just remembered again that pin is supposed to be a teacher

anonymous asked:

describe how each high school year by semester went for you

9th grade: We don’t call it a play date anymore, it is hanging out, hanging by our toes like wet lipped fruit bats, like jungle gym monkey kids. Young and swollen. Blood, immature blood, pink blood, fresh meat blood pepto bismol up the wazoo, and spit under my bed. Code names aren’t for spies, they’re for 14 year old girls with googley eyes, not that we needed them. Kevin and Grace, Ellie and Joshua, Paloma and Matt which is weird because I’m hot for him, and they kinda look like siblings. Pink shorts, black tights, Jimmy Eat World, pizza bagels and lucky charms under a fresh white linen morning like detergent sealed crust between my eyelids, you tore them open. I mean, not yet. But soon. I discover neon sex scenes, Sky Ferreira, and Skins and this is where the final hopscotch box stops; at the end of the subway platform. This is where I’m supposed to jump. Monkey balls fall on our heads as we walk home, and autumn leaves crunch like drum line snare beats. All godless girls with snakes and cherry lollipops and 9 millimeters pointed at our clits, Bend it Like Beckham under your itchy wool blankets, Alice’s mom thinks I’m cool, and I stay for dinner and crack some risky jokes like a fox among wolves. (I think he looks at me when I look away). Me and Hana FaceTime I take screenshots of her dancing with her cat. The girls who play soft ball in short shorts, the girls who call them sluts, the boys who watch. We dance through rainbows in the sprinklers on the way to the Homecoming dance and pretend we don’t care we don’t have dates. We’re floating in the cytoplasm, floating on the cotton candy overdose cause our parents drop us off at the bowling alley but we are too loyal to sneak out the back. We pool our money every Friday after school for the spring break road trip we’re going on when Hana gets a car, and one of us has lost our virginity, and none of us are scared of the dark.

Miss Budd yelled at me for not standing for the pledge of allegiance, and I was 4 years old again. My English teacher held me back, and held my hand, and gave me a safety pin for my missing button, and told me it would be. Okay.

10th grade: We were on the news that year. Cristo’s curls on KTLA, solemn, and not the boy cross eyed and high with his pants around his ankles. Suddenly we’re all standing up straight, suddenly we’re being told we can’t wear leggings because somebody posted a video of Penelope having sex with Max on Facebook. Suddenly we’re underground in the girls locker room (red varsity knee socks, Dina drowning the spider nests with Victoria’s Secret rose perfume, humid with shame and lesbian suspicion) holding our arms in front of our naked breasts, single file like ants for the syphilis test. The boys who drew penises in fire and salt on the soccer field grass, like druid frat boys, but not the boys who put gorilla glue in the classroom locks, and not the boys who wrote their hit list in the red pen on the back of Mr. Chan’s syllabus and ended up in court, who called in a bomb threat, just to get the test pushed back. We all took turns getting our ghosts exorcized in the principals office. It was pompeii and pandemonium, and nobody was safe, not even us girls sleeping wrapped in the dust of library encyclopedias. You moved away from me like I was illiciting the restless black dreams on your grandmas shitty air mattress. The sheets are clean enough, but this attic is haunted, you keep waking up in the middle of the night to your body sinking like a pirate ship caught by the Kraken, the floor gnawing at your bones again so you just. Got up. And slept somewhere else. My English teacher held me back, and told me I was a good writer but don’t be so angry, and I cried right there, and she gave me a kleenex from her Shakespeare tissue holder and I blew this stupid pain head first out of my nose. I never told you about that. Maybe if I had you would’ve felt bad for me and stayed a little longer. But you hung out with those buckwild kids under the spot by the willow tree, and it was easy. it was just snuffing out an annoyance. A mosquito licking the ruby of your earrings that you shooed away. Our birthstones were both rubies, you know, we were twin cancers with balmy skin and busted appendixes, the aliens took you once and the only explanation was a scar on your spine, and I reckon I should’ve known they’d come back for you.

(You are gonna tell your kids about these cherry cola years of golden suburbia, and midnight blue debauchery snapping teenage knees, and furrow your brow forgetting the name of the girl you spent the first two calling your best friend.) You cheered at football games. You got drunk with them at night, and you were bursting and missing teeth like a watermelon smile, you rubbed up against each other like cats they touched you in all the right places and you didn’t text me anymore. You went to sleepovers and posted photos on Instagram, I wasn’t invited, I thought this bullshit was supposed to stop happening in elementary school. All the things we thought would never happen, lockdown drills, fire drills, earthquake drills and we still weren’t prepared. It was. Pandemonium. It was. Chemical fires in Mr. Dow’s science class. And me and my plans were just. so fucking boring standing next to your cherry blossom hurricane. You didn’t wait for me after class anymore and I just. Looked so stupid trying to catch up. Blood, mature blood, cows blood in the manure for the roses to eat. Black blood, like storm sky, I dish out this milkshake I pick the scab and I lick the blood away. Thomas comes out and dubs himself the gay cliche, we walk home together on the yellow brick road, and we pray a tornado will land the school library on our corpses so we can die with those sparkly shoes on. Those ruby shoes on. The Fates gagged me with a pack of jolly ranchers. I got straight A’s while Rome was falling. Nobody has ever made me feel so small.

11th grade: New school. The kids talk different here. Depression in California is like getting a cold in mid-July. So ironic it’s almost insulting. I’m pretty sure it was raining all year, but don’t count on it, I lived sub-terrestrialy with my mothers tulip bulbs. Today’s Wednesday? I thought it was Friday? I thought yesterday was Sunday? Depression in California is like running after a rabbit in the woods. It doesn’t matter how sunny it is, you will suddenly look up and it’s night, and the trees are not your friends, even when they are as skinny and shaky as you. You will get stuck in the swamp, leave your shoes behind, and not even remember why you were out here in the first place.

Headache. Stomach ache. Lots of those, those are easy to fake. Menstrual cramps, vomiting, gut wrenching, kinda vomiting. A personal favorite. I got to get my hands dirty for that one, I got to reach for the gag reflex like a remote control and press fast forward and feel my arc capsizing, until the static buzzed and I was pale like southern gothic tragedy, I’m not bulimic I just don’t wanna go to school. Depression in California is like an abandoned zoo. Everything echoing animal shrieks. They set them free but the cages were empty long before that. I make some friends, nice ones who laugh at my jokes, and I feel like I should get a sticker for it, but I do more nervous shaking than laughing.

Depression in California is like a badly maintenanced carnival. We’ve gone around the ferris wheel 8 times now and nobody seems to notice. The cotton candy polluting my blood, running slow and globby while the kids below spin, the kids drop, the kids could die, but they just giggle hand in hand with smiling clowns who pump them full of teeth rotting sweets, the winking lights are blurry this far away, and it feels like eons before we’ll get back to the bottom. I’m out of tokens. I think I’m just gonna jump.  

12th grade: Trump won. I think I might like girls. My dad jokes about his own death so I know what it means to be angry now, like femurs forged from the goddamn ring of Isildur. Is this what’s normal now? Fucking boys who are oil slick and easy living, and lose my socks in their dorm rooms? Meet them for diner food and xans on the weekend, and everything just temporary? Is that just what everybody wants now? My brother got a green card marriage, but I guess he loves her for real now. We watch the Walking Dead until the streetlights glaze over our eyes, he asks me if I have a boyfriend, no. If I’ve had any since I last saw him, no. If no is my favorite word, yes. Thing is I’ve never been anyone’s girl cause I’ve got a volcano where I should have a stomach. I know what it is to live on the red planet. But I ignore all that and go to concerts that bleed beer and swoon for boys who drink the blood. I guess we’re used to falling off of things so we do it on purpose now. It’s not over but I know how it’s gonna end. Cracked skull, and police lights. And to the break of dawn on Brandon’s roof, boxers stained with mayonnaise, and Deadpool is probably his favorite movie or some dumb white boy shit like that. I’m not gonna cry when I leave for college, I’m gonna cry at the car rental watching the sun bleed out on the trees. I’m gonna cry in the knothole of an oak tree, hiding from the freshman mixer party in the woods I knew I shouldn’t have come to once the social anxiety starts clawing up soaked in the gallon of strawberry Crush I downed to calm myself down. You know, in some other parallel universe, my parents never divorced and we dispute where the sugar pantry should be at inopportune times, and I don’t straight jacket myself with the echoplex sound of my mother screaming over my dead body just to not inhale the chlorox under the sink. I was so bloody, I just wanted to be clean.

I thought it was like the 80’s, the rusty exhaust pipe of Matt’s car turning the snow black while he’s wasting time daydreaming of my piston pumping sloppy hips, and rumored things that happen in the backseat, and kicking cans in no particular direction, and first love sticky and first love stabbed into your kidney and you never really recover. I thought it was sixteen candles, and say anything, but it’s getting bloodshot squirrelly smoking hash in the disabled bathroom stall. It’s a personality disorder grown up from the ground like a mushroom that is poison to the touch, and thrown away birthday presents, and valentines day balloons stuck in the trees. It’s dropping the last slice of college acceptance celebration cake on the floor for your dogs breakfast, and cartoon rain puddles for eyes talking about how scary it is to drive on the freeway. Karina and Maddie rough housing like pit bulls in fifth period cause we don’t do shit in that class and pretending that we are not all gonna be strangers in 6 weeks before we. Before we. Please don’t make me say it out loud.

My English teacher held me back, and told me to make up the quiz I missed, and that was the only time I will ever be happy that some strangers just stay that way. And Daddy, I will miss you when you leave me, and Daddy I will meet you in the next life you just gotta wait for me ok?

I am not the kind of girl people have crushes on. I am the kind of girl who can survive 18 stealing food from parties, couch surfing, living like a lightning bolt. There one minute, and gone the next.

1. Swing Set

so, a little while ago, andavs asked me to make her a Not Quite Normal OTP challenge and because, she’s awesome, she said she would actually do the challenge. And then I decided to do it as well because fair’s fair!

BUT, then we decided that we should do an Attempted Mind Meld Challenge. Basically, this means both of us are doing the challenge (don’t worry, I’m writing not drawing) and then posting our work on the same day and seeing how well they line up. We haven’t talked about them at all before posting so really, this is probably going to be a complete disaster. 

Regardless, here’s #1: On a Swing Set

(Post Season 3B, Sterek, Angst to Fluff, 2k)


Stiles never looks up at the sky anymore.

Derek watches for it, waiting, a part of him wondering when exactly he pinned down that small quirk that belonged to Stiles and Stiles alone. He can’t really remember when he first noticed it- maybe his subconscious had noted it right away, when he spent their first few interactions in cars with Stiles while the younger boy looked towards the heavens for help. Or maybe it was later than that, when he spent large portions of his time threatening Stiles into helping him and Stiles’ cocky eye rolls had come hand in hand with his computer skills. Probably it wasn’t until the long summer that Stiles spent at his loft, researching through Scott’s shifts at Deaton’s, staring at the ceiling as if that’s where he would find the answer.

Really, though, he doesn’t notice it until it’s gone. Until it’s after the Nogistune and after Allison and Stiles’ eyes stop flicking upwards.

Nowadays, Stiles moves like a person who is trying very hard to control every tick of his body, while pretending very hard that nothing’s changed. He meets people’s eyes when they speak to him and smiles when he’s supposed to and flails his hands when he is telling a story (though he’s half a beat behind the words instead of two beats ahead). It isn’t a particularly good imitation of his former self but it fools most people – the acquaintances, and teachers, and even Lydias of the world.

His dad isn’t fooled. Neither is Scott. Neither is Derek.

And by all accounts, Derek should be fooled. Because he and Stiles, they aren’t… they aren’t anything. Maybe they were once enemies, maybe they were once unwilling partners, maybe at one point they grew a mutual respect and understanding but…

But it had all faded into some weird gray area. Before… before everything, they had reached an area where it was okay for their eyes to cling to each other, as long as they were in the middle of an argument. An area where they were allowed to touch as long as it conveyed frustration rather than comfort. An area where they could save each other again and again as long as they never mentioned it.

And now… well, now all Derek can think about is the fact that Stiles never looks up anymore and how much that bothers him.

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I’m Proud of You.

Request: hey boo can you do this Jerome Valeska imagine where Jerome surprises the reader at her graduation by taking over the ceremony disguising himself as the person at the stage handing out the diplomas?

Tags: mention of kidnapping and terrorizing, fluff, swearing

Fandom: Gotham!Jerome Valeska x female reader

Y/N = your first name, Y/L/N = your last name, Y/U/C/N = your university/college name, P/N = principal’s name

Gif isn’t mine!

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Coach Imagine - Just A Number (NSFW)

-gif source unknown-

Description: Requesta Finstock story where he rejects the reader after sex ‘cus she’s younger but later regrets it (maybe he got jealous or something)

Warnings/Labels: Slight smut, drinking.

Approx. Word Count: 2,200

A/N: I’m ignoring the whole Coach is maybe kind of supposed to be an alcoholic thing in this. Just FYI. Also this should really be a much longer and more detailed story but… it is what it is.

