#no concussion for you miss

[jadenoryuu]

@teacupsandstarlight no.

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.

He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.

Which is saying a lot.

Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.

Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.

The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.

Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding. 

Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.

And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.

The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about  how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.

That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance. 

He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time: 

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice. 

Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.

He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out.  It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.” 

“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”

“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”

Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.

“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him. 

No. “Kinda?”

Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…

Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.

He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.

“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”

Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.

“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”

Well shit.

Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”

“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.

But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.

“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”

Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again. 

They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.

“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”

[ask-ciaphas-cain]

I love videogames because they'll set you up like "you are a master assassin. Few know your name but those who do whisper it out of fear. You are a harbinger of change and an omen of ill fortune" and then you start playing and you immediately fall off of a rooftop and get beaten to death by the Pinkertons

[astralprisms]

hugs for the Emperor

[cantheykillmacbeth]

((I love the people who tag my posts with "The Scottish Play." Like. Macbeth Macbeth Macbeth!!! The play Macbeth!!!! Macbeth by William Shakespeare!!!!! Macbeth (not the character)!!!! Get scared get scared get scared!!!!!!!!! Woe sandbag be upon ye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway happy halloween y'all :) Hope you had a good time tonight))

[tic-loud-tic-proud]

Please do not ask someone what their worst tic is as a conversation starter holy shit

[varpusvaras]

Some nice person asked me if I was okay here when I told in the post notes that I broke my collarbone once and proceeded to ignore until the next day. In my head I was like "that's only one big injury I've ignored it's not that bad!" but now I remembered the fact that I've had two pretty major/noticeable concussions. Ignored both of them. Never went to a doctor. God I'm like a stubborn old man who refuses to go to a doctor.

[mejomonster]

I hate panic attacks

[dark-elf-writes]

Naruto growing out his hair and leaning into the genderqueer thing as he grows up.

Naruto braiding his hair and wearing skirts and crop tops on his days off.

Naruto with sunshine in his hair and a bright smile on his face and all those well earned muscles on display while he runs his errands

Like ten Shinobi have fallen off roofs or ran into things trying to get a better look at him.

[rattkween86]

Hi, sorry I forgot Tumblr existed for a minute, I love you all so so so much, and I've missed you equally. I had a concussion and have now recovered fully. Life is so weird.

My ask box is OPEN FOR SHENANIGANS ❤️‍🔥

[etapereine]

also yatesy comeback this week FINALLY

[celestial-narwhal]

@everlastiingiimmortals asked

Truly, celebrations of all sorts were swiftly becoming the bane of Jing Yuan's existence. The grander ones — such as those celebrating the new year — even more so, as they seemed to demand his presence to the point of mandate. There was little point to it all. As the years went on (that is to say, as more and more people ended up clamoring for him) he found himself escaping the stuffy formalities sooner and sooner.

This time, however, there was something interesting to keep him lingering a while longer.

"I'm surprised to see you here," his voice would rumble from behind Luocha without warning, in a way that indicated — eyeing the heaping of food at the table and the familiar brown hair of a certain Cloud Knight a short distance away — that he was very much not surprised at all. "I imagined my being here would have kept you at bay, dear merchant."

Whatever response Luocha might have had would be drowned out by the countdown, people all around them chanting in a thunderous wave. The general swirled a cup of wine in his hand before downing it in one go, contemplating the flavor with a hum. Then, just as fireworks streaking up from the bow of the Luofu lit up her artificial sky, he took Luocha's chin in one hand, tilted his head up and met his lips with a deep kiss, invisible to all with their eyes transfixed on the light show. Leaving the sweet taste of wine on Luocha's tongue, Jing Yuan pulled away and moved to brush his lips over the merchant's ear.

"Happy new year, dear merchant," he purred, and Luocha would be familiar enough with the ghost of fangs against his ear to know the unseen grin on the general's face.

Unprompted | Always accepting

"If your mere presence was enough to ward my being away, I would have long left this ship, dear General."

He replies, making a pointed effort to not let his breathlessness be known. The merchant's eyes flickered with the flash of fireworks in the distance, and something else. Something otherworldly and ethereal. With the lick of his lips, he chases after the taste of the sweet wine that lingered on his palate, eyes lowly lidded as he impassively looks over at his own forgotten glass of wine grasped elegantly in his hand.

"What now, General? Are you here to detain me again? At least let this poor merchant bask in the life the comes with festivities like this." Luocha laments with a roll of his eyes. It's obvious in his demeanor that Jing Yuan posed not even the slightest threat to him. Swirling his wine contemplatively, he allows the lip drop ever so slightly, splashing red onto the keen-eyed general's chest before him.

