bakerstreet | ( hurt//comfort )

( hurt//comfort )

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.

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[ what can be arguably called a "healing process" has begun, but peaceful moments seem to be fleeting in beacon hill's lately so they'd best get the jump on this one while they can. so far as lydia is concerned, the whole affair could be completed and have a gigantic mental bandaid on the second he gave her a new key, the one she'd tried to give back being so inconveniently dropped and lost in the shuffle that followed the death of principal argent. ]

[ but that is an unspoken stipulation, a bridge that has not been crossed yet. she hasn't even said she wants a second key, instead making do with the occasional text and showing up at his house unannounced on a sunday evening and ringing the doorbell. ]

( do you still— jackson remembers asking and she'd said yes. that should have solved things rather neatly, shouldn't it? he's a werewolf now, no longer the kanima, that's all behind him.

except, except. he can't quite let it go yet, can't sleep at night for fear of waking up with his body no longer his again, for fear of fading the way he had before until there was nothing of him left, no free will and no control over his actions except for flashes to wash blood off his hands or to uselessly warn people away from him.

everything is very much not okay, no matter how much he'd like to pretend. he needs to get out, needs to distract himself — but he knows that he'll only keep thinking on it if he's on his own.

i do, i do still love you — and yet he hesitates to ask her for anything. he's not weak. he's a whittemore (except he isn't, not really, not by blood).

the doorbell interrupts that thought and he's thankful for it. it shows in his smile, when he finds lydia standing there. )

Hey.

[ she had expected a smile just about as much as she had expected such a prompt response to the doorbell. lydia may or may not have already been scouting the perimeter from the vantage of the porch to find an open window or hide-a-key (which she'd steal) by the time the front door swings open, and the smile throws her off enough that there's a moment of opened mouthed silence before the corners of her mouth tweak upwards. ]

Hey - [ she echoes, breath hitching and spine straightening. she's standing up a little straighter as if she might intend to invade his personal space and stand on her tip toes to pepper his face with kisses. but the foot or two of air between their bodies is occupied with the emotional instability of not knowing where they stand and the crippling self-doubt that came with prospective rejection. ]

Uh - hi.

[ he hasn't asked her for help and she hasn't seen fit to burden him with the contents of her nightmares. but that doesn't mean that they won't...eventually. maybe. she hopes. ]

[ - just... not on the porch. ]

Can I come in?

( it's that very awkwardness between them, the space between their bodies, the prospect of rejection that has jackson hesitant to open up to her, to ask for more despite her words that she does, she still does —

but she's here now, isn't she, and so he steps back. ) 'course. ( he doesn't remember the last time that she asked and that, too, adds to his doubts. it's a vicious circle, with her hesitancy feeding his and — most likely — vice-versa, but jackson isn't self-aware enough, nor would he care to be, to figure out any such thing. as is, he just hates the space between them. despite his frequent claims to the contrary, he really isn't self-assured enough to do anything about it, though. )

Sure. Come in.

[ for as appropriate as this time is for "healing" and "emotional repair", it seems they've got themselves stuck in a perpetual circle of self doubt and romantic turbulence, doomed to end in tearful heart to hearts or just doomed to end. but realities like that were the ones she did not choose to recognize and shakes off like she shakes her head, like she tosses her hair before crossing the threshold. ]

[ lydia spares a second just inside the house to glance around. she tries to assess if they're alone in the house, if mrs. whittemore is home and cooking or mr. whittemore was watching television a room or two over. either way, there's something alien about the house that comes from frequenting it so often and then suddenly stopping; something uncomfortable that has her digging in her purse whilst simultaneously seeking confirmation that she is not intruding. ]

You weren't doing anything important, were you?

( if jackson were any more introspective, perhaps he would recognise the circle, perhaps he would see how he is sabotaging himself far too often, but introspective would mean dwelling on his many shortcomings, would mean dwelling on the fact that he's constantly trying to be better and falling short of his own expectations and it isn't something he wants to deal with, something he can let himself consider consciously. so instead he'll tell everyone how great he is until they believe it, and if he comes across as a jerk and an asshole, it's better than admitting inadequacy. )

No. Just watching an old game. ( one he's seen too many times already, where he knows every step he took, every single time he could have scored and didn't because he wasn't fast enough or good enough.

that won't happen anymore now that he's a werewolf. ) Want a drink?

[ her lips part with a you still do that? on the lips, but she seems to think better and swallows it back. there's a wrinkle - that can't seem to decide if it wants to be condescending or confused - creasing her nose as well, and it takes the familiar offer of something to drink for her features to soothe and a smile shapes her mouth in place of the forcibly neutral thin-lips. ]

Yeah, sure. [ the rummaging in her bag stops, but her fingers have blindly found the slim, plastic dvd case she'd carefully picked out at the rental. it takes a great deal self assurance to let go and bring her hands up to clap once and rub her hands together. ]

What do you have?

