bakerstreet | REVENGE OF 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a sound as Mireille bumps into the table, and Ren flinches away instinctively. But that is Mireille there, not... anyone else. He never bumped in to anything, after all. And she is getting candles.

Ren manages, barely to not huddle over the first lit candle, though she does edge closer to it, putting herself firmly in the meager sphere of light it provides. The flame is small, but it does cast a heat on her face causing tears she'd not realized she'd shed to evaporate. It makes her skin tingle, two suddenly dry lines down her face.

"I don't like darkness," she says quietly, as the other two candles are lit. It's probably an obvious statement, but she feels the need to justify.

"It's natural, isn't it?"

It isn't clear whether she's referring to the darkness itself or the fear thereof. Neither does she attempt to clarify, instead leaning in to light the remaining two candles, placing them in separate holders - the area lit widening a few inches more. Enough that the room is darkness in part - shadows, not full. Pulling out a chair, Mireille sits down. Lets Ren decide what move to make next.

"What is?" Ren asks, looking up sharply. Suspiciously. It's too easy to default to suspicion right now. In this situation.

She pulls a chair over, shifting it so she's as close to the light as possible, while still keeping her back against the wall. Logically, she knows her fears are probably unfounded. But logic has a far less hold on her than it use to. And emotion more of one. "You will stay?" she asks "Until the power comes back?"

She pauses. Mid-motion; about to reach for a nearby book. The title shrouded in shadows. Meeting Ren's eyes, she purses her lips briefly. The answer isn't difficult. Mankind has feared the darkness, because it renders them blind to the world. As such, fire remains their greatest accomplishment. The beginning of a domino effect.

"That which we can't see, we can't control either."

An answer to both questions. She has no say in when the power will return, but she has full control over her approach to the wait.

Ren laughs, a short laugh that manages to be only slightly hysterical. "I've never liked things I can't control"

She passes her fingers through the closest candle flame, quick enough not to burn, but she can still feel the warmth. Warmth is good.

"You can read if you want" she says, looking up.

The permission to read changes little in terms of her prior plans. She had intended to do so, fully. Nevertheless, the context in which Ren is speaking expands the decision into recital. Words are of influence. Currently, they may be sufficiently calming.

She takes the book. Recognises it, even before the title can be read in the light of the candles. Fleurs du Mal. It becomes a matter of random pages, when she opens it.

"Very Far From Here."

Ren smiles, almost without realizing it as Mireille starts to read out loud. It's not the words themselves, but just the rhythm of someone speaking, reciting, that manages to be calming. It lets her sit back slightly, heart rate slowing, and breathing starting to return to normal. She still felt all together too shaky, but that would probably pass.

"Thank you" she says, when Mireille finishes with the first poem. "I'm sorry, sudden darkness just... It's nice to hear someone else's voice." Someone human. Normal.

"Companionship... is the most effective method of escapism, surely."

Not that she escaped Father's death, back... then. There were a multitude of other affairs to escape, however - and Jean Louis created a greater distance than she could ever have managed on her own. In Ren's case, it's the darkness. In Mireille's, it was the loneliness. Ironic as it may be, with distance and shadows as the means.

She hits up another page. Gives Ren time to respond.

She is about to say something snarky, but stops, because Mireille is right. Escapism has its dangers of course, but there is no harm in a little bit of it. She runs her fingers through the candle flame again, focusing her attention on it while she tries to herd her thoughts into something resembling clarity.

"A... friend of mine once said poetry is just songs without music. Though with how you read, I don't think you need music to make it lyrical"

Mireille pauses, fingers shrouding the title of the poem in shadows, but not the first few lines. I give you these verses so that if my name -- When she thinks of lyrical music, she doesn't think of Katie Melua, but red velvet seats. Paris, champagne and silk-clad riches. Poetry should be far removed from that sort of polish, surely.

"Mother's preference is for opera."

"And mine is musical theatre. All the pomp with less pretentiousness. In my opinion."

She smiles up at Mireille. "Please, another? And... I could sing something afterwards if you'd like. To pass the time"

It was Mother who once, quite affronted, had asked her what difference there really was between poetry and the stage arts. The distinction is subjective, of course. Simply a matter of taste. Or the lack thereof.

A raised eyebrow and she leans in, closer to the light. Although she knows the words already.

I give you these verses so that if my name,
A vessel favored by a strong north wind,
Fortunately reaches the distant future's shore,
And some night sets the minds of men to dreaming,

She lets the words wash over her again, even managing a small smile as she listens.

"One of your favorites?" she asks.

"No."

Simply, with a small smile of acknowledgement. Baudelaire is her force, but she isn't one to deny that certain poems read more strongly than others. And this one isn't strength, even if it's beauty.

"You have it memorized though"

A statement, not an accusation. She has memorized many things herself that are far from favorites. Some of them she even actually still remembers.

"Will you read one of your favorites then?"

Her smile gains warmth. If she should teach French literature, it would be for the sake of this poem alone. She's written an entire book on it, hasn't she? Nothing can serve as substitute for voice, however. Not with... this.

The Mask, Allegorical Statue in the Style of the Renaissance - To Ernest Christophe, Sculptor.

Her recital is prolonged, this time. Not only is the poem longer, but she presents each stanza with great care.

There is always something to be gained in indulging other's passions. Not in the literal sense, at least not for her. Spring's philosophies had been enticing, but Dusk's realities had drawn her stronger. She might wish to pursue desire, but with her heart's dream out of reach fatalism was a far more reasonable emotion to seek to sustain her. But that is not what she needs now, whereas this ernest reading is.

She leans back in her chair a bit as Mireille reads, both amused and fascinated by the passion the other woman has for this particular poem. And thus, she asks.

"Why this one? It is beautiful of course, I'm just wondering"

REVENGE OF HURT/COMFORT

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject