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

Inigo | Fire Emblem: Awakening | OTA

[manhandled]

4

[violentrondo]

[Another day, another battle, another time where Brady tries to be useful while trying to also avoid being sent back to the med tent. Same old, at this point. He's done well so far, healing allies and avoiding attacks while on his own, but it's only a matter of time until something happens.

That 'something' happens in the form of a magic attack being launched at him, something that narrowly misses, a gout of fire burning a patch of ground near him instead. He doesn't get to revel in his victory long, not even when the enemy mage is taken out - he doesn't even know what happened to them. Because suddenly, everything's gone dark, black as night. Whether it's some new side effect of the proximity of the magic, the heat of the flame, or debris or something, he can't see a thing, all he can hear is the battle raging around him. He tries to shove his panic down, rubbing at his eyes and blinking furiously in an attempt to get his vision back, but everything stays black.]

H-hey... hey!! [He doesn't know if there are any allied forces that close to him. All he can do is clutch his staff with white knuckles, stumble away from any sounds that get too close to him and try not to break down in the middle of the battlefield, suddenly deprived of his sight like he is. Despite that, tears of fear are threatening to break through at any moment.] I-I need help over here!!

[Hopefully, his frantic tone makes it clear that something is really wrong. If there's anyone around, anyway. Naga, let there be allies around, or he's in hot water.]

sob

[manhandled]

[There is someone around, and not very far from Brady's current location. Perhaps it was subconscious on his part, but Inigo felt a sort of obligation to keep his friend relatively close on the battlefield, to make sure no serious harm (or worse) came his way. But things went a little differently this time. Too many Risen focused their attacks on the army's flank -- where the physically weaker warriors like Brady and Laurent and a few others tended to position themselves -- for it to not smell like a pincer attack. Things became too frantic too soon, and thus Inigo's focus was spread thin. Too thin for him to keep a closer eye on the priest.

But he heard everything and, eventually saw enough: he saw the mage's attack, saw the flames, and his heart stopped. When he saw that it missed, he breathed and laughed with immense relief and sprung into action -- dispatching the undead with a swift attack from behind. The tip of his sword slides out of the Risen's neck with a sick slurp as the carcass began vaporizing into black smoke far more putrid than the death and blood scattered over the field.

Inigo laughs in a self-satisfied sort of way as he resheathes the Killing Edge.]

Phew. That was close. Next time you want me to make dramatic rescues, let me know ahead of time, won't you --

[He blinks, noting the lack of response from his friend. By then, Brady would have said something or growled. But nothing came. He's there, Inigo can see, but he's stumbling around aimlessly. The grip of his staff is tight and desperate, almost as if...

Something's wrong.]

Hey, Brady!

[Inigo's at his side in an instant, one arm looped across his back to help stabilize him. Unaware of what exactly just happened.]

I've got you. Here. Come sit --

[And as he's trying to find somewhere safe and void of debris, he gives him the once over, first believing the impact from the mage's spell simply knocked him off balance. Then Inigo takes a look at his face...]

...Brady.

[violentrondo]

[It says something that he doesn't protest the supporting arm, doesn't spit anything negative out about the fact that it's Inigo who came to his rescue. He actually relaxes, just the slightest bit, more relieved to know there's someone who's actually around. There's a faint shaking in his frame that's more obvious now, something he can't help, because to be suddenly robbed of his sight while in the middle of battle, when he can't defend himself properly in the first place? It's terrifying. His breathing hiccups as he rubs at his eyes with a hand again, but whether it's another futile attempt to restore his sight or just to push back the tears that are about to spill over, it's hard to say.]

I can't - I can't see - [It doesn't make sense. Nothing like this has ever happened before from anything less than a direct hit, and that'd been a quick thing, vision blurring in and out that one time he'd taken a blow to the head. This is unending darkness, and he doesn't like it. A regular flame spell shouldn't have made this happen.] I 'unno what happened, t-that thing missed!

[Either way, all he knows is that he's now much less effective than before, and he needs to get off the field. He can admit that much to himself, if only because, at this point, he actually doesn't want to be on it. Everything seems way too loud with his sight gone, way too close, and he's a hair away from freaking out entirely. He can't bring himself to feel embarrassed or ashamed at his lack of power like he usually would, reaching out with a clumsy hand that lands on Inigo's shoulder, fingers curling tight in the fabric of his clothing to give himself something to be grounded by.]

N-need to get outta here...

[manhandled]

[I can't see.

His heart lurches into his stomach. It's what he feared. It's what, deep down, he knew all along from the moment he noticed Brady's eyes weren't their usual shade, or forms, but instead cloudy, featureless pearls. He's seen those before, on unfortunate and sickly villagers during his travels. Never once did he think such a thing would befall Brady or any of the other Shepherds. They were fierce warriors, all of them. They took blows and scratches and falls yet, with the help of sacred light and vulneraries, they were up and at it in moments.

