Meme Announcements!

[skyrimkinkmeme]

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

Comments

Re: Misfire: Welcome Returns, sequel to 'All creatures great and small' 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Night fell over Whiterun and Farkas sighed heavily to himself, leaning against the watchtower’s stone wall, watching the plains.

Nothing moved, saved for the flicker of patrolling guards torches.
Not that he was expecting anything to, but he had hoped for some distraction from his loneliness.

The trip out with Torvar and Athis had done the trick, while it had lasted, and taking his frustrations out on bandits had temporarily eased him. But it didn’t change the fact that now his partner had been gone for a week, and he was lonely and bored and worried. And there was no-one to warm his bed.

In the past, he would’ve just found some whore or tavern girl to ease the chill of Skyrim’s winter nights. It was hardly an option now, not when he still believed that the little elf would return. Not when he didn’t want anyone else in his bed.

His eyes closed as he leant on the wall, listening to the cheers coming from the mead hall at his back. Torvar and Athis had done themselves proud today, their skill worthy of the praise and celebrations going on inside.

He wondered how much the others noticed Nib’s absence. No doubt they did to an extent, he had proven himself popular with the others, no matter how much they teased him. He sighed again, heart heavy with loneliness. All he wanted was to see his lover safely home.

A door creaked behind him and Farkas buried his head in his arms. No doubt someone would be coming to try and get him to join the party. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Gritting his teeth, he waited to hear his brother’s voice or Aela’s, or whoever else they had sent out.

“Lad.”

He jumped, startled, turning. He hadn’t expected it to be Kodlak. Especially not to join festivities, the older man was less concerned about such things.

“You need to come inside, Farkas.” His tone was grave and Farkas swallowed, his heart starting to beat faster in his chest.

“Why?”

“Nibenor’s returned. You need to go to him.”
Farkas didn’t hear more than the first two words before he sprinted for the door, wishing he wasn’t so large and lumbering. Sometimes it would be nice to be as nimble as little Nibenor.

The inside of the mead hall was warm, the smell of roasted meats and honey greeting him. And yet no-one was eating, no-one was drinking or talking or laughing, instead gathered in front of the far doors. He was moving for the mass before he had time to fully comprehend the scene, knowing only that his partner was amongst them.

His hands found shoulders, pulling his brothers and sisters out of the way, forming a path for himself. His breath caught.

Little Nibenor sat on the floor, propped up by Vilkas, his eyes firmly closed. He was somehow paler than usual, the slight tinge that usually coloured his cheeks faded. Wounds adorned his bare arms, dried blood crusted around them.

Vilkas looked up, meeting his twins gaze calmly.

“You should take him downstairs. Get him cleaned up, we’ll get the healer over. The guards said they tried to heal him when he arrived back up at Dragonsreach, but he wouldn’t have it. They thought it’d be better to bring him here to get him sorted.”

Farkas could only nod, stooping to scoop the Dragonborn from off the floor. He was still warm and his own heart slowed its pace.

Injured but alive.

He turned without a word, his siblings moving aside to let him pass as he made his way down to his bedroom. Nibenor stirred as he walked, indecipherable noises escaping him even as Farkas struggled to open the door to his chambers. When he finally managed to get the doors to swing inwards he stepped through, placing the elf onto his bed.

Dark eyes twitched at the shift in movement, opening slowly, searching in the dim light of Farkas’ss room. The Nord hurried to light a lamp, finding those black eyes trained on him when the warm glow spread through the room.

Re: Misfire: Welcome Returns, sequel to 'All creatures great and small' 3a/?

[(Anonymous)]

“Nib?”

The elf smiled quietly, in response, fingers of his left hand waggling in a quiet wave. Farkas hurried to him.

“Evening.” The smaller man murmured as Farkas settled next to him, taking his left hand into his own. It trembled as he did and he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile back at his partner. Not when the elf’s lips were so chapped that they split and bled at the motion. He reached towards him, wiping the thin trails away with his thumb.

Nibenor’s hand lifted to catch his, entwining his fingers with the larger man’s, pulling him closer. His eyes drifted shut.

“He’s gone, you know,” He spoke, his voice thin and cracking “he’s not coming back.”

There was so much pride in that frail voice that Farkas couldn’t help but let a smile cross his lips.

“Yeah, you did good.”

Nibenor snorted.

“I did better than ‘good’, thank you very much.”

Farkas chuckled in response, the elf’s cheekiness flaring, easing his worries some.

“We should get you clean before the healer comes down.”

“Probably.”

The Bosmer didn’t bother to open his eyes and Farkas rolled his own, setting to the task of undressing the man. It proved to be more difficult than he had thought, with the man only half conscious and, after struggling to remove both gauntlets, he settled for cutting the rest away. The leather was soaked with sweat and blood anyway, torn to tatters in others. There was little point trying to salvage it.

It was only when Farkas had dumped the last of the ruined armour aside that he stopped to look at the damage it had concealed. The large, violently purple bruise that covered his left shoulder caught his attention first, but as he looked down more caught his attention.

It seemed there wasn’t a patch of skin left unmarred, either by bruise or graze or laceration. Nibenor winced as his fingers ran over his skin. His eyes opened, meeting Farkas’s pale eyes, finding concern in them.

“I’ll be right back.” The Nord murmured, leaving the room to collect water and cloths, returning a few moments later. The elf was watching him quietly, face oddly neutral. Farkas soaked a cloth in the water, wringing it out before tentatively wiping at the streaks of dried blood that ran the length of the Dragonborn’s leg.

He glanced up briefly when the elf flinched.

“Water’s cold.” Nibenor explained simply. Farkas nodded, moving
further to the wound across his thigh. It had been there for some months now, left by a bandit that Nibenor had run into on his return to Jorrvaskr one evening. It still gave him trouble, the wound having been split open time and time again, and today was no exception. It seemed it was never going to get a chance to heal fully. He was going to be left limping for a long time.

“You should really let this heal.” He commented, wiping crusted blood away, revealing the wound below. It was shallower than he had first thought, the lower layers of flesh finally having knitted together, the top still raw and open.

Nibenor grunted.

“Well...it should have a chance to now. I haven’t got any plans for tomorrow.”

Farkas chuckled at that, kissing gently at the top of the elf’s thigh, feeling dark hairs brushing against his lips before he continued wiping the other man clean.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, little elf.”

“...I think...” Nibenor paused, swallowing and Farkas looked up as he shifted to sit on the bed beside the other man, beginning to wipe his torso clean “...I don’t think I would have come back, if it wasn’t for you.”

“I didn’t think a wood elf would like Sovngarde that much.”

The black haired man scowled.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Farkas. If it wasn’t for you...I don’t think I’d have survived it.”

The Nord glanced up, meeting his partner’s gaze, suddenly serious.

“You’re the Dragonborn. You’d manage...maybe I’m just extra...what’s the word...?”

“Incentive?”

“Yeah, incentive.”

“Maybe you’re right...I’m just glad to be back.”

Farkas smiled at that, a comfort and reassurance that he hadn’t felt since Nibenor had left settling itself in his chest. Nibenor fell silent, eyes drifting closed again as Farkas wiped the last wound clean before the priestess arrived.