#lps the curiosity collector

[little-peril-stories]

🌹Romance Snippets Tag🌹

I was tagged by @starlit-hopes-and-dreams to share some romance snippets from my writing.

I had way too much with this so I'm sorry in advance.

Please enjoy this OPEN TAG :) because I think my friends have already been tagged lol

From The Prince of Thieves

Kisses in the driving snow were not nearly as pleasant as kisses in warmer, cozier scenes, but Jamie found he couldn’t regret it too sorely as Geoff’s warm lips pressed against his. ... Her body is flush against mine, separated only by her woollen dress and my snow-damp coat, layers that may as well be nothing, the way I can feel the heat of her against the heat of me. The way I can feel every beat of her heart.

From the Breanna Hatchett AU

He kissed her again, but did not stop at her lips, rather trailing down her neck, teasing as he went, the stubble along his jaw pricking into her skin and making her shiver.

From the angsty heist wip

What I see of it seems lovely, but she’s already peeking through the now-disorganized pile of papers, leaning right over me to find the one she’s seeking. This close to her, I can see the dusting of freckles on her cheeks and down her neck, the glistening of sweat on her skin, and the fine details of lace around the collar of her dress. For some reason, my heart is racing. ... Her cheeks are so pink, just like the sunset in her poem—like the sky at dusk. Like sprays of light as the sun and its brilliance vanish below the horizon. Becoming. Endearing.

Bonus Ash/Laramie and Fen/Freddie nonsense below but under the cut bc I'm kind of embarrassed by those stories 😅

From The Curiosity Collector

Laramie fought to keep his legs steady, tried to ignore the fiery throbbing of his head. Ash had been fine when he left the previous day. More than fine, really. They’d spent the afternoon in the company of only one another, hours of lying in the sun, staring up at the clouds and treetops. Brushing hair out of each other’s eyes. Running fingers up and down the other’s body. Pressing their lips together in lazy, love-drunk kisses as if they had all the time in the world.

...

“I love you.” Ash repeated the words he had spoken before, words uttered like an incantation. He watched Laramie’s face, tracing every line, every hint of grief behind his eyes. Committing it to memory in all its perfection. “I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will.”

From Fen & Freddie

lol there was nothing cute in F&F except them cuddling at the very end lmao. so have Freddie obsessing about saving Fen

He could die here, Freddie thought, if it meant Fen could live, somehow. If in the grand scheme of the entire universe, the loss of Frederic Howell would balance out to allow Fen Bailey-Song to keep breathing, to keep living— He was okay with that. ... “I’d do it again,” he said, “if it meant it wasn’t you.”

bonus bonus: this July I'll be rewriting my novel affectionately known as "Book 2." Here's a snippet from the first draft (written last summer), taken from a scene that will not make it into the rewrite. [poor buddy's POV got cut entirely]

What was she doing right now? Was she sleeping soundly in her borrowed bed, blissfully unaware of the way she made his blood scream through his veins? Could she know how the very thought of her made him feel as if he were gasping for air? ... Even with the hope that she might accept everything he had to say, even as he clung to its fragile wings like delicate drops of drew clung to blades of grass in the morning sun, he couldn’t dispel his fears—or everything else that had crossed his mind since the night before. In his sleepless stupor, he had allowed himself for the first time to imagine kissing her, and the thought had sent shivers down his spine.

here have a scene that will make it into the new version but who knows what it'll look like

She leaned into another kiss, letting her hands explore some more, one hand cupping the back of K's neck, the other running down her arm. To her surprise, the soldier let B gently push her down, let her hands roam more freely, let her lips and her tongue explore the soft skin of her neck. “You’re not that tough at all, are you?” she whispered. Below her, K laughed. “We’ll see who’s tough.” B nipped at her ear, taking delight in the little startled gasp it elicited. “Is that a promise?” With what seemed like hardly any effort at all, K rolled over, taking B with her so she was on top, staring down right into B' soul with a smile on her face. “Do you want it to be?” “Yes.” B reached up and landed another kiss, soft and full and slow. “Gods, yes.”

[jobilt]

It's been a while since I've posted here--from the purge of this platform to the death of another--but I have some pop cultural thoughts and this is where they go.

Pavement is a definitive album band and record collectors' band, but they also released a ton of great material on singles, EPs, compilations, and bonus releases. Most of that was collected on cd in a string of deluxe expanded album reissues starting in 2002 that were more exhausting than exhaustive. The material for the first and last of these is on vinyl, but the middle three are not. I think there is demand for a missing album or two on vinyl, curated from all of those non-album tracks.

Now Matador has announced Cautionary Tales: Jukebox Classiques, a box set with reissues of all of their 7" singles. I realize that this limited, pre-order only release is strictly for diehards and prosumer nostalgists. It does not increase access, it's just a fifth way to hear "Baptiss Blacktick".

There is one efficient Pavement compilation, the seminal Westing: By Musket and Sextant, which collects their first three EPs, first single and contemporary compilation tracks.

Matador could simply release the middle three records' bonus content on vinyl, and they would be more successful than the first volume was in 2015, but the songs are already available digitally. All of the collections, including Westing, have stuck to a strict chronological sequencing, which is a missed curatorial opportunity.

So I propose one LP that simply collects their 5 last EPs, and a 'lost album' of the best remaining non-album material.

The cover art, like the playlist, is composed of art that was cropped from their original albums. Of course I've got a third LP of less-listenable curiosities but we'll see how the first two sell first ;)

[dustedmagazine]

Various Artists — Excavated Shellac: An Alternate History Of The World’s Music (Dust-to-Digital)

Excavated Shellac: An Alternate History Of The World’s Music is an auxiliary product of one of the internet’s most worthy musical destinations. Since April 2007, the Excavated Shellac blog has been a growing goldmine of sounds you don’t hear anywhere else. Jonathan Ward, the website’s founder and caretaker, is a 78-rpm record collector who started posting one side a week from his collection. He selected performances from all around the world which had not made it to LP or CD, and which generally fell outside of the most heavily reissued styles. Implicit from the beginning was an understanding that blues, jazz, country, and European classical music wasn’t the only good stuff to be issued on shellac (the insect byproduct that was used to coat both furniture and records) during the decades before the vinyl LP took over as the dominant medium for recorded music.

