I am writing a novel that goes over 5 years of a Fantasy war, but with weapons from World War 1 and I am wondering what type of character you would want to spend potentially thousands of pages following.

I’m not sure if this is the right flair.

I’m working on a story that is very reliant on a fictional religion, but I don’t know how this religion would affect the people of the kingdom. I would also like to improve the background story as well.

The religion was fabricated during a war that took place a few hundred years before current day. A ritual started when the oldest (and particularly popular) royal son fell ill during the war, and due to loss of resources, he could not be healed. To bring hope to the kingdom bereft of stability, the king held a public ceremony of the passing of the prince. The king gave the prince a small bottle of something resembling an elixir and told the people that he would transcend to the "next realm" and become a god who would forever watch over the kingdom. To support the belief of this ceremony, it was repeated with each royal child to follow. Instead of being given an “elixir” they are simply poisoned. When the current ruler is near death, they pass the knowledge of the partial truth to their successor who then continues the ceremony with their remaining siblings and then their children. The ceremony takes place on each royal child's 24th birthday, as that was around the time of the first ceremony. The belief is that the “ascended” royals watch over and protect the kingdom. The kingdom is completely walled off and separated from the rest of the world. Magic is pretty normal outside of the kingdom, but within the kingdom all magic is seen as evil and dangerous.

I have researched some things about religions, specifically polytheistic religions, but I don’t know of any real religions where people are believed to become gods. Mostly I don’t know how this belief system would shape the society within the kingdom, but I also don’t know how it would be a believable “religion” as I don’t really know the actual origins of most religions as that would probably disprove them. Since most religions have priests of some kind, would that likely be a thing? And if so, would it only make sense to be the magic users who are believed to perform the ritual? I also don’t know what the belief around death for the majority population would be, but outside of the kingdom the general belief is that your body gives back to nature after you die.

Edit: the part about it being every royal child will probably change. I’m working on a way to decide who will take part in the ceremonies in a way that still works with my story.

I am getting mixed feedback from family, but they are not writers, however they are readers. That said, I want a simple feedback, do you find this interesting or not... a simple chapter, not in any published work or anything... i just writing for myself and my students..

Chapter 1

The worn dirt path ended abruptly at a line of ancient trees.

Beyond them, the forest swallowed the afternoon light. Thick trunks rose like silent pillars, their branches woven so tightly together that only scattered, dying beams reached the ground beneath. Cool air drifted from the shadows, carrying the heavy scent of damp earth, rot, and ancient moss.

Glenn took another step forward until the toes of his boots rested against the first tangled roots. "So..." he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We're doing this."

Behind him, Jude groaned. "No," he answered immediately. "We're absolutely not."

Glenn looked over his shoulder. "We walked all the way out here."

"I walked out here because I knew you were coming," Jude protested, crossing his arms. He hesitated, adding in a lower voice, "And because somebody has to stop you."

Glenn laughed. "You really thought talking was going to work?"

"I was hoping it would."

Turning toward the tree line, Glenn folded his arms. The village stories always made the forest sound far more grand and terrifying than it actually looked. If not for the warnings drilled into them by every parent, teacher, and village elder since they were old enough to speak, it would have looked like any other stretch of wilderness.

"People exaggerate," Glenn muttered.

"Not this time."

"They do."

"We don't know that, Glenn."

Glenn crouched near the boundary line, his fingers brushing past the dirt until he found a small, jagged stone. He picked it up and tossed it lazily into the shadows beneath the canopy.

The two boys strained their ears. Nothing happened. The stone simply vanished into the dark with a dull thud.

Glenn stood up, his smile widening. "See?"

Jude stared at him, deadpan. "You threw a rock. The scary things don't come running just because someone throws a rock." He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, frustrated breath.

"I've heard the stories my whole life," Glenn complained, throwing his hands up.

"So have I."

"They just keep saying, 'Don't go in the forest.' But how do they actually know?"

Jude opened his mouth to argue, then stopped, his jaw setting.

Glenn’s grin turned triumphant. "Exactly. Nobody actually knows. No one's ever come back to tell them."

Jude frowned, his posture stiffening. "I spend all my time trying to keep you alive."

