#pre-hospital care

[er-cryptid]

Types of Open Injuries

Abrasion -- damage to the superficial layer of skin -- caused by a body part rubbing or scraping across a rough or hard surface

Laceration -- a deep cut in the skin -- has jagged edges

Incision -- a cut in the skin -- has smooth edges

Avulsion -- soft tissue is torn loose or hanging as a flap

Penetrating Wound -- injury resulting from a sharp, piercing object

.

Patreon

[mochiiniko]

look me in the eyes and tell me nicole hasnt seen the wallpaper at some point

will never stop thinking about this image the implications are driving me INSANE

[stuckinapril]

honestly crazy how much trial by fire we had to go through for bioethics to find a place in biomedical research. 23 nazi doctors were accused of crimes against humanity during the nuremberg war crime trials. from 1932 all the way through 1972, black american men were (unbeknownst to them) subjects in the phs study of untreated syphilis, and weren't even offered treatment when it became available. the revolting willowbrook trials, where mentally disabiled children were deliberately infected w hepatitis. the jewish chronic disease hospital study, where cancer cells were. on purpose. injected into cognitively impaired patients. fucking wild and crazy and insane. this is why the national act and the belmont report and 38736 other regulations exist. i cannot imagine being a doctor or clinical researcher during that time and just 1000% doing this w no conscience.

[janetbrown711]

First Bowl of Noodles

The story of how Mei and MK stumbled into Pigsy's Noodles and met Pigsy and Tang

**Several years pre-canon**

Ao3 Link

It was a regular rainy thursday afternoon for Pigsy, customers shifting in and out of the restaurant at a slower pace than usually, the soft pattering of rain outside, and Tang working on his dissertation, still hemming and hawing at whether or not he chose the right topic has he had been for just about forever now– and of course, he was also not paying for his food. Pigsy would’ve bothered him, but the restaurant was so quiet and peaceful he didn’t feel like disturbing it.

It was right then he jinxed it, as he heard the door burst open, followed by the sounds of sopping wet sneakers ducking under a booth and some whispers, leaving what he knew without looking was probably a massive trail of mud water and dirt without an apology.

Kids.

Just what he wanted right now.

Here we go…

Pigsy put the pot he was working on to a simmer before going to the booth and knocking on the table. “Can I help you two down there?” he huffed. Sheepishly, two maybe ten-year-olds, one boy and one girl, popped out on opposite sides of the booth– with the girl having a massive bruise on her cheek.

“Haha, sorry sir, can we have a menu?” The girl smiled brightly at him. Pigsy rolled his eyes and pointed to the rack of them against the wall. “Oh,” she laughed nervously and grabbed one, burying her face in it. Pigsy huffed and went back to the kitchen.

“They’re just kids Pigsy, let them be,” Tang gave Pigsy a look.

“Pay for your food and maybe I’ll listen to your advice,” Pigsy smirked, going back to working on a plate of biangbiang noodles.

“Do you think we lost em?” Pigsy could hear the boy attempt to whisper clear as day due to the sheer emptiness of the restaurant. He tried to ignore it, but he was always a bit of an eavesdropper.

“I dunno, I’d say so,” She said, her voice muffled from still hiding her face in the menu presumably.

‘Lost em’? The last thing Pigsy needed on this perfectly calm Thursday afternoon was a fight in his restaurant. He glanced at the door as he finished the biangbiang noodles, put it into a to-go container and bag and handed it to the last remaining paying customer.

“...sorry I kind of let you get punched in the face back there, Mei,” The boy picked at his menu anxiously, which made Pigsy furrow his brow.

“Psh, you know I can handle myself.” The girl, Mei, said, finally lifting her face from the menu. Pigsy busied himself by wiping down the counters in the kitchen.

“Well yeaaaahhhh, but still– sorry,” The boy apologized again.

“What, you want me to punch you in the face so we’re even?” Mei snorted.

Pigsy immediately set down his rag and went to the table.

“You know you have to come to the bar to order, right?” Pigsy asked the kids, causing them to jump in their seats.

“Yes sir, Mr..?” The boy had no idea where he was.

“Pigsy. Of ‘Pigsy’s Noodles.’ You know– the restaurant you’re in right now? THe very restaurant you dragged all of your muddy footprints into?” Pigsy tapped his foot. He could practically feel Tang’s ‘go easy on them’ eyes on his back but he didn’t care. He would not have any fights or tomfoolery in his family’s restaurant, no siree.

“Wow Pigsy’s Noodles?! My parents never let me come here,” Mei grinned, leaving Pigsy confused as to if he should be offended or not.

“Look kids– I don’t want any trouble, so either order food or get on your way, alright?” Pigsy rubbed his forehead before he pulled out a pen and pad from his apron.

“Right! W-well, I’ll get the– uhm.. the crab roe noodles,” Mei grinned at him as she put her menu back.

“This kid just ordered the most expensive noodles in the shop and she has no clue,” Pigsy shook his head.

“You sure? They aren’t cheap,” Pigsy wrote the order down anyway.

Mei nodded. “And MK will have—”

“I will have reganmian, please and thank you,” the boy, MK, grinned as big as the girl.

