#whumptober17

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #17: Field Care 101

Option: “Please don’t move!”

“Please, don’t move.” A pleads under their breath as B crumples to the floor. 

The fight had been brutal, and the second B got knocked down and out, A prayed that they didn’t move. There was one rule about this place; if you could move, you could fight. The opposing brute stomped forward and thrust its club into B’s ribs. 

Nothing. 

It snorted and moved away, allowing guards to swoop in and drag B across the sand. Tracks of blood etched a map back to their cell, and B was dumped at A’s feet, bleeding and unconscious, but alive. 

“Don’t move…” a utters once more, kneeling over them to check for any serious injury as a result of the fight. 

Back in the arena, another battle had already begun.

[alipeeps]

INKtober Day 1 - using Whump Prompts

[classicwhump]

WHUMPTOBER17

Day 1- ‘On Their Knees’

“HEY, STELLA!!!!!!!”

Drunk and calling for his wife, Stanley falls to his knees in sorrow, this scene was a joy to gif, Marlon Brando is truly a great actor and has a wonderful physique.

[that-hurts]

Whumptober day 1 - On their knees

--as I couldn't pick a fandom without ending up in proper fic mode, I went with anonymous whumpee instead. So pick your favorite male whumpee!--

**

How long had he been running? The sky was dark and the sounds of pursuit had faded long ago. Only his fear had pushed him on, and that could only carry him so far.

His body gave out at last, and he stumbled gracelessly the last few steps to the nearest tree. With a groan, he slumped heavily against it. His sides and chest burned and ached. His vision swam as he tried to focus back on the way he had come.

Though his body shook, he didn't feel the cold. He wasn't sure he could even feel his legs. They didn't seem to be working in any case. The bark of the tree scraped roughly against his skin as he sank involuntarily to his knees and onto the wet leaves and mud below.

[vintagewhump]

Inktober Day 1: On their Knees

Nick Barkley (The Big Valley) hit with a rifle, then falling to his knees.

[talvenhenkidraws]

Inktober day 30: A shoulder to cry on

Sometimes, especially after Savoy, a little bit of comfort is needed. Luckily Porthos is always there to give it.

Shh, there’s nothing anatomically wrong here, ok

[kittyfeli]

Jour 24 - Noyade

Theme given by @whumpreads for Inktober 2017!

[ CW : Underage / Relation prof - élève ]

De l’air.

Il lui fallait de l’air.

Leonhard ne savait plus pourquoi, mais il lui fallait de l’air. Rapidement.

Lorsqu’il ouvrit finalement les yeux, tout n’était que ténèbres, autour de lui. Son corps, frigorifié, semblait s’enfoncer sans fin dans les abysses les plus profondes. Il ne pouvait pas bouger, comme retenu par des centaines d’étreintes invisibles l’entraînant dans sa chute. Son visage entouré de fines mèches dorées se releva, se posant sur cette surface si lointaine, s’éloignant de plus en plus. Parfois, de petites bulles l’effleuraient, en remontant vers cet endroit inatteignable. Bien que l’air lui manquât, il ne trouvait pas cette sensation si désagréable que cela. En vérité, il n’arrivait plus à penser à quoi que ce soit, ne pouvant se concentrer que sur ses environs, sans vraiment se poser de questions.

Il ferma les yeux, puis les rouvrit. Il ne cherchait pas à comprendre pourquoi il semblait en train de se noyer, alors que son corps refusait de se débattre, d’activer ses instincts de survie. Est-ce que cela signifiait qu’il était déjà mort ? Vivait-on infiniment ce qui nous avait tué, lorsque tel était le cas ? Si oui, il trouvait l’au-delà bien effrayant… Enfin, s’il avait été en mesure de raisonner, il l’aurait sans doute qualifié comme tel. Ici, il n’avait qu’à se laisser sombrer, de plus en plus profondément, sans y réfléchir. Est-ce que ses pieds finiraient par toucher le fond, ou quelque chose ?

