#hurt comfort cause yes

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 16: Jerk

a quick, sharp, sudden movement.  Character(s): Kien Eilath, G'raha Tia Cw: nightmare aftermath, slight indications of a panic attack Word count: 941 Notes: No real set time frame for this one, probably between pre-EW or post-EW. This was actually a continuation from a prompt back in 2021 but I only wrote the first half so here is the aftermath of it. G’raha wakes Kien from a nightmare, not realizing how paralyzing his nightmares can be.

G’raha stirs awake suddenly, his senses on high alert at the sound of Kien groaning next to him. He slowly sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and taking note that the room was practically pitch black with how late it must be. His eyes adjust quickly enough, turning his gaze back to his partner as another groan escapes him followed by a sharp inhale of breath. It seems as if he was having another nightmare. 

These weren’t common occurrences–G’raha only noticed Kien would get nightmares on the days he was exhausted or sick and today had been the ladder. A slight fever from overworking himself too much again–he had nearly passed out during a meeting with the Scions so G’raha quickly excused himself with the other and put him straight to bedrest when they got back to Kien’s apartment. 

The other had fallen asleep instantly, practically dead to the world with how deeply he’d fallen asleep. This was the first indication of life from the other since his head had hit the pillow several bells ago and G’raha wishes it wasn’t in the form of a nightmare. 

He hovers his hand uncertainly above Kien’s shoulder, unsure if he should try and shake him awake or just let the nightmare pass. But with how violently the other begins to thrash and moan, he decides trying to wake him might be for the best. He gently calls out to him, hoping his voice can break through his dream but to no avail, Kien’s head continues to jerk back and forth as his brow furrows in pain. 

“Kien, hey,” G’raha doesn’t whisper, raising his voice a bit as he reaches a hand out to rest gently on Kien’s shoulder. The touch causes Kien to tense up and suddenly G’raha pulls back with a start as Kien jolts upright with a ragged gasp. He waits with bated breath as he watches the raven-haired Miqo’te look around frantically, his body trembling before he finally begins to curl into himself with a choked sob. He can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes him. He was awake.

On instinct, G’raha reaches his hand back out toward Kien to comfort him but pulls it back just as quickly, ears flattening with guilt as Kien seemed to not recognize him yet. The moment G’raha’s hand had gotten close to him, Kien had whipped his head up and fliched so hard that his body flung itself into the wall. Now G’raha was watching in helpless desperation as Kien really begins to panic, ears pressed flat against his head and chest heaving for air as his pupils widen in fear. Shit. G’raha thinks–he was still trapped in his nightmare. 

“Kien, Kien! It’s me,” G’raha tries to break through Kien’s senseless babbling, his voice raising just enough and he leans over to flick on the bedside lamp, hoping the warm glow of light would help. “Listen to my voice, you’re alright, you’re safe.” He moves himself back a bit further from the other, hoping the distance between them helps. 

G’raha continues to mutter soothing words until finally Kien’s breathing begins to slow down and he uncurls himself from the wall. He had closed his eyes at some point in his panic attack but was now opening them cautiously as G’raha scoots closer to him again. “That’s it, breathe with me,” G’raha continues as he hesitantly places a hand on Kien’s shoulder again, relieved when the other doesn’t flinch. His eyes search the other’s for a sign of recognition as he slowly coaxes the other to take deep breaths.

Kien exhales, his eyes dilating for a moment before narrowing back again and he blinks, finally making direct eye contact. “Raha…?” his voice is quiet and still a bit shaky but coherent. “What happened?”

“You had a sort of waking nightmare,” G’raha lets out a shaky breath, squeezing Kien’s shoulder gently before releasing his hold. “Are you alright?” 

Kien slowly nods his head, his hands still trembling as he moves one of them to trace his scar on his right eye. “I was dreaming of my brother again. Of when he attacked me and gave me this. It felt so real. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t fight him off, I felt him grab me–I–” his voice began to tremble again as the tears finally break free and before he can finish G’raha pulls him into a tight embrace, rubbing his hand in soothing circles on his back. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe now,” G’raha whispers. “It was a nightmare, he’s not here, and he cannot get you. I promise.” It was strange to see Kien at such a state of vulnerability but G’raha knew part of this was due to his still lingering fever and he was sure the other would barely remember this moment when the morning came as he did with the nightmares before this. And that was alright with him. He would do what he could to protect him and keep him safe. 