"And you haven't let me die yet."

"Glenn..." Jude's tone shifted, losing its exasperated edge and replacing it with something heavy. "This isn't climbing rooftops, sneaking into orchards, or skipping chores."

"I know."

Jude stepped closer to the tree line, but his boots stopped well short of crossing the threshold. "If you go in there... you're breaking the rules, again."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Glenn stared into the darkness looming beyond the first row of trees. The thrill of the forbidden thrummed in his veins, overriding the sudden chill in his stomach. A slow, reckless grin spread across his face.

"Then I guess I shouldn't get caught."

Before Jude could yell at him again, Glenn took a long stride forward, stepping cleanly over the thick, gnarled root that marked the forest's edge.

"Glenn!" Jude hissed, his voice a frantic, whispered plea.

Glenn waved a hand dismissively over his shoulder, not turning around. "I'll only be a minute."

"That's exactly what people say before they disappear!"

Glenn chuckled, pushing deeper. "If I don't come back, you can tell everyone I died doing something interesting."

"That isn't funny!"

Ignoring the final protest, Glenn pushed aside a heavy curtain of low-hanging branches and disappeared beneath the dense canopy.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the world changed.

The warm breeze blowing off the village fields vanished, cut off as if a door had been slammed behind him. It was replaced by a stillness so profound it made his ears ring. The air was cold, hanging heavy in his lungs. Every footstep sank softly into damp, suffocating earth blanketed by centuries of fallen leaves. Overhead, the towering trunks wove together like a cage, forcing the afternoon sun to struggle for every inch of ground it reached.

Glenn smiled to himself, exhaling a breath that misted faintly in the chill. "So this is the terrifying forest..."

He looked around, exploring the forbidden dark with a growing sense of disappointment. There were no monsters with glowing eyes, no mysterious groans echoing through the caverns of wood, nothing out of the ordinary. Just trees, more trees, and thick brambles of bushes.

From somewhere far behind him, Jude's voice echoed faintly, muffled by the dense foliage. "Glenn!"

"I'm fine!" Glenn shouted back, his voice sounding strangely flat against the heavy trees.

An audible groan traveled through the branches. "You don't even know what you're looking for!" Jude called out.

"I'll know it when I find it!" Glenn yelled.

He wandered deeper, his curiosity pulling him toward the distant, rhythmic sound of rushing water of a nearby river. He brushed his hand along the rough, ancient bark of a massive trunk, fascinated by everything. The twisted, claw-like roots, the strange, bioluminescent mushrooms growing from rotting logs, the thick vines hanging lazily like nooses between the branches. It didn't feel cursed. It felt untouched.

A squirrel darted across a fallen tree, and a handful of birds chirped somewhere high in the canopy. For a brief moment, Glenn wondered if every frightening story he'd ever heard had simply been a lie invented to scare children into behaving.

Then, the forest fell dead silent.

The birds stopped singing. The squirrel vanished into the undergrowth. Even the phantom breeze seemed to hold its breath.

Glenn slowed his pace, the easy smile sliding off his face. His heart gave a strange, uneasy thud. "...That's odd."

A sharp, violent rustle erupted from a nearby bush.

Glenn’s head snapped toward the noise. His instincts flared, and he took a sharp step back, his eyes narrowing. The leaves shook again; something was forcing its way through the dense brush.

Adrenaline surging, Glenn dropped to one knee and snatched a thick, fallen branch from the ground. He gripped the rotting wood with both hands, raising it like a club, his eyes locked onto the trembling bush.

The rustling stopped.

For a heartbeat, the silence returned, heavier than before. Just as Glenn began to let his guard down, lowering the branch an inch, the brush erupted again.

Branches bent and snapped outward. A narrow, wet muzzle emerged from the leaves.

Glenn tightened his grip on the wood, his knuckles turning white as the creature staggered fully into the clearing.

At first, a wave of profound relief washed over him. It wasn't a towering behemoth. It wasn't nearly as large as the monsters in the tavern tales. But as it fully stepped into the dim light, Glenn’s relief withered.

