The only thing better than hurting a character so badly they faint, is waiting till they recover and enter confrontation (albeit bandaged, braced with a residual limp or stagger) before WHUMPING THEM AGAIN. IN THE SAME SPOT! LEAVING THEM MORE INJURED THEN THEY WERE BEFORE
And it’s not an argument without evidence:
The flash of white bandages around a character’s abdomen that peek out from inside torn clothing and the scarlet blood that blooms through their bandages as a sharp object is brutally stabbed into them. Their weapon clatters onto the ground before they collapse beside it, writhing and screaming in agony.
A character on crutches being pushed down stairs. The nauseating feeling of their injured leg crumpling under them as they fall, unable to do anything. The loud crash at the bottom, followed by heavy silence filled with the feeling of being so broken.
After spending days in bed, restless with intense fever, a character’s fever finally breaks. They start to eat again and move around, slowly regaining their strength. But it’s not fast enough; too soon, the character is forced to traverse an extremely harsh environment on little rest. Eventually, they’re overcome by intense hot and cold flashes and blurring vision as they collapse to the ground, convulsing.
One thing that gets me about people who are sick/definitely coming down with something is that increased sensory sensitivity.
They’re having one of those days where they wake up in a fog. Their limbs feel impossibly heavy, but they have to go about their life as normal, since otherwise they have no symptoms of illness. They hope tha They’re on autopilot, feeling as if they’re being controlled by another entity and watching from a third person perspective. It’s that dissociation that happens when you’re entirely checked out due to how shitty you feel.
They’re making careless mistakes, zoning out, hardly aware of what’s going on, until they bang their knee on something. It’s not hard, it shouldn’t hurt, but it shoots waves of pain through their body, and it takes them a good minute or two to shake it off. The feeling of their feet hitting the ground as they walk is jarring with each step. The buzz of fluorescent lights overhead is deafening. The world is too bright, and their chair is uncomfortable.
As the day goes on, a dull ache starts behind their skull, which turns into a pounding pain that won’t stop. Soon they’re covered in goosebumps, they’re shivering and pulling their sweater close around them. Even the feel of the fabric against their skin hurts, it stings, but they’re desperate to warm up. Their face is losing colour, but gaining a sheen of sweat.
Finally theyre sniffling, starting to feel congested. Around this time is when they make more mistakes in their work, and receive a reprimand, gentle or harsh, but it unleashes an uncharacteristic rush of emotion as they admit that they really, really aren’t feeling good.
after so long of expertly dodging covid I have been ~ afflicted ~ and this was my first biggest symptom, my bones felt like they were breaking, I was so hyper aware of each and every one of my joints because they hurt so badly. Clothes hurt my skin, any sudden contact with anything would send those rippling shooting pains through my whole body. It’s always such a wild experience, and often an indicator of a fever as well. Anywho damn it’s day 5 of this shit despite being triple dosed against it but hey I’m not dead and that’s what matters
When someone’s fever is so high that everything around them seems to have a weird kind of sheen or haze to it, like they’re looking at the world through a heat haze…and when the caretaker is trying to get a good look at them as they’re sitting there dazed it’s so hard to keep their eyes open and the whole room looks weird and dimmed and smudged…they just want to feel better…
A feverish character who’s too tired to talk but instead just lies there listening when their friend talks to them about anything at all, watching with bleary eyes as they sponge off their hot face with a damp washcloth
Caretaker giving fever ridden Whumpee a soft, tender caring kiss on the forehead while gently resting their hand on their rosey red cheeks to feel their temperature while they lay comfortably in bed.
- lying very still with his eyes open and unseeing, too out of it to do anything else
- thrashing and crying out, trapped in fever dreams
- shivering violently, teeth clenched to stop them chattering, painfully cold even as he’s burning up
- blistering heat that pours off him in waves
- the way his skin is hypersensitive, so being touched - even carefully - hurts
- that fierce ache in his joints, the way it feels like his bones are cracking open
- damp cloths on his forehead and throat, which feel good at first but the fever heats them up almost immediately
- delirium that manifests as terrors and haunting memories which are normally hidden
- delirium that manifests as confusion and distress
- delirium that manifests like a truth-serum
- not knowing friend from foe; fighting against the ones trying to keep him safe
- burning hot tears
- trying to find a cool place on his pillow or on the bed
- fevers from wounds
- fevers from poison or drugs
- fevers from illness: flu, malaria, mystery diseases?
