#AND I'M GLAD YOU'RE STILL ALIVE

[isjasz]

[Day 341] Despite everything

[navree]

genuinely would love for some of the "both parties are the same" people to name me a single election in the entirety of the twenty first century where the outcome for the country wouldn't have been better if a democrat had won

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i'm not even angry i'm being so sincere right now even though you broke my heart and killed me and tore me to pieces and threw every piece into a fire as they burned it hurt because i was so happy for you (official jared kleinman a.m. pump up songs about unrequited love)

[lee-hakhyun]

thinking about ye hyunwoo again. chapter 621

[lopeirce]

"Anytime that you suppress a part of yourself, it's going to overflow."

[tuliptiger]

Iiiii genuinely care about my mutuals tbh. Like I don't think I know know you guys I'm not even going to pretend but the interactions I've had with y'all sincerely brightens my day.

I'm glad that you exist, that I get the privilege to know of you and know you're existing and living your lives. I'm wishing you well, I will good things to happen for you, to you, and that you get the things you need. Thanks for hanging around and thank you for reaching out to chat or comment or leave tags.

I love seeing you guys around, keep up the good work of being you.

[villainsidestep]

#< i Can confirm cyrus would actually say “im sorry” but the “i didnt know it was you” is implied (@sidesteppostinghours)

🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 thank u cyrus for saying sorry

[amethystviolist]

ok i have to ask bc i could never figure it out. what is that enormous fic project you keep mentioning? i'm so curious :D

Hi Anon - okay, valid question. Thank you for being dedicated to reading my tags, lol!

Tiny backstory: for the past two-ish years I haven't been able to write anything, then I got a medical issue fixed, and BAM suddenly I could write again in March this year! Ever since I went a little nuts on an old WIP and now I'm suddenly committed to finishing it.

I'll admit it's a Bagginshield fic (in 2024? More likely than you think) and the current word count overall is near 200k and still not done. I am both proud and afraid. I'm dedicated to finishing it entirely before I begin posting for a few reasons (mainly to ensure I finish it, and then just so I can edit this monstrosity to be cohesive).

If you'd like to know more about it I'm happy to go in-depth, but that's the big project basics! No idea when it'll be ready for the public eye, but I am working on it pretty steadily :) Thanks again for the ask!

[robo-dino-puppy]

if tumblr isn’t giving us a recap i guess we have to do it ourselves!

1. 1,043 notes - Aug 3 2023

2. 436 notes - Feb 9 2023

3. 413 notes - Mar 3 2023

4. 243 notes - May 14 2023

5. 239 notes - May 15 2023

6. 234 notes - May 2 2023

7. 228 notes - Jul 21 2023

8. 199 notes - Feb 1 2023

9. 187 notes - Mar 7 2023

10. 183 notes - Jul 23 2023

Created by TumblrTop10

[scarletwix]

Going thru my drafts and I found a post from 2014 reminding me that I was really close mutuals with someone who... for reasons still unknown to me specifically, temporarily replaced their entire blog with the bee movie script and fucked off for several years

still the funniest way they could have left tumblr imo

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

I think visual kei is the longest obsession I’ve ever had. It took me 11 years to finally be chill about it. xD I’ve reached a point that I don’t care much about the scene, never seeing them live, missing releases like...this year I’ve managed to slowly detach.

Ever since I was a little girl, my favorite musicians were my life. They gave me a voice, a purpose and a dream. I wasn’t a casual listener, I was the kind of girl who needed to see them as much as possible, listen to music like 6 hours a day, if not more, my walls were always full of pictures of them, I always talked about them...they were my life. And even after getting into visual kei, I didn’t drop any of my previous favorites, I just wasn’t as focused on them as before. With previous artists I felt my enthusiasm was fullfilling and healthy, an energy boost, an inspiration, a place where I felt understood. It was sth I loved, people I loved etc. (and if you are one of those who think you have to know sb very well to love them, get the fuck out of my blog, I know what I felt and if a person can hate sb at first sight, they can love at first sight too. Yes maybe what I loved was 90% illusion, but I believe 10% was actually real cause, no matter how much a person likes to appear perfect and always friendly etc, cracks will always be there). Anyway visual kei felt like more than that to the point I really thought it was destiny to actually work with them (cause I’ve always wanted to work with my favorite artists, I just switched from wanting to go to the USA to Japan after a while being a fan). And you know what, it was fun as long as it lasted. It took me out of the dark, pulled blades away from my wrists, it kept me sane, lead to writing 2 and a half books, it lead to finally getting my hands on photoshop and honestly becoming a better person. But yeah those things aside, I realized that the goal-part was another lie I built to feel I belonged. In reality, it was another lesson in life which, once I got it, it had to go.

