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#cold world
chrollohearttags · 10 months
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they gone send this man into early retirement (or cardiac arrest). Whichever comes first. 😭😭
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IT’S A COLD WORLD, BUNDLE UP
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holylulusworld · 2 years
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Cold World
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Title: Cold World
Rating: Mature
Square filled for @spnabobingo​: Touch Starvation
Square filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo​: Sharing a bed
Summary: He’s on cold turkey when it comes to feeling someone touching him genlty.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader
Warnings: angst, hostage situation, touch starvation, injured Dean, implied torture, mentions of abusive relationships (not the reader), fluff, scenting, a/b/o, gentleness
Words: 1,4k
Divider by @firefly-graphics​
A/N: Part 1/2
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Two weeks earlier, …
He is shaken. The former strong man lies curled into a ball as he tries to remember how he ended up in this cold basement. Foreign voices taunt and torture him, forcing the usually tough alpha to give up.
“No one is going to come for you,” one of them barks, underlining their words with a kick to the alpha’s chest. He barely reacts as the cold and pain push him toward unconsciousness again. “No one gives a shit on you. Not your pack. Not your pack leader.”
The alpha doesn’t react. He gave up a long time ago.
At first, he believed his pack will find and save him. Now he only wants the pain to end. 
“Stop, the boss said we need him alive...for now,” another voice barks.
The alpha on the ground doesn’t remember how much time has passed. All he knows is that it was too much time.
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Now, ...
“Careful,” the alpha whimpers as an unusually soft voice catches his attention. He can’t move or open his eyes. The cold is still in his bones and being held to the cold ground in chains for what feels like ages stole all of his strength. “He needs a rest and warmth. Put more wood into the fire and bring me more blankets.”
“You shouldn’t be alone with that alpha, Y/N,” you sigh as the man on your bed start to whimper again. He’s still shaking from the cold, and you fear, he won’t make it. “Don’t stay here. Come with me.”
“I can’t leave him. He needs me,” while you sit on the bed to carefully run your hand over the alpha’s head, your friend huffs. She means well but knows that you are too stubborn to give in. “Hurry and bring me more blankets.”
“Why are you so obsessed with that alpha? You don’t even like alphas,” she slowly walks toward the door. “What makes him different?”
“I don’t know.” 
Before your friend can stop you from putting yourself in danger, you lie next to the alpha to wrap your arms around his trembling form. He stiffens for a moment and holds his breath. 
“You’re safe with me, alpha,” you whisper while burying your face in his shoulder. “No one is going to hurt you here. You can sleep and heal now. He growls low in his throat as your soothing scent surrounds him. “We are no harm to you.”
“S-afe,” he croaks. 
“Shhh … you need sleep,” you softly coo. “You are not out of the woods. Your injuries need to heal. Your leg is still injured and your ribs are bruised,” he coughs a few times as you run one hand up and down his arm.
“Cold…hurts.”
“I’ll give you some pain meds. Wait.”
“NO!” he gets antsy when you want to let go of him. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone again. Alone…so alone…cold.”
“I’ll stay,” his breathing calms as you rub his arm. “You are safe with me. Warm. No pain.”
“W-hat date is it?” he chokes out while fighting the tears wanting to break free. “Miss?” 
You don’t know how long the pack kept the man hostage in the basement, but you know it must’ve been a while.
Your heart breaks a little when he starts to cry as you tell him it’s December
“Five months,” he sniffs now. “How…?” it’s a struggle for the alpha to form a coherent sentence as he inhales sharply to hold back more tears. 
“How I found you?” he nods. “I was on my morning run with one of my roommates,” you begin. 
“Where are we? Is this still close to Lebanon?”
“I’m afraid not,” you bite your tongue; not wanting the alpha to know you are very far away from Lebanon and his old life. “We live far away from any town. Our house is nestled in the woods, and well-protected.” 
“Why?” he wiggles on the bed groaning as his injured leg still hurts. 
“You see, we are all omegas and betas here. We offer shelter to people in need,” you whisper. “No one is used to having an alpha around. If they are a little shy and tense around you, don’t take it to heart.”
