#so I wasn’t really bothered by it and dad’s frankly too fuckin happy about it

[observethewalrus]

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[hermannsthumb]

Can you do winter prompt 13 obvious setups?

13. my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

from winter writing prompts here

GOD i was so FUCKIN obsessed with this prompt when u sent it in, thank u so much. consider this the remix fic of 45. your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now

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“I swear,” Newt says, “I didn’t know.”

Hermann--suitcase at his side in an iron grip, snow still melting off the shoulders of his parka, splotchy red spreading across his cheeks--scowls at Newt like Newt’s just dug up his mother’s grave or something equally unforgivable. Newt shrinks away instinctively. “You cannot be serious,” Hermann says. “You must have known.”

The situation in question is this: intimately aware of Hermann’s famously bad relationship with a good chunk of his family, and how it’s likely to have only gotten worse after the whole Breach collapse Hermann-was-right-and-your-wall-was-stupid-and-wrong thing, Newt decided to take one for the proverbial team and just invite Hermann ‘round to his place for low key holiday celebrations this year. The alternative was ditching Hermann in the mostly deserted Hong Kong Shatterdome and listen to his dad guilt him about it for two weeks. Not that Newt would need any help feeling guilty; he knew for a fact that if he did ditch Hermann, Hermann would just be up all hours of the night in LOCCENT monitoring the late location of the Breach and missing Newt.

Newt wasn’t being sentimental, either. Hermann really would miss him like Newt was a limb that’d been lobbed off. Lingering side effects of their drift (even all these months later) has made it difficult for them to be even a few miles away from each other, let alone a fucking ocean. Luckily reluctant co-dependency isn’t new for them.

So Hermann agreed. Newt’s dad was just thrilled. He seemed to take it as confirmation of his decade-long suspicions that Newt and Hermann desperately want to be more than lab partners but are too chicken to make a move (as he explained eloquently over the phone to Newt, while Newt spluttered and protested) and ran with it, to Newt’s horror. Especially to his horror now.

His dad’s only done up one bed--one full-sized, dinosaur-patterned bed--for Newt and Hermann to share.

“Look,” Newt says, even though he knows what he’s about to say is a blatant lie, “it’s gotta be a mistake. We’ve got a sorta-guest room down the hall, I bet my dad meant for you to go there.”

“I certainly hope so,” Hermann sniffs.

Newt takes Hermann’s suitcase from him and books it down the hallway, and Hermann clacks angrily behind him. The sorta-guest room is classified as such because of the lumpy cot they kept in there for when Newt’s uncle would visit, though the bulk of it contained mostly junk, overstuffed bookshelves, and a desk Newt used to grow weird plants on in a fish tank. The tank (Newt discovers when he pushes the door open) is still there. The cot is not.

God damn it. “Dad,” he calls, while Hermann continues to seethe. “Hey, Dad?”

Nothing. Then, finally: “Yes?”

“Where’s the cot?”

Footsteps up the stairs. Dad pokes his head around the doorframe. “Cot?”

Newt sighs. “The cot we used to keep in here,” he says. “Hermann needs a place to sleep. Or I do, at least,” he adds, turning to Hermann, “you can take my bed--the cot’s not super comfortable.” The room never had very good ventilation, either. Hermann will just wake up shivering from the lack of heat with a stiff knee every morning, which means, thanks to drift hangover, Newt will too, and then they’ll both be miserable. At least Newt’s got a bit more meat on his bones.

“Oh, I tossed it out years ago,” Dad says. “Too old. It was falling apart.” Newt spies the beginnings of a smile beneath his beard, even as he feigns confusion. (God, he is so not getting a Father’s Day card next year). “Is there something wrong with your bedroom, Newt?”

