when the sun was already awake,
and jumping on our bed,
he asked me if I ever tired of him.
I ignored him,
as I did the sun,
and burrowed under blankets,
determined to get back the time we had lost the night before,
due to our correlative craving for each other,
that simply couldn’t wait until morning.
I was tired,
in my head,
and in my heart,
and in my whole body.
Four Hours wasn’t enough to recover
from the teenaged fun we had,
or from the very adult lack of fun that followed.
Emotions strewn across the bed,
from ecstasy to melancholy,
the memory of his first undressing of me,
and the memory of her last dressing down of him.
I rose anyway,
as tired as I was,
to sip some coffee from his lips,
to ward off tiredness.
Note: So here is the fourth part to the fic that helped me set up this entire blog. I have the majority of the storyline figured out in my head but not sure just how long it will be yet. As usual all feedback is welcome! <3 I apologise for any spelling mistakes but unfortunately at this time of night there is only so much my eyes will allow me to notice and correct! :) Also I apologise for there being no Bucky in this chapter but he will be in the next one!
Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Reader, Steve x Reader
Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, death and injuries….also a long awaited reunion!
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine. All credit goes to their wonderful creators <3
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
The grip his metal appendage had on you crushed your airway, instantly cutting off the vital air supply you needed, a hoarse gasp escaped your lips buy you made damn sure you kept your eyes trained on him. If he was in there somewhere then you didn’t want to miss him coming through. But he didn’t….and when the former shadow of the man you loved had grown bored of your gasps he ended your suffering by snapping your neck and discarding your lifeless body down the steep embankment you had been stood near.
FOUR HOURS LATER.
Your body forced you to take in a large intake of air, an audible gasp escaping you as it did, just as your eyes snapped open. The glazed look that they had once sported transformed as your hues turned back to their usual [e/c] colour and you were faced with the soggy ground of the embankment that had been your ‘final resting place’.
You had felt him snap your neck. Not only did you hear your own bones cracking in his grip but you had felt the split second of sheer agonising pain as the fateful damage had been done to you, as he practically severed the top portion of your spinal cord…..so how the hell were you alive and breathing???
2012 - NEW YORK CITY
It had been over seven decades since the day the man you loved had
killed you. Over seventy years of trying to figure out just what was wrong with
you while still being determined to find Bucky – apart from a few false leads
you had seen no more of him. There had been a number of deaths that had looked
like no more than accidents but given the high profile of the deceased
individuals you had a feeling it was something to do with him.
You tried to see if there was a pattern to the ‘accidents’ but other than
the majority of the individuals being a part of the Government Agency known as
SHIELD there was nothing.
Every ten years you would need to move away from wherever it was you had
settled before people started to notice that you didn’t age; it was frustrating,
and one of the reasons you never allowed yourself to become attached to anyone,
but at the same time it helped make you feel that maybe one day you would end
up where he was.
New York City was your latest home. You’d been living here for no more than
two weeks when the impossible took place; which said a lot coming from someone
who was quite the impossible thing themselves having died numerous times, in
various ways, over the years but when those alien creatures began to pour from
a hole in the sky you found yourself completely frozen to the spot. The huge
thing that cruised through the city was like nothing you had ever seen before
but you didn’t get much time to look at it when a whole cluster of the aliens
erupted out of it.
Nana’s kind come from the dryads, from the earth. Their natures wax and wane with the seasons, their personalities shifting from spring to winter and back again, all through the cycle. The bodies are human, but the spirits are not, and that makes all the difference.
The monthly cycle, instead of bearing pain and increased blood in uncomfortable places, results in bundles of fruit growing at the tips of their hair when they wake in the morning, an increasing desire to go out into the garden, dig their toes into the warm, wet earth and simply stay there, basking in the sun for several hours. If roots grow from their toes during this time, nobody knows save them, and if they come inside looking a little healthier, a little calmer, well, that’s a good day then.
Tsuna finds it amusing when people assume Iemitsu provides the food that Nana puts on the table every night. Granted, he makes a large sum of money, but no money can do what Nana or Tsuna can. Tsuna is still young, so he can’t produce like his mother can, but occasionally in the stormier seasons he’ll have that tingling sensation race across his spine, his body ache for the outside, and he’ll go and stand in the rain, face turned up to the storm, as roots plant themselves deep and begin to take in the nutrients.
