#EEG Machine

[allengersglobal]

Allengers Global Healthcare Pvt. Ltd. is a healthcare equipment manufacturing company headquartered in Chandigarh, India. Incorporated in the year 2009, today we are leading manufacturers, suppliers and exporters of diagnostic equipment like Holmium Lasers, EEG, EMG, PSG, TMT, ECG, and MPM with speciality in Neurology, Cardiology, and Urology diagnostic products.

[neuphonyforyou]

Brain training with EEG technology involves measuring brainwave activity to provide real-time feedback. Neurofeedback utilizes this data to train individuals to self-regulate brain function, improving cognition, focus, relaxation, and overall mental well-being.

[neophony]

EEG Flex Cap: 8 Channel Dry EEG & Neurofeedback Device

Discover the Neuphony EEG Flex Cap - a versatile, portable EEG machine for brain wave reading, neurofeedback training, and biofeedback therapy. Ideal for EEG tests, brain scans, and mind control training.

[captorcorp]

i love when there's an agency/clinic/etc that studies dreams but in a weird way. and then they also have The Machine.

[orionlancaster]

I FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY BEAT A CLAW MACHINE. I BEAT ITS ASS AND GOT MY BEAUTIFUL SON LOOK AT HIM

2ND TRY BTW. IF YOU CARE AT ALL. WHICH YOU SHOULD. THATS SO IMPRESSIVE. I impress myself sometimes LMAOO

[faaun]

WARNING: The penalty for trespassing on the railway is £1000.

[marsuni]

i can’t take my painkillers for my period alongside my migraine painkillers so I gotta pick one pain or the other to live with 🥲

[avid-idiot]

My happy place is wherever i can read smb's breakdown of a song I'm into

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Here's a preview of a very lovely commission I finished the other day for @geniusboyy, based on their fic Covenants and other Provisions! This is based on chapter 8, in which Ford is hooked up to an EEG machine while bill messes with his brain and makes him feel things. For an experiment. Yes, an experiment, for the sake of science... Peak Billford. (Ford is trying very very hard to keep his composure. He's failing.)

I feel like this is a bit too much for my tumblr, but the full thing is on my Patreon!

[allengersglobal]

Which companies offer EEG Machines for brain activity monitoring in India?

Looking for reliable EEG Machines in India? Find high-quality EEG systems for accurate brain activity monitoring at Allengers Global. These electroencephalograph machines are widely used in hospitals, clinics, and neurology centers across the country. Suitable for diagnostic, research, and clinical use, these machines offer dependable performance and precision.

👉 Visit now: EEG Machines

[neuphonyforyou]

Train your brain with neurofeedback at home using specialized devices and software. Neurofeedback helps improve cognitive function, emotional regulation, and performance by providing real-time feedback on brainwave activity, empowering individuals to optimize their mental well-being independently.

[bardoftheshire]

I have something called Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy that I was diagnosed with when I was 15 which isn't caused by flashing lights or strobes, but rather hormones. So, I decided to do something with a reader that is epileptic, just not with something exactly like mine. Enjoy!!

I Won't Tell, I Promise

James Wilson x Epileptic! Reader

Summary; Y/n has been working at Princeton for 4 years, hiding her epilepsy in fear of losing her job. But what happens when an episode comes out of nowhere?

Notes; Everyone I've met and told I have epilepsy always thinks it's light sensitive, but it's not. I wanted to kind of have this as a thing to give a bit of what it's like dealing with that stigma.

Warnings; Foul language, mentions of taking prescription drugs, epileptic episodes, angst.

James Wilson Masterlist

Word Count; 4,230

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You've been working at the Princeton Plainsboro teaching hospital for a short while so far.

Before Prinston, you worked at a hospital all the way over in Oklahoma City as a nurse, then to Chicago as a doctor.

You probably would've never gotten this job if you mentioned what would be considered a "safety concern", to anyone.

You were diagnosed with Myoclonic Epilepsy when you were 17 and though it was said to be hormonal, it still hasn't gone away 26 years later.

"It'll go back to normal, just give it time, it usually goes away by your 20s," the neurologists and your mother constantly reminded you that. And nearly 30 years later and they were wrong.

That's what upset you the most. The fact that they assured you that it would go away and you would no longer have to take anymore of the god damn medicines or switching them constantly. They lied to you.

But, no use in moping about it. It is what it is. This problem, this disorder, is what pushed you to do what you do now. Neurology.

The doctors and neurologists could never figure out what was "wrong" with you. Countless tests, week long EEG's, CT scans, blood tests and draws, more brain scans, everything you could think of. Nothing.

No tumors ever found, nor any family history of it.

You'd just figure it out yourself.

Being in the medical field for almost 20 years has just earned you one of the larger titles.

Dr. Y/n L/n | Head of Neurology.

You had your own office on the floor where all of the MRI and CT machines resided. Made recently for you.

You just got that title just a couple months ago, and man was it difficult.

You had to take an extra dose of medicine due to the amount of stress and lack of sleep you were getting. And you weren't about to give that title you worked so hard for up.

Maybe (you knew it was,) mixing one of the strongest medications with another concentrated one was a bad idea.

750 mg of Levetiracetam, 370 mg of Lamotrigine, and 50 mg of Clobazam 3 times daily. On top of vitamins due to deficiency.

Now, that high of a dose of the Levetiracetam was already bad enough, but mixing it with the Lamotrigine made it worse. But you couldn't have an episode on the job. You feared that if you did, you would lose not only your title, but your job, and at the worst, your medical license.

You just couldn't risk that.

"...Y/n? You okay? Can you hear me?" A hand waved in front of your face with a couple snaps, trying to get your attention

Now see, that was the tricky thing with epilepsy. Absent seizures. You never knew if you'd just spaced out or had another small seizure.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Yeah, I just spaced out for a second, my bad." You respond, forcing a smile with a chuckle.

"Oh, good. Thought I lost you there," Wilson says, putting his hand down and taking another bite of his salad.

Your watch begins to beep, indicating it was time to take the second medication of the day.

One in the morning, one during lunch, and one at night, taking each one with water and food.

"Um, give me a second, I gotta go get some water real quick. I'll be right back." You awkwardly rush.

"Don't worry, I'll get one for you. I've gotta throw my trash anyways."

"No, Wilson. Really it's fine I can get it," You began to panic. Don't panic.

"Then I'll go with you," Wilson smiles, getting up with his trash.

You mutter out an "Okay."

'He's going to ask about the pills. I've never taken my meds in front of anyone before. What do I say?' You began to freak out even more. 'What if he sees them and tells Cuddy about them? I'll lose my job.'

Technically you weren't supposed to supply your own medication to yourself. That's how House got in trouble. It's not like I'm abusing them, though. Right?

"What's that timer for?" Wilson asks.

"Well, sometimes I'll be working and I'll forget to grab lunch, so I don't want to forget to eat, y'know?" Liar.

"Oh,"

You continued walking in an awkward silence before you quickly went to the food bar and bought a bottle of water.

"You left me, what was that for?" Wilson chuckles with a hand on his hip.

'Do I just tell him? He'd be the first to know apart from my family or friends back in my hometown. No one since I left there knows about it. But I could trust him.'

"Uh, well.." You begin.

"Wilson! Come here!"

You turn around to see House marching (or trying more so,) toward the two of us.

"House-"

"Shut up, I need you. You can talk to Ms. Addict later."

'Shit, did House know?'

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?" Unbelievable.

"..real bold coming from you, House." You continue.

"At least I admit it! You’re exactly like me!" House shouts as he walks away with Wilson.

