- This topic has 6,732 replies, 63 voices, and was last updated 2 days, 19 hours ago by
.
-
Posts
-
Yeahh same. My little cousin really got into the Magnus Chase books and my poor aunt didn’t realize what was in them and then was really frustrated with she finally did. Now she is always asking me if certain shows or books are good for the boys, but it’s really hard to filter out everything. Now I only read or watch stuff if people I trust recommended it.
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Yeah and even then, sometimes people don’t realize! My little sister is only eight but she loves watching girl boss characters, and Legend of Korra is a headache waiting to happen.
“Everything is a mountain”
Ugh, I hated legend of korra. See, this is why I want to write and make kids tv shows. There can be imaginative, well written stories with beautiful art that are still based on a Christian worldview
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Um… they might be fixed? Idk. I got notified of your post, but they still seem to be acting a bit off…?
Oh well, these things usually fix themselves.
Signature is limited to 100 characters? That seems awfully unjust. We refuse to be bound by these ru
No, not a boring answer at all! Percy’s amazing 🙃 Oh my gosh yeah I’ve read a few chapters of the first book and his voice really is hilarious, I love it 🤣 And it’s funny bc I really relate to him so much. In like my ‘friend groups’ I guess I’m kinda quiet compared to others but there is SO much going on in my head and I’ll be thinking of the most random things It was a big bathtub. 🤭
There were a lot of Percy lines I wish were in the show! Like the “drowned in the bathtub” line in the underworld. But the show was fun regardless.
Oh my gosh yess 🤣 “It was a big bathtub”
Yeah, but I still love the show.
Weird thing, but – people say my writing is like Rick Riordan! Like what?? I can see it though, especially with my sense of humor. And Marcel is a demigod, so they just put two and two together and think I’m heavily influenced by Riordan. That’s not really true, because although I love his style, my siblings read him far more than I do since I got into highschool.
Oh cool…I can kinda see it, but yeah I think yours is more detailed. Honestly I love your writing style better than Rick’s.
And hold up, Marcel is a demigod? I must hear more 🤩
#HugRikerSquad
Ok, thanks! I’m really interested now. It sounds like I’d like them.
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
Well at least the original series XD
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
@whalekeeper @loopylin ugh that happens…..
wings of fire book 13 blahhhh(Seriously though, the rest of series was good, and thought there was a bit of that stuff in the previous books so I really shoulda seen it coming, it was mostly in the form of jokes so I didn’t take it seriously)
So when I recommend the series, because it’s still phenomenal, I usually say “only read the first five, or the first ten if you’re ok with a very open ending”
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
Mine were like that for a whole three months, but started working again all of a sudden.
@lightoverdarkness
Oh cool…I can kinda see it, but yeah I think yours is more detailed. Honestly I love your writing style better than Rick’s.
Aw 🤣
And hold up, Marcel is a demigod? I must hear more 🤩
He’s basically the secondary form of a god. I haven’t figured everything out, but he’s got human limitations and has witnessed a good chunk of history since he’s immortal. A combo of human and god. So… *Waves hands vaguely and mysteriously* Demigod. 🤣
“Everything is a mountain”
Huh. Yeah, KP can be weird sometimes 🤷♀️
Signature is limited to 100 characters? That seems awfully unjust. We refuse to be bound by these ru
I recently realized – whenever I see the kp activity bar for the first time in a say, I almost always whisper, “helloooooo, all you beautiful individuals.” 😂 I never hear anything I say.
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper lol that’s funny
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
@godlyfantasy12 @lightoverdarkness6 @rae @savannah_grace2009 (THE MOOD, GIRL, THE MOOD!!!!! 😭✨) @mineralizedwritings @smiley @keilah-h @anyone-else-l0l
I’m here with a scene!!!! Just wrote this one and it was thunderstorming and things and really added to the ✨MOOD✨ of the entire thing.
My poor baby boi😭😭
this is for Leon/Riker’s 2nd book btw
TW: SLAP. IMPLIED PAST ABUSE. ALCOHOL USE. TYPICAL RIKER TRAUMA/PTSD. DEATH IN A PTSD MEMORY.
“The Lord has been faithful even in the darkest of nights. His word promises, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ I know we have just left a dark time and dark days still lie before us, but God will turn all of this into good, church…he will.” Ezekiel Gessner said, firm yet quiet, leaning forward, his palms planted on a simple wooden pulpit.
Riker ducked his head a bit lower, sitting in the furthest pew he could find. He shifted on the cold wood that was anything but comfortable.
“There is much anger in this land we call home. The darkness has been exposed and people have been hurt. I understand the hurt and I too have felt the anger, but I stand before all of you now to say that only forgiveness can heal this land from the scars of the war we are struggling to leave behind us.”
Silence settled.
Forgiveness? How did the hurt forgive the ones that had hurt, like Riker?