Excavated Shellac: An Alternate History of the World's Music by Dust-to-Digital

Plenty has changed about Excavated Shellac since its inception. The pace of publication has slowed, other collectors have contributed sides, and the notes that Ward has penned for each inclusion have gotten longer and more in-depth. But they have always been guided by certain principles. Ward avoids romanticization in favor of a tone of respectful curiosity. His admirably lucid texts provide information about the music and its performers in its historical and national context, and they usually tell you a bit about the vast music business that grew up in the late 19th century and survived economic convulsions and world wars. 

Over time, Excavated Shellac has crossed back over from the internet to the realm of commerce. Ward compiled several compilations for the Dust to Digital label, themed by location or instrumentation, and released on LP or CD. He worked on Excavated Shellac: An Alternate History Of The World’s Music for several years, with the intention of releasing a multi-CD set of songs that duplicated the blog’s purview, but hadn’t appeared on the website or been reissued anywhere else. But since there's a pandemic going on, they chose not to produce the set as a physical object, and it was released digitally with minimal fanfare in December 2020. 

If you ever appreciated the physical substantiality and user-interface experience of CD boxed sets, it’s impossible not to mourn the exclusively digital format, since this would have made a great one. Like a vestigial limb, the set’s original format is evident in its organization into four equal parts, each corresponding to a CD’s worth of music, and the text’s layout as a 186-page pdf booklet. The transfers adhere to current practice of removing most of the noise and using musically informed mastering skills to ensure that the instruments sound like instruments actually sound, instead of the wan, ghost-like representations that shared space with blizzards of surface noise on 20th century compilations. The reproductions of labels, disc sleeves, and historical photos all beg to be seen on a page, not just a screen. Ward’s writing is as transparent and involving as ever, and the track selection flows easily between cultures, styles and decades. You won’t necessarily like each of the album’s 100 tunes equally, but each selection represents an opportunity to duck down a wormhole of sound and history. 

But if you are already on board the Excavated Shellac train, you have already found it in your heart to tolerate insubstantiality in order to let its digital transmissions set you vibrating. And there’s something to be said for taking these tunes one at a time, much as you might when visiting the blog. In any case, the collection’s array of classical, popular, and folk sounds from South America, Asia, and Africa, as well as European folk styles, constitutes a persuasive argument that there’s more to be found in the international record business’ actions than what got into Harry Smith’s record collection. 

Bill Meyer

[binbunmusic]

My vinyl records (71-75)

Part 2 of 2 ^^

Pan Amsterdam’s album Ha Chu (Limited edition, numbered ‘Springtime Green’ vinyl, pre-order)

Oh man. Where to begin with this guy. This album. It’s one of those things you have to listen to, to know whether you’ll like it. I could try my best to describe it in detail, but I’m not going to, ‘cause I want everyone to check this out.  For me personally, Pan Amsterdam was one of those artists I had to ‘get used to’, and I don’t mean that in a negative way, It just took me some time before I felt like I ‘got it.’ It’s the same reason I don’t really have a favourite song by this artist. I’ll do my best to give recommendations below, but I really think it’s about the atmosphere on this album more than anything else.  This was one of the most exciting vinyl-unboxings I’ve experienced to date - hopefully you’ll get why, when you see it. Imo, Pan Amsterdam is one of the most under-rated artists of today. Check it out if you’re in the mood for something experimental yet… soothing?

Favourite tracks: Trix and Dried Saliva

(front)

(back)

(record)

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The Fratellis’ debut-album ‘Costello Music’ (Limited edition, numbered Dark Green Transparent vinyl)

I actually traded my ‘Puddinghead’ vinyl for this one. Might’ve been a mistake if you ask a hardcore vinyl collector ’cause I think the BPM vinyl might be more ‘exculsive’ or whatever. But the simple reason I did it is, I like this album better ^^ I still listen to this more regularly than I do Puddinghead, even though it’s an older album. And this version is cooler than the one I already have, so I’ll probably trade/sell that one at some point. I might be a sucker for limited edition vinyls, but I don’t really need two versions of the same album lol I know I’ve had a couple different versions of this album by now, but I’m pretty confident this is one I’ll end up keeping for good.  Not much else to say, I’ve said it twice before, so...

Favourite tracks: Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night and Chelsea Dagger

(front)

(back)

(record)

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James Blake’s album ‘Assume Form’ (Limited edition, 180 g, Green vinyl)

I don’t know why I’ve been torn for so long with this album. I would’ve bought the vinyl when the album came about, but for some reason it was only released on casette? And then I sort of forgot about the album until he released his first single of 2020. Usually with James Blake it’s a surefire success for me every time he releases something new. About a year after it’s release, and after months of listening to it bit by bit, I came to the conclusion that this might be his best album to date. I know that might be a controversial opinion, but the sheer fact that it took me so long to figure it out is a big pointer, I think. Don’t know if that makes sense... Oh also, for some reason I got a free signed card with my order, which is a pretty sweet bonus, if you ask me ^^

Favourite tracks: I’ll Come Too and Power On

(front)

(gatefold)

(back)

(record)

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Nothing But Thieves’ album ‘Moral Panic’ (“Marbled” LP, pre-order)

I was torn with this one. I feel like this band in particular is all about re-imagining their own sound with every album they release. With this one I couldn’t quite tell from the first singles, what direction they were going for. After realizing that they were going for a kind of heavy/emo vibe, I ended up pre-ordering it out of curiosity. It’s not too far from what I expected from them, so I thought it couldn’t possibly disappoint. And I was right for the most part! The album is pretty decent (not their best imo, but still really good) but therea problem with the production of the vinyl itself. I honestly am not sure whether I’m happy about the way it turned out. On one hand, it’s kind of cool to have the “faulty” version, ‘cause not a lot of people do. On the other hand it doesn’t exactly match the album cover like it would have with the intended colour. I can’t say I regret buying it tho, it’s cool either way :)

Favourite tracks: Phobia and Can You Afford To Be An Individual?

(front)

(back)

(record)

________________________________________________________________

Ball Park Music’s album ‘Every Night the Same Dream’ (180 g White LP)

Like the James Blake album, it took me some time to realize how great this album really is (and by ‘some time’ I mean several years) The songwriting is one thing, but I think it’s all the small details in the mixing that make all the difference. It’s not something I usually pay attention to, so I guess that explains why it took me so long. If you’ve followed me for ‘some time’ you might have noticed that I’m a pretty big fan of Ball Park Music. But I gotta say, at first I thought this album was kind of a mess. But if anything, it now feels like an organized mess, or a representation of just how many different things BPM can be. And the most important thing; they still sound like they’re doing this for fun :D

Favourite tracks: Peppy and Ever Since I Turned the Lights On

(front)

(back)

(record)

________________________________________________________________

[krispyweiss]

Rewind: The Who - The Tommy Demos

If you love Tommy, you’re really going to like The Tommy Demos.

