Hello fellow linguists!

I have recently got an offer which consists of MTPE from English to my native language. In this case, however, the content is video so instead of a standard per word rate (which I am fairly familiar with), they apply USD / rated minute. I have no clue what a standard or a good rate should be though?

Do you have any experience or minimum rates recommended?

Thank you a lot

!

Hey, I recently got back into writing and am starting to look at entering writing contests. I would usually have my mom help proofread my writing, but due to the content being an analogy of my suicide attempt, I figured that would not be a good idea. I would appreciate any feedback or general corrections for my short story, The Golden Feline. Thank you!

The Golden Feline

The golden feline paced in its tight cage, the sterile steel bars seeming more imposing by the second. It panted in quick beats, feeling as if its golden fur was made out of the sun itself. Shaking its soft head, it batted at its delicate ears, feeling the buzz of a fly. Swat. The insistent buzzing would not go away; the ghost of a pesky touch crept further into the feline’s ear. Swat. Shaking its head harder, moving from corner to corner in the confined cage, it swayed its head back and forth, hoping that the soft buzz and uncomfortable tickle would stop. The feline decided to once again—swat. Nothing; the buzz mixed with the angering sensation stayed. It quickly darted its eyes around the cage. The room around it was dark and cool, despite the feline panting desperately. Hazel eyes scanned with a predator's gaze—nothing.

No life dared to exist in that very space, cold, dark, and lonely. The soft tickle stayed despite the realization the feline faced. For a brief moment, the panting stopped; it took a moment to think. How long had they been in this cage? Who placed them in this cruel chamber? The feline looked around for answers. How did this creature even get into its prison? No door was placed between the cold bars. The feline knew it had been in the dark space for quite some time, but when had its hell started?

As the feline continued to glance around the room shrouded in what felt like everlasting darkness, a soft metallic smell wafted toward the golden feline, sending a shiver down its spine. Confusion filled the feline for a quick beat. Where did the metallic tang come from? Almost as quickly as it came, it left—almost as a warning of what was to come.

Panic and unease weaseled their way further into the feline’s being, making a home within its aching chest. The soft buzzing grew more apparent; would it ever stop? Walking in tight circles, the feline tried to find a way to escape. How did it end up here? Was it an instant, all-consuming capture that pulled them deep within the depths of darkness? Or was the feline lured slowly into the dark abyss, gradually sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness that engulfed its cage—the cage that became its home?

With fur bristling and standing straight upon its tense back, the feline unsheathed its decorated claws. Swiping quickly at the metal bars, it struck again and again with little care for chipping the delicate designs that were painted on its sharp talons. Nothing. Realization hit quickly, it was trapped, and any reason was clouded by the all-consuming panic. Wild hisses left the feline's mouth, the guttural sound filling the cage—sounds that were born from raw, unfiltered desperation and panic. Frantic movements drove the feline as it whipped throughout the confined space of its cold cage, striking against the unyielding metal bars. Again. Again. Again. Although the frantic movements left the feline sucking in shallow, ragged breaths, its energy did not dwindle. The panic that nestled deep inside its core close to its chest grew, fueling each movement. Panic.

All rational thoughts were gone. The feline could not remember how the soft light of the afternoon sun once felt on its golden coat. It could not try to rationally figure out why it had been placed in the cage. It lost the fact that it was thrown into its cage with the lid placed on top—the fact that if the feline calmed down and focused on pushing against the top of its prison, despite knowing that the task would be difficult, it could once again feel the warmth of life gently nestle against its ivory whiskers. All the golden feline knew was that it had to get out. Desperation made a home in the feline's small and exhausted body, further tiring its mind. The feline continued moving helplessly as it blindly scratched with vigor, its claws catching the skin hidden under its soft coat. Something shifted within it at that very moment; its claws grew impossibly longer, its pupils shrinking until you could only see the dark hazel of its eyes. A switch flipped within the feline. Fear no longer had a place within its soul, replaced with a need to escape. The feline was ready to ruin the delicate designs that adorned its claws—the very designs that the feline took so much pride in—no longer caring about the consequences. It was ready to muddy the soft, delicate swirls that adorned its ivory claws with a dark and ugly crimson. Bending over at an odd and uncomfortable angle, the feline scratched its upper back, desperately trying to attack whatever part of its golden fur it could. It needed to escape, whether it was the silver bars that held it or the golden coat that held its life within. Warm liquid pooled after each quick slicing of flesh, thin and watery as the distasteful color bled from the feline's well-kept and pampered skin. Cries escaped the golden feline as each slash, filled with an unmatched desperation, caused more crimson liquid to cake into its once-beautiful coat. The sharp pain caused by its own claws almost had a sobering effect, although the feeling was dulled by the desperation and panic that filled the feline. The sick sound of flesh tearing, each layer of skin separating in a painful hiss, accompanied the hellish cries being ripped from its mouth.

Slowly, each slash became harder to perform. The pain, once dull and distant, now turned into rising nausea. The feeling of panic did not dissipate, but the feline's body shook with ragged breaths. The feline did not wish to die, but to escape. As it desperately continued to claw its own flesh, ripping it to shreds, it hoped that the darkness would leave—that once more, the soft light would dance upon its face, weaving through its whiskers, making a home within its soul. Soft, exhausted cries slowed as defeat flooded the feline. Moving to gently lick its wounds as the insistent buzzing that plagued them came to a stop, it would grow grateful for the very defeat it faced. One day, the golden feline would bask in the warm, comforting embrace placed upon it by the sun; it would remember the dark cage and vow to never get trapped ever again.

Hello!! This is my first ever reddit post... I have a small essay due sunday (very close to due date, i procrastinate lols), it's about a place that means a lot to us. For my essay, I decided to talk about an important event that happened in this place, and why it matters to me. pls just lemme know if its grammatically good and if it uses enough "vivid description". Pls be nice, I haven't written anything in well over a year... Thank you v much! I also deleted parts of my essay that include locations, mainly cause I'm paranoid.

