See the Possible by thepouncer - John Sheppard, gen, in five senses. I cannot recommend this highly enough; each piece is self-contained, beautiful, and *sharp*. God, I love gen in this fandom.
Second and less interesting: dental appointment.
I'm lazy, so I'll just paste what I wrote to svmadelyn when I got home.
Besides the fact i was so tense I was preetty much touching the chair only with my shoulders and my heels? Pretty good. I was fond of the part with the warnings involved of all the things that could go wrong, including breaching my nasal passage.
No, really. I wanted to hear that. I did.
Actually, it was just weird. I was numbed down--and I tested the area with my fingernails a lot prior to him coming in--but he kept trying to *explain* and I'm like, no, please do not. So he settled on warnings--you will feel pressure, an epic understatement that cannot be enough debunked--and the drill was an experience I do not ever wish to repeat, but sadly, it was repeated twice, and he's like, presure, which is layman's term for, this will feel liek we are trying to dip into your brain and pull out things. It did not hurt? But it was also far less pleasant than sleeping, eating,or biting my fingernails. Lessee--there were unnatural grating sounds, and scraping sounds, and you know, terror, but got out fairly fast. Am now gauzed and thinking I wish he hadnt' told me he had to *cut it out*. Because I really could have lived without that.
So, no talking while I bite down. So far? Big fun.
Adding to that: everything tastes like blood. No, really. I mean, serious copper taste. At this point, it's got to be my imagination, but well. Let me just say--this proves I'd starve to death as a vampire, cause this shit gets old awful fast. Also, I really can't get over hte stitches. The ends are just long enough to be *just short* of my gag reflex, so I don't gag, but I keep getting the strange feeling I should. I--yeah. It's weird.
Third and least intersting of all: wrote fic. After a month long dry spell or so, last night I had a--thought. The thought grew into an idea. For the three hours before my appointment--and you'll note if you read here a while, blind panic and me writing are kind of close--I pretty much did not get up from my bed and for about two hours after. So now I am staring at it after sending it off for pre-reading to wonder if it makes sense.
I am having One of Those Days. I'm not sure how I feel yet. I kind of miss my tooth. In that way you miss horrifying things that cause you pain but you get used to. Like, I don't know, sisters. Or July in Texas during a drought.
I'm looking at my John icon for comfort.