You reluctantly let go of the alpha to leave the bed and get some medicine for him. “Don’t go…no…please,” he whines again.
“I’ll be right back,” you slowly sit up to get off the bed. “I need to give you some pain meds and will get you food.”
“Food,” his stomach rumbles and you chuckle as he slowly lifts his head to look at you. You didn’t recognize it before, but he’s the most handsome alpha you ever saw. 
“Just a minute, alpha.”
“My name is Dean. Dean Winchester.”
“Y/N, Y/L/N.”
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“Where am I?”
“My home,” you watch the alpha chew on the last bite of the sandwich you made. “I told you; this is a shelter for…”
“…lost souls?” he looks at the now empty plate. 
“Kinda.”
“You still didn’t tell me where we are,” he looks around your bedroom, frowning as there are bars in front of the only window. “Bars in front of the windows. A shotgun is next to the door. What’s going on here?”
“You’re very…observant,” you hand him a glass of water and pain meds. “The bars are new. Let’s say, some alphas don’t like it when their omega runs from them. We had to make sure the people turning toward us are safe.”
Dean takes the medicine out of your hands. “What did they do?”
“He almost killed me,” you lift your shirt to show Dean a faded scar. “That bastard broke into my house by breaking one of the windows. I’m strong, but a 6ft tall alpha is stronger.”
“You still didn’t tell me how you found me…”
“I was out for my morning jog when we saw two men get out of an abandoned house deep in the woods. My friend and I hid behind a tree and waited for them to leave,” you take the empty plate. “I heard them talk about getting rid of someone.” 
“And you just stormed into the house and got me out?” he furrows his brows. “No offense but you don’t look like the terminator.”
“I called my friends, and I’m not some weak omega you can push around,” you huff as he looks you up and down. “We sneaked inside the house and knocked the only guard out. It took us a while to find you. The others though, they weren’t so lucky…”
“Others?” Dean’s breath hitches in his throat. “I didn’t imagine things. I always thought I imagine the other voice coming from far away…”
“There were two more alphas,” you drop your gaze, shaking your head. One was barely breathing, and we lost him moments after we opened his cell. We tried to reanimate him but it was too late. The second one was dead for at least a day, maybe longer. Whoever your captors were, they wanted all of you dead. How did you end up in that basement, Dean?”
“All I know is that there was this girl at a bar,” Dean tiredly runs one hand down his face. “She flirted with me, and hey, I’m just a man.” He gives you a weak smile. “I was lonely, and she was there.”
“I get it,” you place the plate on the nightstand to run your hand over Dean’s hair. “Do you know why they kept you locked away? It’s the worst for us to not have any kind of contact with another human being. Alphas and omegas are meant to be with each other.”
“You mean touch starvation would’ve killed me,” he huffs. 
“Why did you want to go home with the girl?” you challenge. “Huh?”
“I wanted to have sex.”
“You wanted to touch someone else, Dean. Sex is just a nice side effect. The truth is, we are looking for fast sex to let someone else touch us if we are lonely.”
Dean licks his lips. “The first thing you did was to touch me…gently. You wanted to calm my alpha, didn’t you? Or did you want to get your hands on me.”
“Oh, look,” putting your hands on your hips you eye the alpha warily, “he’s a cocky one, isn’t he?”
“Can you,” he nervously wrings his hands. Dean drops his gaze, too ashamed for the thing he’s about to ask, “touch me again?”
He doesn’t have to ask your twice. You sit on the bed to run your hand over his arm, down to his hand to intervene your fingers with Dean’s. “I’m here for you as long as you need me…”
You allow Dean to bring you into his arms, to hold you gently. He will bury his face in your neck and inhale your scent deeply. “Can I stay here? I know you don’t allow alphas around, but I promise to keep you and the others safe.”
“You can stay as long as you want to…”
>> Part 2
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Tags in reblog.
