#had my wisdom teeth stolen

[ghastbutlikegay]

Ngl dudes the worst thing about recovery from my tooth theft is that i can’t do bite/chew stim without discomfort

[objectbiologist]

hello object biologist i am in need of your wisdom.

i have a little camping stove. they are a sweet boy but i think they have trouble making friends with some of the other objects we live with. I find them off on their own a lot. he seems happy just watching everyone or playing on their own, but i am nervous about him being alone for too long.

what advice do you have for object socialization? Would socialization do them good?

i would like my friend to be happy

hm....i don't know too much about appliances, but i can say that they are fairly solitary. they are ambivalent to whether they have company or not, and prefer smaller objects as ones that are their size or larger makes them feel threatened and can cause aggressive behavior. being a stove, they would pair best with other fire-based objects (and of course, the less flammable the better.)

[goldieclaws]

Not me wanting to write another (short) story not just so I can expand on the lore of one of my worlds but also so I can have another story on my Amazon bookshelf.

[titanic-angel]

мιgυel o'нara х ғ!reader

⁎︎✴︎ adronιтιѕ 1 ✴︎⁎︎

ѕynopѕιѕ ➪︎ мιgυel o'нara нaѕ a ѕтrange, claѕѕιғιed reqυeѕт oғ yoυ. нιм, and нιѕ dιgιтal aѕѕιѕтanт, lyla.

warnιngѕ ➪︎ swearing

noтeѕ ➪︎ enιмιeѕ тo coworĸerѕ тo ғrιendѕ тo loverѕ ѕlowвυrn ! ongoιng, υpdaтeѕ вeтween every ғew day

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She chose you because of your name.

Lyla was a program, a buzzing core of digits and code, analytics her only language. It was unlike her to go by her heart, because she didn’t have one.

But she wanted one.

The heat of skin, eyes that could look, really look, at someone. The softened hair under her finger tips- printed with a map of grooves and lines that separated her from every other. She wanted the individuality that a human body could give, and that her pixels would never achieve.

Miguel made the mistake of giving Lyla a mind of her own, because now she wanted a body to match.

After pulling a difficult, relentless, and borderline maddening attitude for years, he finally gave into her wishes, under a condition.

Only one engineer.

The creation she asked for, the mockery of humanity, could take forever, even with her limitless knowledge and Miguel’s high tech and steady hands. But despite this, Miguel refused her a team of engineers to conjure a body that would make history. In order to prevent an overlap of his secrets and the real world, Lyla was to choose only one individual who could make her a body, and keep a secret.

An individual, who, had a lovely name.

You’re transcripts were impressive enough, but not recognized; so that when you were to be snuffed, stolen under fluorescent yellow lights, the only memory left would be that of a keycard scanner.

Its ironic, that a senseless A.I made her decision off feeling. But she saw youth in your eyes, a harsh comparison the age and wisdom that spoke in purples under your lashes. It was overwhelming, the amount of life you had ahead of you, a mortality characterized by the dismal way it said goodbye. But Lyla craved it, a madwoman of science and self.

A collection of illusions that was foolish enough to believe it could be anything, something, else.

Hope is a drug.

So, addicted, she said, “her.”

Miguel would pause, eyes roaming the expanse of your face, the smile in your eyes, the taint on your teeth, your tongue, the crevices of you jaw. His clicked, eyes doubtful.

But Lyla’s were resolute.

“I want her.”

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Vague.

It was a font that thrived in obfuscated shadows. It was limitless in its unknown, clouded by things that should’ve been said, or instructions never specified.

Your pathetic heart clung to every word that stuck itself to an stark white screen, palpitations thrumming against your tonsils.

Staring back at you, an email from Miguel O’Hara, that read simply, vaguely, Meet at my office at 4:00 PM.

Your distaste for the font had now only grown.

It was impossible to work at Alchemax and not to hear his name praised at least once. Interns, employees from every felid, article after article were relentless in their awe of the man’s work.

But you weren’t stupid.

You were an observer. You knew at least fifty people who would claw him apart, sell their soul to the underworld, sacrifice an eye and ear to sit where he does, most of whom are just as qualified for the position.

That doesn’t exclude you.

It was something you despised about the company, it’s big gestures of gratitude to those with a name- only to turn with a gloved hand to feed the hogs, the greasy and bloodied heart of the operation, messily scraps.

But much like a farm animal, you were trapped in by a pen of promise and chance.

You were a pig with her farmer, believing even under the cleaver that she would see the bigger field on the other side of the fence. That gamble for praise, a trophy and a house to put it in.

But Miguel wasn’t just a pig.

He was the show hog. Big blue bows, pretty golden plaques and a pillow to sleep on.

But at the end of the day, he was fed the same slop, just in a different trough.

Even so, he had it all. He had everything you didn’t.

Well, everything but email etiquette.

So you, frantic in the newness, clung to your bag, heavy with uncertainty. You brought everything you needed- or didn’t. Papers from 2 weeks ago, two years ago, updates and criticisms, research and theories. It all felt so, infuriatingly, unsteady.

You despised your leniency, your willingness to play along. But you blamed Miguel even more. It was embarrassing for you, to run down flights of stairs on a whim. Foolishly you ask yourself who does he think he is, despite knowing the answer.

Given, you had never met the man. He was similar to the newness of the space, a gap, a tear in the pages of Alchemax’s directory, the hazy profile in your inbox a mere pixel of his program. But you could already smell his dismissiveness, his arrogance.

You of course, could’ve made the executive decision, having a mind of your own, to ignore the email (if not out of spite, out of fear).

But maybe the whispers of his name intrigued you. Maybe, you had read the articles written about him offhandedly, jealous, but impressed. Maybe, shamefully, your curiosity was strong than your own resolve, willing to bend and mold into the shape of those 6 words and a time because you wanted to know the why.

His demand, written with so little grace or gratitude, had been met, when your labored breath fanned across the white doors.

You knocked, because you had manners.

When the white door opened, you came to the realization that nothing, not even a high resolution photo, could do his presence justice.

His head nearly touched the door, soft tufts of brown hair falling wildly, exhaustedly, over his ears. High cheekbones at a sharp angle, hollowing out his cheeks in a faint shadowed line. A mouth that looked gentle, despite its creased frown. The valley of his skin was rough and uneven, granular creases of age digging into the space under his nose, his mouth, his eyes.

They were a deep brown; almost red under the overhead lights, wandering above your head, before looking at you with an intensity that made your swallow hard.

The lab coat and dress shirt were flattering around his shoulders, the cotton molding to his massive gate like elastic. They stiffened at the sight of you, breath heavy and pink cheeked, before he released a sharp sigh when his gaze moved to the clock above your head.

4:02

“You’re late.” That wasn’t a lie.

“You we’re vague.” But that wasn’t either.

“I said my office” he said, stepping to the side, gesturing you to walk in (or, to his office to prove his point, either one made your teeth grit).

You followed his arm in. On his wrist, a patch of discoloration- the bruise yellow in contrast to warm brown.

Strange.

You’re eyes began to make sense of your surroundings. White walls, sparse pictures, a desk, two chairs, two computers, stray wires and scraps.

It was similar to a doctors office- suffocating, boring, unsettling.

“You didn’t say why,” you glanced at one of the only framed papers on the wall, a certificate declaring him as the head of research regarding anti-matter.

You hated to admit it, but his name looked good on paper.

“Miguel.”

You heard his tongue click before he sat down at his desk behind you. “Mr. O’Hara is fine.”

You laughed, turning to him with a sneer. “You’re clinically insane if you think I’m going to refer to you by Mr.”

He motioned for the seat in front of him. You stayed where you were. He narrowed his eyes, “it’s proper etiquette.”

You laughed again. For his arrogance, he was funny. “Don’t talk to me about etiquette. You still haven’t debriefed why I walked a marathon to get to your office.”

We’re you being a little harsh? Absolutely. But people like him, demanding, flippant, who liked to play boss; they used employees (who were just as if not more talented than they were) as their pawns. Employees like you.

You has no issue with the label bitter. It accurately describes your attitude towards most of the head-of’s at Alchemax.

Truthfully, the rise and fall of his shoulders and his rugged edges made you nervous.

But you weren’t a piece of meat in his teeth.

You refused to be the shaking fawn. But you knew you’d never be the wolf sitting across from you.

So you became the hunter willing to shoot both.

He sighed, a harsh sound that vibrated your ribs. “Please just…sit down.”

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

He rubbed his temples, muttering incoherent Spanish under his breath. “Why must you be so difficult?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then you felt the air spark.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, fingernails digging into your palms, threatening blood. It was paralyzing, the sudden scent of bleach being replaced by, if it counted, the smell of yellow.

“You’re no fun Miguel, that’s why. She is, though.”

In your paralysis, you found the strength (or bravery) to move you head to your left, eyes fuzzy but alert, in an attempt to place a face to the yellow.

When you did, she was grinning.

You stifled a scream, lodged in your throat, scraping at your tongue, heavy. She giggled, turning upside down.

“Hello there.”

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

“This is my digital assistant, Lyla,” he sighed, “she likes to make an entrance.”

She blinked.

“Holy fuck.” You whispered.

You had finally (reluctantly) took a seat per earlier request, thighs pressed together and, by anxious habit, picking your stray thumb skin. It was loose off your nail, flimsy under your subconscious fidget.

Currently, it was one of the only forms of control you had over the situation. You couldn’t really process if it should feel comforting, or unsettling.

Miguel’s stale gaze made that decision for you.

You cleared your throat.

