Give me a long, drawn out collapse. Like a collapse that takes a literal 3 minutes from the time Whumpee / Caretaker notices something is off, to the actual passing out.

Caretaker doesn’t know how rough Whumpee is feeling, and pulls them out of a chair so enthusiastically. Only to cause Whumpee’s whole world to spin. Caretaker is luckily still holding Whumpee by the arms, so when Whumpee starts to wilt forward Caretaker is able to tighten their hold under their elbows and keep them standing. Caretaker is understandably alarmed, and kind of too shocked to do anything other than look at Whumpee for a moment. And that’s all the time it takes for Whumpee’s color to completely and noticably drain from their face, their eyes to start rolling in their head - then eyelids fluttering as they struggle to get their vision back. Their knees are buckling and locking in a desperate attempt to keep their body upright. They’re trying to mutter something out to Caretaker but words are lost and tiny whimpers and sounds are all that come. Caretaker is now unfrozen, the initial reaction caused by the shock and panic of what they were seeing, and now are jumping into action. They step forward to wrap their arms fully around Whumpee and support all of their weight. Whumpee’s head flops into Caretakers chest and once they feel Caretakers body encompass their own, their mind seems to take it as permission to give up the battle and fade into the darkness. Caretaker’s plan to sit Whumpee back in the chair is forgotten as they feel Whumpee go completely limp in their arms.

There’s something about a whumpee just sitting down. Not fainting, necessarily. Maybe they’re just about to faint, and they quietly just kneel on the ground at a time and place that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have the capacity or willingness to articulate why they need to abruptly stop and sit. Maybe they’re catatonic while the others look at them.

Maybe a caretaker can see the dull, vacant look in their eyes and immediately senses that something is seriously wrong. Maybe the fainting comes just a few moments later.

Prompt:

Damian isn’t happy about father’s rule not to hurt the gaggle of false kids he has acquired. How is he supposed to prove to him that he is the only one worthy of the title of heir now?

But fine. Most of them are stupid enough they’ll end up dead sooner or later. Damian just has to play the long game. Establish himself as the only constant.

But then father’s wayward son, Todd, comes home… and it’s so much worse than Damian expected.

He remembers this man. Remembers him from hushed whispers in the League, from mother’s creased eyebrow, and training halls drenched with blood.

And he’ll take one look at Damian and know. Know that he’s a threat to his position.

And the worst thing: Damian isn’t allowed to defend himself.

That little look a character gives right before they collapse.

Having been slowly getting more and more unfocused, people talking around them but them not noticing. How could they notice when it was taking all their energy just to stay upright?

The world getting more and more hazy. Their breaths becoming rougher and more labored, struggling harder every time they inhale.

Someone calls their name and their head jolts up. They make eye contact for just a moment. Their gaze tells it all.

Sweaty faced, glassy eyed, lips slightly apart in an attempt to please breathe. The lost, helpless look they give betrays every weakness, every struggle going on inside them. Their eyes keen towards whoever they make eye contact with, begging to be saved.

And then they faint.

Prompts For When You Need A Whumpee To Fall Like A Sack Of Bricks

For when a slow and steady loss of consciousness doesn't quite cut it (but that's still good, don't get me wrong).

whumpee's still running on adrenaline when they bump into caretaker, nothing but smiles until they catch onto caretaker's horrified expression. they follow their gaze until they see the familiar stain of blood against their shirt. their shock drains the adrenaline from them, and before caretaker's even able to take a step forward their knees have buckled.

a sudden wound — a gunshot, a stabbing — and the pain lancing through them white-hot and agonizing. they're still processing what's happened to them, gaping like a fish out of water when they feel the ground slam into the side of their head. they're not sure when they fell, but every pulse pours out more red and reminds them over and over of why.

a caretaker running themselves ragged with just how many people are hurt or in need of them, unable to take a moment's rest for themselves. their vision starts to swim when they stand up but they ignore it, because it's not that bad yet and others have it worse. they're doing an excellent job pushing through, until they're suddenly not. their vision wavers a little stronger this time, and then into black, barely able to get out a surprised "oh" before they're on the ground.

bending down to grab something and not hearing the approach of someone from behind them. one moment, they're sifting through papers, a drawer, a cabinet — the next, there's a burst of horrible pain at the back of their skull and a deep, sudden darkness.

trying to climb out of bed after a broken fever — common sense tells them to stay in bed but they want a bath so badly. their body trembles the moment they move to stand, and they're barely upright for more than a few seconds before their weakened legs fold and they collapse in a pile of exhausted, aching limbs.

doing nothing, thinking of nothing until there's a bright surge of light and heat, white bleeding into black, so abrupt that it's not until they wake again that they even comprehend that anything happened to them.