"Or- Are you simply looking for an excuse to take your leave from this dull entertainment?"

Cooing his sickly sweet suggestions, he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs gently at the stain, looking all the part of an apologetic guest.

"I find the wine here to be lackluster and cheap. The flavor you offered, is delectable. Would you care to share in a drink with me?"

[void-botanist]

It Blursday!! 🖤💜

WE’RE TAKING THE SQUADDIES TO EISENGARD!

You don’t have to fill all the roles, and they don’t all have to be from the same WIP, but who’s:

the Ring-bearer, entrusted with carrying the One Ring (bonus: funniest instance they use it to nope right out of reality)

the “Sam”, armed with a frying pan and a wizard of potatoes

Sean Bean, who dies in every movie — falls victim to their own hubris

totally crushing on Arwen and has a really cool sword

AND MY AXE

AND MY GLOCK BOW

Merry and Pippin the “package deal”, very concerned about missing second breakfast

the dude with a sick staff and a concerning amount of explosives, may or may not be an actual wizard

— @outpost51

you: You don’t have to fill all the roles, and they don’t all have to be from the same WIP me: personally, I think that is a lie. So I'm sending the AOM crew, which consists of:

Leon & Edith: human & bovan couple somewhere in their 60s or 70s (I haven't adjusted the Old Canon timeline back from when they were hundreds of years old. Either way Leon's hair is completely white). Adorable and weird about each other.

Horatio: L&E's adopted human son, Celia's adoptive brother. Also the florist Declan visits.

Celia: L&E's adopted ferasca daughter. Fat, purple, and down to clown.

Allison: Celia's shifter boyfriend. Six feet tall, hairy as heck, and pretty sure he should have stayed home today.

Sid: Horatio's human best friend. Traumatized (TM) but with a rainbow half-shave.

Sorian: Horatio's biological dad. Skilled magicarpenter and the one who brings snacks but otherwise kind of a sad sack.

Avis: Sid's weird aunt figure and Sorian's estranged wife (bet you can't guess why they're estranged). Abrasive, prickly, and competent.

Which brings us to:

the Ring-bearer: Horatio. Like, no one even argues about this. He is both difficult to corrupt and imbued with a universal sense of duty none of these other chucklefucks could manage. I feel like the Ring trying to tempt him would be like "just give it to someone else. Then you can go home and check on your plants. They're not dead but like what if they're dead you know what I'm saying?" (He left his friend Marcus in charge of the shop. Marcus is a pigment magician and knows how to manage plants but like. what would be worse, not dealing with this ring or his single Pergannom koertens dying?)

the "Sam": this fell into place too easily, lol, because it's definitely Sid, who is canonically a really good cook. And I know the question isn't actually saying that he's armed with a wizard of potatoes but if he was that would be sous chef Sorian.

Sean Bean: probably Celia, though she's not allowed to die. She really thought she was going to be a shoo-in to this combat thing because so many of the people she knows are 40% squishier than her by virtue of not being literal dragons. She also thought there was going to be a good opportunity to use her real weapon, seduction of the enemy. So far she's 0/2.

totally crushing on Arwen and has a really cool sword: Leon. The sword has a name like Dick Turpin too and I'm pretty sure in canon it hangs above his mantlepiece. Edith thinks it's funny that he's so enamored with Arwen. Avis can't help pointing out that "she must be almost your age" [cue Celia snorting in the background].

Axe: Edith. She has a real Millie (Helluva Boss) streak about her and honestly? She loves doing the battle couple thing as long as she doesn't have to gore people with her horns.

Bow: Sorian. In canon I'm not sure he's ever shot a bow in his life (though Edith also doesn't own an axe). But this man has waited thirteen years just to find out if his wife still hates him. He's a fuckin sharpshooter.

the “package deal”: like I said, Allison should have stayed home today. But Celia is going, and he doesn't want her to go to Isengard without him, even though he REALLY doesn't want to go to Isengard. (He also knows deep down that if he let himself lose control a little in his wolf form, he would be a force to be reckoned with.) There are a lot of other potential package deals, not least Horatio and Sid, who are probably more Merry & Pippin-ish, but my favorite runners up are Avis and Sorian, who will not admit under any circumstances that they even could potentially be a package deal, but they totally are.

the dude with a sick staff and a concerning amount of explosives, may or may not be an actual wizard: Avis. Honestly, in canon, she may or may not be an actual witch. She is known to coolly disappear at random times and then turn up later with the most ridiculous magic bombs you've ever seen. Leon is constantly almost touching her staff and she is constantly almost giving him a concussion with it. She also has protested too much that she's here because of the fate of the world or because Sid asked her to and no other reasons.

