stuck meme

[parser]

stuck meme

esuna off that paralysis Post toplevels, reply as usual. Hope you enjoy your quality time with your thread partner, now that you're stuck... 01. IN A CROWD — for bonus points: in a crowd, after an argument. 02. DEFENDING THE BASE — while you wait for reinforcements to arrive. Good luck! 03. ON A RAFT — or a manacutter or an airship or something, drifting towards a deserted island. 04. IN A RELATIONSHIP — that your thread partner is trying to break you out of. The relationship can be with someone else... or just your bed/pet/hobby/gambling habit. 05. IN A WAITING ROOM — while you're waiting to hear a healer/conjurer/physician/chirurgeon's assessment, and you really didn't want to run into anyone... or maybe you'd like some emotional support? 06. TRYING TO NAVIGATE — through the Ul'dahn marketplace, maybe, or Hawker's Alley, or any number of confusing Lominsan/Gridanian/Sharlayan alleyways. 07. STANDING GUARD — wherever might be applicable: outside the Rising Stones? Rowena's House of Splendors? Or maybe awkwardly in front of a bedroom with a near-stranger so that the person who hired you to keep watch can get it on inside... 08. WITH YOUR HAIR — caught in someone else's belt or leather sheath or inexplicable shoulder spike... oh, adventurers and their impractical clothing. 09. DELIVERING TERRIBLE NEWS — exactly what's on the tin. Sucks to be you. 10. DOING THE DISHES — at a restaurant where you forgot your wallet and couldn't pay the bill. 11. IN A LAKE — because this person caught you skinny-dipping and won't... go... away... 12. WAITING TO BE RANSOMED — in the actually-quite-loving care of some especially incompetent criminals. Enjoy being stuck! This meme was gently lifted off bakerstreet.

TEMPLATE CODED BY valoirs

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[haillenarte]

[zephirin's voice is an alchemist's concoction, one that turns francel's bones into water and his heart into dust. ordinarily, the knight's speech is carefully neutral, almost toneless, sometimes bland — but his humming lends it a different sort of quality, something that francel feels is not unlike vulnerability. he wants to crystallize the memory of zephirin's humming forever; he wishes he could replay it again and again in his mind, just as crisp and clear as he experienced it, but the nature of memories are such that they fade, and someday, reliving even this moment will not come easily to francel.

he has fallen too deeply in love.

and they are close — they sit connected, and upon francel's bed, no less — but for a moment, the lordling's throat aches with longing.

he swallows audibly before he clears his throat and provides the prescribed words to zephirin's melody:]

...Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird...

...It goes like that, I believe. My mother never sang it to me — but one of my nursemaids did.

[valhourdin]

[ Francel's voice, too, is laced with something vulnerable, a yearning note that Zephirin takes to stem from memories evoked. The hand still resting upon Francel's head remembers itself, and Zephirin's concerns, but its palm passes across the boy's hair one more time, its thumb along Francel's ear.

The weight on Zephirin's shoulder is no burden — the weight of a fragile heart must be borne with care. ]

...You possess a remarkable memory.

[ Music, it seems, drew Francel's interest from a young age. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel chuckles softly. it is, primarily, a ticklish response to the stroking of his ears, but it stems from self-deprecation. the young lord shyly adjusts his head on zephirin's shoulder; his golden hair fans out against zephirin's thin shirt.]

Only for tunes. I do very poorly in my arithmetics classes, I fear.

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin's fingers settle into mapping the lines of Francel's ear anew, moving in slower swiping motions than a head rub given an affectionate hound. Francel shifts against him, but does not squirm with the head-to-toe shudder of their first such encounter. ]

Arithmetics? Would that I had advice to impart.

[haillenarte]

[these slower motions soon have their effect: though the young lord is evidently trying to suppress his reactions, tingling pleasure nevertheless trickles from his ears to his limbs, to his arms and fingers, and francel's lips part ever so slightly as his bare toes curl.

his breathing comes, slow and shaky, and somehow it is hard to tell if he is relaxed or tense. his toes are pink and vulnerable, white in places of pressure, as they brace against the ball of his foot.]

Have you...

[a soft moan, barely even a sigh, punctuates that remark. zephirin's fingers have found a particularly needy point on his ear.]

...Have you no talent for numbers either?

[valhourdin]

[ With Francel's head pillowed upon his shoulder, turning his own head even slightly brings Zephirin's cheek and chin in contact with the boy's hair where it falls across his brow. Unintentionally, Zephirin's lips and the tip of his nose brush against the soft strands. Francel's breaths are warm puffs of air that reach Zephirin's skin past his collar.

