the pathway to hell

You Didn’t Tell Them

A/N: So I wrote this on Monday and it has taken me this long to post it because I didn’t know whether I liked it or not. I am still kinda on the fence about it? I have an idea for a part two, but I don’t think I will write it if no one likes this one.

Y/N unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped in. It had been a pretty okay day overall, not very stressful or overly boring, but not exciting either. She put down her stuff and headed into the kitchen. “Jason?” She called out as she walked in. She stopped when she noticed him sitting at their table drinking tea with an older man. “Oh, I didn’t know we had company.”

The older man set his cup on the table and looked quizzically at Jason. “It is fine. I was actually just leaving.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to interrupt.” She said hurriedly. “I’m Y/N.” She reached out a hand to shake his.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/N. I am Alfred Pennyworth.” He said as he took he hand and gently shook it.

“You’re Alfred? Jason has told me so much about you. It is great to finally meet you.” Y/N said.

“I would love to say the same for you, but I am afraid Master Jason has never mentioned you.” Alfred said quietly. He patted Y/N’s hand and picked up his coat. “It has been a pleasure.” He quietly closed the door behind him.

Y/N turned to Jason, who had suddenly become very busy with cleaning up the plates and cups he and Alfred had used. “You haven’t told them about me?” Y/N asked quietly.

“I was waiting for the right time.” Jason said as he put the dishes in the sink.

“Jason, we have been dating for three years, two of those we have been living together.” Y/N pointed out.

“I know, it just never seemed to be the perfect moment.” Jason avoided her gaze as he loaded the dishwasher.

“Could you just stop for a moment and talk to me?” Y/N said. She waited until he turned to her to continue. “Why haven’t you told your family about me?”

“I was afraid they would intimidate you and you would leave me.” Jason answered quietly.

“You know,” Y/N said, stepping close to him so that she could look him in the eyes. “That would make a lot more sense if you hadn’t already told me you were the Red Hood. If I didn’t run then, what makes you think I would run once I met your adopted dad and siblings?” Jason refused to meet her eyes as she continued to question him.

Y/N sighed and sat at the table. “The only reason I can think of for why you didn’t tell them is that I am not important enough to you to tell them.”

Jason’s head shot up. “Y/N, it isn’t like that, I swear. I-”

“Look. Three weeks after we started dating, I told all my friends about you.” Y/N said as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. “When we moved in together, I told my mother and I sat on the phone with my conservative grandmother as she tried to talk me out of it and told me I was on the pathway to Hell. Do you know why I told them and why I put up with that? It was because you were important enough to me for me to want my family to know I was with you. I wanted them to know I love you and I’m happy with you. And, up until today, I thought you felt the same way.”

“I do feel the same way, I just-” Jason tried to interject.

“I don’t want to hear you speak right now. I honestly don’t even want to be in the same room with you.” Y/N said as the first tear made its way down her face. Jason froze. He wanted so desperately to touch her, to comfort her, but he knew she didn’t want him right now. He slowly got up and walked out the door. He walked up the stairs to the roof and pulled out his phone. He sighed and dialed the person whom he hoped would help him fix this mess.

“Bruce, I fucked up.” Jason said as soon as his father answered the phone.

He heard Bruce excuse himself before closing a door. “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

“I’ve been dating this girl for a while. Well, more than a while. I’ve been dating her for three years.” Jason admitted.

“I assume you have a good reason for not telling us about her.” Bruce said in a light tone.

Jason winced before continuing. “That is actually where the problem comes in. Alfred came over for tea today and Y/N came home before he left. She found out that I haven’t told any of you about her and is pretty upset over it.”

“I’ll bet. You have been dating her for three years and apparently live with her, but you haven’t told your family about her? I’m upset for her.” Bruce said.

“This isn’t funny.” Jason said angrily. “She said that it made her feel like she wasn’t important to me. Which is the furthest thing from the truth. I was gonna propose, Bruce. I have a ring and everything.”

Bruce was silent for several moments. “How do you plan on fixing this?”

Jason raked a hand through his hair. “That’s why I called you.”

Bruce sighed. “I think I have a plan.”

First

Summary: A series of firsts for Bucky lead him to fall in love.

Word count: 3604

Warnings: mentions of blood, reader injury

Prompt: Love: a feeling of strong emotion.

Synonyms: fondness, warmth, intimacy, attachment, yearning, infatuation, adoration, devotion

A/N: this is for @sanjariti’s 7k writing challenge, my prompt was the word ‘Love’

All Bucky could think as he walked into that building was that he didn’t belong here, here where all the good in the world was concentrated and where people fought relentlessly for the side he wasn’t on. He was evil. He’d committed more atrocities in half a lifetime than probably anyone in the country, the world even would ever consider doing. He was roused from his thoughts when his best friend Steve placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait until you meet (Y/N)’ he’d said. ‘You’ll love her’. He was doubtful. He wasn’t even sure if he still had a heart and if he had no heart how could he hope to feel anything but fear and hatred? How could he feel love? When he thought about his heart, about whether it was still there or not, he always envisioned a shrivelled lump of charred muscle, beating but only just. Sometimes he didn’t even see this, sometimes it was just a vacuum, a dark void, a pathway to hell. He was forced to look up when Steve introduced her and when he did he was sure he’d died in Siberia. She was an angel, a goddess and for some reason he couldn’t fathom she was smiling at him. When he first saw her he was an empty shell of darkness. When he first touched her, when she bound up to him and embraced him as though she made known him her whole life, the shell began to crack and a single beam of light was projected onto his soul. When she left his arms she took his broken heart with her, holding it in her delicate hands and preparing to nurture it with such a powerful love that it would soon resemble that of a heart belonging to a human.


Bucky had been sat, staring at her empty chair and frowning the first time he’d felt anything close to human emotion. A meeting for the whole team surely included (Y/N) and yet she wasn’t here. The man with the eyepatch started without her, only making him frown more.

She was still in her bedroom, hopping around and hastily trying to tug a sock onto her foot. Cursing repeatedly as she had done since she woke up, checked the time and realised that she had way over slept and would definitely be late for the meeting, she picked up a rogue hair tie and on her way to running to the conference room pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. When she burst in everyone had looked at her, instantly grinning despite her interruption and as she mumbled apologies even the Director Fury had been unable to hide an affectionate smile. Bucky had watched with bated breath as she rushed over to her seat and sat down heavily next to him, huffing as she took out a notebook and a pen and only when he felt her arm pressed against his did he allow himself to exhale. His eyes didn’t leave her as she leant over to him to copy his notes on what she’d missed and could not help but smile with a great fondness for her. It had seemed so natural then that he didn’t register that this had been the first time he’d smiled since he got here.

After this he smiled every time he saw her, powerless against her beautiful grin and bubbly personality and each day his own smile grew ever brighter. It had almost become a knee jerk reaction to seeing her.


The first time he’d not felt like a monster was also because of her. Against his will Steve had made him come down and join the others for a movie night, saying it would help him bond with the team and when he entered the common area he threw himself down on one of the couches and stretched his legs out across the full length of it. When she walked in, cocooned in a blanket his eyes lit up and he grinned. Her eyes met his with the same expression and she shuffled over to him. When he went to move his legs so she could sit down she had shook her head and pulled them silently back to where they were before. ‘Can I lay on top of you Buck?’ she had whispered and the whole room fell silent as if bracing themselves for his answer. He nodded and held his breath, his pulse accelerating as she climbed onto him, resting her head gently on his chest and intertwining her legs with his. When his arms reached around her waist and his hands joined at the bottom of her back she hummed contentedly and a burning warmth exploded inside of him, illuminating even the darkest corners of his soul. He smiled softly as she fell asleep on his chest.


