hurt / comfort

[kristaliske]

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.

Comments

[phosphoriel]

[ There is surrender in that long sigh, in the way the man falls against him, pressing close as though to breathe him in and grasping at his thighs to pull him still nearer. There is need in it, in the kisses Mavros presses to him, his mouth soft and nuzzling yet restraining a blind hunger. Lucifer smiles, threads his own fingers through Mavros's hair, urges him tenderly onward. That this is a service this man does not often perform does not matter. He is as sweet and skilled at it as any mortal eager to please, and it is no time at all before his body responds, stirring to that passionate mouth, the spine-tingling moan. His wings twitch, a reflexive shiver. His servant's mouth coaxes him to hardness. ]

He may. [ His voice is low and sweet, fingers stroking through the man's hair, petting and caressing, praising with their touch. It pleases him that Mavros does not lapse again, not yet; it pleases him to see the struggle of his own self-possession. How sure he has always been of himself, of the rightness of his own claim to himself and those who have served him.

It will not be so here. He will teach him how he too belongs on his knees. How easily arrogance and pride and humanity might be stripped from him, so that all is left is the fragile cord between humiliation and devotion, between love and degradation. How when he is at last brought to utter subjugation he will still need Lucifer above any other vitality. How he will know his own helplessness. ]

<3 either way, if you can't then you can't

[jarvisconsole]

This was actually the first time Jarvis had been allowed to watch Cynric powering down for 'sleep'. There were still no cords or plugging in involved but he still keeps watching with the makeshift eye to be sure that Cynric is breathing steadily.

And so time passes. Jarvis had experimentally sat up to check over his systems visually. The eye he's got isn't fantastic so he has to hold it in place at times. He was still hooked up to different cords to keep his systems stable. One of them to a large computer system that Jarvis had never seen before. When he puts a hand on it, it almost seems to echo back at him. As if there's a large roomy place inside...it's difficult for Jarvis to describe.

Suddenly, one of the cables snaps without warning, fluid oozing all over the floor. Jarvis reaches to try and put it back in place but it's behind him, he cannot see where to put it. He tries to say system failure imminent but he's already shorting out, sparks flying everywhere. When he loses visual, Jarvis knows he doesn't have much time. If only Cynric would wake up!

[akuze]

[ She lets his apology sink in for a second, then: ] You should be. [ That's that. No return apology. It was, however, enough to end the fighting, if you can even call the cold and wounded shoulders they've been giving one another 'fighting'.

Her point's been made, and now she lets out a slow, resigned exhale. It shouldn't have been that easy for him. Seriously, it shouldn't. But it was, quite probably because she's even more sick of the dispute than he is.

So Shepard uncrosses her arms, taking a couple of steps toward him but resisting the impulse to lift her hand to his cheek. The thought's still there, though, he can probably tell to some degree. ]

We're in a war. We can't afford to fight each other, too.

[ Her tone's still firm, but it's not so bitter anymore. You win, Garrus. Just this once. ]

[pruning]

[This is turning over a new leaf. Helping - sort of - in ways besides sending Leon away with an insect and a sense of foreboding. It's a process. A many-step program.

He does like the suit, as it happens, but that isn't the point.]

A day of grief lasts longer than a month of joy.

[a beat; wow he is so good at this]

Proverb.

[Unfortunately, his tea is too cold now to distract himself with. He can't bring himself to give a disingenuous I'm-so-sorry - to anyone else he already would have, but, well. Well.

Are-you-alright dies on his tongue. He stands.]

I'll make some more tea.

[thescaronhisface]

...So there's nothing I can do anyway.

[thirdrate]

[ It isn't malice until it occurs to him to laugh - ask, Got what you wanted? - and laugh again. He doesn't, because a startled D is nothing short of miraculous occasion, and he reserves just the inkling of piety to appreciate it, somewhat. It's difficult to steal Count D his words, of all things.

He beckons delay with one hand. ]

Relax.

[ He finds his legs stiffer in rise than they were in stay. ]

I should be off.

[ No, really. Several bars are mourning his business this very instant. ]

[violentrondo]

[He's more than relieved once they're inside the tent, when the noises of the fight outside are somewhat muffled by the cloth around them. He sticks close to Inigo's side once he's back on his feet, tensing up all over again as the sound of blades and magic are replaced by voices, the staff all moving around the tent and talking over one another, faces he's seen countless times... but it seems different now without his sight. Too close again, pressing in on him. Too unfamiliar, with the faces taken away.

