#fever whump

[vibing-lizard-nose]

"regreting their life choices"

CHEER! I'LL DRINK TO THAT! LMAO

Fever Whump Details

Being just as — if not more — uncomfortable closing their eyes and resting as they are keeping them open; because every time they close their eyes, they get caught in a never-ending loop of thought that is just incomprehensible enough to manifest itself as a brightly-colored whirlwind behind their eyes that is more of a bad trip than a fever dream.

Being unable to breathe through their nose forces them to breathe through their mouth, which leads to their becoming severely dehydrated, which leads to feeling nauseous and like their heart is moving their entire body with every beat.

Not being able to talk, but having just enough energy to periodically swear under their breath and say “oh god”

Not being sure if they have a stiff neck from the fever itself, or from pretzeling themselves into uncomfortable positions because of the discomfort

Regretting their life decisions

Feeling like their eyes are getting cooked in their skull because they’re so hot

Knowing they need to spread out their limbs and cool off; but being unable to get their body to stop shoving their hands down their pants or into their armpits to seek warmth

Still being painfully thirsty no matter how much water they drink

Getting nauseous from drinking water

Chugging apple cider vinegar water to get rid of the flu and then having the most awful acid reflux an hour or two later

Having a scabbed over wound that didn’t faze them at all when they received it; but now that they’re sick, makes them gag to look at it

[sickiehugs]

Sickie mumbles something about another pillow to Caretaker, who confusedly obliges, bringing them a spare from another room. The second the pillow is in arm's reach, Sickie grabs at it and wraps their whole body around it like a sad hug.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Once again, for the umpteenth time, whumpees with fevers:

Whumpees feeling a little shivery and worn out, not thinking anything of it

Whumpees growing more restless as their mind races relentlessly, trying to figure out why they can't get to sleep let along think straight

Whumpees feeling colder than ever all of a sudden, despite the burning just under their skin

Whumpees finally managing to sleep, but their rest is disturbed by rambling and terrifying dreams

Whumpees waking up much later than intended, with a parched throat and aching joints, so tired and shaky they can barely sit up on their own, let alone stand

Whumpees with sore, burning eyes, lymph nodes tender and swollen

Whumpees' vision swimming, growing dizzier and more lightheaded as the fever gets higher

Whumpees with chattering teeth, unable to stop shaking under a mound of blankets

Whumpee unable to eat but so, so desperately thirsty

Whumpees having to keep a light on through the night because the dark plays tricks on their feverish brain

Whumpees waking up not knowing where they are, feeling like the whole room is swaying around them, their bed shrinking and expanding, everything happening too much

Whumpees having to shakily change shirts because they're drenched in sweat (and leaving the old one on the floor by their bed because they're too weak to fold it)

[spinzolliii]

DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO CLUE IF THIS IS MEDICALLY ACCURATE

Something that whump writers don’t consider:

IVs feel cold. Can you imagine a room temperature liquid going directly into the bloodstream of someone who’s 97-104 degrees? It’s hellish. You can’t get warm no matter how much external heat you receive.

Imagine a delirious whumpee whimpering and clawing at an IV while being restrained and reassured by Caretaker.

“No no no, that stays in”

“Hey, hey. I know it hurts, but it’ll help you feel better”

Maybe the whumpee’s hallucinating, thinking that they’re being tortured. When Caretaker’s words fail to get through, they have to use gentle touches and singing. Or, if you want to be mean, you can have the Caretaker being forced to restrain Whumpee to prevent them from hurting themselves until they run out of energy and pass out.

[warmasf]

Obsessed with sick cuddles. I love it when people have a bad cold and just long for affection and warmth. I love it when someone is sniffly and tired and feverish and cold, their body begging to be held and comforted. I love it when they lean into the touch of their caregiver/significant other with such pleading affection, they just need to be held. I love it when said caregiver holds them close and lets them rest their feverish head on their chest, whispering sweet nothings into their ear, because the poor thing just doesn’t feel good.

[hellothereimaloser]

outsiders request? Sick Ponyboy and Darry and Soda caring for him? bonus points if you make ponyboy look really feverish and on the verge of tears

Lol do i get bonus points 🤩

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Give me more shaking whumpees.

Give me whumpees who are shivering so much from their high fever that they can't even hold a bottle of water up to their lips, leaving caretaker to hold it for them like they're bottle feeding a baby animal.

Give me whumpees who've lost so much blood that they're pale and trembling violently, their skin cool to the touch. Their body is desperately trying to keep them warm, but with each new shudder they're just bleeding more and more.

Give me whumpees in shock- whumpees who find out something so emotionally distressing that they can do nothing but shake, eyes fixed on a single point, jolting away from any touch.

Give me more shaking whumpees.

[digital-nova]

Fever whump prompts

Whumpee who becomes incredibly hyper when they’re feverish, and has to be held or restrained by Caretaker until they calm down.

Bad Caretaker (or Whumper) who doesn’t take Whumpee’s illness seriously unless they have a fever.

Whumpee believing that another character is sick or otherwise in danger and can’t recognise that they’re the one who needs help.