The first time he saw her cry was one of the most painful experiences of his life. The way she had looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow as he entered the kitchen to escape from another nightmare made his chest ache and he felt the need to comfort her. When he’d asked her if she was ok it was like he’d ripped down the flood barrier and she wept, her shoulders shaking, her hands tightening around the glass of water she gripped. He instantly went to her and held her close to his body and when he felt the sobbing subside he pulled her away and looked into her watery eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’ he inquired, wanting desperately to help her.

‘It’s back home’ she rasped between shaky breaths. ‘My mom, she’s been in an accident, they don’t know if she’ll make it’. At these words she released a heart wrenching sob and collapsed back into fitful weeping. He simply took her by the hand and led her to her own room, got a bag out and began packing all her essential items while she stood watching, unsure of what he was doing. He handed her the bag and once again took the lead down to the hangar, to Tony Stark’s private jet and told her to get on it, go visit her mother and leave Stark to him. ‘Buck you’re the best’ she’d whispered in his ear as she pulled him in for a hug and he felt a new intimacy with her that made his heart swell and beat harder than it ever had before.


The first time she went on a mission without him felt like he had lost some part of himself that he wasn’t going to get back until she returned. One day. One day she’d been gone and already he missed her gorgeous (Y/E/C) irises, lit up by a wide grin. He missed how she made him feel normal and now that she wasn’t there he began to notice the way the others looked at him, either with pity or disgust, and he hated it. The previous night he’d had the worst nightmares he’d ever experienced. Despite knowing that she was brilliantly trained and could look after herself with ease he tortured himself with mental images of her in danger, her perfect face twisted with fright and pain and he woke, screaming and soaked with sweat.

She’d be gone for a month. A whole month. If this was what it was like after a day he dreaded to think of himself in a month, of how much of a wreck he’d be. To distract himself he took Steve’s advice, to jot down or think of all the things that drew him to her. He’d decided against writing them down, he wouldn’t have enough paper to accurately put into words all the enchanting and unique things he liked about her. She had such a high affinity for love that no one could go near her without gravitating to her, people wanted to be near her and to love her as she loved everything. So many of us struggle with defining this one abstract word and yet if only the whole world were to meet her it would all become clear. She was love personified, a living embodiment of the purest emotion. When he thought about her too much it was like he was being stabbed  repeatedly in the chest so he tried to limit the amount he did.

He knew when he felt that hollow pain constantly present in his chest after a few days that he had developed an unparalleled attachment to her that he didn’t, couldn’t, feel with anyone else.


The first time she’d been injured on a mission hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d been chatting to her through the comms, talking about what movie they were gonna watch together when they got back when her voice was replaced by a sharp gasp and whimpers of choked back tears. ‘Buck’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been hit’. At these four words his blood ran cold. Overcome by a fit of rage he was given a new strength and, knocking out and probably killing several HYDRA agents he made a beeline for where she was all the while trying his hardest to convince her, himself, that she’d be ok. When he saw her body, a crumpled heap in a pool of blood, his heart stopped and he ran to her, crouching at her head and cradling it in his hands. ‘Bucky I’m scared’ she said, almost guiltily and, looking down at the bullet wound in her lower abdomen she winced and looked into his panic stricken eyes.

‘You’ll be alright doll, I promise’ he assured, sliding one arm under the back of her knees, the other under her neck and lifting her gently off of the concrete. ‘I’ll take you back to the jet, Banner will fix you and you’ll be fine’ she looked up at him and offered a small smile which he was unable to reciprocate. When she felt the darkness fast approaching, she let her eyelids droop, not having the energy to fight it. ‘No, (Y/N) you’ve got to keep your eyes open, look at me, dammit!’ he had yelled as he picked up his pace to a flat out sprint to get to the jet. She tried to keep her eyes open with all her might but soon it became too much and she gave it, letting her eyelids fall. The last thing she heard was Bucky screaming ‘No!’ at the top of his lungs.

‘She’ll be ok Sergeant Barnes, she’ll wake up any day now’ Bruce reassured him but his eyes never left her next to lifeless body on the hospital bed, the only thing he could hear being the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor. While she was out his subconscious had found a new way to make him suffer, filling his sleepless nights with the replaying scene of him looking into her fear filled eyes from a sea of her own blood.

Despite his knowledge that she’d be back soon, he felt a yearning for her gentle smile, her bright eyes and her radiant glow all of which seemed to have been extinguished as she lay there completely helpless.


The first time he’d felt needed was just after she’d recovered. Of course she couldn’t go on the next mission but the rest of the team, apart from Bucky, had had to leave for it. When she felt she could stand he’d been at her bedside, one arm firmly around her waist, and she’d leant on him, putting her entire weight on his side. She’d thrown her arm over his shoulders and was gripping his flesh one tightly, refusing to let go as he’d acted as her crutch, getting her safely to the common area where she could sit down and rest. He lowered her with great care onto one of the plush couches and looked worriedly into her eyes to see if she was comfortable. ‘I’m fine Buck, relax’ she’d said lightly, giggling at him when his face softened.

'I got you this’ he’d said in a gruff voice, obviously embarrassed as he handed her a box and sat down next to her. When she lifted the lid his eyes never left her face as he gauged her reaction to his gift and her eyes widened as she dropped the lid to the floor. 'What’s wrong? Don’t you like it!?’ he asked, panicked by her silence.

'Bucky I love it’ she’d whispered as she rifled through the contents of the box, several of her favourite DVD’s, box after box of chocolates, her favourite perfume. It was easily the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her. 'How’d you remember I loved all this stuff?’ she asked in disbelief, looking back into his eyes.

'How could I forget?’ he replied with such intensity that she’d flushed and looked away. 'Anyway I figured you’d be bored sitting here until you’re better on your own’ he said.

'I won’t be on my own, I have you Bucky’ she smiled at him before reaching into the box and pulling out one of the many boxes of chocolates and, taking the lid off, she offered one to him which he took without complaint. From then on she not only captured his attention when she was in the room, not only did his eyes follow her wherever she went but his thoughts too now never left her. Because of this infatuation he was unable to think of anything but her, to do anything for anyone but her. She was his priority and the importance of everything else fell away.


The first time he’d felt the full strength of his heart had arrived when he’d least expected it. The team were all up early so they could catch a flight to a democratic mission and were not at all awake yet. Most were up, still in their pyjamas but up nonetheless. Clint and Natasha were huddled together with bowls of cereal in their laps and there was a queue to get to the coffee grinder. (Y/N) was propped up against the counter, staring past the mug of coffee in her hands, her eyes blank as sleep still cast a shroud of fog over her mind. Bucky had just woken up, later than the others as he’d gotten less sleep than them what with his regular nightmares. Shuffling through the doors, the team ignored him, still far too tired to be prepared to exert any effort in acknowledging him. He didn’t care that no one saw him, his eyes moved immediately to the one person who he held any interest for. She had a blanket draped around her hunched shoulders and her hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, strands coming loose and falling onto her face.

