late to write

You asked why I’ve been taking pills lately.

I told you it’s to help me sleep.

The pills help me stay asleep instead of having to wake up feeling empty.

—  4am // @loveactivist
I’d say I was born in the wrong century. I’ve always preferred cassette tapes and records. I’ve always preferred the worn out pages of books. I’m the kind of writer who wants to carry a leather journal and a pen with them at all times just to scribble down observations. I’m the type of person who wants to spend a foggy morning outside. I want to send handwritten letters and write you adoring notes instead of digital words that have lost all meaning before they’re even read. I’d say that I’m living in the wrong time, but I’m lucky enough to be alive at the same time as you, my dear. I must be in the right place.
—  time

do u ever have huge gay heart feels 100% of the time

today i was telling my gf how much rapturous gay joy i was feeling about just, the world in general, and she told me to shut up and go write a vilanelle and i did that. i wrote a vilanelle about how much i like being a lesbian

It tore at Derek’s chest like his heart wanted out, pounding against the back of his teeth that he had to clench hard to keep it in. He wasn’t even here. Stiles was on the other side of campus, or the other side of town or home, maybe, who knew. But Derek’s muscles quivered and his bones strained and cracked as if they wanted to spell it out in Morse code for him while he tried to keep himself together.

I love you!

It was painted across his mind in bold bright letters, splattered like the blood that surged through his veins, rushing to try and get him moving. Derek wanted to jump and run and get into Stiles’ face and tell him and scream it out for everyone along the way.

I love him! I love him!

Fuck being shy, fuck believing he wasn’t good enough and being afraid of rejection. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the way his heart soared for Stiles. He wanted him to know how his breath shuddered and how his hands shook, and how his every piece vibrated with love. He dissolved into it and suddenly it didn’t matter how broken he was, or how little of him was left. All of it came together in his love for the male.

I love you.

He wants to tear through his lips and say. I love you, with every fiber of my being. I just want you to know. You make the darkness disappear and make me feel like I’m made of nothing but love. And you don’t have to be around for me to see, I have you in my dreams, or hear your voice when the static gets to loud. I see your golden eyes when I miss the light and I feel your laugh and your gentle, steady hands in mine, and I’m okay. And I love you, and it doesn’t matter if it’s platonic or something more. I just need you to know I love you and that I’d give you my life, and my soul and every single part of me, and I wouldn’t need anything in return. Just remember me and my love for you and then everything will be okay. I want you in my life and I’d like to stay. Just let me love you.

It’s an incontrollable feeling, a burning desire that he simply cannot tame. He knows he can barely hide it sometimes. Stiles probably sees the smoke rising from his ears, cheeks tinged from the heat. But he has to fight it, keep his skin from melting and his bones for springing apart because if he let’s it consume him there would be nothing left and he would give Stiles everything but he’s not sure he’s ready to burn.

There’s two kinds of people in this world.

People that love themselves and spread self love, even though they have their occasional insecurities.

And then there’s the people that will tear themselves apart; they’re the people that can’t stand themselves.

—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #31 // @loveactivist
On Love

No one ever told me that love could be so….mundane.

I don’t mean that in a bad way. There’s the beginning, the falling in love and the butterflies and the heart swelling to bursting when you think about that person, but…that feeling fades. You fall into something simpler, something more comfortable. Dinner dates become eating mac n cheese off a tv tray while watching Youtube videos. You could go out but it’s so much nicer to just stay in, blowing kisses at each other across the room inbetween your respective video game matches. Hanging out together, both doing your own thing, occasionally getting up to kiss, but not feeling lonely.

Sunday morning snuggles and smooches and holding onto another person and smiling because you’re happy to be with them. It’s no big romantic gesture, but it feels like love. It’s having a best friend you’re comfortable just hanging out with who you also like touching in a myriad of ways. And it’s not the same as it was in the beginning when your heart beat faster and it scared you how much of your heart was in this person’s hands, but it’s no less great. It’s comfortable and ordinary and mundane, and you start to realize you want this. You want to do the everyday, the ordinary, the mundane with this person by your side. You just want to keep them. If you can be so happy when love is so mundane….it can’t really get better, can it?

There’s no swelling strings or soft tinkling piano music. Just rain falling outside and the sound of each others’ weird sinus issues. And…it’s nice.

I’m no expert on love. I’ve only been in it once and for not very long but…this is nice. When it’s this easy, and simple, and comfortable and mundane…does that mean it’s not really love, or does that just mean we got it right?

If this is it, if this everyday happiness and contentment is love, then I like it. And I don’t know why we don’t talk about this boring, everyday taking on life together more often.

Say no to bad dates, bad friends, and bad ideas. Stop going out when you’d rather stay in. Don’t do things that make you unhappy. But don’t be afraid to say yes to spontaneous nights out, new adventures, and facing your fears. Because it’s true what they say, life is short, and it’s passing you by right now while you read this. So if there’s anything you want to change in your life don’t wait. This is your moment.
—  If you’re waiting for a sign this is it.

‘What is it like to be in love?’