Long circulated among collectors and released on the sly by various fly-by-night labels, this set features soundboard-quality audio with exceptional channel separation. It’s mostly Pete Townshend working alone - the unadventurous drumming and bass work are dead giveaways - on the stripped-down set that mostly mirrors the 1969 LP, but is devoid of the overdubbed musical and vocal flourishes that feature on the final product.

Sound Bites’ copy is a 2004 boot on the German Alternative Edge Productions label. It has a hilarious, grammatically challenged disclaimer - “If the CD’s don’t have the AEP logo on the disc its a fake! BRING IT BACK!” - on the back cover in a convoluted, unsuccessful effort to make the illegitimate release seem legit.

Acoustic and electric guitars, bass, drums, keys and the occasional tape loop are all Townshend has at his disposal on this 24-track peek behind the curtain.

As released, The Tommy Demos omits “Eyesight to the Blind (The Hawker)” and includes the ultimately jettisoned “Success,” a 10-second snippet that falls between “Go to the Mirror” and “Tommy Can You Hear Me.” The latter features sprightly harmonica and stacked vocals that presumably include contributions from John Entwistle and Roger Daltrey.

While most of the pieces were already in place by the time these selections were put to tape, there are some notable differences beyond the aforementioned harp. “1921” takes place in ’29; “Sally Simpson” is more upbeat and features an arraignment similar to that used later on “Squeeze Box;” and “Cousin Kevin” and “Fiddle About” aren’t nearly as diabolical as they’d become.

Still, The Tommy Demos is no mere curiosity - worthy of a few plays before retiring it to the shelf. The collection is rather more like a companion to the finished LP, a go-to release for a different spin on a beloved classic that’s both accessible and esoteric - one for neophytes and fanatics alike.

Grade card: The Who - The Tommy Demos - B+

1-4-18

[promomagazine]

Why Is Artist Etienne Gros So Obsessed By The Body?

By:  Kyle Johnson

Born in Saint-Dié des Vosges, France in 1962, Etienne Gros is a graduate of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris and, of course, a distinguished artist who delves into his work with a keen empathy for the female form. Often mixing the abstract with the figurative, his work forges an inspiring story of an artist who’s mastery for methods, mixed with an enthusiastic curiosity for new media, gives rise to an impassioned mode of expression strictly his own.

This article first appeared in the pages of the 12th issue of ODDA Magazine.

Q: You’ve said, “The body is for me an obsessive theme.” Why are you so obsessed with the human body? Where does that obsession come from?

A: I said that because it is an observation since I have always painted, I draw or I make sculptures representing the body or parts of the body. But what has changed or evolved is that I am looking for beauty and I use the theme of the human body for that. It’s a pretext. I use the body as a subject capable of conveying an emotion.

Q: When naming your creations, why do you tend to avoid “titles too faithful or too descriptive?”

A: Before giving a title to a painting I let it rest in my studio for several days, sometimes several weeks. This time lapse allows me to observe it and, only when I know that I will not retouch it any more, I can sign and name it. The painting speaks for itself and I prefer to give it a more subjective title of what it evokes or simply because a colour, graphics or a detail reference. This will be an abstract reference such as “White Point, Yellow Right, Back Line, Approach… etc.”

Q: In 2006, what were your thoughts on being awarded the Grand Prix Azart at the Mac Art Fair in Paris?

A: I had the pleasure to be selected at this event in which I decided to present on my space few tables but large formats. I did not expect this award and it is always nice to receive the recognition of a jury as well as that of the public.

Q: While studying at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris you worked under Ferit Iscan, Olivier Debré and Vladimir Veličković. Describe this experience and illustrate how these masters influenced your artistic style.

A: It was always wonderful participating with them and I had great experiences, I would not say that they influenced my artistic style because I was always looking for a purely personal approach but their advice helped me indirectly to develop my own Artistic language. I greatly appreciated the courses of anatomy and living model, as well as visits to great museums like the Louvre, in which I admired and drew the paintings and sculptures of the great masters who represented the human figure in all their power and beauty, like the slaves of Michelangelo, the pictures of Titian, Gericault, David, and Ingres.

Q: From where do you derive your artistic tastes and influences for your projects? What was your inspiration for the Les Mousses sculptures?

A: In my series of sculptures in foam, there is an aesthetic aspect that reminds one of the vestiges of the Greek and Roman sculptures, an idea of universality. It is this confrontation that interests me between marbles, stable matter, and foams which are rather unstable and perishable therefore more alive and closer to our human entity.

Q: In your work, you often seem to mix the abstract and the figurative. Describe your personal style and what it says about you.

A: At first my blank canvas is on the floor, then I apply my colours without worrying about the final result. I create an abstract disorder, rich in colour and matter that will be the basis of my picture. I then put it on the wall and I observe it for a long time and suddenly comes out a precise image, then I begin to sketch lines and to sculpt shapes in this abstract matter. I put my order in my disorder. My painting is in this fragile limit between the abstract and the figurative. It often happens that people who discover my work do not immediately perceive the body parts I paint. And I like it a lot!

Q:Out of all of the artistic processes and/or mediums that you have used, what is your favourite? Why?

A: I am a painter first at all, and my favourite medium has always been painting. However, I’m a grown-up child and I still need to explore other mediums. If I’m at sea, I will sculpt sirens of sand, detecting in the pebbles the shape that I will make appear with few strokes. At the river, I would practice the land-art by drawing with water figures on white stones that will evaporate. Nature and its elements inspire me …   I have started my work on “smokes” by playing in my studio with the carbon deposit of a candle and then I improved this technique with oil lamps. I used different sizes of lamp’s wicks to vary the intensity of the carbon deposit and thus control the result, as a painter does with a brush.