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The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.5

Part F I V E 

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 3k+

AN: I’m back, hi!! so so sorry for being inactive and what not!! but thank you guys for getting the last part to 100+. like that is just so amazing, so thank you so much! i hope you enjoy this part and get it to 100 too aha. the next part should carry the story to be much more interesting xx 

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E 


“Hey Y/N, wait up!” 

You didn’t dare glance behind you to figure who it was. Nathan Holland, now intruding your life at random, won’t seem to leave you alone any longer. He accompanied beside you as you strode down the hallway, keeping your eyes forward to pass the crowds. Nathan was off beside you, hands in his jeans with his torso covered in a simple white tee. He had a pair of electric blue Jordans with his hazelnut hair incredibly messy. 

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Lucifer x Prophet!Reader Chapter Four

Warnings: SMUT SMUT

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Fandom: Supernatural 

Notes: Final chapter ): Also the end is so fluffy you might cringe. Just a warning. 

You reached your hand out, timidly petting the lion in front of you. It just made a soft, deep noise and rubbed it’s head roughly against your hand and arm, then it padded around you to rub against your side. You smiled widely and scratched it’s long main as it laid down, rolling on it’s stomach.

“I knew you’d enjoy this.” Lucifer said as he watched, stroking a black panther that was laying its head in his lap. You were out in some kind of island, large wild cats roaming around. Tigers, lions, cheetahs, leopards, jaguars, panthers, everything you could think of. And they were all friendly. They sensed Lucifer’s grace, and they took very kindly to him and you.

Nearby a tiger splashed around in a small pond with its cubs, making cute chuffing noises to each other. A family of black panthers basked in the sun, sleeping while a pair of cheetahs chased eachother around a tree.

“This is so relaxing. Such a beautiful experience.” You said and laid down on the lion, your head resting in its main and your hands rubbing and scratching its ears. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“Of course.” He said and rubbed soothing circles in the panthers head. “That lion loves you. I can feel its emotions radiating off of him.” He said and you smiled, scratching it’s ears again. This was the best therapy you could ask for. A few cubs came and played with the large lion who sat up to give them attention, you assumed he was their father.

You stood up, wiping some of the hair off of you and walked over to sit next to Lucifer. The panther gave you a look before settling back down onto his lap. You smiled at it. “He’s beautiful. Thank you again.” You said and rubbed the panthers side, it was so very soft.

“It’s getting late, we should go back to your cabin.” Lucifer said and you frowned.

“Okay.” You said in a sad tone and leant down to kiss the panther. “I’ll come visit you guys again.” You said and stood up, saying a loud goodbye to the other large felines.

As you appeared in your cabin you scared your dog, who barked loudly in surprise. Once he saw it was you he started jumping around your feet. Lucifer wasn’t there with you and that made you sad. But you supposed he had things to do. So you ate supper, fed your animals, locked your doors and climbed into your large king sized bed.

You laid in bed for a moment before you started thinking about Lucifer again. He was so sweet to you. So kind. So beautiful. You laid in bed and thought of his eyes, his skin. It was so soft too, especially his hands.

His hands.

Your cheeks warmed up as you thought about his fingers. They were long, and thick. And cold. He was a cold man. His chest was probably cold and it would probably be cold pressed up against yours. Your eyes closed at the thought, your hand slipping under your sheet between your legs. No shame entered your mind as a smile graced your lips. His fingers were yours for the night, thinking of his eyes locked on yours and his facial hair grazing against your thighs. His forked tongue between your legs. His hands roaming around every part of you, his cold hands making goosebumps rise all across your skin. His tongue on your neck, licking you, your cheek, his cool tongue entering your mouth. Kissing you as he removed his cold fingers from between your legs, placing something else down there. You finished your session then, sweating and breathing heavily with a lazy, satisfied smile on your face. Then you fell asleep with his name on your lips.

The next morning he took you out to town to buy some books. He said he could get you any book you wanted, but you wanted to go out and see other people for a change. He took it as an insult at first, but then remembered humans were social things.

“I read this book in highschool.” You commented lazily, looking at the title of the book in front of you. “I hated it because of my teacher. He was quite the asshole.” You said and Lucifer remained quiet, watching the people in the bookstore. You turned to look at him with furrowed brows. “Lucifer?” You asked and he looked at you.

“Yes?” His voice was so calm and soothing you almost forgot what you were going to say.

“I was talking to you. Is something up?” You asked and smiled, trying to brighten the obvious awkward mood.

He shook his head and turned back around with arms crossed, watching everyone move around. You just sighed and turned back to the bookshelves.

When you checked the books out and left you could tell Lucifer was in a hurry to get you back to the cabin. But you liked walking, it felt good outside and it was nice to see other human beings. He watched everyone who walked past you, glaring them straight in the eyes and looking over his shoulder as they past to make sure they weren’t looking back.

“What is the matter with you?” You laughed as you stopped at a crosswalk, looking both ways.

“All these people. Too many humans. You should hear what they’re thinking.” He muttered and you sighed. A car stopped to let you pass and you walked across the road. Halfway across you heard a loud honk and instinctively you dropped the books, shielding your face. When nothing happened you opened your eyes to see a huge dent on the hood of a silver car. The man got out, cursing at you to watch where you were going. But you had the right away. The light was red.

Lucifer was on him in seconds. He pinned him against his car, punching him in the face a few times, knocking out a few teeth and you were pretty sure he broke his jaw. You ran over to him, pulling Lucifer off with all your might. “Lucifer, stop!” You cried out and he finally backed away, the man slumping against his car with a tooth falling out of his mouth.

A crowd of silent people looked at you, wide eyes and mouths. You felt tears build up in your eyes as you picked up your books. “Lucifer, please, take me home.” You begged and then you were in your kitchen.

“Why did you do that?” You asked as you set the books down on the table, your hands shaky.

“He almost killed you.” Lucifer said in a low tone, blood still on his fists and face. “Then he had the audacity to yell at you. He deserved it.”

You wiped away the tears from your eyes and leaned against the counter. “Give me some alone time.” You said quietly and he disappeared.

A few days later he visited with a small aquarium full of starfish as an apology. You smiled widely as he set it on the table in the living room next to the t.v. “How does it look?” he asked, watching the small pink creatures slowly climb around on the rocks and other colorful decorations.

“It looks very cute. They’re so tiny and adorable.” You smiled and leaned over, watching them closely. You didn’t notice it but Lucifer was watching you closely. You also didn’t know that when you were repeating Lucifer’s name a few nights before, he heard it. He appeared to see if anything was wrong, but nothing was. Normally he would have left, but knowing that what you were doing, and knowing it was for him, he stayed. It was creepy, yes, but he didn’t have the strength to leave. If it was any other human he wouldn’t even have been affected. But the two of you were bonded, paired. So the pleasure you felt, he felt as well that night. He tried to act normal around you after that, but it was so difficult.

How would he bring it up? How would he let you know that he wanted to please you with that ‘cold, forked tongue’ of his? He smiled to himself as he watched you gaze at the small creatures. The things he could do to you. The ways he could please you. He would love to watch you squirm and moan under his body.

“Want to go for a walk?” You asked and he looked up from his daze, nodding. You smiled at that. “I’ll bring my dog, he likes walking with you.” You said and picked up the blue harness, strapping it around your dog. You attached the leash and he jumped around happily, ready to go outside.

Lucifer lead the way, choosing the path through the woods that led to a large lake. It was pretty out there, that was a given. Everything around here was pretty. Lucifer made sure it was perfect for you.

You sat on a log, watching Cujo run around in the sand and the water. He would need a bath when you got home. You looked over at Lucifer who was watching a plane fly overhead, a white trail in it’s wake.

“Did you read the books?” He asked and you nodded slowly, explaining you had finished one and were halfway through the other. When you finished talking it was silent again and you chewed on your lip.

“So…” You started. He looked over, his blue eyes sending chills down your body. “You said you’d tell me the story of why you…” You trailed off as he looked back to the lake. He knew what you meant.

It took him a few minutes, but then he spoke. “Heaven. It was perfect. Beautiful. Gardens of every type of plant you could imagine. But mostly roses. God knew I liked white roses, so they were the popular pick. Gabriel liked the yellow ones, Michael liked the dark blue ones, and Raphael liked the pink ones. I suppose rose colors are irrelevant. But they weren’t to me. Everything was perfect, peaceful, love was everywhere. Harmony and justice. But then.” He stopped and clenched his fists. “He created humans. Adam, and Eve. They weren’t perfect. They were at first, but it didn’t take long for them to start sinning. I tried to convince father to kill them off, they were murderous beings. But he didn’t listen. So I took matters into my own hands.” You listened carefully, making sure to keep your eyes locked on him the entire time. “I didn’t think anyone would find out. I had Eve eat the apple. I just wanted peace again, I just wanted father to see how truly evil and naive they were. But Uriel. He saw and told. I tried to convince father it was for the best but he had none of it. He had Michael cast me down. He was going to take my wings.” He was tearing up. Lucifer was tearing up. “I loved them more than anything. I loved my brothers and sisters more than I loved myself. But they didn’t care. All they saw was my one flaw, and they turned against me. My own family.” He stopped talking. That was all he needed to say. You wrapped an arm around him and rested your head on his shoulder, rubbing his back. You didn’t say anything, you just rubbed soothing circles in his back and arm.

The sun was setting when you finally left. Lucifer stood up without saying a word, snapping his fingers. You, your dog and Lucifer were back home. Cujo ran off into the pets room to eat and drink, so you closed the door behind him. It was their bedtime anyways. You hung his harness and leash on the door, and before you could fully turn around Lucifer was on you. You almost screamed in surprise, it was so sudden and jarring. 

He pinned you against the wall, kissing your lips so hard and rough, so needy. Like he was thirsting to death. His forked tongue was cold, just as you had imagined. You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to get closer to you. You parted for air and he snapped his fingers again, and you were in your room. It was so random, so sudden and unplanned, but it made it all the better. You had no idea Lucifer liked you back this way.

He had you against the wall again, this time with his mouth on your neck. He bit down hard, causing you to cry out and dig your nails into his shoulders. He had no idea what he was doing to you. Your thighs already ached and a slow pain built up between your legs. “Lucifer.” You winced, but the pain felt good. His cold tongue licked your neck and down to your collarbones, chills rising all over your body. In an instant your shirt was gone and his lips were on your chest. He teased you, his cold tongue tracing circles around your nipples before taking them into his mouth and gently nipping them. You moaned, throwing your head back as your knees felt weak. You could barely stand.

Then, your pants were gone, and your panties. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his head immediately between your thighs. You cried out in pleasure as his facial hair rubbed against your skin, rubbing it raw. It burned but his cold tongue soothed the hot pain. Then, his fingers trailed up your thighs. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling roughly and bucking your hips against his face. His tongue slithered between your already dripping folds. It flicked against your clit and you groaned loudly, rubbing yourself roughly against his mouth. “Lucifer.” You cried out, your eyes closed tightly. “Oh my, oh my, yes, yes!” You cried with a wide open mouth, a smile on it as well. He knew you were cumming, he shoved two thick fingers inside you and curled them hard and fast. You came hard, your cum slowly leaking out from inside you. You slumped down against the wall, breathing hard, eyes closed. Lucifer smiled, looking at the mess he made of you.

“You are one of God’s only humans I enjoy.” He said and picked you up, gently setting you on the bed.

“I think I love you.” You whispered, still tired from your orgasm.

“Funny, because I know I love you.” He smirked, taking his green long sleeved shirt off. Next came his light brown tee-shirt, then his pants. He was a glory to behold. You sat up, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him undress. He was about to climb on top of you but you stopped him.

“Let me please you.” You whispered, a hand on his cold chest pushing him down flat on his back. He looked up at you, that wicked smirk still on his face. “You deserve it, you deserve everything I can give you.” You said and leant down to bite at his side. He tensed up, closing his eyes. You bit down sharply on his hip and he jerked a bit, a sharp intake of breath coming into his mouth. You smiled and looked at him, he had long curly blonde pubes. You assumed he didn’t really need to shave, that was probably something he never considered in his life. You tugged at them and he jerked upwards, his erection pressing up against his stomach. You took one long lick up his shaft and he let out the first sound of the night. It was a soft exhale, a shudder. The air in the room dropped a few degrees and you shivered a bit. You took your time licking and teasing before taking his head into your mouth. He groaned deep inside his throat with his eyes still closed. His salty precum tasted better than any other you had tasted. You closed your eyes and took him into your throat, hollowing your cheeks out and bobbing your head up and down. His hands went into your hair to grab a fistful, pulling roughly. You cried out and he jerked you up.

His blue eyes told you everything, he wanted to be inside you. You smiled at him and allowed him to flip you over on your back. As soon as your back hit the mattress he wasted no time in pushing himself inside you. A loud, sharp cry escaped you as he filled you up, pleasure shocking you. “Lucifer!” You moaned, clawing at his back. He started thrusting immediately, rough and fast. Hard and ruthless. He whispered out your name many times, biting deep into your neck and your chest.

