this has taken me hours seriously

practice journal
I’ve been keeping a practice journal recently and it’s helped so much so I wanted to talk about it.
at the front of the journal I have a list of all the reasons I like my instrument and should practice, which is really helpful on the days I have no motivation.
then I have a general list of all the things I want to improve. it can be really generic things like posture or be able to play faster, or something more specific like a chromatic scale or being able to do wrist vibrato. once I feel like I’ve made a noticeable improvement or have completely conquered something, I can put a check mark next to that goal.
then, every day I make a list of daily objectives. usually it’s something like an f minor scale (with tuner), a difficult passage in my ensemble music (with metronome), carefully play through my solo, and whatever etude I’m working on (with metronome and tuner). then I make a very general time goal, usually to practice for at least an hour. at the end of the day, I make sure I’ve met all of my daily goals, and then I make some goals for the next day.
I’ve heard of practice journals before and haven’t taken them seriously, but it has genuinely motivated me to have good, productive practice sessions every day and I highly encourage everyone to start one

I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It)

Summary: 2009!Dan is so anxious for his first Skype call with Phil, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. But as it gets closer and closer to their scheduled time, Phil is still nowhere to be found. How does Dan handle Phil’s lateness? And will Phil ever show up for the call?

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluffy angst

Extra tags: 2009!phan, Skype calls

Warnings: Mild anxiety, but otherwise none

Read on ao3

A/N: After binging on 2009!phan videos (as you do), I suddenly felt inspired to write this short little angsty fic and cranked this out in a few hours! Title is taken from Something Great, one of my favorite One Direction songs. I hope you enjoy!! (Seriously though, don’t tell me Dan wasn’t a nervous wreck during those first few Skype calls) ;)

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The Bag Man

Request by @starswirlblitz: Oneshot where reader can speak multiple languages? It’s very useful during hunts and cases when they have to speak to witnesses and victims. Sam is amazed by the languages she can speak so sometimes reader tries to teach Sam some basics. And reader and Dean are dating so when reader speaks a different language Dean thinks her accent is hot? XP thanks!  

Word Count: ~3200

Warnings: None!

A/N: I absolutely loved everything about this. So many people responded to my request to help with all of the languages that I couldn’t use everyone, or even all the languages. You all are so awesome. I might just have to incorporate other languages into future oneshots. I had so much fun with this one. I hope y’all like it as much as I do! The all-English version is under the cut, but I tried to make it so that you could get the gist of what’s going on even if you don’t understand the dialogue.

Special Thanks to: @notnaturalanahi for all of the Reader’s Spanish. @kclaire1 translated for Isabel Aquino’s Spanish. The grandmother’s Spanish was courtesy of @deanilostmyshoe. All of the Hungarian can be attributed to @ledledledledled (Also, her mom pointed out that the Zsákos Emberis actually the Hungarian Santa Claus… but for the purposes of this oneshot he’s just the evil bag man) @mainapertolas is my amazing French expert. The Portuguese was made possibly by @hewassortapunkroque. And Sam’s few lines of Spanish are from @nicolejones412. Seriously, you guys rock.

You immediately took stock of the situation when you and the Winchesters arrived on the scene. Flashing your fake FBI badges, you confidently walked right past the tape. Since this was the fifth kidnapping in as many days, police officers dotted the yard of the house, desperately searching for anything that would help catch the culprit. On the porch sat the hysterical young mother whose four year old boy hadn’t come home from his friend’s house last night. She was speaking anxious, rapid Spanish and didn’t respond to the officer’s attempts to calm her.

Striding over, you flashed the officer your badge and sat on her other side. “I got this.”

“You speak Spanish?” He asked haughtily. You nearly rolled your eyes. He didn’t have any room to feel superior since he’d been trying to speak to her in English the whole time you heard him. He should be glad that you came to relieve him. Instead, you just leveled your dismissive stare at him until he huffed and left.

Once you two were alone, you cautiously put your arm around the young mother’s shoulder. Slipping into the language, you began. “Lamento mucho lo de su hijo señora, pero si usted podría-”

“¿Qué lo sientes? ¡Sentirlo no me va a traer a mi hijo de vuelta! Encuentra al bastardo que se lo llevó y entonces aceptaré tu disculpa,” she spat at you. Used to the high emotions from families of victims, you let her finish her rant before you continued.

“Vamos a encontrar a quien agarró a su hijo. Y si usted nos contesta unas preguntas, vamos a hacer todo lo posible por encontrar a su hijo. Vivo.” It was a harsh reminder, maybe, but you felt that she needed the shock of the reality of her situation to knock the anger out of her. She needed the reminder that you wanted to find her son before it was too late just as much as she did. After a moment of silence and tears, you kept speaking. “Nosotros estamos acá para ayudarla, Señora Aquino. Pero no podemos hacerlo sin usted.”

