#mediwhumpmay

[mediwhumpmay]

MEDIWHUMP MAY PROMPTS

Mediwhump May. It's dirty medicine.

Welcome to Mediwhump May. 31 days, 31 prompts. The only limit is your imagination.

Don't forget to tag @mediwhumpmay and use your tags #mediwhumpmay

IV /Cannula

Stitches

Seizure

Pain

No Response

Needlephobic

First Night in Hospital

Scared of Blood

Oxygen

Short of Breath

Withdrawal

"Just one more sip."

Surgery

Loss of Consciousness

Nausea / Vomiting

Dizzy

"Stay awake for me."

Stabbing

Emergency Room

Breakdown

Field Medicine

Doctor Becomes the Patient

Bleeding Out

"We've got you now." / "You're safe."

Shaking

Sedation

Car Crash

No Screaming

Head Injury

Choke

Ambulance Ride

Bonus / Alternative Prompts

No Pain relief

Infection

Poisoning

Broken Bones

Teeth

[demondamage]

Mediwhump May Day 2 - Stitches

CW: Forced medical procedure, stitches

AN: Sorry for the lazier comics, I got a new project at work and need to preserve my wrists.

@mediwhumpmay

Kotoru had never been a fan of consecrated whips, and he had never met a wielder who hadn't been a raging sadist. But he was also not nearly high enough in this chain of command to make a point about it. Besides, he had been lucky to bargain for this.

After the recent string of escape attempts, the council had been discussing terminating his project and executing his ward. It had taken equal parts groveling and providing evidence of his success to allow them to settle on a lesser punishment.

Of course this was intended as a punishment for him as well, stitching the bleeding whip marks as the demon wailed on the table below him. With this being a consecrated whip, Aziphem wouldn't heal without intervention and he didn't want to risk the injuries getting worse.

Maybe this would convince that foolish demon to stay close to him, to work with him, that he wasn't the worst angel he could have been given to.

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Day 13: Surgery - Medi Whumpy May

Medi Whump May Masterlist

Just a little.. bit... further...' Hero told themselves, clutching their side and drawing in another painful, wheezing breath.

The world was spinning in front of them and their vision was starting to become obscured with small dots.

They could barely see the doors of their base, and had to slam their palms against the doors to keep themselves upright.

"Hey!" They gasped. "Help!"

They blinked, and found themselves on the floor as the sounds of footsteps came rushing towards them.

"Hero, you're injured!"

"Hero, is that you?!"

"Quick, get me a gurney. They're hurt!"

The noise was overwhelming, but a familiar face swam in front of theirs.

"M-medic?"

"Yeah, it's me. We're going to take care of you, okay? Can you tell me what's wrong, where are you hurt?" Medic asked, instantly checking over Hero's body.

"My chest.. can't.. breathe.." Hero panted.

A gurney was pushed up against the wall, and Medic and the rest of the team began to lift Hero onto it. Hero cried out at the movement, tears springing to their eyes.

"It's okay, Hero. You've got a punctured lung, but I can fix it, alright?" Medic said above them as they wheeled the gurney inside the base, heading straight towards the med bay.

The team members helped get Hero to the bay and into the surgical suite, where Medic's assistants took over. They placed Hero on the operating table and began cutting the clothing away from the wound.

Hero whimpered as the open wound was revealed, their chest looking depressed on that side. "That's bad, right?" They whispered.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Hero. It's bad. Lie back for me, okay?" Medic said.

The team of assitants bustled around the operating table. One inserted an IV into Hero's arm, and other handed Medic a mask.

"I need you to breathe this in for me. I'm going to put you to sleep so I can operate. When you wake up, you'll feel a lot better." Medic said.

Hero shook their head and tried to move away, despite the pain burning through their chest. "Don't! Please, don't, I c-"

Medic clapped the mask over Hero's face and held it there, even as Hero thrashed in their grasp.

"Shh.. It's going to be alright, Hero. Just go to sleep." Medic whispered, in a desperate attempt to soothe their patient.

Hero's movements became sluggish, their attempts to free themselves abandoned as their limbs hung limply at their side, and their eyes drifted closed.

When Hero came back to consciousness, they were lying on their back, propped up on pillows in a bed in Med Bay.

They panicked momentarily, seeing the tube coming out of the wound in their side.

"Hey, hey." Medic said. "Leave the chest tube alone, I worked hard to get that in you." They scolded.

Hero sighed. They felt no pain as they used their lungs, which was likely due to the medication running through the IV port in their hand. "Medic.. what- what happened?"

"What happened is you got yourself impaled on something, and then showed up to Base half dead in the doorway." Medic retorted, arms crossed over their chest. "

"I'm sorry." Hero replied softly.

You get your ass back to sleep now. You took a fair beating, and I know the chest tube isn't pleasant to see." Medic's voice was more gentle now. "We'll talk more about this when you feel better."

With that, Hero fell back into a semi-drug induced, uneasy sleep.

@mediwhumpmay

[whumpinthepot]

@mediwhumpmay

Prompt 7. First night in the hospital

—

Lab Rat Whumpee escapes the lab while severely injured. They wake up in a real hospital for the first time but they’re convinced they were dragged back to the lab. Do they lash out at the doctors, or sullenly accept their “fate?”

[nativestarwrites]

I'm going to be attempting to write something daily in May (wish me luck!). Could be a drabble, could be a hundred words on a WIP, I'm just trying to build a regular writing habit again. Today it comes in the flavour of a MediWhump May prompt.

Pe-series, Mac and Jack, Sandbox double drabble for the prompt 'IV/Cannula'.

“Hey, c’mon now, leave that alone.” Jack said, peeling away the wandering fingers that had once again started to pick at the adhesive securing the IV. Annoyed eyes, softened by exhaustion, glared at him briefly before slipping shut again. He could go. He should go. There was no reason for him to be here. No reason at all. Except, the staff here were busy, too busy to keep an eye on a kid who was barely awake and very much did not want the cannula in the back of their hand. So here he was. Protector of the intravenous hydration. Had nothing to do with how he’d been scared to death when Macgyver had collapsed on him earlier. The worry that hadn’t quite left him, even after the prognosis of a full recovery with some rest and fluids. Kid was his responsibility. That’s all it was. He wasn’t getting attached to his bomb nerd who apparently came with a distinct lack of self preservation. He was just making sure dehydration didn’t take him out before he shipped out, back to Texas in nine days and counting. There was no reason for him to be here. None at all. And yet.