( of course he still does that. he isn't going to stop doing that — it's a way to learn, isn't it. and a way of forcing himself to get better, to be better in the future because no one likes being confronted with their own failures, much less repeating them. )

Beer, or I think there's some wine in the fridge. Juice or water. ( and if he's honest with himself - which he isn't, thank you very much - he'd have to admit that he takes his cues from her, always has. her smile means he can relax a little, let some of the tension go. )

Juice is fine. [ she decides after a lengthy internal debate (greater than the current "do i take off my shoes and get comfortable or not?" debate, or the great "what is the balance between prude and skank?" of their first few weeks of dating. but in the end she places a hand on the entryway wall and balances precariously whilst pulling off her shoes and decides she'd rather not have this tainted by drinking. ]

[ so juice it is. orange juice, apple juice, cranberry juice... it doesn't really matter, but she'll follow him into the kitchen like it matters a whole lot; like the type of cup he pulls down from the cupboard is a matter of life or death, when all that really matters is how close they can stand together without it being awkward. lydia schools her expression into a maks of composure whilst one more debate runs it's course, then wrinkles her nose while summoning the nerve. ]

Do you think we could watch something else? I brought a movie.

Right. [ he pours two glasses of orange juice, holding one out for her, seemingly nonchalant for all that he isn't really feeling it. ]

Which one? [ because if it is "the notebook" again, he will have to seriously consider whether he wants to sit through that again, whether her presence is worth that. (who is he kidding, they both know that it is.) ]

Um.

[ of course it's not the notebook. ]

[ no. no, of course not. why would they watch the notebook? he hates the notebook; she loves it, yeah, and she'd spent a good thirty minutes debating getting it from the video store anyway, but in the end, lydia had chosen a much better film. a much better suited film for spending time in each other's company. ]

[ but she's almost hesitant to say which, exactly. ]

An American Werewolf in London

[ good. he knows the dialogue in that one off by heart by now and that is really not doing anything for his self-esteem, thank you very much. ]

Really. [ jackson doesn't know whether to be amused or not -- but he is a werewolf now, isn't he? in the end, he just shrugs and gestures towards the living room. ] Parents are out, we might as well use the big TV.

[ she's actually never watched it, just knows of it like people know of the godfather and children of the corn - classic reputation. ]

[ on the list of things that had never interested lydia martin, werewolf movies were mid-to-halfway up. on the list of things that lydia martin had a real aversion to lately, werewolves were much closer to the top, and after seeing the real deal hollywood just doesn't impress anymore. what good were plastic fangs and stage makeup and mostly crappy cgi when she could see the real thing up close any day if she so chose. ]

[ not that lydia...chose very often. she chose to come here, yes, but jackson and peter hale still managed to be complete opposites in her mind. ]

Great~ [ and she's chipper again, flouncy and bouncy as she turns and parades into the living room. ]

[ jackson hasn't seen it either, but it is a classic -- if nothing else, there's a part of him that thinks he should know these things, it's only becoming of a whittemore, and if he gets to watch it with lydia martin next to him on the couch, he's hardly going to complain.

there's another part that is a little worried: it's a horror movie and jackson's been a monster long enough. there's nights he wakes up terrified that the kanima is still there, that it will claw its way out from under his skin and that is what he will turn into on the next full moon or on any other night, that he'll lose himself in it again.

chances are, the movie won't bring any of that up. he certainly hopes that it won't, that nothing in there will remind him of what has happened.

he settles on the couch, remote in one hand. ]

[ they can talk about nightmare. they can compare and contrast his night terrors of scales and poison to her bad dreams of fur and teeth, and share a mutual fear of the full moon before repressing it and carrying on as if nothing had happened. they could date again, she could regain the position of queen bee of beacon hills high school and recover from the social suicide that was psychological breakdowns and naked fugue states, he could surpass mccall - or at least be on the same level as him - again and the coach could nix the co- prefix, and he could just be captain again. ]

[ they could go out, but come home and sit on his couch and watch ironically themed movies. next up - teen wolf. it was from the 80's, but she'd seen it on the b-movie shelf and just been drawn to the title. but an american werewolf in london was what she came for, and without realizing it was the sequel to an american werewolf, an america werewolf in london is what she had walked away with, come here, and inserted into the dvd player. ]

[ they're sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, but it's an older film and it seems no one takes the time to include previews for out of date movies on older dvds. so when they come to the menu (cliche and horribly designed) and he presses play, lydia takes the chance to shift over until their arms are brushing. ]

[ and when that is not enough, not reminiscent enough of affection, and sweet, and couple-y, she makes to lift his arm and squirm right up against his side as the opening credits roll. ]

This is going to be cheesy.

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( hurt//comfort )

how's about a little 7 and we can mix in other numbers as we see fit~

that works for me :3

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forever late.gif i'm sorry

it's cool, i could backtag forever~

sob you may have to, with me ;;

and will do so gladly~

oh, good c:

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