What Happens When We Die: The Jungle TheoryWhat Happens When We Die: The Jungle Theory by ~OrigamiPaperAngel
You were careless. You didn't stop to think before you acted, and now you've got a brain full of bullet and a body bereft of its soul, which is currently being whisked away into the sky. While you are being pulled away, as if some giant, invisible waiter were gripping your arm and jerking you out of a restaurant for disturbing the peace, you blink in perplexity as you watch the pool of scarlet flow from beneath your body and you wonder, How on earth did that happen?
You have just died. Sadly, there is nothing you can do about it.
There's nothing you can do about the dark gray, raging waters that are swirling around you, either. Your bodyat least you think it's your body; your real body is lying down in the middle of your home, likely being raided for loot by the intruder in your homeis nothing more than a Hot Potato for the waves to toss back and forth.
And back and forth your body goes. More than a few times you are submerged only to break through the surface, coughing, ga
Male!Reader x Fem!America ~ Your Biggest FanMale!Reader x Fem!America ~ Your Biggest Fan by ~OrigamiPaperAngel
Somewhere in the heart of Hollywood, you find yourself standing on the front step of a woman who has slammed her doors in your face more times than you can count. Despite the considerable amount of time you spent rehearsing in front of the mirror, the moment your feet take you up the steps and you are face-to-face with a set of grand mahogany doors you find yourself rendered speechless from nostalgia.
After twelve, you lost count of how many times she had gasped in horror and slammed the door in your face. For a moment you feel a sharp pang of regret; if you had only counted, then at least you would have had a number on your side. A number would be reliable, comforting in times such as these. But alas, you have nothing calming or dependable to fall back on at the moment. All you have are your youthful looks that fall just a bit short of dashing, a tux you borrowed from a wealthier friend, and a bouquet of dark red roses. Hope is not on your side—she is a glamorous movie star, the lady
|A Thanatology project took a life of its own... and became my favorite piece of writing.|
The prompt was "Make a project depicting your view on the afterlife; use a quote as well."
My quote? "Death is but the next great adventure," by J. K. Rowling.