As he watched her, slouched over a mug of coffee his eyes were filled with a look of immense adoration and his chest heaved with emotion as her heavy eyelids lifted to gift him with the perfect smile. Despite his little sleep he couldn’t possibly suppress the warm grin that lit up his face in response.


The first time he’d kissed her had been an experience like no other. She was sick and had been in bed all day, keeping her door locked and insisting that no one come in to see her saying she didn’t want to infect everyone else. Bucky had of course protested earnestly against this but her stubborn nature meant he was never going to get anywhere with her. He stood in front of his mirror, trying to ignore the guilty twang in his heart as he adjusted his tie in preparation for one of Tony’s parties. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive the whole thing without her by his side but he pushed these thoughts aside when FRIDAY announced that the party was in full swing. Upon his entrance several women, obviously already intoxicated, approached him and, as he made his way to the bar to meet Steve, he shrugged them off. Politely declining when each asked him to dance he was relieved when he saw Steve, drink in hand and chatting flirtatiously to Sharon. As much as he tried he couldn’t take his mind off of (Y/N), still laying in bed without company so as soon as he got to the bar he excused himself. 'Sorry Steve, I’ve got to go’ he’d said and when he asked him why he replied simply, 'I need to see (Y/N)’. Steve understood immediately, fully aware of his best friends feelings for her and nodded at him. He had felt wrong being at that party without her and, pushing through all the women in little clothing throwing themselves at him, he made his way to see her, his devotion for her overpowering all else. He arrived at her door and knocked softly, entering before she could reply, knowing full well she’d have FRIDAY lock the door if he waited.

'Buck get out, you’ll get sick’ he heard her voice before he saw her and he smiled to himself at how she knew it was him even before he’d spoken. He smiled even wider when he saw her face peeking out from the covers of her bed, the tip of her nose pink and her cheeks flushed. 'Don’t smile at me like that, I’m not joking’ she said, her blocked nose making her voice sound nasally. He came and sat on the side of her bed, aiding her as she struggled to sit. 'Buck I swear to god-’

’(Y/N) I like you. Like I really, really like you’ he cut her off. After this he paused and she interjected again, complaining that in such close proximity he was bound to get sick. 'I’m a super soldier, I’ll be fine. Anyway (Y/N) I think you’re so beautiful and kind and funny and sweet. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met’ he said all this in a rush and before she had chance to reply, he leant forwards and captured her luscious lips in his own. He regretted this immediately and was about to pull away when he felt her kiss back, feeling one of her hands find its way to his hair and, using the other hand to prop herself up she couldn’t find it in herself to break away as she knew she probably should. When she finally did she was breathless, staring deeply into his darkened eyes.

'I like you too Bucky’ she whispered. 'But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m ill’.

'Doll I think if there was any chance that I’d get what you’ve got, I’ll have caught it by now’ he said, smirking. 'Besides I couldn’t stay at that party without you’. He couldn’t believe that someone like her could even entertain the notion of liking him back and yet she did. It was like all his dreams had come true and he couldn’t possibly contain the grin that made his cheeks ache.


The first time he’d said he loved her was his new most terrifying experience of his life. Calming his nerves by regulating his breathing and squeezing his eyes shut he anticipated her return with great fear. He was waiting in the hangar for her return from a mission and was planning on telling her the moment she got off. When she saw him she’d sprinted off of the jet and ran straight into his arms, jumping up and wrapped her legs around his waist. They’d been dating now for just two months but he’d never been more sure as to how he’d felt about her. 'I love you (Y/N)’ he whispered, so quietly that he worried that she didn’t hear when she didn’t reply. She took a deep breath.

'I love you too Bucky’ she said in the same hushed tone and he laughed in disbelief, holding her closer to his body and burying his face in her hair. 


'I love you, I love you, I love you’ she chanted, with each repetition planting a kiss on his face. She beamed at him as he slid the beautiful ring in her finger and he looked into her eyes before sweeping her off of her feet and pressing a passionate kiss to her puckered lips.

'I love you more, doll’ he growled against her lips as she grinned delightedly. 


His eyes widened and tears pooled in his eyes as he watched her walk up the aisle, her flowing white dress illuminating her already bright features. 'I love you, beautiful’ he whispered as she met him at the alter.

'I love you Buck’ she’d replied, taking both his hands in hers as they turned to look at the minister.

When he stood with her then at the end of the aisle it all became clear. Love is defined as a strong feeling of affection but to him it was so much more. He felt for her a fondness and warmth he could not even hope to replicate, an intimacy he had with no other, an attachment to her that meant even an hour without her had him yearning for her soft touch, an infatuation that meant he gazed at her like she had hung the moon, an adoration with which everything she did pulled on his heart and made him fall for her that little bit more and a devotion so strong that he rarely even talked to another woman, unless of cause for a mission, as his heart belonged entirely to her.

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2

made a fun virus-patterned shawl/scarf and it’s way warmer and cozier than it looks! i really like how the colors blend and how it drapes. i’m also not sure that i’m going to keep it (i have… so many projects? and so many more to come? i just like creating things) , so if you really, really want it… pm me! we’ll talk. 

Or Something (D.S)

Description - Daniel gets jealous over yours and Jonah’s close relationship, which is strictly platonic.


You and Jonah had been best friends for years. Years before you and Daniel met. But that didn’t mean anything to you because you knew where you stood with both the Marais and the Seavey boys. Daniel was your boyfriend and Jonah, your best friend. Nothing could change that and you had believed that Daniel knew that. You believed that Daniel officially knew your status with both boys, Daniel - your boyfriend, and Jonah - your best friend.

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the-babe-in-toyland  asked:

Were you born in hell? Not to be rude but if you were could you tell me about it? I'm really curious about this kinda thing and I really wanna learn more about it.. Thanks:) and sorry to bother you

First, note that Hell is very very big and composed of not only different realms on the astral, but that there are also various locations. Think of Hell like a bunch of planets, rather than one singular place. (Also nah you weren’t being rude, it’s chill.)  

Now to your question, I did in fact have a past life in Hell. It was in the Deep Underground, and I was forced into the military under one of the Goetic Marquises. I have a separate post on that and deep underground goetic hell right here. But while that post was particular to that location, here is a summary of what I know/theorize about the different locations: 

NOTE that I am referring to Hell as multiple astral locations, and not simply as the meaning of “punishment realms” (punishment realms are actually a very wide concept present in many cultures, not just within the Abrahamic paradigm) 

SPG BEGIN: 

Hell’s Different Locations/Aspects: 

Above Ground Hell: 

This portion is much nicer than the below-ground portions. Many demons here look more humanoid, and have morals and society on-par with humans. So yes there’s war, but it’s not a constant slaughter like it is in the lower levels; there is a decent sense of right/wrong here. Good laws exist and are enforced, and societies are rather equal. There are cities, beaches, forests, mountains; it really looks quite similar to Earth. 

Goetics have offices here as well, and this is where they are more polite, cordial, and hold their grand parties. 

Types of Demons that reside here: Lavartum demons, the nicer versions of the Goetic Demons. 

Underground: Upper Hell

Still rather peaceful. The dirt here is reddish in color but paler than in the lower levels. The ceilings here are shorter, and the air is easier to breathe as it is closer to the surface. Some parts of this area of Hell connect to the Lowborn demon realms. There are many peaceful settlements up here who sought to escape the lawful evil destruction of the Deep hell level. 

