life of an anomaly


The moment you tell yourself you “can’t”, you limit yourself.
You are the sole greatest driving force (after God) in your life.
Speak positively, always.
Love yourself.
Nourish your soul with words of affirmation.
Take care of your body with lots of water and hug people often.
Cultivate good energy and the universe will reciprocate it, tenfold.


The important thing for me was to turn the focus back on myself. I think I was really hesitant to not pour all of my energy into the personal side of my life. Now I’m recognizing that it doesn’t have to be one or the other. I think immediately after [my divorce], it was important for me to focus on myself and do what made me happy. Exercise. Be around friends. Just continue living life like I had been and recognizing that you’re not an anomaly. There are lots and lots of people who are in the same situation. And things get easier as time goes on.

UAC Demonic Entity Log: 010- Baron of Hell

The UAC learned something strange in their continued research, and found that Hell has a hierarchy of sorts, akin to details remembered in biblical and occult texts. Among the highest ranked of the demons are Barons. Rarely seen, Barons resemble priests or bishops, cloaked with a blanket of skin, hiding a pair of misshapen goat-like legs. The Barons seem to act as both the religious officials and commanders of Hell’s armies, conducting sacrifices of both human and demon victims alike, usually relegating the fighting to the other “lesser” species. However, they intervene when they feel they must. Fighting almost with a sense of dignified grace, Barons eclipse much of the other demons in not only height and size, but strength as well. Similar to the Imps and Hell Knights, the Barons can summon fire through stigmata found in the palms of their hands, and some are capable of teleportation. The Lone Marine revealed that he had killed a duo of these Barons near the site of the Phobos Anomaly, barely escaping with his life.

I have no words

Word count: 1,215

Genre: Fluff

Sidenote: This was inspired by a song by Dodie Clark called I have no words and I intended it to show how love can change a person’s perception of themselves. 

The bleak walls stared down at me as thoughts raced through my head. The room was silent but all I could hear was noise, voices, screaming at me, telling me that I’m not good enough. I looked down to see my bare thighs rested on the clean white bedsheets and yet all I could see was an imperfect mess, something that needed to be fixed. I had never been a confident person and it just so happened that 3am hit me hard. My throat began to burn and my eyelids felt heavy. A soft whimper escaped my mouth as a singular tear rolled down my cheek. I looked at my bloodshot eyes in the reflection of my phone and an overwhelming unhappiness took over my body. I was feeling so much pain.

I had never been in love; only once felt the soft touch of the lips of another. But oh how I longed to belong to someone, to be held tightly in their arms, encompassed with so much love that I didn’t know what to do with myself. But sadly, this was a reality that was never to be. I always felt too ugly to be loved by someone else. Masking my naked face every day with makeup, with the soul purpose to fake a persona which was only to impress. I cared all too much about what other people thought and it hurt. I was constantly wearing clothes to hide my stomach and the lumps of fat that only I noticed. I felt undesirable.

I carried this with me throughout most of my life and I had accepted it. I was an anomaly to the system, never to be loved and never to be wanted. I sat there that night, silently crying at my misfortune. The acceptance was beginning to fade away as I realised that there was nothing that I wanted more than to be in a relationship with another human being. I had one particular person in mind, my one true friend and roommate Dan Howell. His perfection was uncanny, mine however was non-existent. I reluctantly pushed back my emotions out of fear of not being good enough for him and ruining the friendship that we had. But it was so hard to see him everyday knowing that he was the only person that I longed to be with.

The silence filled with my whimpering cries of self-pity. Nose running and hair knotted.

“Y/N?” His familiar voice calmed me slightly, making me forget about the current state that I was in.

“Are you okay?” The door creaked open and Dan made his way over to the chaos of bed sheets where I lay sobbing. I tried to be strong but I had no words for the pain that I was feeling, self-hatred.

Although hazy, I gazed up into his soft brown eyes which emoted so much empathy and care. I couldn’t help but recognise the imperfect curls that were positioned on his head, one particular curl hanging down on his forehead. His smile was concerned but warm and his familiar lopsided dimples made me chuckle slightly. Neither of us had to say a word. Dan leaned in close to me, and squeezed me tight, breathing deeply on my neck.

