bakerstreet | Hurt/ Comfort Meme

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 captived and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case s, 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.

Nabbed from

hoohaw

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[It happened so fast. One moment he was walking the streets, running errands, and the next he was here.

Here.

There is nothing to see. He's not even sure his eyes are open. The darkness is like a black hole. It consumes all the light. But he can smell everything. Including the stench of rot and decay. And he can hear some things. Enough to know when they are coming.

Sebastian goes through it again, turning it over in his head, trying to make sense of the fragments. One moment he was running errands. He was running errands. And then he was here.

It's enough to drive him insane. As if whatever happened is so horrible he can't see past it. Or around it. But he can feel it.

Each flash of a memory is pain. It's screaming. It's a thousand needles in his mind. It's a small room with no light. It's panic and fear. It's being held down and a fire burning so intensely he begs for it to end.

It happened so fast. And now he's here. Trying to piece together the fragments of his mind. Perfectly still. Invisible. Quiet. Any more movement than what is necessary to breathe and he'll lose himself and have to start all over again.]

Edited 2012-07-11 02:42 (UTC)

The Nightmares are abundant tonight, and it feels like every new one is more ruthless and cunning than the last.

There is only the sound of crisp grass rustling as Loki moves through the open field behind the Inn, breathing calm, eyes like ice staring with impeccable focus as he listens for the creatures. He grips the staff in his hand, the weapon lent to him by the Weaver of Hope. It glistens proudly in the dark, as if it is its own light source.

Loki pauses. He can feel...a deep shadow of horror, his mind flashing with mental pictures of the darkest corners of Yggdrasil, the depth of cold evil in the Chitauri's eyes.

Nightmares.

Loki sprints out of the field and toward the conglomerate of buildings that make up the heart of Glinn, the sound of grass being replaced with stiff, flat heels clicking against stone. The sensation nearly invokes terror in the Aesir, but he has trained himself to force it into adrenaline, the excite of battle.

He turns a corner between two buildings, an alley that he knows opens up to a square with a quaint water fountain, but instead he is welcomed with blinding darkness. The creatures here are strong, but through the blackness he can sense a human. Ahh, a fly caught in the trap.

This is going to require a little more work.

He pulls a few throwing daggers from his cloak and throws them over the mortal's head, and they sink into a Nightmare higher up the wall, spinning this thick fog. It weakens as the icy daggers flare upon impact on the creature's face, but it only seems to upset the beast more than to harm it.

The darkness weakens, but by only mere degrees. The staff's glow penetrates the fog as Loki charges in to find the other Nightmares...and, though he would deny it when asked, to see if this mortal caught in this frightening trap is all right.

Loki sees a figure and grabs them by the arm, a little more roughly than he probably would otherwise (the adrenaline, you see) only to find that it's Sebastian.

"It seems the thread of Fate has joined us together once again." Loki's tone is his usual one toward the human -- playful in the worst of ways, and he even manages a half smile through his panting.

Though with the small group of Nightmares now closing in on them, he really doesn't have much else to smile at.

Edited 2012-07-11 03:26 (UTC)

Sebastian's first instinct is to escape, jerk his arm free and get as far away as possible before the monster can get under his skin, into his head, bring all the pain to the surface and break him to pieces.

He's already struggling against the bruising grip on his arm, lashing out with a white knuckled fist, when something breaches the darkness, penetrates the pure terror racing through his veins.

A familiar voice. A light in the dark. A small safe bubble in the pitch black. It stills his heart, quiets the scream about to tear it's way free his chest. And in a single breath, he finds the courage to speak, risks drawing attention to himself, "Loki?"

But he can still feel the terror pressing in on him. He can hear them. Smell them. Feels a thousand white hot needles invading his mind and setting his skin on fire.

And this time he does scream.

Edited 2012-07-12 03:13 (UTC)

The flash of volatile emotions in Sebastians's eyes is enough to cause Loki's smile to falter. Somehow the god didn't think of how terrified the human would be, only keeping in mind the beasts' collective power, a strategy to fight them, to fulfill his duty. Something as human as being scared typically escapes someone like Loki, someone who is successful at bottling and burying such vulnerable responses.

The scream rips through the dark like a blade, and Loki steels himself for battle. The Nightmares are breaking into the young mortal's mental fortress, seeping into subtle cracks like water, dripping fear through to the inside. Loki has not been told what the Nightmares do to those whom they target, but he's not curious enough to use this boy as a test subject.