Well at least one of them seems to know prices.

“Alright, that’ll be ready soon enough– and if there’s any kind of mischief or antics you guys are out of here, understand? Also, I expect you two to also mop up those footprints– makes my business look bad,” Pigsy shot a look and the kids did a military salute.

“Yes sir, Mr. Pigsy,” They said in unison before laughing. Pigsy just rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen.

Pigsy got to work straightaway, thinking that if the kids did have to bounce at least he could enjoy the crab roe noodles– he never let himself have it because of how much it cost him to even get the stuff.

Tang was still tap-tap-tapping away at his keyboard, and the rain quieted to a soft drizzle, leaving the only sounds once again to be the boiling of water and the kids talking.

“...How mad are your parents gonna be when you get home late?” Mei asked.

MK took a bit to respond. “I dunno– probably a lot.”

“Like– last time you snuck out bad or worse?”

“...I dunno. Maybe worse.”

“Oh… sorry…”

“It’s not your fault those guys are a bunch of bullies and decided to chase us through the city,” MK assured.

Ah, so that was their story.

Hmph.

“What kind of parent blames their kid for being bullied?” Tang whispered to himself while typing, meaning he was eavesdropping too.

Pigsy tried to focus on his cooking as some orders also rolled in from the online service.

“If it’s any help, my parents are gonna be mad at me too. Especially after the whole motorcycle stunt, haha.”

“That was pretty stupid of us, wasn’t it?” MK laughed. “Man, I can’t believe it didn’t explode after all the junk we did to it– and the look on your nanny’s face was hilarious.”

“Haha, yeah! Good times,” The ten-year-old girl smiled.

“I wish I could tap into my inner dragon though– it’d help a lot with the bullies instead of being all bark with very a reasonable bit but not enough bite. My dad unlocked his when he was seven, I’m practically a runt,” Mei gave a dramatic huff and rested her arms and head on the table with a slam that made the table shake and Pigsy cringe.

MK was quick to comfort though. “You’re not a runt Mei, you’re you– like that book I hate– Charlotte’s Web.”

“Wow, MK, you have such a way with words,” Mei laughed. MK laughed too, to Pigsy’s curiosity (that he was totally feeling on accident because he was just so focused on cooking you know).

Pigsy finished MK’s dish, and so kept it under low heat while he started to cook the crab for Mei’s noodles.

“Okay, okay, for real you don’t need an inner dragon right now, you’re totally cool as is,” MK was pretty sincere for a kid.

“Yeah, yeah, ya big sap,” Mei blew a raspberry, which was followed by the whacking of a menu, which was followed by the whacking of another menu and–

“I said no antics, you two,” Pigsy scolded from the kitchen.

The kids gave a simultaneous “Sorry!” before it turned into a giggling fit.

Oy, was this crab ready yet?

Nope, still needed ginger and sugar and wine.

Pigsy muttered to himself and added the spices.

“Woah– that’s a cool plaque. Hey Mister Pigsy! What’dya get this plaque for?!” The boy shouted so loud so suddenly Pigsy nearly cut his finger off.

“Kid– don’t distract the chef when he’s cooking, alright?” He gave the kid a look, causing him to shrink down.

“You talking about the big blue and gold one up top?” Tang gave Pigsy a quick look before swiveling his stool towards the kids.

“Yeah! Looks cool!” MK said, his spirits returning.

“I believe that was the ‘Best Non-Dragon Themed Restaurant’ about five years ago?” Tang tapped his chin.

“Oh please– it was the ‘Best Wontons 2008’ and you know that, Tang,” Pigsy rolled his eyes.

“Oh right. Best Non-Drago Themed Restaurant is the one over there,” Tang pointed at the one right beneath, which was black and green with a fairly impressive carving of a dragon on it– which, come to think of it, kind of defeats the purpose.

“Haha, cool!” Mei said. “How does a restaurant get so many plaques? There’s a billion of them!”

“You think this is cool, there’s even more in the basement. This restaurant has been in that old grump’s family for generations–”

“Tang, I really don’t need you to give the kid’s my entire life story, I can do that on my own time,” Pigsy said, turning the heat off the crab to make sure it didn’t burn.

“Is it true? That’s so cool–! Family history is so cool, I wish I had a cool family,” MK had a huge dopey grin on his face. Tang and Pigsy shared a look.

Pigsy added the crab to Mei’s noodles and hit the bell. “Alright, food’s up. That’s 120.38 yuan for the crab roe noodles, and 43.83 yuan for the reganmian.”

MK tensed at that, as Pigsy expected. He sighed as he tapped numbers into the machine, expecting Mei or him to admit they didn’t have money, but to his surprise, the girl walked up confidently with a little coin purse where she pulled out a–

Sweet mother of God– is that a Silk World Card????

“Kid, where the heck did you get this?!” Pigsy didn’t even know if his machine would take such a thing.

“It’s mine– see? It says ‘Mei Dragon’ right there,” Mei reached over the bar to point.

Mei… Dragon??? As in the descendant of the White Horse Dragon????

Holy fucking shit.