I had hugged Dan before, but not like this. His hands intertwined around my waist as I clung onto his neck and burrowed my teary eyes into his shoulder. I had never experienced such closeness and I didn’t want it to end.

“Please, Y/N, tell me what’s wrong” He asked whilst still holding me.

I gently pushed Dan away, I didn’t want to appear weak in front of him, I didn’t want him to see my insecurities

“I don’t want to die alone, Dan” I had never seen such worry overcome his face. “I’m scared that nobody will ever love me” Once more, I broke down into tears, feeling oh so stupid for revealing this to him.

“Y/N I-“

“Please, Dan, I don’t want sympathy” I whispered whilst avoiding eye contact and staring down at the floor in embarrassment.

All of a sudden, I noticed Dan’s eyes beginning to glaze over before a tear streamed down his pale cheek. “I love you, Y/N”

In this moment, I didn’t know what to feel or how to feel it. But I did know one thing for certain, I wasn’t alone anymore. I had Dan by my side, intertwining his fingers with mine, gripping tightly as we both snivelled.

Did he mean as a friend? Or was this a confession? I was so confused yet excited at the same time. But no matter what, I would not let the overwhelming optimism overcome me. I was all too friendly with the feeling of disappointment and I wasn’t ready to experience this again.

“Ever since you moved in here, I couldn’t help but fall in love with you” I could sense his nervousness, a similar feeling to my own, fear of rejection. Blood was rushing through my veins, my heart was beating at 100 miles an hour yet all I could do was gawp at his perfect face and the way that his tears made him appear so much more precious.

“I love you too Dan” I whimpered. In this moment I couldn’t quite believe what was happening, I had to pinch myself to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. But this was reality. Dan Howell, the man that I had repressed my feelings for, was sitting in front of me confessing his love.

There’s something special about eye contact. The way that you connect with a person. But with Dan, everything was different; I could stare into the darkness of his eyes forever, so full of life and compassion. His smile revealed wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, revealing true happiness. He had the kind of face that made you feel safe; handsome yet beautiful with constellations of freckles carved into his cheeks.

The silence was silent no more. Synchronised were our racing heartbeats as the sheets rustled gently, becoming displaced with every movement edging closer to one another. My head was throbbing but it could not distract from the rush of both fear and excitement that I was feeling. My hands were trembling but I could not contain my self anymore, I couldn’t help but observe his chapped lips and how much I wanted to kiss them.

All of a sudden, he grabbed me and everything fitted into place. I could feel his soft breath on my neck as he made his way up to my lips, pecking me with small kisses. Foreheads touching, we gazed into each other’s eyes once more before he finally gave in; caressing my cheek, his sweet lips invaded mine as I ran my fingers through his silky hair.

“Y/N” he whispered slowly amongst short, shallow breaths. For once, I meant something. My name finally had a purpose and I had never experienced anything like it.

His hand now rested just below my ear. Thoughts were piercing my mind; this was like a dream only but better. This was the first of many moments that we would share together I thought as I closed my eyes and leaned in for another.

anonymous asked:

so i know you like to believe newt definitely isnt a virgin, and tina may/may not be one, may i ask why you think that? its funny because i have the exact opposite thoughts, and i see newt as so childlike and awkward. like i cant even imagine him having anything other than a few bumbling kisses, but i think tina definitely would have seen a guy or two, i mean, she is a ~modern woman~. im just interested in picking your brain btw, not trying to tell you youre wrong or anything! also great stories

Disclaimer: I am really, really tired, so this may only make sense to me right now…


So. Newt.

As of December 6th, 1926 (which is the first day of Fantastic Beasts), our dear cinnamon roll is 29 years old. In those 29 years, we know it is canon that he had a (most likely romantic) entanglement with a woman in school whom he loved. It is canon (per the movie) that he fought in and survived WWI. It is canon that he has visited at least 3 continents (thought it’s more likely 4 continents, going by his having Dougal and the Occamies in his possession, plus his traveling through Africa) and has spent at least a year traveling.

