oxygen connect

“There was a lot of sickness in my house. My wife has heart problems and is connected to oxygen. I was drinking a lot. Everyone kept to themselves and stayed in their rooms. But one day I had a prophecy in the church that I would have a very big happiness. The prophecy said that someone was going to come and fill all the voids of my home. A few weeks later my daughter was pregnant. And here he is! He’s consumed my entire life. I get to watch him every afternoon. I want him to see me as the happy grandpa who never says ‘no.’ I don’t even drink anymore. He’s brought our entire family together. Recently my wife told me: ‘I can tell you are so happy. Your eyes are always sparkling now.’”

(Medellín, Colombia)

Imagine you're a farmer [Part 3]

Part 1 - Part 1.5 - Part 2

You’d still been confined to your birthing table at work, given that you couldn’t move with the volume of eggs you had in your belly. Jilen was concerned as, after you birthed the ostrich eggs, some of his eggs slipped out early. It usually happened while you were sleeping, which explained the wet dreams and orgasms you would have at night.

“How did those ostriches turn out?” you asked Jilen one day, as he checked your vitals and prepared to perform at ultrasound.

“They’re fine, healthy and large. Just like you,” he chuckled.

You smiled at him, but braced for the cold jelly he was about to smear on your belly.

“You’re due any day now,” he said, walking the ultrasound equipment down to the bottom of your belly, which was still propped up on the ledge, leaving your vagina exposed. “I just need to check them out and see what’s taking so long.”

“I think you’re making excuses to see me,” you said.

“Maybe.” You felt slender fingers run the length of your folds, making you gasp. He had been routinely pleasuring you, every time he managed to be in the room alone with you. You appreciated it, and you were sure be enjoyed it too. It was always a hefty job to clean up his duds and semen, but that was his problem.

His hand reached further into your expansive vagina. It was an easy fit, having been stretched by eggs, fruit, vegetables, and even Jilen’s own cock. He fit a finger into your cervix. “It’s dilated and ready for birth,” he said. You simply hummed, trying to keep your moans in.

It proved to be a bit difficult when Jilen chuckled and reached in even further. He was crouched in a comfortable enough position at this point, and managed to get himself elbow deep into your womb. He grunted and stirred the eggs around, and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore as they clacked against each other.

“Yep, they’re ready. I could practically pull one out.”

“I’m this close to asking you to,” you commented between breaths. “I want to walk again.”

Your doctor retracted his hand, making you groan in frustration.

“I’ll see what I can do about inducing natural labor tomorrow. If I can’t do it, there’s no harm in diving in and just pushing the eggs out myself.” He walked into view.

“Wait, pushing? You’re not going to just pull them out?”

“Pushing is a little bit easier, and more fun.”

Your brows furrowed. “For you or for me?”

“For both of us. At least I’ve heard it should be.”

Later that night, when you couldn’t sleep, you considered the size of your belly. Your doctor turned boyfriend could certainly fit, if he could get past your cervix. There was enough room for his 7 foot tall self to stand up and stretch his arms. The thought of him swimming around in your eggs, pushing them through your entrance and wiggling around, maybe even masturbating in there…

You sighed and rubbed your belly. You might even be able to walk, with a cart, if he stayed in once all the eggs were out. The idea was extremely intimate to you.

The next day, after many shots of various medicines and chemicals, and after your vagina and cervix had been thoroughly played with, Jilen decided natural birth wasn’t an option.

“If we just leave them there, they would probably never come out. They’re full size now, but they would likely grow a bit bigger still, so it’s best if someone goes in and gets them out now. As in, today.” Jilen instructed his assistant to bring the nessecary equipment. He came back with an oxygen tank connected to a long hose that had a face mask designed for Ylokth faces at the other end. The assistant was told to leave, as the process could take hours or days, and Jilen didn’t want him standing around and getting bored.

“Now that he’s gone,” the doctor clasped all four of his hands together. “Are you ready?”

“I guess so. Just be careful on the way in and out. I’ve birthed bigger things than you, but it wasn’t easy or pleasant.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll do great.”

Jilen undressed, put on the mask, and began as he always did, with a single arm. He added each of his other arms one by one, and pulled them apart, stretching your cervix and causing you to clench at the sides of your table. He ducked his head into your vagina, and then immediately into your cervix. His head and ribcage popped in all at once and rattled the eggs. The rest of his torso was easy, as it was thinner than his ribcage, but then he got to the bend.

