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Dream Come True

Originally posted by luna-intheforest

Characters: Y/n, Derek

Pairing: Derek x Y/n (FEMALE READER)

Warnings: Smut smut smut, rough sex, Derek kinda wolfing out, more smut, slight pain, Derek being concerned, unprotected sex, fluff at the end

Word count: 2500

Summary: Derek just can’t stop dreaming about you. Luckily, he gets a real chance.

A/N: Ok, so…requested fic by @burgundyrosesandwine​ -I was wondering if you could write a Derek smut with a female reader where it’s after derek leaves beacon hills and he’s in a new city (Like nyc) and that because he’s bored he starts giving private self defense classes. And then he becomes really good friend with one of the girls he trains and he even reveals he’s a werewolf. She’s innocent and sweet and derek can’t stop fantasizing about her but he’s scared he’ll scare her off because he’s a lot older and she’s inexperienced but one day his lust takes over and he’s very rough, dominant and possessive You can use the pain removing thing idea like you did in the beginning of the end :) Also can you make her very short pleaseeeee. I know this is a lot so you obviously don’t have to do it Just an idea I really want someone to write one day hahaha. Ok, so I think I mostly stuck to the request. Also, sorry this took sooo long!! Hope u like it!!

Tagged peeps: @sallyp-53 @greyravenvixen @helvonasche @chelsea072498 @the-latina-trickster @aingealcethlenn @squirrels-angels-and-moose @lucifer-in-leather @kumaartz @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @mogaruke 

Masterlist


Your moans were loud and filthy, your pussy stretching as Derek pounded into you.

“Fuck, y/n. So damn loud, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, trying to keep your moans quiet, but the way his cock felt inside you was too much.

You screamed as your body shook, your pussy clenching around Derek’s cock.

Derek’s face fell to your breasts, growling loud as he came deep within you.

Keep reading

10

Where is the cosmic microwave background?

“So the CMB isn’t the end of the Universe, but rather the limit of what we can see, both distance-wise (as far as we can go) and time-wise (as far back as we can go). Until we can directly detect the signatures of what was released earlier – the cosmic neutrino background, gravitational waves from inflation, etc. – the CMB will be our window into the earliest time we can observe: 380,000 years after the Big Bang.”

The farther away in space we look, the farther back in time we’re seeing. Light arriving from a star ten light years away is ten years old; light that took a billion-year journey from a distant galaxy is a billion years old. If we look out today at the most distant light we can see, we discover that it originates from the Big Bang itself: the Cosmic Microwave Background, or CMB. But this doesn’t mean the light has never interacted with anything since the birth of the observable Universe. In fact, many arose from matter/antimatter annihilations, all of them have scattered off of charged particles, and the CMB photons we detect today were all released when the Universe was a few hundred thousand years old. Because of the way the Big Bang works, the particles are literally everywhere, all at once, including right here.

Come get the full story on where the CMB actually is, and what it means when we state its age and distance!

youtube

Previous video here.

Comic: @atomi-cat    (Link to the comic)

Voices:

Everyone - Me

Music:

TobyFox - An Ending

I do not own any of the rights to the copyrighted material used in this video, except for the use of my voice!

I am working on a new Richonne thriller. It’s called Machine Heart, and it’s a doozie. This song is the start of the soundtrack so far, it’s inspiring my writing through the first three chapters. I’ll update with each new chapter once the fic is up and running. You can follow the playlist here.

Coming soon in this Richonne fic…

Machine Heart

AU. It’s 2077 and the country has been reduced to two well-protected territories: The Safe Zone and the Gates of Hell. After losing his partner (and, secretly, the love of his life) Michonne to save hostages, Rick Grimes wakes up one dark, surreal day to find that she has been reanimated anew – as a perfect cyborg replicant of the old Michonne. Accused of a crime he didn’t commit, he is forced to rely on this new cyborg partner to help him expose corruption and clear his name. As cyborg Michonne learns to be human – she becomes more and more real, and more and more like the Real Michonne. Love, lies, darkness, and the human condition all wrapped up in one dark, futuristic Richonne thriller.

Part Blade Runner.

Part Terminator.

Part Running Man.

Part Ghost in the Shell.

All Richonne.

2

“Scary handsome genius” is officially on a shirt on my Etsy shop. It’s all about the fine details with this one, and I’ll be doing my patented Making A Fancy Post In the Morning, but you can get a jump on these now and nab yourself a shirt right here.