"What do you mean by 'Ms. Addict?'" Wilson asks, you being able to hear him as he walks away with House.

'If House knows, will he tell Wilson? Shit, more importantly, will he tell Cuddy?'

You sigh as you walk out of the cafeteria and go down the stairs to your respective level and enter your office.

"God, I've gotta stop this shit.." You say, picking up some x-rays of brain scans.

The patient was an 8 year old little boy. He was experiencing small seizures regularly, without any family history of seizures or epilepsy diagnosis'.

He'd been in the hospital for nearly a week now, countless tests were run, and he'd been attached to an EEG machine to see what would spike when he had an episode.

'Shit.'

You looked more closely at one of the radiographs. On the right side of his temporal lobe there were two black masses, most likely tumors, which looked to have been roughly 5 to 6 inches in size.

"Fuck.. Fuck, what do I do with this." You began to panic. There shouldn't be masses like that. This could just be something wrong with the machine, right?

You can't just stand there. You had to say something.

'Wilson,' You thought to yourself.

He would be the one to go to. You could only hope that they weren't cancerous tumors.

You gather up the rest of the radiographs and make your way out of your office to go to Wilson's, hoping that House was finished doing whatever he does, and that he would be in there.

"Hey, Dr. L/n, I was wondering if you have any updates on Noah yet?" The boy's mother stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Pieters. I was actually just looking at Noah's radiographs now. I'm going up to Dr. Wilson's office right now to go over them with him, so the final results should hopefully be out soon," You explain anxiously, still trying to sound as professional as possible.

"Oh wonderful! Once again, thank you for putting Noah in your care. You have no idea how lucky and relieved we feel now." She replies, a big smile on her face.

You feel so bad...

"Of course, Mrs. Pieters. Noah's health is one of my top priorities right now, and I couldn't be more happy to help. If you don't mind, though, I really need to go over these with Dr. Wilson right now."

"Of course. Sorry for keeping you," She apologized.

You wave her goodbye and rush to the stairs to reach Wilson's office.

You urgently knock on his door, waiting for a response, yet none came. You knock once again, and still no response. "James, are you in there? There are some radiographs I need to show you,"

You wait more, and still no response. Maybe House or Cuddy know where he is.

You go next door and open House's door, not even bothering to knock.

There House sat, throwing and catching his oversized tennis ball.

"What the hell-"

"Do you know where Wilson is?!" You cut him off in an urgency.

"He's probably in the bathroom touching himself, I'd check in there if I were you," He says sarcastically.

Oh..

"I'm being serious, House!" You roll your eyes and shout in frustration.

“Why, do you want to finally confess your undying love for him?”

You look at House with your mouth agape, looking like a fish out of water trying to create a response that wouldn't make you seem flustered. “I-”

You figured it would be near impossible to have an actual serious conversation, though not that you wanted one, with House. “I’m just gonna go ahead and go to Cuddy’s..” You sigh, frustrated with the time you’d just wasted trying to talk to him.

“Fine then! Be-” House shouts before you shut the door on him, silencing whatever bullshit he was going to say to or call you.

You make your way to Cuddy's office, looking at the radiographs on your way to make sure they really were something to be concerned about, though you would still look them over no matter what.

You knock on Cuddy's door and barge in, the same way you'd just done with House's. "Cuddy, have you seen Wils-" You say, stopping as you see Wilson standing at Cuddy's desk, going over some files.

"Oh my gosh, thank god. James, please, I need your help and time just for a moment," You plead.

"James? I got upgraded to James now?"

"Not the time now, Wilson,"

"Can you two do this somewhere else?" Cuddy says, a tinge of annoyance barely clear.

You leave Cuddy's office with Wilson following behind.

"What is it I can help you-" He says before you urgently (rudely,) cut him off.

"It's about Noah's MRI and CT scan results," You sigh, sadness in your voice.

Wilson's face softened, "Please tell me it's good,"

You pull up the radiographs and show them to him, not being able to see it all that great.

"Let's go to my office,"

You and Wilson make your way into your office, you put the pictures onto the intensifying screen and take a look at them once more, that feeling in your stomach getting deeper.

Please don't let it be bad..

"Those black masses right there at the temporal lobe, do you think those are.. tumors?" Your voice shakes.

Wilson inspects the pictures and points out the same two that you feared.

"Th-these ones?" Wilson questioned.

You nod your head.

You were horrified, but at the same time, you were anticipated. If these were the cause, then you would know why this was happening to him, unlike you with yours.

Wilson lets out a deep breath and turns to you, "We're going to have to run some more tests.. these are.. definitely tumors, but we don't know if they're cancerous..."

You sigh and rub your hands over your face.

Wilson walks to you and rubs your back with one hand, and places the other onto your shoulder.

You shiver at his touch, you began to feel dizzy and after taking your hands away from your face, you see black auras begin to obscure your vision.

And then, you blacked out.

--------------------------------------

Your head was pounding and your tongue was swollen. You looked around you in confusion as you found yourself laying on your side.

Where am I?

A hand ran through your hair as someone softly assured you that you were okay.

You get up before quickly falling back down to the floor.

"Hey, hey, L/n, just- sit back down. You're okay," a familiar voice assured you.

You blink slowly.

"Hey, look at me, look.. What's my name?"

You look at the male, his face becoming more familiar, though not enough until a couple seconds passed by, him staying patient with you.

"Wilson?" You slur.

"Good- um, what's your name, now?"

You felt like you were going to vomit. Your head was still spinning, though you were starting to become more familiar with your surroundings,

"Y/n? What happened?" You groan.

"Y/n, you just had a seizure.."

Those five words sent you into shock, though now it was beginning to quickly rise up to a panic attack..

"What?"

You put your head into your hands and brought your knees to your chest, a lump began to form in your throat and tears welled up in your eyes, "No, no, no, no, no, oh god, no..." You sobbed. You let yourself stress out enough to the point that you had an episode after not having one for nearly 6 months. You were doing so good. God there's no way you're going to ever drive again.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay, Y/n." Wilson tried to assure you as he patted your back.

"No, no it's not okay.. shit," You choke up.

You wipe the saliva off of your mouth, presumably from spitting up during your episode.

You rock yourself back and forth, head still in your hands.

Wilson stayed quiet. He had no idea what to say, but you preferred that he didn't. You needed some silent time to gather your mind together.

"God.. fuck, I'm so sorry, James. You shouldn't have had to deal with that.." you exhale and apologize, afraid to even look at him.

"Y/n, don't- don't apologize,"

"You're not going to tell anyone are you? Please don't tell anyone, please, Wilson," You pleaded, tears welling up again at the thought of losing your job.

You didn't know that House had already known before. House had overheard you when you were speaking to Noah that one day, and then found out how much you were taking a day, earning your new nickname 'Ms. Addict'.

Him being the huge blabbermouth that he is, he obviously felt the need to tell Wilson. Wilson didn't know if he told him because he had some sort of worry for you, or if it was just him being an asshole, but by God was he glad that House told him.

"I won't tell, I promise." Wilson said as he wiped the tears away from your face, cupping it with his hand.

You melt into his touch and sigh.

"How.. how much Levetiracetam have you been taking..?" Wilson questioned.

You look at him in confusion, "What? What are you talking about?"

"Your meds.. how much of them are you taking?"

House.

"House- House told me, just earlier today," Wilson admitted hesitantly.

House!

“I’m gonna kill him!” You suddenly shout in a fit of sudden rage.

You get up only to fall once again, not just triggering your vertigo, but also making the previous dizziness you’d just had only mere minutes ago worsen.

You grab onto the nearest table to stable yourself, stumbling around as you try to pathetically attempt to speed walk.