I’m closing 30 and I have not much passion for art or music anymore. It was painful forcing myself understand my dreams were silly, but the peace I feel now makes me think I finally made it. I can now look at their photos of the past with nostalgia and not feeling like I failed, cause it was never for me in the first place. I kept seeing people travelling there and being able to see them and, some even got chances to work with them, so I wondered wtf I was doing wrong. It was eating me alive and I desperately wanted sth to work but well...it’s all gone now. ^^

Currently I don’t have any goals but I know some old stuff came back. As a child, besides trying every artform I could get my hands on while listening to music, I also played a lot of games. We had 3 drawers and 1 cupboard full of videogames at home and I feel like I am slowly getting back to that. I limit myself only to genshin now, for sure, but I watch more playthroughs again of games I don’t have and maybe soon I will try getting a console to try more stuff, who knows. I also started watching anime again, which I had stopped for a few years.

Oh well, regardless of what the future holds, I am thankful to all those people who dared chase their dreams and inspired me do the same, my lovely musicians, even if I eventually got nowhere, and I will keep listening to their songs from time to time. And posting their pics cause nostalgia. My only complaint is that I spent the past 10 years of my life being upset that I lived in a house that didn’t allow me have posters on my walls (fucking humidity and mold ye see) and now that I can and my room is healthier, I have nobody I want on my walls. xD I will fill it with Genshin and anime characters xD.

[dirt-goth]

Spent a lot of time this week thinking about the inherent vulnerability of being loved and was hit with the overwhelming realization of how much love I have been surrounded in and refused to let myself experience thanks to my own deep insecurities.

[strwberri-milk]

Hi, good morning/ afternoon/ evening. I've probably read all of your work on LnD, and I love them all. If it's not too much, can I request like the boys getting a call/update from MC after a disastrous wanderer attack on the city after not being able to contact them?? If possible, established relationship😅 ... thank you for your time!

im glad you like all my writing for them!! im so aefjaweofaw please give me the next main story update - also theres lots of references/imagery of death so if youre not chill w that i will see you tomorrow [salute] - theres also some very very slight references to their myths!! it feels a little ooc to me but thats bc. i think theyd be a little ooc when faced w a tragedy like this!! i hope you like it anyway <3

Zayne holds his breath every time a new patient is admitted. The hospital is busy with all of the patients that are coming in with the disaster, a mixture of those hanging on and people running up to him because he's the closest doctor in the vicinity to confirm death.

He volunteered himself to do triage because he was convinced that he'd be able to stop you from dying, that if you came in through those doors he'd be able to separate his love for you from the mind that studied all those nights but that's impossible - he only got here because of you.

His mind runs circles around himself, almost separated from his body as he tries to figure out why you weren't there. Hopefully it's because you're fine - you don't need medical attention or the medics on site were enough for you. However, he knows there's an equal chance that it's just because a doctor onsite was able to confirm your death and now you were in some bag, stored away with the others waiting for him to come identify you.

When he finally gets a moment to himself he obsessively checks his phone, praying to something that might take enough pity on him to listen at the very least that you'll call him. Minutes turn to hours as he's called back to work. Silence is a commodity now as he's stuck in the theatre, only able to go home after he's exceeded the legal amount of hours he's allowed to work in one night.

The long turned cold water hits his muscles as his mind wanders in the quiet of his home. You still haven't called - nobody's called. He understands that surely, all of you are busy but he's been there when the calls have had to be made. To hear the sobs on the other side of the phone as a squad captain confirms the death of another hunter as they softly ask if they'd like to see the body. He's also seen the calls when the bodies are far too mangled, a sight that no loved one should have to bear. He's waiting for it, almost falling in his haste to grab his phone once it finally rings.

Your number pops up, the letters of your name taunting him as he tries to answer it. He's about ready to throw his phone on the ground from the water on his hand refusing to make picking up the call an easy feat.

"Hello?" Zayne asks, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

"Zayne! I'm okay!" you say, voice sounding a little weak but definitely better than he could have ever anticipated.