Loki whips around, relinquishing his hold on Sebastian's arm to focus his powers through his staff. A Nightmare is crawling down the left wall behind him to corner them, and with a gutteral cry, he Aesir slams the base of the weapon onto the cobblestone, sending a blast of white-hot light through the alley. It rushes through the narrow space and the cry that the group of monsters (three of them, now that Loki can see) give is heart-breaking in its horror. The Nightmares are distracted by their scorched faces and temporary blindness, which is only going to become worse if they continue to claw helplessly at their eyes.

"Quick, his way," Loki commands as he grabs for Sebastian once again, unable to tell how alert and receptive the human is at this moment, and drags him to the mouth of the alleyway.

Sebastian barely manages to stay on his feet, his instinct is to shrink away from the agonizing shrieks, from the threat he can feel so dangerously close. 'Too close!' his mind screams, eyes closed tight against panic and fear, one hand covering his ear in a desperate attempt to block out the noise and the other reaching, grabbing hold of something solid. The only thing keeping him moving is the firm grip on his arm and the distant knowledge that it is Loki.

Despite their strange cat and mouse relationship, despite Thor's warnings, despite what he has read and the absolute that Loki could be even more dangerous than the Nightmares, Sebastian trusts him. He's drawn to him. A cold light in the dark. Except he doesn't believe Loki is cold. Not in the places where it matters. Loki is a master of deception, a King in his own Realm of misdirection and lies.

But he's even more than that and Sebastian can't turn his back on him.

Stars burst behind his eyelids and he can no longer feel where his hand grips Loki or where his feet trip over cobblestones, but Sebastian clings to the last shreds of his sanity and the part of himself that trusts Loki.

While Loki pulls Sebastian out of the alley way, the Nightmares attempt to follow. They are disabled, but not dead.

He nearly throws Sebastian out of the way as they rush out of the narrow opening and into the open square, and the Aesir turns on his heel to face the oncoming trio of undead beings fumbling helplessly after him. It takes little effort to focus his energy, meditate on the powers of Tyr for battle and Skadi for power, calling forth his strength to be channeled through his staff into a blast of icy light that pierces through the Nightmares. They scream in agony before the wind carries their evaporating remains away into the night.

Loki's chest heaves beneath his armor, which hardly budges against his panting breaths, making him look still and reserved. He is, in fact, a little relieved. Either that was deceptively easy, or he's getting better at this.

He turns to look upon Sebastian. He knows not of the effects the Nightmares could have left on the human, and he's...actually concerned, but refuses to let it be shown.

"Are you hurt?"

Loki's voice is muffled by the whooshwhooshwhoosh in his head. He thinks maybe it's the sound of his own heart beat, but it's in rhythm with the throbbing ache in his head.

It takes Sebastian a moment to realize he's on his hands and knees. Another moment to feel the pain where he landed against the cobblestone. But it's nothing compared to the all consuming terror, the thousands of white hot needles, being burned from the inside, the stench of rot and decay, the suffocating and crippling torture of being trapped by a Nightmare. His stomach turns at the memory and his arms shake violently with the effort to not lay down right where he is and feel the cool stone against his cheek.

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut, focuses on moving, slowly, sluggishly trying to get to his feet.

"I'm...f-fine."

The words come out raw and dry and he realizes the screaming in his head had been his own.

Edited 2012-07-16 01:49 (UTC)

Loki has done wonders for separating himself emotionally from everything, finding it much safer in this mad, bad universe full of beings who will lie to you for their own benefit and discard you freely. It had been a painful metamorphosis, but the god of mischief has seen it as drawing strength and shedding a part of himself that had been so raw and vulnerable.

And for the first time in something like a year, Loki feels concern bubble up within, as he stares down at Sebastian helpless on the ground. Loki stalls, lost as to what to do now. He has fought the Nightmares, vanquished the threat, won the battle... Everything should be fine now.

Right?

"You don't seem so," Loki remarks, moreso to make a weak attempt at arguing with him; it's what they do best, after all.

But Loki can't simply leave it at that, bid Sebastian good night, and go back to his duty. He has no idea what those monsters have done to the human, and from the look of it, it's rather serious. Loki could see something cracked inside this mortal, something soon to break if pushed appropriately, and it is almost certain that Sebastian has breached the breaking point. The Aesir glances about he empty square, as if nervous over being caught for doing something worth being embarrassed over.

Almost reluctantly, Loki kneels down beside Sebastian, and without forewarning reaches and takes the young man's face in his hand to get a better look.

But Loki's hold isn't aggressive, like it always has been.

Loki's eyes search Sebastian's openly with a confident gaze. "What did they do to you?"