Types of Demons that reside here: Ex-Mid/Deep Hell demons, Lowborn demons who left their realm

Mid-Hell Craters:

There are areas of Hell where there are massive craters that reach all the way to where Mid-Hell (thus technically not being underground?). Sunlight can reach down these massive craters; and I really do mean MASSIVE craters as entire cities/civilizations can be fit in here. There’s grasslands, forests, etc in these giant holes. On average, societies here have more advanced technology than humans, and morals similar to humans. 

Type of Demons that reside here: Lavartum (some but not all) 

Underground: Mid-Hell

I have not been somewhere I would classify as “mid-hell”, but I imagine it gets more and more chaotic as you go deeper. It would also most likely start getting much darker and more difficult to breathe. 

@hecaatia would be able to tell more. 

Types of Demons that reside here: ????

Underground: Deep Hell

This is the most corrupt and chaotic of the Hell layers. This is where many Goetics shed their cordial mask, and have wars simply for fun. This is the portion that smells like sulphur, has hard to breathe air, and lava pits. Also all of the flora and fauna want to kill you. It is extremely chaotic here; survival of the fittest^2 because everything is constantly fighting each other, fight everything and everyone 24/7 for whatever reason.

More On Deep Hell: Goetic Regions

Underground: Trench Hell

Think of the trenches here on Earth. Super dark. Some are filled with void energy made physical due to the density of it, while others are filled with lava. There is a high concentration of void, and sometimes Eldritch energies, within these trenches. 

The trenches can lead to the center(s?) of Hell; thanks to @hecaatia for the contribution! They can also lead to the voidspace around Hell, be pathways/liminal spaces for reaching it. 

Types of Demons that reside here: Void beings, Eldritch Beings, General abyssal creatures

Underground: Center(s?) of Hell

The centers are large, spherical rooms that contain the core. The cores look like big spheres of fire, and will vaporize anything that gets too close without the proper magical protections, no matter how powerful that being is. (ty @hecaatia again!) 

Types of Demons that live here: Nothing. Nothing can survive here. 

Hell’s Voidspace

A voidspace is the void around a certain astral place. The hell voidspace has very, very intense/heavy void energy. At least, around the lower layers. The voidspace gets softer as you go nearer to the more surface-levels of Hell. Some concentrated veins of void energy run from the voidspace and lower levels to the upper levels, but the energy is usually kept within temples. 

Thanks to @sordhent and @myotishia for the info!

Types of Entities that live here: Void beings, eldritch beings 

-SPG end- 

Now, I also wanted to talk about Christian/Catholic/Abrahamic Hell- but note besides what I say that is also in the books, this is OBVIOUUSSLLYYYYY UPG

Christian/Catholic/Abrahamic Hell

I theorize that those portions of Hell spoken about in the books may be non-physical in nature, but layered close to Deep Hell. This is because in this Hell lore, this takes place after death- humans are still ghosts and are still considered dead- and death is the state of being booted from your physical body you were born into- so it is unlikely to be a physical realm. 

I would not be surprised if the actual location(s) existed, as my paradigm tries to avoid mutual exclusivity.  It is likely that they exist, since they were written about so much. However, to the question of if people actually go there when they die- I can’t answer that because 1) I do not work within an Christian/Catholic/etc paradigm, and 2) never been there and don’t want to. 

What about Purgatory? 

Still dunno, but I do theorize that Purgatory is non-physical in nature as well. 

————————————————-

This is my knowledge of the different layers and aspects of Hell. If anyone has something they would like added to this post, please let me know! I am all for compiling info and sharing of experiences. 

Eye of the Storm

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Chuck (mentioned), Lucifer (mentioned), Reader (Y/N), Torturer, Lady Antonia Bevell

Pairing: Sam x reader

Warnings: Angsty and dark af, major character death, loss, torture (very descriptive in places), violence, near drowning, smut, cheating (kinda but not really - hard to explain)

Wordcount: 3800ish

A/N: This is written for @kittenofdoomage Summer Lovin Challenge where my prompt was storm watching.

It is also my entry for @nichelle-my-belle spn angst challenge, where my prompt was: “They say I’m a traitor. Maybe I am. All I know is I did what I had to do.”

Both girls challenged me to make them cry and I hope I was able to succeed in making you squeeze a tear or two.

Thanks to @blacktithe7 for patient and awesome and really pushing me and helping me get this right, as she betaed for me on this. P.s she is too blame for this getting darker than planned so thank her!

Also thanks the @adriellej for being encouraging and the sweetest beta ever.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Sam started to come too, only to feel a throbbing, aching pain on the back of his head. He tried to move. His hands were bound to the chair. The room was so dark he couldn’t make out a single shape in the inky blackness.Then his memories slowly started to come back to him along with the rush of emotions. Sadness, emptiness, anger.

“Mr. Winchester! You are awake,” a deep british growl sounded through the room as a bright light filled the room. The sudden change hurt his eyes but also filling him with defiance.

“I was afraid, you were gonna sleep through all the fun.” Sam looked up to see the face of his captor. A small man. No bigger than Chuck with a nasty scar running from the bridge of his nose all the way down to the left side of his jaw. His eyes were sparkling with a menacing icy coldness that sent a slight shiver down the hunter’s spine. Sam watched as he soaked a towel in the bucket of water sitting in front of him. His jaw clenched. He knew what was coming.

“You know, Sam. Can I call you Sam?” The man didn’t stop and wait for a reply, not that Sam had any plans of honoring him with one. He was busy trying to distract his mind. Dig deep to get away from what he knew was about to happen.

Keep reading

Dan Howell: I'm not jealous.

The sun is beaming from the heavens, sending a breathtaking array of magnolia, satsuma and crimson hues beating down upon you and the park around you. The sky is cloudless: a pale, watery blue expanse of perfect nothingness; the innocent chatter of children fills your ears, as a slight breeze weaves between the ancient trees lining the pathway you and your boyfriend Dan stroll along.

Dan outside?! Flipping hell it must be a miracle!

You’d managed to drag him out of the house on this rare occasion, surprisingly he didn’t argue- well considering it’s your one year anniversary he should be happy to spend the day with you, instead of cooped up in his bedroom scrolling through the very depths of tumblr…

There’s a silence between you, but not the awkward kind of silence you’d find on the underground, a comforting silence met by mutual understanding of one another- almost as if you’re speaking without words. Your fingers are intertwined with his, the both of you looking around at the beauty of spring emerging from every corner of Hyde park. You wish you could do this more often… But with Dan always busy with either the radio or YouTube, there’s never any time.

“It’s such a lovely the day!” You exclaim quietly, “not as lovely as you Y/N” Dan smirks as you visibly cringe, “that was so cheesy! You put cheddar to shame!” You laugh and so does he. You reach a bench sitting down on it along with Dan, he removes his hand from yours, instead wrapping his arm around your shoulder. That comforting silence settles over the both of you once more, you rest your head on his shoulder breathing in the fresh scent of the flowers and emerald grass: if only you could stay like this forever! Minutes pass by without a word being uttered by either of you- that is until a familiar voice calls your name.

“Y/N?! Is that you?” A male voice calls from behind, your head shoots up in recognition of the voice, you turn your head almost quick enough to give yourself whiplash. There he is: Bryce Cook, your childhood best friend (and maybe crush oops…), your eyes widen to the size of golf balls as you leap up from the bench leaving a rather confused and upset Dan behind. You run up to him as he opens his arms for you, you leap up wrapping your arms and legs around him in a very much missed hug. You burry your head in his muscular neck, breathing in that musky scent he’s always had… boy you’ve missed him! Finally you both pull away, and much to your guilt, completely ignore Dan- but, come on, you can spend everyday with Dan, you haven’t seen Bryce in years!

