#like girl you can see the depression coming over me just in the file structures …

[oflgtfol]

in my monthly “mourning the part of me that died last year” era

[ceruleanskies]

I'm not hatin on you or anything, im all for it but why do you keep hating on white people? You are being quite offensive ngl

deep breaths, kai. deep breaths. i’m prepared to lose more followers for this. so let’s discuss this ask, shall we?

i could go on and on and on about the different microaggressions or racist stereotyping I have experienced as an Indian (common culprits are ‘where are you REALLY from?’, ‘you’re so pretty for an indian girl’ or, in terms of stereotypes, the ‘indians all run pharmacies and smell bad’ and ‘all indians have poor english’ [i speak gujarati at home fluently and am learning both spanish, hindi, mandarin and korean, excuse me if my english is not perfect] which probably require another post altogeher) but I’ll keep this focused on what you were probably referencing; my post about white mh activists not uplifting POCs. 

there is a distinct difference between being offensive to white people (not racist, offensive. you cannot be racist to white people as white people have never historically been marginalised, nor has your race ever limited any opportunities for you. the dictionary defines racism as: prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism by an individual, community, or institution against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalised.) and pointing out the faults in a system built specifically for white people, by white people; a system that still refuses to give POCs the same privileges as white people. were you offended by me saying that white mental health activists should uplift and give platforms to POCs who suffer from mental illnesses instead of talking over them? 

Generations of systemic and institutionalised oppression and racism by a system built for white people by white people to benefit white people warrants some kind of frustration, doesn’t it? if you’re offended by someone pointing out the flaws of almost each and every system in society, (I’m quoting Hank Green here), ‘that’s probably because it’s messing with a power structure that benefits YOU’.

this got long, so read under the cut. 

time and time again POCs are systemically oppressed in every walk of life. be it in the justice system, the medical sector, hell, even in the job market... speaking of the job market, i bet you didn’t know that the University of Oxford conducted a study that sent out around 3,000 false job applications for all kids of jobs; their study found that if you’re BAME (black, asian or minority ethnic) you have to send out 60% more job applications than your white counterparts. if you would like to read the study, you can find it linked above. 

as @fruityutas​ said, black women are twice as likely to die in childbirth than their white counterparts in the US (in the uk, it’s a fivefold higher mortality). seeing as it’s current, let’s discuss covid-19, shall we? if you’re a POC in britain, you’re more likely to die from covid-19 than a white person. 

think i’m making this up? have a look at what Public Health England have to say about it.

“An analysis of survival among confirmed COVID-19 cases shows that, after accounting for the effect of sex, age, deprivation and region, people of Bangladeshi ethnicity had around twice the risk of death when compared to people of White British ethnicity. People of Chinese, Indian, Pakistani, Other Asian, Black Caribbean and Other Black ethnicity had between 10 and 50% higher risk of death when compared to White British...”

“...The relationship between ethnicity and health is complex and likely to be the result of a combination of factors. Firstly, people of BAME communities are likely to be at increased risk of acquiring the infection. This is because BAME people are more likely to live in urban areas, in overcrowded households, in deprived areas, and have jobs that expose them to higher risk. People of BAME groups are also more likely than people of White British ethnicity to be born abroad, which means they may face additional barriers in accessing services that are created by, for example, cultural and language differences.” (2020) Assets.publishing.service.gov.uk. Available at: https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/908434/Disparities_in_the_risk_and_outcomes_of_COVID_August_2020_update.pdf (Accessed: 18 January 2021).

or, alternatively, if you’re sick of hearing about covid, how about the fact that the NHS is slow to respond to health problems that disproportionately affect certain ethnic minority groups? POC patients that require treatment for hepatitis B, myocardial infarction (heart attacks), hypertension and diabetes have to wait longer despite having similar symptoms to white patients. 

sick of the science? how about we talk about the fact that doctors from BAME backgrounds are less likely to be promoted to consultant posts in the NHS than white doctors? BAME doctors are also more likely to experience bullying and harassment as well as face more complaints and disciplinary actions. 

Now, let’s discuss what i’m guessing prompted this accusatory ask; the disparities in incidence of mental illness in BAME communities versus white communities. Compared to white people, black women are more likely to experience anxiety disorders or depression, south Asian women are at a higher risk of suicide and black individuals are more likely to be sectioned under the mental health act in the United Kingdom.

From ‘rethink mental illness’:

“…People from BAME backgrounds told us that some of the barriers they face when accessing mental health care are:

cultural barriers where mental health issues aren’t recognised or aren’t seen as important,

language barriers

professionals having a lack of knowledge about things that are important to a person of colour or their experiences,

white professionals not being able to fully understand what racism or discrimination is like,

lack of publicity of mental health support and services in some communities,

stereotyping. For example, some white people think that black people with mental health issues will get angry or aggressive, conscious and unconscious bias, and

stigma about mental illness in some communities stops some people of colour seeking help. They can feel ashamed.”

