You know what I love? When characters are almost unconscious, but not quite.
Slumped over, a complete ragdoll in the others’ hands, but alert enough to groan softly at different sensations, eyes hooded and glazed, just wide enough to gather a blurry image of their surroundings. Though they’re dizzy and their limbs feel like lead, they gain comfort in the others’ touch, unconsciously leaning into them, eyelids fluttering in hazy relief at the soothing, concerned gestures.