The movements of Zephirin's hand halt for the moment. ]

None to be of assistance, I regret to confess. My schooling ended when I became a squire.

[haillenarte]

Yes, that is not uncommon...

[francel has no idea how close he is to the soft lips that he longs for. reflexively, he assumes that the stilling of zephirin's hand and the slight movement of his head implies that the man is finished, and francel lifts his head from zephirin's shoulder, afraid to linger overlong. his toes relax.

there is no hiding the pout on his lips, however, nor the needy glint in his eyes as he looks up at the knight.]

Um... Zephirin? Could I... Could I ask for something odd?

[valhourdin]

[ Francel moves unexpectedly, wearing a look that suggests disappointment to Zephirin, possibly dissatisfaction — and again, something vulnerable and yearning behind a timid manner. Lowering his hand, the knight lets it sink down to his knee.

For the boy before him, what constitutes an odd request?

Zephirin's consent is a simple nod. ]

[haillenarte]

W-Well...

[francel's embarrassment is palpable. he fidgets; he pokes at the rabbit's nose to hide his fidgeting. what he is about to request is something he has longed for for years, and though zephirin has no way of knowing what precisely it would mean to him, it still feels as though he is offering some secret corner of his soul up for judgment.]

In... in the bedside drawer, there is a — a bottle of fragrant oil — [fury have mercy, that sounds terrible] — that I use for my skin, and I was wondering if you could...

...if you could pour some oil onto your fingers... and rub my ears that way...

[valhourdin]

[ Francel's bottle of fragrant oil but tells of a pious soul. Outside of prayer, there are other uses for such an item, but most would require another person, and privacy.

The Fury is unlikely to think Francel less presentable in his prayers for a few drops of oil rubbed onto his ears.

With a slight smile brought on by the boy's flustered demeanour, Zephirin turns to the mentioned drawer and locates Francel's desired bottle. Sparingly, he tips just enough of its liquid contents onto his palm to coat his fingers, warming the oil between them. ]

Have you room enough on the bed?

[haillenarte]

[the young lord nods so eagerly that some part of his neck or spine cracks audibly...

...though, upon second consideration — after accounting for the fact that he is likely to be uselessly relaxed after all is said and done — francel stretches his long legs out in front of himself. he sits alert, ready to receive zephirin's touch.

a shy, simpering smile plays about his lips.]

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin keeps Francel waiting not a second longer, lest the boy cause himself harm with the force of his excitement. It leads him to wonder as to the reasons behind this particular request, anxiously voiced and joyfully anticipated.

As Francel chooses to remain seated on his mattress instead of reclining, Zephirin leans across the boy's legs, taking Francel's ears between temporarily softer, scented fingertips. He begins at their pointed ends and works downward; both thumbs rub the outer curve of an ear each. ]

[haillenarte]

Oh...

[this time, the effect is immediate.

francel's hearing is impressively acute and his ears are unnaturally sensitive. zephirin's fingers, lubricated by the oil, produce a pleasantly wet, liquid noise as they navigate francel's ears and slide across his skin. to the young lord, the sound is enjoyable, and combined with zephirin's gentle touch — it is enough to make francel's toes curl and his fingers tense in the sheets.

the sound — francel knows from experience — will be even more exquisite when zephirin comes to navigate the folds of the inner triangle of his ear.

really, the only reason he chose not to lie down was because he was afraid he would fall asleep. he needn't have bothered. the addition of oil to francel's ear massage has resulted in overwhelming waves of pleasure instead of relaxing stimulation; it is all he can do to stop his body from being taken by the current. he has to suppress a pleasant shiver. he keeps his eyes closed.]

[valhourdin]

[ The difference is noticeable. Slick with their coating of oil applied, Zephirin's fingers glide easily from points to curves, over ridges and dips. No spot is neglected, whether at the front or the back of each ear.

These massages are pure in their aims, and Francel's visible enjoyment is satisfying, but by the boy's reactions whenever his peculiar fondness for touch is indulged, rubbing his ears is somehow intimate. ]

[haillenarte]

Nnn — mmgh —

[the oil slips into the valleys and creases of francel's delicate ears, squelching and slurping and popping softly with every movement of zephirin's fingers; perhaps to another, such sounds might be unpleasant, but they work wonders on francel, who whimpers and shudders in an ecstasy almost indistinguishable from pain. zephirin's careful attention to every part of his ear intensifies every sound. the young lordling's legs writhe and press together, not for any lustful reason but merely because his whole body is tingling from head to toe. he claps a hand over his mouth to muffle his sweetly-voiced whimpering.

for a moment his eyelids flutter open; he seems heartened to find zephirin still there. he speaks through his fingers.]

