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bbcmusketeerskinkWelcome to the BBC The Musketeers kink meme
The lowdown: You post your prompt, anon or not. Someone else will hopefully fill it (also anon or not). Not for profit, just for fun. And in this case, for king and country.
Anon is on, IP logging is off.
Rules:
No wank
No kink-shaming
Be respectful to everyone
The mod is not your babysitter
Use the warnings
No prompts with characters under the age of 16 in sexual situations, please.
Please keep the discussions in the prompt post to a minimum. We have a discussion post
Mandatory trigger warnings/warnings for both prompts and fills:
non-con/dub-con
abuse (physical and mental)
issues such as racism, sexism, homo-/trans-/-bi-/ace-phobia etc
character death
suicide
self-harm
eating disorders
extreme physical or mental illness
substance abuse (alcohol, drugs, medication)
bullying
gore and horror
If this list misses anything, do let me know, though please understand that if absolutely everything is added this list will never end.
You are encouraged and advised to add additional warnings at your own discretion.
Please make use of the subject line.
If your prompt alludes to the book or any of the other adaptations, please let us know which one.
Lastly, prompt freezes (which I have to say I’m really not fond of) etc will be at the mod’s discretion. I will decide on a prompt cut-off point for prompt posts once I know how fast the meme moves.
Announcement: A blanket spoiler warning is necessary for prompts pertaining to season 2. Just season 2 Spoilers in the subject line will do.
Archive:
https://delicious.com/bbcmusketeers
Discussion post:
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/557.html
Official fill post (I strongly suggest you use it for better visibility of your fills):
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/418.html
Mod contact post
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1356.html
Free For All Round 1
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1823.html
The lowdown: You post your prompt, anon or not. Someone else will hopefully fill it (also anon or not). Not for profit, just for fun. And in this case, for king and country.
Anon is on, IP logging is off.
Rules:
No wank
No kink-shaming
Be respectful to everyone
The mod is not your babysitter
Use the warnings
No prompts with characters under the age of 16 in sexual situations, please.
Please keep the discussions in the prompt post to a minimum. We have a discussion post
Mandatory trigger warnings/warnings for both prompts and fills:
non-con/dub-con
abuse (physical and mental)
issues such as racism, sexism, homo-/trans-/-bi-/ace-phobia etc
character death
suicide
self-harm
eating disorders
extreme physical or mental illness
substance abuse (alcohol, drugs, medication)
bullying
gore and horror
If this list misses anything, do let me know, though please understand that if absolutely everything is added this list will never end.
You are encouraged and advised to add additional warnings at your own discretion.
Please make use of the subject line.
If your prompt alludes to the book or any of the other adaptations, please let us know which one.
Lastly, prompt freezes (which I have to say I’m really not fond of) etc will be at the mod’s discretion. I will decide on a prompt cut-off point for prompt posts once I know how fast the meme moves.
Announcement: A blanket spoiler warning is necessary for prompts pertaining to season 2. Just season 2 Spoilers in the subject line will do.
Archive:
https://delicious.com/bbcmusketeers
Discussion post:
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/557.html
Official fill post (I strongly suggest you use it for better visibility of your fills):
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/418.html
Mod contact post
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1356.html
Free For All Round 1
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1823.html
5 times fic
Date: 2015-07-02 10:17 am (UTC)Such as 5 times that Athos and Porthos (d'artagnan) have to muddle through patching Aramis up when the medic is hurt on a mission and they don't really know what they are doing and really wish they'd paid more attention to what to do in the past?
And then obviously the one time they get it right?
Do as you will. Shameless punt for hurt Aramis really. Can be brotherhood, ot3, fluff or whatever really.
Re: 5 times fic
Date: 2015-07-02 11:44 am (UTC)Re: 5 times fic
Date: 2015-07-04 03:11 am (UTC)Re: 5 times fic
Date: 2015-07-05 07:17 pm (UTC)FILL: 5 times fic
Date: 2015-07-16 10:39 pm (UTC)*
1. D’Artagnan and the unwanted anatomy lesson
D’Artagnan hums out a long shaky breath and looks worryingly green around the gills. Aramis gives him a concerned look.
‘Alright?’
‘Um, yeah. Yeah.’ He swallows and shoots a quick glance back down the street.