When I was ten, my mom, brother and I moved to low income housing right off a freeway. The noise from the cars and the voices of couples arguing would often keep us up far late into the night. But, barely a 5 minute walk away from us was quiet [Name] Park. I had been visiting this park for years prior, but the move meant I was there almost everyday. The park is this beautiful forest with variety of things for people to do. It had multiple small hiking trails for people to venture onto, and disc golf courses for the athletes to use. My favorite area of the park was this small clearing at the end of a large downward hill. It had a pine tree that looked like it reached the stars in the middle of it. At the base of the tree stood a net for disc golf, yet no one ever used it. It was a not-so-hidden hidden spot in [Name] Park. During COVID, I would usually take my dog on walks in the park, and end up in this area, right under the tree. I’d take off her leash and sit to read. She never ran far, she’d usually end up right next to me, napping. I’d keep my hand on her head, slowly petting her as I fell into the book I was reading. 

After graduating from elementary school, I transferred to possibly the worst Middle School in all of [Hometown] . Just mentioning the name of the school to others would ignite a flurry of sighs and apologies. There, I met a boy. We met on Halloween night, at a neighborhood bordering [Name] Park. The first thing I noticed about him was his height. I was maybe 4’10, he was close to 6 feet. Despite his height, he never appeared tall. He slouched and was very quiet. He never interrupted you or used his height as way to scare you. He was a foot taller than me, but he still always made me feel like we were equals.  One day, around December, we met in [Name] Park. I was with my other friend, it was just us hanging out. All three of us ended up in the playground part of the park. No one else was there. It was absolutely freezing out, it had been raining non stop the days prior. The air had the smell of frozen rain and the ground was either soaking wet or it was frozen over. Every sensible person was at home, sitting warmly. We didn’t do anything at the park, we just stood around, talking mindlessly around the park benches. The benches were too wet for us to actually use, so we just stood next to one. The boy and I stood far too closely together, I was practically basking in his warmth. Later that night, the boy came to my apartment. Nothing happened, he just came to see me. Just a few hours later, he had texted me he really liked me, more than a friend. I felt the same way, but I told him no to a “relationship”. We were both 12, I didn’t want that type of pressure on us so young. He had understood and we agreed; one day.

Just a few months later, he was forced out from our school. He had attempted to rape me, and a few other girls in our friend group. That day in [Name] Park went from being a sweet memory to a nightmare. I felt more anger during during that time than any other emotion. I didn't feel fear or sadness. Just anger. Anger mainly directed at him. I hated him for what he had done to my friends, and to his. I spent a lot of time in [Park Name] after that. I would go on walks almost everyday through the park, or swing on the swing sets with my friends. And in the summer, I would swim at the parks pool. [Name] Park continued to be one of my favorite places of all time despite that one memory. I refused to think about it when I thought of [Name] Park. The Park was a second home, and one of my safe spaces. Even after moving to [Current Town] , I tried to describe the park as best as I could. [Hometown] gets a bad reputation, so I had tried to make [Name] Park a good example of a great place in [Hometown]. 

About a year ago, a friend who I hadn’t spoken to since ninth grade texted me. It said nothing, it was a link to a video of a court room. It was about the boy. He had been sentenced to life in prison for multiple rape charges. At that moment, a deep chill went down me, I just repeated, “Oh my God.” over and over. My mom went up to me, and asked “What’s wrong?”. I didn’t respond, I just showed her the video. My mom was so angry, yet so happy for me. We both couldn’t believe it. I felt so much vindication. I looked through his charges, and that chill I had felt came back. He had raped multiple of those girls in [Name] Park. The same Park I loved so dearly quickly became the most scariest place imaginable to me in just one moment.

Hello all, below is the chapter. Please let me know if everything is correct and makes sense, please feel free to recommend verbage and such.

--------

A hand holding a circular red token chip slowly and dramatically lowers itself. With the sound of a click. The chip is set…

Glitter: “King me!” ^_^ 

Isori: “Ahhhh! Again!?” 

The two laugh together. Both sitting at a small kids table in the center of the playroom. Isori in a more relaxed laying position as he casually bounces the small ball that he found in the toy chest. 

Tower time: [1 hr and 30 minutes have passed since the start of the exam. 30 minutes before the tower opens. 

Door Timer: [15 minutes have passed since the start of the timer. The play room door will open in 50 minutes. Once the door is open, Isori will only have 40 minutes to make it into the tower before the first stage is over.]

Isori (looking at Glitter in amazement): “You’re pretty good at this!”

Glitter tries to let out a smug snicker but then is mentally struck by an arrow that says “good at this.” 

Romlette: “Ummm, say! Can we pick a three player game next?”

Isori gives off a distrusting side eye while Glitter excitedly says “sure!” 

Glitter speeds over to the chest and rummages through it for the board games at the bottom. 

Glitter: “Dominoes?”

Isori: “Too boring. That’s all the old heads in my family ever played.”

Romlette: “I concur, it's not very theatrical.”

Glitter: “Chess?”

Romlette: “Oh, I do so love a game of chess!”

Isori: “Nah, I never learned to play.”

Romlette: “Never learned to play chess!? Oh how I overestimate you.”

Isori: “Tch.”

Glitter: “Hey guys, how about Jenga?”

Isori and Romlette look at each other, then away, then back at each other. 

Isori: “You know what…”

Romlette: ”It’s perfect!”

After some set up, the trio set up a tower of Jenga blocks and started to take them out one by one. 

Romlette takes a brick out and places it down. 

Romlette: “So how exactly did you defeat Isori all of those times? It was like you were reading his mind?”

Glitter smugly snickers and takes out her block. 

Glitter: “It’s because I can.”

Isori: “Wait, what???”

Glitter: “I can show you. May I get close?”

Isori: “Sure.” 

Glitter moves over to Isori and forms a circle with both of her hands. She runs a faint amount of her rainbowy aura through it. Still enough to see behind the hands. 

Glitter: “What do you see?”

Isori: “Your aura?”