[genuinehc]

Day 7: First Night in Hospital

Challenge: @mediwhumpmay 2023 Fandom: Six of Crows Modern AU Prompt: Day 7: First Night in Hospital Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, medical whump, Modern AU, Kaz Brekker is a very smart idiot

Kaz doesn’t quite remember the liminal space between waking up in recovery and being moved to a room. He has some vague recollections of someone cheerfully telling him how well he did, being bumped and jostled, a nightmare of hands on his bare skin and the rising waters, then a blissful void. 

He’s awake now, half reclined in an uncomfortable hospital bed, and far more lucid than he particularly wants to be. The room is dimly lit, dark outside the shaded windows, with a light coming from the door and a dim bulb shining on a white board with Kaz’s name and the names of the nurses. A clock above is just obscured enough in shadow that he can’t quite read the numbers and with his right leg bandaged, braced, and propped up on a foam block, he can’t move any closer.  

Someone has thoughtfully left his phone on the tray table and after fumbling for the button past the IV tubing tethering him to the bed, he finds it’s just past midnight. 

It’s just past midnight and he hurts. 

Kaz is no stranger to pain. He’s been navigating the world with a broken, never quite healed right leg since he was fourteen. He spent his teenage years getting into fights and coming out the other side of them with injuries that might have killed someone else. He’s been compensating for his broken leg for so long and in ways that made his doctor visibly blanch when she heard about it, and he’s done more damage to himself in that compensation than anyone could reasonably countenance. 

He understands pain. He knows it and he gets by with it, and he uses it to leverage other people, either the fear or the reality of it. 

His doctor had said about the surgery and the subsequent recovery, “you’ll feel worse before you feel better, but you will feel better.”  

He had been ready for pain, especially if it meant that he would have another decade or more of walking before his leg couldn’t bear weight at all.  

What he wasn’t ready for was the feeling of utter helplessness that comes with being in a hospital. No matter that this was his choice, that he had thought through the possibilities, the worst cases, everything that could possibly go wrong; his plans B, C, and D. He had let his brain spin out every possible scenario and decided at the end that this is the right choice. 

And the continuing right choice is to stay exactly where he is and let his fucking leg heal. 

What a fucking joke. 

He’s committed to this course of action right until he hears the window open from the outside. In a moment of wild panic, he thinks of everyone who could possibly have found out that he was here, helpless, unable to defend himself, even as he is trying to figure out how to disentangle himself from the leads and tubes and wires, and where is his damn cane? Who did Jesper tell? Did someone hack his email? Did Rotty sell him out? 

The window shade rustles and from behind it, someone drops soundlessly to the floor. The absence of sound soothes Kaz’s alarm the way nothing else could and his heart drops back into his chest where it belongs. 

“Inej.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having surgery?”

[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, day six:

“You’re doing great:” injection // nightmare // duct tape

CW: needles (mentioned), gunshot wound (explicit), graphic depiction of pain, sadistic whumper, forced caretaking, forced medical Whump, Whumpee forced unwilling participant, blood (explicit), medical Whump, captivity Whump, dungeon, basement, exhaustion, gagged whumpee

I suck at tagging, I barely know how to do it, I’m sorry…

*~*~*~*~*

The door to the basement opened and Whumpee saw Whumper’s silhouette at the top of the stairs. Caretaker lifted their head too, flinching when the door to the stairs locked and Whumpee saw all of it.

Whumper whistled as he descended the steps. He had a case in one hand, and he smiled at Whumpee, who was chained directly across from the stairs when he cleared the last step.

“I have something fun in store for my two favourite roommates today,” Whumper said cheerfully. He walked to the table that jutted out from his wall of horror tools and sadistic equipment and placed the case down. Whumpee stretched their neck, trying to see what was in the case but Whumper hummed a happy tune and blocked Whumpee’s view with their body. “No peeking and ruining the surprise now, Whumpee.”

Whumper stepped away from the table and towards the wall of Horror, eyes roaming over every possible pain they could inflict on Whumpee and Caretaker today. Whumpee did the same, gauging any sort of reaction Whumper had from his view, trying to anticipate what unpleasantness they had in store for them today.

Whumper’s hand went to the whips and Whumpee glanced back quickly at Caretaker. Caretaker was leaning against the wall, head tilted back, hair falling over their eyes, too exhausted to even move the hairs. Caretaker couldn’t take a whipping today. They couldn’t. They would die, they were barely holding it together after last time Whumper…

Whumpee didn’t try to suppress the shudder that racked their body at the memory of that godless, waking nightmare. A hand was in Whumpee’s hair then pulling their attention back to Whumper. Whumpee grit their teeth behind thin lips as Whumper smiled down at them.

“How are you today, Whumpee? A little distracted?”

Whumpee swallowed. “No, Whumper.”

“Are you sure? You’re not more worried about Caretaker than yourself are you?” Whumper chastised and Whumpee shook their head. Then winced as Whumper yanked their head up further by the hair.

“No. No! I’m not,” Whumpee said quickly.

“Leave them alone,” Caretaker muttered from the corner. Whumper let out a small laugh but let go of Whumpee’s hair.

They crouched down to Whumpee and unlocked the cuffs chaining Whumpee’s hands to the floor. Whumpee’s heart jumped into their throat. When Whumper moved Whumpee that only meant Whumpee was in for a world of pain, but it was okay. At least it wasn’t Caretaker.

Whumper dropped something into Whumpee’s freed hands. When they looked down they saw it was a roll of duct tape. Whumpee looked up in question. Whumper was grinning down at them, sadistic delights dancing in his eyes.

“Today Whumpee you are going to be my little helper, since Caretaker so rudely tried to rain on our parade.”

Whumpee stared up at him, mouth opening in silent horror. Then they shook their head. “No, no. I won’t. I— I won’t.”

Whumper shushed them, bending down again and grabbing Whumpee under the arm pulling them up. “Yes you will. It’s okay, Whumpee. I’ll talk you through it.”

“No. No. I won’t! I will not listen to you. I’m not hurting Caretaker.”

Whumper’s grip tightened on Whumpee’s arm as they dragged them over to Caretaker. “Yes you will, Whumpee. Here look. I’ll show you.”

Whumper let go of Whumpee and gave them a key. Whumpee looked at it. Whumper put a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder, pushing them to their knees.

“Now see?” Whumper said. “You’re doing so good already. Now unlock the latch. Yes. Just like that. Good, now, we get Caretaker to their feet hmm?”

“No,” Caretaker said weakly, but Whumper ignored their request and crouched down grabbing Caretaker under the arm.

“Whumpee. Grab their other arm.”

“No, no, no,” Caretaker mumbled, more urgent now. “No please. Don’t.”