‘D’Artagnan – ‘
He grimaces and attempts a neutral expression that is less than convincing. ‘It’s fine. It looks fine.’
Aramis has to grit his teeth quite hard not to growl in frustration because it doesn’t feel fine. An encounter with a particularly vicious street gang on patrol resulted in a brief but intense fight, and though Aramis and d’Artagnan emerged the victors – more or less – being yanked from his horse has left Aramis with a sickly hot ache in his shoulder, and apparently it looks so distorted it’s making d’Artagnan feel sick.
D’Artagnan squares his jaw and raises both hands. ‘Sorry. I’m ready, tell me again.’
Aramis tells him, and d’Artagnan reaches at last for the arm that’s dangling heavy and useless at his side. Then he stops.
‘Aramis – it’s not that I don’t want to help but don’t you think I’ll make it worse?’
‘I have every confidence in you,’ Aramis grates out.
‘It’s… the bones are all out of…’ D’Artagnan gives another wretched glance to the back of Aramis’ shoulder.
‘It’ll be fine. Just grip, like I told you…’
D’Artagnan gives him another doubtful look.
‘You saw me set Athos’ shoulder two months ago.’
‘Yeah, but that was…’
Aramis breathes out carefully, eyes on the roof line opposite. D’Artagnan takes hold of his wrist with clammy hands.
‘Aramis?’
‘Mm?’
‘I didn’t really watch you setting Athos’ shoulder.’
‘Ah.’
‘Sorry…’
Aramis grunts and shuffles a little more upright.
‘It’s easy. You’re just going to pull, as hard as you can, until it moves back in.’
‘I’ll pull your arm off.’
‘We’ll risk it.’
D’Artagnan gives him a doubtful look, and Aramis returns a smile so strained he can feel it tight in his cheeks; it seems to unsettle d’Artagnan even further.
‘Alright, you look awful. Does it really hurt that much? Don’t answer that.’
Aramis just breathes. D’Artagnan shuffles himself into position and braces his foot against Aramis’ ribs. ‘Just pull?’ he asks again.
‘Mm.’ Aramis concentrates on gritting his teeth and keeping his tongue well back out of their way.
‘Are you ready?’
‘D’Artagnan, please –‘
‘Right.’ There’s another three-second pause as d’Artagnan nods grimly to himself, and then he pulls hard on Aramis’ arm, and the pain wrenches hot and sickly from his shoulder right across his ribcage and up to the base of his skull. D’Artagnan falters in alarm at the keening noise he can’t stifle, but remembers his instructions and doesn’t stop. The blank, white-hot moment stretches out, Aramis is certain he will pass out, and then the bones shift around one another and he grunts, harshly, and the pain recedes to a dull ache with sudden, unlooked-for mercy.
Aramis pants, eyes closed, five harsh breaths before he can gasp, ‘thank you.’
D’Artagnan scrambles away from him abruptly and Aramis hears the unmistakeable sound of him losing his breakfast in the gutter.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, wiping his mouth on his wrist as he shuffles back to his side.
‘It’s – fine. You alright?’
‘I should be asking you that,’ d’Artagnan says sheepishly.
‘I’m much better.’
D’Artagnan huffs out a relieved breath. ‘Never make me do that again,’ he says fervently.
‘I’m in no great hurry to repeat the experience myself,’ Aramis says, carefully levering himself to his feet. He’ll get Porthos to help him make a sling when they get back, for now, he just tucks his arm inside his jacket to keep it steady. He offers his good hand to d’Artagnan to pull him to his feet; d’Artagnan gives him a sceptical look and hauls himself up using the wall instead. Aramis pats him on the shoulder, partly to reassure him, and partly to irritate him into releasing some tension.
‘Fine job, d’Artagnan. Perhaps you have a talent for doctoring. Would you like to be my apprentice?’
D’Artagnan shakes him off grumpily but does look a little less pale. ‘I’d rather eat my own eyeballs, Aramis, thanks.’
Aramis would shrug, but it’s not a good idea just now.
Re: FILL: 5 times fic 2/5
Date: 2015-07-17 08:24 pm (UTC)Chapter 2: Porthos and the barbarism of needlework
Porthos sets his jaw firmly, gripping Aramis’ shoulder in support with his eyes fixed on the horizon. Ostensibly to check if anyone’s still following them. Actually, because he’s already having to breathe very cautiously to keep the nausea in check. If he looks, he’s going to lose his breakfast all over Aramis, and Aramis complains enough already about keeping contaminants away when somebody gets wounded.
