Cynus

Ah Keith... he's my favorite, and I look forward to you learning more about him.

This is actually the first of the two, and I like using elements of stories from our world on any of my projects set here. It keeps me grounded.

I wish I could say I planned that out, but honestly when I was writing this I hadn't yet learned a lot about plotting a story. It has the pace it does just because that's where my brain took it at the time, haha!

This is my first novel and a bit rough as a result, but I'm glad to hear it!

I just finished responding to your comment, but now I wonder if you have a favorite among the characters? In writing this, I put more of myself into Nevala than anyone else, but Micah has my heart.

Thank you so much! Among my stories, I feel a bit like Ashes of Fate is treated like the black sheep in the family, and though I love it myself it never seems to touch audiences the same way. I'm really quite grateful that it reached a new reader, and I'm so glad you commented. It warms my heart that you feel so much for my boys. Thank you.

My apologies in taking so long to respond. It's good to see you as well, and I hope you're also taking care of yourself in these troubling times.

I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you, but thank you. I appreciate it. It's been a long month, but I'm here. Glad to see you are too.

It's a bit late coming from me, but thank you.

What does it mean to fight? To take a breath, breaking free of the water To refuse to be pulled down to death To stare the enemy in the eye To face his callous heart and intentioned hands And struggle against the grip What does it mean to survive? To take a breath, and then another, gasping on the shore To refuse to let the tide reclaim you To stare at the ocean of sorrow, and know its depths To face the crashing waves and suffocating memory And streng

Chapter 3 of Shadow Honor I believe is Grim's first appearance, and also the first time I introduced a Fedain, so there's that. Also, if you browse my gallery, there are several pictures I had commissioned of Fedain. They look mostly human, have slightly pointed ears (less pointed than elves, which the art unfortunately contradicts), and the majority of them have pale skin and hair that glitters a bit, almost like they have fragments of gemstones in their skin which catch the light sometimes.

Who are you? Who would you be if no one had harmed you? What would you have become? Would you have sought to better the world? Or would you have wallowed away, not knowing the problems? What would you have become? Are you an angel because you've suffered the pains of hell? Or a devil because you've suffered the pains of heaven? What does it mean to be a beacon of light, consumed by the shadows cast from your own past? What does it mean to be a shadow of your former self, yet a guiding l

I'm glad it's keeping your interest! This story feels somewhat old to me now, since it was the second one I ever wrote, and that means it has quite a few flaws, haha! But I think you'll still enjoy your read through if you've liked it this much so far.

Silas appreciates your concern for his emotional wellbeing, I promise you.

I look forward to it!

Thank you. Unfortunately, the storm is a cruel master sometimes, and I was recently struck by the lightning with which I chose to dance.

I am not addicted to the substance, But rather what it does for me The ways it sparks my creativity The ways it alleviates reality The ways it comforts me with illusions Like childhood cartoons for childhood trauma We pass the world in the imagination of others For we are now too scared of our own And when a light shines in that darkness Whether it be the embers of a fire, and good friends to share the stars with Or the buds on the end of the pipe, as I su

It depends entirely on my mood, the time of day, the nature of the project I'm working on, and many other parameters. Sometimes stories get a playlist on YouTube if I find that there are a lot of songs I like which fit the same tone as the story I'm writing. The same has happened with individual characters before when I'm writing from their perspective. Vladimir from "From the Cup of the Worthless" had a set of songs I had to listen to in order to write him at all, for instance. But usually I prefer the ambiance of clacking keyboards and the hum of machinery. If I could write at the laboratory where I work with all our sorting equipment running nearby, that would be heaven for me.

Granted, but in order to unlock the new area, you are given an escort quest. The NPC moves faster than your walking speed, slower than your running speed, and routinely repeats himself with annoying dialogue while constantly complaining about how slow you're moving. I wish there were more things to do around here

I agree! The secret to progress is movement. We get nowhere by standing still, except for where the world takes us as it hurls through the great black. I appreciate all the support. I appreciate your analysis on the chapter. This last decade has, of course, had plenty of things happen in it, but mostly it was lots of little things, and it would've taken me quite a long time to get them all down and connect the dots. Speaking generally and focusing on the big points seemed like the smoother course. Thank you for your support! Thank you! I do think I'm going to be okay, though there are still a few areas of my life that need some tremendous work. I'll get there, though, if I live long enough to do so lol I am a bit strange in the fact that I enjoy sharing my intimate mental spaces with practically anyone, if they want to be there. Some people mistake this as romantic interest, however, and that's usually the only thing which prevents me from sharing with many people. As an aromantic/asexual person (who is also gay, and yes... that is confusing even for me, but it is definitely accurate), chances are I'm not romantically attracted to a person unless I directly say so.

I don't know why this didn't get included in my original multiquote, lol I'm sure I would have if any of them had been my type. There were a few that were cute, but those ones didn't have personalities I cared for, as most missionaries didn't. It's hard for me to be attracted to religious zealotry, hah!

My current mask is very different than anything I've ever done before. I am trying to put me into it, but for the time being it feels like a mirror. I try to give back to others that which is given to me, but with a bit of flair from my own experiences as well. I don't hold on to hatred; I think it's a waste of energy, especially when it's directed at people who simply don't know any better. Anger, on the other hand... I can't keep that from surfacing sometimes. Thank you for the support! And thank you for reading and commenting, because it shows you care as well. I think, for most of my experience with Christianity (I skipped a brief period in my history when I pursued Catholicism. It was only a few months, and didn't really register with me, but I had friends there so that was interesting. I also investigated a few Protestant churches and found that they matched my tastes even less than the Catholics did) there is a guilt attached to all of it. There's a guilt in certain sects of Buddhism as well, and likely the majority of religions use it in some way. It's because if you can guilt-trip someone, you can get them to do things in order to alleviate that guilt. I don't think there's any way this could be justified, since it's outright manipulation, but sometimes religions do use this improper technique to accomplish actual good. But then that gets into a whole conversation on whether or not the ends justify the means, and I already wrote an entire series (The Trial) on that philosophical note, so I'll just leave the topic there, lol Thanks!

The Crumbling Temple I'm going to cover an entire decade in this chapter. While there are many different experiences I could address, I'm going to focus exclusively on the things that pertain to my trauma and my healing from said trauma. I will try to keep things in order, and I hope I don't lose you on the way. At twenty-two, I officially came out to my three closest friends. As I stated before, Glen already knew, but it was necessary for me to secure the understanding of my other broth

Becoming the Mask My middle adolescence to my young adulthood was a time of me finding my footing in a world which no longer had Jackson in it. He had been, in many ways, the figurehead of my ship; the compass needle pointing the way to go. But I still had Timothy, and we were, in many ways, a pair of survivors trying to catch their breath. With Jackson eventually moving out of his parents' house, getting a job and being around less and less along the way, Timothy and I started hanging o

Out of necessity, I was forced to leave out a great deal of detail due to the fact that some people I know very well will be reading this at some point, and the inclusion of those details would have damaged the anonymity. As you can likely imagine, I don't care much about ruining Jackson's reputation, but the impact to Timothy and others is something I'd rather avoid. However, I doubt that any of them will be reading it here, nor read this comment, so to give you an additional anecdotal detail: When they were younger, Jackson tried to cut off Timothy's hand with his mother's sewing scissors. He did not stop despite his brother screaming, and only his mother interceding stopped Timothy from losing his hand. Jackson regularly delighted in the pain of others. He would often hurt me and Timothy just for fun. I am obviously not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, but in my mind, the wealth of experiences I had with him indicate at least a level of psychopathy. He had no morality. The only thing which kept him from doing worse things was knowing that he would be punished.