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

[thirdrate]

[ There's no end (as there was no definite beginning) to Leon's uncertain frowning. ]

You're right! Shop needs to be watched. You got a cop in every day, half the neighourhood knows it. You think someone's gonna try and rob you?

[ ...which, admittedly, they have (and worse) in the past, but antecedents of unnecessary violence should never be considered in estimates of future ventures.

That'd be. Too logical. He flirts, briefly, with the tea again, then has the uncharacteristic sense to forgive himself another attempt. ]

And my bo - men are good. They're sturdy. Like your nails.

[ Except, apparently, for the ones who die. ]

[pruning]

This shop of full of living creatures. They require- care...

[And he talks to them, but that will never stand up in the court of Leon. Leaving aside all the times D does wild ("wild") things like run around the city late at night looking for dragons, or whatever, those certainly are not times he left the shop to its own devices and left without thinking.

What on earth does he need sturdy men for. Would they appreciate being compared to his finely manicured nails...]

I'm not having any furniture moved. [ha ha what a great comedian, this guy] We have nothing in common.

[thirdrate]

[ Of all the potentially sensitive verbal situations in all towns in all the world, you walk into this one, D.

Mr. Humphrey Orcot isn't often displeased by implications - usually, because he can't discern them. Call it a special day. He chuckles, dry. ]

...yeah. Nothing in common.

[ His head tips back for a moment, neck greatly offended by the chair's support, as he takes the necessary two seconds to appreciate the ceiling. Really, there's a limit to how much ethnic motif should be allowed to dictate interior decoration. ]

Your pets're always quiet, aren't they? You gotta have the first shop where there's no racket at night. You put something in the water?

[pruning]

Mm. Good care-taking begets good behavior.

[Not saying he's the best in the business, but regular pet shops? Disaster areas.

D looks at Leon looking at his ceiling and frowns. The fine line between coexisting and genuinely caring has been drawn again and again this evening, but it is his nature to--fuss. The idle banter seems to be slipping, and if there's going to be brooding he's going to have a say in it.

He picks up a cookie, looks at it, puts it down. This is ridiculous. He's nudging the cookie with his fingertips where it sits on the plate, as poking at it gives him something else to frown at.]

You're tense. [Asking too many questions about nothing important. It's likely best not to mince words, so-] What is it?

[thirdrate]

[ That is the most maligned biscuit on this world, and Leon knows that when the time is right, he may count on it as secondary forces against the evil legions of Count D. For now, he follows its trajectory with fixed interest, glance sweeping from the cookie's body to the Count's nails - still long, still sharp - before attending, startled, on the man's face.

He blinks away stupor, trying the words voicelessly on his tongue, before voicing them, satisfied. ]

Long day.

[ Said quite possibly as obligingly as the alternative 'Deal with it.' ]

Never had one?

[pruning]

[The cookie is spared, for a moment, as D pauses just long enough to give Leon a Look. He's somewhere between weary and irritated, and the Look as a result is left largely up to interpretation. At the very least, he contains his sudden urge to role his eyes.]

I live with- [hundreds] -dozens of animals.

[Which he could not manage to say in a flatter tone, with the what do you think? left unsaid. Honestly.

A second cookie finds its way to the plate and atop the other one. He might as well do something while the man sulks, even if that something is stacking up a cookie tower.]

Really, Detective, are you going to make me guess?

[thirdrate]

[ ...smooth, Count. Real smooth. Whipped cream and chocolate mousse and any other 95% sugar-based textures. It prompts something between a gasp of diabetic sympathy and scandalized derision. ]

We really need to go over your interrogation bedside manner.

[ A wave of his hand that breeds, rabbit-like, into the kind of gesticulating hysteria he encounters in his boys in traffic. ]

It's bad form to show so much interest. Gotta play it cooler, you know? Let them come to you.

[ ...isn't that what you did, Leon... ]

You don't just ask.

[pruning]

[There is something profoundly offensive about advice being doled out by someone like Leon... So deep and profound he can't put his finger on it, but it's there. Looming.

He finally quits tapping the cookies and looks up with a positively saccharine grin.]

But haven't I? You're already here.

[Uninvited. Without dessert. Sulking on his couch. It's hard to say which one is bothering him the most. He's chosen the sulking route, though, so there's no turning back now.]

The coaching can wait, either way.

[thirdrate]

[ The nerve of a sheer amateur, neglecting fine instruction. Some (exceedingly drunk) people would pay good money for Leon's services.

He smiles, somewhat placating. ]

That thing you're not taking? It's called a hint.

[ ...and it's what in some states, cultures and children's shows might be interpreted as malice when he picks up the lingering sugar cube that never quite made it in his tea cup and aims it steadfast at the biscuit tower.

Cookie bridge is falling down, falling down, cookie bridge is falling down - ]

Drop it.

[pruning]

[Finally a real life example of cookies and the way they crumble. Except he is not best pleased by this - throwing food? really?? - and he has a not in the shop, you brute shout all ready to go--but no.]

Detective.

[Calmly, dripping with every cloying, possibly furious 'my dear' that might really compel the man to get up and go sulk in someone else's shop. He is. So calm.

So calm he very meticulously dusts sugar off his fingers and sits back, folding his arms across his chest and shrugging. Yeah this is definitely the most mature thing he could have done:]

I will wait.

[thirdrate]

[ These are not the muttering, mumbling, or droids he was looking for. This is nothing of, or to him. But if they must exhaust every cliche of polite conversation, he can, and he slinks back in his own chair as if they're doing some war, play the part.

He doesn't waste much time in taking over the plate of biscuit ruins to reassemble Cookie Tower v.2.0. Huh. The Count's not that much of an idiot - this is fun. ]

You're not nearly as helpful right now as you think you are.

[ Just as Leon isn't nearly as pleased with his inevitable reduction to the part of the - beg the shop's pardon - animal on display. ]

Some man died. You didn't know him. I didn't much better. It's happened before, and in our line, it'll happen again. Came from the funeral.

[ Briefly, he actually takes the necessary five to showcase the tie. ]

You like the suit?

[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.

[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. ]

[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.]

[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?

[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.

[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.

[pruning]

[Well, that could be anything, vanilla and with a difficult name. The mystery makes it more enticing; he may need a moment.]

How generous.

[The plates join their brothers in the sink and the future is now!! - D pats his arm. Non-threateningly. In some parallel universe it might even pass for a genuine gesture of comfort, without the extra two-parts-condescension.]

I trust your resilience, Detective. You needn't live in fear of my sympathy.

[To the actual purpose of coming in here, though: tea. Allow him to fetch the pot.]

Now, I've the most delicious spice tea to try...