White people will never be able to understand what it is like to be a POC, just like how a cishet person will never know what it’s like to be LGBTQ+ . Comparing the experiences of a white person with that of a POC is like comparing apples and oranges (I group POCs together for the sake of argument; of course I, as an Indian experience privileges that a black person does not experience). 

In spite of the greater incidence of mental illnesses in BAME communities, white people have an easier time accessing mental health care than us POCs. coming back to the argument that white people will never be able to understand racism and cultural issues that can lead to mental illness, which, as i’ve said before, is looked down upon in POC communities coupled with the notable lack of BAME therapists and psychiatrists means POCs who have the luxury of accessing therapy will more often than not have to discuss their issues with someone who will never be able to relate to them. 

but i was offensive to white people because i said white mental health activists  talk over the already-suppressed voices of POC activists. okay.

[usernoneexistent]

Okay, I just wanted to do a little bit writing cause why not and also I’m kinda obssessed with Clover and Jax (@oneirataxia-girl oc) so I figured I would write out some scenes. This will be in Clover’s POV. Excuse my American English, I’m raised in the uk so I’m used to British English.

Initial Meeting

Late September 1980, Heathrow Airport, England

The light pings off, indicating it's time to unfasten the restraints holding me to the seat. Out of the window, I see the gray sky looming. Typical British weather at this time. I observe how the others get off one by one and the outside of the airplane is much brighter than expected. The no-majs transport never ceases to amaze me.

I pick up my luggage and head towards the exit. I fixed my blazer as I was meeting my partner to be for the duration of my stay in London. I wasn’t too pleased by the arrangement but this assignment is far too important to make complaints about. I only have a name, Gideon Everglade, high ranking Auror, also specializes in business crimes. A little eclectic and has his own unique methods of catching the culprits.

My eyes scan the crowd of friends, lovers, and acquaintances waiting, holding up signs to identify them. A man with disheveled hair and a crooked nose that I so badly want to put back in place holds a sign with my name. As I approach closer, the man notices my presence, nods an acknowledgment, and puts out his hand to greet me.

“So you’re the young genius that I’ve been hearing about.” He shakes my hand with a firm grip.

“Genius is an overstatement”, I clarify, trying to wean my hand out, “I’m merely good at solving puzzles. I assume you’re Gideon Everglade”

“Yes, that’s me and, don’t sell yourself short Sweets. Come on, lets go to head quarters,” he offers to take my bag but I refuse. We wait for a taxi to take us into central London, standing there, neither knowing what to say.

“I’m surprise you know you’re way around an airport. Most I know would still be lost and end up in another country." He chuckles at his joke

“My family would take the plane when we visit my relatives in Scotland.” I explain.

“Is that so?" He didn't badger on, perhaps slightly disappointed that I didn't joke. It's not like I wanted him to. The taxi ride to central London wasn't as crowded I expected. As the small cozy houses turn into tall buildings towering over. It had an air of history and old architectural structures wherever I looked. It reminds me a little of the buildings back home in Philadelphia.

Gideon pays the taxi driver with no-majs money and takes me to a classic British red telephone booth.

"We're taking the visitors route." Inside, I feel a little claustrophobic being so close with another person. He puts some coins in and dials a number. There was a little creek as it goes down. It is an elevator inside the phone booth. It takes us down. Down there, it was massive, like another world. Dark and gloomy, with dark green tiles like a forest at a misty dusk. Offices are lined up almost like a small flat. A statue and fountain are on display in the center. The atmosphere is so different at MACUSA, it’s so much brighter and full of light there. I cannot blame them for the depressive mood, after all, they are in the midst of war.

I was taken up to the 3rd floor where the Auror's offices are located. He leads me into a huge room that looks more like the personification of chaos. Many boards are up with pictures of scourers, some I recognized and scribbles on notes. Paper is scattered everywhere. Office cubicles lined up.

The noise is the biggest thing that stood out. Too many people are chatting that I can focus on. Paper's rustling. Drawers slamming. Everything seems so amplified in ears.

I snap out of it when Gideon grabs my arm, "My desk is down there," He points and takes me there.

"Excuse the mess here. Just make yourself at home." He says as he steps over a pile of files.

"Right." I mutter to myself.

I make myself comfortable as he said. He searches through some files at the back and dumps a bunch of paperwork on his cluttered desk. Some pens fall off but Gideon doesn't bother to pick them up.

"Now, let's get down to business. I assume you read the brief."

"Yes, Hippogriff's Inc is an old company established in 1665, here in London. They helped boost smaller businesses and then bought them out only to make more profit. Now, they are internationally acclaimed and owns a huge share in the market. Many who have invested in the Hippogriff's Inc are the Blacks, Lestranges, Malfoys and other old wealthy families,” I briefly explain.