“R-right, um… this’ll just be a second,” Pigsy had no idea how she was being so casual about this– how she was a casual kid in general– No– not in general, she was a kid with a huge bruise on her face and mud all over her shoes from getting in a fight– how the hell was she the daughter of a billionaire???

Thankfully, his machine took the card and Mei took the noodles happily back to the table. When he looked back, Tang’s mouth was wide open.

“You mean you’re a descendant of Ao Lie???? The White Horse Dragon??? The one from The Journey to the West????” Tang was practically fanboying.

“Yep!” Mei said, getting a good whiff of the noodles, whereas MK was scarfing his down at lightning fast speeds.

“Jeez kid, it’s like you’ve never had a decent meal in your life,” Pigsy joked, kind of startled how a kid that small ate that fast.

MK wiped his face with his sleeve. “Lunch was meh and I skipped breakfast so– hungry I guess,” he laughed.

“You should see him when they have pop-tarts in the cafeteria. He can eat ten of them in like– five seconds,” Mei said it like it was a brag and not something incredibly disturbing.

“It’s true,” MK grinned, slurping a noodle through his teeth.

“Man, kids these days,” Pigsy shook his head and went back to work.

“You know, it was a billion years ago, but you were also a kid once too, Pigsy,” Tang teased him, typing away at his laptop again.

“Really?! Man, if you told me that old grump was always an old grump I’d believe you,” Mei said with her whole chest, to the point where Pigsy was only 80% sure she was joking.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure he’s always been a grump,” Tang smirked at Pigsy, who almost gave him the finger, before remembering there were kids here.

“Imagine a frowny faced little piggy– in his big ole chef’s hat with a big frown saying ‘i better not hear another peep outta you guys!’” MK shook his fist dramatically.

Day one and these kids were already making fun of him.

And this was why he usually refused service to lone children.

Right then, a gust of cold air came through the door as the bell chimed for another customer, shutting up MK and Mei instantly as they buried their heads in the menus again.

“Can I help you..?” Pigsy raised an eyebrow at the kids, before realizing a possy of three stupid looking fourteen-year-olds were standing in the doorway, dripping rain and more mud water on his floors (and he had just mopped an hour ago).

“We’re looking for two brats who ran off in this direction, two fifth graders, one girl one boy– seen em?” The ‘leader’ said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his ‘oh-so-tough’ leather jacket.

“Jesus Christ– I do not want any fighting or antics or teenagers in my restaurant. Get out,” Pigsy ordered, briefly glancing at Tang and the kids–

Fuck.

The teens followed his gaze and strutted up to the table, the leader guy slamming his hands on the table.

“Hey there, Lizard Girl. Thought you got away?” He pulled down Mei’s menu.

“It’s Dragon Girl. And buzz off,” Mei glared at him.

“Yeah! Buzz off,” MK defended his friend.

“Yeah, yeah, you still owe me for what you did to Xiran’s face,” he snatched their menus away.

“Hey– no fighting! Especially ten-year-olds– Jeez, do you not have anyone your own size to pick on,” Pigsy angrily rolled up his sleeves and stepped out of the kitchen.

“It’s not my fault Xiran fell out of that tree– I was climbing very normally and she decided to leap and–”

“Blah blah blah– Do you ever shut up?!” The bully grabbed MK’s collar and Pigsy intervened, pulling the two apart.

“Out. Now.”

The kids laughed, though one was notably worried. Pigsy gave them a death glare, and the leader raised his hand in an arrogant behavior that made Pigsy’s eyes roll so hard it almost hurt.

“Alright, alright, we’re good kids, we know when we aren’t welcome. Let’s go, crew.”

Pigsy scoffed and watched them until they were almost completely out the door, heading back to the kitchen when he suddenly heard a very loud shatter sound and a scream from Mei, as well as the teens laughing and running out of the restaurant.

“MK!!! A-a-are you okay?!” Mei asked her friend who was–

Holy fuck those idiots threw a fucking plate at his head– oh my god–

“...Ow,” The kid was bleeding like crazy and was now holding his head.

“Holy fuck, kid–! Are you okay?! Tang, go get a towel– and call an ambulance maybe too,” Pigsy leapt to examine the damage done, while Tang quickly scurried to the supply closet.

“Why the fuck did they do that–??? Jeez– what is wrong with kids these days– that was a perfectly good plate– are you alright? What’s today’s date? Do you know your home address?” Pigsy started asking the kid questions for concussions. Tang quickly returned with a towel, and Pigsy put it against the gash in the kid’s head to help stop the bleeding.

“Fucked up her face– fell from tree– branch gave her big ol’ scar,” MK was very, very dizzy.

“Tang, you calling that ambulance?” Pigsy glanced at him, who snapped out of his fearful state to grab his phone and start dialing.

“MK– a-are you okay?” Mei was trembling, the poor kid.

“He’ll be fine, okay sweetie? Jesus– do you know those kids' names? You’ll need them to press charges, because holy fu– I– uhm…” Pigsy said– biting his tongue for swearing in front of kids.

What? Just because he didn’t like them in his restaurant didn’t mean he didn’t have manners.

Mei nodded her head, tears filling her eyes as she patted MK’s back, who gave a goofy smile in response.