 “L/n– L/n hold on just– Y/n!” Wilson says anxiously.

“Fuckin’ asshole, I’m gonna kill him.. How does he even know?” You grumble to yourself.

You stumbled around the workplace, bumping into things and nearly dodging others, looking like a lunatic disguised as a doctor, or to be more accurate; House.

“Y/n!” Wilson calls out to you, catching up to you far more quickly than you had been “speedwalking”.

He stops you, getting ahold of your left arm and goes in front of you, grabbing your other arm after successfully stopping you from even taking one more step.

“L/n, don’t. I know he’s an asshole but let's just go back to your office so we can sit you down, and then talk about this, okay?”

You were upset, and overwhelmed. He was right. You should go back to your office, sit down, have some water, and focus on Noah.

Noah..

You nod at him and turn around to make your way back to your office, one of his hands on your back and another out in case you fall.

He was so.. caring. You’ve never had someone care so much for you. You haven’t had that in years, you’d forgotten just how nice it was to be cared for, even if it were in upsetting circumstances such as now.

You smile to yourself as he helps you to your office chair, thanking him.

Wilson pulls up a stool in front of you, “L/n, are you okay?” He questions, taking your hands into his own, warm and calloused.

“Yeah, I guess I just freaked out a bit. I’m alright,”

“How much medicine have you been taking, L/n..” Wilson asks concerningly.

You sigh. You didn’t want to admit you had a bit of a.. problem with substances, specifically your prescribed ones. God, I really am House..

“Uh,” You look away from him. You were more than ashamed of yourself. There was a reason the drugs were controlled, because they were addictive..

It had gotten to the point where you depended on them too much. The Clobazam wasn’t even necessary, either.

“750 mg of Levetiracetam, 370 mg of Lamotrigine, and 50 mg of Clobazam.” You mutter.

“750 of Levetiracetam??”

“Yeah.. three times daily.”

Wilson sighs and lets his head fall low, muttering something to himself.

“L/n, you could overdose on just the Levetiracetam and Lamotrigine together twice, maybe even once! But you're mixing it with the Clobazam, too? Three times a day? Who’s prescribing you this much medicine?!” Wilson was genuinely concerned for you, he didn't mean to sound or come off as angry or upset, but that’s definitely what he sounded like.

"Myself," You looked at your hands, his were still holding yours.

"..I'm sorry but- I couldn't risk having an episode, especially not here. If- if anyone else found out I thought I might lose my job or- or my medical license, I can’t risk that, I- I worked so hard for this title, I can’t let it be taken away because of some stupid-” You started to get worked up and hysterical. So much build up just over the years of not telling anyone your worries, not even your parents or friends from home, all of it just spilt out in front of Wilson.

Wilson gets up and pulls you into a tight hug, stroking your hair as his chin rested on to of your head. “I won’t tell anyone, and I promise you, I absolutely promise you that you won’t lose your job if anyone else finds out,”

You tense up, but the sound of his heartbeat so close to your line of hearing made you relax into his arms, wrapping your own across his torso.

“I don’t know about you, but this is one of the first times that I’ve ever been happy that House is an asshole. I’m glad he told me. I’m glad you’re safe.” Wilson continued, holding you closer to him.

His overwhelming affection and concern began to make you tear up. He actually cared for you.

And though House would never admit it, so did he.

You began to cry into Wilson’s lab coat, still not letting go of him in fear that you would lose him forever if you did.

“I care for you, Y/n. I never want you to feel this way.”

He didn’t even care that you were dirtying his coat with your own tears and snot, he only cared for you at that moment.

“Oh, you finally found him. Did you find him in the bathroom touching himself like I said he was? Is that why you’re crying? Do you need a hug from me, too?” House says sarcastically as he barges into your office.

You take your face out of Wilson’s coat to scowl at House. “Fuck off, Greg..” You sniffle.

“House, it’s really not the time for your shit, and that’s a highly innaproppriate thing to say- wait, where did you get that from?” Wilson says, pulling away from you.

“I’ve heard you,” House ‘whispers’ very loudly.

House hobbles over to you and stares for a few seconds before ruffling your hair, making it messier than it already was before.

“Addict,”

“Says you, asshole,” You respond, trying to smooth out your hair for it to look decently.

“..Uh, how did you know? About my..” you continue.

“You have really gotta start being more quiet when you talk to your patients about stuff like that, it was hard not to hear you blabbering to that kid. Do you just do that with all of them? Pretty wreckless if you ask me,” House responds.

“And my medication?”

“You’re not as sneaky with it as you think. Maybe being more open about it would raise less flags. You just might actually be worse than I am, Ms. Addict.”

Wilson stood aside, watching the interaction between his best friends. They hated eachother, but cared for eachother at the same time. He smiled at the scene.

“Whatever,” You say as House leaves your office.

“You two are an interesting pair,” Wilson chuckles.

“He’s a child.” You roll your eyes and smile.

House pops back into your office, sticking only his head in through your doorway. “Druggie addict.” and he disappears once more.

“There’s my point being proven,”

“Oh, I never doubted you,”

You look up at Wilson, with him looking back down at you.

You took in his features for a good couple of moments, 

his thick brows were one of the most noticable features of his, in the best way possible in your opinion at least. You could never imagine him with what people would concider “normal proportioned” brows. They sat atop those puppy dog eyes that held a sort of tired softness to them, you could just get lost in them forever. A single section of hair seperated from his usual kept up hair, laying on top of his forehead. His smile. My god, his smile was so nice.

“What?” Wilson lets out a breathy laugh.

“Nothing, you just look nice today,” You reply back before getting up out of your chair in your best efforts, successfully making it back to Noah’s Radiographs.

“Thanks, you do, too,” He stood next to you at a closer proximity than before.

You and Wilson looked closely at Noah’s Radiographs for a few minutes before Wilson declared, “I don’t think you have to worry about these tumors too much, they look benign to me. We just need to remove them and Noah should be fine,”

You let out a sigh of relief. Noah was an amazing kid. You have no clue what you would do if you had to give news that he had something that could possibly be a cause of death. At least you found the reason for his.

You lay your head on Wilson’s shoulder and smile, “Thanks, James.”

He brings his hand up to grab your waist, pulling you closer to him and laying his head onto yours, “Thank you for letting me help out with him. He’s lucky to have you,”

“..though, I think I would be even luckier to have you, Y/n.” Wilson continues.

Wilson had always been good with his words when he wanted to. They always came out to be smooth, yet not too vulgar or forward. Thats exactly what it felt like now. It felt genuine, it felt like it actually came straight from the heart, and now you felt like yours was about to practically beat out of your chest.

“I think you would, I’m just special like that,” you giggle.

Wilson raises his head off of yours and looks at you, taking in how beautiful you looked before placing a small kiss to your head.

You grin, practically from ear to ear and lift your head off of his shoulder to press a kiss to his cheek, only for him to lift your chin up. You two were practically teasing each other, for as when you went to close the gap, he lifted you up and carried you to your office chair bridal style and sat down with you in his lap, now closing the gap himself as he spun around in the chair with you.

You smiled into the kiss and you could feel he was too.

This would be one of your most memorable days ever, in so many ways. Not only because of Noah, but because of this moment with James that you would never imagine would happen to you in a million years.

Its not to early to think to yourself or say, you love him.

You love James Wilson, and you would scream it from the top of your lungs so everyone else could be reminded of it.

You were in love with him, and he was in love with you.

