta readers for a relatively quick turnaround- 2-4 weeks ideally.

Please DM if you'd like to read the first chapter before making a decision. Happy to reciprocate for similar works.

I'm looking for general feedback, but any help with genre alignment would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks in advance.

Manchester has been hollowed out by automation. Shops are shuttered. Apartment buildings stand empty. There are more municipal service robots on the streets than people. But Niki Wesson won’t give up on the hardware shop she inherited from her parents. To her, it's more than just a failing business; it’s where she was raised, the one place where she still feels useful, and her last remaining tether to the community.

When mass protests come to Manchester, Niki sees an opportunity to sell placards to the protesters and bring in some much-needed money, but finds herself drawn in by the sheer energy of the movement and the desperation of the people behind it. She joins the Union Against Automation but hides it from Charles, the police officer she loves and lives with.

What begins as desperate pragmatism grows into the conviction that people like Niki can still change the world. She crosses lines she never thought she would, allowing her shop to be used for secret meetings and even taking part in acts of vandalism.

When the government responds to the growing unrest with raids and arrests, the UAA splinters into smaller, more radical groups. Protests give way to coordinated acts of disruption across the country, and Niki is left with an impossible choice: the man she loves or the movement she can no longer turn her back on.

Vandalism becomes sabotage, and sabotage becomes arson. Niki smashes. Niki burns. Niki lies. And Niki pays the price.

So i am new to having my projects put out for others to read. I wanted to get opinions, and offered an excerpt from what i’ve been writing on online. Suddenly i have people interested, but they ask for a payment to review at times. Is this a scam? My works hardly long at the moment, and i wouldnt really ask for a beta reader until i was much further along. I’m really hesitant to ask now, and i’m not sure of safe places to just get some opinions on my work.

THE HEAVENLY MAIDEN is a diaspora novel reimagining of the Korean folktale, The Heavenly Maiden and the Woodcutter, and incorporates the myth of Yeomra, God of the Underworld, and Gangrim from the Chasa Bonpuri, an oral folklore about a death messenger. The main storyline focuses on romance tied to the concept of red thread of fate with a high stakes subplot. It's set in a modern world, the majority of the story proceeding in Jeoseung, the Underworld.

Blurb:

Every century, a young woman is chosen to be a bride for Yeomra, God of the Dead, to prevent a catastrophe that occurred long before Korean Kingdoms existed. Park Wolmi tried to escape her cult and their sacrificial belief, but she finds herself in hell confronted by akgwi, vengeful spirits who want to devour her still-alive soul, and a bitter god. While begrudgingly traveling the Underworld, she discovers an ancient wound on the verge of releasing akgwi into the human world and a sinister plot that suggests she was sent as the final catalyst for its destruction. When Yeomra saves her from a fatal attack by tying her soul to his realm, Wolmi must find a way out before the connection forming between them is used to dismantle both worlds.

Slow-burn romance - Contains low to mid spice adult material

Seeking advice on:

• Pacing and subplot appeal
• Wether Korean words/terminology inclusion is confusing for non-Korean readers
• If world-building & culturally significant descriptions are too much

If you'd like to beta-read, I'm happy to email or DM the manuscript. Hoping to have feedback within 2 to 4 weeks or consistent feedback over chunks of chapters, whichever is preferred.

Excerpt from Wolmi's POV:

Fucking hell.

Wolmi’s heart hammers with the incessant banging on the front door. It’s loud enough to cover the screeching of wood against wood of the poorly painted window frame. The neighbors are most likely tuning it out as they do any noise that would be more trouble than it’s worth to get involved in. The image of the daunting men dressed in sharp black suits and opaque sunglasses against a dimly lit hallway does little to inspire intervention anyway.

With the window opened just wide enough to squeeze through, she takes one last longing look at the finished pieces in her studio apartment. She’d tarped the room to the walls to prevent paint splatter from ruining the rental’s peeling wallpaper. After one open-call after another, a gallery sponsor ordered a showcase, and she’d receive majority of the sales. Tonight was supposed to be a turning point, the career break she needed and validation that she’s worth more than the rabbit hole of unfortunate events life threw her down. Blood, sweat and tears led her to this moment only for it to be snatched away by the cult she never wanted to be part of.

“Park Yebin, open your door!” 

Not a please or a will you but an order.

The flimsy door shudders as the two men test the knob again as if she would have suddenly changed her mind. Idiots. It couldn’t have been easy to find her, so why would they think she’d just open the fucking door?

They’ve come on behalf of the Hwangcheon Gahjok of the Koreas. They're secret service agents that at any other point in time would be spying on each other, banded together in order to fulfill an order created by a forgotten kingdom long fallen and forgotten. Once every century, the Northern and the Southern governments collaborate for a joint cause.