“Yes, many of which are known death eaters or at least support you-know-who’s cause.”

“And since they’re international means that you-know-who has more access to scourers.” I finish off, “More reason to take them down.”

“Right, I have been working a plan,” He hands me a file with classified stamped across, “I’ve given you access to all relevant files.”

I get concerned at the word relevant. Most likely means I won’t have access to every file. Usually, the most relevant files are the ones that have access denied. I look at the file.

“Since we can’t simply take them down, we need to work on the inside. Find concrete proof of their support of you-know-who. For that we need a business consultant.”

I look at the profile placed in the file. “I take that the consultant is Jaxton Arcane.”

“Yes, he may be new but he has left a huge impression on the business market. He’s perfect to recruit. Mr Arcane has not shown any alliegence to you-know-who and is outside of the Hippogriff’s influence but he access to the wider business circle.” I nod for now. I'm not keen on adding more members to this investigation. Particularly outsiders, they tend to disturb the investigation.

“Right, and where do we find Mr Arcane?” I ask. He chuckles, “There is no we here, you’ll be the one to find and recruit him.”

Late September 1980, London, England

The fall air breezes against my skin as I approach the old building, Vistas Industries plastered across. The night’s silence is only disturbed by the rustles of leaves. A light on the 2nd floor to the right is on and a shadowy figure walks past. The short hair and the tall stature indicate a man. I push the door but since it is not budging, I whip out my wand.

“Alohomora,” I whisper.

With a click and the door opens, I quickly cast a silencing charm to prevent squeals alerting to my presence. I invite myself, creeping to the back, and find the wooden stairs leading to the 2nd floor. Light seeps through the crack underneath the door. When I draw closer, the same door swings open. Inside, most likely the same man sits relaxed with a glass of wine on a fancy, red armchair. His smile greeted me. The warmth the fire blasts when I step in.

“I wasn’t expecting a visitor at this hour, but I’m not against it. Names Jax. Jax Arcane and you sweetheart?” He smiles, I’m not sure if he’s flirting or if that's his personality.

I flash my MACUSA ID card, “Hello Mr Arcane. My name is Clover Sweets and I represent-”

“Shit, I swear I didn’t do anything.” He cuts me.

“Sir, I’m no-” He throws away his glass of wine, carelessly spilling it on the floor, and tries to open the window, most likely planning to jump out. “Sir, I just-” Realising that my words are not having any effects, I blast out a charm, stopping him in his tracks.

“SIR! I-” I raise my voice but to no avail. Mr. Arcane brings his wand and blasts out charms. I quickly raise a shield charm to block it.

“Immobulus”, Mr. Arcane dodges the blue light and went behind the armchair. He has the advantage over me, My eyes spied about and found a table to be my line of defense.

“Flipendo!”

A bright light flashed before me, knocking the air out of me. My wand rolls out of hand.

“Sorry sweetheart but you leave me no choice.” He says, ready to leave. I stretch out my hand and scramble to grab my wand. I swear, I can't let this man ruin this operation.

“Fulgari.” A lilac light shots out and binds his wrists together tightly. I get up and brush off any dust. “By the authority given to me by the British ministry of magic, I'm placing you under arrest for assulting an auror.”

He wriggles about as I try to apprehend him. “This isn’t fair!”

"Mr Arcane, the more you struggle, the more consequences you'll have suffer." I can’t tell him yet that he isn't really under arrest. This could be used to my advantage. I grab his arm, “You better stay still unless you want to be splinched.”

Late September 1980, Ministry of Magic, England

I drag Mr. Arcane to an interrogation hold. Gideon comes up to me, his stance showing his displeasure.

“Blimey Sweets! I thought I told you to recruit him not arrest him.” A scowl plasters on his face.

“I was force to apprehend him as he tried to run away and attacked me.” I explain matter of factly.

“Don’t tell me you sneaked up on him without warning.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, I think so! A warning would have sufficed otherwise I wouldn’t have run away.” Mr. Arcane interrupts us.

Gideon sighs, "Whelp! At least we've got him. I'll leave Mr Arcane to you Sweets."

I nod and turn back to Mr. Arcane. I sit down in the uncomfortable atmosphere. The room doesn’t help at all but is certainly an improvement to the American interrogation hold. I try to look at him but my eyes keep darting. His stupid smile is in the way. My father’s words are in the back of my head. Remember Clove, always maintain eye contact. Always make it clear who’s in charge.

I was relieved when Gideon shuts the door and leaves me to observe next door. My eyes lock into his. “Mr. Arcane, I apologise for not giving you an advance notice but the matter is urgent.”

“Call me Jax.” He winks. "But it doesn't explain why a hot American Auror needs me."