Kien lets out a shaky breath, nuzzling further into G’raha’s embrace. The two stay like that for a little longer, G’raha’s fingertips tracing shapes on Kien’s back as he feels the other begin to slump again, sleep reclaiming him. He gently lowers the other down to the pillows and leans over to flick off the light before lowering back down to his pillow and pulling the other back into his embrace. Kien’s breaths are gentle and steady and G’raha hopes his slumber will be peaceful and undisturbed this time. He places a soft kiss on the other’s forehead before drifting off to sleep again once more. 

[koobiie]

fanart for what may be my favorite fic of all time, Running Behind by @asidian! here's prompto enjoying all the foods from the fic beacuse he deserves it <3

[paperglader]

sometimes i'm living my life and sometimes i'm hit by the fact that c3 has become so intwined with my very being and in a way it's probably because of how it feels like it has been fully mirroring my journey since the moment i started watching- specifically with the imodna's- in the sense that i feel like i went through a period of so much healing and a bit of hardships, and then this year has been really hard, till it came to a tipping point maybe like a little less than a month from now and now the imodna's are like broken up and doing really bad and i'm like. i.want.to.sob.all.the.damn.time.about.it. but also, do i really want to sob that hard about it or am i just sad cause of life? and the answer is sort of, both, cause sometimes i just want fiction to be okay when real life isn't. Like, yeah, i've been rewatching early campaign with my roommate, and there was so much healing there along with the pain, but now it just feels so sad and broken (which, truly is ok). it's not like, doomed sad, but sad in the "shit. why did it get this level of fucked up?" kinda sad and like, i really really really really want a soft epilogue for the sad little lesbians, but also i very much want a soft epilogue for myself (also a sad little lesbian)

[hertas-funger-blog]

Oh noooo i'm succumbing to an infection if only there was someone to carry me and hold me while i become continuously more delirious from my fever and dote on me and make sure i'm okay oh nooooooooooo poor me whatever shall I do?

[littlest-bugz]

Does anyone else go thru phases where you don’t want to talk to anyone?

Like,,, I love you so much, but I just need to RECOUP. I need my alone time so I don’t have another breakdown.

[mushroom-for-art]

Sona and Comfort

[jaypgartifacts]

october is coming. which means, of course, that it is time for the horrors. tfw the dream self must confront the Nightmare Self

[echoes-of-realities]

still there’s a wound and i’m moving slow (though it don’t show, though it don’t show)

* * *

[ao3]

Title: still there’s a wound and i’m moving slow (though it don’t show, though it don’t show)

Rating: General

Word Count: 12,935

Summary: Her face is wet when the others find her. 

“What happened?” Camila asks, eyes darting from the puddle of blood that was once Michael, to the puddle of blood that was once Adriel, to the puddle of blood that was Ava before Beatrice pushed her through the Arc. 

“She did it,” Beatrice says, soft and bitter, “Adriel is dead.”

Camila’s eyes dart from the blood to the tears on Beatrice’s face. “And Ava?”

Beatrice closes her eyes. Swallows the grief. Chokes on the sob. Tries to remember how to breathe. Tries to remember how to live.

“Gone. She’s gone.”

Or: Beatrice, in the aftermath.

[beastking-golion]

Finished my run of Mortum’s romance and.

[generalsmemories]

COLLAPSES ON THE GROUND

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Ngl would have honestly preferred if Holly's and Poppy's debuts in the Ever After High episodes had been similar to their doll diaries versus what we ended up getting.

[wildstar25]

WOL and Y’shtola mini-scenario immediate post reunion in shadowbringers under the cut. 

[Context: between markers during quest “a day in the neighbour hood”. While Y’shtola has a good feeling as to why she couldnt recognize Arsay, its clear Arsay is completely unaware of what is happening to her. Fully misinterpreting the events as familiar feelings of abandonment take over, Arsay snaps at Y’shtola at the first opportunity and hastily exists the cave in a huff.]

