countless chances

As the midnight’s silence comforts me, for the first time after that 1AM phone call, I felt relieved. The storm is over, it may have crushed the life out of me but it also gave me countless chances to redeem myself from the pain that was holding me down. After this night, nothing will be the same anymore but I’ve accepted it completely. I’d like to believe that things will get better in due time. Love is the strongest healing force in the universe and I’ll let it heal my wings. There’s no skipping the pain of saying goodbye but there will always be hope for those who believe. It will all be better tomorrow..
—  d.r.n
Over (part 1)

  Everything is coming to a startling end for Harry and Y/N. It’s really over?

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize for this one. Harry HAD been gone for a long time and I was feeling some type of way about it…


    When had it become so one sided? How long had it hurt so badly? Since when were you the one making all the effort, and why haven’t you felt it until now? It was all crashing down. Crumbling, burning, incinerating. Screaming and rumbling– but you were silent. Words were caught in your throat, they didn’t dare escape. 

    “’M sorry. I just can’t….” Harry interrupted, his voice fuzzy coming from the phone. Always from the phone. 

    “It– Yeah..Alright. Maybe next week, right?” So badly you wanted to hide the realization in your voice, but it made itself known anyway.

    “Y/N,” He began, but never finished. Even he knew that his argument didn’t stand a chance. 

    After countless moments of silence, ones that you spent hoping and praying Harry would come up with a compromise, he ended the phone call with a promise of he would call later. Of course he would, but how much later this time? Hours? Days? Weeks? It had turned into this now– a waiting game. 

Keep reading


Rating: SFW
Pairing: Ichabod/Abbie, one-sided (or is it?)
Summary: A little deleted scene right after the Season 2 finale. Much guilt, much pining, and much guilt about the fact that he’s pining.

“Look,” Abigail says quietly, breaking the heavy silence that has accompanied their drive back to the archives. “I know it’s not going to make you feel any better, but I don’t think it was really Katrina at the end. Nobody goes from zero to genocide that fast. I think Henry got to her, and he did his War thing on her, and she just… wasn’t in there anymore.”

“You are correct, Lieutenant,” Ichabod says, the words edged with a bitterness directed not at her, but at himself. “The idea that I sired a creature so black of heart that he could twist his mother’s love into a weapon with which to rape her mind gives me no comfort.”

“Hey,” Abigail says firmly. “Don’t do that. You had nothing to do with how Henry turned out.”

“Yes, that is rather the problem.”

Abigail lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, yes, if you’d been there to raise him, Henry might have been a nice, normal guy and lived a nice, normal life. But you weren’t given that option.” She takes his hand, and he turns to meet her gaze. Her large, dark eyes glisten like precious gems in the glow of the streetlamps, and he quickly averts his own, ashamed. “This is not on you.”

Ichabod swallows. “If I had tried harder, fought longer to reach him–”

“You tried your ass off, Crane,” she interrupts. “You both did. He had countless chances to change, and he didn’t. And as much as Katrina wanted to believe he had some good in him–”

“It was precisely that belief that allowed him to claw his way into her mind,” Ichabod finishes grimly. How desperate Katrina had been to see the good in their son. How easy it must have been to turn that desperate hope against her.

His stomach churns at the very thought.

“I failed them.”

Abigail makes some manner of objection, but Ichabod knows the truth of it. What is it, if not his failure as a father, that allowed his son to grow into a monster? What is it, if not his failure as a husband, that made him unable to protect his wife from the beast that was once Jeremy Crane?

But how could he not have failed her, he thinks ruefully, when he has made such a mockery of the sacred vows he took? When with each new dishonesty, each new secret brought to light he has felt his love for her trickling away like sand between his fingers, no matter how fiercely he tries to grasp it?

When he has, with increasing frequency, entertained the pernicious notion that the touch of destiny he felt upon meeting Katrina was not, as he had assumed at the time, because his soul had met its match, but because it had found the one who would one day deliver him to Abigail Mills?

When even now his heart is breaking for his wife’s cruel fate, but not for his loss of her?

God’s wounds, he is a vile creature.