Comes in White or Heather Grey (pictured) in both unisex and women’s sizes. My obsessive love of halftones and dots continues evermore.

This beautiful sketch arrived today, all the way from Singapore! It’s inspired by the “you are SUCH a girl sometimes” Paris page in WS #10. I love that scene and I love this sketch! Thank you @elithien , it is absolutely perfect (and it is so cute the way he forgot to keep holding the umbrella!). Your rain is wonderful, I love to see rain in sketches ☔

This will take pride of place as the first BuckyNat sketch in my Bucky sketchbook. You can see more of the lovely sketches in the Bucky Book here.

comic is Winter Soldier #10 by my always-favourite team of Ed Brubaker, Butch Guice & Bettie Breitweiser. Letters by Joe Caramagna. If you haven’t read it, then… read it!

Numb. He felt numb. His favorite place, his bed, made him feel disgusting. Laying there for more than two hours not a single one of his body parts had moved. The dark brown eyes of him staring at the wooden ceiling and following the lines mother nature printed on them again, and again. His mouth was dry and his lips cracking, hot breath flowing over them. His ears recognizing the people downstairs coming in, settling in uncomfortable silence after his mother greeted them. There was somebody making coffee in the kitchen he thought to himself after the smell sneaked through the cracks of his door.

I have to move,

his mind told him but all he could do was to stare at the ceiling.

Normally his mother would come upstairs, scolding him for his laziness, screaming at him to move, but nothing was normal these days.

The war was over, they won, but many Shinobis paid with their life. So was his father. It was the day of Shikakus funeral and all he could do was lying useless in his bed, starring at the ceiling and feeling nothing. He knew there was sadness, anger, guilt but he didn’t want to feel any of them.

Yet he knew, he was the new head of the Nara clan, it was his duty to greet all the people and to be strong for his mother.

A husky sigh escaped his dry throat and finally moved, swinging his legs out of his bed like a rusty old roboter somebody forgot to oil. Rough hands rubbed his heavy eyes and tucked brown strand behind his ear.

Pictures of the official funeral flashed through his head, the whole village celebrating their war heroes, who fell in the war. He remembered the thick salty tears running over the colorless cheeks of his mother and the sound of Inos sobbing.

The Yamankas, Akimichi and the Naras decided to hold a special ceremony for Ino’s father as sign of the strong bond the three families had. Also it should make Ino and him the official new heads of their clan.

His eyes wandered through his dark room, only lighted by the light coming through the cracks of the dark brown shutters. Grabbing a water bottle, and taking a sip to wet his dry lips, his eyes wandered to a carefully folded pile of clothing his mother laid there some days ago.

It was a suit of his father she wanted him to wear at the ceremony. It was Shikakus favorite suit he’d wear to official events when traditional clothing wasn’t expected. The water bottle was placed at the ground and his hand left it to touch the ring hanging around his neck. Sighing again he forced his legs to stand up and grabbed the clothing „You had an terrible sense in fashion, old man.“. He slipped into the pants, shirt and suit jacket, decorated with his family emblem. His fingers traced over the silky material of the forest green tie and he remembered his fathers attempts on teaching him how to make a proper knot. The dark voice of Shikaku ignoring he always had starred at something different annoyed about the boring lecture. His mother always complained about the terrible knot her husband had made and adjusted it. Maybe she would knot it for him.

One hand grabbing the tie the other hovering over his doorknob he took one last deep breath and went outside.

Everybody was in the living room when he came down the stairs. His mother on the couch with empty eyes, Ino staying in the corner, her usual bright eyes looking lifeless on the floor. A big hand belonging to his best friend patted his shoulder „Hey..“ - „Hey..“. Everybody greeted him but then the big room went back to an uncomfortable silence. Scanning the room for who was missing he nearly jumped when Choji leaned to him whispering „..the elders.“. The young man nodded slowly at his best friend his open hair falling down into his face and went to sit next to his mother.

He wanted to say something soothing her broken heart but no words came out of his mouth. „Should I knot your tie?“ she looked to him „It suits you, I mean the suit..“ her hands grabbed it and laid it around his neck, trying to give him a small smile for her bad joke. Fingers staying at the soft material her eyes wetted by upcoming tears „You look exactly like him…“. She sighed slightly and her hand left him „…before he got his awful goatee.“ one single tear scrolled over her face. Clearing his throat from the lump which formed her son nearly whispered „Yeah, it was awful.“.

They went back suffocating silence.

He gulped, loud voices screaming in his head:

Be strong, say something, soothe here.