Jesus Christ this kid was delirious…

Thankfully the ambulance was here before they knew it and well– everyone just kind of came along because– it made sense seeing as they were the only witnesses. Pigsy quickly locked up the place before they all hopped in. Sure he’d miss the dinner rush but this mattered to him… for some reason.

When they got to the hospital, MK was taken away for stitches and an x-ray, leaving Mei, Tang and Pigsy in the lobby.

It was awkward in the lobby, as none of the trio really knew what to say. Mei sat in between Pigsy and Tang, just looking at the ground with a bouncing leg and a fresh ice pack a nurse gave her for her bruise.

“I’m sorry for the broken plate, Mr. Pigsy,” Mei eventually broke the awkward silence.

“Don’t sweat it kid– I just hope your friend’s okay,” Pigsy brushed it off, which seemed to upset her somehow.

“But you said you didn’t want fighting and shenanigans and we stayed anyway and now there’s a lot of bl–bl—...” Mei shuddered at the memory.

“I know what I said, but it obviously ain’t your fault. I’d never get mad at the little guy,” Pigsy assured her, which brought a little smile to her face.

“Thanks, Mister,” Mei yawned.

“You know… those noodles were really good. I wish I gotta eat them all,” Mei sighed, her eyelids starting to get heavy.

“Yeah, well you’re welcome to visit anytime kiddo,” Pigsy said, and he was pretty sure he meant it. These kids were… cute? Funny? Pigsy didn’t know– but he did know he liked them– and it’s clear they needed someone who could keep an eye on them.

“Thanks, Mr. Pigsy,” She smiled up at him tiredly.

Pigsy smiled a little before he realized Tang was giving him a look. Pigsy flashed him the finger, which made Tang roll his eyes with a snort.

The chef was too busy being annoyed by Tang to notice Mei had curled up in the chair and began to sleep on his arm.

Oh my god– what am I supposed to do? Can I move? Is she really asleep? Is falling asleep? How long will I be like this? God– I bet Tang is taking pictures– I need to stretch my legs– what am I even doing here I don’t even know these kids– oh my god–

“Mr. Pigsy?” A nurse called from across the room, making Pigsy internally panic more until thankfully Mei sprung to life and ran to the nurse.

“Is MK okay? Is he dying? Dead? In a coma?” She asked as Pigsy got up with Tang.

“Your brother is doing quite alright,” The nurse laughed and patted her shoulder. Pigsy was only half surprised she didn’t correct her.

The nurse then turned to Tang and Pigsy. “There’s no fracture in the skull thankfully, but he has a minor concussion and it’s very likely he’ll have a scar across the forehead.”

“Ah that’s good,” Pigsy sighed a breath of relief.

“Mhm. He should be out in just a moment now– and I recommend going easy on the hugs for right now,” She said that last part to Mei who nodded very seriously.

Right then, the door swung open to reveal MK, who had giant bandages on his head. Mei almost immediately ignored the nurse’s advice and ran over to hug him– though she wisely contained her strength and gave a regular tension hug.

“Hi Mei,” MK hugged her back.

“Aww, you’re right Pigsy, these kids are cute,” Tang smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Excuse me, I never said that I–”

“I’m a mind reader Piggy, you know that,” He pinched his cheek too.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” The chef stifled a smile. “How’re you feeling kid?”

“Really, really sorry for messing up your restaurant, I-i promise I’ll make it up to you, sir,” MK begged for forgiveness by bowing.

“Jeez kid, it’s alright– it’s not your fault,” Pigsy pulled at the collar of his chef’s shirt. MK looked at the ground and kicked it.

“I’d still like to make it up,” he mumbled.

Pigsy sighed. “How’s about once a week you can stop by and, I dunno, mop the floors or something? How’s that sound?”

MK’s eyes instantly lit up. “That sounds amazing! Thanks mister.”

“Mister? Are you not Qi Xioatan’s fathers?” The nurse looked very confused.

“Ah– no, I’m just the owner of the restaurant where he was attacked,” Pigsy confessed, though he would’ve earlier if anyone had asked him.

“I see– Xioatan, do you know your parents’ number?” She asked MK.

“I uh… I do…” He glanced at Mei.

“I-i am his uncle though! So I can take him home,” Tang interrupted.

“Ah, wonderful! You’re all checked out, have a safe trip home,” the nurse smiled at MK.

“Thanks for all the help,” MK smiled and waved as the group started to head out.

They all walked in silence for a bit as they moved through the maze that was the hospital until they got to the city bus stop and sat on the bench to wait for it to take them back to Pigsy’s Noodles or whatever stop was closest to MK or Mei’s home.

They rode the bus in silence too, and it turned out the stop around the corner from Pigsy’s noodles was the closest one to MK’s home and so they all got off there.

“I um… thanks a lot, misters. I…” MK clearly didn’t know what to say, kicking at the rocks.

“He means to say we’re really really happy we ran into your restaurant out of all the others. You guys are cool– I think we found ourselves a hangout spot,” Mei grinned at her bestie, who laughed and grinned a little back.

“Like I said, you’re welcome whenever,” Pigsy assured with a crooked smile.

“Sap,” Tang whispered in his ear, and Pigsy quickly elbowed his side.

