time goes by quickly

Thoughts and theories post S307

We got a clue to how the different dimensions work. These three dudes are obviously iterations of the same Rick who all encountered the same event in varying degrees of severity. It could just be that these three dimensions are right next to each other, but the numbering convention suggests that they’re true splits from one original dimension, caused by that event. 

If that’s true, it means that every time a major event occurs, timelines splinter into different offshoot possibilities. The Ricks that stay most “normal” keep their original dimension number and the others take on an iteration of that number based on the level of divergence. This also helps account for how the population of the citadel bounced back so quickly after the massacre in S301. As time goes on more splits in dimensions means a constant influx of more Ricks and Mortys.

Not every rick invents the portal gun. The portal gun is rick’s ultimate source of power and what allows the citadel to exist. From what we learned from the half-truths in S301′s portal gun origin backstory, Ricks ostensibly go from dimension to dimension giving portal technology to other Ricks rather than each Rick inventing it on his own. Plus we saw in the last episode that the Mortytown Rick tries and fails to make portal fluid, and cop Rick calls it out “bootleg,” plus the factory Rick demands a portal gun because he must not be able to make one of his own. 

For the Ricks that didn’t invent their own, portal fluid and guns are regulated and not allowed to all Ricks freely. It begs the question of how many Ricks actually invented the portal gun on their own. In theory, it would only take just one figuring it out and then sharing it with all the others.

More evidence for Evil Morty = Rick’s original Morty. This has been a fan theory since Evil Morty first showed up but after S307 the evidence is even stronger. Evil Morty dodges questions about his original dimension and Rick, instead diverting with “we moved around a lot.” That basically leaves the door wide open for the reveal of him being Rick’s og Morty.

Plus, if the moving around part wasn’t a lie, that means he and Rick skipped universes Cronenberg-style more than once (Rick did say he’d pulled that stunt before). Think how disillusioned just one dimension move made our Morty, it’s no wonder Evil Morty turned into what he is if he went through multiple ruined dimensions. Beyond that, our Morty has been shown to be getting more jaded and downright cruel this season, enough that people were thinking he was turning into Evil Morty. If our Morty has devolved into his current state with just being around our Rick for a few years, imagine how the Morty our Rick was around since when he was a baby would have turned out.

Cop Rick is alive for a reason. He killed Cop Morty and turned himself in expecting to be shot off into space, but in the end he’s released by Ricks under evil Morty’s control. Him being alive still is not insignificant, even if just for the narrative and character implications more than plot reasons. 

Cop Rick’s first instinct is to trust. He trusted the Morty in the room with the crib. He trusted Cop Morty to do the right thing. He wants to believe in true justice and the goodness in people, and acts on that belief no matter the outcome for him. 

The real gut punch is he’s not just an outlier. He shows that Ricks do have an infallible sense of justice when it’s not smothered out by narcissism and nihilism. We’ve seen that our Rick, despite being an asshole, will choose to do the right thing- even if it’s the hard thing- at crucial moments: He puts the collar on Morty instead of himself when they’re falling to their deaths in the void, he turns himself in to the Galactic Federation in order to save his family. 

Cop Rick is still alive because he’s the hero our Rick would be if he wasn’t such a jaded asshole. He’s the proof that despite everything, Rick is at his core trying to be good. Maybe that kind of Rick is valuable to Evil Morty, or maybe it was just valuable to us to see this side of Rick so explicitly.

Evil Morty wants control. Evil Morty is living the ideal Morty existence, in control of himself and the universe around him. It’s all he’d want after a life where Rick was always in control, where he could do nothing to stop the machinations of the universe from nearly crushing him every adventure. As we saw really plainly with Copy Morty, when a Morty gets enough knowledge, experience, and freedom, they can’t stand being treated like sidekicks anymore. No wonder the Ricks put them in a school designed not to teach them to be more competent on adventures but instead to keep them helpless and subservient. 

It’s easy enough to follow the same trend in our Morty. He’s been fighting for more control all season– He chooses not to try to rescue Rick from prison. He’s fine with going against Rick’s plan in the Mad Max world. He’s the one who makes them go on the adventure with the Vindicators (and Rick loses his shit when he doesn’t get to be the only one saving the day anymore). And perhaps most telling, Morty’s ideal toxin-free self abandons Rick entirely and creates a situation where his whole job is to manipulate and control other people. 

Evil Morty is what happens when Morty’s struggle for power goes to it’s furthest degree. He wanted so bad to not be the sidekick anymore that he’d do anything, even if it meant becoming the villain. 

8

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu - Karasuno, Revival!

Backstage
Nekoma practicing their various acrobatics and tricks.  As the most visually acrobatic team, they had it pretty rough with their choreography.

Please do not repost

Expressions of Flavor 맛을 표현하는 한국말

BASICS:

달다 sweet, 

맵다 spicy, 

짜다 salty, 

시다 sour, 

쓰다 bitter, 

맛있다 yummy, 

맛없다 gross.


BEYOND:

단맛 

1. 감미롭다 sweet and tasty

2. 달콤하다 slightly sweet

3. 달콤새콤하다 sweet and sour

4. 달달하다 has sweet undertones

5. 달착지근하다 has a touch of sweetness

6. 들큼하다 unpleasantly sweet

7. 들척지근하다 has a touch of unpleasant sweetness


매운맛

1. 매콤하다 slightly spicy

2. 맵싸하다 spicy and pungent

3. 칼칼하다 very spicy

4. 얼큰하다 quite spicy (usually used to describe broth or soup)

5. 아리다 unpleasantly spicy

6. 얼얼하다 very spicy (lasts for a long time)

7. 화끈하다  very spicy (quickly goes away)

note: the korean language has more than 20 words to describe spiciness, these are just the more common ones. 


짠맛

1. 짭짤하다 slightly spicy 

2. 짭짜름하다 has a touch of saltiness

3. 찝찔하다 has a touch of unpleasant saltiness

4. 간간하다 pleasantly salty


신맛

1. 새콤하다 slightly sour

2. 시큼하다 unpleasantly very sour

3. 시척지근하다 unpleasantly slightly sour

4. 새콤달콤하다 sweet and sour (used more than 달콤새콤하다)

5. 시디시다 very sour


쓴맛

1. 쌉쌀하다 slightly bitter

2. 쌉싸래하다 has a touch of bitterness

3. 쓰디쓰다 very bitter


기타

1. 감칠맛이 나다 tasty (usually describes a savory dish)

2. 개운하다 refreshing

3. 고소하다 savory (usually describes grainy or nutty flavors)

4. 구수하다 hearty (stronger than 고소하다)

5. 꼬소름하다 quite savory

6. 느끼하다 fatty, greasy, oily (koreans often describe non-korean food to be 느끼하다)

7. 담백하다 light, clean flavor (the opposite of 느끼하다)

8. 덤덤하다 lacking flavor

9. 떫다 bitter & sour

10. 떠름하다 slightly bitter and sour

11. 밍밍하다 bland

12. 보들보들하다  soft, tender

13. 비리다 fishy

14. 비릿하다 slightly fishy

15. 살살 녹다 (verb) melts in one’s mouth

16. 삼삼하다 tasty and slightly salty

17. 슴슴하다 lacking salt 

18. 시원하다 refreshing (used more then than 개운하다)

19. 쫄깃쫄깃하다 chewy

20. 바삭바삭하다/아삭아삭하다 crunchy

21. 싱겁다 bland (used more often than 밍밍하다)

Have you always wanted a 1.5″ charm to show off your love for the ship Kallura from VLD? Well now you can! Preorders are now open until May 1, 2017!! If you have any questions feel free to message me!!

Split - Kai Scenario. Part 5

Summary: You have a perfect life. A perfect little house, perfect little son who just went to Kindergarten for the first time and finally your more than perfect husband, whom you love more than your life. Of course that was three weeks ago. Before your husband decided to leave the family.

Word Count: 2076

A/n: I know this is short but I’d rather upload something now and something in a week than nothing at all. It hasn’t been the best times for me on this blog lately but I can’t stop writing this story for myself and you guys…

MY MASTERLIST  

(For mobile)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

i’m sorry tumblr won’t let me add “keep reading”


Originally posted by dazzlingkai

I recommend rereading part 4 before starting this chapter!!!

You wake up on a Sunday morning with a sigh. Now you perfectly understand the meaning of that one saying. As if you’re a schoolgirl and it’s finally the last day of your holidays. But in your case you haven’t missed what’s to come even for a bit.

But this time, you decide not to sulk and make the most of the day which will probably be the last one you’ll ever spend with your complete family. Negative thoughts try to find their way into your mind but this time you do your best to keep them out and just enjoy last Sunday you’ll spend happily.

You won’t ruin it.


You quickly get out of the bed. this time you don’t wake up next to your almost ex-husband which is quite a disappointment, but then you sneak a look inside Tae’s room and see him hugged by his father in sleep. And it’s quite enough for you. You can share Jongin with your son even if you’re very selfish.