- that moment where he realises something isn’t right: “Does anyone else think it’s warm in here?”
- the world seeming unreal and shimmery, his vision blurring with the heat
- a character who’s been running a low grade fever for days, never enough to justify going home, but enough to make him feel pretty uncomfortable, until someone notices and forces him to go home, and tucks him in bed and feeds him drugs and water and it’s only then that he realises how bad he’s been feeling
- another character inadvertently touching him, and exclaiming in shock: “You’re burning up!”
- temperature taking: someone else’s hand on his forehead (palm cupped for intimacy; the back of the hand of there are walls up between them)
- an old-fashioned thermometer in his mouth
- trying to take his own temperature with the back of his hand, but his hands are also too warm so it’s easy for him to dismiss it as nothing serious
- being forced into a cold bath (or jumping in himself): the violent shock, water so cold it hurts, shaking so hard he cramps up
- being soaked in sweat as his fever breaks, and suddenly being as weak and trembly as a kitten, all of the delirium-born strength gone
- recurring fevers, where he knows that any respite is temporary (and especially if his temperature climbs a little higher each time)
- pushing through a fever, because it’s not that big of a deal, and he’s busy, but it wears him down over time until his body reaches its breaking point and he finally collapses (I will never not love this)
Whumpee swore that’s what they heard, but it was hard to tell with all the loud noises ringing through their ears.
“Focus, whumpee.”
The voice became impatient and whumpee felt something grab their face. It forced their head up, their thumb digging into the side of their cheek.
“Open your eyes and look at me”
They opened their eyes and looked up. The person who had a hold of their face looked worried and upset, but their expression softened the moment they saw whumpee’s eyes. They took a quick sigh of relief and composed themselves.
“You had me worried, I took you for dead. I was about to give up on you in a minute or two.” They spoke, glancing at their watch like they were actually counting. - At first, whumpee thought they were restrained. But after some squirming, they felt it was just a heavy blanket tightly wrapped around them.
“Who…” Whumpee murmured. Their voice was so weak it was hardly audible. “Who are you?…”
The stranger huffed a smile, before pouring them a cold cup of water.
Whumpee awakens each morning with a jolting panic attack. Every dream is a nightmare, every darkened room is filled with fevering hallucinations and cruel voices.
Caretaker starts leaving a lamp on, draping their jacket over it to keep a dim light. Yet every morning, they still find whumpee curled at the very edge of their bed knocked out asleep after hours of being too afraid to close their eyes.
Thinking about a very feverish sick person (A) who picked up a horrendous cold that they just don’t know what to do about - their ex (B) (who A very much still has feelings for) always used to take care of everything when A was sick. Their ex would stock up on medicines, keep track of their temperature, and feed them medicine religiously every few hours.
But, they broke up months and months ago, and this is the first bad cold that A has picked up since the break up. Since B always took care of everything, A doesn’t know what medicines they need, doesn’t know how high of a fever is too high, can’t remember what that wonderful cool, gooey stuff that B used to get for them and put on their chest to clear them up was…
While A is completely and utterly fever-delirious, they text B a series of somewhat incoherent questions about what medicines they used to get, along with other various questions regarding their current sick state. A would have never texted B out of the blue like this if they were anywherenear the right state of mind, but their hazy, feverish self saw no problem randomly texting their ex who they’re still majorly in love with for advice about sick day necessities.
whumpee who doesn’t want to admit defeat and go to bed, and ends up laying on their floor curled up under a blanket. as long as they’re not in bed, they’re not really sick, right?
(later, caretaker finds them feverish and delirious and scoops them right up and takes them to bed where they belong)
Feverish sick character tossing and turning in their sleep, whimpering over a bad nightmare. Caretaker sitting next to them sighs and adjusts the now warm compress on their forehead, “Can’t even catch a break in your sleep, huh?”