Come on be a fucking man, Shikamaru.

You are an disappointment.

How can somebody like you be a genius?

The head of your clan? You’re just an coward.

Clenching his teeth he pressed his eyes shut to stop his sight from blurring. His stomach twisted leaving him with the strong feeling of nausea. One hand pressed to his temple.

I want to feel numb again. There are no feelings, just stop.

The sound of a cup, placed in front of him, released him from his panic attack and taking a deep breath and smelling the strong scent of coffee made him regain his senses.

His heavy eyes opened, widening at a young woman dressed in a simple black dress, her blonde hair tied back in a loose bun, looking at him with teal eyes. Shikamaru gulped, the lump still in his throat, there were so many questions on his mind. But every one of them seemed inappropriate and offensive, so he just watched her placing a second mug in front of his mother and walking away to get some for the other guests.

She was there the whole day helping Ino and her mother arrange the flowers, holding Yoshino when she broke down, rubbing Inos back when she hyperventilated because of sobbing, lighting candles when Chojis father couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Not one word left her lips and everybody ingulded to her comforting silence.

When they got back to the Naras house to have the traditional feast the mood lightened up a little bit and old stories were told. Even his mother complained about her dead husband again with a sad but honest smile.

He answered politely questions and completed some stories when asked, but he couldn’t help himself from still feeling numb. After they finished their meal his mother got up and gave him a small plastic bag „Can you please go and feed the deer? I couldn’t do it in the morning..“, he nodded grateful.

As much as he loved to hear his mother and Ino laughing again he couldn’t help the numbing sadness from sticking to his bones.

He walked a while, enjoying the sound his shoes made on the forest ground, when he felt her approaching him. She didn’t broke her silence when she reached him. The right hand shoved in his pocket the left carrying the bag he just walked, the blonde woman never leaving his side. His mind thought about words to thank her for everything but he remained silent and his thoughts wandered off to his old man teasing him about his love questions, how his words always were the right one to support him and how he helped him after Asumas death.

I miss you, old man. You would have known what to do with all this mess.

He gulped, but the big lump in his throat was back again. Trying to fight off the salty tears in the angle of eyes his hand tightened around the bag. Warm fingers suddenly touched his and slid the bag out of his grip. He nearly jumped and looked down to Temari which took his hand in her own and squeezed it soft, not giving him a single look.

His eyes wandered back to the forest in front of him when finally allowed the tears to flow over his cold cheeks, falling with soft sounds to the green ground.

They walked like this till they got to a wooden animal feeder. Her hand left his and she filled the food into the feeder. After finishing she got back standing in front of him and finally looked at his face. His head flinched in embarrassment and he tried to turn it away from her sight, but her hand cupping his cheek stopped him, the thumb whipping tears away with soft strokes.

„Are you afraid?“

He nodded.

„Don’t be. I am always there to kick your ass.“ her smile was gentle and they went back to a silence which just belonged to them this time.

2

…in the way the flame on his forehead flickers. Still pulsing, earnest and yearning. Still sending out that staccato message, like an SOS in Morse code. I’m here. I’m here.

Come home, come home.

- mochida kensuke, chapter 11, (and maybe) we are;

no halo hat, because that’s post-canon. just koi patterned battle gear P:

the gif shows basically tsuna’s Default Dying Will State. it’s always flickering like that, hint nudge. reborn is just the only one presently who would recognize it for what it is and describe it properly, but 1) the first time he saw tsuna’s flame was during the harmonization process where he probably passed off the wild flickering as just Normal Harmony Procedure, and 2) the second time is in ch14 in which i kind of glossed over it because he had maybe 1.5 seconds before he was socked in the face.

but ye. whenever tsuna’s forehead goes on fire it flickers like this because he’s basically in constant full body Zero Point Breakthrough Revised mode. very unstable flame.

anonymous asked:

(GUESS WHO) in light of our constant sobbing over these two, I would love no. 3 with Alfred and Jay (it can be adult Jay or bby Jay I'll leave that up to you!) <3

thank u so much for sending AND SORRY FOR THE WAIT <333 

Here they are Alfred and Jason. hurt/comfort, timeline?? what timeline. it’s not their first meeting after jay’s resurrection I know that. <33 pls enjoy

3. please don’t leave 


Jason shouldn’t be here.

Coming to the manor for a few books he likes is one of his worst ideas. The weather is dreadful, snow reaching his ankle, cold biting his skin as he strolls to the side of the manor, close to his old window.

