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[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

"Open it." For my boy Josh (prompt for the five sentence fic!)

"Open it."

It isn't a request.

It's a dare. An ice-cold threat that freezes Josh to the spot. He stands paralyzed, his clammy palm welded to the doorknob. Josh's sorry life flashes before his bloodshot eyes, and his freedom taunts him from the other side of the unlocked door. It calls him, it pulls him like a magnet.

Josh wants to live, and not just survive. He wants his life back. His simple, mundane life. He'd give anything and everything to blend back into the world and fade into the background.

"Go on, Joshy. See what happens the second you open that door." Felix stalks closer but Josh doesn't face him. He can't face him. With his puffy, tear-stained cheeks and deer-in-headlight eyes. Josh's ears prick up at the sound of slow footsteps coming to a stop just over his shoulder.

"You know I'd catch you, don't you, honey?" Felix half purrs, half growls. Josh's thumping heart falls to the pit of his stomach. "God have mercy on you, I'd hunt you down like a wild animal. And when I finally find you...?"

Josh physically cringes and shrivels up as Felix nibbles at Josh's neck and kisses the dip of his collarbone. Felix slowly reaches around to place his hand on top of Josh's shaking one, on the door handle, and pulls it away.

"I'd snap your legs like twigs," Felix whispers in Josh's ear. "I would just love you bed-bound. It would be my dream come true, baby... the things I'd do to you..."

Josh hears Felix actually lick his lips and his gut suddenly twists. Josh thought his life was already a fate worse than death...somehow, it can get worse. He spins around to face Felix, eyes blown wide and sparkling - his lip wobbling like a small child.

It's a risk he's not willing to take. Any foolish bravery suddenly dissolves and his fight or flight suddenly switches off. Josh just feels empty.

He collapses into Felix's arms in a slump. His body rockets with sobs as Felix cradles him and smoothes the jet-black hair over his scalp.

"Sweet boy," Felix mumurs dotingly, "sweet, confused little boy. You know you belong with me, don't you?"

Josh nods miserably into Felix's chest.

"I'm the only one who knows you inside and out, who will take care of your every want and need. You'll never leave me, baby-blue."

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When two characters are injured, badly enough to be confined to bed, but they have to be kept together, in the same room or even the same bed, otherwise they'll wake up and go frantic trying to look for the other- calling out for them, struggling upright, crawling out of bed, staggering from the room; desperate to find the other and panicking to know they're alright- so if they're to get any rest in order to recover they need to be within sight and reach of each other, so when they wake up they're right there, able to reassure each other that they're alive and safe and healing.

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WoW Birthday Whump Day 9

Prompt: Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / “You’re burning up.” Additional Content: torture mentions

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Whumpee whimpers softly, leaning heavily on Caretaker’s shoulder as the car makes a sharp turn. Caretaker holds them close, gently laying them down so their head rests in their lap. 

Whumpee looks awful. They were only with Whumper for a few days before Caretaker found them, but that was clearly enough time to do a lot of damage. They’re covered in deep purple bruises, their clothes tattered and bloodstained. The signs of torture are clear - straight, intentionally placed cuts on their thighs and cigarette burns on their palms. One of their eyes is swollen shut, and their nose is clearly broken.

Sighing, Caretaker brushes Whumpee’s hair from their forehead. Their skin is unnaturally hot under Caretaker’s touch. “Shit,” they murmur. “You’re burning up.”

“Don’t feel good,” Whumpee groans, their body twisting awkwardly like they’re trying to get up.

Caretaker stops them with a firm hand, laying them back down. “Don’t move, Whumpee. I’ve got you. We’re going to the hospital right now, okay? You’ll feel better soon.”

Whumpee doesn’t seem too convinced. “It hurts. Everything hurts.” Hot tears leak from their eyes, making streaks in the dirt caked on their cheeks. 

“I know. I’m sorry. We’re almost there.”

