#mri humor

[chronicillnesshumor]

[spoonielols]

[stedebonnit]

[shegeekery]

I should probably follow up my last post with something a bit more light-hearted…

So, I have an MRI scheduled for a week from now. The last MRI I had, they offered me headphones and let me pick what type of music to listen to. I went with “golden oldies” (music from the 50s and 60s).

If you’ve never had an MRI, the thing is that you have to hold very, very still while it’s happening. All went well, until “Shake Senora (Jump in the Line)” came on. Imagine listening to THAT song and not being able to so much as twitch a muscle!

I almost became probably the first person to ruin an MRI by laughing.

Anyway, this time I’ll probably go with classical or relaxation music.

[elvenstar146]

[ozma914]

My Magnetic Resonance Personality

I spent a lot of time in medical facilities, usually as a visitor, occasionally as a patient. And yet--this will come as a surprise to my fourteen regular readers--I've never had an MRI. Until a few years ago. Oh, plenty of X-rays, and a biopsy. The MRI was oh, so much more fun, in a world where "fun" is relative.  The Magnetic Resonance Imaging test was to find whether there might be cancer in my prostate, and also, I suppose, to confirm my head wasn't up there. As I said earlier, there was no cancer, which doesn't mean there were no surprises. We were told by various armchair testing experts that the MRI would take around twenty minutes. luckily, my wife brought a book with her anyway. It would take an hour, the med people said as they presented me with the only good surprise of the day: scrubs to wear, instead of one of those weird back exposing half-shirts you couldn't tie shut with duct tape and Superglue. The people there (who were very nice, by the way), asked a laundry list of questions designed to make sure I had no metal on me. There was a pause when I told them I had a piece of metal in my upper chest. Where was it from? I told them "Nam", with a fairly straight face, because the truth is just too mundane. "Well," one replied, "if your Viet Cong shrapnel starts to heat up, or if any other area catches fire, let us know."

I've seen metal fly into the air before, and it's always very exciting.

(FYI, I was thirteen when the Vietnam War ended. I really need to update that particular lame joke.) I was also told not to touch my hands to each other, or I might look like one of those movie superheroes generating lightning between their fingers. As you slide into the little tube, they give you a bulb to hold in one hand. Squeezing it sets of an alarm. One reason for this is because you're packed into that thing so tightly even people with no fear of enclosed spaces feel like the lowest sardine in the pack. They put headphones on me, because the MRI machine makes more noise than a reelected Congressman on his third drink. I was looking forward to some nice music, or any music, but these were just regular headphones--the music ones were on back order. Instead I was serenaded by the grinding and buzzing of a machine so loud I heard it plainly even with headphones and earplugs. It was like trying to sleep in a jet engine. And every once in awhile the thing suddenly moved, which no one warned me about. I thought some giant was squeezing me out onto his toothbrush. But the weirdest thing that happened was right after they turned it on, when someone started tugging on that bulb in my hand. I was startled, because no one was in the room. My hand was floating into the air, as if the Force was trying to get me to lift my car to a closer parking spot.

Then I realized it wasn't my hand lifting into the air--it was my ring. It was trying to float away and take my finger with it, which feels just as weird as it sounds.

This very ring, which, yes, could have come from Uranus.

  It turns out rings are usually not of a material affected, so Magneto can't try to make you dance from one arm. MRI technicians often don't bother with them. But my wife, knowing my interest in astronomy, got me a wedding ring made from a meteorite--an iron meteorite. Magneto could go to town on me. 

After that all went well. The sliver of steel is still in my chest--Gulf War?--and I passed the time by plotting out a new novel. It's going to be about a guy who gets transported to another world through an MRI machine. Or Magneto.

 Remember: Every time you buy a book, a Terminator gets stuck to an MRI machine. Save John Conner.

http://markrhunter.com/ https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

[inawickedlittletown]

And Every String Led Me To You (BuckTommy) - one-shot

Summary: It happened when Buck woke up from the coma. At first, he was absolutely sure that he was dreaming because there was no way his hospital room could be so full of string.

or, Buck can suddenly see the strings of fate, including the one that connects him right to Tommy.

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 7: soulmates/string of fate

Rated: G

Words: 8.6k

@bucktommypositivityweek

-

Read on Ao3

It happened when Buck woke up from the coma. At first, he was absolutely sure that he was dreaming because there was no way his hospital room could be so full of string. So, when the doctors had all started to check on him, Buck had settled on the idea that maybe he was just hallucinating. Or that the lights in the room were doing something weird and his eyes weren’t focusing enough to let him see everything properly. 

Except that it didn’t go away. And once he was actually definitely more awake, Buck began to realize that the strings shot out from people’s chests. He saw it on his main doctor and on Maddie, but he realized fairly quickly that they couldn’t see them. 

Some people had more than others and there were different colors too. When he looked down at his own chest, he found lots of strings. The one that stood out most prominently was red. There were a few green, some blue, and yellow that glowed so much they looked almost gold. 

“Mr. Buckley, are you alright?” 

“Call me Buck,” Buck said. 

The doctor nodded and then started going over what had happened to him. Struck by lighting. Died. Coma. Lucky to be alive. Maddie stood next to him and she looked so happy that he didn’t want to alert her to anything else being wrong. But, something had to be wrong. 

Then, when everyone came in to see him, Buck was a bit overwhelmed by everyone and even more so by all the strings. They kinda blended together a bit but they were definitely still there. 

“Buck?” His doctor asked after visiting hours were over and everyone was gone. 

“Why are there so many strings?” Buck asked. 

“Strings?” She asked, confused. 

Buck hadn’t tried to touch them because he’d been a little worried about what might happen if he did. But, he reached just in front of his chest right where one of the green strings was. He closed his fingers around it and felt nothing. His hand grasped nothing. 

“But they’re — they’re there. They’re everywhere.” 

There were so many tests after that. Although some of them were probably related to the lightning strike and the coma that followed, some were definitely related to the strings. Why else would they bring a psychiatrist to see him? 

Maddie was worried. Eddie looked worried too. His parents had been mostly confused. Bobby was the first one to ask follow up questions. Because even the psychiatrist had wanted him to talk about things that weren’t the strings as if they were trying to get him to admit that he was making it up. 

“What are you seeing exactly, Buck?” Bobby asked. 

They were playing cards and Buck was already feeling a lot better. Maybe some of it was due to the pain meds, but he felt ready to leave the hospital. 

“It’s like if a ball of yarn was unspooled and it just kept rolling and rolling and rolling and other balls were also let go and every yarn started in someone’s chest. Can’t touch them, but they’re there and they’re kinda taut so somewhere they probably end. Does that make any sense?” 

“What else can you tell me?” Bobby asked. 

Buck took a breath. He couldn’t tell if Bobby was just humoring him, but it didn’t really matter if he could talk about the strings without doctors thinking he needed yet another MRI. 

“They’re really bright and there’s a lot of different colors too. The glow. And I think they connect people together. We’re — Bobby, there’s a string coming from me to you. It’s kinda yellow, but it’s glowing. I saw a similar one going from me to Maddie. There was a blue one connecting me to Eddie. Chim too.” 

Bobby stared at him. He was in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, his hand of cards held up in front of him, but he wasn’t looking at them as much as looking over them to stare at Buck. 

“They say strange things happen to people when they die,” Bobby said eventually. “You did die, Buck. Maybe long enough that something got left behind.” 

Buck sat up. He put his cards down. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, since they mentioned it, I’ve had the thought that maybe you’re seeing something that is always there but that no one ever sees. Buck, I think you’re seeing the strings of fate.” 

“Strings of fate?” Buck asked. 

Bobby nodded with a small smile. “It’s a theory,” Bobby explained. “Some people think that everyone that is meant to meet will meet and that we’re all just tangled up in strings. Most important of all, the red string of fate that will connect you to your Soulmate.” 

If the strings weren’t there in front of him, Buck probably would have scoffed at the entire idea. Except that he could see the strings and they did come out of people’s chests and he and Bobby were connected. 

“So, does that mean free will doesn’t actually exist?” Buck asked. 

“That is a larger conversation,” Bobby said with a chuckle. 

“Yeah. I just…if things are meant to be a certain way then what is the point of — well, of everything.” 

“Buck,” Bobby said, “I think that is the point. The strings are there for us to follow like different paths. Different choices. You can see them now, but you weren’t influenced in any way to make the choices that brought you here.” 

By the time that he was finally discharged a few days later, Buck had started to get used to the idea. He stopped telling people about the strings even though they were just always there. Weirdly, he could ignore them. Or at least he could until Maddie and Chim arrived to pick him up and he saw the red string that connected them. Soulmates. 

As much as he hated the recovery period, it did give him some time to get used to the strings. Seeing them on his friends when he was with them one on one was interesting because he had strings attaching him to all of them. It also gave Buck time to research. 

He probably spent too much time going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. Most of it was theory because no one could prove that they existed. Some people did claim to see them, but just like Buck they had no way to actually prove that definitively. 

By the time that he was back at work, Buck just became used to seeing the strings. He could ignore them and if he really thought about it hard enough they kind of disappeared. So, for a while it seemed like everything would just go back to normal. Until he met Natalia the Death Doula. 

Buck saw the string that connected them the moment they arrived on the scene. It was the first string that he’d seen connect to someone he didn’t already know. Buck couldn’t help but be drawn to her and the longer they talked the more interested he became. He decided to ignore the nagging voice that told him he was being influenced by the string existing in the first place. It helped that she seemed to be as fascinated by him right back. Her fascination only seemed to grow when she learned that Buck had died. That made it a little weird, but Buck didn’t care. 

It had been a while for him since he’d attempted anything romantic. A few months later it was all over. For once it wasn’t his job as much as hers. 

“Only a yellow string,” he told himself afterwards. “Of course it wasn’t going to last.” 

Most people had a red string and most of the time Buck didn’t get to see where the other side ended. Bobby and Athena were connected by red. Hen and Karen too. Eddie and Marisol didn’t have a string at all and Buck had no idea what to make of that. Eddie’s red string was stretched outwards and Buck had absolutely no idea where it went. 

The weird thing about the red string was that it pulled. It was the only one that did that. Not often and very gently, almost pleasantly, but it was there and Buck had no idea why it did that at all. He just knew that if everything worked the way it was supposed to, one day he would meet the person that his red string led to. 

The worst pull that the red string ever gave him was that day during the bridge collapse. Buck didn’t know if it had something to do with the emergency or if it was because the person his red string ended on was there. He just knew that the string was as taut as ever and that it tugged at him. 

According to some of his research the red string was the main string and all the other strings were there to inform the red. Buck thought that there was maybe something to that considering how Maddie and Chim had come to meet because of him. Or even how Hen and Karen had gotten together entirely because of Chim whom they both shared strings with. 

“It’s red, the string between you two,” Buck told Bobby a couple of nights before he and Athena were setting off on a very belated honeymoon cruise. 

“I didn’t need you to tell me that, Buck,” Bobby said. 

Buck was a little curious about the string connecting Athena to her ex-husband as well as Bobby’s to his first wife. Did people have more than one Soulmate, or had Bobby and Athena always been meant to be? Buck didn’t really let himself linger on that. If he really let himself think too hard about the strings it would actually drive him a little crazy. 

Like how Eddie and Marisol didn’t have a string attaching them at all. Buck said nothing about it. It wasn’t his place and it was also a bit confusing because he’d sort of assumed that anyone you dated would have a string since there existed an inherent intimacy. Apparently, that did not seem to be the case. It made everything all the more curious. 

The next time his red string acted up was on the night that he, Eddie, and Chim were on their way to meet Chim’s friend from air support. It seemed to both get better and worse the closer they got to the station. Buck had no idea what to make of it.

And then he got very very distracted by the very hot man walking towards them. He stood at about Buck’s height and he could have easily been some sort of model because he had no right being that good looking and not sharing that with the world. 

It didn’t hit Buck until the guy had made it closer that Buck’s string had found its other end. Buck’s red string ended on the very muscled chest of the pilot that Chim had called to help them. He could barely keep his eyes off of him as they walked to meet him, the string between them shrinking and shrinking. 

He missed whatever Chim said to him until—

“I’m Tommy,” Tommy said and he shook Eddie’s hand first. 

“Ev— Evan,” Buck managed to get out. 