My foam sculptures started the day I started playing with a piece of mattress. So I began by kneading this foam with my hands, then by slightly stretching this material, creases appeared, and I found that I could give it the shape of a body or part of a body following my imagination. But what seems most surprising to me is the rendering and the similarity of this sculpture in foam with our own flesh: colour, soft and malleable texture, and all these small holes that made me immediately thought of the pores of the skin. But when I let go off my fingers the moss turned to its original form. It was then that I thought of a skeleton of wire to maintain this flesh. In addition, foam is a ubiquitous material nowadays. We are born, we sleep, we make love and we die on this material…

 Q: For each of the following experiences, describe how they have shaped your creative process:

1.) Being born in Saint-Dié in 1962

2.) Graduating from École des Beaux-Arts in 1986

3.) Working and living in/around Paris

4.) Acquiring your own studio in Ile de France

A: I come from a large family of 10 brothers and sisters at the foot of the Vosges Mountains, and since an early age, each one of us took part in the household tasks, which gave us a sense of work and discipline. Moreover, my mother had the obsession to develop in each one of us a sense of curiosity and access to culture. There were a lot of books and Lp disks at home, I remember Wednesday afternoons when there was no school, we participated in a program on the national radio France Musique called “Les enfants et la musique” where it was necessary to make a drawing inspired by a music score or a symphony of a relevant classic musician whose identity was not revealed.

Listen, imagine and draw! Then the drawing was sent to the radio station and the following week the speaker announced in his soft voice the names of the winners. It was a joy to hear sometimes this name on the radio and after a year I even received the first prize over the whole year and I got my first radio as a gift. At the same time, I have always continued to drawing, bricolage and gardening, as I have always loved contact with nature.

During the high school years, I went to school of drawing evening classes and my only objective was to return to an art school after my graduation. Then when I arrived in Paris and I was accepted into the school of fine arts, my life changed. I was in wonderment with a bulimic desire to discover all the marvels and museums of this city. I read, I visited all the art galleries; I nourished my curiosity in all art fields. I attended all the classes that the school offered me; I always drew and painted in search of a personal expression.

In 1986 I graduated but living on art was complicated. I quickly gave up of presenting my work to the art galleries, where the always polite comments were the same: “It’s very good, continue, you’re still young, come back in a few years.” That depressed me! So I decided to present my work in art fairs that is how art galleries started to uphold my work. During all these years I first worked on a wall of my apartment, then in a larger collective studio, to finally have my own studio.

Q: When you’re not creating, what do you enjoy doing?

A: I take deep breaths; it can be contemplative breaths, artistic breaths, breaths of travel, human breaths…

Q: What are you currently working on and what can we expect to see from you in the future?

A: I continue on the human figure theme, but I realize that my painting is more sculptural; the material is akin to stone with always this carnal side at the same time. The body appears more in 3D volume as if it wanted to leave the canvas. I cannot know how my work will be in the future; I go ahead every day with the surprises of the moment.

Q: What was the most unpleasant reaction you had something you thought was going to be exciting?

A: These are not really unpleasant but rather amazing reactions. About three years ago a collector had ordered me a painting and he did not seem satisfied with the result because he wanted a man’s back and saw a woman’s back. The picture was sent to his home. Together with the gallery owner we called him to try to understand, it took us 1 hour to find an explanation. He had simply hung the painting upside down on his wall and we understood it in relation to the positioning of the colours. These confusions interest me a lot and I love when my paintings play with it.

[cemeterygatesmedia]

The Victor Talking Machine

by. Brhel & Sullivan 

Dr. Marvelry’s Curiosity Shop had been a fixture of Binghampton’s Antique Row since the 1990s. Early on, it had served as a magic, masquerade, and Halloween shop, full of knickknacks, party favors, and gag gifts. With the increase in competition from big box stores that sold cheap costumes and party hodgepodge, the owner, Dr. Marvelry, was forced to find a new niche. He turned what was for him a hobby—obtaining curious objects from strange, storied people and locations—into the main focus of his business.

Marvelry, having been a travelling magician for most of his adult life, had collected goods throughout North America, and gradually filled his shop with old surgical tools, bizarre electrical appliances (which usually did little more than shock or mildly electrocute its user), and began serving a younger, usually more macabre-minded and technologically savvy caliber of clientele. The older collectors still enjoyed the Victorian furniture pieces of the antique stores down the block, and scoffed at the oddities found within Marvelry’s shop.

Brent and Kevin Buckley were young and in love when they came in that Saturday afternoon in late May. They were newly married and still just beginning to decorate their Rural Gothic home just over the border in Pennsylvania. They had passed through most of Antique Row, worn out from the repetitive Art Deco reproductions and post-WWII mass-produced furniture that filled the other stores.

“Well, this is different,” said Brent, as he and his lover approached a surgical table repurposed as a shop counter.

“There’s already so much here that I like,” said Kevin. He started to hum an old show tune and flipped through an 18th-century surgical tome that sat near the antique cash register. “Hello, sirs,” said Dr. Marvelry. His sudden appearance behind the counter made the couple jump back.

“Jesus,” exclaimed Kevin. The pair couldn’t stop laughing at Marvelry’s entrance but found him to be oddly charming. The store owner had a greying dark-brown coif and a cleanly shaven face. His nose was his most prominent feature, but he was by no means ugly—more so aged than anything else. He was slim, above average in height, and wore a scarlet vest, vestigial (or merely in remembrance) of his old performance uniform.

Marvelry turned away and arranged his pinned butterfly showcase as the couple caught their breath. “Can I interest you in any of my new necrological jewelry? Or is it magic tricks you seek?”

“So, you must be Dr. Marvel-ree?” asked Brent.

Marvelry spun around. “Why, yes. But it’s pronounced ‘Marvel-rye,’ no need for ‘doctor,’ and the accent’s on the ‘eye.’”

“Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Marble-rye. We’re looking for some unique pieces to accent our new home in the country,” said Kevin.

“That’s Marvel... Forget it. So you’re looking for furniture? A showpiece? I think I have just the thing,” replied Marvelry as he disappeared into the rear of his store.

Brent looked at Kevin and they began laughing again. Marvelry returned a minute later carrying a heavy case. He set it on the counter, then opened it, revealing an old phonograph with a black, metallic horn.

“You’re a fan of old music?” asked the magician, eyeing Kevin.

“Yes, I am. How did you…” replied Kevin, but Brent cut him off.

“That would go fantastic on the stand we got from your grandmother, Kevin!” said Brent, excited at having hit on a home design match.

“This is a Victor Victrola and it still works. It even comes with a Frank Sinatra record,” said Marvelry as he set the record in place and wound the handle on the phonograph. It played a lovely song that both Brent and Kevin recognized instantly from the musical Ashland!

“I’ve never heard this version; it’s stunning,” said Kevin, completely enamored with the machine. He looked at Brent, who sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to be cheap.

“The handle sticks from time to time, but it’s really in great order, considering its age. I purchased it from a widow in Carbondale, PA, in the mid-Nineties,” said Marvelry.