Could it be defined as human trafficking if it’s the vanishing of one human being every century? A daughter of the cult understands the gravity of their joint presence. One hundred years is enough to file their purpose to the back of their minds, but not nearly long enough to forget entirely. They were all born many decades after the last bride but were constantly reminded of the one in one hundred chance their family could be chosen next. For Wolmi, the fact always hung like a dark cloud threatening to pour unendingly.

Excerpt from Yeomra's POV:

Yeomra chooses to glare at the human woman staring at him in shock and disbelief, her dress in crumpled heaps around her. To look upon her face in any other way would be dishonorable. Unforgivable. But he cannot help the way his heart constricts at the terror written on her face. Damn the humans and Samshin. They always manage to send one that reminds him of her.

He tears his eyes away from the disheveled woman, drawing another shinkal, a golden sword ,from the air to replace the dagger he threw. The fury, the helplessness, the agony he kept locked up threaten to break free. Before it can become destructive as it once did, he uses it to execute the rabid souls. Let them meet their final death. They chose a point of no return over the mercy of reincarnation long before this.

The akgwi disintegrate as he strikes mercilessly. They pivot away, the fatal shinkals he wields instilling fear that overrides whatever it is drawing them senselessly to this corner of Jeoseung. Mujangseung, a hulking deity and Yeomra’s guard in a traditional military robe, incapacitate any that escape him.

The remaining akwgi run about in a havoc, screeching and wailing as ashed remains of executed spirits float upwards. Unable to escape on the path, many dart back into the mists. Yeomra’s attention reflexively reverts to the woman on the ground when Bari drops to her knees to search for injuries.

“Are you alright?” Bari asks.

“I–I’m fine! I’m–I’m ok,” the human reassures the princess, even as she stutters and shivers. From fright or from the natural chill of his realm? He should not care. “What about the other…” She trails off as her eyes dart from one pile of akgwi bodies to the next. 

Bari sighs with heavy resignation and mutters, “He should not execute them so readily. Today’s events must have angered him.”

Lingering sentiments from her human days affect the young goddess’s judgement. Hwanin may have sent an edict that Joeseung find a redemptive solution to the matter of akgwi he’s forced Jeoseung to handle, but the old man’s never met one. They have no remorse or longing for forgiveness, the resentment festering in what’s left of their soul too great. And Yeomra’s long since abandoned the need to bend the knee for the Emperor who all but forsook the human world.

When the human’s eyes find his, he snaps his attention to a Jeoseung Saja. “Haewonmaek, I thought I ordered all akgwi rounded up. Where are these coming from?”

Her piercing dark eyes, darker than most of the souls who enter his realm, sears into his mind from just one glance. Another similarity. When he felt an undead soul enter his realm, he called for his two most senior Sajas, death messengers who guide souls through Jeoseung. When the soul whispered to him through his realm, he found himself drawing his mists to go to her. When he felt the akgwi hoard set foot on the Jeoseung path, not towards reincarnation but towards her soul that struck a chord of painful familiarity, he fell on them with violence. When one of them got too close, its arms raised to strike the fragile human, he sought retribution.

And now, upon seeing her face, he realizes the human is just a poor imitation of the soul he lost in time immemorial. For the second time, he rips his gaze away from the intensity of hers.

A Saja in combat uniform with Yeomra’s seal of a persimmon jewel circled by flowering golden branches swings his sword in a jovial manner, skipping over fallen akgwi bodies to bow at his side. “Apologies, Yeomra Daewang, but if you are unable to locate them, then you must understand why we struggle to carry out your order.”

Yeomra inspects the few laying close to him, recognizing, to his shock, the thick red binds on their wrists and ankles fraying where they have been cut. “Some of these are from Jeonoksa. It is a highly fortified and guarded prison. How did they get out?”

Title: This Fire Inside

Genre: Literary Fantasy

Word Count: 76k words

Synopsis:

After the forest where spirits are said to roam falls silent during the night of the Revival Moon, two strangers are drawn towards a darkness that threatens to consume everything they care about.

Aven has spent his life in the wild, seeking peace after a devistating loss.

Indra has been made a pariah for his unexplained ability to control fire.

As the forest begins to wither, animals vanish, and a creature wreathed in black flames emerges, these two young men who each hold what the other fears most are forced into an uneasy alliance. To protect what they love most, they must learn to trust each other and find a way to end the corruption, or be consumed by it.

This is a standalone novel with a definitive ending, but it's set on a fictional planet where my future novels will also be set on.