Tommy had a nice smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and created laugh lines around his mouth. His chin had a cleft and his jawline was sharp. He was hot. It wasn’t a thought that Buck had often about men, but he had eyes, and there was no denying when someone was just that good looking. 

“Nice to meet you, Evan,” Tommy said and Buck had gone years hating the sound of his own first name. He didn’t hate it when Tommy said it. 

“So, what’s happening exactly?” Tommy asked Chim, his eyes leaving Buck and turning to Chim. 

“You okay, man?” Eddie asked with a nudge to Buck’s side. 

“Oh. Uh…yeah. Yeah. I’m good.” 

He couldn’t stop looking at Tommy. The red string between them shone so bright that Buck could actually see the red light reflecting on the space between them and Tommy had absolutely no idea that it existed. As he followed Eddie and Chim towards a helicopter he noted that in addition to the red string, there were strings joining Chim and Eddie to Tommy. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Eddie asked again. 

Buck felt Tommy’s gaze on him and he gulped. “Fine. I’m fine. Just worried for Cap and Athena.” 

Eddie didn’t look like he believed him. 

Tommy had them all get into the helicopter and he stood outside. The wind fluttered his hair a bit and he was looking serious but cool as he talked to Chim. When he went to go grab Hen, Buck almost felt the string pull. It was an odd sensation. 

The whole helicopter ride, Buck grew more and more in awe of Tommy. He was just so confident as he got them up in the air and his dry humor was a revelation. By the time they spotted the capsized ship, Buck had started to think it was all for nothing, and then he began to worry that they were too late. 

He and Eddie shared a look. 

And then…well, then, Tommy actually landed on the capsized ship like it was the easiest thing in the world nevermind that it wasn’t even a little bit flat. 

Buck maybe gapped at him a little until Hen was pulling at him to get out of the helicopter. His eyes met Tommy’s as he did and wow was that intense.

The sun was rising by the time that they were making the final trip back to the coast guard ship. Buck didn’t know how he ended up front with Tommy, but he didn’t mind it one bit. He tried not to be too obvious in how his eyes seemed to stay right to him despite the gorgeous view of the calm blue water below them. 

“Gotta say, I’m glad I wrote that letter of recommendation now,” Bobby said. 

Tommy chuckled. “I’m just happy I could help.” 

“Are you kidding?” Buck asked. “This…we couldn’t have done any of this without you.” 

When he glanced back at Bobby he was unsurprised to find the string that connected Bobby to Tommy. 

“Anyone could have flown out here.” 

Buck shook his head. “But you did.” 

“Take the credit, man,” Eddie added. 

When they landed, they got to see Bobby and Athena reunite. The red string between them closing up until it existed as just a light glow between them. When Buck looked down, he saw his own between him and Tommy. Did it mean they could have something like Bobby and Athena? 

Throughout the night, Buck hadn’t allowed himself to really think about it, mostly because he wasn’t into guys. Or, alright, he’d never been with a guy before. He’d checked some out in the past, but that had been more about admiration for the physique or because yes some guys were hot and there was no way they weren’t getting checked out by most people. His brain was starting to hurt. 

He reached out to Tommy, patting his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

Tommy’s hand brushed his elbow as Buck began to follow Eddie. He felt the tug of the string and then it loosened as Tommy followed. It was very very strange and Buck needed to do more research. 

Days later, his research hadn’t given him much more than what he’d already found previously. Red string meant Soulmate. So, Buck did a different type of research and maybe he shouldn’t have started with porn, but that seemed in many ways the easiest way for him to tell if he actually could be sexually interested in guys. The answer was a yes. Definitely a yes. 

That sent him down a different rabbit hole and Buck learned about the kinsey scale and all the different flags and the different ways that people defined themselves. It was overwhelming and there was so much for him to learn, but Buck was nothing if not eager to learn. 

So he read up on Stonewall and Harvey Milk and the AIDS Memorial quilt. He read about all the men and women that got married after decades of being together without the right to. He read about gay sex and he read about the ways that queer people had been fighting for their rights for just about ever and how the fight was still ongoing. 

Every June, Buck had put up a pride flag on his Instagram, a show of solidarity. He hadn’t known the flag was his too. 

“Is something going on, Buck?” Hen asked in between calls one shift. “You’ve been quieter than usual.” 

“I’ve been doing some research,” he admitted. 

“And you haven’t shared it with us?” Chim asked. “Shocking.” 

Buck knew he was turning pink. Luckily, he was saved by a call. They all ran down and were in the truck in minutes. 

Later that night, he was the one that approached Hen. She had a book in her hand, but she put it down on her lap when she saw him. 

“What’s up?” 

Buck took a breath and he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to a label that he still wasn’t sure fit. 

“Do you remember when I was in the hospital and I was talking about strings?” Buck asked.

Hen raised an eyebrow. “I think we all remember that.” 

“Right. Right. Well, I never stopped seeing them.” 

Her eyes widened at once. “What? Have you been hallucinating this whole time? Buck that’s not alright. We need to tell Cap and get you to the hospital. Is there anything else? I mean if you’re seeing things that aren’t there that isn’t exactly a good thing.” 

“No. No. Hen, I’m okay.” 

She leaned back on the couch. “I don’t really buy that.”

“Well, unlike my math superpowers, this one didn’t go away,” Buck said. “But I know what it is now.” 

Both of her eyebrows shot up. “You know why you’re seeing strings?” 

“Bobby thinks it’s left over from when I died. He called them strings of fate and I researched it a lot and it’s not just some story. They’re real.”

Hen nodded along. “Okay, and you, what, you found other people that can see them?” 

“There are some, yeah. Mostly people that have died and been revived. There’s research on it, but it’s not exactly prone to giving empirical visible data, but I think it’s real.” 

Buck could tell that Hen was at least partially humoring him, but at least she wasn’t insisting that he go to the hospital anymore. She mostly looked bemused. 

“We have a string connecting us,” Buck said, pointing between them. “Most of the strings are yellow, but some are green or blue. Everyone has a red string, it’s supposed to be attached to your Soulmate. You and Karen. Chim and Maddie. Athena and Bobby. All red.”

“Hmm, good to know, not that I doubted it,” Hen said and she was smiling a little. 

“My red string, I found out where it ends.” 

“What?” 

Buck chuckled. “Yeah. I, uh, I’ve been kinda freaking out a little.” 

“If what you’re saying is true then that woman is your Soulmate? What are you even waiting for?” 

Buck looked away. It really would have been nice of dispatch to send them a call. He glanced behind him. Bobby was in the kitchen with Chim. Eddie was at one of the tables talking to Christopher over facetime. 

“It’s, uh, it’s not a woman,” Buck got out. 

“Oh,” Hen said, eyes widening. She dropped the book on the couch next to her. “Oh. Buck, are you…I mean how do you feel about that?” 

“Why do you think I’ve been freaking out?” 

“So maybe the whole string thing doesn’t work that way?” Hen tried. 

Buck shook his head. “I’m freaking out because I had no idea that I liked men that way too and what if I mess this all up because I’ve never been with a guy before? What if this all goes wrong and I screw things up with the person that my string leads to.” 

“Buck,” Hen said in a gentle tone. “You won’t. Look, string of fate aside, any guy that doesn’t accept your journey to realizing this about yourself isn’t worth your time.” 

It was nice to hear it from Hen. 

Tommy had seemed like the decent sort. He’d flown into a hurricane just because Chim reached out to him and told him Hen had a hunch. For all his confidence and skill, he’d still tried to downplay that. 

“You’re right,” Buck said. 

“And, Buck, I’m proud of you.” 

“What?” 

“It isn’t easy coming to terms with who you are and honestly I’ve seen you checking out guys for years.” 

Buck burst into laughter. He could feel how warm his face had gone and Hen laughed too. They got a few looks from the others, but Hen shook her head at them. 

“Had to be there,” she said. In a quieter tone just for Buck to hear, “you don’t have to tell anyone anything until you’re ready.” 

“Thanks, Hen.” 

It felt far too obvious to ask Hen if she could pass along Tommy’s number to him, so before their shift ended, Buck asked as casually Chim as he could. Chim didn’t seem to think anything of it. 

“He’s a cool guy, that Tommy,” Chim said.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Buck said. 

Buck called as soon as he was back home. He was nervously pacing his apartment as the phone rang. On the third ring, it was finally picked up. 

“Hello,” Tommy’s voice sounded a little winded. 

“Uh. Hi,” Buck said. “This is Evan. Evan Buckley, we, uh, we met the other night when—”

“Oh. Evan! Yes. How are you?” 

“I’m good. Great. You?” 

“I’m doing alright,” Tommy said. “What can I do for you?” 

“Are you always so quick to offer favors?” Buck asked. 

Tommy chuckled. Buck loved the sound of it. Wanted to hear it again. 

“Not necessarily, but you did call me out of the blue so I had to assume you needed something. Am I right?” 

Buck didn’t stop moving across the floor of his loft. He had never been so nervous before and that was saying something because Buck did plenty of things that other people would find nerve racking. One area where Buck had always managed to be a little too bold and a little too willing to just go for it had always been when it came to flirting even if often it just led a single night or a single afternoon or morning. Tommy made him nervous and Buck didn’t even think it had anything to do with him being a guy…or at least, it wasn’t entirely that. 

“Oh. Well, yes. I was wondering if you would ever want to give me a tour of Harbor? Kinda hard to see everything in the dark.” 

Tommy took a pause before he responded. “I can do that. Sure.”

“Cool.” 

Tommy chuckled again. “Cool,” he repeated. 

They figured out a time that worked for them in a couple of days and Buck couldn’t find any excuse to keep him on the phone longer. Afterwards, he kinda just hung his head and groaned. Why did he feel like a teenager all of a sudden? And he hadn’t even really asked Tommy out as much as made it into a work thing. He was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. 

When the day of the tour arrived, he might have also taken his entire closet apart to find the right outfit. His plan was to arrive for the tour and get talking to Tommy and then offer to get a drink with him or something. Then, maybe when they were out of Tommy’s place of work, he could try and show that he was interested in something more. He’d flirt and smile and pull out all his best moves. 

None of that went to plan. He could sort of tell that Tommy was confused about Buck’s request for the tour and yet he led him through the space showing him everything. It was definitely impressive. Tommy was impressive. Buck couldn’t tell for sure if Tommy was flirting with him because he was subtle about it so it could have been passed off for something else maybe, but he did think he caught him checking Buck out a few times and that…well, that was a good sign. 

And then…then Eddie was suddenly there. 

Tommy had plans with Eddie. 

Tommy and Eddie were high fiving and grinning at each other like they’d known each other for ages. 

The outfit that Tommy was wearing that Buck had convinced himself was in some effort to impress him because Tommy was off-shift and had still been willing to show Buck around on his day off, was suddenly less about Buck and more about him going to a fight with Eddie. A fight that they were taking the helicopter to because it was in Vegas. So the whole tour and the timing of it was convenient for Tommy and Buck was nothing more than an afterthought. 

Buck watched them go and he wondered if he’d gotten it all wrong, red string and all. 

The worst part was how foolish it made him feel. He’d convinced himself that he just needed to follow the string and that it wouldn’t steer him wrong. It wasn’t that simple though and he had perfect examples all around him. 

Chim and Maddie had had their ups and downs. Hen had cheated on Karen. Even Bobby and Athena had their issues and they had both been married to other people and had kids with those other people. The red string had to have some kind of fine print that stated it didn’t guarantee smooth sailing. 

So, if Tommy was interested in Eddie then that was…Buck just had to be okay with that? 

All at once, he hated the strings. He wanted nothing to do with them and wished he didn’t even see them in the first place. So, he didn’t call Tommy again. Didn’t ask about the flying lessons he’d been offered or called in the rain check for the beer Buck had said he’d buy for him. He tried not to think about Tommy at all. 

Except that Eddie couldn’t stop talking about Tommy. Not just the fight, but how Tommy had helped him fix up the Chevelle and how Tommy apparently knew muay thai and Eddie finally had someone he could spar with. He talked about how Tommy was a regular at a karaoke trivia thing — Buck loved trivia…it was so unfair how perfect Tommy was. Eddie had even brought Tommy along to meet Christopher and they had definitely hit it off. Chris couldn’t stop talking about Tommy the night Buck wound up babysitting. Even Marisol had nice things to say about him when she stopped by to pick up something she’d forgotten at Eddie’s house. 