29 years of living, part of that time in the male-dominated military establishment (and believe me when I say: prostitutes and WWI soldiers went together like dragons and flames, okay? Those men visited brothels. They solicited women. They got their jollies when and where they could because WWI was Not Pretty), another good portion of that time traveling the world, and then the rest of that time living as a bachelor in (presumably) London?

There’s no bloody way he’s a virgin. Social awkwardness aside, he’s done too much living, and he’s too earthy, to not have known a woman once or twice. If it wasn’t Leta Lestrange, then it was someone during the war (probably after his commander and/or brother frog-marched him over to the brother because “God dammit Scamander, we’re gonna make a man out of you yet!”). If it wasn’t during the war, then it was while he was out traveling the world. And if it wasn’t then, it was when he was lonely and/or sad so Theseus bought him a companion because “Cheer up, little brother; she won’t bite you. Well, not unless you ask…”

Outside of all this, I’ll point out that in his time, it was not exactly frowned upon for young men on his class and standing (upper-middle-class to upper-class, since his mother bred “fancy Hippogriffs”–which indicates some level of wealth, or at least comfort) to have the occasional sexual dalliance, either before or even during marriage. It wasn’t wise to flaunt it, and it was something that nobody really talked about. But, it was also a fact of life at that time. Which is not to say it was right, but we aren’t talking about morality here.

Logical conclusion: Newt may not be Don Juan, but he’s got at least some sexual experience. It’s most likely limited in both frequency and scope–but it’s there. Given all the facts and the reality of life at the time, it would be a statistical anomaly for him to still be a virgin.


Now, let’s talk about Tina, because Tina is my girl and I will fight to the death to protect her. Much like Newt, really…

As of December 6th, 1926, our dear cinnamon roll Tina is 25 years old. In those 25 years, we know it is canon that she lost her parents at a young age, thereby presumably burdening her with her younger sister. We know that she has dedicated herself to her career (and I hesitate to use that term, knowing what we know about where she winds up in the future) as an Auror, and most likely threw herself into training straight out of school. And, extrapolating from the ages of the other Aurors shown in the movie, it’s a good bet that she did all this at a phenomenally young age.

25 years of living, part of that time as either a ward of the state or with a relative (which would not give her time to get up to any funny business), another good portion of that time at school (which means that, if we consider how quickly she got to where she is now, she dedicated all her time to studying–her syllabus, not boys), and the rest of that time in Auror training and then building a name and reputation for herself?

It is very likely that Tina is a virgin. “Modern woman” status aside, dedication to her sister and to her career and personal drive aside, she has an extra consideration that Newt doesn’t really have to concern himself with: if she slips up once, just once, and she winds up pregnant, then the onus is on her to bear that burden.

Birth control back then was either expensive, difficult to obtain or both. Not to mention, for the No-Maj population at least, it was limited to condoms. We have no way of knowing how the wizarding world controls their birth rates, but considering how backwards they are about many things (and considering the silence from JKR on the matter), it’s a safe bet that they are no more advanced than the No-Maj world. Therefore, a smart woman (and Tina, we can all agree, is very smart) would have made the choice to abstain from penetrative sex until at least entering a solid engagement.

Logical conclusion: Tina may not be celestial, but she is most definitely a virgin. I’m sure she had her wild moments–fumbling kisses behind the greenhouse at Ilvermorny, stepping out with a gentleman or two when her schedule allowed, maybe even some heavy petting through clothes–but that’s as far as it would go. Given the facts of life for women at the time (even for “advanced” wizarding world women), and the unknown status of birth control availability and accessibility, it’s a statistically safe bet that she is still a virgin.


On a side note, I know a lot of people in the fandom chafe when someone like me points out the historical reality of these times. I get that, I really do…but for me, fantasy is so much more enjoyable when it parallels and/or is rooted in reality.