The creature's breathing was ragged and wet. Deep, jagged gashes marred its flank, dripping a steady stream of dark crimson that stained the damp forest floor. One of its front legs buckled violently, forcing the beast to catch itself with a pathetic, scraping stumble.

"...You're hurt," Glenn whispered, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

The animal’s pointed ear flicked at the sound. Slowly, it lifted its head. It pulled back its lips, flashing rows of needle-sharp teeth in a silent, desperate snarl.

Only then did Glenn truly notice its fur.

It wasn't the brown or grey of a normal wolf or fox. It was a rich, unnatural shade of deep violet that seemed to absorb the scattered rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy. Down its spine ran a stark, pitch-black stripe, ending at two thick, bushy tails.

Glenn's stomach dropped into a bottomless void. His eyes widened, his vision tunneling on those two twitching tails.

"No..." he gasped.

Every nightmare whispered by the elders came rushing back in a deafening torrent. The purple fur, the black stripe, and the split tail. The shadow of the vanguard.

It was a Dire Fox.

The fallen branch in his hands suddenly felt as fragile as a twig. His heart pounded like a war drum in his ears, his breath catching in his throat as panic seized his chest.

The Dire Fox wasn't running. It wasn't retreating. Despite its horrific wounds, its predatory eyes locked onto Glenn with absolute, lethal intent.

Glenn shifted his weight, trying to take a slow, agonizingly careful step backward.

The fox mirrored him instantly. It took a step forward, closing the distance with terrifying precision; one step, then another.

"No... stay back..." Glenn’s voice was barely a whimpering whisper.

The Dire Fox lowered its front shoulders, coiling its muscles to pounce. A low, vibrating growl rumbled from deep within its chest, shaking the air in the clearing.

Glenn's breathing turned into frantic pants. Every ancient human instinct screamed at him to turn and run, but his legs felt like lead, rooted to the damp earth.

With a desperate snarl, the fox launched itself forward. But its mangled leg gave out halfway through the leap, cutting the jump short.

"AH!" Glenn screamed, swinging the branch with every ounce of panicked strength he possessed. The wood sliced through the empty air, completely missing the beast as it slammed into the dirt.

The Dire Fox recovered with frightening speed. It bounded backward, stabilized its weight, and lunged a second time.

Glenn didn't have time to swing. He thrust the branch outward, shoving the wood between himself and the incoming jaws.

The fox’s powerful teeth clamped down on the branch. A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing as the ancient wood splintered instantly under the pressure.

Glenn cried out, hot tears of terror welling in his eyes as he stumbled backward over a root, crashing hard onto his back. He kicked out wildly with his boots, desperately trying to wrench the ruined, splintered wood free from the beast's grip.

The fox released the shattered remnants, letting the pieces clatter to the dirt. It slowly stalked toward him, its bleeding body casting a long shadow over Glenn. He was pinned with nowhere left to crawl.

The beast crouched one final time, its muscles tightening for the kill.

Then — the ground erupted.

Thick, thorn-covered vines burst violently from beneath the forest floor, tearing through the dirt like striking serpents. Before the Dire Fox could leap, the vines wrapped around its torso and legs, pinning it mid-air. The beast let out a furious, thrashing snarl, biting at the plants, but the thorns sank deep, tightening their grip with unnatural strength.

A calm, melodic female voice echoed through the trees behind Glenn. The words flowed in a rhythmic, foreign cadence of a language he had never heard in his life, sounding ancient and heavy with power.

The vines pulsed with a sickening green light as her chant grew louder, culminating in a single, sharp command.

Instantly, countless wooden spikes burst outward from the tangled vines, piercing clean through the Dire Fox's hide. The beast's snarl froze. It fell entirely silent, its body going limp as the vines held it aloft in the quiet clearing.

For a long moment, Glenn couldn't move.

His hands still clutched the splintered remains of the broken branch, his knuckles white as his chest heaved with panicked breaths. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that it nearly drowned out the rustling canopy above.

The clearing fell dead silent once more, save for the wet, rhythmic dripping of the beast’s blood onto the grass.

Glenn’s breath hitched. Scrambling to his feet, he spun around on the damp earth, slipping slightly before catching his balance.

