Thursday: Hurt/Comfort
Sep. 26th, 2012 10:14 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficIt’s me again. :) ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deanangstLike a bad penny I keep turning up.
The intended prompt for today has been hijacked. Mainly because I woke up sick and have had a crappy day at work. So I’m choosing to make myself feel better by asking you to put your favorite character thru the wringer. So today is dedicated the old standby Hurt/Comfort. It doesn’t matter if is Physical or Emotional Hurt as long as someone is there to offer Comfort in the end.. Go forth and do your best….or your worst muhahhahhahahah.
As always, remember the rules:
• No more than five prompts in a row.
• No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
• No spoilers in prompts.
• If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space!
Prompts should be formatted as follows:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Some examples to get the ball rolling...
• Leverage, Eliot/team, Eliot gets a bad case of food poisoning while out of town on a case with the team.
• Kane RPS, Christian/Steve, Steve rescues Christian form an abusive relationship.
• Rescue 77, Wick/Bell, when a rescue goes wrong Bell struggles to keep Wick alive.
Enjoy!
tag=hurt/comfort
deanangstLike a bad penny I keep turning up.The intended prompt for today has been hijacked. Mainly because I woke up sick and have had a crappy day at work. So I’m choosing to make myself feel better by asking you to put your favorite character thru the wringer. So today is dedicated the old standby Hurt/Comfort. It doesn’t matter if is Physical or Emotional Hurt as long as someone is there to offer Comfort in the end.. Go forth and do your best….or your worst muhahhahhahahah.
As always, remember the rules:
• No more than five prompts in a row.
• No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
• No spoilers in prompts.
• If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space!
Prompts should be formatted as follows:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Some examples to get the ball rolling...
• Leverage, Eliot/team, Eliot gets a bad case of food poisoning while out of town on a case with the team.
• Kane RPS, Christian/Steve, Steve rescues Christian form an abusive relationship.
• Rescue 77, Wick/Bell, when a rescue goes wrong Bell struggles to keep Wick alive.
Enjoy!
tag=hurt/comfort
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no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:18 am (UTC)In Sickness and Health
Date: 2012-12-31 12:05 pm (UTC)Loki releases a long-suffering sigh. “On anyone else I would consider such ramblings an indication of delirium. In your case, however, I would be concerned if you fell into silence.”
“Don’t be like that baby.”
Loki huffs and places his hand against Tony’s burning forehead. Tony releases a wanton moan and leans greedily into the touch.
“Frosty, your fingers are heaven.”
A bitter smile curls Loki’s lip as he pulls away, much to Tony’s dismay.
“No, no, no, no – Loki come back! How can you abandon me in my hour of need?”
“Like this,” Loki answers as he heads for the exit. He has no patience for the sick or the injured, and has absolutely no interest in coddling Tony. Regardless of the strange affection he has developed for the mortal over the past months he will not be reduced to this – a nurse and an ice-pack. He may be disgraced in Asgard but he still has too much pride to fall to such a level.
“Loki,” Tony whines like the child he is. “Don’t leave. Please? I need you.”
The god of mischief pauses. He turns slowly to see Tony using what is described on Midgard as ‘puppy dog eyes’. It is rather disturbing, seeing someone who is usually the personification of confidence and bravado look vulnerable. Yet, at the same time, Loki cannot suppress the small twinge of sympathy in his breast. Still, he has a reputation to uphold, and he is not about to throw that away for a mortal.
“I thought you did not need anyone?” Loki replies coldly in an attempt to retain ground.
Tony pouts before suddenly bursting into a painful-looking fit of coughing. Loki pushes down the much stronger pang of sympathy he feels at this, and continues to maintain his impervious facade.
When Tony has recovered he rubs gingerly at his throat and says hoarsely, “Fine, I don’t need you. But I do want you; so stop being such a pompous ass and get in bed with me. Please?”
Two pleases in as many minutes – Tony must really be ill.
Feeling his resolve crumble, Loki wordlessly removes his shirt and crawls into Tony’s bed. Tony grins and buries his face against Loki’s chest as the god wraps a possessive arm around his shoulders. Tony groans softly as he nuzzles Loki’s skin and mumbles, “It’s times like this when I’m really glad you have such a low body temperature.”
Loki sighs but doesn’t pass comment. He can already sense Tony falling into dream and has no intention of interrupting his descent. A sleeping Tony is the only type of Tony that doesn’t make sarcastic comments, and Loki will be damned if he’s going to be nice and receive anything other than Tony’s undying gratitude.