“Did you make…her?” Now you just felt stupid. The look they both gave you didn’t help.

“Short answer…yes. I made her. But she-“

“I eventually just started updating myself until I became the gorgeous, stunning lady before you!” She said, grinning at you brightly, expectantly. You nodded, cautious.

“I see. So,” you turned to Miguel, “i think if you’re experiencing issues with…” you paused, looking at the hologram. She glitched, and smiled, “Lyla.”

You nodded, again. “Right, Lyla. I won’t be of much help. I’m an engineer, not an A.I expert, so if you need assistance-“

“But you can help!” Lyla flashed in front of you and, startled, your ripped the skin tag clean off.

Ow.

She stood (floated) on the table in front of you. Suddenly, yellow and orange squares appeared around you, and once the glaze of obscurity was blinked away, you realized they were your files.

Your photo, the research in your bag, and the ones you left at your desk. Hell, as you looked closer you noticed school records, family photos and their records.

It all stared back at you, a clarity that made you feel nauseous.

“Listen, kid,” she paused, her glitching body coming to your nose, finally making your vision break from the screens, “I don’t like being in this form anymore than you do. My beautiful mind deserves more than,” she motioned to herself, “this.”

Your mouth felt dry. If you knew where this was going-

“Two years ago,” a small square came to the center, “you worked on a robot. But not just some science fair, miniature, boring robot.”

Her eyes shimmered, brighter than the rest of her body.

“A robot that looked human.”

She scrolled through the article, the one that on release had made you cringe, “given, it was unsuccessful, but it’s detailing, it’s functions, they felt-”

She turned to you, and suddenly all your life disappeared from around your chair, leaving you in the dim light with Lyla’s silhouette.

She glitched, and for a moment you saw the humanity in her yellow. Somewhere, deep within the pixels, she was-.

“Real. I want to be real. And you’re going to help me.”

You paused. “I am?”

She laughed. “Well I hope so!” She threw her arms out, gesturing at the, now gone, files, “you could redeem yourself!”

You’re nose wrinkled. “I don’t need to redeem anything. My work-“

“Was a failure,” you winced, “that article still stains your reputation here at Alchemax, and I’m positive it’s the reason a mind as bright as yours is not higher up here.”

Even if it hurt to hear aloud, the truth always hurts. She was right. That experiment years ago lived and breathed down your neck. Now, you play a desperate game of catch up with the mistake that got a mile ahead of you before you took one step.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll bite. What do you need me to do.”

“Make me a body.”

You laughed, startled at how simply she put it. “Sorry Lyla- that’s just…well it’s near impossible.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“And I failed, as you so gently pointed out.” You hated how hopeless you sounded when you said it, how you belittled yourself. But once again, the truth hurts.

“But you won’t this time.”

She hovered over your finger tips, smiling gently up at you. “We can help each other. I want a body, and you want a good reputation. If you build this for me…”

“We both win.” You finished.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

You groaned, your head falling to look at your lap. Your thumb still throbbed at the place you picked at your skin, the pinkish flesh stinging in the stale air. You wondered why Lyla wanted this- the fragility and the vulnerability that came with being…alive.

It was fleeting and it was calloused, a worn down tapestry that kept the face of agony and regret painfully clear, even as the rest of its body faded with time and age.

But you supposed, that there was a beauty in it. An untouched phenomenon- life wasn’t permanent, but it was special.

The grass is greener on the other side.

“Alright.”

Lyla laughed, leaping up to your nose.

“So you’ll help?”

“Yes. But what’s the catch.”

Her head tilted.

Your gaze moved to Miguel.

Despite his silence throughout this whole discussion, his analytic stare did not move from your face. It dug into your skin, his silence louder than any roar he could conjure. It’s animosity overwhelmed your skull, making the words that left your clenched throat hoarse and weak.

“What’s the catch.”

His chest rumbled in what you (hoped) believed to be a sigh, shouldered slumping. “You can’t…tell anyone during the process. You’ll be paid, but it’s classified information. No one can know what your doing.”

You almost stood up and left.

There wasn’t any pride, any joy in your work unless there was credit. Of course, scientific and engineering discoveries weren’t fueled by the promise of history, but you were a fool if you believed it wasn’t part of the process.

Michelangelo didn’t paint the Sistine Chapel to have people simply walk under his ceiling.

He wanted them to break their own necks to admire it.

But, a part of you hesitated.

Maybe the slow game was smarter. To become Miguel O’Hara’s colleague, to mold and shape and sculpt under shadows. Until your own masterpiece, much too alive to dust in an old museum, was revealed to an open skies and wonderstruck audience.

You felt guilty, doing this for your own gain rather than the goodness of your heart. But they knew who they hired. They knew it was a consensual abuse of power from both sides.

They knew that status would always taste sweeter than empathy.

You stuck out your hand.

“Deal.”

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parт 2 ⇁︎

[garden-of-gay]

Can You Feel It? It's Burlesque! Part 3

I promised a longer 3rd chapter and now here it is. This took much longer to write than I anticipated thanks to stupid chronic pain and my teeth being stolen (my wisdom teeth got removed). Anyhow, I persevered and now present to you a shiny new chapter of my Burlesque AU...enjoy <3

Ch 1, Ch2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

Also here on Ao3

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Eddie decided that if he was going to be working at the Burlesque Lounge he might as well know a bit more about the history of Burlesque. The more he learned about Burlesque performers the more he yearned to be one of them. They were so elegant and sexy while still having the respect that other professions like this didn’t. He envied the people who got to do this every night as most of his nights nowadays were spent watching the dancers on stage to learn the routines as well as waiting a shit ton of tables often to some ungrateful patrons but hey, that’s just part of the gig.  

Tonight was no different in a lot of ways as Billy was up on the stage in a barely-there mesh and lace outfit that showed off his muscles as he lip-synced along to Dr. Long John by Bette Midler; one of the more comedic performances at the club.

I got a dentist who's over seven feet tall

I have a dentist who's over seven feet tall

His name is Doctor Long John

And he answers every call

While the performance was great and all, Eddie still had work to do, which is how he found himself at the back of the house near Joyce’s office ready to bring some drinks up for the dancers once they were done with this number. As Eddie made his way back, he heard arguing from inside the office and stood listening for a minute.

“You know not that I give a shit but why do you want my club so badly,” Joyce asked.

“I like it, when I see something I like, I have to have it. Been that way since I was a kid” the voice of Henry Creel said

“Well, that must have made you very popular in the sandbox” Joyce retorted, clearly annoyed.

“I did okay” Henry murmured.

Eddie couldn’t make out much of what was being said but it was clear that some sort of business mumbo jumbo was going down, and he really shouldn’t be listening into this conversation, but on the other hand, he just couldn’t help himself. What he could understand is that Joyce was becoming upset and was beginning to raise her voice making it much easier for Eddie to understand what was going on.

“No!” Joyce exclaimed

“She means not now” Lonnie suggested

“No, no. Not now means not now, Lonnie, no means no” Joyce said, turning her growing ire on her ex-husband.

“Henry, I don’t care what you’re offering my club isn’t for sale” Joyce explained firmly, making it clear that the conversation was over now.

“Well, offers on the table” Henry breathed out

“Thanks,” Joyce said sarcastically

It looked like the three were heading towards the doors and Eddie took that as his cue to bolt up the stairs so as not to be caught eavesdropping on a conversation as important as the one they were just having.

-

Once upstairs and in the clear of any possible suspicion, Eddie began serving the drinks to the dancers, making small talk as he went. When he was down to just two shots, he noticed Joyce approaching him.

“Uh oh,” Eddie thought, he worried that Joyce might have noticed his spying somehow and was coming to tell him off. He was surprised instead when her face softened, and she asked him:

“Are these Billy’s?”

“Yeah, they are” Eddie replied

Billy seemed to have noticed where Eddie was and approached to claim his drinks. At the same time, Joyce reached over and downed both of his shots, one at a time before turning to face an offended Billy.

“Those were mine” he complained.

“Yeah? Well now I got a buzz, and you have no shots, deal with it, Billy” Joyce said before turning her back to the men and walking towards where they stored the costumes and where Robin already was.

Eddie quickly followed meaning to discuss the potential of doing live vocals in the clubs from now on; he really believed that it could be a hit and rake in some more money for the club. Especially since he now knew the club was at risk of being bought out; not that he would tell Joyce that he knew that part.

“Um. Hey Joyce, you know how all of our dancer’s lip sync?” Eddie asked

“Yes, they do all except Joyce” Robin answered

“Well, I just think that we could have all our dancers sing and….” Eddie began before trailing off upon seeing Joyce’s annoyed face.

Joyce gave a look directed at Robin, which she seemed to understand perfectly as the next thing he knew, Eddie was being pushed back towards the stairs and told to go back and work the floor.

“Maybe come back later, or not,” Robin told him sarcastically.

-

Eddie was really tired from tonight; people were bitchier than usual and he wanted nothing more than to crash on the bed he currently called home and sleep for the next year. He couldn’t do that however because upon entering his hotel room Eddie’s blood ran cold. The place was absolutely trashed, his clothes were strewn about, the drawers were ransacked and upon checking where he stashed his money, he found it empty.

“Goddammit, son of a bitch” he exclaimed in frustration

His dad must have had some of his goons track him down and now he was no longer safe here.

 Eddie took inventory of the room looking to save as much of his things as he could but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the frame holding his mother’s photo in it. The glass was shattered leaving just the photo and he couldn’t contain the emotion he felt once he saw the photo.