“Uh, yeah,” Newt says. He shoves Hermann’s suitcase back at him just to fold his arms angrily. “Whatever, I’ll just sleep on the couch.” It’s a pullout. He thinks. It’ll be better than curling up on the carpet in his room or contending with Dr. Icicle Feet Blanket Hogger of the Year--stuff he only knows also thanks to the drift, okay, he and Hermann don’t make a habit of sleeping together. In both senses.

“But where will your poor uncle sleep?” Dad says. His smile grows.

Right. Illia’s already claimed the couch. Newt takes Hermann’s suitcase back. “Fine. I’ll dig out my stupid Boy Scouts sleeping bag and take the carpet. Hermann--”

“Newton,” Hermann interrupts. He looks slightly embarrassed. “Ah. That really isn’t necessary. I suppose we can manage to make your bed work.”

“Great,” Newt says.

“Great!” Dad says. He slaps Hermann so hard on the back that Hermann squeaks and sways on his feet.

Newt clears away some space in his old dresser--which is easy, since his fashion tastes haven’t evolved from when he was seventeen, and he took most of his clothing with him to the Shatterdome in the first place--and he and Hermann unpack their suitcases with relative ease. Or at least Newt unpacks their suitcases with relative ease. Claiming fatigue from their terribly long journey, Hermann lounges on Newt’s bed with his collar undone, like the picture of Victorian debauchery, and watches him. Frankly, though, Newt prefers the bossy little orders to his previous whining about their sleeping situation, so he’s happy to do it. Mostly. “You haven’t folded that sweater correctly,” Hermann says.

“It literally doesn’t matter,” Newt says. “It fits, and that’s all I care about.” He shuts the drawer to prove his point.

“It matters to me,” Hermann says. “I’ll know it’s not folded, and it’ll bother me.”

Newt grits his teeth. He opens the drawer. He folds Hermann’s sweater.

“There, was that so terribly difficult?” Hermann says.

He stretches his arms above his head, and nestles back against Newt’s stack of pillows with a soft groan that makes Newt’s witty, sarcastic retort shrivel and die on his tongue. Hermann can be awfully, uh...sensual for a guy with a bowlcut. “You really have got quite a comfortable bed,” Hermann murmurs. “I could fall asleep right now. Mm.”

Newt kicks the drawer shut again and flops down next to him. They do both fit, at least, though they’ll be bumping elbows and legs for sure. “It’s the most average bed of all time,” he says. He grins. “It just feels like it isn’t because it’s not one of those fucking cement slabs we have back at the base.”

Hermann makes a face. “I won’t be happy to get back to those.”

“Yeah,” Newt agrees. 

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. The little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars he pasted up there when he was twelve are still going strong, though the Lego spaceship he strung up with fishing twine is long-gone. Probably fell and broke into a million little pieces over a decade ago. “I’m sorry about this, by the way,” he says. “The, uh, sleeping situation. My dad...”

He trails off. Hermann crooks an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“He thinks that we,” Newt says, and swallows, “I mean, like--he wants us to...” To admit they dig each other? To get hitched and have, like, a half-dozen genius physicist-biologist babies? Be happy together? It’s not as if Newt doesn’t want those things with Hermann. (Well, maybe not the genius baby thing. He can wait a while for that.) “It’s just, I’m an only child, you know, and my mom’s out of the picture, and I think he thinks that I need--”

Newt’s saved by a knock at the bedroom door. “Dinner!” Dad says.

It turns out it was only temporary salvation. The moment he and Hermann take their seats at the tiny dining table--seats which are, for some reason, crammed together at one side, when there’s a whole fourth perfectly fine one just sitting there empty--and heaping mounds of everything are piled onto Hermann’s plate (too skinny, Dad says with a sigh, and Hermann only looks mildly offended), Dad and Illia start giving them the third degree. Yes, Hermann was born in Germany; no, he hasn’t spent any significant time there since university, though he supposes he wouldn’t mind going back at some point; yes, a lot of the original jaeger coding was of his own design; yes, he and Newt have shared a lab for the entirety of their time in Hong Kong, and before that in the various Shatterdomes they were shuttled between, and-- “Er, no,” Hermann says, “no, Newton is an--ah--exemplary lab partner, what makes you say...?”