Buck didn’t really get Marisol. She was friendly enough, but always a little standoffish. Eddie never brought her around to get togethers with the rest of the 118, either, and Buck couldn’t help but be weirded out by how few strings she had and how she didn’t connect to Eddie or Chris. She also didn’t seem to care that Eddie was spending every spare moment of free time with Tommy instead of with her. Or even how Eddie talked about Tommy way more than he’d ever talked about Marisol. 

So, maybe Buck was simmering in a pot of jealousy and he had no idea why Marisol wasn’t in her own pot over the same stovetop. 

When he saw that Eddie was going to the pickup basketball game with Tommy and that he’d gone and circled the date on the calendar, he felt the pit in his stomach grow. Eddie had been begging him to join him at basketball for weeks and Buck always turned him down. It was tempting to just show up, but at the same time the last thing he wanted to see was Tommy and Eddie’s friendship or whatever it was — god, he really hoped it was just friendship — on full display. 

A glance at his strings told him they were all still there, still as strong and vibrant. Maybe, he just had to trust them and trust that Tommy’s attention would eventually come to him. 

He ignored the way that Eddie was always on his phone with Tommy. He ignored the pang in his chest. He ignored the way that Hen looked at him with questions. He ignored when Chim brought Tommy up and talked about how cool and awesome he was. Buck was well aware. 

One night, when his apartment felt too big and too empty, Buck decided he was done with the pity party. It wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all him. So, rather than wallow, he got in the shower, pulled on clothes that he knew were a little tight and that definitely showed off his best assets, and then he went out. 

Back in the day, Buck had had specific bars and clubs where he went to blow off steam. He’d get a little drunk, maybe pick up a girl that wanted to have a good time and sometimes — most times — they didn’t actually make it further than the bathroom in their haste. But this time, he wanted to try something different. That was how he found himself at a gay bar. 

It was noisy and the music was loud. Getting to the bar to order a drink took some time, but Buck had nothing but time. By the time that he had his beer in hand, he’d gotten to survey the place a little. Strings were everywhere. They were tangled and messy and here or there Buck could see red strings. Two girls at the bar next to him were connected by a red string. They were flirting and smiling and Buck could tell that they’d only just met. He smiled to himself and glanced around some more. 

Two guys making out with their arms wrapped around each other had a red string between them. Another pair didn’t have any string at all. 

Someone tapped his shoulder. He was a few inches shorter than Buck. His blond hair fell over his eyes like a curtain and he had a nice smile. His arms both had intricate tattoos that Buck was immediately interested in getting a closer look at. 

“Hi,” he said. “You looked a little lonely over here.” 

Buck was struck by the idea that he could do this. The guy was looking at Buck with unmistakable want. His eyes had drifted up and down Buck twice and they stared at his lips like he wanted nothing more than to taste them. Buck knew what that looked like on a girl and he couldn’t say it didn’t do something to know he was wanted. 

“It’s my first time here,” Buck admitted. “I’m Buck.” 

“Jer,” Jer said. “Come out and dance with me? No pressure.” 

So, Buck did. He drowned the last of his beer and left the bottle behind and followed Jer out to the dancefloor. 

It was packed with bodies and Jer reached out and grabbed Buck’s hand so they wouldn’t get separated. He couldn’t deny it was strange to hold hands with a guy just in the sense that the hand he was holding wasn’t soft and delicate but stronger with longer and thicker fingers. When Jer stopped, he let Buck go and he swayed in front of Buck. 

“Relax,” Jer said, grabbing Buck by the hips. 

Buck did. The music was too loud for conversation, but it had a good beat and Buck wasn’t the best dancer by any means, but he got moving and Jer helped him along. 

By the end of two songs they had gotten closer and closer and Buck couldn’t say that he was against the feel of Jer’s body against his. He liked the energy that Jer exuded and how he made it easy. And yet…and yet Buck couldn’t imagine it becoming anything more than just this. 

There wasn’t a string between them, but that wasn’t why. It was because Buck wanted Tommy. 

Jer was hot in his own right and there were plenty of other guys that were hot too, guys that even had the same build as Tommy. They just…they weren’t Tommy. 

Buck motioned for the bar when the next song came to an end and Jer followed close behind him, a hand pressed to the small of Buck’s back. He caught the eye of the bartender right away and they both ordered. 

“I can get it,” Jer said. 

Buck shook his head. “No. I got it. Listen, I’m really not—”

Jer nodded. “I know. You did look lonely, it’s why I came over here, but I’m not really looking for anything either.” 

“Oh?” 

Jer rolled his eyes. “Okay, so that’s a lie. I am kind of seeing someone but we’re open and my friend ditched me for this girl she met. You looked like you could use some fun and I mean, have you looked at yourself? Muscles, that nice tight tush. Delectable.” 

Buck didn’t know what to do with most of what Jer had said, but he still paid for both of their drinks which was exactly when he felt his red string pull. He knew which direction to look in and when he turned his face, his eyes met Tommy’s. His hands tightened on the cold glasses and he handed Jer his glass without turning to look at him. 

Tommy strode through the crowd. He was headed right for them. 

“Wow,” Jer said. “Now that is an adonis.” 

Buck laughed. His red string pulled. Tommy was caught up behind a small crowd of people. 

“Kev — my um partner, he would be salivating right now. Actually…looks like you are too. Wait, is he coming this way?” 

Jer bumped Buck’s shoulder and Buck glanced at him. 

“Do you know him?” Jer asked. 

Buck nodded. A couple of feet away from them, Tommy stopped.

“Hi,” Buck said. 

“Evan,” Tommy said and why oh why did he say his name like that. 

“Tommy,” Buck said back for lack of anything else to say. 

“Maybe Tommy wants a drink,” Jer said, nudging Buck and very obviously giving Tommy a once over. 

Buck blinked, looked towards Jer who seemed to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and then back at Tommy. Tommy was glancing between them. He frowned and kinda made a move as if to walk away. 

“I do owe you a beer,” Buck said.

Tommy’s lips turned up. “You never called,” he said and once more glanced at Jer. 

“I, uh, I didn’t think you wanted me to,” Buck said. “Not to mention, you were pretty busy, so…”

Jer touched Buck’s shoulder. Buck was very reluctant to look away from Tommy for even a second. “Hey, I’m gonna go. I think I see my friend and her new friend over there. It was nice to meet you, Buck. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…namely climbing that man like a tree.” 

Buck was glad he hadn’t taken a drink. He still coughed and Jer pat him on the shoulder, winked, and walked away. Buck shook his head. 

“Friend of yours?” Tommy asked. 

“Kinda met him tonight.” 

“Oh,” Tommy said. “I, uh, I hope I wasn’t—”

“No, no. It wasn’t like that. He was just friendly. Anyway, so, beer? My treat?” 

Buck turned to flag down the bartender. 

“Whatever he wants,” Buck said and pointed to Tommy. 

“What did you mean?” Tommy asked, moving in closer. Buck could practically feel the heat of him and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want him closer. 

“About what?” Buck asked. 

Tommy chuckled. “What did you mean I was busy?” 

Buck felt all of it coming back. All the times that he had to hear about another hang out between Tommy and Eddie. How even Chim had gone to play basketball with them and apparently Tommy was better than Chim had remembered. How he had definitely thought about calling Tommy again a few times but every time it crossed his mind he thought about how Tommy probably already had plans and it had left him changing his mind and feeling like he’d lost out on something before he even got a chance to try. 

“I don’t know,” Buck said. “I guess Eddie talks about all the things you guys have been doing together. Didn’t really feel like there was room for me.” 

“Evan,” Tommy said and it was filled with incredulity and amusement. “You do know people can have multiple friends right?” 

Buck let out a breath. “I know,” he said. 

“I, uh, I was hoping to hear from you,” Tommy said. 

“Oh?” Buck asked, perking up. 

“I thought…well, I thought maybe you were flirting with me. But I kinda asked Chim about you and he said you were straight. Eddie went on a rant about your last girlfriend? Taylor? So I thought I made it up and when you didn’t call I just figured I must have been wrong. But now, you’re here…at a gay bar.” 

When Buck glanced at Tommy’s face, he saw something that looked like hope. Between them the red string shone bright. 

“It’s new,” Buck said. 

“What?” Tommy asked, a cute confused frown appearing on his face. 

“I didn’t know I was into guys too,” Buck said. “Not until a few weeks ago.” 

“Oh?” Tommy asked. 

“When I met you,” Buck confirmed. “It’s always been there. I didn’t think about it or realize and looking back a lot of things make sense. But I didn’t know and then I did—” 

Buck focused on drinking the mojito Jer had ordered for him. The sweet minty taste was perfect. 

“And then you came here?” Tommy asked and he moved closer to Buck’s side. “Did you want to put it to the test? See if you really were into men?”

Tommy was so close that he could feel his warm breath. He could smell his earthy cologne. When Buck shifted closer, his shoulder pressed into Tommy’s chest and he inhaled. 

“I didn’t need to test anything,” Buck said. “I was only here for a drink. My apartment felt too big but everyone was busy.” 

“Not me,” Tommy said. He took a long gulp of his beer and set it down on the counter behind him. 

“I guess not,” Buck said and he smiled. “I guess I finally get you to myself.” 

Tommy chuckled and Buck felt it go through him. He felt Tommy’s hand come to his waist. It was warm and strong. Buck leaned into it, turned into Tommy. They stared at one another and Tommy was smiling. Buck knew he was smiling back too. Tommy’s other hand drifted up between them, fingers catching Buck’s chin. Buck let out a small gasp and then Tommy was leaning towards him. He moved slow, slow enough that Buck could have pulled away. He leaned closer and when Tommy’s lips finally met his, he kissed him back. 

Buck loved kissing. He was a big fan of kissing. Kissing Tommy was on a whole other league to kissing anyone else. When Tommy pulled away, Buck chased him. Tommy leaned his forehead against his and it was as if the whole world around them had faded. Buck started their next kiss and Tommy let him take the lead until they were both out of breath. 

“Would it be bad if I asked you to come home with me?” Buck asked. 

Tommy pecked his lips. “Only if you’re sure.” 

“I am,” Buck said. “I really really am.” 

Tommy finished his beer and Buck drank the last of his mojito. On their way to the door, he spotted Jer. He was talking to the girls Buck had seen earlier. Jer gave him a nod and a smile. 

He didn’t sleep with Tommy that night. Or rather, they did sleep because they fell asleep on Buck’s couch in between kissing and talking and laughing, but he didn’t take him up to his bed despite how much he actually wanted to. It was just that talking to Tommy was just as stimulating. Tommy was smart and quick. He was funny and sarcastic and he didn’t seem to mind when Buck rambled off a fact or two or three all in a row. 

So, he woke up in the very early hours of the morning, his head resting on a strong chest, his arms wrapped around Tommy’s torso, and Tommy’s arm rested over his back, hand at Buck’s waist. Their legs were tangled together. Buck was glad, then, that when he replaced his couch — hopefully for the last time in a while — he’d picked this big comfy one. His thought had been that it would be useful the next time he got injured and couldn’t go up and down stairs. It was turning out useful in other ways, not that they still wouldn’t be sore after spending the night there together. 

He extricated himself as careful as possible, but Tommy still grabbed his wrist and he blinked his eyes open, a smile forming on his lips when he spotted Evan. 

“Time is it?” Tommy asked groggily. He let go of Buck’s wrist. 

“Early. Sun’s not even up yet,” Buck replied. 

Tommy groaned. 

“Hey, lets go upstairs. Well, first I have to pee, but we can go back to sleep.” 

Tommy made a noise that sounded like a groan and when he stood he groaned again. “I’m too old for sleeping on the couch.” 

Buck snorted. “Go up, I’ll be right there.” 

A few minutes later he found Tommy already passed out in his bed. He climbed in and Tommy drew Buck against him. Buck stayed awake for only a few minutes, marveling at how different things were all of a sudden. They barely even knew each other. Buck knew that for his part the string had helped and yet he had no doubt that he and Tommy would have found each other somehow. They were meant to be, after all. 

-

It took almost six months for Buck to tell Tommy about the strings. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Tommy as much as that he could never find the right way to do it without sounding crazy. He never did stop seeing them, but learned to just ignore them. They were there and they did what they were supposed to do. And yes, sometimes, he was still shocked by the strings he saw.  