He covers Abigail’s hand with his own. So small and delicate, her hands. So graceful. He has often fancied them the hands of an elf or fairy rather than a mortal woman. Has too often felt the urge to entwine his fingers with hers, for no reason other than because he wishes to.

“Lieutenant, I–” the words fail him. He clears his throat and tries again. “I must go, I think. Away from here.”

There is a long, pregnant pause. Finally, Abigail sighs. “Yeah. I kind of get that.”

She never asks him if he intends to return. Perhaps she does not wish to pry. Perhaps she does not wish to pressure him.

Or perhaps she knows, as he does, that for her he always will.


So if life is a box of chocolates or the moments grains of sand in an hourglass,

What if our choices’ fulfillment of productive opportunity are feathers in a pillow sham?

Are we bolstered with purpose in each case, or just stuffing meaningless fluff at frantic nihilistic pace?

Are we capturing each seemingly weightless moment to add substance in aggregate measure of collective masses’ gravity,

Or in passive indifference, do we let countless chances blow by like so many farmyard feathers plucked from so many (horrific metaphoric) blundered opportunities -i.e., beheaded chickens?

Even if a feather weighs little, there’s merit in the cumulative mass’ each minute bit- a ton of feathers still measures summed in greater grams totaling thousands…

suffocatingly absurd fluff & nonsense, innit?

anonymous asked:

you preach that everything in skam is not black and white and that we shouldn't make judgments on characters before knowing all the facts, and yet, when you yourself are presented with historical facts that contradict parts of your argument, you revert back to a black and white dichotomy painting everyone who has an opinion contradictory to yours as irrelevant or outdated.

lol thats bc white people have time and again never ever ever learnt from the countless chances they get to improve. somehow, they get 10 times worse. ask any poc, they’ll tell you the same.

You’re Cute - Carl Grimes AU Imagine

Carl had seen her come into the coffee shop a few times when he was there. Then he got a part time job there and realized she was a regular costumer. He took note of that. Then he started noticing little things.

She always ordered a black coffee, he would choose that himself but hey, it was what she ordered. Then once she had her coffee, she’d go into the corner of the shop and sit alone, watching the world through the giant glass windows. He would notice how her nose would scrunch up whenever she took a sip of her coffee and it was by far the cutest thing he had ever seen.

He finally decided to talk to her, like really talk to her, not just take her order and make it. He didn’t know what to say to her though. He didn’t even know her name. She was bound to know his, sense he was required to wear a name tag. 

She came in, her backpack on her back for whatever reason and he could see she already had her wallet in hand. She didn’t carry a purse like other girl. He believed that she carried everything on her back in her school bag, but he wasn’t completely sure. He knew that they didn’t go to the same school though.

“One small black coffee.” She said, looking up at him. She was just too cute. She was taking out a ten from her wallet.

Carl nodded and went to make the coffee before she paid him. As he was making it for her, he was collecting himself. He had to talk to her, though he knew he would have countless chances sense she was a regular.

He turned to her as he put the lip on the cup. “You know, you’re really short and cute and you buy a cup of black coffee everyday, but you make weird faces as you sip it, and you never finish your drink. Are you trying to look mature or something?” He asked her, taking the ten from her.

He smiled as she blushed. She shook her head slowly. He could tell she was thinking of something to say.

“No. I just…” She was at a loss for words. He chuckled softly and put the ten in the register, then got her change. He handed it to her and she dropped it in her wallet. He then grabbed her recite and held it out to her. She took it from him. “I don’t make weird faces.”

“Yes you do. You’re nose scrunches up and you squeeze your eyes closed.” He said, smiling at her. “What’s your name?”

She looked at him, taking a pen from her pocket. She grabs and napkin from beside the register and wrote something down on it. She bit her lip and held it out to him. “See you later.” She said and took her coffee in both her hands, then turned and walked away, out of the shop.

Carl looked at the napkin. Written on it was her name and number and the words: ‘Call me sometime, Mr. Observant’

“(Y/N). That’s a pretty name.” He said to himself. Then put the napkin in his jeans pocket, smiling.