“You kids alright going home from here?” He asked. Mei and MK nodded.

“We know this city like the back of our hands, don’t we MK?” she said.

“Yeah! And I live like– two or three blocks down, so we’re good,” MK said.

“I dunno– it is pretty dark– how’s about I drive you? It’s not far I know, but it’d make me feel better to know you two don’t get kidnapped the moment you’re out of my– our sights,” Pigsy included Tang for some reason.

“You know what– how’s about I borrow your phone so I can call my parent’s car? I’m sure my parents would like that more than a stranger driving me, no offense Mr. Pigsy,” Mei said, fiddling with her jacket zipper.

“Oh of course– that makes a lot of sense,” Pigsy took his phone out and handed it to the girl, who walked a bit aways to make the call.

MK watched her as she left, his face falling to a one of contemplative sorrow.

“You okay kid?” Pigsy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Y-yeah! I just– I dunno what to say to my parents,” MK shrugged off the hand, which only made Pigsy and Tang more worried.

“Are your parents… good to you?” Tang clearly didn’t know how to ask that kind of question.

“O-of course they are! They’re just– um– they– they don’t like fighting– yeah, they don’t like that and they’ll be upset to know I got in another fight,” MK clearly lied.

“Well… Pigsy’s Noodle’s doors are always open if you need it kiddo, alright?” The pig chef asked.

“Y-yeah! Thanks– thanks a lot– I… I promise I’ll help sweep and mop and do the dishes once a week– how does Tuesday sound?” MK got excited again at the prospect of working, which was the last thing Pigsy expected.

“Sounds great, kid,” Pigsy gave him a thumbs up just as Mei came back.

“They’ll be here soon,” Mei told the group, who nodded in confirmation.

“Well, to repeat what I said earlier, Pigsy’s Noodles is open whenever, so feel free to stop by anytime, not just when you’re in a lot of danger,” He joked, which made the kids laugh.

“We promise it won’t be all the time,” MK said.

“Well– we promise it won’t be most– no um– we promise there will be some times we visit that we won’t be in danger,” Mei said, and Pigsy laughed despite not knowing if she was kidding or not.

“And hey– if any of you are into the stories and legend of Sun Wukong, I am a scholar so–”

“You know the stories of Sun Wukong?! I love the Monkey King!!!” MK’s eyes practically sparkled with delight.

“Not those legends– I thought this dissertation would be the end of me hearing about Monkey King,” Pigsy groaned.

“Oh please, I need to pass my knowledge down to the younger generations, Piggy, surely you know that,” Tang gave that same stupid smile he always did that made Pigsy want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“Yeah! Pass down that knowledge! Monkey King is the coolest– how can you not like him?!” MK seemed almost offended.

Pigsy snorted. “I just prefer stories of actual heroism– stories of good people doing good things and working hard with no powers.”

“Aw, but that’s lame!” MK booed.

“You know, maybe I will ban you two from Pigsy’s noodles after all–”

“NO!” The kids pleaded simultaneously.

“I’m joking, I’m joking– you kids are funny, you know that?” Pigsy laughed so hard he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Meanie,” Mei blew a raspberry before laughing with MK. Just then a long white limousine pulled up, the driver stepping out in a perfect suit with a jade dragon pin on the lapel.

“Mei. Xioatan.” He said, opening the doors for them.

“Thanks Mr. Zihan! And thank you again Mr. Pigsy and Mr. Tang– tonight sucked but was also fun! You two are weird!” Mei grinned as she took her seat.

“Yeah! You guys are weird, I like it,” MK agreed with her before stepping in. “I’ll see you tuesday!”

“See you Tuesday kid,” Pigsy waved as the driver closed the door and before the scholar or the chef knew it, the car was gone.

“Wow you are SUCH a softie– I mean– I already knew that, but I thought you were gonna hide it from them for a lot longer!” Tang immediately started making fun of him.

“You know, one of these days I’m actually going to stop making food for you without you paying and then you’ll regret all this teasing you do,” Pigsy huffed, reaching into his pockets for the keys to Pigsy’s Noodles.

“Ah, you and I both know that’ll never happen– you love me too much,” Tang grinned stupidly.

“Keep testing me and we’ll see,” Pigsy mocked the smile as the lock clicked and they went in.

The interior was somehow worse than they remembered, though there was a distinct smell of boiled over water, burnt noodles and other such vegetables.

He forgot to turn the stove off.

“Yeesh, that’s a mess– that’s great so I’m just gonna grab my laptop–” Tang squeezed in, but Pigsy grabbed his shirt sleeve.

“Nuh-uh. You want free food, you’re gonna clean too. I’ll deal with the kitchen, you deal with the sitting area,” Pigsy ordered, and Tang hung his head in defeat.

“I hate you,” Tang said, going to the supply closet.

“Aww, love you too Tang-y,” Pigsy smirked as he went to the kitchen and turned everything off and scraped the bad food in the trash.

“Do you think that kid– MK– is gonna fulfill his promise? He’s gotta be like– ten,” Tang asked when he returned with a mop.

Pigsy shrugged. “I dunno. He seemed genuine enough.”

