I don't actually read a lot of H/C.

Somehow, this hasn't stopped me from writing drawerfulls of it. Wes/Gunn, to be specific.

I blame The Thin Dead Line.

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You know, actually, a lot of my favorite TV moments kind of fall into H/C territory (TWO AXES, PEOPLE!). Perhaps I should get those S&H DVDs.

In Sentinel, it was usually Blair getting raped or beaten up. Every once in a while, he was the victim of domestic violence.

There's not so good h/c, then there's good h/c. I wish I had recs handy.

edit: endless battering of the characters so they can be comforted is not my cup of tea, especially when emotional hurt is tasty, too. The best stories are when there's only one hurt, but it builds up to a big ol' pain that needs comforted.

It is in the eye-rolling about particularly egregious h/c that I have had occasion to explain how catheters work. Hint: if your character is in the hospital, do check to make sure that all the plastic has been removed before attempting the hippy hippy shake.

Let us not speak about who wants to participate in the hippy hippy shake within hours of (a) the technicolor yawn, (b) spinal meningitis, or (c) a gunshot wound to the torso. Ah, fandom!

Those were the days, when you had to be mauled by a tractor to get some everloving comfort. Now it's all psychotherapy and bad childhoods. These kids today! Don't appreciate a good tractor.

the hippy hippy shake

I think this is my new favorite euphemism.

That's an issue that's always cracked me up when I've read, say, torch's fic. Or certain published works of Clive Barker. I mean, I'm anything but prudish and have been known to let the spirit move me on pretty short notice and in less-than-ideal circumstances, but generally a mild fever is enough to knock me out of commission. I can't imagine anyone being able to perform a couple days after defibrillation, or with a wound bad enough to require help just walking or standing.

Don't appreciate a good tractor.

Chainsaws! Or a runaway horse.

I can't imagine anyone being able to perform a couple days after defibrillation, or with a wound bad enough to require help just walking or standing.

And it's never just enthusiastic snogging, which one might be able to manage, it's all-out hanging from the chandeliers.

it's all-out hanging from the chandeliers.

They could at least pull a stitch.

I can't imagine anyone being able to perform a couple days after defibrillation, or with a wound bad enough to require help just walking or standing.

But it's how he knows he's alive again!!`~

How do you expect your (handsome, dashing male) protagonist to truly FEEL ALIVE if they don't do the hippy hippy shake?! Come on, now, people--be reasonable! Hippy hippy shake is its own medicine! Along with the Healing Penis of Comforting Love (TM, available in three sizes) and the Strong Arms of Protection (subject to bicep-width warranty) and ending finally in the Cuddle of Warm Fuzzies. These three combined will clear any rape-related trauma, defibrillator-induced chest pain, or returning-from-the-dead aches and pains!