Her shoulders slumped and a fresh batch of tears came. “¿Qué necesitas saber?”

Dean stepped up beside you, reading the body language of the situation since he didn’t understand a word that was being said. “Ask her if she saw anything.”

“Es como si el no confiara en que yo puedo hacer mi trabajo,” you muttered under your breath.

A miniscule part of Mrs. Aquino’s tension drained out of her and a tiny smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. It was probably the first smile since her son disappeared. “Los hombres son así.”

“Me lo vas a decir a mi.”

Both of you turned to look at Dean for a moment. He took half a step back and, with an innocent, confused look on his face asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” you answered too quickly before turning back to the young mother.

“Que responda a su pregunta,” she continued, having understood Dean’s English. She could probably speak English just fine, but chose to stick to her native language in this tense situation. You couldn’t blame her. Especially when there were alpha males all around in blue uniforms, carrying guns. “No sé que ocurrió. Luis estaba en casa de su amigo, al final de la calle -.”

“¿Que casa?” You cut in.

She pointed to a two-story house a few houses down across the street. “The Martinez’s.”

You turned to Dean to explain. “That’s the house Luis was in.”

“Va todos los días,” Isabel explained further. “Y vuelve a casa cada noche a las siete para cenar. Es cuando mi marido vuelve a casa del trabajo y nunca se retrasa. Pero la pasada noche… la pasada noche él…”

She cut off with a strangled cry and you wrapped your arms around her, offering what little comfort you could. While she calmed, you translated your conversation until that point to Dean. “Luis stays at the Martinez’s every day after school until dinner at seven when his dad comes home. Last night he didn’t come home.”

Si.” Isabel wiped at her cheeks. “Cuando eran las 7:45 y él no había vuelto, fui a fuera a buscarle. Pensé que quizás él y su amigo habían perdido la noción del tiempo y fue entonces cuando vi… lo vi a él.”

“¿A quién vio?” You asked.

“No quien,” a new voice broke into the conversation from beside the porch. You looked down at the older woman. “Que. Vio lo que le cogió.”

“Mamá, este no es el momento,” Isabel brushed off her mother. To you, she explained further. “Mi madre es supersticiosa. Piensa que un monstruo se llevó a Luis. Yo sigo diciéndole que-“

“Lo vi con mis propios ojos. Si no tuvieses una mente tan cerrada tu también sabrías la verdad,” the grandmother cut in haughtily. Her old, wise eyes caught yours, challenging you to believe.

You lifted your chin and kept her cool stare. “¿Y qué es lo que vio?”

“Uh” Dean murmured from behind you. “What’s going on?”

“Si quieres saber lo que está pasando, a lo mejor deberías aprender algo más que Inglés,” the grandmother quipped, leveling a stare at Dean. Dean caught her tone and narrowed his eyes.

With a grin, you explained quickly. “This is Isabel’s mother. She saw something take Luis.” Turning back to the women, you motioned for the mother to continue.

“Algunos dicen que es una leyenda, pero sé que no lo es.” Settling in, the old woman continued her tale. You sat with rapt attention, hoping that she had just told you what you were dealing with. By the time Sam came out of the house, you had a list of things to research.

Thanking the women, you and the Winchesters walked back to the Impala.

“Find anything?” You asked Sam.

He shook his head. “No hex bags, sulfur, EMF. Nothing.”

“Don’t look so down, Sammy,” you patted his shoulder and grinned. “I’ve got some research that should cheer you up.”

“What did that old lady say?”

“Aprendé castellano y vas a saber,” you teased.

His eyes glinted and he grabbed you around the waist, hauling you up against him. “You know, your accents are sexy until you keep things from me.”

“You still think it’s sexy,” you countered, pressing your grin to his frown. He couldn’t pretend to be annoyed any longer and kissed you back until Sam cleared his throat a few times. Finally, Sam managed to get you back on track and back to the hotel room. Once there, you all changed out of your FBI suits and got to work.

“There’s this legend that the grandmother was telling me about. Kind of like the Spanish bogeyman. El Veijo del Saco, or El Sacomán.”

“So… the sack man, basically?” Sam asked.

You beamed at him. Teaching Sam was fun, and seeing the hard work pay off was even better. “Good job.” Dean just rolled his eyes at your praise of his brother. You ignored him and continued relating everything you’d learned. “More commonly he’s known as El Coco. It’s this creature that kidnaps bad children and stuffs them into this sack that he carries over his shoulder. Kids who are late, or who sin. It seems like he’s a normal bogeyman, but I thought we could look more into it.”

