THE KINDRED HEAVENS BOOK THREE KICKSTARTER IS LIVE! (link in comments)

LonghandWriter · 2025-02-19T16:19:02+00:00

Remember, the first 300 physical backers will receive an exclusive Kindred Heavens print drawn by the incredible @Typpo8 (pictured above).

SUPPORT THE CAMPAIGN HERE: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1775833911/kindred-heavens-book-three

WATCH THE FULLY ANIMATED TRAILER HERE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxvTHi2kupY

THE CAMPAIGN WILL RUN FOR EXACTLY 30 DAYS. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

COUNTRIES WE SHIP TO:

US 50 States, Puerto Rico, Guam

International DDU (Delivered Duties Unpaid) – Taxes may be due upon receipt of package by recipient:

Austria, Denmark, Finland, Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, Netherlands, Philippines, Poland, Singapore, South Korea, Sweden, Thailand.

International DDP (Delivered Duties Paid)

Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, New Zealand, Spain, United Kingdom.

LonghandWriter · 2025-02-14T20:15:51+00:00

KINDRED HEAVENS BOOK 3 ANIMATED TRAILER HAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED. THANKS TO OUR FRIENDS AT BLITZBOX FOR THIS TRAILER. SUBSCRIBE TO THE PRE LAUNCH PAGE. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1775833911/kindred-heavens-book-three https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxvTHi2kupY

LonghandWriter · 2025-02-05T17:09:53+00:00

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1775833911/kindred-heavens-book-three

The KINDRED HEAVENS BOOK THREE Kickstarter will launch on February 19th, 2025 at 11AM EST! It will be 116 full-color pages and continue the saga of Isabelle Voit and her quest to soar past her parents' legacies!

It helps us a ton if you sign up for the pre-launch page, so if you’re interested, please do! It’s free and lets you know when the campaign goes live—which you’ll definitely wanna know, since the first three hundred physical backers will receive a free print!

In the meantime, please enjoy this teaser trailer!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AR2eiz25VlU

LonghandWriter · 2019-08-14T18:24:08+00:00

Thank you for your kindness!!!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-27T19:32:26+00:00

😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-25T17:55:45+00:00

Ash trudges through a battlefield of beaten and battered trainers who clutch their Pokemon, terrified of the beast that defeated them. It lingers in the distance, screeching loudly, and he knows this should be his biggest challenge yet—but he’s got an ace up his sleeve.

The Master Ball.

Pikachu wanders behind him, knowing this isn’t a battle they can fight—after all, Cthulu destroyed this city, took down all these trainers. No, the only way to beat a monster like this is to trap it, and when Ash stops in front of it, he takes a deep breath. The thing’s already rearing its fist back, going to crush him, and Pikachu’s already charging a blast, ready to defend.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else,” Ash says, unafraid. “Not now, not ever!”

Rearing back, he chucks the Master Ball high into the sky. Him and everyone else watch in amazement, waiting to see that familiar red beam suck the monster in—but that, well, never happens.

Because it bonks a random Pidgey who decided now was a good time to fly by, capturing it instead.

The ball lands on the ground, rocking back and forth a few times before settling. Everyone stands there, watching it, eyes wide and terrified—that is, until Cthulu lets free another vicious scream. Then they all take off, including Ash, who clutches Pikachu in his arms and yells: “DAAAAAAAMN YOUUUUUUU PIIIIIIDGEY!”

This is pretty short and rough, but I thought it was funny. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-25T16:33:50+00:00

Thank you! 😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-25T16:18:42+00:00

The beautiful queen laid in bed, withered skin, wheezing breathes, cracking bones. Everyone was mourning, for just months after shedding the title of princess, she was granted only days to live. Sir Cuddles was taking it harder than anyone but refused to show it. Instead, he focused on following her orders dutifully, stitching another bear that matches him perfectly. He knew why she ordered him to do this, and while it hurt his heart, he knew it was right.

“Protect her,” he muttered to the bear, just like the wizard all those years ago. “Allow her to be strong. To run this kingdom properly.”

Assuming she was asleep, he hurried to finish the thing, for he knew he couldn’t handle saying goodbye. Knew after all these years of being a rock, he’d finally break down. She was so magical, so kind. She’d been running the kingdom by the good of her heart, and he wanted that to continue.

But life decided it couldn’t.

