First-Things-First

The First Thing I Hear When I Think of the Signs

Aries: Burning fire

Taurus: A bull’s roar

Gemini: Bad Apple!!

Cancer: Crab claws pinching

Leo: Lion roar

Virgo: Button pressing

Libra: Creaking

Scorpio: Dark ambiance

Sagittarius: Holoska- Cool Edge Day

Capricorn: Holoska- Cool Edge Night

Aquarius: beeping sound effects

Pisces: an angelic choir

anonymous asked:

Okay I'm bad at explaining things BUT Class is based around a group of teenagers fighting against alien/monsters that come through cracks in spacetime? Their school is the epicentre hence 'class'! But it's genuinely got such a good plot, actual shocking twists, amazing acting, not a single straight white male in the main cast, the main characters may not all be human... it's only 8 episodes and it will surprise you! The finale left me speechless! It's better than I've made it sound!

i think you explained it pretty well!! i’m intrigued!! 

so, um, people who was texting me about commissions, i really don’t want to disturb you if you already changed your mind, but if you still waiting - please contact me

Based on this: This has been a shitty week and you just grabbed the last box of my favourite comfort food from the shelf, do you really want to fight me rn? (X)

“Remove your hand before I break your fingers,” Stiles muttered, glaring at the man in front of him. It wasn’t this guy’s fault really, he wasn’t knowingly committing any sort of crime. The poor guy was only trying to do his food shopping. He probably left his house with a shopping list all written out. He probably went isle to isle, smiling at old ladies, grabbing whatever he needed and slowly but surely making his way through his list. Which would be fine, perfectly fine and it wouldn’t bother Stiles in the slightest.

Except this guy’s shopping list apparently included a box of Lucky Charms. The last box.

And that was just unacceptable.

The guy turned to him and quirked an eyebrow in question. And was that a smirk on his face? Wow. He obviously wanted Stiles to lose his shit in the middle of isle three. “I think I’ll take my chances,” the guy replied, putting the box in his basket.

He just… Dropped them in. Like he wasn’t ruining Stiles’ whole week.

“I need them. Give them to me.” Stiles was trying for menacing, he honestly was. But he was tired, hungover, and overall feeling quite a bit worse for wear so the menacing thing probably wasn’t working in his favour. The best he was probably managing was a slightly constipated puppy.


“I need them, too,” the guy countered. “They’re the only thing my sister eats. Get your own box tomorrow.” He tried to start walking away, but Stiles blocked his path. It came to his attention possibly a little too late that this guy was a hell of a lot more bulky than Stiles was himself, and he could probably pick Stiles up and physically move him out of the way.

Which he didn’t, thankfully. At least one of them seemed to appreciate personal boundaries.

“Your sister can buy them for herself, then,” Stiles replied, grabbing them out of the guy’s basket. “It’ll make her appreciate them more… Or something.” He dropped them into his own basket triumphantly. His week was back on track.

The guy sighed, like he was already sick of this interaction, and grabbed them back out before Stiles could mount a counter attack, then he apparently decided to completely give up on sidestepping Stiles and began walking in the opposite direction.

Stiles gaped, looking between the (very muscular) retreating form and the empty shelf where his prized cereal had been, before chasing after the cereal-thief. “Look, dude-”

“Derek,” The cereal-thief corrected, not even sparing Stiles a glance up from the steak he was inspecting. Stiles tried not to feel too offended by that. He was literally harassing the guy, after all.

Somewhere in the back on his mind, his dad’s voice (the voice of reason in Stiles’ life, one he frequently chose to ignore) was giving him a lecture on what was socially acceptable and how to respect people’s boundaries and how chasing a random guy down in a supermarket over a box of Lucky Charms was probably breaking some sort of law.

Stiles huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Look Derek, this is literally a matter of life and death, okay? I need them to survive. I’m sure your sister can deal with eating another crappy, equally sugary cereal. I need those Lucky Charms to keep me alive until next week, when I can by some more. ‘But Stiles’ I hear you say ‘why can’t you just come back another day this week and get some?’ I’ll tell you why-”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” The guy- Derek asked with a frown, finally looking up, from where he’d moved on to inspecting chicken breasts.

“Me!” Stiles replied, gesturing to himself emphatically. “I the hell am a Stiles!”

Derek nodded along, as if that was a perfectly logical answer. As if the whole tirade Stiles had found himself on made complete sense. “Right,” he said slowly. “Go on, then.”

“Right! I’ll tell you- Wait- What?”

“You were telling me exactly why you need to harass me over a box of Lucky Charms and how waiting until the next lot of stock just isn’t an option,” Derek provided, dropping the chicken breast in his basket as well.

Stiles had to stop himself from staring longingly into Derek’s basket. There was so much meat in there… But three different kinds of meat was a luxury that Stiles couldn’t afford.  

The one luxury he did allow himself week after week, was the goddamn stolen Lucky Charms.

“I’m tired,” Stiles replied suddenly. “And hungover, because one of my best friends dragged me to a party to impress a guy who didn’t even know her name before that night. To her credit, he definitely knew it after, but still! I didn’t want to be there. And there I was, getting secondhand grinder on by couples from every angle just because I got told to ‘lighten up’. What does that even mean? I can’t lighten up. I have finals in… Seventeen days! My future will literally be decided in seventeen days!”

He ignored Derek’s quirk of an eyebrow, and took a moment to be thankful there weren’t any other people within earshot, before continuing. “And today, this fine Saturday morning, was the only day I have free to do my grocery shopping, between studying like crazy, finishing off assessments and apparently helping my friend get laid. Do you know how many groceries you can get when you have twenty-four seventy-two in your account, Derek? Not a whole hell of a lot, let me tell you. But you know what I can get? A box of Lucky Charms! Except not today! So I have to go without my sugary start to the day to get me through, for a whole week because apparently your sister needs them more than me! I don’t see her down here at eight AM on a Saturday, trying to convince a stranger to let her take them, though! And now my head hurts even more, because I’m yelling so much- Oh my god.”

Stiles pressed his fingers to his temples and tried to massage away the pain. “Are you done?” Derek asked. Honestly, Stiles couldn’t figure out where he was still there. Most people would have called security a long while back.

“Yes,” Stiles muttered, closing his eyes, trying to will away the self-inflicted throbbing in his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just been… It’s been a shit week.”

“We all have them,” Derek, replied. “But here, I think you definitely need this more than my sister does,” he said, dropping the box of Lucky Charms into Stiles’ nearly empty basket.

Dammit, Stiles was going to have an emotional breakdown right there in the meat section, over a box of cereal.

Before Stiles could pull himself together enough to even thank Derek, or offer almost-equal substitutes to Lucky Charms (there were none, but he would have felt better to at least offer), the other man was disappearing into the dairy section.

Stiles left soon after that, his embarrassment (and pain. Mostly pain) having caught up with him, and didn’t realise until he got home that there was a handwritten addition to his box… Followed by a series of digits that could only be a phone number. Derek must have written it on there sometimes during Stiles’ rant.

’If you ever need someone to talk to/yell at, call me. I’ll even make you a meal that doesn’t include marshmallows. -Derek’

anonymous asked:

Now that I realise the extent that it was bothering you, I would like to say that I am legitimately sorry.

Thank you. I accept your apology, and retract my ‘fuck off’. You can now fuck in, as it were.