“But forgiveness is not impossible, and for those who are the ones who hurt the hurting, forgiveness is only a sentence away. For, ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ No one, no one is too far gone for the grace of God, my fellow brothers and sisters…no one.”
‘No one except you, sinner…murderer.’
Riker shifted; his fingers trembled as the voices echoed in his head.
‘Murderer.’
‘You’re too far gone for redemption.’
‘It’s too late for you…God has already left someone like you.’
‘God doesn’t want a mistake like you.’
Riker jolted forward with a gasp; several heads turned to face him, some with contempt, others with deep, unmerited concern. None of them knew what he’d done, and even if they did, only the looks of contempt were deserved.
It wasn’t true.
It couldn’t be true.
There wasn’t grace for men like him. There wasn’t forgiveness for murderers. There wasn’t mercy for sinners. There wasn’t love for mistakes.
So, then, what was he doing inside a church?
Riker stumbled to his feet, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. He fought his way outside the church and onto the street, each step threatening to make him topple.
Why had he ever even thought of going to Calvary church? He didn’t belong there. He didn’t belong anywhere near any church.
Ezekiel was wrong. He had to be. Why would God waste his mercy, if he had any, on a man like Riker? Riker shoved his way into a bar, ignoring the scents of things he hated more than himself. “There you are, Schind. I thought you’d be here sooner. He’s at that table over there in the corner.”
Riker gave a slow nod to the man behind the counter and strode over to the corner he frequented regularly, almost every night. “Come on. It’s time to go.”
Eyes bloodshot, a cigarette in one hand and a glass filled with amber alcohol in the other, his father rose a slight smile. “Ah, Riker. Care for a drink, son?”
His arm moved, his hand trembling. The cup tilted; alcohol spilled over Riker’s coat. Riker blanched and faced his father with the firmest frown he could muster, even though his fingers trembled knowing what he was about to face. “Put down the drink and put out the cigarette, Father. It’s time to go home.”
Franz stumbled to his full height, swaying on his feet. “I don’t think you tell me what to do, boy,” his words slurred together, becoming almost indistinguishable; he dropped his cigarette, “and you don’t hold that tone with me.”
Riker pried the glass from his father’s fingers. “I think you’ve had enough. Please, let’s just go home.”
“Give me back my-my drink, boy…”
Riker stood taller; he threw the cup against the wall, shattering the glass and spilling the alcohol across the floor. “You’ve had enough.”
His father’s hand came, as Riker knew it would, knocking Riker backwards into a table. Franz swayed, looming over Riker. “You don’t tell me what…to do, boy.”
Riker groaned and leaned his head backwards, anticipating the blows that were certain to follow the first. Instead, silence fell, carving a cavern of quiet in a space that usually buzzed with activity. Men yelled to break the silence; a fist hit a table with a resounding thud.
One shot. Two shots. The man’s legs crumpled beneath him, his still body hitting the ground with an echoing THUD. Another innocent life taken.
More guards rose their guns. More gunshots. More still bodies to join the first.
“Schind. Riker. Son, hey!”
Riker jolted forward, his head ramming into another man’s. Riker heard the man’s quiet cuss and blinked several times to clear his vision. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”
The gray-haired man who had been standing behind the counter at Riker’s arrival, the man Riker knew to be the one who ran the bar, shrugged and nodded towards the corner booth. “Might be the best time to take your father home, son. He’s asleep.”
Riker stumbled to his feet. “I-I will. Thank you, sir.”
The man chuckled. “You’re always having to drag him home, son. Maybe you should just leave him here. I don’t care…more business for me.”
Laughter resounded through the still space. Riker felt heat rise to his cheeks. “I need to take him home, sir.” Riker placed his hands beneath his father’s arms; with effort, he hoisted his father up and partially on his back, his father’s feet dragging the floor.
Laughs echoed in his ears; Riker pushed himself forward, his legs threatening to give way beneath him, carrying his own weight and the weight of his father.
He marched outside into the rain he hadn’t noticed began to fall, his boots slipping on the wet cobblestone. Red-hot tears coursed down his cheeks, tingling his skin.
The humiliation of dragging his father home dead drunk almost every night was far from unfamiliar, but that didn’t take away the pain of it all. If his father forgot what happened, he’d be lucky.
Even if it was pain he deserved, that didn’t take the pain away.
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
GIRL! How is your style so perfect! I can never get my writing that good!
RIKER!!!! I’m just going to go off in the corner and do my ritual of crying over my Riker…
"You need French Toast."
@freed_and_redeemed OOH I LOVE IT BUT POOR RIKER…
Yes, I keep disappearing. Sorry about that lol. I’ve been working odd jobs, trying to keep up with writing and school, etc., etc… Also yes I changed my pfp again. Hopefully I’ll stick with this one XD
Follow your heart, but take your brain with you.
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.