After 3 months of work it’s here!! This is the biggest project I’ve ever done and I’m so excited for you all to play it! As always my tumblr lovelies get it a day earlier than my TikTok <3
Summary: As summer is nearing its close, so too is the familiarity of the people around you. Diluc, your close friend, is leaving for Sumeru, an esteemed university across the ocean. With the goal of treasuring what little time you all have left before life takes you on your separate paths, you and your friends take a vacation to the Ragnvindr’s old beach house for one last hurrah. But perhaps this is also the beginning of something else?
There are 3 endings–what they are is a surprise for you to find out <3
Should I change this blogs name or move to a new blog?
Change name
Move to a new blog
Voting ended onApr 19, 2023
Deciding what to do bc I wanna start writing comfort fics and have writing be my creative outlet again, but I don’t want people I know irl finding my writing blog (who are finding my tiktoks)
Changing name pros: I keep my following of almost 10k followers
Changing name cons: I have to change 100+ urls in my masterlist, I lose my identity as rulaineyu for writing (I’ve had the name since I was in sixth grade writing wattpad fanfics)
Moving blogs pros: Don’t need to edit 100+ urls, fresh beginning
Moving blogs cons: I lose my following of almost 10k followers, rulaineyu will still exist to be found by people
This is an autobiographical piece about my struggle with mental health. It is the most personal and vulnerable piece I have ever written. I am posting it here now because today is my 21st birthday, and I can say for sure that life is worth holding onto, that the days do get better.
Warnings: Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, su*cide ideation. Please take care of yourselves.
deadline.
I never planned to live to the age of 20.
It was, as I told my doctor when I was 15 years old, “a fun little five-year plan to die before I turn 20.” A literal deadline, if you will. (I thought the joke was funny—my doctor did not.)
Of course, this was before I knew that adults had a legal obligation to share this information with others when a minor tells them they want to hurt themselves. Red eyes and wet cheeks betrayed the fact my doctor had told my mother what I said. Seeing her cry broke my heart, but I also remember turning to stare at my doctor in dismay, feeling betrayal not unlike when you hide a bitter pill in a treat for your dog.
At 15, the plan just made sense to me. I had been experiencing anxiety and daily panic attacks for a year. It’s anxiety like you have a friend following you around all the time, except she whispers that “everyone hates you”, “your breathing is bothering him”, “she doesn’t hate you because she doesn’t even think of you”, and she says it all in your own voice. It’s like going about your day feeling like a ticking time bomb, wondering when is the next time your entire body will seize up when there’s not enough oxygen in the air. Maybe it’ll be on the way to math class or while crossing the road when your legs give out as your entire body goes thumb, digging your nails into your palms to feel something as you spiral.
I already had enough at 15. I told myself I would give it 5 more years and I’d be done.
I didn’t have any solid plan on how to kill myself, per se. It was just the little things.
Not looking for cars before crossing the street.
Being careless with a knife while cooking.
Laying in bed for hours until I couldn’t stand the sound of my own thoughts anymore.
I’m not sure when I started having anxiety, but it’s been there for as long as adults have been asking children about their aspirations for the future. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” asked my father, my kindergarten teacher, my academic advisor.
“A princess.” “A vet.” “A lawyer,” I responded. Actually, my real answer was much more simple—I won’t be.
They say it’s a problem with our generation, that our constantly-connected lives leave us feeling more isolated, and thus more anxious and depressed. This self-contradiction continues in their solutions. Pro-mental health ads play before YouTube videos, influencers post “you matter :)” on their Instagram stories, and posters with helpline numbers are plastered on the cold concrete walls. Yet everyone seems to care until they get to the deep, ugly parts of it.
When I was 14 and said I had anxiety, people called me an attention-seeker.
When I was 15 and said I wanted to die, the hospital workers told me to come back after I actually tried to.
When I was 16 and said I was having a panic attack, a teacher took away the phone and earbuds that I needed to calm myself down.
Then I was 17, and the clock was ticking. I told myself to just get through the year, finish high school, just get a taste of adulthood before giving it all up...
And then the COVID-19 pandemic hit and everything shut down. Suddenly it wasn’t just me staying home in bed all day—now everyone gets a free trial of depression lite.
It probably would have been the easiest to execute my plan—and me—during this time. But rather than an unsympathetic university dorm, I woke up each morning afternoon to the pink walls of my childhood bedroom and the stuffed animals I used to adore on my dresser. Ate fruit loops while listening to my lectures about criminal defences and the problems with the court systems. Helped chop the old wood in the garden into pieces, swinging down the axe to the beat of the music I used to listen to when I was 12 years old.
To my surprise, things got better. I stayed home, wore masks when I went grocery shopping, washed my hands. At first I did it to keep my family healthy—I’m not sure when I started doing it for myself. Maybe this is the difference between wanting to die and having to die. If I’m going to die, I’ll want it to be in my own hand, damnit.
Time passed, and the two-week break from school turned into an almost two-year quarantine. Like others my age, I found myself living the first years of my adulthood in my childhood home.
I became 18 and struggled to navigate my first year of university completely virtually. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn as I grappled with trying to learn all the content on my own. But the light from the computer screen was enough to see the plate of sliced fruit my mother would bring me as I studied, along with the words “you’re doing fine” as an extra sweetener.
Then I became 19 and moved out to live on my own for the first time. My university town was grey and gloomy, but when I took a break from staring at my computer to peer out my window, sometimes the sky would be a dream of pale lavender melting into wistful pink; a sight for literal sore eyes.
And then I became 20 and realized I wanted to live.
There was never any sort of big moment of epiphany. It was the little things.
The taste of cold white peaches on a hot summer day.
Blazing red skies as the sun kissed it good night.
The little ‘mrf’ sound my cat makes when I first reach out to pet her.
Fairy lights rocking me to sleep.
A FaceTime call with my mother asking me if I’ve eaten yet.
It’s the little things on a list that keeps growing and growing that keep me alive. I’ll do it for the smell of freshly baked bread, for a hug from a friend, for the wildflowers growing in my backyard.
I’ll keep living.
Things are not perfect, that is for sure. I still have anxiety, and I still have panic attacks, and I still have some moments where I think, “if I killed myself earlier, I wouldn’t have to deal with this.” But you know, I’ve been getting more days where I think, “I’m glad I stayed alive for this.”
I’m 20 now, turning 21 in a few months. I have definitely failed my five-year plan that 15-year-old me set. But now I have a new plan.
Fanfic Quotes is a blog that shares people's favorite quotes from their fav fics! :D
It's very funny (if you're worried about resposting, it's not reposting at all :)
I see! Thanks for letting me know! (≧▽≦)
The reason I’m v worried about reposting since I’ve gotten my work reposted without my permission multiple times (´；ω；｀) even when they credit me I still feel kinda uncomfy
Summary: Scaramouche can’t believe someone of his stature is playing house with you, a mere human. When you insist on him joining you in your pillow fort, he wonders if this game is really worth it.
Fandom: Genshin Impact
Characters: Scaramouche x gn!Reader
Genre: Fully written, hurt/comfort(?), fluff
Word count: 1188 words
Warnings: Swearing, violent urges from Scaramouche, he practically has to resist from killing you lol
A/N: For @xiaosmoon’s holiday writing collab! thank you for letting me participate~