You don’t lose time swooning over the perfect picture and step inside the bathroom to get ready for the day. After washing up and putting on a comfortable sundress, you head to the kitchen. You plan to make this day perfect for everyone and in your family’s case that means food.

Although you like the thought of healthy diet, the thought of Jongin and Tae’s happiness when they see fried chicken for breakfast is enough persuasion you need.

Time goes quickly while you do everything to make sure that the “breakfast” table is flawless. And just when you’re about to put the last plate on it, you hear footsteps and soon both of your favorite boys step inside the kitchen. You don’t know who’s more excited when seeing what they’re about to eat.

“You’re just in time for breakfast.” You say with a big smile, even though it’s already half past two in the afternoon, it’s normal with Jongin and Tae who goes after his father in everything.

“The smell woke us up.” Jongin can’t take his eyes off the table. “This smells so good, how could we have slept more.” He laughs and sits next to Tae. They’ve both already started devouring the food.

“Wow this is really good.” Jongin comments. “I haven’t tasted anything better for a while, where did you order this?” he asks while handing Tae the neck of chicken. “Start with this.” He adds.

“I made this actually.” You say quietly. Jongin stops and widens his eyes while chewing slowly. “Mommy is the best cook ever, isn’t she?” Tae says with a full mouth. You laugh and wipe his lips.

“Yeah, she is.” Jongin says quietly and you feel your cheeks redden. It’s like you’re returned to high school phase, or just the start of your friendship with Jongin. Not as if you’ve spend years next to him.

Almost an hour passes when the three of you are finally finished with the food. Tae tries to keep up with his dad whose tummy seems to have a hole and is never satisfied. But when the plates are finally empty Jongin suggests watching television so the three of you move to the living room and get comfortable on the couch.

And that’s how the last day (as you hate to call it) is spent. Nothing is special but amazing at the same time. The only time either of you move is to get to the bathroom or get the next fill of snacks. You’re watching cartoons and the Disney movies even Jongin enjoys singing along to.

When the sun is set, Tae runs to his room to get his favorite blanket and returns jumping in his father’s lap. He covers both of them with it and grabs your arm to bring you closer. You’re hesitant at first – you don’t want to make Jongin uncomfortable, but then you see them all cuddly and warm and there’s nothing that can hold you back from joining.

You move closer slowly also getting under the blanket but keeping some distance from your husband but you’re surprised, that when your neck is getting too uncomfortable for it to be laying naturally, Jongin is the one to pull his arm around you and let it rest against his shoulder, right in the position where you can also reach to kiss Tae’s head. You didn’t expect it. Definitely didn’t but for the first time in a month you feel that you’re warm again and you hadn’t even realized how frozen your body had become, deprived of his warmth.

There’s something different about him. Always has been. Just like no heating system can warm you up as well as a walk under the sun can, Jongin’s arms are the same. He’s your personal sun, your only natural way to life.

You can’t even imagine how much you crave for it.

After a while you realize that Tae has fallen asleep on his father’s chest. But you can’t blame him. Jongin is just so warm and so comfortable all you want to do is to finally get the good night’s sleep peacefully for once. But the other part forces you to stay awake to remember every single second of the time you finally felt so, so happy.

In that moment you clearly realize one thing.

He’s here. With a woman who will soon become his ex-wife. And there’s one logical question jumping in your mind.

“Jongin?” you call out, quietly enough not to wake up your son.

“Yes?” he answers, so softly that you never want that sound to leave your ears.

“How does she feel about you being here?” you drop the question, you’re truly curious about. But nothing could surprise you more than what Jongin says next.

“Who?” he asks.

You don’t know if you’re imagining it, or that you’re already stepped into your nightly dream, but you think his fingers are slowly caressing your arm. He truly seems to not recognize who you’re talking about.

“Fei.” You answer with a single word. That name won’t ever leave your memory.

You look up at Jongin secretly and see momentary confusion dwell in his eyes.

“Oh, her.” He adds and stays quiet for a moment. “Well I don’t think she likes that I’m here. She told me not to come.” He says quietly.

Of course she doesn’t. As negatively as you might be inclined towards that girl you understand that she wouldn’t want Jongin to stay over here. But you can’t sympathize when she’s the one going after a still-to-be-divorced man.

Soon after another thought occupies your mind. You know it’s childish to compare how Jongin treats Fei to how he treated you, but she told him not to come and here he is, in your living room. Not once would Jongin ever make you uncomfortable with his decisions when he lived with you. In the good old times he wouldn’t have left you alone like he did with Fei.

You’re absolutely sure of that and that thought makes you even warmer inside. Curling deeper into Jongin’s chest you have no negative thoughts raiding your mind.

 


On a Monday morning Jongin wakes up just on time without the need of an alarm clock. Slowly dressing in his formal attire he proceeds to the bathroom and kisses the head of his son who’s diligently brushing his teeth. Next he walks inside the kitchen and sees her.

She turns around to look at him and doesn’t even try to form a smile. Jongin can see how the light that was so bright inside her eyes yesterday is now completely gone. Breakfast goes in a quiet matter, so unusual to this happy household. Jongin offers to take Tae to Kindergarten and soon sees his son jumping inside his backseat. Moving like a robot she walks over and fixes his tie, he doesn’t even notice it was crooked. Well she was always better at handling it anyway.

Turning around she slides a sheet of paper in front of him, Jongin looks closely and sees lots of too professional words he hates so much.

“I signed it.” she says quietly. “Like I promised. You’re free.” That’s it. just a little doodle of Jongin’s signature is needed and everything will be over. Isn’t it what he wanted? Without a word he slides the papers inside his laptop bag and walk to the door.

Similar to the times before she walks him to the door and just like it used to be usual, he kisses her forehead and says “Bye”. But this time it doesn’t feel like usual at all.  



The day goes as usual for you. Just like it’s been this past month. You go to work, use your lunch period to pick up Tae and chew on a small bun to get you through the day. You make sure Tae doesn’t mess around and does his homework, then you take his hand and go back to the journey back home. You unlock the house, take off your coat, wash Tae’s hands and heat up the dinner you cooked the previous day. As if everything is the same but at the same time nothing is.

Even if usually you always manage to put a smile on your face just for the sake of your son, today you can’t. Today you can’t force yourself anything. You don’t have enough energy. And you know Tae feels it. Not just your feelings but you can see the same mood from him. Your son hasn’t smiled all day and you hate it. You hate it more than anything.

You know what changed. The hope is gone. Even if you spent the month alone you hoped, you wished Jongin would wake up and just come back, for you the bright future of your family wasn’t torn. You still hoped, deep down in your heart. Now you know it’s over. You lost. You lost him.

You finally manage to set the table managing not to break down seeing the number of plates. You will stay strong for your child. He deserves to have you properly functioning. Tae comes from his room slowly and sits down by your low table.

“Eat well, Tae.” You smile warmly and reach to kiss his head. He smiles too. And how can a five year old’s smile even be so full of sadness.

You’re just about to eat when you hear the lock of your front door open. You don’t know what to think. Your motherly instincts are reaching for Tae in case of a burglary. Why would a burglar step inside your house so calmly, it’s irrational you know, but you can’t give yourself any false hope that maybe what you think is happening, is actually happening.

You’re only looking at Tae, afraid to look straight at the entrance and you see your son’s face change. From curiosity to confusion and finally a shy and timid smile forms on his face.

“Daddy.” He calls.

You finally look forward.

“Started dinner without me?”

Jongin is standing with his suitcase, dressed warmly in a winter coat, his shoes are already neatly arranged in their proper place. There’s a small pout on is face for emphasis.

He looks godly.

He looks like home.

Tae looks lost, but you’re sure you’re even more confused. But your son fixes himself in a second and runs to hug his dad, like he would every day. Your son can control himself very well, but you’re sure Jongin can also see just how happy he is to see his dad, home.

You don’t let down your guard yet.

You stay frozen at your seat.

“Ahh, today was such a tiring day at work, I can’t even stand on my feet.” Jongin yawns and takes off his coat. “I’ll go wash my hands. Y/N can you please check my bag? There’s so much trash in there from work, could to throw it out? Or I’ll forget and it’ll stay there for days…” he continues talking down the hallway, his voice slowly disappearing.

I have to add a plate you think, but first, you walk over and pick up Jongin’s suitcase, opening the zip. You see paper, torn to little pieces. Torn so fiercely you wouldn’t have recognized it hadn’t you put it here in the morning. 

It’s the divorce papers.