It doesn't make sense. The flames did miss. How could this have happened?]

R-right. The med tent.

[Feeling Brady's fingers clutching at his shoulder, he tightens his own arm around him, pulling him closer. He'll say it's for protection and swifter movement through the field, and might even believe it himself, but Inigo knows it's because he's scared. Terrified. And he feels more than just a bit responsible for it.]

Brady, just...

[His voice is croaky and dry.]

Just -- hold on to me and don't let go. All right?

[violentrondo]

[He has no problems with moving closer to Inigo. Maybe later they'll joke about it; Inigo will talk about how great a hero he was, defeating the terrible Risen and sweeping the damsel Brady off his feet in the heat of battle to ferry him to safety, and Brady will furiously deny anything like that happening. Right now, feeling Inigo against his side, the arm steady around him is an incredible comfort to Brady's frazzled nerves.

And he's definitely not letting go of Inigo anytime soon. As far as he knows, Inigo's the only friendly face within miles of him, and if he loses that... well, he's honestly as good as dead. Given how often he winds up in the med tent anyway for non-lethal but debilitating injuries in battle, things that come just from dodging attacks and not direct confrontation, he knows his chances out here alone would be slim to none with his current condition.

He doesn't know if it's something he would've picked up on before, or if it's the close quarters or lack of eyesight working for him, but he can hear the fear in Inigo's voice. It makes the next swallow hard, like he's getting down a lump of iron in his throat. He closes his eyes, because there's no point in them being open anyway, and he's treated plenty of patients in his time on his own - he knows what they must look like right now.]

Y-yeah. [He feels like he should say something else. But when he tries, he's at a loss for words, so he shuts his mouth and follows Inigo's lead, trying to shut out the too loud sounds of the battle raging around them, trying not to worry about when it'll close in on them. Despite their arguments and everything else... Brady trusts Inigo. He knows he's safe with the swordsman, but the panic is still at the front of his mind.]

[manhandled]

[There's more than just fear cracking Inigo's voice in half, although anyone would be hard pressed to figure out what all else is there. Panic, despair, guilt, exhaustion, uncertainty, anger. Maybe. Inigo himself can't even tell. That he's even remotely aware of what's going on around them is a testament to his focus, or, more pointedly, the adrenaline pumping through him, urging him onward.

The med tent is clear on the other side of the field -- a relatively short trip made endless thanks to the chaos staining it. Even using his own speed and the confusion of the battle to his advantage, Inigo knows he can't cross the field with Brady, wounded and sightless, in tow. Not like this.

He stops moving before taking his third step.]

Brady...

[He considers something for a moment. Against him, Brady feels light. And without the ability to see, such lightness wouldn't aid in movement... It's something risky, something he's not even sure would even work. The sounds of the battle inching closer pierces his ear and tips the scales.

There's some shuffling and some bumps along the way but it's relatively quick and painless as Inigo, more or less, kneels and hefts Brady onto his back. Just as he suspected -- beneath those heavy robes and that intimidating height and sneer, Brady's mostly just knees and elbows with barely any of the weight someone with his looks might suggest. Any other day, Inigo'd probably snicker about it, maybe even try to use that to his "advantage" while out on the prowl for women in the village taverns.

Women are the last thing on his mind right now.

He stands and adjusts, then turns toward the direction of the med tent.]

Hold on.

[violentrondo]

[There's confusion clear on Brady's face when he feels Inigo stop, fear biting at him. Is something wrong? It's hard to tell, everything sounds so close even when they haven't been attacked, and -

Brady yelps as the ground disappears from under his feet with no warning. For a while that's all he can focus on, his mind racing as it tries to figure out what's going on. Was there a pitfall, did an enemy grab him? His flailing nearly ruins Inigo's plan until his hands touch cloth again, having dropped his staff completely in his disorientation, and then Brady's wrapping his arms around the unknown person's shoulders, clinging for dear life despite himself. As the panic ebbs, he begins to piece things together slowly, his other senses compensating for his lack of sight; he was, in fact, picked up, but only to be shifted to someone's back. It has to be Inigo. He relaxes at that, lets out a shaky huff of breath that gets muffled when he buries his face in Inigo's back, loosening his grip from death clutch to something more manageable.]

Y-you could... stand to g-give a guy more warnin' than that...! [The shake in his voice isn't completely hidden, nor the sniffle he gives. He doesn't fight the hold though, or try to get off Inigo's back. If Inigo did this, he did it for a reason, likely because it'd be easier than trying to guide a blind Brady on foot across a battlefield. It's easier to accept, too, when fear is fighting down his pride for once. Still - ] Ya sure you c-can manage?

[He knows he's not the heaviest guy, not by far, but he is still bigger. His robes weigh more than they look, too.]