“Whumpee. Grab them. Now. Or I swear I’ll make their punishment worse,” said Whumper, eyes locked on Whumpee’s in a threat. Whumpee had to suck it up. For Caretaker. Whumpee knew first hand how far Whumper would go.

So Whumpee grabbed the protesting Caretaker and together they pulled Caretaker to their feet. Caretaker cried out as Whumpee put pressure on their shoulder, struggling weakly against Whumpee’s hold.

“I’m sorry, Caretaker. I’m sorry.”

“The more you apologise, the worse their punishment will be,” Whumper sing-songed. Caretaker just let out a few pained grunts and whines until they got them onto the repurposed dentist’s chair that Whumper so loved to torture Whumpee on. To carve into, poke, prod, cut, burn— the nightmares were endless.

So for Whumpee to see Caretaker there, to have put them there… Whumpee wanted to get sick. What was Whumper planning?

“Whumpee…” Caretaker said, their voice a small thing that pulled at Whumpee’s heart strings. They were here because of them. Trying to rescue them and now they were shot and weak from blood loss and it was all Whumpee’s fault. “It’s okay… I’m okay… I’m going—“

“Whumpee,” Whumper interjected, getting Whumpee’s full and undivided attention with his horrible smile. “Be a dear and grab the duct tape for me, will you?”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Whumpee knew that. So they obeyed. What else could they do? With Whumper so close to Caretaker in their state. Whumpee picked the Duct tape up from the floor and offered it back to Whumper across Caretaker on the chair.

Whumper held their hands up. “No, no. I don’t want it. I want you to do it.”

Whumpee’s heart went to their throat. “W-what?”

Whumper smiled. The edges turning sharper than the flash of malicious excitement colouring his features. “Well we can’t let Caretaker bleed out, can we? Where would be the fun in that?”

Whumpee glanced down at Caretaker who was glaring at Whumper with all their energy. Whumper placed a sharp hand down on Caretaker’s shoulder and Caretaker cried out, their body arching away from Whumper’s hand but he just kept patting Caretaker’s shoulder in a disturbed reassuring gesture.

“As much as Caretaker deserves to bleed out for defying me and trying to get you back, I want them alive. So that means we are cleaning the wound. Keeping them alive and ready for their punishment once their healed.”

Whumpee said nothing. They just stood there, the duct tape in their trembling hands, too stunned to even speak.

Whumper’s finger dug into the bullet wound and Caretaker screamed. Their back arched off the chair, curving around Whumper’s brutal attack while struggling to get away.

“There is the problem,” said Whumper to Whumpee, not even looking at Caretaker. “They’re a screamer. Usually I enjoy screams, but they don’t do it as well as you do, Whumpee.”

“You fucking bastard—AGH!” Caretaker growled, seething underneath Whumper.

“So I need you to duct tape their mouth shut Whumpee. We can’t have them screaming every time we’re trying to help, hmm?”

“No,” Caretaker mumbled weakly. Whumpee looked down at Caretaker, finally tearing their eyes away from Whumper. Caretaker looked bad. So bad. Their hair was sticking to their forehead with sweat and they looked so pale they nearly looked grey. Their lips were pale, the colour of old scars and trembling. “No, don’t,” Caretaker tried again.

“Whumpee. The quicker you do this the quicker we can sew Caretaker back up.”

Whumpee’s eyes went to Whumper. “You’re trying to fix them?”

“Like I said, Whumpee. They’re not as fun if they’re broken. Now come on, we don’t have all day.”

Whumpee looked back at Caretaker, and Caretaker blanched. If they could have gotten paler. “No. Whumpee. Don’t please—“ Caretaker tried, their voice cracking at the please.

“It’s okay, Caretaker,” said Whumpee, their breath shaky as they started pulling at the edge of the tape. “Whumper will make you better. I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Ple—mmh.”

Whumpee’s hands shook as they pulled them back after… after gagging the person who tried to come and save them. They were no better than Whumper. Whumper who had gagged them countless times before, taken their voice, their last defence, their last sense of control over their body… Whumpee’s eyes went to Whumper who was smiling so proud down at Whumpee.

“Again,” said Whumper.

Whumpee froze. “Whumper they’re — they’re already—“

“Again, Whumpee.”

“Mmf!” Caretaker said and it sounded so like a No. Whumper kept their eyes on Whumpee’s with that look that brokered no disobedience. Whumpee nearly cried as they pulled at the tape again.

“I’m sorry,” they told Caretaker again and this time Caretaker didn’t move their head. They just held Whumpee’s eyes: a defeated gaze and a small nod, that told Whumpee it was okay. That they forgave them.

Jesus that just made this so much worse.

Whumpee put it on again, and Whumper smiled. “Good, Whumpee. Very good. You’re doing great as my little assistant,” Whumper praised and it felt as if all the moisture in Whumpee’s mouth turned to ash.

“You can put that away now.,” Whumper said, nodding at the duct tape in Whumpee’s hand. Whumpee moved on autopilot to the wall of Horror and stopped in front of it, swallowing hard.

They could just grab something. Grab anything. They could hurt Whumper. They could do it. They could. Their hand shook as they reached up to hang the duct tape back in it’s place just beside the whips. Then they hesitated.

“You know, if you were braver I think you would manage it, Whumpee. You could grab something, maybe outwit me with the adrenaline coursing through your veins,” Whumper whispered, and Whumpee felt a breath on their neck that sent ice through their veins. They didn’t even hear Whumper move. “Of course, it would have worked better if Caretaker was never here, hmm? You wouldn’t have to risk them getting hurt if they never came and you could’ve fought me and escaped.”

Whumpee turned to face a grinning Whumper, but Whumpee knew the threat behind his smile. The danger that lay under his expression. Daring Whumpee to talk back, to agree with Whumper’s hypothetical mutiny.

“Maybe,” is all Whumpee said in reply.

Whumper looked Whumpee in the eyes. Searching for that usual sign of submission, but it wasn’t there. Whumper’s grin just got wider as they grabbed Whumpee by the arm and dragged them over to the chair Caretaker was laying on, eyes focused on the exchange in silence.

Whumper left Whumpee on the right side while walking to the far left. A flash of metal passed from Whumper’s hand through the air and Whumpee caught them reflexively. Then they realised what they were as Whumper opened their pair with a clack, clack, clack and set about grabbing Caretaker’s arm which was now flailing in panic. Handcuffs. They were handcuffs, and Whumper wanted Whumpee to put them on Caretaker’s wrist and lock them down so they couldn’t fight back.