He's being moved to sit down somewhere, but the idea of being separated from Inigo entirely - it's selfish, Robin needs every blade and arm he can get out there, especially if that mage wasn't the only one able to do this kind of thing. But his fingers are quick to curl back into the material of Inigo's shirt and not let go, a white-knuckled death grip he can't help. He knows Inigo, knows his voice and knows he can trust him, despite their arguments. He doesn't know any of the med staff here half as well, no matter how he tries to logically argue with himself that they've done nothing but help him so far, that they're Shepherds and thus good people.

Inigo needs to get back to the battle, but Brady can't make himself let go. He feels pathetic about it, but that's just how it is for the moment, until this either goes away, or... he gets used to it. Hopefully the former over the latter.]

[pruning]

[Oh, as if. A man who leaves a funeral for a pet shop and petty insults is not one who has somewhere to be or anyone else (anyone less, well, D) to worry after him. D frowns, sharply; he shouldn't fuss, he has no reason to. He is definitely fussing.]

Now, now, a cut and run would make you a bad guest.

[Sit down and shut up and drink his tea. He picks up the abandoned cups and tries on a smile that is less patronizing than his usual.]

Humor me.

[thirdrate]

[ As if he hasn't spent months and substantial doses of his paycheck humouring a lunatic. But as forcible detox diets go, he could do significantly worse than the work of a man (?) whose single life skill happens to be tea brewing.

He stays, but doesn't reclaim his seat, awkwardly working his legs in a few steps, left-right, back-forth, pace the room. There's a fellow. ]

Remind me why I should humour an all but convicted criminal. Just. Remind me.

[pruning]

[Well that's just sad. Like a stubborn child.]

It's free?

[Tea and cookies, free - unless the price of one (1) dignity is that big a deal. He moves to take the cups to be washed, then pauses and glances over his shoulder.]

If you're just going to stand there, you could pick up the plates.

[Cookie Tower 2.0 is nearing the end of its time.]

[oversight]

[With his eyes closed, it's a lot easier to perceive the upset Dean's clearly feeling. It's obvious, yes — even a blind person can see he's overwrought with worry — but there's a whole different level. It's caution mixed with worry mixed with frustration, and more ingredients are sure to get into the mix as time goes on. It isn't how he'd choose for Dean to feel, but it's heartening to know how much he cares.

John nods slightly and carefully probes the bandages encircling his torso. The worst of the pain has receded to a deep, mostly manageable ache that comes at him in waves as his chest expands with each breath. He's only quiet because he's thinking. There's more to consider, of course. The suit is one thing that can't fall into the wrong hands, but more importantly, the Batmobile is still parked out there on the streets. Its passive defenses are in place, but Blake's not so worried about the vehicle being stolen — a near impossibility in its own right — as much as people noticing how it just doesn't move, day or night.

When he opens his eyes again, he feels the heaviness. He's exhausted, but now that his head's managed to clear itself of strawberries for the time being, he doesn't want to let go of consciousness. Something in the hall gets his attention, however briefly, before those dark eyes turn back to Dean.]

'onna need to— to move the 'ar. [He clears his throat, cringes a little.] Car. [The Car, Dean. You're getting his drift, aren't you?] Need the s-suit. Jus' 'earby.

[For anyone that's listening in, it probably sounds pretty normal. Of course, Blake had planned to be with Dean when he finally got a chance at the Batmobile, but sometimes plans just don't work out the way they're meant to.

Before he can express his regret, though, the door has his attention again. Outside, several uniformed officers are milling around. They're doing their best to avoid lurking directly in the doorway, but it's clear they're hanging around for a reason. For John, that reason's pretty clear.

Instantly, agitation courses through him and suddenly all the monitors are reading differently. Blood pressure and heart rate are up and he's considering more seriously how he needs to get up out of that bed. With a bit more purpose, he shoots Winchester a look that says he's sensing trouble, and gingerly begins the slow process of fully sitting up. And maybe getting out of bed to harass these officers if he can manage it. He's not about to let the GCPD make sweeping judgements, especially since he's certain they have no idea what to do. He's speaking peaceably with his alleged attacker. No one has a real leg to stand on, but the Gotham Police have proven to be heavy handed despite a lack of evidence.]

