A finished coughing, the last of their breaths wheezing and ragged. They squeezed their eyes shut in vain, the spinning in their head continuing on even in darkness. B's hand on their back was too hot, a fuzzy halo of warmth hovering around their palm.
Please leave me alone, they thought. It's too much - let me be.
But that too-warm hand remained solidly on their back, the strangely concerned face of their captor floating in the darkness beside them.
A had woken up moments before in a near panic, gasping for air and struggling to breathe. The harsh coughs that battled through them seemed to send sharp knives right into their lungs.
"It was only a dream," they told B, dully alarmed at how weak their own voice came out. "Nothing more. I'm fine."
B stayed at their side, that horribly hot hand still on their back until their breaths evened, their vision clearing slightly. Only then did B's stern face come into view beside theirs, brows drawn in tightly together. "All right now?"
A nodded, their head still swimming. "I just need to rest."
B looked wary, but their hands were oddly gentle as they draped an extra blanket over A's shoulders before helping them back to the ground. The damp soil cut right through the blankets and clothes and they shivered deeply, their very bones seemingly dipped in ice.
"I'm fine," they repeated through chattering teeth, "I'm fine."
B was still watching them closely, with a look on their face that A did not like at all. "Please," they muttered, closing their eyes to block out the spinning, "please just let me rest."
They gave a small nod, but failed to leave A's side. Even as their eyes closed and they slipped back into a fitful sleep, A could see them sitting there and watching in silence.
Things didn't get better.
All through the wet night and into the next day A was groggy and cold, their many aches knitting together to form one overall bundle of pain. They sat swaying on B's horse, shivering in their damp clothes and coughing hoarsely from time to time. The aching scratchiness in their lungs was only getting worse as time went on, each breath sending a knife through their battered ribs. Why had they never before been grateful for what not being in pain felt like? Now even the smallest movement hurt.
They faded in and out of sleep on the horse, becoming all too used to the neverending cycle of discomfort.
By that night they could tell they were sick. Not that they hadn't known before - but how they felt now left no possible room to deny it even to themselves. B didn't bother to offer them food -which hardly mattered because A wasn't hungry in the slightest - instead helping them lie down almost immediately by the fire.
Even then they shivered intensely, the cold seeping straight down into their marrow. Exhaustion weighed them into the ground itself, but the aches in their elbows and knees and head kept sleep from them for time unknown. Half-dreams plagued them, of faces and whispered voices of people they had once known emerging from the black night only to fade away when they jumped awake. Most of the night they spent tossing and turning, the thin blanket they'd been given no match for the chills that shook them head to foot.
The rest of their time on the road passed in a feverish haze. A spent their days slumped over the horse's bobbing head, fighting to breathe through the pain in their chest; their nights curled up by the campfire with their teeth chattering as rain soaked them through even further.
Memories blended with dreams blended with reality, things from their past they thought they'd forgotten and images they'd been sure were blocked out of their mind came flooding back in eerie ways. They would jerk awake from some dream of voices calling for help and eyes that stared unblinkingly from the depths of the sea (or was it the night sky?), only to see the outlines of their captors wavering and blurring in the dark, shadows looming out at them like grasping fingers. More often than not they found themselves slumped against B's chest as they rode, and too weak to sit up properly on their own. It seemed to matter less and less as time went on.
The chill and the coughing was worse at night, keeping them awake in spite of their exhaustion. Cool water fed to them by smoky half-formed hands out of the darkness, but it did nothing to quench their thirst, only chilling them further. Still sometimes they'd wake up to see B's hunched form near them, sharply outlined yet wavering in the firelight. They never got a chance to fully question why they were being protected by this person, before their thoughts spiraled away again.
Finally, A awoke from dreams of tangled vines trapping them and wild beasts, to B tapping their shoulder lightly. The world swayed, and it took them a moment to realize they were back on the horse, the sky above them a thin and rainy grey.
Cutting across the horizon was a dark spread of distant buildings, low and nondescript. And stabbing up to the clouds in their midst was a square, formidable tower, its walls of black stone. A shivered even more violently at the sight of it, their teeth rattling audibly.