A character vomiting or collapsing in the middle of a heated argument and those around them only then realizing just how sick they are >>>>>

exhausted leader whumpee leaning their forehead against the wall, taking deep and unsteady breaths to force away the dizziness. feverish but leading regardless, directing their team with quiet orders. a pause between phrases to gasp in another breath, leaving them feeling more faint than before. but their team needs them. they can rest once everyone is safe, but for now, they close their eyes to focus, steady their trembling fingers, and lead their family to safety.

Hi how are you I'd like to request a writing piece in which whumpee passes out right in front of caretaker plzzz

Team Leader's speaking, but Caretaker's eyes are focused on Whumpee instead- the way they're stood, shifting uncomfortably on their feet, complexion far paler than it ought to be. They aren't doing well. It's painfully obvious.

Caretaker should have said something sooner. They should have pulled Team Leader aside before this whole meeting started, before the whole team was gathered as an audience for Whumpee's slow descent in health. They should have-

Whumpee shifts on their feet again, except this time a shaking hand comes up to swipe at the perspiration gathering on their forehead. Somehow, they've grown even paler in the last few seconds. They blink quickly, evidently trying to shake the uneasy sensation within them, but it doesn't appear to do much at all.

"Whumpee, are you listening?" Team Leader's voice suddenly grows sterner, their explanation interrupted.

Whumpee blinks again. Sniffs. Clears their throat. "I- yes... sorry, Team Leader."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying..."

Caretaker directs a sympathetic glance towards Whumpee, hoping perhaps they'll finally own up to their own indisposition and excuse themselves. Or at least understand that somebody out there is looking out for them, and knows they're not feeling great.

Whumpee doesn't acknowledge the look, though. In fact, they're not acknowledging anything anymore. A slight glaze has entered their eyes, and they feebly reach out towards a nearby surface for support. Nobody notices except Caretaker. Nobody's even looking at them other than Caretaker.

When Whumpee takes a deep breath, blinking quickly for the third or fourth time, it doesn't take a genius to know what's about to happen. Caretaker at last moves from their position, hurrying forward just as Whumpee's eyes roll back in their head and everything goes limp. The exclamations of concern and shock from the others barely even register to them as they lower whumpee to the ground, already fumbling to undo the tightly buttoned collar soaked through with sweat.

"It's alright, Whumpee. It's okay. You're alright."

From somewhere in the background, Team Leader is swearing. "Shit. I had no idea. I didn't- I didn't think-"

Caretaker can't help the way their brow furrows with frustration as they gently roll Whumpee onto their side.

Of course. Nobody ever thinks when it comes to Whumpee.

Give me Caretaker bridal carrying a weak Whumpee who is desperately trying to stay conscious…Whumpees arms are around Caretakers neck and their head is bobbing up and down against Caretakers chest.

And then suddenly, all at once, Caretaker notices Whumpee somehow feels heavier. Caretaker looks down at Whumpee just as Whumpee’s arms fall limp and their head flops backwards. And Caretaker has to drop to the ground both out of shock and panic as well as to check that their precious cargo is still breathing and to recollect Whumpees deadweight limbs to their chest before they stand back up

🥺🥹

A whumpee prematurely returning to their duties and attending a meeting/class/training session/whatever. They’re clearly falling apart in silence, and they quietly excuse themselves halfway through. One of their friends finds them bleeding/vomiting/unconscious in the bathroom much later.

Prompt (261)

The hero’s vision was getting blurry. Their insides felt limp as their head buzzed like static.

“What. . .wha’sin the tea?” They slurred.

The villain smiled plainly. “A little potion of my own concoction.”