[ghostjelliess]

Once upon a time… there lived a selfish woman who was loved by a good man. She’d grown up with every desire easily met, but as the kingdom fell on harder times, so did the merchants, lords, and people in the villages as their ornate houses were emptied and the winters grew thinner and colder. 

Through all their misery, the witch next door kept her garden healthy and green, pungent vegetables filling the air during their meager autumn harvests, rotting fruits stinking in the spring as they begged her to throw what she did not eat over the wall, but she refused. The old witch let them starve, and whenever they cried for her help, she turned up her nose and smirked at the sky. To her, all of humanity deserved to suffer for what they had done, for what had been allowed, for their greed and pride and all they had taken from her. They’d stolen all the precious things, then deemed her unfit to marry when she protested the results. She was an undesirable old witch who’d only wanted to be a mother, a caretaker, to keep the sister who could never be replaced. The village had all heard and seen and done nothing! So alone in her cottage, surrounded by her garden, she listened to them starve, and smiled, her bitterness easing with each spiteful season.

After the harshest winter in even the record-keepers’ memory, the disparaged village finally welcomed a full spring bloom. The meadows yawned wide mouths full of grains and roots and herbs, the forests stocked as brimming as the ponds with game, and those who had survived the lean years began to relax and apologize and smile once more. 

But in the small house next door to the witch was that selfish woman, pregnant for the first time, her own family doting on her every need from their gilded house they could no longer afford. And because her husband was a good man, he complied with her every demand as she carried the baby they’d wanted for years. He jumped up to get water, scrounged a way to make her juices, and slow-cooked meats over an open fire. But because he was a good man, he refused to scale the witch’s wall and take what wasn’t theirs. They fought every day as the spring air wafted over the witch’s peppery arugula and into their window. The woman cried and kicked and screamed over her endless craving for fresh greens, but still, the man refused to trespass. 

Worried about their child, the man gathered all his courage and asked the witch for spare greens, but she slammed the door in his face. He tried to grow his own, but the rabbits always found them first. Then finally, after weeks of sobbing, the full moon peeked out after a long day of rain had driven everyone inside, and the man climbed the wall, returning with a sparse handful of fresh arugula, hoping to cure his wife’s new obsession. 

Tasting the witch’s greens, however, only made her worse. The soon-to-be mother followed her husband all day long, kicking and hitting and demanding more, so that each night, exhausted by her nagging tears, he conceded, clamoring over the wall and returning in a nervous sweat with more and more arugula greens. 

Until the witch caught him. 

Read now on Ghostjellies.com

[grhmwtts]

the well of unwellness

i am unwell

just throwing this out there to be like “ok heard!”

no need for concern, truly

my head is pounding and heart is racing in stillness, in darkness

i know these moments will pass but the suffering feels really intense

i am crying over people i hardly know, leaving me

crying for their leaving because i feel so distant from self

some dark alleyway

a platform like 9 3/4

hidden from the world bustling about

do you see me, friend? do you know how i struggle?

i am thankful to be alone in these moments

certain that death either will become me

or fresh, beauteous life will crest from this pain

i am on day six of a concussion

day one of a low grade fever

day … week… month something of fending off a mental breakdown—psychosis washes over me in moments of sleeplessness

i scream at the world and my mouth tears at its corners

rows of teeth, foaming at the mouth, chomping the air

i have broken glass, chipped teeth, destroyed prized possessions

i have punched brick and tasted the blood of my knuckles

i still don those wounds from episodes past

i can feel within myself

somewhere deep within

i no longer crave this destruction

no longer crave this obliteration of self

but i am stuck deep

deep deep deep

in this pit of darkness

this well of unwellness

and i am alone in it

i am alone

and i am it

the concussion, the fever, the psychosis

preying on me

each empowered by the other’s weakening of my self

my mind, my body, my soul

i turn over in bed

repeatedly

i writhe in sweat and the layers of clothes

enclosing me in this torture

i am enraptured

entrenched in the fight of my life

each

and every

time

certainly this will pass

this will pass

this too shall pass

…this will pass

this will pass

this

too

shall

pass

[macaroni-0verlord]

someone save me from my unending pile of schoolwork