Words came out of his mouth that you didn’t understand, it was another language. “Enochian.” He whispered, answering your internal question. You moaned at that. He was praising you in angel tongue. He continued pounding into you, each thrust hurting and feeling so good at the same time. “(Y/N).” He groaned and thrusted hard, causing you to shout out in pain. That thrust was a bit too rough. But, it made you orgasm again. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you arched your back, your mouth open in a silent cry. You rode out your orgasm, shaking slightly, then slumped limp against the bed. Lucifer came after that, cumming inside you. It was cold, so cold you shivered fiercely. But you didn’t care.

After that Lucifer snapped his fingers and you were both clean, as if straight out of a shower. The bedsheets were changed, and the room was a nice warm temperature. You both laid on the bed, naked and tangled between each other.

“Thank you.” He said, kissing your neck. “Thank you for not hating me for who I am, thank you for loving me.”

You smiled into his neck, your eyes closed. You hadn’t been happier in your entire life. “Thank you for protecting me and making me the happiest human on earth.” You said and he pulled you closer to him, kissing your forehead.

He was glad you were his prophet. He was glad he was your archangel. He was glad you loved him, and he was glad he loved you.

A Softer Voice

Lena deals with panic attacks

This was beta-ed by the absolutely amazing and fabulous @rtarara . She is the best. 

You can read this on AO3

Sometimes everything is too much. It claws up her throat, grasping at her tongue. Her heart beating in her chest slipping till it’s the only sound in her ears. Then the images start, slow and steady, until there’s an unending cascade, spilling, spilling across her eyes.

They bend her forward, those images, spiraling, spiraling until her head’s between her knees. Her throat closes, she can’t breathe. Tiny gasps through clenched teeth as the faces of her family play out across her eyelids.

Lex, Lex, Lex, that manic look in your eyes, “We’ll kill them all”

The voices come one after another, overlapping so it’s hard to make out each individual sound. They scream and whisper things that should never be said.

Mother, mother why? “You were never a Luthor to begin with, only a tool, a broken one at that.”

She rocks forward and back, her hands pressed to her ears. Her heartbeat hammers against her fingertips and she traces those faces with closed eyes.

She can see them coming for her, she can hear every footstep, can feel every breath against the back of her neck. She doesn’t scream; just breathes and feels as she rocks on her heels.

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On The Grapevine - 2011 [LMH]

↠ minhyuk x reader; 5.1k; he’s always looking for you to come online and chat but is too scared to actually meet you
↠ text message based series, kind of an au, minhyuk has a lil crush on you

2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013 | 2014/15

08:07; wangjanim – I guess I’m just worried you’re ditching me or something
08:09; wangjanim – You’re my best friend you know that
08:11; wangjanim – And I need you in my life!!
08:15; wangjanim – I’m just so appreciative of you and I don’t even think you’ll ever know how much I’ve needed you over the past however long
08:19; wangjanim – Please don’t tell me you’re not gonna come back?

Originally posted by kihqun

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Dina’s Fun Aunt Holiday Bonus Part 3 – Ellen Thwoorp

Summary – There’s nothing like a day out when you’re on holiday, whether it’s to the Dinosaur museum or the local market, things are learned, jokes are made and the subject marriage is brought up a little more than Katya may have initially appreciated.

A/N: So this is back. Sorry it’s been a long time but since the last update I’ve fallen in and out of an unrequited love, electric shuffled in and out of the closet, become a bio queen and designed one of the most complicated final major projects my tutors have ever seen so… Hi again. Woop woop.

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Even On A Bad Day

I decided that I need to write some fluff after all the crap that’s been thrown our way. So here I present some well needed Yousana fluff. I hope enjoy and feel free to comment!!


The bell rang just as Sana burst into the class and she breathed a sigh of relief. Isak smiled as she slumped down next to him and began to laugh, angering Sana. Yes, she knew that she didn’t look great but that didn’t give Isak the right to laugh at her. The day had been long and she was pretty sure that her hijab was about to fall off because she hadn’t had time to put one pin in it.

“Screw you Isak, I’ve had a bad day already so leave me alone. Go home and suck your boyfriends face off.” Sana knew that she was being rude but she really needed to get home and calm down.

Isak felt the anger radiating from Sana and stopped laughing. He knew she hadn’t meant to be rude so he didn’t take personally. He and Sana had been for friends for a while so he knew how to deal with her. “Sana, I think it’s time for you to go home. I know that you don’t like skipping class but you really need to get some rest. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Sana looked at him and was about to protest before she realized that he was right. She hadn’t slept at all yesterday because Elias and his friends came over and slept in the living room and she ran out of the house before they woke up.

“Well let’s get going, I’m tired already and it’s a long walk home.” With that Sana and Isak got up and walked out of the class.

As they they were walking to her house she realized that Elias and his friends were probably making another one if their videos. Anyway, that meant that they would have to pass by them when they got home but she doubted Isak would mind.

It took them 40 minutes to get to her house because they kept stopping and messing with each other. She could hear the boys yelling all the way from the sidewalk. Sana pulled her keys out and unlocked the door, throwing her jacket into the coat rack and took off her shoes.

“Put your jacket on the rack, you’ll probably be staying for dinner.” Sana’s mom loved Isak and she adored it when he stayed over. Sometimes Sana thought her mom loved him more than she loved her.

She and Isak walked into the living room and came across the boys. Elias and Mikael were fighting over the angle of the camera. Adam was fucking around on his Snapchat pretending like nothing was going on around him while Muta stared at the ceiling like it had personally offended him and Even was staring at all of them with a fond smile.

Ever since the boys and Even talked over their issues they became inseparable once again. It was great seeing them all be care-free around each other again. Sana saw Even a lot but it was different now that she saw him with the boys all the time. It made her feel content.

Sana coughed to get their attention and all their heads turned to her and Isak. Elias looked at her and looked confused.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school? What happened to being a good girl?” He didn’t ask it in a condescending way, Elias was just curious.

“Isak convinced me that I had to get some rest cause I didn’t get any sleep last night. I wasn’t gonna be able to focus anyway.” Sana’s eyes darted to Yousef for a second to find him grinning at her. She blushed and looked down at the ground.

Isak had walked over to Even by this point and gave him a kiss. He was sitting down on Even’s lap by the time Elias turned to them. “Even, your boy is a bad influence on my sister. He’s making her skip class.” Elias said in a joking tone.

Even looked up from where he was nuzzling Isak’s neck to laugh. “What can I say? I’m attracted to bad boys.” Isak began blushing and all the boys began teasing them for being so sappy.

“Can we stop teasing Evak? We still have a video to film. Sorry Sana but can you take Isak and go to your room? Even can’t do anything when he’s in the same house, let alone the same room.” When Elias finished Even threw a pillow at his head. Isak still got up and gave Even a kiss on the cheek before walking towards Sana.

The rest of the boys went back to what they doing, all except for Yousef who was still smiling at Sana with a soft find smile. Sana smiled at him back but began blushing even harder when he winked at her. She quickly walked out the room pulling Isak with her until they got into her room.

Isak started laughing again and Sana sat on her bed, half glaring and half pouting. Sana hit Isak’s leg when he wouldn’t stop laughing and got up to grab her book bag to start the project the teacher had assigned the other day while Isak calmed down and sat next to her. They spent 2 hours working on the project until they both got bored. The boys had finished the video half an hour ago and had been playing music since then while they played around with a ball.

It was 1:30 when they finished so Sana got up to get something to eat while Isak went to hang out with Even and the boys. Yousef was looking through the refrigerator when she walked in and he obviously hadn’t heard her walk in.

She stared at him and couldn’t help but admire his side profile. Sana didn’t remember when Yousef got so attractive but she wasn’t complaining. Objectively, she always knew he was attractive but now that she was older she could finally appreciate his looks.

His looks weren’t the only thing she appreciated though. Ever so slowly, he had gained a place in her heart. Yousef was always the first to realize when she was lying or having a bad day, the first to understand that all her expressions had different meanings, the only one to not treat her as a hijabi but rather a girl who happened to wear the hijab. He made her feel alive in the best way possible, even when she had off days.

Yousef seemed to realize that there was someone else in the kitchen with him and he turned around to face her. He stood up straight and smiled wide when he saw that is was Sana. She smiled back, not as embarrassed now that is was just the two of them. Yousef didn’t seem to have anything to say, content in the staring contest that they had going on. For a few moments, they simply smiled at each other until Sana found herself talking.

“How did your video go? It wasn’t another of those stupid SMS roulette ones again right?”

For a moment, Yousef looked surprised. “You watch our videos,” he asked, his grin growing. “You know that your brother asked Vilde for nudes then?”

“If you ask a girl for nudes it doesn’t go unnoticed by her friends,” Sana said jokingly. It seemed to startle a laugh out of Yousef and it was a good thing that the music was on or else Elias would’ve came in to see what was going on. She loved hearing Yousef laugh, he sounded laid back and it made her so glad that he was able to be so comfortable around her.

He looked up at her and smiled teasingly. “I’m so glad I didn’t get that one, wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong message.”

She knew what he was referring to. At the beginning of this thing between them, after Yousef had told her that he didn’t believe in Allah, she had done something really stupid. Sana assumed that if she couldn’t have Yousef then she wanted to set him up with Noora. The date she had set up had went downhill; Noora hadn’t been over William and Yousef kept asking about Sana. In the end they both decided that they weren’t into each other like that and remained friends. It was actually Noora that had been the one to get Sana to sit down and think about what she was robbing herself of by not speaking to Yousef.

Sana and Yousef had a long talk and they both decided that them being together wasn’t hurting anyone and staying away from each other was too hard. Their love was special and no matter what those websites told them, this was the only love they wanted. Sana realized that she might never get this again, a young attractive boy that wasn’t Muslim but respected her values and never ignored her boundaries. She wouldn’t give up what they had for the world.

Both Sana and Yousef had talks with their parents individually and then all together. Elias had even been there and they all had a civilized talk about what was going on between them and how they were going to proceed. At first, Sanas parents had been hesitant but after Yousef’s parents and Elias had spoken in his favor, they had relented. Sana and Yousef were both 100% sure that they were it for each other and they asked their parents for permission to start dating because they were too impatient to wait for them to get married. They’re parents agreed but they had to promise to not go past kissing until they could get married. That was fine with both Sana and Yousef.

Elias was wary in the beginning, not because he didn’t want them together but because the idea of his sister and best friend getting together was weird but he eventually got over it. Everything was going great between them and she couldn’t ask for more.

It seemed as though Sana had been in her head for too long and when she became aware of her surroundings again, Yousef was in front of her and holding her face in his hands. “Sana? You ok babe?” Yousef looked really worried but when Sana smiled at him the worry visibly faded from his eyes.

“I’m fine Yousef, just thinking about how lucky we are that this worked out. I’m just so glad that you’re mine.” Sana was so happy she couldn’t contain her smile. She couldn’t remember being this happy ever before Yousef.

Yousef looked into her eyes and smiled at her. He leaned his forehead on hers and brushed his lips across hers. He looked at Sana as though she was the only thing good in his life.

They spent at least 5 minutes in that position until Sana got hungry again. She looked up at him and grinned. “I came in here for food and I haven’t gotten it so as much as I love you, I love food more.” Yousef looked at her with a look of faked betrayal.

“How could you say that to me? I’m your boyfriend and you should treat me better than this! We might have to break up. I can’t believe this. I loved you and this is the treatment that I get.” Yousef tried to look serious but failed while Sana tried to hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry Yousef. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be. I’m gonna marry food and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” Sana walked to the refrigerator but before she could open it Yousef grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. She laughed as he began tickling her. She begged for him to stop but he was relentless.

Yousef stopped tickling her and Sana pushed her face into his neck and hugged him. She was glad that everything between them worked out. She loved Yousef and he loved her and that was all that mattered. No matter what happened she would try her best to make sure he remained constant.

With Yousef, she felt more whole than she ever had in her life. As she looked up at the ceiling, she went a small thanks to Allah for allowing her to have this.

L’Ange de la Musique

Originally posted by assassinscreedbrotherhoodlegend

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the story itself. Please do not copy or credit this as your work. Photo above is not mine.

Pairing: Arno Dorian x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 718

Tagging: @writingsofawaywardnerd @romancingthecreed @bunnyyumyum @thepandadrawer @rooks-and-blighters @kebeo @amarabliss @fortunefavoredthebrave @imakemyownblog @scarlet-marionette @thehalodiaries @an-order-of-fryes @thatonepieceofpaper

A/N: The following fic is part of a writer’s trade with the lovely Chess (aka @romancingthecreed or @frostychess). My thanks to @thepandadrawer for beta reading this and I hope you all enjoy!

You swear you hear singing whenever you enter the music hall. The void of empty velour seats seem to grow more obsolete the longer you stare, the large glass chandelier appearing to snap off of its chain every single moment, all of the inanimate objects in the room singing a story of its own. But this time, you hear actual singing coming from the stage when you set your bag on a spare table backstage.

A rich tenor melody dances its way into your ears as you peek out behind the heavy curtain to see a dark haired man belting his heart out with a perfect balance of vibrato, volume, and voice.

You stand there in awe as he stops abruptly and turns around to gaze in your direction. Slow heel clicks resonate under your feet as you slowly step out from behind the black drape to see him looking at you curiously.