If you want to ignore historical facts, that’s completely fine! Knock yourself out. Just understand that when I build my fictional universes and my head-canons, I am doing so with one foot in the real-world. If I can add up the weight of historical fact and combine it with what I know about a character (which is what I’ve done to reach my conclusions above), then that’s what I’m going to do–which is not to say that I don’t stray from it on occasion, because I do. ;)

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a virgin!Newt one-shot to write.

Heartstrings [Yoongi]

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Angst; Fluff
Word Count: 4405
Description: Min Yoongi. 23. Diagnosed with paralysis and Acute Myocardial Infarction. Should probably also be diagnosed with/as a: sassiness, arrogance, the most dangerous handsome looks, a closet romantic, lovesick.
Author’s Note: My Yoongi fics always turn out to be the longest and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because he is niceu to write for. Also I love Yoongi a lot and when I write angst for him I cry. Bye Min Yoongi. You stole my heart.

You, as a medical student and intern at the largest hospital of the city, have seen your fair share of blood. In fact, it is probable that you have seen more than your fair share of blood by now, with all the blood tests and stained scrubs and patients getting wheeled in and out desperately on stretchers. It is safe to say you have gotten used to it; as the days passed, it became no more than a color. You hate the tangy, metallic smell of blood, the way it is iron in your mouth, weaving into the air and forcing its way down your throat.

In the hospital you work in, everything was white. It is supposed to be a color of peace and health and whatnot, which you found awfully ironic. You have long since begun to tire of the color white. It is stained with the color of blood and death.

He’s no different when you first meet him: dressed head to toe in white, staring into nothing, reeking of inevitable death. The standard hospital-issued white robe (flimsy, horrible things) only looks whiter against his pale skin (milky, not pasty and gaunt like you’d become so used to seeing). With blonde hair splayed on his white pillow and lower body swathed in a thick white blanket and index finger tracing invisible constellations on a white wall, he seems almost insubstantial, as if every cell in his body screams—begs to disappear.

But then he turns towards you, and his eyes lock into yours, darker than black yet filled with a silver that promised life, and glinting with something you couldn’t exactly place your finger on. Even as your mind wiped itself, there is one thought that fixed itself in your mind: he can be covered in the color, but he will never, ever be white.

“Nice to meet you, I’ll be your nurse starting today.”

Keep reading

fastidious-anomaly  asked:

"Stay the night. Please" with either Kacha or Herah (whoever it fits better) and whoever they're talkin to

“Stay the night. Please.”

Herah couldn’t believe she’d let those words slip out or that she was holding on to Allania’s arm to keep her from going. She froze, her eyes growing wide as she panicked silently. She couldn’t take the words back and try as she might, she couldn’t take her arm back either.

She was presuming so much about their relationship, whatever it was. Sometimes she felt like an idiot, wasting her time pining over someone too good for them. Sometimes it felt like Allania looked at her the same way she looked at Allania. If she did, did it even matter? Whoever Allania was before, she was someone important now. She had responsibilities and people to impress and being with Herah… wasn’t a good idea.

She pressed her lips together into a thin line as she finally retracted her hand.

“Sorry, boss. Long day.” She coughed, turning back to the small room she’d snagged in a corner of the garden. 

“I’m sure.” Allania hummed. “You could rest easier in my room. There’s more space there.”

Herah turned back to her. “Oh. Boss, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“And why not?”

“People will see me go up there!”

“Why is that such a bad thing?” Allania rested her hands on her hips. “It’s the middle of the night. No one will see. But that’s not the point-“

“Then what is the point?”

Allania’s nostrils flared as she strode forward, grabbing Herah’s wrists to yank her down to eye level. The qunari tucked her chin in, not daring to pull away this time as Allania met her eyes. The piercing green flickered all over her face, searching for something. Herah didn’t know what, but Allania seemed to sigh in disappointment when she didn’t find it.

Allania released her wrists and brought her hands up to Herah’s cheeks. “I thought you wanted me to stay.”

“I do.” She murmured. “But you shouldn’t.”

“I think I should.” 