Ylokths’ centaur-shaped bodies were the reason for their L-shaped eggs, and Jilen’s was now the biggest challenge in the way of entering your womb. He pushed against the back of your womb, angling his head upwards. Any spectators standing at your foot-end would see his head clearly outlined under your belly button, and you felt the pressure strongly. You clenched your teeth and groaned. The stretching of your cervix and skin was a welcome pleasure, but pain came with it as his widest parts slid through.

Finally, his feet slipped in, and he quickly curled up around his eggs to minimize his size. You panted, rubbing the top of your belly in relief. It was only a brief moment of rest before Jilen started wiggling around. You moaned again, enjoying the feeling of eggs clicking against each other. Jilen oriented himself to stand, and pushed the first egg through your cervix. It came through easily, but your muscles had no strength to push it out of your vagina, so it stayed there, pressing firmly against your g-spot.

You wished you could reach around and touch yourself, but the pleasure of huge, bumpy eggs passing your cervix and popping out of your entrance to land on the soft floor was more than enough. You pushed against your belly, sending a ripple toward the bottom of it, which ended up knocking Jilen over. He scrambled to stand up again, and this time you could see his hands bracing against your womb.

Hours passed and your belly got smaller and smaller as the pile of eggs grew. You could see your boyfriend’s movments pretty clearly now, as the pile of eggs inside you was now shorter than he was, even though he was sitting. Finally, the last few eggs passed, and you enjoyed one last full strength orgasm, bucking your hips.

Jilen curled up to rest for a moment, greatly reducing the apparent size of your belly. It almost returned to a perfectly round shape, but it was still a bit droopy as the skin hadn’t shrunk all the way yet.

You pushed the ledges that used to hold your belly up to the side, and rolled off the table, pulling Jilen with you. His arms and legs stirred around as he tried to catch his balance, causing you to moan again, but you both landed on the soft floor with a thud. You could have fun later, but after months of not moving or laying on your side, you just relished being able to stick your hand under your head and rest in a new position. You patted your belly, still much larger than any normal human pregnancy, and Jilen reached out to touch your hand. You both rested like that for a while.

Eventually, you woke up to Jilen shuffling around. Your skin was now tight around him, and the most he could do was sit or crouch. You could hear his muffled moans, and realized he was laying on his back, his cock hard and poking up against the side of your womb. You reached as far as you could and touched the end of it, causing him to buck.

He continued jacking off, but before he could come, he rolled onto his side and thrust his cock out of your cervix. You yelped, surprised at the sensation, but not unhappy about it. He thrust through your cervix a few times before you felt the hooks of his penis grab into any wall they could reach, and his semen burst out of your vagina and onto the floor. You didn’t orgasm from the experience, but you smiled at the situation. If things like this could happen every day, you didn’t think you’d be too upset about it. Just the idea of Jilen fucking you from the inside out, or even coming directly against your walls and coating himself in his own fluids was enough to keep you horny.

Soon after his cock detatched from your cervix, Jilen shifted and started to crawl toward your opening. Once he had his arms out, you pushed to help him, but you felt him get hard again. You giggled, but kept pushing. After a few minutes, his head popped out and he slid out all the way to his waist.

He ripped the face mask off and looked at you. “Keep pushing, baby. That feels amazing, all those muscles clenching against my whole body.” You noticed his hips were bucking, probably involuntarily.

“This feels great for me too,” you panted.

Jilen did very little to pull himself out of your womb, leaving all the work to you. You didn’t mind, as the sensation of him sliding his cock against your womb walls was almost enough to make you come. What pushed you over the edge multiple times was the fact that he also decided to play with your clit.

Finally, with one huge, orgasm induced push, the rest of him slid out, and he spurted duds and semen across the floor once again.

“Ugh. That was amazing.” He stood shakily.

“Can we do that at home some time?” you said, out of breath.

“Only if you move in with me.”

“Hell yeah,” you grinned.


So this is the last part for these two, but I’ll probably write more in this universe. As mentioned before though, I’ll write other stories outside of this universe in between. I’d love to branch out and keep writing for this blog, as long as you guys are enjoying it.


anonymous asked:

Do a McKirk HC out of the last movie you watched (or enjoyed watching).