[amsgrey]

Deja Vu II

Part I

Okay so, I have been researching more and trying to get things at least somewhat accurate before I wrote part two. In the first part, I wrote TBI, with further research, what I was actually trying to write is an Anoxic brain Injury (still technically a TBI). The whole idea there is when the brain is starved of oxygen critical functions are impacted and there can be a whole bunch of differing symptoms after it. OBVIOUSLY, I am NOT a medical professional, so take everything with a big ol' grain of salt. I am thinking of writing some more parts to this but purely when I have time bc adult life sucks. I kept the ending open but also al actual end, unlike the first part. Hope it is somewhat enjoyable.

WARNINGS: Medical stay, seizures, talk of needles + medical procedures, hospitals, Will and Jay being their usually angsty selves, poor writing and zero editing

"Will?"

Abrams looked between the Halsteads, not sure what his place was. Everyone remembered when Pat Halstead passed, mostly because the Halstead brawl was talked about for weeks. Will Halstead was known for causing headaches for plenty of people around Med, he was the topic of gossip all through the building.

Abrams was saved by the bell - literally. His pager started beeping, excusing him from the brewing storm between the brothers.

"I'll put in for the tests," He tossed over his shoulder, disappearing into the stream of medical workers.

"Will." Jay snapped, glowering at his brother.

Will scrubbed a hand down his face, "Abrams needs to run more tests."

"More tests?" Jay pressed, "What just happened, Will?"

Will shook his head, looking at his younger brother he knew, telling Jay how bad this might be, would destroy him. Jay hated hospitals, hated medical things in general. Will couldn't look him in the eye and plant the same fear he had gnawing at him.

"I don't know, Jay," Will sighed, "I'm not a neurologist."

Jay didn't want to accept his answer, but Will didn't give him much of a chance. He turned back to your hospital room, forcing a smile as he entered.

"What was that about?" You asked, exactly where they left you.

"Just more tests," Will smiled. He stopped at the top of your bed, checking you over with doctor's eyes. You could always tell when he flipped between Big Brother and Doctor because Big Brother Will wore his emotions. Doctor Will was better at keeping his poker face like he was now.

Will's eyes flittered around the monitors before settling back on yours. His eyes softened, the slight furrow in his brow disappearing and a smile pulling on his lips again.

"You feeling alright?"

You nodded, "I'm just tired."

Will nodded, he reached out and brushed the hair off your forehead, "Get some sleep, yeah? We'll be here the whole time."

Jay reached out and squeezed your hand, before pulling up the blanket and tucking you in.

A few hours later, you were sitting up in your hospital bed while a Neurology Tech attached electrodes to your scalp. Jay had left for home, for a shower and clean clothes. He promised he would bring back your blanket and pillow and some other stuff to make you more comfortable, seeming Will said it would be okay.

While he was gone, Will sat at the end of the bed, holding your hand through the Electrode placement. After the Tech finished, you were attached to a monitor with wires upon wires, all differing colours. The tech apologized for the cap that sat over all the leads, promising it wasn’t too bad.

“it’s a new fashion trend,” you joked, smiling at the tech, “Nuero floor chic.”

The tech laughed, continuing her work. When she was done, she walked you through what she had done. Explaining the placement and the leads, and how it all worked.

"This is your personal EEG," She explained, gesturing to the boxy machine on wheels that your wires were attached to, "Try to keep it close."

She explained a few more things, then promised to return in a little while. In her absence, Dr. Abrams stopped through again. He looked over the techs work, mumbling to himself and making medical comments only Will understood.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

You had already taken a nap, so you weren't as tired as you had been.

"Sick of sitting," You said, stretching your legs and accidentally nudging Will in the process. Will playfully batted at your feet, feigning offence.

Abrams pulled at the EEG machine on wheels, testing how the wheels glided, "If you are feeling up for it, you can go for a small walk."

You lit up, "I can?"

"If you take it slow," Abrams ordered, "And Will is by your side."

Will nodded, "Are you feeling up for it?"

"Yes."

Will helped you detangle yourself from the blanket, letting you adjust to being fully upright for the first time that day. Your feet dangled over the bed as you took a moment to compose your spinning head. Will pulled a pair of socks over your bare feet, muttering something about keeping your toes warm. He held your arm as you stood up, supporting your weight as your body adjusted again.

"You alright?"

"Mmm," You responded, focused on staying upright.

"Okay," Will wrapped an arm around your waist, "One step at a time, we'll try to make it to the nurse's station and back."

It was slow going. With every step you took, it felt like the world was twisting, like walking through an earthquake. Will's arms hovered around you, only holding you up when you needed the support. He was so steady in his support, his warm presence keeping you grounded and calm.

Two steps outside of your room, Jay bounded up with your pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

"They're upright," He commented, "Nice hair, too."

He reached out and pretended to ruffle your hair, careful to avoid touching the wires around your head. You reached out to smack his hand, but missed drastically.

You frowned at Jay, frustration barely contained, "Sshut. uphh."

The words sounded fumbled through your gritted teeth. Abrams had mentioned how you needed to take things slow and Will tried to tell you that it might be frustrating at first, but you weren’t expecting to feel such anger. It was gnawing away at you. A week ago you were dancing around with Makayla, wrangling her for a weekend while Kim and Adam worked. You had run around, danced, sung, every little thing that made Makayla happy. Not you hardly knew how to move your feet, could hardly tell what direction was up.

The anger grew and held firm in your head, making itself known with its red cloud fogging your mind.

Will grabbed your hand, "You okay?"

"Hmm."

Your vision blurred, everything swaying and twisting as you fell forward.

Will was faster than Jay was, for once. He saw the signs a mile away, already braced for when you would fall. He held you to his chest, lowering both of you to the ground and cradling your head as your body started to convulse.

Jay immediately dropped what he was carrying, falling to his knees by your side. Jay looked up at Will trying to ask silently what to do, but the eldest Halstead had gone full doctor mode.

"Need some help over here!" Will shouted, calling for the nurse's assistance.

"I need you to breathe,” Will spoke with such certainty, like he was treating any other patient.

“You’re okay,” Will kept repeating, “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

Jay was ushered out of the way by the nurses, who crowded in with monitors and equipment to help Dr Halstead. All Jay could do was watch helplessly.

Jay held his breath as the medical team got you off the ground and transferred you back to the hospital bed. The leads they had removed that morning were reattached, placed on your ashen skin.

Dr Abrams rushed into the room and ordered Will to get out of his way, the forced politeness gone now the situation was emergent. Will stepped back, somewhat dubiously, letting Abrams run his team.

“How did you do that?” Jay asked when will stood by his side, the pair of them watching as Abrams and the team worked.

With a dose of meds, the convulsions stopped, but the team checked over the leads and kept working.

“Do what?” Will asked, turning to look at his brother. Jay had grown pale, the fear and anxiety he felt spelt out across his features. His eyes kept darting from you to the heart monitor screen like it was going to flatline.

“Stay so calm?” Jay whispered, taking a deep breath for the first time in the last few minutes. The nurses placed a mask over your face, securing it behind your head and then leaving the Halsteads and Abrams in the room.

“Jay…” Will tried to find a way to explain it, how he could just shut off his fear in that moment to help you. But he couldn’t find the words.

“She’s stable,” Abrams spoke in the silence that had formed, “From now on, we’ll keep giving them diazepam to keep them relaxed. No more strolls, even if it is supervised.”

Will nodded, taking it in.

Abrams was mostly speaking to Will, Jay was by your side, focused solely on you. He held your hand, careful to avoid the IV that was in the back of it. He watched you breathe, every-time you exhaled, he watched the mask fog up. He listened to the quiet puffs and the melodic beeping. You were okay. He kept trying to force himself to remember that. You were okay.