"Zayne? Honey? Hello?" you ask when you're met with only silence, now beginning to grow anxious yourself. You knew he must have been busy - you were too - and you thought he was safe. He should have been, you'd heard no reports of the hospital being attacked.

"You're alive," he chokes out, falling to his knees.

"Of course I am! Things have just been chaotic so I haven't had enough time to call you until now," you explain, continuing to talk to him.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone, trying to get his attention again before he cuts you off.

"Where are you right now? Home?"

"Oh - yeah I'm on leave now. Most of us who were in active duty are to let his recuperate. How come?"

"I'll be there soon."

He hangs up immediately, leaving you a little stunned. You decide to clean up a little, having nothing else to do really until he comes over. Zayne never acts this impulsively so you assume that the day with no contact really wore on him.

Once he arrives you open the door for him, planning to apologise for the lack of contact when he almost throws himself at you. You hold him back just as tightly, a little shaken yourself as you close the door after him. You realise that for whatever reason he's soaking, unsure if you should confront that but you decide to ignore it.

He leads you right to your couch, too exhausted to even find your bedroom as he buries himself against your chest. It's not the normal way he lays with you - typically he likes to hold you - but you know not to bother him now. You can't deny you were worried about him too, knowing he probably put in a bunch of overtime at the hospital.

He holds onto you tightly, measuring out the beat of your heart. It's the only way he can remind himself that you're still alive, that the two of you have one more day together.

Xavier has never felt like he wanted to die more than in this moment. One minute you were running with him, trying to stop the Wanderer from attacking the group of civilians the next you're totally gone. Logically, he knows you're most likely fighting a Wanderer by yourself and you can handle it but somewhere he's convinced you'll die without him at your side. You've proved yourself more than capable but he worries about you all the time - he knows how to fight these things, he's been fighting them for far longer than you have - and if you died here he'd have no more reason for living.

He practically goes beserk, tearing into each and every creature with the hopes that one of them can take him to you. With each failure he starts to spiral, standing atop a pile of rubble as he watches the recovery teams start to spread into the city. It practically took an entire squadron to force him to go home, promising him that he'd be the firs t to hear once they found you.

You were diligently following Xavier when you noticed another Wanderer going after a child. You knew that he'd panic once he couldn't find you but you couldn't just abandon them. You tried to tell him you'd be splitting off but over all the screams and screeches he couldn't hear you and you couldn't waste any more time trying to get his attention.

You were able to defeat the Wanderer but not before sustaining an injury that made it too difficult for you to continue active duty, taking the child to a safe spot and staying with them until help arrived. You ended up passing out from the pain shortly thereafter, waking up a day later to Tara in your face heaving a sigh of relief as she called for a doctor to come check on you.

Your body was simply fatigued and after an extra day of monitoring and ensuring you were receiving everything you needed to make sure you wouldn't collapse again when you get home. You nod, knowing what procedure is at this point. You reach out for your phone once the doctor leaves, knowing that Xavier must be worried out of his mind.

You're right, of course. He's laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for someone to call him. He saw the scale of disaster this attack was, knows that everything is absolutely awful and he's not the only one waiting for news but every minute that passes is another minute you could be trapped, praying that he's coming there to save you.

He decides to ignore the strict orders he's gotten, suiting up to go help the recovery efforts. He was going bad staying in bed all day, unable to get a wink of sleep as pictures of your suffering flash across his tortured mind. Working on pulling valuables and any remnants of life is depressing on a good day but right now it's downright torturous. He can't help but think that the next thing he pulls out is going to be your hand, severed far from your body.

When his phone rings everything disappears. He quickly picks up, steeling his expression to avoid making things worse should someone look over at him. He doesn't even notice who called him, just hoping that it was someone with news.

"Oh! You picked up fast. Are you just sitting at home then?" you ask casually, so casually he thinks it's almost cruel. How could you act so nonchalant about the fact that you held his life in your hands, that you are the only thing in this world he can bear to wake up for?

"No, I'm helping the recovery efforts despite orders. I...it was too quiet at home," he offers as an explanation and you hum. He can imagine you nodding, tapping your chin as you think to yourself.

"If you missed me you could have just said so," you tease, hoping that the ease in your voice will make him relax.

"Of course I did. Is that even a question? Are you able to take visitors?' You know what, doesn't matter. I'll just wait there until you are. I'll see you soon love."