Passengers AU, with some necessary changes to make it less cringe (can’t say I enjoyed it a lot, but… McKirk, ok)

  • Being abruptly woken up is terrifying. Jim is disoriented; struggling to breathe properly and have his eyes adjust to the light around him. “Welcome, Jim Kirk,” the hologram of a woman rings in his ears, “we hope you’ve slept well. When you’re ready, please find your room on the upper decks. A crew member will be there to assist you, if necessary.” Jim barely takes any of that in. He’s finally awake, though it feels like he went to sleep only a few minutes ago. He steps out of his cryobed and looks around; the other passengers still seemingly asleep, but he doesn’t think about it and instead finds his way to his room. It’s huge, luxurious, with a kingsize bed bigger than he’s ever seen. He’s definitely not complaining, and resists the urge for an immediate nap after having been asleep for so long already. So rather, he showers and gets dressed into something comfortable, then makes his way to the bar.
  • “Where is everybody?” he asks the bartender. “Around, surely,” the bartender replies, “whiskey?” “Yes, please,” Jim says, looking around curiously. When the bartender serves him his drink, Jim takes an eager sip. He’s neither hungry nor thirsty, yet it feels like he hasn’t eaten in years. Which, technically, is true. “So how long until we arrive?” Jim asks curiously. “Oh, 90 years, 2 weeks, and 3 days,” the bartender replies. Jim sips his drink, again, and only then realizes what the bartender is saying. “What?” “90 years, 2 weeks-” “No, I heard,” Jim says, “but what?
  • Initially, being alone isn’t so bad. Jim gets to explore the areas of the ship that are otherwise off limits even to gold members such as himself. But after a few days, it gets boring. The only one he can talk to is his bartender, Scotty, and Scotty’s a robot. After weeks, or months (who knows at this point?), Jim stops caring about his appearance, because he’s alone, anyway. Often walking around naked or in pajamas because it’s comfortable. Often eating in Scotty’s presence so that he has someone to talk to. Stops shaving until he’s got a decent beard. But then, when he wanders around aimlessly in his pajamas, Jim suddenly becomes very aware of a continuous banging on one of the crew doors. And when he peaks through the small window, there’s another guy there. Awake. “Holy shit,” Jim mutters to himself, then tries to open the door from the outside, but to no avail. Not without any proper tools, anyway. So he breaks into the engineering rooms, finding whatever tools he deems useful, and after hours, the door finally breaks. “Oh, thank God,” he hears the other man say, and Jim finds himself pulled into a brief hug, “I thought I was going to starve to death.” “Are you okay?” “No,” the other says, “I woke up way too early. The door to the rest of the ship was locked, I had to live on whatever emergency rations were stashed here just in case, and I ran out nearly 4 days ago.” “Jesus,” Jim says, grabbing the stranger’s arm, “let me take you the canteen, then.”
  • Leonard McCoy, or Bones, is fascinating. A doctor, whose cryobed somehow also malfunctioned, a month or so after Jim’s did. Jim makes sure he’s properly fed, and then just doesn’t leave the guy alone, because Jim’s attention starved. No matter how much he likes Scotty, it doesn’t beat a real human being. And after Bones has showered and slept, and eaten properly, he looks damn handsome, too. Jim starts making an effort again, and takes Bones out on the ship to explore it together. Bones loves the swimming pool and the cinema, and, of course, the bar. He spends a lot of time in the med bay, too, catching up on crew profiles and any recent Earth studies they’ve received.
  • Jim is just completely smitten and doesn’t even know what to do with himself around Bones. Normally, flirting isn’t such a problem, but he feels a bit rusty after so long. So rather, he decides to take him on some romantic date idea. “C'mon,” he says, dragging Bones out of his research on how to put both of them back to sleep. That can wait, after all. He takes Bones to a special airlock, pointing at the astronaut suits. “They have these specially build, with a safety cord,” Jim says, “I went floating outside once to check it out.” “Are you insane?” Bones replies, and that’s… not quite what Jim was expecting. “It’s safe, Bones.” “You’re floating. In space. In a suit with limited oxygen,” Bones stresses, “only connected to the ship with a measly safety cord? Are you crazy?” “I thought it’d be fun,” Jim says. “That’s your definition of fun?!”
  • So, that didn’t work as expected. Jim is a little disappointed Bones doesn’t even want to try it out; and instead has to listen to the other list the dangers of space for what feels like hours. No matter, though, because when they arrive in the bar, Bones’ mood is considerably better. And afterwards, Jim walks him back to his room. He’s never actually been there, and when he does, he knows why. The crew cabins are considerably smaller, and Bones’ room contains at least 4 beds where otherwise other crew members would have slept. “Why are you staying here, man?” Jim asks, “you can have whatever room you want. Come check out mine, maybe it’ll change your mind.” And so he brings Bones to his room. His spacious, split level room with his own bar and cleaning robot. Despite that, though, it’s still incredibly messy, and he can feel Bones’ eyes judge him while Jim hastily cleans up some of his clothes from the floor. “Why do you even need all this space?” Bones asks, and Jim shrugs. “Y'know, to impress a handsome guest coming over,” he says. Bones’ expression softens, and Jim instantly feels more relaxed knowing Bones hasn’t rejected that comment. “Yeah? You always leave your room so messy for your handsome guests to see?” Bones asks, and Jim shrugs lightly. “Only you.” “Oh, I feel so special,” Bones replies. “You should be, because you are,” Jim says. And that works. Because Bones leans in to kiss him, and it’s the most wonderful thing in the world. Or, the second most wonderful thing, because Bones’ hands sneaking under his shirt while they find their way to Jim’s bed is even better.