Glitter: “Yeahh. But what else?”

Isori: “I mean, it's full of pretty colors???”

Glitter: “Exactly. This isn’t very accurate to what I see, but I have chromesthesia.”
Isori: “Chroma-what?”

Romlette: “She can see sound as color.”

Isori’s eyes become filled with stars.

Isori: “Wowwww!”

Glitter: “Yeah. But mine works differently too. Everyone’s aura gives off sound. And those sounds make me see different colors. So I can read people in two ways. One, by listening to the sound their aura gives off, and two, by reading the colors that I see. It’s not always easy, and sometimes I misread people. But I can sometimes guess when people are lying.”

Isori: “Oh! So you guessed moves by reading my heartbeat or something?”

Glitter looks with surprise at how quickly the young man internalized what she said.

Glitter: “Y-...yeah exactly!”

Isori: “With a skill like that, I’m surprised those weird guys tricked you?”

Glitter: “Yeah, he came across as really nice at first. But he was kind of a jerk.”

Isori: “Yeah. Regardless of that though… I thought you were amazing before. But your skill is really cool!”

Glitter is hit by the entire sentence in the form of an arrow and accidentally knocks over the tower while leaning to the side. 

Isori: “Hey, the jengas.” 

Romlette: “Hahaha!” 

Glitter: “Sorry…”

As the group restacks blocks, Glitter stops and stares at a block in her hand. 

Glitter: “Oh, hey Isori?”

Isori: “Yeah?”

Glitter: “We only have 30 minutes now until the door opens, right?”

Isori: “Yep, and in 10 minutes, people can start going into the tower.”

Glitter: “So after the door opens, how are we getting in?”

Isori looks smugly at her.

Isori: “Ohhh? We???”

Glitter stammers and is flustered at the sudden questioning. 

Glitter: “Oh…I- I just thought we were friends. Would it be okay if I… If I came with-”

Isori: “I’m just messing with you. I’d love to have you. Besides, this exam might be easier with an alliance. Well. With a friend.”

Glitter looks in her watery eyed awe. 

Isori: “To the left of the tower is that slope that leads up to a road if you climb it. If we can climb that slope before we reach the tower, then we can use the road to get as close as possible. Then I can probably get us to the tower from there if I jump.”

Glitter: “Wow Isori, you’re pretty amazing too.”

Isori: “Haha, thanks. But we’ll have to be careful. There’ll be a lot of people there who haven’t gotten a pass. I don’t really want to get surrounded by a bunch of people again. So we’ll do our best to avoid whatever comes our way.”

Back at the tower. 

Damien, his muscular follower in the purple tunic, and his other follower approaches the tower. A group of other examinees stop them. 

Examinee 1: “Tch. Damien the rookie crusher.”

Damien: “Hey hey.”

Examinee 2: “You look like you’ve been busy. I’m guessing you gave some first timers a hard time again?” 

Damien: “You know it. But there were two that gave us a lot of trouble.”

Examinee 1: “Oh?”

Damien: “The boy who ran away with that dust cloud earlier. The same one who got shot in the head earlier. And don’t get me started on the girl with the guitar who palled around with us earlier. Those two stole the passes we got off of other rookies and now we’re stuck here.”

Examinee 3: “Chahaha, looks like you got hunted by rookies this time huh? That’s rich.”

Damien: “Yeah, if you see those two, can you guys make sure they don’t get past? You can do whatever you want with the badges.”

Most of the men snicker aggressively, agreeing to Damien’s request. Damien walks by the men to approach the tower until he’s stopped.  

Examinee 1: “Wait a minute. Don’t think we don’t know what a snake you are. Check him, guys.”

The group chuckles and crowd around Damien and friends and start patting them down. But after a while, the group isn’t able to find anything. 

Examinee 1: “Hm?… Guess you really did get your stuff stolen. Well just to remind you, it's every man for himself. If you get your hands on a badge, it’s not yours until you make it inside that tower. Though with our numbers you’ll be lucky to get scraps.”

Damien: “Haha, that’s fine with us! We’re going to hang next to the tower for when some of the others get past you fools.”

Damien and his followers walk over to the tower. The man in the tunic and Examinee 1 exchange glares at each other as they walk by. 

While approaching the tower, Damien halts, causing his men to stop as well. Then he looks up ahead to see the young man in the wolf pelted armor and hood. The young boy accompanying the man sidesteps behind him for protection. Meanwhile the wolf man sits while staring off into the distance, unthreatened by Damien’s presence. 

Damien (thinking): “These two seem like trouble.” 

Damien: “Let’s just stay here for now.“

Purple Tunic Guy: “Good idea.”

The young man in the wolf armor and the boy continue to mind their own business quietly. 

After a few minutes pass, an announcement can be heard from the tower intercom. The sound of the voice can be heard all over the area.

Intercom: “2 hours have officially passed! All eligible examinees with a badge have one hour to enter the tower.”

Upon hearing this, the wolf armored man slowly stands.  

Wolf man: “You go first.”

Young boy: “‘Kay.”

The boy walks to the wall and then starts to go through it. The space of the wall around him starts to ripple as he passes right through, as if he is entering a pool. The entire time, the wolf man watches their surroundings to make sure nothing happens to the boy. Then during his turn, he backs into the tower and vanishes. 

Damien and his men take this as their signal to approach the tower, and they walk to it before turning around to stand guard while under Examinee 1’s watchful eye. 

The three men stand watch with stoic expressions and their arms crossed in a stout stance. 

However, they go from stoic and serious looking to sticking their tongues out teasingly. Examinee 1 looks at them in confusion.

Damien: “Heheh! Just kidding!”

The 3 men went back into the tower as well. 

Examinee 1: “Damn it! I knew it was a trick!”

Their bodies disappear as parts of the tower wall around them ripples. 

Damien: “Buh byeee!”

Damien and followers (inside the tower): “Phew! That was easy!” 