Il s’apprêta à laisser tomber, et à se laisser sombrer pour de bon, lorsqu’il sentit quelque chose se saisir de son poignet, sans parvenir à distinguer ce que cela pouvait être, alors que cela se trouvait à seulement quelques centimètres de son visage. Puis, son bras se leva, et, par la force de ce qui le tenait, il commença à se faire tirer, remontant soudainement vers cette surface tant désirée, à une vitesse fulgurante. La lumière se rapprochait, peu à peu, le forçant à plisser les paupières afin de ne pas se retrouver ébloui par son intensité. L’eau l’entourant glissait le long de sa peau, ne pouvant le retenir davantage.

Et, finalement, sa tête retrouva l’air libre. Tout n’était que blanc, bordé d’une aveuglante luminosité, mais il s’en moquait. Il pouvait respirer. Il prit une grosse bouffée d’air.

 *

 « Votre Altesse, ouvrez les yeux ! »

 Plusieurs pressions furent exercées sur sa poitrine, d’une force imposante. Puis, il sentit de délicates lèvres effleurer les siennes, avant que de l’air ne soit enfin transmise à ses poumons en plein repos. Ceux-ci semblèrent se tordre, comme si quelque chose n’allait pas. Nouvelles pressions. Un jet remonta le long de sa gorge, arrivant à sa bouche, le faisant tousser afin de l’expulser, retrouvant soudainement une autonomie respiratoire. Ses paupières se soulevèrent lentement, ses pupilles devant se réhabituer à la lumière du Soleil sur le moment.

 « Votre Altesse ! »

 Il ne parvenait pas encore à voir la personne, mais il reconnaissait cette voix. La présence de cet individu à ses côtés le fit sourire, même s’il ne saisissait pas encore bien la situation dans laquelle il se trouvait.

Lorsque sa vision fut apte à fonctionner correctement de nouveau, il put voir ce visage enfantin, au-dessus de lui, l’observant de cet air stoïque habituel. Son professeur particulier, Heine. Derrière lui, soucieux, se tenaient ses trois frères, Kai, Bruno et Licht, dont les visages s’illuminèrent de soulagement lorsque Leonhard émergea des ténèbres. Ce dernier se redressa afin de s’asseoir, prenant plusieurs grandes inspirations afin de satisfaire ses poumons affamés.

Combien de temps était-il resté inconscient ? Il regarda le petit étang où lui, ses frères et son professeur s’étaient rendus, dans la journée, afin de se balader un peu. Il avait basculé en avant, en voulant attraper une libellule, et, surpris, n’avait pu que paniquer, jusqu’à commencer à se noyer. Il remarqua d’ailleurs qu’il demeurait trempé lorsqu’un froid mordant s’empara de lui, le faisant violemment frémir. Heine n’était pas sec non plus. Heureusement qu’il se trouvait là, et qu’il avait pu voler à son secours avant que quelque chose de grave n’arrive. Bien sûr, il se doutait que, dans le cas contraire, Kai aurait certainement remplacé le petit professeur, afin de sortir Leonhard de ce mauvais pas.

 « Grand frère, tu m’as fait peur ! s’écria soudainement Licht, en se jetant sur l’intéressé.

- Ah ! »

 Il ne s’était pas attendu à se faire étreindre de la sorte, et, malgré l’eau s’écoulant le long de ses membres, il posa une main sur le crâne du plus jeune, caressant délicatement ses longs cheveux blonds.

 « Désolé de vous avoir inquiété.

- Ce n’est rien, Votre Altesse. Je suis soulagé de vous savoir en vie. Cependant, je vous demanderai de vous montrer plus prudent, la prochaine fois.

- Oui, désolé. »

 Bruno et Kai opinèrent, et Licht se releva en entraînant son frère avec lui. Par la suite, Heine suggéra de rentrer au palais, afin que Leonhard puisse se remettre de ses émotions, prendre une douche, et se changer, s’il voulait éviter de tomber malade suite à cette mésaventure.