Allania, by all that was holy, kissed her. Herah’s eyes snapped shut against the surge of emotion that filled her, body tensing. While she wanted to relax and savor the brief moment, her body fought against what she was feeling. And then it was over.

“Ash,” Allania hummed.

Herah, pushing back at the shiver of dismay that ran down her spine at the alias, opened her eyes. Allania’s eyes nearly sparkled with delight, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Stay the night, please.” She parroted Herah’s words back to her. 

And Herah, utterly smitten, nodded.

The Magician’s Roommate

Happy National Fanfic Author Appreciation Day! (Or something like that)

(I’ve decided to appreciate myself. Typical. I wrote a thing about Pynch through the eyes of Adam’s college roommate. I wrote it really quickly, but I honestly really love how it turned out. Let me know what you think.)

Keith Holloway had always had a certain idea of what his college experience would be like. Study groups, coffee shops, and maybe the occasional party.

So far, all of that had been proven correct.

The one thing he didn’t anticipate, however, was Adam Parrish.

It was impossible for any one man to anticipate Adam Parrish really, because honestly what even was he? Did anyone know? Did Adam?

Keith surmised he was from the south based on accent alone. It was not an obvious thing, but Adam’s words all carried that subtle ring of practiced forgery, and Keith, being both evervigilant and a law student, could hear the occasional vowel overstaying its welcome.

Adam Parrish had arrived at Princeton in possession of a full-ride scholarship, a big brain, and an even bigger work ethic. His hands were weathered, his skin was freckled. His wardrobe repeated weekly and there were permanent bags seated under his eyes.

He was also deaf in one ear.

A blow to the head, he’d said.

It was gruff, detached, as if the sting of those words had scabbed over long ago.

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anonymous asked:

hi im a ghost reader but i'm dropping a message to let you know what your garden fairy wonwoo scenario did to me. I saw a cat in a grass patch on the way to school today and I paused and went "fluffy macmuffins the first", and when i saw someone hella tall and cute in school the voice at the back of my head literally went "I'M DOWN HERE YOU DINGBAT" what am i going to do with my life now




Originally posted by 17-gif

pxcifrisktic  asked:

"Help me understand."

Gettin’ Deep || Starters

       “kid…” The word breathed out along the edge of a sigh. Sans looked the child up and down as if considering something, then focused his gaze on the worn, dirty notebook in her hand. It’s binding was beginning to loosen at its threads, and even the cover showed signs of bending that threatened to soon snap. 

     He’d kept it hidden away, in a box, in the attic, behind other very big boxes for a reason. 

      It wasn’t something he very much cared to explain. Inside were the numerous notes he’d taken years ago, jotted down in determined flurry, sprinkled with coffee stains and smudged ink. That had been before Frisks time with them, before so many things in Sans life. Before the anomaly. Before everything in his life changed in a way he had never in a million years thought possible, and could never in a million and two years ever hope to fix. 

      Sans held out his hand with the easy patience of someone who had experienced tiny grabby hands invading his items enough times to not be overly bothered by it. Having a little brother tended to have that effect. 

      “didn’t your mom tell ya snoopin’ is wrong? that ain’t yours. an’ it’s goin’ back in the attic, where it belongs. it’s nothin’ you need know, other than a good lesson in respectin’ other folks privacy. now give it here.”

Dramatic media version of realizing you’re gay: I can’t believe it….me? A homosexual…?…..Impossible…How will I ever get to live in a normal society knowing I’m gay?….Two [insert gender here] can’t possibly be together…Living a normal life seems like nothing more than a anomaly…. 

What its actually like: Oh yeah that explains a lot actually. 

Please Don’t Leave Me

Request: You’re Juice’s Old Lady who gets shot and dies on a run.

Warnings: Death of the main character and a shootout.

Pairings: Juice X Reader

   Being a female and a member of the Sons of Anarchy was one of the many anomalies that you had experienced in your life.

   Another was dying at the young age of 29.

   As you lay in the back of the van, Jax driving, Happy and Tig trying to stop the bleeding, and your Old Man Juice sobbing over your dying form, you went through every action you had made that night and you tried to figure out where you screwed up.