“Are you aware of the Hippogriff’s Inc and their association to you-know-who?” I conjure up the file, pulling out the relevant paper. He glances and leans back, “Yeah, everyone heard the rumors. So you’re after the big boys huh? What do you need me for?”

“Access to the Hipoogriff's circle.”

“I’m not part of the Hippogriff’s circle.”

“I’m fully aware but you have access to the people who could.”

“And why should I help you?”

“Because I could get you sentenced for assault and serve time in Azkaban. I heard it’s one of the worst prisons in the world.” I lean towards him, not letting my eyes stray away for one moment. His grin widens and laughs,

“That would maybe work in America but here, well, the court would be in my favour. You see I have cameras in my office that are recording all the time and they would agree that entering without warning is more troubling and would understand my reaction.” 

He’s right, I may have studied some Britains laws and giverment structure. I am not full versed with them and while he would know loopholes and understand the culture here and how the court would react compared to a MACUSA trial. I grimace and clenched my jaw a little, “Right, Jax. I may not win in a ministry trial but I do expect your cooperation. Understood.”

“That’s fine by me.” He doesn’t even attempt to hide his victory over me.

I let myself relax a little. Jax folds his arms defensively and slouches back again in the creaky metal chair, “So how will this work, Sweets?”

I scowl at him, “Don’t call me Sweets.”

“The other guy called you that.”

“It’s acceptable since we’re at work.”

“Well, technically we’re now working together, aren’t we?” Dam, he got me there but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“Fine.” I mutter. His grin gets even wider. I took some paperwork. “You’ll be legally a consultant on the case. However since most information is classified, you’re identity will be protected.”

I slide it over and conjured up a pen, pointing where he should sign. He skims through all the pages, quickly glancing at the key words before sighning it.

“So what now?”

“I’ll be in the field with you while Gideon Everglade, the other Auror you meet earlier will be supporting us.”

“So, we’re doing some undercover work.” I could hear his excitement. He’s the same as many people I've met at work before. They’re in it for justice but the thrill of it.

“I prefer the term fieldwork, But undercover comes close enough.” I correct him. I know that some found it annoying but I find that words can be easily be taken out of context." I explain.

"What's our cover story?" He asks

"I'll be Clover Sweets, granddaughter of Theodore Sweets, genius inventor and I'm looking to invest in a business."  

"Isn't that just you?" He looks at me suspiciously "Yes, but my Auror records are concealed so if anyone does get suspisous or investigates me will have a hard time." Plus I'm only well known in the Auror community, half the stuff I do barely gets covered in the newspapers due to its sensitive nature.

"Okay, so how do we know each other? You know, what's our story when people ask how we know each other."

I can't believe I even I'm saying it but it's the most plausible scenario. "I'll be your current lover."

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

Moving on. (1/3)

Pairing: Kylo x Reader, Poe x Reader.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: An abusive relationship so if its a trigger for you consider not reading, angst and maybe some tears.

Day 515.

Opening his eyes Kylo looked at his surrounds and saw the hour on his clock on the nightstand. 05:20 AM.

Grunting he sat and rubbed his face, another day where he would spend tired.

He glanced at his large window and saw the lights over the other buildings.

His apartment was in the penthouse of a known building in the city. He was CEO of his uncle’s firm and money wasn’t an issue.

Deciding to start his day he took a hot shower to fix his thoughts and went for a run. It would be nice to watch the sunrise.

Back at his place he took another shower and walked to his closet to choose his suit for the day.

Of course he chose some normal black one.

He walked to the garage but felt something rubbing on his pockets, clicking the lock button and unlocking his car he touched his pocket finding a small paper rolled up.

Just to remind you of me. I love you, Kylo. ♡

Your handwriting perfectly wrote with a heart followed. Kylo’s lips almost smiled but he frowned and threw the paper at the back seat of his car.

He hasn’t time for that.

Not now.

You woke up thanks to Kylo’s annoying alarm. It was 7 AM and you just wanted to sleep a bit longer. “Kylo can you please turn it off!”

He laughed and did so moving so he could grasp you with his arms. “I love how grumpy you are.”

“Okay, praise me later it’s too early.”

“Is never too early to praise you.” He left a sweet kiss on your lips and made sure you would get up.

People would never expect Kylo to be romantic, but what mattered was what happened between you two.

“Come, let’s get ready and I’ll let you at your work.” He stated and kissed your bareback.

You were almost ready when Kylo was finishing putting his papers in order inside the suitcase. Smiling you grabbed a paper and wrote a small message down. Kylo would probably have a busy day and you hoped it would make him at least smile.

As you thought the day was busy, a few associates and partners where Kylo wishes he could fire -but Luke didn’t allow so- didn’t agree with Kylo’s project, he was already tired.

Long hours late he was finishing some contracts and rolled his eyes when his pattern Hux found a problem at Kylo’s sketch.