Y’shtola: To think I’d find the “Warrior of Darkness” sulking, of all things, when there’s a whole new village full of other people's problems you can stick your nose into. Is this how you have changed? I can’t say its very becoming of you.

Arsay: ... 

Y’shtola: ... <sigh>  

Y’shtola: Did that rude welcome of mine offend you so? Surely by now you are no stranger to having a mass of weapons pointed towards you. 

Arsay: ... 

Y’shtola: You have to understand, it’s your aether. It...  after three long years on the first I’ve learned to equate aether such as yours to that of an imminent threat. These people have already lost so much, I can’t afford to take chances with their safety.

Y’shtola: Had I arrived to the scene a moment earlier, heard your voice first, perhaps then- 

Arsay: I’m not mad at you.

Arsay: I... I’m upset with myself. To think myself so important to you that you could recognize me at a glance. That you would not forget me after being apart for a time. I believed because I care so much for you... perhaps you would do the same in turn. A childish folly I thought I’d never repeat. 

Arsay: You’re my best friend Y- Matoya. Your words sting like adder bites and you can read through tomes faster than I can take down a primal. When we part on separate adventures, there are moments where I want nothing more than to see you again. I know you can’t see me the way I see you, it’s unfair of me to expect that of you; yet, to know I am nothing more than an indistinguishable pool of aether in your eyes... Pray, tell me. Do I mean so little in your life as to not be remembered? Did you not think of me at all, even a bit? 

Y’shtola: <scoffs> Don’t be so daft, of course you’ve crossed my mind. When I first arrived to this reflection I thought to myself how worried you must be. That you were probably putting all other duties on hold to instead watch my bedside, as you before did in Rhalgr's Reach. 

Y’shtola: Time moved on here. I got embroiled in the mysteries of the First. I couldn’t very well squander this opportunity in front of me by spending all my energy thinking about if or when I’d ever get to see you again. You know better than most I’m not one to dwell on such things... Perhaps the picture I had of you in my mind faded somewhat along the way but it was not due to lack of caring. It’s the opposite, really. Were I more indifferent, recalling our moments together might have caused me far less grief.

Y’shtola: Suffice is to say, you are important to me too, Arsay. Not only as a fellow scion, but as a dear friend. I couldn’t forget you. Not in any way that matters. You need not jump to such nonsensical insecurities.  

Arsay: ... 

Y’shtola: Now, does that clear things up; or will you force my hand into professing even more superfluous information regarding how I feel.  

Arsay: No, that’s... that was enough. Forgive this outburst of mine, I don’t know what came over m-

Y’shtola: Think nothing of it. I only hope you return to your old self.  

Arsay: Thank you.

[altruistic-meme]

I Do Not Need What My Brain Is Creating Right Now, But Here We Are

[gabriel-posts-here]

i reached the "i want to do better with you because i love you and you deserve it" stage of healing lately

it's really something, i wish it upon anyone who's on a similar journey

[acourtofquestions]

No. No, it couldn't have been a dream The escape, Rowan, the ship to Terrasen—

A dream. An illusion. Her escape from him, from Maeve, had been another illusion.

Had she said it? Had she said where the Keys were hidden?

Then a cool, cultured voice purred, "All that training, and this is what becomes of you?" Not real. Arobynn, standing on the other side of the altar, was not real.

"Even Sam held out better than this."

Fenrys snarled.

You could get out of these chains, if you really wanted," Arobynn said, frowning with distaste. "If you really tried."

No, she couldn't, and everything had been a dream, a lie.

"You let yourself remain captive. Because the moment you are free..." Arobynn chuckled. "Then you must offer yourself up, a lamb to slaughter."

Only hearing the King of the Assassins, unseen and unnoted beside her.

"Deep down, you're hoping you'll be here long enough that the young King of Adarlan will pay the price. Deep down, you know you're hiding here, waiting for him to clear the path." Arobynn leaned against the side of the altar, cleaning his nails with a dagger. "Deep down, you know it's not really fair, that those gods picked you. That Elena picked you instead of him. She bought you time to live, yes, but you were still chosen to pay the price. Her price And the gods'?"

Arobynn ran a long-fingered hand down the side of her face. "Do you see what I tried to spare you from all these years? What you might have avoided had you remained Celaena, remained with me?" He smiled. "Do you see, Aelin?"