  • Things get so much better from then on. Because no one is around, that means no one stops them from having sex pretty much anywhere. Jim falls rapidly more in love with this grumpy doctor. But then the ship malfunctions. Apparently, being hit by a meteoroid caused the ship to malfunction, waking Jim and Bones up sooner than expected, and the ship continues to shut down in several places. Lights flicker repeatedly, and after a blaring alarm, they find out the engine is close to overheating.
  • Consulting the engineering manuals, they find out there’s a safety latch outside the ship that can help the engine from overheating, but that requires actually going out there. Bones is already panicking about that before Jim suggests putting on the suit and going out there. The prospect of the whole ship potentially overheating and blowing up is enough of a reason for Bones to let Jim go outside, but only barely so.
  • “Are you okay?” Bones asks into the communication system when he hears Jim struggling outside. “Yeah, zero gravity’s a little difficult to work with,” Jim replies, “the latch is stuck.” “I’m near the engine room,” Bones says, “it doesn’t look good, Jim.” “Way to put more pressure on me. I’m trying my best here,” Jim replies. “Try harder,” Bones says, and Jim huffs. He tugs and pulls at that stupid latch, until it finally opens - and the sudden blast of hot air shooting outside sweeps Jim off his feet. The cord keeping him attached to the ship tightens around his waist, and then snaps. “Bones,” Jim calls out while he’s spinning uncontrollably through space, “Bones, I’m in trouble.” “You did it!” Bones calls out. “Bones,” Jim stresses, “the cord broke, I can’t get back.” “What?” “I can’t get back inside.” “Are you joking?” Bones says. Jim’s quietly panicking, though he tries not to make it sound like he is. “It’s okay,” he says, “I’m almost out of oxygen, I can’t get back. It won’t take long-” “Shut up,” Bones replies, “you’re gonna get back to the ship, okay?” Jim nods, though of course, Bones can’t see that. “Just know that if I can’t– I mean, Bones, you should know–” “Save it,” Bones replies, “no need to mention it. Just get back to the damn ship.” It gets harder to breathe rather quickly, and the constant tumbling around is dizzying, so it doesn’t take long for Jim to just pass out completely.
  • Jim must be dead. Has to be, right? His suit ran out of oxygen. His cord broke. He has to be dead. But when he opens his eyes, he’s back inside the ship. Bones is asleep on a chair next to his bed, though when Jim grunts, Bones instantly wakes up. “How did I get here?” Jim asks, sitting up straight with Bones’ help, who checks out his eyes, takes his temperature - but most importantly, kisses him breathless for a while. “Did you float out into space to save me?” Jim asks, and Bones shrugs. “t Was no big deal. I save your stupid ass all the time.” Jim laughs, cupping Bones’ cheeks and kissing him again. “I love you,” he says. Because it’s true. It’s not because he was on the brink of death. It’s because Bones is the most wonderful human being he’s ever met.
  • “These bio beds,” Bones says, “they have the ability to freeze you and put you back to sleep.” “Seriously?” Jim asks, and Bones nods. “I can put us back under, Jim.” “Both of us, are you sure?” Jim asks carefully, and Bones nods. “I can put us back to sleep, and we should wake up just before our arrival,” Bones says, and so Jim smiles. “Okay,” he says. He watches Bones as he initializes the program on two medical beds (– after all, there would be more than one bed on a ship with over 5000 passengers). Once he’s done, Jim leans in to kiss him. “See you in 89 years?” he asks, and Bones laughs. “Yes, see you soon,” he says, before Jim nods back to sleep in his new bed.
  • Being abruptly woken up is terrifying. Jim is disoriented; again. He feels dizzy when he sits up straight. “Welcome, Mr. Kirk,” a female voice rings again. This time, though, it’s an actual woman talking to him. “My name is Christine Chapel,” she says, “I’ve read in Leonard’s journal that you two’ve had quite a journey. Are you feeling okay?” “Leonard,” Jim says, looking around at the other bed, though it’s empty, “where is he?” For some reason, his mind wanders to their last encounter. What if Bones had put him under and couldn’t get back to sleep himself? What if Bones had to spend all those years alone, and– “Good morning, darlin’,” Bones’ voice calls out to him. Bones is dressed in a white doctor’s outfit, and Jim lets out a relieved sigh. “They wake up crew a month beforehand, figured I’d let you sleep a little longer,” Bones says, leaning in to kiss Jim’s lips softly. Jim lets him linger a little longer, arms around Bones’ shoulders to keep him close. “Are we almost there, then?” Jim asks as Bones helps him up on his feet, and Bones nods. “We’re actually already there. Tomorrow, we’ll descend to the planet.” “A day away from planet Vulcan,” Jim sighs, staring out the giant window in medbay to look at the looming red planet in front of them, “sure beats 89 years.” “Yeah,” Bones says, “though I’d happily do 89 years on a stupid ship with you.”