It was always like that, Kylo created something, the associated would approve, but Hux would find a flaw.

After the long meeting and finally finding something Luke and Hux agreed with, Kylo sat at his desk seeing some financials documents on his computer, darting his eyes to his watch he saw the black and white photo aside his Dell computer.

He smiled and grabbed the frame, tracing his finger on your face he wondered how someone so good was doing with him.

Remembering your complains about the late hours he had been working on he decided to go home and grab something to make a dinner for you, he searched the car keys but when he did he felt a paper and wondered what it was, probably some claim check, it was a small message you wrote for him, he smiled like a fool in love and went home ready to spend some quality time with his girl.

Gruting Kylo drove faster to his job, his knuckles growing white as how hard he was gripping the wheel. He had a large meeting today and the last thing he needed was to be distracted by something that ended a long time ago.

His day went rather normal, Luke asked some file Kylo had saved in one of the boxes on his shelves. Searching for it he saw a picture fallen on the floor, it was you and him on the second anniversary you two shared.

He didn’t like photographs but his smile was huge in the picture, it was a great day. A fucking great day.

Eating breakfast you looked Kylo by your side reading the newspaper. “A whole another year with you, how did I manage that?” You teased and Kylo laughed at the words, he knew he wasn’t the easiest person to be around. “I’m joking you know, I love you.”

He placed the newspaper down and moved his chair pulling your arm. “And I love you.” You sat on his lap and kissed him gently. “Tonight we will have a nice dinner.” He proposed and caressed his large hand on your shoulder. “Maybe watch some movie at that drive-in cinema you love so much,” His hand went lower on your arm. “And then we come back here, have some fun.”

Grabbing your waist he pulled your lips near. You smiled at the kiss, happy about the idea, he hated cinema due to the people that would be there, his flat tv was almost the size of a cinema’s screen and he had money enough to buy the new realised films, so the thought of going out just to make you happy meant a lot.

The day gladly flew by at your job and soon enough you were at home dressing a new dress your boyfriend bought.

The dinner was at the most luscious restaurant on the city, Kylo knew you would be by his side didn’t matter if it was on an expensive dinner or a simple pizza at the street corner, and he loved it.

The movie was the old On the Waterfront and Kylo managed to park his black Range Rover in the best spot to watch the screen. At home, well, moans, curses, and love statements were surely heard by the annoying rich neighbors down the level of the building.

He hated to admit, but he missed you. A lot!

The fact that his uncle, father, and mother kept talking about you didn’t help much.

His apartment seemed boring with the modern structure. His closet only filled with dark colored clothes, his feeding was only around proteins and alcohol.

Everything was too boring, too tasteless.

He knew he messed up, he knew that he failed his promise of loving and respecting you, that he took you for granted and he regretted it.

And what pissed him off the most is that you moved on, adversely than him that tried to find solace in wild nights in clubs, you found someone else.

Kylo would respect that you had sex with other people, he did too. But it wasn’t that, you found someone new, someone better.

Poe Dameron was the one, of course it was. Poe used to live in Kylo’s neighborhood while kid, and they were friends but as the teenage years came around Kylo started to ignore Poe due the jealousy he felt.

Kylo Ren were always smart, clever, skilled and entered on his uncle’s empire managing to bring more fortune and accomplishments, but his parents would always look at the man whose the wish while kid was to fly.

Leia worked in the council and is an important general, and Poe worked for the government service pilot managing to be near her still. Han used to fly too and that is how he met Leia. Another reason why Han liked Poe Dameron so much, for Kylo’s dismay.

Kylo understands that even if you started to date someone that he had never even heard of he would be pissed, but Poe Dameron? He felt attacked. He felt like you did it to hurt him directly.

Day 15.

He was terrible, today it made exactly fifteen days you two broke up, that Kylo loved you wasn’t something new, he knew it very clearly. But that he couldn’t live without you? That was sad.

He knows he has the tendency to push people away, but after you two started to date his insecurities and bad temper started to slow down considerably, you calmed him and definitely made him a better person.

The four years and five months you two dated was perfect, you were so good and bright. Even on the days you felt ugly, angry, depressed Kylo still saw you as the most bright angel that fell on his lap.

He needed to see you again, he needed to talk to you and apologize. He wanted to send you flowers but he had no idea where you were. He wanted to talk but you had blocked his number. He even went to your work searching for you, but you weren’t there. He even gave the doorman money and his phone number ‘if you see her, you call me, doesn’t matter the hour’ he stated after handing the man a large money quantity.

And when nothing happened he decided to go to Rey’s apartment to look for you.

When he reached the building he tried to remember the floor and number, he had been there before, when Rey and Finn started to date and she threw a party, and to make you happy Kylo went there with you.