He grabbed the photo and slowly sunk to the floor, his back against the bed, and began to sob. He was so far away from his uncle Wayne and now he wasn’t safe here. He had to get out of here and find someplace safe but the only address he knew was Steve’s. Which is how he found himself in a taxi on his way to Steve’s hoping that the man would let him stay the night.

-

“Eddie?” Steve called out not expecting to find his coworker on the stoop outside his home.

“You can just have a seat,” he said opening the door to his home and motioning for Eddie to come inside.

“I’m going to grab us both a drink, yeah?” He said looking at Eddie’s sad face

Steve then turned and grabbed his phone before handing it to Eddie

“Oh, and here. Call whoever you want. Long distance, whatever” Steve said but Eddie just stared at him a moment before tears began welling in his eyes.

“I can’t” Eddie cried

“What do you mean?” Steve asked gently

“I can’t go back, it’s not safe. I can’t endanger my uncle like that” He blubbered.

“So, you’re not here to use my phone,” Steve said gently putting the puzzle pieces together. Robin always said he was a bit oblivious at times.

Eddie just continued to look at him for a moment before the tears in his eyes began to fall down his face and the man began to shake and sob.

“Hey, hey, no, no, no it will be all right,” he said wrapping Eddie up in a hug that it seems he so desperately needed.

“You can crash here” Steve murmured into Eddie’s mane of hair.

“Just please, please, stop crying,” Steve said

“Okay. Okay,” Eddie replied, drying his eyes and giving Steve a sad smile that made him want to wrap him back up in his arms.

Steve then hands Eddie a drink, which Eddie gratefully takes, taking a large gulp from the cup before Steve asks:

“Better?”

“Good,” Eddie replied

“Just one night, till it’s light out and I can figure out my next move,” Eddie promised, putting his pinkie out.

“Deal,” Steve said, hooking his pinkie with Eddie’s

-

Later that night as Eddie laid on Steve’s couch, he listened to the man play a melody on his keyboard.

“That’s beautiful, who wrote that?” Eddie asked

“I did” Steve replied shyly, face flushing just a bit.

 God, he looked edible like that, and Eddie just wanted to taste him, but he knew that it wasn’t like that, that Steve wasn’t like that.

“Steve, that’s…. That’s really good” Eddie replied instead.

“Thank you,” Steve said flushing a darker crimson

“You have more?” Eddie asked

“Yeah,” Steve said pausing for a moment before continuing:

“Nothing that’s ready to be heard”

“Hey Steve…. why did you leave Hawkins?” Eddie asked it was a question that had been nagging him since he had met the man

“Why did you leave Indianapolis?” Steve volleyed back

“Because I looked around and realized…. there wasn’t one person whose life I wanted” Eddie answered easily

“Exactly,” Steve said softly

“Hey Steve…I’m really glad I don’t have to be alone tonight” Eddie said in earnest hoping the low lights of the room hid his flush.

“Get some sleep” Steve said as he gathered his thing making his way to his own room.

-

Eddie woke up in Steve’s house the next morning and decided that he was going to be nice and make breakfast for the man as it was the least, he could do after he was allowed to stay the night.

“I took the liberty of making breakfast. I hope you don’t mind, it’s the least I could do” Eddie said after Steve emerged from his room.

“Smells great” Steve said with a smile

Eddie then motioned towards a photo of Steve and a curly haired brunette woman had seen when he was first collecting things for breakfast.

“She’s pretty, your sister?” He asked

“Fiancée.” Steve replied, smile going soft

“Makes sense” Eddie said with a curt nod. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed that Steve wasn’t single even if he had no chance with him.

“What about him, your brother” Eddie said motioning to another picture of Steve with a freckly boy.

“No, my first boyfriend, I’m still friends with him too” Steve replied with a chuckled

“You’re Bi?” Eddie exclaimed

“You thought I was straight!?” Steve asked exasperated

“Yeah!!” Eddie replied loudly

“I thought the eyeliner was all just part of the look for the club” Eddie said, feeling like a bumbling idiot the longer the conversation when on.

“Well, I mean it works for the club sooo…” Steve said with a smirk on his face

“Okay, I should probably put on a shirt now” Eddie said, feeling suddenly very exposed compared to how he had felt a moment ago.

“Probably” Steve replied sarcastically, eyes roving over Eddie’s tattooed chest.

“So, where is she, this fiancée?” Eddie asked, fumbling at putting on more clothes as quickly as possible.

“She’s in New York doing a big journalist piece” Steve said watching Eddie with great confusion.

“Well now that I know your engaged, I feel really weird about coming here in the first place” Eddie blurted out before adding

“I’m just going to now”

“You don’t have to go; it’s pouring outside anyway” Steve said looking at Eddie like he grew another head.

“If you could just get the door for me that would be great, thanks” Eddie said, hellbent on getting the fuck out of Steve’s house and out of the embarrassing situation he had found himself in.

“Okay, well I’ll see you at the club” Steve said, getting the door for Eddie and continuing to look at his with confusion on his face.

Eddie stepped out into the pouring rain, grabbing a newspaper to shield his hair from the rain and he took a deep breath out. Watching and waiting for the next bus to come and scoop him up, out of here.

Steve watches Eddie from outside his window for a moment before marching his way out to the front of the building and yelling at Eddie.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing? Come back inside!”

“No Steve it’s fine you have already done enough for me” Eddie huffed

“It’s pouring, you’ll catch a cold” Steve yelled, putting his hands on his hips.

“It’s just water for Christ’s sake, I’ll be fine” Eddie yelled back

“Get your ass back in my house, now,” Steve said approaching Eddie, now getting wet himself

“No, I’m fine” Eddie shouted, embarrassment growing by the minute.

“Alright, alright fine, fine, here we go,” Steve said before turning on Eddi.e

Steve then picked up all of Eddie’s belongings before scooping up Eddie in his arms bridal style and marching them both back into his house. Though he was annoyed, Eddie still found himself flushing at the display of strength and pure muscle that Steve possessed.

“Put me down, what are you doing!?” Eddie hissed

“You have nowhere to go, and I have a couch, like it or not you’re staying here for a few more days” Steve replied sternly.

Eddie stood in Steve’s living room dumbfounded and looking like a wet dog. He shivered a bit now that he was indoors, but he refused to break the firm eye contact Steve had established. Just as he was getting a bit antsy Steve’s phone rang; breaking the spell they had both been under.

“Hey Nance,” he said into the phone.

Steve paused for a moment and the woman on the other end of the line must have said something, prompting a response from him.

“Really? That’s great”

-

Joyce had gotten in a bit early today to make up for coming in late yesterday and was on her way into the bathroom when she heard the telltale signs of someone throwing up. She looked under the gap in the stall and saw a pair of shoes she recognized so she called out.

“Vickie?”

“Yeah” Vickie replied

She opened the stall looking pale and overall, not in any shape to perform.

“Oh God, please don’t have the flu” Joyce teased.

Vickie looked at Joyce giving her a curt sad nod and holding onto her stomach. Instantly the pieces clicked together in Joyce’s mind, and she had but one thought.

“Oh, God. Please have the flu” Joyce begged.

“Why do they call it morning sickness if it hits you at every fricking moment of the day?” Vickie choked out

“Have you told Dan yet?” Joyce asked

“No, not yet” Vickie sniffled

“Well, sweetheart, you know at some point he’s going to notice,” Joyce said, lightheartedly.

“He’s a guy, he won’t notice until my belly is blocking the TV” Vickie joked.

“Well, what are you going to do?” Joyce asked gently

“I don’t know Joyce. I’m really scared” Vickie cried, tears streaming down her face

“Oh honey, don’t be scared. Whatever you decide we will take care of you. Okay?” Joyce said softly

“But you have got to tell Dan,” she said more sternly

“I just figured as long as he doesn’t know I can still pretend he’s going to be excited about it,” Vickie said with a sad smile.

“He’s going to be thrilled! Are you kidding? He’ll be thrilled” Joyce said with a big smile on her face.

Joyce gave Vickie a big hug and hoped and prayed that Dan would be thrilled otherwise she was going to be not only down a dancer but also down a wonderful person. She wanted nothing more than for this to go well for Vickie.

-

Joyce now had to audition a new dancer to take Vickie’s place which meant sitting through plenty of people who just wouldn’t cut it, but she would give it a shot regardless.

Eddie happened to come in early today and saw dancers on the stage he didn’t recognize, he knew that this could be his shot to prove himself; and show he belonged on the stage.

“Thank you very much, people” Robin called out

“What happened to all the great dancers in L.A?” Joyce whispered to Robin

“They are dancing with the stars” Robin retorted

“Call Murray and ask him, he might have somebody,” Joyce told her

While Robin and Joyce were talking to one another, Eddie had made his way to the stage and had begun to dance when Joyce noticed she glanced briefly at him before calling out to the sound guy

“Hey Dave, cut it,” Joyce said sternly

Eddie was fed up with this and he decided to make it known

“Hold on a second, I can do this” Eddie huffed

“And I think it's sweet that you think you can,” Joyce said

“Just tell me what you are looking for,” Eddie said raising his voice

“Someone who can do the routine,” Joyce said also raising her voice

Joyce got up and started walking away and this really pissed Eddie off. He hadn’t really been known to keep his cool and it seemed that he was not about to start now.

“Excuse me!? I’m talking to you!” Eddie yelled, causing Joyce to turn back around

He heard Robin mutter an “Oh shit” but paid it no mind as all he was seeing right now was red.