“Hello there.” He greets with a warming grin as you look somewhat shyly towards him.

“Hi.” You manage to say before a wave of embarrassment washes over you and you let out a nervous giggle.

“How long have you been standing there?” The man asks in a distinct French accent and you cross your arms across your chest as you try to look at him directly without a hint of timidness in your eyes.

“Long enough to hear you sing.” You reply as you brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. “You’re wonderful.”

“So I’ve been told.” He laughs and you smile at him. “When I was thirteen, they called me L’ange de la Musique because of my voice. I didn’t realize how much that would mean to me later on.”

“We never do. At least until it’s too late.” You nod and he smiles at you.

“I’m Arno.” He tells you and extends his hand.

“Y/N.” You reply and take his hand gently.

“So Y/N, what brings you to the Palais Garnier?” Arno inquires. “I don’t believe you came here only to hear me sing.”

“My mother was the primadonna for the Paris Opera many years ago and she was teaching me before she passed five months ago. I remember when she would bring me backstage and all of the performers were in their costumes, ready to give everything for the show. That was the moment I realized I wanted to be an opera singer. ” You pause as you try not to let your eyes shed any more tears before you continue.

“When I told her I wanted to follow in her footsteps and at least achieve the position of understudy for the lead of one of the opera’s upcoming productions, she was so happy and even promised to be there on opening night before she died. I suppose I came here to see if to show me that singing was worth my time and devotion.” You finish and for a moment, you think Arno’s giving you a pitying look, the ones you’ve seen before one too many times, but instead, he’s giving you a different look. One you can’t pin quite accurately just yet.

Arno nods understandingly as he paces in between the distance from you to the stack of sheet music he had placed down earlier before you see his dark eyes light up with what you believed to be an idea.

“Perhaps I can be your new teacher. That is of course if you want one at all.” He offers and you turn your head to stare at him so fast that you feel like you could’ve snapped your own neck.

“R-really?” You stammer as you gape at him.

Oui, ma chérie. It would be my pleasure.” Arno replied and you engulf him in a hug which clearly shocks him, but you as well. You immediately let go of him and laugh slightly to try and shrug off any embarrassment you were currently experiencing.

“Thank you.” You reply and he picks up his music again.

“Meet me here tomorrow at noon. We’ll get started then.” Arno informs and takes his leave as you continue to stand there with a giddy smile on your face and hope in your heart.

The people weren’t wrong,’ you thought as you walked backstage. He truly was an angel of music.

(Translation) Yuugen Romantica - Arahagi

幽幻ロマンチカ - 第四の謎 「化け猫 アラハギ」

CV. Kaji Yuuki

T/N: another nonr18 commish! :) the commissioner was so sweet and even offered to draw me a cute doodle :> thank u for the commission!

this series’ cover arts are super pretty tbh! if you’re not familiar with this series, the premise is mc gets involved in a series of ‘paranormal’ activities? in school (lmao) but each volume tells a different supernatural entity. such a shame it’s sfw lmao pls let them shacky shacky in the schoolz!! and yes im hella thirsty for kaji yuuki if you haven’t noticed

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anonymous asked:

Have you done the high school teacher fic on the au's no one asked me for because if not please do it!

A/N: I cannot believe this oh my goodness gracious I have just been asked to write a prompt from an au list that I WROTE. I’ve made it to the big leagues, boys. Here goes nothing.

“we’re high school teachers and we keep pranking each other and you stole all of my staplers so my fourth hour is bombarding yours with paper airplanes now this is war”

This Means War

Ao3 Part two here

By Clarke’s second year teaching at Ark High School it is a universally known fact that the humanities hallway is home to a historic rivalry. Rooms 319 and 321 face each other and the hallway between them is not one to be lingered in. It started on Ms. Griffin’s third day of work when her favorite mug was stolen from her desk only to be spotted later in the hands of one Mr. Blake with an accompanying wink.

Clarke hated him.

He was also her favorite part of going to work.

Needless to say, it was infuriating.

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I’m Not Bad, I’m Just Drawn That Way

Here lies my first entry for @sterek-bingo 2017! I’m super excited for this whole event, I’ve been writing like a madwoman ever since I signed up.

This story was written for the Harry Potter AU square on my BINGO card. (AO3 link here).

I’m Not Bad, I’m Just Drawn That Way

“Okay,” Derek says, looking between the silvery lake to their left and the enormous, imposing forest to their right. “Stiles, where the fuck are we?”

“Um,” Stiles says guiltily. “I’m not sure you want to know.”


It’s a spell. It’s always a fucking spell, because witches, man.


“Hogwarts,” Derek repeats flatly. He’s looking somewhat constipated. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times. Then he says again: “Hogwarts.”

“It was a spell,” Stiles says weakly.

“I hate you,” Derek says.


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“I’m not naturally competitive. I wasn’t great at sport at school. I don’t understand the idea of going up against someone and trying to annihilate them. It’s just not me. I am very ambitious for myself, though.”

“Illness is like a shadow.  My mother had cancer a while back.  She is of that generation that won’t burden other people with worry.  On one level it was extremely admirable but on another it made me anxious because I wasn’t sure I was getting the whole story.  I’ve lost my father and my stepfather and several friends to illness so you think, ‘oh God here we go again’.  Thankfully she’s in the clear and fingers crossed will remain so.”

“I haven’t been hospitalised for 20 years.  On that occasion it was self inflicted.  I lost my temper after an argument with a girlfriend and punched a door.  I thought it was hollow, but it was solid.  I broke knuckles and fingers and had to have pins inserted.”

“I was bullied at school.  I had red hair and freckles, so it was inevitable.  I moved schools a fair bit as well and I became very adept at fitting in.  I made friends easily.  Everyone gets the piss taken out of them in some way at school  You learn to roll with it.”

“I don’t understand therapy.  If people could learn to be more objective about themselves it would be of huge benefit.  If you can detach yourself and think hard you can alter your behaviour.  Too often we employ someone to do it for us.  Clearly there are some people who need help desperately, but for most why not try and work out what the issue is?”

“Lying awake worrying is awful and like most of Britain it’s money worries that are usually responsible.  Half of the country is writhing around wondering how to pay the mortgage and its draining.  That the only time I reach for pills - herbal or chemical sedatives I don’t care as long as I can knock myself out.”

“My wife swears by manuka honey.  If I’m coming down with something she reaches for a pot.  Apparently it has strong antibiotic properties.”  

“I like to run with nothing in my head but if I need a boost it has to be heavy with lots of power chords.”

“I can’t live without sugar.  Since I stopped drinking I have developed a sweet tooth.  Before Id only have savoury things, now I love cakes and sweets.”

Source: ‘The inside track’,  Mike Pattenden.

“Yes, there was.  The first time I thought I might have something; might be able to express myself this way was in a school poetry competition. All the other kids were just reading out the longest and most complicated poems they knew. I chose “Dulce et Decorum Est” and, rather than recite it, I just instinctively performed it. I didn’t understand exactly what it was about, but I felt it. The teachers seemed almost shocked and I won the competition. They made me do it again the next day.’ 

Source: ‘The Seriously Handsome Toby Stephens’, Spectator,  Mary Wakefield

"I think we all as human beings go through periods of disillusionment with life, with humanity”

“I suppose I would like to be remembered as a decent human being who represented humanity truthfully. In a nutshell!” 

“Death’s an abstracted idea until a certain point where it begins to become more focused and more real and more concrete. I think the older you get, certainly in our civilisation here, the more people you experience dying. It’s just the way it is. And so it makes it much more real.” 

Source: ‘The Big Interview: Toby Stephens’, Official London Theatre, 

"I blub all the time, in the most weird situations – not in the ones that should make me cry. Music makes me very emotional. I think I cried yesterday, in fact." 

Source: ‘This Much I Know, Toby Stephens’, Guardian, July 2010

"Well, I turned 40 recently and I can understand how the confidence of one’s youth disappears. There’s a Talking Heads song called ‘Once in a Lifetime’ that has the line: ‘Where is my beautiful car?’ It communicates a lot of those feelings. Luckily, I spent my 40th birthday at a lovely dinner with very good friends – no dramas!" 

Source: ‘Keeping It Real’, Lucillehowe.com, 2010

"I wish I could do something else, I really do, but this is the only thing I’ve ever been any good at." 

Source: ‘Of Course I’d Act with My Mother’, London Times, 2010

My wife did it once [googled his name] and it freaked us out so much that I don’t any more.  I have a friend who does it a lot and he’s just constantly being upset.  Ignorance is total bliss.  I like going around pretending everybody loves me.”

Source: ‘A Big Ask’, Gabriel Tate 

“I’m pathetic and I’ll cry anywhere, any time.  Its the cause of great embarrassment.”

“Most afraid of not working.”

“My big hatred is littering so I would impose an one the spot punishment and make litterers wear a sign saying I am a lazy slob.”

Last listened to:

“Brian Eno’s ‘Plateaux of Mirror’, which I put on when I’ve drunk too much coffee.  Its very mellow.”

Save from a fire: 

“My heavily pregnant wife Anna-Louise and my two kids.”

Most like wearing:

“My double breasted navy coat from Tin House in Norfolk.”

“I’m in Norfolk at the moment and we’re staying in an old lighthouse.  I recently took my wife to Paris for a romantic break and we spent last Christmas in Venice, which is so atmospheric when the sea mists are rolling in.”

“I was recently in a lift with a mother and her daughter and they were complimenting me on my work.  Just before we got out they said, ‘And what’s your wife Helen doing’.  They thought I was Damian Lewis who is married to Helen McCrory.  In the end I went along with it and just said ‘She’s very busy at the moment’”.

“Got arrested in LA for stealing bubble gum when I was about six.”

Source: ‘My London’ : Toby Stephens, Hannah Nathanson, 

“I try to avoid travelling with my children.  They’re at that age when it’s a nightmare.  My wife and I are good at creating time away - even if its just a weekend - we have to for our own sanity.  Venice is our favourite destination.  We spent our honeymoon at the Hotel Cipriani.”

“I am obsessed with really good colognes and scents.  I like to smell nice after a long flight.  I love anything by Comme des Garcons.”

“I don’t have a huge skin regime but I do like Aesop facial oil, because its natural.  The older you get the rougher you look so you need to take care of yourself.”

“Running is great because you can do it anywhere.  So I always pack my new balance trainers.  The only place I didn’t manage a run was India - everyone thinks your insane.” 

“My wife gave me a Bell and Ross watch for my 40th birthday.  I’m never without it.  It’s made by the same company that creates dials for French fighter jets.” 

“On a flight I catch up on my reading.  It’s mainly fiction - I loved the ‘Line of Beauty’ by Alan Hollinghurst but I’m very selective.”

Source: BA In flight magazine

"If I ever read that actors know what they’re doing, they are either immensely successful movie stars or they are just lying.”

Source: Western Mail

“I absolutely support the Standard’s campaign [Dispossessed Fund]. I live in Tower Hamlets, which is one of the poorest boroughs in London, and it is also very near Hackney, where there is knife and gun crime. Anything that remedies it, or seeks to remedy it, is a good thing.

“I’ve never been in court. My father-in-law is a criminal barrister and I’ve been to watch him once but that’s the only experience of it so it was fascinating to act in front of the great and the good of the legal profession.”

Source: Evening Standard


“Home is East London near Spitalfields.  Earliest memory is being taken for walks by my nanny in Battersea Park and looking up at the huge blue gas towers and smelling the malt from the brewery that used to be there.”

“Walk as much as possible to avoid the Tube which is terrible and overpriced.”

“I go to John Sa doe in Chelsea for books because it’s like something out of a Dickens novel with its little corridors.  Folk, in the Old Truman Brewery, for unusual but well made shirts.  A lovely perfumery in Belgravia called Les Senteurs for unique colognes and perfumes that don’t take your head off.  St John Bread and Wine for Eccles cakes and brownies.  I like to browse the records in Rough Trade East.”

“Galvin La Chapelle, off Bishopsgate.  During the week its filled with obnoxious bankers, but its lovely and quiet at the weekend.”

“Triple shot lattes in small cups from Nude Espresson on Hanbury Street E1”

“Cheshire Street off Brick Lane.  I go window shopping there with my son and we stand outside the toy shop and fantasise over which mechanical robot wed like to take home.”

Most romantic place:

“Two temple place by the Inns of Court.  Its where we had our wedding reception.”

Best kept secret:

“Bunhill Fields Cemetery, off Old Street,where William Blake is buried.  Its an oasis of peace.”

Little known fact:

“My neighbour, the historian Dan Cruickshank told me that the Shakespearean actor Richard Burbage is buried in a vault in a church on Shoreditch Hight Street.”

Source: ‘’My London : Toby Stephens, Hannah Nathanson, 


“At the moment, I’m working and she’s working and we have 2 children so it’s complicated but often one of us isn’t working.”

“My parents didn’t actively discourage me, but that was a different time.  If my children showed an interest I’d push them towards university so they’d have a back-up.  Acting is overpopulated now and everything is precarious.”  