'It’s like being lost at sea for decades, when no one has come out looking for you, but suddenly someone showed up in the similar life raft as you.

And even though, you still may be lost at sea. You feel like you’ve finally come home.“

—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #30 // @loveactivist
Discovering Leo

I’ve had a few different people asking me how Shiro and Keith came to find their little Galran boy. I thought of many different scenarios, but one stuck in my mind.

“Haggar’s lab should be dead ahead.”
Shiro wiped sweat from his brow with his left hand, the other raised and glowing with deadly light.
“Copy that, Princess.” He answered, cutting down another sentry. Keith pressed up against him back to back, panting.
“I think that was the last of them.” He flicked his head, brushing hair out of his eyes with the tip of his bayard. The floor around them was riddled with dead sentries, their limbs sheared off, wires crackling with electricity.

“…Did you hear that?” Shiro asked, craning his neck. “I thought…”
“I heard it too.” Keith murmured, eyes wide with shock. “It can’t be what I think it is.”
“Come on.” Shiro sprinted ahead down the long, dark corridor, Keith close behind. He skidded to a halt in front of a sealed door, looking to his companion. “It’s coming from in there, I think.”
Keith stepped forward, slapping his open palm onto the door’s panel. It unlocked with a hiss, slowly opening. The room was too dark to see clearly. Keith paused for a moment before taking a few steps inside. Paper crackled under his boots and he looked down to see a sprawl of paper with various charts, scrawled notes in an angular language. Research? He frowned, peering into the darkness. What he saw hit him like a bullet to the gut.

The room was filled with carts, labeled chronologically, lined up wall to wall. Why did Keith feel so uneasy? He stumbled forward, trying to get a closer look.

They weren’t just empty containers. They were empty bassinets.

Shiro let out a despairing cry, and Keith knew they had come to the same realization. Haggar had been experimenting on live subjects. This they’d known for months. But children? Infants? He could feel bile building in the back of his throat as he rested his hands on the edge of one of the abandoned cradles.

“Oh my god… Shiro…” He choked.

“They’re gone… They’re all gone…” He felt the familiar weight of Shiro’s hand on his shoulder, but it did very little to comfort him right now. “How could she… that witch…!”

Shiro looked at his husband and felt his heart break. They had done so much to get here, to locate the right ship, to track Haggar down. He could feel deep in his chest that they wouldn’t have a second chance. They had failed all of them. Each of the numbered bassinets felt like a piece of him being chipped away. He started as Allura’s voice echoed through his communications link.

“Shiro? Keith? What’s going on? There’s a third life sign in that room. Have you found someone?”

Shiro felt a burst of hope, turning in circles to see if there was any sign of life. What had he heard earlier? A whimper? A cry? He flinched as one of the fallen books hiccuped. What was that…tuft of purple?

Keith was hardly paying attention, still trying to simply pull himself together when he heard a yelp of surprise and joy. It seemed like such a foreign emotion that it startled him. He turned to see Shiro’s beaming face, dark eyes moist with tears.

“One survived…!” He exclaimed, voice trembling. “One of them made it…!” In his arms he gently held a tiny Galran baby, who began to wail uncontrollably as the noise upset him.

Keith rushed to Shiro’s side, kneeling in front of him. “…Oh….” Was all he could manage. The baby boy was slightly dirty, with a few small scratches, but seemed otherwise healthy. Keith felt his eyes brim over, holding a finger out to the infant. It grasped his hand immediately, reaching for him and bawling loudly.

“I think he can smell that you’re Galran, too…” Shiro said.
“You really think so…?”

“You’re just about the closest thing he has to family right now…Here.” Shiro handed the baby to Keith, who accepted the little one into his open arms. He could feel the tiny heartbeat, the warmth. The baby’s cries quieted as he rested against Keith, comforted by the familiar scent of his own kind.
Keith couldn’t bear it.
He sobbed, holding the infant close to his chest. Shiro smiled.

They hadn’t failed completely. They had saved one. 

One, precious, priceless life. 

I had to give this story the attention it deserved. T v T b I hope you all enjoy! *pulls at heart strings* Sad au is the best au.

I’ve been toying with the idea for a long time that some of the things Yuuri says, especially in the first couple episodes, are not exactly the truth and should be looked into farther. Honestly, we knew Yuuri was unreliable the moment the show opened–he referred to himself as “dime-a-dozen,” when he is literally the only male skater certified by the JSF within canonverse. 

And he made it to the GPF, you know? He’s one of the top 6 skaters in the world, right off the bat! It took us a few episodes to understand Yuuri’s character to realize the context of these statements, but we figured out pretty early on that Yuuri is the embodiment of Unreliable Narrator™. Especially after ep10, jfc. 

Anyway, why I’m bringing this up is because Kubo seemed to confirm a little theory of mine I’ve had stewing for a while and I wanted to share it with you.

So. Episode 1. The commemorative photo scene. 