And even though they’re destroyed, you can clearly see, there’s not a trace of Jongin’s signature.  


any kind of reviews are welcome you know that guys please flood my askbox!

shinee celebrates blingy j’s b-day

onew:

  • oh right it’s blingy’s birthday 
  • they should probably do something
  • blew all the air in the balloons and needed to lie down for a while bc he was lightheaded 
  • taemin keeps rubbing balloons into his hair while he’s resting saying “static electricity woooo~~~” 
  • “this is nice but remember when you guys forgot my birthday last year”
  •  grabs jong by the shoulders “enjoy youth while you can jonghyun *faraway look in his eye* times goes by so quickly” / jong: hyung we’re literally four months apart”) 
  • also his birthday punches hurt a lot wtf (there is also an option of birthday ddakbam but jong’s head might explode if he does that) 

key:

  • kicks jong out of the dorm before the party (“idc where you go you just can’t stay here” / jong: “kibum let me get DRESSED FIRST BEFORE YOU SHOVE ME OUT THE DOOR”) 
  • but tbh what surprises can you plan by now tho
  • he knows that jong knows that he knows that he knows, you know? 
  • blew out the candle before jong could heh heh `ㅂ´ and does it again after jong demanded a redo (jong: omg who DOES that) 
  • jong: where’s my gift?? / key: my presence is your present / jong: ok / key: it’s a lot punnier in english ok 

minho:

  • keeps kicking around the balloons like soccer balls 
  • made taemin sit on the ground with his arms up so he could use them as a goal but keeps kicking them square in his face and not through his arms
  • why is he always on candle duty 
  • the name flaming charisma was never meant to be taken literally!!!!!
  • he found this 5 candle (jong: why is it a five / minho: bc……….. there’s five of us……… and taemin help / taemin: you’re five. call me hyung) 
  • *grabs jonghyun’s neck and slams his head into the cake* (onew: oh *puts down his fork*) 

taemin:

  • forgot to pick up the cake 
  • key is going to kill him
  • he begged him for an important job this year instead of his usual one of just making sure that he does NOT send party details to the 5hinee group chat 
  • may or may not have forgotten to even order a cake at all 
  • runs to the bakery (”hi yes i am shinee’s taemin pls if you love shinee sos i will do ring ding dong rn for your cooperation”) 
  • haha score, got the cake in your FACE key hyung 
  • @ jong “omg you’re so old” 6v6

jonghyun:

  • honestly cannot tell if this day is about celebrating or punishing him 
  • jk he loves his members 

ot5: 

  • jong: “i knew that you guys were doing this”
  • key: “yeah it’s almost like we’ve been doing this 5 times a year for the past 10 years” 
  • jong: “yeah that too but also taemin ran past me holding a cake box and screaming don’t look at me like 20 mins ago”
  • taemin: *fingerguns at jong* discretion is not my forte
You’re Anorexic

*Trigger warning 

A/N: This was a very difficult piece for me to write. Please keep in mind that I am no professional and, by any means, mean no offense to anybody with eating disorders. If any part of this imagine is offensive or taken personally, please message me.

If you are suffering through something this fatal, please contact help as soon as possible. 

- masterlist linked in bio


Time.

It’s a funny concept for Y/n. Between every hour and every minute of the day, there lays a purpose. Every second counts, whether it determines the rest of your life or destroys what’s left of it. For those, time goes quickly or barely passes at all- has no beginning nor end.

It’s relied heavily on, because we all die one day or another, unexpectedly or anticipated, and if a second of time is wasted, it haunts us until our dying days.

Time is the one true consistency in everyone’s life.

When Y/n was younger, time meant everything. She counted the days till her birthday, counted down the seconds to the new year, and dated every special event she could think of. She believed that every second of her life mattered so greatly, that everything she had once known could change in a blink of an eye. Days were filled with bliss, anticipation for what the future held for her. Because she wasn’t getting any younger, and all she could think about how she was one second- a millisecond, even- away from her life giving her a new purpose.

It wasn’t until summer of 2012 when all of her greatest expectations were destroyed in a blink of an eye.

Y/n lost her father.

It happened so suddenly, an unexpected collision during the early hours of the morning. Y/n was home at the time, locked away in her room because she had an argument with him earlier on that night. Because the money situation was tight, it was impossible for Y/n to attend her top choice university. She insisted that she’d take out loans from the bank and pay every bit of tuition herself, but he refused.

She felt as if all her time and effort has been wasted. Of course, there were other schools, but Y/n was too stubborn and so set on attending this university that they didn’t matter half as much as the one she worked for.

She spewed out words she didn’t mean, anger and frustration boiling up inside of her. She had worked so hard for this moment- had worked so hard to make her parents and herself proud, but it all blew up in her face. She had never been so upset before, and it was the first time in a while she started to raise her voice and cry to try and get her way. She would have done anything, even if it meant insulting her father.

He pleaded for her to settle down, because no matter where she ended up, she’d always make him proud. But she wasn’t having it.

“I never want to talk to you again.”

Of course she didn’t mean it, but she just felt so betrayed. And because of how sensitive she was, she knew the grudge she was holding against him was going to last a while.

Already late for his meeting, he sighed and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, the way he always did whenever they were in an argument. It was to show that he still loved her, that he’ll always love her, even when times seemed rough.

“I’m so sorry, love bug. We’ll discuss this with your mother once I get back from my meeting.“

It wasn’t until a couple hours later her mom called her.

She was sobbing, her words jumbled and breath so harsh Y/n could barely understand a word she was saying. All she managed to hear was “your father” and “car accident,” and it was all she needed to understand that her father hadn’t made it. He was never going to come back home.

Y/n spent the next couple of months trying to cope with his loss. She didn’t understand what it meant to lose somebody forever, she never experienced that kind of pain before. It was too much for her, living without her father and watching her mother slowly turn into a lifeless woman.

The only way to cope with all of the pain was to stop eating.

She didn’t know exactly how it helped, but it did. She saw it as a punishment against herself, for saying such horrible things to her father and having him believe she truly never wanted to speak to him again. She didn’t blame herself for his loss, but she carried a horrendous amount of guilt upon herself. So, she began to skip meals, which wasn’t hard because she could barely stomach the thought of food while she was as depressed as she was. And what started off as a coping mechanism turned into something much more fatal.

Now, time means nothing to her, filled with an empty void. Every minute is another minute of being alone- another minute closer to her end. She sits, stares at the wall clock hung perfectly in Ms. Carter’s office, and watches as it passes with every breath she takes.

“Y/n..” Ms. Carter mumbles, looking down at her watch to calculate just how much time has been wasted since their session began.

“Are you ever going to speak?” she questions with an exasperated sigh, long past her patience because all of their recent sessions have consisted of unanswered questions and the same dismal look displayed on Y/n’s face.

Y/n makes no effort to answer her. Her legs stay crossed indian-style in front of her, picking at a hangnail that’s been bothering her the past couple of days. She hasn’t moved since the appointment started, staying in the same position as Ms. Carter asked her questions Y/n was hardly paying attention to.

She’s well aware she’s wasting Ms. Carter’s time. She could be guiding other clients toward the help they need, or simply listening to someone’s troubles other than the horns honking outside and the agonizing sound of the clock ticking further toward the next hour.

Hell, she’s even convinced that she’d be wasting her own time, as well, if it weren’t for the emptiness in her heart. This is the only place Y/n has somebody. Everyone in her life left her, unable to deal with the constant struggle of her eating disorder. Her family, friends, boyfriends; all of them had left her. What was once an attempt to help Y/n recover from her disorder turned into a part time job for them; a constant occupation in their lives to deal with her.

If it was their choice, they probably would have left sooner than they did. But they all gave her pity, only remaining in her life because they felt another person leaving her would push her to the edge- would push her into something far more fatal. Some left without a word, others left with a rehearsed speech about how they didn’t want to see her suffer, that they couldn’t bare the sight of her bones sticking from her body. They couldn’t help her anymore, because they didn’t understand, and they barely have their own lives figured out, so how could they figure out hers? They finished their speeches with a sympathetic apology, saying that they’d still be there for her if she needed them. But they didn’t mean it. She knew they didn’t mean it.

A year and a half into her disorder, with nobody by her side, with not a soul left to help her recover, someone saved her.

Harry.

When he started to get to know her- to listen to her story- he had never felt more remorse for somebody the way he had with her. Such a beautiful and sweet woman has been torturing herself for years all because of the amount of guilt she had at such a young age. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she’s been through, all the pain and hardship she’s endured throughout er life.

She was so lovely, as well, he fell in love with her the moment she started opening up to him. It was easy for the both of them, to talk to one another, simply because there was instant connection none of them could deny. They fit into each other’s lives perfectly, as if filling up the emptiness they both had.

Harry dedicated every part of his life to her, with not a single complaint hanging from his lips. He loved her in ways nobody else had loved her before. He showed it by staying with her, through all the horrible battles she faced. He was patient with her, putting up with her fight against food and reassuring her when she wanted to throw it all up. He was there every step toward her recovery and every step toward her relapses.