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Wow Birthday Whump Day 10

Prompt: Hypothermia / Heat flashes / “Bind them.” Additional Content: broken bones, kidnapping, bound and gagged

“Bind them.”

Whumpee starts struggling immediately, crying out as they try to get their broken legs under their body. “No!” they yell as Whumper’s friends grab them, pinning them to the freezing ground and binding their hands tightly behind their back.

They should be stronger than this. They should be able to put up more of a fight. But they’ve been out here in the cold for hours now, desperately trying to evade Whumper’s men. They’d exhausted themselves so much that they hadn’t even seen the ravine ahead of them before they were falling into it, landing awkwardly on their legs with a snapping sound.

A gag is forced between their teeth and a blindfold covers their eyes, rendering them helpless.

Things start to get blurry after that. Whumpee feels their weak body being lifted out of the ravine and into the back of some vehicle. The heat is on inside. It should be a relief to finally be warm again, but it just burns.

Whumpee is left laying on the floor of the vehicle as it starts moving. They’d stopped shivering a while ago, but now they’re wracked with full body shakes that just send pain shooting through their legs. The heat from the floor under them and from the air vents makes their head spin, dizzy and overwhelmed. 

“Stop,” they groan weakly, but they don’t even know what they’re asking for. To be cold again, maybe. They’d take frostbitten fingers over this hell any day.

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WoW Birthday Whump Day 11

Prompt: Used as bait / Held for ransom / “It’s a trap!” Additional Content: kidnapping, bound and gagged, drugged whumpee, guns

Whumpee can’t see anything through the blindfold, but they’d know the sound of Caretaker’s voice anywhere.

“Let them go.”

Whumpee tries to shake their head, but they feel so tired, so disconnected from their body. They’re not even sure if the movement happens at all.

“Do you have the money?” Whumper’s voice comes from right next to Whumpee, making them flinch a little.

A thumping sound. “It’s all there.”

Footsteps. The sound of little metal latches opening one-by-one. “Very good.”

“Now let them go.”

Ooh, Caretaker sounds angry. Angry enough to make stupid mistakes like they always do when Whumpee isn’t there to discourage them.

“In a moment, dear. Let me count it first.”

Alarm bells ring in Whumpee’s head as they listen to the crisp flipping of bills in Whumper’s hands.. They try to remember something Whumper had been saying to their henchmen earlier. Something about being ready to grab Caretaker… Shit.

“Caretaker!” Whumpee tries to talk through the gag in their mouth but it comes out muffled. “It’s a trap!”

An unseen hand strikes Whumpee across thier face. A henchman, perhaps? It makes Whumpee feel like their body is spinning on a spit, trapped forever in the momentum of the slap even though they know they’re stationary. Whatever drugs Whumper had given them must be really strong. Whumpee’s never felt this messed up before.

“Don’t hurt them!”

A click right next to Whumpee’s ear, then a sharp gasp from Caretaker.

A whispered voice. “One more word and I blow your little friend’s brains out.”

Silence from Caretaker.

“Good. Now, my friend here’s going to search you and then tie you up. Don’t move a muscle.”

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

So I am officially allowed to talk about my fantasy sapphic Winter Soldier book!* Feat: brainwashed assassins, awful lesbians, some terrible decisions made at magic college that have haunted everyone for several years, and being hopelessly in love with the worst person you could be in love with.

(*not actually Stucky, please do not expect the characters, it's just 'Winter Soldier' is my best shorthand for 'brainwashed superassassin who regular has their memory wiped and doesn't remember their complicated past' and one thing I've learned is that pitching vs setting expectations is hard)

It doesn't have a pub date yet - updates to follow on @everina-maxwell-updates when I have things like a cover and dates!

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"Please. I've told you everything I know." The prisoner tried to twist away from the interrogator's grip. "I swear, there's nothing else--please…"

"Good," the interrogator purred, tightening his grip on the prisoner's chin. "Now that I don't need to worry about damaging you too badly to talk, I can have some real fun with you."

