bakerstreet | hurt/comfort meme

hurt/comfort meme

the hurt/comfort meme

Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject.
- Others respond.
- Roll 1-10 at RNG for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

(( can play either role. pass on 13, 18, and 22. ))

[The Midnight Grind is a strange cafe. Its gilded door shows up just about anywhere and while not very often any time. As Iona Jacqueline Oakes would put it, it's kind of stupid that way. And yet, it will get her the most interesting customers who are the ones who open the door to the Grind themselves in order to get some rest, a drink, and perhaps a bite to eat. That's the simple purpose of this cafe after all. And it's all about that for the witch; meeting people she would otherwise never see by opening the door herself.

This guy was a first timer, she can tell that much (cool jacket, tall, easy on the eyes, always a plus). More importantly, he looks tired.

Heck, she says as much as she approaches him with a big mug of dark coffee, sugar and cream on the side.]

Hope you don't mind me saying it, but you look like you've had one hell of a night.

[ So.

There's a door.

And that's funny, Peter thinks, glancing around at the late night crowd that trudges past him -- he doesn't recall there being a door in that particular spot just a second ago. He's pretty sure it was a blank wall, last time he looked, or more accurately, a very thoroughly graffitied wall. In the dingy lighting of the strip, with its flickering neon lights advertising drinks and sex, the entrance to every bar flung wide open to admit customers, the neat, gilded, closed door is entirely out of place. But with the way people are trundling past without paying it any mind (much less coming or going), he assumes it must have been standing here all the while; he must have not seen it, the first time around.

After all, no one could so thoroughly ignore a fancy door like that, right?

And when, exactly, did Peter Quill become so obsessed with a door, of all things? And why?

Well, he knows the answer to the latter, at least -- he's refocusing on whatever bit of interesting thing catches his eye to keep from thinking about earlier today and what a goddamn clusterfuck it was. A job gone bad, which was par for the course, but so rarely did it go so badly that at the end of it, his team ripped into each other, pointing fingers and shouting. So rarely did their words tear and gouge, claws digging deep and aiming to hurt. Sure, they had their disagreements, but it had never come to this, with all of them wondering if freedom was worth the cost of having to spend even a single moment more in each other's company. The fight (and it could be called nothing but a fight; calling it an argument was far too coy) ended with Gamora practically screaming in frustration, with Drax snorting in disgust and stomping away in opposite directions; with Rocket grumbling, We were better off on our own, Groot, and slinking away; with Groot casting Peter a look of empathy before dutifully following after; and with Peter staring, wide-eyed, as his team fell apart.

He shakes himself, glancing around one more time to verify the fact that no one seems to be paying the door any mind, which is when curiosity gets the best of him. Doors are meant to be opened, right?

He's not sure what he's expecting when he enters, but he does so cautiously, pushing the door aside with all the care one might use when opening the cage of a half-crazed lion. It says quite a bit about his life and the company he keeps that the last thing he expects is a warm little cafe -- especially since just seconds ago, he was loitering around on some street with some of the diviest bars to have ever dived. So when Iona approaches him, he sort of-- blinks at her.

A second passes, and he breathes out a joyless little laugh. ]

What gave it away? The thousand yard stare?

[The Midnight Grind really is cozy. There's a sofa seat, wooden furniture and floor, the walls are inlaid with red bricks and the ceiling is covered with softly lit lanterns. Behind the counter are black, mostly empty chalkboards (no menu?), coffee and espresso machines. The scent of leafy and flowery teas mingles with the bitter notes of coffee grounds. It adds to the comforting if dreamlike atmosphere of the cafe.

And there's the young woman herself. Coarse, wavy hair, friendly brown eyes, wearing a white button up top and a dark blue skirt. All in all, normal enough for someone in a place whose door is among seedy dives and bars.

Iona takes a peek behind Peter as if looking outside before she turns her attention back to him, smiling brightly.]

You could say I've seen over a thousand of those kinds of stares.

[She gestures towards an open chair.]

Take a seat! Might as well brood darkly where it's warm right? And with a good cup of coffee to boot.

[ -- yeah, okay, he has to admit she has a point. If he's going to be sulking, he might as well do it where he's comfortable.

So after a second of hesitation, he takes a seat as she directs, arms crossed on the table. ]

Gotta admit, didn't really expect to see a place like this in a-- [ He pauses, then finishes lamely, ] --in a place like... this.

It's always like that with first timers, don't worry.

[When he sits down, Iona's quick to get a cup to pour some fresh coffee into it, and then setting it on a tray with sugar cubes and cream in a small pot. Fancy? The motions are practiced and well tread ground and she puts the tray down in front of him as if Peter was already a regular.]