The trio made a deal on the phonograph and said their goodbyes. The couple left feeling like they had made a new friend.

Kevin and Brent returned home with their new phonograph and placed it in their bedroom on the mahogany stand that had been entrusted to Kevin on his grandmother’s passing. They admired their new Victrola and chatted about other aspects of their bedroom that they could improve.

 The Buckleys spent the rest of the weekend painting their downstairs bathroom, tilling their new garden, and moving boxes into the basement. When Monday arrived, Brent went to work at the law firm downtown, while Kevin stayed home and maintained the house.

The two-story Rural Gothic was exceptionally quiet in Brent’s absence. The couple had traded the honking horns and street noise of Manhattan for the chirping crickets and solitude of rural Pennsylvania only months prior, and Kevin still wasn’t quite used to it. He needed some background noise to not feel so alone.

He was dusting the bedroom dresser when he turned to the Victrola. Seeing its elegant design and simplicity made him think of mid-20th century culture—the 1940s and 50s, a time he had never experienced but held a deep fondness for. His favorite actor was James Dean; the Marilyn Monroe vehicle The Seven Year Itch was his favorite film. He had enjoyed the Sinatra tune Marvelry had played in his shop and thought it'd be nice to listen to again.

He turned the crank several times, adjusted the tone arm, and set the needle down on the record, smiling as a chorus of voices became audible over the cracks and pops of the vintage vinyl. Then came Frank.

“As so often goes today/at times I’ve forgot the way...” The song was slow, dreamlike. Kevin got so wrapped up in the moment that he just sat on the bed, forgetting the housework.

The song played on— “When I say you’re the girl for me…” —and Kevin was drawn further and further in by its lilting melody and leisurely pace. He closed his eyes and completely submerged himself in the music.

At the sound of someone screaming, his eyes shot open and he jerked his head up. It sounded like a man, but Kevin couldn’t make out a word he was saying. He felt as if the voice was all around him, echoing from wall to wall, surrounding him. He shot out of bed and ran to the window. There was no one outside, nobody close enough to have reached his ears, no matter how hard they screamed. The voice was suddenly joined by several others, men screaming in manic tones. Their voices were gruff, hoarse, yet quivering.

Kevin’s eyes darted from the window to the open bedroom door. The sound wasn't coming from the hallway either. No, it was originating, without a doubt, from the Victrola. The record spun along, crackling. The men screamed; Sinatra crooned. Kevin was about to turn off the machine when the song concluded and the tone arm returned to its original position. All was quiet again. No more sweet melody, but no more agonized cries either.

Out of curiosity, Kevin picked up the record sleeve that lay next to the stand and flipped to the back. It looked like an ordinary Sinatra recording. Copyright 1943 Cambrian Records. Written by J. Daniel Drew. There was nothing on the sleeve about men crying out in agony. No hint that he had purchased a “funny” record either.

When Brent returned home from work that evening, Kevin recounted his experience with the Victrola over dinner.

“You've been cooped up in this place by yourself for too long,” said Brent. “I told you, you need to get out sometimes. You're hearing voices now?”

“I'm not ‘hearing voices,’ Brent. It's on the record, as clear as day. It sounded like a group of men screaming for their lives.”

“Riiiiight,” said Brent. He stood up from the table and put his dirty dish in the sink. He thought Kevin was trying to pull his leg.

“I'm not screwing with you. It's the weirdest thing. I can't explain it.”

“Let me hear it then.”

The couple finished cleaning the kitchen then headed upstairs to the bedroom. Kevin shuddered at seeing the phonograph. He stood several feet away as Brent wound up the machine. The record began to play. The song filled the room with sweet melody, but no screaming voices called out this time. No horror could be found inside the LP’s grooves.

Kevin was flabbergasted. “But I swear. I heard them this morning. Brent, they were screaming bloody murder. I'm not joking.”

“You probably dozed off with it on and it found its way into your dream. Or maybe the record is just warped. Who the heck knows? The thing’s ancient. But there are no voices on there other than Frank Sinatra and some backing singers.” Brent left the room, annoyed by his lover’s guessing game, while Kevin stared at the Victrola, wondering to whom those voices, which he was 100 percent certain he had heard, belonged.

Over the next week, Kevin tried in vain to get the Victrola to produce the strange sounds he had heard. He placed the needle at different spots on the record, turned the handle really fast, backwards, forwards, but it was all to no avail. He fiddled with the phonograph so much that one evening the handle became stuck. No matter how hard he cranked, it wouldn't budge. His investigation, it seemed, had come to an abrupt end. He went to bed with Brent a few hours later, frustrated.

As the couple slept that night, the handle on the Victrola came loose. All of the energy Kevin had put into winding it was released, and the machine fired up and music poured out of the horn. And this time, the strange voices returned, louder and more intense than before.

The couple was jolted from their sleep as the shrill screams filled the room. Brent cried out himself and grabbed hold of Kevin, who was shaking. The voices only intensified—agonized screaming and pleasant harmonies merging into a nightmarish cacophony.

Kevin pushed the comforter away, intent on turning off the phonograph, but he felt a heavy, almost crushing pressure on his chest, as if a chunk of the ceiling had collapsed onto his upper body. He remained frozen in a strained position in the bed. Gasping for air, he cried out to Brent, who was experiencing a sudden fit of coughing next to him.

The music ended and Kevin was suddenly able to move freely. He jumped out of bed, rushed over to the switch and flicked on the overhead light. Brent had ceased coughing as well with the conclusion of the song and was staring down at his hands. They were covered in phlegm. Mixed in was a black, sooty substance.

 The next day, the Buckleys carried the Victrola back to Marvelry’s. The horror of the previous night had convinced Brent that something was most definitely wrong with their new purchase. They wanted answers.

As they approached the counter, Marvelry appeared from behind a curtain leading to another room. “Gentlemen, back so soon? How is that phonograph treating you?”

Brent glared at the store owner and set the Victrola down hard. “Not too well, actually. What the hell did you sell us?”

Marvelry was taken aback by his customer’s unexpected hostility. “What do you mean, sir? Is there something the matter with it? It was in perfect working order when I sold it to you.”

“There’s something wrong with it, alright,” said Kevin. He explained the screaming voices and the strange sensations that had accompanied them. The phonograph playing by itself. The crushing sensation. The soot.

Marvelry didn’t question the veracity of his claims. It was as if the store owner had heard other crazy accounts from disgruntled customers in the past. “That is one fantastic story,” he said.

“That’s one way to put it,” said Brent.