 *

 Le reste de la journée se déroula plutôt tranquillement. Les princes vaquèrent à leurs occupations habituelles. Après avoir enfilé des vêtements secs, le jeune maladroit avait demandé à ce qu’on lui apporte une sachertorte, son gâteau préféré, préparé à l’aide de chocolat et de confiture d’abricot. Il l’avait patiemment dégusté, repensant à la chance qu’il avait eu de pouvoir rester en vie, malgré l’incident. Cette réflexion lui donna le vertige, lui faisant réaliser à quel point la vie était une chose précieuse.

Une autre chose lui trottait en tête cependant. Cette sensation qu’il avait éprouvée lors du bouche à bouche avec son professeur. Pourquoi est-ce que cette simple pensée suffisait à le mettre dans tous ses états, faisant s’empourprer son visage ? Les lèvres d’Heine… Ses fins doigts se posèrent sur les siennes, les effleurant pensivement. Qu’est-ce qui clochait, chez lui ?

Le soir venu, alors qu’il s’était glissé dans sa légère robe de chambre en dentelles blanches, et s’était apprêté à se mettre au lit, quelqu’un avait frappé à sa porte. Assis sur le rebord de son matelas, il indiqua à la personne d’entrer. Quelqu’un qui venait prendre de ses nouvelles ? La poignée de porte sphérique tourna, laissant entrer son professeur, Heine, portant toujours sa tenue de cours, malgré l’heure tardive. Le blond l’accueillit avec un petit sourire, tandis que le rouquin avança jusqu’à lui, s’inclinant légèrement en arrivant à sa hauteur.

 « Prince Leonhard, je venais voir si vous vous étiez remis de cette journée.

- Oui, je vais bien !

- Voilà qui me rassure. »

 Un petit silence s’installa entre les deux, qui se regardaient mutuellement, sans bouger. La sensation lors du CPR revint à Leonhard, qui s’en retrouva instantanément gêné, d’autant plus devant la personne concernée. Celle-ci poussa un petit soupir, avant de se retourner.

 « Bien, dans ce cas, je vais me retir—

- Heine, attendez, le retint Leonhard. J’ai… Quelque chose à vous demander.

- Mh ? »

 L’intéressé reposa ses prunelles ambrées sur son étudiant, attendant que celui-ci formule sa requête. Le jeune prince se mordilla la lèvre inférieure. Pourquoi le retenait-il, au juste ? Ce fut à son tour de soupirer, et, il posa la question naturellement, en prenant soin de détourner le regard.

 « Est-ce que vous… Pourriez refaire comme avant, sur la rive ? Mais… Je veux dire… Sans que ce ne soit un geste de secours.

- … Pardon ? »

 Il ne semblait pas comprendre.

 « Vos… Vos lèvres…

- … Oh. »

 L’homme au visage enfantin ne bougea pas, son expression imperturbable déformée par une sorte d’incompréhension. Il n’avait pas dû s’y attendre… Et cela pouvait se comprendre. Mais à en juger par le visage de Leonhard, celui-ci demeurait on ne peut plus sérieux.

Heine décida alors de s’approcher du garçon, dont le cœur battait la chamade. Il posa une main sur son épaule, puis l’autre, avant d’approcher son visage du sien. Il allait…vraiment le faire ? Ce fut au tour du prince de se montrer surpris. Il avait plutôt pensé devoir essuyer un rejet sévère, suivi d’un sermon.

 « Ce n’est pas très approprié, Altesse.

- Je m’en fiche.

- Vous êtes mon élève, et moi votre professeur.

- Peu m’importe.

- De plus, vous—

- Je vous dit que je m’en fiche !