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futureless · 1 month
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happiness in highly intelligent people is one of the rarest things i know
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icegrillz · 3 months
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numberonegalaxyfest · 7 months
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drugstorecowboi · 3 months
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Cold World: “How The Gods Chill (feat. Sean Price)” (2011)
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mrlonelystoner · 3 months
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I used to gaf but
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blutroterwein · 2 years
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scotianostra · 9 months
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John Cairncross WWII intelligence officer and Soviet spy was born on 25th July 1913 in Lesmahagow, Lanarkshire,.
Cairncross's father was the manager of an ironmonger's and his mother a primary school teacher. John Cairncross was one of a family of eight, many of whom had distinguished careers. All three of his brothers became professors. One was the economist Sir Alexander Kirkland Cairncross (a.k.a. Alec Cairncross). The journalist Frances Cairncross is his niece. Cairncross grew up in Lesmahagow attending the town's Academy, before going on to University of Glasgow; the Sorbonne and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he studied French and German.
it was while at Cambridge Cairncross was introduced to Anthony Blunt and Guy Burgess and soon became a Communist working with the Cambridge Spy Ring. Monitored by Soviet agent Samuel Cahan, he received a short course in espionage tactics before taking the Home Office and Foreign Office exams, receiving the highest scores on both.
Cairncross briefly with Donald Maclean at the Foreign Office before the war, he was assigned to Bletchley Park in 1942/43 but unlike in The Film The Imitation game it is highly unlikely he would have met, let alone blackmailed Alan Turing. He did however pass on cases full of intercepted German messages which he transported in the back seat of his car to the Soviet Embassy. Cairncross joined Secret Intelligence Service MI6 in 1944 and continued working for them until 1951 when sensitive documents in Cairncross’ handwriting were found in Guy Burgess apartment after he and Maclean fled to Russia. He was thus fired from his position in the British Treasury department, although he denied being a spy. He turned to scholarly activities and humanitarian efforts for the United Nations.
In 1964, Sir Anthony Blunt confessed to being a Soviet spy and in return for leniency identified Cairncross as another Soviet agent. When confronted with the evidence, Cairncross admitted to his espionage, explaining that he had not spied for several years, saying that he spied only during World War II, when Russia was a British ally.
Soviet defectors later disputed Cairncross statements about his limited involvement in espionage. They claimed that he had turned over countless reams of information.
Fearful of negative publicity and scandal, the British government hushed up his activities, declining to prosecute him for espionage or to expose him to the public. Cairncross, in fact, remained for a time in his job as with the United Nations Food and Agricultural Organization.
He was finally outed as a spy in 1981 but no charges were ever brought against him. Cairncross spent most of his life in exile but returned home in 1995 dying later the same year after a stroke.
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cvrsxd · 9 months
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An album so nice you know the rest
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jkflesh · 1 year
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Artwork source of Godflesh 'Streetcleaner,' 'Pure' and 'Cold World' EP
From "Underground New York," Gideon Bachmann's 1968 documentary on the 60s New York underground film scene. The documentary was broadcast on Britain's Channel 4 in 1987 and it covers among others, George Kuchar. The Kuchar segment shows him filming in the Bronx followed by short clips from "Color Me Shameless" and "Hold Me While I'm Naked."
Info on "Color Me Shameless" — 1967 — 30min black & white film: http://www.kucharbrothers.org/color-me-shameless
"A tale of impotence. The hero is an artist who suffers from a creative block and who cannot bring himself to sexually perform. He has a variety of encounters with women and at times steals articles of clothing from them as sexual fetishes. His frustrations culminate at an art party where he observes others behaving freely, while he can only get drunk. After visiting someone and seeing a "sculpture" in their apartment, he becomes inspired and rushes home to paint. He writes letters to his women friends, telling them to come at once for he has painted a masterpiece. Upon receiving his letter, the women prepare to leave to visit him, but are distracted by their lovers. The man waits in vain; in frustration he destroys the canvas. The fetishes he had been collecting jump out from the drawer where he had been hiding them as if to haunt or taunt him, showing him what he is."
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awarenessaslove · 1 year
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icegrillz · 3 months
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jazlamone · 1 year
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"Winter forms our character and brings out our best."
@jazlamone
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