“Gosh Y/N I haven’t seen you in forever!” He beams at you, and you can’t deny the childish grin that spread across your face; he’s incredibly good looking, he always has been cute, however now he’s undeniably HOT, although you do not find him as attractive as you do Dan. “I know right! You’re looking well Bryce” you grin, he chuckles blushing slightly, “you’re looking as beautiful as ever Y/N” he says rubbing the back of his neck. Dan has been listening in on the whole conversation, watching you both quietly but at that he can’t help the surge of anger that rushes through him, he stands walking over to where the both of you are stood talking and wrapping a protective arm firmly around your waist; you look up at Dan smiling, blissfully unaware of his intentions. “Oh! How silly of me, Bryce this is my boyfriend Dan, Dan this is my old friend Bryce” you introduce them both, “you assuming my age Y/N?” Bryce jokes in a rather flirtatious manner while completely ignoring Dan, you laugh at his silliness a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks.

After another few minutes of Bryce flirting way too much, Dan has finally had enough. “Y/N darling I think it’s about time we get going” he speaks sweetly through gritted teeth, you look up at him a minuscule amount of sadness resting on your features. You don’t argue, “well it was nice seeing you again Bryce, but we must be off” you smile though it does not reach your eyes like it had before, Bryce simply nods “maybe we could meet for coffee soon, have a proper catch up?” He offers, Dans grip on your waist tightens slightly and you finally realise his discomfort, “Maybe, I’m sure you can find me on Facebook if needs be” you let Bryce down gently before bidding your farewells.

As you and Dan walk away, Dan spins you to look at him before leaning down and kissing you with a passion you’ve never seen before, when you both break away he looks deeply into your eyes “I love you Y/N” he says and you can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your lips, “I love you too Dan… you were so jealous of him” you add shoving him slightly. Dan scoffs, taking his hand in yours as you continue to walk, “I was not jealous”.

AN; short and sweet? Hopefully you’ll enjoy it -Jade xx

Prison Break — Season 1  {Sentence Starters}

  • “Come on, I won’t hurt you.”
  • “Wait, I can’t leave you here.”
  • “Why won’t you let me help you?”
  • “Don’t make me lie to you. Please.”
  • “What do you say we go for a walk?”
  • “I was part of your plan. Was it all an act?”
  • “Let’s just say someone’s gonna get hurt.”
  • “I don’t have a few years. Wish to hell I did.”
  • “Maybe you ought to hear what I’ve got to say.”
  • “But you’ve got to let me deal with this. Okay?”
  • “I just need a little time! Just give me the time!”
  • “I had to test you. See if you could keep a secret.”
  • “I believe in being part of the solution, not the problem.”
  • “This isn’t nothing. I need you to tell me what happened.”
  • “You have no choice. I’m one of the bad guys, remember?”
  • “You have a habit of answering a question with a question.”
  • “You probably heard stories about me. They’re not all true.”
  • “It leads somewhere. It leads to hell. It’s the pathway to hell.”
  • “I just want you to help me get to them. I’ll take it from there.”
  • “If you’re trying to calm me down, you’re doing a terrible job.”
  • “I don’t like getting attached to things if I know they won’t last.”
  • “Huh. Now that’s a subject I just happen to know quite a bit about.”
  • “And you have a way of asking questions that beg more questions.”
  • “I’ve known you my entire life. You don’t have a violent bone in your body.”
  • “Preparation will only take you so far. After that you got to take a few leaps of faith.”
  • “I can’t help wondering what someone with your credentials is doing in a place like this.”
  • “I think you’re scared. And you wouldn’t be human if you weren’t scared in a place like this.”

anonymous asked:

Aah you were at RP3 too? What did you think?

It was the first time I ever went to a live show on my own, and boy did it not dissapoint. The hype, the energy of the crowd, the goofy interactions between themselves and the audience– I had a ton of fun! Even if my side came 4th in Mario Party.

But the moment Vernon came upstairs to pick someone out for playing the balloon minigame and pointed to me for Waluigi’s side was the absolute wildest thing I would’ve expected to happen. I ran down those pathways hyped up as all hell and got to chat with people I’ve only seen on Youtube; not many people can say that, and it felt like a huge honour.

So yeah, I hope that answers your question, and if they did something like this again in the Netherlands I’ll be sure to grab another ticket!

im down to reflect on the old me and all my many many failures… but asking me to see how i was then as justification for a relationship now is really a step too far and im dumb as hell for opening that pathway just so i wouldnt feel like a huge villain for ignoring her constantly

Restoring Ma’at (full post)

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2016, through all of the abysmal things that have happened during that time, has me thinking a lot about Ma'at lately. We’ve lost so many cultural, artistic and historical icons in this year, any of us would be hard-pressed to name them all without referring to a list. This year has been a crippling blow on a lot of levels, but it is not the end by any stretch of the imagination. That is not to say that it’s been any less trying.

I won’t beat about the bush. We are all about to head into unknown territory in 2017. For some, that prospect is terrifying. Given some of the more recent events that have occurred in the world and the attitudes of those who were supposedly elected to help us face them, we probably should all be on alert. We are facing several global crises of epic proportions and our elected leaders are staying mostly silent about them. The media is of no help either. Between the fake news and the apathy of mainstream media attempting to dumb us all down into complacency and obliviousness, it’s pretty damned obvious we’re on our own.

First on the list is that we are facing climate change at a much faster rate than what was initially estimated by climate scientists. While the rest of the world wrings its hands in fear of what calamities might befall us if we continue at this pace, the president-elect, and his appointed ministers deny it’s a problem. They thumb their noses at it, and continue on their breakneck pace of looting and pillaging all that is left of both our country’s natural and monetary resources for their own gain.

Let’s put this on the table and state it at the outset: None of those people; not the POTUS-elect and those he has appointed to his cabinet gives a bloody damn about any of us. Please allow that to sink in for a moment. A thin-skinned corporate oligarch who fancies himself a ‘king’ has been appointed to lead our nation down the long pathway to Hell. This failed businessman was not elected by the majority. That much has been proved absolutely. What’s more is that he was put there with the blessing and complicity of the current Congress, a largely gerrymandered,thoroughly bamboozled electorate, and the assistance of a foreign government that is historically hostile towards us. Deny it if you want. I only ask that you continue to watch what is going on in the world and then ask yourself what’s really going on. The most important thing is to be honest with yourself when assessing every situation.

I will make the unfortunate prediction that the safety net as we know it will most probably be dissolved. If the GOP has its way, you can kiss your Medicaid, your Social Security, educational funding, and any other government subsidies goodbye. It doesn’t matter how long you paid in as a taxpayer - the GOP will make a diligent effort in legislating them all away under the guise of “privatization”. Privatization = Maximizing Profits for politicians, their friends, and contributors. Again, none of these people give a damn about you. If you get laid off because of outsourcing, or get sick or fall into bankruptcy or die because you have no medical insurance, or if you cannot afford your medications, or to feed yourself and your children or lose your home and anything else in the process, that’s not their problem. If you cannot afford to go to school to update your skills after being laid off from your job, they. simply. don’t. care. In fact, if you do, it means more profit for them, because as far as they are concerned, you are of little use to them unless you are adding to their bottom line.