The first time his Family witnesses this, they try to drag him away. Nana sharply reprimands them, and tells them come inside, he knows what he’s doing. He won’t get sick, you can trust me on that. It takes a while, but eventually they all do go inside, even if Reborn watches from the window like a particularly faithful watchdog.
And like that, he is the only one to see the little beads of crisp reds and pale pinks dot his hair, the cherries and peaches, ripe and juicy and ready to be eaten. Nana brings out a basket four hours later, and Tsuna’s body has produced so much she has to help pull some off of him, his neck aching with the weight of it. Reborn stands by the door and watches with something akin to faint shock and awe, and Tsuna gracefully tugs the ripest peach from behind his right ear and offers it to his mentor, smiling.
“It’s good. Nothing strange will happen if you eat it, I promise.”
He takes it, handling it like its something fragile and vulnerable gifted. He rolls it around in his tiny hands, and then looks back to Tsuna. Leon scuttles across the fruit, tongue flickering here and there with obvious confusion. “It’s… fruit?”
“What do you know of the dryads, Reborn?” Tsuna asks in turn.
“Aren’t those oak?” Reborn asks, raising the fruit to his lips and taking a small bite. He looks down in shock, clearly taken aback by how juicy it is. Tsuna shares another smile with his mother.
“Normally,” Nana agrees. “But like with all things, there are different types. When the world changed and man began to spread, the dryads had to change too. So some became fruit, and others spread to other types of trees. Our line descends from one of the fruit dryads.”
“And this happens… all the time?”
“Not all the time. For me, sunny days and whenever this body would normally menstruate bring the greatest yields. Summer’s like a non-stop vacation for my body.” Nana grins at him. “Tsuna-kun prefers wetter climates, and he doesn’t produce much right now, but everything his body does produce is perfectly ripe. As you can tell.”
Reborn nods slowly. “What does he need?”
“A plot of soil, just big enough for me to stick my feet into. If we get a pot, we could carry it around, or make do on the fly. We can get strange weather up here sometimes, and I have no idea what the weather’s like in other parts of the world.”
“Italy is mainly wet this time of year,” Reborn remarks, taking this new aspect of Tsuna as calmly as anything else. “You’d never come out of the ground if we took you there now.”
Tsuna grins and laughs. “No, no I probably wouldn’t.”
“Are peaches and cherries all you can produce?”
“For right now,” Tsuna says, as his mother hands him a cloth, and he gently begins to pull his feet out of the ground. The roots beg to remain, but he twists and curls his toes and they snap off. His feet come out dirty, but normal. “Give me a couple years, and I can probably start producing more. It depends on what’s in-season, really.”
“And what happens in winter?”
Tsuna’s smile fades a little. “Nothing, really. There are a couple things to grow, but they don’t need soil. They’ll grow all throughout winter. Depending on how the weather is, I can make one or two drops before spring comes back, usually. But apart from that? I sleep a lot, am generally lethargic, and just want to relax. Outside isn’t really…”
“On your list of things to do?” Reborn suggests.
Perhaps if he were any other man, Reborn might not have believed the entire situation. He might have passed it off as some kind of trick of the mind, or the eyes, or something else.
As it is however, he fully believes it. “I’ll start making preparations,” he tells his student, who smiles, and gifts him with a handful of cherries. “In return, I get first pick of everything you grow.”
“Done,” Mother and son chorus, and that as they say is that.
You are the average of the five people you associate with most, so do not underestimate the effects of your pessimistic, unambitious, or disorganized friends. If someone isn’t making you stronger, they’re making you weaker.
Sorry for the lack of updates. My camera phone isn’t working anymore so I haven’t been able to take pictures. Will try to figure out an alternative though.
So far the slow carb diet has been great for me. But now I’m adding more vegetables into my meals. I’ve always been the kind who would have some protein and lots of carbs before the SCD. Not that I don’t like vegetables, just that I didn’t eat them? If that makes sense. I’m sure some of you are in the same boat as me.
I’m taking small steps as I don’t want to end up wasting the vegetables I’ve prepared for myself. So little things I’ve done is have a salad prepared to go with most meals, and I have raw spinach with my breakfast now.