“Hopefully we can get this under control. In the meantime, we’ll keep monitoring, keep on with the EEG testing for the next few hours. Hopefully we’ll learn more.”

Will nodded, clapping Abrams on the back, “Thanks, Sam.”

The big brother in him wanted to press for answers, but the doctor in him knew that sometimes Doctors didn’t have the answers. If Abrams knew, he would share.

Will did a check over you and the monitors with his eyes, again. Then looked over to Jay, who looked completely deflated. It was no secret that Jay hated hospitals and medical treatment in general, especially needles. Spending time in hospitals usually gave him the creeps and he would always say to Will, “I don’t know how you do it, man.”

But Jay hadn’t complained even once. Not when he was watching the IV get put in your hand, or while you were attached to countless machines. Will knew it was because he felt hopeless. The same look that he wore at their dads bedside he wore now. Will stood and stared for a while, the memory playing in his mind in time with real life. This was different. You weren’t on life support like your father had been, things were different. That didn’t change the memories Will had of his dads last moments plaguing his mind.

“I stayed calm because i had too,” Will finally spoke. Jay looked up, watching his brother cross his arms over his chest and take a deep breath.

“I had to stay calm, for her.”

Jay shook his head, “I just froze, Will. And you-“

“Trained for years to react in medical emergency situations, spent years working the ER,” Will interrupted.

“Jay,” Will reached over the bed and gave jays shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I do this every day. I know how to tune out the emotions and focus on medical stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Will sat on one of the chairs, mirroring Jay across the bed, “Listen. I could never get used to being shot at, could never be shot at and react how you do. Because I’m not trained, I’m not good at that. You aren’t a doctor Jay, stop beating yourself up over something that was a basic human reaction.”

Jay didn't answer, letting silence fall over the room. Neither one of the brothers was up for a conversation, mostly just consumed with their own thoughts as they watched you sleep.

You had stirred a few times in the coming hours but mostly stayed sleeping. Will told Jay that it was a combination of the medication and the stress of recent events catching up with you. In his words, it was nothing to worry about.

"Hey," A soft voice called from the door, Will and Jay stood to greet Hailey as she stepped into the room.

Will and Jay had been off work since you had gotten worse, staying by your side or close by ever since. Both Voight and Goodwin understood, giving them all the time they needed.

"I brought some supplies," Hailey joked, handing food over to the brothers, "And I stopped by home and Wills, got some clothes."

"Thanks, Hailey."

"Yeah, Of course." Hailey stood by Jay, taking his hand for his comfort. "How's she doing?"

Will relayed the events of the day, the incident in the hall and all the things that had happened since. Things were moving fast, more tests and hopeful treatment plans were being talked about.

"It'll be okay," Will finished, mostly trying to convince Jay more than himself. He knew the look on Abram's face, knew that everything was far from okay.

Will told Jay to go back to work after a week, promising him that sitting by your side was a one-man job. Will had spoken to Goodwin, who agreed to let him take his occurred PTO for as long as he needed. So for the three weeks you were in the hospital he stayed by your side. You weren't used to having Will there every single minute of every single day, but you didn't mind it too much. Mostly he helped you go on walks or watched over you like a personal nurse. You knew that he and Jay were worried, but the overprotective brother act was suffocating at times. During the last week of your stay, you managed to convince him to let you have more space - that when he left the room you wouldn't make a break for it like Jay would. He agreed hesitantly, mostly hanging around from lunch until you fell asleep at night. You complained to Jay when he visited every day, but you were thankful he was there.

On the last few days of your time in the hospital, you were more independent, nothing like what you were before the accident, but more than before. You could walk small distances unsupported and some of your fine motor skills came back. The PT had told you it was common after TBI's for patients to lose control of their movements and motor skills, she promised that you would get better as time went on.

Dr Abrams had spoken to Will and Jay about Rehabilitation centres, there were a few in the city that focused on TBI rehabilitation but Will had been dragging his feet. Jay wanted to do what was best for you, even if it meant you might have to stay in a rehab facility. Will had a sour taste in his mouth over it all.

"Come in," Goodwin called from inside her office.

Will pushed open the door, greeting Sharon and Peter.

"What can I help you with, Doctor Halstead?" Sharon asked after Peter had left.

Will explained his plan, reviewing all the details he had sorted out. When he finished, Sharon was nodding in approval.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am," Will was sure nothing could change his mind now.

"Okay then, I will talk to Dr Archer, and see how we can help," Goodwin bid Will the best, letting him continue on his way.

Will met Jay right outside your room, almost running straight into him.

"Will," Jay grabbed his brother's arm, "We need to talk about the rehab facility-"

"Yeah," Will nodded, "I know, i have a plan."

Will ushed Jay back into the room. He gestured to Jay to a chair and took a seat at the end of your bed. You were expecting him to stop by, sitting up properly on the bed expecting some kind of serious conversation from the eldest Halstead.

"What is it, doc?" You joked.

Will smiled, reaching out and holding your hand, "I have spoken to Dr Abrams and Sharon Goodwin and I have decided that we won't be trying to find a rehab facility."

Jay sighed, he had been arguing with Will about this for the better part of the week. "Will-"

"I think you should stay with me," Will told you directly, "I've taken a leave of absence, I think you should be home and recovering."

You looked to Jay, who was just as surprised. Jay hardly got caught off guard by Will, right now he had never been more surprised.

"Are you sure?" Jay broke the silence that settled over the room.

"If that is what you want?"

You could feel the joy blooming in your chest, a wide smile breaking across your face, "Yes. Please, yes."

Will mirrored your grin, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your forehead. At times like this, you were reminded how much Will and Jay became like parents to you after your father's death. Although it was painful for all of you, you didn't have a good relationship with your father. He was never caring or affectionate, he never came to your sports games or awards, that was all Jay and Will. They stepped up and took care of you, they always have and promised they always would. You were so drained from the last few days of tests and the week in the hospital that you felt like you might burst into tears.

Will could sense your fragile state, staying sitting by your side and holding your hand. Jay got to his feet and pulled you into a hug too, then clapped Will on the back. 

“So when am I allowed out?” You pressed, hoping to be home and somewhere familiar. 

“Slow your roll,” Jay laughed, “There's still things that need to be organized.” 

You let out a loud dramatic sigh, “I hate it here,” You whined. 

Will wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him and playfully messing up your hair, “It won't be too much longer, promise.” 

“Pinky promise?” You raised your finger, dramatically pouting. 

Will indulged you, linking his pinky through yours and giving you a serious stare, “Pinky promise.”

taglist: @halstead-severide-fan

[foxaftershocks]

Hi!! I just wanna say first that I absolutely adore ur writing :) and I've literally never done this before, tbh, so I'm so sry if I've done anything wrong or smth. :)

But I wanted to suggest maybe a reader thats also an engineer and scientist for the Ghostbusters, who Lars always considered less able than him since reader was quite quiet, and would run their expermients in peace, never rly interacting with people. Until one day reader is talking to lucky or phoebe or smth, and goes off on a tangent when talking abt smth they're working on, and it's a very sudden realisation to him that reader is actually rly knowledgeable, that their intelligence is much greater than he anticipated.

Totally fine if u don't wanna write it, remember to take care of urself!! <3

I always take care of myself <3 you did nothing wrong, a totally perfect request. I hope you like it

You were sitting across the room from Lars, absorbed in your work, headphones on as your head nodded in time to the beat of whatever music you were listening to. He hadn’t heard you arrive that morning. Not an unusual situation. He never heard much from you ever.

You seemed to be so unaware of his gaze on you, watching as your hands moved, fingers typing, adjusting your equipment, writing something down in a notebook. That was something he’d noticed. You kept paper notes.