Speaking of which, first cup is always free on the house. Can't dampen your mood more by ponying up cash now can I?

[ Peter's a suspicious bastard, to put it lightly. He also tends to wear his heart on his sleeve when he's not reining in his emotions.

Which is why he watches Iona's every move with open bewilderment. ]

Um. Thanks?

[ ... gurl what's ur game.

At any rate, he takes the mug of coffee in hand, and he's surprised by how much it smells like regular coffee. Proper Terran coffee, anyway, and not the swill they call coffee out in his neck of the galactic woods. It reminds him of the mornings after spending a night with Gramps, when he'd wake to the sound of the machine gurgling and dripping coffee into the carafe.

He takes a sip of it straight (it's the way Gramps drank his -- who needs sugar and cream?), and for a moment he just-- stops. Because it tastes how he remembers, too. Better, naturally, because Gramps always let his stuff sit too long, but-- ]

--That's really good. [ He blurts it out.

#smooth ]

[It's quite possible that she is a living ray of sunshine because she lights up even more if possible when he says that it's good.]

Really?

[There's a bounce in her step and in her wavy ponytail.]

Glad to hear it! I've gotten way better at this in the past few months!

[Oren is a harsh teacher when it comes to brewing perfect coffee.]

[ shit okay, her energy is infectious, and Peter finds himself smiling tentatively in return. ]

Is that how long you've been open? A few months?

[ It certainly explains the locale, if this was a startup. Real estate on a shitty stretch of street like this had to come cheap. ]

Close! A little longer than that.

[Two years is about right as a matter of fact.]

It's just that my main cook and partner in cafe related crime is pretty tough on me when it comes to the basics. But hey, that's what I get for learning under a perfectionist.

[She shrugs. C'est la vie and all that.]

[ He gives a sympathetic smile. ]

Well, if it's any consolation, it seems to be working in your favor.

[ He takes another thoughtful sip, glancing around at the cafe before redirecting his attention to her. ]

I'm-- Peter, by the way. Peter Quill. [ He nearly adds the line about being called Star-Lord, but it's a testament to his mood that he doesn't. ]

[Right now, he's the only one around. Lucky him. The young woman puts her hands on her hips before introducing herself.]

Iona. Iona Oakes.

Nice to meet you Peter! Where did you come in from?

[Strange... question to ask really.]

Nice to meet you, too.

[ ... he assumes that question means he, uh. Looks like a tourist, or at least that he doesn't look local. Oh, the leaps a mind takes. ]

Just-- nowhere in particular. I tend to just go where work takes me, I guess.

[Iona purses her lips together as if trying to form another question in her mind. Like how should she approach this...]

Well, what I meant was... Hm.

[She suddenly leans down to examine him, tilting her head, and then pulling back, arms crossed and tapping her foot.]

Guess it's normal... Ah, never mind!

[And then acting like nothing happened. HM.]

Hope you're not hungry too? I know we don't have anything written on the menu boards so far, but I can make a recommendation!

[ When she moves to stare at him, he leans back on reflex, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

Haven't you ever heard of personal bubbles, lady??? ]

Uh-- I guess I could eat, sure.

[ A pause, then, ]

What the hell was that about, a second ago?

Just checking! [She makes a dismissive waving gesture with one hand as if it didn't really matter.]

I get all sorts of customers from all different places. Sorry if that seemed a little weird though.

[ "A little" is putting it lightly.

Wryly, ] So, what, were you, like picking up my scent?

Well, you look human enough! That's usually an A-OK sign!

[THUMBS UP!! Iona's kind of an odd duck if one couldn't tell already.]

As for the scent thing, I have the right to remain silent.

[ A longish pause, and he's giving Iona a once over, as if seeing her for the first time. ]

Are you-- you sayin' you're Terran?

Am I a what now??

[She tilts her head clearly confused.]

Uh.

[ Dreams-- dashed??? ]

From Terra. Earth?

Oh. Oooooooohhh!!

[A beat.]

Yes.

[Maybe not dashed!?]

[ He pauses for a moment or two, carefully setting down his coffee to give Iona yet another once over.

Because-- what are the odds, really? ]

How did you end up way the hell out here?

[ Never mind that's exactly the sort of question someone might ask him, in turn. ]

[Iona shrugs.]

No idea. You tell me because I was trying to figure out where you came in from.

[ That's just. Confusing him even more. ]

-- Okay, I think you and I are holding two different conversations.

Peter Quill | Guardians of the Galaxy | ota

12

fml sorry about the tl;dr

omg i missed noodle tldr....

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