Woman/Man of Letters Award: Best URL - Winner

@deandoesthingstome won this category in the Wayward Scandi Bitches Award I hosted with @winchesterswoonathon

She requested this: I need a sexy AF phone sex with Dean drabble for one of my Wayward Scandi Bitches Awards! Is that possible??? Like, his sexy voice just calling out through the line, getting me all hot and bothered, realizing what he’s doing to me (all the things!), finishing that job, and then soothing me to sleep with some sweet, low volume promises of our next physical encounter? Can someone do this for me??

Hope this lives up to your expectations hun!

Dean frowned as he saw her face pop up on his screen as the sound of Just what I needed started sounding through the Impala as he pulled up in front of the motel.

“Y/N, are you okay sweetheart? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Dean looked at his watch. 2am.

“I’m fine, Dean. I just can’t sleep. I miss you.” Her voice made the worry leave his body, and he smiled as he leaned back in the seat.

“I just got back from burning the remains. We’ll be back tomorrow night, Princess.” He assured her.

“That doesn’t make the bed any warmer tonight though.” She sulked quietly, making Dean chuckle as an idea formed in his mind.

“What are you wearing, sweetheart?” Dean lowered his voice, and she immediately caught his intention.

“Those black panties you like so much and your old zepp shirt.” She purred back at him, making his cock twitch in his jeans at the image she painted in his mind.

“Tomorrow night ,when I get home, I’m gonna crawl into bed next to you and kiss you awake. I’m gonna run my hands under that shirt and feel your soft, hot skin. I’m gonna slide my hand down to the waistband of your panties as I keep kissing you.”

“Dean…” She moaned through the phone, and he knew it was working. He slowly unbuckled his belt and undid his fly, pulling his aching cock out into the cool night air as he thought of her lying on their shared bed, touching herself to the sound of his voice.

“Are you gonna be nice and wet for me, sweetheart?” Dean growled as he fought the urge to fire up the car and drive like a maniac to get back to her as she replied.

“I always am, Dean…”

“I’m gonna shift my body on top of you, push my fingers into that sweet, beautiful pussy of yours, make you moan for me.” And she did, making Dean’s cock twitch in his hands as he ran his thumb over his head, groaning into the phone.

“Do you want me to fuck you, baby girl? Do you want my cock to fill that pretty, little pussy? Do you want me to make you feel good?” Dean’s voice became more strained as he jerked himself off to the sounds of her soft moans in his ears and the image of her stretched out naked on their bed with her fingers buried inside her cunt.

“I am sliding my cock through your folds. Fuck you are so wet Y/N! Pushing my dick into you in one hard thrust.” She moaned loudly through the phone and Dean had to bite down on his lip hard to restrain himself.

“I’m gonna kiss you, taste you, so sweet, fuck you into the mattress, make you feel what you’ve been missing this week.” Dean was no longer able to speak in full sentences as he felt his cock twitch and grow with each of her moans of his names.

“Dean, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me sweetheart! Make me feel that sweet pussy clamp down on my cock.” His words came out in gasps and he spilled his hot seed all over his hand and pants to the sound of her crying out his name. Fuck, she drove him wild!

“Fuck, sweetheart!” Dean mumbled as his chest heaved, trying to get down from his high.

“Dean, don’t hang up. Stay with me,” She sounded spent, sleepy, and Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart. I’m gonna hold you. Pull you close to my chest and trace patterns with the tips of my fingers down you naked back. You are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen, do you know that?”

“Hmmm.” She was falling asleep, and Dean smiled at the image. She was perfect and he wanted her to know that. To show her that. But all he could do in the moment was tell her.

He told her how he was going to kiss every inch of her body when she woke up in the morning. He promised her to hold her and touch her, and make her call out his name all day long. He kept talking even after her breath got heavy and she was sound asleep.

Dean stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, listening to her breathing and suddenly he knew it. He loved her. The feeling was overwhelming, but he didn’t wanna run. He wanted her. Only her. Forever. And he promised himself he was going to tell her that when he got back home.