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fiona

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WoW Birthday Whump Day 7

Prompt: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / “Is that blood?!”

“Whumpee…” Caretaker mumbles into their phone, squinting at the light-up clock on their nightstand. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hey, Caretaker. Yeah I know. I’m sorry. You just weren’t answering your door. Can you let me in?”

Caretaker sits up at that, wrapping their favorite blanket around their shoulders as they make their way out of their room and towards the door. “What do you mean? You’re at my place?”

Squinting out of the peephole, Caretaker can indeed see Whumpee standing there, dressed in only sweatpants and a black hoodie on a snowy night. Caretaker ends the call and opens the door.

“You idiot. Come inside right now.”

Whumpee’s hood is up, so Caretaker can’t see many of the details of their face, especially with their glasses still on the nightstand where they’d left them. Their face is scarily blank as they stumble inside, leaning heavily on the wall and just barely managing to kick off their soaked sneakers.

“Thanks, Caretaker. You’re the best,” Whumpee says, their words slurred.

Caretaker grabs their glasses as they lead Whumpee into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Then they busy themselves grabbing some clean towels down from the top shelf of their closet - pool towels, stuffed away for winter. Caretaker is in desprete need of doing laundry.

When they turn around and get a good look at Whumpee, they freeze.

“Look, it isn’t as bad as it-”

“Is that blood?!”

Whumpee blinks slowly before they shove their hands into their pockets, but Caretaker had already caught sight of their bruised and bloodied knuckles. “Probably…”

“Take your clothes off.”

Whumpee just stands there, not reacting. Caretaker closes in on them, not wasting time as they start trying to pull Whumpee’s hoodie off.

“Okay okay I’m doing it!” Whumpee groans, weakly shoving Caretaker away. “I can undress myself.”

Caretaker lets go of them with a sigh. Then they look down at their own hands.

Red.

“What happened?” Caretaker asks, their voice carefully even.

It takes too long but Whumpee finishes taking their hoodie off, leaving them in a white undershirt. It hadn’t been easy to see with the black fabric, but the blood stands out starkly now. There’s one spot in particular: a tear in the shirt where the surrounding material is absolutely soaked. Underneath, a glistening blackish-red wound.

“You’re hurt!”

“Huh?”

Whumpee looks down at themselves and they gasp. “Oh my god.”

Caretaker guides Whumpee to sit on the toilet, their hands shaking. They carefully pull Whumpee’s shirt up, revealing a shallow slash.

“Oh, shit,” Whumpee mumbles. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. It doesn’t hurt.”

Caretaker rushes to grab a clean towel and hold it tightly to the injury. “Hold this here. Tight.” Whumpee’s hand twitches but doesn’t take the towel. When Caretaker grabs onto their hand it’s icy cold. “Whumpee what the fuck?” they growl.

“You shoulda seen the other guy…” Whumpee sways slightly and Caretaker catches them awkwardly with their shoulder. 

“I think you’re going into shock or something. Just… hold on, okay? I’m gonna call for help.”

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Can you tell us about Aaron's last days? 🥺 Or maybe give us a little fluff moment before it all turned on him?!

In Aaron's last days, he'd completely checked out. Felix thought he was coming down with something because Aaron didn't move from his bed, didn't talk, didn't eat. He just kind of stared off into space 💔 He was just waiting for the moment 😭

BUT ANYWAY!!! kind of fluff - I think I've mentioned before that Aaron and Felix actually dated shortly like normal people before it all went down hill (normal people? Felix??? I know right! as normal as Felix can get rlly.) Here's a lil drabble of them at a fairground together 😌

-

"What should I call him?"

Aaron wrestles the enormous ginger teddy bear into a hug. It's way too big for him, but he doesn't care. It's his cuddly hostage he refuses to surrender. No-one has ever won a bear at the fairground for him before - his heart won't stop fluttering in his chest.

He was sure the stall was rigged. Those coconuts were not budging. After the fourth round, Aaron was convinced they were glued down. When Felix finally knocked them off by round five, albeit with a now empty wallet, Aaron felt his jaw hit the grass.