I confess, this is a cynical and very bleak vision, and one that our forefathers never imagined would or could befall us. Let me ask a question: How are your survival skills? Do you know how to forage for food? Do you know how to make medicine, build a fire, or make do? Can you even begin to function without your wired devices? Will you go stir crazy without having access to the Internet? Have you thought about the benefits of following your crazy grandma’s example of stashing a supply of cash in the mattress? Your debit card may not work at one point or another and then where will you be when it comes time to purchase food, gas or something else that you are in dire need of? You’ll be forced to really live on your wits then and the question becomes whether you can or not.

So what does this all have to do with Restoring Ma'at?

Absolutely everything.

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In Ancient Egypt, Ma'at wasn’t just a goddess or an abstract concept. It was the absolute base of every pillar that their entire culture was founded upon. Ma'at is much more than a concept of Truth (with a capital ’T’). It is about justice and fairness and right action, even in those times when it’s difficult. It is what Dr. Maulana Karenga described as serudj-ta - or repairing the world. In the coming days, perhaps for several years, we are going to have to collectively concentrate on the ideas of Ma'at and Serudj-ta in order to restore what has been or will be destroyed. We will all be tasked with raising up those things and people who are in ruins, setting to right the wrongs of racism and bigotry, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia and all of the other ills that may raise their heads wherever we are. It is up to each of us to be the advocates for one another; to replenish that which has been diminished and to make things as beautiful or more beautiful than they were before. This is what each of us has been charged with right now. If we care about anything or anyone else outside of ourselves and our own sphere, then we need to face the reality that we each carry this responsibility. We must stamp injustice, hatred, and cruelty out wherever we see it and we need to not be complicit in our silence or our apathy.

None of what I describe is easy to hear and can seem an overwhelming thing to do. It’s probably all pretty frightening to consider. Even as I write this, Congress is attempting to pass legislation that will not allow cameras on the floor to let us see exactly how our rights are being slowly whittled away. Perhaps they imagine that the public won’t feel what we cannot see. Or perhaps they know that what they are doing is wrong and that the public backlash would be something that none of their careers could

stand.

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Our collective carelessness with our land, water, air and all other natural resources has wrought terrible things. We know, based on scientific evidence and even by simply paying attention to the natural world around us that we cannot keep on as we have in the past. While allowing the Dakota Access Pipeline would bring temporary prosperity for a select few for a short amount of time, what happens after the work is complete? Those “jobs” are gone and the and all the corporate interests need to do is sit back, turn on the spigot and gather up the profits. What we are left with is the incredible risk to not just the land and water of a few members of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe, but to millions upon millions of people who are dependent upon the water of the Missouri River downstream. Look at where it goes and then ask yourself, what happens if the pipeline bursts? Have we forgotten the tragedy of the Deep Water Horizon already? Don’t we remember the incredible tragedy of the Exxon Valdez? In both instances the consequences of spilled fossil fuels to the environment and to those whose livelihood depended upon those waterways was enormous. We have within our grasp, right now, the ability to get away from fossil fuels and push toward renewables. Other countries have pushed and shifted their economies around renewables, so it’s been proved that it can be done. The only reason why the US has been so reticent in the effort toward renewables is the incredible amount of influence of a few oil billionaires and the fossil fuel lobby. Deep in their guts, they know that their days are numbered. Our will to survive and to thrive as a planet must match and far outstrip their sense of corporate survival and maximizing profits.

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So then, how do we create serudj-ta or work to further Ma'at? Each of us has an idea in our mind of what makes society work and what doesn’t. The vast majority of people in the world do have a strong sense of right and wrong. This goes beyond borders, national interests or origins, race, religion, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, or any other way we choose to parse out segments of human society. We each want a place in the world, the opportunity to be able to feed, clothe and house our families in safety and security and we all want a chance to do something meaningful with our lives. Those are basic human motivations. When we let greed, envy, and vindictiveness and break our human family into segments of “Us” vs. “Them” that is when the problems arise.

We have seen this demonstrated over and over again with disastrous results. When we hold those ideas in our mind on a constant basis when dealing with anyone and in every situation, we are reminded of those higher ideals. We cannot individually fix the world. But does it really cost us anything at all to be courteous? How much do we lose and how much do we gain by exercising compassion in even the smallest of ways? Most of what I am talking about doesn’t have to cost money. It doesn’t mean a major inconvenience for any of us. It just takes remembering that any of us could be in a similar situation at any given moment depending upon circumstance. Sure you might get a warm fuzzy feeling after having done something nice - but that shouldn’t be the goal. The goal is knowing that something was right to do and to simply do it without an expectation of thanks or payment or anything else. The end goal, especially for we Kemetics, is doing our part in order to further Ma'at in the world - and absolutely nothing less.

Resources

“Ma'at: The Moral Ideal in Ancient Egypt” by Dr. Maulana Karenga, 2004,University of Sankore Press, Los Angeles

Crossposted from Life Belongs to Sekhmet (niankhsekhmet.com)

@quartzish liked for a starter

God it’s getting worse.

There the walls go again, moving around, phasing in and out, getting closer

You find yourself giving into the mania of the crowd and rather searching for anyone else suffering in the hellhole now known as “the middle of town”. Only you’re pretty damn sure regular cities aren’t trying to crush you between a hard place and another hard place-

The world stops again and you’re stumbling in place to get the hell outta dodge. Narrow pathway, cut corner, into another street-

The precognition comes all too late and you’re stumbling into someone and tripping onto the pavement. A normal “watch where you’re going” is thrown through a panic filter and all you can really do is shout. 

“Christ, you’re seeing this shit too, right!?”

I see new lives in each freckle above your eye. The way you comb your hair to the side, the way you part your lips in a way that whispers “mine.” I saw the avenue your fingers danced across, the map in your eyes and the way you sigh. I saw the words flow from your stomach and sail through the air. I watched you laugh it away without a single care. In your palms you hold the planets, they stroll around your fingers in an orderly fashion– never has the universe looked so at ease. 
 
In your toes I awe at the balancing act, books upon books, movies upon movies– you carry stories of love, loss, life, in every step you take. I see the past roll down your cheek upon the river down south. I see the future grow beneath your roots, itching to find the sun again– dying to blossom new flowers that go down to your mouth.
 
I see roads to new countries forged through fire in your veins, a pathway to heaven, an army through hell. I see the way to the end, the start of the beginning. I see the new, the old, the fury. The lethargic, the losing, the winning.
 
I see new lives in each freckle above your eye, one for each battered child, one for each broken sky.
—  to you i plead: do not cry, a.c.
One Up

Crowley imagine requested by ghostbeanie! “Hello! I come bearing a fluffy Crowley request. :3 How about one where the reader and Crowley have a child, and one day, the reader finds him and their kid adorably mock-arguing with each other? Like, Crowley boasts about his accomplishments through history and the kid says something like ‘I drew a dinosaur with my eyes closed’, sort of like that one scene in Jerry Maguire. :)) I hope this makes for a lot of cuteness potential. ;D Love your work, as always!” Well, aren’t you just the sweetest cutiepie to ever grace the Earth. Thank you so much! I’ve never seen Jerry Maguire, but I (hopefully) have enough information from this request to kind of… roll with it. This imagine has been edited for reposting to add a few details here and there where I skimped out originally writing this. Hope you like it!