“I raised him, Hermann,” Dad says.

Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “He’s the messiest man I have met in my entire life,” he says. “You ought to see the sort of rubbish he used to leave around--kaiju intestines, blood--oh, and there was one time he left a piece of dead skin louse on the coffee maker--”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better!” Newt says around a mouthful of potatoes. “Last week you didn’t even have to ask me to clean up all that venom I spilled on your desk.” He was proud of himself for doing it as fast as he did. A minute more, and it probably would’ve eaten through to the top drawer. Hermann was less enthused.

“And it only took you half a decade,” Hermann says. “Well done, Newton. If the kaijus ever return, perhaps you’ll have learned to operate a broom by then.”

He takes a smug little sip of his wine that he quickly coughs up into a cloth napkin when Illia--apropos of nothing--says “Are you married, Hermann?”

“Ah.” Hermann coughs a few more times, and wipes at his eyes. Newt suddenly becomes very interested in his plate. “No. I am not.”

“Seeing anyone?” Dad says.

“Dad,” Newt groans, shrinking down in his chair. If he’s lucky, and thinks very hard about it, maybe the Breach will reopen right beneath him and he’ll be tossed into an alternate dimension where Otachi ate him after all and he never had to sit through this conversation.

“No,” Hermann repeats. “I--no.”

Dad and Illia share a satisfied glance. “Our little Newt was always quite a handful,” Dad says, “but--”

No helpful Breach comes to swallow him whole, so Newt resorts to his back-up plan, which is smacking Hermann’s glass of wine off the table and into his lap as Hermann shouts in surprise. “Shit,” Newt says, too-loud, “looks like we gotta get that cleaned up, Hermann--c’mon, here we go--”

He shoves Hermann’s cane into his arms, and then proceeds to shove Hermann down the hallway until they reach the bathroom. Hermann’s glower has returned with a vengeance. “You utter buffoon,” he keeps saying, while Newt (crouched on the floor) dabs at his newly-burgundy pants with a wet handtowel, “you moron, you wretched little--”

“I’m sorry, okay,” Newt half-shrieks. He throws the handtowel to the ground as he stands. His ears are still burning red-hot from the table, and his sudden close proximity to Hermann--noses barely an inch from each other, so close Newt can smell wine on his breath and count every last dark eyelash that frames his soft eyes--isn’t helping matters at all. “What else was I supposed to do? I panicked!”

“These were my best slacks,” Hermann says, “and now--”

“You have a dozen just like them,” Newt says, “two dozen. Three dozen. I just fucking folded them all!”

“Stop shouting,” Hermann says.

“Make me!” Newt shouts.

“I bloody will!” Hermann shouts back, and then he grabs Newt by his tie and kisses him. 

When they emerge from the bathroom and take their seats fifteen minutes later, Hermann with his collar suspiciously askew, Newt with his own buttoned suspiciously higher than it was going in, Dad and Illia pointedly say nothing.

Hermann pours himself a new glass of wine and clears his throat. “What, ah, what were we discussing?”

[heweightlossjourney]

Introductions

**PRO ANA, PRO MIA, AND THINSPO ACCOUNTS DO NOT INTERACT**

Hello to anyone reading this. I’m H and I’ve started this sideblog to document my weight loss and keep myself accountable. Let me start with a little backstory:

I have been overweight for as long as I can remember. I’ve never been super active, though I was on a couple sports teams at various points throughout my school life. I always overate as a kid and I still do it now. Eating has been a coping mechanism for me my entire life, and I would say that I am addicted to food. 