"We're almost there," said B, their voice less gruff than A was used to.
A swallowed, their throat burning all the way up to their ears. "Is...is that the Tower?" they rasped out. The stories they'd heard, the things that went on in that place...
"It is." A sound came from B that they almost didn't recognize as a soft laugh. "It's not what they've told you. You've heard tales of dungeons dripping with blood and dark sorcery, haven't you?"
Icy pain washed through A's head and they fought not to cry out. "Yes."
"Well. There is a dungeon, but it's not used much. Mostly it's a barracks - a few of us soldiers live there year-round. So yes, that's where you're headed, because we don't have anywhere better to put you. But it isn't what you think."
At the moment they were far too dazed to get any relief from this. They watched the tower grow steadily larger against the grey horizon, vision blurred both from their fever and the sheet of fog crawling over the land. An unfamiliar, screeching bird called from the nearby woods, the sound like a mallet right down on A's core.
They leaned back wearily against B, coughing yet again. They would be warm soon, and dry, and wasn't that all that mattered?
Above them, more dark birds circled higher and higher, their silhouettes blending together until they formed one great mass that veiled the sky and all else.
Sunlight hurt A's eyes as they came back to their senses and they stifled a groan. Pain sliced through their forehead, deeper than the cut, slicing down into their skull. All morning their head had been pounding, along with an ache that spread down from their neck to their feet.
With difficulty, they lifted their head and squinted into the distance. The horse's neck bobbed dizzyingly in their vision, but they could make out the seemingly endless dirt road ahead of them, densely lined with conifers on either side.
Another wave of pain assailed them and this time they did let out an involuntary noise of discomfort. The arm around their chest tightened slightly, constraining and supporting them all at once.
It was B of course, the same enemy soldier who had found them after the battle - and had tended to their wounds. Said wounds still burned and ached, the bandages shifting under their clothes whenever the horse jostled them. A day had gone by before they gathered the strength to stand, and even then they were forced to hobble uneasily while clutching B's shoulder. They had been near silent through the whole affair of getting A out of the tent and onto a horse; not unkind, but still intimidating.
No matter how kindly they treat you, you're still a prisoner, A told themself sternly. Don't get too complacent.
It wasn't too hard to remember their place - not with the jeers and occasional rough jabs that came from their captors, certainly not with the rope tied tight around them, binding their good arm to their side. There had been some difficulty getting it tied properly - with one arm bound in a sling they could hardly have their wrists tied - but in the end their captors had settled for winding the rope around their torso several times and knotting it tight. Their bruised ribs and bandaged arm ached so badly and consistently the could hardly remember what it felt like not to be in pain. Every once in a while they would lift their head too suddenly and a wave of lightheadedness would hit them, a relic of the half-healed gash across their forehead.
They had to stay alive. That was all they could do now. Live every minute, and every hour, and every day.
At midday they stopped, A's captors pausing by the roadside to make camp and a fire. A themselves remained on the horse, stomach growing hollower by the second as they watched the others eat.
They could survive it. They would have to, if they wanted to go back home.
A wave of sorrow hit them as they sat there watching the others, close to consuming them. Their fellow soldiers. Even though they had made few friends, many of the others had been kind to them. And now they were gone. Only A remained - and what did their life matter at all, anymore? They were a prisoner of the enemy and nothing more. Would it even be worth the effort to try and escape if they could? Or should they instead resign themselves to a long captivity leading to death?
These thoughts did nothing to help them, and A knew that. But they lingered, all the same.
That night they nearly froze by the campfire.
It took them over an hour to fall asleep at all, with their various injuries leaving them aching all over. The bonds around them had been loosened for the time being, but someone stood over them watching the whole night through. A few insults were thrown in their direction - but curiously the other soldiers seemed reluctant to do them too much damage when B could see it. Still, A kept their eyes open as long as they could, too nervous to allow them to shut. Eventually though, their exhaustion was enough to eventually drag them down into sleep.
But it didn't last. Not long after they were woken up to an icy chill in the air around them, their stiff limbs burning worse than ever. It took everything they had not to whimper audibly from pain.