So I was watching Harry Potter, and I realized something. So one of the big things that Anti Regina peeps use most often is that, if Regina were a man she would be held accountable for her actions. I don’t think thats true, I think it just makes her a giant Mary-sue whom the writers for some reason love. So, I decided to use one of the most divisive characters in the Harry Potter fandom Severus Snape. 

- Both had someone they loved taken away from them (though in Snape’s case it was more like who he was obsessed with) by someone else. However, instead of blaming them, they choose to blame children. 

 - Regina blames 10 year old Snow White for the death of her boyfriend, because Cora manipulated her into telling. Even though Cora was the one who actually killed Daniel. Snape blames Harry and Neville for the death of Lily (mainly Neville because if it had been Neville instead of Harry being the chosen one, Voldemort would have gone after the Longbottoms instead). 

- Regina abused Henry emotionally, to the point he went to find his birth mother because his life was so bad with Regina. Snape meanwhile antagonized students who weren’t in his house. To the point Neville saw Snape as his greatest fear, Hermione literally altered her appearance and gets put down constantly, he almost killed Trevor etc. 

- Both were more in love with the idea than actual people. It was shown that Regina loved Daniel, however lets be real here. She probably only loved him, because she saw a way to rebel against Cora. If she truly didn’t want to marry Leopold, she would’ve ran after she sent Cora to Wonderland or when Tinkerbell showed her Robin. She stayed for revenge and afterwards loved the power being queen gave her. Snape was in love with the idea of Lily, Lily was talented, intelligent, beautiful, and Snape put her on this pedestal. If he truly loved her he wouldn’t have told Voldemort about Harry. 

-Snape and Regina abuse the power given to them. Regina had entire villages massacred, just because they hid Snow White or refused to give information about her. She killed innocent people, (Maid Marian) or made their lives a living hell (Graham, Ariel, Hansel, Gretel, etc.) Snape as mentioned before, used his position as Head of Slytherin house and Potions Master to make the lives of his students horrible. Bullying them, trhreatening their pets, taking away house points for minor infractions. 

- They commit crimes but their excused for, Regina raped, murdered, abused everyone under her rule. Snape joined the Wizard equivelant of the Nazis or the KKK, he offered up Lily’s husband and infant son on a silver platter if it meant he could have her for himself, made her son’s life a living hell, made curses that were meant to invoke pain. The Charmings however, (sans David) thanks to the writing have forgiven her and given her countless chances and Harry has forgiven Snape for everything to the point he named one of his children after him. The Charmings and Harry have no reason to think they changed. 

I could go on, but the basic point is, look at the similarities pointed out above. Severus Snape is very much like the Evil Queen, and yet he is one of the most beloved characters in the Harry Potter series. Simply because, like Regina people find a way to excuse his actions. So no, Regina is not excused just because she is a female, Regina is excused because she’s a mary sue and the writer’s pet. 

Tell Me Again How the World Didn’t End

I don’t know what this is. It’s a sort of angsty, smutty (ish) one shot that takes place some time in the near future and has a hopeful ending. Disclaimer: I rarely write sex scenes. I hope I didn’t ruin this one because it’s important to the story and to the characters.

Warning: non-graphic, non-specific references to torture; sex.

This is the tragedy:

Abby has loved two men. She has lost two men. One of them still lives.

She forgets, and then she remembers, and then she rediscovers.

She falls in love in the silent spaces.

The brush of a hand; the weight of a gaze; the hint of a smirk; the presence of a body at her side, at her back, at arm’s length; it’s what he does that paves the way for what he says.

Only he doesn’t say anything anymore.

He speaks often but his words rarely tell her what she wants to know. He is tender, and compassionate, and encouraging, but he’s rarely open – not in the way she knows he can be (the way she wants him to be). He’s frightened; he’s full of guilt and anger.

He blames himself.

The words don’t come, but the love does: in soft smiles, and steady touches, and longing gazes. His movements tell a story in two parts.

I’m sorry; I love you.

What she went through wounded her, but it broke Marcus.

Abby knows a lot about broken things.