She could not answer. Had no voice. Cairn hit bone, and—

Aelin lunged upward, hands grasping for her thigh. No chains weighed her. No mask smothered her. No dagger had been twisted into her body. Breathing hard, the scent of musty sheets clinging to her nose, the sounds of her screaming replaced by the drowsy chirping of birds, Aelin scrubbed at her face.

The prince who'd fallen asleep beside her was already running a hand down her back in silent, soothing strokes.

A dream. Just a dream.

She twisted, setting her feet to the threadbare carpet on the uneven wood floor.

"Dawn isn't for another hour," Rowan said.

Yet Aelin reached for her shirt. "I'll get warmed up, then." Maybe run, as she had not been able to do in weeks and weeks.

Rowan sat up, missing nothing. "Training can wait, Aelin." They'd been doing it for weeks now, as thorough and grueling as it had been at Mistward.

She shoved her legs into her pants, then buckled on her sword belt.

"No, it can't."

A gathering storm to the north had forced their ship to find harbor last night—and after weeks at sea, none of them had hesitated to spend a few hours on land. To learn what in hell had happened while they'd been gone.

The answer: war.

Everywhere, war raged. But where the fighting occurred, the aging innkeeper didn't know. Boats didn't stop at the port anymore— and the great warships just sailed past. Whether they were enemy or friendly, he also didn't know.

Aelin scowled. "What." It wasn't so much of a question as demand.

His gaze was unfaltering. As it had been when she'd returned from her run through the misty fields beyond the inn and found him leaning against the apple tree. "That's enough for today."

"We've hardly started." She lifted her blade.

Rowan kept his own lowered. "You barely slept last night."

Aelin tensed. "Bad dreams." An understatement. She lifted her chin and threw him a grin. "Perhaps I'm starting to wear you down a bit."

His canines gleamed. "You need to eat."

"I need to train."

She couldn't stop it-that need to do something. To be in motion.

No matter how many times she swung her blade, she could feel them. The shackles. And whenever she paused to rest, she could feel it, too—her magic. Waiting.

Indeed, it seemed to open an eye and yawn.

She clenched her jaw, and attacked again Rowan met each blow, and she knew her maneuvers were descending into sloppiness.

Knew he let her continue rather than seizing the many openings to end it.

She couldn't stop. War raged around them People were dying. And she had been locked in that damned box, had been taken apart again and again, unable to do anything.

Rowan struck, so fast she couldn't track it. But it was the foot he slid before her own that doomed her, sending her careening into the dirt.

"I win," he panted. "Let's eat."

Aelin glared up at him. "Another round."

Rowan just sheathed his sword. "After breakfast."

She growled. He growled right back.

"Don't be stupid," he said. "You'll lose all that muscle if you don't feed your body. So eat. And if you still want to train afterward, I'll train with you." He offered her a tattooed hand.

But Aelin said, "People are dying. In Terrasen. In-everywhere. People are dying, Rowan."

"Your eating breakfast isn't going to change that." Her lips curled in a snarl, but he cut her off. "I know people are dying. We are going to help them. But you need to have some strength left, or you won't be able to."

Truth. Her mate spoke truth. And yet she could see them, hear them. Those dying, frightened people. Whose screams so often sounded like her own.

Rowan wriggled his fingers in silent reminder. Shall we?

Aelin scowled and took his hand, letting him haul her to her feet. So pushy.

Rowan slid an arm around her shoulders. That's the most polite thing you've ever said about me.

Elide's eyes widened. Widened further as he opened his mouth, and took a bite. His swallow was audible. His cringe barely contained. Elide reined in her smile at the pure misery that entered the Lion's tawny stare. Aelin and Rowan had been finishing up a similar battle when she'd entered the taproom minutes ago, the queen wishing her luck before striding back into the courtyard.

Elide hadn't seen her sit still for longer than it took to eat a meal. Or during the hours when she'd instructed them in Wyrdmarks, after Rowan had requested she teach them.

It had gotten her out of the chains, the prince had explained. And if the ilken were resistant to their magic, then learning the ancient marks would come in handy with all they faced ahead. The battles both physical and magic.

