ᴊᴜɴᴋᴏ ᴇɴᴏsʜɪᴍᴀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dispairages) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2014-08-19 07:50 am
dispairages) wrote in bakerstreet2014-08-19 07:50 am
[florence nightingale effect meme]
1. Previously aloof tough character gets injured, lets the love interest treat their injuries, and reveals a newfound trust and intimacy. This might or might not involve the tough person making that hissing sound when the love interest touches their injured face, but not quite pulling away...
2. The love interest gets injured, and the tough character treats them and suddenly reveals a tender side.
It's an old trope, admittedly, but an understandable one. You're hurt - physically or emotionally - and perhaps even on the brink of death. And then, out of the blue, someone saves you and brings you back. They heal you, they feed you, cloth you, wash you. In the human mind, the intimacies can bring up warm feelings, even in the hardest of hearts. Will you fight them or let them grow? And what about when it's time to leave? You may not feel like leaving your angel...
HOW TO PLAY
1. Comment with your character and preferences. Mention if you'd prefer to play the healer or the healed - or both, for greatest versatility!
2. Reply to others.
NOT EXACTLY PROMPTS, BUT IDEAS
- The finding and saving
- The hurt/comfort care process, I.E. cleaning wounds, bathing, wrapping bandages, etc.
- Feeding, finding clothes, etc.
- Mother hen behavior ("you're still hurt, don't do that!")
- Comforting from trauma
- Unwilling patient
- Pulling away, trying to be all aloof
- Realization of growing emotions
- Denial
- Attempts to instigate something more
- Jealousy at seeing your savior with someone else
- Confessions
- Mutual attraction
- First (accidental or no) kiss
- Obligatory sex scene option
- Make your own scene
Ellen Harvelle - SPN
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This, this right here? This six-inch gash across his arm and set of bruised ribs and what was probably a concussion? This was why he sometimes hated going on a hunt with the boys. Sure, all Dean had to do was call up and say Bobby, we need you and he'd bitch and moan and still drop whatever he was doing to go help anyway, but it didn't mean that he had to like it. Surest sign of family, right there-- they're a pain in your ass but you help them anyway.
And speaking of pains in the ass, now Ellen could have one in the form of a beat-up, grumpy old bastard walking into the Roadhouse, sort of awkward-like from those busted ribs. Because, well, he was nearby, the bleeding wasn't bad enough to worry about driving a bit, and she would have something better to sew him up with than dental floss. Plus, the cut was on his right arm, and he was shit at stitching left-handed.
"Ellen, you got a needle back there?"
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Hardly the first time a hunter staggered through the door before she was ready to open, so it doesn't take long for Ellen to pull out the stocked first aid kit, a handful of clean bar towels and a bottle of whiskey. "The hell did you get into this time?"
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He made his way over to one of the tables and slumped down into one of the chairs with a grunt, shifting until he got into a position that didn't hurt his ribs so bad. He unwound the rag he'd tied around the cut in his arm, wincing just a little when it stuck and pulled at the injury. He was getting way too old for this shit.
"They tracked a night hag," he said by way of explanation, pulling at the edges of the wound to see how deep it was, "from Cairo down to Ravenna. Dean thought it was another trickster, and he usually ain't this far off the mark. Left him and Sam to take care of the body, they should be heading up in a couple'a hours."
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Sure they could wait until the Impala rumbled up the drive to figure out what had gone wrong, but with a little planning ahead Bobby and Ellen were something of an unstoppable force, even in the face of Winchester Stubbornness. If they needed a few days of R&R to get their heads on straight, then by God you can bet it was going to happen.
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He reached for the whiskey instead of the water while her hands were busy cleaning him up and wouldn't be available to smack his away. After a night of getting cut up and tossed around like a grumpy ragdoll, Bobby felt like he had definitely earned a mouthful or two of hunter's helper. And maybe next time she'd leave a glass when she put alcohol in close proximity to hunters, and then she wouldn't have old men drinking straight from the bottle.
"Dean might've been wound a little tight." A little over-eager, maybe, itching for a fight. It could've been a sign of interpersonal issues between the brothers, or it could've just been Dean itching for a fight against something he could actually kill. "Get Sam out of the room for long enough and he'll spill his guts, whether I want him to or not."
It was like he had a sign on his forehead or something that said 'tell me all your problems', and for some reason everybody just assumed that he was somehow qualified for giving out sound life advice. He could deal with looking up how to handle a lamia or having to impersonate senior FBI officials or where to find the bones of a minor saint for cheap, but there wasn't a book about what to do when your brother was an archangel's vessel and you accidentally an Apocalypse. Normal hunter shit was one thing-- then there was Winchester brand shit.