It took a long while for her to finally recover. She was eating again; she was healthy again. Her skin glowed with an olive undertone, hair so soft Harry found it irresistible not to touch. Her once twisted thoughts altered to an optimistic mindset. The once beautiful girl he once known developed into an ethereal woman, convinced he was going to spend the rest of his faithful life with her.

If it weren’t for Harry, she wouldn’t have recovered. When he came into her life, she made every promise to herself and to Harry that she would overcome this. She’d continue her battle for them, because she now had a reason to fight. Her love for Harry pushed her to be the woman she became. He changed her- he saved her.

But a year into her recovery, something changed between them.

Something changed in him.

She never felt his love like she used to. He was barley there for her. When he’d come home from work, he wouldn’t call out for her anymore. Even though they were together, she began to feel lonely again. Y/n was convinced he had stopped loving her. She stayed up countless nights, without him, wondering what she did wrong. He didn’t hold her anymore, not like he used to. Before, he’d always hold her, because his arms were her sanctuary and his chest was a bed made specially for her head. His lips only lingered on her cheek or forehead, not in the way they used to. Before, he’d always kiss her lips, because he said he swore his lips were compelled to love hers and said he was always hungry for her love. She fell asleep feeling empty, not in the way she had before. Before, amongst falling asleep, he’d be inside of her, hips colliding with hers because he praised her, and said he’d never love the way he loved her.

But it all ended so suddenly, there was no warning.

She began to feel what she felt with everyone else- neglected.

She felt it was because she recovered. When she was battling her disorder, he loved her because he felt he had to. She had nobody else. Her family had given up on her, her friends left her, and she was left with absolutely nothing. He came at a time she needed someone most. At that point, she was prepared to die, there was no helping it. He was her lifeline, her only dependency, and that’s why he had stopped loving her. He didn’t need to love her anymore.

“I- I don’t quite know what to say.” Y/n mumbles.

She wishes she could tell Ms. Carter everything about it. She wishes she could talk to her like she was supposed to; trust her and open up to her to help her with her recovery. But if she does, she knows Ms. Carter would have to take her to a rehabilitation center. And Y/n wanted absolutely nothing to do with that.

Ms. Carter nods, lips pursing as she places her notebook down of her wooden coffee table. She crosses her legs and arms, back moving to rest upon the black velvet seat she always sits in during her sessions.

“Then why do you come to me, Y/n?” she asks softly, watching as Y/n moves her eyes slowly to her. “If you don’t know what to say, why are you here?”

She shrugs, arms moving to hug her knees to her chest. She rests her chin gently on her knee cap, eyes trained on the window directly in front of her. She watches as cars move during the rush hour, people walking on the sidewalks with a premeditated destination. She envies those who thrive, for she lacks motivation to accomplish her ambitions.

“This is all I have.”

Ms. Carter blinks at her confession, interlocking her fingers together while nodding her head.

She knows Y/n has been different the past couple months. Normally, Y/n talks about her relationship with Harry, how he’s been her biggest step toward her recovery. She talked about how great she’d feel, but was, nonetheless, worried she’ll eventually relapse and disappoint him.

Ms. Carter has had suspicions that Y/n is going through another relapse. However, she knew that if she was, that Harry was by her side at home. It was one of the many reasons she hadn’t taken major actions to help her through it. She knew Harry would do her more help than her, but Y/n kept scheduling appointments that she couldn’t deny.

“And what about Harry?” She asks timidly, “Is he helping you through this time, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes flutter shut at his name. Her hands shake as her fingers pull down the sleeves of her sweatshirt, tugging them all the way so that her hands are completely covered by the material.

“Not anymore.” She whispers.

Y/n’s eyes divert to Ms. Carter’s cautious gaze. Her mouth is slightly parted, almost shocked at the confession she made. Ms. Carter knows the only thing that guided her was Harry. He was her rock and support through her entire fight, and with the possibility of his departure comes the possibility of Y/n going back to where it all began.

“Are you- are you still eating, Y/n?”

Her eyes go back to the window.

Another question left unanswered.


The weather outside is making Harry miserable. So miserable, in fact, he’s refused to move from his spot on the couch for the past four hours.

The house is dark for the mid-afternoon, the gloomy weather making it nearly feel like a funeral home. With no motivation to go outside and finding it oddly comfortable to wallow, he can’t help but to keep his eyes trained on the television show playing in front of him. It’s Y/n’s favorite show- one they watched nearly every Saturday afternoon because that’s when CW aired the marathon.

He still watches it every Saturday. A part of him can’t let the tradition go. He’s somehow convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t, either, and they are some how both watching it at the same time in two different places. Gemma tells him that she probably does the same, as well, but he should try to move on from her; that staying in the house and only doing things that remind him of her is going to edge him to insanity. But oddly, consuming his days with things that remind him of her keep him as sane as he can possibly be.

He sighs, clammy fingers tugging at the roots of his hair as he looks down at his phone for what must have been the twentieth time today. His thumb hovers over her contact number, twitching as he begins to contemplate whether to call her or not. It’s been months since he’s seen her, let alone talked to her. Every second without knowing how she’s doing kills him more and more each time.

To say Harry’s been worried is an understatement. He’s completely petrified.

For the past couple of years, Harry has been through it all with Y/n. He’s seen her at her worst, was there to witness her greatest and most disastrous downfalls and stood by her side during her most amazing recoveries. He’s seen her in all her forms of terrible glory, with bones sticking from her skin and bruises covering her arms and legs. He’s watched her as people began to leave her one by one- a bystander of a broken girl being neglected by her loved ones. He’s seen her fantasize about her end and watched as pain settled in her eyes.

And he just can’t shake the feeling that everything Y/n has built up to her recovery has been knocked down again.

He can’t stomach the thought of her looking the way she did when they first met. He doesn’t even want to think about what she’s been putting herself up against since his departure.

For the first month after their breakup, Harry had called Y/n everyday to make sure she was eating properly. He’d call her before bed, asking numerous questions about her diet and her therapy sessions. What did you eat today? How much did you eat? Was Ms. Carter nice? How are you feeling? It was a routine that was able to keep both of them sane during their separation.

It didn’t last long, however, when Y/n started to finally realize she wasn’t able to move on. Between the constant reminder that she didn’t have anybody there for her anymore and his constant phone calls, she found it impossible to move on from him.

Y/n also began to feel upset that Harry had broke things off with her but still had the audacity to call her. She understood what he was doing. She understood that he was showing her that he still cared and worried for her, but the fact that the only effort he had put into taking care of her was through a phone call made Y/n feel like a charity case.


“I just can’t do this anymore, Harry” she muttered softly to the phone, her fingers halfheartedly fiddling with the corner of the duvet, “You can’t keep calling me when we aren’t dating.”

His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. Calling her before bed was a routine to him now. Talking to her was able to keep him sane, because he was getting the reassurance he needed to know she was doing okay.

In all honesty, he didn’t know if he could go a day without talking to her. Without her updating him, he knows he’d spend every second of his day worrying about her health and how she’d be keeping up with herself.

The phone calls were also the bit of her he had left. If he were to stop calling her, all he’d have left is her empty side of the bed, and he needed more than that. He needed more of her.

“But you need to see that I still care for you, Y/n” he whispers brokenly, “that I’ll always be here to make sure you’re alright.”

“But how do you think that makes me feel?!”

Her voice was higher than usual, a tone she very rarely used with him because he never gave her a reason to be angry. But now, after him calling off their relationship but still having the audacity to call her made her sick to her stomach.

“If you still cared, if you still wanted me, you’d be with me right now! You’re not making any effort to care for me, Harry! Calling me doesn’t mean anything because you’re not here!

He shut his eyes at her words, a pang of guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks. He would be there with her if he had a choice, but their relationship wasn’t working out in both of their favors. In the midst of her getting her life back and him settling in a new job, it was very hard for them to keep up with each other. It was especially hard for him to keep up with her because she seemed to be so content in her new life that he almost felt unwanted.

He still loved her, but he felt like she didn’t want him anymore. She had recovered because of him, and because she didn’t have to rely on him in the way he was used to, he felt useless in her life. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true, that she still wanted and needed him, it still broke him apart.

“You know our relationship wasn’t working out for us and-“

No,” she cut him off, teeth clenching out of frustration, “our relationship wasn’t working out for you. You felt no need to love me anymore, so you left me just like everybody else.”

Harry’s jaw clenches as she speaks, head thrashing wildly side to side, because it’s not true. Everything she thinks, everything he’s made her come to believe isn’t true, and he wants nothing more than to try to make her understand that he’ll always be in love with her. That he’ll always be there for her because he can’t image a day without loving her the way she deserves.

“Y/n, baby, how could you say tha-“

“You need to stop calling me,” she cries, “you’re either a part of my life or you aren’t. There’s no middle ground for you to be in. That’s not fair to me. It’s either you care for me and love me or you don’t.”

