andrcmedamn

[andrcmedamn]

Character A tilting Character B’s chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by B’s mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, B’s heart skips a nervous beat as A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.

“Who did this to you?”

[andrcmedamn]

The usually calm teammate snapping and slamming someone against the wall, screaming “you could have died! You could have died and then what? Do you know how much that would destroy me?” and breaking down

Oh that just gives me whumperflies!!

[andrcmedamn]

Vysthrain

Rowena lounges on her chaise, slowly sipping the chilled drink in her hand. Quickly melting ice cubes clink together against the edge of the glass, and a gentle current of air generated by woven fan blow on her face. It’s peaceful. 

She smiles as a roaring cheer comes up from the crowd. Her own private terrace from which she watches the arena matches is paved with smooth stones and mosaics and covered with awnings of draped cloth that provide shade to her and her favored guests. It’s removed enough from the rest of the seating to be private and safe, but with the best views of the sandy arena floor below.

Servants offer chilled drinks or sliced fruits in on gold platters. Some wave fans or adjust awnings to keep her and her guests in the shade as they watch the particularly bloody match down below. One lord looks sour, and Rowena knows why. Her champion is beating his into the ground and he can’t say an ill word of it in her presence. She smiles. As it should be. 

Pillows are piled on the ground next to her chaise where Vysthrain is sitting, leaned up against it. He tips his head back against her leg. “It’s hot-” A frown clouds his pretty face. “I’m hot.”

“I don’t see how you can be hot Vys”, Rowena says, sitting up slightly and gathering his long long hair into her lap. She starts to separate the strands into three heaps. “Not in what you’re wearing. Just get another drink. The weather isn’t unbearable today.”

Vys sighs and wipes the sweat beading at his forehead. He feels like he’s burning up. Lightheaded too. Maybe one too many drinks. “I think I’ll pass. Maybe slip out a bit early- there was someone I was going to meet. The fight is almost over anyway…”

Rowena tsks and continues playing with his hair. “I’m not finished here yet. You have so much hair, this is going to take me a while. Just sit and relax.”

Vys almost whines, but a sharp jeweled nail on his scalp reminds him that whatever the queen wants, that’s exactly what she gets. So he sits still and stays quiet, watching a fly buzz near the fruits. The faintness doesn’t pass, nor the headache growing behind his eyes. Even his thin breezy clothes feel much too sticky and restraining. It’s too hot for him, he now realizes. Too hot and dry. He licks his lips, wondering now much longer Rowena’s going to take as she lazily braids his long hair.

Finally she pats him on the head. “All finished. Now maybe that will help cool you off a bit.” Her smile is hard to read.

He smiles back in thanks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you your Majesty. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stands too quickly and almost blacks out, catching himself on a nearby lord. “Oh I’m so sorry”, he purrs, scrambling to recover himself. “I must have had one too many drinks.” He trails a hand down the lord’s chest and grins. “Now please excuse me, I had to be somewhere ten minutes ago.”

He quickly turns and hurries out the arched doorway and into the halls connecting the stifling hot hallway that will take him back to the palace. The heat is overbearing, too much for him. Fae aren’t meant for such conditions. 

Vys gasps for air as he leans on the wall and tries to think straight. He needs to get back to his rooms. The bath is cold there, it should help. Groaning, he starts down the hall again, the floor swimming in his vision. He’s not going to make it to his own room. But there’s a locker room near here, for the guards, with showers that he know’s how to get to quite well. He might be able to reach that. 

He stumbles forward until he finds the door and flings it open, grateful there’s no one currently here. Vys’ hands shake as he opens the valve to turn the shower on and sinks down, letting his forehead rest against his knees as the water sprays down on him. It comes out warm, but cools the longer its on. Water drips down his back and shoulders, slowly cooling his overheated body. Rowena knew exactly what she was doing when she kept him there longer, didn’t she.