“You said you bought it from a woman,” said Kevin. “Who?”

“Like I said, I purchased it from a widow in Carbondale nearly twenty years ago. But I’m really not at liberty to divulge personal information about my customers.”

Brent leaned over the counter and got in Marvelry’s face. “This stupid machine nearly killed us last night. Tell us where you got it!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll make an exception in your case, since you seem to have undergone some sort of great consternation.” Marvelry opened a drawer behind the counter and pulled out a bulky, leather-bound book. He flipped to a yellowed page and scanned a list of names. “Ahh! Rose Zielewicz. Yes, Rose. I remember we had quite a lengthy chat. Nice lady. She said the phonograph belonged to her husband. He died long before that though—was it Korea? I came across her yard sale on my way to Scranton for a magicians’ convention, when we still held such things. I have to warn you, she was old when we met and it's been so long, she’s likely passed on herself by now.”

“Rose Zielewicz. Carbondale. Got it,” said Kevin, sternly.

“You’re welcome to exchange the Victrola for something else. I just got in a pair of African fertility dolls. They’re very unusual; great for the bedroom,” said Marvelry, as the couple hurried out the door, carrying the phonograph between them.

 An hour later, Brent and Kevin turned off of a country road and into the driveway at 112 Kearns Ave. in Carbondale, at the residence of one Mrs. Rose Zielewicz. Brent had quickly found her address online with the search site his law firm used to track down witnesses. It was a modest home, well-kempt, with a flower bed out front and an American flag hanging from the porch. They got out of the car and walked up the steps toward the front door, anxious regarding what they were about to ask a total stranger, especially an old widow who would probably be nervous at the sight of two unknown men on her front porch.

Brent knocked. Kevin held the bulky phonograph case. “Maybe we should’ve called first,” said Kevin.

“Yeah, call some old lady on the phone and tell her we were wondering about her haunted phonograph,” replied Brent.

The door opened and the two men ceased their bickering. “Can I help you?” said Rose, from behind the screen door.

Brent went to speak but couldn't find the nerve. He didn't want to sound like an idiot, or to upset this elderly widow.

“Hi, ma’am, is your name Rose Zielewicz?” asked Kevin, doing all he could to sound warm and non-threatening.

She looked at the pair with a sudden apprehension at the mention of her full name. “It is. Why?”

“We bought a Victrola that used to belong to you from an antique shop in Binghampton.” Kevin held the item up to her. “Do you recognize it?”

Her eyes seemed to double in size. “Of course I do. That belonged to my husband. I couldn't stand to look at it any longer, so I sold it. And here you are, bringing it back to my doorstep.”

“We apologize if it brings up any painful memories. It isn’t our intention to offend you,” said Brent.

“Then what is?”

Kevin and Brent were hesitant to mention the real reason for their visit. They knew it sounded crazy. Here was a woman who had no good reason to indulge them—two strangers dropping by her home unannounced with her old phonograph.

“There's something about it that isn’t quite right. It's…” Kevin struggled to get the words out. “The record. There's something about it that's just off...” It crossed his mind that this visit might have been a terrible idea.

“What do you mean?” asked Rose. “What record?”

“Frank Sinatra’s ‘Things That I Ought to Know.’”

Rose smiled. “Ha. That old tune. It was one of our favorites.”

“It's beautiful, ma’am,” said Brent.

“What's wrong with it? It's a pretty old record. I haven't heard it in decades, in fact. Wouldn't mind hearing it again. Would you play it for me?”

Kevin and Brent looked at each other nervously. They didn't want to cause this poor woman any more pain, but she was the only one who could answer to what they were hearing. Kevin took the Victrola out of the case, set it down on the porch, and started to crank the handle.

“Ma’am, I have to warn you. The sounds on this record are unlike anything you've heard before,” said Brent.

Kevin let go of the handle and the record started to play. The couple held their breath, dreading her reaction to the horrible recording. The record popped along, the needle gliding over the grooves. Sinatra started singing, the same as always. The sickening screaming, they knew, was only seconds away.

Suddenly a voice became audible within the recording. But it wasn't screaming. It was a man, and he was singing sweetly, if not faintly, as if he were serenading a lover.

 “As so often goes today,

at times I've forgot the way,

but you come to me and show,

all the things that I ought to know,

 When I say you're the girl for me,

you tell me to believe,

seeds we plant won't always grow,

but you will still be my rose,

 People said not to bother,

with a coal miner's daughter,

whose head is off in the clouds,

dreaming of bright lights and city crowds...”

 Brent and Kevin looked up at Rose. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she was smiling.

Kevin gave a curious look to Brent, unsure of exactly what was taking place, then looked back at the elderly woman. “That voice. Do you recognize it?”

“David,” she whispered, holding her hand to her heart. “That's my husband.”

Rose opened the door and invited the Buckleys in for coffee. She explained the life and death of her husband. David Zielewicz was an avid music lover. He had saved up enough money to buy a new Victor Victrola, the top-of-the-line phonograph at the time, and would take it to the mine every morning. They had a speaker system throughout the mine, and David would leave the phonograph in the foreman’s office so they could listen to music during their breaks down in the shaft.

“One morning their shaft collapsed. My husband and seven other men were trapped below for forty hours before they broke through from the top,” said Rose, grimly. “They had no chance. They let me and the other wives say our piece over the speaker system, in case they could hear us. I made sure they played plenty of Frank and Cab Calloway while they worked to rescue them.”

Kevin and Brent looked at each other, the mysteries compounding. Did the record contain the horror of the miner’s final moments and also a sweet, final message from Rose’s husband? Why had they never heard his singing before?

“Mrs. Zielewicz, it was nice meeting you, but we should be heading home. You’re welcome to keep the Victrola,” said Kevin, knowing they would be leaving the old woman with a pleasant memory.

“Thank you. I won’t mind having it in the house anymore,” said Rose. She smiled and said goodbye. As she shut the door, they could hear her humming the tune, softly.

[little-peril-stories]

Happy STS, Kate! 

When you’re writing an emotional or difficult scene, how does that work for you? Do you find yourself needing to set a certain mood? Do you need to be in a certain mood to begin with? Or do you just immerse yourself in the story and go with the flow? 

How do you feel once you’re done with that scene? Do you need to take a break and regroup? Write something more lighthearted? Turn to a different form of media? Or are you able to go ahead and move on in your story right away?

Happy STS, Anna!

Gosh. Never thought about it!