"I'm fine."

This time the words come out weak, wrapped around a broken sob. He doesn't feel the tears slip down his cheeks. He doesn't feel the desperate grip he has on Loki's arm. He feels his skin peeling away. He feels bones breaking. He feels excruciating pain and things crawling beneath the surface, between bone and muscle. He feels them in his head. He feels the unfathomable loneliness of isolation, an eternity's worth in a split second.

And that had only been the begging. Before he forgot what hell was like and found himself trapped in a never ending loop, on the edge of losing his mind forever. Before Loki found him.

With Sebastian's face cupped into his hands, Loki leans back slightly in alarm while the human begins to cry. Well...now what?

Growing up, Loki didn't observe the best responses to someone who was distraught. He had never seen his brother cry -- when hurt, Thor acted on rage over a bruised pride. When Loki himself had been brought to tears Odin was always wise and understanding, while Frigga was gentle and attentive.

Loki's body stiffens as his mind thrashes around for a solution, for some way to make Sebastian stop crying. His hands move to the mortal's shoulders, gripping him firmly, but...kindly.

"The monsters have gone, but if you linger on them, they will continue to terrorise you, Sebastian."

Eyes flick all over Sebastian's face, as if he will find answers written on the poor boy's forehead. What is it that he is feeling, or perhaps seeing?

"Sebastian...look at me." Loki's eyes are focused on Sebastian's, determined. The human needs an anchor to reality. It's impossible to get coherent answers and details, and without insight, there is only so much Loki can do.

Sebastian can hear you Loki. Just barely over the screaming in his head. But when his eyes meet yours, a reaction more than a conscious effort to respond to your words, he isn't seeing you. He see's them.

Stripping him of his skin as they morph into familiar faces, torn and bleeding and full of rage he has never witnessed in his loved ones before. Not human. Just pretending to be to torture him.

And it's working. All over again as he struggles to see past the images, past the tears, past the pain. He's trying to see you, Loki.

It's not uncommon for Thor to be out in the plentiful but haunting fields beyond the Citadel, looking for battles with the Nightmares. He works only every other night officially for the wonderful Weaver of Hope, but Thor is hard to tire and perhaps even harder to actually satisfy in a fight - and the mortals are plentiful here for a place so dangerous. He's glad to patrol more than his paid lot, go searching for beasts that skitter and growl and cast spells that remind him of the evils of Nornheim.

He hadn't expected to see Loki there, though - has he wandered so far as to join up where his brother guards as well? Part of him, the side that wells with feeling every time he must acknowledge the shattered ice that lays in Loki's eyes instead of the warmth there once was, is proud to know he's committed himself to defending the Citadel and its princess, its occupants as well.

Loki had been born to be a king as well, after all.

"Brother!" He's smiling as he hails him, their past trials fresh in his mind but it's good to see him well and fighting.

Loki had been tracking a particularly nasty Nightmare this evening, a Wraith with a temper that rivaled his own, and it had lead him somewhere out of Glinn. It was sharp and quick, though most of the Wraiths were, and Loki had lost himself in the hunt, not entirely aware of what section of the city this creature had been taking him.

In a clearing, the Aesir lost the Nightmare. He stood out in the open field, utilising and focusing all of his senses to pick up on the being once again. Gripping his staff firmly in his hand, he meditated on his surroundings...

But his mental footing was disrupted at the call of Thor, and he very well winced -- both in annoyance and shock at being interrupted. Without forethought, Loki's head whips around to the source of the voice, and his eyes only barely cast their gaze upon the Odinson when the Wraith materialises behind him.

In a split-second, Loki is pierced through the shoulder with the Wraith's long, blade-like claws. The pain is freezing hot, and he cries out loudly from the attack. In his rush of adrenaline and being caught so off-guard, all he can manage is to take one of his throwing daggers to stab the arm of the creature behind him, though it does succeed in causing the damned thing quite some agony.

But when it only serves to make the Nightmare angry enough to then secure a hold on him, he rather regrets the reaction.

Edited 2012-07-13 01:58 (UTC)

Thor's smile is quick to disappear - not quite at Loki's obvious displeasure at seeing him, no that wouldn't dampen his spirit so - but to make way for a truly terrible frown at the Wraith that appears to attack his waylaid kin. Mjolnir is off his hip, in his hand in moments with all the practiced fluidity of centuries of battle, and Thor spins it a moment before launching both himself and the hammer forward.

