i can never spell your last name

based on this frickin hilarious video go watch it now (also on a03)

Derek gets a call from an unknown number at 10:27am. It happens sometimes, telemarketers, and quite often for the nannying agency that’s one digit off his mobile. Today is a new one.

“Hello, this is Derek.”

“Oh, hi. Okay. Hi, I’m Stiles,” comes a surprised voice from the other end.

“Hi Stiles.”

“So, Derek, this is going to sound strange, but I’m just about to go in for a job interview in three minutes, and I had to fill out this list of references and I was short a number so I wrote down a random one, then thought I should call it to see if it was real. And it is, it’s yours.”

“So you just wrote down a random number as a reference?” Derek asks, confused and also a little amused.

“Yes, that’s right. And look, I’m going in soon, and getting this job would be really great, and so would you mind if I keep your number on the list? They probably won’t call but I–”

“Go for it,” Derek interrupts. What’s the harm in it? He can cross off that he’s done his one nice thing for the day, and this Stiles is right, he probably won’t even get a call.

“Seriously? Ah, okay that’s amazing. Thank you.”

“What’s the job?” Derek asks, grabbing a pen and paper to write it down. He’s warming up to the idea of doing this fake reference thing. It’ll be a laugh if nothing else.

“So it’s an IT position with Saris and Fehr Legal. System maintenance, software security, a bunch of stuff really, but don’t worry about it too much, I just had you down as a personal reference?”

Stiles asks it like a question, showing some nerves, and Derek realises he’s essentially admitting he doesn’t know enough people who’d give him a positive reference.

“Oh well that’s easy enough then, I’ll just say that I’ve known you for years, talk about how you’re organized, trustworthy, etcetera,” Derek’s been a reference for some of his friends before, he knows the drill.

“Ah, yeah, sounds great. Wow. You sure about this?”

“It’s fine, Stiles. It’ll make my day more interesting at any rate.”

“Wow,” Stiles repeats, clearly surprised by Derek’s immediate cooperation. “So it’s Stiles Stilinski, not sure I gave you my last name.”

“No, you didn’t,” he says, writing down Stiles’ surname phonetically. “Mine’s Hale. Derek Hale.”

“Hale,” Stiles repeats, while Derek can hear the sound of a pen moving across paper through the phone. “Alright, I’ve got to go now but thanks so much, Derek. It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek says, smiling at how relieved Stiles sounds. “Good luck for the interview.”

Keep reading

Just some fun modern AU’s to imagine your OTP in

• ‘I just whistled for and called for a taxi and you misheard and thought I wolf whistled at you and shouted “Sexy!” so now you’re very pissed and I’m very confused’ au

• ‘You just dissed one of your friends super bad and I burst out laughing (because damn that was clever) and now you all think I’m a creep’ au
• ‘A few assholes are giving you shit so I’m pretending to be your friend in hopes that the creeps will leave you alone’ au
• ‘You just dropped what you were doing in a crowded subway and shouted “STOP, WAIT A MINUTE” and I’m the only one who shouted “FILL MY CUP, PUT SOME LIQUOR IN IT” in return’ au
• ‘I’m a barista at Starbucks and I can never spell your name right, how about you write it down for me and also maybe give me your number?’ au
• ‘We both had our eyes set on the last Kit Kat bar in the convenience  store but you decided to be a decent person and let me have it but I’m a better person then you so I decided we should share it’ au
• ‘I’m forced to sit in your lap because this bus is ridiculously crowded anD CAN YOU PLEASE STOP SMELLING MY NECK, I KNOW I SMELL GOOD BUT YOU’RE STARTING TO FREAK ME OUT’ au
• ‘I just heard my neighbor slip and fall in the shower and now I have to go and check if they’re all right (I also might want to see them naked because hot damn they’re gorgeous but that’s not the point)’ au
• ‘You’re bilingual and I just witnessed you screaming bloody murder at your friend, constantly switching between four different languages while yelling, and now I’m both terrified and impressed with your powers’ au
• ‘You decided to learn a second language for extra credit and the one you choose to learn coincidentally turns out to be my mother language, how about I end your suffering and offer to teach it to you?’ au
• ‘Our teacher called on you during class today except you weren’t paying attention so you just responded with the most inhuman shriek ever, and now I can’t stop laughing’ au

Ok, I am getting a bit tired of seeing all these ToT drama, so have some tips on how to make a nice rp prompt. I might be a bit rusty though so to others, please correct me if I’m wrong.

What to avoid

-Controlling the others dragon/other person in any way.

This is generally known as powerplaying and frowned down on. Instead of saying something like “you notice a cat on the dragons head” say something like “There seems to be a cat on the dragons head.”

-Stringing sentences together.