Hmm. I'm going to use this angsty chapter of The Prince of Thieves (tl;dr - she leaves) as a concrete example here since I had a lot of time to think about it pretty obsessively, so I remember my 'process' pretty well. I knew from the moment I started rewriting the story (from its Whumptober form) that the events of that chapter would occur, and that it would be Sad and Angsty as All Hell. I even had a selection of songs that helped inform the vibe of the chapter (lol that's why it's the only chapter to have its own little playlist, haha). So, does that count as setting the mood? Maybe?

In terms of actually sitting down to write it... Well, I pretty much wrote TPOT chronologically, aside from the stuff I wrote in October, so I just went ahead and wrote it, no 'certain mood' necessary. This actually applies to everything non-TPOT as well, although I am dabbling in bouncing around the manuscript a little bit. A little bit. If I'm not in the mood to write the thing, I'll just do something else.

As for once it's done... Uh, I am a very expressive reader and writer and so sometimes even as I am writing I will talk to the characters, sigh, whimper, or grumble. (I mean, The Curiosity Collector's finale made me cry while I was writing.) If it's a sad/emotional scene, there's probably a LOT of whimpering and making sad noises. 😂 So I'm often letting out my emotions as I write. When it's done, there's generally a huge sigh, a quick re-read, and then a break from writing for a bit. Probably off to Youtube or Tumblr. 😅

Thank you so much for the question!

[little-peril-stories]

Febuwhump Day 11 - I Love You

From The Curiosity Collector:

“Ash, stay away from him,” she begged between blows.

He could not.

Not before. Not now. Not ever.

“You are Laramie Jonas and I am Ash Levin.” Now there was blood on Lar’s face, left there by trembling fingers as Ash tilted it so he could look into his love’s eyes one last time. “I love you. I have always loved you.”

As he pressed his lips to Laramie’s, he slipped the white, blood-slicked ring from his own finger to his love’s. If Lar was truly gone, if he still wanted to kill Ash, then let him do it with his own magic, not with the human’s knife.

“I love you,” Ash whispered against Laramie’s skin, unable to pull away just yet. “I have always loved you and I always will.”

No ring. No magic. No strength left.

“Ash?”

The darkness was closing in, and quickly. Ash smiled.

“Lar.”

“Ash, what…”

I can explain, Ash said, or perhaps he did not speak. How dark it was in this vile room, in this dreadful dungeon built by human hands. Did Lar know what had happened? Would he remember?

Please don’t blame yourself, he wanted to say. It wasn’t you. I know it wasn't you.

I love you. Now and forever and always.

[little-peril-stories]

Happy STS, Kate!

Today's question is characters :)

Do you prefer writing with a small cast or a big one? Do you prefer single, dual or multi pov? Does it vary from project to project?

If you write multi pov, be honest: Do you have a favorite one?

Happy STS!

If you looked only at TPOT, the answer would be big cast. If you looked only at TQOL, the answer would be small cast. If you looked at the journey Book 1 has been through, the answer would be small.

It definitely varies from project to project!

TPOT - 5 POVs (fave: Hatchett, followed by Will)

TQOL - started as 1, now 2 POVs (no fave; their chapters read and write pretty differently so they're both fun)

angsty heist wip - 4 POVs + 2 guest POVs

Fen & Freddie - 3 POVs (fave: Fen)

The Curiosity Collector - 3 POVs (fave: Laramie)

Book 1 - went from 1 to 4 to 2 POVs; Book 2 has 3 POVs (the actual fave got his POV dropped, sorry honey, just wait till Book 3)

In all honesty, I don't know if I truly have a preference, although I clearly gravitate in practice to dual or multiple POVs. I think (for me, y'all do y'all) POV choice has to be something that serves the story, not something purely based on author preference.

Now, setting aside the POV part for a minute, then the answer is clear. I LOVE a big cast, even if not everyone gets a chance to be the POV character! Character relationships are such a delight to explore and even when it's challenging to keep track of everyone's voices, motivations, etc., I still love the journey.

Thank you so much for the question!

[littleperilstories]

Remember these poor boys?

I really do believe they deserve a better story than the one they got in Whumptober. (Unfortunately, I doubt they'll get one anytime soon.)

I also

really do believe

they deserve

an ending.

The Curiosity Collector: Masterpost

The Curiosity Collector

(Whumptober 2022)

Ash, a witch, is abducted by witch hunters. He finds himself in the clutches of the cruel human Douglas Heminworth, who keeps witches in his own personal "collection."

Will Laramie and Ivy, the two people who care about him most, be able to save him before it's too late?

Day 8 - head trauma, back from the dead

Day 9 - sleeping in shifts, tossing and turning

Day 18 - "just get it over with," treading water, "take my coat"

Day 1 - adverse effects, unconventional restraints, “this wasn’t supposed to happen”

Day 4 - hidden injury, waking up disoriented, can't pass out

Day 16 - mind control, paralytic drugs, "no one's coming"

Day 28 - anger born of worry, punching the wall, headache

Day 27 - muffled screams, stumbling, magical exhaustion

Day 21 - coughing up blood, "you're safe now," "take me instead"

[little-peril-stories]

LPS: Blog (Re)Intro

Little Peril Stories | Kate | adult | she/her

✨ linktree | website | ko-fi | ao3 | oc/wip extras ✨

✨ I post writing/publishing updates every Wednesday and Sunday here. ✨

The Queen of Lies (ongoing): AU for The Prince of Thieves—sheltered, rich sad girl meets snarky criminal; chaos ensues; whumpy, Victorian forbidden love vibes with a side helping of angst and girl power

The Court of Rogues (work in progress): sequel to The Prince of Thieves; in the works but it will be a while before details come out

The Prince of Thieves (complete): guy and gal get arrested and tormented by super cool, totally normal constable while pals on the outside freak out and make bad decisions; fun 1800s prison vibes with a side helping of angst and chosen family

Blood Garnet (side WIP, low priority): girl gets lost in magic woods and gets chased by her hapless cousin and a grump hunter; awkward magic man tries to help; supernatural(ish) romantasy vibes with a side helping of angst and betrayal

Man of Letters (UNRESOLVED; part of Whumptober 2023): awkward scholar boi tries to save the girl he falls in love with and gets way more than he bargained for; light romantasy paired with heavy emo vibes, with a side of helping of angst and torture

Fen and Freddie (complete): gal gets kidnapped, dopey cinnamon roll with hopeless crush tries to rescue her and fails; vague superhero sci-fi vibes with a side helping of angst and pining

The Curiosity Collector (complete): sweet non-confrontational magic boy gets kidnapped and needs rescuing by bf and sis; witchy, autumnal vibes with a side helping of angst and falling in love

This is a whumpblr/writeblr space! Sometimes I’ll post/reblog writerly posts, memes, etc., but a lot of the posts/RBs will be about whump. I post original writing and reblog the work of others that I enjoy, gifs, tropes, prompts, and other such things.