“Just tell me what you want” Eddie yelled.

“I can’t tell you. Nobody can tell you. You got to make me believe that you belong up there, that you own that stage and nobody’s going to take it from you” Joyce shouted back.

“That’s the way it works, you want to show me something, show me that” Joyce huffed out incredibly annoyed at this point.

“All right, which number do you want to see? I know every single one” Eddie replied raising his voice a bit.

Joyce scoffed before replying

“Every number?”

“Yeah, which one do you want to see,” Eddie said, raising his voice a bit more.

“Wagon Wheel Watusi” Joyce finally replied

Eddie smiled; he could do this all he had to do was wait for the music to begin.

-

Eddie heard the opening chords to the song and began to dance, getting lost in the music and the steps forgetting what he was looking to prove and just feeling everything instead. He hadn’t even realized both Steve and some of the other dancers had made their way into the club until he turned around for some of the steps and caught their eyes glued to him. This just gave him more motivation to do well, if there was one thing Eddie Munson thrived on, it was an audience. The number finished up and he heard Robin say to Joyce “Well I couldn’t keep my eyes off him” before Joyce muttered something he couldn’t make out and then called out to him.

“You know, you were off the whole last half,” Joyce said with a slight smirk

“Come on Joyce. Come on, I’ll…I’ll practice until I bleed…I... I know I can do this” Eddie stammered, voice getting loud again.

“If you just give me a chance, I swear to God, I won’t disappoint you! Didn’t anyone ever give you a shot?” Eddie yelled

“Please I want this so bad” He practically begged

“All right, God! You got the job” Joyce cried out.

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

Taglist:

@irregular-child

@disrespectedgoatman

[lighthouseshepard]

wrote some jarthur fluff for @ananxiousgenz , who recently had their wisdom teeth (stolen) taken out ❤️

"John?" Arthur whispers, hand hovering tentatively near the lamp sitting atop the bedside table. Its potential light would make no difference to him at all, yet he knew the other didn't care to sleep in the pitch black when he was alone - something about the dark world reluctant to leave him still, he said, but wouldn’t elaborate on. "Are you still asleep?"

His movements are hesitant, slow and mild lest he accidentally startle him awake. For the last four hours John had been slipping in and out of a fitful slumber, his periods of wakefulness marked by complaints of certain agony and a death he was surely hurtling towards, interspersed with a gentle pleading for Arthur to fetch him water. One of these things was easier to contend with than the other. Despite his prickling annoyance at John's ceaseless declarations of his own doom, it was just pitiful enough to be simultaneously endearing.

“John?” he tries again, toeing the line between wanting to reach out a hand, and leaving him be. From within the nothingness of his vision, he hears a quiet cough. Blankets shift, and John's voice sounds out muffled, his face pressed sideways into the pillow.

"I'm awake," he mumbles, only half coherent. "You can turn on the light."

"Alright," Arthur says soothingly. He feels the warmth of its glow against his skin as he flips it on, filling the bedroom with a soft, hazy yellow. "How are we doing, darling?"

John squints into the light, attempting to further bury his head. The low rumble of his voice had a distinctly unusual sluggishness to it, his words thick as if pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Sore," is all he offers up. "I think my face is still... numb."

"Well, that's to be expected," Arthur reminds him, smiling at the other's mumbling tone

"It takes a while for the local anesthesia to wear off."

"It's been five days," John groans. "I’m rotting away here. How long until-"

"It's been barely five hours since we got home, dear."

Blinking up at him, John frowns. The blanket struggled to contain all six feet and more of him, huddled as he was. "Are you sure?"

"Quite certain," Arthur replies, lips twitching. “I deposited you here as soon as we got back, and you haven’t left.”

"Don't make fun of me. I can see that shit eating grin from here."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," he says airily, trying and failing to force his mouth down into a more suitable expression. "Can I sit?"

"No."

"Ah, okay, suppose I'll just-"

"Wait, wait," John says hastily, wincing as he lifts his head. "Yes. Please?"

Humming a few aimless notes, Arthur takes a seat on the bed, crossing his legs. John adjusts to make room, struggling to curl around him. Weary limbs eventually settle into a position altogether unorthodox, yet after John's pleased huff of self congratulation, his head ends up in the center of Arthur's lap.

"That cannot be comfortable," Arthur comments dryly.

"You can't even see me."

"I can feel you twisted up around me like a cat. Wouldn't you rather lay back down?"

Arthur's hands, despite his teasing, are already in John's hair. Nimble fingers slip the tie free of his braid, winding through strands twisted carefully together. He feels him sigh, breath warm along his leg, and thinks only briefly about the juxtaposition of scarred skin amidst strands of ebony silk before letting the observation drift away from him.

"No," John protests. "I'm fine here."

"Well what if I'm not?" chuckles Arthur. Shoulders slump, an instinctive reaction to an argument he knows he's already lost, and was helpless against from the start.

"Too bad.”

“You’re just irritated, aren’t you?” he asks wryly. “Because they-”

“They took my teeth, Arthur."

The disgust in John's accusation stirs a laugh from him. "It's just your wisdom teeth, John," he retorts, not unkindly. One thumb brushes along his jaw, taking care not to press too deeply into still swollen skin. "I don't have mine either."

"Who's fault is that?" John mutters indignantly. "Yours, I think."

“I’m going to disregard how that made absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” John sniffs.

"Oh, sorry," Arthur snorts, "next time I'll let you continue to be in horrific pain before dragging you to the dentist's to make an appointment. Come on, John, you have to feel at least a little better? Surely?"

There's a stifled silence. Arthur waits for what he considers to be far too long before John speaks.

"Maybe," he admits. "Or I will. I guess.”

"See?" Arthur pats him consolingly on the head, hands resuming their mesmerizing work of gently undoing the braid. "You're more lucid than you were a little while ago, anyway."

"Can we not talk about that?" John asks, eyes slipping shut.

"What, all the things you said when you were coming out of it?"

"Yes." There is a petulant grumble to his tone which Arthur gleefully ignores. "Arthur -"

"And how you told me I was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and anyone would be lucky to have me, and, oh, was I dating anyone?"

"Arthur, I swear to-"

"I'm sorry, John," he laughs, stopping himself before he does any more damage. "It was just... cute, is all."

"Cute," he muses dryly, turning the word over like he was intrigued and unimpressed by it at the same time.

"Mhm," agrees Arthur, brushing strands off his cheek. "Amusing, too, but that's only partially relevant. You should hush, now," he adds. "You're only going to make the soreness worse by talking."

With an incoherent rumble, John relaxes further into him. He was fully curled up now, still halfway under the blanket, breathing beginning to even out into something peaceful. Already Arthur was lamenting the stiffness in his back yet to come, but John felt too comfortable to move. Besides, if this kept him quiet and allowed him some proper rest, his spine would be a worthy sacrifice.

"Go back to sleep, John," Arthur says quietly. "I'll be here when you wake."

"They didn't even let me keep the teeth, Arthur," John groans ruefully.

"I know."

"My own fucking teeth."

"I know, darling,” he repeats, trying to shift beneath John’s immobile weight. “So you keep saying. Why would you even want them?"

“It’s the principle of the thing It was a part of me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is there anything else I'm going to lose from this new body without warning? Anything else that will turn against me?"

"Mm," Arthur hums, "maybe just a kidney around your next birthday, if you're lucky."

John, too tired to crane his neck and stare up at him in horrified fascination, inhales slowly. "What?"

"I'm kidding," he says quickly, "only kidding. The rest of those teeth are yours to contend with forever."

Muttering something incoherent, he shoves his face back down into the crest of one thigh. "Oh. Okay."

"Sleep, John. Let the medication do its work. I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.”

“Promise?” comes the vague mumble from his lap.

“Yes!” he says in a hushed exclamation, chuckling. “I’ve just said so. John…?”

Exhaling slowly, he rests one arm along John’s shoulder. “Of course you’re already asleep,” he says to the still atmosphere, influenced only by John’s slow breathing and his own murmur. “I’m going to regret this in the morning, aren’t I?”

[go-4-ur-own-good]

I would like it to be known that I had my teeth stolen today. (Nessecary wisdom teeth removal) an important step in that process is keeping ur bloop pressure down to allow blood to clot. I got so much joy and excitement from today's episode of Never STOP Blowing Up that on of my clots broke, and I completely get how Izzy was doing lmao. Killer ep.

[pumpkindr]

stolen midnights in empty corridors | 1

summary: you and draco have been at each other's throats ever since first year. You would rather die that be involve with the likes of him. But one night changes everything. How did it come to throwing each other raging shouts to hidden pleasant whispers in empty corridors

pairings: draco malfoy x fem!gryffindor reader

this is my first draco fic omg, please let me know what you think!

You stupid bloody git, I will kill you!" you shouted angrily at the blond boy in front of you. He was laughing off with his stupid goons while you stand across them with your fists close, ready to attack. 

"What will you do, Elrod? Throw a book at me again? That's scary..." he taunted. You did pick the thickest book you had from your bag and chucked it to him. Shame that it did not land on his face. 

"If you lay your bloody hands on my cat one more time, Malfoy. I swear to Godric's name I'll snap your neck in your sleep!" you lowered your pride and walked towards him to get your book from the floor beside him.

But, of course, he does not let you off easy. He put his right foot over your book. You looked up and glared at him. 

"Remove your foot on my book, Malfoy." this boy was really testing your patience. You gritted your teeth and tried to remove your book under his shoe, but to no success. 