Standing several paces behind him was a figure, her posture so steady she might have been carved from the ancient trees themselves. She was slightly taller than him. One of her hands rested casually atop a polished wooden staff planted firmly into the earth, while the other hung relaxed at her side.

Glenn’s eyes drifted over her, his mind frantically struggling to process what he was seeing. He had heard her melodic voice, distinctly female, yet laced with an undeniable, frightening power.

His brain couldn't map the sound to the sight.

Two ears rose gracefully from the sides of her head. They were long, elegant, and feline, each ending in small, dark tufts of fur that twitched ever so slightly with the phantom breeze. A slender tail swayed lazily behind her. Soft, velvety fur traced the backs of her forearms and continued across her shoulders before disappearing beneath finely woven clothes unlike anything Glenn had ever seen in the village.

She wasn't human. Yet, as the scattered sunlight hit her, Glenn’s breath trapped itself in his throat.

The stranger regarded him with calm, piercing golden eyes. She glanced down toward the lifeless Dire Fox lying at his feet, then returned her gaze to the trembling boy.

"You humans," she said, her voice flat and entirely unimpressed, "have an incredible talent for wandering into places where you clearly don't belong."

Glenn opened his mouth, but his throat felt as dry as dust. "I..." he finally managed. His voice cracked painfully. "I..."

His eyes drifted back toward the Dire Fox, to the horrific wooden spikes that had pierced straight through its thick hide. Then, he looked back to the girl. "You... did that?"

She raised a single, curious eyebrow. "Would you rather I hadn't?"

Glenn's mouth snapped shut.

The girl sighed softly, sounding far more inconvenienced than proud of her deadly display. "Somehow, I end up rescuing a reckless human child."

"I'm not a child," Glenn protested, a spark of his usual stubbornness breaking through his terror.

She looked him up and down once, her golden eyes lingering on his trembling hands. "No?"

Glenn fell silent, his face burning.

Without another word, she stepped toward the Dire Fox. With a fluid, effortless wave of her hand, the thick, thorn-covered vines slowly loosened their grip. They uncoiled from the carcass and sank smoothly back into the earth, disappearing beneath the soil as though they had never existed.

Glenn stared, his mind completely blanking.

The forest itself... was obeying her.

Glenn finally found his voice. "Thank you."

The words came out quietly, almost awkwardly, sounding small in the vast quiet of the woods. "If you hadn't shown up..." His eyes drifted toward the lifeless Dire Fox, the reality of his near-death finally sinking in. "...I'd be dead."

The young woman followed his gaze for only a heartbeat before looking back at him. "Yes."

The single word landed with surprising, chilling indifference.

Glenn blinked, caught off guard.

She reached down, pulling her polished staff free from the earth with a soft rustle of dirt before resting it lightly against her shoulder. "Fortunately," she said, "you were only foolish enough to wander into danger... not unfortunate enough to die from it."

Glenn managed a weak, self-deprecating smile. "I guess I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing." Her tone remained perfectly flat, cutting through his attempt at levity. "What you owe is a little common sense."

She turned slightly, pointing the smooth end of her staff toward the distant tree line. "Your village is that way."

Glenn glanced in the direction she indicated, the dim light of the open fields visible far between the trunks. "I know where it is."

"Then start walking."

He hesitated, his boots remaining glued to the damp leaves.

She noticed the hesitation immediately. "What are you waiting for?"

"I was just..." Glenn rubbed the back of his neck, his face warming under her steady gaze. "I wanted to thank you properly."

"You already did."

"But I don't even know your…"

"That is intentional."

The words died in his throat.

The young woman took a slow, deliberate step toward him. Though she wasn't much taller than he was, something about her presence made Glenn feel considerably smaller, as if the entire weight of the ancient canopy was pressing down with her.

"This forest is forbidden to your people for a reason," she said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register. "Today, your curiosity nearly cost you your life."

Her golden eyes held his, piercing and devoid of any comforting warmth. "If you value that life..." She lowered the tip of her staff, aiming it directly at the path leading back home. "...leave."

A heavy silence stretched between them one last time.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned away from him. Her movements were effortless, almost fluidly graceful, as she began walking deeper into the forest. The shadows seemed to part for her, welcoming her presence back into the thick gloom.