Just like when he first met Mara and found a string connecting her to Maddie and Chim, something that didn’t become clear until they decided to foster her for Hen and Karen who also had strings connecting them to Mara. Then, there was the day that he and Tommy ran into Connor and Kameron and the baby that Buck had helped them conceive. Buck had somehow just expected a string to exist between him and the baby, but none existed even if one existed from Buck to Connor and Kameron both. 

That probably would have made for a good time for Buck to explain, but he’d had to explain about the sperm donation and that had seemed like enough to put on Tommy at once. 

It seemed almost ironic that the reason that he had to tell Tommy about the strings was because of Taylor Kelly. 

Buck had never expected to ever have to deal with Taylor again after she published that book, but when Eddie had the idea to involve her in getting rid of Gerrard, he’d been forced to agree that it was a good idea. He did ask too many questions about how Eddie had wound up in contact with Taylor, but she was one of the few people that would be relentless enough to do something about Gerrard, so she had that going for her. 

Eddie invited everyone over to talk it all out with Taylor. Buck had been a little against it until he was reminded about how much Gerrard sucked. So, he’d just insisted on bringing Tommy along. 

As it turned out, a string did exist between him and Taylor, but Buck had expected it. What he didn’t expect was to see where her red string ended, because it did end. It ended on Eddie. 

He had no idea what his face did when he saw it, but he did see the way that Hen was looking at him. 

“Evan, you alright?” 

Buck tried to nod. He swallowed some water and tried not to look at it. Eddie and Taylor hated each other. The whole time that Buck was dating her had been a game of keeping them from being at each other’s throats when they were in the same room. It had been exhausting. 

“Buck?” Hen asked. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Buck said. 

Tommy naturally followed him. “Hey, are you okay?” 

So Buck took his hand and dragged him out through Eddie’s kitchen door to the backyard. It was small, holding just a grill and a little patio where Eddie had a table with four chairs. Buck beelined for it. 

“Have you ever heard of the red string of fate?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Tommy said. 

Buck offered up a small smile because it reminded him of every time he brought up something new. Tommy did sometimes already have some knowledge prior to Buck’s ramble, but more of than not he didn’t, or he wanted to listen to Buck refresh his memory. 

“It’s this theory about…well, about the universe. This idea that some people are meant to meet like Soulmates and along the way you pick up all these other little connections to the people that either help you get to who you need to be with or just because they are that impactful in your life.” 

“Okay,” Tommy said. “What does this have to do with—”

Buck shook his head. “I’ll get there,” he said. 

Tommy grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. Buck smiled. “So they’re threads or strings and the red ones connect you to your Soulmate. Tommy, ever since I died, I’ve been able to see the strings. They’re everywhere coming from everyone.”

Tommy didn’t pull his hand away, but he did give him a disbelieving, bemused stare. “Evan, what does that mean exactly?” 

“It means that when I woke up from the coma I could see everyone’s strings.”

“And you told your doctors about this right? Because hallucinations can be a sign of a lot of things.” 

Buck laughed. “Yes. We did all kinds of tests and no one believed me until Bobby explained about this theory. So I looked into it. There are so many people that claim they can see the strings, or that they saw them. There’s scientific research, but they’re not tangible. You can’t touch them and people walk through them all the time. Hard to prove.”

“Okay. Okay. As long as you don’t have a brain tumor, I’m following you on this. So you can see these strings all the time?” 

“Yes. Well, I can kind of ignore them and they fade into the background a bit. I don’t pay them any mind mostly because…well, because they aren’t harming anyone and because it almost doesn’t matter that they’re there. At first I thought it got rid of free will if we just go along and wind up with a predestined Soulmate or something, but it’s more that these connections help us get to where we’re supposed to be.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. 

Buck could see the question in his eyes and he knew why Tommy wasn’t asking it. Buck wouldn’t ask if he were in his shoes even if he really wanted to know. Buck wanted him to know. Tommy kinda went still and he peered at Buck with trepidation. 

“You broke up with Taylor before the lightning. You never saw her string,” Tommy said and he made to let go of Buck’s hand. 

Buck held on quick. He shook his head. “Oh, god. No, Tommy, no, that’s not — look at me, just look at me. Yes there is a string between me and Taylor but it’s yellow. But you’re right, I never saw her strings before.”

Tommy relaxed and let out a breath. 

“You scared me there, Evan.” 

“I know,” Buck said. “I’m sorry. I guess I wanted you to understand it all.”

“Sure.” 

“So, anyway, if you take us for example,” Buck said. “We could have met so many other ways. You left the 118 and I started. Chim and Hen invited me to drinks several times that first year and I know you went at least to a few of those. There’s the time that you flew in and dropped water. The day at the bridge collapse. The day I ran into Lucy at the badge and ladder bar. So many other calls that we’ve both been at in some capacity or another. We’ve been circling each other for years and maybe we weren’t quite ready for each other, but every single person that’s been involved shares a string with both of us. And our string, Tommy, our string is red.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “So you knew when we met.” 

“Yes, but I don’t think it would have changed anything if I didn’t know,” Buck said. “I mean, I noticed how attractive you were and then the string and then I had a bit of a sexuality crisis.”

Tommy nodded slowly. He pulled Buck’s hand to his lips gave his knuckles a kiss. 

“So,” Tommy said, “why did you freak out in there?” 

Buck had almost forgotten. It was the effect that Tommy had on him and Buck wouldn’t have it any other way. When he was with Tommy everything narrowed down to him and Tommy and nothing else mattered. 

“Well, turns out her red string goes to Eddie,” Buck said. 

Tommy’s eyes widened and then he was laughing and Buck laughed with him. For Tommy the stories were a bit fresh because Buck had been ranting a little when Eddie told him about his plan to sic Taylor at Gerrard, so Tommy got exactly why Buck had reacted the way he had. 

“Evan, tell me you’re joking?” 

“Nope,” Buck said. 

The door to the kitchen opened behind them and Eddie peaked out. 

“Here they are,” Eddie called behind him. “I swear, we thought you were having sex in the bathroom and I was going to be really mad.” 

Taylor stepped out and the string was right there between them, glowing and existing and Buck wasn’t going to do a thing about it. However fate dealt those cards…well, maybe Buck would get some entertainment out of it. 

“I told you they weren’t having sex in your bathroom,” Taylor said to Eddie. “But you are wasting our time, Buckley. Get your muscular boyfriend and come back inside.” 

Tommy met his eyes as they got up and they both stifled laughter. Buck couldn’t wait to tell Hen about it.

Tommy grabbed his hand and they walked back towards Eddie’s house. Tommy stopped him right at the door, pulling him into a short sweet kiss. Buck saw the string between them glow and he smiled against Tommy’s lips. 

[peachsunset]

Important addition: regular MRI machine is hot dog bun, open MRI machine is hamburger bun

A hot dog bun is like an MRI machine, yes?

[y13evie]

hi i love love your writing!! would you write a smut for james wilson from house? maybe reader is working on house's team, or just works at the hospital. slight age gap also if that's okay!

ty for writing it if you choose it!! <33

clear your mind

omg i am SO sorry for the wait, my dear. i hope you enjoy!!

tags: age gap, smut, fuckin on da job

the tension was consuming you. day and night, all you could think about was him. there have been countless nights where you touched yourself while creating fake scenarios of you two. but that’s irrelevant right now. you’re supposed to be helping your team figure out what may be wrong with your critical patient. house notices you aren’t concentrated.

“you. what’ve you got?”. he tilts his head at you. you know he was asking you on purpose, everything he did had reasoning. you think of something fast. and it’s obvious.

“appendicitis?”

“jesus. who gave you a medical degree? get out and clear your head, you need it.”

god he was harsh. but he was right. you nodded at your colleagues as house shooed you out. you scolded yourself for not separating your work and home life. it wasn’t your fault though. james was so smart, so handsome, so much older. it’s like he was asking to be swooned over.

to clear your head you decided to hang out with your favorite nurse before getting back to work. she knew the feelings you had for james and supported your slightly problematic crush. she nursed in the oncology department, so you treaded the waters to her office very carefully. due to your lack of attention to your surroundings, you managed to walk right into the very man you’re avoiding.

“oh, hi. i actually needed to talk to you about something if you have a moment”. he looked at you with those eyes. everyone might call you crazy but you swear that coworkers don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.

“i’m busy. bye”. you nudged past him, something unusual as it’s normal for you to be so bubbly around him.

you barge into your friend's office and immediately throw yourself onto her beanbag.

“i’m a failure”. your muffled voice dripping with drama. she peeled her eyes off of her reports to you. it was quite a humorous sight, your face in the bean bag as you kick your feet like a toddler.

“what happened this time, sis.”. she walks over to you and sits criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to spill. you prop your head up on your hands and begin your story from the moment house kicked you out and basically called you an idiot.

the way she bit her lip in an effort to stifle her laughter tells you she’s not taking your sob story very seriously.

“it’s not funny!” you huffed. now you really looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

that did it for her. she began to laugh a little.

“it’s so funny. you’re a mess, babe! i need you to pick yourself up and go get your old man.”. you could tell she’s serious but can’t help but giggle at ‘old man’. that’s something she always nagged you about.

you got yourself back onto your feet and decided she was right. it was probably the only way you could get those silly thoughts out of your head. you thanked your friend for helping you out and marched out of her office. just as you were about to reach the department of diagnostic medicine, you heard a familiar voice.

“hey. we need to talk now.”. you turned around and faced him. all the bravery in your heart melted as soon as you came face to face with james wilson.

“uhm..sure? what about?” you questioned. there was what felt like an endless pit in your stomach, you almost wanted to order an MRI. he instructed you to follow him to his office, which of course, you obeyed.

when you arrived at his office he let you walk in first, being sure to lock the door once you both were in. you began to toy with the stitching of your white coat. he sits at the edge of his desk, waiting for you to look up.

“what’s going on?” he questions you this time. you paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say.

“what?”

“the way you walked right past me today. what was that about?”. he pushes his question further, expecting an answer to your coldness.

your heart dropped once you understood what he meant. you looked at him with pleading eyes, scanning his face for how he’s feeling.

“i’ve had something on my mind. i’m really, really sorry. you’re the last person i want to ignore.”

“so you’re ignoring me?” you can tell he isn’t upset as a sly smile makes its way into his face. you roll your eyes as he beckons you to come a little closer.

“what’s on your mind?”. he knows how you feel. it’s painfully obvious. he just wants to hear you say it.

you claim it’s nothing and wave it off as stress, but he knows you’re lying. he knows you’re lying when you come even closer to him, positioning yourself right between his legs that are hanging off his desk. he knows you’re lying when you can’t help but stare at the way his pants are tightening around his crotch.

“you know how unprofessional this is, right? or do you just wanna feel me inside of you.”. you’re done with him teasing you. you shut him up by placing a soft kiss on lips, which then led to a makeout session that had his hands roaming your body. and you let him. the way you grind on him in desperation tells him everything he needs to know.

he allows you to face the desk, commanding you to take off your pants and lean over it. you do exactly as he says. james takes absolutely no time to plow into you. you were expecting him to be more gentle, but for some reason you were drunk on this feeling. the way his cock is hitting your most sensitive spots over, and over again is driving you mad.

“y’know how long i’ve wanted to do this? feel you around me just like this. i bet you wanted this too, huh.”. all you can do is pathetically nod your head and quietly sob into his desk. your cries did nothing but make him twitch inside of you, groans coming deep from within his throat.

you felt your back instinctively arch further as you feel your orgasm building up. just as you were about to come undone, he stopped. you gasp as he pulls out and just looks at you. you turn around and see him stroking his length. he gently grabs your face with his free hand and tilts it downwards. you knew what he wanted. and you wanted to make him feel good.

as you got down on your knees you made sure to replace his hand with your own, setting an absurdly slow pace. you swiped your thumb across the slit that was leaking beads of precum and placed your mouth onto his tip. you slowly bobbed up and down to get accustomed to his size, and then began to take him farther and farther. james gripped your hair tightly as a disorganized string of swears left his mouth.

