silent courage

Young Eddard x Female Reader

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Imagine being married to Eddard Stark during Robert Baratheon's rebellion. 

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\ Request from @zadris /

A sweet fluffy fic, maybe right after Robb was born so ned is married to the reader and they r in winterfell. Just lots of sweetness and happiness :)

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Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto x Reader

Time: Near the end of X-Men: First Class, the night before the confrontation with Shaw on the beach.

A/N: I don’t even know where this came from, but, Warning: this fic does not come with one of my usual happy endings and it is basically a lot of angst.


“You know I can’t stay. This mission of Charles’s- you know I don’t believe in it,” he admits finally, his words heavy with reluctance.

You pull your hands out of his grasp, jerking away from him as you try to process his words- a hard task despite the constant unease of the past few days that has been warning you that something of this sort is coming.

“This is home, we were building a life. Does none of that matter to you?” you ask him, surprising yourself by remaining calm, at least on the surface. One last chance, and oh, how you hope that he will take it.

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Wrong Channel -Stiles Stilinski (Smut)

Originally posted by itsbennystilinski24

Summary: What happens when two hormonal teenagers accidentally switch into a porn channel when they were tug-o-warring the remote?

[[based of this prompt: Muse A and Muse B are watching a movie together, when suddenly an unexpected sexy/sexual scene comes on, causing extreme awkwardness between them, as they are crushing on each other but not yet together.]]

Warnings: The most detailed smutty smutty smut I have ever written.

Word Count: 2564

Grab your bibles and your holy books cause yall about to sin. YALL NEED JESUS!

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Save Me

Crowley x Female!Reader

Words: 1745

a/n: This was originally just going to be a drabble until my friend made me make this into a oneshot. Yay!


Summary: After a fight, you and Crowley spend a few days apart, only to have to come back together through a tragedy.

Tags: The queen of angst, Miss @runodemontio, @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll, @crowleysplaythings, @marksheppardischarming, @bloodysideofhell, @scribe-of-winchester, @crowleycanyounot

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I’m Your Light

Another musing because I’m lucaya trash and wanted to write something other than a midterm. 

Lucas suspects something is going on with Maya, so he decides to investigate and drops by her window around midnight. See what happens during his unexpected visit; set in the fall of their sophomore year.

Brought to you by my ears listening to “Last Chance” by Emily Kinney a million times.

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You know what,
at one point
She probably did
love you back
but she was just
a girl
lacking courage,
inferior to pride,
silent of words,
stagnant with change.
Both too afraid
to embark on opportunity,
to embrace life.
So life flew by
and together you died
while alone
you lived.

anonymous asked:

Can I request Dazai when his s/o says they love him for the first time?

You sure can! ^-^ Ahh, I tried to write this in a headcanon type bullet point format at first, but a scenario just flowed so much more easily. I hope this is good! ~


Your hand tugs at the tan sleeve of the man’s trench coat, your voice slightly lower than usual. He stops in his tracks, turning around to face you with a grin.

“Yes, (Y/N)-chan?”

‘Ugh, I can’t do it… I can’t do it…’ You think, your stomach doing backflips of regret for the situation you’d put yourself in. You had been thinking this over for almost a month now, and you had finally made it this far. What was the sense in backing out now? Swallowing your fear, you take a deep breath, trying to clear your mind of all the negative thoughts that were clouding your vision. ‘Might as well go for it…’

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Dazai asks softly, noting your hesitation. You shake your head silently, gathering the courage to look up at the tall man and meet his gaze. When your eyes meet his, it’s as though they’re searching yours for something, any kind of indication of what’s on your mind. You inhale deeply one last time, letting go of the sleeve you’d almost forgot you were grasping. Your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“Um… I just wanted to say… I thought that you should know that… Argh, I’ll just come right out and say it: I love you, Osamu Dazai.” You look down at the floor, the last few words to leave your mouth barely audible.