- … Fort bien. »

 Sans rien ajouter, l’enseignant finit par déposer de nouveau ses lèvres contre celles de l’étudiant, échangeant cette fois-ci un chaleureux baiser. Celui-ci s’éternisa quelques instants. Leonhard ne sut dire si cela venait de sa volonté de ne pas y mettre fin, agréablement surpris de la douceur que lui procurait cette sensation inconnue, ou bien de celle de Heine. L’embrassait-il de son plein gré, ou se sentait-il forcé par les paroles du prince ? Il n’aurait su le déterminer non plus. Et il savait qu’il aurait beau lui demander, jamais il ne lui donnerait une réponse satisfaisante : il demeurait bien trop énigmatique pour cela.

Lorsque leurs lèvres se séparèrent, elles se rencontrèrent de nouveau, dans un échange plus passionné, plus fiévreux encore.

Et c’est dans cette intimité croissante que deux êtres ne firent que débuter leur nuit, dans le secret de ces murs, seuls témoins de cette scène amorale.

[blood-and-lilacs]

Inktober/Whumptober Day 2: Bag over Head

Full prompt list is here! 

When Toby wakes to rough hands dragging him out of bed and forcing a black bag over his head, his question is not “Who would do this to me” but “Who wouldn’t do this to me?” The number of suspects is so big that process of elimination is the only way to find the answer.

The Gorodetskys hate him because he’s Black. The Ascaris hate him because of his drug habit. The O’Hares because he sleeps with men. And the Perezes because the man he is currently sleeping with is Sr. Perez’s son.

He can’t really blame them for that last one. He wouldn’t want him sleeping with his kid either. Wait. That came out wrong. But he can’t stop to worry about poor phrasing right now. There are more important things going on. Like how he’s being dragged blindly down the grated stairs of the apartment building, bare feet hitting hard against cold steel, head still fuzzy from sleep.

The only ones who don’t hate him are his own adopted Family, and that’s only because they don’t know that he’s in bed -- literally and metaphorically -- with every other syndicate in Chicago. As soon as that cat gets out of the bag, it’s all over.

Maybe it’s already happened. Maybe that’s what this is about.

Outside, the freezing wind biting at his bare torso and through his thin pajama pants still isn’t as bad as the combination of snow and rough asphalt on his feet. It’s not far to the car, but he’s shivering uncontrollably and his feet are numb by the time they get there. Oddly, the bag keeps his head quite warm compared to the rest of him.

He’s relieved that they toss him onto the floor of the backseat instead of into the trunk. The engine is still running and the heat is on -- they’re more concerned about keeping themselves comfortable than making him uncomfortable -- and he starts to thaw out again as they roll out into the night.

Honestly? This is not nearly as unpleasant as he would have expected. The car speeds gently through the night. In the darkness, time and space spiral away. As Toby drifts between waking and sleeping, it occurs to him that he must have gone to bed not too long ago, because he is obviously still high as balls.

Some time later, the car stops. It isn’t cold when they drag him out. The click of their shoes and the slap of his bare feet echo in the space. Indoor garage, he works out, then moves on to the more pressing matters. Specifically, the matter of coming up with just the right one-liner to deliver to whichever boss turns out to be behind this. By the time they push him to his knees on the softest rug he’s ever felt, he’s pretty sure he knows what he’s going to say. He just hopes it doesn’t sound too pathetic coming from a guy wearing only flannel pajama bottoms.

They pull off the bag. The big reveal. He looks up at the man sitting behind the desk in the dim leather-and-brass office. A stocky grey-haired man with a bandage on one eye. Toby’s well planned snark evaporates in sheer confusion, and all he manages is to say is,

“Who the hell are you?“

[ah-fyuck]

Day 2 “bag over head”

[myhusbandsasemni]

Whumptober17-”Stay With Me”:Laurance-Funny

Laurance watched as Anisha looked out the window as night fell. It was ten days from Christmas and there was a swirl of snow coming from the sky, dry and light. It was Anisha’s favorite kind of snow and Laurance knew it. He could see her excitement in the way her tail flicked back and forth excitedly. 