“Mmf! Mmmph! MMF!” Caretaker cried, and then a soft gasp of a breath was pushed out their nose as Whumper punched Caretaker in the gut. In Caretaker’s brief moment of pain, Whumper slapped the cuffs onto Caretaker’s wrist and then to handrail.

“Must you have a moral quandary over every little thing today Whumpee?” Whumper asked, impatient. “When I give you a task I expect it to be done. No if’s, and’s or b-b-buts. The next time you hesitate today, Caretaker gets the punishment. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Whumper…” Whumpee said, and opened the handcuffs with a clack, clack, clack. They reached their hand out to Caretaker’s and Caretaker flinched at first, then willingly put their hand into Whumpee’s. Whumpee snapped the cuffs on and did the same as Whumper. When they finished Caretaker pulled at the cuffs, testing how much room they had to work with.

To struggle with.

Finally. Finally, Whumper opened the small briefcase they brought in and Whumpee could see what was inside. A case full of needles and bottles of what exactly Whumpee didn’t know but they wanted to get sick. They wanted to run. They wanted to get Caretaker free and hurt Whumper and flee… their heart was beating a mile a minute in their chest.

Just as Whumper opened the box, they shut it again and grinned at Whumpee over their shoulder. “Actually. I think we’ve taken all the precautions necessary. I don’t think Caretaker will need general anaesthetic, do you Whumpee?”

Whumpee went pale. “Wh— what? Whumper… no…”

“Mmf!” Caretaker protested, their cuffs clanging against the metal of the chair’s frame.

“Whumper they… they need it if you’re going to—“

“Psssh,” Whumper said waving their hand, dismissing Whumpee’s incoherent babbling. “Relax. Their screams are muted and their hands are tied down. Let’s see how long they go before they pass out, hmm?”

“Whumper—“

“Whumpee! Whumpee, Whumpee, Whumpee…” Whumper tsked, teeth grit against each other. “I can sew up one hole, or I can make two more. The choice is yours.”

Whumpee looked between Whumper and Caretaker, once, twice, thrice. Then their resolve settled in their face. “Okay, Whumper. We sew up one.”

The duct tape barely suppressed Caretaker’s screams. Whumpee had so much blood on their hands. Caretaker didn’t last ten minutes before they passed out.

When they did Whumper grinned over the chair at Whumpee and said: “perfect. You did perfect today, Whumpee. I’m so happy your friend decided to join us.”

*~*~*~*~*

Thank you for reading also sorry for the delay, my brain went blackpink shutdown yesterday so it’s been a time— I feel like I have been writing this piece for years anyways… hope you enjoyed

[faofinn]

9. White Coat Syndrome

Holidays were a rare treat for the Cunningham-Cole crew. Both Taidgh and Harrisons jobs were difficult for raising a family, but they refused to let it get in the way. Each day out was precious, even a few hours at the park, a walk to feed the ducks, the tiny things that meant the world to both dads.

With the kids old enough to actually be a contender in races, Harrison often brought his running blade to join in - he wasn’t going to let Tai have the fun. So that's where they found themselves on a warm Sunday morning, charging around the park like idiots. They'd planned to stay the day, picnic packed and ready. Levi was old enough to join in, though he didn't always undenal the rules of whichever game they were playing, occasionally ending up in tears. 

Frisbee was easy enough, so they eventually moved onto that. The park was quiet enough, though the hum of other families laughter carried across the air.  Even Harrison's laughs carried across, Alfie having his life and loving it. Scout was just as bad as them, haring around the park and herding his family. 

Tai loved their weekend days out, when the whole family could mess around together. It was a warm day, the sun shining over the grass. The kids were rowdy, on their last few weeks of school holidays, and it had been good to get out of the house. He’d been haring about with them that morning, trying to catch up with the kids, but his knee had twinged and he’d ended up sat on the picnic blanket watching them play Frisbee, Scout rushing madly between them as he tried to catch it mid-air. He let them play for a while, before his stomach growled at him and he couldn’t ignore the food he was sat next to any longer. 

“Hars! Kids! Come on, lunch! I’m starving to death over here!” He called. 

They raced over, Scout leading the way with his bounding strides. The boys were close behind, but Harrison lagged slightly, his own leg starting to ache.

Harrison settled by Tai, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pressed a kiss to his cheek, the pair like lovesick teenagers. Of course, the kids made their displeasure known, a quiet chorus of gross as they laughed. 

Tai leaned into Hars, grinning at the kids. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

"Ew, no! It's gross!" Kieran laughed, his nose scrunched. 

“You’ll get a kiss too, if you’re not careful!” Tai teased, reaching out for him. 

"No! Alfie, help!" Kieran wriggled away, shouting and laughing. 

“I’ll get you both!” Tai said, as Alfie piled in, and Scout tried to join in too, barking and hopping excitedly. 

Harrison sat back with a smile, looking proudly on at the chaos he'd created. He grabbed a sandwich while the others were distracted, sneaking Levi a piece of cheese his youngest had been eyeing up. 

Eventually the chaos died down, the twins and Tai flopping back on the blanket breathless and grinning. He reached for the food, grabbing a sandwich. 

As the kids dug in, Harrison nudged Tai's thigh. "Hey."

“Hey, you okay?”

"More worried about you. I saw you twist it."

“Just a little twinge, I just didn’t want to do any more damage to it."

Harrison rubbed his thigh. "Are you in pain?"

“Not now I’m sat down.”

"Are you sure?"

“Yeah, it’s not bad. I just didn’t want to be haring around on it and making it all swollen. If they don’t do this op tomorrow I’m going to have a breakdown.”

Harrison hummed, fingers trailing over skin. "Yeah, I know."

“Are you sure work are okay with your time off?”

"As if I'd give them a choice."

“And Steve’s okay with having the kids?”

"He's looking forward to it."

“Mm, okay.” He said, and kissed his cheek again.

Harrison reached a hand to cup his cheek, tilting his face up to kiss him properly. His thumb stroked his cheek as he pulled back. "It's going to be okay. I love you."

Tai smiled. “Love you too.”

He quickly pressed a kiss to Tai's nose before moving to lean against him and reaching for his can of pop. "You know I'll be there for you, whatever you need."

“Pass me another sandwich?” He asked cheekily. 

"What's the magic word?" He teased, dangling it out of reach. 

“Mm, please?”

Harrison grinned. "Nope."

“Hey!”

"You gotta say the magic word!"

“Please is the magic word!”

"Nope!"

“Come on!” He whined, kissing him on the cheek again.