"Fucking kiss my shoe then," he squinted his eyes at you, provoking you. 

You take a deep breath and stand up. He was pretty tall so you had to look up and stare at his piercing grey eyes. It was a shame how pretty he was (even though it's disgusting you had to say he's pretty) but he had a rotten attitude. 

Students were already passing by, going to there respective classes. You are going to be late to Professor Snape's Potions Class if Malfoy and his goons continue to taunt you. 

You had to so something. And so you did. 

You punched him straight to his face, particularly his right cheek. He yelped from the impact and Crabbe and Goyle had to grab both of his arms for him not to stumble down. Pansy gasped and tried to attack you but you dodged by bowing down to get your book and walking away, 

"Fucking kiss my fist then, Malfoy." 

It's been four years ever since you entered Hogwarts School. You've been sorted under Gryffindor, because of your bravery and courage, as what the Sorting Hat said. You've met Hermione on the Hogwarts Express train and learned that she's also Muggle-born like you. Ron and Harry also became your friends the second day Hermione introduces you to them. 

Draco Malfoy hated your group. He had this continuing rage with Harry, unstoppable insults towards Ron, and his hurtful comments to you and Hermione being a Muggle-born. You've been used to it. The insults, the comments. 

But turned second year when he was suddenly targeting you whenever you're alone. He'd have Crabbe and Goyle pull your hair, Parkinson (bloody ugly girl who fancies Malfoy, who in their right mind fancies an evil boy like him?) tripping you and all the likes. You do stand up for yourself, even your friends defend you, but then they continue to be more than you can handle. 

There was one time where Malfoy spelled your hair turning it into green (a color which you hate the most) and you had to endure it for two weeks straight (but then you had your revenge by turning his hair pink, suits him right). 

There was another time where he had to trip you while you're holding your cauldron, it was not a good sight to see. Putting a frog spell in your bag, which you cried about continuously for a day because you hated frogs. (no offense to Neville Longbottom's toad). He always gets in your nerves. You've always thought about going home and stop going to Hogwarts but you won't give him that satisfaction, no, never. 

You've endured his wicked ways towards you and your friends. You've never been physical with him, until now. 

He had the audacity to hide your familiar cat, Wisdom, at the roof of the Astronomy tower. Wisdom is scared of heights. You had to look for her and skip your classes because although she comes immediately when you call for her, that afternoon she was nowhere to be found. 

You never thought Malfoy was to blame. But when you saw him laughing at you when you were calling for Wisdom, you had to really stop him. So when students who saw Malfoy putting Wisdom at the roof of Astronomy tower, you tended to her first. Then confronted Malfoy, thus his now bloody face. 

"Miss Y/N Elrod, you're late," Snape tutted. You swallowed the lump in your throat and muttered your apology. You stride towards your seat beside Neville. 

"Where were you?" he whispered. You just gave him a sheepish smile. 

"Malfoy." you answered and you saw how he understood why and how he was sorry you had to go through something again involving Malfoy. That idiot. He's never gonna stop is he? 

You looked in front and see that Snape's still glaring at you. 

"If you have time to talk after being late, Miss Elrod, then maybe you wouldn't mind if I take off five points from Gryffindor, no?" 

"No, that's--"

"Five points from Gryffindor." he said with finality and you heard your Gryffindor classmates groan. "And now.." 

Snape was cut off from what he was about to say when Malfoy and his goons went inside. You observed and waited for Snape to snap at them and take off points from Slytherin but he never did. He just glared at them. 

"Professor, aren't you gonna take off points from them?" You had to slap yourself mentally from talking out loud. 

You saw Malfoy smirked and took a seat two rows from you. 

"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy has important business to attend to, now..." 

"What if I had some important business to attend to also?" you sense your classmates, especially the Gryffindor ones, glaring at you. You really need to stop talking. 

"Are you gonna let me teach this class or am I going to take fifty points from your house as you keep questioning me, Miss Elrod?" You can hear Snape's patience towards you running out. 

"You can go on, Professor." 

"I thought so." 

-

"Merlin's beard, what happened you your hands?" Hermione asked as soon as the four of you gathered in the Great Hall to eat your dinner. "What happened?" 

You inspect your knuckles, you removed the stains of blood earlier so now there was just a bruise and a small cut left. You stroke your hand and flick your wrist to lessen the pain that your hand was feeling. 

You were about to answer when Ron beat you to it. 

"I think Malfoy happened," he jutted his chin towards the entrance and the four of you looked at the direction he was looking to. "Bloody hell, Y/N. You threw in a good punch." 

Your eyes glide at Malfoy's face. He has his hand holding an ice against his right eye. When he removed his hand, you see a purple bruise forming on his cheek. He catches your stare and glared at you. 

He moves swiftly to your spot and pointed at your face. 

"My father will hear about this, Elrod! You fucking mudblood!" he yelled. 

You were about to answer back but he grabs your collar with both of his hands and you were face to face with him. 

Your eyes were wide from the shock, you can fee Harry and Hermione's hand grabbing you from the back but Malfoy's grip on your collar was tight and it slows down your breath a bit. 

"Malfoy, stop it!" 

"Drop it, Malfoy! You deserve her fist!" 

"Let go of Y/N, Malfoy!"

You were already catching your breath with small gasps while you and Malfoy both held a glaring contest. His icy grey eyes piercing through your soul. You can see his face up close. Smell his breath which scents off mint and green apples probably from his breakfast earlier. 

"You. fucking. mudblood. You will pay for this." he snarled tightening his grip on your collar. 

That snapped you back to reality and you slapped him hard but that didn't remove his fingers on you. 

"Let me go, Malfoy!" you cried. You pushed him back hard and throw punches on his chest. 

You see Harry going in between you and Malfoy and tried removing his hold from you. 

"Malfoy, you arsehole, let me go! Or I swear to Godric, I will cut your hands!" you shouted at his face. Students were already surrounding you but some are just watching.

They're use to this kind of scenes, but it was the first time Malfoy got close to you and did you like this. 

He pushed you back so you stumbled your ass on the floor. You held yourself up with your hands and glared at him through your teary eyes You adjusted your collar and coughed to take in some air. 

"Godric, Malfoy! You nearly killed her!" Harry shouted. 

Hermione and Ron went to my side and stood me up. My eyes never left Malfoy's. I'm so angry. But also I'm shocked and scared with what happened. It's the first time he's done this. 

"Then you should've let me," Malfoy's voice dripped with venom. Crabbe and Goyle were also shocked, Pansy was staring at him with also surprise in her features. "I'll make you pay for punching me on the face, Elrod."

And he left.

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and Happy New Year! Welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

punkwasp is raising funds for wisdom teeth removal and paying off some student debt; they're offering art commissions and taking donations via ko-fi as well. You can read more, reblog, and find commission and giving information here.

inkstainedchocolateeyes linked to a fundraiser for enterprisearboretum/Ellery, who is raising funds to cover top surgery; it's being billed in-network but there are always extra expenses and the deductible, and he has recently been dealing with car troubles and moving house. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

alirhi is raising funds to help get her sister's bank account out of the negative before she starts getting hit with overdraft fees and having new bills come out; she's been struggling to keep them above water while working multiple jobs. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

kshandra linked to a fundraiser for dean_stahl, who had the majority of his art supplies stolen out of his wife's car last month, as well as several in-progress commissions and a graphic novel he was working on. He's raising funds to replace the supplies such as Copic markers, which are not cheap. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

thegeeksqueaks is a high school science teacher (who has fundraised previously for supplies and comfort items for her students, particularly her neurodivergent and queer students) who has been seeking a diagnosis for ongoing migraines, vertigo, and head pain for most of the year; she now has a diagnosis and a procedure date, but needs to raise $1.5K to cover the post-insurance payment estimate. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here, give via Paypal here, and give via Venmo here.

chingaderita's partner's family house recently caught fire and completely burned, killing his grandmother and causing extensive property loss; he has also recently lost his job due to the fire, and a number of family members have since become ill. They're raising funds to keep food on the table, and get their partner mental health aid; they also need funds for laundry to have clean clothes for interviews. You can read more, reblog, and support the fundraiser here.

rilee16 is raising funds to cover utilities, to afford medication and possibly an upcoming move without local support; they've also had expenses related to a recent incident where their roommate, who has been a problem for some time, got violent and the police got involved, and for their own safety they've had to stay elsewhere at times. Currently they are dealing with a shorted paycheck and an overdraft because of it. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here. They are requesting particularly for reblogs, to reach a wider audience.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[elynnism]

Come Home to Me

Want a quick one-shot? So does Lavellan.

Topic:

I am a firm believer that Solas and Lavellan had sex in Inquisition.

This takes place after the balcony scene, before Crestwood.

My Inky thinks the anchor is gross.

Solas is really more of a giver than a taker, as he should be. What a dog.

I believe that Lavellan is the forgotten-spirit Solas describes to Rook in Veilguard (What is the word for coming home after a long journey?), and he knows it, hence the reaction he has.

I don't speak Elven, which is why it's kept simple and why I provided the translations next to the phrases. If you have a better/more accurate phrasing, lmk, I love to learn. Fenedhis means wolf penis, it's a common curse, you are welcome.

I tried really hard to do an 8-8-11/8-8-11 with them, but I wrote this on a complete whim and that was where most of my time was spent, ahahaha someone did it for a living ahahaha they have a degree from Stanford ahahaha

It took all of my willpower not to include a bit about how Ellana was gonna tell Sera and Blackwall that Solas has definitely fucked spirits because he definitely fucks.