“Do you want to go out?” Laurance asked gently.

Anisha looked back with a smile. “I was planning on it. I was only wondering how I was going to phrase my request for you to come out with me.”

Laurance stood and grabbed two coats from the closet. The small purple one for her, and a large green one for him. Anisha slid into hers, shoved her feet into boots, and ran outside. Laurance followed closely behind her and looked up into the snow.

Anisha laughed and spun in the snow. “Look at the frozen precipitation!” she giggled and Laurance laughed with her. She was referencing the time that Rin had forgotten what the word snow was and had struggled those two words out instead. They had laughed for days about it and it was still funny.

There was silence except for the quiet clicks of snow on his coat as Laurance watched Anisha stare into the snow. She turned back to him, snowflakes in her eyelashes. Laurance breath caught in his chest. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the woman he was married to. “Stay with me,” he whispered.

“No problem,” Anisha said in response. She stood on tiptoes while Laurance bent and they kissed as the snow fell softly around them.

[classicwhump]

WHUMPTOBER17

Day 3- ‘Jail Cell’

"He’s dying.”

Papillon spends two years in solitary confinement for trying to escape the prison island he is serving time on... Bonus scene where he collapses into Dustin Hoffman’s arms after being released.

[that-hurts]

Whumptober day 2 - Bag over head

**as before, anonymous male whumpee!**

He'd known they were coming. Every security measure had been checked and rechecked.

Pointless.

He scrambled for the closet door in the sudden darkness. His own hand only barely brushed the handle when two sets of strong hands pulled him backward and off balance. In moments, he'd been dragged down the hallway. Blinding beams of light and a glimpse of a man's brown suit was all he took in before everything went black and the bag they'd thrown over his head was too-tightly secured at his neck.

He struck out in his panic and felt his foot connect with something, but was brought low with a punch to the gut. Gasping, he attempted to shake the bag away from his face, but it was useless and the movement only made the rope around his neck rub painfully through the rough fabric over his head.

He stopped struggling for the time being, focusing on getting his breath back, but they were dragging him up again and the cold click of handcuffs accompanied the lightning jolt of pain in his shoulder. He coughed as bits of the coarse fiber of the bag hit the back of his throat and did his best to keep his balance.

Where the hell were they taking him? They were a long way from their base of operations. They caught him as he stumbled over the threshold and then shoved him roughly forward. He could feel the cool night air on his skin and heard people muttering in urgent voices.

He heard a car door open, and knowing it wouldn't do any good, he jerked his body sideways. His captors lost their grip on him and he leapt forward. A hard impact to his chest and chin knocked him back.

Suddenly, he was spun violently around and slammed into the car he'd run into, an arm pressing hard against his throat. Another hand held the barrel of a gun up under his ribs. He tried to force air into his lungs, but it wouldn't come.

"Trust me, rat," the voice growled close to his own face. "I am more than willing to take the price of only your head. Do you understand me?"

He nodded quickly, desperate. He wasn't in this to die. The man huffed in annoyance and released him. He fell to the ground limply, dragging in ragged breaths through the foul cloth, his head slowly clearing but lungs burning. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd thought.

[whumploversanonymous]

Rofl I know I'm reblogging from the wrong blog but you just made my day 😂

Inktober Day 1: On their Knees

Nick Barkley (The Big Valley) hit with a rifle, then falling to his knees.

[classicwhump]

WHUMPTOBER17

Day 5- ‘Explosion’

“I can’t see!”

Sergeant Saunders has vital information to take back to his commanders when he is hit by an explosion and losses his vision.

