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Issue no 45:
Passing out
The moment when the lights go out. In form of gifs or fics or however you want to portray this months prompt. Just make your whumpees faint.
Tag your posts with #whumpers-monthly and #issue no 45 If you make a gifset for the prompt, please also add the tag #whumpedit
If you already made a post that fits this prompt, reblog that post and tag @whumpers-monthly
Please add the name of the whumpee and the movie or show your content is from.
Issue no 45:
PASSING OUT
When he just doesn't get how sick he was and how frightened you were...especially when you found him like this....This is the security cam footage of you, love.
You can't seem to learn to let others help you. If you do it all yourself, we're gonna lose you, love. Finding you like this terrified me!
It was naive of him to think he could do what he wanted to do deep in his heart and soul. Naive of him to think that the return of his father meant he could give him back his business, his rescue organization, his children and his house - well he could, but it would take just as long to hand it over to him hopefully in less time than it took for him to manage it all and keep it all afloat.
He just was caught up in his life long dream of having his own life - a life so apart from the one he was forced to have - that he rushed to set up the ultimate transfer before he could walk away.
So he did what he knew how to do best.
Work hard.
To the bone.
Endlessly.
Tirelessly.
Work with the fervor he'd had since his mother died and he had to pick up the shattered pieces she left behind and work around the broken man that was his father.
And so, he took advantage of the extended offline period that John had put in place for International Rescue. While his brothers caught up, brought up to speed and re-bonded with their father, he worked. He wanted to give them their time with the man so he didn't divvy up the workload among them.
He just did it.
Day, after day, after day.
Hell, he practically lived in New York. He didn't have time for much, outside of work. He saw her here and there, but most days he was too busy but, at least she understood. Her having her own responsibilities to attend to, took away the guilt of not making a lot of time for her - for them - somewhat. But she was on his mind and this work - getting this fucking work done and ready for transfer to his father - this was going to be his ticket out - and once he was out, he'd shower her and their relationship with his undivided attention and love.
Ever the perfectionist, Scott checked all of the boxes to make sure he was going through his daily routine. Even when IR went back online, he had taken himself off rota so that he could plough through each day.
Wake up at 4:30 am. Coffee. Protein shake. Run and lift at 5 am. Another protein shake. Shower, dress and head down two floors to his office. Coffee. Reports. Meetings. Online conferences. Pick away at whatever his assistant put before him to snack on. Lunch(meeting). Back to office. Swim, boulder or rockclimb to clear his head. Shower. Suit back on. Back into the office. Protein bars. Spreadsheets. Meetings. HR consult. Legal consult. Call her...or maybe text a message...or just an emoji. Swig of something alcoholic to take the edge off. Dinner of sorts at desk. Sleep at desk at times or on the couch. Thank goodness the penthouse suite was just two floors up. How embarassing when his assistant was gently shaking him by the shoulder telling him to shower and change for the new day. Some nights, dinner was something junky - useless calories being shoved into his mouth as he nursed a beer while he watched the game or a movie until the tv was watching him but somehow, he pulled it off. In spite of the long and intense days of all consuming work, he looked okay.
Until, he wasn't.
It started with a weird light headed feeling in the elevator. Scott shut his eyes, propped himself with his arm against the wall and rested his head on his hand and tried to breathe slowly to push the nausea (which had suddenly accompanied the dizziness) away. As the doors opened to his office, he took a breath, opened his eyes, aware of the perspitation on his clammy brow, He went straight to his bar and filled a glass with water and downed it. He lingered there clutching onto the bar with a white knuckled grip until the sick and dizzy feeling vanished.
"Scott?" his assistant called to him gently, "You okay?"
Hearing the concern creeping into her voice, he nodded, then turned to face her with a one hundred percent fully activated dimple and cleft grin.
"You look a little pale,"
"I'm okay, Shannon. Just got up a little too fast,"
"If there is anything..."
