brain strain


A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been a hot minute. Hopefully this new series makes up for everything J I haven’t written hybrid!au stuff before, but I find it really hot so why the fuck not right?

There will be smut in later chapters!

If you’re not into that kind of stuff, then I wouldn’t read this story.

Based sorta on this J-Drama called Kimi Wa Petto, if you wanna check it out its super cute.

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Team Free Will + Owner of a Lonely Heart

version 1.0: Sammy

anonymous asked:

When the brain bleeds, could the blood come out of the person's nose/eyes/ears? Or would the blood only be from burst vessels in the nose/eyes/ears? I'm thinking along the lines of "superpowered character uses their power too much and starts bleeding", which I'm not sure if it breaks your rule of reality (I guess the other question would be Can the brain bleed from overuse/strain?). Thank you so much! The blog has been very helpful :)

Hey there nonny! 

Brain bleeds are an interesting topic for me. I’m going to say up front that “superhero” abilities indeed fall under the Rule of Reality: 

However, we’re talking generally about brains bleeding and where that blood goes, which is absolutely a thing that happens. 

The brain is a lump of neurons wired up all crazy. It’s basically a gray-ish Jell-o. 

That Jell-o sits inside a multi-layered sack, called the meninges. The meningers are a set of three tough, fibrous layers that protect the brain and anchor it to the skull. Observe: 

[Courtesy of WikeMedia Commons

The brain is fed by circulating something called cerebrospinal fluid, or CSF. 

Bleeding can occur in a few places, and where it is determines the kind of bleed. So for example, a subdural hemorrhage is bleeding that occurs underneath the dura mater, the outermost layer of the meninges; an epidural hemorrhage is bleeding between the dura and the skull, and is usually from a tear in the middle meningeal artery, while a subarachnoid hemorrhage is between the arachnoid and pia maters. 

(If you need to remember this for any reason, remember that the brain needs some PADding – the Pia, Arachnoid, and Dura maters are in that order.) 

Now. You asked if blood drains from the mouth, nose, or ears when the brain bleeds. The answer is no, with one noted exception. 

There’s a particular type of skull fractures called a LaForte fracture, in which the facial bones – and the maxilla, the bone that essentially forms the shelf under your eyes and over your hard palate – is fractured. In some types of LaForte fractures, you can see bleeding from the nose or ears. This bleeding will have what’s called a positive halo test: a piece of gauze touched to the blood will show the blood, but also a “halo” of clear CSF around the blood. 

However, without a LaForte fracture, the blood buildup in the skull has nowhere to go, and it starts to squish the brain. (LaForte fractures only occur in significant head trauma, so it’s not exactly a happy finding.) 

The most common “spontaneous” head bleed – that is, non-trauma-related  – is a subarachnoid hemorrhage, and it’s typically due to an aneurysm or an arteriovenous malformation. Blood pressure rises due to stress or exertion, the blood vessel bursts, and there’s bleeding in the skull. Ruh roh! 

….No, seriously, this is a Bad Day. AVM ruptures are often lethal. What happens is that the brain essentially gets squished by all the blood building up in the skull, a process called herniation. When that happens, the character can have severe neurological symptoms and permanent brain damage. Up to 70% of those with subarachnoid hemorrhage die from it. 

In short: you don’t want your character’s actual physical brain to be doing any bleeding. 

In movies and TV, bleeding from the nose is used as a metaphor for psychic strain: 

[Courtesy of

Nosebleeds like this come from ruptured capillaries inside the nares, not directly from the brain. However, they’re often also related to stress, exertion, and hypertension. 

Perhaps it’s sentimental of me, but this trope doesn’t actually bother me that much. Maybe it’s that the cause – superpowers – are actually having a negative effect, even if that effect is purely visual. 

What would be more believable to me would be that the character faints after using their powers, or becomes exhausted and dizzy and tired for a few hours after the fact and needs some form of rehydration and sugar in order to keep going. 

Anyway, that’s what’s up with nosebleeds, brain bleeds, and Eleven from Stranger Things! Hope this helped you out. 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty


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What Is Limonene and What Are the Benefits of This Cannabis Terpene? | Leafly
Ever wonder what gives strains like Super Lemon Haze and Tangie a sweet citrus aroma? That’s limonene, an aromatic cannabis terpene produced in the flower’s resin glands.