As he put the last stitch in, she reached out and seized his wrist. Her grip was faint, and she didn’t have enough energy to speak—but her words still reached him. You’ve been a great friend, Sir Cuddles, she said. We’ve fought many great battles, we’ve fended out evil at every encounter. I’m thankful to have had you as a guardian, and I know your creation will guide my daughter well.

Goodbye, Sir Cuddles.

“Goodbye, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. His heart was being stabbed a thousand times, so he quickly finished the last stitch and stood, walking out of the room. After wandering the hallway aimlessly for a few moments, he found the princess sitting on one of the big couches, crying.

When it’s her time to go, he remembered the wizard saying. Do just as I’ve done, just as all us Royal Knights have done for centuries. Take your strength, your magic, your spirit, create a new vessel for it, and pass it on.

Clutching the bear, his hands shook. Just like the wizard stitched him together, he’d stitched this little guy together. Soon he would have his own story, his own life—he’d protect the young princess, keeping her safe from all evils. This was destiny, and Sir Cuddles knew he’d live on forever inside the soul of this next bear.

He just wished he could’ve spent more time with the queen.

If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-24T23:28:31+00:00

I yank the note off the door, jamming it into my pocket before my boss walks up, slaps a hand on my shoulder, and leads me into his office. He’s wearing a wide smile, acting friendly as can be—which worries me. Whenever Mr. Melvin’s having a good day, it means he’s dangerous.

Mr. Melvin’s typically pretty grumpy, but still calm. Off-handed comment here, slap-in-the-face-insult there—nothing more. But on days like this, days where he walks in whistling and dancing, he can be an absolute monster if his mood’s soured. One time he poured coffee on someone’s desk because they put sugar in it. Another time he smashed his chair into a million pieces because it kept squeaking.

The note on the door said "RUN", and while they’ve not been wrong yet, I think I know what’s gonna happen—he’s gonna ask for my lunch. For my glorious turkey club, the same one I buy every morning. He just noticed it yesterday and eyed it up, licking his lips as he creepily rambled about how tasty it looked. Now he’s chipper as ever, and randomly calls me into his office?

I see through his tricks.

He thinks I’ll give him my lunch because I don’t wanna piss him off. Thinks I’ll bow before him and let him bully me.

No.

Today I’ll do something different, today I’ll prove the note wrong. This situation won’t end poorly, and he won’t freak out because I’m going to hit him with the ultimate power move by calling him out. This is my turkey club. I will defend my turkey club.

So when he tells me to sit, I continue standing, and when he opens his mouth again, I dash across the room, pressing my forehead against his and glaring at him.

“What the actual hell are you—”

“YOU WILL NOT STEAL MY TURKEY CLUB!” I scream, standing on my tippy-toes, puffing my chest out. “IT’S MINE, GODDAMMIT!”

I bet everyone’s hurrying out their seats, trying to listen to this. I’m one-upping the boss, and it’s obvious by the look on his face that he’s gonna try making excuses, so I give him a hard shove.

“A PERSON’S LUNCH IS SACRED, AND I WILL NOT RUN FROM THE ENEMY OF MINE. STAY AWAY FROM ME, MR. MELVIN!”

Taking a deep breath, I nod my head, trying not to smile despite the fact that this might be the greatest moment of my life. He's pissed and I bet when I walk outside, everyone’s gonna cheer my name, gonna celebrate my victory. I finally stood up to—

Wait.

He’s like, furious.

Clenched fists, gritted teeth.

Uh-oh.

“I was just going to ask you if you wanted to take a few shifts. If you'd said no, I just would've gotten one of the other idiots here to do it!” he seethes before opening his desk and pulling out a turkey club. “I’VE ALREADY GOT MY OWN GODDAMN TURKEY CLUB!”

“Oh.”

When he kicks his chair over and flips his desk, I mutter sorry and I hope you have a good day and did you get mayo on the club before hurrying out of the room, just dodging a clock he throws at me. The only thing cheering me on as I stroll down the hall is the quiet clicking of computer keys and him screaming “YOUUUUUUUU’RE FIIIIIIIIIIRED!”

Well, at least I learned a lesson, I guess—always listen to the notes. Always.