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lonespiral  asked:

I recently parted on good terms from a twin flame. although the years we spent together were fruitful and helped us both grow as individuals, we sadly grew apart.. it's happened to me once before and though i am happy for these encounters, i do feel like i hurt inside much more than i usually would if parting with a regular friendship. my question, how can i learn to cope with this type of loss and not take expectations when next i encounter a twin?

Leaving anything behind can be painful. Even if it was something you hated, there is something comforting we find in the familiar. So when it is a love, it can be that much harder. 

And while we must come to terms with our past, it is often by moving forward. Not forgetting but rather letting our experiences of the past move us to meet the moment with a rawness. 

Let your hurt be a reminder of impermanence and that you don’t have time to hold yourself back from living sincerely, presently. Then that hurt becomes something else. 

Expectations are imaginations. Nothing more, nothing less. The way of meditation and mindfulness will help you to find balance with that. 

Namaste brother. Much love. 

Training//Derek Hale

(A/N): Reader, a strong, but untrained human seeks help from Derek to help them prepare for their next supernatural encounter.


The floorboards creaked underneath your feet as you entered the dimly lit building. You stretched your arms over your head as you took a few more steps forward. This was odd, usually Derek would greet you immediately, but he was nowhere to be found now. You glanced at you phone, checking for any updates on your training session, and there were none and it was 5:30 a.m. on the dot.

You were a fairly self sufficient person before delving into the world of the supernatural. So, when you found yourself in the middle of a standoff with inhuman beings, you hated the helpless feeling that it gave you and that’s why you were standing in the middle of Derek’s living room when not even the Sun was out.

A dark figure, whipped passed you, nearly knocking you over, but that was probably just your imagination playing tricks on you, right? Weird things can happen when you’re sleep deprived. A gentle creaking noise echos throughout the loft, sending chills down your spine. A body suddenly pounces on top of you, leaving you no time to react and sending you tumbling to the floor.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Derek greeted, stepping away from you with a smirk. As you tried to get up, your tailbone urges you to stop. Those bruises would not be fun in a few hours.

“I’m still waking up and it’s freaking dark outside still,” you exclaim, dusting yourself off. You rise from the ground, but Derek still towered over you, making you feel miniature.

“Tough. You don’t always have the luxury of fighting in the hour that best suits you,” Derek declared, crossing his arms over his chest. Even in the dark you could see the way his shirt restricted his defined muscles. You nodded silently, not being in the mood to argue.

You stride over to the punching bag that hung from the ceiling and assumed your ready position. While adjusting your feet slightly, you tried to remember your previous training. With your fists raised, you took a deep breath, focusing all of your attention on the bag. Before your fist made contact with the bag, Derek’s hand grabbed your wrist, halting your movements.

“Wait, drop and give me 20 first,” Derek commands, retracting his calloused grip from you.

“You’re kidding me, right?” you guff, placing a hand on your hip. Even under ordinary circumstances, there were little chances of you doing ten push ups without your arms turning to jelly.

“No, you need to warm up first. So, drop and give me twenty,” he repeated, motioning towards the floor. You stared blankly at him as he took a seat on the nearby stool. “I’m waiting,” he smirks, clasping his hands comfortably around his head.

You glare at him before lowering yourself to the cold, hard floor. Positioning your hands and feet as well as you can, you commence the hard chore with as much confidence as possible. Within the first half, you could already feel your arms giving out, and being in front of the push up god was definitely no help.

“I was kidding, you didn’t actually have to give me twenty,” he grinned as he helped you to your feet effortlessly. You roll your eyes and approach the punching bag once again. Your shoulders ached as you assumed your position once again.

“Now, punch it as hard as you can,” Derek commands, standing behind you. You take a few deep breaths as you ready yourself. The cold leather connects with your hand, yet the pain didn’t really bother you.

