Hello! In celebration accumulating over 290 bookmarks on my AO3 account featuring IwaOi, Haikyuu S4 part 2, and @haikyuuweek2020 (Day 7 - Free Choice), I decided to create a masterlist of all of my favorite fanfictions in order to keep myself organized as well as contributing to more traffic for those works! I decided to split the works up by my own self-imposed genres, such asadulting(they’re adults but they didn’t end up where they did in canon), alternate universe (either in a non-modern world or not childhood friends), angst, andcoming of age/canon-compliant.
This is incomplete as I got distracted while re-reading a lot of these and have only gone through half of my bookmarks, but feel free to check my own page here for the rest of them! I really do hope you guys enjoy reading these and leave comments and kudos! Please reblog and like so more people can enjoy
Titles marked with (♡) are my absolute favorites and there’s a chance I cried while reading them but otherwise there is no set order to the way the works are listed.
My oldest cousin on my dad’s side passed away this morning. A massive heart attack at 48. My aunt had him fairly young, so he was always really close to my dad who saw him as a little brother. I’m not mourning, exactly. Or I don’t know. I haven’t been close to my aunt or her kids in years. But im pretty shaken by it. We grew up super close with that side of the family and my sisters are the same age as his little brother, so we’ve always run around with them. And in general, my aunt is the last sibling my dad really talks to consistently. Plus it’s just horrifying to watch this happen to anyone, let alone your family. Anyone can die at any point. What a fucked up thing.
My poor dad has had more to process and unpack and deal with this year than I think he ever has so I’m worried about him coping with this and worried about my mom having to deal with the emotional support when they’re already pretty fragile. She JUST moved back home yesterday.
My therapist and I have done a lot of talking about peaks and valleys. That my life cannot be all peaks and it cannot be all valleys. That jumping between the two makes you live constantly in panic. And that having a chronic mental illness means I will always be traveling between the two and that doesn’t mean a lack of peace or a lack of a fulfilled life. And intellectually I get that. But I haven’t had to test it to much while actually IN crisis mode. Meds and therapy and journaling and good luck and brain chemistry have kept me mostly stable for the year and a half I’ve been getting treatment.
But last week was a really hard. It was maybe one of the hardest weeks I’ve had. And not because anything went wrong. I’ve had hard weeks because of external stressors this year (hello my father’s break down and my parents separation) but this was my hardest week from just my brain being my brain. Nothing to blame. Nothing to fix. I’m truly trying to go as easy on myself as possible. I haven’t had a really bad depressive/anxiety swing in a long time, so consistently, so I kind of knee-jerk reacted to it. I’m used to having hard days and good days, or environmental stressors but this was real routine “afraid to go to bed and afraid to wake-up and snapping at every small stressor” bullshit. It’s really hard not to immediately think you’re going back to The Bad Place you were in, you know? My therapist was telling me it’s very much PTSD and you switch into survival mode even if what you’ve been doing TO survive isn’t what’s actually needed for you to thrive. You go back to the easy stuff that temporarily soothes you, or you slip back into “I’M SICK FOREVER AND WILL ALWAYS FEEL LIKE THIS” because those feelings are so familiar and therefore comforting. But I was really patient with myself, and just tried to be upfront and honest with people that I wasn’t being an irritable nightmare, or rather, I was, but it was because I felt like my joints were being held together with electricity and FEAR, and I believed it would pass but I understood if that’s annoying as fuck to be around. And what do you know, no one hated me for it and I got to listen to my mind and body and I’m feeling much better. Who knew.
It was also my first time being “sick” in front of my parents and being honest about it since my dad started therapy. I couldn’t have gotten a better response, honestly. They listened, didn’t try to fix, and didn’t keep asking me “what’s wrong, what triggered it?”. They just accepted the situation for what it was and checked in on me a little more frequently to let me know they love and support me. I am so bad at being vulnerable and honest when I’m not doing well because i’m equally terrified that the answer/response will either be dismissive and make feel feel invalidated or wrong, or it’ll be overwrought and then I’ll feel guilty and dramatic. I need to trust more in the people who love and care about me.
But my parents were wonderful and it just helps me remember that no matter how messy and hard and terrible this year has been for us a family, we’re all still in it and we’re all still listening and TRYING. It also made me feel a little like i’ve got some of my dad back. I’ve never really doubted my parents unconditional love and support, nor my unconditional love and support of them, but if this year has done anything it’s pushed and tested that for all of us and at least I’m realizing this aspect of our relationship still survives.
I can feel my body decaying around me and there’s something dark, and deep in my soul trying to claw it’s way out like a reanimated corpse fighting desperately to reach sunlight. But it’s chill. It’s cool. I’m cool
Fao knew he’d fucked up. That much was infinitely obvious. He wished he’d not punched the kid, he knew you couldn’t go around just punching people. He wasn’t an idiot. But Harrison had been obviously drunk, refused to tell him what was going on, and then made to get into the house. Sure, he overreacted, but did he really deserve to be punished? He was an adult. Things were over with now, it would make more sense to just move on and get on with life.