When the caretakers find out how sick the whumpee is and check them over and make a big fuss over them and the poor thing is just confused and disoriented and doesn’t know how to react to being cared for so they sit there all wide eyed not saying anything, and once they’re medicated and hydrated and tucked warmly into bed they just lie there adorably bewildered
00:00-02:08 - tsukiuta: the animation - episode 4 (episode time stamp start: 9:41 until around 15:40)
aoi feels sick during rehearsal and shows sign of fatigue, mikaduki realizes that aoi isn’t well and requests for a break, aoi collapse from his fever and is taken home to recover
02:09-06:16 - megami-ryou no ryoubo-kun - episode 10 (episode time stamp start: 4:35 and continues until the end of the episode) ⚠️ content warning, read note below for more details ⚠️
koushi collapses at the supermarket from a fever and is taken home to recover, has a nightmare and there is a lot of heavy breathing while he sleeps, atena volunteers to nurse him back to health, his fever worsens and starts to call out to atena in his sleep
NOTE: so this anime in particular is a harem/ecchi and contains a lot of nudity (I prefer not to have to watch these kinds of anime tbh eyeroll, but this episode I found did have fever whump sigh) so what I included was the main takeaways from the episode in terms of koushi’s fever and not the “other stuff"… if you are not into ecchi/harem like me, just refer to this shorted version of the episode and do not watch the episode in its entirety
06:17-10:00 - princess connect! re:dive - episode 5 (episode time stamp start: the entire episode revolves around the main character being sick)
yuuki develops a fever and it gets worse the next day, is taken to a "hospital” to get treated and his stay ends up turning to a rescue mission and escaping from some crazy doctors
something about heavy breathing when a anime boy gets sick is just music to my ears, not sure if that’s just me being weird or if others like that as well lol…. also, this is something different that I’ve done, usually I just focus on one anime, but since a lot of the episodes I have noted down in my doc are single episodes from random animes, I’d figure that I would compile them into a post and not just leave them sitting there… I’m going to be making more of these
A feverish character who’s too tired to talk but instead just lies there listening when their friend talks to them about anything at all, watching with bleary eyes as they sponge off their hot face with a damp washcloth
May be cliche but tonight I’m just going head empty no thoughts anyway when whumpee has a super high fever and the other character(s) need to get it down so they put whumpee in the bathtub and sponge cool water over them. And whumpee is too out of it to understand what’s going on so they just give little whimpers and moans of protest because ‘they’re already so cold why are they getting water poured on them?’ Bonus points if eventually they’re so exhausted and miserable that they just sort of lean into the touch whenever another character wipes their face. So yeah sponge baths.
TWs: food, fever. Institutionalized slavery implied by the existence of Box Boys. This is almost entirely 2k of pure fluff.
It had been partly cloudy when they’d reached the college campus, but by the time they finally left the Liberal Arts and Lit building, it was starting to plop those warning raindrops that come ahead of a real downpour.
“Oh, crap!” Alice patted the sides of her wheelchair. “Of course it rains and I forgot to put my rain poncho back in the pockets! Argh!”
David stopped pushing the wheelchair for a moment and took off his jacket, draping it over her head and around her shoulders like a hood. “We’re still halfway across the campus from the car.”
“I can’t take your jacket, you’ll get wet!”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m washable. Can you hang on to the armrests? I… think we better run,” he said glancing over his shoulder at the oncoming rain falling in sheets.
@silverwhisperer1 asked what happened to the characters in THISprompt and, uh… It got me thinking. So I did this. Enjoy!
The King is back in the castle. He’s sitting right next to her. The Princess should be glad. She missed her father so much… But it’s hard to have the energy to feel anything at all these days.
She sees the world behind a veil. The outline of things is blurry. She hears sounds from the other side of a tunnel. Present and past fuse into one. Reality and dreams, the same. People around the room are surrounded by sudden golden halos, by terrible dark clouds. She cries because she doesn’t know the difference. Big, soft hands clean their tears, but they’re unfamiliar.
She sees lords and ladies and her father and her dead mother. She sees healers so many times she deems them as part of the furniture. But her gleaming eyes keep scanning the room, trying to find who is supposed to be there, who used to always be there before the world changed so painfully.
She takes a long time to understand what’s missing.
Guard.
—
“She’s been calling for you again.”
