@freed_and_redeemed
Active 1 day, 8 hours ago- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
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@smiley I love it💜😭
I love how you’re weaving faith into it: it makes the fanfic even more special and beautiful.
(and I may or may not have teared up when she was thinking about her lost faith…it reminded me of Leon and things I felt in 2024 and it was just so special to me🥹<3)
NOO shoot this is Whaley now, ignore the little sister
🤣🤣🤣
but MAYBE I wanna know about the chicken and Marcel’s girlfriend XD
i messed up your tag somehow🙄🤣
@godlyfantasy don’t worry, I think we all understand XD
and yes, it’s Crazy Writing Week. I haven’t participated before and prob won’t this year bc I have school I need to catch up on, and not writing a whole whole lot bc of that and the fact that I’ve been busy with a lot of ✨marketing✨ XD for book 2, which is hopefully releasing by the end of this month👀
and I’ve been trying to draw more, so there’s that too.
Kinda taking a step back and not making writing such a huge, huge focus this year, learning how to slow down and enjoy the stage of life I’m in rn :3
Thanks!! <3
Wait, hang on……. you got him stuck there and now you don’t know what to do?!?!
This happens way more often than you realize😂
Leon and Riker get stuck in sticky situations all the time
Honestly, George doesn’t seem very stable at the moment, If Riker gets out of the room and George follows and trips over something he’s likely not going to get back up. George could even knock himself out and then Riker checks he’s okay before going after the family. *shrug* just some random thoughts.
Yeah I was thinking something along those lines.
@smiley I like the idea so far!
MILEY!!!! *tumbles, gets back up, gives you a huge hug and cookies*
I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH💜💜💜💜
*cough cough*
ahem
I’m glad you’ve been doing well and that you’ve grown closer to God <3
Life has been busy this year, so I’m definitely not on KP as much as I used to be, but it’s also been good, because it’s given me more time to focus on the Lord and spending time with family :3
As far as writing goes, I am currently mainly focused on Book #3 of my trilogy, now that Book #2 is almost ready for publishing probably in…mmm…looking at February right now (woo, this year has been just a little bit😵💫 but also sooo thankful for it), which is (book 3, that is) mostly in the plotting/early writing stages, along with a few smaller, more secret projects that will very much not be finished anytime soon.
And my 1600s fanfic, of course, but writing that is more sporadic😂
The Protection Squad may still have to keep Leon and Riker away from me…we shall see🙂↕️
Gotcha. Wow. It’s so sad writing about villains…especially their background. Does…*gulp* Hans have any redemption later on? *hopeful eyes*
I’m afraid not 😔
What @ellette-giselle said about him having several chances and accepting none of them is correct
@ellette-giselle @rae @koshka @elishavet-pidyon @keilah-h @mineralizedwritings @theducktator @grcr @anyone-else
Not quite sure where to take this scene after where it ends, so if anyone has any ideas, pls let me know😅
a scene snippet from Book #3 🤫 I didn’t realize these characters I spontaneously came up with would play a bigger role in this story XD
TW: (y’all should just know by now that this is gonna always be here XD). ALCOHOL ADDICTION. FLASHBACKS TO CHILD AB*SE. QUICK MENTIONS OF BL00D/BRUISES.
A quiet knock.
Riker moaned. Shifted.
Another knock, louder, faster.
Iris moved, and her green eyes slowly slid open. “…Riker?” She groaned, “Who would be here this late?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know—”
“Mr. and Mrs. Schind, can you—can you please open the door?”
Grace Adams.
And her voice shook.
Riker quickly got out of bed and stood. He slipped a shirt on.
Micah awoke with a cry, and Iris rose out of bed to pick him up.
Riker quickly made his way out of the bedroom, through the living room, to the front door. He opened the door, Iris a mere few feet behind him, glanced down slightly, and blinked. “Grace, Timothy? Why…what are you doing-?”
Grace shifted, her dark skin barely visible in the dark, her voice shaking still, and whispered, “Papa’s been drinking again.”
Timothy sniffed beside her and pushed up on his glasses, reaching under them to seemingly wipe away tears.
Riker glanced up and down the street, opened the door wider, stepped back, and waved a hand. “Come in. Where’s Lance?”
“He said he’d stay with Mama and Jane. He told me to bring Timothy here.”
Riker glanced at Iris, who stood in the living room, Micah quiet in her arms, drifting back off into sleep. She nodded. “We’ll make room for both of you to sleep here for the night.”
“We don’t want to…we don’t want to make it difficult for you.”
Iris smiled gently at Grace. “You will never make our lives difficult. We’re more than happy to have both of you here for the night.”
Timothy rushed forward, wrapped his arms around Iris, and buried his face in her nightgown. Iris smiled sadly and stroked his short, curly black hair.