Whumpee who refuses to sleep out of paranoia, only worsening their condition.

Whumpee with a fever in summer, who chalks up being hot all the time to the weather.

Feverish Whumpee saying horrible things that they never normally would. (Does Caretaker forgive them? Or do they think that Whumpee’s fever has just brought out their true colours?)

Whumpee lying on any cool surface they can without even thinking about it.

A fever caused by an infected wound being mistaken for one caused by sickness. (Cue whumpee only receiving half the care they actually need.)

Whumpee being so delirious that they start calling out for a deceased loved one.

[swooningdelirium]

more fever dialogue cause the worms in my brain demand it:

“let me take your temperature. …oh, honey.”

“103.8? that’s impressive.”

“i can feel your heart pounding. does something hurt?”

feeling lymph nodes for swelling and picking up the febrile heat at the same time

“your fever is breaking. that’s a good thing.”

“drink some more water. i think you’re dehydrated.”

“you had a fever this high and didn’t tell anyone?”

[seth-whumps]

caretaker is ill, feverish, barely awake. a loved one taps them on the shoulder to check on them, concerned. caretaker, in their delirious state, acts on instinct, reaching out to cup their friend's chin, whispering their name, already looking over them--as if they aren't the one nearing danger.

[whispers-whump]

love a good forehead fever check as much as the next gal but like we’re sleeping on so much fever checking potential here

overly warm hands, palms just beginning to sweat

a rapid pulse throbbing under glistening skin

feeling the warmth radiating off of whumpee through a thin t-shirt

even better, cool hands against the overheated skin of a bare, aching back

grabbing whumpee’s forearm and finding the unnatural heat there

a loved whumpee’s legs resting across caretaker’s lap, limbs hot on their thighs

the top of a head, hair damp and scalp burning when caretaker rests their chin on whumpee’s head

the back of a flushed neck, cupped tenderly in a hand

overheated thighs, maybe gripped through loose sweatpants or mostly bare because whumpee felt too hot for anything but shorts

squeezing a shoulder comfortingly and discovering the warmth there

feel free to add on!

[sickiehugs]

Sick character using their partner as a human heater... Snuggling up against them as tightly as they can because they're so cold...

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Love whumpees who get more easily emotional when feverish -- and a caretaker who knows this about them and is not at all alarmed when they're sick and just start crying out of nowhere.

[spinzolliii]

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.

[warmasf]

B has been feeling a little weird all day. A little shivery, a little tired, a little achey, starting to get sniffly, but overall okay. They don’t feel sick per se, just a little off.

Cut to B having a little movie night with their partner A, who is cradling B’s head in their lap. A is carding softly through their hair as they feel B’s breathing start to grow deeper and slower. They smile and move their fingers down towards B’s eyes, only to brush their forehead and stop. Is it just them, or is B feeling a little warm? They move their hand to B’s cheek, their other cupping the nape of their neck.

“You feeling okay? You feel really warm,” A asked, feeling B roll a little bit in their lap.

B mumbled something before burying their hot face deeper into the blankets and sniffling liquidly.

“Aw honey, let me get you some Tylenol so you can get some rest.”

[warmblanketwhump]

Idea for you. Let’s say we have 5 characters living in one household. They’re all very close. A brings an illness into the house. B catches it while taking care of them. Then C joins the party. Then finally D catches it as well, leaving E to take care of all of them. They start to feel ill, but power through. By the time the others have recovered, E’s fever is bad, and now they have to take care of the caretaker.

this flu season, everyone got sick.

First to fall was A, who came home from work with a pale face and a raspy voice and went straight to bed. When E went up to see them, they found them huddled in bed, blearily staring at the wall.

“I don’t feel good,” they whimper.

Next, C’s nagging cough deepened. It had started a tickle in their throat, but soon moved all the way down into their chest. C was the active type—always going for runs and spending time outdoors—so E knew they were in trouble when a short walk from room to room left C breathless, and soon, they were bedridden as well.

Then, B started complaining about feeling chilled.

“Aren’t you guys freezing?” They sat at the dinner table with D and E, a blanket clutched round their shoulders as they stare blankly at the meal they’ve barely touched.

“No?”

B runs their hands up and down their arms, then hugs themselves tightly with a shudder. “I just can’t get warm.”

D and E exchange a look before D rests a hand on B’s shoulder. “I’ll get the thermometer.”

In the span of 36 hours, three of them had become bedridden.

At first, it’s a bit of a joke between them all, D and E commiserating as they move between rooms with cough syrup, tissues, blankets, and tea.

“We should open up our own hospital,” E cracks as they

But that all changes four days in when E comes downstairs to see D at the kitchen table, ashen-faced and clutching a mug of tea in their hands.

“D, you look awful.”

D hugs the mug closer to their chest and shudders, coughing weakly. “I’ll manage. It’s just the sniffles.”

Before D can move away, E’s got a palm to their too-warm forehead and a sinking feeling in their chest. “Off to bed with you, D. You’re the next victim.”

D groans, slumping over with their head on the kitchen table. “E, I can’t just leave you.”

“Yes, you can and you will. You’re feverish and pale as death.”