I’ve come to realize how spinach really is a super food. You hear about it all the time but you don’t really get it until you understand that you really do need it for long term reasons.
no idea if youre still doing these babe buuuuuuuut: Meeting Kenny after a show because he noticed you Kenny proposing to you
Meeting Kenny after a Show:
- Your ears were still burning from what had transpired forty five minutes ago - You’d been lucky enough to score a ringside seat, granted you were by yourself, but still! ringside seat! - Kenny Omega had made his triumphant return to NJPW with an invigorated Bullet Club at his back, and proceeded to lay waste to CHAOS’ Kazuchika Okada and Suzuki-gun Minoru Suzuki - the crowd in the hall had completely hushed as Kenny gave another of his rambling speeches - “You all thought I was gone. You all thought I was dead. You alllll thought Bullet Club was dead. Well I got some fuckin’ news for ya, Bullet Club is f-f-f-f-for life. And I’m in a celebrating mood. And what better way to celebrate than to take a beautiful woman out for a night out on the town. What do ya say toots?” - Kenny was leaning on the top rope, looking directly at you in a way that made your insides churn in the most pleasant manner - You were just left with your mouth agape, stuttering - Kenny’s smile was practically devastating - “I’ll meet you outside toots.” - And here you were, outside of the venue near the backdoor, where one of the young lions had escorted you - It was still a little chilly out and your lightweight jacket was doing nothing to stop your shivers - Not more than a couple moments of shivering later, a heavy and warm jacket was draped over your shoulders that smelled distinctively of male - You looked over your shoulder and your face flushed. Kenny, with his two toned curls still a little wet and a wide grin, was standing behind you - “I know this amazing little Vietnamese cafe, serves the best coffee. Want to come grab a cup with me toots?”
- You knew something was up - Kenny had been missing in action all day and the Bucks and Adam had been doing their best to keep you distracted - It was useless grilling Adam, the man was a cool cucumber under pressure - Matt had actually duct taped his mouth shut, so that he wouldn’t have to answer any questions - Which left poor Nick bearing the brunt of your questions and valiantly trying to fend you and your questions off - Your relentless needling had rattled Nick so much that Adam swooped in and dragged you off to get sushi, to prevent the Jackson brother from exploding - it was four hours and half your body weight in sushi later, that you were allowed back to the apartment that you shared with Kenny - The Bucks and Adam had conspicuously disappeared as you opened the door to an almost completely dark apartment - the only light was that from the candles that dotted a neat path towards your bedroom - there were rose petals delicately laid across the floor and photos of your relationship with Kenny placed strategically in picture frames down the hall - Tears were burning at the back of your eyelids and excitement bubbled through your veins - Could it…? - You opened the door to your bedroom and there he was, the love of your life - Kenny was there, with a little black velvet box in hand - He crossed the room faster that lightening, took your left hand, and dropped to a knee - “(Y/N). Will you marry me?”
On February 3, 2004,in Florida,USA 14-year-old Michael Hernandez killed his best friend Jaime Rodrigo Gough. Hernandez told Jaime that he wanted to show something and led him to the second-floor bathroom. Inside Michael stabbed his friend several times and then slit his throat.Despite the bloody spots on his clothes Michael went back to class. Another student entered the bathroom after the murder and saw Hernandez washing his hands.When the boy found Jaime’s body he reported a security guard.Michael had a journal in which he described his plans to commit murder.He planned to kill another friend and older sister, then prop their corpses up on toilets.He also had notes for himself in his journal reminding him to be quick,remove all blood and make sure that his victims are really dead.The murderer got life sentence.
Jaime Rodrigo Gough :
It was the night of July 27, 1987 when 13-year-old Craig Price committed his first murder. In Warwick, Rhode Island, Price broke into a home that was only two houses away from his own. He took a knife from the kitchen and stabbed 27-year-old Rebecca Spencer 58 times, killing her.
On September 1, 1989 Craig being 15-year-old freshman in high school killed 3 other neighbors.During murdering he was high on LSD and marijuana.He
stabbed 39-year-old Joan Heaton 57 times,her 10-year-old daughter Jennifer 62 times, and crushed the skull of her 8-year-old daughter Melissa.When he was discovered,he calmly confessed in his crimes.He was arrested a month before his 16th b-day.