“And you say you don’t want kids, tsk tsk tsk,” Tang teased him again, and Pigsy threw a sponge at him.

“I said not to test me, Tang,” He glared.

“But you make it so easy–”

Pigsy threw more sponges, but this time Tang ducked.

“Haha! Didn’t get me–”

Pigsy threw another one and it smacked him right in the face.

“Get to work, you freeloader,” the chef ordered.

“Yes sir, Mr. Pigsy,” Tang mocked him, actually starting to mop.

“Mr. Pigsy,” The chef scoffed to himself as he used his now only remaining sponge to clean pots and pans.

…It wasn’t that Tang was wrong– Pigsy wasn’t the biggest fan of children, but Mei and MK were… different? They were kinda cute, kinda funny, kinda concerning every time they talked about their own families– Pigsy liked them– sued him.

They clearly needed an adult figure they could turn to and–

God what was Pigsy saying? He wasn’t a father figure– he was hardly a “figure” to anyone ever.

But you know– if one of those kids needed him, he wouldn’t like– say no or anything. After all, that Mei girl is part of the Dragon Clan and that meant some serious good business– yeah, good business.

…okay, okay, he was kind of lying to himself– he liked Mei because she was a funny kid and so was MK and they were welcome any time because Pigsy was worried about them already and he only knew them for a couple of hours.

He hoped he wasn’t in over his head or anything– the way Mei talked made it seem like they were a danger magnet.

Kind of like his younger years almost…

Pigsy smiled to himself as he continued to rinse and scrub dishes clean.

It didn’t matter if he was in over his head, he liked those kids and would help them out anyway, and that was a Pigsy Guarantee.

[ohboywonder]

..

[camptw1nk]

open (based on this new lore).

things have been bad for a while, but never this bad. he’d had injuries that stopped him from being all that mobile in the past, but he’d never really been in hospital for those other than directly after nightwing, had never faced the slow and painful recovery process. this was especially different, the injury not one that was as visible to him, the boy not fully processing that he had a head injury, that it was serious. he wants to be fine, and in the past he’d pushed himself beyond the limits of sore limbs. but this isn’t as simple, this isn’t just a little pain that he has to push through. and yet he’ll try, pushing himself up off of the hospital bed, barely getting one step before his head is spinning and he’s collapsing to the floor. its barely been two days since he woke up, he knows he shouldn’t be trying to walk on his own, but he doesn’t know how to handle an injury when he’s given the freedom to heal, when he isn’t on a strictly enforced timeline. he doesn’t hear them rush over, they’re positioned on the wrong side for it. so when hands find his shoulders kurt jumps, quick to shrink in on himself. he trusts them, he does, but he’s still full of adrenaline, his brain still stuck in the fight or flight he’d been surviving in for his entire life. “‘m fine.” whispered, barely audible. he’s not fine and he knows it, making no move to get up off of the ground because he knows he can’t do it on his own, he just doesn’t want to have to admit to as much.

[balajihospital]

Balaji Hospital | Why Choose Us for Your Healthcare Needs

Balaji Hospital "Why Balaji Hospital" page showcases its healthcare services, advanced facilities, skilled professionals & commitment to medical advancements

[drarohitasgaonkar]

Pre IVF Hysteroscopy in Thane | Dr. Arohi Tasgaonkar

Pre IVF Hysteroscopy

Hysteroscopy is a minimally invasive treatment in which the doctor inserts a thin, lighted tube into your uterus to examine the abnormalities. In certain cases, it is the finest technique to inspect your uterus, but is it always essential to have a hysteroscopy before IVF. Many gynecologists do hysteroscopy before IVF to check that the uterus cavity is normal and ready to accept embryos.

How is hysteroscopy performed?

Diagnostic hysteroscopy is a non-invasive treatment that may be done under general anesthesia or sedation. A telescope attached to a small tube is then pushed through your vagina and cervix into your uterine cavity. The surgeon rotates it around to inspect the uterine wall for anomalies such as fibroids, polyps, septa and scar tissue.

How is hysteroscopy used in the treatment of infertility?

Some hospitals undergo hysteroscopy on every woman before IVF, claiming that this is the best way to guarantee the uterine cavity is healthy. Hysteroscopy may be recommended to obtain a thorough look at the insides of the uterus, especially if you’ve had unsuccessful IVF cycles or repeated losses.

When to screen for Ovarian Cancer?

The researchers found that regular hysteroscopy prior to IVF is advised. There are less intrusive procedures, such as transvaginal ultrasound of the uterine cavity, that may be used to inspect the insides of a uterine cavity and only be followed up with a surgical hysteroscopy if a problem is identified.

For more information & consultation on Pre IVF Hysteroscopy in Thane, visit Complete Women’s Care at Ghodbunder road, Thane or contact us on 9833074977 or simply fill in your name and number & one of our team member will get in touch with you soon. Our team of experts along with Dr. Arohi Tasgaonkar, MS (ObGy), DNB (ObGy), and one of the Best Gynecologist in Ghodbunder Road Thane will help you out in understanding your problem and guide you through every stage of your treatment.