“so good f’me baby, being such a good girl taking me like this”.

his praises encouraged you to work your mouth even faster. the way he whimpered and moaned out your name told you he was getting close. focusing on his tip while using your hand for the rest of his cock is what sent him over the edge. he thrusted into your mouth a few times to help ride out his high. you felt so proud of yourself for making such a mess of him.

james was overstimulated and tired, but he needed to make his girl feel good. he sat you back down onto his desk and instructed you to lean back. he was drooling at the sight of your pussy all open and wet for you. he wanted to go slow with you but god you looked so desperate. he got onto one of his knees and began ravaging you. your hands are kneading as his hair as he makes circles around your clit with his tongue. the sounds are lewd but neither of you care. he’s teasing your entrance with his curled fingers before plunging them into you. the feeling of him sucking your puffy clit with the sensation of hitting your sweet spot was so overwhelming. tears ran down your face as your orgasm comes crashing over you.

james allows you to calm yourself down before helping you put your outfit back in. he wishes he had the time to give you proper aftercare and praise you for how great you made him feel, but he can’t. instead he settles for leaving a mix of small and passionate kisses all over your face while murmuring sweet praises in between each breath. as you were reaching for the doorknob james asks you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

“hey, would you like to get dinner tonight?”

before “sneakily” exiting his office you throw him a thumbs up and sweet smile. god, you could get used to this.

[littlemisslomax]

"C" isn't just for Constantine...

Ch. 1 - "Oh yeah, that's a good idea."

John Constantine x nurse!Reader : CW: medical talk, mention of cancer, mention of su¡cide.

The hospital's fluorescent lights flickered overhead as you made your way down the corridor, the rhythmic beeping of machines and the hushed murmurs of nurses filling the air. Your shift had just started, and you were already tired. All of last week, you prayed to be assigned to the ER or to Triage, but here you are in Oncology and Radio. It’s so… depressing. It's so dismal that it drains you just to walk down these hallways, hearing the things you hear from different rooms as you pass them. You glanced at the chart in your hand, the first patient of the shift: John Constantine, Room 314. Preparing for an MRI. You took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright, sterile hallway. A pallid, lanky man in an expensive suit sat on the edge of the exam table, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling upwards in lazy tendrils. His eyes, dark and haunted, flicked towards you as you entered, small wisps of his black hair drooping over his forehead.

"Mr. Constantine?" you called softly, stepping closer into the room and shutting the door.

"Yeah, that's me," he replied, his voice rough and weary. He took another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly for a moment before he exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Hello, I’m uh— I’m your nurse for today.” You offer him a weak smile before your eyes trail down to the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. “If I could just ask you to please put out your cigarette…?” The request squeaked out a bit awkwardly. It was always so tough asking patients to do anything, especially considering how much these patients already probably have to worry about.

"I'm here to help you get ready for your MRI," you explained, setting the chart down and moving to gather the necessary supplies. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, mixed with the acrid scent of tobacco. "It won't take long."

He watched you with a mix of curiosity and wariness, his eyes tracking your every movement. You could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and probing, as if he were trying to see past the surface to uncover your secrets. It was disconcerting, but you pushed the feeling aside and focused on your task.

"Not many people would want this job," he remarked, a hint of sardonic humor in his tone. His voice was like gravel, roughened by years of hard living.

You looked up, meeting his eyes. They were a striking shade of brown, intense and void-like. "Well, someone has to do it," you replied, offering a small smile. Truth be told, you would much rather be in Pediatrics, handing out stickers and lollipops, but you obviously can’t just tell him that. That would be terrible bedside manner. "And besides, everyone deserves a bit of kindness."

He let out a bitter chuckle, the sound low and mirthless. "Yeah, nothing but sunshine and rainbows for me."

"Well anyways, Mr. Constantine, let’s get you ready." You said, your voice steady. "If you could just undress and get into this gown." The paper of the hospital gown rustled a bit as you lifted it out of the exam table drawer and handed it to him. You turned away, working on something on the counter to give him some privacy. “MRI magnets are some of the strongest in the world. Please be sure you remove any and all metal from your being and leave them with your clothes.” You added as a cautionary warning. John wasn’t loving this. What a waste of time—but the blood in his coughing sure was a sight. He had to get this done. So, with a roll of his eyes, he obliged and took off his watch, and removed all metal on his body. But… he was taking a pretty long time getting that gown on. He was more worried about removing all of his protection. For just a moment you turn around and catch a glimpse of him shirtless, seeing all of those tattoos of different sigils and symbols. Your cheeks get just a little bit hot, and you turn around. Suddenly, that jar of cotton balls on the counter is extremely interesting.

You adjust your scrubs and cough before sitting down at the monitor at the desk in the corner to begin the pre-examination questionnaire. “Well, I know you smoke… How many in a day...?” You ask, pulling up his file. “Oh, I swear, I don’t smoke,” John scoffed, a sarcastic smirk spreading across his somber face as his gaze remained glued on the sterile linoleum floors. “Some guy just came in and strongarmed me into trying a cigarette… Peer pressure is a real problem in our world, y’know?” Unamused, you just look at him with a silent expression that speaks volumes. After a few beats and a couple blinks you speak up. “Mr. Constantine.” “Jeez.” He muttered, “No sense of humor...? Fine. I'd say a pack a day.” John finally gave the answer. “Well… It says here on your file that you have previously struggled with suicidal tendencies. Would you say that this is something you continue to struggle with? Preferably on a scale from one to ten.” Typically, this was a heavy question for you to ask any patient, but it seemed John wasn’t your typical patient anyway. “I wouldn’t say I struggled. I was pretty successful in my endeavors.” John gave another dry joke of an answer and a mirthless chuckle.

And he was met with another blank stare. But this time, you were trying to hold back a laugh. That one was kinda funny, but you gotta keep a straight face, this is serious. With a clearing of his throat, he spoke up another response. “About a two…” The only noise that could be heard in the exam room was the sound of your fingers clicking against the chunky keyboard, the humming of the fluorescent lights, and the crinkling of the sterile parchment under where John was seated. You stood and washed your hands before gloving up and going over to him to administer a few run-of-the-mill tests before transferring him to Radiology. The wheels of the blood pressure monitor creak as you roll the small cart over to the table. Velcro rips apart as you open the cuff and wrap it around his arm.

"So... Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You paused, considering your answer. "Because I believe everyone has a chance at redemption. And sometimes, it starts here, I guess."

He studied you, his gaze intense and searching as if trying to gauge the sincerity of your words. "Redemption, huh? Not sure there's enough bedside manner on earth to redeem some people." John said, his tone low and almost derisive, knowing that by 'some people,' he was really talking about himself.

"Maybe not," you conceded, meeting his eyes once more. "But it's worth a try, isn't it?"

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. It was as if your words had struck a chord, resonating with something deep within him. You pulled the cuff off of his arm and smiled softly.

"Maybe," he said finally, his voice softer than before. "Maybe it is."

The weird tension was broken by the entrance of John’s doctor and a couple of Radiologists, ready to take him over to the MRI. “John? You ready?” John’s dark eyes bolted over to the doctors in the doorway. The dread and worry in the pit of his stomach grew heavier and heavier.

You looked up at him and offered a reassuring smile, your hand gently resting on top of his. "I'll be here when you're done," you said gently. "You're not alone in this. They’re going to take great care of you. I’ll be sure to keep your stuff nice and safe until you come back. Looks expensive."

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something other than cynicism and bitterness. It was fleeting, but it was there—hope, maybe, or the faintest glimmer of trust.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

As you stepped back, giving him space, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to this man. Something about him drew you in; a sense of shared understanding and unspoken empathy. You knew this was just the beginning, a first step on a path that could lead to something more.

And as you left the room, you couldn't shake the feeling that your paths were meant to cross, that in the thralls of fate, you had found each other for a reason. A regular kismet.

a/n: eat up y'all, this is gonna be a slooooowww burn. in all seriousness, i really hope you guys like it, i've had writer's block from hell recently, and know i've been super inactive. hoping this makes up for it

[xoxochb]

could you do a child of hades x leo valdez reader?? either headcanons or a fic idm!!

⋆·˚ ༘ * trying everything to get you laughing at me!!

warnings: none

pairing: leo valdez x gn child of hades

“okay how about this one: what does the skillet eat on its birthday?”

“I’m not sure, what does it eat?”

you were trying to sleep in, that was the plan, but when I certain son of hephaestus walked into your cabin at the crack of dawn (nine am) you were forced to forfeit your sleep to keep your boyfriend happy

he was telling you jokes, that’s what he wanted so badly that he just had to wake you up for, so now you sit on your bed with leo telling awful dad jokes

“pan-cakes” he says with a large grin

you shake your head slowly. he’s trying to make you laugh, you know because he won’t stop, and you haven’t laughed yet

but in truth, this was better than sleep, you liked listening to him talk, but you’d never tell him that

“alright…” he sighs “dogs can't operate MRI machines. but cats can (catscan)”

now it’s your turn to sigh, “I don’t like that one”

“I didn’t think you would to be honest” he thinks for a second before gasping “I’ve got it!”

“hit me” you say

“why are ghosts bad at deceiving?” he beams

“why?”

“because you can always see right through them”

you bite your lip to fight a smile, and you know that leo sees it because he goes in for another joke

“I’ve got another, you’ll love this one” he clears his throat before speaking “want to know how you make any salad into a caesar salad?”

“how?”

“stab it twenty-three times”

this one makes you laugh, and when you saw leo’s bright smile it made yours widen

“I’ve got one more, hear this: they say the surest way to a man’s heart is through the stomach, but I find going through the ribcage a lot easier”

at this point you’re gasping for air, and leo knows he’s succeeded in his mission to make you laugh. although he isn’t a fan of dark humor, he knew you loved it and he would do anything to hear your laugh

[balkanradfem]

Health update

I've been writing this post over and over during the last six months, and ultimately I would decide not to publish it, because I didn't have a good resolution for it! I wanted to come here and write – hey I solved it! I've fixed it! Good ending to the story. But instead it's just been crazy time and actually, I'm not in a great place. I don't expect to get any help or advice – at this point I'm convinced that nobody can help me, but, if you wanna hear my crazy infuriating story about the neck pain, click on 'Keep reading'.

So if you've been following me for a while, you'll remember I mentioned some intense pain in my neck, left arm, and left shoulder, that would stop me from walking, sitting, standing, lifting anything heavy. All I could do was lie down, and get around by bike. It happened after I was carrying heavy bags of chestnuts every day, two years ago, and I just didn't realize it could do me any harm, but I was wrong about that.

I've managed to get a MRI after a full year of waiting, and not being able to walk for more than 15 minutes, and the documents said that nothing was wrong with my neck! I was fine, and my doctor and everyone else decided the pain was psychosomatic and I needed to go to a psychiatrist. But I knew that wasn't it! I've been struggling with psychosomatic pain for 10 years at this point and that's not how it works.

My doctor has been giving me vitamins and telling me it's a vitamin D deficiency, and not knowing what else to do, I humored her and took vitamins. I've been trying all kinds of exercises I would find online, which were all extremely painful for me to do, and took days of recovery, until finally, one exercise worked and moved the pain away from my neck. It was now in my head, so if I tried to walk, or sit, or lean back while sitting down – my head would experience waves of pain. If I persisted, then I would end up in bed, paralyzed in pain for days. But I could now lift stuff with my right arm, and I was so relieved to be even a little bit better, not having that constant pain in my neck was a blessing. When I told this to my doctor, she decided that 'pain went away on its own', which I tried to debate but she didn't listen.

Afterwards I tried going to a private physiotherapist, to see if I could get at least any more information, and I was scheduled for a treatment of massage, electrotherapy, ultrasound therapy and traction. When they did traction, I felt something move directly in the place where the pain was, I was shocked! Next few days I could actually sit normally, and I thought I was saved – but then I made one wrong move with my left arm, and the pain came right back, devastating me. I went again, thinking maybe the second time will fix me, and asked about what traction usually solves – I was told it was a nerve impingement. But the doctors said I didn't have it, because it didn't show up on scans, and I didn't have pins and needles in my fingers.