“On it,” Sam said, already opening his laptop

“You know,” Dean murmured, brushing his fingers across your shoulder and suddenly none of your thoughts were on the case. “I was thinking you could give me private language lessons later tonight…”

“Why wait?” You challenged, gaze heating on his.

Dean grinned darkly and started closing the distance between your lips.

“Guys. Seriously?” Sam broke in. “This El Coco has taken a kid every night. Save that for later, kay?”

Groaning, Dean pulled away. “It’s annoying when he’s right.”


“You again?” The same officer who failed to calm Isabel hours earlier was trying to console the parents of the sixth child that never made it home. Taking stock of the situation, you identified Hungarian as the language of this family. “Your Spanish isn’t useful here, agent.”

Dean stepped in protectively, but you pushed him aside. You could fight your own battles. Especially against wimpy men like this officer. “I’m sure I’ll be more useful than your English is, officer.” You sidestepped him and stood across from the distraught couple, easily slipping into Hungarian. “Meg kérhetném hogy válaszoljon egy pár kérdésemre?”

Sniffling, the wife nodded her head and you had the satisfaction of seeing the officer’s jaw drop. Dean glared at him and jerked his head to the side, obviously dismissing the officer.

“Biztonságban van a kislányunk?” The mother asked in a small voice. “Csak tudnom kell.”

You bit your lip and slid Dean a glance. He might not understand the words, but he had picked up on the tone of her voice and took a step closer to you for support, knowing how much you hated delivering bad news. And telling a mother that you weren’t sure if her child was alive was definitely not good news. “Úgy gondoljuk, van rá esélj hogy még él.”

That was the only piece of hope the parents needed. You ran through the usual questions, quickly summarizing their answers in English for Dean. Then, when you asked if they saw who took their daughter, the husband hesitated. You pounced.

“Mi van? Ön láttot valamit, igaz?” You injected your voice with the right about of receptiveness to get him to talk.

“Ez csak.. csak hülyeség, téleg. Az édesanyám mindig mesélt egy szörny-röl, csak hogy végezzem a dolgómat a háztartás ban,” the husband hedged.

“Minden amit tud mondani, segithet.”

After a moment, he sighed. “Azt hiszem hogy láttam a Zsákos Embert.”

Electrified you stood straighter. Dean rested a hand on your back to get your attention. “What did he say?”

Zsákos Ember. The Bag Man. Sounds an awful lot like El Coco to me.”


“So get this: not only is the bogeyman a pretty universal story, but a lot of the stories around the world have to do with this creature having a bag. Tonton Macoute in Haiti, Mangtae Yeonggam in Korea, Gonibilla in Sri Lanka… This guy is all over the place.”

“So… are we thinking a tulpa?” you asked, lounging back against Dean who had fallen asleep half an hour ago. You had been mapping out the victims on your laptop while Sam continued his research. So far, each family that had a child taken was from a different country. They were first generation immigrants who had only one child. Besides the Spanish and Hungarian families you spoke with, there was a family who moved from Bosnia a few years back, Lebanon in the last year, Britain within the month, and even from Canada twenty years ago.

“Nah. I don’t think it’s a tulpa. I mean, there are a lot of stories about a sack man, but they aren’t similar enough. Some say it’s a creature, some cultures say it’s just an insane psychotic murderer that somehow has been accepted by society which allows him to take a child that has been given to him willingly by disappointed parents. Some say he eats the kids. Some say he sells them. So not a tulpa. I think we might have an honest-to-God bogeyman on our hands.”

“Great,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “So if the stories are all different, how do we find the bastard?”

“That’s the question…” Sam muttered, going back to his laptop.

“Man, for two nerds you guys are sure stupid,” Dean’s voice was scratchy with sleep. He stretched and you sat up, waiting for his explanation. “Hey, Y/N. How do you say I’m better than you in French?”

“Ma copine est bien plus douée que moi pour tout,” you said with a straight face and long-suffering tone, hoping Dean wouldn’t see your petty smile on the inside. Anytime he asked you to translate something arrogant like that, you always twisted the words a little. He hadn’t caught on yet.

Gloating, Dean repeated your words. “Ma copine est bien plus douée que moi pour tout! Why? Because I figured it out before you guys did.”

Sam caught your eye and you had to bite your lip to stop from laughing. A few times when you “translated” for Dean into Spanish, Sam had caught enough of the words to catch onto your game. Clearing your throat, you faced Dean. “Are you gonna let us in on the secret?”

“It’s so obvious,” Dean was still obviously too proud that he solved the case.