“You’re not using your core,” he hums, positioning himself behind you and placing his hands lightly on your stomach. Your throat hitches as his warm breath comes into contact with your unsuspecting skin. He glances at you for a moment more before removing his touch.

“Think of everyone that’s let you down. Everyone that made you feel less than. Everyone who doubted your every move. They’re the bag. Take it all out on them,” Derek convinces. You take his words to heart, picturing everyone who has ever wronged you.

Your skin breaks as the punches continue. One after another as the bag buckles underneath your force.

Derek eventually grabs your wrists, stopping your abuse on the bag. His long fingers gently trace around your raw knuckles.

“There’s my fighter,” he murmurs quietly. His eyes dance over you, as if they were trying to take in every detail of you. Without thinking you pull him into a kiss. Your lips move gingerly against his motionless ones, making you realise your mistake.

“Oh my– I am so sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back from him. You try to turn away from him, but he sipped you back into his comforting chest.

“I’m not,” he whispers, putting a hand on your cheek. His callused finger trace along your cheekbones as his eyes flicker between your lips and eyes. You gravitate towards him like a magnet, connecting your lips once again. An army of butterflies attacked your stomach as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands rest firmly on your hips as you deepen the kiss. You are forced to pull away due to lack of air.

“Are you awake yet?” he smirks, looking down at you.

“I honestly can’t tell. Maybe we should try again,” you suggest breathlessly, making him chuckle.


This one is pretty rushed because my schedule has been so busy, but I hope to start posting more again in a little while…

The act of being patient is one of the hardest, most rewarding traits a person can exemplify. Patience tests you to your very core. It increases you - not only in this life, but in the next too. And above all else, patience acts as a lens: with it, you have a better understanding of Allah’s plan for you.

Prophet Yusuf, peace be upon him, was tested time and time again, throughout his life - each time, having to endure some trial or challenge that seemed more difficult than the next. Being abandoned by your brothers? Sold into slavery? Wrongfully imprisoned after committing no crime?

But his patience persevered, from the depths and darkness of a well to a dungeon, and because of that he serves as one of the milestones of patience in the Quran, as Allah describes his patience as being one of beauty.

Remember as you encounter your next challenge to not only have the strength to patiently persevere, but to do so with such beautiful personality and character that it’s as if you’re not being tested at all.

—  AbdelRahman Murphy

So this just happened.

In Turnback Cave, on our way to re-battle Giratina, we encountered a Chatot, tried to catch it, but accidentally ran. The next encounter was another Chatot, and we ran again. But, of course, the chat wanted a Chatot.

After encountering multiple Bastiodon, Altaria, and Swellow, we finally encountered another Chatot. And just like when we cought Helix in HeartGold, the third time was the charm. We shifted into Democracy mode just on time to catch it (right as Revo enters chat) and name it REVO <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3. A wonderful TPP moment.

All right...

I’ve had enough of this Tumblrical nonsense for a while.  I’m going to head out into the world in hopefully not vain search of some of that purported life thing.  It’s time to do some gyring and gimbling in the wabe.  Perhaps there’ll even be a little mimsy thrown in.  We shall see.  But you know, …the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!

So, until our next encounter, hang tight and I’ll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours.

Come On - Spamano - Part Four

Part Three


              The afternoon sun didn’t come through very well in Tony’s apartment. The dusty blinds didn’t help bring in the light that did make it; they were of the cheap plastic variety and Tony couldn’t remember exactly, but he was pretty sure they had come with the apartment. He didn’t need curtains, or paint for that matter. He’d been too busy one weekend and then the next and it just sort of snowballed until he realized, standing in his dirty apartment with a very attractive man, that he didn’t use his apartment for much else other than to recharge and keep going.

              He kicked some socks under his bed, half hoping Lovino hadn’t seen them while the other half of him hoped he’d remember he’d done that; he was fairly sure the dust under his bed had become sentient and he wasn’t sure he’d want those socks back after too long.

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