"I'll let you know," he cut her off, still with the grin plastered on his face.
The days went by and he started to have more frequent signals from his body. But as much as they frightened him, he persisted. He was almost done compiling the last set of reports he was going to hand over to his father before he took his leave. Almost at the end of almost four months. Everyday there was a sign that his body was bailing on him. Shaky moments at the gym. Extreme tiredness in meetings. Lost trains of thought. Feeling full two bites into a meal even though he was hungry. Excess sweating on usual runs. Inability to catch his breath. Cold, clammy skin one minute; overheating with pains in his chest and gut, the next. He went from falling asleep and smacking his forehead on his desk to being wide awake for hours, the insomnia only alowing him two to three hours of light sleep each night.
Something was happening to him, but he could hold on a littel longer. He had to. Had to if he wanted out.
The day she was coming to see him, he looked at himself in the mirror after his shower. He could see the tiredness in his gaunt face. His eyes seemed a bit further back in his head that he would have liked - his cheekbones and jaw more prominent than usual. He was pale but not grey like he looked when he had an 'episode', as he called them now. That was at least good - that and the fact that even though his collar bones were a little more visible and he cinched in his belt by only one notch, he hadn't lost too much weight and still looked fit and strong.
He just didn't feel that way.
She insisted he meet her at the train station. She wanted them to eat at the restaurant in Central Park as it had been such a long time since he'd first taken her there. It was a beautiful day. Not too hot. Not too cold. And the sun was shining in a sky that looked like the entrance to heaven. They embraced and kissed and she could feel him trembling against her.
"You're shaking,"
"Just...excited to see you. Been far too long. I've been a horrible partner. Missed you so much," he whispered, his forehead touching hers.
She eyed him carefully, noting the subtle signs of fatigue. But she took solace in the fact that he said he was nearly done all that he needed to do before he handed over the reins to his father. She hoped he accounted for the time his father would need to absorb it all. After all, the man was MIA for eight years. But, she had faith that he'd planned it all and soon they would be in at the Lofoten Islands for a much needed, extended, relaxing and rejuvenating break. A break which would afford Scott the time to decide what was next for his ...and their life together.
As they headed through the park towards the restaurant, she diverted from the path to take in the view from the pond. The skyscrapers reflected off the surface of the water; the swans, gliding gently by. Taking out her phone, she captured the beauty before her, stopping suddenly when she heard a woman scream and a few other voices shouting for help between the frenzied shuffle of feet.
She went towards the commotion,
"SCOTT!"
_____________________________________
Why was it so frigging hot all of a sudden?
Scott loosened his tie and ipoed his brow with the back of his left hand, his right hand clutching his chest as he struggled to breathe through the compressing pain in his chest. Sweat poured from his scalp, down his neck, and he started to panic. He tried to take in air, but he couldn't, and he could barely see through his blured vision and tears that seemed to immediately srping from his eyes. He could hear muffled voices about him: the ringing in his ears getting louder. He tried to step forward but found himself staggering. He was suffocating.
Can't breathe....what's happening...no air... I can't....can't see...H-help...please...Huh...Huh....
He tried to call for her but he had no voice. He tried to reach for her but was too weak to lift his arm. And as the darkness creept in and blinded him, he didn't have the strength to take a breath or to brace himself as his knees buckled. He was going down. Collapsing. Fading.
He felt himself falling backwards, a hard and searing white hot pain exploding at the back of his head as he hit the pavement and disconnedted from the world with a long moaning sigh of the last breath air he had taken in.
_____________________________________
She pushed through the crowd, at first only getting a glimpse of a hand, an arm; a blue sleeve. Scott's hand. His arm. his sleeve.
"Scott!" she screamed, "Someone call an ambulance!"