Have you ever wondered what gives strain like Super Lemon Haze, Chernobyl, andTangie a sweet citrus aroma? That’s limonene, an aromatic cannabis terpene produced in the flower’s resin glands as well as in many everyday items like fruit rinds, cosmetics, and cleaning products. Terpenes are fragrant oils secreted alongsidecannabinoids like THC and CBD, and these terpenes not only dictate the smell of marijuana, they can also modify its effects. Some strains tend to express higher levels of the limonene terpene, and oftentimes it’s the sour lemon scent that gives it away. But what’s so special about it?

Limonene’s Effects and Benefits

Limonene has a history in medicine, so it should come as no surprise that the limonene found in cannabis offers therapeutic benefits as well. Some of these studied effects include:

  • Elevated mood
  • Stress relief
  • Antifungal properties
  • Antibacterial properties
  • May help relieve heartburn and gastric reflux
  • Improves absorption of other terpenes and chemicals by way of the skin, mucous membranes, and digestive tract

High Limonene Cannabis Strains

Whereas THC levels typically makes up 10 to 20 percent of a flower’s biomass, limonene occurs in more trace amounts – generally from none at all to 1 to 2 percent. Some strains exhibit higher levels of limonene than others, and these levels can vary widely across harvests depending on the growing and curing process. In other words, one grower’s Jack Herer may test for high levels of limonene while another’s demonstrates a disappointing lack thereof. The only way to know for sure is throughlab-tested batches. If your choices are not tested, you can always try following your nose or search our database for citrus-flavored strains.

The presence of limonene is present in both name and aroma with Super Lemon Haze, a sativa strain known for its ability to lift the spirit alongside a sweet lemon flavor.

The limonene in Durban Poison, a high-energy sativa, isn’t immediately apparent in its subtle sweet and earthy aroma, but you’ll feel its uplifting, stress-relieving effects nonetheless.

You know how OG strains tend to have that lemony pine aroma? That’s limonene, and it can also be detected in SFV OG’s blissful, stress-crushing sensations.

Jack Herer is a fan favorite for a reason: not only does it typically boast high levels of limonene, Jack offers a palette of other terpenes like pinene and myrcene, which promote alertness and relaxation respectively

Limonene appears most often in sativa strains, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t indica strains with a high limonene potential. Berry White exemplifies this with a limonene content that can be felt in its happy, stress-less effects.

Then Again: P1 Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfiction piece I’ve ever posted, so I’m learning how this all works as I go. I’ll probably post this on AO3 sometime soon, but because I’ll need to make an account, etc, it might be a little while before it’s available there.

Additionally, please review! 

I’m excited (and extremely nervous) to put my writing out there for the first time, so any comments, questions, or advice are absolutely welcome! 

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Then Again, Part 1:

(Word count: 1,358)

Living in New York City rarely feels as glamorous as the movies and aesthetic blogs make it seem. Most days, that lively hustle and bustle of our beautiful, always dreaming city reminds me of a horde of flies conducting emergency drills underwater. Especially on foggy days. And muggy days. And Mondays, Tuesdays, occasionally Wednesdays. However, the almost-weekend to weekend days that sprinkle in refreshing breezes alongside bright sunshine - those days pull you up by the back of your collar and shove optimism down your shirt like it’s a cool, wet towel. The city tingles from the ground up.

Today is one of those good days.

Ironically, I woke up exhausted. I nearly spilled my breakfast in my lap (but didn’t, thanks to Peter) and I walked with my three best friends to school through fields of exhaust fumes half-awake. Once there, however, it all seemed to turn around. The classes I attended went wonderfully and the classes I didn’t attend, I’ll assume went just as well. I skipped half of them for the first time in my life.

Besides occasional “homework sharing,” I rarely break rules, it’s just that Ned and Michelle can be extremely persuasive… not that I needed much persuasion today. The suggestion was enough. I’ve been so giddy this week that I embraced the tiny taste of teenage rebellion with open arms. (“Tiny” seems like an appropriate description: all we did was hide out in random parts of the school watching Vines, playing minor pranks in the hallways during breaks, and stealing food from Peter’s stash of locker snacks as payback for his refusal to join us.)