Craig Price was sentenced 29 years to the jail during various sentences from 1991 to 2007.
with her son Steven
Joan Heaton, with her 10 year old daughter Jennifer and her 8 year old daughter Melissa:
On August 2, 1993, 13-year-old Eric Smith was riding his bike to a
summer camp in rural Steuben County, New York and 4-year-old Derrick Robie was walking alone to that same camp. Smith saw Robie and lured him into a nearby wooded area. Eric Smith
strangled him, dropped a large rock on the boy’s head, undressed his body, and sodomized him with a tree.
After four hours of investigation, Robie’s body was found.
After the murder, Smith returned home quite calm. He even told his father that he “feel better now”.In 5 days after killing little Robie, Smith admitted to his family that he was the killer.
Tammy(Eric’s mother) cried and asked Smith why he killed Derrick Robie and Smith wept in reply “I don’t know, I don’t know.” He was sentenced to the maximum term then available for juvenile murderers—a minimum of nine years to life in prison.
Derrick Robie :
On July 28, 1999,in BrowardCounty,Florida Tate was left alone with Tiffany Eunick, who was being babysat by Tate’s mother, Kathleen Grossett-Tate.
While the children were downstairs playing, Tate’s mother called to them to be quiet.
Tate came up 45 minutes later to say that Eunick was not breathing.
Tate was convicted of killing Eunick by stomping on her so forcefully that her liver was lacerated. Her other injuries included a fractured skull, fractured rib and swollen brain. These injuries were characterized by the prosecution as “similar to those she would have sustained by falling from a three-story building.” He was sentenced to life imprisonment without possibility of parole on March 9, 2001. Overturned in January 2004. Released. Sentenced to 30 years in prison on May 18, 2006 on the gun possession charge. On February 19, 2008, Tate pled no contest to the pizza robbery and was sentenced to 10 years.
5. Joshua Phillips
On November 3, 1998,in
Jacksonville, Florida 14-year-old Joshua Phillips killed
an 8-year-old neighbor, Maddie Clifton.He hid her corpse underneath his bed.In a week his mother,while cleaning his room,found poor girl’s body and immediately ran to the police.As the criminal told
the event happened one afternoon when he was home alone and Maddie came to his house asking him to come outside and play. As the two were playing baseball, Maddie threw the ball at him and he hit it. The ball struck the 8-year-old’s eye, causing her to bleed. Phillips claimed that he panicked, fearing what his father would do when he got home, and proceeded to drag her into his room and strangle her with a phone cord for approximately 15 minutes. Soon after, he hit her again with the baseball bat and stabbed her 11 times. On August 26,1999 he was sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole.
Minho+ “Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap.”
Now, Minho loves food. It’s
almost impossible to find someone in this world that threatens to say that they
never enjoyed food in their lives, but Minho has a special peculiarity, he really loves every bite. The moment
she feeds Minho, she notices the cuteness of his features as the noodles enter
his mouth; plump cheeks completely stuffed, lips puckered up and slightly red
from the heat and spiciness that comes with the noodles and one of his hands
wrapped tightly around her hip, keeping her in place over his lap as they sat
at a table in this convenience store…at
It started out as an
insomniac night from his part and then it turned in her waking up from hunger,
the two of them finally decided that having noodles at midnight –almost morning-
could be quite an experience that they wouldn’t tell, but will be withhold
inside their hearts like a memory. Her head resting on his shoulder as she
takes a bite of the noodles as well, chewing on them lightly before looking up
“You look cute while
eating.” She comments as she chews, earning a small smile from Minho who just
swallowed. There was something cute about having her all sleepy over his lap,
big sweater covering her body and her hair a little bit messy and disheveled by
the wind. Minho snuggles his face closer to her neck before letting out a sigh.
“I love eating, what can
I say?” He comments and she nods her head, completely agreeing with his
statement. “…I haven’t closed an eye in almost twenty four hours and my body
doesn’t want to shut off. What the hell
is going on with me?”
“You’re going insane.”
She states before picking up a little bit of the noodles with the chopsticks
and putting it closer to his mouth, seeing him open it without much thought
before chewing on the food. Her hands move with the chopsticks as she plays
around with the little food that is left before sighing. “When we get home you
should really try getting some sleep. I am worried.”