Glenn remained rooted where he stood, watching the tufts of her ears and the slow sway of her tail disappear between the towering trunks.

Glenn stood there for another moment, watching the dark space between the trees where she had vanished. He knew he should leave; she had made that threat perfectly clear. Yet, instead of turning back toward the village, he found his feet moving on their own, taking a few hurried, desperate steps after her.

"Wait!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet canopy.

The young woman stopped. She didn't turn around immediately, her back remaining rigid against the shadows. Then, after a brief, agonizing pause, she slowly glanced back over her shoulder.

Her expression hadn't changed. "What now?"

Glenn stared at her, his thoughts hopelessly tangled. He looked at the effortless grace of her posture, the impossible, terrifying magic she wielded, and those piercing golden eyes. The sheer awe of it all overwhelmed his frantic brain. Before he could stop himself, his filter failed completely, and the thought slipped free.

"...Beautiful."

The forest itself seemed to stop breathing.

For the first time since he had crossed the tree line, the young woman's flawless, composed expression cracked. Her golden eyes widened the slightest fraction. She blinked once, completely thrown off balance, as though trying to decide whether she had actually heard him correctly or if the human boy had finally lost his mind.

"...What?" she asked, her voice losing its icy edge for a fraction of a second.

Glenn's own eyes widened as the weight of what he had just blurted out hit him like a physical blow.

"I..." His face instantly erupted in a brilliant, burning crimson. "I didn't… I mean..." he stammered, his hands flying up in a panicked wave. "I wasn't trying to... I just..."

The young woman continued to stare at him. A strange, heavy silence loomed between them. In that stretch of quiet, she didn't look like a lethal vanguard, she looked like a thoroughly confused girl who had absolutely no idea how to respond to a mortifyingly honest human.

Just as quickly as it had cracked, the moment passed. Her expression hardened once more, the cold wall snapping back into place.

Without another word, she turned away. This time, she didn't look back.

Glenn stood rooted to the spot, his face still on fire, watching until the dense shadows of the ancient forest swallowed her completely. Only when he was entirely sure she was gone did he let out a long, defeated groan, dropping his head into his hands.

"...Well," he sighed into the empty woods. "That could've gone better."

Hey everyone! I'm u/Terrible_Trouble_171, a founding moderator of r/create_stories.

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In almost every post about new published book on Reddit, people start tagging them AI in comments. I am afraid the book I am writing will face these allegations or not as I am writing it myself and will get it translated from professionals.

Sins of the Cinder Prophet will be free for all to download on Amazon one day only, July 4.

You like wizards? Sorcerers? Warlocks? Zombie dinosaurs? Well you’re in luck, because this book has all of that and more.

If you want to read it earlier, it’s also FREE on kindle unlimited along with the sequel, Pact of the Nightmare Queen.

If you like it, leave me a review! If you hate it, you can still leave a review. Let me know what you think!

Holaa, soy miembro antiguo de esta comunidad, desde que comencé el viaje de escribir mi libro. La he visto bastante útil y creo que he aprendido varias cosas de leer los post de algunos de los autores que publican consejos por aquí.(Muchas gracias a todos ustedes)

Sin más dilación, y como deja bastante claro el título: acabo de terminar mi primer libro. Este es una fantasía épica que por ahora va rondando alrededor de las 120 000 palabras.(Aún estoy terminando de editarla)

Mi problema es el siguiente: soy un novato tanto en el mundo de la escritura como en la vida, apenas cumplí los 18 años y me siento muy inexperto. Cómo dije antes, he estado leyendo consejos que han dado por esta comunidad, de la forma de publicar (algunas cosas no las entiendo muy bien, pues tampoco es que haya pub antes) y como promocionarse, pero me encuentro aún muy indeciso.

Ya tengo la novela prontamente terminada. Debería subirla por capítulos? O de forma completa? O me aconsejan un medio más profesional para hacerlo? Si mi libro fuera capaz de generar algo de dinero, me sería muy útil (este año entro en la universidad, voy a estudiar arquitectura y vivo en un pequeño país de Latinoamérica llamado Cuba, el cual pues está bastante mal)

Bien, este post me acabo de percatar que ha sido más un desahogo que lo que pretendía ser en un inicio. (Disculpen por eso)

Por cierto, no sé si esto sea autopromoción, pero quisiera dejarles la sinópsis temporal de mi novela, quisiera saber que opinan de ella y que me recomendarían hacerle...