“Could you say that again?” He asks in a casual tone. Clearly he either hadn’t heard you at all, or he just wanted to hear you say it again. That little…

“I said… I love you…” Your cheeks now burning, you let your head drop further, desperately trying to hide your face. You hear him let out a little chuckle, and your heart momentarily drops. ‘I knew it. He doesn’t like me, he probably thinks this is hilarious…’

Me?” He asks, pointing to himself with a confused yet still amused expression. You lift your head, staring at him with complete puzzlement. ‘What does he mean, “me?”?’ Your thoughts are interrupted when he continues. “That makes me very happy, (Y/N)-chan! In fact, it’s an honor!” He croons, that usual goofy grin widely spread across his face.

“Huh?” Now it’s your turn to ask a question, your head tilted in utter confusion. You certainly hadn’t expected this reaction, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. Dazai’s, grin drops into a smaller smile, and he moves towards you, taking you by surprise when his arms wrap around you gently. His chin rests atop your head, and several moments pass in complete silence before he speaks up again.

“(Y/N), what I’m trying to say is, I love you too. I have for a while now.” His voice is quiet, the tone that lets you know he’s being completely serious here, all jokes aside. A muffled “you do?” pipes up from below, and he nods his head. “Mmhm.” Though he was good at hiding it, there was no denying the fact that your declaration had made his insides all warm and fuzzy, a feeling he can never get enough of- one he craves, and it’s one of the many reasons he finds himself drawn to you. You made him feel a little less… bleak inside. He was thankful to have you around, and he made sure you knew that. After the two of you parted, you talked in a deeper sense, about each other, about the things you liked about each other. Dazai’s words managed to make you blush, and he reverted back into his goofy smile with amusement, a high pitched voice stating, “Ahh, to be loved by someone this cute!~”. The tall man quite literally swept you off your feet, squeezing you tightly as he spun you around, earning a shriek of surprise out of you.

“H-hey! Dazaiiiii! Put me down!”

When I was shooting Dirty Jobs, I hired a woman named Spanky Taylor to help me fulfill requests from viewers and fans. If you ever asked for and received from me an autographed photo, or a signed letter for an Eagle Scout, it was Spanky who licked the stamp and got it in the mail, many thousands of times.

Anyway, I just finished watching a documentary on HBO in which Spanky appears. That’s her behind me, on my unnecessarily large TV screen. The documentary is called “Going Clear,” and while it’s not exactly an Easter story, it’s most definitely a tale of resurrection and new life. I’m posting this today because I think everyone who has ever been lied to or deceived should watch it.

Going Clear, among other things, tells the story of Spanky Taylor’s escape from The Church of Scientology. Like all Church employees, Spanky signed a “Billion Year Contract,” and pledged her life to the cause. She was, according to her own account, brainwashed, programmed, and forbidden from leaving the property. When she gave birth, her baby was put in a separate location, so as not to interfere with her Church duties. One day Spanky went to visit her daughter. The baby was malnourished and utterly neglected. She was covered with flies, and her eyes were filled with pus and fused shut. Something finally snapped, and with the help of a friend, Spanky took her child, fled from her captors, and never looked back.

I knew Spanky’s story when I hired her, so when I watched her tale unfold on my unnecessarily large screen, I was not struck by the details of her personal ordeal, or by the incredible stories of other members who broke free and agreed to come forward. In truth, I’m no longer shocked by people who choose to follow a charlatan, or give away all their money, or forsake their friends and family to seek some greater truth, or drink whatever Kool-Aid is being served. The right to make bad decisions is an important part of being free. And to be clear, (as it were,) I don’t begrudge Scientology’s right to exist, or their right to separate a fool from his or her money in whatever legal means possible. Caveat emptor. But beyond all that, the thing that really chaps my ass is the fact that our government has enabled Scientology to grow into the colossus it’s now become.

In 1993, The IRS granted tax-exempt status to Scientology. This ruling not only saved Scientology many millions of dollars, it gave them status as a worldwide religion, and dramatically increased their power to recruit more members, or customers, if you prefer. That changed everything. The financial facts are beyond dispute - Scientology is a multi-billion dollar business that sells a tangible service called “auditing.” They also create “auditors,” for a price. Prior to 1993, an auditing session was no different from a tax-standpoint than a session with a palm-reader, a fortune-teller, a hypnotist, or a Voodoo Priestess. It was a taxable event. That’s no longer the case. Today, The Church of Scientology generates billions of dollars in revenue, and pays no tax at all. Zero.