Gavriel met her stare, and Elide again restrained her laugh.

She felt, rather than saw, Lorcan enter. The innkeeper instantly found somewhere else to be. The man hadn't been surprised to see five Fae enter his inn last night, so his vanishing whenever Lorcan appeared was certainly due to the glower the male had perfected.

Indeed, Lorcan took one look at Elide and Gavriel and left the dining room.

They'd barely spoken these weeks. Elide hadn't known what to even say. A member of this court. Her court. Forever.

He and Aelin certainly hadn't warmed toward each other. No, only Rowan and Gavriel really spoke to him. Fenrys, despite his promise to Aelin not to fight with Lorcan, ignored him most of the time. And Elide ... She'd made herself scarce often enough that Lorcan hadn't bothered to approach her.

Good. It was good. Even if she sometimes found herself opening her mouth to speak to him. Watching him as he listened to Aelin's lessons on the Wyrdmarks. Or while he trained with the queen, the rare moments when the two of them weren't at each other's throats.

Aelin had been returned to them. Was recovering as best she could.

Elide didn't taste her next bite of porridge. Gavriel, thankfully, said nothing. And Anneith didn't speak, either. Not a whisper of guidance. It was better that way. To listen to herself. Better that Lorcan kept his distance, too.

Whether the others knew what propelled her, they hadn't said a word. Aelin sheathed Goldryn and loosed a long breath. Deep down, her power grumbled. She flexed her fingers. Maeve's cold, pale face flashed before her eyes. Her magic went silent.

Fenrys sat in wolf form at the edge of the nearest field, staring out across the expanse.

Precisely where he'd been before dawn.

She let him hear her steps, his ears twitching. He shifted as she approached, and leaned against the half-rotted fence surrounding the field.

"Who'd you piss off to get the graveyard shift?" Aelin asked, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Fenrys snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Would you believe I volunteered for it?" She arched a brow. He shrugged, watching the field again, the mists still clinging to its farthest reaches. "I don't sleep well these days." He cut her a sidelong glance. "I don't suppose I'm the only one."

She picked at the blister on her right hand, hissing. "We could start a secret society-for people who don't sleep well."

"As long as Lorcan isn't invited, I'm in."

Aelin huffed a laugh. "Let it go."

His face turned stony. "I said I would."

"You clearly haven't."

"I'll let it go when you stop running yourself ragged at dawn."

"I'm not running myself ragged. Rowan is overseeing it."

"Rowan is the only reason you're not limping everywhere."

Truth. Aelin curled her aching hands into fists and slid them into her pockets. Fenrys said nothing didn't ask why she didn't warm her fingers. Or the air around them. He just turned to her and blinked three times. Are you all right?

A gull's cry pierced the gray world, and Aelin blinked back twice. No. It was as much as she'd admit. She blinked again, thrice now. Are you all right?

Two blinks from him, too. No,

They were not alright.

They might never be. If the others knew, if they saw past the swagger and temper, they didn't let on.

None of them commented that Fenrys hadn't once used his magic to leap between places. Not that there was anywhere to go in the middle of the sea. But even when they sparred, he didn't wield it. Perhaps it had died with Connall. Perhaps it had been a gift they had both shared, and touching it was unbearable.

She didn't dare peer inward, to the churning sea inside her. Couldn't.

Aelin and Fenrys stood by the field as the sun arced higher, burning off the mists.

Aelin shook her head. Another dream, or hallucination. "If she's on our heels with this army, I'm just ... trying to understand it. Her, I mean."

"You plan to kill her." The gruel in her stomach turned over, but Aelin shrugged. Even as she tasted ash on her tongue.

"Would you prefer to do it?"

"I'm not sure I'd survive it," he said through his teeth. "And you have more of a reason to claim it than I do."

"I'd say we have an equal claim."

His dark eyes roved over her face. "Connall was a better male than—than how you saw him that time. Than what he was in the end."

She gripped his hand and squeezed. "I know."

The last of the mists vanished. Fenrys asked quietly, "Do you want me to tell you about it?" He didn't mean his brother.