But no. Whilst Fred and Sheila knew domestic chores were off limits as a punishments, he was expected to stay home for the week and look after Finn. He usually didn’t mind helping to look after his brother - he was sweet, always made Fao laugh, and was the little brother he’d always wanted - but getting him up and ready for school when he didn’t want to go was exhausting. Not to mention full on Uni days. It would be easier if he was in his flat, but apparently he wasn’t trusted on his own. He appreciated that Fred and Sheila looked out for him, but it was frustrating.
When he wasn’t looking after Finn or in lectures, Fao kept himself to himself. He made the excuse that he had work to do, but in truth he didn’t want to bump into Harrison, didn’t want to deal with Sheila’s somewhat pitying, somewhat irritated glances.
Sheila knew better than to push it with Fao, especially when he decided to confine himself to his room, but she couldn’t help worry about him. Finn was never easy, and telling him to be good? Almost a guarantee to do the opposite.
Harrison needed a place to crash, and after promising he’d be good, do better, the Daniels let him stay. It wasn’t the first time he’d had respite there, but it was a bit more urgent than normal. The authorities were notified, and days went on. Harrison was careful around the house, trying to only walk around with Sheila or Fred nearby. He was skittish at the best of times, but Fao had entirely pushed that over the top. And he was going through another withdrawal, which made everything so much worse.
Fao had been at uni for what felt like forever, stuck in a stuffy lecture hall trying to take in so much information it made his brain hurt. He was looking for a change of pace at rugby practice, before he realised Sheila had told him to come straight home - no practice. So he drove home in a mood, slammed the door on the way in, stormed into his room and stayed there, refusing to acknowledge any of them.
Fred let him cool off for a little while before he tried to speak to him. He knocked gently on the door. “Fao?”
Fao looked up from his notes. “What?”
“Good afternoon to you, too. I came to see how you were.”
“I’m fine. Got loads to do.”
“Looks like it.” Fred moved to stand inside. “You slammed the door pretty hard.”
He shrugged. “Wind caught it.”
“A lie if I’ve ever heard one.”
“It’s fine. I’m just busy.”
“So you’re staying in your room again?”
“Yeah. I’ve got work to do.”
“So that’s why you’ve been stuck in here for the past week?”
“I’ve got exams and stuff. And then placement coming up, I have to revise.”
“And this has nothing to do with Harrison? ”
“Like I give a shit about him.”
“He’s still in your space.”
“And? I’m stuck here anyway. Doesn’t matter where I spend my time. Can’t see my friends, or go to rugby. Might as well just study, I’ve got enough on over the next couple of weeks.”
“Alright, alright. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“You asked.”
“I came to see if you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Would be better if you let me go back to my flat.”
“And how would you get Finn up in the morning?”
“He doesn’t fucking get up anyway.”
“Language. You know what he’s like.”
“Whatever.”
“Fao, we’re on your side.”
“I’m really not interested in having this conversation right now, Fred.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired and I’ve got a headache and I just want some peace and quiet and some space to myself!” He exclaimed, frustrated.
Fred sighed. “Alright.” He turned and left, shutting Fao’s door. He didn’t have the energy.
Fao was glad to be left alone, quiet settling over the room. He returned to his books, trying to concentrate on his work. He liked his space, he liked the quiet. Especially now, when the house felt wrong. It was better when he was alone. It always had been.
people with dissociative disorders/systems are marginalized even just within the mental health and disability community itself. we are already mistreated and misrepresented in media. these people [marvel] admit they know this. and then they make a show like moon knight where they openly acknowledge that they’re inaccurately depicting and overdramatizing did? they make a show about a character who develops did bc of what- an alien entity? what the actual hell. i am so fucking angry.
Parenting right now in the age of social media and the internet is SO HARD. On the one hand, you have so many resources, some of which have truly been very helpful to me. I see people on instagram I can relate to, which is nice. But also SO MANY OPINIONS. There are so many ways I can/am/will screw up my child. Sleep train, don’t sleep train, either way I’m damaging her. Be responsive, but not too responsive, you need to foster independence. Set clear boundaries but make sure you’re not always saying no, don’t say “good job” when they accomplish something but build intrinsic motivation. It just feels impossible sometimes. I am so tired. I slept on my child’s floor last night because she was screaming and I couldn’t take it. Now she’s screaming during her nap time. Did I teach her a bad habits? Will she now need me there to sleep all the time? Am I not being responsive to her needs?
More than the bad sleep the anxiety is fucking me up. I just had to delete Facebook and instagram because it constantly shows me parenting reels full of judgment.
