#bc dr was like. my hyperfixation for multiple years at the least

[olrinarts]

alright so let's go on a tour of my current writing folder (or at least the part devoted to cotl, the full writing folder which includes my original projects is. a whole lot. and not actually a thing y'all are here to see)

tl;dr: let's just say there's enough fic that i had to zoom out a LOT to keep these to single screenshots, so this whole thing is me making fun of myself for my hyperfixation (it's all in good fun)

buckle up my friends, prepare to view the sum total of human normalcy

let's begin with two numbers: 52, and 582,499

52 is the number of different files with writing that isn't a 'discard' - so completed projects, projects in progress, and projects waiting for editing. 'Discards' are essentially the parts i've cut, because i really rarely delete a draft, diverging plots i've rejected, or paragraphs i'm cutting, etc

582,499 is the number of words in all 52 docs combined. i did the math. i am simultaneously proud and deeply concerned by this number. (with the most easily counted discard docs, that number becomes 694,737.)

also of note is that the earliest doc was created on the 2nd of February 2024, aka this year

normalcy is off the CHARTS, lads

so this is the main folder and where the projects that are either incomplete or in the process of being edited:

docs crossed out are excerpts from other fics for that zine application, and red dots indicate at least some nsfw content (i just wanna make the point from earlier lmao). I'm not counting fade-to-blacks in that nsfw marking. Also ignore the titles, other than chimes of bone and ashes ashes they're largely silly pretentious placeholders

from there we have:

'phone tag' (a collection of v short fics that won't be posted bc they specifically jump off a fic i read early on and wanted to rewrite bc i liked the concept, but i'm not gonna go posting something that's a reworked vision of something another fic author wrote, that's just bad etiquette and it's okay to write things just for you); these docs aren't pictured but add 6 docs to the total list

'extras' (where i put the discards and such, as well as fics that have already been posted for organisation purposes)

and 'complete', which is our next destination

So here's the 'complete' folder, which is more of a storage for things that aren't actively being edited but are otherwise complete drafts:

red dots are again at least some nsfw content, and the 'old' folder is essentially just the waiting room for getting moved to 'extras'

Next folder being 'pwp', but inside is actually this:

for these two folders assume it's all got nsfw content. the difference between the two folders is whether or not the fic required multiple scenes, not whether it's actually pwp (it is a liar of a folder)

'actually pwp' (again, ignore the doc titles, they're basically meaningless):

then this is 'has a story':

and lastly, pulled from the depths of the 'extras' folder due to being complete fics that have already been posted, is the 'posted' folder:

So what are the takeaways from this?

i have far, far too much time on my hands and use it extremely responsibly

i am very normal about the things i like (and also type very fast)

i'm picky about cleaning fic up and having my partner look them over before i post, so there'll be long dry periods, but i won't be running out of material any time soon

feel free to send asks about anything here (assuming you can read the text for ants and can glean even a particle of what it might be about from the vague titles)

i'm always willing to ramble a bit and it'll be a WHILE before some of these end up anywhere near posting

[apollos-boyfriend]

i hope technoblade being in the danganronpa creator’s new anime brings a new increase of danganronpa fans and i hope some of those fans decide to write a danganronpa au with minecraft youtubers and i hope wilbur soot kills charlie slimec

[baixueagain]

ok venty reflective blog entry time bc I find it helps me get shit off my chest & calm my anxiety. 

tl;dr I had a shitty teen friendship that to this day has left me with enduring trauma symptoms lol

at least once a year I find myself reflecting back on one of my closest teenage friendships. towards the beginning it was (at the time) probably the deepest platonic bond I had ever shared with anyone, but over the years things soured until finally it became well and truly toxic and finally ended disastrously. we tried on two occasions to make amends as adults, only for it to crash and burn again because of the baggage.

now toxicity in this case went both ways and I know that I had ownership in what happened. my RSD ass for one was clingy and needy, which was only exacerbated by a very long episode of major clinical depression that started when I was around 16. I could also, like many teen girls, be a real catty little shit at times. I had a hard time with social cues because of my neurodivergence, but I will note that I have always tried extremely hard to listen and respect others when they tell me that I’m doing/saying something which annoys them, hurts them, or otherwise bothers them. thing is, though, you kind of have to tell me if something bothers you, or else I might completely miss out on or misinterpret your reactions. it’s not so much a lack of empathy as just the signals get completely crossed. people send off so many signals that I sometimes can’t sort them out.