P-Pray... do not be concerned. I...I am enjoying...

[valhourdin]

[ Francel's enjoyment has the appearance of discomfort when whimpers replace his sighs, and upon noticing how rigidly the young lord holds his body, Zephirin halts his movements once more. He doubts that Francel is in pain, but the boy's sensitive ears may be overwhelmed and in need of some time to recover.

Proceeding with greater caution at Francel's assertions, Zephirin's touches are the lightest brush of his fingertips across Francel's skin. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel sighs in bliss as zephirin's massage turns gentle once more. a break, some rest, an interlude — it is well that zephirin thought to give him some time to regather his wits. somehow, it is too much effort to remain upright — the young lord tips dangerously forward, pulls back, and then tips forward once more. his eyes close and then flutter open again, as if he is slipping in and out of a dream.]

...May I... lean upon your shoulder...?

[though he says "shoulder," francel tucks his legs to one side, and winds up with his cheek pressed comfortably against zephirin's chest. in this position, zephirin might comfortably wrap one arm around the lordling's waist... if he so wished.]

[valhourdin]

[ Once Francel's trembling subsides, now-familiar drowsiness has its opening to set in. The boy asks to lean upon Zephirin's shoulder, but he slumps forward in such a way that Zephirin thinks it wise to catch him, leaving Francel's overstimulated ears be. One arm slips neatly around Francel's waist to take his weight and prevent all further teetering towards the edge of the bed.

It seems an uncomfortable position, should Francel wish to sleep. ]

You may dismiss me for the evening.

[haillenarte]

[the young lord shakes his head vehemently, though he clings weakly to zephirin's shirt. he is needy and greedy and not so easily sated; he tips his head to one side, proffering his ears for zephirin's slick touch once more.]

...Could you continue? Please...? You can... you can do it quickly.

[valhourdin]

[ With a chuckle softly hummed under his breath, Zephirin gives in to Francel's urging. He does so not quickly, but gently, as though he passes downy feathers across Francel's ears instead of using his fingers.

Cruelty would be to encourage the boy's affectionate nature, only to force it into restraints. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel's taxed ears catch and hold zephirin's quiet laugh; the soothing sound of his voice lingers in francel's throat the whole time that his ears are stroked. the knight's gentler touch does not quite produce the sloppy, oily noises that francel longs for, but being able to rest in the knight's arms more than makes up for that loss.

the boy shivers like a newborn kitten, unsteady on its legs. his scalp tingles, keeping him in fluid, dreamlike bliss. francel hums, too — just as softly, but deep in his throat, as though he purrs with every loving touch to his ears. his eyelides flutter open, just enough that he can stare at zephirin drowsily.]

...Thank you, Zephirin.

[valhourdin]

[ Fresh tremors seize Francel; the boy quivers in Zephirin's hold, against the knight's palm placed on his back. Meeting Francel's sleepy gaze to the best of his ability while Francel's head is tucked beneath his chin, every detail of the boy's upturned face brought close, Zephirin gradually slows his touches, allowing them to taper off to a complete stop.

He nods, his hand between Francel's shoulder blades. ]

And I thank you, Joacin.

[haillenarte]

[somehow, francel feels intoxicated by the weight and warmth of zephirin's hands upon his back. he smiles sleepily, his eyes bleary. zephirin's face is close — those shadowed eyelids and thin lips and the small nose that francel loves so well are all within his reach...]

Me? Why?

[the boy — for he really is just a boy in this moment, no noble lord or would-be healer, but a boy, weak and vulnerable —

francel's breaths press against zephirin with every swell of his chest.]

You give me so much...

[valhourdin]

[ Francel will not topple from his bed, but he approaches slumber even leaned against Zephirin, so says his expression. Neither of the two moves to draw them apart.

If Francel should sleep where he sits, repositioning him then is no issue. ]

Have you not done the same?

[haillenarte]

Nooooo...

[francel's denial is playful. somehow — running entirely on his promise to himself that he would not fall asleep tonight — he musters up enough energy to wiggle fruitlessly in zephirin's arms, apparently in an effort to express his dispagreement.]

You never... you never tell me what you want! And I... I want to give you all that you give me.