Insane. Absolutely nuts.

Your head tilted up and he realised he’d been caught watching. His nose wrinkled and he looked back to his own work. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t busy. He had enough to get on with.

There was no reason for you to be there. He kept trying to figure out what it was you did, what you contributed to the lab. You kept to yourself and no one else could tell him what it was you did. You preferred to work alone, and while he could empathise with that as someone who didn’t love working in a team, he did enjoy leading a team of researchers. You’d never agreed to joining him.

He had to assume it’s because you knew you weren’t up to the task.

When he next looked up, you were gone. The workstation was empty and there was nothing to indicate where you’d gone. He couldn’t imagine you were rushing off to tell someone of a great discovery.

You’d never had one before now.

It wasn’t that he felt contempt for you. Surely there was a reason you’d been hired. He just thought everyone should be on his level and you just weren’t. The proof was in the output.

Stretching, arms above his head, he figured it was time for another cup of tea, the one he’d made earlier having gotten cold as he lost himself in his work. Taking the mug, he sauntered towards the small kitchen set up in the back corner.

“So if I can just figure out where the spectrometer has gone then I think I’ll be back on track.”

He paused outside the door. That was your voice. At least, he was pretty sure it was. From the few times he’d heard it he thought it probably was.

There was something there in your voice, not something he’d heard from you before. It was close to excitement. Lingering out of sight, he continued to listen. He certainly wasn’t about to offer the information that he had the spectrometer you were looking for. It would be put to better work in his possession.

“You really think you’ll be able to figure it out?” That would be Lucky. He didn’t realise the two of you talked. Lucky was meant to be his intern, not yours. He didn’t know why it rankled him so much.

“Sure. I mean, Nadeem keeps letting me study him to figure out where the source of his magic is so… I can’t see why I wouldn’t,” you said, “oh but you remember when I hooked him up to the EEG machine?”

“Yeah. You got those weird readings, right?” Lucky prompted.

“Right and I spent hours staring at them trying to work it out. And then inspiration struck. So I thought maybe there was some kind of electrical field going on. Which would be crazy because usually we don’t think the two are linked. But fire conducts electricity and so can humans. So what if the magic is connected to ions? Seems simple, right? Only, the electrical charge usually comes from the gas around the flame rather than the flame itself. So does he actually manipulate the gas? Or, is it this pyrotron subatomic particle we haven’t found yet? I mean, in order to prove that one I have to find quarks in isolation and I think that would rock the science community more than proving the science behind pyrokinesis,” you said, almost all in one breath.

It was easily the most he’d ever heard you say before.

“Because in order to prove that I’d need to show that Nadeem is manipulating pyrotrons with psychic powers, probably through the electric signals in his brain, and making them hit isolated quarks, which don’t exist so… I’m back to looking at electricity in flames because clearly it’s to do with the electrical activity in his brain,” you said, with a sigh at the end.

Lars felt his breath catch. There was so much going on in your brain, so many thoughts, so many theories, and you were investigating something he hadn’t even considered looking at. Maybe that’s why you always worked alone. Your projects were on things no one considered researching. You looked at the world differently.

It was… refreshing.

He’d thought you’d ket silent because you knew you couldn’t keep up with the rest of the scientists. Instead, it looked as if you kept silent because your research was so different from everyone else’s. They were so focused on ghosts. You were trying to understand everything in its entirety.

He felt dumbstruck. Everything he thought he knew was wrong. It wasn’t usual for him and he felt on the backfoot. It was like you’d been lying to him but for that to be true you would have had to have talked to him. This was so much worse. This was him lying to himself.

You were so much smarter than he’d thought and it left him questioning so many things.

Walking through the door, he felt combative, like he wanted to start a fight. Your voice died as he did, eyes widening when you saw him. He offered a tight smile, pouring out the cold tea into the sink. He glanced over his shoulder, finding you turning away.

“I’ll see you later,” you mumbled to Lucky.

You slipped out of the room, not even offering him another look. He scrubbed at the mug, not wanting to bother making another cup, taking his frustration out on it.

“Rough day?” Lucky asked, sliding up to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied.

“No sweat,” she said, “but maybe don’t glare at people when you enter a room. It sure does clear it.”

He didn’t have a response to that, refusing to be shamed by a teenager. He left the mug on the rack to dry and walked out of the room, lips pursed, trying to work out how to feel about everything. He wasn’t used to feeling stupid and yet that’s where he was. He’d judged you because he never heard you talk. Because you kept to yourself. Because you didn’t feel the need to show off like the others around the lab did.

You were sitting in his sight again, the headphones back in place over your ear, pen tapping your notebook in time with your music. You didn’t even look up when he sat down, staring at you. If he allowed himself to admit it, you were lovely to look at. Even trapped in a world of your own, there was something there that he found pleasing. You were soft, like the worries of the world had never curved your shoulders, and your wide eyed gaze left him feeling like there was no pretence. You had never lied. He’d just been a fool.

He stood, hands already grasping the spectrometer he’d stashed in the storage behind his desk. trying to project confidence, he sauntered over with it. Placing it down in front of you, he waited a moment for you to notice. Your gaze dragged up to him and once again he was struck by how lovely your face was. You were slow to tug he headphones off, leaving them hanging around your neck.

“I heard you were looking for this,” he said.

You looked down at the machine in front of you then back up to him. There was a slight curve to your lips, an almost smile marred with a hint of confusion. Your eyelashes fluttered and you tilted your head down, looking back to the spectrometer.

“Thank you,” you said, voice sweet.

It was a sudden thought that he could probably listen to you talk for hours. Not that he’d ever be offered the chance.

“And uh, if you ever need help or want to talk through anything.” His hand came up, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this awkward since his university days, “I’m just over there. I don’t know if you know. You seem to keep to yourself. So maybe you don’t want the interruption. But yeah, I’m just over there if you need anything.”

Christ, he was rambling. It wasn’t like you were the first pretty girl he’d ever talked to. He didn’t even have a crush on you. What was wrong with him today?

“I’m sure you’re too busy to help me,” you replied, voice quiet and far more put together than him, “you’re always working on something.”

“Oh,” he said, shoulders deflating. You were being polite but of course you didn’t want his help. Especially when you seemed to be a genius in your own right and more than capable of being brilliant without his input.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. But you’re working on important things and I don’t want to bother you with my stuff. You’re probably working on some new weapon that will save someone’s life or something. My stuff is pretty silly in comparison.” Your head was bowed and he wished he could see the expression in your eyes.

“All science is important,” he said.

“No, I know but you know, my stuff isn’t saving the world like yours so, I don’t want to take time away from that,” you said, voice growing quieter the further along you went.

“I’m always happy to help,” he said, hoping it would be enough.

Your eyes darted up to him and he saw panic there. He took a step back, reeling from the look. He knew he wasn’t always the friendliest guy but this was a not the kind of reaction he ever expected from his words, especially when they were meant to be nice. He took another step back.

“Right, well, I’ll stop bothering you,” he said.

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he wandered back to his own station, shoulders curved forward, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Other than ignore you, he couldn’t think of anything you would know about. It’s not as if his thoughts were broadcast over the tannoy system.

Only he hadn’t really been ignoring you, had he? He’d noticed you enough to form an opinion. He watched you. He’d grown used to your habits. He thought about you. Earlier that day he’d been watching you. There was no way he could pretend like you had been a non-entity in his life.

When he looked up at you again, your head dipped down as if you’re been looking at him just a moment ago. He found a flutter in his stomach, like a butterfly taking flight. The thought of you watching him was pleasing. Unless it was because you were wary of him and felt you had to keep an eye on him.