“I will try,” He
indicates before she smiles, noticing the small bags under his eyes and the
smile that was threatening to appear on his face. Right, Minho was a sucker for her caring personality. “Thank you,
for everything.” His thumb reaches for her cheeks as he pinches lightly, earning
a smile from her as she takes him by the face, pressing his cheeks together and
that way puckering up his lips lightly, suddenly leaning in for a series of
short kisses as Minho giggles in between each one. “What is this for? Did I win
“I wasn’t lying when I
said you looked really cute,” She adds as she presses another kiss to his lips,
feeling his hands going up to her waist as a small blush appears on his cheeks.
“But we really need to go home now.” This time, she stands up from his lap as
she cleans everything up, returning soon after to see her boyfriend smiling
down at her, but his smile was much more mischievous that she’d like to admit. “What
are you thinking about?”
“Nothing…” He mumbles
before rolling his eyes playfully, making her frown deepen slightly. Minho was never doing just ‘nothing’.
However, it only takes
her a few seconds to realize Minho’s plan, seeing him kneel down in front of
her with his back turned to her body before taking her by the back of her legs
and placing her on his back, her legs wrapping around his waist by instinct. A
small yelp leaves her lips as her hands rest on his shoulders, closing her eyes
when she feels Minho start to run out of the convenience store as the wind
moves her clothes slightly, her face now resting on top of his as she opens her
“You always have to be fucking extra, right?”
“Well, you fell in love
with me that way, so…” Minho adds before a small chuckle leaves his lips,
tightening his grip on her legs as he slows down. The stars seemed to twinkle
only for them and he can’t help but let out a sigh, the smile on his face not
disappearing at all. “Thank you for coping with my insomniac nights.”
“You’ll have to pay me,
though.” She jokes and Minho lets out a small ‘huh?’ that has her laughing. “I’m joking…” She sounds relaxed as
she leans in slightly to press a kiss to Minho’s cheek, feeling him stiffen
them slightly when a tight lipped smile appears on his face. “I love you a lot.”
I know, I’m pretty awesome.” The tone of his voice is lingering with
playfulness and she rolls her eyes, taking his hood in between her fingers
before pulling it down his eyes lightly. “You know that if I can’t see then we
will fall, right?”
I hate you.” She says as she releases
him lightly, proceeding to place her hands around his neck lightly.
“It isn’t true. You love me, you just said
Minho is full of energy at 4AM, but he’s the most adorable when he’s this way,
natural and sleepy and dazed with dreams of her.
Summary:You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.
Be polite, you
reminded yourself and forced out a tight smile, even though you desperately
wanted to punch the guard. He’s just doing his job.
You sat on the cold,
metal chair and picked up the phone. On the other side of the glass, you father
did the same.
“Daddy, what the hell
happened yesterday? I thought your lawyer had some grand plan to prove your
He merely shrugged.
Beneath the orange jumpsuit, you could tell that he’d given up. There was no
more fight left in him. Once the judge announced the guilty sentence in the
courtroom yesterday, your father had lost his hope. “Life just works out this
way sometimes, honey bear.”
Ooh! Could you write a Scarlett Johansson x female reader imagine where the reader and Scarlett realize that they’re soulmates? Please? :)
"Come on,“ Your friend whined beside you, stomping their feet as you stood just beside one of the autograph lines at the comic con you were at.
"No, she’s literally my favorite and I don’t think I have the heart to face her,” you whisper timidly, eyeing Scarlett Johansson’s line. “Plus, it’s a really long line-” you attempt to use logic in this argument but one look at your friend and you knew that you weren’t going to win this.
"Ugh,“ you groan, eyeing her at the front of the line, smiling and happily chatting away with some fans. "It’s gonna take like, 3 hours,"
"Well,” your friend smiles, clasping you on the back as they drag you to the back of the long line. “Guess it’s a good thing we brought money for food,”
It actually was a good thing you brought a little more extra money than anticipated given that you waited in line for nearly 3 hours, waiting to meet your all time favorite actress. Your friend went and bought pizza, chips, pretzels, and an abundance of other food for the two of you as you waited nervously, gnawing on your nails as the like moved a a snails pace.
You were a little afraid that she was going to leave soon, after all see been here signing autographs for hours, why would she want to stay any longer than necessary? Even though in the beginning you had been rather reluctant to meet her you were simply dying for this line to speed up so that perhaps you’d have the slight chance of catching a glimpse of her.