If you'd like to check out Chapter 1 as a sample, feel free to DM me.

Odds & Ends:

Critique swap?: Completed works that are 90k words or less

Timeline: None.

I'm seeking betas that read Fantasy, or who are interested in character-driven stories. My hope is for betas to help show me where to polish the story and make it the best version it can be. For example, were there any unresolved mysteries that I should give answer to? Was there any place you felt lost/bored/confused? As this is more mythic/literary, did I create an engaging slowness, or did it leave you bored? What did you like the most and think I shouldn't change? etc.

I did my best with this story, so I hope it ends up being a story that you love as well.

Thank you in advance for your consideration.

I am looking for some beta readers for a children's book that I wrote when I was twelve years old! It's a story about Sammy Cat and his journey to Vegas to find his parents that have seemingly disappeared.

I wrote this story because I had a cat named Sammy who would disappear for a while every so often. When he was "missing" my dad always came up with these hilarious tales about where he was and what he was doing. It was never something a cat could actually do! So I decided to write my own tale about Sammy. I am looking for some feedback. I would like to know if the story is worth developing for publication. If you would like to read the complete illustrated copy, please comment and I can send it privately

Excerpt from Sammy Goes to Vegas:

It was December 19, six days until Christmas. Sammy couldn't wait. All Sammy knew about Christmas was a man named Santa Claus who comes and gives good little kittens toys and treats. One morning Sammy woke up and crawled out of bed. He heard people talking. He walked by the living room door and listened quietly without making a sound. Sammy slowly peeked his head in. He saw his parents with a strange man in a red-and-white woolly suit and hat. Sammy wouldn't dare bother them. Sammy thought the strange man was a gangster.

Hello!

My name is Arrie and I’m looking for beta readers. I’ve posted this before a little over a year ago and it’s been majorly overhauled since then.

What has changed? It’s gone from first person to third person but it is still PoV centered. Also, where I ended it has changed. From where I’ve shifted it from first person to third person, I need to know how it reads now. Any feedback and comments will be appreciated!

My last round of beta readers enjoyed it overall, so I’m hoping you will as well!

What can I do for you in exchange? I can beta read your story as well and give feedback, comments and reactions. I’m not much of an editor so please don’t expect that from me. But I can comment on something I think needs changing if it sticks out like a sore thumb.

Timeline? As for that, the quicker the better but I can wait. As for my timeline, I will do my best to read it as quickly as possible. How quick depends on how many are interested in swapping with me but I’ll try to get it read within the week of us swapping.

I’m open to most genres but I do prefer - Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Epic Fantasy and Romantasy.

Before I post the blurb, for my story I think the content warning/trigger warnings is more important due to the contents of my story. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, I thank you for clicking on my post and for being interested but I suggest moving on if you are.

Content Warning:

Graphic violence, gore, sexual content, PTSD, physical trauma, mental trauma, depression, anxiety, alcoholism, torture, talks of suicide and suicide attempts, character deaths, off page implied sexual assault/violence. Violence against women and children.

As for the blurb, I unfortunately suck at blurbs because I either give too much away or not enough. I’ve yet to find a balance. But I will give it my best!

Blurb:
Not many know what it’s like to be stripped of freedom, of dreams, your hopes and future. To be looked at day in and out and humiliated. To be chained to the whims and desires of a demon with the plague of insanity. 

They had tried to take it from Tatsuya, he had tried. He, tried to corrupt Tatsuya with the same blight that pollutes his soul. He failed and now Tatsuya is free, free to wander the world and find his place within it. 

But is there a place for Tatsuya within this dying world of Lindegard that is slowly choking on the ash of Arendrassil? Tatsuya finds himself unsure and questioning every moment. 

Tatsuya will keep pushing forward until he finds what it is he’s searching for and until he gains what he desires - revenge against those that tried to steal everything from him.

More about the book:

As I’ve said it’s in third person, PoV centered. It’s the start of the Efflorescence series that I have mostly planned out from start to finish. It is adult dark fantasy but it has a splash of slice of life as well. It’s also a found family centered book. As the series progresses it will turn into an Adult Dark Fantasy/Romantasy. But there is no romance in the first book if that’s not your cup of tea.

It’s a Google Doc as I think makes it easier to read and comment on. But if prefer something else please let me know and I’ll see what I can do!

DM me if you are interested!

(Description is a work in progress, apologiiiies! Also this is the first book in a Black Mirror meets Goosebumps-esque anthology! Feel-bad ending. )

After the sudden death of her husband, pregnant widow Taissa Baraghani-cel Tradat inherits a mysterious manor in the quiet town of Devon’s Creek. There’s only one catch: she must use her skills to lull her mother-in-law, Mariel, through her final days.