Harry’s breath was harsh against the speaker, fists clenched together as he tries to wrap his head around the situation he’s put in.

The hesitation in his answer was enough for her heart to break. The silence between her words and his answer spoke louder than anything he could possibly say to her.

She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t surprised this is how their story ended. Everyone has already gave up on her, it was only a certain amount of time before Harry realizes how easy a life would be without her. She just didn’t want to believe it.

“I get it, Harry” she whispers, sniffling as she runs her wrist along the tip of her nose. “Goodbye.“


He’s been doing this everyday, worrying and contemplating on what he should do. He wishes more than anything to be with her the way she deserved, and wishes even more that he had never left her in the first place. He knows calling her would make her angry because she’s made it clear she felt hurt every time she did so, but he also knows not calling her isn’t fair, either.

He understands how wrong it sounds to leave his anorexic girlfriend of three years, but he felt it was best for the both of them at the time. But now, after months of her out of his life with no other connections to hear from her, he realized how stupid he was to convince himself that.

He’s completely devastated without her.

Living without Y/n wasn’t living at all. The life he experienced with her was incomparable to the one he’s been experiencing without her. She’s the love of his life, she’s the woman who showed him what it truly meant to love and care for someone so much. Of course, being with her wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but loving her was. That’s what made them so real. Their relationship was filled with struggles, messes, and tears, but they were still in love with each other regardless. It was their ability to fight together that pulled them through their most difficult times.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He whispers to himself, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Harry’s thumb presses on the cancel button, letting out a shaky breath as he does so. He feels a tear slowly fall down his cheek, which he’s quick to wipe away with the back of his hand when he hears the front door swing open.

“Afternoon, H!” Gemma greets, hands filled with grocery bags as she stumbles through the front door.

“Bought us some sandwiches. Turkey chipotle sandwiches, to be exact. Figured we could just watch some shows today? The weather is a fucking disaster, it’s making me moody.”

Harry nods speechlessly, his fingers toying with his upper lip. His eyes divert to Gemma’s struggling figure for just a couple seconds before his attention is back on Y/n’s contact.

“Yeah, yeah sounds fine.” He mutters distractedly.

Gemma’s eyebrows furrow in concern over his melancholy tone, placing the grocery bags lazily on the kitchen counter before making her way toward Harry’s slumped figure.

She bites her lower lip at the look of her distraught brother, who’s clearly shown no improvement since his breakup with Y/n. She’s aware that he blames himself for their breakup and that he spends every waking hour of his day worrying about her. No matter how hard she tries to help him through this struggle in his life, there’s always a part of him that will always feel a sense of protection over her.

He’s a wreck, and no matter how many times he tries to deny it, there were numerous nights Gemma would find Harry staring at her contact during the earliest hours in the morning with helpless tears building in his eyes. She’d even hear him mutter apologies to himself, as if rehearsing a speech to say if he ever found the strength to call her.

Who could really blame him, though?

“You okay?” she asks timidly, already knowing his answer but still finding it in her heart to ask.

She would do anything for him- anything to help him. Hell, she’s tried everything. She’s tried to talk to him alone whenever she found him in his darkest hour, even made him cups of tea to help settle his brain. She bought him a journal, in hopes that writing down his feelings will help him recover in the slightest. She even scheduled him for an in-home therapy session, but every bit of her attempts never budged him. He was still the same mess of a man he has been since the day he left Y/n.

Harry looks up at her, nodding his head feverishly when he sees the concerned look on her face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he coughs, looking back down at his phone, “Just haven’t checked up on her in a while. Kinda worried.“

Gemma raises her eyebrows at him, unconvinced.

Kind of worried?” she questions, occupying the space on the couch next to him. Her hand reaches up to his forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead, which slowly moves to his back in attempt to relieve his tense muscles.

“You’re sweating.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his hand reaching to the back of his neck. He nods his head, lips pursing together as he tries to hold back the emotions he’s feeling.

“I feel like she stopped eating and it’s just- it’s just something I can’t stop thinking about, you know? I can’t live in peace when it’s all my head wanders off to.”

Gemma nods her head, her fingers squeezing the skin of his shoulder as a way to reassure that she’s here for him.

She feels awful about how much blame Harry’s been putting on himself the past couple of months. It’s beginning to take a major toll on him, he can barely include himself in day-to-day activities without getting lost in his thoughts. His once well-put-together form has seemed to turn effortless, not cared for in the way it once was. He’s become so disconnected,, she can’t deny the overwhelming concern she’s had for him for the past couple of months.

“I’m sure she’s okay, Harry. I’m sure she’s still checking in with Ms. Carter and working on herself. She’s a strong woman, you and I both know that. Strongest woman we’ve ever met. She’ll be okay.”

She leans over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“And if she isn’t doing well, she would have called you by now.”

But Harry is having none of it. He knows that if she’s relapsing, she wouldn’t have called him. She wouldn’t have called anyone. He knows she feels like he doesn’t care about her anymore- feels like she’s the last thing on his mind. If she were to call him, she’d feel like she was a burden on his life, and that was the last thing she’d want. He knows that.

But if only she knew. If only she knew he can’t sleep at night because all he can think about is betraying the woman he loves, leaving her to fight by herself. Hell, if only she knew he can’t touch his phone without constantly going back to her contact trying to muster up the strength to call her and ask her how she’s doing.

“I was her reason to eat. If she stopped eating, it’s because of me.”

“No,” Gemma shakes her head, reaching her hands up to grab his face to ensure she was looking at him in the eyes, “You can’t put that much responsibility on yourself like that, she had plenty of reasons to recover. None of this would be your fault.”

He shakes his head, gripping the sides of his head as if trying to remain as calm as he possibly can. He wouldn’t be shocked if he lost all of his remaining sanity in his moment.

“I was literally all she had, Gem.” he spits, all the anger and frustration he’s held against himself now unleashing. All the contained emotions he’s been feeling, all the loathing he’s been trying to ignore, is all unraveling inside of him to the point where he feel like he can’t breathe.

“My existence, our future, that’s what she recovered for. Not a second of her recovery was for anybody or anything else.” He rants, breathing harsh as the thoughts rush through his brain. “She had nobody except for me. She didn’t have any friends, any family. She wasn’t fighting when I met her. She was waiting to die..”

“Harry…”

“And I did what I promised her I wouldn’t do and…and now I-”

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to be with her, Harry.” Gemma blinks, shaking her head softly as she reaches to remove his hands from his head, “If you didn’t love her anymore, you didn’t have a choice.“

“But I do love her” he defends, shaking his head, “I’ve always loved her. We had to break up because our relationship wasn’t easy at that time, but hell, Gem, that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving her.”

He sighs, rubbing his sweaty hands over his face.

Tears fall slowly down his face, soaking his cheeks as he inhales sharply. God, how much he fucking loves her, is what kills him the most.

“Me, helping her recover, of course that was a plus. I helped her get out of her anorexia, Gem. I never gave up on her, but I did once she recovered. That’s not fair, I still love her so much. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Gemma frowns, slowly leaning toward him so that she can softly wrap her arms around his shoulders. She buries her cheek against his shoulder, thumb rubbing delicate circles on his back.

“I think you know what to do, H.”


Once Y/n’s appointment ended, she found herself curled up in her bed as the sounds of Harry’s mixtape played quietly throughout the room. It was a tape he made for her when they first started dating, something sentimental for her to hold onto whenever he wasn’t able to be there.

She’s been listening to it almost everyday since the breakup. She’d listen to it mindlessly, whether she was staring at wall or she was listening to it on her way to therapy. It was the only thing in her life that made her feel something; the pure value of it holding so much meaning. The music was the closest she’s been to Harry in a while, so it was her sanctuary.

She sighs, her fingers lightly grazing the window that drips with rain. In her loneliest hours, Y/n wants nothing more than to make her way over to him. She doesn’t quite know how she’s made it so long without him. In all honesty, she expected her to have given up and walk up to his door and beg him for his help. She knows she’s suffering, her body weak and starving the more she refuses to eat. But, to her, she has no reason to. Every bit of love she had for herself and every purpose she had to continue living has all dissolved into nothing.

She shakes her head, unwrapping herself from the blankets she raveled herself in before her bare feet made contact with the cold floor. She decides to go for a walk, or maybe just go out on her front porch to get some fresh air. She thinks it’ll be good for her, after all, she doesn’t have anything else to do besides stay cooped up in her four walls and listen to disgusting love songs.

The second she stood up from the bed, she nearly fell onto the floor. Her head spins and feels obnoxiously light when she begins to stand up properly. It wasn’t rare for her to feel lightheaded whenever she moved too quickly, however, this was the most intense it has been. Holding herself onto the wall, she waits until she feels back to her normal self before making her way down toward her living room.