The line dragged on and it was nearing four hours when her body guard pushed everyone back, saying she was done with autographs for the day. You couldn’t help the bubble of disappointment within you, after all, you were so, so, so close to meeting her, only 10 or so people ahead of you.
"Wait,“ Scarlett placed a gentle hand on her bodyguards arm, smiling at him softly. "I can do a few more, It’s fine,” despite the fact that she had indeed been signing autographs for nearly 4 hours the bodyguard nodded, stepping out of the way so you guys could inch closer.
You swore these ten people were going by slower than any line you’d ever been in. It felt like an eternity before you were finally stepping up to the table, smiling nervously at the actual goddess before you.
“Hi,” she smiled warmly as she grabbed some picture the person beside her was giving out, a standardized photo of her face. “What’s your name sweetheart?” Oh god. Oh fucking hell. Damn you to the core of hell and back again because those were the exact words printed on your arm, hidden from the view of all people.
Everyone had a soulmate, someone in this universe made just for them and a mark, a string of words, would present themself to a person on their 16 birthday. From then on they’d have to wait until the universe pushed the soulmates together, finally allowing the two people to become whole.
The marks were there to guide people through their lives, to make sure they didn’t fall in love only to have their heartbroken, to make sure that for once they found the right partner and here you were, your favorite celebrity before you, having just spoken those exact words upon your arm to you. You checked your sleeves which were pulled down over your hands so there was no way in hell she’d seen the words, no way she was giving you a false sense of hope.
“Um…it’s (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Suddenly her hand stills in it’s writing, having just gotten the first word of your first name written down. Slowly, she looks up to you, her eyes shining with some emotion you’d couldn’t quite figure out.
"You’re my- I’m you’re-“ She trails off, staring at you with these wide, imploring eyes.
"I think so…yeah,” Within a flash she’s hopped up on her chair, jumping off the table and immediately engulfing you in her arms. Her face nuzzles into the crook of your neck as her arms wrap around your waist snugly.
“Soulmate,” she whispers against you. “You’re my soulmate,”
Can you do a Jungkook angst scenario based on Adele's Hello? Thank you!!
Hello, It’s Me
Jungkook X Reader Rated:
S for sad shit sad shit sad shit
telephone rang, one, two, three times. Jungkook’s fatigued mind
listened to the tune, commanded him to close his eyes and to ignore
the call; but the melody started all over again. He had had a
twenty-four hours shift and his body ached, his body asked, no, his
body demanded him to rest and sleep. Rain, a cozy bed and a
free morning sounded too perfect, so he fought to open his eyes. He
extended his arm to grab the devilish device and the phone stopped
his gentle melody.
he asked who called, a yawn interrupted him. “Hello. It’s me.”
The familiar voice coming from the other side struck him with the
force of a sledgehammer cracking an egg.
body reacted beyond his will; mild shock, increasing hearth beat,
full consciousness, and quiescent memories overloaded his senses. He
opened his eyes as a reflex, fully awake and regaining his
concentration, questioning if this was a dream; or maybe a nightmare.
Not in a million years would he expect this call or any call from
her. Since when did ghosts use phones?
sat on the edge of the bed and he stretched his legs out. After a
brief pause, the voice on the phone spoke again. “Hello, can you
I can hear you.” Jungkook’s voice came fast enough, calm enough
and without a trace of hesitation.
must’ve called a thousand times. But when I call, you never seem to
never at home, with the studio and stuff.” He got missed calls; but
he changed her’s contact details to “do not answer” and he
obeyed the screen every time; after, he had some “unknown number”
missed calls. But he didn’t lie either.
Far from being dead, a rotting human corpse is the cornerstone of a complex ecosystem. A better understanding of this ecosystem could have direct applications in forensic science
by Mo Costandi
“John had been dead about four hours before his body was brought into the funeral home. He had been relatively healthy for most of his life. He had worked his whole life on the Texas oil fields, a job that kept him physically active, and in pretty good shape. He had stopped smoking decades earlier, and drank moderate amounts of alcohol.
Lately, his family and friends had noticed that his health – and his mind – had started to falter. Then, one cold January morning, he suffered a massive heart attack, apparently triggered by other, unknown, complications, fell to the floor at home, and died almost immediately. He was just 57 years old. Now, he lay on the metal table, his body wrapped in a white linen sheet, cold and stiff to the touch, his skin purplish-grey – tell-tale signs that the early stages of decomposition were well under way.