However I did suspect I still somehow had an impinged nerve. My second attempt at physiotherapy did not work, but I now had more information – traction on my neck definitely helped the first time. The exercise that helped my neck previously, was also traction! Traction is basically stretching out your body in a way that your head, or one of your limbs is being pulled away from the body. And I wanted to try it on my left arm, which was at that point, almost completely unusable; not only it was so weak it couldn't pull a power cord out of an outlet, but it would hurt severely if I tried to lift even a bowl. I found instructions online on how to do traction on my shoulder at home, did it DIY style, and – my left arm gained power back. It was still painful to lift heavier things, it was still not 100% usable, but I could lift a bowl and pull out a cord with it. 60% of its problems were resolved, in about 10 minutes. I was both relieved and angry. To think something so simple could resolve so many symptoms and nobody even thought to mention it for me to try? It was devastating. At that point my left arm was unusable for a year and a half.

Another thing happened after I freed my left arm – I started experiencing extreme pins and needles, not only in my fingertips, but even at the top of my head. I now had all symptoms of nerve impingement. I realized later, that I had pins and needles the entire time, but failed to register or notice, because I had them for the last 10 year because my blood pressure is so low, all of my limbs are numb at all times. I thought some base level of pins and needles is normal and didn't think to report it as a symptom.

So with this new knowledge, I went to my doctor and explained that I could still have an impinged nerve, but nobody caught it because I failed to report the tingles, because I thought they were normal, and nobody asked me about blood pressure. I still couldn't walk, or sit, or stand or carry heavy stuff. So she redirected me to a private physician who dealt specifically with nerve impingement, he was expensive but he could fix it.

So I went.

The guy didn't want to hear me out, but immediately asked for the MRI, which I gave to him dejectedly, because I was told they show nothing. He looked at it for 2 minutes and located the impinged nerve. It was between my 6th and 7th vertebrae, trapped inside of my spine. He showed me on a toy how the nerve gets compressed every time I sit, stand, walk, or lift anything heavy, and how any of these motions would send horrible waves of pain trough my body.

I was blank with shock. There was clear evidence of nerve impingement on my MRI scans, but the documents said everything was alright? I asked why didn't the doctors at the hospital catch this, and he said they just don't look at it in such detail. He reassured me he has a painless therapy that can resolve this issue in a few weeks and that I don't have to be worried about it. It was expensive but I had been at this point, saving money and desperate to the point of being willing to give up my savings just to get free of pain – the pain was destroying my will to live.

I'm going to warn you that this is where things will take a bad turn, and just writing this down makes me mad.

The therapy was not painless. It was electric therapy first, then I would be put on a machine that pulls my head away from my body, but at an angle that was extremely painful to me. Then they would put me to lie with my head pushed forward, another angle that hurt me so much I was slowly starting to sob while it was happening. At one point I nervously said I had a question, and was immediately shut down with 'you can ask later', by that same guy. I was told it would hurt for the next few days but then it would get better. I'm used to pain but I had to take pain medicine as soon as I got home. It was unbearable.

After the second therapy, the pain got worse to the point where I was completely bed-bound. I was struggling to do my job, had to take breaks to lie down on the floor every half an hour. The pain was worse than it was in the start – my neck hurt again, I couldn't use my left arm, I even developed new symptoms of pain while walking, pain I've never experienced before! Feeling panicked and worried, I called them to report my awful condition, because they had a rule that if you don't come to therapy, and you don't cancel it the day before, you have to pay as if it happened. So I called, and I told them my symptoms were getting much worse, asking if I should still come to therapy as scheduled, thinking we would maybe try something else since this didn't work?

And I got told... god I need to calm down, this is still insane to me. I got told 'okay don't come anymore'. And that was it. They were like 'we can't help you anymore don't come bye'. I remember just pure panic and dread hearing that, I understood they were getting rid of me because the therapy didn't work. In desperation, I later called again and asked if I could schedule another appointment because I was in so much pain, and they said 'in 6 weeks, and then you can only have another every 6 weeks and no sooner'.

I thought at first, okay, I'll wait for 6 weeks. I need help. But two weeks later I realized there's no use. The therapy put me in a state much worse than initial, how could I go back for more of that? And these people were completely apathetic. I lost all of that money, only to have my state worsen to the point where I would start crying from how much it hurt. I was breaking down.

Eventually I came to my limit of how much I can endure and I decided to go forward with a back-burner plan I had devised in my head, but didn't go trough with before, because it was a little insane. I knew now how the traction machine worked, and I knew that traction in the past, would help me, and this one didn't because the head-forward angle was just catastrophic. So I decided to diy it. Make my own contraception that would do the exact thing but at an angle I felt comfortable with. Is that smart? Is it not experimenting on myself when I'm already in such horrible state? Well. That's what it is. But at least I won't do as horrid of a job as those 'private professionals' who did this to me.

So! The pain is not resolved. My own efforts are ongoing, it's kinda painful, I'm hacking it, trying to figure out the correct intensity, angle, and all other stuff, trying not to think about how insane I feel trying to diy something as serious as this, but listen. I need hope. I have nobody left who could help me. Doing nothing is sending me spiraling. I need to be trying stuff out, and everything that has helped me to this point, have been my little diy, learned-from-internet tricks. Maybe it will work, maybe I'll learn something. But I need hope. I know the healthcare system cannot help me because they documented there's nothing wrong with me and I can't disprove it. And I am so sad.

I had to give up all of my hobbies, my crafts, I couldn't go on with weaving or knitting, I barely did any sewing, gardening became painful and I can only do it in small increments. If I don't resolve this, I won't be able to live my life, I won't be able to build anything. All my dreams will fail.

Oh and if you're wondering how was I still able to forage in the forest if I can't walk – I hacked it. I can walk for 10 minutes, but then I have to lie down. And in a forest, I just can lie down anywhere. So I would walk for 10 minutes, then lie on the forest ground, just look at the trees and the birds for 10 minutes, so pain would go away and I'd be able to walk a little again! And forest has soft mossy composted leaves ground that didn't trigger the pain so badly, if the impact of walking is gentle, then I can walk a little bit longer.

I stopped talking about this issue because the mere thought of it can make me hopeless and depressed, I was avoiding thinking about it, or talking about it, to not make myself upset. I sometimes managed to forget about just endlessly playing stardew valley and pretending things are fine. And I thought it would get resolved by now, I was so hopeful that the therapy would help. I had all of my knitting supplies ready, I had collected some new dandelion stems to make baskets of, I was so excited. But I'll just have to hold off on everything, hopefully not indefinitely. Isn't it crazy that I've now had a nerve trapped inside of my spine, sending pain trough my body for 2 years? And I only found out in the last 4 weeks but then it was immediately made worse? Insane stuff. Life isn't supposed to be like this. I don't think anyone was meant to deal with crazy stuff like that.

[fan-stuff-and-things]

ASPCA AU Masterpost

Those of @cnwolf-brainrot's wonderful Weapon By Name discord have been humoring my ASPCA thread for over two weeks now. I figured it might be good to make a masterpost on here as well.

The basic gist of the AU:

Mystique is less discerning where she drops off her attacker at the beginning of Weapon By Name. Thus, Kurt finds himself at an ASPCA. Things proceed from there.

Initial Intake

Intake Part 1, Intake Part 2, Intake Part 3, First Checkup, Instructions Unclear and/or Intake Part 4, Irene Enters The Scene

Handling (Ordering here is extremely nebulous)

Getting Sleep, Brush Breakthrough, Upsetti Spaghetti, Harness, Equipment Rules, Princess Jellybean 1 (Silly Cat Lingo Edition), Crush Cage, Thoughts About Sensations

Handling (Bite Force Test):

Bite Force Test 1, Bite Force Test Aftermath Part 1, Bite Force Test Aftermath Part 2

Handling (Continued, still nebulous order)

Freak Out 1, Why Blankets, Tail Injection Test, Princess Jellybean and The Food Test, Help To Feet, Petting Flop 1, Petting Flop 2, Listening, New Facility Reflections, MRI Fun Time, MRI Fun Time Aftermath, Catnip Hints, Paralyzed By Fear

Handling (Terr(y)or series)

Terr(y)or, Terr(y)or Bath, Terr(y)or Exhaustion, Terr(y)or Aftermath, Muzzle Training

Handling (Continued, still nebulous order)

Sleep Reassurance, Nightmare Help (Sleep Reassurance Follow Up), Kris Cuddle 1, Good Boy Bath, Cuddle Freeze, Symbiotic Relationships, Holiday Gift, DNA Delay

Ending Options:

Oh Shit, This is a Child

Option 1, Prompt 1, Good Person

Nail Clipping

X-Men

X-Men On the Scene 1, Good With Animals

Mutant Sellers

A Conversation, Representative Appraisal, This One's Different, New Cub Introduction Aftermath, Thoughts On The New Kid, Clipping Wings, Playtime and Pecking Order, Breaking Food Thievery, Happy Fireplace, What's My Name, Warm Ecstasy, Playdate Attempt 1, Playdate Attempt 1 Part 2, New Leash, Startling Introduction, Nice Afternoon, Unexpected Reunion, Unexpected Camaraderie, Expected Separation, Boarding Fear, Discussions Of Logistics

Optional/Unknown canonicacy:

Tube Time 1, Rhetoric Conversation, Orientation Speech (Uncommentated), Orientation Speech (Commentated)

Rahne Conversation 1, Rahne Conversation 2, Rahne Encounter

Notes:

Not everything from the Discord will be transferred since not everything is transferable (generally not long enough, not mine, connected to things which aren't mine, etc).

There are events which have been written multiple times. This is not a mistake, I just like writing these scenes.

If any of these scenes contradict each other, that's okay. I'm just doing this for fun. Sometimes I ignore things I wrote before for one reason or another. This means you get to pick and choose too.

The timeline is loose. I've ordered it as best I can, but these aren't written in chronological order so it's hard to organize. Things may be retconned.

Most ending options are not compatible with one another (eg. anything below one bold ending section is not compatible with that below another bold ending section)

This may not be maintained.

General Content Warnings:

Dehumanization, manhandling, restraints, some illness, injury, non-consensual drug use (sedation)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Healthcare Quotes!

(dark humor)

Four: My patient really needs a liver transplant. I want tonight to be the night he gets it. Legend: What’s your blood type? Four, rolling his eyes: Not my liver. I want to see him recover and all! Sky: That would be the fastest way to procure it, though. The ultimate sacrifice for your patient. Truly being a patient advocate. Legend: Let us know when you off yourself and we’ll give it like six minutes so you can be properly brain dead and all. Four, huffing: How about Warriors? He’s strong, healthy— Sky: Nah, he drinks too much, you don’t want his liver. Wars: >:O I DO NOT Legend: *wheezing*

…

Mo: *coughing* Hyrule: You good? Mo: I’m dying Aurora: None of that crap until the shift is over, we’ve had enough call outs tonight! Mo, sadly: Aw man

…

Warriors: *exiting a patient’s room laughing* Legend: What’s so funny? Wars: This dude has the absolute best insults ever. Legend: Who was he insulting? Wars: Me, because he didn’t get his water fast enough, but man was it amazing. Legend, interested now: So what did he call you?? Warriors, smirking evilly: You’ll never know. Legend: Wha—YOU CANT LEAD ME ON AND THEN LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THAT

…

Twilight, staring into the void: Ilia: What’s wrong? Twi: The girl in 15 said I couldn’t play with her ponies because I wasn’t cool enough. Ilia, biting back laughter: That’s rough, buddy

…

Wild: This one teenager I was transporting to MRI said I was so bad at directions I couldn't find my way out of a paper bag. Twilight: She ain’t wrong. Wind: Did you say anything back? Wild: I said “Actually I can, animal control tried to use a bag to catch me and I found my way out of it just fine.” Twi, sighing: I can believe it

…

Time, stopping a surgical resident from doing something: That is what we call an artery. When I said don’t kill the patient, I meant don’t kill the patient. Since you were about to cut the artery, I think we need a lesson really quickly on what does and does not kill a patient. Time: For example. Bleeding to death leads to dying. I know this might be hard for you to understand but— Malon: *narrows eyes, raises eyebrow* Time:…But I understand you’re still learning.

…

Fable: Yeah, so she was supposed to get a mini-MVR, they perfed her LV, then they fixed that and her papillary muscles tore, then they tried to fix that and she got a VSD, so they just put her on ECMO and balloon pump and shipped her to us. Wild: What does—what?? Time: Her heart woke up and chose violence. Or her surgeon did, I’m not sure which.