Maybe I’m still a little cranky from the check I just wrote to Uncle Sam. Hell, maybe I should write a book and turn mikeroweWORKS into a religion. Or, maybe not. Either way, for all sorts of reasons, “Going Clear” made me angry, and if you’re offended by bullies and opportunists who take advantage of people at their most vulnerable, and an IRS that seems both craven and manipulable, it’ll make you angry too. But mostly, “Going Clear” made me very proud of my friend, and others like her. It’s a hell of a thing to realize everything you believe is not what you thought it was. And it’s even harder to confess your mistakes to the world and start over. Paul Haggis, a talented and successful screenwriter comes forward, along with a handful of former members and church officials who endured the kind of threats and intimidation that would keep most people silent. Their courage is impressive.

Going Clear is not a blockbuster. It does have star power though, and more than it’s share of heroes and villains. Some of whom you’ll certainly recognize. Check it out.

Happy Easter




WARNING: Explicit language, violence, abuse, triggering situations, etc.

Song: I walk the line by Halsey.


Screams and laughter from other children filled her ears. A little girl with brown hair found herself seated by the old, dirty croaking stairs leading to the backdoor of the playground.

She looked down at the concrete ground brushing her fingers against the little rocks her cheek pressed against her legs.

The sudden impact of the soccer ball against her head caused her to lift her head up and frown, looking around searching the responsable. Her hazel eyes met with his green ones and she stays silent, the courage she had a few seconds ago to scowl the person who threw that ball vanished.

“Sorry bout that, ’t wasn’t meant to hit you in the head.” The little boy says apologetically and she found herself staring at him amazed by his green coloured iris that could be mistaken to blue.

“Um, do you mind..?” He asked mentioning with his head at the ball next to her foot. She snapped out of her daze and picked the ball up but as she was about to give it to him, he was much further than before.

He gave her an encouraging smile as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She swallows dryly with parted lips as her heart thumps frantically against her ribcage.

He wanted her to kick the ball to him.

No one interacted with her except him.

She places the ball down and takes a deep breath as she backs away slightly to speed up and kick it.

The boy wasn’t expecting that.

She kicked it right to the middle of his stomach where it would of landed if he hadn’t caught it, only she knew he would.

“Harry, you coming mate?” One of the green eyed boy’s - who’s name is apparently Harry - friend shouts over to him.

He sends the girl a smile and she can’t help the shy smile forming on her lips in return.

“Wanna play with us? You’re pretty good.” He says genuinely and she was taken aback.

A compliment.

She hasn’t heard one of those in so long. She even forgot that she could do good things.

She was used to the usually insults echoing in her head

She hesitates not knowing if this is a joke or if it’s for real but as she looks into his hypnotizing green eyes, seeing the sincerity lingering in them she takes a few steps until she reaches him.

They walk side by side to the small group of friends.

Her bullies.

His friends.

“The hell Harry. Why’d you bring the white trash here?”

White trash

White trash

White trash

She looked down hiding behind the curly haired boy ‘shoulder as if it was sheltering her from the harsh words.

Harry frowned as he glances down, over his shoulder to look at her. He didn’t understand why his friend were calling her that.

He may be young but he found nothing but beauty as he stared at her sad looking face. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

As school ended he took it in him to get to know her better, therefore he spent his whole day by her side getting confused looks from everyone.

She was coming from a poor family so what?

If only he knew what that would do to him later on.

Rhea, as he learned her name to be, and Harry were inseparable since then. She was always at his house much to his mother’s dislike. She became one of the guys to him, his best friend. He helped her come out of her shell, she was full of life with him. Always laughing and her brown coloured eyes were sparkling like never before. It was all thanks to him.