Her fingers immediately press against her temples when she makes it to her foyer. Her head spins wildly with every step she takes, making her lose her balance once she reaches the last step. Her head hits against the floor, a groan leaving her chapped lips as her body begins to tremble. Her eyes cloud with darkness for a few moments at a time before she regains her consciousness, her sight fogged and lightheaded as she tries to pick herself up off the floor.

“No” she mumbles, coughing as she rushes to reach for her phone.

“No, no, no.”

This has happened to her before. It happened years ago, though, when she hasn’t consumed anything for weeks. The only difference is that she had someone there to save her before. Thankfully, her mom was there at the time and rushed to her rescue. When she made it to the hospital, they said she was near her end. If she had went a couple more hours without consumption, she wouldn’t have been able to make it.

But now, she has nobody.

Her breathing becomes harsh as her body keeps losing consciousness. There’s only a certain amount of time she has before she fades out entirely, and no matter how much she’s tried to convince herself that she’s been ready for this moment, she has never been more scared for her life.

Her shaking fingers reach for her phone in her back pocket. She has to do something and has to do it quick. If she dies like this, nobody would be out looking for her, nobody would find her body. She’d be stuck in this house as her body decays into nothing but bone.

She decides that this isn’t how she’s going to die, because if this is the day her end finally nears, she’d want to spend her last dying breaths with the one person she feels something for.

Harry.

She whimpers, weak fingers punching in his phone number. Every part of her wants him to answer- needs him to answer, because he’s her last bit of hope and she doesn’t plan on leaving it all behind. But a part of her wouldn’t blame him for not answering. After all, she was the one who dropped him from her life completely, which was, quite honestly, the stupidest thing she’s ever done in her life. She practically pushed him away entirely, even when he was still there for her. Even when he still held onto her and cared for her like nobody else has.

And she can’t die knowing that.

“Y/n?”

Y/n swears hearing his voice is everything she needs in this moment.

Seeing her name light up on his phone makes Harry spring out of bed, his hands gripping the phone closer to his ear, as if trying to get closer to her. It’s been too long since he’s talked to her, and he’s convinced he can’t allow himself to waste another minute without hearing her voice again.

But no matter how much he wishes she was calling because she missed him, too, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling that the only reason she called is because she’s in trouble.

“Harry” she heaves groggily.

Her eyes are clouded, the room spinning around her. She can barely move, only the ghostly movements of her lips and the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She’s lightheaded, feeling cold and utterly weightless as her body lays faint on the carpeted floor beneath her.

“Y/n” Harry breathes out, slightly confused and partially in awe at the sound of her voice, “are you okay? I was gonna come by later. Been worried about you.”

“I keep fading out” she whimpers, her eyes closing longly each passing second, “I’m gonna die.”

Harry’s face pales the second he hears the struggling in her voice.

Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. It’s as if the world has stopped revolving around him, his only concern being Y/n and her safety. With her shaking voice filled with fear; it feels as if every one of Harry’s greatest fears are all coming to haunt him all at once. Y/n’s in a great amount of danger, all because of him, and he might not be able to save her in time.

In a matter of a second, working so quickly Harry doesn’t seem to fully keep up with his actions, he’s stumbling down his stairs and at his front door, holding his car keys shakingly in his hands. He doesn’t even bother putting on a pair of shoes or a jacket before he’s rushing toward his car.

“Y/n…Y/n, you have listen to me very carefully.” he pants, slightly tripping over his own two feet before regaining balance. “You have to hang up the phone and dial the police before i-”

“I- I can’t, Harry” she chokes out, interrupting him because she doesn’t know how much longer she can make it. “I’m so weak. I can’t move.”

Harry’s moving wildly once he sits down in the car. His hands are shaking so harshly it takes him a couple seconds to push the keys in the ignition, causing frantic mumbles of c’mon, c’mon, c’mon to leave his quivering lips.

“Fucking shit!” he spits, putting the car in reverse and stepping on the pedal so hard he’s convinced his car will be wrecked by the time he gets to her. But he doesn’t care, not at all.

He puts his car in drive and swerves onto the road, breaking the speed limit by an extra 30 miles an hour. His teeth clench together as his hand wraps tightly around the stirring wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white as he steps down on the pedal harder.

No matter what speed he goes, he has this inevitable fear that he isn’t going to make it to her on time. He feels he has no time- that she has no time- and no matter how badly he wishes he can stay talking to her to ensure that she’ll be okay by the time he reaches her, he knows it isn’t her safest option. He has to risk it, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“You gotta give me two minutes, love. I’m putting you on hold for two minutes so that I can send someone over to you. Do not hang up on me, you hear me? You stay with me. Gimme two minutes.”

He doesn’t give her any time to reply before he puts her on hold. His fingers are rapid as he calls the police, the fingers that are gripping onto the steering wheel tapping along the leather as he waits for the operator to answer.

“What’s your-”

“My girlfriend, please,” he rushes out before the woman can finish, “she’s home alone and she keeps fading in and out of consciousness. I need you to bring someone over to her house please.”

He doesn’t notice how fast he’s speaking until the operator begins to ask him to calm down and repeat himself.

“Do you know any information in regards to her unconsciousness?”

“Yes,” he swallows thickly, “she’s anorexic.”

“What’s the address, sir?”

“168 Williamson Drive.”

“The police are on their way.”

He hangs up with the operator before switching back to Y/n’s contact.

“Y/n, baby, you still there?”

Her body jolts when she hears his voice from the speaker, breath hitching in her throat as she grips onto her phone tighter. She swears, if it isn’t for Harry being on the other line, she would have given up by now. Knowing he’s coming back to her keeps her fighting against her body, which is on the brink of blacking out for God knows how long.

“How much-“ she whimpers as she speaks, eyes slowly closing, “how much longer?”

His eyes wander wildly to the roads ahead of him. He isn’t far from her now, just a couple more turns until he’s in her neighborhood. Working quickly, his foot absentmindedly presses harder against the gas pedal, switching lanes to avoid the cars that are getting in his way.

Shit, baby, you gotta give me five more minutes. I just need a bit more time and I’ll be there with you.”

The five minutes feels like forever.

Between Y/n’s soft crying and Harry’s continuously worried questions, Y/n had already fallen out of consciousness three times. She isn’t positive on how she is able to wake up each time, but she is. Every time she wakes up, Harry is calling her name desperately through the phone, reassuring her that he was going to be there as soon as he possibly can and help make sure she stays safe. However, Y/n is almost completely positive she is going to die. She had put her body through so much for far too long, she doesn’t know how many times her body can keep recovering just to relapse again. Her health was constantly fluctuating between the most drastic lows and highs, there is no possible way it has any more strength to push her through this last fight. There is just no way.

Harry doesn’t have time to turn off his car before he’s rushing toward her front door. His sweating hands slip off the doorknob on his first attempt to open her door, but is quick to rebuttal when he storms inside her house. It’s dark, only a small amount of light illuminating the foyer as his eyes wildly search for her.

She’s collapsed onto the floor. Her skin as pale as he’s ever seen it, her fragile body shivering and shaking against the hardwood floor. Her body looks broken, in a way. It looks lifeless as she helplessly tries to muster any atom in her body to keep fighting for her survival. Her loose clothes didn’t hide how weak her body has become within the past couple of months. There’s still a drastic, evident change in her body frame since he’s last seen her. And if he has to be honest, it makes him feel sick to his stomach, to see the love of his life like this.

And the only thing he can think about is how this is all his fault. He caused all of this, not any of this would be happening if he hadn’t left her the way he did. Instead, they could be getting married, living in their dream home together, cooking on the kitchen stove and listening to their favorite music together. They could be happy together.

But everything is because of him. There is nobody else to blame besides him and his selfishness. He left her, alone, in her most disastrous condition and nothing about what he did is okay, not when she’s like this.

“Baby” he cries, falling to his knees beside her.

He begins to sob as he lifts her up from the floor. He cradles her against him, her head laying perfectly on his chest as his arms wrap security around her waist. He nuzzles his face into her hair, his strong cries raking through him as he holds her tighter against him.

She feels cold, much different than her usual warm touch. She feels so light, too, and so weak as he grabs onto her like she’s his life line.

It’s been too long- way too long since he’s held her so close. It feels as if this is the first time he’s finally able to breathe, to not feel so suffocated in his heartbreak over losing the love of his life. He’s with her now, and maybe not in the best way possible, but he’s with her and it’s the biggest step to help them overcome this. Together.

Her fingers brush against his neck, her cheek rubbing against his chest as she whimpers against him.

Her head spins and her eyes fog as he holds her to him, making it nearly impossible for her to keep up with her consciousness. All she can think is how good it feels, to be with him in her weakest moment. She feels the most alive, even in her time closest to death, being wrapped in his arms and being peppered by his kisses. She feels the safest she’s ever been, and in this moment, for the first time in a while, she truly feels like everything is going to be okay.

“Don’t leave me, please” she whispers, “please don’t leave again.”