Keep reading

The Letter

Summary: It was a letter that was long forgotten and never supposed to be found. But it was. One shot. In the future.

Author’s Note: I have two stories on the go yet this is what my muse wanted to write. I’m not actually too sure about this but I needed to get it out of my system. Now that it’s done, I’m hoping my focus will shift back to the other things I want to write. Also, the summary sucked. It’s a short story and pretty self explanatory.

Keep reading

I love you to the best of my abilities. Expect me to do every single thing just to keep you for the longest time possible. You will see me clingy and needy and protective and jealous. I can be your mom, your sister, your best friend, your colleague. I can be anything for you - a joker when you’re down; a cheerleader when you need encouragement; a fangirl when you need someone who will support and believe in you all the way; a critic when you want to know how others would think about your most recent idea; a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on when you think you have no one else in the world. I am going to stay - if that’s the best thing for you. I will fight for you even if it is a losing battle. You will see me scared of not being able to find you in a crowded place; you will see me wanting and craving for your attention when I haven’t seen you for days. You will see me terrified of waking up and not finding you on the other side of the bed. Expect me to be always on guard for every pretty girl that looks your way or for every girl who calls you late at night or for every girl who asks you out for a coffee break. Expect me to not tolerate your mistakes, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t give you second chances. I can give you second, third, fourth and countless more chances and opportunities to make up for what you have done, as long as it’s not because of the same old reason. I am still going to take you back mistake after mistake, as long as you have proven that you have indeed learned your lesson. But I am not as selfish as what I really want to be. I will still let you go out with your friends, let you party and drink with them because regardless of your mistakes, I can still trust you. I’d still trust you because I love you and I want our relationship to last for a lifetime, or indefinitely.
However, inasmuch as I want to keep you, I also know when to let you go. I love you enough to let you live life the way you want or make decisions and choices your way. I love you enough to wish for your happiness in some faraway future, even if it doesn’t include me. I can hide all the pain behind a beautiful smile while saying my goodbye to you. I can let you go and walk away and pretend that I am happy with my decision as long as you will be alright and become an even more awesome person. I can urge you to find your happiness in another girl, to fall in love with her smiles just like how you fell in love with mine, to hold her hand and never let her go no matter how tough the road to forever would get. I can let you go when it’s time to do so. You might not be able to comprehend how I make my choices and my decisions but you ought to understand that THIS IS HOW I LOVE YOU.
—  (m.b)

things kyle ron did that make him completely irredeemable in my eyes:

  • was an active participant in and/or lead the knights of ren massacre at luke’s jedi academy, killing them all, most likely including children
  • keeps the ashses of enemies he’s killed as trophies
  • murdered lor san tekka without remorse after discovering that he didn’t have the information he needed
  • ordered the execution of the entire village on jakku, including unarmed civilians and children, without remorse
  • was complacent in the destruction of the hosnian system, resulting in the loss of countless lives
  • was given the chance for redemption by his father and actively chose to manipulate and murder him in order to get closer to the dark side

additional shit kyle ron did that might’ve been redeemable if not for the aforementioned shit but definitely isn’t now:

  • made an active choice to join snoke/the dark side/the first order in order to achieve the power he felt entitled to through his ancestry
  • completely and utterly destroyed everything his uncle had achieved and his grandfather had ultimately sacrificed himself for
  • feels the pull toward the light and actively chooses to follow the darkness
  • kidnapped and had poe physically tortured before torturing him mentally
  • paralyzed rey using the force, knocked her unconscious, abducted, and strapped her to a torture chair before torturing her mentally and emotionally
  • flung rey into a frickin tree like a ragdoll
  • hurt finn so badly he ended up in a coma
  • tried to kill rey and then tried to manipulate her into joining the dark side when she refused to die
  • is putting his mother through SO MUCH SHIT

in conclusion kyle ron does not want to be redeemed, i don’t want him to be redeemed, and he doesn’t deserve to be redeemed

We Say Goodbye, One More Time.

Each week, part of my chaplaincy training is to write a reflection on how it’s going. Here’s week number three. Some identities may be altered for privacy. All the writings are here.