Gladly the apartments bell were mixed together and aside each number had the last name of the owners, Kylo saw that her apartment was the 20th one, he would ring but she would never allow him up there. An old lady approached opening the door and Kylo enjoyed the opportunity to go up.

He knocked on the door and was met with Finn. “Hi, Kylo.” He answered surprised, shocked.

Kylo wasn’t Finn’s friend and after the club incident, he knew he wasn’t welcomed in his house. “Hey, is Y/N here?”

“Babe, who is there?” Rey yelled while she approached the door cleaning her hands on a cloth. “The dinner will burn if you keep-” She stopped and her smile faded. “What do you want Kylo?”

“I want to see Y/N, she is here?“

"No she isn't." She answered quickly and Kylo looked at Finn trying to see if it was the truth.

“I don’t believe you.” He stepped inside the place pushing Finn and Rey away in the process.

“Dude you can’t enter our house in that way!” Finn shouted and grabbed Kylo’s shoulder.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Kylo shouted and took Finn’s arm out of him, he kept searching but didn't find you. “She ain’t here.” He murmured after looking at the whole place.

The apartment wasn’t big. “That is what Rey told you, now leave, you are not welcome here.” Finn stated and Kylo shook his head, he didn’t care if he was welcomed or not.

“Where is she?” He asked and looked over Finn and Rey trying to find something, any glimpse of an answer.

Rey saw how terrible Kylo looked, his eyes heavy followed by deep dark circles under his eyes. “She is out of town, she needed to breathe and took off.”

Kylo thought about your relatives, but they didn’t live near. “Where?” Rey stood quietly. “Listen, I know we are not friends, but I need her!” His tone of voice raised and Finn looked at his feet before glaring back at the tall man before him, he looked like a junkie searching for his drug. “Listen,” He reached Rey’s arm and touched it making Finn intervene stepping in front of his girlfriend.

That made Kylo see how desperated he looked and how none of them would answer.

He shook his head and walked outside the place but kept his hand on the door to make sure they wouldn’t close. “I miss her. I miss her so fucking much. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can't think! I can’t live without her. Please, please tell me where she is.” He begged.

Finn opened his mouth but Rey quickly raised her hand silently telling him to stop. “Can’t live without her?” She asked and Kylo nodded. Rey touched the door and with a quick move closed it beating on Kylo’s nose. “Then die!” She shouted.

Of course Rey would not help him. Kylo felt his world ending, he was an idiot to let you slide. He knew he couldn’t ever find someone like you. Because the only one he could ever love was you.

                               …

Day 21.

Kylo discovered where you were living and walked there wearing a hoodie and jeans, a different look for him. But he needed to talk with you, he needed to open up his heart, to show you he cared and missed you.

Reaching your door he knocked twice and placed his thumb on the peephole, you wouldn’t open if you saw him. When you opened the door you looked brighter, you were wearing a white flowered dress with your hair slightly wet, you had a smile, until you saw him. Kylo’s heart clenched at how your face fell seeing him, placing his foot in the door he extended his hands on the air trying to show it was okay. “Y/N, please listen to me.”

You looked at how broken he was… good!

“I’m sorry, I took you from granted and I shouldn’t have. Y/N you are everything, you have no idea how broken I am and I regret all the time I made you cry, we used to be so happy and-” Kylo’s mouth closed and a thin line formed.

Poe appeared behind you and looked at Kylo there. “Y/N everything is okay?”

Your eyes were teary and you dried them before looking back at Poe. “Yeah, it’s okay.” When you looked back at your door it was empty, Kylo left.

You weren’t dating Poe on that day, a friend was throwing a party and you and Poe would go together, as friends. But on Kylo’s eyes, you picked Poe only to hurt him.

Day 65.

You were walking on the sidewalk with Rey on the phone, she was trying to set you up with Finn’s cousin and you were declining saying you weren’t ready yet.

When you turned the corner of your building you saw Kylo there wearing jeans and a green shirt. It was a Thursday and he always worked in that hour. “Rey, hm, I have to go.” Finishing the call without waiting for her answer you gulped seeing him. “What are you doing here?”

Placing his hands in his pants pockets he looked at you. “We need to talk.”

Shaking your head you grabbed your keys and walked trying to enter the building. “We don’t.”

Kylo touched your arm and you cringed.

He saw it and felt bad about how much he disgusted you. “Please just hear me. And I’ll go.” Taking a deep breath you looked back at him. He didn’t have a speech ready, he just wanted you back. “What do you want? A house in the sub? I buy it, I quit the job, I do whatever you want Y/N.”

“Kylo I don’t want you to quit your job, it wasn’t work that tore us apart. It was you.” You pointed the obvious.

“Y/N marry me.” He stated and you widened your eyes.

"What?"

“Marry me, we will move together and I will fix it, Y/N I can’t stand being without you.”