Today has been a great day, and outside of Peter acting a bit strange, it’s been a good week overall. It’s just so easy to be happy with everything going on. Tonight: special dinner with our friends. Tomorrow: Midtown’s academic decathlon team heads to Washington, D.C. Shortly after, my friends and I will attend homecoming, go on summer break, and enter our senior year of high school. My anticipation for this trip, the dance, the summer, and our eventual graduation bubbles up inside my stomach anytime the conversation between me and two of my best friends takes a short dip as we walk back from school.

Despite all of the upcoming things I have to think about, this walk is making my thoughts drift back to the one topic I’ve been trying most to avoid. Why wouldn’t Peter sneak out of class? He isn’t always such a rule follower anymore. And then why leave seventh hour when we all have class together? Is it just a today thing? He’s seemed… off all week.

I needed to stop thinking about him. Wondering why he’s been strangely reserved or else imagining the previous seven hours with him more present in their events is not going to help me keep our friendship normal. Just think about something else. Anything else. Even someone else.

“Should we invite Flash?” I ask. I ask this partly because it’s a question nobody has brought up yet, and partly because the conversation has certainly dipped and my brain wants to sprint away from my control. I even thought I saw Spidey a minute ago. By now he’s on the other side of Queens. Think of something else.

We stop on the sidewalk, traffic rushing in front of us, countless buzzing people behind everywhere else.

Ned and Michelle turn to me with matching expressions.

“And why would we do that?” Ned asks.

“Because every-”

“Oh, shit.” Michelle groans. “Because everyone else, bar Mr. Harrington, is going. The entire team except Flash. For being so smart, we’re all a bunch of fucking idiots.”

“Technically we don’t have to do anything,” Ned says, obviously resistant to the idea. “It isn’t an official team dinner or whatever. We can’t get in trouble for it.”

“Still, as captain, I can’t organize a social gathering with everyone but Flash and pretend it isn’t a shitty thing to do. God damn it.”

The walk signal turns white as Michelle starts a text to Flash. Peter’s apartment is only a few blocks away.

Once we reach the door, Ned knocks. We all know Peter and May won’t be in, but Ned has a habit of politeness that even that few things can shake. After a couple seconds, he unlocks it himself with one of the five total keys to the apartment. (Strictly speaking, May isn’t supposed to have had three extra copies made, but she wouldn’t be May if she paid mind to that rule.)

“So,” Michelle says, heaving her bookbag into a chair. “Music and clean, then Netflix and chill?”

The three of us look around at the destruction our last night of studying brought the apartment. Snacks and dishes are strewn in odd places and our fallen pillow fort is a ruin. A sticky 5 Hour Energy must have splashed on the carpet at some point, given the pink stain to the right of the couch. Coating most of the colossal mess are countless pieces of scribbled-on paper.

Ned and I nod in agreement.

Michelle’s speaker beeps awake and we set to work.

As I gather garbage, I let the music fill up my skull. I imagine confetti raining down inside of it, each piece sparkling with tiny letters that read: It’s just one of those good days.

The only thing that could make this day better would be the presence of Peter and May Parker. But then again, Peter ducked out of last hour, I suppose to get a head start on his “internship” (he’s never done that before though, so the irony of his skipping part of Psych and not any other classes did not slide by unnoticed by Michelle or Ned either) and May has… a job, a hobby? I really don’t know. Wherever they are and whatever they’re doing, I can’t help wishing they were home.

May returns around 5 p.m. As usual, she is unsurprised to find us watching Netflix. Over the last couple weeks, we took study breaks by picking out a lighthearted show and making questions from an episode. Today is an exclusively no-studying day, but we can’t help continuing the mini-tradition while we marathon Friends.

“Ah, the Studying-Not-Studying game.”

May walks over smiling, her arms crossed.

“It’s a vital healing process for our near-fatally strained brains,” I joke.

A phone buzzes.

“Wait, Miss MJ! You can’t answer that text until you answer my question for this episode. Were they,” May says, “or were they not,” she pauses, “on a break?”