I have generally been okay being heavy, but bullying is a bitch and I know that other people’s perception of me affected me and made me a nasty bitch in middle school and high school. I wasn’t in a place to understand why I acted out until I was able to distance myself from my long term abusive boyfriend and my dad stopped drinking and got out of his abusive/toxic situation. Now, I understand the effects that the trauma in my life has had on me and I’m calmer and more level-headed, so I am in a good place to start working on my physical health in conjunction with my mental health. 

I know that my self-image right now isn’t healthy, and I am aiming to love my body. I am trying hard not to think of the things I might want after this, like skin removal surgery and breast reshaping, but it is hard not to imagine myself with a little sprucing up. While I don’t want to scrutinize over every flaw I have, I think the best way I can motivate myself to keep it up is taking note of my body and how I perceive certain areas, so I will update this with my reflection on how my body looks every so often. 

Over the time I have been not working because of COVID-19, I have gained weight, but I have also started keeping up with infamous obese youtubers like Amberlynn Reid and Foodie Beauty, and watching channels like Charlie Gold and Petty Kitten react to them. I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t a kick in the ass to not become as big as them, but also a motivator knowing that I will never be like that, I won’t allow myself to be like them, and that I am a better person than they are. I know that thinking like that is mean and cruel, but I am here to lose weight, not monetize my addiction and appeal to feeders while maintaining an attitude of entitlement and oblivion.

While we are at it, let me just name a few of my rock bottom moments:

- my abusive ex boyfriend calling me “Whaley”

- being too heavy to ride horses

- being too big for a ride at the fair and having to get off it in front of a ton of people in public

- my brother swiping the back of m head like a debit machine

- my ability to polish of a lot of food in one go

- my lack of stamina standing, walking, exercising, being on top during sex

- crushing my boyfriend when I lay on him

- being too big to fit into 3x clothing on websites like dollskill that actually sell some interesting clothing for bigger ladies

Without too much more delay, let’s get into the facts:

Age: 18

Height: 5′11

Starting Weight: 333 pounds

Current Weight: 329 pounds

Total Loss: 4 pounds

BMI: 45.9

BMI Goal: 25

Current Goal: 300 pounds by day 30

Day: 4

Health Concerns: Morbid Obesity, PCOS and Insulin Resistance, Lactose Intolerance, Depression, Anxiety, Food Addiction.

Diet Plan: OMAD (one meal a day) and intermittent fasting. 

The diet I have chosen to follow, OMAD, is one of many different diets I have tried over the course of my life. I have tried keto, I have tried vegetarianism, I have tried slimfast. The reason I have chosen this particular diet this time is because of the freedom to eat pretty much anything within the hour I set aside for myself to eat each day. It’s hard to fuck yourself up too much in an hour. After having done the diet for a few days, here is what I have noticed about it:

- I get hangry

- I am somewhat nocturnal and often sleep from 6am - 2pm, and it makes it so much easier

- The boost in energy after my feels like I am on top of the world, and the naps while digesting fuckin rock, sleepy is a good feeling when you have time set aside for it

- It is a lot of mental will power to look at my favourite foods and say no

- It is a lot of mental will power not to cram 3 meals into an hour

- It is hard to pick what I want for dinner

- Cravings hit hard

- Black Coffee is nasty

- It is easier not to consume dairy with OMAD, and not have diarrhea everyday is nice.

There are some things I have noted as well, like eating dairy at all is a big mistake. It is unpleasant to only feel full for a short period of time before violently emptying the contents of my digestive tract. The effects of lactose has on my body go so much quicker when it is the only thing I have in my body at the time. Lactaid is very hit and miss for me, and by the way the chewable tablets are actually the devil incarnate and I hate them. I have tasted vanilla in my life and that isn’t it. 

I chose this diet because my boyfriend does fasting as his preferred diet method, and while I wish I could fast all day, my job requires me to have energy and I am not a happy hungry lady. I intend to do OMAD long term, but may change it up slightly if I start to struggle when I get back to work. 