[manhandled]

[There's a chuckle, more forced than anything actually genuine, in response. It's kind of shaky too, though that shouldn't come off as surprising -- adrenaline and hyperactive nerves are fueling his every movement, his every step towards the med tent. Ironically, Brady relaxing only makes him more nervous. He chuckles again. It sounds more like he's fending off a cry.]

S-Sorry. It was instinctual. But you're fine...

[Fine enough for him to walk faster and faster. Not quite a sprint but not a leisurely stroll, either. Inigo doesn't have to shift him around that much but he does it anyway, to make him -- them -- feel more comfortable as they progress through the fields. Eyes on the prize, on the med tent, not on the scattered and broken weapons and bodies dropped on the field.

A few of them groan as he swiftly passes them and though it pains him greatly with regret, and though he wants to, he knows he can't stop to help. He can only pray they'll forgive him.]

I can...manage. Although...

[They're a little more than halfway through when he tries to talk, half-choking on sobs that threaten to cut through his already shaky voice. He tries to offer some sort of distraction, if not for Brady but for himself.]

You can stand to lose a few... Ngh. Maybe...cut down on the cakes at tea time, mm?

[violentrondo]

[He can hear the soldiers groaning as Inigo passes by, and it only makes him feel worse. He's supposed to be healing them, it's the one thing he can do without a problem, but now he's lost his sight and his staff. Even if he had the latter, there wouldn't be time, he knows it. Stopping would just mean risking being attacked. There's other healers out here; his mother, Lissa, even Libra. They'll get to the fallen, he's sure of it. But the guilt finds him anyway, and he presses his face harder into Inigo's back, trying to stop the tears he knows are coming.

He's not really successful. Not with the fear eating at him too, not with Inigo sounding like he's about to cry any second himself.

He understands what Inigo's trying to do with the tease, though. He's quick to jump on it, for both of their sakes - they need something familiar in this situation. So a hand smacks at Inigo's shoulder, and he manages to put some of his usual indignation into his voice when he responds.]

S-shut yer yap! M... maybe you should look into - into gettin' some real muscle or s-somethin' if yer havin' t-trouble with me!

[manhandled]

[Brady's heavy -- Inigo has to heft him up higher and hold him a little closer to ensure he doesn't slip away from his grip -- there's no doubt about it. But even with exhaustion and agony weighing down on his every bone and muscle, Brady's weight isn't unbearable. Certainly not as heavy as the burden weighing down on Inigo's conscience, that's for sure. Between what just happened to Brady and the choices he's made since then, Inigo's been a mess. An unsure, regretful mess.

The quiver in his laughter increases when he feels Brady's nose press desperately into his back through the fabric of his shirt. He thinks he may even feel droplets -- it can be sweat, but he doubts it is. Inigo's actually thankful for the smack to his shoulder. It's a welcome thing, a nice smack back into the realm of familiarity, away from chaos and morbid thoughts.]

H-Haven't you heard...? Bulk is...tacky. Being lean is in these days.

[He can see the med tent from where they are now, its tattered red flag billowing in the weak breeze. Inspired, his pace picks up.]

We're...almost there, buddy.

[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.]

[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.

[violentrondo]

[It's somehow reassuring that Inigo doesn't try to leave. Brady doesn't know if that's a side effect of his clinging, or if Inigo didn't want to leave in the first place, but either way it's appreciated when he feels the prying hands knocked off of him, not just once but three times. It's selfish, and he shouldn't be keeping Inigo here - what if there are others out there like that mage, Robin needs to know - but right now he can't manage to be anything other than that. Not when the whole world seems so hopelessly different around him. It's why he follows Inigo's guidance without protest, making his way to the cot, fingers still curled in Inigo's shirt. But his grip is looser, now that he knows he won't be left alone. More for his own comfort and sake of mind than anything else.

He can hear the sounds as he lays there, the clerics bringing in supplies. He can't help swallowing at the rattle of metal; he's always been too empathetic to the pain and suffering of others, even when he was treating them himself. But to know the instruments as he does and know that he may be under them soon... He has to keep reminding himself that they're there to help.

He takes a shaking, steadying breath, squeezes Inigo's hand back when he feels it.]

T-thanks.

[His voice is tiny, a hoarse croak. He's still terrified, but having Inigo by his side keeps it from being a thousand times worse than it could be. He's so much more grateful Inigo's presence in this moment than he could ever state, and he's pretty sure if he tries, he's just going to wind up crying all over again. He tries to relax on the cot as much as he can, though it's difficult going, all things considered.]

... woulda been screwed without ya.

[It's the simple truth. And, from what Brady's been hearing in Inigo's voice ever since the incident in question happened, something the other needs to hear. He doesn't want Inigo blaming himself for something he couldn't control when he's the reason Brady's alive at all right now. Even without the vocal cues, he knows how Inigo is. How all of them are, especially with each other.]