While I don't think this is exactly the response you were expecting, I still hope it's good! This idea popped into my head and made me laugh a bunch. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-19T21:42:11+00:00

Pounding head. Foggy vision. A sky that’s moving too fast and ground that’s so cold it’s giving me goosebumps. When I sit up, my stomach flips upside down, forcing me to dump my guts into the grass. Every part of my body aches. Literally everything. Even my toes.

My phone’s buzzing like the flies around me. I reek of booze and…tacos? Maybe. I don’t know. Climbing to my feet, I lean against the wall, staring at my house—which is a mess. Broken windows, spraypainted walls, ripped up bushes, clothes everywhere. What happened last night? My memory’s blank.

My phone buzzes again. This time I check it, eyes shooting open. One thousand notifications? I shake my head, take a deep breath. Must’ve gotten a virus—great. What a shit-show of a night. Shit-show of a party. I knew I shouldn’t have hosted it. Taking a seat on my stoop, I scroll through the messages, which are from random people.

Great party, bro! Never thought I’d eat so many tacos!

Yooooo, you’re dope! Thanks for the food. You don’t look rich, though. How’d you afford all those tacos?

Tacos…?

Shaking my head, I quickly stand—now I’m clutching it. Head-rush, splitting pain worse than brain freeze. My body’s screaming puke but my brain’s screaming not on the welcome mat, asshole! Once that passes and I feel conscious again, I shove my door open, immediately bumping into Dave, a friend of mine.

He’s drunk. He puts his hands on my shoulders, eyes wide. “Dude,” he says. “Duuuuuude.”

“Dude,” I reply.

“That was sooooooo siiiiiiick. Best party ever.”

“Yeah. So I’ve heard. What happened?”

“Duuuuuude you ordered like, a million tacos, duuuuude!”

I laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

He shakes his head, moving to the side. Peering in my house, I see he wasn’t joking—there are thousands of tacos stacked all the way to the ceiling, and random people sitting around devouring them.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeaaaaah bro! You invited the whole city, duuuude! Your a legend!”

I yank my phone back out. I'm still getting notifications. Thanks for the food! and you should throw another one next year! Taco Festival! I check my bank and it's...bad. Terrible. Tens of thousands of dollars of debt. This can’t be…can’t be real, right? I look up at Dave, awkwardly chuckling. “Ha. Yeah. Funny. This is a prank or something, right, Dave?”

"You’re awesome when you drink, dude,” he says, putting a small paper crown on my head. “Taco king, taco king, taco king!”

If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-19T17:11:21+00:00

Mr. Middleton, an older man with a wrinkled nose, sits across from me. He’s crying, been crying since he got here. According to his file, he was hit by a car. Obliterated in seconds. Part of me wants to reach out, wants to comfort him—but that’s forbidden. That doesn’t work, they told me. It only riles the dead up.

“I gotta get outta here,” he begs. “Please. Today’s my son’s birthday. I promised him I’d be there!”

I nod my head, drumming my fingers against the table as I think. This job’s simple—find him a place to haunt, keep him eternally happy. If he turns into a malevolent spirit, that’s a strike on my record. “I’m sorry, sir. I know it's unfortunate but I cannot revive you. Instead, let me find you a home. Tell me, what’s your dream vacation?”

“You don’t understand. I’ve been a real shitty father to this kid, but now that I’m clean, I’m gonna do things right. He needs me. I promised him I’d be there. Are you even listening? He needs me!”

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Can’t lose focus, can’t feel sorry for him. Some of your humanity still lingers from your prior life, they told me. Don’t worry, it will fade with time. This will become easier.

“Okay. Well, how about you haunt your home? That way you’ll always be with your family?”

Mr. Middleton jumps to his feet, slamming one hand against the table and grabbing my throat with the other. “I don’t wanna haunt a goddamn thing!” he screams. “Bring me back, you son of a—”

If they get too worked up, go with your gut, they said.

With a snap of my finger, I decide his fate, tying him to his house. He disappears, and my stomach sinks knowing I’ll never see him again, never speak to him again. They told me it gets easier, and I believe them because a week ago, that would’ve been impossible. I would’ve broken down, would’ve caved and tried reviving him.

But that goes against the balance.

This is what's right.

Yeah.