His heart breaks when he feels her tears soak through his t-shirt as the words she speaks crack in her voice.

He’d never leave her, never in his wildest dreams would he think about leaving her again. He can’t live another day without her, and he’ll stop at nothing to make sure she gets the ending she deserves.

“Oh, my love” he whimpers, placing a delicate kiss upon her forehead, “I’m so sorry, my love. Help is on its way, okay? You’re with me now, you’re safe. I’ve got you.“

He leans down to kiss her shaking lips, running his hands through her hair as he lets out another broken sob.

“You’re safe now.”

Captain America Jemma Simmons

Sweet Cake Sweeter Kisses| Sam Holland

A/N: So I just finished writing a one-shot. Pretty shit. Haha, yeah. I decided to move out of my comfort zone and write an actual one-shot instead of a headcanon. I was inspired by Sam’s Instagram story that he posted yesterday of a Spider-Man cake and the fact that the Holland brothers are very competitive against each other. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Light swearing

          It is February 13, and you are mentally preparing yourself for what may or may not be a traumatizing experience. You see, every year your boyfriend, Sam, and his twin, Harry, have a competition on their birthday. Who has made the better birthday cake for their brother? It is a vicious and yearly battle between the 2 boys, and as of right now, Harry is in the lead by 1 point.

        The entire Holland family (including Harrison because he is an honorary Holland) decided that Harry’s cake was better than Sam’s camera design. So yes, Sam is super bitter. You had not been able to cast in a vote because you are incredibly biased towards your boyfriend of 3 years. And no one better tell Sam this, but you are kind of glad that you were not allowed to because you would have chosen Harry’s as well. Shhh!

        But this year Sam decided to bring out the big guns- you. With your super-mega-awesome baking skills (Sam said it, not you) and your literally-oh-so- amazingly-amazing artistic talent (you can quote Sam on that too), you were going to help Sam win this thing.

        It had taken a lot of groveling on his part before you finally crumbled. Honestly what really sealed the deal was when he was pressing gentle kisses up and down your neck. He should not be allowed to do that because he knows how that turns your brain to mush! The nerve…

        But here you are now, tying an apron over one of Sam’s shirts that you had stolen some time ago. You really hoped that you could help him win this year. The reason that you had been so reluctant to agree in aiding Sam was because you didn’t want him to be disappointed in you if you couldn’t help him succeed. Of course logically you knew that he would never be because Sam is the most loving boyfriend of all time but still.

        As Sam strides into the kitchen with his long-ass legs, he dons his own apron. It was going to get messy in there. “Harry is at Tom’s flat right now making my cake so he won’t be bothering us for the rest of the day (mind you it is currently 9:35 am).

        “Great!” You swiftly pull Sam down by his neck to kiss him square on the mouth. When you pull away just as quickly, Sam whines slightly as his lips chase your retreating ones. “Nuh uh, mon ange. We need to start baking.”

        With a small pout, Sam’s freckled face settles into a concentrated one. He is skimming the old recipe book that is laying on the counter top. Your partner had asked you to bring it because you would be making the chocolate ganache cake that you had once made for Sam when he was having a series of bad days. He had been instantly enamored with it, and he was sure that it would score some major points with the Holland judges.

        “While you start baking the cake, I prepare the icing, fondant, the piece that we had backed yesterday, and the tools we need to decorate this,” Sam informs you authorially. You roll your eyes because even though your babe is a total sweetheart, he practically becomes a different person when it comes to making these cakes. His competitiveness with his brother is extreme.

        After 30 minutes of combining ingredients and getting every measurement just right, you finally place the 10x12 pan in the oven to bake. You sigh as you lean against the counter to rest for a second. Sam had been very no-nonsense for the last half an hour, and it was quite tiring. You knew that he just wanted to beat his younger twin, but you had been kind of hoping that this could be a fun coupley activity. But then again, you had also been expecting to be traumatized.

        Speak of the Devil, and it shall appear. Sam seems to materialize out of thin air, and you jump a bit as he comes behind you and wraps his long arms around your waist. He places a smooch onto your shoulder blade before resting his head on yours. “I’m so sorry, love.”

        You frown in confusion. “What are you talking about, darling?”

        “I know that you aren’t having a lot of fun, and I also am aware that I’m being a bit of an ass.”

        You quickly turn in his arms and bury your face into his chest. “It’s ok,” you mumble.

        “No it’s not, sweetheart.” He takes ahold of your chin to tilt your head up. “I’ll chill out.” He then proceeds to press kisses all over your face. Cheeks, nose, eyelids, chin, forehead, lips. No part of your face goes un-kissed as he smothers you.

        You giggle in delight and smush his face against your hand as you push him away. The oven timer then goes off. Perfect timing! Quickly grabbing the oven mitts, you bend over to collect the freshly baked cake. From behind you, you hear your lover groan.

        “If you weren’t bending over a hot oven, I would totally smack that ass.”

        “Sam Anthony Holland, you get your ass to the table so we can decorate this cake! What a little shit…” you finish mumbling.

        You carefully walk over to the table where Sam had set up everything you need to decorate the cake while you had been making it. As you two chatter quietly to yourselves, you cut the cake into different shapes and attach them together with icing while looking at the reference picture as your boyfriend starts almost water coloring the fondant that covers the base of the cake. You two had made that piece yesterday, as it would have been impossible to complete the entire cake in one day.

        When you finish constructing the object, you begin to carefully write the dainty words onto it…

        5 hours, 1 flour, and 3 ½ icing wars later, you have completed your masterpiece. Good God you are exhausted! You better freaking win because if not, you are going to take this beautiful piece of art and shove it in everyone’s’ faces.

        You lean on Sam heavily as he drapes his arm around your shoulder. He’s kind of hanging onto you because he is just as tired. Who knew decorating a cake could wear you so much? You situate the cake in the middle of the platter that the Holland family had gotten the boys a long time ago specifically for these cakes. With the help of Sammy boy you cover it with the lid. Tomorrow you will find out the results.

***

      You are startled awake when Paddy jumps on you and Sam. Both you and your boyfriend groan in pain.

      “It’s time! It’s time! We are going to vote now,” Paddy rushes to speak before sprinting out of the room. A few seconds later you both hear his footsteps scampering back, “Oh, and happy birthday, Sam!”

      You just look at each other in amusement and start to shuffle out of bed. “Happy birthday, mon ange,” you whisper to him as you kiss him sweetly. You then proceed to bend down to grab the oddly shaped present that you had hidden under the bed.

      Sam stares in aw, but refuses to take it. “No, love. You already helped me make Harry’s cake. Plus, just being with you is present enough.”

      You wrinkle your nose at him and grin. “As sweet as that is, babe, just accept it.”

      He sighs in defeat. “Fineee,” he says dramatically before quickly tearing it open.  He gasps in excitement. “It’s us! In a book!” he cutely exclaims.

    “Haha, yes my love. It’s a photo album.”

     Sam takes you by surprise when he lunges at you. You two fall onto the bed because of the momentum. As he starts kissing you, Paddy arrives again.

     “Ew, guys! I told you to come on already,” he whines before leaving once more.

     Both of you giggle together as Sam aides you in standing back up. “Let’s get this show on the road then,” you egg Sam on as you walk together down the hallway into the dining room.

      In said room, every Holland is looking a little bit fatigued but very excited nonetheless. It looks like Christmas day all over again.

      In the center of the table lies both cakes covered with their dish covers to not ruin the surprise. You don’t know about Harry’s cake, but you sure are glad that the Holland parents had gotten these boys such ginormous platters because damn, the one that Sam and you had made was extremely large.

      Paddy is practically buzzing with excitement as he waits for Sam and Harry to stand behind the cake that the other twin made for them.

      The moment the cakes are unveiled, it seems like all of the air in the room is sucked out. Everyone except for you and Sam had gasped in amazement as they gazed at your cake.

      Their eyes are glued to the realistic looking camera and suitcase. Attached to the beige bag is a blue passport, and there are special printed edible pictures adhered onto it with frosting. And perching on top of the case was the camera that you had baked the day before. It is quite the sight if you may say so.

      Paddy breaks the unnerving silence. “Welp I choose Sam’s. Harry’s is cute and all with that La La Land themed, but it’s got nothing on Sam’s! How did you even do that?”

      Everyone murmurs in agreement. “Y/N helped me,” your boyfriend boasts. “Try it! It’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted,” he continues to brag while you try to shut him up.

      You’re blushing when you say, “It’s just an old recipe that I have. It’s really nothing.”

      Tom, who had come home for a small break in his hectic filming schedule, starts moaning then. “Dis is da befst frukn thig eber,” he states. When your boyfriend’s family all agree, you blush.

      “Okay everyone! I think it’s time to vote,” Sam rushes.