“I don’t want Mama to be there…or Lance or Jane. Papa might hurt them.” Grace whispered.
“Don’t worry,” Riker shared a glance with Iris, “we’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
An addiction to alcohol was hard to overcome, even harder for some.
But it was no excuse to hurt one’s family and put them through Hell.
He, or his family, could go somewhere else, at least for the night.
“Yes, we’ll make sure your Mama, Jane, and Lance are taken care of, Grace. Let me go put Micah back down in bed, then I’ll make room for everyone to sleep,” Iris shared another glance with Riker, “and Timothy, would you like to sit on the couch for now?”
Timothy nodded sleepily, still swiping tears from his eyes. He settled on the couch and pulled a pillow close to his chest.
Grace settled beside him, gently stroking his hair.
Riker slipped into his and Iris’ room, and Iris followed behind, closing the door behind her. “You’re going to the Adams’ house.”
He slipped his arms through one of his button-ups as Iris settled Micah in his bassinet. He changed into a pair of slacks and nodded. “Mrs. Adams, Lance, and Jane shouldn’t be forced to stay.”
“I’ll make room for all five of them. Chelsea can sleep in here along with baby Jane.”
Riker nodded, tying on his shoes. He stood, pulled a coat on, and smiled at his wife. “You never say no to someone that needs help.”
“Neither will you,” Iris stepped closer, “just please be careful.”
Riker ducked his head. He pressed a kiss to his wife’s lips. “I will. Don’t worry.”
“You know I still will.”
“Place it in God’s hands.”
Iris sighed but smiled. “You’re right. We all need that reminder from time to time.”
Riker gave her another kiss. “I’ll be back soon. Love you.”
“Love you more.” Iris called after him.
Riker left through the front door, stepped out onto the sidewalks.
Everything was quiet so late at night.
Riker shoved his clammy hands into his coat pockets. Clenched and unclenched them.
Chelsea and all four of her children deserved to be protected.
And if they needed help, who was Riker to refuse?
It would be far too familiar smells…far too familiar sights…sounds.
He shut his eyes tight.
No.
He didn’t-no.
He didn’t have time for memories.
Riker chuffed out a breath, reopening his eyes.
It wasn’t the same.
He could defend himself.
He wasn’t left to his father’s mercy.
He was protecting others, defending them from the things a young and even grown Riker once had no protection from.
He glanced at the run-down house the Adams family called their home, the largest and best they could afford with George unable to keep a job for more than a few weeks at a time even with Chelsea doing everything she possibly could.
He ascended the steps. Gently pushed against the front door.
Unlocked.
Riker gently nudged the door open. Braced himself against the scent of alcohol and the sound of crunching glass beneath his shoes.
A figure moved in the dark.
He quickly turned.
Lance peered at him, his newborn sister in his arms. “…Mr. Schind—Riker? What…did Grace and Timothy…?”
“They’re at home. I’m here to help get you, your mother, and Jane there.”
Lance blinked, a bit of blood dripping from a cut upon his forehead. “…But what…?”
“I’ll take care of it. Get a few necessities for everyone. Where is George and Chelsea?”
“I-I don’t know…in another room.”
“Thank you. Hurry, Lance, and get outside through the back door once you have everything you’ll all need.”
Lance nodded and quickly left the room.
Riker scanned the living room, the kitchen.
No one was there.
He checked the hallway, the bathroom.
Nobody.
A scream echoed.
He froze.
No.
He didn’t have time for memories. Not now!
Riker made his way down the hall, shoved open the door to George and Chelsea’s room. George paused, a small end table in hand. Chelsea sat huddled in the corner, sobbing, spotted with blood and marks that would soon bruise.
George dropped the table on the floor with a thud. His eyes widened. “Riker? Riker Schind? What…what,” he stumbled but righted himself using the bed, “what are you doin’ in my house?”
Riker stepped aside. He gently and slowly helped Chelsea to her feet. “I think you need to sleep off the alcohol, George.” He helped Chelsea to the door and whispered to her, “Lance should be outside with some of your things. He’ll help you to the house: Iris is there waiting for all three of you; Grace and Timothy are already there.”
George snarled. “My wife and children belong with me! They’re my family, Schind, not yours.”
“It’s just for the night. You need to sleep off the alcohol. Quickly, Chelsea.”
Chelsea sent one last, fearful glance her husband’s way and fled down the hallway.
George growled. Stepped forward.
Riker blocked the doorway with his body.
Chelsea, Lance, and Jane would soon be on their way to his home. George was too drunk to really follow them. They would be safe, at least for the night.
George would forget everything come morning, including his rage.
He wasn’t a cruel man, but rather a broken one.
When he wasn’t drunk, he was a good man, even a kind one.
“You’re better than this, George, and your wife and children deserve better than this.”
“Out…out…get out of my way, Riker.”