Traveling back and forth between two universes so starkly contrasting each other took a toll on your mortal body, your fatigue increasing, at times, to levels where you were positive you were no more than a corpse wandering through the veil separating Earth and Hell. Despite the hardships, you refused to accept the King’s offers to… how he said, ‘tweak’ your mortality, choosing to remain human regardless of your association to the demons you walked among. Your joints ached, screaming in protest despite their youth, their condition weakened by the marathon journey to your home away from home, your bones hollowed, the clean air around you peeling away to smog, wind thick with blazing embers, glowing orange sparks scorching your hair where they met, the clouds above more silt than vapor, a canopy of heavy ebony murk looming above, the familiar suffocating atmosphere reeking of smoke and agony. You sighed, relaxing into the discomfort, your feet shifting towards the gate guarding an archaic palace, candles flickering in the slivers of great stone archers windows, obsidian walls gleaming in the false sunlight with a black malice you’d come to anticipate like a child on their first trip to Disneyland. Well, Hell was no amusement park… the unburnt pathway to Crowley’s abode glimmered, enticing you, inviting you forward, your feet obeying your fervent desire to see your family once more, even if it meant taking a handful of staggered trips to the Underworld every few days. You wouldn’t lie, there was no place you enjoyed more than Crowley’s palace, the silken sheets welcoming you in, the marble flooring echoing your footsteps, announcing your approach to everyone who dared listen, the hectic style of your life adding an enjoyable chaos that your life up top lacked. The demons guarding the palace gates stepped aside, recognizing your face and allowing you pass (they’d learned the hard way that barring your entry resulted in… replacement), your weary feet taking you towards the open doors of the glitzier end of Hell… the royal palace.

Upon passing through the gleaming obsidian doors, the burden Hell seemed to constantly push down onto your shoulders lifted as if you’d discarded a leaden jacket; the interior was separate from the suffering of the outside, everything from the scent to the clarity of the air cleansing itself as soon as you stepped over the threshold, the doors clanging shut in your wake. You inhaled slowly, allowing your lungs to fill with the breathable air, an adjustment Crowley had happily made for the ease of your visits. It made no difference to the demons the quality of the air, but you could barely enjoy your visits when you were occupied with choking down the gaseous smog, thus, Crowley had obliged to a purer palace circulatory system. You dusted the smoldering ashes from your clothing, the palms of your hands warming from the close contact to the remains of an eternal fire as you dashed the glowing particles away, bits of grimy dust falling to the polished marble flooring, demons around you tipping their heads, paying due respect to the mother of the crown prince of Hell. You offered a smile, the heels of your boots shattering echoes from the stone beneath your feet to the reaching columns of multifaceted marble, your chest filling with a growing glee at the familiarity of the action, of the promise of happiness mere steps away, the milky stone twining with the ebony claws of obsidian rock, its mangled edges untamable. This was the Hell of nightmares, the glimmering stone torchieres sending wisps of thin black smoke upward to the arched ceilings, a mockery of every Gothic cathedral you’d ever seen, converted before your eyes to house the greatest evil imaginable, the smoke forming an ethereal, if morbid, sort of mist against the ceiling’s fresco, which was a painted depiction of Lucifer’s descent. You waltzed towards the thrones, your eyes locking on the little dark-haired boy occupying your grand chair, tubby toddler’s fingers plucking at the shimmering tassled cushions as his father snickered, his head moving to nuzzle into the young boy’s neck, the little boy giggling, the joyful sound reverberating along the hall. You grinned, jogging up the marble steps, Crowley’s face lighting up upon taking you in, moving to stand, his arms extended towards you.

“Ah, if it isn’t my queen! We’ve missed you,” he smiled, pulling you into an embrace, his hands spreading warmth to your back as he secured you to his body, his lips buried in your hair, every exhale disturbing the strands atop your head. “How are you, my love?” You grinned, pulling away to peck his lips, his teeth snagging on your bottom lip, sealing you to him in a longer, deeper kiss than you had originally intended, your son making his objections to his parents’ intimacy as loudly as he could, a chorus of ‘yuck!’s erupting as Crowley laughed into your lips, his tongue running along your lower lip once more, your face sizzling. His lips ducked to your ear. “How long are you staying, darling?” You smiled, pressing your lips to his a final time. He pulled away, his hand remaining on your back as your body bent to lift the toddler into your arms, the little boy’s hands clasping around your neck, squishing his face into your neck, pressing his love into your very skin. You spun, his legs wrapping around your ribcage as you sat on your throne, the spindly obsidian armrests cooling your elbows, your little boy bouncing in your lap.

“I’m better, now that I’m here.” You replied, answering his first inquiry before tackling his second. “It depends… how’s that alternate entrance coming along?” you joked, watching Crowley’s eyes burst with apologies and humour. The little boy lifted his head from your shoulder, innocent (though, with a father like Crowley and an atmosphere such as this, you were sure that would change. You had both vowed to ensure he remained as level-headed as was… half-humanely possible) chocolate eyes staring up at you from behind a fringe of dark, thick lashes, his dimples pocketing his chubby cheeks as he smiled. A rogue strand of black hair dangled in the middle of his forehead, which you tucked back behind his ear with the tip of your fingers. “Hey, you! Did you miss me?” you smiled, your index finger tapping his nose, the little boy’s face crinkling in glee as he giggled.

“Yes, Mommy!” he laughed, his eyes popping open, excitement shining from his face like a sun. God, it’d only been two days since you’d last seen him, how much had he changed? Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you, the constant departure tugging at your heartstrings. You ran a hand through the untidy mop of coal-coloured hair, marveling at it’s feather soft texture, the strands shining in the firelight. Beautiful… he was beautiful. He wriggled out from beneath your touch, his hand tugging on the collar of your shirt, impatience filtering down the bloodlines from father to son. You brought your head down, his hand bridging the space between his lips and your ear, chubby fingers resting against your cheek as he whispered. “Can you tell Daddy my picture is better than his?” he pleaded, his eyes softening with his request, turning to face your king, your own gaze following his to find Crowley shaking his head with dramatic fervor, eyes sparkling on yours.

“No, no, mine was better, love.” Upon seeing your confused expression, he ducked his head, leaning towards you, his face turned towards the back of the throne room to prohibit his son from reading his lips, his stubble scratching your cheek. “We’ve been arguing all day. He’ll make a great politician, you just wait. The Mona Lisa. Kid thinks he’s got me beat.” he explained, sticking his tongue out at your son, who mirrored him to a tee, his small teeth forming a grin beyond full lips.

“But, but,” your child took a deep breath, preparing for the continuation of his sentence, your eyes flickering to Crowley, whose face was overrun with joy, watching your son argue the value of his scribbles. “Daddy, you never drew the Moan of Lisa. You just made a deal!” he insisted, Crowley raising his hands in mock defeat.

“He’s right, I only fueled the old bloke’s talent. That’s got to count for something, though, doesn’t it? Help me out, darling.” he whined, your child placing his palms against your cheeks, dragging your attention back to him, chocolate irises alight with concern and glory. You feinted contemplation, your hands grasping your son’s, bringing them together between you, clapping them twice as your face scrunched in comic uncertainty.