“Si tu parles pas de suite, je vais t'saigner comme un porc,” you purred.

Dean’s eyes dilated and he leaned forward. “You see, I didn’t understand a word you just said, but I’m incredibly turned on right now.”

You pressed forward until your lips were nearly on his. Then you sent icy glares at him, knowing that he would know you weren’t serious. “I threatened your life if you don’t key us in.”

“Alright. Geez, woman. Still the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, though.” At your glare, he held up his hands in surrender. “Fine! Fine… where do bogeymen hide?”

Sam linked his fingers behind his head and sat back as the lightbulb went on over his head. As soon as he brightened, however, his forehead crinkled again. “That’s not helpful, Dean.”

“What’s not helpful? Clue me in!”

“Being on the outside of the conversation sucks, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” Dean asked with an obnoxious grin. Feeling a little annoyed with him, you looked to Sam for an answer.

“Debajo de la cama,” Sam answered in Spanish. A glow of pride at how well he was doing bloomed in you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the meaning of his words. “O en el armario.”

“Sam’s right. That’s not helpful. We can’t search under the bed of every kid in town.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Dean grinned and jumped off the bed. “C’mon.”


“How do we know beheading it is gonna work?” You whispered as you followed Dean through the abandoned storage units just outside of town. By his logic, a closet and under the bed were storage places. So the abandoned storage unit was the perfect place for a bogeyman to hide out. It made a little sense in a convoluted way, but you still weren’t convinced. “And how do we know that it’s here?”

“Would you shut up? It could hear us.”

“Est-ce que tu peux la fermer? Il va nous entendre,” you mimicked, unaware that you’d slipped into French.

“Don’t mock me,” he whisper-yelled back at you.

This bogeyman wasn’t going to show up if you kept looking for it. And you were sick of looking. If it really was here, it wouldn’t want you to stay. So you just had to distract Dean long enough for the thing to think that it had the upper-hand and hope that it wasn’t on a strict diet of children.

You switched to Portuguese and continued mimicking Dean. Não zombe de mim.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

O que você acha que você está fazendo?”

Dean rounded on you, pinning you against the wall. “Are you trying to make me mad or turn me on?”

Qualquer um funciona, mas eu tenho certeza que você está sentindo agora de ambos.”

“We’ve got a case, Y/N,” he tried reminding you, but his breath on your lips didn’t seem so sure. He was so close to forgetting about the bogeyman, just like you were.

Você não é muito.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but you caught sight of two figures behind him and you pulled him down, rolling away just as the tall, gangly, gaunt, humanoid figure crashed into the wall. Sam’s machete followed a second later, severing the bony, gray head from the rest of the body.

“This way,” Sam started off down a hallway, not giving you two time to catch your breath. “I thought I heard voices from one of the storage lockers over here.”

You and Dean ran after Sam and the three of you burst into the locker, relief filling you when you saw six sets of frightened eyes staring back at you.


“Mama!” Luis squealed, tearing his hand from yours and sprinting towards his family. His parents and grandmother engulfed the small child in their arms. The Aquino family was reunited in a picture perfect moment.

The grandmother looked up and caught your eye. You gave her a small smile and a nod before turning and walking back to the Impala.

“For once, everyone gets a happy ending,” Sam said happily as Dean pulled into the motel’s parking lot.

You leaned forward from your spot behind the driver’s seat and whispered in Dean’s ear. “Ce soir je vais te montrer comment on peut bien terminer cette histoire.”

“No idea what you said,” Sam said, slightly uncomfortably, “But I think that’s my cue to head to that bar down the street. You kids have fun.”

“Race you to the room,” you dared Dean with a challenging tilt of your head. He didn’t reply; he just jumped out of the car and ran, locking the doors to the Impala before you could get the door open. Laughing, you struggled to get out. By the time you did, he was already leaning against the motel room door, grinning from his victory.

“You know,” Dean said when you got closer. “We did good. We really did good this time. All of the kids are home safe and sound, the monster is dead… I feel good.”

“For once, everybody lives!” You yelled victoriously, pumping your fists in the air. Dean laughed and caught onto your good mood, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around. Still holding onto you, Dean unlocked the door and the two of you fell inside, laughing. You framed his face with your hands and kissed him firmly. “We won this time.”

He kissed you back before pulling back to look deep into your eyes. “Te Amo.”

Your eyebrows shot up and your heartbeat started racing. He hadn’t ever told you that he loved you before, much less in a language that he didn’t speak. This wasn’t just some spur of the moment declaration.

Blushing, he glanced away. “Yeah, yeah. Call me mushy. Call me—“

Je t’aime,” you cut in before he could get any more embarrassed. His eyes snapped to yours and he held his breath. You swallowed hard. “French.”