Harrison's resolve cracked. "It's a good job I love you."

“And I love you too.”

Their day was heaven, a picnic in the warmth followed by more stupid games after they’d eaten. Eventually, though, they headed home, all of them just completely shattered. It was a job to corral sleepy kids to bed, Tai and Hars exhausted themselves. Scout had spent the evening sprawled out asleep on the rug in the living room, looking like they felt. 

Even Tai and Hars had headed to bed early that night, aware they were up early the next morning. They fell asleep with Tai’s head resting on Harrison’s shoulder, warm and comfortable. When their alarm went off the next morning, Tai just snuggled up against him, refusing to move. 

He was eventually coaxed out of bed and got dressed, enjoying the last glass of water he was allowed. Steve arrived to look after the boys, and after some hugs and fuss, the pair of them headed to the hospital. It was weird, driving their familiar commute for something other than work. 

Harrison knew Tai was stressed. He could feel it a mile away. Of course, he was worried too, not just for the operation, but his recovery and everything that came with it. The operation itself was rubbing a little too close to home for Harrison, having had so many himself. It was the right leg, too, which only stirred up more emotions for him. He shook his head to clear his mind, taking Tai's hand as they headed in. 

Tai squeezed his hand gratefully, heading through the doors into the day surgery unit. It was unfamiliar, which was both good and bad, but he signed in at the desk and then it was a waiting game, his left leg bouncing anxiously. 

"You've got your bag, you've got stuff for after, some juice and some throat sweets." Harrison murmured, mainly to himself. "And you've got your sweets for emergencies, and I put an extra juice box in for you, too. I've got the insulin and I'll give it to the nurses when we get there."

Tai glanced over at him. “What would I do without you?”

"Probably be a lot less stressed." He admitted with a laugh. 

“A lot more stressed, more like.” 

"Mm, maybe."

“Got you to look after me.”

"I'll always look after you."

“Yeah.” Tai said, moving to rest his head on his shoulder. 

"Sickness and in health. All that bullshit." He pressed a kiss to his hair. "And anyway, we've got the kids. I can't manage them alone."

“You could.”

"I wouldn't."

“I hope they’re okay with Steve.”

"I think it's the other way round." Harrison managed to joke. "I think dad's gonna regret offering."

“Probably, they’re nightmares.”

"I can't even stand up for them. I know I should." He said sagely, trying to keep a straight face.

“They’re feral, but hopefully yesterday tired them out enough.”

"I hope so. Scout was bloody knackered, bless him."

“Looked how I felt.” Tai agreed. It wasn’t long before they called him through, and he gripped Harrison’s hand as he stood. All he wanted was to go home, but that wasn’t possible. They asked him to change, and they’d be back for obs and things. He hesitated, looking at his fiancé. “Can I just sack this off and we just go home?”

"Don't be daft." He shook his head, though wanted nothing more than to do the same. "You need this sorted. Just think, this time tomorrow, all the operations and stuff will be done. And you'll only have the physio to do."

He pulled a face. “Even worse.”

"What, you're not looking forward to physio?" He feigned shock.

“Nobody looks forward to physio, knob.” He shot back.

"And after all the shit you gave me?"

“I’m allowed to give you shit, we’re getting married. Besides, I’m already doing physio.”

"Yeah, well, I'm doing a physio."

He snorted. “That’s a terrible joke. Can we go home? I don’t want to do this.”

"No, we can't." Harrison sighed. "And I'm not being a dick, but you need to take a few deep breaths, try and relax as much as you can. I can feel your anxiety from over here, and it's not gonna help you."

He forced himself to take a breath, his lips pressed tightly together. His shoulders slumped as he let it out, reaching for Harrison. “I hate hospitals.”

Harrison stood, moving to wrap his arms around his fiance. "I know, I know. I've got you."

He leaned into him, taking another deep breath and focusing on the smell of him, washing powder and aftershave and something that was just him. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders, his body softening against Harrison’s. 

"That's it, well done." He praised, kissing his forehead. "Another slow breath.'

He nodded. “Feel all sick and anxious.” He admitted. 

"I know, I know. It's fucking shit." He soothed. "But you'll get all the good drugs soon, get a nice little nap, and you'll wake up with your leg sorted."

“I’m such a baby, jesus.” 

Harrison couldn't help his smile. "I know it's the wrong time and all that, but I really love your accent."

“Piss off.” He grumbled good-naturedly. “It gets softer all the time, being stuck here with you.”

"We should go across, once you're better. I'm sure your mum would appreciate it."

“She would, it’s been too long since she’s seen the boys.”

"Tell you what, Christmas? Steve said he'd come too, we'll go over for the two weeks. Stay in a cottage, have Christmas there." He said, feeling Tai relax into him. 

“As if you’ll get two weeks of leave at Christmas.”

"Watch me."

“Only if you forge a sick note will you get that much time off. And don’t even think about it.” He teased. “I don’t even think I could get that much off, but maybe a few days before new years?”

"We'll manage it."

“What about going to Fao’s? Won’t you miss that?”

"You miss your family for mine."

“I love your family.”

"My point still stands."

“Mm, it would be nice to go back. You won’t understand a word.”

"Be nice for the kids to have the accent though." He smiled, glad Tai was relaxing more. "Be like mini yous."

“We’d need to move for them to have the accent, really. Right now they’re just gonna end up like Fao.” He joked. 

"Oh, I don't know which would be worse." He teased, his face falling as the door pushed open. 

Tai tensed, his jokes forgotten as the door creaked open. 

"Hi, Tai? Ah, excellent, you're all changed. I'm just gonna grab a few obs off you, and then we'll pop you through."

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Okay.” He untangled himself from Hars, sitting down. 

Harrison mirrored his actions, sitting and fidgeting with a stray thread. The nurse was nice enough, but Harrison couldn't focus on their conversation, his eyes trained on the monitor. 

Tai did his best to try and relax, focusing on his breathing. He’d looked to Harrison, but he was just staring at the obs machine, and that didn’t help. He tried to think of something else, of the Christmas trip they’d been planning, but the stupid thing had sound and he could hear how fast his pulse was, the way the blood pressure cuff squeezed so tight his fingers tingled and he prayed it wouldn’t be ridiculously high. 

The nurse made a soft noise. “Oh, those are a bit on the high side, aren’t they?”

“I’m, uh, a really nervous patient. White Coat Syndrome and all that.” Was Harrison going to be pissed he was anxious again?

Harrison frowned at the obs, and stood up. He moved back to Tai's side, kissed his cheek and hopped on the bed next to him. He laced their fingers together, bringing their knuckles to his lips. 