She shook her head. "I know enough." She surveyed her cold, blistered hands. "I know enough," she repeated.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

HOW TO WRITE A CHARACTER WHO IS IN PAIN

first thing you might want to consider: is the pain mental or physical?

if it’s physical, what type of pain is it causing? — sharp pain, white-hot pain, acute pain, dull ache, throbbing pain, chronic pain, neuropathic pain (typically caused by nerve damage), etc

if it’s mental, what is the reason your character is in pain? — grief, heartbreak, betrayal, anger, hopelessness, fear and anxiety, etc

because your character will react differently to different types of pain

PHYSICAL PAIN

sharp and white-hot pain may cause a character to grit their teeth, scream, moan, twist their body. their skin may appear pale, eyes red-rimmed and sunken with layers of sweat covering their forehead. they may have tears in their eyes (and the tears may feel hot), but they don’t necessarily have to always be crying.

acute pain may be similar to sharp and white-hot pain; acute pain is sudden and urgent and often comes without a warning, so your character may experience a hitched breathing where they suddenly stop what they’re doing and clench their hand at the spot where it hurts with widened eyes and open mouth (like they’re gasping for air).

dull ache and throbbing pain can result in your character wanting to lay down and close their eyes. if it’s a headache, they may ask for the lights to be turned off and they may be less responsive, in the sense that they’d rather not engage in any activity or conversation and they’d rather be left alone. they may make a soft whimper from their throat from time to time, depends on their personality (if they don’t mind others seeing their discomfort, they may whimper. but if your character doesn’t like anyone seeing them in a not-so-strong state, chances are they won’t make any sound, they might even pretend like they’re fine by continuing with their normal routine, and they may or may not end up throwing up or fainting).

if your character experience chronic pain, their pain will not go away (unlike any other illnesses or injuries where the pain stops after the person is healed) so they can feel all these types of sharp pain shooting through their body. there can also be soreness and stiffness around some specific spots, and it will affect their life. so your character will be lucky if they have caretakers in their life. but are they stubborn? do they accept help from others or do they like to pretend like they’re fine in front of everybody until their body can’t take it anymore and so they can no longer pretend?

neuropathic pain or nerve pain will have your character feeling these senses of burning, shooting and stabbing sensation, and the pain can come very suddenly and without any warning — think of it as an electric shock that causes through your character’s body all of a sudden. your character may yelp or gasp in shock, how they react may vary depends on the severity of the pain and how long it lasts.

EMOTIONAL PAIN

grief can make your character shut themself off from their friends and the world in general. or they can also lash out at anyone who tries to comfort them. (five states of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and eventual acceptance.)

heartbreak — your character might want to lock themself in a room, anywhere where they are unseen. or they may want to pretend that everything’s fine, that they’re not hurt. until they break down.

betrayal can leave a character with confusion, the feelings of ‘what went wrong?’, so it’s understandable if your character blames themself at first, that maybe it’s their fault because they’ve somehow done something wrong somewhere that caused the other character to betray them. what comes after confusion may be anger. your character can be angry at the person who betrayed them and at themself, after they think they’ve done something wrong that resulted in them being betrayed, they may also be angry at themself next for ‘falling’ for the lies and for ‘being fooled’. so yes, betrayal can leave your character with the hatred that’s directed towards the character who betrayed them and themself. whether or not your character can ‘move on and forgive’ is up to you.

there are several ways a character can react to anger; they can simply lash out, break things, scream and yell, or they can also go complete silent. no shouting, no thrashing the place. they can sit alone in silence and they may cry. anger does make people cry. it mostly won’t be anything like ‘ugly sobbing’ but your character’s eyes can be bloodshot, red-rimmed and there will be tears, only that there won’t be any sobbing in most cases.

hopelessness can be a very valid reason for it, if you want your character to do something reckless or stupid. most people will do anything if they’re desperate enough. so if you want your character to run into a burning building, jump in front of a bullet, or confess their love to their archenemy in front of all their friends, hopelessness is always a valid reason. there’s no ‘out of character’ if they are hopeless and are desperate enough.

fear and anxiety. your character may be trembling, their hands may be shaky. they may lose their appetite. they may be sweaty and/or bouncing their feet. they may have a panic attack if it’s severe enough.

and I think that’s it for now! feel free to add anything I may have forgotten to mention here!