“When I’m better remind me to buy you something nice; you deserve it,” Tony mutters sleepily as he curls closer to Loki’s side.
A reluctant smile crosses the god of mischief’s face. “That is one promise I will not begrudge keeping.”
Tony huffs a laugh before falling into slumber. After much consideration Loki joins him and dreams of Agent Barton breaking into the room to take compromising photographs of them. It isn’t until Loki turns on the news the next day that he discovers, much to his and Tony’s combined horror, that it wasn’t a dream.
Re: In Sickness and Health
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:22 am (UTC)John/Bobby Fill (PG)
Date: 2012-09-27 03:43 am (UTC)He walked out, but his heart, hugging his sons through Bobby's strong arms and stronger but also gentle heart. Bobby held Dean as he cried. He held him, and he rocked him. He whispered words of whose meaning even he wasn't sure, eager to say anything to ease the little boy's pain while knowing that nothing could ever heal the hole in his heart and soul. Nothing could replace his mother or make him whole again, but he tried. He tried with every gentle touch, each hug and caress, and every good night kiss placed on little Dean's forehead after he'd cried himself to sleep.
Then he cast a look at Sammy, who always appeared to be asleep, and went after John. He'd find him sometimes after a hunt, sometimes during a fight, and sometimes about to bite off more than he could chew for his man was willing to face an entire army of Demons rather than his sons whom he seemed impossible to make happy. However he found him, he always brought him back out.
He couldn't heal him any more than he could Dean, but he could keep him alive. He could keep him alive for him and his sons. He reminded him every time he was ready to die that the boys couldn't lose both their parents, and he couldn't bare the thought of losing him. He held him much like he held his son, stroking his trembling skin and hair, soothing him with words of a better future that he could promise but yet not make happen, and calming his fears and anguish with kisses when nothing else worked.
He kept father and son going. He gave them the strength his own heart lacked, and when nobody else looked, when he was alone with no other souls to piece back together, Bobby sat and cried himself. He spilled tears into his beer, always keeping an onion and a knife handy should some one find him in his own times of grief.
But some one did find him. Every time, somebody found him, and he was never distracted by the onion, the knife, or even the growing stack of beer cans. He wasn't deterred by Bobby refusing to look at him and telling him to go to bed. He just walked on up to him, teddy bear clutched in one hand, wrapped his arms tightly around his Uncle Bobby, and kissed his scratchy cheek. Sam held to him, and together, they kept their family going.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-26 04:43 am (UTC)"Parker, get him out of there. Hardison, fire alarms - but make sure we don't drag the police or fire department into it. Sophie, salvage whatever you can and we'll try again later."
-
"I'm fine." The growl was gone from Eliot's throat, suggesting that he was definitely not fine. Parker was sitting in the middle of the bed, off too the side with her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on top of them. Nate and Sophie weren't there yet, working on stalling for the night. She poked Eliot in the stomach,
"Throwing up means your sick, not fine."
Hardison wandered into the room with a bucket under his arm and a glass of some kind of liquid that had a purple tint. "Babe, poking him isn't going to help."
The poking of his stomach stopped, and Eliot curled away from her shivering, trying to suppress a moan unsuccessfully. The revolt in his stomach was getting worse, the nausea creeping up slowly in the back of his throat. He'd probably have to use that bucket in a minute.
There was warmth against his back and he stiffened. "What're you doing?"
"You're cold."
"I'm not cold, Parker," Eliot muttered, annoyed, resisting the urge to curl up more tightly.
Parker's voice was right behind his ear. "You're shivering. That means you're cold."
"I wouldn't argue with her man, she gets stubborn."
"I'm fine," he insisted, even as the bile worked its way slowly up his throat. A blanket draped across him and when he tried to open his mouth to insist that he was fine, he ended up hanging off the edge of the bed, throwing up into the bucket.
Parker was still there when he leaned back. "We still like you when you're not fine," she told him seriously, voice muffled from behind his head. He groaned, keeping his mouth shut in case something other than words came out. This was going to be a nightmare, he decided, but he was kind of glad he was too preoccupied to fight off their care. It felt... almost nice. Until he had to throw up again.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:29 am (UTC)Wolverine/ Rogue
Date: 2012-09-27 10:18 pm (UTC)"Stay still," Logan orders, his voice rough. She's lying spread out across his bed, tied by her own desire, as he traces a careful claw down her stomach. He creates intricate patterns across the pale flesh beneath him, watching faint traces of blood well up.
"Please," she begs hoarsely, reaching up.
"No." Logan steps back. "You know the game. As soon as you touch me, it's over."