One arm just barely moves ahead of his body, shoves Loki out of the way, and then-- Mjolnir is swung forward with a heavy but brutally quick force, cleaving through the Wraith even as it seems to dissipate around the weapon.

There's storm clouds directly above them, lightning reflecting in the blue of Thor's narrowed eyes, face haughty and confident but drawn in concentration; adrenaline pumps through his veins because it's been a while, far too long since he's seen Loki harmed in battle while they were on the same side.

As the lightning is called down moments later to dispell the re-gathered Wraith completely, Thor cannot help but pledge this action, this kill in honor of Loki - who to Asgard may be dishonored, but to Thor will ever be an equal prince to himself.

Before Loki can even execute a tactic that has formed in his head to get out of this Wraith's hold and continue to fight, Thor flies in and in a blur Loki finds himself being thrown out of the Nightmare's grasp. It is painful to feel those long nails being pulled back out of his body, but that sensation is nothing compared to landing on his wounded shoulder with such force.

Loki glares at the thunder god as the Wraith is vanquished, intensely heated rage welling up inside of him as he struggles to his knees. It is in Thor's style to come in at the last moment and disrupt everything Loki has worked for to take all of the credit, isn't it?

"Ever the reliable brother you are," Loki spits his words like a cobra with its venom, face twisted in both anger and agony as he grips his right shoulder, "always showing up at the most opportune moment to take the big kill, and all of the glory with it. It seems like that much of you hasn't changed!"

Loki holds himself and his words as if his voice isn't straining against the pain crawling in through his chest, or the blood slowly trickling down his fingers. No, he's perfectly fine.

There's not much in the way of gore from a creature whose body is only composed of shadows and fears in the first place, and so as Thor turns back towards his had-been brother he's clean except for the light veneer of adrenaline that practically halos him.

It was a quick strike though, more a single punch that a battle, and the fearsome grin on Thor's face is disappearing rapidly once more at the sight of Loki so injured. He's spitting poison back at him and Thor blinks even though perhaps he should have suspected nothing less.

But how can one lose hope about a kin so dear to them?

"Loki, you tired the beast out. Surely the glory goes to you mostly, both of us second; fighting side-by-side as it should be." He doesn't say 'brother' back, doesn't give a reason for Loki to mock him with it once more, but his tone shows his attachment. He closes in, bends down to where Loki is kneeling from having been shoved aside - but Thor thinks of it more as getting him out of harm's way.

"Loki...you've been wounded." Obviously, but it's hard to imagine; it's been decades since Thor has seen Loki so careless in battle as to sustain an injury that literally went through his body, and he reaches out a great hand to rest near the gash. His fingers smear red and Thor doesn't feel sickened at it, but he worries nonetheless. "Can you heal this yourself?"

"Ah, really? If only everyone else had seen it that way when you slayed the builder but I had lead Svaðilfari away, who had been the key problem in that situation." Instead Thor got all of the praise and Loki was hiding in the forest waiting for Sleipnir to be born.

Glory? Was Thor really that naive, or was he just lying to make him feel better about himself? It didn't matter -- it infuriated Loki all the same. He wasn't a child, and didn't need to be treated like one.

"Oh thank you, Thor, I don't possibly know how I managed to miss that." Despite himself, Loki flinches at the weight of Thor's hand on his wound. It's all his fault, like everything else.

Orbs of frosted turquoise stare at Thor with every ounce of spite they can channel, neverminding his weakening state -- sweat glazing his brow, colour draining from his face, a tiredness in his eyes... While the Allfather has his Odinsleep, it is not unlikely for the Aesir to rest accordingly when heavily stressed or injured. Loki feels a pull into slumber, an urge to slump over in the grass and just rest, just for five minutes...

"I can," Loki snaps softly, as if his abilities had been questioned. "I've sustained worse." But this was pretty high up there.

Thor chuckles at Loki's ire, laughs at his bitterness because what else is there to do? There's no point to getting angry and he finds it hard to be so, not when Loki sits there bleeding and petulant like a child angry that he's lost a throwing dagger competition. (Something that, of course, has never actually happened to his brother.)

"Will you want my help, brother? Shall I take you someplace to rest?" There's concern in his face, honest and unguarded, and his hand shifts from Loki's wounded and bloodied shoulder up to his neck. He cups it as he has many times before, back when 'brother' had been a term of endearment and not a mock.

He smears red across black hair and pale skin, and it's a fitting visual for the mess their relationship has become.

Loki feels a shadow of distant memories when laughter bubbles from Thor, like the battle in Niflheim when he was caught accidentally in the back-swing of Mjolnir and was sent flying halfway across the battlefield into the enemy's army, and how they had laughed about it afterward as they rode home tiredly, but happily.