“Alice notices a dragon in front of her and greets her and asks a million questions about where they are from and tells about herself and…”

This makes it harder to read and understand for others. Try to avoid overusing comma’s and the like as well.

-Overly complicated vocabulary

This is a fun event, and while a well written prompt is great, there are various people on FR who has English as a second language. I personally am terrible with vocabulary and sometimes have to look up more simple words. It is less fun if you have trouble understanding things. (Although it is still up to you. This is something that I just keep in mind for others)

Some tips

-After you wrote your prompt, proofread it. You never know if you made a spelling mistake.

-Make sure to use capital letters. I know this is a game and it is for fun, but it seems nicer if you start a name and sentence with a capital letter.

-Try to personalize your prompts and reaponses a bit to the other person. I understand this can be daunting, but the other person would appreciate it. Don’t be like me who wrote responses manually though. I was dead last year.

-Try to tell a bit about your dragon in your prompt. How are they feeling? Is this the first time they go ToT? Did anything happen in the clan before they left? Are they hoping to get something?

Uh…. I think I am out of things to say. I hope this helps and feel free to put down your own thoughts.

anonymous asked:

can you do a 4/4 blurb where your name is hard for them to pronounce? like they're stuggling to say your name so they just come up with a cute little nickname for you instead?

My first 4/4, woo! You got it! :)



“I got it this time!..Nope I don’t got it. Does that make an ‘ah’ or an ‘uh’ sound?”

“Just stop, stop stop stop.” You covered his mouth before he could continue. Your name was native to your culture and hard for foreigners to pronounce but Luke didn’t want to give up.

“You know what? I’ll just stick to princess for you. Since you deserve to be treated like royalty.”

You shook your head but smiled at his antics. You had picked the right boy to call yours.


He held the paper with your name on it in his hand, trying his best to not speak until he was sure he got it right. You had been paired with him for a project and he was new to school.

“Ah I got it!” He exclaimed before saying your name as he thought it was pronounced. The look that appeared on your face proved other wise and he smiled apologetically.

“How about I just call you Boo?”

“Boo?” You repeated and raised a brow.

“Yea! Like from Monsters Inc. You remind me of her cause you’re really cute.” He slyly winked. 

With a smile you agreed and continued to work on the project.


“I swear you’re making this up, can I see your birth certificate to make sure you aren’t bullshitting me.” Michael spoke after trying to pronounce your name for the 6th time. 

You handed him your legal ID and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. 

“That’s how you spell it? Even the most literate person couldn’t say it right!”

When he saw the slightly offended look on your face he apologized before kissing your cheek softly. 

“Can I just call you kitten? Cause you’re fun and playful.” He asked, playing with a strand of your hair.

“Only if you promise to never try to say my name again." 



Ashton let out a huge sigh, “I am so sorry I keep messing up your name.”

He wasn’t the first and probably not the last, you just wanted to rip the name tag off your work shirt but you knew it was against protocol.

“It’s fine sir. My name isn’t too important anyway.”

“I want to address correctly the beautiful lady I am talking to.” Ashton smiled, showing off his dimples and you blushed a little, setting his menu down on the table.

“How about I call you Angel? Since you’ve obviously fell from heaven.”

His pick up line was cheesy but effective. You ended up giving him your number with the promise of him calling to set up a date.



so @sterekseason made a prompt for middle-aged sterek and i wrote a thing. i hope you like it, it kind of veers off the path a bit but has a happy ending i promise

“And then what happened?”

“What? The old man raises his eyebrows. “I’ve told you everything, how to get rid of the kelpies, all of it. There’s nothing else to the story.”

The pack is new, untested, with a fresh young Alpha trying to get its handle on things.

A boy in a plaid shirt folds his arms. “What happened to Stiles and Derek?”

“The hell kind of question is that? Get off my porch, scram. You’ve got kelpies to deal with.” The man stands up, his eyes narrowing with anger.

The pack scatters, their young emissary– the boy with the too-curious questions– quickly nods their thanks to the old wise man. He’s lived outside this little Oregon town for at least a decade; stories follow him like smoke and ashes. He’s dangerous, wields magic and power as if it’s nothing.

They’ve come far to seek help; and it had been worth it, hours of explanation and recounts of lore, how another pack once dealt with this kind of threat.

The boy looks back once more at the old man rocking on his porch. It seemed like a story unfinished.

Keep reading


Happy birthday, Nessa!

The first time Malia wears the hat, Stiles doesn’t get it.

She shows up with it when she crawls through his window one night, bringing in the cold and icy skin when she gets in bed next to him.

She doesn’t explain why she wears the faded pink thing. She just shrugs off her clothes till she’s only dressed in her underwear and the hat.

Stiles knows Malia is a strange thing. He decides it’s better not to ask.