Shivering, they shuffled as close as they dared to the dying fire, but it hardly made a dent in the cold.
Their thoughts were restless as they lay watching the flames, in spite of the heavy exhaustion in their limbs. They tossed and turned, still shuddering.
At some point, when they were half awake, they felt something warm being draped over them and drew it tight around them gratefully. They were asleep again before they could make out the face of their savior.
Dawn broke, cold and windy. A woke after being shook roughly by the shoulder, feeling as if they hadn't slept all night. There was a heaviness in their eyes, in their very bones. They did not speak a word as their captors pulled them to their feet and settled them back on the horse, ropes pulled tight.
Once again began their journey along that cold, lonesome road. Their legs burned, their skin burned where the ropes cut into it, where the wind rasped over its bare patches. All day it blew, causing them to shiver violently even with the warmer body of their captor behind them.
As the day went on a misty, icy rain spat down on them, soaking A to their bones and making their nose run and their teeth chatter along with the constant jumping tremors. Without really meaning to, they found themselves leaning back against B, just for the smallest measure of added warmth.
Several times they started to drift off, exhaustion leaching into them as if through the rain itself. Each time they startled awake, jolted out of sleep's numbness by the icy rain pellets, or the sensation that they were about to fall from their horse. And each time they braced themselves, not knowing which time would be the one to earn them a reprimand for weakness. But the expected pain never came, and eventually they slid into a half sleep, lulled by sheer weariness and the rhythmic swaying of the horse.
The hours all blurred together, into one long tunnel of pain and exhaustion. The next time A was fully conscious it was dark around them, the night swiftly closing in. A pounding ache wove through their skull and throat, their head light. Still it dripped rain down on the company, chilling them instantly.
Their bonds had been removed, for the time. The thought flickered through their mind that they could escape, but they had far too little strength to even attempt it - nor did they think they could endure the beating that would surely follow when they were caught.
"Come," said a rough voice beside them. Still groggy, they looked down and saw B, their face dappled with a lantern's light and shadows, standing by the horse. With some difficulty, A clamboured down into their firm grip. This time they were glad for it - their knees went weak the second their feet hit the ground.
The evening world swirled suddenly, and they clutched at their captor's arm. "Easy," said B, steadying them. "We're going to the fire. We'll give you food there, and then you can rest." Tired though they were, A couldn't help but notice a note of genuine concern in their voice.
It means nothing, they thought. You are still their prisoner.
Limping and staggering, they made their way to the growing campfire, all but clinging to B for support.
The fire did little to ease the deep chill in their limbs, the rain still cutting through layers of clothing, seemingly right through their skin. They sniffled uncontrollably until one of the soldiers watching them pressed a thumb down right on the broken collarbone and told them to stop their snivelling. "Not another sound from you, or I might rethink keeping you alive," they said, their voice a low growl.
A nodded, eyes watering in pain. The soldier took their place by the campfire, still glaring in A's direction. So they sat silently, fighting to keep their teeth from clicking together.
A bowl of stew was pushed in front of them, but curiously A found themselves unwilling to eat. Already they knew the humiliation that came from trying to eat with their weaker hand, the stronger one still bound up as it was. But even without that added issue, there was a weak, sour feeling in their insides, one that the thought of food made only worse.
No one forced them. Hunched and shivering, soaked to the skin, they sat with their eyes on the fire before them - the only thing they weren't afraid to stare at. The flames swayed mesmerizingly, the heat unable to cut through the icy air.
They must have fallen asleep with their head resting on their knees, for they woke to a gentle shaking of their shoulder. Blearily they looked up and saw B's gruff face looking down at them
"Better to sleep under the cover, where it's dry," they said. A was so numb and leaden-limbed they didn't bother to question, they merely nodded and allowed B to pull them to their feet, leading them over to where a heavy cloth had been strung between two trees, a somewhat suitable protection from the rain above.
A stumbled to their knees, curling up on the driest patch of ground they could find, shivering all over. Distantly they felt B toss a blanket over them, one they clutched around themselves but felt little difference with or without it. The icy wind and rain seemed to have penetrated the very marrow of their bones.