Most of us would rather not think about what happens to our selves and loved ones after death. Most of us die natural deaths and, at least in the West, are given a traditional burial. This is a way of showing respect to the deceased, and of bringing a sense of closure to bereaved family. It also serves to slow down the decomposition process, so that family members can remember their loved one as they once were, rather than as they now are.
For others, the end is less dignified. A murderer might bury his victim in a shallow grave, or leave their body at the scene of the crime, exposed to the elements. When the body is eventually discovered, the first thing that the police detectives and forensics experts working on the case will try to establish is when death occurred. Time of death is a crucial piece of information in any murder investigation, but the many factors influencing the decomposition process can make it extremely difficult to estimate.
The sight of a rotting corpse is, for most of us, unsettling at best, and repulsive and frightening at worst, the stuff of nightmares.
Far from being ‘dead,’ however, a rotting corpse is teeming with life. A growing number of scientists view a rotting corpse as the cornerstone of a vast and complex ecosystem, which emerges soon after death and flourishes and evolves as decomposition proceeds.
We still know very little about human decay, but the growth of forensic research facilities, or ‘body farms,’ together with the availability and ever-decreasing cost of techniques such as DNA sequencing, now enables researchers to study the process in ways that were not possible just a few years ago. A better understanding of the cadaveric ecosystem – how it changes over time, and how it interacts with and alters the ecology of its wider environment – could have important applications in forensic science. It could, for example, lead to new, more accurate ways of estimating time of death, and of finding bodies that have been hidden in clandestine graves” (read more).
Dean x Reader Author(s): Lil Lambie Words:1486 Warnings: Screaming, drafts, fluff, fear, implied smut, totes adorbs
Fear of airplanes. Flying. Fear. A paralyzing word.
Aerophobia. Fear of flying. But, it also means the fear of drafts and fresh air. Who would be afraid of drafts? If anything you would just be annoyed. Fresh air, on the other hand, you do not fear it. You need it. Not the artificial circulated air through these vents.
The aisles are stuffy anyway. Who thought it was a good idea to pack people in a small, slender space, with cheap food-that would probably execute its stay before the flight was over?
You turn these thoughts over in your mind.
Breathe, you tell yourself, just breathe. In just a couple of hours, you will be starting the new phase of your life. Graduated high school, saved enough money to get away from the world. Well, after living on your best friend’s couch for five years. Watch her and her spouse fall in and out of love. Make love. Why did they never close their door?
You watch your breath fog up your window. You draw a smiley face on the window. Here you can see the view of the world. You’ve only been on an airplane once before, an hour trip from one end of the state of Kansas to the other. You don’t remember it, but your parents do, saying you screamed and cried the entire time. You were twelve. You prefer to suppress the memory.
Your thoughts cease when a tall, bow legged man wearing a red flannel and black leather jacket, and jeans sits down next to you. You stare at him, then at the seat beside him. It’s a three seat row.
“Sorry.” the nameless man says, sitting in the other chair uncomfortably. His face is emotionless, but the muscles tensed in his face. He fluffs his short brown hair. He flashes green eyes at you after clearing his throat. “I’m Dean.” he holds out a hand to you.
You stare at again. He laughs nervously, licking his lips and pats his arm rest awkwardly.
Dean settles-or rather tries to in his seat. His face is sleek with sweat, but he dismisses it subconsciously saying he ran to the gate. He fiddles with the seat belt, stalling. A blond and blue eyed flight attendant staring down at him.
“Would you like help, sir?” she asks with a snarl.
Dean is taken by surprise, his massive ego grin disappearing. He is flustered again. The pretty-model faced attendant thrusts her hands forcefully towards his belt.
He blushes as she tries to jam the two parts together.
You hear her curse under her breath. She gives Dean an insincere smile. “This seat belt is broken. You’ll have to sit next to her.” Her, you watch her manicured finger point at you. It feels like its a laser burning into your forehead. You scoot over, subconsciously, until you realize there is nowhere to go.
Dean tries a smirk at the woman one more time. She shoots him a glare and points at the seat, and walks away. The seat belt clicks perfectly when he sits down. He tries his egotistical grin on, with a little dent to his pride. “I’m Dean.”
You laugh and shake your head, staring at your lap. “I know.” you scoff.
“(Y/N).” you mumble.