anonymous asked:

Mhh~ garden hose water *slurp* mHHHHMM~ gOOD sHIT *glug glug* much hydrating such refreshment. Delicious hydrogen and oxygen atoms connected by covalent bonds mmmm~

i wish i was dead

Just Some Cancer Kids

Write-A-Thon: Lit Day (3)

Pairing: Jamilton

Summary: Basically TFIOS, you know the drill most likely

Word Count: 4,069

Tags: @hamilton-of-issues, @demonwolfnightmare, @jeffmadsrqandrp, @melonhamster, @mishaisakitten, @bestfluteninja, @nitrogennerd, @weareallhamiltontrash, @closestfriendivegot, @nefarism

A/N: So I wanted to do this because a) angst b) Jamilton c) several of my family members have died from cancer so I can relate somewhat. BY the way, I do use some actual quotes like the “it’s a metaphor” part just so you know.

Cancer. It was a six letter word that scared anyone senseless, for relatively understandable reasons. After all, an average of over half of a million people died from it a year.

Keep reading


Request by Anonymous: Could you do a Sherlock x reader where the reader is upset because she is really insecure so Sherlock tries to cheer her up but because Sherlock is Sherlock he doesn’t do a very good job? Loads of fluff please? Thank you.

Imagine Sherlock trying to comfort you about your insecurities* (sry for the grammar error,) but him being Sherlock has a difficult time comforting you.


Fandom: BBC Sherlock

(Sorry if Sherlock is OOC)

Gifs aren’t mine.

You sighed getting out of the cab that was now parked in front of Sherlock’s and John’s apartment. Well they called it a flat, but you never really got used to using British terms so you just sticked with your American ways.

You looked up to the door and wiped the rest of your tears away. You took in deep breaths to even out your breathing. You opened the door and entered the apartment complex and greeted Ms.Hudson with a fake but convincing smile. You headed up the stairs and opened Sherlock’s and John’s apartment door.

You looked inside to see the flat still in a mess with Sherlock laying down on the couch probably in his mind palace, again. You looked around for John, but he was nowhere to be found. Honestly the only reason you came was because Sherlock texted you about something important, but you guessed he wouldn’t be moving for a few hours.

You sighed and turned around opening the door again, but before you could leave Sherlock’s voice brought your attention towards him.

“(y/n), could you give me a pen?” Sherlock asked as he laid there with his eyes closed and with his palms against each other in a praying position under his chin.

You sighed again while your grip on the door knob tightened. You where right now fed up at the moment. Sherlock’s text had seemed so urgent, but all he really needed was for you to give him a fucking pen?! You honestly wanted to scream and throw the closest thing to you at a wall and than drown yourself in your own pitiful tears. You sighed once again trying to not lash out at Sherlock as you breathed.

“No,” was your reply to him getting ready to leave again.

“What?” Sherlock asked probably not even listening to you. 