The crunch of B's footsteps faded away, and A tightened their curled-up ball, the chill deepening all around them and within them. Exhausted though they are, their whirring brain didn't seem to want to shut off. They studied the rippling coals of the fire before them, miserably wondering if they would ever feel at peace again.
Last installment I can find. I'm dying for more, but maybe @allthewhumpygoodness feels like it's perfect just the way it is. :). Either way, I love it!!
They awakened to the unsettling feeling of pressure around their head. Even before consciousness had fully come to them they gave a yelp, realizing they were being touched.
"Hold still," said a gruff voice somewhere near them. "You aren't doing yourself any favours."
(A) squeezed their eyes shut, struggling to keep their spiraling thoughts in order. There was a rough canvas something underneath them, dull voices around them, but too far away and muffled for them to make out what words they said. A groan slipped from their lips when they registered the aches and pains that covered their entire body. Their ankle throbbed, as did their head under the hands on it, and one of their arms was horribly stiff - they tried to move it and blinding pain flared through it. A horrible thought came to them - were they tied down?
A hand pressed into their shoulder, firmly but not ungently. "I told you to hold still. You'll only hurt yourself further."
(A) opened their eyes slowly, fighting a wave of dizziness that hit them when they did. The face above them came steadily into focus, frowning down at them. After a second of confusion they recognized the one who had taken them from the battlefield.
"You," they said hoarsely. "You...didn't kill me?"
"Not this time."
(A) squirmed again, only for a white hot pain to shoot through their arm and down into their chest, immobilizing them for a few agonizing seconds. "Let me go," they said weakly. "Please let me go."
"Easy, now." (B)'s voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you. We wouldn't have bandaged you up if that was our plan."
Bandages...that was it. Not ropes, as they'd feared. Strips of cloth wrapped their arm in a sling, their chest and shoulder similarly bound. They felt more down on their ankle, another across their forehead.
(A) breathed shakily, painfully, struggling to get their thoughts in order. "But...the others in the field...they were being slaughtered...you didn't...why not me?"
A shadow of anger crossed their enemy's face. "They weren't supposed to be. Our orders were to return with living captives to ransom, not corpses. Those still alive after the battle was done were to remain alive."
"So why...why was I the only..."
"Because I was the one who found you. Not the others."
(A) leaned their head back again, shutting their tired eyes. So that was it. They were a prisoner now, to be used as a hostage until whatever ransom these people wanted was paid. And if it wasn't? What then?
Their leg gave a horrible twinge and they couldn't stop the weak groan of pain that escaped them. "How...how bad is it?" they managed to get out.
Their captor, who strangely had not yet left their side, shrugged. "Broken ankle, wrist, collarbone, and two ribs. A sword-cut on your side, luckily it was shallow, and another gash on your head. That one was the most concerning, but the bleeding seems to have stopped now. And that arrow, we took that out while you were unconscious. Would've been cruel to wait until you woke up. You took a beating, that's for sure. I wouldn't move too much if I were you."
Move? (A) wouldn't dream of it. All they wanted to do was sleep, but they knew their many wounds wouldn't allow it. Sleep, and forget all that had happened that night, and if they were very lucky wake up and find it had all been nothing but a bad dream. It occurred to them that they had not cried - even probing their thoughts of their dead companions, or their own uncertain fate, was not enough to make tears come. Maybe now they were too tired, maybe when they were stronger their tied up emotions would spill out of them all in a rush. They did not look forward to it.
"You need rest," said (B). "Keep your strength. We need you alive when we get you to the Tower."
The Tower. (A) shivered, thinking of the tales they had heard of (B)'s people and the enormous stone watchtower the most important and influential commanded their lands from. It was the dungeons they heard the most tales about.
(B) gently tapped their uninjured shoulder. Turning their head the smallest possible amount, (A) saw they were holding out a small cup to them. "Drink. It'll help with your pain."
Ignoring the embarrassment at having to be fed like a child, (A) let the other lift their head and tip some of the medicine into their mouth. It was bitter and thick, but they choked it down. They couldn't help noticing through their layers of pain and terror how gentle (B) was with them, seemingly knowing just how to move them so it would not hurt. How many times had they helped equally injured people before?