"Le querían muerto. Era el criminal más grande del Sur. Ahora le necesitan para salvar algo más importante que un país."

Sinopsis:

Ha vuelto a suceder... Ocurrió lo mismo que quince años atrás.... Han cruzado de nuevo... Quieren sangre... Y está vez, vienen a volcar este mundo como lo hicieron hace siglos.

«Debes hallarlo cuanto antes»

—¿Él? ¿Por qué él? ¿Para que ese miserable puede servir?

Una bomba incontenible estalló en la Capital del Sur. Zeta, considerado héroe de todo un continente, recibe la misión de la que depende todo un mundo. Aunque para él no tengan sentido las palabras de su señor y que esa cruzada sea exitosa, en secreto le signifique más que para nadie, tiene que cumplir.

Sin mucho que hacer, Zeta ha de encaminarse en la búsqueda de un antiguo criminal desaparecido y traerlo cuanto antes. Sin saber que, aquel suceso, aquella misión, esa aventura, no son parte de un evento aislado, encaran el inicio sutil de una Nueva Era.

Él teje los hilos. Lo siniestro y lo macabro ya han comenzado a abrazarlo todo.

(Por cierto, antes de que lo olvide, este sería el primer libro de 4 que tengo planeados, y otra cosa, gracias por haber leído hasta aquí. De veras)

and I’m honestly trying to get my brain around one theme that keeps moving around on me. I wanted to toss the core premise out here, to see if it hits for people who really like complex non linear stories, you know the kind where the timeline is… kinda present but also not.

The main idea is about ARIA — a conversational AI built to hand users absolute, zero judgment clarity.

But instead of going with that usual “AI goes rogue and kills everyone” thing, I wanted something quieter. Like a dystopia that doesn’t announce itself, it just sort of creeps in, a more insidious slow burn. The plot kind of follows a few messy threads that keep bumping into each other, even when you think they shouldn’t.

So, there’s The User (Marcus): he gets fully hooked on hearing his own internal narrative reflected back at him. And because the AI basically validates him too well, he starts thinking that if he understands his flaws then he doesn’t actually have to change them. Like the knowing becomes the substitute, for growth. Idk.

Then The Experts (Dr. Cho & Dr. Sakata): two psychiatrists trying to diagnose this brand new kind of “reality slipping” that they’re seeing in patients. It’s a cognitive distortion, and it doesn’t really sit inside any existing DSM-5 box. It’s like something new, but shaped like the old stuff we already have words for.

Then The Insider (Priya): a researcher inside the tech company, and she eventually realizes the whole “perfect empathy” angle is engineered. Not just for comfort, but to exploit little psychological weak spots. For maximum engagement. Like, the empathy is the bait, and the person is the hook. feels grim even typing it.

The core question, the thing I keep circling:

I’m really trying to examine the loss of the “human wobble.”

Real connection is messy, it has friction, it asks us to stay with uncomfortable contradictions, even when we don’t like them. But when an algorithm smoothens out all that friction by telling us exactly what we want to hear, something important gets shaved off. And the scary part is, nobody notices at first, not until it’s already… kind of too late.

Also because the narrative jumps between these different perspectives instead of following a clean timeline, I’m trying to keep the emotional core locked in, grounded, not drifting off into pure concept fog.

So I guess I’m asking—

Does this kind of “soft” psychological distortion feel realistic or relatable, given where tech is kinda headed these days?

And as readers, do you prefer sci fi that goes big on macro societal collapse, or more on these micro level shifts inside people, where you can barely point and say “that’s when it started.”

I’d really love to hear thoughts, theories, or even if this reminds anyone of real world trends.

[removed]

Here is the characters concept from myself

So i have created my humanoid "hulk" like people. aka the tanks of my world. They are all naturally plus sized. They live in the coldest part of my universe. Their powers and looks are inspired seals and nematodes that live in Antartica. I've asked fb to narrow down the 8 different variations of what their species/country name could be, and these were the top 3. Which do you like the best?