L'il 'elp? [He reaches a hand for the IV stand and tries to drag it around the bed, but the strain means he can't get it more than a few inches without shifting completely. And the pain. Blake tries to shake the stars from his vision. Damn.]

[manhandled]

[The med tent is a lot bigger than it looks from the outside, which is saying something, considering it is easily one of the bigger ones in the entire camp. As expected, the hustle and bustle of the med tent is as insane as it is outside of it. Countless soldiers and even some of the non-combatant support staff are curled up in seemingly endless rows of cots and chairs, either in fitful sleep or awake and groaning in agony. Inigo finds himself standing at the entryway, Brady still on his back, and wondering what to do next. The clerics darting in between each patient don't seem to notice the pair, too busy saving lives and -- in some cases, when all has failed -- praying for them.

That is until Inigo just rushes toward the first familiar face he sees. Libra, whose gentle face contorts first into surprise at Inigo and his jittering, thinking it's another case of Brady's frail constitution failing him in battle, then in horror when he notices the full extent of the younger priest's condition. A space and cot are immediately set aside for the newest patient.

And all Inigo can do is stand there, dumbly, and stare as his friend is to be led away from him by strangers in white. Libra assures him in his calm voice that everything will be all right, that Brady will be fine and safe in Naga's hands, and that Inigo himself should return to the field where he is needed.

Except it's not that simple. Brady's scared. Not in the way Noire or Yarne might be, but rather, scared at the prospect of being lost and alone. Inigo feels it in the way his fingers hook into the fabric of his shirt, nearly tearing it, like it's the last net of safety and familiarity he'll ever touch. And Inigo recognizes it -- he's felt that way, scared and alone, countless times.

He feels it now, even.

As the clerics move to pry Brady off, Inigo intervenes, blocking their path. They try again. After the third attempt, they look to their leader Libra for an explanation. The fair-haired priest takes note of both Brady's grip and the unwavering look in Inigo's eyes.

Then sighs and instructs the mercenary on how to properly set Brady down on the cot himself.]

Don't worry, Brady. You're in safe hands...

[They're bringing in supplies that look too much like weapons and rags for Inigo to not worry. Instinctively, his hand finds Brady's own and offers it a reassuring squeeze. For the both of them.]

I'm not going anywhere. I promise.

[strengthinkindness]

You mustn't give up, though...

[thirdrate]

[ He's seen summer flicks that begin like this: give D a nice skirt and an adult phone line operator personality, and he could hustle his way into the gig of the 'exotic seductress' trying to lure the naive hero into the back room, where a thousand horrors lie in wait.

There are horrors back there, this much he knows with certainty; he's seen the size of those gerbils. That's just not healthy, man.

But he is a Hero, not a hero, and so he owes it to himself and his legion of invisible fangirls to sigh wistfully, pick up the plates, wipe the table crudely with the side of his hand, and, inevitably, follow. ]

Anything else, Lord and Master? Thought the host wasn't supposed to get the guest up and about. Or do they do it different in -- ...which part of China was it?

[hisusername]

I can't really disagree with you on that one there. [But she smiles as she says it.]

Hello, we're living in New York City, pretty much everything's good. [Oh hey! Joining Natalie and her dad for dinner! That would be awesome, she had to admit. She nodded eagerly.] Oh my gosh, that sounds amazing! I'm already excited. God, sushi sounds really good right now.

[pruning]

[The only horrors are the crumbs that fail to meet the plate and wind up on his very clean floor. D considers scolding, but he will not, for he is Merciful.]

You haven't heard of it.

[He is fairly certain that if it isn't Beijing then Leon hasn't heard of it, leaving aside all complications of obscure geography.

The kitchen, to its credit, is not crawling with massive gerbils or indeed any animals at all. It's also just as oddly decorated and antique as the rest of the shop. The cups go into the sink before he turns to take the plates.]

Don't complain. [He's gripping the edge of the plates the way one might squeeze hands, if that were, you know, permissible. Is he serious or full of it? The mystery deepens.] I couldn't let you brood out there all alone.

[crimson_spark]

Stiles ran a hand over his head looking around and still a bit out of it. His gaze was on their surroundings, but he was seeing all the terrible things she almost had to endure. And that she had to endure until he got there. For a very brief moment Stiles was tempted to go back and put an end to him. But who he was to decide who lives or dies? It was scary that he could probably decide to end someone's life and it wouldn't be that difficult either. He shook his head to focus on Riley again.