Don't be offended by Solas's stamina, dude was just breaking a millenia-long dry spell, he's lucky he lasted as long as he did at all. He at least used his wisdom first, eh? eyebrows eyebrows

Couple things: -I am an amateur writer, I love constructive feedback. My weak areas include not knowing the difference between lay/lie and mixing up past and present tenses.

-This went through exactly one read-through so there are bound to be typos/issues. Lmk I will fix it right away.

-Do I capitalize Fade or not? IDFK.

-Please enjoy I actually loved writing this, I love imaging my Inky and my Solas both getting all hot and bothered during their 10 year dry spell thinking of the time they spent together.

There was a silence filling the space where he stood, his concentration willing the air to be still. He was stood idly in the rotunda, hands clasped behind his back as he observed the space. A scent unknown to Ellana drew her attention and she spied a palette of fresh paints, however her purpose for being here enabled her to walk past it without much thought.

Solas had begun his outline but she had yet to see him paint. She, right now, had a plan, and had formed it after he’d told her about his matchmaker spirit in his journeys through the Fade. She could not be rid of his parting words, “That small village never knew its luck.”

Ellana felt she was no fool and knew luck was a fleeting and fickle thing. Spurred by their stolen kisses and the confidence of her experiences with men, and stirred further by the anchor in her hand (her nails were turning an indigo color at the nailbeds), she approached Solas with purposefully soft footsteps and a clearing of the throat to catch his attention.

“No need to announce yourself, but I appreciate the consideration.” He turned towards her, a smile on his lips, his violet eyes striking true. That gaze went through her and she had to stop herself from pressing up against him as she always desired when in close proximity.

Some of her nerve was lost when she made eye contact and remembered the kisses in the Fade, how she sought him out in every dream. The last one his hands had wandered and she yearned for this in reality.

It was easier in the Fade, but they had been travelling together and were not strangers to each other’s touches. There was a particularly harrowing battle in the Hinterlands, one she was ill-prepared for but too stubborn to run from. When they were victorious, Solas grabbed her to look her over, though he was bloodied and battered himself. They fell to their knees and he embraced and kissed her so hard their teeth clashed and he did not let go until Cassandra made a comment about how even her romance books were not so dramatic. Even then, he had held on to her as they made their way back to camp and took extra care to look after her once the healer had left their vicinity, tutting at the bandages and re-binding them.

She was emboldened by this memory and came to stand beside him, clasping her hands behind her, mimicking him. She looked at him sideways in the same cool manner he would do to one of the other mages, and decided to employ the same even tone he did when talking to someone being unreasonable, “Are the sketches complete yet?” She turned to look at the paints, nose in the air. “Are you… readying to use those?”

Distraction was fighting his desire to play, she could tell, and he glanced back towards the paint and let his hands relax, seeing her teasing posture. He sounded amused as he said, “They are, and I was. But it can wait if you need something, Inquisitor?”

Ellana loved it when he used her title. The way he chooses to address her was a playful game they had fallen in rhythm to, having never discussed the roles, rules, or regime. So it was the Inquisitor drawn forth when she approached with his stolen confidence guiding her steps; vhenan when he noted her loving graces and the peculiar lilt in her voice she was becoming fond of; Ellana when she has done something “a little stupid”, or pleasantly surprising, like bringing him frilly cakes stolen from kitchen – and why not, they have two pastry chefs. There is enough to go around.

“Oh, yes. Actually…” and while she had other motives, there actually was the problem of the anchor and her hand. She exposed her left hand and gazed at it. “I, um,” she hesitated, looking around. “I was wondering if we could discuss the anchor in my room? Please, vhenan,” she added softly.

The concern on his face as he took her left hand gently and nodded, “Of course, my heart.” He tucked her hand gently into the crook of his elbow, muffling the bright green light, and they made their slow walk to her quarters. It was not uncommon for them to stroll around Skyhold and this was not the first time they went up to her tower room together. But this was the first time she asked him to look at the anchor in private and she had no doubt Leliana was listening to that. Ellana did not care for any scandals but their relationship was a known entity in the Inquisition, so she felt confident no eyebrows would raise too high at this not-so-unusual circumstance.

On their walk through the main hall and throne room, Ellana made idle chit-chat by bringing up the matchmaker spirit, asking how common was a love spirit in the fade, would the matchmaker ever think to move on to find other villages to ‘set right’, and things of that nature. They discussed it in low, intimate tones, and Solas occasionally reached over to rub a thumb over her left hand and look at her fondly.

They climbed the steps and entered her room, and she had decorated the rooms in the Elvish tradition, which she liked and found pleasing and somewhat musical. Her bed was a four-poster now after begging Josephine for the funds, being denied multiple times, and going to Val Royeaux anyway and buying what she wanted. She had purchased a dark navy duvet that almost matched her Skyhold uniform. She liked the darker colors because it muted that green light that exuded from her hand at all times.

Heartbeat quickening as she remembered her ulterior motives, she invited Solas to sit on the bed. She saw he was instantly suspicious, and hesitated, but she disengaged from him and went to lean against the desk, hoping to catch him off guard. She’d piled the couch with various forms of clothing to dissuade him from sitting there instead. She realized she should have done something with the desk chair, but maybe her guarding it would prevent him from thinking to use it. Regardless, her desk was tidied and neat, not that it usually wasn’t, but she had some foresight to finish up her open affairs if only to leave more time available to spend with Solas, if he wanted to.

“I need to speak openly with you, first, Solas,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Please, sit just there,” she asked gently, and he complied in fine order, sitting gracefully on the edge of the bed. He put an ankle on one knee and both hands on his raised leg, looking at her intensely.

“You need not be so concerned, there are two reasons I brought you. One is for my hand, the other is for love,” she recounted in that lilting tone.

Solas blinked and was silent, his face impassive. He inclined his head for her to continue.

The sunlight from the late afternoon was streaming in. The mountainous view lent a quiet calm up in her tower and she had let the fire die down to a gentle crackling. The windows were closed, however, containing the heat. When Ellana looked at Solas and his gentle violet eyes, there danced a rainbow of lights from the windows, and it softened her heart more.

“I love the stolen kisses, the fade, the catalyst of our desire. I would change nothing, yet I want to change everything.” I think the anchor is killing me, she thought.

Cupping her left hand with her right, looking down at the green light which often mesmerized her, could not manage to hold her attention right now. I think the anchor is killing me.

Tilting her head to look at Solas, the light of her hand illuminating part of her face in that eerie green glow, she wants him to read her mind so she doesn’t have to say it out loud, but she knows that is unreasonable and unlike her.

A deep breath, a settling of the nerves, the worst part of it needs to come out, now. “I think the anchor is killing me,” her voice is small and he remains sat on the bed, his gaze turning down to her hand, a concerned frown on his face as he focuses on the anchor.

Ellana lets go of her left hand and settles it on top of the desk, hiding that green glow.

“I cannot bear the thought of never having you. Surviving every battle, only to be tormented at the thought of never having…” she loses the words and looks away, only to turn her gaze back towards Solas, all the more fierce.

He opened his mouth to speak but Ellana cut him off in sudden inspiration.

She said, “Shiral vhenas ghilas ar, Solas.” Come home to me, Solas.

“Vhenan!” he exclaimed, dropping his leg and standing abruptly. Ellana looked at him with longing and, using her right hand, began to unbutton her shirt. He watched her coolly, even when she opened the blouse to expose that soft area between her breasts, her navel showing. She leaned back casually, trying to control her breathing and staring at Solas with certain expectations and also pleading.

Her voice was quiet but firm and filled the space as she repeated, “Shiral vhenas ghilas ar, vhenan.” Come home to me, heart.

Then he was upon her, his mouth on hers, a hand slithering on her waist and up her back. The weight of him pushed into her, overtaking her as he liked to do, and their feet shuffled together as they moved toward the bed and the moment of intense, unbearable desperation was over.

He pulled away to put his mouth on her neck, helping her shirt off. “This is a terrible idea,” he said into her soft neck and she laughed her reply, absolutely assured that this is quite possibly the best idea she’s ever had, “You’re an idiot!”

“Fenedhis,” he muttered in the same teasing tone. An intake of breath and Solas pulled away, though she could see his lips pouting, wanting to be kissed, and his eyes had a glazed look over them. He moved to sit on the bed, his hands touching her everywhere but her breasts, warm skin to warm skin. He looked at her with awe and longing and such sadness in his eyes that she bent over and kissed each eyelid. “Don’t be sad, vhenan, I’m not leaving,” and she smiled as she kissed him.

He kissed her back and she was emboldened by his passion, and in awe of his self-control. She looked down at her naked torso and did not feel ashamed, but did want to play.

“Well, this is unfair,” she teased. He only smirked at her and she was quick to remove her pants. “I know that might have seemed like I practiced it, but…”

He laughed and she joined him in that laughter and shrugged, standing tall and naked before him to let him drink her up with his eyes, which she was pleased to see he did.

Generous sunlight struck Ellana’s skin and Solas exhaled softly at the sight, lifting one of his clothing-bound arms, extending his hand to her gracefully. “Be ever gracious and assist me in undressing, vhenan?” This was a new game, but one she knew she’d enjoy.

Tugging the soft woolen material, she loosened it from one arm and then the other, pulling the tunic up and off his head. His jawbone necklace almost got caught up in it so she removed that too, kissing his cheeks and the top of his head and she did so. She leaned down and kissed his generous mouth as she worked on the wrappings he wore, making a comment that they were woven in the Dalish style, and he laughed with a little snort and simply said, “Yes.”