Instead, he pulls her closer and presses a kiss onto her shoulder as if to ask her if she’s okay. She doesn’t reply.

She sleeps with the hat on that night.

The second time she wears the hat is after she found out Peter was her father.

She doesn’t blame him anymore, not really. She can look him in the eye again and her kiss doesn’t feel foreign anymore. She shows up with it to a pack meeting, unusually quiet and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

She doesn’t talk all night, not even when Stiles purposely orders a meatless pizza to get a reaction out of her.

Eventually, everyone finds a reason to leave. Liam is supposed to work out with Mason, Lydia has to study (everyone knows that’s a blatant lie, but the banshee can see Malia’s in distress), Scott and Kira make up a story about having to help Kira’s mom with something.

Then there’s only Stiles and Malia.

The werecoyote stares at her hands in her lap, doesn’t respond when Stiles plops down next to her and takes them into his. He tries to rub some warmth in her cold fingers. His girl is still always cold.

“Are you okay?” He finally asks.

Malia manages to stay quiet for a full minute before she sniffs. He can see a tear fall behind the curtain that is her hair.

“Hey,” he gently whispers as he wipes away her hair to look at her face. He moves to take off her hat, but her hand shoots up to keep the thing in place.

“Malia, what’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

“It’s - it’s nothing,” Malia says, turning her body away from him. It’s something she still does sometimes; running away. Maybe not physically, but she can get lost in the woods in her head just as much. Only Stiles knows how to lead her back to him.

So he gets up, moves over to her and crouches in front of her, putting his hands on her knees.

“Mal, please. I promise you’ll feel better when you tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help. Let me help.”

She shakes her head and he catches a glimpse of her tear stroked face behind her hair.

“You can’t help. Not with this.”

“Let me try.”

She sighs, pushes away his hands as she stands.

“Do you really want to know what’s wrong? I have nobody left, Stiles. My mom and sister are dead, my father isn’t even my real father, god knows who my real mother is. I’m all alone.”

She looks like the realisation just struck her, eyes big and tears spilling.

“I’m all alone,” she whispers.

And then, just like that, he watches her crumble. Her legs tremble, can’t carry her weight any longer. He moves forward immediately, catching her before she hits the floor. She grips into his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her alive and his arms wrap around her shaking body like they have never belonged anywhere else.

It’s the first time he sees her cry, and it’s heart breaking.

Her desperate sobs rip through her throat, fingers clinging to the fabric of his shirt and forehead pressed against his cheek. He feels her tears drip onto his neck and pulls her closer, tries to absorb some of her pain so she doesn’t have to bear it.

Stiles feels useless, helpless. All he can do is stroke her hair and comfort her until the sadness subsides.

It does, eventually, after his legs have gone numb and there are no sweet nothings left to whisper. She pulls back almost embarrassed, ready to put on her armour again and get back on the battlefield. But he keeps her with him just a bit longer, can manage to say one last thing before she flees back into her imaginary woods, before she pulls away.

“You’re not alone, Malia. You have Scott now. Kira, Lydia. Me. We’re your family now. Hey.” He tilts her chin, gently kisses her trembling lips.

“I would never leave you behind, okay?”

It’s not what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her how much he loves her, how she means more to him than his own life. He wants to tell her how he would give her the moon if she asked, how he would rearrange the stars to spell her name if that would please her.

But Malia understands things better in animal terms, and for her, not leaving her behind means even more than saying I love you.

The third time she wears the hat is after she found out her biological mother is after her, and Stiles finally gets it.

He locks her into his arms without saying anything, kisses her head where the hat covers her hair.

Malia never was good with words. Gestures, though, and symbols. That she was good at.

“Whose hat is it?” He asks.

Malia hugs him just a bit tigher before replying.

“My sister’s,” she whispers against his chest.

“My mom bought it for her one summer. It was way too big for her, but she told her she’d grow into it.”

Then she exhales, her breath shaky.

“She never did.”

Stiles rubs her back in an attempt to show his support, lets his chin rest on her shoulder.

That’s when he says it. The words roll over his lips like they have been waiting to get out for a while.

“I love you.”

Malia stills in his arms and for a terrifying moment Stiles is sure he just fucked everything up, chased her back into her imaginary woods she rarely visits anymore.

But then she looks at him, and a watery smile brightens her face.

“I love you too.”

Malia wears the hat less and less after that, instead just talks to Stiles about anything that’s bothering her. She’s becoming very good with words, and Stiles is always willing to listen.

But then something happens and everything changes. He distances himself, walks away from her.

For a split second, he even thinks he hates her.

But he quickly realizes he doesn’t hate her. He hates himself. And he’s afraid she does too.

And when he sees her with that old, faded hat, he doesn’t think his heart could hurt any more than in that moment.