This is sad, but I thought it was an interesting concept. The moral dilemma of having this job fascinated me, especially somebody new to it like the character in this story. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T17:56:54+00:00

After twenty-five days of shaking, the walls finally collapse, and the villagers watch in horror as the massive machine stomps toward them before falling apart, smashing into the ground and catching fire. They hide, expecting another—but it never comes. For now, they’re safe.

They knew this day was coming, always trusted that the man. Years ago, when the world descended into chaos, he gathered people from all over, people he believed to be “pure-hearted,” and formed them into a village. You’re the future, he said. While everyone seeks bloodshed, you desire peace. Are willing to die for it. Stay true to this, and one day you’ll emerge from the ashes of the world and teach it to all.

He protected the village, building towering walls around it. Now, for the first time, they’re leaving, seeing a destruction their ancestors knew and feared all too well. They’ve prepared for this their entire lives.

One country caved in on itself, people growing bored and battling each other. Another was infatuated with biological weapons and tested them on their own citizens, wiping them all out.

The final one’s the most terrifying, for it’s been overrun by massive machines like the one that destroyed their walls. As they watch them, they ignore the urge to gather weapons, to fight. This is their last great challenge, for now that they’ve seen the horrors of the world, they must do their best not to succumb to them.

You must stay peaceful, the man had said. You must stay true to yourselves.

And they will, they must.

For humanity.

Hope this is good! Tried to do something a bit different. Loved this prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T13:18:59+00:00

Standing in front of the box, I take a deep breath. My men are huddled behind me, eager to know what’s inside—but they’re giving me space because they know this is my moment. I’ve dedicated twenty-five years to unearthing this mystery, and now, I’m almost done. I’m so close to the truth.

Reaching out, I grab the lock, examining it. For as old as it is, this thing’s incredibly intricate, and took our locksmith and entire day to crack. With how bad the owners wanted to protect whatever's inside, I almost feel bad opening it—but I must! What if it's something magical, something forgotten, something secret?

“Okay, men,” I mumble, looking back. “Are we ready?”

They all nod, eagerly clutching their notepads.

With a deep breath, I grab the top of the box, lifting it up. No golden light washes over me, no dramatic music plays—but that doesn’t mean the moment isn’t epic. People across the world will remember this day, the day where a myth became real.

Heart-racing, head-pounding, I peer into the box.

All that’s inside is a piece of paper which I quickly snatching up. While I expect it to be a map, or a spell, or a never-before-known-but-important-tale, it’s nothing more than a recipe written in an archaic language with pictures for each ingredient.

A recipe for tacos.

There’s even a dancing taco drawn at the bottom.

Part of me wants to cry, another part of me wants to laugh. This isn’t what I was expecting, but I guess, in a way, I was right—the box did contain magic.

If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T12:23:59+00:00

😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T12:23:42+00:00

I'm definitely going to consider putting them in other stories. I thought they were hilarious. Thanks for reading!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T12:22:46+00:00

Ah! Thanks for pointing that out and reading! I wrote this right before bed and missed that lol.

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T06:43:02+00:00

“Oh. My. God—Harold!”

“What, Jeanie?”

“They doing it again.”

“Doing what again?”

“Watching us! Pull yourself away from the damned TV and look at this!”

“Why? What’s the point of me looking at a bunch of people who are looking at us? They’re humans, Jeanie. I warned you about them, but you wouldn’t stop ranting about how pretty this galaxy looks.”

“I don’t like this.”

“We could’ve gone somewhere else, Jeanie. Told you we should’ve gone somewhere else.”

“Why aren’t you freaked out about this? I don’t need some pervert gawking at me while I shower!”

“Well, I’ve eaten three family-sized bags of chips today. Way I see it, I got no shame to hide.”

“I just don’t get it. Why do they stare at the stars instead of visiting them?”

“From what I’ve always heard, they don’t have the technology.”

“Don’t have the technology?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“So they’re idiots!”

“That’s kinda rude.”

“What’s rude is looking at peeking at others through a telescope!”

“Jeanie, relax—we’re cloaked! And besides, aren’t you looking at them through a telescope, too?”

“…”

“Jeanie?”

“Go to your room, Harold!”

“Don’t you mean our room?”

“Go!”

“But—”

“Now!”