The head of the guard stops halfway in their motion, the stone for sharpening their sword still touching the blade. They look at one of their most loyal guards and tries to suppress a sigh.
“She’s feverish. She’ll say anything.”
“You should go see her, Guard… We don’t know…” The Guard stops under the Guard’s heavy stare. “It’s just… She’d want to see you in case she…”
The Guard goes back to sharpening their sword, even though they have done it several times these past few days. It seems like it’s never sharp enough. It’s never rid of the blood that stained it just days ago. When they had to give three strikes. Three strikes under the screams of a cowardly man dying.
Screams that still haunted their dreams.
And now their princess… No. The princess. She could never be theirs.
“I can’t see her. Not yet.”
They hear the Guard turning to leave, but their hand hovers over the doorknob.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know how she feels about you. Or that she doesn’t know how you feel about her.”
Silence fills up the room when Guard leaves.
—
The Princess is swimming.
Her mother took her swimming, all that time ago. In a lake near their summer home. In the hot sun, the water is fresh and she smiles as she splashes around. Her stomach twists. The person still laying in a bed knows what happens next. What this little royal girl finds in that summer day.
A child, nearly dead on the bank of the lake. Starving. Sunburnt. Just about her age.
A child they would take home with them. That would be everyone’s child, growing amongst the staff, training with the guards, just as much a part of the castle as the walls. A child that would grow into the person they could always trust.
“Guard.” Her sore throat murmurs.
“Right here.” They answer, from the darkness. She opens her eyes, looking around. A wet rag is taken off from her forehead, unveiling their sight. A tension she didn’t know was inside of her loosens. Her muscles slowly relax and she finally feels the pain in them. She feels every drop of sweat in her skin, the wet rags that are turning warm in trying to lower her temperature. “I’m here.” Guard repeats, pushing away the hair that is plastered against her face.
“You took so long…” She complains and she hates the way her voice whines.
Guard flinches like they’d been struck.
“I’m sorry.”
When she blinks, she sees leaves and sunshine and hears the murmur of the fountain. She feels her lungs constricting, she remembers only thinking one thing. Get to Guard. Guard can help. She opens her eyes and some time seems to have passed.
“How did you know?” She asks, to Guard’s surprise. She raises her hand weakly, where her small cut has lost the black color but still has sickly touches of green.
“My mother. I remember… The smell.” Guard never spoke much of their apothecary mother, of their life before bandits destroyed their home and forced them to run. “I should have known when I saw the ring.”
Darkness is calling Princess, but she forces herself to stay conscious. She squints and blinks, trying to clear her sight. She sees the bags under Caretaker’s eyes, the shake in their hands. They look just as pale as she is, laying in a bed for who knows how long.
“Are you okay?” She asks, weakly searching for their hand. Caretaker looks like they hold back a sob. They look everywhere but at her. And yet, they have the audacity to nod. “Don’t dare lie to me. I’m your best friend. And dying. And your future queen or whatever.”
Guard’s eyes glint.
“You’re not dying.”
“Well, it sure feels like it.” Every word makes her tired, but she could never hold herself. Not close to them. She gasps, recovering her breath. “Just… Tell me what’s on your mind. I’ll take it to my grave.”
Guard frowns. They look around, but there’s no one else in the room but a nurse who is pretending to be very particular about some bandages. Guard sighs.
“I failed you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did. I shouldn’t have ignored my instincts. I should have never let him step on our land. I should have been more open so you’d trust me about this marriage thing… I should…”
She gathers all the strength she had to squeeze their hand.
“You saved me. No one else would know where the poison came from. It had to be you.” Her fingers are getting weaker and weaker as she feels unconsciousness claim her. “It had to be you in that lake that day. It had to be you that day with me.”
Guard takes her hand to their face, like an object of faith, like it will grant them strength.
“You’ll never need to worry about him again.” The Guard’s promise skids over her feverish skin.
“I doubt that.” She sighs, her heavy eyes slowly closing, but giving them a tired smile either way. “Lords have a tendency to get away with things like this.”
“He didn’t have a tendency to get away from my blade.”
It was so low, Princess doesn’t know she really heard it. A gasp coming from the nurse in the room is the last thing she remembers. This and the soft kiss the Guard leaves between her fingers as they stand up to leave her rest.
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