Je t’aime,” he tried out the sounds on his tongue, pulling you closer to his body.

Ich lieb dich. German.”

His hand crawled up your spine until it tangled in your hair, tugging your head closer to his. Foreheads touching, he repeated you. “Ich lieb dich.”

You took a deep breath, eyes locked on his. “I love you. English.”

He hesitated, but his fingers dug into your skin, pulling you closer still. Finally, he whispered the words. “I love you.”

~All-English Version under the cut~

Keep reading

Ok guys so I have finally decided to talk about why I am fucking obligated to know think Cockles is real. I have a shit ton of exhibits to submit into evidence so let’s get started.

This is the post that started me on this rant. It is one of the main reasons I believe Cockles is real. They just GRAVITATE towards each other every time they are in the same space. Jensen seems to not be able to help wanting to be close to Misha. They obviously love to be in each others’ space and they definitely love to touch  each other. 

And if they’re not fucking or at least want to fuck, can someone explain this to me please?

Are you going to try to tell me that Jensen doesn’t look… hungry here? Are you?? Are you going to try to tell me that Misha doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing? Are you really going to try to tell me that? Look at this gif. LOOK AT IT and tell me they don’t at least want to fuck each others’ brains out. Look at it and try to tell me Jensen doesn’t want it and that Misha isn’t playfully teasing him. (If you want me to be honest, this really just makes me think of all the times Misha talks about being the bottom) 

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! Oh Jensen wants it. I would venture as far as to say he’s had it. Look at that face, he’s had it, and he wants it again. LOOK AT HIS EYES! Those eyes are looking Misha up and down. COME ON PEOPLE! LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME JENSEN DOESN’T WANT MISHA I FUCKING DARE YOU! 

And oh look. He catches himself looking at Misha like that and stops. 

I love it when Jensen catches himself doing things he thinks he probably shouldn’t be doing in front of other people.

And we cannot forget that time Jensen went in for the kiss. 

Misha’s like “Babe no, hundreds of people watching” and moves his head way to the side. 

Jensen looks disappointed. About not being able to kiss or about how he actually went in for the kiss when he wasn’t supposed to, I don’t know. But he definitely does look disappointed. And Misha looks like he knows but is promising “Later” with his eyes. Misha also looks a bit amused and teasing, but when does he not really. 

They are so adorable together and have genuine affection for each other.

Just LOOK at the look on Misha’s face. 


And let’s not talk about the fact that they are VERY comfortable being in each other’s space.

(Have yo noticed that they love to whisper to each other? Because I sure as hell have.)

And about THIS WHOLE POST. Are we just gonna pretend not to see all that grinding? Are we gonna pretend not to notice Misha swiping his hand across Jensen’s crotch while his other hand grips his ass? Are we?

Oh and can we discuss this please??

Did Misha really need to maintain eye contact with Jensen while kissing the stuffed… thing? Did he??

Can we also take a second to pay attention to the way Jensen looks at Misha?

You know what This whole post says it all

But also can I just…

Jensen’s eyes seem to love travelling up and down Misha’s body. But seriously though, what the fuck is this look? Can someone explain this look to me please? Because it sure as hell looks a lot like desire. I mean you can try to correct me, but I’ll be hard pressed to believe that this look is anything but desire and want (and fondness and affection). 

And this one: 

Like what? What the fuck is this Jensen? I need to know. 

And OMG fucking look at this post and tell me what the fuck you see going on here. Because I see some shit. Oh yeah, I see all kinds of shit in that post. 

And we totally did not catch Jensen checking out Misha’s mouth here. Nope. 

Do you fucking realize I could go on all day with this? I hope you do because there are countless pics and gifs I could put here to show you that there is something fucking going on with them and it’s not just in my (and countless others) head.

OMG can you believe I almost forgot the Cockles Ring? Ooops!

And please keep in mind That there is SO MUCH that I haven’t even talked about. Like all the stuff they say about each other, they do love to talk about one another. Or the looks and blushes they get (especially Jensen) while they are talking about each other. Or how one can’t help but to smile when the other is brought up in conversation. Oh no. That’s a whole other post in and of itself that I am way too lazy for. And I didn’t even bring up Jared in this whole thing because that too is a whole other post by itself. But Jared knows. Just like Sam, Jared knows you guys. Oh I wish I was less lazy (but seriously, this has already taken me more than 3 hours to put together) or I would definitely talk about all the ways in which I know that Jared knows.