Source: ‘Acting the part’

“I don’t live life in the public eye.   That’s why I’ll never act with my mother.  I’d maybe do a film, but not a play, because much as I’d love to work with Mum - she’s an amazing actress - it would become about something other than acting and I find all that a bit naff.”

“I didn’t really know her at drama school.  I mean, she’s six foot one with curly hair so you couldn’t exactly miss her, but I had my head up my own arse then.  I only cared about what I was cast in, whether I’d get an agent and so on.”

“There are worse things, and it forced me to watch my mother as a performer and understand that she is two people, the mother I know in a domestic situation and the one who does what I do now, who is somebody else.  Any child who goes into a parent’s workplace has to realise that.”

Source: ‘Toby or not Toby’, Metropolitan Magazine, Eurostar

On take his son Eli to the Old Vic Theatre where Stephens was playing in ‘The Real Thing’:

“He was totally mystified. He thinks work is digging holes.“ 

"I was obsessed by the fact that she was dressed up in odd outfits, kissing some strange man. It was embarrassing, very disconcerting.”

“It’s not very healthy, as I’m sure my mother would testify." 

"I would hate to feel that I had some sort of innate right to belong. My parents’ world, that old school hierarchy, has gone. Everyone’s all mixed up now, and, because of that, theatre is finally exciting again. People want to see something real. As an actor, you take your humanity and you put it on stage. You make people look at themselves and say, 'Thank God I’m not alone.’" 

"Sir Laurence Olivier was sweet to me, but later he was struggling and couldn’t remember who anybody was. He had been close to my mother and my father, then got fed up with them both. He was frightened of people coming up behind him or stealing his limelight. He saw both my parents as a threat." 

"We occasionally visited the Oliviers on a Sunday. There’d be loads of people there. I was always so terrified, I would just clam up. I wasn’t swanning around being precocious, I was hunkering in the corner. People would have thought, 'Who’s the spotty kid with the red hair?’ I wasn’t doing myself any favours." 

"People talk about my family as if it were a dynasty. But it was never like something out of a Noel Coward play, with everyone going, 'Oh, dahling!’ and serving up theatrical anecdotes for breakfast." 

"I don’t worry about not being as good as them. All I can aspire to do is to have the same incredible drive as my mother, never sitting back on great reviews, always seeking to improve. All people tell me about my father is how amazing he was in things they saw, but that’s not a pressure. It’s lovely never to hear anyone say a bad word about him.”

"I told him it was fine for an older, more sophisticated actor, but in our production Coriolanus had to be a young man. He did accept it in the end, after a bit of harrumphing." 

Source: ‘Home and Dry’, London Times, July 2010

"Now I have children I live the most domestic mundane life." 

"I sort of dread them doing it. I guess my parents must have been the same about me; there’s no guarantee you’re going to be any good at it or that the industry is going to be kind to you. My instinct is to protect them and say, do something else. But then if that’s what they want to do I’m not going to stop them.” 

"Naff. She really is amazing. I’m so immensely proud of her as an actress, she is extraordinary. Also what I love is that I have two separate lives. I have my professional life and I have my personal life and I really like that separation.” 

"My brother only took a stage name because there was a male stripper in Holland who was a member of Equity who had the name Chris Stephens, so he was forced into choosing another name. No, I didn’t. I certainly didn’t want to hide away from it.” 

"When we found out about it, it was … I mean obviously you immediately go 'oh my God, that could mean, you know …’ Luckily it wasn’t, she is in the clear. But obviously you go, that death is one of the possibilities and she must have gone through that process as well.”

Source: ‘The Big Interview: Toby Stephens’, Official London Theatre, 

"I’ve learnt an enormous amount from my children. Mostly that my agenda isn’t the most important thing in the world. For a while I was trying to squeeze them into my life. And it was such torment! It makes you realise how selfish you are." 

"The smallest audience I’ve ever performed to is my three-year-old son on the way to nursery. I’ll be babbling to myself in the car and he’ll suddenly say: 'Daddy, are you running lines again?’" 

"I didn’t know my blood father that well, but my parents taught me that what I do is a job. It’s a craft, something you have to work at. My mother taught me that you never deliver a perfect performance. I’m constantly tweaking and fiddling with roles.”

Source: ‘This Much I Know’, Toby Stephens, Guardian, July 2010

"It’s not something you’d do lightly. It would be a … situation. I’d love to learn from her. I also would be very seriously intimidated. I wouldn’t flatter myself that it would be enough, but if that’s what got her back on the stage, I’d do it in an instant." 

I’d be going, 'Why is she talking like that, why is she dressed up, who is she kissing?’ Looking back I am as amazed by her as everybody else. She had the most incredible, rarefied time of it on stage.” 

"It was terrifying for all of us. Your foundations go.” 

“I was completely lost. Having lost two fathers I kept saying: 'Oh God, please, not yet, just a little more time.’" 

"I was very lucky. Beverley was my mother’s sweetheart from an earlier time and a wonderful father in ways that Robert, bless him, just could not be.” 

"Robert was very ill, it’s no secret, with alcohol. I watched him die in the most … the most gradual … I mean it was not an easy process. But his legacy is sometimes incredibly reductive. Actors come up to me going: 'God, your father could drink.’ And I say – 'I am aware. Yet you neglect to say that he did things nobody else can do with Shakespeare.’ He was extraordinary. He was many things, and he influenced me enormously." 

Source: ‘Of Course I’d Act with My Mother’, London Times, 

"Having kids certainly means you can’t obsess about your career the way you used to, which I think is healthy. But inevitably, when you become a father, you reference your own past. What makes me really sad is that neither Eli nor Tallulah will have an experience of their grandfather. And a lot of what I know about Robert is apocryphal, because I was four when he left and I didn’t see him for a long time. And inevitably, people are very reductive about him: 'Oh, he was a great actor but he liked a drink!’ Whenever I have any dealings with my son, I am aware that he walked away from us. I look at my situation and know I couldn’t even dream of doing that. But those were choices that Robert made in a context I can’t know. I’m incredibly lucky: I’m in a different place to where he was. I’m a different person.”

"To look at my mother with an objective eye and see how incredible it is what she does. Because purely selfishly I’d like to see her in something new, and also because I know it makes her happy." 

Source: ‘It’ll Be Weird to Be Here with My Family History,’ Evening Standard

 "No, not really, I wasn’t an extrovert. My brother did try to put on plays, but I didn’t like the limelight. He’d be the director, and he’d try to get me to perform, but I’d be paralysed with stage fright and refuse to come on." 

Source: ‘The Seriously Handsome Toby Stephens’, Spectator, 

"My parents would read almost anything – from trashy novels to highbrow ones. But I tend to be a bit of a snob, so I don’t do anything too trashy." 

Source: ‘My Life in Books, Toby Stephens’, Easy Living, 

"My mother’s an amazing role model. Having famous parents can put a lot of pressure on kids, but she taught me that, underneath it all, it’s just a job, a way of earning a crust, and it’s not about fame and notoriety, it’s about craft and practice." 

"I was waiting for a plane in Johannesburg, and a Scots woman came up to me and asked if my mum was all right. She was a stranger, but she felt this empathy with her because she’s moved people – it’s not a showbiz thing, it’s a deeper connection than that." 

"I was only three or four at the time, so I didn’t know what was going on. But looking back, they were hailed as the new Olivier and Leigh, and it must have been so hard for them in that goldfish bowl. I’m just relieved that I don’t have to live that way.”

Source: ‘In a Taxi with…Toby Stephens’, Daily Mail, 

I would probably get something to eat.  Screw the National Gallery and all that!  I get so little time because of the kids that I love those moments when you can just have breakfast, read the paper….”

Source: ‘A big Ask’


“Filming is rotten for your health. If you’re on set all day, you’re not going to get home at 9pm and go for a jog. When I go home I try and clean up and be a bit fascistic about my diet for a couple of weeks. Lose the pounds, go to the gym.”

“I hate hanging around. The big joke as an actor is you’re “resting between parts”. It’s not funny if you’re an out-of-work actor. You want to work and I love work.  Each job is a little pod in itself and very fulfilling, then you move on to another one which is completely different.”

Source: ‘Inside Track’

"I went through periods of wanting to be a doctor or a pilot, but I was too thick to become any of them." 

“Seaford College was full of farmer’s children. You didn’t really go round saying you wanted to be an actor." 

"Anyway, if they made a film of ‘Jane Eyre’, they’d want Russell Crowe, not me.”

"I enjoy that moment when I come off stage and don’t go for a drink. The drinking after a show is about trying to keep something alive that is gone. Actually, I love the fact that it has gone.”

Source: ‘Home and Dry’, London Times, July 2010

“I’m totally cool with it. I chose this profession. I think I entered into it naively, thinking it wasn’t going to be a preoccupation, but inevitably it is because they are in it and my mother is very much evident in this industry and I can’t hide from it. Turning up to interviews and saying 'yeah you know what, I’m not talking about my parents’ it makes it into some sort of issue like I’m embarrassed about it or ashamed. I’m not, I’m immensely proud of iit.” 

"It was basically the only thing I could do. It was also the way I, strangely, could express myself, through other people’s writing. Giving voice to these characters, making these characters into human beings that are believable, that was what I was fascinated in doing and I still am; I love doing it.” 

"There’s a lot of theatre I really like at the moment, and there’s a lot that I don’t like. If you don’t like that kind of theatre, take responsibility rather than just moan about it.”

"Performing at the Donmar allowed me to develop as an actor. I think before working at the Donmar I was a different type of actor and I think what happened to me when I worked at the Donmar was revelatory really. Because there you can’t hide, the audience is on top of you. I think a lot of actors hide behind various smokescreens of affectation and there you can’t. The difficult thing is letting go of it, and the Donmar is the perfect venue to do that.” 

Source: ‘The Big Interview: Toby Stephens’, Official London Theatre,

"Most actors do stuff they’re not proud of to pay the bills – and the good thing is that they do the best they can on it. You know: I’m going to polish this turd and I’m going to make it as shiny as I possibly can." 

"It’s not out of choice that I play so many historical characters. After 'Pride & Prejudice’ happened, anyone who looked or spoke in a certain way was shunted into doing that sort of stuff.” 

“Actors don’t listen to each other. You’re so obsessed with what you’re saying or doing that the other person could be talking in Swahili and you wouldn’t know.”  

Source: ‘This Much I Know, Toby Stephens’, Guardian, July 2010

“I don’t want to do the same thing over and over again,”

Source: Leicester Mercury

“Every job you go on is with a new character, a new group of people and a new script, which is wonderful.  You create these relationships and then move on.  But it’s also the worst thing because you never low what’s round the corner.  Very insecure, but extremely exciting.”

“I auditioned for Neil LaBute, and the casting director said, ‘Neil has a problem with British people playing American parts, so can you pretend that you’re American?’  So I spent this sleepless night thinking: where the fuck do I come from?  So I made-up this story about coming from Pittsburgh where my family made shoes or something.  I worked with Neil later on, and he told me that he’d known all along because he’d seen me in a play.  So there was this ridiculous double-bluff going on.  But it taught me a great lesson.”

Source: ‘A Big Ask’

"I’m not nearly that titanically brilliant off-script.  What I love about acting is that it allows you to articulate things you couldn’t readily say in normal life. In Coriolanus, I could be this eternally confrontational character, for instance. I’m not saying it’s therapy. It’s a strange, instinctive understanding of human behaviour that can be quite manipulative.”

Source: ‘Talking to…Toby Stephens’, London Times, April 2010

"We all want to stop the voices in our heads, don’t we, the ones that criticise and question us? Well, when you get a perfect moment on stage, the voices in your head are silenced, which is what we all want really, isn’t it?" 

"The reason I do it, the heart of it all, is that every so often, during some rare performances on stage, there’s a moment when you lose yourself completely. It’s amazing. The audience feel it too — well, it’s their focus that takes you there. And those moments are sublime. I can’t explain it very well, but it’s as if everything suddenly comes together and you’re able to pour yourself completely into the part as if it’s a vessel. It’s a very strange thing to do, but it’s…well, it’s my function, it’s what I love, it’s what I do." 

"It’s amazing. The audience feel it too - well it’s their focus that takes you there. And those moments are sublime. I can’t explain it very well, but it’s as if everything comes together and you’re able to pour yourself completely into the part as if it’s a vessel. It’s a very strange thing to do, but it’s…well, it’s my function, it’s what I love, it’s what I love, it’s what I do.”

Source: ‘The Seriously Handsome Toby Stephens’, Spectator,

“Theatre does not pay well, and sometimes I think, 'God, forget art, I just want to earn enough money not to lie awake at nights going 'shit’ all the time’. But I keep telling myself I am happy, and I don’t think super successful Hollywood types are. They end up living a monstrous, monomaniacal life.” 

“Great daredevil act that you’ll get too constipated with terror to do anything." 

"I mean these people trying to sell you 3-D TVs. Imagine it: sitting, eating your TV dinner with your f***ing 3-D glasses on. What insanity are we talking? ‘Avatar’ says quite literally nothing to me. Theatre is experiencing a really exciting, energetic time now, because it’s so satisfying to see real human beings in front of you and not some 3-D virtual sh**.”