"Uuuh-- no, no it's no problem. I have a great bed and-- But if you'd rather want to stay in girl company there could be a possibility for that too, I mean..." he gestured around and looked at Scott. Maybe Allison would offer her a place for a night or two. But Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to send Riley into the arms of hunters after all this.

Isaac offered to look out for the werecat for tonight, and Stiles was thankful for that. He wanted him monitored from now on anyway.

[highking_ofskyrim]

What transfer and to where? [Ulfric struggled against his bonds, as he looked at Guy. Was this man a Breton? He did not look like any Nord. At least, he hadn't been abducted by the Thalmor again.]

I demand to know who you are.

[undomesticated]

Giving him a curious look, she shook her head. "No, I don't need 'girl' company. Unless you'd prefer I sleep somewhere else?" She was confused as to why he'd offer her somewhere to sleep, then change his mind, but after a few moments, she realized what he'd been thinking.

It was kind of sweet, but unnecessary. Nothing had happened and she was more mad about getting taken in the first place than upset about what could have happened, but didn't.

"He shouldn't stay around long. If he was tracking me like he said he was, I'm the only reason he's here. He'll go soon enough."

[giveitallshesgot]

"Aye," he confirms, "I came down here when I went off shift." A shift which had lasted about twelve hours longer than it was strictly supposed to, but he doesn't have much patience for wasting his off hours in idleness when his ship's still hurting. "It's goin' well I think. A lot t'be done, but nothin' we can't handle. Might take a fair while though." He seems relieved to have a reason to talk about the ship, rather than...any of the other relevant subjects one could think of.

...like this one. He swallows hard, lowering his eyes as his shoulders hunch ever so slightly in an oddly defensive gesture; his fingers twitch in an aborted hand gesture before he quickly folds his hands behind his back. "I don't know..." he begins, but the sentence trails off, aimless. He looks almost guilty.

[thirdrate]

[ More importantly, the kitchen, to D's even greater credit, does not second as the international headquarters of every cake, cupcake, and sweet pastry in known existence.

Leon can't help but nod away in proud satisfaction. Good work, D. One day, you might have the hopes of considering considering considering considering considering giving up that unfortunate addiction.

As for the unfortunate habit of getting entirely too close for Leon's comfort, he can't say. ]

I'm touched.

[ Hopefully, not literally in the immediate future. He surrenders the dishware, carefully ensures it leaves him in one piece. ]

It's fine. I don't plan to be anything but fine. Next time, I'll... I'll get you some nice little. Vanilla puff stuff. Can't pronounce. That stuff. You'll get a kick out of it.

Re: sob forgive that mess of tense changing

[paradice]

Sometimes it's more than when you're just starting out. [If he's embarrassed to admit it, he doesn't show it. He leans forward, his elbows braced on his knees.]

I'm not going anywhere.

[He simply hasn't changed. Why would he? He's still up, presumably being productive.]

[crimson_spark]

Stiles immediately shook his head. Maybe too fast even.

"You stay with me or with someone I know you'll be good with and that's it." he stuttered holding up his hand. "And apparently, yes- yes you're gonna stay with me tonight." he nodded, wincing a little. He sounded a little frustrated but he didn't want to. He was just still coming through the shock and he felt a headache coming, but he had to keep it together. After all he wasn't the one being abducted. Stop being a sissy, Stiles.

After dismissing the others, he led Riley to his jeep.

"We could stop by your house to get some of your things for the night." he offered as he opened the door.

[undomesticated]

"Like what? A teddy bear?" She gave him a small sideways smile, getting into the jeep and leaning back into the seat with a definite look of relief. Looks like she'd made a good decision in making friends with the pack. Or, at least, the Alpha of the pack.

Not that that had been her intent. God, no. She didn't want anyone getting hurt or in trouble on account of her. But she was still glad they'd been there. It could have ended a whole lot worse and all she could feel was grateful that it hadn't.

[crimson_spark]

"Yeah why not, I sleep with a penguin, you know." Stiles retorted with a deadpan. But then he let himself smile just a little. "Yeah not really. But I don't know, like... alright then, I'll go straight home and we're gonna sleep on this and fantasize about cutting off that bitch's balls." he groaned, sighing as he leaned back in his chair for a moment too. "Are you okay, though? I mean, I know you aren't it's just..." he asked quietly, throwing his hand weakly in the air. He felt helpless there for a moment. So he just started the car and drove them back.