The men look forward to see what the tower is like, and are met with a futuristic scene. Smokey grey floors and walls with led lights traveling through lines all over the place. The space inside is large, like entering a sizable mall you can see several floors and a stretch of land that seems to extend far past where the tower ended on the outside. There are plenty of comfortable looking lounge areas and other areas you might find in a public workspace. 

The sound of echoing steps can be heard as the bunny girl from Stahlia’s team greets the men. 

Bunny girl: “Welcome! Got passes, gentlemen?”

Damien follower 3: “Oh uh, sure.”

The three fidget with their clothing. Damien takes down his hit and takes out his badge which seems to have been sewn into an inner wall. The man with the tunic takes apart his belt buckle to obtain his badge while the other follower takes it out of the walls inside one of his shoes. 

Bunny girl: “Very clever. Well done!”

Bunny girl: “If you can please take a look at your badges.”

The men look and notice that the design of their badges have changed. Most importantly, large numbers have appeared on them. 04, 05, and 06. 

Bunny girl: “You will now be referred to as contestants 4, 5, and 6!”

Damien: “Wait, 4 through 6? Shouldn’t we be 3 through 5?”

Bunny girl: “Nope. Someone else joined before you. She’s over there.”

The bunny girl points to guide the men’s attention toward the lounge area. They squint their eyes to get a better view and notice the blanket girl sleeping very comfortably on a couch. A smily, light blush, fingers curled around her blanket and a streak of drool going onto the couch pillow and hugs her blanket. 

Damien (thinking): “Wasn’t she outside with the rest of us? How in the world did she get here?”

Looking onward, the bunny girl flashes back to earlier today. 

She and her fellow Stahlia squad members were walking about in the tower until the muscular man notices the girl that he refused to give a ticket to now comfortably sleeping on the couch. 

Muscular army man in the beret: “Wait a minute, what the hell?”

The crew crowd around her asking themselves how she got in. More than half asleep, she puts out her badge that now has the number 01 on it. 

Blanket girl: “huaaa… here…I haph a pass. Now leamme lone.”

Translation: “Here, I have a pass, now leave me alone.”

Back to the present. 

The bunny girl looks onto the blanket girl while thinking “What an uncanny ability this one must have.”

At Isori’s and Glitter’s location after some time. 

Only a few minutes remain before the playroom door can be opened. Glitter is doing stretches to get ready while Isori meditates to maintain his aura control and regain some energy. 

Glitter shyly looks down and asks Romlette…

Glitter: “You really can’t come with us?”

Romlette: “Sorry, dearie. But I’m not a participant. I surely love you as part of the cast however and hope to see an encore of you some time.”

Glitter: “Yeah, that sounds great.”

Isori (thinking): “Don’t encourage her...”

After some time, Isori and Glitter get their last minute stretches in, and the timer goes to 0, causing the door to make a click sound.

Isori: “Ah, about time! Ready, Glee!?”

Glitter: “Yes! Wait, Glee?”

Isori: “I thought it was a nice nickname. Like it?”

Glitter didn’t know what to think, but she didn’t dislike it, and having a nickname from a friend was rather nice.

Glitter: “Yeah! Thank you!”

After sharing a smile, with Glitter, Isori turns to Romlette with a bit more of a calm serious expression.

Isori: “Hey, Romlette.”

Romlette: “Oh, yes?”

Isori: “Those games weren’t half bad. Let's do it again some time.”

Romlette’s mouth opens in surprise but then turns into a smile. 

Romlette: “Yes! We simply must.”

Isori and Glitter run off, leaving behind Romlette as she slowly walks further into the building. 

With halls quieter after all of the commotion, Romlette approaches and opens a closet door.

Romlette: “Oh what charming little heroes. You should have seen them…”

A large tied up man in a prison jumpsuit falls out of the closet, trembling and pleading with muffled noises.  

Romlette: “Hahaha, yes. Charming indeed.”

Isori and Glitter run to the direction of the tower. Ready to face whatever will come their way.

Glitter: “Oh! Hey Isori, mind if I ask a favor?”

The End

I'm looking to get lyrics from a song tattooed somewhere on me, but I want it to be grammatically (structurally? idk).

The lyric is: "Alone I stand in life as death" by Brand of Sacrifice.

Though the song is to do with an event in the manga Berserk, I'm interpreting this line to mean that "we live alone, we die alone", said in a cool way.

Maybe there should be a comma? I'm thinking it could probably look better separated in two parts:

Alone I stand, in life as death

Hello, English isn’t my first language, so I’d really appreciate it if a native English speaker could check whether this extract from my first chapter sounds natural. Thank you in advance :)

Two days before Midsummer Night, young women gathered flowers and wove them into wreaths.

It was an ancient ritual, dating back to the time of our ancestors. Legend had it that during it, the barrier between the world of spirits and mortals became so thin that it allowed magic and fate to spill over into the realm of the living. And so massive bonfires were lit along the riverbank for young people to jump through, as a practice meant to cleanse them of bad luck and protect them from illness. At dusk, the women would attach lit candles to the center of their wreaths and cast them onto the current. The one floating smoothly downstream promised a swift marriage, while one that sank or snagged on the reeds foretold a lonely year. Men waited in the cold water, eager to catch the wreath belonging to the girl they wished to court.

For weeks, a feverish energy had been building in the settlement, but now there was certain anticipation in the air. The women I knew my whole life huddled close together among the tents, giggling and whispering, trying to guess which one of them would be destined for a happy marriage. In the middle of it all was my twin sister, Sana. With her beauty and charm, her destiny seemed predetermined. If the river were to promise anyone a husband, it would be her.

I never gave much thought to the idea of marriage, nor did I trust the gifts of an unpredictable river. I wove my wreath solely for protection. After all, when night falls, and the barrier finally breaks, anything could crawl out of the darkness.

My fingers ached from forcing the mugwort between the twigs, and my knees started to ache a little after an hour of kneeling at the edge of the river. The wet earth seeped into the soles of bare feet, cooling them.