      In one minute all the votes are cast, and Paddy finally makes the announcement. “We, the Holland family, have pronounce that the winner of this year’s Sam/Harry Twin Cake Duel-Off is… Sammy “Mon Ange” (at least according to Y/N. I still don’t know that it means) Holland with a 4 to 1 vote! Just saying, Harry, it was mum, and I’m pretty sure that she only did it out of pity.”

      You all laugh at the end, and the whole lot congratulates Sam and you. Sam simply won’t shut up about you! The bragging is never ending with that boy, is it?

      You turn to observe Harry and notice that he looks slightly glum. When you walk over you say, “Aw, Harry. Don’t feel bad about losing! It’s beautiful.”

      Harry nods. “Yeah. I’m honestly not really mad or disappointed about it. Yours is really amazing. Thank you for the cake. I hope Dad took a picture before it was cut into.” Harry gives you a sweet hug

      “Of course, dude! You’re like my brother! I’m glad you liked it. And I’m pretty sure he did. If not, Sam and I took quite a lot yesterday.”

      Sam strides over to you and leans some of his weight on your side as he slips his arms around you. “Let’s try some of that scrumptious cake that you made.”

      You snicker at him. “Scrumptious? Who says that? But yes, let’s. I’m also definitely trying Harry’s though too.”

      Your partner nods his slightly red head. “Yeah! Thanks for the cake, man. It looks really nice.” His arm leaves your body when he wraps his arms around his twin. Sigh. How cute!

      When they untangle from each other, Sam seizes your hand to pull you to the two baked goods. While he cuts a piece of the cake that you had baked together you collect a slice of Harry’s. It really is pretty.

      You and your lover proceed to sit down at the table with the rest of the loving Hollands, but you too are in your own little world. God. You love him so damn much. And helping him out wasn’t so bad. You too had such a pleasurable time doing it together in the end.

      In the enchanting bubble you and Sam had made with the love and affection for each other you and your loving boyfriend feed one another pieces of delectable cake. Sam blushes and giggles as you try to wipe the frosting that he had accidentally smeared on you. When you can’t seem to find it, Sam leans in and kisses the frosting away (that was apparently on the corner of your mouth) before moving to your lips. It is sweeter than any cake you have ever eaten and decide right then and there that there is nothing lovelier than the tender kiss of your soul mate.

@tomhollandhollaatme @peachyyvibes @samhollandsfreckles @webslingerholland

Geometry Part 4

Part 4

 Part 5 is almost done (I wrote 4 & 5 pretty much together).  I might post it tomorrow.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Breakfast is a mix of awkward silence and awkward small talk, the talking entirely Prim’s doing as she tries to bring something normal to our surreal reality.  

She likes how I cooked the rolls for breakfast. Thank you…

She asks what kind of hours do I work in the bakery?  Four in the morning to four or five in the afternoon when school is out…

She tells me Katniss gets a lot of wild turkey and occasionally a deer.  Depending on the time of year, there’s goose too.  Yes, she’s an excellent hunter. She asks if I like wild game? I’ve only ever had her squirrels, but I enjoy those… She says Katniss hasn’t been hunting for a week because of their mom.

She asks if I’m looking forward to school starting back next week? Not really…

She starts to tell me Katniss is really good at-

“Prim.”  Katniss finally interjects and the rest of the rolls are eaten in quiet, the grease in the bottom wiped up by both Katniss and Prim with the bits of their last roll before Katniss gets up abruptly and takes the pan over to the counter.

Keep reading

HVFF Nashville Wrap Up

It’s midnight. This is the first second I’ve had to sit down and write about Nashville. I was knee deep in SDCC planning with my Just About Write ladies today. It’s gonna be lit folks! We can’t wait to cover it for you.

So… I decided to go to HVFF Nashville for one reason and one reason only. M*lissa B*noist was attending and my daughter could meet Supergirl. The obsession runs deep my friends. When M*lissa canceled Lauren was absolutely devastated and I was in a bit of a panic. Primarily because I didn’t know what else she would enjoy at HVFF. She’s not allowed to watch Arrow. She’s only seen a few clips, but Lauren loves Felicity Smoak. Hand to God this is how she described the show to a friend.

Friend: What’s Arrow

(The friend overhead my husband and I discussing my blog)

Lauren: It’s about Felicity Smoak. She is super smart and loves computers like I do. She fights crime.

Friend: Okaaaay. But… who is Arrow?

Lauren: (completely blasé) Oh. He’s just Felicity’s boyfriend.

I mean…. she’s not entirely wrong. She also possibly summed up 95% of the fandom’s view of the show, so I give her points for that. But… Emily Bett Rickards wasn’t going to be there. So, I was unsure of her level of excitement over Stephen.

Turns out she was pretty excited to meet him. 

Keep reading

Della living in Donald’s house boat in @donaldtheduckdad’s Lost Twin AU tears me up inside. I really wasn’t planning to write anything with school and all (catching up on HW due tomorrow), so take it as a spur of the moment kind of thing. 


The searches have ceased. This doesn’t surprise her. There are no signs, no traces of survival or death, and this gives Della some hope. If it’s worth anything.

His house boat is left untouched. For this, she is grateful. Afraid to leave an imprint on anything, she huddles the boys in their stroller. Donald’s always hated that.  

She checks the refrigerator. There’s food in there. It’ll go bad if she doesn’t eat or get rid of it, and as she’s tosses an moldy cucumber, expired milk, and Grandma Duck’s preserved figs, she sees them.

At a loss of words she pulls them out and set them on the counter. They’re so simple, so innocent really, and the exact kind she’s needed. She doesn’t even remember asking for them, but Donald has them ready anyways.  

A hiccup. And another. A sharp gasp passes through her lips, and she covers her hand with her eyes. 

An agitated moan alerts her, and she turns around to see Huey, bundled beside his brothers, starting to cry. Right. It’s after twelve. They haven’t had lunch yet.

“Oh baby, Momma’s sorry,” she coos, and she moves to hold him, knowing his cries are usually the softest but will easily wake his brothers in no time. She thinks quickly and goes to the drawer where the can opener is.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Donald bought us some milk.” She twists the pointed metal onto the can of baby formula, “It’s good and healthy, you know. Especially made with soy, just for you baby.”

“And Uncle Donald bought us bottles.” Shiny, new, and so very clean, they’re different from the store bought kind, and as she mixes the oatmeal baby grains with the formula she wonders where Donald got them, “He’s always been good about that — thinking ahead.”

She shakes the bottle firmly, watching as the grains and formula mix together, and she focuses on Dewey, not on the ghost now haunting the place. 

“Momma’s here, Momma’s coming,” she kneels in front him and presses the nipple to his mouth. He latches on tightly. She smiles weakly, “Yeah, Uncle Donald said he’d take care of you.”

He did say that. She is not exaggerating. He said he would, and she believed him. 

“Dewey doesn’t like to be held that way,” before she can react, he takes the infant from her arms and rests him on his stomach, using his hands to balance his bottom and back, “now, now, you’re alright, Uncle Donald’s got you.”

Her loudest boy is quiet and content, and she sits in the chair with the other two, stunned speechless. 

“He was always better at this kind of stuff,” she feels the tears passing along her cheeks but does not seem to realize she’s crying. A disconnection has occurred, and she raises Huey from his stroller, patting on his back as she gently rocks him.

“I don’t know what to do, Donnie,” she weeps softly, “I don’t know what to do.”

Waves roll with wild abandon underneath her, swallowing her tears. 

@totallynotcaptainamerica I just finished a study guide for my exam this evening so I’m indulging myself with trans headcanons:

  • ftm!Steve who sobs when Erskine tells him not to be a perfect soldier, but a good man, because it’s the first time someone besides Bucky acknowledged his gender. 
    • ftm!Steve constantly looking in the mirror and admiring his new body, because it’s all hard muscles instead of soft curves, and something he never dreamed he would have.
    • ftm!Steve who is angry at history books for erasing his transition and trans identity. 
  • Non binary!Clint shopping for jewelry and dresses with Natasha. 
    • Natasha being miffed that Clint’s winged eyeliner is always so on point.  
  • Vision not understanding human’s preoccupation with gender and bathrooms, and experimenting with their own gender presentation because why is an android automatically assumed to be male? 
  • Androgynous!Pepper rocking blazers and pantsuits. 
  • Non binary!Maximoff twins who will go out in matching outfits constantly. The media makes a huge deal the first time Pietro goes out in heels and a skirt, but quickly backs off because when Wanda’s eyes begin to glow a threatening red.

I need all of the trans!Avengers thoughts please and thank.

anonymous asked:

I'm just off the stream, and it warmed my heart so much hearing how much you care for Kayla and whether or not she's eating. I honestly don't understand how someone can accuse of of being rude or mean to her. When y'all are "mean" it is clearly a joke.

hey when u stream u get caught up and time goes quickly so when its done youre suddenly starving and she deserved a break! its just how we interact