It should also be noted that I seriously do not recommend this diet to anyone who struggles with disordered eating (me), depression (me), anxiety (me), obesity (me), anyone who has an affliction that would make it safer for them to consume more than one meal a day (me), and people who have medications they need to take with food (me). This diet is not recommended by doctors for long term weight loss, my endocrinologist was frankly a bit shocked when I told her, and it can cause a host of problems included but not limited to:

- triggering of eating disorders

- lack of protein 

- excess of carbs

- diarrhea (thanks, really needed more of that)

- nausea

- dizziness

- weakness

- extreme fatigue

So let me go ahead here and describe a little bit about my health issues, namely my PCOS, or polycystic ovarian syndrome. PCOS is a hormonal disorder. It can cause increased levels of androgen in the body, increased hair, insulin resistance, excessive hair growth, male pattern baldness, weight gain, irregular periods, fertility problems, increase risk of developing type 2 diabetes, increase risk of high blood pressure and high cholesterol, acne and oily skin, depression, and sleep apnea, as well as increase the risk for endometrial cancers, and obviously, cause ovarian cysts. This disorder can be passed from mother to daughter, and I got it from my mom. I have been suffering with this for years.

The biggest effects on my body have been my weight, my depression, irregular periods and cysts. I currently have an IUD in place to help with the symptoms, but my periods are not even close to regular and are often brown in colour. Before hormonal birth control, I would have 2-3 periods per year that lasted about a month at a time. These periods were heavy and excruciatingly painful, and the clots I birthed were like jellyfish. I often lost enough blood to become anemic. 

It should be noted that my PCOS has caused me to be resistant to insulin, and that can make it hard to lose weight and also cause some brown discolouration on the skin, which I have had on my chest and neck. I remember my mom used to scrub at my neck thinking it was dirty when my neck first started becoming discoloured. 

I had my IUD placed in December of 2018, and the follow up ultrasound revealed a cyst on my right ovary that was 21cm x 21cm which required surgery. Due to that, a traumatic situation and my vegetarianism, I lost 30 pounds by March of 2019. 

I have also struggled most of my life with depression and anxiety and used food to cope. I am currently on medication for that. I also take Metformin to help with the effects of the PCOS.

Here I will give a short description on the areas of my body that bother me and what I would like to see improve. I will try to be objective about what I don’t like and I will be honest about the reasons I would like to improve. I will say now that many of these reasons are cosmetic and not necessarily health related.

Inner thighs: While my legs are one of my favourite parts of my body and are in general strong and shapely, my inner thighs have a pocket of fat near my pubic mound, and I can see it when I stand up or I can see it in the mirror from behind when I bend over. I am self conscious about this because I don’t like the way it looks/hangs, and it makes it hard to be present and immersed when I am having sex or see myself as attractive if I take a picture for my boyfriend. The goal for this area is to have less hang so I can feel more relaxed during sex and any time I bend over. I also don’t particularly enjoy the thigh holes in my jeans, or that I have trouble with any sort of thigh high sock rolling.

Pubic mound: I’m not even gonna bullshit here: I just want a normal looking vulva. That’s it. I want it to be easier to access my clit, I don’t want such a prominent camel toe when I wear pants, I’d like it to be easier for my boyfriend to go down on me. I have a nice inner vulva and I want the exterior to match. I also find it hard to shave the areas between my mound and my thigh, as holding it open is not easy. That groin area is also prone to skin yeast infections and pimples and blackheads, and while I admit that they are fun to pop, it would be nice if I did not have to deal with it. 