The feeling stings Loki and he winces as if it were a physical sensation -- as if the hand on his face had done something to harm him.

"I need no aid from you; you've been helpful enough for one night," Loki seethes as he pushes himself up, finding his footing with little grace. He takes two steps before a knee buckles from underneath him and he stumbles into the grass. His body is trying desperately to force him into a healing sleep, but he refuses to look so vulnerable before Thor.

Edited 2012-07-15 02:05 (UTC)

Loki flinches back from his touch and Thor would like to not allow it, has the urge to just take what he wants--

--but what is it that he wants? His brother back? Loki seems intent on the idea that he is lost to everyone except himself...and perhaps even that. So Thor watches with serious eyes and a heavy heart as Loki moves up an past him only to fall, unable to carry himself despite all his stubborness. It rings reminiscent of their past encounters and difficulties, but Thor was saved by Loki's interventions at times, was he not?

His blood still hums from battle as Thor scoots over swiftly, powerful legs flexing in a small motion before he's settling in again, seated in the grass by his had-been kin, his would-be brother...if things could ever even return to a shade of normalcy. "I doubt, Loki, that you have found me helpful at all in the last hundred years." He doesn't touch again, not yet, but he burns to. Instead he looks at Loki and sees exhaustion, the drawn face of pain, and a brave warrior whose shell is beginning to crumble.

Is the child that Thor had befriended still inside?

Edited 2012-07-16 02:11 (UTC)

One would think that Loki would respond to Thor's remark with a sneer piercing like a dagger, verification that yes, the god of thunder had only been a constant pest on good days for as long as he could ever remember.

But even Loki can't pretend that their kinship hasn't had it's remarkable moments. It's probably that fact alone that causes the god's face to twist into a scowl as he looks over his shoulder at Thor. Damn you, Thor.

"Trying to guilt me, now? You do have a knack for good ti--" Loki's voice breaks in a soft gasp and he clutches his shoulder even harder, feeling as if the breath had just been knocked out of his chest. He wonders if the Wraith's claws had some sort of enchantment about them, because he finds it difficult to believe being stabbed could hurt this much.

He loathes the idea that he needs help. If it were a tangible thing, Loki would wrap his trembling hands around it and suffocate the life out of it. As it stands, he can't make it back to the Inn on his own. The last thing Loki wants is to look weak and helpless before the son of Odin.

"Well if you want to be helpful, you could stop your useless commentary and get me back to Glinn." Perhaps it seems less needy if he acts like a jerk about it?

Loki's still snarling back at him, but it's something Thor has grown used to and even learned the different flavors of - this feels like an injured horse nipping at him, a wounded dog biting an attendent's hand as they go to bandage its paw. If Loki meant to hurt him in return, he would have been more specific-- and then his brother is leaning forward in obvious pain.

It's difficult to harm an Aesir, and knowing that Loki is truly a Frost Giant should mean he's nearly as impervious as Thor himself. It's that knowledge and concern, affection left over from before that has Thor nodding dutifully before reaching out to grasp Loki - but gently, around his waist. It's easy to rise with both of them, because even if his injured kin is nearly his height and not exactly lacking in heavy muscle himself, Thor could rend most substances in half with his bare hands.

With an efficient but slow flex of his thick legs, he's standing with Loki tugged flush against his side, the scent of blood rusting the air around them. There's no sharing of body heat with all their layers of clothing, but somehow Thor feels a warmth in his chest just the same. "I will be happy to help you, Loki, but I fear my useless commentary may not cease as much as you would like."

As Thor grasps his weakening body and pulls him up off of the ground, Loki hisses a pained breath on its intake. The hand used to grasp at his wounded shoulder releases and he grabs onto Thor for balance. Despite their ever-widening rift, physical contact is never something to find alien or inappropriate, even when such friction is apparent.

Loki only loathes the echoes of kinship he feels with Thor holding him up, supporting him, helping him.

His eyes glare, but his smile contradicts his reaction. "You are becoming too much like me. Is that a threat, or a promise?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hurt/ Comfort Meme

Loki Laufeyson ↔ MCU ↔ OTA

Hokori Sebastian Carter

wtf how did I type this much I am so sorry

Re: wtf how did I type this much I am so sorry

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Got a 1 rolling last night, got a 5 this morning; it's like it knows, Loki. IT KNOWS.

Re: Got a 1 rolling last night, got a 5 this morning; it's like it knows, Loki. IT KNOWS.

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