“Ow, Harry! Get off me! Your fat arse is squashing me!” She yelled as he was sitting on her upper right side while lying on his bed vertically.

He laughs in response as he jumps lightly on her and she yells in protest while trying to push him off of her.

The door of his room suddenly opens as they meet with an unhappy looking Deborah, mainly known as Harry’s mother or Madame Skelly for Rhea.

“It’s getting late. It’s time for you to go home Rhea.” She says sternly. She was never the one to pretend liking someone, if she didn’t like a person, she shows it regardless of the situation.

“But mom, why can’t she just sleep here?” He asks for the nth time and the answer was always no. He thought that maybe if he asked in front of his best friend she’d have the decency to think about it.

Only who was he kidding. His mother despised Rhea and she made sure to show it as much as possible. Hoping that he’ll stop being her friend.

“Harry we talked about this.” She gives him a stern knowing look as he sighs in disappointment and he get’s off of the girl.

She gives him a playful glare as she get’s out of his bed and she glances shyly at his mother.

“Thank you for having me Madame.” She says timidly as she was still afraid to speak in front of other people that weren’t the curly haired boy. Deborah only stares at her with her eyebrows furrowed giving her a mean look. Her red lips pursuing completing her look of hatred towards the poor girl.

Harry didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to her as she quickly walked out of the room, scared of that look, of the same look that her father gives her whenever his mad at her.

She walked out of what she considered being a mansion for her. Harry’s house was heaven in her eyes. The big exterior looking majestic with the beautiful brick, the large illuminating windows. It all looked new, welcoming.

She walked out of the safe looking neighbourhood and took the bus bringing her into hers on the other side of the town. Where everything was and looked like a nightmare.

Houses that looked like they were about to give out made of ancient wood that was now deteriorating, the same look alike wood was surrounding the house in an attempt of it to look like a fence.

The worst of all was seeing her older purple haired sister pressed against the fence while some old shabby bald man, dressed in what was supposed to be a white sleeveless shirt was now a yellow looking one who wasn’t even able to cover his fat belly, was pouncing into her.

Rhea wanted to cry at the sight of that but she tried to look away and run inside the house, the door not being there anymore because of his father who pushed it open on his usual drunken nights.

The interior of the house is even worse than the exterior, it’s like a garbage disposal, trash everywhere, the moth-eaten furniture is barely recognizable. She could hear moans and sounds of a bed squeaking as well as thumping from the headboard hitting against the wall.

She was hoping that her father wasn’t home because he’d be angry as usual hearing his wife moan another man’s name and he’ll take it on his younger daughter.

She was thankful that she ate at Harry’s because everything they had as food - who shouldn’t even be considered as that - was expired or just plain trash that people threw in the garbage. Her curly haired best friend knew of her situation but he’s never been to her house and for good reasons. He didn’t know how bad it was, she was hiding from him as much as possible, until one day.

They were slightly older, in high school. He came to her house despite her telling him not to ever come there. He ignored her warnings and he was heartbroken because what he saw was horrible.

Rhea was on the floor sobbing as her father was yelling at her while gripping on her hair tightly. She had a busted lip, a bleeding nose and bruises everywhere. Whenever it was like this, she didn’t show up at school. Telling Harry once she got back, that she was sick or made up other excuses.

Harry obviously stepped up to the poor excuse of a man and tried to pry him off of her. He couldn’t do anything hence the big age difference and the height difference. Harry was powerless at fifteen, he didn’t have much force compared to the forty year old.

The red eyed man with a dirty sleeveless shirt and ripped pants left once Rhea was lying on the floor unconscious as he knocked her down. Harry was crying at the sight and hurried by her side, lifting her head up cradling it like a baby.

Ever since that horrible night Harry made sure to sneak his best friend in his room as much as he could. He couldn’t risk a situation like this ever happening again.

The amount of time she was spending with him and the night cuddles made her fall in love with him only these feelings didn’t came out of the blue. She had that crush on him ever since the first interaction that they had.

Only her feelings were unrequited, he fell for her older sister. Her 20 year old sister that worked as a prostitute.