"Deep breath together?" He said softly. "Make you feel better."

He nodded, forcing himself to take another deep breath with Harrison.

He kissed their knuckles. "And again? All the way down, from your head to your toes."

“Gonna make me go dizzy.” He grumbled, but did as he was told after a few moments, focusing on drawing the breath all the way to his feet. 

"Don't make yourself dizzy." Harrison murmured with a gentle laugh. "Defeats the point."

“I know.” His pulse had come down, and the nurse hummed. 

“I don’t suppose you do your blood pressure at home, do you?”

Tai nodded. “Yeah, they asked me to at pre-op, given my anxiety. Last one was 121/83.” 

“Oh, perfect.”

"He's the fittest person I know." Harrison said. "And I know I've gotta say that, but it's true."

“Well, I’ve not been so good recently, but I do my best trying to stay fit.”

Harrison stroked his thumb over the back of his hand. "You know, he even does the physio he's supposed to."

“Only because if I didn’t, I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite. Practice what you preach and all that.”

The nurse laughed, leafing through the paperwork. "Ah, yeah, here we are. You've got your blood pressures for the week. Bless, you really are nervous, aren’t you?"

He nodded. “Really nervous. I’m awful, I hate needles and I’m not overly fond of hospitals as a patient.”

"I don't blame you, not one bit. They're not nice to be in." He smiled. "Unfortunately though, we will have to put a little needle in when we go through."

“Yeah, I know.” He said. “I’d rather that than no anaesthetic, but I’m not a fan.”

Harrison huffed a laugh. "Hey, maybe they can get you a sticker for being such a brave boy? Finn did it to me for my last one."

“Oh, piss off.”

"I'm not even joking. He found a little cat one, and I woke up with paed tape on my cannula and a "good boy" cat sticker stuck to me." He laughed. "Ely was in on it, I swear. So was Fao."

“I don’t remember that.” He said softly. 

"Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. I've ruined my surprise."

“Arse.”

He kissed his cheek. "I know."

The nurse smiled at the pair. "Your heart rate has come right down to normal now."

“He usually makes it go up.”

Harrison blushed immediately, his ears tipped red. "Tai."

“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant you’re always stressing me out!”

The nurse laughed again. "Right, before Harrison here melts, why don't we get you through? The sooner you go down, the sooner you can be in recovery."

Tai couldn’t help the anxiety that shot through him. “Already? Thought I’d have to wait longer.”

"You're top of the list. We'll pop you through to the room and the anaesthetists are waiting for you to have a quick chat and then they'll take you down."

He nodded. “And Hars can stay?”

"For now, yeah."

"I've already spoken to them." Harrison said quickly. "They know."

“Okay then.”

Harrison squeezed Tai's hand. "We've got this. You’ve got this."

[inscrutable-shadow]

Mediwhump May Day 1 - IV

@mediwhumpmay Hard capping myself at 1k words for each of these in the hope I finish an event at one point. Liliana belongs to @actress4him! In this AU, the Doc works as a freelance clinician serving the criminal underworld (including vigilantes and other unregistered metahumans and nonhumans). The rustling of bedsheets caught the Doctor’s attention, dragging them from their work and to their patient’s bedside. The young lady looked much better than before, at least, and it would probably be safe to release her in a couple of hours once the saline drip had run its course and they’d completed a final evaluation. She did still seem rather disoriented, however, which they supposed was to be expected, but running the bag out did still seem like a good idea. 

“Ah, with us again, I see. Liliana, was it? How are you feeling?”

The girl was quite confused, blinking against the lab lights and pulling at the tubing. “W-where am I? I have to get…”

They gently pressed her hands back to the bedsheets. “Leave those alone, yes? You are in my clinic, you are safe here. I am treating you for severe dehydration. I was informed you had fainted, and I find that to be consistent with your vitals and other symptoms.”

This didn’t calm her at all. “I-I have to… I have to get back… They’ll look for me…” She pulled against their hands, but with little effort, evidently still tired.

Ah, so that’s all it was. “Worry not, my dear. Your team is aware of your location. They brought you to me, I will make you well again, and you will return. It should only be a couple of hours until they fetch you.” The fiery young woman who had come to the door had seemed rather annoyed to have to be there at all, but that wasn’t any of the Doctor’s business.

Recognition ignited in Liliana’s eyes. “You… you’re the doctor with no name.” They nodded. ‘The nameless doctor’ was an appellation they would not reject, though they would have chosen something different. “You’re expensive,” she added, sullen and with the faintest hint of reproach.

They chuckled. “Perhaps, but I am also discreet, no? You receive treatment, and no one else is the wiser. Regardless, all you required was two bags of intravenous saline and a few hours of my time I could spend on my research. It would be ridiculous for me to have you pay through the nose for that. No, no. It will be next to nothing, I assure you.” Her eyes still held traces of confusion, though whether because their use of English idioms was not quite correct or for another reason, they weren’t sure.

“They’re coming back for me.” Liliana did not seem enthused by this prospect, but rather, resigned to some sort of fate. Which again, wasn’t any of their business, but a person could be allowed a degree of curiosity.

The heart monitor beeped softly (pulse seventy-nine, blood pressure ninety-five over sixty) in the pause that stretched between them before the Doctor spoke. “You… do not wish to return to them?”

She looked up in alarm. “N-no, I w-want to go back!” they got the idea that she didn’t, actually, but that there would be consequences for voicing that desire.

“Our conversations are just between us. I will discuss nothing you say here with any other person.” They wouldn’t have lasted very long here if they were in the business of selling people out.

Liliana shook her head, though, unwilling to risk it. Smart girl. Even the small pots have ears, after all. Instead, the pair sat in silence, listening to the chirping of the equipment and the wind keening through the streets outside the clinic. The lab lamp flickered occasionally, and the Doctor reminded themselves to go out and buy new bulbs. It was usually quiet in the clinic. The Doctor found the stillness quite pleasant, even though it was often interrupted by shouting, slamming doors, and quite a lot of bleeding.

The girl pulled gently on the tape holding the intravenous tube. “How much longer...?”

The Doctor put their glasses back onto their face and squinted at the measurement lines on the bag. “Only another hour or so.” 

Liliana didn’t respond, and the two sat in silence as it gradually began to rain. Taglist: @i-eat-worlds mentioned they liked the doc so i'm tagging you, let me know if you'd prefer i not do that!