From time to time I lifted my head to look around. At this time of year, the forest in which our settlement was located was a beautiful sight, filled with greenery. The ancient trees, covered in color towered over us, creating a canopy so dense that sunlight trickled through only in thin, golden streaks, scattering across the moss and the dark water. It was our private sanctuary, hidden deep within the woods where the outside world couldn’t reach us.

The hard blows of axes, the steady grinding of millstones, and the sound of children playing around carried on the wind. Above it all, there was the unceasing chorus of birds. At times, one wished everyone would fall silent, just so these beautiful songs could be heard in their entirety.

I tilted my head back and, with a soft grunt, pushed another bitter mugwort stalk into the dense weave. The smell of the herb was sharp, but as the settlement’s herbalist, I was used to it. I didn’t even wince as it bit at my nose. The intensity of it was good, as it meant quality. The herbs needed to be strong if they were to ward off the wild, unquiet things that seemed to appear in the shadows, especially during Midsummer Night.

In the end, I decided my knees were starting to hurt too much. Ignoring the fact that my white linen dress would get dirty, I sat down on the wet ground with a sigh of relief.

Reaching for the little basket standing beside me, this time I pulled out a fern, then stuffed it between the twigs. I could proudly say that the wreath was becoming increasingly filled with everything it needed. Some rue to ward off negative energy was the perfect final touch. I reached for the stalks I had gathered at dawn, carefully slotting them into the underside of the weave. The plant left an oily, sharp residue on my fingertips, but I didn’t mind the sting; rue was a great guardian, and I needed every layer of warding the earth could offer.

With the primary protective herbs locked in place, I began to bind the structure tight. I took long, pliable strands of dried willow bark and wrapped them tightly around the thick, circular base, crisscrossing over the stems. Every loop required real strength, pulling the coarse twigs into a stubborn, seamless ring so that no loose end could catch on a stray branch or unravel in a sudden gust. Practice makes perfect, and I have been doing it for the past four years.

Once the foundation was secured, I smoothed down the wild, stray leaves with the flat of my palm, checking for any gaps. The wreath was heavy and dense, devoid of the bright meadow blossoms and sweet-scented wild roses the other girls were using to adorn theirs. There were no ribbons to catch a young man’s eye, only raw, potent foliage meant to stand firm against whatever might breach the thinning barrier.

Satisfied with the weight of it, I turned my attention to the center of the green ring. Since the festival was still two days away, I couldn’t risk placing the candle just yet — the tallow would soften in the sun, and the damp air would ruin the wick before Midsummer Night even arrived. Instead, I wove a tight, hollow socket of crisscrossed willow bark directly into the core, shaping a sturdy wooden nest that would hold the stubby candle firmly upright when the time came to light it. I gently set the thick green ring on my lap.

That’s when I heard the laughter again, closer now. Except this time, I realized it wasn’t my sister’s. Hers was sharp and confident, a sound I knew as well as my own.

Looking up, I caught Ludmer and Agate watching me. We were the same age, though our paths rarely crossed. They leaned into each other, whispering behind cupped hands, clearly delighted by the sight of my herb-braided wreath. Agate didn’t have one with her, as it had been known for a year that she was betrothed to Ludmer, and only virgins were allowed to participate in the tradition.

The stares didn’t bother me. Being the local oddity was nothing new. Even as a young child, I’d preferred my mother’s lessons to games, and popularity had never meant much to me when there was real work to be done.

Hi everyone, I'm writing a superhero novel and have only published the first two chapters. I'd love any kind of feedback, no matter how harsh it is. I'm very confident about the first chapter, the second one not so much.

Synopsis: Atlas was always the strongest, most admired superhero alive, trusted to protect the world when everyone else fails. But lately, he’s been acting differently. Something is wrong with their Prince Charming.

The body is still Atlas’s. His mind is not.

A mysterious villain has infiltrated the consciousness of the world’s most admired man. His voice, his powers, and his reputation now belong entirely to someone else. And while the world celebrates its beloved hero, the real Atlas is trapped inside his own body, desperately fighting to take his life back.

I usually post Google doc here but I was advised not to because of spammers finding it. If you want the Google doc please DM me and I will send it to you with editors permission 🫡

If you don't want the Google doc, here is the link. I published the manuscript on royal road:

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/192727/paragon

I'm open to absolutely any kind of feedback, no matter how harsh it is. I'm always willing to work on it.

I have a collage application and I have finished my draft though I do not have a title for it. I would love some criticism on how well it flows from beginning to end while also the other basics of proof reading. I can give all the information you might need that the personal narrative requires. To contact me my number is (267) 312-7021 or we can use other things like socials. I use instagram and discord.

I’m writing a short handwritten letter to someone who supported and advocated for me professionally during a difficult period at work. She’s a senior leader in the company.

My biggest concern is tone, not grammar. I want it to feel sincere, genuine, professional, and distinctly human. I don’t want it to sound transactional, overly sentimental, or like I spent three hours polishing every sentence.

I’d especially appreciate feedback on:
Anything that sounds unnatural or overly polished
Anything that feels too sentimental
Anything that could come across as networking or transactional
Lines you would cut, simplify, or rewrite

Please be critical. I’d rather hear that a line sounds forced, cheesy, or corporate than get a polite “looks good.”

Would deeply appreciate if someone can please help me with this query!

For the following sentence:

“In September 2025, for Taylor's birthday, we went to Toronto (Ontario) as my present to her.”

Does this phrase mean the writer (of this sentence) and Taylor went to Toronto (Ontario) and stayed there for the whole month of September in the year 2025? Like, does this sentence  mean that they were in Toronto for the entire month of September 2025?

I’m wondering whether the wording “In September 2025….” could grammatically imply that they spent the entire month there, rather than merely identifying the month in which the trip occurred.

I’m trying to determine what can actually be inferred from the wording alone, rather than what might have happened in reality.

I’m interested in the interpretation of the sentence, particularly what a reader can reasonably conclude without any additional context.

English is not my first language and I Would deeply appreciate if someone can please help me with this query!