“I said no! I’m not going to get you something when you can just as easily get it yourself,” you told him while glaring dangers at him.

“(y/n) just give me the bloody pen,” Sherlock mumbled as he held out his right hand still not opening his eyes.

“No! I’m sick and tired that no one ever listens to me! I always have to be the one to get people things or to do something for them or to help them, but no one seems to care enough to even see that I’m dying on the inside. All I get in return is insults of how pitiful and ugly I am. I know I’m not perfect, but could you at least try to actually care about me?!” you screamed at Sherlock who’s eyes widened in shock at your out burst. It surprised him since you were always so quite and willing to help everyone. He also had a hard time deducing your emotions. He could deduce who you are, but he could never pin point what you were feeling. It bothered him knowing he couldn’t figure out something so simple, but also complicated. 

“And I’m sorry if I’m sounding selfish, but no one ever seems to care what I’m feeling! Everyone always expect me to help them even though they been rude and just mean to me, and it’s the same with you too. I don’t even know why I ever fell for you. Your bad for me and I’m never going to the pretty or smart enough for the oh so amazing Sherlock Holmes!” You yelled letting all your rage out on him and turning around and slamming the apartment door shut, but before you could walk down the stairs Sherlock’s hand grabbed your’s and pulled you back into his flat with him blocking the doorway.

He stared at you while you stared at him your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. “What?” you asked him as you sniffed.

“I think your beautiful,” he mumbled as he stepped closer to you.

You gave him a sad smile and shook your head, “You’re only saying that because you pity me,” you told him looking down to the floor as you tried walking past Sherlock, but he held onto your wrist and hugged you.

“(y/n) I think you know I’m not really the comforting type and I’m also not the most affectionate person in the world, but trust me when I say that you are beautiful,” he mumbled into your hair.

“You say that now. But I’ll let you down and you’ll turn your back like everyone else does,” You said looking up into his light blue eyes that seemed to hold not just blue, but many different colors and shades.

“Why do you think so lowly of yourself?” Sherlock asked already knowing the answer, but wanting you to tell him why.

“You know why because I know you’ve already deduced it, I’m not stupid,” You told him while sipping a few tears away again.

“Than why do you say you are not intelligent?” He asked lifting a brow at you questioningly.

You looked down at the hardwood floor and smiled slightly, “I honestly have no idea. I was just always insulted by my older siblings and parents about how I’m so stupid and worthless.”

“I know Mycroft has been an are to me ever since I could speak,” Sherlock grumbled to himself. You chuckled at Sherlock who starred at you in confusion.

“Why are you laughing? Aren’t you sad?” Sherlock was now actually genuinely confused as he looked at you.

“Oh, Sherlock you might be a genius, but somehow your also clueless swell,” you smiled up at him lightly as he still looked at you in confusion.

“I still don’t understand why you are laughing,” Sherlock said, but you just hugged him.

“Oh, shut up,” you’re voice was muffled as Sherlock just became tense. He awkwardly hugged you back before you released I’m from the hug.

“Are you okay now?” Sherlock asked as you nodded sniffing slightly and sipping away your tears.

“Yeah…, yeah I’m fine,” You said going and sitting down on a chair and turning on the tv. Sherlock stared in confusion at your sudden change in mood, but he just pulled his seat closer to the tv and towards you and he sat down as well.

After finding a good channel which Sherlock had complained that he wanted to watch something else, but soon he quoted down to watch the show.

“Hey, Sherlock?” You asked your eyes still fixated on the tv as Sherlock replied with a hum.

“Did you calm me beautiful?” You looked at Sherlock as his eyes widened and he looked away from you. You chuckled as he blushed slightly in embarrassment which you would have not noticed if the tv screen wasn’t so bright.

After a while of silence between the two of you, you both turned back to the tv. But you mumbled a silent and quick I love you to him. His head snapped to you which made you turn your head towards him in confusion only to than realize that he heard you.

“I…,” You trailed off not knowing what to say to take it back, but apparently you didn’t need to because Sherlock fully turned towards you over his armrest and captured your lips in his.

Both his and your lips moved in sink as he pulled you towards him with you somehow ending up in his lap. Hi slips were soft and moist while yours were drier from lack of drinking anything. Soon enough the two of you had txobreak apart from lack of oxygen, but you’re lips connected again soon enough.

The two of you were so in the moment that you both didn’t realize that John was standing in the doorway with a wide smirk on his face. You only noticed when John placed down the groceries he had gotten he placed loudly onto a kitchen counter.