“(Y/N),” he says, tasting the name on his tongue, “I like it.”
“Thanks.” you say, still not making eye contact but looking at the zip of his jacket. “My mom picked it.”
He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he has heard.
This is going to be a long flight.
The plane has taken off. As in, it’s in the air. 36,000 feet in the air. Systems that could fail at any second, and you nose dive to your death. You imagine it. Just like the movies. The oxygen masks drop down, bouncing on their yellow strings. The screams and shouted last words of everyone, like leaving their will. Last confessions.
You snap out of it, looking back at Dean. He holds out a pack of saltines to you. The cheap airplane food. You couldn’t afford first class. You almost couldn’t afford this, you were determined to make your way to LA. Even if it meant you were riding with the cargo. Fortunately, you found a deal on Groupon.
You take the cracker from him. You’ve been in the air for twenty minutes. The longest time of your life. Four hours left. Your body had not relaxed since take off. Since you stepped in the airport. You were a newbie and no one cared about you. Dean, sitting next to you (you made it clear the arm rest was yours), just looks like a egomaniac with no flirting skills. You almost hand him a napkin to wipe the sweat from his face. Does he know? You jolt forward into your seat, smacking your face onto the one in front of you. You catch your breath and hold tightly to the plastic armrest. Dean looks equally flustered but tries to cover it with a smirk that says, I’m a total douche.
He relaxes into the headrest of his seat again. He whistles and waves his hand. The same attendant, with an even more sour and twisted look on her face, comes over. Dean asks her if he can have pie or beer. She responds snidely. Only for first class. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and offers it to her. She takes it, slips out a twenty and throws it back at his face.
The beer and pie, never came.
“You know, it’s kind of an upside you can’t have beer. You would be even more motion sick and anxious.” you say. You read all the do’s and don’ts of flying last night on Wikipedia. You could spit out every last word.
Dean isn’t weirded out or laughs. He looks genuinely relieved. “I just wanted it to calm my nerves-I mean, not that flying makes me nervous. I just um, have a date.”
You laugh. “You are flying from Kansas to California, for a date?”
“Or is it some five star hook up?” you snarl.
He doesn’t have a chance to answer. The entire cabinet shakes. You leave fingernail marks on the arm rest. And Dean’s arm. Everyone around you starts to change from confusion to panic. The snide flight attendant pushes a man out of seat and clicks the seat belt. She reaches for the oxygen mask. The rest fall in line. The plane turns sharply. An alarm sounds. Someone shouts, “EVERYONE REMAIN CALM!” No one does.
Turbulence. You say. That’s all it is. You look over to Dean. He looks like a grown-man child in a haunted house. You grab each others arms and scream. He pulls his oxygen mask down with one hand, you do the same. You stare at each other with petrified stares. You hear him scream, “WE ARE GOING TO DIE!” through his mask.
The pilot comes over the intercom. “Everyone! Remain calm! We are experiencing severe turbulence, we are going through a jet stream.” a few minutes later, when Dean’s face is red from screaming and he looks like he is going to pass out, the pilot speaks again. “Nothing to worry about now.”
You and several other passengers still breathe through the masks, all wearing paralyzed stares. The fear in Dean’s green eyes. The uneasiness and fear begins to drain away. Until your grip loosens around each other. You remove your nails from his arm and lay your hand over it. The two of you let your masks drop, until you are holding hands and staring at each other.
You’ve never seen such beautiful eyes. Why is your heart beating so fast? Is it still the adrenaline from a few minutes ago. Or is it something else.
“(Y/N)?” Dean says softly and tentatively. His breathing still a little rapid. His eyes are fixed on yours. “Will you go on a date with me?”
You are stunned. The only thing you can do is smile. “What about that five star hook up in LA waiting for you?” you imitate his large ego smile. But, now you realize it wasn’t his ego. It was a mask. He’s a softy after all.
He puts on the smirk, but a different one, sincere and unpracticed. “Five star is at least in Vegas.” you frown at him. He laughs. “Tonight could be a six star though, and it doesn’t have to be a hook up. So, what do you say?”
“What does this say?” You take your hand from his and place it over his ear. Even his ears are perfect. They are soft on your finger tips. His eyes close and you close yours. Then you feel them. Soft and tentative. You think his lips tremble.
He tastes, smells, and feels of adventure and new beginnings.