"Yes and no. A lot of theatre felt quite tired then. It had this atmosphere of being a bit fusty, musty and middle class. My mother started in revue, a child of vaudeville, and was taken on by Olivier. When she came in it was all Noël Coward, everybody smoking cigarettes and isn’t it marvellous darling. The National and the Old Vic shook things up with these experimental productions — people like Ingmar Bergman, Franco Zeffirelli, Bill Gaskill and a 24-year-old Peter Hall opening ‘Waiting for Godot’. Extraordinary times.” 

"I love what I do. I absolutely love being here." 

Source: ‘Of Course I’d Act with My Mother’, London Times, 2010

"A lot of people see going to the theatre like rocking up at the cinema, and it’s not. They have mobile phones they leave on, they arrive late and want to get a drink in too. But at least people are coming to see us." 

"The theatre is much more challenging than film, where casting is really unimaginative. Filming is tedious … it’s a grind. You have to maintain focus all day in case you’re suddenly called to set, so it’s not like you can switch off. In the theatre your day begins at about 4pm, which is a bit difficult when you’ve got kids. Then, it’s about being in the moment and remembering everything you’ve rehearsed." 

Source: ‘Keeping It Real’, Lucillehowe.com, 2010

"There’s a twinge of course, but it’s in my pocket more than anything – a job like that would pay the mortgage or the school fees. No, I’d like to keep it at the 'I’ve seen you in something, not sure what’ level. Having a life and being grounded is really important to me. In this business, especially for guys, you can become so obsessed with where you’re at and where you think you should be that you get angry and screwed-up, and forget to value what you have.”

"I guess theatre’s my creative engine. Television doesn’t really stimulate me in the same way, plus there’s such a circus surrounding all of that – what premieres or parties you’re seen at, what magazines you can bag the cover of. I feel I can’t live up to any of that. I get embarrassed by myself. I can’t actually watch ‘Britain’s Got Talent’. I’m hiding behind the sofa; I can’t cope with people humiliating themselves in that way. And that’s what the exposure of myself feels like to me." 

"In this business you can become so obsessed with where you think you should be that you forget to value what you have”

Source: ‘In a Taxi with…Toby Stephens’, Daily Mail, 2010

“That’s the difference between stage and film, or rather TV, given that we don’t have much of a film industry in Britain, or at least one I’m involved in. On TV a lot of stuff isn’t well written. You spend a lot of time trying to polish a turd. Whereas in theatre you usually don’t have to expend all that energy selling the thing, because the writing is superior." 

Source: ‘It’ll Be Weird to Be Here with My Family History’, Evening Standard

I’m not nearly that titanically brilliant off-script.  What I love about acting is that it allows you to articulate things you couldn’t readily say in normal life.  In 'Coriolanus’ I could be this eternally confrontational character, for instance.  I’m not saying it’s therapy.  It’s a strange instinctive understanding of human behaviour that can be quite manipulatively.”  

“Try as I might, I seem unable to get out of theatre.  I’ve never played the Old Vic before.  I was literally a baby when my parents were here under Olivier, but that’s part of the reason I’m hoping we pull it off.  I hope we do the theatre proud because it’s a magical building, and when you see that right product and the hairs on the back of your neck go up it’s an incredible feeling.  You can’t get it anywhere else.  It’s irreducible.”

Source: Lucy Powell talking to Toby Stephens

“That’s what acting is, playing different parts”

“I want to be on stage, serve a play well, try to replicate human behaviour.  Theatre is a learning process.  It’s about trying to fool people into believing they’re watching a real situation, a real person.  Film is more about personalities, which is also difficult but different.  You don’t ask Jack Nicholson to be anything other than Jack Nicholson.”

Source: ‘Toby or not Toby’, Metropolitan Magazine, Eurostar

“What I find bizarre is that the theatre is always there for me.  20 years ago I thought people were moving away from that.  If someone has said that to me ten years ago, that it would the be the bedrock for me, I would have laughed at them because I thought it was on the way out - but ironically people arc coming back to that.”

Source: ‘Acting the part’


"At the risk of sounding crass, the best thing about this prize is the cash. As a young actor - or certainly as a young stage actor, which is what this prize rewards - you’re not earning much, so a cheque for £5,000 really does make a huge difference. I remember that, beforehand, I had been getting quite desperate: after winning, I subsisted on it for quite a while.”


“The strangest thing about Hollywood is that you actually have to lie! When someone asks what you’ve been doing, you can’t just say, 'Well, I’ve been dossing around for six months.’ You have to say, 'I’ve been making this really interesting little movie.’ The whole town is run by producers who are just in it for the money. And they make bad movies because they don’t want to risk anything. They won’t risk losing money so they end up making boring films. The whole thing is a fiction, I mean the whole town! It shouldn’t even be there, it’s built on a desert!" 

"Trying to crack Hollywood nearly killed me. It’s such a strange world full of phony people. You have to pretend to be really hot shit all the time. You’re constantly in this weird state where the end of the rainbow keeps receding. There’s success all around you — fancy cars, posters of big-budget movies — but you can’t get at it. And you learn the language of false hope. It means that when people say, 'You’re in the mix for this one,’ that actually translates as: 'You’ve got no chance.’”

Source: ‘The Seriously Handsome Toby Stephens’, Spectator, July 2010

There was a time when I thought, yeah I want to go out to LA and do a big TV series or get into movies, but now I’ve got kids and Im a homebody, I like bing in London.  But don’t hold me to that, because if I was offered something….:”

Source:’Cop duo wont let crime get in the way’


“Every schoolboy’s secret longing! You can’t turn down the chance to be in a Bond movie, can you? And I do love playing baddies, they’re more…interesting." 

Source: ‘The Seriously Handsome Toby Stephens’, Spectator, July 2010

“Too unlikely to take seriously — a baddie and Bond? I think not." 

“Exceedingly silly but great fun; the movie industry has so little imagination. I’d just end up replicating the same English cad. So I backed away from it.” 

Source: ‘Of Course I’d Act with My Mother’, London Times, 2010

“A bit of an aberration”

Source: Daily Mail

“It was a blast, like a strange holiday, and then I went back to my normal life.”

Source: ‘Cop duo wont let crime get in the way’


"If I was to meet Lou Reed or Bob Dylan, I would be totally helpless. Writers and musicians make me feel completely starstruck. Once I did a read-through in front of Ted Hughes and mauled his text so much I could see him twitching.” 

Source: ‘This Much I Know - Toby Stephens’, Guardian, July 2010

“Brilliant musicians or songwriters.  Someone like Miles Davis or Bob Dylan.  I’d probably come away hating them - never meet your heroes.”

Source: ‘A Big Ask’


“I absolutely loved ‘Wolf Hall’. I’m intrigued by Henry VIII. He was an utter selfish shit, but you can see why everyone wanted to be around him – people were magnetised. I’m fascinated by those kinds of characters." 

Source: ‘This Much I Know - Toby Stephens’, Guardian, July 2010

"My reading has ground to a halt of late, because we have two small children and I’m so tired I can’t focus on anything past seven o'clock in the evening. But, recently, I was filming in South Africa, which afforded me time to read. I gobbled this up; it totally grabbed me. Mantel is brilliant at being able to give real texture to the past; you feel you’re there; that you understand these people. It was a present, together with one of her earlier novels, ‘A Place of Greater Safety’, about the French Revolution, which could not be more apposite, as after ‘The Real Thing’, I’m doing ‘Danton’s Death’, the play, at the National Theatre. So it’s become slightly 'set text,’ but I am managing to fit it in between changing nappies.

American Pastoral’ by Philip Roth 

“It’s not a big book, but it’s huge in its themes, and I think it’s my favourite Roth. I’ve read all of his novels, and I find him hit or miss, but when he hits, he really hits home. I think this articulates everything Roth had been trying to say about his sense of identity, his Jewishness, the American Dream and how it goes so wrong for the protagonist: it’s utterly tragic and compelling. It’s one of the greatest modern American novels. I couldn’t put it down, and when I did, I felt it had moved me on somewhere beyond where I was before.” 

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ by Hunter S. Thompson

“This came to me in my twenties, out of the blue, and knocked me sideways. I remember reading it on trains and thinking other passengers must think me insane as I was laughing so much. I love Thompson’s visceral, funny writing style and how it really captures a time in history. I was evangelical about this book for a while and kept insisting people read it." 

“'Moby Dick’ is a big guy’s book. It’s like the Old Testament in scope, but there’s a simplicity to the plot, and the irrevocable, tragic path that this man is on- his monomania is a very male thing. I found it totally compelling - aside from the very, very boring bit in the middle, about what the whales look like! Skip that, because this is an amazing read and has at its heart a very human tale. You know it’s an old classic, but when you’re in the midst of it, it feels present, fresh, and so real.”  

Tom Jones’ by Henry Fielding 

“My stepfather told me I should read this because it’s wonderful, and I remember thinking, 'But it’s such an old book.’ I was just blown away by the humour - it’s hilarious - and its sauciness and bawdiness. I read it in my teenage years, when I was becoming obsessed by sex and women, so it was perfect because it’s so hand-on-hip and has such thigh-slapping gusto. It is a satire, there is a Hogarthian element to it, but it has this jovial goodness of spirit that is so engaging. It has a lust for life in all its glory; it says, 'This is life - and it’s wonderful.’ I love it still.”  

‘The Wind in the Willows’ by Kenneth Graham

“This is one of those books that become part of you. Ratty, Toad, and Mole became so entrenched in my imagination that, no matter how many times I see it on stage or an animation, it never fulfills how I perceive them in my mind. It changes the way I saw rivers and big old country houses. It’s so much of its time, and there’s this innocence to it, which I love, this idyll of a past England; in later life we can be cynical about it, but in childhood, it’s so lovely to believe in it.”  

Alice in Wonderland’ by Lewis Carroll

“I was five when this was read to me, but it wasn’t until I was 11 that I came to love it - when I claimed it for myself. It’s so wonderfully imaginative and weird. I long to read it to my children, but I have to hold myself back. I think it’s important to pass on your literary heritage, but if they don’t like it, that’s fine - getting on with a book is a chemical thing. The number of times I’ve tried to read Dickens…I just can’t get on with him. I’m really keen for them to read it for themselves. It might be great for me to do these finely wrought performances, but they might not enjoy them as much as I do!" 

“A sense of humanity. All the great plays and novels remind us who we are, and that we’re not alone. As an audience or reader, I respond to art that makes me say, 'You know how I feel. You’ve revealed to me what I already know in my heart of hearts.’ And I want to give that to the audience." 

Source: ‘My Life in Books, Toby Stephens’, Easy Living, June 2010

“Christopher Hitchen’s autobiograhy, ‘Hitch-22’ .  I’m fascinated by him - I admire him but I’m not sure that I like him.”

Source: ‘A Big ask’


"It was awful, there was no excuse for it. I had to buy her [Dame Diana Rigg] flowers and crawl down to her dressing room, literally on my hands and knees. It was the beginning of knowing I couldn’t go on like that. I had this sense of my father not having achieved what he might have done because of drinking, and I didn’t want it for me. I didn’t want it for him, either." 

"I look at actors now and they’re all totally ripped - the young guys in my cast are all incredibly fit. It’s so tough to get on in this job. People have to look after themselves and be sharp. You can’t turn up half-cut to do a performance.”  

“All that romantic, living-on-the-edge stuff is a load of crap. People talk about Richard Burton and Peter O’Toole - imagine how much better they would have been if they hadn’t had a bottle of vodka." 

Source: ‘Home and Dry’, London Times, July 2010

"A big drinker ever since I started. I had given up for a year, but when Robert died I stupidly thought: 'Sod it, I might as well.’ I can’t have just one. It’s a chemical thing. It’s such agony to stop I’d rather not start. It’s hard enough in this profession without sabotaging yourself. There’s this stupid romantic notion about it, but I guarantee, drinking does not make good acting.” 

Source: ‘Of Course I’d Act with My Mother’, London Times, 2010

“Raises its head in the most banal situations. But I don’t obsess about it like I used to. It’s a choice not to drink. I know I don’t want to go down that route again. I’ve got too much to lose." 

Source: ‘It’ll Be Weird to Be Here with My Family History’, Evening Standard,

“In the old days I used to stay agents in a restaurant ordering bottles of wine and brandy but because I couldn’t do that any more it was all a bit functional.  I’d eat and say, right bill please, so my wife, who drinks like a normal person was constantly getting indigestion.  I was very jumpy, it’s a wonder she stuck around.”

Source: ‘Toby or not Toby’, Metropolitan Magazine, Eurostar

“I used to be of the type who takes a vice to the hilt.  I was a heavy drinker.  It got to the point of being very scary.  It was mainly drink but also anything that was going, one thing leads to another and so on.  I was quite robust then fortunately but there was a point where my liver blew up and I knew I had to do something about it.”  

“Im very dogged, I do something totally or I don’t.  When I gave up booze it was intensely hard for a few weeks and tough for a year, but I’d made up my mind.”

“I haven’t drunk for ten years now.  Once I make a decision its like flicking a switch.” 

“My only vice now is coffee.  Lots of it.  I’d rather do that than anything else.  Every morning I go to a local cafe that does a mean espresso and I drink triple shots often two back to back.  They think it’s hilarious there.  My wife has suffused I cut down because I can get a bit jumpy.”