   “Alright everyone know what they’re supposed to be doing” Jax asked making sure everyone knew what to do incase this drug deal went south.

   You all nodded in agreement before turning to face the approaching car.

   Juice gave your hand a quick squeeze before going to stand by the van door while you, Tig, and Happy got your guns ready, hoping that nothing would go south as Jax walked up to meet Laroy.

   They shook hands and had a hushed discussion before making their way over to where Juice was standing with the van door now opened.

   You eyed Laroy’s cronies as he looked through the kilos of coke you and they boys had.

   You saw Jax and Laroy shake hands once more before a few of Laroy’s men came over and started to grab the coke and take it to their car.

   You and the boys relaxed, which was a mistake, considering the next thing you knew Mayans were surrounding all of you and the bullets were flying.

   You took cover and were holding your own pretty well up until you tried to run to the van where all of the boys were yelling for you.

   You took off running and jumped into the van, shutting the door.

   But all too late.

   You didn’t know how but one of the Mayans or the 9’ers had managed to fire 5 rounds into your abdomen.

   ****End of Flashback****

   Everyone in that van knew you weren’t going to make it, including you.

   You felt Happy and Tig trying to press gauze into your wounds but you put a hand up to stop them.

   “Boys, we all know i’m not going to make it. Save that stuff for someone who will need it.” you managed grit out through the pain.

   You could tell they knew you meant it because instead of trying to argue with you they nodded solemnly, trying to keep the tears from leaving their eyes.

   You heard Juice let out a loud sob and you turn to see him leaned up against the van wall, his face buried in his hands.

   “Juice, baby, c’mere.” you said holding your hand out for him to take.

   He took your hand and slowly shuffled over to you on his knees.

   “Baby please don’t leave me.” he said burying his face in your neck and sobbing.

   It broke your heart to see him like this but you needed to tell him what you were thinking before your time was up.

   By now Tig and Hap were letting their tears go freely and Jax was silent in the front seat, all of them but Juice accepting that you weren’t going to make it.

   “Juicy, look at me.” you said weakly, looking Juice deep in the eyes when he  pulled his head away.

   “I am not leaving you. I love you baby and as long as you love me I will always be right here.” you said placing your hand over his heart.

   “I will always be with you. I want you to know that I love you baby. I love you with everything I have in me.” you said, your voice breaking towards the end.

   You were finding it harder and harder to keep your eyelids open and you knew your time was almost up.

   “I love you to baby. I love you so much, please don’t leave me.” he sobbed, pulling your body close and hugging you like there was no tomorrow, which you supposed that there wouldn’t be for you.

   He buried his face in back in your neck and he proceeded to let out several more loud sobs.

   You placed your hand on his back and rubbed it soothingly, whispering sweet nothing into his ear until the very last second of your life.

   When the words and the comforting touch of your hand stopped Juice knew that you were gone for good.

   He raised himself up and gently laid your lifeless body onto the cold of the van floor.

   Juice as never really a religious man but he sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening, hoping that you were in a better place now.

   “I love you baby.” he said laying one last kiss on your lips before facing the boys.

   “I don’t care how long it takes, or how many men I have to kill but I will find out who shot her, and he will die.”

   The boys didn’t even hesitate to agree, you were a severely loved member of the club and your death was going to affect everyone.

   “You’ve got it brother.”Jax’s hoarse voice spoke from the driver’s seat.

   Juice nodded thankfully and looked down at the love of his life once more.

   He gently slid the black velvet box he had been keeping in his pocket for weeks from his pants and opened it gently.

   He had been trying to find the perfect time to do this but it had never presented itself. Now you were gone and he would never get the chance to tell you how he truly and deeply felt.

   He flipped it open and gently pulled out the diamond ring that he had saved up for, for so long, and he slid it onto your cold lifeless finger.