The security system is down which means Alfred had stayed home instead of going to grocery shopping. Huh, that’s fine. Jason is going to be quiet and won’t make a ruckus. Alfred won’t even know he was there.

He isn’t avoiding Alfred.

He is only keeping his distance so he won’t crumble and break down in front of those sharp eyes, seeing everything Jason wants to hide in the back of his mind. Alfred just knows him too much. Even after he came back to life, their conversation never has turned to his death or his resurrection and Jason wants to keep it that way.

It’s not the first time Jason is in the manor after his death but it feels like it. The stuffing feeling seeing his books on the shelves, the bed reminding him all the time he was awake in the morning hours reading instead of sleeping.

It’s a bitter reminder what he lost but he can only blame himself in the end.

He exhales a shaky breath as he stands in front of his bookshelf. Before he can choose the books, his door opens and it’s Alfred standing in the door, calm and collected like always as if Jason’s presence is welcomed.

Keep reading

Return Again, Awake, O Soul of Splendor!

“Kal [the demiurge] has entangled people in illusions to such an extent that they have totally forgotten their real Home. Kal has woven such a net that now it is difficult to get released from it. These traps are rituals and rites, scripture reading and worship, and performing Yagyas (oblations). These have nothing to do with realisation of God.” (Anurag Sagar)

“My soul, 0 most Splendid One…where have you gone? Return again. Awake, soul of splendor, from the slumber of drunkenness into which you have fallen…follow me to the place of the Exalted World where you existed in the beginning.” (Mandaean Gnostic psalm from Iraq quoted in, The Gnostic Religion, by Hans Jonas, Beacon Press)

Meditation: God Resides Inside – Look, Listen for Him There

“Look for and search for God within yourself, within your own body. God resides inside – look for him there. The white point shines straight ahead and twinkles. You must concentrate in sushumna [inner passage or tunnel, central channel, middle path] by leaving the restlessness of the mind behind. Where the subtle sounds vibrate in the ajna chakra [third eye center, point between the eyebrows], stay and make your dwelling. The Door is subtle and sushumna is the Point or Window. With great effort, you can go through.” (Sant Maharshi Mehi)

Commentary: Meditation is the soul’s Portal to the Divine, a Doorway to God and the Heavens that are within. Place your mind before the mirror of eternity. Place your soul in the brilliance of glory. Place your heart in the figure of the divine substance and transform your entire being into the image of the Godhead itself through contemplation. Meditate upon the Love, Light and Sound of the Positive Power within you.

The Third Eye Center is also known as The Seat of the Soul. When one goes within, in addition to the possibility of contemplating Divine Light, in this world of Inner Space there is also the possibility of hearing “subtle sounds vibrating” (Maharishi Mehi). This is referring to the Inner Sound Current or Music of the Spheres, the Sound coming from Beyond the Silence (also called Logos, Word, AUM, HU, Tao, Nada, Shabda, Saunt-e Sarmad, Song of the Creator). Often people first hear the Astral Bell Sound, a kind of ringing, like a bell that has been struck that keeps on reverberating … forever. This ringing comes when we concentrate, and like the Light, seems to “disappear” when we lose concentration and leave off our meditation practice. The Sound and the Light are really still there, are always there. It is only our attention (surat) that comes and goes.

When darkness is no longer dark, when the stillness of the night gives birth to a faint Celestial Melody, know this: one more soul is being summoned to awakening, one more soul hears the Call, one more soul ascends to the Place of Life.

“0 Surat [soul]! You have had enough sleep.
Now get up and proceed on. Why do you waste your capital here.

Come under the protection of the Satguru. Hold fast to Naam and get rid of all evils.

Kal strikes at you every moment. Associate yourself with Shabd, and throw away the load of karmas.

Why do you not wash off the impurities of your mind now? Why do you not merge your Surat in Shabd?

Behold the marvelous Jyoti (flame) within yourself. Radhasoami has opened the spring of Bhakti.”

– Soamiji Maharaj (Sant Radhasoami Sahab), Sar Bachan Radhasoami Poetry, Volume One)

RADHASOAMI – The Ocean of All-Love

Soamiji Maharaj: “From one step to another the soul beholds strange things which cannot be described in human language. Every region and everything is utterly beyond words. What beauty and glory! How can I describe them? There is nothing here to convey the idea. I am helpless…. Love plays the supreme part. It is all love. So says RADHASWAMI.” (Sar Bachan Poetry)