Sherlock and you both broke apart to see John smirking at the two of you, but before John could say anything ti the two of you.

“Go away John,” Sherlock growled as you just chuckled only for Sherlock to silence you by locking his lips onto yours once again. John lifted up hi hands in surrender as he walked to his room.

“In 1908, an American physiologist named Charles achieved a feat that would never have been thought plausible. He tried to sow the head of a dog onto the body of another dog. He connected the arteries together such that the blood flow from the second dog reached the first dog’s head; after the first dog’s head was left without oxygen for twenty minutes, and despite what you may believe, there were several small movements and reflexes such as: sticking out its tongue, the dilation of its pupils, and the twitching of its nose.

Almost forty years later, soviet pioneer Vladimir Demikhov made his own attempt at creating two headed dogs. He created a machine that would lessen the time the heads spend without oxygen and connect the head and front paws of one dog to that of another. Demikhov created twenty of these abominations and they all survived between two to twenty nine days. During their life they all exhibited strange behaviors, including: ‘tugging as if trying to separate itself from the body.’”

Firefighter!Levi saves Erwin from the flames of a kitchen fire.

and captures his heart.

Erwin had to admit that he wasn’t the best cook, but starting a house fire while baking brownies from a box had to be some kind of a new low. How could he have screwed it up? It was a three step process, and he’d thought everything had been going fine until he’d suddenly heard a shrill beeping noise while he was in the shower - washing himself off while the brownies had been baking may not have been the best idea - and began to smell smoke coming from the other room. Rushing out with a towel around his waist with his fire alarm blaring, he walked in to find his oven and most of his kitchen engulfed in rapidly spreading flames.

Shit. He swore, dropping his towel in favor of sprinting for his cell phone so he could call the fire department. How did this happen? The brownies hadn’t even exceeded the cooking time, how had they caught on fire? Erwin didn’t understand but at the moment he was far more concerned about his belongings and his small home, as by the time he’d located his phone in the next room the amount of smoke billowing out from the kitchen had already flooded it.

It was thick and heavy and burned his lungs, and he could barely get his address out over the emergency hotline in between fits of harsh coughing. While dialing the number he’d rushed into his bedroom in an attempt to find pants, because as much as he knew he needed to escape he also knew that he was stark naked, and standing in his yard with his cock hanging out for all the neighbors to see while his house burned down was not something he wanted to experience.

It was perhaps a ridiculous thing to worry about, but regardless, he found himself picking up the first pair of boxers he saw lying on his bedroom floor, trying to slip them on and dart down his hall to safety at the same time. Unfortunately, he’d been coughing and gasping for breath and near sprinting that entire time, and the smoke had gotten so bad that he could barely see. How had it filled his house so fast? He wondered, but got his answer when he reached his living room again and saw flames licking at the ceiling from the entrance to the kitchen.

They were spreading quickly, and Erwin stumbled as he came to a stop, nearly falling into a wall because suddenly he could barely breathe. He felt dizzy too and his head was spinning, and as he fell to the ground, he realized he could hear sirens. The last thing he saw before he passed out was an axe splintering through his door, and then the tiniest firefighter he’d ever seen busting inside his house through it with one booted foot first.

Keep reading

Emma Swan has more than enough to deal with. For one, her son believes the entire town of Storybrooke is cursed. She definitely doesn’t have time for the mysterious pawnbroker, Killian Jones, even if Henry insists that he’s the prince she’s meant to be with. Cursed!Killian AU

ff.net | ao3 | from the beginning


Chapter 41

It felt almost surreal to be sat in the back of an ambulance at Neal’s side. Emma had watched as the EMTs gave him oxygen, connected him to a drip and an ECG, and then they’d sat in silence, Neal’s heavy, pained breathing and the rhythmic beeping of the ECG the only things she could hear.

She wished she wasn’t alone with him. David and Mary-Margaret had waited with her until the ambulance arrived, but instead of joining her, instead of sending Regina to the hospital too, they’d decided to ask Mother Superior to heal her. The same had been offered to Neal, but he’d told them, through gritted teeth, that he didn’t need or want magic to mend his injuries.

Emma wasn’t sure what to say, if she even should say anything. When she’d been trying to cope with the realisation that Neal had betrayed her, she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She hadn’t been able to talk about it, and she hadn’t also been dealing with a bullet in her shoulder.

It was probably better not to talk.

Keep reading