She kissed the bare skin she revealed with every wrapping she removed, and when she reached his chest he stopped her before she could go further, saying to her gently, “I would not have you kneel before me.” Instead he stood and took her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes before kissing her deeply, and he quickly and deftly removed his wrappings.

“Oh… did you practice that for me?” she asked, grinning like a fool.

“I did,” he said, and embraced her. He stepped back and they gazed at each other, reaching for one another. Ellana said softly, “Am I to be woken from this wonderful dream, disappointed?”

“No, vhenan. I am reasonably sure we are awake. And I am done talking, now.”

He moved his body in a way to manipulate her onto the bed of her own volition, without touching her. She marveled at the skill. He motioned for her to sit up by the pillows and then he climbed in after her.

Painstakingly slow, one hand started on her foot and he caressed up to her thigh. She was unconcerned with his length and girth, which was clearly ready for her, and more focused on his hands and the concentration of his features. Every part of her was sacred in his hands and he acted as a sculptor, trying to memorize and capture every curve to be poorly imitated later. He focused on her pelvic area, kept trim and neat if only for the sake of hygiene, and when he’d caressed every inch of each foot, shin, and thigh, he leaned back on his heels and stretched her left leg high. Beginning at the center of her foot, he began the slow descent of a smattering of kisses across her leg, looking at her all the while, his hands moving in time with those kisses. Ellana was taken aback and her breath hitched in her throat as he made his way down, down to between her thighs, where it all connected. He settled himself on his stomach between her thighs, breathing his hot breath on her so expertly it did not tickle but only drew out more desire from her.

When his mouth, hot and moist and generous, so generous, finally made contact, Ellana exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding and let her head fall back on the pillows with a quiet, “Sulahn’nehn!” Rejoice!

Solas chuckled against her and it sent ripples through to her core, but then that mirth stopped, and that is when the real work began.

He worked on her, meticulously slow and gentle, while her hands roamed over herself. However, she stopped when she noticed the anchor, unhappy with it and the burden it carried. She saw the anchor glowing, the dying fingertips, her practiced words finally spoken aloud to the only one she would dare say those words to: I think the anchor is killing me. Her concentration on Solas was shattering as she looked at the anchor and Solas noticed, looking up from his work. Her eyes focused on him and she said, “I have a glove,” reaching beneath a pillow to produce said glove. “For when I sleep,” she said a little breathlessly. It was thick black material and she slid it on easily. It left her fingertips bare and had a delicate and attractive pattern on it, but she had a fleeting thought she would need a full-size glove soon if her hand continued the way it was. This thought was disrupted by Solas grabbing her hand and kissing it, before lowering his mouth back to the temple that was her and drinking of her as a man dying of thirst would.

Tongue, lips, teeth were at work and she was writhing, panting happily, offering encouragements, grabbing onto herself and also whatever piece of him she could reach. But then Solas did something with his lips and tongue and mouth and her back arched as she squealed loudly in tandem. He did it again and her ass lifted involuntarily as she moaned, something low and deep within her she wasn’t sure she was capable of. His hands moved to control her hips, and she heard a small, almost imperceptible, “Ah.” from him.

After learning her, she was twisted and arching and biting her own fingers, how does he not tire? and she laughed at the revelation as tears pricked her eyes, thinking, all that talking… and he brought her patiently, so patiently to the height of her enjoyment, right to the edge of her anticipated release, that incoming tidal wave of pleasure. Ellana was shaking and expressed her need to be done with it, looking down at him holding her hips with his mouth pressed fiercely against her.

Those violet eyes looked up at her flushed features, mouth slightly parted, glossed over eyes, and he slid two fingers inside her, probing gently as his tongue moved on that bundle of nerves in that form she was coming to love.

She cried out when he’d barely touched her and her body tensed, then finally released as he made a mild suggestion while simultaneously placing pressure on that spot inside her, “Ganas.” Come. Lowering his mouth but not his eyes at her flooding and tossing and her scream as she came. No command, merely a suggestion, but it was enough for her and he gently massaged inside and outside until the tidal wave was satiated and she was spent, slack and sweaty and breathing hard.

He began to leave a trail of kisses over her stomach and breasts, massaging and touching every inch of her slowly. His shadow prompted her to open her eyes up at him as he moved on top of her, resting his torso on hers and kissing her neck, nipping slightly. He murmured into her neck, pulling her against him, “Hellathen, vhenan.” A noble struggle, heart.

The light was slanting in from a different angle now, but the room was as warm as ever and she could smell her own pleasing fragrance in the air mingled with him, but she wanted more, her breathing was more even and her hands began to roam over every inch of him, grasping and clawing. She pushed against his chest to get him to lay on his back but he fought against her, pushing her back down with a hard kiss, which she broke away from to awkwardly say, “There has to be reciprocation.” So grating to her ears to hear her spew off something of that nature in a factual manner.

Solas replied by kissing her neck and mouth for so long she was unsure he heard her, until he said, calm as ever, “Why? No.” It was so soft and gentle and simple, but Ellana met it with, “Don’t you want me to…” suddenly absolutely determined to make this awkward.

“No,” he said again in that frustratingly simple tone. “I do not need you to kneel. Your pleasure is the greatest love letter to me, vhenan.”

“What if I want to kneel before you?” and she raised her hips, feeling the hardness of him. He groaned and grabbed her ass. “There is time for that. But not today. Let me distract you today before I study that hand.” He moved his hand to grip himself and kissed Ellana, pressing against her opening with himself.

Wet and ready and eager she lifted her hips to him; this was her favorite part, that initial insertion, and she knew he’d fit well.

With some coaxing, he did. Fully sheathed, they panted into each other’s ears and necks and then found their rhythm and Ellana felt them as each part of a song: she took and he gave, he took some and she gave most of it back. Together and around, until he grunted and spent himself in her, gasping out.

He stilled before her and murmured a soft, “Ir abelas, vhenan,” a gentle chuckle at the end to note his embarrassment.

Ellana automatically said, “Tel’abelas! Whyever would you -!?”

That damned chuckle again, kissing her collar bone as he lay slack on top of her. “I meant… I did not want to go so quickly.” He moved off her and lay beside her and she laughed some.

“Solas,” she intoned, adjusting herself and placing a hand on his cheek. “Hamin. Rest. I have to admit…” she blushed, closed her eyes, scrunched her face. “I am embarrassed.” She exhaled and Solas touched her cheek. She opened her eyes to gaze into his. “I thought I was experienced in these matters, but I’ve… you are quite the expert.” She saw the relief and humor on his devastatingly handsome features. His eyebrows raised and he shook his head.

“Only with you, and that marvelous spirit of yours, vhenan.”

[big-barn-bed]

you watching one hand clapping?

I WISH! the closest theater to me is about an hour away and i recently had my wisdom teeth stolen, so I’m a bit too loopy to drive.

I’ve been listening to the one hand clapping sessions for months now though, so I’ll just have to close my eyes and picture her :3

so happy for everyone who’s going!

LOOK AT HER

[englandsgirl18181234]

I am apparently happening thoughts about your Winter Soldier!Athena AU (for lack of a better term lol).

So, it would probably hit way too close to home for Athena and Apollo, but now I’m imagining the Olympians (sans Zeus and plus Hades and Hestia) watching Captain America: the Winter Soldier and my heart hurts for them to have to watch and imagine (or know) exactly what sort of torment Athena and later Apollo were put through—especially for the parts where Bucky is being reconditioned, and when Steve is trying to get through to Bucky and Bucky is just trying to kill him.

I’m kind of scared now that something like that happened when Pallas died—except that unlike with Steve and Bucky, Pallas couldn’t break through to Athena in time.

Ooh, ouch! Talk about a kick in the teeth with that last bit!

Now I'm debating on having that happen or not, damn.

As for the movie, I don't think I would have them watch the full thing, but I can definitely see myself at least mentioning it. Maybe having Hermes pull up a video of the specific reconditioning scenes as like an example of how mortals do things like that or something.

But that would probably be as far as it goes. I'm not a super big fan of Marvel after like, specifically the Winter Soldier movie, cause Ironman is my favorite marvel hero and they did him so dirty in everything after that.

But anyway, I'm going to put more about the AU below the cut because I have ideas and want to get them down

I really imagine that while Zeus put Apollo through a lot of the same things he did Athena, it didn't work quite right because Apollo had already matured and gotten several of his secondary domains. Athena wasn't even a toddler by godly standards when Zeus got ahold of her, for all that she was physically mature. Apollo was already a fully fledged adult when he got dragged in.

So Apollo doesn't quite 'Go Gray' like Athena does when Zeus gives him orders. He's still aware enough of what he's doing to try and resist if he thinks he needs to. He just doesn't often feel the need because most of Zeus's orders are about healing Athena and he would do that anyway.

An order that he wants to disobey but can't is when Zeus orders them to 'spar'. They basically fight until one of them is unconscious or dead.*

*Remember, Zeus has stolen power in my AU's, so Apollo and Athena can't permanently kill each other, they just regenerate.

He knows he can't stop Athena from attacking him, and while he might be able to win if he broke the trance and disobeyed so he could use his own fighting style instead of the one Zeus insisted on, he also knows that that would only make things worse for them both.

Godly Domains in my AU's have two types, Primary and Secondary.

Primary domains are the ones a god has from the moment they're born. Apollo's primary domains are Archery, Healing, Truth, Prophecy, and Knowledge. While Athena's are Wisdom and War.