But I’m done rambling (for the most part). I will leave you with this gem here. Freudian slip Misha? Alrighty then. (And BTW Freudian slip means “an unintentional error regarded as revealing subconscious feelings”. Just throwing that out there.)

Here’s that Epic Love Story for your review. 

Here’s some other posts to check out if you still need convincing. 

 So in conclusion, Cockles is real and you’ll never be able to convince me otherwise. 

*I own nothing but the words. All credit goes to the owners of these awesome gifs and pics.*

**Edited because I couldn’t just let this picture go without adding it here. 

Look at Jensen’s face! Look at his eyes! LOOK!! OMG they are so in love.

anonymous asked:

ok so i know u posted this earlier in the year and im being whiny and this isnt really a big deal but. that post with the three sanses hugging error sans who has haphephobia is rly super misrepresentation, i have it and i can assure u that its not funny or cute when people hug me (or anyone with it), its not "hey get off" its a panic attack and wanting to scratch my skin off and feeling arms on me for hours after. idk i just wish haphephobia were taken more seriously especially in the ut fandom

I’m really sorry if I have offended you or anyone else. I didn’t mean to misrepresent haphephobia or make light of it. While I myself don’t have it, I do hate being hugged (especially without permission), so I personally understand that situation is not cute or funny even for some people without haphephobia, but even less so for those who do.

I’ll admit I ran with the drawing idea without really thinking it through. The scenario itself was not intended to be an accurate or serious representation of haphephobia, simply an excuse to have fun drawing cute chibi skeletons without having to consider the serious and realistic sides of things like I normally do. Under other circumstances—for example, if I were to include a haphephobic character in my writing—I would certainly attempt to portray it with more accuracy and respect.

Again, I am sorry if that post is offensive or disrespectful. I will try to be more considerate and do my best to avoid misrepresenting matters like this in the future.

hello yes i’d like to introduce you to an idea courtesy of fox @ganseyiil and i that involves andrew and multiple types of court

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anonymous asked:

Okay but seriously y'all need to chill because he literally said he would never kill off Noodle the writing was bad tbh,,,it was taken out of context like,,In Rise of The Ogre he literally has a quote saying that he would never kill her so,,like fight me

noodle is probably like one of the only people murdoc cares about so whoever is writing this new shit is talkin out their arse or trying to set up a very convoluted plot idk

anonymous asked:

hi so I saw your post about your fic rec page but I blog from mobile and can't really get to it...would you mind recommending me anything with nonhuman stiles? its my favorite so I would love you so much!

oh of course! Its one of my favorites too! (of course this is only a few of my favorite fics, not all of them but I feel like this post is already pretty lengthy)


The Full Moon Like Blood by p1013 (Words: 24332 | Rated E)

It starts, like most unexpected things, on a Tuesday. New York is the first city to be hit. Witnesses will tell reporters later that there was a huge wind, and the clouds parted like someone had pushed them aside. And then there were dark silhouettes of wings against the bright sun, casting the streets in shadow.

Or the one where Stiles is a vengeful angel and Derek is just trying to get home.

Stay Away, Sweet Misery by redkislington (Words: 67454 | Rated E) WIP

Stiles has a secret that no one knows about, not even his dad or Scott. Derek finds out by accident one day.


The Magic’s In The Coffee by xxxillusionxxx (Words: 17596 | Rated E)

Ever since the tall, muscled, leather-clad werewolf had begun his daily coffee routine at the Skullery—a horrendous name in Stiles’s opinion, but his boss was a skeleton who thought he was terribly clever—an impromptu competition developed among the baristas.


A Simple Life by Survivah (Words: 13763 | Rated E)

Derek plans to spend the rest of his life holed up in the woods after Laura dies. Then he meets a stubborn young fox, and the stubborn young fox meets an urn of Deaton’s magic powder, and his plans change.

A (Sort of) Fairytale by briecheesie, daunt (Words: 25800 | Rated M)

The summer after senior year starts normally enough, with the gang spending their final months before college together at the Martin family’s lake house. Then Jackson stumbles onto the burial ground of a witch’s ex-husband, Stiles is magically turned into a fox, and things somehow manage to get worse from there. The gratuitous Princess Bride references are only of moderate help.

Dirty Paws and Furry Coats by queerly_it_is (Words: 57621 | Rated E)

Stiles is eight years old when his dad brings Derek home.

[AU based on Disney’s The Fox and the Hound]


No Oceans Left by zoemathemata (Words: 14207 | Rated E)

Stiles has always been a merman. He just never knew how to tell anyone. He hasn’t shifted since his mom died.

Sea Foam and Sunshine by Jenetica (Words: 19838 | Rated E)

Derek’s job at as a lifeguard is dull, sometimes, but he saves lives, and after everything that happened with Kate, that’s all he needs. So when he sees a swimmer out after closing hours, too far into the deeps to be safe, he plunges into the water without thought.