"We're heading out two days from now. Get some sleep while you can."
(A) nodded, then winced - though the medicine had already begun to do its work, the sharpness of their pain dulling.
(B) left the tent, the lantern swinging in their wake. (A) lay in the dark,
their fear steadily dulling as well, to their surprise. It's just the medicine, they told themselves, you have every reason to be afraid.
But it wasn't the worst it could be. They weren't being tortured, they weren't tied up outside without food or water. Thus far, their treatment had been little worse than what they would expect from their own people.
Only because they don't want their prisoner harmed, without the ransom they would kill me in a second.
They knew that. But still, it was curious.
The wind gusted through the branches outside, buckling the walls of the tent. And despite themselves, (A) finally allowed their body to relax, their exhaustion dragging them into sleep.
~Fantasy/Medieval whump story without a name~ part 1
At long last, they fell to their knees.
The battle was long ended, but their enemies still wandered the darkened battlefield, searching for those they had not yet conquered. (A) could no longer force themselves onward, their exhaustion combined with the pain of their injuries so profound they could hardly think straight anymore, let alone limp along on an ankle that was surely broken, over mounds of their dead comrades.
Numbly, somewhere far away from the pain, they calculated the extent of their wounds. An arrow sticking from a gap in their mail near the shoulder, a slash across their forehead that left them lightheaded, ribs so badly bruised they could hardly draw breath...the list went on. Every limb in their body ached, their head spinning. They had not even yet considered how many of their friends and companions were dead; those thoughts were more painful even than their broken body.
A cry of pain came from somewhere to their left and their head jerked up, just in time to see one of their enemies thrusting a sword into a body at the top of the nearest heap. Their heart sped up, breath growing difficult again. That would be them, and soon, if they didn't move.
(A) shakily pulled themselves to their feet, leaning on their sword. Blood rushed from their head, making them stumble, and their injured ankle trembled uncontrollably. Black spots swam in front of their eyes. You're still alive, they told themselves. Keep going.
Staggering, pain almost overpowering them, they made their way to the clump of trees on the edge of the field. It was at the foot of an ancient tree they slumped down again, shaking all over.
It hurt. It hurt so very much.
They drew their knees up as much as they could, resting their head and shutting their eyes. If they did die soon, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. They longed not to feel.
The time they spent huddled there drifting through waves of pain and growing cold was the longest of their life; whether it was ten minutes, an hour, or a whole night they had no way of knowing. The sounds of the remaining warriors slaughtering their companions blurred into their ears until it was the only thing they could hear.
Just when it became too much, when they could no longer bear the hurting and the waiting, (A) heard heavy footsteps approaching them. They didn't even have time to be afraid before they were roughly pulled upwards, yelping in pain as they were. They found themselves looking into a pair of shadowed eyes, looking grimly down at them.
"You're not one of ours," said this newcomer.
Too weary and frightened to lie, (A) shook their head. The tall figure before them gave a grunt, and pulled them to their feet. The change was so sudden they gasped in pain, clutching the nearest thing they could to stay balanced - which happened to be their captor's arm.
The other person gave them a strange look. "Time to go," they said gruffly. "You're with us."
(A)'s thoughts swirled. "You aren't killing me?"
"Not yet."
(B) dragged them roughly towards the torch-bearing clump of figures in the center of the field. Their head swam sickeningly, the ground beneath them tilting. It wasn't long before the pain and terror and exhaustion caught up to them, and the world around them went grey. They slipped from (B)'s hold and collapsed limply to the ground, all feeling and thought at last going dark.
A list of resources for life drawing and anatomy reference, feel free to add your own links to the list.
(Note that some links are NSFW)
Figure Drawing
artists.pixelovely.com - A helpful website that has timed classes of figure and gesture drawing with footage of models, and also has lessons on improving your technique and understanding of anatomy.
Circus Dictionary - An online library of circus performer footage that can be referenced from for more advanced anatomy studies, as well as the body in motion.
SenshiStock Sketch - A simple app that shuffles different pose references by senshistock for gesture drawing with a timer.