Secondary domains are ones that they discovered themselves or that they're given when another god fades.

Apollo's secondaries are Poetry, Protection of Young Men, Music, and the Sun.

Athena's are Battle Strategy and Handicrafts.

And that's all I can think of right now. Thanks for the ask! Sorry it took me so long to answer!

[mischievouschan4]

Fic Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me, @starwalkertales!!! I've had my eye on this one for a while, and now I have the push to do it haha

Here we go~

How many works do you have on ao3?

For both my handles: 19, but technically 20 if you count the one I abandoned............oopsie 😅 Specifically for Star Wars: 17

2. What's your ao3 word count?

Amazingly, it's a nice even number right now?! 126,000 😲

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Main fandom: Star Wars (Obikin, QuiObiAni) Previous fandoms: Hocky RPF, MDZS, Promare

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1) WorldBigFlameUp with 620 kudos; this is for the Promare movie, GaloxLio with (dirty) domestic fluff post canon 2) Transference with 471 kudos; my current QuiObiAni golden child; Obi-Wan time travels to save the galaxy and receive aaalllll the love he should have gotten the first time around 3) Wisdom Teeth Woes with 260 kudos; really really cute SFW Obikin, the obligatory post wisdom teeth removal amnesia fic 4) How Anakin Got his Groove Back with 161 kudos; switch Obikin, I fondly refer to this one as "BDSM fic" 😌 she's filfthy, she's fun(ny) - maybe?, she's got BSE (big switch energy) from Obi-Wan LOL 5) I Know You Love Me with 150 kudos; HockeyRPF, my Toews/Kane (bottom Jonny) fic from the Chicago Blackhawks glory days *big sigh* **tears up** And the honorable mention abandoned fic (Thorki) at 718 kudos LOL (no judgment, okay?? I was a practically a bebe when I wrote it 😅)

5. Do you respond to comments?

................................I need to be better about this. I definitely do for Transference every time I update with a new chapter, but I find it hard to keep up for some of my other fics (EVEN THOUGH I CHERISH EVERY SINGLE ONE!!!!)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

nOnE oF mY fIcS hAvE aNgStY eNdInGs 👀 (like actually)

7. What's the fic your write with the happiest ending?

I swear they're all happy! But I think the sugary-est fic overall has to be How to Fall in Love with a Lawyer, you can't say no to Obikin engagement! But also, I think The Kenobi-Skywalker Family Goes Viral is also quite adorable (not that I'm biased or anything ha)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have been lucky! No hate so far, just some very astute fans of canon that have pointed out inconsistencies haha (which is 100% acceptable)

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

HA... YES! I do lots and lots and lots of smut! But almost all of it is MxM I think!

10. Do you write cross-overs?

Historically, no. Would I be open to it? ...I think I could be convinced...

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yesssss!!!! And it is such an honor?!?! My QuiObi fic Seasons of Love was translated by the amazing @cakushi into Russian😭💓💓💓

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

NOT YET!!! BUT SOON!!! I'm looking at you, @dark--whisperings 💖

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

QuiObi probably? 🥰 It's definitely my comfort ship.

15. What's your WIP you like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh goodness, welp, I have a WIP called Love and Devotion (MDZS/The Untamed fandom) which is a pseudo-Regency AU for Lan Zhan/Wei Ying that's just sitting there 3/maybe 6 ish chapters in........... I really do want to finish it, but I need to get my head out of Star Wars first....

16. What are your writing strengths?

Visualizing situations to translate them into words

CUTE FLUFF

Writing in a way that's comfortable for me to read out loud

Extensive research (both for smut and non-smut content hehe 😼)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

GRAMMAR (I switch between present and past depending on the fic and it screws with my brain so much)

Pacing 😠 (How much detail is too much detail?? IDK)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Select lines yes, I have for Love and Devotion since the original content is in Chinese and that's my second language, but entire chunks? Definitely not. I usually just do italics to signify another language haha.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I'm honestly not super sure LMAO back in my fanfiction.net days I wrote for both Death Note and Alex Rider hahaha

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Probably Transference haha when you put that much effort into a long-fic, it's hard to not put it on a pedestal.

Thank you so much for tagging me!!! Had lots of fun thinking about these.

Apologies if you've been tagged already, and apologies if I missed you! Anyone can pick this up if you find it interesting!!

@dark--whisperings @thesilverqueenlady @dreaminghour @briliantlymad @anakinsthot @cakushi @to-proudly-go (Omg I’m sorry I left you off!)

[athetos]

omg ash it's your birthday????? HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY!! 🥳🥳 hope u have an awesome weekend involving ur cake of choice <3 🍰😋

Thank you toast!!! Im so spoiled right now I had red velvet cake and my friend just brought me a mini oreo cheesecake im saving for breakfast tomorrow it looks like im going ham before my wisdom teeth get stolen on Monday :3

[cosmokrill]

Sorry I've been gone for a little, had to go get my wisdom teeth stolen by the grand wizard oral surgeon as sacrifice to the gods and my diet for now consists of mashed potatoes, water, and two different pain medications

Oh and also art fight

[buttercup-art]

CROSS OFF THE ONES YOU’VE DONE (IC). Please, repost !

STOLEN FROM: @hyperionhugo (hi!!)

TAGGING: Anyone who wants to do this!

(adding a read more because it's a long list)

1. HAD SEX

2. BOUGHT CONDOMS

3. GOTTEN PREGNANT

4. FAILED A CLASS

5. KISSED A BOY

6. KISSED A GIRL

7. USED A LITTLE PAPER BAG FOR LUNCH

8. HAD A JOB

9. MISSED THE SCHOOL BUS

11. LEFT THE HOUSE WITHOUT YOUR WALLET/PURSE

12. BULLIED SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET

13. SEXTED

14. HAD SEX IN PUBLIC

15. PLAYED ON A SPORTS TEAM

16. SMOKED WEED

17. SMOKED CIGARETTES

18. SMOKED A CIGAR

19. DRANK ALCOHOL

20. WATCHED “THE BREAKFAST CLUB”

21. BEEN OVERWEIGHT

22. BEEN UNDERWEIGHT

23. HAD AN EATING DISORDER

24. BEEN TO A WEDDING

25. MADE FUN OF SOMEONE FOR BEING FAT

26. BEEN ON THE COMPUTER FOR 5 HOURS STRAIGHT

27. WATCHED TV FOR 5 HOURS STRAIGHT

28. BEEN LATE FOR WORK

29. BEEN LATE FOR SCHOOL

30. KISSED SOMEONE IN THE RAIN

31. SHOWERED WITH SOMEONE ELSE

32. FAILED MY DRIVERS TEST

33. RAN A MILE IN LESS THAN 10 MINUTES

34. BEEN OUTSIDE MY HOME COUNTRY

35. BEEN ON A ROAD TRIP LONGER THAN 5 HOURS

36. GOTTEN MY HEART BROKEN

37. HAD A CREDIT CARD

38. BEEN TO A PROFESSIONAL SPORTS GAME

39. BROKEN A BONE

40. BEEN UNHAPPY ABOUT YOUR WEIGHT

41. WON A TROPHY

42. CUT MYSELF

43. HAD AN STD

44. GOT ENGAGED

45. BEEN ON A DIET

46. TRIED OUT TO BE ON A TV SHOW

47. RODE IN A TAXI

48. BEEN TO PROM

49. PLAYED IN A DRINKING GAME

50. STAYED UP FOR 24 HOURS OR MORE

51. BEEN TO A CONCERT

52. HAD A THREE-SOME

53. HAD A CRUSH ON SOMEONE OF THE SAME SEX

54. BEEN IN A CAR ACCIDENT

55. HAD BRACES

56. LEARNED ANOTHER LANGUAGE

57. KILLED A BUG

58. BEEN AT A YARD SALE

59. BEEN TO A JAPANESE STEAKHOUSE

60. WORE MAKE UP

61. TALKED TO SOMEONE VIA WEBCAM

62. LOST MY VIRGINITY BEFORE I WAS 16

63. HAD MY WISDOM TEETH TAKEN OUT

64. KISSED SOMEONE A DIFFERENT RACE THAN MYSELF

65. SNUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE

66. BOUGHT PORN

67. HAD A VIRUS ON MY COMPUTER

68. HAD ORAL SEX

69. DYED MY HAIR

71. GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE

72. WORE SOMEONE ELSE’S CLOTHES

73. VOTED IN AN ELECTION

74. RODE IN AN AMBULANCE

75. RODE IN A HELICOPTER

76. CAUGHT THE STOVE ON FIRE

77. GOT IN A FIGHT

78. BEEN ON VACATION

79. BEEN IN AN AIRPLANE

80. BEEN ON A BOAT

81. HAD SURGERY

82. BEAT A VIDEO GAME

83. FOUND SOMETHING VALUABLE ON THE GROUND

84. MADE A SURVEY

85. STALKED SOMEONE ON FACEBOOK/MYSPACE

86. PRANK CALLED SOMEONE

87. BEEN TO A LIBRARY OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL

88. SPENT OVER $100 SHOPPING IN ONE DAY

89. CUT YOUR HAIR AND HATED IT

90. PEED OUTSIDE

91. WENT FISHING

92. HELPED WITH CHARITY

93. TAKEN A PREGNANCY TEST

95. BEEN REJECTED BY A CRUSH

96. BEEN SUSPENDED FROM SCHOOL

97. BROKEN A MIRROR

98. FAKED SICK FROM SCHOOL

99. OWNED A PET

100. BEEN TO SIX FLAGS