He didn’t know at the time that maybe, just maybe, this time it was his own life that he was saving.

Wolf of the Waters by NimblePhoenix (Words: 12385 | Rated E)

An AU in which Derek flees to his family’s vacation home on the coast in an attempt to leave behind Beacon Hills and all its ghosts. Stiles is a bold young merman who likes to feel the sun on his scales and isn’t about to give up his favorite place to sun bathe just because a brooding werewolf has moved into the long abandoned beach house. Mythical creatures abound and romance is in abundance.


You’re Just An Empty Cage Boy (If You Kill The Bird) by cirquedisoleil (Words: 26000 | Not Rated)

Stiles can’t remember the last time he’s spoken.


Keep It Together by ravingrevolution (Words: 23129 | Rated E)

“What if I guess what you are?” Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. “Why do you even think there’s something to guess?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re taking a cold bath and showing no signs of being chilled. A normal human would be shivering by now and your body temperature hasn’t dropped at all.”

Which, okay, fair point.


Commands and Contrasts by ravingrevolution (Words: 88377 | Rated M)

“Collared Alphas are Careful Alphas”

Seriously? What the hell was that? Because putting a collar on someone was supposed to make them manageable or something? Sure thing.

Or: “Mated Betas are Better Betas”

Again with the control issues. But then again betas were by far the most common classification type, so Stiles assumed that was mainly posted to keep things kind of even.

His least favorite was definitely: “Keep Omegas Pure - Report Uncollared Unmated Alphas Always”

Just wow.

Stiles attended all the home economics classes, like a good omega, and took all his pills, like a good omega, and outwardly submitted to authority, like a good omega, but he didn’t buy into the whole structure dynamic thing. He just didn’t.

The Hour of the Wolf by Suaine (Words: 54045 | Rated E)

Stiles never wanted to be a werewolf, but the choice is taken out of his hands by a series of unfortunate events. When he wakes up his life has become infinitely more complicated.

Surprise Birthday Party - Calum Imagine

Calum and I were both a bit upset when we found out that we couldn’t spend his birthday together, I wanted to make it better so I came up with the idea of surprising him. I was now about to board the plane to go to LA. I had told the boys that I was coming so we could do a surprise party for him.

My nerves were causing my stomach to flip, my palms sweaty as I sat through the flight. Soon I was going to be with Calum again. And he had no idea. I hope he’s as excited as me. The flight couldn’t have been slower, I just wanted to see Calum. I just hoped that our plan worked out.

As I walked through the airport, I found Luke with some of their security. “Luke!” I called out, waving my arm to get his attention. His tight knit group of security weaved through a fast-growing crowd of girls, trying to get to me. Finally they pushed through the last few and reached me, separating so Luke could hug me. “Y/N! I’m so glad you came!” Luke smiled, hugging me tight. “Calum has been whining for the last five hours because he hasn’t been able to face time you.” Luke continued, I laughed at Calum’s behaviour. We raced out into the black van where I was taken to the hotel, as I couldn’t stay at the house because Calum couldn’t know I was here yet.

“Do you think we’ll be able to pull this off?” I asked, facing Luke. He thought about it seriously for a second before looking me directly in the eye and giving me a sure nod. “I think we can do this.” He nodded. I clutched onto my bag on my lap, squeezing my nerves into it. I really hope Luke is right.

We pulled up at the hotel and took my luggage in with me, “I’ll see you in a few hours. Please let this work Luke.” I pleaded, he nodded at me. He left the hotel lobby, I waved bye to Luke.

I looked out at the view from my window. “Somewhere out there is Calum. I can’t wait to see him.” I whispered to myself, hugging my stomach. This had to work. I love him too much for it not to work.


I arrived at the boys’ LA house, ready to get the house prepared. Luke greeted me outside, hurrying me in with a gesture of his hands. “Do you have everything?” He asked. I turned to face him. “Yep. All ready.” I looked around at the house, mentally putting decorations up, “Let’s do this.” I smiled.

The entire house looked great, we had diverted Calum away from the house for the day, and how the boys managed that I will never understand.

And then we waited for Calum to come home. Luke had to keep giving me reassuring nods to keep me from freaking out over it not working. I heard a car pull up in the driveway, Ashton peeking out the window. “Y/N! It’s him go into the other room!“ He whisper-yelled. I nodded and went into the other room. I crossed everything that this worked… I didn’t really have much faith did I? Oh well. Fingers crossed.