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Love’s What Makes a Shatterdome a Shatterhome

There wasn't a sufficient sample size of Jaeger pilots who had both survived long enough for chronic effects of the drift to be studied comprehensively, but there were a couple of disability discharges who reported ghost drift over a decade after service.

It was usually stronger in REM, shared nightmares of shared trauma. It could also manifest as emotions, thoughts, physical sensations, or even idiosyncrasies. Raleigh Beckett swore he had never bitten his nails till he drifted with Mako Mori.

As Dr. Hermann Gottleib put it once (but only after he’d drifted with Dr. Newton Geizsler), “The ghost drift is hinky.”

It was hinkier if you third-wheeled with a kaiju.

Newt and Hermann both experienced the surviving hive mind’s collective fury at their inability to reopen the Breach. It kept them in Medical for two weeks, clutching their heads, or sometimes each other’s.

A paragraph from Hermann’s 2021 paper on drift-related neurological damage suggested that co-treatment benefited the affected pilots, but it was the response from pilots themselves that cemented it as medical practice. Queen-sized gurneys and hospital beds were standard at most Shatterdomes by 2025.

After a couple o f weeks in Medical, Hermann’s migraines began to dissipate. 

Newt’s did not. 

The Ghost drift was even hinkier if it was just you and the kaiju.

“Hey, Hermann?” said Newt. 

They finally had a brief respite from Medical’s gauntlet of neurological tests, from MRI scans to a a brain biopsy when Newt's scans revealed encephalitis. They were sitting in bed, side by side, Newt filling out reports on his tablet, and Hermann writing equations on the actual paper that he still insisted on using like he was Amish or something. Newt definitely did not think that was cute. He’d only indulged it during their penpal days because something about pen and paper seemed to slow down his thought processes a little. Unless that was just Hermann.

Hermann gave a distracted but encouraging hum. 

“We’re going to be together for- for a while longer right?” asked Newt. 

Hermann looked up, no longer distracted now that there was an opportunity to be snippy. “Were you even paying attention to the doctors this morning?”

“No.” Newt shrugged. “I knew you were.”

Hermann gave one of his long-suffering sighs. “According to the medical professionals who are doing their utmost to keep you alive despite your predilection for suicidal recklessness and energy drinks, we will be together for the foreseeable future. I am, apparently, the only available control for all of your…” he gestured vaguely at all of Newt, “variables.”

“That was a yes, right?”

“Yes.” Hermann sighed again. “I was just beginning to picture a life outside of this place too. Can you imagine? No more brutalist architecture.”

“I found the brutalist architecture comforting. It’s always the same, where you go. Like McDonald’s,” said Newt, before adding, “No more morning reveille.”

“Of course that’s what you would look forward to.” Hermann rubbed his bad hip absentmindedly.  “No more having to traverse miles of Jaeger bays for coffee that tastes like it was brewed in one of your sample tanks.” 

“You didn’t know about my side hustle?” Newt joked, because he was still Newt, at least for now. The world could be ending, and he would be joking about it. He had done so repeatedly, in fact, until Stacker Pentecost took him aside to tell him that ongoing counted as ‘too soon.’ After that, he kept his gallows humor to the lab, where it was, if not appreciated, at least tolerated. 

Hermann almost smiled. 

It was now or never. 

“Hey, uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

“What?” Hermann’s eyebrows shot up so high they were hidden by his bowlcut. 

Newt never asked for favors. He demanded: peer review, full control of their ostensibly shared radio, attention. He took: liberties, five hours to reply to an email despite having a comparable number of screens open simultaneously, bites of Hermann’s food when he was distracted. 

Newt didn’t like to ask for anything. He had gotten the impression early in life that the answer would always be no. 

He hadn’t even asked Hermann to drift with him. Sometimes that helped with the guilt, but not often. 

“If I start acting weird- I mean weird for me- Look, you know me better than anyone.” Newt couldn’t look Hermann in the eye after that, so he made his request to Hermann’s knees. “Promise me if I start acting weird in a weird way, you’ll stop me.”

“Stop you?” 

“Just do something. Or make sure I don’t do… something. I don’t know, man. I-”

“Newton, you’re shaking.” Hermann sounded like he had just finished an equation only to realize he forgot to carry the two several chalkboards back. “You’re scared. You’re never scared…. You weren’t even scared when you drifted with a kaiju.” 

Newt was suddenly grateful that Hermann hadn’t accompanied him to the bone slums, and not just because he never would have made it to the shelter on time. 

“Maybe I should have been?” It was the closest Newt would ever get to admitting he was wrong, at least in front of Hermann. 

“What are you talking about, Newton?”

“It’s like…. I can tell when you’re ghost drifting with the hive, right?” Newt started awkwardly. “It’s always at night, and it always wakes you up, even though you act like it doesn’t, like you forget you’re attached to about seven different monitors, and I can feel it through our ghost drift, but it’s so fucking faint .”

“Faint?” repeated Hermann, although for a second Newt thought it was a warning because he had gone even paler than usual. 

“When I see them…. it’s different. It’s intense, but I don’t think it even makes it through our drift. It’s like they’re in my brain instead of my mind.”

“What does that even mean ?”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe there isn’t a word for it in our language, like schadenfreude or something. I don’t fucking know. All I know is-” here Newt realizes he hadn’t inhaled in a while and took a deep breath. “I’m the only connection left. Maybe it would be better if-”

“No!”

Newt was usually the loud one, but this time it was Hermann turning heads. A nurse hushed them. Hermann didn’t seem to notice.

His forehead hit Newt’s own hard enough to be considered assault, but then he just… left it there. 

Usually, when they weren’t in the middle of a seance with the Hive, they kept to their sides of their Queen-sized hospital bed, despite the lack of tape. Now Hermann’s breath was on Newt’s face, and his hands were on his wrists, white-knuckled, like he knew what was under the tattoos. 

Newt felt something through their ghost drift, but it was gone before he could parse it. 

“No,” Hermann said again. Well, it was his favorite word. “We’ll talk to Medical. We’ll explain that you- we require further testing.”

“Hermann, they biopsied my brain. If they tested me any further, it would be vivisection. They haven’t found shit. Whatever the Precursors are doing to me-”

“What did you call them?” Hermann interrupted. He rarely let Newt finish his sentences, which Newt had tried to convince himself was romantic at one point. Then again, Newt’s sentences did tend to run on. Sometimes even he lost track of what he was saying. It had been happening a lot more often of late. 

“I- What? What did I call who?”

“The- You just called them the Precursors.”

Newt hadn’t even noticed. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said, mostly to himself. “I can’t speak their language. How could I tell what they were saying?”

“Please tell me this is all one of your horrible jokes,” said Hermann. “I would be so relieved that I probably wouldn’t even slap you.”

“That actually sounds kind of hot, but I’m not joking. Even I have my limits. Apparently.”

Hermann shook his head, either in disagreement or in disbelief. 

“Look, Hermann… If I tell Medical about this, I’m probably going to end up in some basement facility in New Mexico for the rest of my life, or- hell, maybe they will vivisect me.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“You can’t believe that ! They’re not going to risk another war over one annoying scientist.”

“You saved the world,” said Hermann.

“Not if I end it next,” said Newt. He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “Look, man, I’d have already given myself an air embolism, but I would appreciate some time to settle affairs first. Say goodbye to Dad and Uncle Illia, make sure the history wikis get it right- that sort of thing. You’re the only person I can trust to buy me that time.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, while Hermann processed that. Newt knew better than to rush him. He was calculating probabilities in that big beautiful brain of his. At least the Precursors hadn’t gotten it. Newt could die happy enough, knowing that.

“It might yet fade,” Hermann said eventually. “Ghost drifts often do. Until then, we’ll stay together. I’ll monitor you for aberrant behavior, as you requested.”

“You’d do that for me?” Newt asked, and didn’t redact himself this time. 

“Yes.”

“You’d kill me?” Hermann flinched, but Newt could never shut up, even when he knew he should. “Only if I’m too far gone to do it myself. Please, Hermann. Promise.”

“...I promise.” Hermann’s voice was so quiet that Newt could barely hear it over the hum of their fourteen collective monitors. 

“Thanks, man.” That didn’t exactly cover it, but Newt didn’t think either one of them could handle what he wanted to say. He cleared his throat. “So when we move in together…. What’s your pet policy?”

“Please tell me you have not cloned miniature kaiju, Newton.” Hermann still sounded like he was doing that stiff-upper-lip thing even though he wasn’t even really British.

“Shh. Don’t give the Precursors any ideas.”

“Precursors. Are you sure you didn’t make that up? You do make up a lot of words.”

“All words are made up,” said Newt.

“Not usually all at once though.”

“Is this about ‘al desko’ again?”

“The term is ‘al fresco’.”

“Not when it’s at your desk. Loosen up a little, Hermann. It’s a neologism. English is a living language.”

He sniffed daintily. “Well, perhaps it should be put out of its misery.”

Hermann was still sniffing a few minutes later, so Newt turned to face the window and give him a little privacy. He supposed small talk was a lot to ask someone who you had also asked to euthanize you. 

He couldn’t tell Hermann that the ghost drift was doing the opposite of fading. Already, he could feel the Precursors’ presence in his mind, not quite constantly, but near enough, like a song that gets stuck, or guilt you can’t talk yourself out of, or a headache that no amount of military-grade Ibuprofen can cure.

Newt also had a real headache, but that might have been from Hermann’s headbutt. He was surprisingly strong for a… Herman. Must have been all that physiotherapy. Newt tried thinking about baseball before the monitors could give away the direction his thoughts had actually taken. Unfortunately, he knew jack shit about baseball.

“Hey, Hermann?” Newt turned back around, figuring he’d given Hermann at least a minute to himself, which was probably some sort of record. 

Hermann was already looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Maybe the stiff upper lip was something they taught in those British boarding schools.

Newt found he didn’t know what to say. Not that it had ever stopped him before. “I don’t know about you, but I’m actually going to miss this place a little.”

“Medical?”

“Hong Kong,” he corrected. “Well mostly the lab, I guess.”

The stacks of books they used as furniture because the furniture was all covered with books. Hermann’s chalkboards with the ladder he insisted on climbing, despite the pain it caused him, and despite the fact that Newt always offered to give him a piggyback ride instead. The Milking Machine, which Newt referenced by name as often as possible just to see Hermann’s wince. 

“We really made this Shatterdome a Shatterhome.”

Newt felt something like pain through his ghost drift with Hermann. He was about to protest that his joke wasn’t that bad, when he realized that it was everything Hermann had just been trying to hide. 

Hermann had Kept Calm and Carried On for over a decade of war, during which Newt had only seen him cry once, and that was when he had to use the eyewash station after a possible kaiju blue contamination. Even so, he’d seemed embarrassed. Now there were tears dripping down his ridiculous cheekbones and he wasn’t even wiping them away. 

Newt wiped a few of them away before he realized that was probably weird. He’d sort of forgotten they weren’t his for a second. His hand hovered in midair between them, movement aborted but not yet redirected.

“Yes,” said Hermann, taking hold of Newt’s hand and enclosing it between both his own. “I suppose we did.”

[thebardostate]

Is the Brain a Driver or a Steering Wheel?

This three part series summarizes what science knows, or thinks it knows, about consciousness. In Part 1 What Does Quantum Physics Imply About Consciousness? we looked at why several giants in quantum physics - Schrodinger, Heisenberg, Von Neumann and others - believed consciousness is fundamental to reality. In Part 2 Where Does Consciousness Come From? we learned the "dirty little secret" of neuroscience: it still hasn't got a clue how electrical activity in the brain results in consciousness.

In this concluding part of the series we will look at how a person can have a vivid conscious experience even when their brain is highly dysfunctional. These medically documented oddities challenge the materialist view that the brain produces consciousness.

Before proceeding, let's be clear what what is meant by "consciousness". For brevity, we'll keep things simple. One way of looking at consciousness is from the perspective of an outside observer (e.g., "conscious organisms use their senses to notice differences in their environment and act on their goals.") This outside-looking-in view is called behavioral consciousness (aka psychological consciousness). The other way of looking at it is the familiar first-person perspective of what it feels like to exist; this inside-looking-out view is called phenomenal consciousness (Barušs, 2023). This series is only discussing phenomenal consciousness.

Ready? Let’s go!