as a result I have made a lifelong habit of conscientiously trying to communicate that I am open to hearing feedback and trying to resolve interpersonal problems. I did it back then, too, because this was far from the first time I’d had trouble reading social and emotional signals, or getting them confused.

anyway, that said, what sticks with me about this particular friendship is that as things progressed this friend, let’s call her A, began to treat me not only like a burden, but like a monster, sometimes reacting to me with both fear and hatred. that was the confusing part. she did it in front of others, making it clear how she saw me, and that was the humiliating part. she also had long talks about her problems with me with other people (who were already openly mistreating me due to my neurodivergence), but she rarely ever told me that she had problems with me, even though I pretty much begged her on multiple occasions to tell me what I was doing wrong. that was the painful part.

ever since then I have had the occasional bout of extreme guilt, shame, self-hatred, and anxiety as I wonder if maybe she was right to treat me like that. maybe I was a monster. maybe I had been horribly abusing her and never realised it. maybe my attempts to reason with myself about all this are just the typical excuses abusers make for their behaviour. maybe i’m a monster, or else why would A have treated me like a monster? why else would so many of the other people in our mutual social circle have treated me like a monster? fuck, am I the baddie? 

hell, throughout those years, when my other friends and family tried to convince me that A was treating me unfairly, I consistently defended her to them. I told them that they didn’t know A like I did. I told them that I must be doing something wrong. I must deserve the way she was treating me. sometimes, like today, I still find myself in that spiral of anxiety and self-blame.

on days like today, I have to consistently remind myself of the things A did do, making a goddamn list in order to silence the screaming in my brain telling me that I am the sole fuckup:

she downplayed things, dismissed them, and even shamed me when I told her on multiple occasions that some powerful people in our social circle were openly mistreating me and a few other (obviously ND) kids

she confided in these same people about our friendship and took their advice on how to treat me

she basically used me as her free therapist for years, and because I didn’t know better I let her. she meanwhile refused to see a real therapist for some of the very real issues that she had, even though I literally begged her (in tears) to please go to a professional about these things because I couldn’t handle them on my own.

she lied to me. a lot.

she used me to lie for her to others, including to her own parents. I let her, because I thought that’s what loyal friends do.

she frequently treated me like an annoying child in public because of my hyperfixations and other coping mechanisms

she frequently treated me as if symptoms of my illnesses - including literal internal bleeding - were just me trying to manipulate her for attention

years later, A basically admitted to seeing me as a freak who is unable to socialise with “normal” people. she acted as if I were being unreasonable and overreacting when this made me angry.

as I would learn even more years later, she would frequently assign malicious intent to my awkward or unusual (but otherwise innocent) social behaviours. this, it turns out, is why she’d sometimes randomly start treating me with fear, revulsion, or anger, with me being completely clueless as to why. (note: I have other close friendships that started around the same time as my friendship with A and which have endured to this day, and none of those people have ever had very much trouble with talking to me about behaviours that inadvertently upset or bother them)

she continued to do this during both our attempts to make amends. when I finally realised what had been happening and told her how it made me feel during the second attempt, she cut off all communication completely. by this point it had been nearly a full decade of this behaviour from her.

but of course, even when I sit down and write all these things out, the little whisper in my brain still tries to convince me that she could probably make an even longer list for me so I must be the monster she thought I was, right?

then again, while writing, I’ve come to something of a realisation: if a friendship from my teen years has left me with symptoms of emotional trauma that have lasted into my fucking thirties, then maybe I’m not the asshole in all this. maybe my crippled-ass brain is telling me I’m a monster because, during a very important developmental stage of its maturity, someone I loved and trusted repeatedly treated me like I was a monster.

I mean, only like 2-3 years ago, I suddenly had a memory surface of A’s dad yelling at me in public, in front of dozens of people, and then leaving me to have a meltdown/panic attack in front of those same people - all because I tried to ask her why she was (yet again) treating me strangely. I don’t remember what he was yelling about, or why. I can only suppose that she had told him that I’d done something heinous. that, or he just saw that his precious little girl was treating the local freak like a scary monster and decided that it must be for a good reason, because that freak’s a freak. 

this occurred a full decade before I actually remembered it for the first time. I even called up my parents to confirm whether it actually happened, or if I was imagining things. it had. 

so yeah. I’ve always known that all that business fucked me up. I guess it just fucked me up even more seriously than I’d ever expected.