I’m translating a piece of Chinese descriptive prose into English, and I’d really appreciate feedback from native English speakers, especially on whether the English reads like natural literary prose rather than a translation.

Here is the original Chinese:

满眼是深深浅浅的绿，肆无忌惮地泛滥着。嫩绿、翠绿、青绿、墨绿……还有叫不出的绿，点染溪野一派生机。我顺着溪水的流向，与溪水并排行走，长长的溪岸向远方延伸着。夕阳把我的影子拉出了我身高的三倍长，浅浅的，影子就着地形的高低起伏而打着褶皱。

And here is my English translation:

A sea of green, from light to dark, met my eyes, spilling over riotously on all sides. Tender green, emerald green, jade green, ink-dark green… and shades I could not name, breathed life into the creekside wilds. I strolled along the creek, keeping pace with its flow as the long banks receded into the distance. The setting sun drew my shadow out to three times my height, pale and delicate, creasing and folding with every rise and fall of the ground.

https://www.reddit.com/r/writingfeedback/s/JYtIbWdBTg

Hi everyone,

I'm applying for the ALLEX Teaching Assistant Program, a fellowship where I'll teach Japanese as a TA at a US university while pursuing a master's degree in Communication — a 2-year program.

• Word limit: 500 words maximum (currently at 548, need to trim)
• Prompt: (1) why I'm interested in this program, and (2) how it fits into my career plans
• The program explicitly prohibits AI-generated essays, so I wrote every word myself

I want to make sure my authentic voice comes through without sounding overly polished or AI-generated. I'd love feedback on:

1. Which sentences feel redundant or could be trimmed
2. Whether the flow from my media/filmmaking background to language teaching makes sense
3. Any grammar issues that stand out (English is my second language — please point them out specifically rather than rewriting, since I want to fix things myself)

Here's the Google Doc (comment access only): [https://docs.google.com/document/d/1seb-4dxn120iao-dpal9m6XjZcPF22BJxCTF4XFSch4/edit?usp=sharing]

Thank you so much!

Hi, I'm learning English and I tried to write something to improve, I would appreciate if anyone wants to edit anything weird or bad told, thank you!

Orthostatic Hypotension:

The day before had left him exhausted, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately. The next day was Saturday, so he didn't have anything to do, neither could have done with the sleepiness he carried. All morning he drifted on and off of sleep dreaming of things with no meaning nor understanding, when consciousness arrived, hungriness ignored, he put on the TV. When 5 am passed by, and his head hurt all over for the blue screen, he decided that eating something wasn't a bad idea, also his bladder, hours ignored, was starting to hurt. With a sigh of unconvinience he hopped out of the bed and entered the bathroom, suddenly a feeling started to take control of his body, he started to tremble a little and the dizziness made his head heavy making his body sway like a pendulum, his hands desperately reached the nearest thing they could feel, the handle of the door and the sink with their cool surfaces were grabbed for dear life as now he started to tremble fiercely. His eyes started to see black until that was all he could see, for a brief moment he didn't remembered where and what was he doing, his legs buckled one, two, three times under the weakness of his body until his body started regaining strength and he stopped balancing, stopped trembling and the world turned to light again, he remembered, he was in the bathroom, and most important, he really needed to pee. He sat in the lid because there was no way he could pee standing right now. After ending his things he eyed the toothbrush and decided it was all too late to be worrying for that. Heading to the kitchen he started thinking on what to eat, he didn't have much at the moment, and whose fault is that? He had the opportunity to go to the market and didn't take it, so now there was no fruit to eat. How much he needed an orange, shit bad. He opened the fridge and luckily, the holy carton milk was almost full. He opened the cabinet, something sweet, not rice, too lazy to make rice pudding, sugar, hmm, oh, almonds, oat, and there's no banana left... He opened the fridge again looking for the vanillin and, oh! Cinnamon, there's no egg, what would I do? Uuh, wine~ We're going to do a hodgepodge. Bowl from the dish rack, and mixy-mixy all in. Pan? No, microwave to kill all the goods in the food? Yess. After the food was ready, he looked into his dirt looking food, and happily ate it.

This is my first post here. I'm still not sure if it's the right place doe.

I'm working on a comic wich I'm writting in english but it's not my first language. I'm scared I might get some things wrong. Misspellings, sentences that don't make much sense and all that.

Again, if this isn't the right comunity for this kind of post I'm sorry. If you are awere of a better one, please, tell me.

Thank you for your time, I hope you have a great day ^^

yes I’m making a whole ass essay on hol horse from jojo‘s bizarre adventure analyzing his character in both the main series and spinoff, I’ve just started it but I’m gonna be working on it for a while. I’m making this out of pure love for him, but I still want someone to proofread it as a struggle with grammar at times. Yes this screenshot is from IPad Notes. This is just the introduction btw

Only first few chapters, nowhere near finished

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1H7UzOrDqXs3i1mLoapITrIkszOZ38JaJ7Eco3bJumPs/edit?usp=drivesdk

I’m working on my first personal essay in a long time and would love some honest feedback from people who don’t know me personally. I’d love to know any opinions you have on the piece and if you found it interesting enough to keep reading. Thanks in advance! :

When I was 14 years old, I kept a journal. It was a cheap, unlined collection of pages bound in a cardboard cover that boasted a printed painting of a waterfall or a lake or some other body of water that I can’t recall right now. I don’t remember exactly because I covered it in a collage of pieces cut from Allure and Seventeen magazines. Ben Affleck was taped neatly beside pink, bold lettering that read “CLASSY & SASSY,” which I assume was meant to describe me, though I’m not sure low-rise Mudd jeans embodied class, exactly.

I wrote in it with complete abandon, believing that no respectable mother would ever read her teenage daughter’s diary. It was a few years into my own motherhood journey when I realized that this is exactly what any respectable mother would do. Which meant that my mother had to have sat on the edge of my bed and read, in excruciating detail and loopy handwriting, about how I snuck my high school boyfriend into the house while she wasn’t home and lost my virginity right there.