“It can be a bummer not opening a bottle of wine.  I don’t have that stress reliever choice that most people reach for.  Exercise is good, unleashing all those endorphins.  You have to have something.”

Source: ‘The inside track’

Tsuna’s School of Awesomeness

ff.net link | ao3

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Awesomeness

Pairing: R27

Warning: Lightly touched about child abuse, bullying. 

Author’s Note: 

Right, so couple things before we start. About 90 percent of the time, you can always assume that whenever I write a fic (AU or canon) that it takes place same place as canon, unless otherwise stated (i.e. a fantasy AU or a HP crossover). So this fic technically takes place in Japan. However, majority of the research (how to actually start up a charter school, foster care, etc) came from the American system, thus I took a lot of liberties. So any inaccuracies come that. Alright, onward!

For An Angel Can Fly

K, So i have an idea (that’s not really but we’re going to ignore that right now)

It is KHR!

I had been thinking about how Tsuna ( being the best fluffiest-haired older brother he is) would make sure that the kids(Fuuta, Lambo, And I-Pin, Along with some other random kids that show up(think Yuni)) get an education.

It can be the kids struggles with school, Tsuna’s struggles with the kids and school, anything like that.

Bonus: if you can get a Papa Reborn in there somewhere, too.

If asked, Tsuna would swear up and down that it was an accident.

It wasn’t like he meant to start charter school! (Until he did.)

Reborn just rolled his eyes and said, “Dame-Tsuna, take responsibility for your actions.”

(Which Tsuna totally did, thank you very much, Reborn.)


It started with Lambo.

Tsuna was halfway done with his thesis when he met a homeless Lambo on the streets. It took a lot of convincing and bribing with grape candy to get the small child to open up to him, but eventually Tsuna managed to get Lambo to talk to him. Tsuna always had a bleeding heart for kids. It was why he was studying Early Education and trying to become a teacher in the first place.

After weeks of feeding Lambo and coaxing Lambo to give a foster home a chance, Tsuna finally got Lambo to agree. Good deed done, Tsuna helped the social worker process the paperwork and introduced Lambo to his new foster home. Iris seemed like a nice lady, so Tsuna left with a promise to see Lambo soon.

Two weeks later as Tsuna desperately tried to finish his thesis, Tsuna stumbled into the kitchen one morning to find Reborn and Lambo glaring at each other. The scene was downright hilarious to Tsuna; given how little sleep he was running on. Still, tiny Lambo glaring at Reborn who towered over him and Reborn who was very much an adult, acting like a petty child? (That was nothing new. Tsuna knew his boyfriend was a child at heart.)

Later, much later, after coffee and breakfast, Tsuna managed to ask, “Lambo why are you here?”

Lambo shrugged. Mentally, Tsuna mourned that Lambo had become so jaded already. He acted like a moody teenager when he wasn’t any older than seven. “Do you like your foster siblings?” Tsuna tried again.

“Fuuta is weird, but Yuni is nice,” Lambo asked.

Tsuna hummed. “You should bring them over one day. I would love to meet them.”

That got a reaction out of Lambo. He looked at Tsuna with stars in his eyes. “Really?”

“Sure,” Tsuna said. He loved kids, after all.

Reborn would later call this incident the beginning of the end.


That was how Tsuna met Fuuta and Yuni.

The two was adorable in every way possible. (Not that Lambo wasn’t adorable, but this was different.) They were quite polite for their age, quiet too. Fuuta loved to read and Yuni’s favorite color was rainbow.

“You’re really nice, Tsuna-san,” Yuni smiled.

Tsuna returned the smile. “Thank you, Yuni-chan. It’s starting to get late. Why don’t I walk you three home?”

“Do we have to go?” Fuuta asked timidly.

“Yeah!” Lambo said. “You’re the best Tsuna-nii! Why can’t we stay?”

“Because Iris-san is going to worry,” Tsuna said gently. “And I still have homework to complete for my classes. Don’t worry you’re welcome to come over tomorrow.”

The three kids smiled hesitantly. Tsuna felt bad as he dropped them back off at Iris’, but they needed to go home and he truly did have things he needed to do.

Still, there was a nagging feeling that something was wrong that tugged at Tsuna’s conscious. There was something in the skittish way both Fuuta and Yuni tried to stay out of arm’s reach, especially around Reborn.

Reborn was always intimidating and was not the nicest of people, but there was no reason why the kids should be afraid of him. Maybe they picked up subconsciously on the fact that Reborn wasn’t all that fond of kids? Of course, just because Reborn wasn’t fond of kids, it didn’t mean he hated them. He could play with the kids and watch them.

Yuni, feeling brave one day, had managed to convince Reborn into joining her tea party. There were crowns and tiny ribbons bows on Reborn’s curly sideburns as they sat at the table with Tsuna’s good china with orange juice. Reborn graciously (and a tad bit grudgingly) had played with her all afternoon. Tsuna took so many pictures, triplicated the files and hidden them in house and sent copies off to the people he could trust to ensure said pictures could never ever be destroyed.

Reborn sulked. Needy child. Tsuna cooked his favorites all week.


It was the week before his final exams that Tsuna figured out why the kids spent so much time at his house and never wanted to go back to Iris’.

“Lambo, what is this?” Tsuna asked. He gently reached for Lambo’s arm, rolling up the sleeve.

“I fell!” Lambo said, trying to snatch away his hand and tug down the sleeve.

It was too late. Tsuna had seen it. His stomach dropped as he recognized the dark purple bruise shaped like a hand. Tsuna had spent his entire childhood dealing with bullies. He remembered all too well what a bruise looked like from a fall and what a bruise from someone grabbing you looked like.

Tsuna exploded. He didn’t really remember what exactly had happened. Due to revising his thesis and studying for his exams, Tsuna had been running on practically no sleep. He vaguely remembered yelling at Iris and calling the police. There was a whirlwind of paperwork and social workers who apologized over and over again. There was crying and tears and Tsuna refused to let the three kids out of his sight.

At one point, Reborn slid a stack of papers across the table and Tsuna, exhausted, had signed it.

Between the police reports, the court trial, defending his thesis and passing his exams by the skin of his teeth, Tsuna collapsed onto bed one day, completely exhausted. He rested his arm over his eyes and thought of kids in the guest bedroom next door and the way they had curled up against each other.

“How am I supposed to let those three go back into foster care?” Tsuna wondered. “How can I trust whoever is gonna take them in?”

“I suppose it’s a good thing this came in,” Reborn said, handing Tsuna an envelope.

Curious, Tsuna opened the letter… and shot up straight. “Reborn,” Tsuna said faintly. “When did we become licensed foster parents?”

“What did you think you were signing?” Reborn asked, amused.

“I love you,” Tsuna said, breathless and in wonder. Reborn was amazing. How did he ever deserve a wonderful boyfriend like Reborn?

“I know,” Reborn said, smirking. “Now sleep. You can tell the kids tomorrow.”

If Reborn thought it ended there, he would be sorely mistaken.

(This was Tsuna.)


I-pin came next.

Reborn gave Tsuna a withering glare and Tsuna meeped and resigned himself to sleeping on the couch for the next week.

It wasn’t like Tsuna planned on picking up another kid.

(Until he did.)

(It was worth it.)

The thing was, Lambo knew I-pin from when he was living on the streets. With broken words that Tsuna could only half understand, I-pin explained that she had been abandoned by her family who didn’t want her.

The end result was another trip to social services. Tsuna was getting really familiar with them. Haru just pulled out a file of blank forms for Tsuna to fill out the minute Tsuna walked in, carrying I-pin in his arms. (Haru was a lifesaver. Tsuna hated paperwork with passion.)

“Hahi! Who is this cutie?” Haru asked.

“I-pin!” I-pin chirped.

“At this rate you’ll have enough kids to open your own school,” Haru joked.

“Ahaha,” Tsuna laughed.

Later, much later, he would blame Haru for planting the idea in his head.

(Thankfully, Reborn never figured out that it was Haru who started it all.)


Summer break flew by too fast. Tsuna, unfortunately, didn’t get any offers to teach. It was a bit of a blessing in disguise as he tried to figure out how to enroll his four kids into public school.

Needless to say, after the two weeks of schooling, it was a disaster. Lambo got into fights; the school was already thinking of expulsion. Fuuta was so withdrawn; he didn’t connect to any of his classmates. I-pin got teased due to her thick accent that no one could understand. Yuni, poor Yuni, had bullies.

Tsuna was staring at everything that was wrong with a public school system.

“What am I going to do?” Tsuna bemoaned to Enma.

Enma was a fellow graduate, also looking for a job, and one of the many friends Tsuna managed to make in college. Tsuna and Enma had bonded over their love of teaching and kids and the fact that they both had been ‘no-good’ students and frequent bullies’ targets in middle schools.

“I don’t want to break up the kids up, but I-pin really needs a school that can understand what she’s saying,” Tsuna said. “It’s hard finding a school that has a good anti-bullying policy in place. I mean it’s there in place, but public schools are so swamped with so many students, it’s hard for them to actually enforce it. I’m not having Yuni suffer the same thing we went through.”

Enma nodded. “Yeah, Mami could benefit something like that too,” he said. Mami was Enma’s little sister, about the same age as Fuuta. She was terribly shy for her age.

Tsuna groaned. “I don’t even know what to do with Lambo and Fuuta. Lambo won’t tell me why he keeps getting into fights and Fuuta, it’s the after effects of being under Iris’ neglectful and abusive care for so long.” He snarled the last part of the sentence out. Fuuta had been under Iris’ care the longest.

“I need school that’s multi-language and is properly equipped to deal with kids who suffered sort of trauma,” Tsuna said. “Except that kind of school doesn’t exist.”

“Well,” Enma said. “You could always start your own.”

“That is an excellent idea!” Tsuna said.

So began the start of Tsuna’s School of Awesomeness (name subject to change.)


Reborn was skeptical.

“You want to start a charter school?” Reborn asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes…?” Tsuna asked.

“Why not homeschooling?” Reborn asked.

“Because that isn’t enough,” Tsuna said.

“Fair enough,” Reborn said with a shrug.


For the record, starting a charter school was hard.


It turned out the easiest part of setting up the charter school was hiring the teachers. (The hardest part was finding a building, but Reborn took care of that and not even two weeks later they had functional building with tons of classrooms. Tsuna learned not to question his boyfriend’s methods.)

See, Tsuna met a lot of people at college. His friends, while insane and destructive, where actually qualified to teach. (He was a little surprised that they were all qualified to teach, but well, at the same time it fit right into their quirky personalities.) To be fair, Tsuna used the term friends rather loosely. Over half of the people Tsuna knew, terrified him.

Gokudera quickly applied for the position to teach science classes. Yamamoto laughed and said he would take history. Ryohei claimed PE. Enma smiled and said he would handle math. Dino, who was like an older brother to Tsuna and was actually teaching at a different school, quit his job and took up the position of English teacher for Tsuna’s new school.

Hibari submitted his resume for the Chinese teacher position.

Tsuna had a small heart attack when he got Hibari’s resume.

(Tsuna’s relationship with Hibari could best be described as an angry porcupine who took a liking to a cowardly lion. It was an absolute mess. It didn’t even describe how they first met. It didn’t cover the complex relationship they had. People were confused and screaming. Tsuna spent his entire college life being called on by frantic faculty members and students alike to calm Hibari down. College was amazing. College was crazy.)

It didn’t really compare to the next resume he received: Rokudo Mukuro.

Tsuna actually paused, walked away from the resume and decided to cuddle with Reborn for the rest of the day.

There were stories about Rokudo Mukuro. He had graduated a year and half before Tsuna and Tsuna had never really met him (too busy making sure Gokudera didn’t accidently blow up the school, that Yamamoto didn’t start importune baseball games in the hallway, keeping Hibari happy, Ryohei from starting boxing matches with everyone he met, basically running everyone’s lives but his. Tsuna had Reborn to keep his life on track.).

But there were stories.

So he had Lal check Mukuro out and met with the man himself. It turned out he was a foster parent too, with three kids under his care who adore the world out of him. Ken had a temper issue, Chikusa was as quiet as Fuuta and Chrome was an adorable angel.

Mukuro was a bit… odd. And it turned out he and Hibari hated each other upon sight. But Tsuna decided to bite the bullet to hire him. They needed more teachers with language requirements. Only Hibari, Dino and Gokudera could teach secondary languages.

Their staff rounded out with Haru, who left behind her social services job, Kyoko, Ryohei’s sister as their councilor, and Shamal, one of Reborn’s acquaintances, as their school nurse. Tsuna picked up one more councilor, a man named Lussuria at the recommendation of his uncle’s husband. (“VOIIII BRAT LOOK AT THE PEACOCK’S SHITTY RESUME!”)