He hangs up quickly and you know that he'll appear in the hospital within the next two seconds with that uncanny ability of his. You straighten yourself out a little, knowing that you were injured but not wanting to look like a total mess.

You can hear his footsteps running up to your door, slamming it open as he catches his breath. You've never seen him out of breath before - maybe he's much more tired than you initially thought.

"You made it," you laugh, making a slight sound from the impact of him practically jumping at you, holding you tightly as he buries his face into your neck.

"I was worried about you," he says softly, looking up at you. "I thought you'd been hurt, badly. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You sigh, helping him sit down into the chair at your bedside. You offer him your hand which he holds gratefully, never taking his eyes off of you.

"I know. I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay now, aren't I?"

He ignores the pain in his chest, trying not to imagine how heavy your hand would feel in his if you really had drawn your last breath. That weight is far too familiar to him, haunting his every thought in the hours that passed between then and now.

"You are. And I'm going to make sure you stay that way," he promises.

Rafayel didn't even know there was an attack until far after it. He knew you were working and that sometimes, you'd accidentally go MIA. You'd already texted him before your mission anyway and then he got drawn into another project of his and completely lost track of time. It's not until the next day that he finally sees his phone and the message from Thomas telling him not to come into the city for supplies for a day or so.

He immediately starts looking through articles, scouring pages that are constantly updating the death toll in search of your face. He curses himself for not paying attention earlier - every minute he wasted on some stupid was another minute you could have spent at Death's door, all because he allowed himself to forget that nothing matters if it's not you.

It's obsessive the way he looks through all of them, calling your phone non stop all the while. Every time he gets sent to voicemail he feels his breath get knocked out of his lungs, resorting to blowing up your phone with texts. When it's clear you aren't replying he grabs his keys to drive into Linkon despite Thomas' suggestion, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he heads to the hospital.

Even in all the chaos people can't help but stare a little as Rafayel makes his way to the counter, demanding someone tell him where you were. He's really trying not to be a brat, promising you that he'd be nicer to people but when it's your life on the line everything is up for debate. He goes through any and every possibility, figuring out what he can do to guarantee your survival.

Unfortunately for him, he gets escorted out. Jenna tries to calm him down, telling him that he'd be the first to know if they had any updates on you. Right now everything was just far too messy to know anything about anyone and there was a good chance that you were just being treated at a different hospital than usual due to the high causality count. He doesn't take no for an answer and manages to strong arm the name of the other hospitals you could have been sent to, starting up his car again right as his phone lights up with your name.

"What do you think you're doing not answering your phone?!" he yells, making you flinch.

Rafayel's never been mad at you, certainly not to this extent but you know that it's because he's anxious. He immediately catches himself too and you hear it, catching the sound of his hands against his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Just - where are you?" he asks, sounding so exhausted that you feel like crying.

"I'm okay Rafayel," you say instead, adding the name of your hospital. He's immediately driving over as you talk to him, keeping your voice even.

"I was split up from the group is all, then triaged at a different hospital. I'm fine though - I managed to just sprain my wrist from overexertion so I'll have a sling for a bit-"

"You're staying with me then. I'm not having you stay alone with a broken wrist. Knowing you you'd do something dumb and make it worse," he scoffs, trying his best to drive safely to see you again. You don't bother to correct him, knowing that's the least of your worries.

You fall quiet, not sure how to respond. Rafayel has always been good at masking how he feels, rarely showing you what he's hiding behind his mask. Now he's an open book, making it clear that nothing will be okay until he sees you again.

"Okay," you agree, leaning further back into the pillows of your hospital bed. "They wanted me to be released into the care of someone if I could anyway. That's why I was calling you - that, and trying to return all your missed calls."

"Thank you," he says so quietly you barely hear him over the sound of his car.

"Of course my love," you say just as softly. "I knew you'd worry as soon as you saw the news."

Another moment passes between the two of you. Rafayel thinks his heart fell out of his chest - or it would have if it was still his to hold. Instead, it's beating firmly in your palm, only able to do so under your affections.

"Rafayel, I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just hungry. Let's get something for dinner, yeah?" you offer, hoping to redirect his energy.

"Yeah," he replies, exhaling deeply.

"Anything you want my beloved. Just name it and it's yours."