"I am not doing the winning AND the naming," Felix chuckles with a mouthful of candy floss, "you gotta pick up some of the slack here, baby."

Felix tosses his rubbish on the floor, much to Aaron's disapproval and a sharp side-eye, but all is forgiven as soon as Felix's arm slinks around his waist and reels him in, hip to hip. He presses his lips into a soft kiss to Aaron's temple, and now his stomach flutters with butterflies too.

Sometimes it all feels too good to be true. But Aaron shoves that voice deep down and buries it where it belongs. It's his self-saboteur trying to ruin something finally good.

"I think 'Calypso'..." Aaron contemplates," like the music they were playing at the stall."

"I think it's perfect, angel. Just like you," Felix purrs.

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May I request a supervillian who breaks their villian out of prison, and they do it in a flashy way?

Thank you

"Bit over the top, don't you think?"

There were a number of things that the villain could have pointed out.

The fact that the majority of the prison had been smothered in a rainbow glitter sort of concoction so sharp that it could pierce through the average guard's shoe. The fact that the whole place had been rigged to loudly play the supervillain's very own rendition of 'I want to break free' through the intercom system. The fact that, as they stepped out into the fresh air, a small jet was in the process of inking the supervillain's and villain's initials in the sky in a smoky black love heart.

It was difficult to manage any of it through the weird lump in their throat.

The supervillain had come for them.

"Eh," the supervillain shrug. "I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. Just wait until someone is someone is stupid enough to bleed on the glitter."

The villain raised an eyebrow.

"Boom," the supervillain said.

"...Huh."

The supervillain took their hand, oh so gently, leading them forwards to where the getaway car stood waiting. The courtyard was conspicuously quiet. Appallingly empty for such a high-profile breakout.

The villain didn't ask what the supervillain had done to everyone. Maybe everyone was just hiding it out until the supervillain was gone, in the wise way one might hide when Godzilla cruised past the office windows. It definitely seemed better not to ask.

"And what," the villain's heart hammered, as they slid gingerly into the backseat, "exactly was the idea? Just out of curiosity."

"That they can't take you, of course," the supervillain replied, as if it were oh so simple, so obvious, and not at all devastating. "That you're mine."

They followed the villain in and shut the door. They waved at the driver to go.

Warmth flushed through the villain.

They glanced back at the no-longer grey building where they thought they might just rot forever.

The supervillain had come for them.

"Huh," they managed. Their voice cracked.

"Do you think they got the message?" the supervillain asked, softly.

The villain glanced back, to find the supervillain already watching them - gaze intent. They still held the villain's hand, feather-light, thumb caressing where the villain's knuckles were beginning to bruise. As the villain looked on, the supervillain pressed the villain's hands to their lips in a kiss.

I'll come for you. Don't worry, I'll always come for you.

"Yeah." The villain allowed themselves to bury their face in their supervillain's neck, to melt into their beautiful monster. "I think they got it."

"Good."

The supervillain held them close all the way home.

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Find the Vibe: "I told you so."

I miss this game and found a draft of a(n apparent) tag on the old sideblog. Thus, I am bringing back Find the Vibe. (Not that it's gone. I'm sure it's floating around somewhere lol.)

Unfortunately, at the time, I didn't say who tagged me or where the post was. I tried to do detective work on blogs that I thought were likely to have tagged me around April 2023, and uh, idk. Curse you, past Kate. And my sincerest apologies to whomever tagged me. MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES TO ELLI @i-can-even-burn-salad, who was the tagger...apparently I am a terrible detective and should NOT quit my day job.

So we're just jumping in.

Rules: Find an excerpt from a work of your choice that fits the assigned vibe.

My vibe: "I told you so."

Your vibe: "I failed you."