Their board of directors held a wide variety of people of highly volatile personalities. Hana, Ryohei’s wife, who was an amazing lawyer and took care of all the legal paperwork and tightened up their charter. Uncle Xanxus who had taken over the Varia Branch of the family business, showed up one day, demanded a position, and told Tsuna that Fran, his adopted son would be joining this school and that this school better be the best school in the entire nation or else. He wouldn’t accept anything less. Reborn took the last seat (and Tsuna took a brief moment to mourn for poor Hana’s sanity). It wasn’t all that surprising. After all, Reborn held a doctorate in math and occasionally taught at the local university whenever he wanted to change things up and the business world wasn’t being cut-throat enough for him.

“What are you teaching, Tsuna-nii?” Lambo asked.

Tsuna blinked. Oh. He hadn’t taken into account what role he would be playing in this school. “Umm…”

“Tsuna will be the principal,” Reborn said. “Which means if you ever get sent to the principal’s office, he will be very disappointed in you.”

Lambo, Yuni, I-pin and Fuuta looked at Reborn with looks of horror. “We’ll behave, Tsuna-nii,” the three chorused together.

Well, that was one way to do it.


After six months of red tape, paperwork and coordination, Oozora Academy finally opened.

It was the best and worse idea that Tsuna had.

He didn’t regret one thing about it.

(Until he did.)


-cries- This fic came out three times longer than it should have been. -aggressively stuff as much backstory as I could into this- -sigh-

Here are some more backstory elements that didn’t make it into the fic.

- Hibari and I-pin: I-pin adores Hibari. Hibari has a soft spot for her and began taught her martial arts to defend herself. Tsuna is both horrified and please by this. On one hand, when I-pin finally starts dating this means any significant other will have to be fully vetted by both Reborn and Hibari. On the other hand, this I-pin will be able to 'bite to death’ anyone who bothers her.

- Students and Teachers alike get sent to the principal’s office due to their behavior.

- Hibari and Mukuro: Hibari was horrified when he found out Tsuna hired Mukuro. Also the drama clubhouse didn’t make last past the first day.

- Reborn offers after school tutoring. Tsuna suspects his grandfather isn’t challenging Reborn enough at work, if Reborn is willing to spend time with the kids. (This is not inaccurate.) Reborn just really likes the chaos that the school generates.

- Lal and Colonnello are married and have a kid named Basil who also joined the school.

- The school charter says they’re suppose to be helping kids work through their traumas. Tsuna thinks they’re scarring the kids in a different way. What was he thinking, opening a school?

Take Me to Church - Punk!Sean x Preacher!Felix

//Damn it after writing this I want to do a whole fic and more chapters on it x3 idk anyway here ya go~ Also the only church I have been to is my 1 were swollen one so… that how he is going to go k? k!
Warnings: Religion, Heated making out, (like pg 13 but you’re going to read it anyway, so I don’t know why I bothered putting warnings)

   Felix didn’t have a thought on his mind besides getting to church on time to give the sermon, he didn’t want to get transferred to a different church so he usually go there early, however you could see this Sunday morning he people, his outfit wasn’t put on neatly, and now that in the preachers room of the church he was rushing to get the robes on over his outfit as the altar boy questioned him about why he was late. Felix ignored the boy.
“Timmy, I was just running late, go to the back of the church and with other boy and wait for me to go there so we can talk up,” Felix said.
The young brunette boy scowled and left to join the other alter boy outside. Luckily Felix supposed no on would notice he was late, the lead prayer lady was still leading the rosary, they were on the last bead he grabbed the black bible and walked out to the back. Glancing up at the organ lady once the prayer was finished and nodded for her to start the music, she did and Felix started walking up. He made it a habit of never looking at anything but the cross until he got up to the podium then he would look at the church attendees, but some dark green caught the corner of his eye, cause him to glance that but then look right back at the cross, telling himself that he would look at the definitely new person when he got up there.
Once he was able to look at the people his eyes darted right to the source of green hair, black jacket with spikes on the shoulders, darkly colored green hair, a band shirt under the jacket, gauges, some tattoos showed on his hand, probably the type to have a sleeve all done up. This wasn’t a regular churchgoer, he didn’t even look like he wanted to be here, he was guessing the women next to him was his mother who forced him to go even though he looked about as old as Felix.
Something about the boy made Felix nervous but he went on with the sermon anyway, stealing glances every now and then toward the boy. At one point their eyes met and the green haired boy smirked at Felix causing Felix to get flustered and lose his place in the scripture this seem to only make the boy smiled more. The blond male coughed and said a sheepish sorry for losing his place before starting where he knew he had left off.
The communion came and most people now usually didn’t like the preacher putting the eucharist in their mouths however some of the old people like it the old fashion way, it didn’t bother Felix either way. The green haired male smirked at him opening his mouth and waiting for the flustered preacher to put the small cracker in his mouth. Felix did so, knowing he couldn’t lose his cool in front of people once he did so the green male made it a point to lick Felix’s thumb that had lingered there a second too long. The poor preachers face had to bed red as a beat by now. He calmed himself and he finished up the church sermon. Few people during the end would stay to pray or maybe talk to him he said goodbye to people at the door having simple conversations about the sermon and answering questions. The altar boys were already out the door saying goodbye to Felix by the time he was able to go back in.
Four people were sitting in different spots in the pews but his eyes only landed on the one, the dark greened haired male, who wasn’t praying, nor was his mom by him anymore. Felix swallowed hard and went to the back preacher room, people were allowed in there if they needed to talk to him and he all of a sudden he hated that when he turned around to footsteps and the door opening and saw the green male.
Why did this male make him so uneasy?
“Hey! Long time no see Father” the male seemed to snicker at calling him ‘father’ something his regular church attendees would sometimes call him, but this male made him uneasy.
“Hello you must be new to the parish, I’m Father Kjellberg, but most people call me Felix here” He introduced himself “I’m sorry but do I know you?” he asked.
The green male stalked closer causing the preacher to walk back into the wall. A hand went on either side of him and Felix couldn’t say anything, he felt like a kid in public school again, trapped between the wall and a crowd of bullies begging for a teacher to look that way and notice he was in the middle of all of them. Except for this time he was a fully grown man, and slightly taller than the other male yet still as equally as scared by the situation he was in.
“Felix I’m offended that you don’t remember me,” The other male said with a soft smirk “Sean from church camp, I guess it been quite a few years so… I should expect you to recognize me though… you’re oddly still the same”
Felix’s eyes went wide at the memory of Sean flooding back, ones he had pushed down.
“Oh.. Wow S-Sean you’ve c-change,” Felix said with a nervous chuckle.
“Not really” he smirked his hand going up and running it down Felix’s stubble “I mean my looks have changed and maybe some other things but… other than that not really”
Without another work Sean’s lips were on Felix’s, keeping him pinned against the wall. As much as Felix wanted to he couldn’t bring himself to push the other male away, this was bad if someone knew about this… it’s one thing if it’s a woman, but this… a man… yet still he kissed back.
Sean pulled back with a smirk.
“Remember Felix, when we were sixteen, you use to love it when we would sneak behind the shed and make out, you’d be so whiny begging me to touch you, what’s that matter? big preacher man going to act like he doesn’t want me now?” Sean smirked.
Felix was going to reply fight back against the accusations, but Sean’s lips were on his again this time rougher more determined to make Felix break, to make Felix whine and moan like he use to. Sean really wanted to hear the preacher beg, beg to sin with him. Sean tried to get the other male to let his tongue in but to no avail, he took his hands on the wall and put them on the boy’s side pulling his closer grinding their hips together causing Felix to gasp. Sean took the time to invade his mouth.
Footsteps, panic, and Felix pushed Sean off him, causing him to chuckle and looked at Felix, he stepped away and Felix tried to catch his breath as he saw one of the nuns Sister Abby come in. She looked at the two with suspicion in her eyes.
“Sorry Father, am I interrupting something?” she asked hesitantly.
“No, I was just leaving” Sean smirked looking at the mess he made of Felix.
The Preacher was flushed, lips were swollen, from his abuse on them, and all flustered from what just happened.
“We should catch up more when you have time Felix” Sean smirked “I’d love to… talk again” he walked out nodding his head politely at the nun as he left.
Felix took a couple deep breaths.
“Someone you know Father?” Abby asked.
“Yeah… uh… We use to go to Church Camp together… he was uh- a pretty good friend I guess you could say” Felix explained trying not to sound like an idiot “Was there something you needed Sister?” he asked straightening himself out.
Felix listened to Abby as she talks but he felt burning when the other male had touched, he body was hot, he hadn’t felt this way since church camp eleven years ago. He shook his head a bit, he had a lot of praying to do now, maybe even more so since he enjoyed it.

Pynch au

Part 2 is here

-Imagine Adam as a school teacher

-A recently qualified teacher in his first full time teaching job at a nice little school

-The same nice little school that Ronan drops Opal off at every weekday morning at nine o clock on the dot

-Ronan might not have been all that interested in his own education, but the education of his dream child is something he takes very seriously

-Opal has only the best school supplies, has a set bedtime every week night and always has a nice bowl of fresh fruit in the morning before being dropped off. She deserves the best and she will get the best

-Her first day in her new class is super scary, but Mr. Parrish is the nicest teacher she has ever had.

-He talks softly to the kids and never raises his voice, even if they get a bit unruly. He teaches them fun games to remember their times tables and lets them colour in their worksheets if they finish early.

-His classroom is one of the nicest in the entire school.

- Artwork the kids have made for him hangs proudly on the wall behind his desk, colourful posters with facts are pinned on the others and there is even a quiet space at the back of the room where upset kids can go to calm down. It is separated from the rest of the class with one of those room dividers and has lovely soft cushions and teddies.

-Opal loves her new teacher so much and can`t stop telling Ronan all about him.

-“Today Mr. Parrish gave me three gold stars and told me my work was super good.”

-“Mr. Parrish said we can bring in toys or games on Friday if we all behave for the rest of the week.

-"He is the best teacher I`ve ever had. I think you`d love him too, daddy. He`s so nice and kind and smart and fun. It`s parents evening coming up and I can`t wait for you to meet him.”

-Parents night comes round and Ronan is looking forward to finally being able to meet the famous Mr. Parrish for himself

-When they arrive on Friday evening Ronan doesn`t even need to follow the signs that have been put up, because Opal is in such a hurry for him to meet her favourite teacher. She grabs his hand and drags him down the halls and into the classroom

-Dusty brown hair, blue eyes, delicate face and sunny smile. Not what Ronan was picturing at all.

-He was imagining some kind older man, maybe middle aged with grey streaks and laughter lines. Not this attractive young guy who couldn’t be much different in age to him.

-Ronan certainly wasn`t what Adam had pictured either.

-Shaved head, piercing eyes, expensive looking leather jacket and boots.

-Opal said they lived in a pretty house surrounded by fields and cows, but this guy that had just walked in didn`t looked old enough to be her father, and far too fierce to be a humble farmer

- After a moment to gather his thoughts, Adam offers his hand for Ronan to shake and introduces himself with a smile. Then he offers his hand to Opal, who pokes at it instead of shaking it whilst giggling happily.

-“You must be Mr. Lynch then? I`m your daughter`s teacher. Please have a seat.”

-They begin talking about Opal.

-Her schoolwork is great, especially  her projects on nature and science, because hello, she has hooves and lives on a farm. Her behaviour is normally great, though she does have a problem with sometimes speaking out of turn if she is really excited about the lesson.

-They bump into each other again a few days later when Ronan is dropping off Opal`s sports kit that got left in the car.

-He`s handing it into reception just as Adam is leaving the staff room

-They get talking and Adam ends up being a few minutes late back to his class after break.

-When picking Opal up that afternoon, Ronan ends up having to go into the school to look for the lunch box she has left.

-He finds the lunch box, but she has wandered off.

-He finds her halfway across the room in front of the teacher`s desk, talking to Adam about how wonderful her dad is and how much he likes him.

-If he could, Ronan would vanish on the spot. His face is red and his ears are burning for goodness sake!

-He hadn`t even mentioned Adam in front of her, but he did spend some time talking to Blue and Gansey about the cute teacher with the smile and the hands over the weekend when she was supposed to be in bed.

-Adam smiles when he sees him walk over, scooby-doo lunch box in tow, and tactfully changes the subject.

-“Why don`t you go and get your art project from your drawer to show your daddy?”

-Once Opal has scurried off they end up agreeing to go and get a coffee sometime

-Ronan has no idea how it happened. One minute he was doing his best tomato impression and babbling about nothing, and the next Adam Parrish was writing down his number and telling him about this quaint little coffee shop he knew

-Ronan drops Opal off with Blue and Gansey on the day of their first date

-They have a wonderful time

-She shows up to their second one and they go for a walk in the park and feed the ducks

-Their friends tease them about looking like a cute little family already


Requested By @wonderfullifeofisabella

The entire weekend Stiles was acting odd. Normally he’d wrap himself up in a blanket and invite you to sit on his lap, Scott would lay the length of the sofa with his feet balancing on the arm rest next to you.

Instead he stared straight ahead crammed between Scott and the end of the sofa as they watched one of the movies they saved for when you weren’t at Stiles’. From there it got worse, no texts to check you were getting around ok on your own, no suddenly flailing Stilinski falling through your window to check if you were still alive.

“Hit him.” Malia muttered.

“I’m not hitting him for ignoring me.” You sighed.

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