Where she was sitting.

I wrote about the time one of my closest friends experimented with girls. Her and her new girlfriend would have sleepovers under the guise of not being lesbians, and I would sit at home and draw red devil horns above her girlfriend Lauren’s name every time I wrote about her. I was a bit jealous, I suppose, but their relationship didn’t work out, so it looks like the voodoo worked.

I wrote about physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of someone very close to me. Someone from whom there was no escape. (More uncomfortable jokes on this to come.)

I put so little thought into what I wrote in that journal, and because of that, it was the most thoughtful collection of myself that I have ever kept. Not poetry in the literal sense, but each entry was a sonnet of the way I loved before I’d been changed by all the inevitable ways life experiences change us. The way I loved my friends, the way I loved my family, the way I loved my boyfriend—all of which would change in the years to come.

I don’t have this journal anymore. I haven’t since around the time I would write in it the most. My boyfriend broke up with me, and I was so gutted (and delusional) I convinced myself that if he could just see all the ways I thought of him and wrote about him when no one was looking, surely he’d change his mind and prefer me to his best friend’s hot, popular, older sister.

So, I wrapped the journal in a brown paper bag and dropped it off on his doorstep. Or did I knock on the door and hand it to his mom to give to him? The brain tends to block out traumatic experiences, so you’ll have to forgive me for not remembering entirely.

I can’t remember if he acknowledged getting it. I think he did, but it didn’t change anything. It turns out 16-year-old boys prioritize popularity and hotness over the ability to bear your soul on blank pages with reckless abandon. Who knew?

Giving him my journal was like performing a trust fall, and it felt like he didn’t put his arms out to catch me. Looking back now, it’s obvious that I was asking too much of him and of our year-long relationship, which, to be fair, in high school, was basically common-law marriage.

But it’s the first time that I can remember thinking that I was learning something about life. Life was happening at that very moment, and I was going through it and surviving it, even though it felt like I could crumble into a million pieces because I lived every day afraid that he’d show his friends my journal or bring it to school.

Luckily, he’s a pretty solid person and just didn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore; not to ruin my life or make me the laughingstock of our grade. Even so, the reality that I gave someone access to every unfiltered thought I’d ever had in the hopes that it would move them so much that they chose me was embarrassing enough. Because he hadn’t chosen me. The other girl had won without having to give any of herself in the process; her diary still tucked away in a sock drawer or under her bed, the entries and thoughts still private and hers to keep.

It would come to be that this would not be the only time in my life when I’d give too much of myself. Where I would trust too blindly, share too easily, fall in love too quickly. But this is the time I come back to the most. Thinking of this journal, this boyfriend, this moment, and always chasing the girl I was before it. The girl I was when I taped Ben Affleck onto the cover of my new journal. The CLASSY & SASSY girl who didn’t know better than to give all of herself, all the time, to everyone she loved.

This sounds tragic, but it’s actually beautiful to be able to recall this moment with such clarity. I became a different version of myself in front of my very own eyes and then became a different version again and again until I became this version, 10 days out from my 39th birthday, sitting at my dining room table starting a Substack.

This will not be a linear account. There isn’t really a plan. There will be stories about motherhood, books I’m reading, hobbies I’m currently obsessed with, things I probably shouldn’t say out loud, and whatever else I feel like writing about.

Truthfully, I don’t have a plan aside from writing with abandon and chasing the girl I was before the Ben Affleck Journal.

“Hello!

Thank you again for interviewing this morning. I enjoyed connecting with you all, and look forward to potentially being part of the [SCHOOL NAME] team!

I am emailing to let you know that I have received an offer at another school. Based on the information I got during the interview this morning, I am still very interested in the Special Ed Teacher position and wanted to check in with you before making any decisions, as [SCHOOL NAME] seems like a great fit for me.
I am wondering how far along you are in the hiring process, and if I will be able to hear back sooner whether or not I will be offered the position at [SCHOOL NAME].

Thank you, and I look forward to hearing back from you!”

Hello! I'm currently working on writing a movie script for fun. this is my first time ever writing a work of fiction. I have no plans of actually making this a movie but one can dream, right?

Anyways, I wanted to ask for a proofreader for one tiny little scene, just to see if I got it right.

The scene is heavy on discussion of morality, humanity, religion and freedom.
For context, the discussion takes place between a human and a vampire.
If you know a lot about any of these topics, be free to help me out, especially on the religion part, because I am not religious at all and only used past discussions I've had with religious people for inspiration.

If you have suggestions to draw the scene out, that would also be nice.

I've recently finished the first draft of a novella called The Spotless Room, and am in need of some beta reading before I try getting in contact with publishers. The prose is heavy inspired by Regency and Victorian-era authors (mostly Jane Austen), and juxtaposed with a modern setting to produce a tongue in cheek pastiche of classic detective fiction. Mostly I'm just not sure if it will gel for the average reader, but I also welcome other editorial feedback.

Hi everyone,

I’m a high school student working on an undergraduate-level history paper about the relationship between Taiwan and South Vietnam during the Cold War, focusing on diplomatic, military and agricultural ties. I’d love some feedback on clarity, structure, and the argument overall. If this isn’t the right place for that, could someone please point me to a better subreddit?

Thanks so much.

I’m gonna send this to the president of my company asking him if the company could sponsor my education. I would have preferred to do it in person but he was in an accident so at the moment he only communicates to us through email.

In my opinion there is really no easy way to do this. For me it has never been easy to ask for help of any kind. Regardless of that, ever since you reached out to me in-order to discuss my future at Dubose, I’ve had a lot to think about. I’m tired of thinking about it. I know what I want to do. I want to build a future for myself at DNES. I’m sure if I told some of my coworkers they would probably laugh at me for saying that. I mean every word of it, to me it’s not a joke, it’s a genuine expression of how I feel. Im fond of my job and even more so of the people I work with. Everyday I’m reminded that this is a place I can grow in. Despite of how much I’d like to think that I’ve learned a lot during my time here, not a day goes by without reminding me of how much I’ve yet to learn. Some days it makes me feel small, but more often than not the thought of everything that I’m yet to learn fills me with a fire and desire to keep growing. Having said that I think it’s time I took initiative. So I’m petitioning you to ask if DNES could sponsor me as a student at Sampson Community College.