Croquis Cafe - A large collection of real time videos of nude models for figure drawing, similar to life drawing classes. Also had 3D turntables of nude models and has a range of different body types.
SketchDaily - Another timed figure drawing app that shuffles different images of models with the option of clothed and nude models, also has options for images of hands or heads.
3D Models
Pose Maniacs - Models of human body parts that can be rotated to different angles, mainly hands.
Skull Sketcher - An application for studies of the human skull with the option to customise lighting and the angle of the skull, as well as the ability to view the skull as outline renders.
Anatomy360 - Though still in development you can try the demo for this new realistic 3D human model app with full colour control over the lighting and background.
ArtPose - This is an app for IOS devices only, however it is a very useful anatomy reference with the ability to move the limbs of the 3D model and changeable lighting and angles.
Handy - Another app for mobile devices with rotatable models of hands, skulls, and heads with custom lighting that can be changed colour.
Stock Images
SenshiStock - A popular choice for stock images, with a library of thousands of pose and anatomy references.
Pyjama-cake - New stock image account with great basic standing pose references for character sheets.
RobynRose - This account has a great collection of expressions and head angle references, including footage of realistic crying expressions.
FaeStock - A model with a large variety of interesting poses and portrait references.
Justmeina - Many classical male anatomy references with bold lighting, a majority of them are nude.
Whumpmas In July Day 21 : Creation Prompt - Bleeding
@whumpmasinjuly
The banquet tonight is for him. The Captain is the recipient of the Navy Distinguished Service Medal for exceptionally leadership on a daylight raid on enemy forces. The evening started out with glittering champagne, fine dining, and flowing ball gowns. Handsome and confidently charming, he greets every congratulatory handshake and back slap with a humble air. A master of military etiquette, he stands out in the crowd with his clean and polished uniform fitted perfectly, with not one thread out of place or smudge on his shoes. Everyone was enjoying the music, the lights and the beautiful night air. Until the enemy attacked...
Dressed to impress, the Captain and his crew are tested again to gallantly fight off the attackers and protect the civilians. Once the fighting clears and the enemy is subdued, one of his subordinates alerts him there is blood on his uniform. Always the gentlemen, he excuses himself and heads into the lavatory to clean his shirt collar.
He washes his hands and looks up in the mirror....
Whumpmas In July Day 18: Creation Prompt - “Make me.”
@whumpmasinjuly
"Move back!! Move back!! Move back!!!" the interconnected line of helmeted and shielded officers bellow in unison. This chant is repeated over and over again; a chorus of deep low voices echoing through the streets as the line steps forward in time to push the oncoming mob down the city street.
Unrelenting, the opposition protesters surge in anger with a new battle cry of raw fury and push back against the oncoming line of faceless kevlar, plastic and metal. Scuffles break out along the line when the most passionate of the opposition fight through the interlocked clear plastic shields. Sharp strikes with batons and punches bounce bodies back in to the crowd with grunts, curses and screaming.
The situation and violence escalating, fire hoses are lifted over the mass and high pressure water rains down on the protesters, soaking bodies through the haze of tear gas and smoke. Amidst the chaos, the crowd is losing ground with the rear protesters turning to run for cover, coughing and fighting to see as they stumble.
The crowd dispersing, lone unyielding individuals stand still and firm amid the retreat. Feet planted, faces angry and voices screaming they cry, "MAKE ME!!!!!" before they are overwhelmed and forcibly pushed to the asphalt by a squad of at least six officers and arrested. Quickly pulled to their feet, zip ties bound their hands behind their back and they are shoved into the back of the force into a waiting squadron of armored vehicles.
He dropped down heavily on the side of the road. Too tired for anything, he is waiting for it all to catch up too him. Ready for any reaction locked inside of him to spill over and finally release. Inwardly he begged to finally feel some relief from the pressure inside.
But there was nothing....all he felt was numb. He should feel something right? Any reasonable person would. He just felt so tired, but he would not sleep. He spent a long night alone in the dark.
Only one scene would repeat in his head on loop until morning. He desperately wanted to think of something else. Anything else. Or cry, get angry, feel sorry, feel something. Just numb...in the dark. Alone. No one could reach him.
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
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