[nonsupe]

where is my mind at on this fine saturday evening? thinking about the fact that shiloh's mom came to see him when she heard he was stateside again, how she was by his side for as long as she could be in the hospital during his month long stay before someone from vought found him. how she cried when she first saw him because her baby was all broken (and we get that "momma, don't cry. i'm okay, i promise) she was so devastated to see him in that condition but relieved that he was alive, and from what she could understand that was a blessing on its own after initial injuries and the infection and the plan going forward.

how one day he's whisked away yet again. shiloh told her that he was being moved but he couldn't tell her when or where, but that they would see each other again and that he'd call when he got the chance. it took a whole three weeks until she heard from him again but he sounded so much better compared to last time they spoke. and when they did see each other again it was like nothing ever happened to him, he'd been completely healed with a touch of a hand. she would never understand it but she was grateful. he never told her about cva or vought or any of it.

[er-cryptid]

AVPU

Awake and Alert -- patient's eyes open as you approach -- patient is aware of you -- patient is responsive to environment -- follows commands -- eyes track people and objects

Responsive to Verbal Stimuli -- not alert and awake -- eyes do not open spontaneously -- eyes open when you speak to them -- may respond if spoken to -- may only respond if you speak loudly

Responsive to Pain -- does not respond to questions -- moves or cries out in response to pain -- may not be accurate if there is a spinal cord injury

Unresponsive -- does not respond spontaneously to verbal or painful stimuli -- usually no gag reflex -- lack ability to protect airway -- if in doubt, assume the worst

.

Patreon

[bazoombas]

.

CW pet injury ??

No read more because mobile sorry

[mayra-quijotescx]

Exercising my right to personal bias in adding the Italian version specifically of Queen of Kings to the Eurovision/Melodifestivalen 2024 playlist I just started working on today

[mejomonster]

hate panic attacks think they’re possibly the worst experience inside

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad

Quite surprised there’s not a lot of these AUs considering how much Steve apparently sleeps around but anywho.

Teen Dad Steve who finds out one of the girls he’d slept with pre-Nancy is pregnant and he damn well intends on helping out however he can.

Turns out; helping means taking his son (his SON) and having full custody because the mom, no matter how much she wants to be involved, can’t take care of him.

Steve’s alright for the first 6 months of little Louie Harrington’s life.

But then his parents come home and shit hits the fan.

Which— fair enough. He was only 17 and already had a whole ass son, they were gonna freak out.

But kicking him AND aforementioned son out? With no where to go? No money? Barely a job?

That’s just fucked up.

But Steve makes do, and lives out of his car for no more than a month before finally landing his hands on a cheap trailer in Forest Hills.

He and Louie move in and sure, it’s rough. But he’s got a nice paying job at the Diner and yeah maybe he has to skip some classes to get extra money but it’s fine. It pays his bills and rent and that’s all that really matters.

It’s fine.

And then the second wave of Upside Down fuckery hits, and Steve’s suddenly in the hospital with a grade 4 concussion (whatever that means) and his top priority is to make sure someone is with Louie.

Enter Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom.

She takes care of Louie for as long as Steve is in the hospital and then some when Steve can’t be left unsupervised in case his head worsens.

And that’s how the Party is introduced to little Louie (as they all call him).

Steve’s stunned to find out that Mike and Lucas are so good with little kids, but the two of them love stopping by the Henderson’s (and later on the trailer) to see little Louie and offer to babysit for him whenever.

The other kids take a little bit of time to warm up to Louie (and the fact that Steve’s actually a parent) but when they do Steve never ceases to have at least one of them over.

And with all the racket brings in the attention of nosy neighbors.

Steve is well accustomed to nosy neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln next door to his parents were always looking to snitch on him for something or other.

But Miss Bottomette and her grandchildren Noah and Casey were sweethearts. Steve didn’t mind having them over for dinner or going over there. Miss Bottomette was the one to teach him how to actually put his cooking skills to work.

Linda and Tom, a newly married couple down the road, were quite eccentric but that’s what made them charming. Steve found their dog, Dasher, quite the sweetheart.

And even Mr. Knowles, the grouchy old man next door to Miss Bottomette, seemed to take a liking to Steve and Louie.

It wasn’t long before the story behind the new boy in 2718 New Bird Ave was revealed: Teen Dad Kicked Out.

Then the whole town knew. And while most people were nice about it, even supportive of how he had taken a step into his child’s life, there were always those people who sneered.

Steve ignored them, loving the life he was working on making for himself and Louie in the trailer park.

The only neighbors he never seemed to meet, despite the looming presence, were the Munsons, right across the street.

Steve knew about the Munsons. Well— he knew about Eddie Munson; drug dealer who was on his second run of senior year. Steve actually shared a few classes with him.

He’d yet to meet the mysterious Wayne Munson, but that was to be expected with work schedules.

And then Steve was graduating, and his parents didn’t show up.

But that was totally fine. Cause the kids, Claudia, Joyce— even Hopper with El— were there. They held up little baby Louie while Steve walked the stage.

He’d heard rumors of Eddie Munson having to retake senior year for a third time— but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Because sure, he missed more than his fair share of classes and scraped by with a C+ average.

But he did it.

And then summer hit, Dustin left for camp, and the mall opened up.