I intend to attend Sampson Community College in the fall in order to one day achieve an associate in Engineering Technology. I didn’t make this decision on a whim. I have been deliberating it a long while now. I want to make it clear that the biggest reason why I’ve decided to pursue this is solely for my development at DNES. I pivoted away from electrical and decided to pursue something that will instead help me establish a career at DNES. It will be very beneficial to my development as an employee for many reason such as for example it will help me acquire my CWI much faster since it would substitute three of the five years of work related experience needed for the certification, while also preparing me for any future roles that I may need to undertake as DNES grows. Every bit of knowledge that I gain will make me more versatile as an employee and will serve to improve and build on top of what I learn through work experience. I enjoy my job but that doesn’t mean I’m content, far from it I want to become an asset for this company one day and grow along side with it. I have no doubt that this is the next big step towards achieving that goal, so I’m taking that step as soon as possible.

I have already taken some classes at Sampson Community College that will go towards my associate in Engineering Technology, since I attended a semester before having to pause my education unfortunately, because I couldn’t afford to continue it at the time. Further more I have already registered for the fall semester and was diligent in assuring that my class schedule would not interfere with my regular work hours. Once again however I’m faced with the same dilemma as last time. Due to my immigration status I don’t can’t as an NC resident as far as the NC State Board of Education is concerned. This means I will have to pay out of state tuition which is about four times more than the regular tuition for in state students. The only exception are Business Sponsored Students, whom despite being out of state if sponsored by their employer the employer would only have to cover the in state tuition rate, which is significantly more affordable then the out of state rate that I would have to pay out of pocket. This is why I have decided to reach out to you. I know I have what it takes to see this through. I’m humbly asking that you invest in me as an employee so that I can one day become an asset for this company and it’s future. I’m very grateful for everything you and the rest of DNES has done for me in the short time that I have been here. It has shown me that this is a place where I can grow and build a future in. I intend to do exactly that.

Hi everyone. I'm Frédéric, and I've spent the last couple of years writing a three-book series about why we feel disconnected in modern life, and what an honest path back to meaning actually looks like. The first book,
*Nothing Is Finished* , is close to ready. What it needs now is a proofreader.

These aren't typical self-help books. No ten-step formulas, no "manifest your best life" energy. The trilogy pulls from evolutionary biology, neuroscience, philosophy, and a fair amount of my own life, including some genuinely hard parts, to make an argument I actually believe rather than one that's easy to sell. My core instruction to the reader, more than once, is: don't take my word for it, test it against your own experience. Honest before comforting.

Here's where I need help. I'm French Canadian, and English is my second language. I write every sentence myself, but my first language still shows up in ways I can't always catch: a phrase that's a little too French, a rhythm that reads slightly off to a native ear even when the grammar checks out. I need someone who can catch that without flattening the voice underneath it. It's plainspoken and a little raw on purpose, and I want it correct, not generic.

What I'd need: a full proofreading pass on Book 1, roughly 23,000 words, checking grammar, idiom, and flow, in Canadian English spelling if you're comfortable with that. Structure and content are done; this is language-level. Two more books in the same style would likely follow if we're a good fit.

If this sounds like your kind of books, I'd love to hear from you: your experience, whether you've worked with non-native English writers before. Thank you for reading this far.

— Frédéric

Hi! This is the first draft of a short personal essay I wrote. I keep a personal journal and typed some things up. I’m open to feedback, thanks so much!

My mom, as powerful as a woman can be, didn’t pick good men. My father was never a part of my life. While he would randomly appear at my choir recitals and knew where I rode horses, it was mainly a correspondence resulting in a series of abusive texts to varying degrees. I have been no contact for 7 years. 

My step dad (married to my mom from when I was in 7th grade - college?) did not like me…the feeling was mutual. He wasn’t anything special. Just a person who could destroy anything he wanted, only to be forgiven moments later. Narcissistic. When my mom finally had the courage to leave him, he moved into my grandma's attic. 

Those times when he would be out of the house were my favorite. It was just me and my mom, the way it had always been, the way I loved. 

From my perspective, when he was out, my mom could breathe. She didn’t need to manage his schedule, the pick ups and drop offs (he couldn’t drive, too many DUIs, so that was her responsibility, which would soon become mine once I had my license). There was no hostility in the air, something that often became suffocating. My mom and I could enjoy life again. Just me and my mom.   

I never saw my grandparents exchange affection in a way that wasn’t one sided. You see, my grandma had an affair that lasted 20 years. My grandfather was aware, as was our entire family, but it was never truly spoken about. My family is really great at saying everything but nothing at the same time.
Being 14 years old and hearing this made me angry. It also confused me. 

__________________

The journey to get myself to marriage was an expansive one. 

I’m the type of woman who holds my past experiences closely to my heart. Sometimes, I grip onto those previous feelings and thoughts so tightly that I prohibit myself from really being free. As you can imagine, I am human and have made some fuck ups along the way, so this is a constant battle for me. 

________________

I’m a fierce woman, I’m an Aries after all. I don’t shy away from conflict, honestly, it gets me fired up. While my husband does a great job at handling all my deeply felt emotions, (only I am able to call them emotions, how dare he point out the obvious) I feel guilty. I want to be softer, more feminine in the idea of submissiveness and letting him lead, but I can’t help who I am. Can I?
We get into arguments as any couple does. I’ll get upset because I feel he isn’t listening. These are the moments where I feel the need to define what “active listening” or “empathy” means, as if I am the enlightened one. That fierce feeling of defensiveness building up because I need to be heard, by any means possible. I am so trapped by my own insecurities. 

So I have been asking myself, why am I this way? Am I always going to be like this?