bbcmusketeerskink

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round 1

Round 1

Welcome 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

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.

Rule addition: No more discussions on the prompt post. If you want to discuss something, we have a discussion post. If you want to wank about a prompt, that's not what the discussion post is for. That's what your scroll bar and that little red x in the top corner of your browser is for.

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

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Somehow their youngest member gets turned even younger,like two or three and forgets everything he learned after that age. Including how to speak French.

Also, like a lot of kids do, he has a habit of wandering off the second no one's looking at him.

"WHERE IS HE?"

"Who?"

"D'ARTAGNAN!"

"Relax, he's just over- OH MY GOD WHERE IS HE!!?!?!?"

OP Again: extra note about D'Artagnan not speaking French, I meant at that age he only speaks Gascon :)

I WANT THIS SO BAD! Aramis may have done okay with a baby, but babies can't go that far. And just how cute little d'Artagnan would be.

I need this like burning!

They scoffed at the idea of witches. That might have been a mistake. Scratch that, it was a terrible error on their part! But how were they to know that the woman they'd been sent to evict off of the King's hunting ground was an honest to god witch? Plenty of people called women witches when things didn't go their way, but having a bit of coincidental misfortune befall you would have been more welcome than this.

"This defies the laws of nature. The laws of god. Everything!" Aramis declared as he held D'Artagnan out in front of him. D’Artagnan giggled and kicked his feet. He was considerably smaller than when they'd gone to bed last night. In fact, last night, D'Artagnan had long since hit puberty. Now he was all of two years old and naked as the day he was born as his clothes did not shrink down with him. He'd wiggled out of them and went wandering around the rented room, eventually waking the rest of them when he went tugging on Aramis's mustache. Now that the initial bout of panic had died down, they were left with Aramis dangling the young dark haired child in front of him, staring in both wonder and horror.

"Yes, we are aware of that," Athos said. "The question is, how do we fix it?"

Porthos shrugged. "We've got to find that batty witch and get her to take it back."

"She escaped from us, remember? We lost her in the woods," Aramis said.

"Which is why we'll simply have to go back and search again. Perhaps she returned to her hut," Athos said.

"Or maybe she hopped on her broomstick and flew away," Porthos suggested.

"Not helpful!" Aramis insisted.

D'Artagnan, tired of all this talking, began to squirm and look around. "Mama," he said.

The three elder Musketeers froze. This could be trouble.

"Mama?" He chirped again.

"Sorry little guy. Your mama isn't here," Porthos said.

D'Artagnan pouted and babbled something in Gascon.

"Shit, he's from Gascony. He probably can't speak proper French yet. Aramis, you're the language man. Explain it to him," Porthos said.

"I only know a few bits and pieces. Surely not enough to explain such a complicated thing as the lack of his mother and being cursed by a witch. That's if he'd even understand, which he will not. We are only in for tears from here on out."

And indeed, tiny D'Artagnan began to truly fuss and squirm and whimper before it turned into a full on wail. They winced.

"Do something!" Porthos said.

"Do what?" Aramis demanded.

"Well first of all, you might not hold him like a sack of potatoes," Athos said, moving forward to scoop the child out of Aramis's hands. He settled him onto his hip and bounced him lightly there. "There there," he said softly. "Mama is not here. But we will take care of you for now." It took a few minutes, but finally, D'Artagnan quieted and pushed his face into Athos's shoulder where he sniffled quietly now and then and refused to look out again.

Porthos blinked. "Right then. Didn't know you had it in you," he said.

Athos shrugged, because frankly, he hadn't known either. He had figured Aramis to be the baby charmer, just as he charmed women. "At any rate, we'll need to find some clothes for him. Aramis, you go see if you can get something for him to wear. Porthos, food if you will. Then we can see about finding this witch and reversing her spell."

Love this!!! Can't wait for more.

eeh, this is already wonderful. an't wait to see where this is going!

Awesome! I can't wait for more!

(N'aww at Athos being all awesome with cuddly baby d'Artagnan! *heart melts*)

As the other two went about their tasks, Athos picked up a blanket from the bed to swaddle the boy in until they could get him clothed. "Charles?" He said quietly, stroking D'Artagnan's dark hair. It had taken him a few moments to remember D’Artagnan’s given name as they never used it. But a boy this young would probably not react the same to his surname.

The boy pulled back enough to peer at Athos curiously. Athos smiled softly. "Charles, my name is Athos."

D'Artagnan tilted his head. "A-hos," he repeated.

"Yes, that's right. Athos. I'll be taking care of you for a while. Until we find your mother."

"Mama," D'Artagnan said mournfully.

The sound broke his heart, what little there was left of it. There would be no reuniting the boy with his mother, but hopefully, they could get him back to his proper age and body. Luckily, Porthos lumbered in with a great tray of food, distracting D’Artagnan from his sorrow.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, turning so the boy could watch Porthos set the food on the small table in the room. "Would you like food?"

"Poma! Poma!" He cried, reaching out towards the tray.

"Want an apple?" Porthos asked, holding up a nice shiny red one.