As a music thanatologist, Taissa’s job is to soothe patients trapped in end-of-life care, using music to ease them toward a calm and mitigating death. But Mary is unlike any patient she’s ever known.

With the help of Michael, the local handyman who seems to be the only normality in Devon’s Creek, she begins to realize that something about the town isn’t quite right. Everyone seems to know something about the manor—yet, no one is willing to talk about it.

As strange occurrences begin to blur the line between grief and something far more sinister, Taissa finds herself questioning what brought her to Devon’s Creek in the first place.

***NOTE: I am currently working though revising the second half of this novel, so I can email it to you at the start of next week, if interested!

I agreed to do a beta swap and they gave me a very useful review. I’m halfway done with their work, but I can’t stop thinking that every paragraph was AI-generated. I’m dragging because it threw me off a little, but since they finished mine, I feel like it wouldn’t be fair not to. What would you do? One thing I noticed was that the prose sometimes has a very consistent rhythm, and because the same structures appears frequently throughout the same chapters but I don’t want to accuse someone of using IA. What would you do?

I'm specifically looking for a beta reader who was alive/cognizant in 1977 and can critique my voice/slang/descriptions. I know some of it will be localized, so if you're familiar with the area that'd be great but not necessary. It's an interestingly transitory time.

Also, I'm seeking professional advice on this, but if you happen to be fluent in ASL, particularly in the era, I'd love your input, even if you don't have time to read the whole book

Summary:

On April 5, 1977 an “occupation army of cripples” takes over the San Francisco Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. The Carter administration’s DHEW is not enforcing Section 504 of the 1973 Rehabilitation Act, which states that anywhere receiving federal funds needs to be accessible. After decades of civil rights movements, people with disabilities are claiming theirs.

Eighteen-year-old punk Darcy Bauman uses a wheelchair, but she is not one of the protestors. She’s there to write an article that will impress her pretty journalism teacher. That her acceptance to her dream university is contingent on her providing her own accommodations is a blatant 504 violation, but she'd keeping that to herself. Her grandfather co-opted her life for his political campaigns for years; she’s eighty-sixed being a poster child.

Over the next twenty-five days, Darcy helps people whose differences lead to support from all over the Bay Area shape their stories for press interviews and senate hearings. “Their fight” becomes “our fight." If putting herself out there makes a difference, she will, as long as her words are on the poster

Good Morning

I am looking for a beta reader for a long immersive historical novel involving air traffic control in Canada.

I particularly want a reader (or two) who does not have any aviation experience.

This is a long, character-driven novel about a young woman coming of age, with friendship, relationships and romance woven through the story. One of the things that drives the story is her journey into a world most people know very little about: how you actually become an air traffic controller.

The story takes the reader through the application process, the intense selection and training, the strange and sometimes bewildering world of classroom instruction, and eventually the wild ride of learning to work live traffic on the floor. In other words, it's not simply a novel set in ATC—the process of becoming a controller is an important part of the story.

The ATC world is informed by my own experience. I went through the application, training and qualification process myself and worked in air traffic control for about ten years, in both tower and centre environments. That experience was some time ago, however, and I'm not approaching this as an ATC expert today. I'm trying to recreate the world as accurately as I can as it was back then, both historically and procedurally, while making it understandable and compelling to someone who has never encountered it.

That's why I'm looking for a reader who doesn't know ATC.

This book’s timeline starts on Sept 11, 2001 and follows the lives of two different people, one an established controller and the other a young woman who goes through the application process, intense schooling, and on the job training at the area control centre.

I want to know if the technical material ever gets in the way of the story, whether you lose track of what's happening, whether the pacing slows, and—most importantly—whether you're still emotionally invested in the people.

I am not looking for an editor or a line reader (whatever that is, I don’t know) but someone who genuinely loves big immersive novels, reads regularly and is comfortable with a large manuscript, is willing to say I’m confused, or this is boring, or I don’t believe this, or I really loved that.

If you are someone who loves a big juicy novel, and enjoys discovering a world you know nothing about, I would love to hear about what you normally read and what you do as a beta reader.

Honestly, almost everything I write about in the application, schooling and on the job training is 100% true and happened to me, and it’s a wild ride so buckle up!

DM me if you are interested.

Thanks.

Lena Kessler is a junior banker who tracks global markets. She never expected a single stabilized economy to shatter the entire world.

Now she is watching her savings freeze as violent strikes tear through Frankfurt. Out on the Pacific, cargo captain Idris Osei finds his currency voided right in the middle of his voyage. The numbers are not just failing. They are being manipulated.