She knelt beside him,calling to him, as she checked for a puilse finding only an irregular thready one. She called to him as she checked for breath that was not there. A woman and a man gently slipped a folded scarf beneath his head that was signigicantly bleeding through an angry cut while she focused on forcing air into his lungs, while another good Samaritan covered him with a jacket and kept count for the breaths she gave to him until the paramedics took over. She felt her lips moving and heard herself talking but she couldn't make out her own words, but in reality, as on lookers covered their mouths, hugged each other or wrapped their arms snugly about themselves, watching in horror and sadness, she held his hand and willed him to hold on - to live.
She shuddered as the oxygen mask was fitted over his nose and partly opened mouth. She shuddered when they ripped open his shirt and cut his t-shirt and exposed his chest to place the electrodes that would allow them to monitor his heartrate which at the moment was all over the place. She released the breath she didn't know she was holding when they speculated he hadn't suffered a heart attack, but was so dehydrated they were having trouble finding a vein to pump much needed fluids and stabilizing medicine into him. She heard nothing and saw only him when he was lifted into the ambulance, taking her place at his side and his hand as they whisked them to the nearest hospital.
"He's going to be alright, Miss," the attendant had told her.
An hour later, there was more news.
"He's stable, and his family is on the way," said the nurse, who carefully removed the oxygen mask and fitted him with a nasal canula. She fiddled with his IV site before placing her hand on her shoulder and giving her a reassuring squeeze, but she wasn't reassured. Far from it.
"The cut on his head's been stitched up... didn't have to shave off too much of his beautiful hair, " she said, her tender voice almost musical.
"I know it must have been frightening... you know, the amount of blood. Just know scalps bleed a lot. It always looks a lot worse than it is," she said, before taking up some things and leaving, making sure to look me in the eyes and smile to encourage her even if just a little, to keep the faith during her vigil.
As another hour slipped by, information was more abundant.
"Good news," the doctor said. "It wasn't a heart attack. But, he is suffering from extreme exhaustion. He's incredibly weak, dehydrated, and he's anemic. I don't think he's eaten as healthily as he should have been for some time. Also, his blood pressure is quite low. He's going to need a lot of rest, proper nourishment, and care, and in time, I expect he will make a full recovery,"
It was good news. Scott was going to be okay in due time. But, she didn't feel good. She was still scared and very worried as she watched him sleep, connected to too many tubes and wires. His pallor was terrifying and he lay there before her helplessly and way too still - sleeping - still unable to wake after passing out and falling a crumpled heap in the park and cracking his head open on the pavement. She would never unsee the image of him then nor the one of him now as he he inched towards recovery from this ordeal - an ordeal he put himself through. An ordeal that was placed him long before she knew him - long before the job. It was an ordeal he'd been living through since he was ten years old. This was bound to happen but she was going to make damn sure it was never going to happen again.
Actually Real- Evangeline
Passing out- @whumpers-monthly 2025- Issue #45
Their Sacred Vow
Author's note: time skipping to this one for now, just want to get the Whumper's Monthly snippet up before the end of October
CW/TW: implied nudity
Evangeline
Opening her eyes, Evangeline frowned.
She was in the same place as before. Same healers in the room. Only one was paying attention to her, though. A kind-eyed woman, gently putting Evangeline's weak arms into the sleeves of a robe. Not at all like the maids that would get her ready for the parties. Maybe she was still dreaming.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@whumpers-monthly @heronfem @witchermonstermayhem
For the Witchertober prompts 4 "Steel", 17 "Bleed", 19 "Claw", 24 "Beast", the Witcher Monster Bingo prompt "ghoul" and the Whumper's-Monthly issue no. 45 "Passing out"
Fandom: The Witcher
Whumpee: Cahir
Chapters: 1/2 Words: 1,545 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Maria Barring | Milva, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Witchertober (The Witcher), witchermonstermayhem's Witchery Monster Bingo 2025, whumper's-monthly issue no 45, Here Be Monsters, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach Whump, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach Has a Bad Time
Summary: Geralt's company find a deserted farmstead and decide to spend the night in the barn. Unfortunately, they are not alone ...