“Oh god, no,” I plead. “Please, please, don’t start this again! Ned and MJ argued about this for twenty minutes before you got here!”

“Okay, but Rachel did say-” Ned begins.

“Oh my god, Ned! We talked about this!”

Michelle begins explaining with her hands and May grins, walking into the kitchen. Feinting defeat, I put my head in my hands and sink into the couch cushion. Slumped, I take out my own phone. Nothing.

I text Peter.

“Still good for 7:30?”

Whoosh. And now the waiting game begins. Actually, it began at 3:00 p.m. when I sent the first of a dozen messages. But none of them were questions, so an answer wasn’t necessary.

“Hey MJ,” I say. “What was that text you got?”

Michelle and Ned halt, hands frozen in expressionistic flight.

“Let’s see.” She flips her phone over. “It’s from Flash.”

Ned clasps his hands together.

“Dear merciful God,” he prays. “Please, please, let MJ read us a rejection text from Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy.”

We made up that nickname today while cutting fourth hour. Not quite eloquent, but to the point. Plus, it’s almost impossible to say seven times fast. (We made a game of trying.)

Michelle types a quick response and takes a breath, placing her hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“Prepare yourself for something dreadful, Ned.” She hangs her head. “Eugene ‘Flash’ Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy is… ‘super doped out’ to accept our invitation.”

“God damn it.”

“Kids!” May calls from the kitchen. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to watch your language?”

Part 2

A/N: The content above is only 3 pages of a current 44 pages. If there are any mistakes in it, I apologize. Tonight was my self-set deadline and I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I would have preferred. (Betas welcome!)

I’m hoping to update again around Saturday, 

but because my weekend is so busy, I’m can’t promise anything. Still, I am planning to update weekly!

Again, please let me know what you think – I’d love to hear from you!

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How Could You Love Me

The next chapter of the Everyone Needs Some Love series that I hijacked from @justwritingscibbles

Originally posted by treblegirl

You looked around the room, trying to understand what was happening. Four men and one floating head with a pink moustache were in the room with you, all with the same face, and you were wearing nothing but a towel under your blanket.
Honestly, the situation looked like the beginning of one those movies children weren’t allowed to watch.

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Sober - Part 1/2 - Nessian fic

Summary: In which Nesta and Cassian get into drinking contests.

AO3 : Inspired by this prompt (”everything is fuck”)


Nesta threw open the curtains of the bedroom and was rewarded with a grunt from Cassian. After securing the heavy fabric, she turned to the bed.

“Cassian,” she said, a reminder that the curtains hadn’t opened themselves, and that he had responsibilities to attend to.

A muffled sound came from the pillow. Sheets were wrapped around his hips low enough so that Nesta said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t move too much. And another simultaneous prayer that he would.

“What was that noise?” she asked.

Cassian lifted his head. “Everything is fuck.” He threw his face back down dramatically, gripping the pillow as if it would save him from the way the sunlight invaded his senses, or perhaps it might serve as an anchor in a room that wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Everything is most certainly not ‘fuck’,” she answered. “The weather is perfect for training, which is where you should be right now. Stop lazing about and setting a bad example.”

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Patater Week Day 6 - Cuddling/Snuggling (Part 1/?)

This is a little piece of what could be a rookie au, where Alexei first gets drafted to the Aces the same year as Kent. Again, it’s not finished, because I suck and have no time.

Alexei first met Kent on a sunny day in the end of August. The Vegas sun was beating down on him and he could feel himself start to sweat. Russians weren’t meant for the desert.


He was sweating through his button up and his new jersey, and really hoped sweat stains weren’t showing up under his arms. Did the media even care what he was wearing to this press conference? No. They just wanted to see him pull on his team colors.

“Alexei,” the GM, Bill, said, getting his attention. He gestured at a young man who had just come up beside them, and said something in English. Kolya, who had come along to translate because he was the only one on the fucking team that he could understand, said, “This is Kent Parson.”