I love comments and feedback on my writing and welcome them with open arms.

A note on age: I know I can’t actually stop you from accessing this blog, but I do not wish to interact with people under 18. It’s not personal, I’m sure you’re great, but it has everything to do with my job IRL. Please respect this boundary and come back on your 18th birthday.

Check out: My Most Common Tropes

My favourite elements of whump have to do with power dynamics, intimidation, dread, and angst. I love captivity-with-a-cause: kidnapping for ransom or as leverage over someone else, prison (in fantasy or historical settings, less so for modern settings though it’s not a hard rule), and the like. Fantasy presents so many creative versions of this trope, so I do love me some fantasy whump! It also gives lots of opportunity for dungeons, shackles, and other fun implements like that. Gratuitous tying or chaining up is always delightful to see. Pining, desperately trying to protect a loved one (…and failing), and self-sacrifice are other big tropes I love, so expect to see lots of those!

As for characters, I love it when they are as far as you can get from perfect, pure, and innocent—when they’re good enough people, but whose flawed or maybe even problematic decisions lead them into trouble. Always, always, I want my characters to have a hand in their own fates. Pure-hearted victims of the narrative who simply fall into a whumpy situation are cute and fun, but not what I tend to write.

A few odds and ends I’m such a sucker for, so you’ll probably find them in my writing:

Sibling relationships

Allusions to songs, books, folklore, and musicals

Nature and weather helping to set the scene (oh my goodness, how many times can I work snow into one story?)

If romance, either slow burn or instant attraction

…with a sprinkling of “huh, I don’t understand what I’m feeling, wtf is going on??”

‘In the nick of time’ rescues

Painfully awkward moments

Fluff and comfort, but only once they’ve really earned it

Almost kisses

Hard choices

Happy endings

You probably won’t find much gore or explicit noncon here, but there might be some elements of those in my stories or in reblogs. I don’t write BBU or pet whump.

My original “whumpy things I like” post can be found here.

Anyway, thanks for reading! 💕 Happy whumping!

[littleperilstories]

Ok listen, I have now THREE TIMES closed the tab with the ask game, and only remembered because on the other screen was your blog and like, why is it there, oh right *opens tab, gets distracted*

Anyway.

1 what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

5 what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

10 which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

Thank you for the ask 💖 From this ask game.

1 what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

2022 has been WILD! My writing highlight was the sheer volume of how much I wrote. Like, I know word count is NOT the be-all-end-all of writing. But after many years of just....not...writing...much or even at all...this was the year where I really got into the habit of writing FREQUENTLY (almost every day).

Finished Book 1 (not whump)

Wrote all of Book 2 (not whump)

Got 50k into Book 3 (not whump) before gently laying that project to rest for my own sanity

Wrote 3 Whumptober stories

Rewrote Book 1 from the beginning for Nanowrimo

Turned one of those stories into the full-fledged narrative that's being posted now (The Prince of Thieves)

I'm so proud myself and SO grateful that I had the time and opportunity to engage in this hobby that brings me so much jpoy.

5 what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

Possibly The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (I know I'm a little late to that party but GOD it was beautiful).

This is a book for young readers but Beatrice and Croc Harry by Lawrence Hill. What a sweet, compelling read that entertained my mind, heart, and soul!

10 which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

From The Curiosity Collector, Laramie Jonas didn't exactly turn out differently from what I'd planned; rather, I went in with no plan and let him write himself. I didn't know he was such an antisocial grump until I started writing his reunion with Ash as an adult.

In The Prince of Thieves, Bree Cooper was intended to be the main protagonist, but once Will popped into my head, he quickly took over. I was re-reading (and re-writing) the first Whumptober chapter that featured Bree (prompts from October 2, but probably written in early September!) and I think maybe the idea I was originally going for had her be a more skilled cat-burglar style thief? I'm not sure, I don't remember, but her interactions with Hatchett seemed to imply a much strong "catch me if you can" kind of past interaction. Revival Bree is more of an ordinary girl.

In my non-whump writing (stories fondly known as Books 1 through 3) my villain has undergone some ENORMOUS changes. First he was an uncle. Then there was an uncle and a brother. Now it's just a brother. Yeesh. AND AND AND I sorted out his villainous motivations this year. That was a good feeling!

Also for Books 1-3, two former POV characters got relegated to B-story characters with no POV chapters. Sorry dudes.

[littleperilstories]

IT IS DONE

It's official! I just scheduled the Oct 31 post for Whumptober 2022. All my stories are written and queued up! I did it! <3

[littleperilstories]

Welcome and Hi

my.stories

The home of LPS is now exclusively @little-peril-stories! :) Find me there! 💕

The Prince of Thieves Masterlist :: (COMPLETE) Will and Bree are arrested and tormented by cruel Constable Baden Hatchett. (Fictionalized, historical-adjacent setting.) Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro | Robin Hood References

Fen and Freddie Masterlist :: (CONCLUDED; may continue one day) University students Fen and Freddie are kidnapped by a man with superhuman strength who wants revenge on Fen's older sister. (Modern setting, some sci-fi elements.)

The Curiosity Collector Masterlist :: (CONCLUDED) Ash is abducted from his coven and held prisoner by the human Douglas Heminworth, sending his partner and sister in a spiral of worry. (Fantasy setting.)

me

Hello! I'm LPS, word-loving adult human who has adored whump for waayyy too long. All the stories linked above were written for Whumptober 2022.

I reblog stuff and occasionally post my own writing! My stories are at the top of this post. Feel free to interact as long as you're a kind and respectful organism....and maybe stay away if you're not a legal adult. I don't write NSFW/explicit content, but I may reblog some, so....sorry, but please keep yourself safe.

what.to.expect

What to expect here: lots of peril, tears, characters getting tied up, gagged, and HECKIN' hurt, both male and female whumpees with primarily male whumpers. Creepy & intimate whumpers. Oh, and swears. Lots of those. What not to expect here: Explicitly sexual content. Character death. Suuuuper regular updates.

all.the.whumperflies

if you're curious: ~ whumpy things I like ~

if you need inspiration: ~ my whump prompts ~