It’s after everything calmed down again, when Lydia is safe and the Beast and the Dread Doctors are dealt with. The villains have chosen to leave the pack alone for now, the chimera pack is broken up into lost teenagers after the death of their alpha and the Desert Wolf is dead.

Not by the hands of Malia, though. She couldn’t do it, not after all the trouble she went through to save the chimeras. The Desert Wolf came to her end by a simple bullet through the brain, shot out of Braeden’s shot gun.

Malia has a lot of reasons to be sad and it’s honestly none of Stiles’ business. He doesn’t have the right to ask how she’s doing anymore, not after he took her heart and stepped on it as if to kill a cigarette. But he still cares about her, and he can’t stand seeing her so sad.

His plan is to go to her house later that day, but when he’s at the cemetery that afternoon to visit his mom, Malia is there too.

His heart immediately sinks to his stomach as he approaches her from behind, reading the names on the gravestones.

Malia starts talking before he can, twisting the hat around in her hands.

“It’s today.”

“What?” Stiles asks, sinking to his knees next to her.

“It’s nine years today.” She specifies, letting a tear roll over her face.

“They died nine years ago today.”

“Oh my god, Malia. I’m so sorry.”

He wants to pull her to his chest out of instinct, but stops himself right in time. He has to remind himself that he lost that privilege when he stepped out of the car that one day weeks ago.

Malia looks at the hat in her lap.

“I thought today would be a good day to return this to her.”

“Why would you return it?”

She looks at him and smiles. It’s not her usual, brighter than the moon smile, not even a shadow of it, but it’s more than he has gotten in weeks. He feels his lips automatically respond in a similar smile.

“Because I have words now.”

Then she brings the hat to her mouth, kisses it and puts it on the grave.

“Thought you might want this,” she says to the grave.

“Maybe you finally grew into it.”

After a last glance and a rearrangment of the flowers on her mother’s grave, she gets up and pats her butt to get rid of the dirt.

Stiles gets up too, sheepishly looks at her.

“Do you - uh, need a ride home?” He offers.

Malia hesitates, then sighs.

“I’d like that, yeah.”

They walk back to his car in silence, and halfway through their walk, Malia slowly reaches for his hand.

He doesn’t pull pack when she intertwines their fingers, even has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms where she belongs. One step at a time.

Even though it’s cold out, Malia’s hand is warm.

And somehow, that’s the only thing that matters.

anonymous asked:


So it starts out super innocently, with his fingers scratching lightly up and down your back without giving it a second thought, and it feels so damn good you could fall asleep there with your head in his lap.

But then he traces a little heart and it makes you giggle, which makes him smile. You mutter a soft, “You’re so cute,” to which he replies with a joking little “Shhh” and a poke to your ribs.

And then he gets the idea to lift up your shirt a bit so you can feel the skin of his fingertips right against your back, and you could cry it feels so good. That’s when you notice he’s not really scratching anymore. Now he’s tracing something that feels like a letter… And then another letter. You furrow your eyebrows together trying to figure out what he’s spelling, and when you get it you smile softly before saying it aloud. “Angel.”

You don’t even need to look at Harry to know he’s smiling–you can hear it in his voice. “Very good, love, very good.” You giggle, tilting your head a bit to press a kiss to his knee and say, “You’re so cheesy.” He ignores the last sentence and continues.

“Let’s see if you can get this one. Three words, alright?” The minute you hear him say ‘three words’ your heart rate picks up, although you pray to God he doesn’t notice it. The thing is, you’ve never said you loved one another before. Yes you’d been dating a while and yes you knew in your heart that you felt very strongly about him, but were you truly ready to say this?

You’re a bit relieved, however, when he begins spelling out the first word. It’s not the letter “I,” but it is your name. His fingers stop moving when he gets to the last letter, and you furrow your eyebrows again, saying your own name as if it were a question.

Harry nods his head. “Very good. Next word.” The next word is only two letters- an I and an S. Is. “Y/n is?” Harry nods a third time and continues. “Last word, y'ready?” He works slow this time, taking his time and really tracing his fingers as soft as possible, to cause goosebumps to rise on your skin and elicit the prettiest little sighs from your mouth. By the time he finishes the last letter of the word, you can’t stop smiling. You can hardly even get the word out.


Harry smiles, his hand coming up to play with your hair now. “Yes,” he says softly. “All mine.”

You rise up slowly so you’re sitting beside him, taking his face in your hands and pressing the biggest kiss to his lips. You can feel his breathing shift a bit and his mouth is warm and tastes like popcorn and he smells so deliciously like him that you wish you could stay there forever. When you pull away, you’re both smiling and blushing. Yes, you love this guy.

Still, true to form, you shrug. “Well, you may be the cheesiest boyfriend in the world sometimes.” You giggle at his offended little face before continuing. “But yes. All yours.”