Steve picked up a job at Scoops Ahoy, cutting back on his hours at the Diner but still staying there because the money was needed and the tips were lovely.

And he meets Robin Buckley, and actually talks to Eddie Munson every once in a while when he stops in with his band, and lets the kids sneak into the movies because he’ll be damned if he robs them of a normal summer.

And then Dustin comes back and their reunion is short-lived because Russians are hellbent on torching non-existent information out of Steve and he’s busy getting his third concussion and then there’s a fucking flesh monster and Billy and Hopper for protecting them and—

It’s not a good night.

But then he’s rushed to the hospital and he tries to call Miss Bottomette only for the call to refuse to go through and shitfuckgoddammit.

Because what about Louie?

Miss Bottomette said she’d be alright watching Louie until Steve got home, but Steve wasn’t able to go home until someone was able to make time to take him home.

Usually, he’d lean on Hopper for this stuff, since his parents were out of the question. But—

But Hoppers dead.

So he’s stuck at the hospital for another day or two until finally, Claudia comes to pick him up.

He’s with Dustin in the backseat of the car, anxiously bouncing his leg and biting at his fingers and nails until Dustin gives in and just holds his hand. Robin’s there to, having been able to leave after the first night but coming with Claudia to pick him up. Steve’s relieved to have them both close by, even if his hands reach for Erica subconsciously.

His trailer’s empty when he gets home, and Miss Bottomette isn’t answering the door.

Steve’s on the brink of a full blown breakdown before Mr. Knowles— bless his heart— points them across the street.

The Munsons apparently have his son and have for a bit now since Miss Bottomette had a minor seizure and couldn’t be left alone with Louie. Mr. Knowles assured Steve that she and the kids were fine and staying with him for the moment.

Steve wasted no time afterwards sprinting to the Munsons and knocking on the door. Dustin and Robin are close behind him, Claudia waiting patiently in the driveway.

The door is answered by a gruff looking old man that’s taller than Dustin but slightly shorter than both Robin and Steve.

“You Harrington?”

Steve nods so fast he faintly wonders if that’s how bobble heads feels.

They’re let in in no time and the old man— the infamous Wayne Munson— calls out of Eddie.

Eddie Munson emerges a moment later with little Louie in his arms, bouncing softly on his feet to keep the baby calm.

Steve is in front of him in a second, scooping Louie gently out of his arms and into his own.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dustin’s rubbing his arms and Robin his back. Claudia is talking to Wayne, explaining what had happened (or the cover story version at least) and Eddie is hanging back a few feet from the three of them.

Robin takes little Louie in her arms and shoos Steve to the couch to calm down.

“Let him meet his auntie, Steve. You take a minute to breathe now, yeah?”

Steve was led to the couch with a soft hand on his shoulder from Eddie Munson, and they sat side by side while Steve worked on easing his breathing and to stop fucking crying.

Eddie’s shushing him and after a moment (and a clearly pointed cleared throat from Robin) Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shaking figure.

They leave the Munsons’ trailer is promises of new babysitters and a new friendship.

And then the fuckery that’s 1986 happens.

.

First Part:

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[thebibliosphere]

Yesterday was my first time in the ER since my hEDS diagnosis was officially added to my file (instead of me having to tell them and hoping they’d believe me), and everyone in my emergency care team was on top of it. Like on the ball, fully engaged and interested in keeping the zebra in the hospital comfortable.

They also all knew what MCAS and POTS were and deferred to me when it came to medication and pain management. Which was also wild, because they were not shy at all about offering pain relief. They straight up offered me narcotics, when usually the most I get offered is Tylenol.

Even the CT tech knew what MCAS was and asked if we should pre-treat with Benadryl because he knew some patients could experience mast cell destabilization from the radiation even without the contrast dye.

He and the nurse even helped brace my neck when I was going into the CT machine because I mentioned having cranial instability, and the position I was in was making my neck click, so they stopped everything to find multiple pillows to brace my neck and shoulders while I was on the table.

Afterward, while being bussed through the corridors in my bed (because they had to dehydrate me to take the CT scan and my POTS was going haywire, and they made sure I had to be upright as little as possible), I commented to my nurse that I was startled that everyone I’d spoken to that day knew about EDS/MCAS/POTS and were so accommodating.

He paused before answering, then told me, “We probably don’t know as much about EDS as we should, but we’ve seen a lot of the other two over the last few years. Covid really messed people up. Did yours start with covid?” No, I told him. We think I was probably born with it and a dental infection turned it lethal. He expressed his sympathy and again reminded me I didn’t need to be a hero and I could press the pain med button whenever I needed to.

Back in my room, they started me on IV fluids to combat the dehydration from the POTS. And I was laying there, I became aware of the nurse bracing my elbow so it wouldn’t hyperextend while he futzed around with the IV and I remember thinking, “this is how it always should have been.”

The kindness and care shown to me were in such stark contrast to past experiences it made me quite tearful. There were no accusations of anxiety, no referrals to psyche, and no implications that I was over-exaggerating my pain. No denying of my experiences.

Just a quiet, vocal acceptance that I “knew my body best” and that they’d do whatever they could to help.

It was nice.