D pulls the blanket tighter, a sheepish look on their face. “I thought…I thought it wouldn’t get me too.”

“No one thinks it will. Bed. Now.”

So that’s how D winds up the fourth victim of the flu, and despite their protests, they were arguably the worst hit. What they tried to pass off as a quick rest turned into a six-hour nap. they woke that evening with a 104 fever, having sweat through their clothes and bedsheets.

“It’s going to be a long night,” E whispers under their breath.

——————-

Two days later, E’s standing in the kitchen, fighting to keep their eyes open as the coffee brews, when they feel it.

A chill, prickling between their shoulder blades before it washes over their whole body.

No. I’m just overworked and sleep deprived.

Generously, E had slept for a combined 3 or 4 hours over the past two nights. It was partially their own fault. They’d been sleeping on the hallway floor so they could be equally close to everyone, which meant they heard every whimper, every cough, every quiet plea for help.

C had been up all night with a body-wracking cough, and B’s fever had spiked twice, which meant two changes into dry pajamas. A seemed to be through the worst of it, but they were still so weak they had to be helped to the bathroom. D woke at 2 in the morning, wracked with chills so violent that E gave into their pleas and helped them take a bath to warm up. After being dried off, they spent the rest of the night clutching a hot water bottle.

After that ordeal, E hadn’t even gone to bed—they’d just collapsed on D’s carpet, tugged the nearest blanket around themselves, and passed out.

Until they were woken by C’s coughing a couple hours later, and it all began again.

I'll just finish these dishes and then go sit by the fire. It's probably just this cold snap getting to me.

But as they wash dish after dish, E finds that each one becomes harder and harder to lift. Even the effort of standing makes their knees shake, and goosebumps prickle on E’s arms for no reason at all.

No. No. I can’t get sick.

By midmorning, it’s clear that something is very wrong. E’s chilled to the bone, despite being layered in thermals, a thick sweater and multiple pairs of socks. They resist the urge to wrap up in their bathrobe—the others will know something is wrong if they have that many visible layers on.

So they take A a glass of water, trying to hide how badly their hands are shaking when they hand it off. A must be thirsty enough they don’t notice as they gulp the glass down, but they frown once they’ve finished.

“E, you’re pretty peaked.”

“Hmm?” E snaps to attention, their focus drifting.

“You just look sorta washed out. Have you been sleeping?”

“I’ve been fine. As much sleep as I can with four patients to take care of,” E snaps. They instantly regret their tone as A flinches, then raises their eyebrows. “Sorry. It’s just…it’s been a lot.”

A props themselves up, wrapping their discarded robe around their shoulders. “E, I promise I’m feeling better. I can sit with D for a while—“

“No way. You couldn’t even walk yesterday.”

“And that was yesterday,” A says, patiently. “Give me an hour. If I don’t feel up to it, I’ll tell you.”

“Fine,” E says, too tired to fight with a suddenly chipper A. “But if you even seem slightly faint, it’s back to bed.”

——————

C is the next patient to raise alarms. Though their hacking cough has rendered them voiceless, they seem to be on the mend—vigorously pointing on things and writing messages on their notepad.

E, you look sick. C stabs the pointed message with their finger for emphasis.

E stifles a groan. “You’re one to talk. Drink your cough medicine.”

C accepts the shot of dark red syrup, but their eyes don’t leave B as they take it.

E meets A in the hallway, and before they can ask, A rattles off a report on B. “Fever’s still holding steady at 101.4. They’re miserable, but they’re not going to die. Gave them a cold washcloth, aspirin, and an extra blanket.”

“That’s….good work, A.”

A rolls their eye. “You’re not the only one who can play nurse.”

D is the final stop—they’re still in the roughest shape, feverish and mumbling incoherently, but A manages to soothe them with a cool hand to the forehead and some soft words. E adds another blanket to D’s bed and forces some more medicine into them, and D’s asleep in three minutes.

All patients accounted for, they leave D to rest. E’s about to tell—no, demand—that A goes back to bed, when a sudden dizzy feeling washes over them, and they grab the doorframe.

“E? You alright?”

“I…..I…” Suddenly, E can’t even form words, they just know they’re freezing, and they’re torn between keeping hold of the wall and wrapping their arms around themselves, get warm get warm get warm, and when they choose neither, their knees buckle and they crumple to the floor.

——————

The first thing E realizes, as A and C help them to sit on their bed, is that their sheets are crisp and clean. When was the last time they’d slept a full night in their bed?

“A, go….go to bed,” E rasps weakly through chattering teeth, huddling on the edge of the bed as A helps them into pajamas. “I’ll manage.”

“E, you can’t even keep your head up. Just let us help you change.”

E shudders weakly as their bare, feverish skin hits the chilly air, and A eases them under the covers, rubbing their back. “There you go. Nice and warm.” E leans into the touch, groaning softly, and they feel a thermometer poke under their tongue.

“103.6.”

E groans, pulling the blankets tighter. “I…I can’t be sick.”

“Hush.” A covers them with another blanket. “You took care of us, now let us take care of you.”

E is too feverish and cold and achy to protest, so they let them.