[astaldis]

That will fill you with horror

Chapter 4/5 of “You’d be wise to beware”

Prompts: Asphyxiation, Surgery, Allergic reaction, Short of breath, Loss of consciousness, Vomiting, Field medicine, Wicked wings, Vicious venom, Puncture wound

Fandom: The Witcher

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier, Cahir

Rating: Mature

“Geralt!” Jaskier and Cahir shout almost simultaneously, shocked to see their friend go down. The huge, winged beast must have got him somehow. They both run toward him as fast as they can. Hopefully, it is nothing serious, nothing a Witcher potion and perhaps the one or other bandage cannot fix.

Cahir is first to reach him. Lying supine, Geralt looks ghastly pale underneath all the blood, but his eyes are open and he is breathing. Good. Cahir kneels down by his comrade’s side.

“Geralt, what’s wrong?" he asks, scanning his friend’s body for visible injuries that might have caused his collapse. However, with all the monster blood on him, it is difficult to tell if he is injured and bleeding himself. As far as he can see, there are no obvious tears in his shirt or pants, or gaping wounds.

“Got me with its tail, left shoulder,” Geralt grunts through gritted teeth.

“Venom?”

Geralt grunts again. It sounds like a yes. Fuck. Cahir has a closer look at the beast. It is huge. Definitely bigger than the wyvern he killed just a few days ago. At first glance it looks quite similar to the black ornithosaur. A wide open, menacing maw full of sharp white, conical teeth in a narrow, triangular head, the purplish forked tongue lolling onto the blood-covered stone. It also has a long, snake-like neck and enormous, bat-like wings. But the wings’ membrane as well as the beast’s scales are of a very light, slate blue colour, not so much different from the surrounding rocks. They reflect the sunlight so strongly, the creature's contours are blurry and it is hardly possible to look at it for longer than a few moments without feeling blinded. Cahir blinks. The tail, what does its tail look like? He forces himself to glance at the dead monster again, squinting and shading his eyes with one hand. The tail does not end in the wyvern-typical trident but bears one single, stiletto-like sting protruding from a bulbous structure. A venom bladder? Like in the tail of a scorpion? Cahir has never seen anything like it in the books about dragons and other draconids. Is it something new that has arrived to the continent via the monoliths? Damn it. Hopefully, it is not lethal, at least not for a Witcher.

“Which potions do you need?” he asks Geralt. Of course, it is better to ingest the elixirs before a fight, but many can also be used as healing potions in case of an injury.

"Golden Oriole," the Witcher pants, "and Lion's Mane. In the holster."

Cahir has not studied Witcher potions as much as monsters since he is not a real Witcher and would die if he took any of them, but from what he knows about the requested potions, they make sense. Lion's Mane works as a general pain killer while Golden Oriole is an elixir used by Witchers and mages to both prevent and treat poisoning from many sources, such as corpse-venom from a graveir, common snake and spider venoms, the venom of wyverns, basilisks and of numerous other monsters. He scans through the several potions vials strapped to Geralt's thigh. The flask with the Golden Oriole is easy to recognise by the potion's golden colour. Another one filled with a whitish liquid sports a lion's head on the stopper. Must be the Lion's Mane. Cahir takes both vials out of the black leather holster and, while Jaskier supports Geralt's head, holds them to the Witcher's pale lips, one after the other. Grimacing, Geralt downs the content of the Lion's Mane and half of the Golden Oriole. Then he lies back down with a groan.

"I'll have a look at your shoulder now," Cahir warns and carefully turns his friend over a little. "Jaskier, hold him like this."

While the bard keeps Geralt in position, Cahir draws a dagger from his belt and cuts open his friend's blood-soaked shirt at the back of the left shoulder. There is a small puncture wound in the muscle directly below the glenohumeral joint. The tissue around it is puffy and irritated, however, besides this, the injury looks pretty harmless. Too bad it obviously is not, otherwise Geralt would not have dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Cahir pours the rest of the Golden Oriole over the wound. There is a sizzling sound and a yellowish vapour rises from the injured spot. Geralt moans, biting his lips. After only a minute, the wound looks much improved, though. It does not even need a bandage as the ugly hole in the skin has closed up almost completely. Gently, Jaskier lets Geralt slide back onto the rocky ground, breathing a sigh of relief. The potions seem to help. Not only has the wound healed surprisingly fast and nicely, but Geralt does not appear to be in as much pain as before. His jaws and fists are not clenched in agony anymore like when they found him. Still, something must be wrong. The white-haired Witcher is becoming increasingly short of breath and does not make any move to stand up. Not good.

“What else do we do?” Jaskier asks worriedly and takes his friend’s hand in his. It feels awfully cold and clammy. Fuck. Geralt does not look good at all despite the potions.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt rasps softly, struggling for air. He closes his eyes. “Should have - listened to you.”

“What are you talking about? Geralt?” Jaskier’s shakes his friend’s shoulder when he fails to react to the bard's question. “Geralt!” With effort, the Witcher opens his eyes again.

“Seems they do exist. Your monsters,” he gasps. “The flying drake—”

That will fill you with horror. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47067388/chapters/118846387

@mediwhumpmay​ 

@whumpay​ 

@witchermonstermayhem​

[deerheaded44]

@mediwhumpmay DAY ONE of Mediwhumpmay!

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

MAY 1st - “IV/Cannula”

By: Zodiacccrab

Tags: IV, needles, pain and comfort, doctors, anxiety

“Little poke..” Timo inwardly gasped, unintentionally squirming as the little, glinting needle was lined up against the tender flesh of his inner arm. This was all a little too much for the boy. The cruelty of not having the slightest option or choice or protest against pokes, prods.. restraints, put his senses in overdrive. His body and mind were almost on fire at the anticipation of pain at any time, any day.

“You ok?” John’s voice brought him suddenly back into the moment. “Mm.” Timo managed to hum, his throat tight with trepidation. “You’re looking a little pale there.” The nurse quipped, his gloved hand subtly attempting to still his patient’s fidgeting.

Yes, Timo was beginning to lose it. Oh, he wanted up. The light above him was too god-dammed bright. The smell of sickly antiseptic was too overtaking in his nostrils. And the anticipation of it all, dear God the anticipation made him feel sick all over.

A gentle, gloved hand from someone unseen, holding a wet rag was suddenly caressed over his cheek, guiding his face and vision to the opposing side of the sharp threat. The rag and hand blocked his vision and the coldness of the water dampening them both trickled down Timo’s face. The surprise of the cold wetness brought him away from the hot pain, put the pain overtook nonetheless. “Ahrg..” The boy groaned, the stick finally puncturing his skin. “There.” John said to himself quietly, quickly connecting the odds and ends to the IV that was piercing his broken muse.