The people in the other room hushed their whispers, becoming completely silent as they hid behind furniture. I heard the front door open, "Why are you guys so pushy-”

“SURPRISE!!” Everyone yelled, jumping up from their positions. Calum laughed out loud, he must have been scared from the large group of people shouting at him. “Oh my God a surprise party!” He laughed, “You invited everyone I love!” I peeked my head out of the doorway, looking at his reaction. He was smiling but it soon fell away. Calum looked at the ground. “Except Y/N’s not here…” He muttered. I came out into the full view of everyone. “No Cal! I’m here!” I laughed nervously. Calum’s head shot up and his sadness was replaced with pure happiness. “Y/N!” He exclaimed, running to me and picking me up, spinning me around. “I missed you so much!” He breathed into my neck, he set me on my feet again; both of us getting dizzy. “What? How? When did you get here?” He stuttered out through his utter happiness. “Today. I just missed you so much and you looked so sad when you said you couldn’t spend your birthday with me so I pulled some strings and…. tada! Here I am!” I said cheerfully, “You’re incredible!” He gushed kissing me as if it was the last time we would kiss. He pulled away our foreheads pressed together. “Best. Birthday. Present. Ever.” He whispered, I blushed not only because it was cute but because the entire party was staring at us. “Well!” Michael called out, bringing all eyes on him. “Let’s partay!” He said, causing me to laugh and everyone else to woop. Calum’s fingers tucked under my chin, pulling me to look at his face again. His deep brown eyes looked straight into mine, making me melt on the spot. "Thank you so much Y/N. I love you.“ He smiled, kissing my forehead. "I love you too Cal.” I giggled.

A/N: Hey guys! We wrote this imagine together, Bianca wrote three/four sentences and then I (Lucy) wrote three/four sentences and so on! We thought it was something different we could do. We are running out of ideas and since its Calum’s b'day we thought we could have a birthday themed imagine! Anyway hope you liked it!

~Bianca and Lucy xx 

The Elusive Battery Of Love

Tagging mmebookworm who prompted: Molly and Arthur when they were young. I see Molly as much like Ginny, and she interests me. Especially as I see Arthur as much like he was when he was older. Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy :) [ffnet]

“Dear oh dear oh dear.”

“Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear.”

“Oh dear oh d—”

“I am trying,” Molly said, laying down her quill pointedly and glaring at her brothers, “to write an essay. I have NEWTs next month!”

“NEWTs next month! Did you hear that, Fab?” asked Gideon.

“I did indeed!” replied Fabian. “The lady has NEWTs next month. And you know what I heard she’s been spending her nights doing?”

“Or should that be who?”

Molly’s face flushed deep red, but she ignored her brothers, picking up her quill again and writing neat notes on the parchment before her.

“Or is it whom?” Fabian asked. “I never can remember which way round it goes. But fear not! I have a solution. We should refer to him by name.”

“An excellent plan,” Gideon agreed. “But you must remind me: what, exactly, is the name of the bloke who has been taking our sister out at all hours, besmirching her otherwise unsmirchable reputation?”

“Do you think we should have words with the chap?” Fabian asked. Molly underlined a sentence in her textbook with such force that her quill split, and she cursed, reaching for another whilst trying to contain the ink spillage on the page.

“I’m not sure,” Gideon replied seriously. “Perhaps if you could be so kind as to inform me of his name, we could decide if he is worth speaking to. I should hate to think of our Mol being taken advantage of…”

“I believe his name is A—”

“Will you two be quiet?” Molly bellowed with such volume that several onlookers in the Common Room turned around and stared, and a fellow seventh year, battling the same tough essay, glared pointedly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Molly said, flustered, and Fabian and Gideon began to laugh. “For Goodness’ sake, what do you want?!” she asked. “Can’t you see I’m trying to work? My first exam is in nineteen days, and if I don’t sort this Transfiguration mess out tonight I’m going to—”

“Not that we are perhaps the best people to be giving this sort of advice, but—don’t you think that, if your exams are bothering you that much, you should perhaps do some revision instead of…ooh…I don’t know—”

“Spending your all night in the grounds with your paramour?” finished Fabian, as his brother tsked.

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Right now at the library there is this girl from my school who is sitting right across from me and she’s been here the entire summer. Like every single day.

Thing is, I have never ever seen her leave her seat for meals or bathroom breaks or use her phone nor has she ever taken a nap during every 14-hour studying session.

She just sits there and studies.

I am seriously starting to wonder if she’s a very focused, immortal camel.

My Night Seeing the Downeys

So instead of just giving you all a brief summary of the event, I’ve decided that maybe I should take the time to explain the whole experience from my travel to Cinefamily to the moment I left. Here goes:

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