“Kylo we can’t be together, you don’t love me anymore and… and I cannot live knowing I’m with someone that doesn’t want me, someone that doesn’t respect enough me to sit down and fix our problems. Someone that would get home late and don’t tell me what was happening, someone that on the first fight would run away and fuck someone else!“

His eyes were teary with guilt, this could not be the end. “Listen we can fix it!”

"We can't.“ He tried to grab your hands but you dodge it. A man walking on the sidewalks saw the tears in your eyes and quickly tried to help you.

“Are you okay ma’am?“ He asked and looked at Kylo up and down.

You smiled and nodded. “It's, thank you.”

Cleaning your tears with the back of your hands the man nodded slightly but didn’t believe your words. "Are you sure?”

“Yes. I live here, you don’t have to worry.“ The man looked at you again trying to find any hint of a ‘help me‘ sign, but when he found none he left.

“Kylo. I love you. But I let myself love and care for you more than I cared about myself, and I can’t live in that way. We spent good years together, but this is broken, and we can’t fix. Is beyond repair.“ The words hurts but it was the truth.

He was just as hurt, but Poe’s face came to his mind. “This is because you are dating Dameron?” He asked clearly pissed.

Scoffing at how his mood shifted so quickly you looked him deep in his beautiful brown eyes. “We are not together anymore, what I do with my life is only my business.“ Answering coldly you entered your building and closed the door.

The memories still hurt Kylo, 515 days had passed and he still misses you.

He hated himself for hurting you so much, he wants you back so desperately, want you back in his arms that is where you belong to. He would do anything for it to happen, but you moved on.

                              …

Next.

[zeemonkey1]

Why?

“I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.” 

I wish I were lying about all of this.

I used to ask why a lot, y’all. Why Curious George does the things he does, why he gets away with it, why everyone defers to MYH like he is the Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu of the universe. Whatever pain-starved and masochistic readers I have left will no doubt agree that I have attempted in my ramblings to understand the why, and I have failed as utterly as when I tried to play basketball in high school. Know your role, saith the universe, basketball is not for you. Not only was basketball not for me, certain things were for me, and none of them were athletic, nor were they attractive to high school girls. That, in itself, was enough why and why me and why them to keep me filling notebooks with whiny, maudlin, cringy bullshit for years, chasing an unobtainable goal through various adolescent stages of goth, emo, grunge and whatever-the-fuck else in an attempt to be something (anything) different than what I was.

It took longer than it should have for me to realize that ca-caw, ca-caw and tookie, tookie DON’T WORK.

Yell for the monster all you want; he will not show up until his time is fulfilled.

Ask why all you wish; God will ignore you and focus on the what and the who because, if thou canst not draw out leviathan with a hook, then buddy, God ain’t got to explain shit, feel me?

ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die

Consider Kafka. There is no point, and that is the point. Sometimes people wake up as insects; sometimes people get arrested and stabbed for no reason at all. Sometimes people get beaten up by hoboes and change their name to “Negro.” Sometimes the moment is structured such that our protagonist lives in a village for no reason, has sex with a barmaid for no reason, and bides his time by fighting against a faceless bureaucracy for reasons he doesn’t understand towards a goal that doesn’t matter and we don’t even get to know what that goal is because Kafka died before he could finish Das Schloss. And anyway we wouldn’t even know or care if Max Brod would have just burned the notebooks filled with whiny, maudlin, cringy bullshit like he was supposed to.

The Man in the Yellow Hat knows what Kafka was throwing down. There is no point to the monkey; there is no purpose to be served. Life is a serious of random happenings that occur without our interaction, without our blessing, and without any manner of the control we like to think we have.

This is why clowns are funny.

This is why clowns are fucking terrifying.

Clowns do not follow the rules society has set down; they perpetually exist in a netherworld of obfuscation and misdirection. Why do they look like that? Why do they do all the patently ridiculous things they do? Why do they exist?

Because they do.

In this episode, MYH and George are traveling to a clown school. Nobody knows why other than a vague MacGuffin of wanting to see Pepe El Loco, ”the world’s greatest clown performer.”

But it is not a clown school.

It is madness.

And I don’t mean Lovecraftian Mountains of Madness, where the countless gibbering things at least have an unfulfilled hunger, a desire to devour , a desperate yearning to escape the foul darkness and feast upon the cracked psyches of all who behold them. I mean the kind of madness that plagues Pink Floyd’s Lunatic on the Grass, a meaningless madness, laughing at things that aren’t funny, laughing at nothing at all.

MYH almost finds a parking space, but then a clown car full of two other clown cars and like fifteen clowns cuts him off and steals it. Thus, it is the parking lot that becomes MYH’s Kafkaesque hellscape, and Curious George must brave the clown school alone. He is told to proceed to the ninth floor, where the Pepe El Loco show will be held.