From The Queen of Lies, far in the future:

“I’ve listened to you quite enough,” he said. “I can already tell you’re concocting another scheme, and now you want my help. I tell you, I want no part of it. Didn’t your last grand plan send you straight to the hospital? I warned you all it wouldn’t go as you expected. I warned you it would end in disaster.”

Gently tagging (no pressure): @kaylinalexanderbooks, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams,

@clairelsonao3, @pleasestaywithmedarling

@oh-no-another-idea, @actress4him + open tag ✨

Yep. It literally sat in my drafts, on my old blog, for a year. 😅

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“What’s the magic word?” For Felix

- @another-whump-sideblog

"What's the magic word?" Felix coos, his voice sickly-sweet. The riding crop traces down Josh's heaving, bare chest until the cold leather glides along his belly.

Josh cries out behind the gag, his eyes pooling with unshed tears. He furiously shakes his head 'no' but still tenses against his restraints in anticipation.

"Whoopsie," Felix chuckles to himself, pacing around Josh in circles until he arrives back in front and leans in close. The tips of their noses threatening to touch, "I forgot. You can't speak!"

The whip cracks sharply in the air and swiftly slaps against Josh's skin. A squeal echoes through the room and a red welt blossoms in it's wake.

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Presumed Dead

This might be a niche interest but personally I love when a kidnapped character has been mia for months, maybe even a few years, to the point when everyone else in their life has basically run out of gas trying to find them. They've tried everything. No leads. The authorities have stopped searching, everyone has called it quits. They've all mourned and grieved and cried, but basically they've all started trying to pick up the pieces and move on with their lives.

Only for the bad guy who captured the kidnapped character to whip them out as the ace up their sleeve in a negotiation when their own back is up against the wall. And not even prefacing it with a "Would you like your friend back?" or a "What would you do if I told you X was still alive?" Just showing up to the negotiation with X in tow, bound and gagged and in what is clearly an agonizing amount of pain, but somehow they're still breathing, after all this time...

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HEY love your writing! can you write a short story starting with “I hate sandwiches” and ending with “I hate sandwiches” :)

"I hate sandwiches."

I told you that the first time we met; you smiled, leaned in, and told me that was because I wasn't doing it right. But, that was okay, because you'd show me how.

First - good ingredients. Proper bread, that didn't limp around and crumble in your hand when you asked it to carry the weight you needed. Fillings that nourished your soul and strengthened your body. It had to taste good.

Second - balance. It was all about balance, you said. Not letting the flavours overpower each other. Not giving too much, or too little, in any particular bite.

"Too much cheese for me and my lactose intolerance might be just the right amount for you," you said. "That brings us to my third tenet of sandwich making."

"Oh?" I was already entranced, less by sandwiches, and more by you. Your hands worked deftly on the bakery counter and I lost all thoughts of walking away.

"A good sandwich is tailored. It is one of a kind. It is made with care and attention for the person it is intended for."

"And there was me thinking a sandwich was supposed to be low effort," I replied.

"It's easy," you said, "when you know what you want."

You handed me a plate.

Like a fairy's bargain, I was sold with a bite.

You made me a dozen sandwiches over the years; tucking them in my lunchbox, dashed off with a kiss on the train, on a lazy Sunday morning with tea and blankets and rain outside the window.

"The perfect sandwich," you said that first day, "is like the perfect relationship. It a holy grail of a sliding scale, going from terrible to paradise. But you don't write off sandwiches just because you haven't found the right one yet."

I stand at the kitchen counter. The sandwich sits before me, untouched and utterly perfect. It is a masterpiece.

But you are gone.

The tears burn my eyes, then. They throw off the balance. They wet the bread, leave it soggy and changed from what it once was.

From what we were.

So I say it, just to spite you. Like you could hear me. Like bread and butter alone were enough to summon you home.

"I hate sandwiches."

(But you are gone)

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Lofoten Island Norway by:

© Sebastien Nagy

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Changing my belief system from "this is the hill I'll die on" to "this is the hill I'll kill you on" has done absolute wonders for me 10/10 do recommend