Riker slowly shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“They’re my family!” George screamed.
“And the alcohol is making them not trust you and hurting them.”
A heavy bottle rose.
Riker didn’t lift his arms in time.
Glass met head.
Alcohol spilled.
Riker saw stars.
His head swam.
Riker whimpered. He crawled under the table as a glass bottle shattered against the wall.
He hugged his small seven-year-old legs close to his chest, his unkempt dark brown locks falling down into his field of vision.
Franz’s heavyset footsteps echoed across the polished wooden floors. He stumbled and slurred, “Where are you at, boy…? You think you can hide from me? I’ll find you. I always will.”
No.
No, he wasn’t back there.
The drunk man standing before him was another woman’s husband, other children’s father, not his own father. The man standing before him was George Adams, not Franz Schind.
Right.
Right?
His hands clammed.
Sweat clung to his shirt.
His heart pounded, his head swirled, and every breath chuffed.
@elishavet-pidyon @koshka @grcr @ellette-giselle @theducktator
Thanks, y’all💜💜💜
And yes, the quote references Aadelheide…I didn’t kill anyone else that’s special to Leon, I promise. (errr…that doesn’t mean that no one dies in Book 3 tho🫠 so far at least 1 person dies in all 3 books, so uhhhh…yeahhhhh)
I am concerned about this “broken it” comment, lol.
Book 2 overall broke me. The book itself, scenes, Leon, Riker, etc.
Y’all ain’t ready for it😵💫😭😭 I wasn’t ready for it when I wrote it tbh XD
But it’s probably some of my best writing yet, and it was also used to piece me back together after it broke me💜😅💜
I’m still so excited to share it once everything is ready and the time is right 👀
@elishavet-pidyon @keilah-h @theducktator @liberty @ellette-giselle
*sits back and watches as the chaos and questions unfold*
And yes, Liberty, Hans hates Jews and is the main villain of my first novel (and other novels as well…he’s the main villain in several of my WW2 WIP ideas).
and yes, Elishavet, Hans’ entire life has been pretty ugly😬😅
@elishavet-pidyon @ellette-giselle
Thank y’all so much!💜
@ellette @elishavet @koshka @keilah-h @rae @theducktator @grcr @anyone-else-idk-lol
Again, extra words from the song “Here Again” by Elevation Worship.
Leon Aesthetic for the 3rd book! 🥹
Y’all know I love Riker…but y’all, when I say Leon has also stolen my heart (and broken it, heh) the past year, I mean it😭 I think I may be at the point where I love him and Riker equally👀🫣
400 more words.
I honestly can’t believe I’m sharing this…HUGE, MASSIVE, PLOT TWISTY SPOILERS
@rae you might wanna read this🫣Hans is taking over his own story
“So, you figured it out.”
Hans stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes burning. “That’s why you never loved me…why you never…never—”
“Why would I love you?” Heinrich scowled, settled behind his desk, pulled out a cigarette. “You’re not my son.”
“You still-!”
“I raised you because I had no choice. Did you think I would turn you out onto the streets? Did you think your mother would want to be disgraced? Did you think your actual father would want anyone to know that he had a child with my wife?”
Hans stepped forward, body trembling. “If you knew-!?”
“Was I just supposed to tell you? Then what? Would you go to your father that did nothing for you? I gave you a home, a place to sleep, food to eat, brothers to spend time with—”
“You beat me, treated me as if I was worth less than dirt under your feet.”
Heinrich slammed his hand down on the desk, making Hans jump. He stood and glowered at Hans. “You may not be my son by blood, but you are still my son by law, and I may do with you as I please. You’re lucky you inherited your mother’s fair hair and complexion, else I would have never been able to convince anyone you were mine after I found out your mother betrayed me…didn’t even know until after she perished, though your dark eyes left questions open all along.”
“Lucky I looked enough like you so I could be lied to?”
“Lucky you don’t look like a Jew.”
A Jew? A Jew like the man that killed his mother and Frau Bakst? A Jew like the man he hated and the people he heard others often despised?
“You’ve already learned that you will get none of my inheritance…because you’re not mine.”
Hans stiffened, holding back stinging tears. “Because Mama had me with another man.”
Himmler scowled. “Because you should have never been born.”
A mistake.
Nothing but a mistake.
Because his mother made the choice to have a child with a man other than her husband.
A mistake because his mother had him with a Jewish man she was not married to.
“Felix is only your half brother…you and Himmler are step-brothers, not even related by blood. You don’t truly belong in this family, Hans,” Heinrich settled back down in his chair, “you never have, and you never will.”
This man needs to stop getting more and more complex🫠😵💫
*saves snowballs, stacking at least 40+ of them in a corner*
@elishavet-pidyon I love it💜😭😭
Is there no one else you can throw snowballs at???🫠🤣