Whump Prompts 80: Gothic Illness Aesthetic

Feel free to reblog and add on if you think of something :)

FAINTING

Whumpee examined by the doctor, listening to their lungs and checking their temperature

Whumpee stripped down so others can help them change their clothes, leaving whumpee bare and vulnerable and unable to sit up by themselves

Loose white nightgowns and white shirts

Pale, ashen skin, eyes ringed with dark circles, sunken cheeks

Long, damp hair plastered to a feverish forehead

A dim bedroom, curtains closed, a single candle or lamp burning

Whumpee lying on their back in a large, ornate bed, surrounded by white sheets

Feverish mumbling in their sleep, head jerking from side to side with delirium

BLOODLETTING

Being spoon-fed broth or gruel that they’re barely able to eat

Whumpee being bathed because they’re too weak to do it themselves

Various medicines perched on the sidetable

Hushed voices in the sickie’s bedroom, trying not to disturb them

Coughing fits, muffled by a white handkerchief

COUGHING UP BLOOD

Fevered nightmares

Whumpee lying silent and still under the bedclothes, while others keep vigil

Whumpee venturing out of their room for the first time, leaning on the banister as they try to get down the long staircase

Whumpee unable to sleep because they’re uncomfortable, wandering through the big house and empty rooms, slightly delirious

Slow meandering walks through the garden as they convalesce

need to grab modern!coryo’s soft dick like and tap it like a mic going “is this thing on??” only from him to not get it and respond with “uh — babe you good down there?” ‘n prolly jostle my head down onto him a little so he can harden properly in my warm mouth.

They stood up, thinking that everything would be all right. Their vision swam for a moment, but they didn't pay too much attention to it. They blinked a couple of times and everything was back to normal.

Everything is fine.

They walked slowly, step after step, careful not to stumble. Their feet felt like concrete and every movement made them dizzier, but that was only because they were tired, they were sure of it. They heard someone talking to them, but all they heard was a buzz, an annoying background noise, distant and incomprehensible. 

Everything is fine.

They turned their head to try to better understand those indistinct words, but as soon as they hinted at the movement, everything went black for a moment, and their breathing quickened.

Everything is...

They tried to blink in an attempt to clear their vision, but it was all useless. They stopped, sighing, inhaling as much oxygen as possible. But things didn't improve. Black spots danced before them, and a dull ache pulsated into the back of their skulls. They reached for any support that could help them stand, but with their eyes almost closed, they tripped. Before they hit the ground, someone grabbed them.

“Hey, is everything fine?" A voice asked.

“N-no... i’m...not...” They panted, the uneasiness in their body growing stronger.  They weren’t fine. Nothing was fine. They managed to take a last look around them, where colors, sounds and smells all blurred together, and then darkness enveloped them.

Whumpees not realizing they’re about to pass out and hitting the ground like a bag of bricks? Beautiful, gold standard.

Whumpees realizing they’re about to pass out and asking someone to catch them? Lovely, also gold standard.

But you know what I don’t see? Whumpees realizing they’re about to pass out and laying themself down carefully on the ground just in time before losing consciousness, because they already know that’s where they’re going to end up anyway. It’s not as dramatic as a freefall but I can confirm it’s a thing we do.

Random whumpy fainting stuff

From a person who passes out almost daily from dehydration and POTS

Fainting can be dramatic (eyes rolling back, falling to the floor, etc), but it can also be subtle sometimes. Even standing up, your whumpee could just sway in place a bit, eyes going unfocused and dilated. Maybe those around them grow concerned as they realize whumpee is unresponsive, before moving to touch them, shake their shoulder, and watching with horror as whumpee tips over and slumps to the floor.

When your whumpee is coming to, there’s often a few seconds where they are aware of and can understand everything around them, but are unable to move or talk. Just laying there, maybe mumbling something quietly or waving a hand at most, body still coming back online.

Whumpee catching themself passing out, deliberately breathing slow and deep in an attempt to not faint, even as they slowly feel their thoughts leaving them. The darkness fuzzing in on the corners of their vision and masking their surroundings, and the last, frustrated thought of “well, shit” as they sink to the ground, breathing exercises having failed them.

Alternatively, there can also be a few seconds after (before??) coming to when your whumpee isn’t cognizant of what is happening, but it appears like they are. They may sit up, even respond to a basic question, and then blink awake, completely disoriented at already being upright and moving.

Everyone around them freaking out, disorienting whumpee even further as they wake up to the concerned voices and roaming hands and prodding and questions. Whumpee attempting to brush everyone off, appease everyone, to just get away as they maybe stagger to their feet or curl into a ball.