[andrcmedamn]

Bad Things Happen Bingo fill #8 Prompt: Dehydration Requested by: @wildfaewhump Character(s): Jynx Word count: 1477

(read more for length)

The fist slams into Jynx’s jaw for the fourth time, snapping his head to the side again. Blood streams from his nose and a cut on his eyebrow. Bruises are already forming across his face to accompany the lovely black eye.

“You think you can just waltz in here and take what’s mine?!” The heavy fisted man shouts in Jynx’s face and he leans back against the other brute holding him up and spits blood to the side.

“Well yeah- it was just that easy”, Jynx grins, finding it harder to keep his eye open with how it was swelling shut.

“Not so easy the second time, is it?” The Foreman yells, outraged face looking about as purple as Jynx’s blackening eye. “We were ready for you.” He’s smug, clearly happy with himself for catching the slave-freeing thief. “And now we’re going to make an example of you.”

Keep reading

[andrcmedamn]

Whump Words #37:

“What are you running from?”

“…”

“Or who?”

[andrcmedamn]

For We Have No Free Will [Drabble]

Fate did not bend to his will like he had hoped. He tugged at the strings, letting them cut into his fingers. The blood felt wet yet dry, hot yet cold while it poured down to the land below.

Fate was an ugly shadow, rearing its head back, claws cutting away at hopeful wishes and using them to soften its bed.

It played with his dreams, as a cat would play with a feather.

It gleefully smiled, twisted and hungry, watching him struggle to tame it.

There was nothing he could do, for Fate had no master and only bleeding subjects.

[andrcmedamn]

Happy Birthday to my very good friend @ink-whiskey-seats. You were so kind and welcoming when I was first interested in the writeblr community and have continued to be an amazing friend. I could keep going for a long time 💜

This art is of Rowan, belonging to Cece and Dray, who belongs to me. I love them both so much and Cece wrote the most amazing fic of them. So this is me giving back. Happy birthday!

This is a gift for a friend. Please do not repost.

[andrcmedamn]

“You will build your path, But will simple perseverance overcome your fate written in the stars?”

- Risa, Goddess of the Stars

[andrcmedamn]

“ ‘I’m Anders Reyan. Welcome to the Resistance.’ 

That shit never gets old to Anders. Welcome to the Resistance. The look of hope shining in their eyes. More hope than Anders has left, but he’ll fight like hell to preserve it for them.”

-

Anders is the OC of the incredible @whump-sprite and takes up 80% of my brain space at any given moment

[andrcmedamn]

Consider this: Character A is bound, gagged and blindfolded and is precariously being held over the edge of the cliff by the collar of their shirt from Character B.

Character C (friend, teammate, loved one), is shoved onto their knees by Character D (Character B’s partner) and is forced to watch.

Character D then let’s go of C just as B let’s go of A. They run to catch A but their fingers just barely graze their shirt before A is falling. And C is forced to watch as A plummets to the water below. 

Being bound, gagged and unable to see... is it even possible they will survive?

[andrcmedamn]

The whumpee waking up in darkness and realizing they can’t move.

[andrcmedamn]

The whumpee is left in a room of mirrors most days. After torture and constant convincing they’re worthless and evil, they can’t take seeing themselves anymore. They break the mirrors with their bare hands, eventually sliding down the concrete wall, sobbing into their bleeding hands.

[andrcmedamn]

[andrcmedamn]

What if the situation and role were reversed in the interrogation room…

[andrcmedamn]

boy howdy

[andrcmedamn]

The teammate searching in the dark for something, sweeping their hands across the ground until they hit something. Then their fingers brush against fabric. They reach out and feel a figure, and find the whumpee unconscious. They can’t see, but they can feel blood trickling from wounds all over the whumpee.

[andrcmedamn]

The whumpee wakes up in a warm bed under a big blanket. They think it all must be a cruel dream or something devised by the whumper until the caretaker walks in and finds them awake.