When they wheeled him in, the doctors said it was already too late. They put him on an iron lung, and the only thing left to do was let his mother decide on his organs.

He was almost twenty years old, good-looking, tall and strapping, face beat up from meth. His mother had given him countless chances and a free bed, but he relapsed every time, back to the muse and to back alley corners and then crawling home again — and his mom finally kicked him out. Shortly after, he was hit by a car. He probably didn’t see it coming. The driver probably didn’t see him, either.

Someone called for an ambulance and left him there.

The only thing the hospital could do was stuff him full of tubes to keep him breathing. There was no brain activity. His head was held by a neck brace the size of an oven; his bed was a mess of angry plastic tentacles, sprouting and twisting in veiny stubborn circles. I could still tell that underneath all that life support, he was a handsome kid.

In the waiting room, his mom kept blaming herself. “Just one more time, I could’ve let him stay. He wasn’t getting better, I mean what could I do? I couldn’t do it anymore, his eyes were just gone, he was already gone. But I could’ve one more time.”

We brought her up to ICU. She saw her son and folded in half. I had to look away. It was too much to bear, to see the love of a mother who had to say goodbye to her child, and not even really. She stroked his chest, rising with the tide of the respirator; she wept over his tubes and his arms and his face; she finally grabbed at his shirt and kept saying, Sorry, I’m sorry, I would one more time, I would. It had ended so badly. They had said terrible words. She thought she was doing the right thing. How could she know? She loved him enough to set him free, but only love could hurt this much.

I was back and forth in the ICU all day. The mother was still there each time, sometimes crying, sometimes staring at the wall.

The rest of the family trickled in. We sat them down to go over the body-release and cremation. I hated this part. The form asked, “Was he in college? Was he working? Was he in the military?” The mother replied softly: No, no, no. She fell more and more into the seat and her look just killed me. She had wished for something better, every dream she had prayed over her womb to every extended hand for a prodigal son come home, and every part of me wanted to scream her son awake and reach back to one-more-time and mend these shards somehow, but I had seen into the irrevocable darkness that life is unfair and time is relentless and pain is the price you must pay to love so deeply, and still, we have to try anyway, and love anyway, and dream anyway, to the best we know how, whether things will or won’t work out, and we learn to make something of the pieces.

After eleven hours, the mother finally decided.

“Unplug it. Use every organ. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The family, one by one, said their goodbyes. We prayed. We prayed for the family to have room to grieve, to weep, to let go of blame. We prayed for the organs to be used wisely, that it might be a small hint of good in the middle of so much hurt. We prayed for God’s mercy to receive a soul who had never known peace in this life, but would know it now. We prayed that he would finally be set free.

I told him I was sorry. I said goodbye. I wish I could have one more time.

— J.S.

Double Standards

People who hate Electra for being “such a bad person1!1” are hypocrites.

One thing fandoms LOVE is “a bad person” or to put in a non-childish way – a morally gray one or one who has committed crimes. Characters such as Loki, Hannibal, Dexter, Moriarty (in both Sherlock and Elementary), Cersei Lannister, Kylo Ren, Darth Vader, Draco Malfoy and countless other fan favourites can be considered “bad people” (damn I hate this oversimplified portrayal but whatever) as well.

The ONLY reason why all of these characters are fan favourites and get away with manipulation/lying/killing/and hell cannibalism (Hannibal) is because they are white. We live in a world where even in real life white people are allowed to get away with things. The mediaconstantly makes excuses about white criminals such as:

“They were bullied” ; “Poor upbringing”; “The did drugs”; “They are so pretty/hot” ; “They were lonely in kindergarten”, etc.

But at the same time POC people irl and characters in the media are NEVER given an excuse.

People of colour in media and in real life are seen as “bad” BY DEFAULT even for the smallest thing.

At the same time white people are seen as pure, innocent little angels even when proven otherwise. And when they do commit a crime then there is a plethora of excuses and they are “complex” and “precious damaged babies 1!!”.

So the Daredevil fandom is just an example about how art and its followers imitate real life – people of colour are never seen as human beings who make mistakes while white people are given countless second chances and excuses.