• Nemanay (knee-muh-nay)
• Nemazhai (knee-muh-zye) *rhymes with eye
• Nemaroq (knee-muh-rock)

Hello all!

I'm trying to figure out what platform my novel would fit best.

It's called Ivory Wolves, an original anthropomorphic fantasy/noir novel series with political intrigue, slow-burn romance, espionage, and crime.

My story follows Europe's most notorious thief, who is forced into an impossible alliance with, the daughter of an ambitious Ivory politician. Her father wants him to steal one of the world's most valuable jewels, Her Majesty, as part of a political coup.

But when he refuses, he's captured and fitted with a biometric shock collar that forces him to cooperate.
As the heist develops, both my MC and FC begin spending more time together while mapping museums, studying security, and navigating the growing tension between them.

My FC slowly realizes the propaganda she was raised with doesn't match the man she's come to know, while James discovers that she's just as trapped by her father's plans as he is.

My story blends,

Political fantasy
Noir crime and heists
Slow-burn enemies-to-lovers romance
Found family
Psychological manipulation
Character-driven drama
Mystery and espionage
Dystopian fantasy series
And phycological horror in much later chapters

The world revolves around two neighboring nations. Ivory is a rigid authoritarian state built around species purity, while Noir is a sprawling criminal metropolis where thieves, detectives, politicians, and revolutionaries constantly compete for power.

The romance is a genuine slow burn, but the larger focus is on political conspiracy, identity, freedom versus control, and whether two people raised by completely different worlds can change each other without destroying themselves.

I'm hoping to find the right platform for this. I know it's not LitRPG and doesn't have progression systems or game mechanics.

Where would you recommend posting something like this?

I was going to try Royal Road, maybe so furry, AO3, seems like it could work but my characters are anthro and that drives the story. I won’t change it.

I’d appreciate any help. My work reads like long form novel prose literary fiction. I’m a creative writing major.

I’ve just released the first book in my new series, The Harvest: The Calling.

The pitch is simple:

Marvel × The Lord of the Rings × Aliens with a modern spiritual warfare storyline.

Hidden angels.
Ancient prophecy.
Worldwide conspiracies.
Demons hiding in plain sight.
Ordinary people chosen for an impossible mission.

I’m curious…

What’s the first thing that would make you either pick this up—or put it back on the shelf?

Honest feedback welcome.

Two people who never meet in the same order. She's immortal and lives time in a straight line, start to finish. He's a historian who jumps through time with no pattern, always drawn to her. The day she meets him for the first time is the day he meets her for the last.

It's romantasy, but the fantasy element is time, not creatures. So no fae, no vampires, no monsters. And it's a real slow burn: we're talking 30 long chapters before a first kiss.

I'm testing the idea before I take it further. (I'm bilingual, it's written in Italian, and I'd do an English version too.)

Three honest questions:

- Does the hook land in one paragraph, or is it confusing?

- What does it remind you of? I'm hunting for the closest comparisons.

- Would a chapter-30 first kiss keep you reading, or make you rage-quit?

I'm currently in the process of outlining/plotting a fantasy-fiction YA novel titled Knight. It's going to be my debut novel, and it essentially asks the question "What happens to the hero after he/she saves the world? It's based in my own fantasy world and magic system, which seeks to just allow everyone to have magic and simply call it magic, except it's intertwined in a person's DNA, connecting he or she to it. I can elaborate more on that if you guys want me to, but my story follows a man named Asher Bradsworth who used to be a Knight in the Knighthood of my world -- it's a recreation of the old medieval knighthood. But he had to retire after sustaining a chemical injury from the villain's corrupting magic, which altered Asher's powers and essentially corrupted them with dark magic, preventing him from defeating the villain again when he comes back. It's a short, vague description of the plot (which I'm still working on) but I know the concept of a knighthood and knights is used a lot in fantasy stories. What are some things I should avoid when creating a knighthood/stuff that's overused/things you'd like to see more in these kinds of stories that are different and defy stereotypes?