[notjanine]

can't say 2022 was the best year of my life (oh, 2018), but it was definitely the wildest, had me saying 'who am i??' more than i ever could have expected. did a lot of late bloomer firsts. my social life is now the best part of my life in a way i never could have expected, and somehow i have become the friendliest and most social person within my internship cohort. i've been spending time with friends and friends of friends, one on one and collectively (i have never been into group hangs in my life before). heck, i fucken quadrupled my body count this year. and now ended up all cozy with someone who is, on paper, the exact opposite of what i was looking for, but hey. sometimes people surprise you in wonderful ways

i am still doing very well academically and in my internship, even if i've been barely keeping it together (and i mean barely). i've only got to hang on for one more semester, just one more. the whole time i've been here, the plan has been to leave as soon as i graduate. now, i'm not so sure, and i have a lot of complicated feelings about that, but. i'm not trying to think too hard about the future when i'm in such an extreme state of... growth? i guess? i hope

life is messy and i'm very tired but tomorrow i will make myself a cup of tea and read a book that was a gift from someone who loves me. i will do a few small tasks to prepare for the weeks to come. if the sun is bright, i may go for a walk in the woods, with or without a friend. and i will end the day happily sharing my bed with someone who wants to keep me warm. i don't think i could start the next year with better intentions than that

[neuroticboyfriend]

if you're a recovering addict, i want you to know you're doing good.

you didn't use today? you're doing good. you used recently and you're still recovering? you're doing good. you sought support today? you're doing good. you practiced harm reduction? you're doing good. you want to relapse and haven't? you're doing good. you're getting involved, even if others are doing more? you're doing good. you're resting today? you're doing good. you're alive? you're doing good.

this shit takes time. you have spent a considerable amount of time doing harmful things to yourself, or others. you're not going to change overnight. all you can reasonably do is get through the day, adding as much good to your life/the lives of others as you can. it doesn't matter what happened yesterday, or what's going to happen tomorrow.

all you have is this moment, and if you're on the path of recovery... you're doing good. this is your story. not someone else's. not some idealized version of yourself. it's yours, just as you exist, right now. that's all you have, and all you need.

keep going. you got this. i'm glad you're here (and so is everyone else who interacted with this post).

[feyascorner]

Astarion hates his scars.

Cazador is long dead, he knows this. That cruel excuse for a man can no longer haunt him as he's done the past two centuries...but of course, he couldn't have gone away without leaving this hideous mark on Astarion's back, of which he can't even see himself.

Even if he can't see it, he feels it. He can still feel the knife dragging down his skin, carving it into the runes that it is today. He knows it's large enough to obscure the entirety of his back, and he hates it---he hates that even in death, Cazador has so much presence in his life.

"These blasted scars."

You blink as you pause, cleaning his back with a towel. The tub water is still hot enough to let off steam, and while you remain clothed, it sticks to your skin with how humid it is inside the bathroom. You yank the ends of your sleep up further to compensate, but he doesn't budge, continuing to stare at the soap bubbles atop the water.

"The runes?" you ask.

"What else?" he grumbles. "They ruin the way my back looks, does it not? Even with that bastard dead he finds ways to hinder my life."

You stare at the very scars he's speaking of, with a sort of softness that he found too good for him just a few months ago. You lift your hand again, and when he feels your fingertips tracing what he assumes to be the path of the wounds, he almost shudders.

"You pull it off," you smile.

"As much as I enjoy flattery, I don't enjoy lying either, my love."

"I mean it," you begin to massage into his back, and he sighs. "Even if Cazador was the one to put it there, it's yours, is it not?"

"It's on my back, but I never wanted it there."

"He's dead," you remind him, drooping your arms over his shoulders and leaning your chin onto the crook of his neck. "While you're here, more than alive. So who else would it belong to but yourself?"

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Fine then. So what if it belongs to me? It doesn't change how it looks."

"Well, I love everything about you---even the parts you hate."

He stops. Despite his gaze remaining on the water, his attention is on the way your hand dangles atop his shoulder, and he doesn't fight the urge to rub circles into it with his thumb. "As kind as your intentions are, my dear, nobody could like such hideous scars--"

"I do. They're a part of you, how could I not?"

Astarion gives you a long stare which you return with a smile of your own.

Finally, he laughs, if just a bit, as he squeezes your hand. "You've always had such strange taste."

"No wonder why I'm dating a vampire."

"But I'm glad you have questionable preferences," he shrugs. "If it were any other way, I might've not had you here."