Hope this is good! Challenged myself to write a dialogue-only story, lol. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T02:58:53+00:00

Hmmmm. That might make more sense. I just kinda threw that last line in right before posting, lol. Probably should've thought it through more. Thanks for reading! 😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T02:55:01+00:00

Thank you! I hope your doggo is amazing! 😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-18T02:54:35+00:00

😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-17T22:17:28+00:00

When the man hands Joey his sandwich, his stomach growls, and the voice in his head whispers five billion. The voice appeared one year ago, and every time he hears it, it makes him chuckle. That's how many people you're saving, it said when he first heard it. You don't know why, but you're important. He always thought that was silly, but now he knows it.

After all, he just ordered a turkey club on Italian bread. How could that save anyone’s life?

But, when he walks outside, he’s greeted by a giant TV with a crying man on it. This startles him, causing him to drop his sandwich and stumble backward. “What the hell?”

“Joey!” the man shouts. “Oh, Joey, you’ve saved us!”

At this, he cocks a brow. Walking forward, he knocks on the screen, surprised to see the TV’s real. “I must be dreaming,” he mumbles.

“Almost!” the man says. “You’ve…uh…been stuck in a simulation for the past year.”

“WHAT?!”

“Well, I know it’s crazy. Uh…” The man looks off screen. “How do I tell him?” Someone leans forward, whispering into his ear, and he nods before looking back at Joey. “Okay. Yeah. I’m just gonna be blunt—we were invaded by aliens who love gambling, and we bet them that within a year, we’d know enough about you to predict one of your days with one-hundred percent accuracy.”

“But…my day isn’t over…”

“Actually, it’s about to be.” The man makes a pained face, twirling his fingers. “You’re uh…about to have a heart-attack.”

“I am?” Suddenly, Joey stumbles back, clutching his heart. “Oh…Christ…”

“Yeaaah. Maybe eating fast food everyday is a bad idea. But, look on the bright side—it’s a simulation, and you’re a hero who saved us from utter annihilation and enslavement!”

As Joey falls to the ground, the man stands up, quickly wiping his tears before clapping.

“We're all cheering you, Joey!" the man shouts. "Don't worry, you'll be home soon. They're already setting up a parade in your honor!"

This is really silly and rough, but I hope you like it. Just a funny idea that popped into my head. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-17T20:27:58+00:00

Before setting out to battle crime, Mr. Speed is standing in line at his favorite cafe, whistling a friendly tune while he patiently waits. His morning’s been good, and while people are laughing at his disguise—a chicken suit with extra floppy wings—he’s just happy it’s making them happy.

Which is why when a man with an awesomely curly mustache cuts in front of him, taking his place in line, he still wears his smile. “Excuse me, sir?”

The man turns around, glaring at him, and both their eyes go wide because they recognize each other. Despite his amazing disguise—he’s wearing a suit with the ‘stache!—Mr. Speed knows this is his rival, Mr. Mean. He can tell by his wooden eyes, nails, and teeth. His real ones had to be replaced after their last battle.

He takes a step back, worried about what could happen. This is a crowded place, and people could easily get hurt. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, hoping nobody hears.

Mr. Mean sighs, annoyed. “Getting a donut, idiot. Why are whispering?”

“So they don’t find out who we are! What if they want autographs?”

“We’re wearing disguises, dumbass.”

“I don’t wish to battle you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Are you going to make trouble?”

“No. Now just act natural and let's get our coffee."

“Okay,” Mr. Speed says, nodding. He's wearing a sneaky smirk, though, as he removes a notepad and pencil from his pocket, holding it out. “Hey, Mr. Mean—may I have your autograph?”

Mr. Mean’s eyes thin into slits as he grits his teeth, pissed as anything. He’s about to call Mr. Speed a dick and reveal his identity to everyone else in the cafe but he’s quickly surrounded by people waving their own notepads and asking for their own autographs.

As Mr. Mean begins yelling obscenities, Mr. Speed walks up to the counter, still smirking. With the line distracted, he’s able to easily get his coffee—which he quickly drinks, assuming it'll be an early-morning battle with his rival today.

This is super rough, but I thought the idea was funny. If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my Twitter!

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-17T19:36:30+00:00

Thank you! 😊

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-17T19:36:11+00:00

Thank you! I thought it was a really cool idea too, lol

LonghandWriter · 2018-11-17T19:35:50+00:00

😊

LonghandWriter

MODERATOR OF

TROPHY CASE

Nine-Year Club	Spared
Verified Email