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princessnightwing  asked:

20 with Dick and Tim being all brotherly? :D

Tim closed his eyes against the glare of the computer with a tired exhale, drawn out, strained, his brain finally losing its focus after a full five hours of running over code as he checked and updated the Batcave’s security system. He took a moment to stretch and glance around the dark cave, ensuring that, yes, he was still quite alone. The last person to come down here had been Alfred with tea and sandwiches, and to inform him that the butler would be “adhering to normal sleep cycles” and, if he wanted any pancakes in the morning, Master Timothy should do the same. 

Good ol’ Alfie.

Needing to take a break, but not wanting to be left alone with his ever-active mind, nor the intrusive thoughts that seemed to perpetually bombard it in the silence, he grabbed his noise-cancelling earphones and flicked through playlists distractedly until he got to one he wanted. As the first song began, gradually building up in both volume and tempo, Tim latched onto the pounding drum, the bass-line and the shouting voices of his favourite Japanese rock band. 

He leaned back in the chair and began to drift away into those voices. Voices that always seemed to express the emotions and rage he never had been able to vocalise. Voices that mirrored his pain and frustrations and qualms against the world so perfectly, crying out in response to everything that was wrong with society and his life… everything that was wrong with him. 

Tim’s heart skipped a beat as a hand suddenly ran through his hair, mussing it up. He yanked out his earphones and turned around to find Nightwing standing behind him, hands raised apologetically. He laughed, his voice light and unconcerned, as Tim swore beneath his breath.  

“Sorry! Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you… but I did say your name at least three times.” He nodded at the earphones. “You’re gonna go deaf before you’re thirty listening to music that loud, Tim.”

“Yeah. If I live till I’m thirty,” Tim muttered sarcastically. He had the decency to feel at least somewhat ashamed when Dick threw him a disapproving look. “Sorry. Tasteless joke. I’m just really tired…”

Dick raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips. “And water is wet. C’mon, Tim. Go to sleep. Don’t make me mother you.”

Tim’s chest grew tight and he turned away before he said something stupid. Before Dick began breaking through the layers of sarcasm and pulling out truths. But now his mind was running over Dick’s warning and considering what the correlation was between having an absent mother who died when he was young, and the fact that he struggled to look after his own wellbeing. Or rather, didn’t think about it.

Dick knew him too well. He knew that look in Tim’s eyes… when his pupils were dilated and unfocussed not just from the lack of sleep. He knew that look meant that the quietness would come. He didn’t know exactly what was happening during the quietness, and he didn’t ask. 

He knew enough.

Tim felt himself being pulled up out of the chair and directed towards one of the beds in the med wing. He didn’t fight as Dick made him sit down on it, took his shoes off and coaxed Tim under the covers, tucking them carefully around his body. Only when he was laying in the silence did Tim’s anxiety spike, the need to return to work to occupy his brain with something immediate to fend off the mental attacks building up like a surging wave inside of him. 

“Dick… I need to go back to work,” ,he said tentatively, surprised at how distant and far away his own voice sounded. He tried to decide if it was because he was just that tired, or if he was actually dissociating. Sometimes, it was hard to know for sure. 

“You need to go sleep,” his brother responded cooly. “Work can wait till tomorrow. It’s okay to shut down for a bit.”

“I’m not a computer,” Tim retorted, his words slurring as heavy lids opened and closed in slow motion. 

Dick brushed the hair out of Tim’s eyes and shushed him, his voice calm but firm even as he smiled down at his brother. He placed an affectionate kiss on the top of Tim’s head, hand lingering on his shoulder before he stood and walked over to the control panel, shutting off most of the major lights in the cave.

“Goodnight, Tim,” he heard Dick say quietly.

He grew anxious as Dick’s footsteps faded, echoing against the damp stone. Tim opened his eyes and stared up into the dim, dwindling light of the cave, holding his breath, bracing himself to take a stand against the quietness that began to leech away any hope of sleep for the night that Dick had encouraged, that the comfort of the soft pillow and warm covers had offered him.

Then, in the silence of the cave, he caught the faint tapping of computer keys and a voice whisper-singing “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

Tim smiled, closing his eyes once again and finally giving in to the sleep he knew his body desperately needed. He followed along with the lyrics in his mind, line-by-line, heartbeat and breathing keeping the rhythm till Dick’s voice slow-faded out.