“You still there, maus?” It was Dr.Wolff, the thick German accent, and tag-line pet name for the boy giving him away immediately. “Yes..” Timo spoke weakly as the wet rag was caressed over his cheeks and forehead, a few drops of water dripping over his eyes and onto his lips. “We don’t want you passing out on us, hm?” Mixed emotions rose up in Timo’s chest. Here he was, with no say over his own body, yet a feeling of longing went out to his consoling doctor. A sick feeling of desperation perhaps playing tricks on his fragile mind and heart. Timo closed his eyes tight. Dear God, he didn’t care if it was all a trick of his mind. He needed Dr.Wolff there with him, his gentle touch offering grounding in the heat of confusion.

“All done.” Spoke John, now putting his hand onto the boy's shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “Hard parts done.. now, all you’ll feel is a little bit cold.. the saline has a way of doing that..”

[mediwhumpmay]

MediWhump May Prompt Suggestions!

Use the Google form below, or reblog and add to the post!

Leggo!

[demondamage]

MediwhumpMay Day 26 - Sedation

"It will all be ok."

"It's what's best for you."

"I only want to help you."

The black numbness was always accompanied by with those falsely soothing words, but Aziphem never knew what would be different when he woke up. Would he have all of his organs? His limbs? His tail? Would he be able to breath? Maybe his horns would be shaved down and bleeding.

At this point, he preferred to deal with the pain of being awake for almost every surgery. At least then he knew what they were doing to him. Of course, the squirming made onlookers... uncomfortable. As if they hadn't considered he would act so human. To placate them, the demon had been regularly sedated in order to make procedures go more smoothly.

As Kotarou laid the mask gently on his face, Aziphem twisted, trying to pull away. He didn't want to sleep away another moment of his life, even if that meant feeling his own vivisection.

"Shhh, it will be so much easier this way." Those gloved hands stroked him gently, holding the airflow tight around his nose and mouth. "I don't want you to suffer more than needed."

How could he let the angel know he was suffering, that all of this was suffering. It didn't matter if he was conscious to feel it or not.

@mediwhumpmay

Art tag list: @whump-tr0pes @whump-queen @whumpsday @whumpinthepot @kixngiggles @onlywhumpcomments @project-xiii @quietly-by-myself @ka1imba @suspicious-whumping-egg @cyborg0109 @whatwhumpcomments @whumpcomica @i-eat-worlds @regrets-realization-acceptance

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Day 6: Needlephobic - Medi Whump May

Medi Whump May Masterlist

CWs: needles (obviously), restraints

Whumpee smiled gleefully, bending over the table Whumpee was strapped to.

"I have something for you, today. Something that is finally going to break you, my precious unbreakable doll."

"You won't. You can't break me." Whumpee spat.

"Oh darling, I'm just getting started." Whumper drawled.

They moved out of Whumpee's field of vision.

"You can do whatever you like to me. I'm not going to give you what you want. You're just a monster, and I don't give monsters what they want." Whumpee knew they were babbling, anxiety making them keep talking. "And you know what, I don't even like you. You're creepy and ugly and-"

Whumper returned, clutching a syringe with a long, thin needle.

"What's the matter, Whumpee? Scared of a little needle?" Whumper smirked.

"Please, no, anything but this-" Whumpee stammered.

Whumper chuckled mirthlessly. "I heard you don't like shots. I figured I'd give you this special one... It should help you be a little more, well, understanding."

"No." Whumpee begged, as the needle was brought closer and closer to their neck.

Whumper drove the needle, slowly and deliberately, straight into the muscle of Whumpee's neck. A single tear slipped down Whumpee's cheek as the plunger was pressed down and the serum inside it was injected into their veins. Whumper pulled the syringe out, then wiped the tear of Whumpee's cheek.

"There we go, my darling." Whumper smiled down at their doll. "Let's see if this medicine helps with that pesky defiance of yours."

@mediwhumpmay

[whumpinthepot]

@mediwhumpmay

Day 19: Emergency room

—

Caretaker could only focus on the flurry of sounds in the emergency room, the beeps, the footsteps, the talking, the crying, the begging-

The screaming.

[autobot2001]

Trip to The Mountain

@mediwhumpmay: head injury @themerrywhumpofmay: lake, frostbite

What was supposed to be a fun snowboarding trip turns into a disaster as s whumpee and their friends get caught in a snowstorm.  They all end up separated. Of course, whumpee's phone is dead. However, they question if there's a phone signal up on the mountain. They know they're not leaving a trail of footprints thanks to the storm and that they need to keep walking, hoping they're going in the right direction.  

The whumpee questions how long they've been walking as the storm passes. Hoping to find shelter or their friends soon.  They're getting tired but know they need to keep moving.  Worried they were going the wrong way as they only see woods around them.

Three of whumpee's friends finally fund each other and search for whumpee. They find a path of footprints that turn into a path of plowed snow. The friends follow the path to a frozen lake, except for one spot. They're horrified to see whumpee floating in the water. Without talking to each other, one calls 922 while the other two look to see if they can get whumpee out of the water.

The two successfully get whumpee out of the freezing water but worry it's too late. Hating they can't begin warning whumpee. They can't do anything but wait for help to arrive.

The time between getting whumpee out of the water and being able to see them dragged on to whumpee's friends. They knew whumpee was in a bad state but were hoping for good news. "They need a miracle to survive," the doctor tells them, "severe hypothermia, frostbite, and a head injury." The friends now have their answer about how whumpee ended up in the lake. "The only good news is the frostbite wasn't severe enough that we had to amputate fingers or toes," the doctor adds, "I know it's nothing considering the state of whumpee. Please take care of yourselves while visiting them. I've seen people neglect themselves while visiting critically ill loved ones or friends." The doctor leaves the room, leaving whumpee's friends alone. Wondering if they should say goodbye now or pray for a miracle. Trying not to think about how serious whumpee's head injury is. Knowing it's pointless to know while whumpee could die overnight.  Due to all the machines, they can't sit by the bed.

Three hours pass, whumpee's friends are woken up by the dreaded long beep on the monitor. They know to leave the room. Watching medical personal rush into the room. Once again, they wait, feeling like time is dragging on.

"I'm sorry, we did everything we could." Whumpee's friends feel like they're dreaming. Even as they look at whumpee's dead body. The doctor wasn't expecting one of the friends to slap themselves, thinking they're dreaming and need to wake up. "Stop, y-you're not dreaming," one of the other friends says and hugs the distraught friend. They both cry.  Hating how the trip to the mountain turned out.