Finally taking the chance, he went to make himself another cup of tea, if only to try and ease you again. Maybe his presence made you uncomfortable. He didn’t like the thought that he made you uncomfortable.

He decided perhaps to keep his distance for a while.

A few days and he stayed away. He didn’t try to engage you in conversation, allowing himself to watch you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. The more attention he paid, the more he realised exactly how wrong he’d been. You kept to yourself, but you were confident in what you were doing. Something had alighted in him, the flame fanned by your confidence. Someone so capable at science was a turn on. He hadn’t expected that. He should have. But he hadn’t.

And he should have expected to hear you in the kitchen again.

“I just find him really intimidating,” you said, just through the doorway.

“Why?” Lucky laughed.

“He’s so smart and I know you’re going to make fun of me for this, but he’s really handsome. I’ve never been good around smart pretty people,” you said.

He lent closer, wanting to hear more. He didn’t know who you were talking about and the thought someone else in the lab was receiving such compliments made him feel disgruntled.

“Just talk to him,” Lucky said, “he’s not that scary.”

“I can’t,” you whined, “I get all tongue tied around him and he offered to help me and I just… I totally put my foot in it.”

Who else had been offering you help? He would hunt them down and make it clear to stay away from you. Or, no, that would just make you more scared of him. He had to gentle dissuade them from helping you.

“Yeah, trust me, he’s done that plenty of times,” Lucky snorted, “seriously, just talk to him again. Two awkward nerds deserve each other.”

You gave a small chuckle and he could imagine the soft smile on you face, small, underfed, and yet still there.

“I didn’t think he even know I existed,” you eventually said.

“Look, Pinfield is awkward and not always nice. But it sounds like at the very least he’s never outright insulted you. That’s more than Dan over in R&D can say,” Lucky said.

Pinfield. He was Pinfield. You were talking about him.

“Yeah, well, you crush on guys who actually give you the time of day. I crush on the silent guy who’s science is brilliant but who couldn’t be bothered with so much as a hello,” you said.

That wasn’t true, was it? He’d offered you help. And then gone back to not talking to you at all. He’d gone about this all wrong.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you,” you said.

“No, you should take it out on him.”

This was met with silence before Lucky’s laughter burst out, loud and long and he could inly imagine the look on your face. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy… He was sure it would be… Well, he was very open to it if the chance arose.

He slipped away to mull over what he’d overheard. He intimidated you. Because you had a crush on him. And you thought he didn’t like you in any way, that he didn’t even notice you.

Yeah, he’d fucked that one up. No one but himself to blame.

He paid attention for when you returned to your work station, across the other side of the room, quiet and focused. And beautiful. How hadn’t he thought that before? Or rather, how hadn’t he noticed it?

He was so caught up in his own assumptions about you he hadn’t taken the time to notice. He cursed his past self for being so caught up in his own ego to notice what was sitting right under his nose.

Steeling himself, he rose and made his way over to you. He loitered across the bench from you. You were still listening to music and hadn’t seemed to notice him. Tapping his finger on your notebook, he tried to get your attention. You looked up, startled, eyes widening when you laid eyes on him.

“I was thinking of going out for lunch and was wondering if you wanted to join me,” he said, trying to sound confident but also approachable. He realised he was treating you like an animal prone to startling.

“Oh, uh, I actually brought lunch today,” you said.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked, “I’d love to hear more about your work.”

“Why?” You sounded so bewildered it was almost offensive.

“I don’t know much about what you’ve been working on. Is it so odd I might want to know about it?” he asked.

“You’ve never asked before. Have I done something wrong? Because if I have I’m really sorry and I’ll stop doing whatever it is,” tumbled from your lips and he was reminded that you found him intimidating, “I really am sorry. If you just let me know what it is I can stop doing it.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he was quick to say before you could continue rambling an apology for something that hadn’t happened, “I’m just interested in what you’re working on.”

“Why?” You sounded defensive now.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was trying. He was really trying. And you just weren’t getting it. You were making it so difficult.

When he opened his eyes you were frozen, as if waiting to be told off. Taking a deep breath in, he offered you a smile, his best attempt as he tried to when he felt such roiling emotions.

“You’re an asset to our team and you’re working on things I’m not involved in. I’m curious. That’s all,” he said, desperate to put you at ease.

“Oh.” You voice was so quiet.

“If you don’t want my company I understand. I thought it would be nice to get to know one another a bit better. Whatever. I see I was wrong.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from you. He must have misheard. Clearly you and Lucky hadn’t been talking about him.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, looking back at you over his shoulder, “lunch would be nice.”

His shoulders relaxed and he let the corner of his lips curl up in a small smile. Your answering one stole his breath.

“Come on then,” he said.

You hopped off your stool and he realised you didn’t even come up to his shoulder. He could wrap you up in his arms and you would be completely engulfed in him. He found that thought tempting.

Walking beside him as you left the lab, you weren’t looking at him, gaze turned towards your feet. His hand closed around your arm, steering you in the right direction. You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His head dipped towards you, not able to stop himself. There was something about you.

He spent the entire lunch watching you, basking in your presence. You were slow to open up, answering his questions about your work softly. But once he got you going, your eyes sparked and the words tumbled from your lips faster than he could have thought possible. Your passion was clear and it only drew him in further.

“I dunno. Maybe’s its stupid,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid at all,” he said and noticed the way that seemed to turn you bashful. Your chin dipped and you couldn’t look at him. He lent forward again, over the table, trying to catch your eye, “you sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

It was a quick flash of a smile, that same piece of hair falling forward again. You reached up to tuck it back again but his fingers were already there, doing it for you. You looked up, mouth falling open but you didn’t seem to be drawing back from him. His fingertips brushed over your jaw before he retracted his hand, pulling it back to his side of the table.

“Oh,” you said, almost a whisper, practically nothing but the movement of lips without sound.

“I’d like to do this again,” he said, assuming honesty was better than beating around the bush.

The look of surprise that passed over your face wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. But then you softened, that small smile reappearing.

“Really?” you asked.

“Sure. I find myself fascinated by you,” he said.

“Like I’m one of your experiments?”

He hadn’t expected that.

“No. Christ no,” he said, perhaps louder than intended, “fascinated like I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Can you say something other than that,” he demanded, then realised that wasn’t a good idea, “please?”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a shallow nod, “we can do this again.”

“We can?” He brightened, “we can.”

“But only because I like you too,” you said, not looking at him again.

So he had heard right. He felt a sense of satisfaction hearing the words from you. He would never admit it, but it wasn’t often someone liked him. Maybe that’s why he’d been doing so badly with you. Or not so badly since you were going to go out with him again.

He led you back to the lab, hand resting on the small of your back, the material of your jumper soft against his skin. You were half a step closer, leaning into his touch more.

It was a good sign.

Thank god he’s listened in to your conversation with Lucky otherwise he never would have been able to find you. And he thought you might be changing his life for the better. Your smile was already capable of brightening his day.

He was excited to see what was to come with you.

[petew21-blog]

Dream of McDreamy

George O'Malley couldn't stand it anymore. Meredith was into Derek, but he was playing with her. Always on, off, on, off. Why would she choose a guy who treated her like that?

Derek used to date Meredith in Seattle Grace Hospital. But that was all crushed when his wife, he claimed that he was divorced to, came to town to get her husband back. The wife, Addison Montgomery, a brilliant surgeon, wasn't thrilled to watch Meredtih every day, but she was willing to do anything to get her husband back. The husband that was still in love with Meredtih, but his connection to Addison couldn't be severed so easily.