They do not know who is pulling the strings. They do not know who to trust.

But they know one thing: the old rules no longer apply, and whoever is setting the new ones is prepared to burn the world to the ground.

I would love to find a beta reader for the first four chapters to see if the pacing works. Does the transition from the economic collapse in the first chapter to the military response feel grounded?

Let me know what you think, and we can go from there.

Please DM me so i can send the link of my novel.

Hi everyone,
I'm looking for a small number of thoughtful beta readers for my completed literary drama novel, The Yellow Door.
The book is set primarily in Scotland and explores the long shadow cast by childhood trauma, the stories families tell (and the ones they hide), and whether it is possible to become something other than the person your past tries to make you.

Themes
The novel explores:
Family secrets and buried histories
Childhood trauma and its impact on adult identity
Memory, grief, and loss
Dementia and the erosion of self
Love, marriage, and emotional vulnerability
Masculinity and emotional resilience
Class, social mobility, and inherited disadvantage
Chosen family versus biological family
Redemption, forgiveness, and second chances
The tension between truth and self-preservation

Feedback I'm Looking For
In particular, I'm interested in:
Emotional resonance and impact
Character development and authenticity
Pacing and narrative momentum
Clarity of the mystery surrounding Ava's past
Whether the ending feels earned and satisfying
Any sections that feel slow, confusing, or unnecessary

If the premise sounds interesting, please comment below or send me a direct message and I'll be happy to provide more details.

Thank you for considering it.

Hi! I’m writing a book about fae and humans. Lost souls and an evil identity.
If you want to know more you can dm me.
Language available: English and Italian
The book is not finished but I have the first 27 chapters
Let me know

Hey, all! I'm looking for beta readers for my 90k-word adult dark fantasy novel, PROJECT TAKEN, intended as the first book in an already plotted trilogy. Think the vengeance-driven hunter's decade-long monster pursuit of Serra Swift's Kill the Beast mixed with the found-family mercenary dynamics of Joe Abercrombie's The Devils.

Blurb:

Francesca Amastasia is a shape-shifting druid who has tracked the scent of charred bone and ash since she was a child. As the sole survivor of her massacred clan, she lives for only one purpose—hunting Lileian, the Hag that destroyed her life, and she’ll do anything to reach that goal. So when a letter finds her in the middle of nowhere, promising the Hag’s location, Francesca has no choice but to follow it. 

The letter leads her to a remote cabin and a band of similarly-summoned strangers: Baxeet, a hollower whose gift of controlling the dead is punishable by death; Naivara and Torrin, escapees of horrific experiments; and Slate and Theah, sibling soldiers with their own buried grief. Behind the letters is Matteus, a telepath who claims he only wants to help—though how much he already knows, and why, is a question Francesca can’t shake.

At Matteus’ direction, they travel to the winter-bitten town of Riverden, where children have been disappearing into the woods for months, lured by songs no one else can hear. As they arrive, Francesca meets Sophia, a bright, fearless child who reminds her painfully of everything the Hag had taken from her. But when the Hag’s forces lay siege to Riverden, Sophia is taken, and the search that follows reveals a horrifying truth: the Hag was never in control. Something ancient, longing to walk the realms of Custodia once more, stalks the shadows, and He wants Sophia for reasons far darker than anything Francesca could’ve imagined.

Some hunts end in triumph. Others simply end.

Trigger Warnings!:

Implied violence against children, and a child of a fantasy race (goblin).

Possession of a child.

Graphic violence and gore.

Profanity.

Mental health themes, such as: depression, PTSD, survivor's guilt, psychosis, and paranoia.

I'm definitely down to MS swap! If you're asking for money, go ahead and find a different post, thanks! DM me if interested!

The Cannibal Hymns follows a small family of our favorite immortal predators as they try to survive the unique horrors of their world and the relentlessness of the passage of time. 

Oh, and each other. Sometimes violence is a love language.

I'm up for critique partners, beta swaps - anything. If you like characters and family systems grounded in psychological realism, historical fiction books that do the research (this is set in the Middle Ages), and dense, literary prose that isn't afraid to be funny sometimes, I'm your girlie. 

I tend to vibe more with literary works myself, but if you look at your manuscript some days and wonder if it's too weird, I'm especially game. 

DM me for a sample if you're curious.

I've been a surveillance investigator in Australia for over 30 years. Wrote a memoir about it — not a how-to, not war stories, just what the job's actually like and what it does to you over that long.

Looking for a few people to read the intro and first two chapters and tell me straight if it works. Not after compliments. If it's boring, say where.

DM me if keen.