First Floor: George sees a clown dancing with three dogs dressed as clowns around a fountain that is also a clown. The lobby looks like somebody paid Betsey Johnson to gravely insult Banksy using only decorations available at Party City. Another clown comes in, joy-buzzes himself for no reason, and leaves. Then, a messenger clown gets attacked by yet another clown who comes out of the elevator with a bucket filled with confetti.

Somehow, this means two things:

A. George cannot use the elevator. He must take the stairs.

B. George acquires the messenger clown’s bag, hat, and nose, which now makes George the messenger, like what happens to that suicidal guy in the Piers Anthony book about Death.

doctor you have to help me

Third Floor: George is distracted by a clown walking down the stairs on his hands. He forgets what floor he is on, and so opens the door on the third floor to ask for directions. The third floor looks like the playroom in that Richard Pryor movie The Toy. The woman behind the desk looks like one of the Murmurs joined the Swiss Guard and sounds like Fran Drescher.

She hands George what looks like a twisted green bongpipe and then genuflects to the portrait of Dear Leader Pepe El Loco on the wall. She explains that the bongpipe is part of the “greatest clown gadget ever” and George must go to the fifth floor to pick up another piece of it. George tries the elevator, but as soon as the doors open, a clown shoots another clown out of a cannon. The clown that is thus ejaculated bounces off a trampoline and back into the elevator. Who could use an elevator with all that mindless bullshit going on? Not George—back to the stairs.

Meanwhile, MYH finds another parking spot, but it is reserved for elephants. A clown shows up on an elephant and demands that he move. MYH keeps driving; elephant is parked. The clown leaves the elephant, but only after he hits a button on his keyring and the elephant-car-alarm beeps.

At this point, I paused the show and screamed at the heavens. The heavens did not answer.

i am sad and depressed

Fifth Floor: George is dumber than a football bat. I wonder if his intelligence fades in and out, like a variable Flowers for Algernon. Sometimes he can build fabulous machines. Sometimes he can solve mysteries. Today, trapped in the Tower of Madness, George cannot count from three to five, and thus must walk all the way down to the first floor and start over.

On the first floor the clown and his dogs are still dancing. Stop asking why—hear you nothing that I say?

On the fifth floor a clown riding a baby’s tricycle and sounding like Snagglepuss gives George some sord of weird-ass metal thingie with a red disk on the end of it like that orgasm-game Commander Riker played on TNG. This clown says go to the second floor. George still can’t count, so he goes down to the first floor and watches the clown and his dogs for a bit.

A worm crawling in my brain tried to make me say WHY? but I ignored it.

life is harsh and cruel

Second Floor: Second floor was just Paul Lynde bouncing around on bedsprings tied to his shoes. George collects another piece of metal tubing, heads down to the first floor to watch the dogs-and-clown, and then climbs the stairs up to the eighth floor.

pagliacci is a famous clown

Eighth Floor: Edith Bunker is dusting a bicycle seat in front of the Macedonian flag. She gives the seat to George and tells him to go to the fourth floor.

George has an epiphany. Instead of walking back down to the first floor and then up to the fourth, he can instead tape numbers to all his fingers and use them to subtract eight from four.

MYH is still circling the parking lot. As soon as he says “I’ll NEVER find a parking spot!” a clown jumps out of nowhere and paints a parking spot around his car.

I begin to believe Marcel Duchamp and Frank Zappa wrote this episode in a Navajo sweatlodge.

pagliacci is in town today

Fourth Floor: The fourth floor is the swimming level from Super Mario Brothers. A seal gives George something that looks like a can of pepper spray. A clown with a Minnesota accent unfolds from a filing cabinet and tells George to go to floor ten.

Now, follow me on this. We were told at the beginning that Pepe El Loco’s show happens on the ninth floor. That was the whole reason George and MYH came to the clown school. Now we know there is a floor above nine. Why this made me want to eat aquarium gravel will be soon made clear.

you should go see pagliacci

Tenth Floor: Clown on stilts gives George a toilet plunger and says he better hurry to the first floor to meet Pepe El Loco. George hurries. The clown and dogs are gone. MYH and the great Pepe El Loco are there.

pagliacci will cheer you up

FIN: They all take the stairs to the ninth floor. Pepe El Loco’s all-important gadget is a disassembled pogo stick with the plunger as the bouncy part. He gets to the center ring of a three-ring circus just in time to bounce around and do little flips with it.

Y’all.

Y’ALL.

The ninth floor of this ten-floor building is a cavernous bigtop the size of the dadgum Astrodome. The ceiling is made of vaulted tent-canvas.

There is no tenth floor. THERE IS NO TENTH FLOOR EVEN THOUGH I SAW GEORGE GO TO THE TENTH FLOOR AND RETRIEVE A TOILET PLUNGER FROM A CLOWN ON STILTS

but doctor I am pagliacci