George was always the one on the side. He liked Meredtih a lot, but she would never notice him like Derek. Derek was McDreamy for her. Geroge was... well George.

He wasn't ugly or anything, but he couldn't compare himself to Derek Sheperd. The hair, the face, the smile. And especially those skills and knowledge. He was a god for so many people here.

George knew why Meredith like him so much. He envied him his good looks. It made it so much easier for him to get the lady he wanted. But he doesn't deserve her. Meredith deserves to be treated with respect and love.

George planned it. Either he was gonna die trying or it would work. He connected electrodes and sensors to gis head. And the EEG machine. He timed it so that Derek would be coming around the corner just in time to see his alterations to the machine. And just as George thought, Derek did what he wanted him to. He touched the button to turn off the power, because the machine on George's head cracked and sent many electric impulses into his brain. Derek tried to turn it off, but he felt a spark and then BOOM

Derek flew to the next wall where he crashed. The emploees rushed in to help him and George. They had had to revive George for many minutes and eventually succeeded. But it took them too much time. Certain parts of the brain weren't oxygenated and died out, leaving him in a coma.

As Derek woke up. He was a bit confused. Looking around, trying to find someone. They had to hospitalize him as a normal patient and therefore, Derek was on the hospital bed, waiting to be checked and released.

Looking back at himself in the mirror reflection, Derek, or to be specific, George in Derek's body felt proud that his alterations worked.

He was playing with his hair, non stop. How come that this guy is in his 40s and has a head full of hair

Addison came by to check if he was truly ok.

The new Derek looked up at her:"Addison we are done. Please, do not call me, do not beg me. I am in love with Meredith and this is my final desicion. Goodbye"

Addison was so surprised by all this that she couldn't even react to the monologue Derek just spat at her. But she was done too. No more chasing men, who don't want her, no. She was the star of her own life. And left.

George got up and went straight to the bathroom. He looked at his poker face reflecting in the mirror. "It's gonna be weird, getting used to seeing your face every day, Derek. But it's something I can do for Meredith"

He untied the hospital gown he had on. He examined his new body. It was much better than his old one. It seemed that Derek really took care of himself

George looked down and smile. "Not bad, Derek." I knew Meredith had a good taste.

George grabbed his dick and smiled at himself in the mirror again

Meredith:'You talk to yourself in the mirror?"

George turned around, not covering his dick. "Meredith! Yeah... from time to time"

Meredith was a bit caught off guard by the nakedness, but Geroge stepped closer to her

George:"I made a choice Meredith. I pick you. I choose you. I love you."

Meredith:"You know you don't have to run away after we had sex"

George in Derek:"Yeah, right. Sorry, force of habit"

Meredith:"Hmm, right. Wanna join me in the shower?"

George:"Why din't you say that before?"

They laughed as Derek threw off his clothes and chased Meredith naked all the way up to the bathroom.

In the hospital

Meredith:"So this was all I wanted to show you. I was thinking that it could help some patients like George to fully recover. Or at least partially."

George:"Meredith, George is probably not waking up. The chances are really low."

Meredith:"But there are some studies who tried this method too and it worked."

George:"You know what? Let's just enjoy the day tonight. We got a big event to celebrate"

Meredith:"Yeah? Which one?"

George:"The two of us finally being together"

George was happier than he would ever be. He had his crush pressed against him, while his new dick was getting hard. He was now kissing his crush after so many years.

As they were making out in front of all the scans, George thought about tomorrow. How they would have to study all those cases. And how he would have to disconnect his old body to make sure he would stay with Meredith forever

An anonymous request from inbox:

Ooooh, Ive always though it might be fun to have George O’Malley swap bodies with Derek Shepherd? Maybe using it finally be with Meredith? And just being jealous of his good looks.

[jasmi-n]

Neuroscience in Manifestation: Creating Reality

The human brain is a complex machine that interprets electrical and chemical signals to create our perception of the world. All stimuli we receive—visual, auditory, tactile—are processed by the brain, which converts them into a coherent experience. This process is so sophisticated that we often forget that we are not experiencing the world directly but rather an interpretation created by our brain.

EEGs: Mapping Brain Activity - Electroencephalography (EEG) is a tool that measures the brain's electrical activity through electrodes placed on the scalp. EEG reveals different brain wave patterns associated with various mental states. When we are focused, relaxed, or stressed, the patterns of brain waves change. These patterns can indicate how our thoughts and intentions are influencing our experience.

Alpha Waves: Associated with relaxation and creativity. When we are immersed in positive thoughts and visualizing our intentions, alpha waves may predominate, suggesting a productive mental state for manifestation.

Beta Waves: Linked to concentration and active thinking. When we are focused on our goals, increased beta waves can reflect a mental state geared toward achievement.

Associative Networks (ANs) - the brain are complex systems of neurons that work together to process and integrate sensory, cognitive, and emotional information. They are crucial for forming associations between different stimuli and experiences, allowing us to create memories, learn, and adapt our behavior. A critical aspect of ANs is the Reticular Activating System (RAS), which plays a central role in modulating our attention and perception of reality.

Reticular Activating System (RAS) - The RAS is a network of neurons located in the brainstem, responsible for filtering the sensory information we receive at every moment and determining which of it is relevant for our conscious attention. It acts as a "filter" that decides which stimuli we should focus on and which we can ignore, based on our expectations, interests, and past experiences.

How the RAS Influences Perception of Reality? When we focus our attention on a particular subject or goal, the RAS adjusts our perception to highlight information and stimuli related to that focus. This mechanism explains why, when we are interested in something specific, we start to notice more frequently related things in our environment. This phenomenon is known as "confirmation bias" and is a direct manifestation of how ANs function.

For example, if you are thinking about buying a new car and have a specific model in mind, you are likely to start noticing that car model everywhere. Your RAS is actively filtering sensory information to prioritize stimuli that match your current interest.

Neuroplasticity - One of the most fascinating aspects of the brain is its plasticity—the ability to reorganize and form new neural connections throughout life. Studies show that our thoughts and experiences can literally reshape the brain's structure. For example, regularly practicing meditation can increase the gray matter density in areas associated with self-awareness and emotional regulation.

This plasticity suggests that by changing our thought patterns, we can alter how our brain perceives and interacts with the world, thus influencing our subjective reality. When we intentionally focus on something, we are strengthening the neural connections associated with that focus, which in turn increases the likelihood of perceiving and remembering relevant information.

Effect of Attention on Manifesting Reality - Focused attention can, therefore, shape our experience of reality in several ways:

Information Filtering: The RAS filters sensory information to highlight relevant stimuli, making us more aware of opportunities and resources that support our goals.

Strengthening Neural Connections: Repetition of focused thoughts and visualizations strengthens neural connections, increasing the likelihood of perceiving and acting in alignment with our interests.

Confirmation Bias: Our brain seeks to confirm our expectations and beliefs, making it more likely that we notice and remember events that align with them.

Associative Networks (ANs), especially through the Reticular Activating System (RAS), play a fundamental role in how we perceive and interact with the world. By focusing our attention on specific goals and interests, we can train our brain to highlight relevant information and shape our reality according to our desires and intentions. By understanding and applying these neuroscientific principles, we can enhance our ability to manifest the reality we desire.

References:

Moruzzi, G., & Magoun, H. W. (1949). Brain stem reticular formation and activation of the EEG. Electroencephalography and Clinical Neurophysiology.

Fredrickson, B. L. (2001). The role of positive emotions in positive psychology: The broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions. American Psychologist.

Lazar, S. W., et al. (2005). Meditation experience is associated with increased cortical thickness. NeuroReport.