“Hmm… do I get to see this masterpiece of yours? Or do I have to assume it’s a work of art?” You snickered, your son turning to fish a scrap of paper from between your golden cushion and the pitch black of your throne, his hands returning with the crumbled picture that was supposedly more beautiful than DaVinci’s Mona Lisa, pressing the paper into your waiting palm. You unfolded the wrinkles, gazing down at a charcoal smudge that had clearly once been a stick-figure woman, darker lines among the smokey streaks outlining a triple-pointed crown atop a triangle dress, lines sprouting from the rough circle dropping to about the length of your hair. A jagged line formed your smile, your twig of an arm extended to hold another smudgy figure’s hand, a matching crown topping his head, the man toting a small koala-esque figure on his hip.

“See, Mommy, that’s you and that’s Daddy and Daddy has me because you were just coming home, but look! The ceiling has the curves it does right, right there,” he paused, fingers probing the sky, showing you the arches above, “and your hair is the way you like it and I put you in your favourite dress, the one Daddy made for you, and look! That was the day we played hide and seek in the throne room because I put your chairs in the back, see?” he mumbled, his finger jabbing at each individual detail with the enthusiasm of a scientist who had just discovered the cure to a rampant disease. The skyline was dotted with little sunbursts that you could only assume were the lights, prongs extending from the orbs must have been your child’s geometric take on flames. You grinned at the family portrait, your gaze lifting to Crowley’s, whose hand reached for your unoccupied fingers, the warmth of his palm spreading heat to yours as your fingers intertwined. He winked, biting down on his lips as he waited for your verdict.

“Well,” you huffed, staring down at the boy in your lap, his eager face also awaiting your decision. “I’m sorry, Crowley, but I think he’s got you beat. I mean, the technique alone is better than whatever that old man put together. See? Eyebrows,” you joked, voice completely professional, Crowley rolling his eyes at your well-timed humor, “I think we have a winner with this one.” you smiled, waving the paper as your son bounced in your lap, his arms encircling your neck once more, crushing the air from your throat, his little feet pounding against your thighs. Crowley laughed aloud, the both of you listening to your son’s chants of victory, his tiny lips pecking into your eyelid in an affectionate thanking, Crowley diving in to add his own kiss to your cheek. The road may have been difficult, but this was the reason you struggled back. You held your little family close, Crowley’s stubble prickling against your ear as he whispered his sweet nothings to you, your son clutching his artwork to his chest, explaining every detail to you as you listened, your voice occasionally perking up to compliment his skill, Crowley’s delectable eyes staring back at you from a separate face.

“Welcome home, darling.” Your lover whispered into your ear, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder, your son plucking at the golden tassels as he retold the day’s events in full detail, the three of you laughing at his adventures, drawn to him like moths to a flame, the little prince bouncing joyously, his family reunited once more. You sighed, content, relaxing into Crowley’s arm, the armrest biting into your ribs in the process, your son beaming up at you every few seconds, holding his recreated family to his chest as if it were his most valued possession. Crowley pecked at your cheek, his breath disturbing your hair. “Welcome home.”

Tips for Second Year

Hey guys I’ve been really slacking on real posts lately because I’m actually on summer break and in denial that I’m a med student. But I thought I would put this post together on some things I did second year and some things I didn’t do but wish I did (mostly in terms of studying/being prepared to start Step One studying). 

Warning-this post turned out pretty long…..sorry?

1. Pathoma. In case you have missed me talking about him before, Dr. Sattar is the love of my life. I bought Pathoma because people the year ahead of me told me they wished they had used it before starting to study for boards. I actually wish I would have bought it first year to use it for my Foundations of Medicine class and Neuro. Not only did it help when it came to board studying, Pathoma saved my ass for my actual classes a few times. For every great professor you have, you have about 2 shitty/mediocre ones, and I learned more from Pathoma than I did from them. I would listen to the chapter at the beginning of the block (or split it up to listen to parts I knew we would learn about that week), and then I would listen to it again at double speed the night before my test. And not that you will need more reasons to love Dr. Sattar, but one of my classmates found this gem: 

2. Uworld/any Qbank. Ok so I waited until 3 months from my Step One exam date to buy Uworld, because I knew myself and I knew I probably wouldn’t use it before then because I’m definitely in the “less is more” camp when it comes to study materials. However, I did use it in my last block (GI) and after doing that I kind of wish I had used it all year. I actually really enjoyed doing the questions and they have great explanations. Obviously the questions didn’t cover all my class material but it was still a great study tool plus the more questions you do the more set you’re going to be for boards studying. However, some people I knew basically just studied for boards all second year instead of for classes. My advice is not to do that. Remember that there is more to med school than boards. Your actual course grades do matter and I just had to trust that my professors (and our new curriculum) were going to prepare me well.

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// Substance

>> Felix is afraid of nothing.

available on ao3

It was easy to forget that the only thing separating him and his partner from the black abyss of space was nothing more than the heavy steel walls of the ship. Once, Felix had thought that spending so much time in one of these things would go one of two ways: either he’d go stir-crazy and kill someone within a month, or he’d grow to love it.

In the end, it was neither.

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the hypocrisy

When it comes to strong woman on tv and in real life, I feel that there is a big hypocrisy going on. I already wrote a post about it a couple of months ago. 

Let’s talk about (one of) the strongest women on tv at this point: Carol Peletier and the spoilers that have come our way. 

The spoilers for this week episode suggest that Carol finds out that Sam confides in her and she finds out he is abused ( let us not dwell on the irony that the same boy she “scarred for life” only a week ago, now trusts her with the biggest secret he has). Being a victim of abuse herself this must be shocking and devastating to hear. 

So what does Carol do? The woman who, according to a lot of haters, is out of control, only does what seems right for herself and is on a dark path that only can lead to her ultimate demise. That woman goes to Rick. She goes to him and SHARES what she has just learned. To me this is the ultimate proof that she trusts Rick and accepts his leadership. 

The next part of the spoiler reads that she asks Rick to kill Pete. She doesn’t do it herself, she asks Rick to do it for her. And now everybody is condemning her for this. For me, this is where all the hypocrisy comes into play. 

When Carol killed Karen and David, most people hated on her for not going to the counsel or to Rick. Most people understood why she did it, but felt that she shouldn't  have acted on her own. So now she DOES go to Rick. She DOES accept his almighty leadership and bows down and STILL she gets hate for it. Because now she is taking him with her in her pathway down to hell.          THE HYPOCRISY

If she had walked right up to his house and shot him right in the face (witch I would not only approve but I would have given her a standing ovation for) she would have given hate because she acted on her own and only does her own thing.  She wants a child abuser to die and suddenly she is Satan herself. When Carl almost got raped and Rick killed each and everyone of the men who did that, everybody was not only ok with this everybody was cheering for it. But now Carol suggests the same thing and she is the personification of evil herself.                                                                                                           THE HYPOCRISY

Carol also asks Sam to steal chocolate so she can makes cookies for him. I read somewhere that this action changes her “ from being the patron saint of protecting children to the patron saint of corrupting them”. Yes, asking a child to steal something isn’t right, I actually agree. But way happened when Carl shot a kid right in the face? He was sent to story time and helped with the crops. BUT this was the decision from almighty Rick, so then it’s ok.           THE HYPOCRISY

For me this all comes down to the fact that she is a strong woman. A woman who is capable of making her own decisions and doesn’t always bow down to the men that surround her. I, myself, applaud Carol for making decisions on her own. I applaud her for being strong and undependable. I applaud her for making though decisions that aren’t always right, easy or even good. I applaud her for doing it and owning up for it. I applaud Carol. 

Does that make me a hypocrite?