Source: Caltech Brain Imaging Center

A Hole in the Head

Epilepsy is a terrible disease in which electrical storms in the brain trigger seizures. For some people these seizures are so prolonged and frequent that drastic action is needed to save their lives. One such procedure is called a hemispherectomy, the removal or disconnection of half the brain. Above is an MRI image of a child who has undergone the procedure.

You might think that such radical surgery would profoundly alter the memory, personality, and cognitive abilities of the patient.

You would be wrong. One child who underwent the procedure at age 5 went on to attend college and graduate school, demonstrating above average intelligence and language abilities despite removal of the left hemisphere (the zone of the brain typically identified with language.) A study of 58 children from 1968 to 1996 found no significant long-term effects on memory, personality or humor, and minimal changes in cognitive function after hemispherectomy.

You might think that, at best, only a child could successfully undergo this procedure. Surely such surgery would kill an adult?

You would be wrong again. Consider the case of Ahad Israfil, an adult who suffered an accidental gunshot to the head and successfully underwent the procedure to remove his right cerebral hemisphere. Amazingly, after the five hour operation he tried to speak and went on to regain a large measure of functionality - and even earn a degree - although he did require use of a wheelchair afterwards.

Another radical epilepsy procedure, a corpus collosotomy, leaves the hemispheres intact but severs the connections between them. For decades it was believed that these split-brain patients developed divided consciousness, but more recent research disputes this notion. Researchers found that, despite physically blocking all neuronal communication between the two hemispheres, the brain somehow still maintains a single unified consciousness. How it manages this feat remains a complete mystery. Recent research on how psychedelic drugs affect the brain hints that the brain might have methods other than biochemical agents for internal communication, although as yet we haven't an inkling as to what those might be.

So what's the smallest scrape of brain you need to live? Consider the case of a 44-year-old white collar worker, married with two children and with an IQ of 75. Two weeks after noticing some mild weakness in one leg the man went to see his doctor. The doc ordered a routine MRI scan of the man's cranium, and this is what it showed.

Source: The Lancet

What you are seeing here is a giant empty cavity where most of the patient's brain should be. Fully three quarters of his brain volume is missing, most likely due to a bout of hydrocephalus he experienced when he was six months old.

Artist: Tom Wright

Last Words

Many unusual phenomena have been observed as life draws to an end. We're going to look at two deathbed anomalies that have neurological implications.

The first is terminal lucidity, sometimes called paradoxical lucidity. First studied in 2009, terminal lucidity refers to the spontaneous return of lucid communication in patients who were no longer thought to be medically capable of normal verbal communication due to irreversible neurological deterioration (e.g., Alzheimers, meningitis, Parkinson's, strokes.) Here are three examples:

A 78-year-old woman, left severely disabled and unable to speak by a stroke, spoke coherently for the first time in two years by asking her daughter and caregiver to take her home. She died later that evening.

A 92-year-old woman with advanced Alzheimer’s disease hadn’t recognized her family for years, but the day before her death, she had a pleasantly bright conversation with them, recalling everyone’s name. She was even aware of her own age and where she’d been living all this time.

A young man suffering from AIDS-related dementia and blinded by the disease who regained both his lucidity and apparently his eyesight as well to say farewell to his boyfriend and caregiver the day before his death.

Terminal lucidity has been reported for centuries. A historical review found 83 case reports spanning the past 250 years. It was much more commonly reported in the 19th Century (as a sign that death was near, not as a phenomenon in its own right) before the materialist bias in the medical profession caused a chilling effect during the 20th Century. Only during the past 15 years has any systematic effort been made to study this medical anomaly. As a data point on its possible prevalence a survey of 45 Canadian palliative caregivers found that 33% of them had witnessed at least one case of terminal lucidity within the past year. Other surveys found have that the rate of prevalence is higher if measured over a longer time window than one year, suggesting that, while uncommon, terminal lucidity isn't particularly rare.

Terminal lucidity is difficult to study, in part because of ethical challenges in obtaining consent from neurocompromised individuals, and in part because its recent identification as a research topic presents delineation problems. However, the promise of identifying new neurological pathways in the brains of Alzheimer's and Parkinson's patients has gotten a lot of attention. In 2018 the US National Institute on Aging (NIA) announced two funding opportunites to advance this nascent science.

Due to the newness of this topic there will continue be challenges with the data for some time to come. However, its impact on eyewitnesses is indisputably profound.

Artist: Tom Wright

Near Death Experiences

The second deathbed anomaly we will take a look at are Near-Death Experiences (NDEs.) These are extraordinary and deeply personal psychological experiences that typically (but not always) occur during life-threatening emergencies such as cardiac arrest, falls, automobile accidents, or other traumatic events; they are also occasionally reported during general anesthesia. Much of the research in this area has focused on cardiac arrest cases because these patients are unconscious and have little to no EEG brain wave activity, making it difficult to account for how the brain could sustain the electrical activity needed to perceive and remember the NDE. This makes NDEs an important edge case for consciousness science.

NDEs are surprisingly common. A 2011 study published by the New York Academy of Sciences estimated that over 9 million people in the United States have experienced an NDE. Multiple studies have found that around 17% of cardiac arrest survivors report an NDE.

There is a remarkable consistency across NDE cases, with experiencers typically reporting one or more of the following:

The sensation of floating above their bodies watching resuscitation efforts, sometimes able to recall details of medical procedures and ER/hallway conversations they should not have been aware of;

Heightened sensations, including cases of blind people who report the ability to "see" during the NDE;

Extremely rapid mental processing;

The perception of passing through something like a tunnel;

A hyper-vivid life review, described by many experiencers as "more real than real";

Transcendent visions of an afterlife;

Encounters with deceased loved ones, sometimes including people the experiencer didn’t know were dead; and

Encounters with spiritual entities, sometimes in contradiction to their personal belief systems.

Of particular interest is a type of NDE called a veridical NDE. These are NDEs in which the experiencer describes independently verifiable events occurring during the period when they had minimal or no brain activity and should not have been perceived, let alone remembered, if the brain were the source of phenomenal consciousness. These represent about 48% of all NDE accounts (Greyson 2010). Here are a few first-hand NDE reports.

A 62-year-old aircraft mechanic during a cardiac arrest (from Sabom 1982, pp. 35, 37)

A 23-year-old crash-rescue firefighter in the USAF caught by a powerful explosion from a crashed B-52 (from Greyson 2021, pg. 27-29)

An 18-year-old boy describes what it was like to nearly drown (from the IANDS website)

There are thousands more first person NDE accounts published by the International Association for Near-Death Studies and at the NDE Research Foundation. The reason so many NDE accounts exist is because the experience is so profound that survivors often feel compelled to write as a coping method. Multiple studies have found that NDEs are more often than not life-changing events.

A full discussion of NDEs is beyond the scope of this post. For a good general introduction, I highly recommend After: What Near-Death Experiences Reveal about Life and Beyond by Bruce Greyson, MD (2021).

The Materialist Response

Materialists have offered up a number of psychological and physiological models for NDEs, but none of them fits all the data. These include:

People's overactive imaginations. Sabom (1982) was a skeptical cardiologist who set out to prove this hypothesis by asking cardiac arrest survivors who did not experience NDEs to imagine how the resuscitation process worked, then comparing those accounts with the veridical NDE accounts. He found that the veridical NDE accounts were highly accurate (0% errors), whereas 87% of the imagined resuscitation procedures contained at least one major error. Sabom became convinced that NDEs are real. His findings were replicated by Holden and Joesten (1990) and Sartori (2008) who reviewed veridical NDE accounts in hospital settings (n = 93) and found them to be 92% completely accurate, 6% partially accurate, and 1% completely inaccurate.

NDEs are just hallucinations or seizures. The problem here is that hallucinations and seizures are phenomena with well-defined clinical features that do not match those of NDEs. Hallucinations are not accurate descriptions of verifiable events, but veridical NDEs are. Also, it would be extraordinary to say the least that so many people would be hallucinating in similar ways.

NDEs are the result of electrical activity in the dying brain. The EEGs of experiencers in cardiac arrest show that no well-defined electrical activity was occurring that could have supported the formation or retention of memories during the NDE. These people were unconscious and should not have remembered anything.

NDEs are the product of dream-like or REM activity. Problem: many NDEs occur under general anesthesia, which suppresses dreams and REM activity. So this explanation cannot be correct.

NDEs result from decreased oxygen levels in the brain. Two problems here: 1) The medical effects of oxygen deprivation are well known, and they do not match the clinical presentation of NDEs. 2) The oxygen levels of people in NDEs (e.g., during general anesthesia) has been shown to be the same or greater than people who didn’t experience NDEs.

NDEs are the side effects of medications or chemicals produced in the brain (e.g. ketamine or DMT). The problem here is that people who are given medications in hospital settings tend to report fewer NDEs, not more; and drugs like ketamine have known effects that are not observed in NDEs. The leading advocate for the ketamine model conceded after years of research that ketamine does not produce NDEs (Greyson 2021, pg. 110).

Summing Up

In coming to the end of this series, let's sum up what we discussed.

Consciousness might be wired into the physical universe at fundamental level, as an integral part of quantum mechanics. Certainly several leading figures in physics thought so - Schrodinger, Heisenberg, Von Neumann, David Bohm, and more recently Nobel Laureates Roger Penrose, Eugene Wigner, and physicist Henry Stapp.

Materialist propaganda notwithstanding, neuroscience is no closer to identifying Neural Correlates of Consciousness (NCCs) than it was when it started. The source of consciousness remains one of the greatest mysteries in science.

Meanwhile, medical evidence continues to pile up that there is something deeply amiss with the materialist assumption that consciousness is produced by the brain. In a sense, the challenge that NDEs and Terminal Lucidity pose to consciousness science is analogous to the challenge that Dark Energy poses to physics, in that they suggest that the mind-brain identity model of classic materialist psychology may need to be rethought to adequately explain these phenomena.

Ever since the Greeks, science has sought to explain nature entirely in physical terms, without invoking theism. It has been spectacularly successful - particularly in the physical sciences - but at the cost of excluding consciousness along with the gods (Nagel, 2012). What I have tried to show in this series is that a very credible argument can be made that materialism has the arrow of causality backwards: the brain is not the driver of consciousness, it's the steering wheel.

I don't think we are yet ready to say what consciousness is. Much more research is needed. I'm not making the case for panpsychism, for instance - but I do think consciousness researchers need to throw off the assumption drag of materialism before they're going to make any real progress.

It will be up to you, the scientists of tomorrow, to make those discoveries. That's why I'm posting this to Tumblr rather than an academic journal; young people need to hear what's being discovered, and the opportunities that these discoveries represent for up and coming scientists.

Never has Planck's Principle been more apt: science advances one funeral at a time.

Good luck.

For Further Reading

Barušs, Imants & Mossbridge, Julia (2017). Transcendent Mind: Rethinking the Science of Consciousness. American Psychological Association, Washington DC.

Barušs, Imants (2023). Death as an Altered State of Consciousness: A Scientific Approach. American Psychological Association, Washington DC.

Batthyány, Alexander (2023). Threshold: Terminal Lucidity and the Border of Life and Death. St. Martin's Essentials, New York.

Becker, Carl B. (1993). Paranormal Experience and Survival of Death. State University of New York Press, Albany NY.

Greyson, Bruce (2021). After: A Doctor Explores What Near-Death Experiences Reveal about Life and Beyond. St. Martin's Essentials, New York.

Kelly, Edward F.; Kelly, Emily Williams; Crabtree, Adam; Gauld, Alan; Grosso, Michael; & Greyson, Bruce (2007). Irreducible Mind: Toward a Psychology for the 21st Century. Rowman & Littlefield, New York.

Moody, Raymond (1975). Life After Life. Bantam/Mockingbird, Covington GA.

Moreira-Almeida, Alexander; de Abreu Costa, Marianna; & Coelho, Humberto S. (2022). Science of Life After Death. Springer Briefs in Psychology, Cham Switzerland.

Penfield, Wilder (1975). Mystery of the Mind: A Critical Study of Consciousness and the Human Brain. Princeton Legacy Library, Princeton NJ.

Sabom, Michael (1982). Recollections of Death: A Medical Investigation. Harper and Row Publishers, New York.

van Lommel, Pim (2010). Consciousness Beyond Life: The Science of the Near-Death Experience. HarperCollins, New York.