   “I love you (y/n), forever and always.”

rock-the-cash-ball  asked:

Tinderbox, Rope, Anomaly

Tinderbox - What do you cherish most?

hmm probably music. sounds really cheesy but yeah music has helped me a lot and is one of the best things in my life

Rope - Do you have a fetish?

i don’t think so ¿

Anomaly - What do you find unique about yourself?

umm i’m a pretty boring & average person but i guess it’s unique that i play the viola? whenever i tell people they’re like “whAtS a viOLa???” so yea

anonymous asked:

If Larries think that Louis is faking a baby and Harry is his Sweet Creature/husband, well that would mean Harry has also no consideration and dragged a baby through the fandom mire for nearly two years, subjecting it to fandom weirdos, potential stalking or worse. That would mean Harry is equally complicit. Harry, who's done nothing but WORK for himself, tour and who hasn't breathed a word or involved himself with Louis' life since. How do Larries reconcile this anomaly? By not facing up to it.

Larries are truly oblivious about the consequences if their theory were true.  It would be impossible for either boy to ever disentangle himself from the moral quagmire of participating in something like faking a pregnancy, a birth, and a growing child.  They think that everything is a narrative intended to soften the public for “the end” while keeping Louis sympathetic.  I think people would think Louis was a bit of a chump if all their theories came to pass.

I think that Larries give very little consideration to Harry actually.  I think his entire participation in their narrative, at this point, is as a prize for Louis to win.  That is often how Slash fiction works I have found.  One boy is the underdog, and the other is the prize that the fans want the underdog to win…

i. oh, Winter:
you were never meant to be with Her.
( your hushed pleas at her grave fall on deaf ears, you will never be able to bring her back. you murdered her. you loved her, and it was her demise, her fall, her damnation. )
ii. your tears are no more.
( the weeks of continued weeping have come to a stop, replaced by restless hunting and tearless sobbing. )
iii. oh, Summer:
the two of you could never be together.
( you were life, he was death, and together you were an unstoppable force, an anomaly of nature. )
iv. your kingdom is set to fall, though it was once set in stone.
( you are not lovers, nor were you ever enemies. you are strangers. driven by the forces of nature you will never be able to understand. you will never love. seasons do not love, do not dance around one another. )
v. where do the flowers bloom when their empress is dead?
( for surely, the empire was set in stone, and not a single conquistador was able to tackle her walls. Summer is gone and so is Winter, where are the seasons, when blooms are set to wither? )
—  they were like the sun and the moon and were doomed from the very first blooming under moonlight | s.k

(via Meryl Davis on Instagram: “I very distinctly remember crying on my 13th birthday. While so many of my peers eagerly anticipated the excitement of those teenage years and the freedom of their 20s, I feared the loss of what could only be described as the mo)

Meryl Davis:”I very distinctly remember crying on my 13th birthday. While so many of my peers eagerly anticipated the excitement of those teenage years and the freedom of their 20s, I feared the loss of what could only be described as the most magical existence & childhood imaginable: the safety & security of my amazing family, sun kissed summers on the beach by our house & praying for snow days all winter long so that my brother and I could build igloos in our backyard for hours before being called inside for hot chocolate. One of those too good to be true realities. That WAS my reality and I knew I was lucky. I knew other kids weren’t so fortunate and I knew adulthood wouldn’t be so simple…even at 13, I wanted to cling to the life I realized was an anomaly in a big world of potentially less appealing possibilities. Of course, I was right. Surely, now just a few days after my 30th birthday, I know I was right. Adulthood is so much more complicated…SO much harder. I’ve faced challenges I never expected, heartbreak and loss…moments my little 13-year-old heart couldn’t have imagined. BUT the beauty of reflection is that I can open my heart to that moment on January 1st, 2000 and say I’ve lived my best life since. Seventeen years of mistakes, surprises, and less than perfect moments later, yet I’m even more blessed than I was then. The love I have for the people in my life is deeper, richer and so much more meaningful. The ferocity with which I desire to experience life and see the world is bolder. The gratitude I have for my blessings is broader. ❤️ I wish everyone a 2017 filled with love, kindness & the courage to be his/her best self! May we all have the opportunity to reflect this time next year and say, “yes” we lived our best lives perfectly imperfectly in 2017 Xo “