Her powers work to restrain her better than ropes ever could, because one touch will wreck it all. As soon as skin meets skin, she'll absorb his healing factor, and these light scratches will disappear almost immediately. Logan likes to hold off on the moment as long as possible- to watch his marks fade as he enters her. She likes it too, relishes the feel of replacing one claiming with another.
So she lies back, forcing herself to resume her position on the bed. "I'm sorry, Master. I forgot my place."
"So caught up in the moment you forgot who you are. What you are," Logan tells her, his words a silky glide as he steps forward, not touching her yet. "I like you like this, my pet. So filled up with me, that you forget everything else."
It's a blessing, for a man who doesn't know his own past and a woman who knows anyone she touches, the way they come together. Logan is the only person she's ever met who can take her outside of her head, who willingly lets her into his. He's strong enough to withstand her touch, and she's brave enough to open herself up to his.
They're caught in a loop of pain and healing, of forgetfulness and memory. It's theirs, and it's enough.
Argh, Anon didn't mean to Anon
From:Re: Argh, Anon didn't mean to Anon
From:Re: Wolverine/ Rogue
From:Re: Wolverine/ Rogue
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:45 am (UTC)DCU/Marvel, author’s choice, Dick Grayson refused to be adopted without his best friend Clint Barton; Clint would only stay if his brother could come, too
no subject
Date: 2014-12-18 05:23 am (UTC)I may put this in as a request for someone to fill, though, because I'm not sure I dare write it now, but I want to see it.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:45 am (UTC)Fish don't mind water
Date: 2012-09-30 09:16 am (UTC)---------------
The Jon loved rain. He could spend hours out in it. And actually, he could, and did. He wasn't like Rabbit, with the creaky joints and the break downs. He wasn't like Spine, with his metal that could rust if not taken care of correctly. Rain never bothered him. He couldn't tarnish, or rust, and his mechanics...
Well, let's just say a fish didn't really mind water.
No, The Jon loved the rain. What he didn't like, though, was thunder. Thunder was loud, and made the worst colors. Colors and sounds that reminded him of wars past. Of pain past. Of fear and hate and death. Things he had done his best to forget.
So when thunderstorms hit San Diego (far and few between) Jon would rush back inside. And seek out his oldest brother.
Rabbit didn't like rain. He had spent many nights huddled in trenches with dead and dying boys, waiting out the rain so they could rush the lines again. And Rabbit would be the one to carry them off to heal, or be sent home in a pine box. Whichever he was required to do. He preferred the first one. Rain reminded him of mud, of pain. It would leak into his joints, his internal cogs, his core. It would rust over his gears, would make muck stick up his knees, would make him freeze up and become unable to move.
Rabbit did not like rain. Sitting inside and watching it patter on the window, that was one thing. He enjoyed that. But standing outside in it? No. He'd leave that to Jon. Thunder? He'd give anything not to ever have to hear it again.
The second clap struck his audio receptors, making the hundred sixteen year old robot flinch at the sharp bang that sounded far too much like a bomb for his tastes. Before the sound faded completely, Rabbit found his arms full of a shaking gold and brass robot.
The Jon had come to his older brother once more.
"Rabbit I'm scared!" For all his age, for all he'd seen, Jon was still very much a child. Rabbit smiled as best as his face plates would allow.
"Daer daer Da Jon, nothin' to be afraid of! Just a bit o' thunder! It can't hurt ya none." Rabbit could tell a lie like no other. "It's just Pappy and Delilah bowling."
"The Spine says that's not true."
"Well fooy on Da Spine. What does he know, he's not da older brother now is he?"
"He's my older brother."
"But he's not the oldest!"
"No. But you're not either."
"The giraffe don't count. She's our sister."
"But Rabbit, if Delilah's our sister, why does Sam keep calling her our broken pet?"
Neither of them noticed that the storm raged on above them. Neither of them noticed the lightning that struck again and again, nor the thunder that answered each time.
Rabbit said he'd give anything not to ever have to hear it again. But time spent with Jon; he wouldn't trade that for the world.
Re: Fish don't mind water
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:46 am (UTC)White Collar/Inception(/RED), Neal&Arthur as Frank’s twin sons, when Neal ran from New York he went straight to his brother
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:48 am (UTC)Supernatural, Castiel/Crowley, Castiel fell. Crowley caught him.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:51 am (UTC)Avengers movieverse, Coulson/Clint, Clint doesn’t safeword out though he needed to; it pisses Coulson off
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:53 am (UTC)Avengers movieverse, Clint/Tony, they’re both damaged goods
no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 03:54 am (UTC)