I wanna first establish that this scene took place before the banquet. During the series run, sometime just afterwards, and occasionally even now there’s debate over when that scene took place. It wouldn’t make sense to happen after the banquet because they’re not only still wearing the team jackets, but they’re also wearing passes

The outside sign has information about the competition 

and Victor is talking to Yuri about his routines

which he probably wouldn’t do if it was up to a day later. 

We know how the rest of the scene goes. Victor seems to not recognize Yuuri at all, mistakes him for a fan, asks if he wants a photo, and then Yuuri leaves, thoroughly humiliated. Or, at least, that’s Yuuri’s version of what happened. I think generally everything that was said got said, all the movements and series of events were the same, but the implications of the offer were different. 

I have multiple anxiety disorders. When I remember something that I felt was a misstep or caused embarrassment, I always remember it slightly off. A person’s tone is more mocking or condescending, my reaction is worse than it was. There’s a lot of shame when it comes to anxiety and your mind immediately assumes you’re viewed to be–and are–on a lower pedestal than everyone else. Yuuri, clearly, has severe anxiety, so I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to think that, since this is from his perspective, maybe reality is a bit different than what he is able to give us. 

Anyway, my thoughts had no basis, so I’ve kept them to myself, but then Kubo came out and said this:

and then the fanbase lit up in flames because Victor know Yuuri was a fan before the banquet. But this also implies one thing I got super excited about: Victor has seen him skate, before the commemorative photo scene. 

meaning that everyone’s preconception that Victor mistook Yuuri for a fan has been completely blown out of the water. 

So, why would Victor ask him about a photo then? 

I think it’s important to keep in mind that Victor likes to make people feel good about their abilities. He likes teaching others, and he likes motivating them too. He gets pleasure out of seeing people rise to their potential. 

Although he’s flighty and kind of an airhead, and tends to ignore what he doesn’t find interesting, I don’t think Victor would ignore the scorings or the competitors landing below 3rd place. Victor clearly knew that Yuuri fell to last place, hard. This is just speculation, but maybe Yuri mentioned to Victor the incident with Yuuri crying in the bathroom. Or, perhaps Victor had already seen the press about Yuuri: he’s notorious for losing his nerve during competitions and failing to meet his potential. When Yuuri goes down, he tends to crash and burn. 

(also honda’s words imply yuuri usually performs very well)

Victor likes making people happy and better versions of themselves. Now he’s faced with the competitor who fell to last place, staring at him a few feet away. A competitor who is known for his anxiety and tendency to shy away from others. A competitor who just so happens to be a fan. So, what is Victor to do to help Yuuri feel better, or even open up a bit?

Initiate conversation. Try to reel him in to interacting with an open, non-threatening question and a tried-and-true welcoming smile. 

“Commemorative Photo?”

Victor didn’t mistake Yuuri for a non-competing fan, he knew who Yuuri was and was just trying his best to make Yuuri feel better. Victor, as we’ve seen throughout the series, resorts to giving comfort through action rather than words first and foremost. Unfortunately for him, this is not what Yuuri needs. 

It backfired. But I think Victor had good intentions. They were strangers so it’s not like Victor could just walk up and start a motivating speech. He tried to invite Yuuri to talk to him, someone Yuuri looked up to, and maybe they could talk and Victor could brighten his day? 

Victor wasn’t very tactile, and Yuuri didn’t stand his ground and identify himself, so they got nowhere with that. 

I’m so glad Kubo said this. This face looks like a combination of surprise and disappointment, perhaps not only in Yuuri rejecting him but also in himself for not being able to help.

and this face 

looks more concerned and surprised that Yuuri showed rather than like “oh shit, he’s a competitor.”

Poor Yuuri. Poor Victor. They really need to communicate better. 

Everything about him was beautiful.
His hair, his eyes, his smile, his skin.
Even his back was beautiful.
But on the night he walked away
his back was the last image
I saw
and it was
the worst thing
to be seen.
—  Random Thoughts
Alone. She ignores it all day, keeps busy with school or work or anything to distract her mind. She avoids sleep because she knows she can’t escape it then, the loneliness in her chest. Eventually she has to give in and she hopes she’s exhausted enough to fall straight to sleep. She doesn’t want to let those thoughts in. But she can’t fight it forever. It’s at 2 am, when she lays curled up in bed because she doesn’t want to feel the emptiness, that her mind turns to black. The darkness of heartbreak crashes in and the tears swell in her eyes while her body shakes until exhaustion takes over and she falls asleep. She may get a few hours of rest, but she knows it will all start again tomorrow. The cycle of loneliness. The cycle of missing him.
—  The cycle of heartbreak.

I hate those nights when you just lay in bed crying. And you’ll stare at your phone, looking through it trying to find something that’s gonna cheer you up. Because you’re so sick of crying.

But the nights that I hate the most… Are the ones when you cry, and cry, and cry, and keep crying until you get choked up.

You get so choked up that you can’t even breathe.

Yet, even after all the messy crying. You’re left with a pain in your chest, and there’s this fire in you.

There’s a rage that’s inside, so even after all the crying.

The feeling is still there.

—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #17 // @loveactivist