"Does he have enough teeth to eat that?" Aramis asked skeptically as he slipped into the room with a simple child sized gown.

"I think it's best that you cut it up for him," Athos said to Porthos before looking at Aramis. "That's it?"

"The innkeeper said a previous guest left it here so we were free to keep it, but for anything more we'll need to go to the market. This is perfectly acceptable childwear," Aramis said, carrying the linen gown over.

"Yes, I am aware of what children wear. The problem is, we will be putting this particular child on a horse and tramping about the woods on a literal witch hunt. Breeches and shoes might be a good idea," Athos said, accepting the gown. He moved to set D'Artagnan on the bed. "There we go. Let's get you dressed."

D'Artagnan wasn't so keen on the idea of getting dressed. He flopped back onto the bed and began to kick his feet and wiggle around.

“I hear them country boys like to be wild and free,” Porthos offered helpfully as he came over with a slice of apple. “Here now darling, if you let Athos dress you, I’ll give you your apple.”

D’artagnan babbled at them and reached for the apple.

“Ah ah, clothes first,” he said, pointing to the gown.

D’Artagnan whined and rolled around, but eventually allowed Athos to pull the gown over his head.

“Good boy,” Porthos encouraged, handing him the apple slice. D’Artagnan was quick to stuff it into his mouth and hold his hand out for another.

“Charles. His name is Charles,” Athos said.

D’Artagnan looked up at him curiously at the use of his name.

“Charles huh? Cute little thing,” he said as he held out another apple slice.

D’Artagnan took the slice of fruit and began to nibble on it.

“This is Porthos,” Athos said, pointing to Porthos.

“Mmm,” D’artagnan agreed, studying Porthos, who grinned at him. “Corsari.”

Aramis snorted. “He just called you a pirate!”

“Mmm,” D’Artagnan mumbled around his apple slice. “Corsari.”

Porthos laughed. “Ain’t the worst thing I’ve ever been called.” He patted D’Artagnan’s head.

Aramis moved into D’Artagnan’s line of view. “And I am Aramis,” he said, pointing to himself.

D’Artagnan held up a hand, opening and closing it.

“He’s waving at me,” Aramis said, grinning.

“Poma ‘Mis! Poma,” D’Artagnan insisted, still opening and closing his hand.

Porthos smirked. “Nah, he’s just hungry.” He handed over another apple slice.

“At least he got part of my name right Corsari,” Aramis said, punching Porthos in the arm.

~~~

A/N: I've found an Occitan dictionary and Gascon is considered a dialect of Occitan. I've peppered the fic with a few words from that dictionary and hopefully they are not wrong. If they are, sorry!

This is utterly adorable I cannot wait for more!!

Amazing!!! Can't wait for more....

this is so cuuuuute <3

Once they’d all eaten, they took D’Artagnan to the market where they found a small stall of second hand clothing to sort through. There was no sense in getting anything extravagant if they hoped to have him whole again by the end of the day.

“Will this fit?” Porthos asked, pulling up a small pair of breeches.

Aramis looked. “He’ll swim in it. They’re far too large,” he said.

“It’s hard to judge his size. Put him down so I can hold this up to him,” Porthos said to Athos.

Athos sighed and set D’Artagnan down on his feet, holding his hand while Porthos began to hold up various pairs of breeches against him, all of them too big.

“Maybe I should be in charge of the breeches and he of the shoes,” Aramis said.

“You haven’t found any shoes either,” Athos pointed out.

“Nor have you,” Aramis said sulkily.

“I’m holding him,” Athos said.

“You can hold him and help,” he muttered as he tried to find two matching shoes, let alone two of the proper size.

D’Artagnan began to tug on Athos’s hand, pointing at something on the road that had caught his eye. “Not now Charles,” Athos said.

“Ahos!” D’Artagnan said, looking up at him pleadingly. “Gat!”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he reached to pick D’Artagnan up again.

“No!” D’Artagnan said, moving away.

“Charles,” Athos said, holding out the hand not holding onto D’Artagnan.

“No!” He said, tugging on his hand. “Gat.” He pointed back to the road.

Athos looked, spotting a kitten hiding under a cart selling potatoes. “I see it, but we cannot visit it now.” Besides, it probably had fleas and he really didn’t want to deal with that now.

D’Artagnan whined and Athos shook his head. That only made the whine get louder.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, let him see the cat.” Aramis thrust a pair of mismatched shoes into Athos’ free hand. “You find the shoes and I’ll take the little one to see the mangy cat.” He took D’Artagnan’s hand. “Come darling, let’s go see this cat.”

D’Artagnan looked up at him in shock before perking up. “Gat?”

Aramis smiled. “Yes. Now up we go.” He picked D’Artagnan up, swinging him onto his hip before he strode over to the cart and crouched down where they tried to coax that cat out.

Athos sighed as he watched them, then looked at the shoes in his hand. He tossed them both in the pile and began to search for something small enough to cover the boy’s feet.

After a few minutes of searching, he was able to find a matching pair of slippers that looked small enough for D’Artagnan. He turned to find Aramis and saw him flirting with a cart vendor. What he didn’t see was D’Artagnan. “Aramis!” He barked. “Where is D’Artagnan?”

Aramis turned quickly. “It’s all right. He’s right-” Aramis froze as he looked down. “He was right here!”

Athos was quick to drop the shoes and sprint over to the cart. Aramis had already gotten on his knees and crawled under the cart in search of their tiny companion.

“I swear he was right here!” Aramis cried even as Athos began looking around the cart.

“Why wouldn’t you keep a hold of him?” Athos demanded.

“The lovely Mademoiselle began to ask questions about him,” Aramis said as he crawled out from under the cart. “He’s not under here! Where could he have gone? I took my eyes off of him for a second!”

“That’s all it takes for a child to disappear! This marketplace is busy. What if someone’s carried him off? Or if he gets underfoot of a carriage? Then what?” Athos demanded.

“Oh God!” Aramis said, looking sick at the thought of it.

“Oh God indeed. Quickly, we must find him!”

---

A/N: A little cliffhanger for you. D: Promise I'll get the next part up soon, maybe later today :)

Yes, please more!
It may take just a second for a child to disappear but it takes even less to get d'Artagnan into trouble. :D Aramis should have known.^^

safghsfajg OH NO.

And thus began ten minutes of heart pounding terror, the most that they’ve ever had in their entire careers as Musketeers. Looking for a small child was no easy task. There were so many more places for a child to crawl into than they realized. They were left to peer into them all while calling for the boy. In the end, they weren’t even the ones to find him. It was a baker’s boy that eventually walked out of a stone building with the child on his hip. D’Artagnan was happily munching on a croissant with one hand and patting the baker boy’s floury hair with the other.

Athos spotted them and jogged over. “Charles!” He cried breathlessly.

D’Artagnan pulled the treat from his mouth and grinned at him. “Ahos,” he said.

“Does he belong to you Monsieur?” The baker’s boy asked.

“Yes, yes he does,” Athos said, reaching out to take the child. “Thank you so much.” He reached for his purse, but Porthos was there putting a few coins into the boy’s hand, worth far more than the croissant that D’Artagnan was eating.

“Thank you for your help,” Porthos said.

The flour coated boy looked up at them, wide eyed. “Th-thank you sirs,” he stammered.

Porthos grinned and nodded at the lad before turning to Athos and their tiny charge. “Charles. That was very bad,” he said. “You can’t run off like that.”

“Mmm,” D’Artagnan hummed agreeably as he resumed eating his croissant, sprinkling Athos liberally with flakey crumbs.

“That’s it. We can never let his feet touch the ground again. Forget shoes, we’ll carry him everywhere,” Aramis declared.

“Says the one who lost him,” Porthos replied with a frown.

“Fine, you hold him next!” Aramis said, frustrated.

“Gentlemen,” Athos purred in a voice that sent shivers down their spines. “You’re frightening D’Artagnan. Perhaps you can save this squabble for later?” He raised an eyebrow as he stroked D’Artagnan’s hair comfortingly where he’d burrowed into Athos’s neck.

Porthos coughed. “Of course. Sorry bout that.”

Athos nodded. “Let’s just get these clothes and get back to the woods.”

They all nodded in agreement and went back to the booth to find D’Artagnan some clothes.

The woman manning the used clothing stall seemed to have taken mercy on them after the incident of losing D’Artagnan. She’d collected together a small set of slippers, a pair of breeches and a shirt with trailing strips of fabric. “Perhaps Messieurs would like to use this shirt?”

Athos nodded gratefully.

“What are the sashes for?” Porthos asked, picking one up.

“They’re leading strings Monsieur. You hold them so the child will not wander off.” She looked at Aramis, who had the grace to blush. “Most parents know these things. I take it none of you are his father.,” she said, looking them over.

“No, we’ve just inherited the lad for a few days,” Porthos said.

The woman nodded and accepted the money Aramis handed over. It took a few more minutes to urge D’Artagnan into the new clothes, but once they had him dressed, D’Artagnan seemed pleased with his new outfit and strutted about for them as Athos held onto the leading strings.

---

A/N: Yes, even in the olden days, they made leashes for kids. XD
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leading_strings

Aww so glad they found him! Charles is so cute!

Awwww :) Toddlers are way harder than babies!

Fantastic! I cannot wait to see the next part! :D

Are you ever going to finish this? Now that it's 2016 and I haven't seen this over at Archive Of Our Own Either. It's really good. I wish you'd continue it.
Debbie

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Round 1

Gen OT4 bromance They have to take care of a deaged d'artagnan

Re: Gen OT4 bromance They have to take care of a deaged d'artagnan

Re: Gen OT4 bromance They have to take care of a deaged d'artagnan

Re: Gen OT4 bromance They have to take care of a deaged d'artagnan

Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 1/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 1/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 1/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 1/?

Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 2/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 2/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 2/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 2/?

Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 3/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 3/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 3/?

Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 4/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 4/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 4/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 4/?

Re: Fill: Never Scoff at Witches 4/?