He’s listening carefully, though, as Aramis hisses a breath in, concentrating, and hums it out, a little shaky. He feels the shudder run through his friend’s body, and then hears his soft curse.
‘Pass me that…’ Aramis whispers, and Porthos hands him the cloth without looking. He feels Aramis shift to wipe his hands and then delicately pick up the needle again.
‘Alright?’
‘Fine.’
A few moments’ silence, but Porthos is pretty sure the shaking is getting worse.
‘Shit. I can’t.’
Porthos clenches his fist and turns to look at him. Aramis returns the gaze, pale and apologetic, and brandishes the curved needle at him with bloody fingers. Porthos’ stomach flips over unpleasantly.
‘Sorry, Porthos. My- my hands…’
His fingers are trembling badly, and Porthos takes the needle from him before he can drop it.
‘Can it wait till we get back to the Garrison?’ he asks wretchedly, seeing his answer in his friend’s pallor.
Aramis winces and glances down at himself and starts to say, ‘Of course…’
Porthos shakes his head angrily. ‘Would you let it wait if it was me bleeding?’
Aramis gives him a faint, stupid grin. ‘Well, I’d stitch it if it were you bleeding. If my damned fingers would co-operate…’
‘I can do it.’
‘Porthos, you look sick as a dog.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
He swallows, and makes himself look at the cut on Aramis’ leg. ‘Jesus. You’re going to sit real still and talk me through it, right? Because you know I hate this.’
Aramis hums agreement, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt now he’s relinquished the needle because god forbid they could ever be still.
‘It’s not the blood,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Seen you pick up a man’s arm for him when it was blown clean off, you didn’t blink.’
‘No, it’s not the blood, I’ve been a soldier nearly as many years as you, you think blood bothers me? It’s, I don’t know, the needle. Sewing up people, it’s fucking heathen.’ He squints at the needle dubiously, breathing very carefully through his nose. ‘And I don’t have your delicate girl’s fingers, needlework’s not my thing.’
‘We could just bind it,’ Aramis says quietly.
‘Fuck you, we’re not doing that. Bleeding everywhere.’
Aramis nods obediently and leans back on his hands. ‘Alright then. I’ve already cleaned it. Soak the needle and thread in a bit of that brandy.’
‘You don’t wanna drink the brandy?’ he croaks, glancing up at Aramis.
‘Best not. Makes you bleed faster.’
‘Alcohol? We better be dead careful with Athos, then.’
‘Quite so.’
Gingerly he picks up the needle and pours brandy over it, the alcohol cool on his fingers.
‘You need to tie something around above the wound to keep the bleeding down while you stitch it.’
Porthos carefully lays the needle down and unbuckles his own belt to loop around Aramis’ leg. He winces at the pressure, but doesn’t move.
‘Bit tighter. That’s fine.’
Porthos just nods. Now he’s looking at the needle, he’s not going to open his mouth unless he absolutely has to.
Aramis’ voice stays very steady as he gives instructions, though his face does tighten when Porthos has actually stuck the needle into him he doesn’t for a moment stop talking. Porthos just grunts acknowledgements and tries to let Aramis’ words go straight to his fingers without passing through his brain, doesn’t want to let himself think I’m pushing a needle into my best mate’s leg, because if he thinks it he doesn’t think he can do it any more.
The end result, when it is finally over with, is not what you’d call tidy. Porthos rinses the stitched wound with watered down brandy and wipes his hands off on Aramis’ sash (which is already ruined with blood, so a little more makes no difference). Aramis winces when he loosens the belt around his leg, but he’s still sitting upright and still watching him closely, so he seems alright.
‘S’a bit messy. Might be a scar,’ Porthos mumbles, focusing hard on his hands and willing them not to shake.
‘Scars can be very useful,’ Aramis says thoughtfully, and then waits for him to look up before grinning like an idiot. Porthos still feels a bit wobbly in the stomach, but Aramis' stupid grin is infectious.
'Useful,' he mutters, mostly to himself. 'There's something wrong with you.'