[that-hurts]

Whumptober day 4 - Noose

**back to anonymous male whumpee. Pick your favorite and pop him in here**

----

There was nothing beyond the noose. It was only him, his executioner and his end. His end which was coming much too soon. He wasn't even guilty! But they wanted someone to punish. His throat had gone raw from shouting his protests and his innocence. His heart thudded frantically in his chest as they marched him ever forward. He dragged his feet in an attempt to stall his fate, but only scraped the skin from his toes and heels. A small crowd had gathered to watch, but he barely registered their presence. Someone was reading loudly to them, but he didn't hear the words. Words didn't matter. Minutes mattered. Seconds mattered. And he was steadily losing both. There was no escaping this. Nowhere to run. His bleeding feet touched the crate they had provided, and something in him snapped. "No!" He croaked, pulling back. "No, no nonono..." He flailed wildly, kicking out with his legs, doubling over and twisting. His feet found purchase and he bolted. If he could get to the tree line, then - CRACK His vision flashed white and he fell hard to the side, rolling over stones and blinded by dust and sudden pain. He lay dazed and moaning, unsure what had happened. Strong hands gripped his ankles and dragged him backward. His shirt bunched up around his chest as they hauled him face-down toward the crate again. "Please..." he pleaded with anyone who could hear him, reaching out to hopelessly grasp at the ground. His feet hit the dirt again and he was pulled up to his knees. He lashed out once more, but they held him fast this time. Thick rope slid over his head even as he knelt, and he froze in fear. "Oh god..." he whimpered, unable to offer any resistance as the rope pulled him upward onto his feet. He heard the sounds that escaped his lips, but he didn't care. Death was mere moments away now. He scanned the faces of the crowd, and all were eager. He wouldn't see so much as one friendly face before his death then? "No..." he begged as they tied his hands behind his back. The noose pulled until he was forced to step onto the crate to relieve the pressure. This was it. This was his end. The rope was secured off to the side and the reading continued to the crowd; the list of wrongdoings he had never committed. A wave of nausea washed over him, leaving a cold sweat in its wake. The crowd cheered as the paper was rolled up and put away. The crate beneath his feet rocked with an experimental push from the executioner. His vision blackened around the edges and the crate was gone.

[that-hurts]

Whumptober day 5 - Explosion

**Anonymous whumpee from a different pov**

---

She heard the explosion from the floor above as if it were right behind her, and a jolt of cold fear pierced her.  He was up there!

Seconds passed like hours as she sprinted around the corner and up the metal staircase to the ground floor. Her eyes raked the room for a sign of him, but all she could see was the smoke and debris and the still-glowing remnants of whatever it was that had burst.  It had only been the three of them here today, just herself, him, and his financial backer.  It was supposed to be a demonstration.  What had gone wrong?

She picked her way around the rubble of the blown-out wall and broken furniture, calling both their names. She was brought up short when her foot caught on something.  Looking down, she recoiled in horror at the sight that met her.  It was the financial backer…what was left of him.  Much of his lower half was missing, and his head lay twisted to a sickening angle.  “No…” she whispered, panic rising.  There was nothing she could do for him.

“Where are you!?” she shouted, straining her ears for any response.  Something clattered to the ground farther ahead and she made her way quickly in that direction.  There he was. Half-buried under debris and covered in dust, but he was there and he was alive.  

He groaned, seeming to be coming back from unconsciousness, and she knelt beside him.  “Hey,” she said gently, not knowing if he even heard her, “You made a mess.”  She dislodged as many of the larger pieces as she could, and the more of him she exposed, the more anxious she became.  Blood from under his hairline contrasted alarmingly with the dust covering his skin. His clothing on his right side was in tatters and blackened, and the skin beneath appeared badly burned.  His face was scraped as if he had been dragged, and a large piece of thin metal jutted out from his thigh.  

“What…?” he muttered, opening his eyes and squinting.  “What happ-“ he winced and drew a sharp breath through his teeth as he tried to move. She set a hand on his unburned shoulder to keep him still.

“Shh… I don’t know.” She replied, wondering when help would arrive, ears on alert for sirens.  “Stay still.  You’ll be ok.”

He nodded slowly and grimaced as the pain started to register.  “This…” he shut his eyes tightly and clenched his fist. “It hurts.” He managed to bite out.