My stomach: My stomach hangs. Underneath of it is prone to those same pimples and skin yeast infections (canesten is really helpful for tinea cruris, by the way. Yeast infections are yeast infections.) and while I get some sick pops for r/popping, it isn’t attractive. My stomach is hairy and while that isn’t really totally weight related, it also isn’t cute. My belly button is often very hidden, and it would be nice to get down to a size that I could get it pierced like my mom has. The rolls of my stomach get pimples and the red marks from sitting all day are not cute and can get painful. I have the muffin top when I wear jeans, and while the look of my stomach in jeans is less than sexy, it actually doesn’t bother me all that much.I have trouble keeping up panties that are both too tight or too loose, and tights are always rolling down. If it doesn’t hit just above my waist while still being slightly tight, it isn’t even worth trying to wear at all. All my jeans and leggings are high-waisted, and a lot of them roll when I sit or bend over. As a nanny, that is a really big inconvenience, and I would like to be able to exist for an hour without having to pull up my goddamn pants/leggings/underwear/tights. God forbid I put on a garter belt. Clothes that are flattering are hard for find for obese women. I just want to wear pretty clothes and feel like a person. When I sit with my knees up, my stomach is Very Present, and I can feel it against my thighs and trying to press through the gap in the middle. It would be nice to not feel that way, and I hope that I can achieve a stomach that does not hang.

Rolls under breasts: These are real sons of bitches. Hot, hairy, red, pimply. The heat rash is real. About half to 3/4 the size of my actual breasts. They make finding a comfortable bra difficult, and I would be really happy if they got even half the size they are now. 

Breasts: I don’t necessarily have a weight issue with my tibblies, but they are underdeveloped underneath and I don’t really like the shape of them so much. I am on the waiting list to see a plastic surgeon about my options. There are certain things about my chest that I don’t like that are the fault of obesity however, like the dark marks on my chest because of resistance to insulin, but I will get more into that in a bit. I also don’t love boobne, but hey, acne, amirite ladies? 

My chin/neck situation: My ‘waddle’, as I so hatefully refer to it, is my least favourite part of my body. This makes me so upset. I think this is the only part of my body that I truly genuinely hate. If I could duct tape it back so I could look normal, I would. I often look at plus size and fat and obese women and think why do they have chins and necks that are ‘normal’ but not me? (spoilers: the answer is morbid obesity.) I would like to be able to wear a choker comfortably and without it being hidden by my neck. It is very hard to pop waddle pimples. I do have the insulin marks on my neck, and a dowager’s hump, which makes me feel weird if I look at it too long. I don’t like when it sticks out of my clothing, and it feels odd to look at it with a necklace on, or a choker or collar or anything like that.

My back rolls: You hate to see it, and it makes finding a bra in my size a pain. It is hard to hide them, and anything that is fitted to the boobs and then flares can exaggerate the look of them. I don’t look at them too often so it doesn’t always bother me, but they can be a pain with certain clothes. It also makes some clothes tight and restricting in a way they normally wouldn’t, like dresses or shirts that zip. Highly unpleasant, and I would like to have smoother back for cosmetic reasons. 

The back of my head: I shave the underneath of my head. I’ve had my entire head shaven before, I’ve had just the sides shaven. It would be nice to get to a place where there wasn’t a roll at the back of my head. It would also be nice if my brother hadn’t swiped a card through it, but only one of those things is achievable. 

My arms: I have pretty strong arms, my job requires lifting and I’ve never shied away from taking all the groceries in one trip. My arms are large but not huge. I would be happy with a little reduction in the ‘wing’ area and I would like to see my upper arms a little more streamlined when fully extended. I genuinely do have big bones, but it would be nice to be able to wear my bracelets more comfortably. 

My hands: For the longest time I have been upset about the idea of ‘fat people hands’. I don’t have huge fingers, but it would be nice to fit rings on a little easier. I have large hands, because I am a tall woman, but not really fat or chubby hands like one might think of when thinking of fat people hands. My knuckles are fairly well defined, though they have dimples when my hands are flat, and have had since I was little. I think they are cute to be honest. I do not have discolouration on my fingers or knuckles.

My face: I don’t have a ton of fat on my cheeks actually. I do have a round face, but I have dimple-like indentations under my cheekbones that clearly define them. It would be nice to be a slightly slimmer face and defined jawline - any attempt at a contour is just awful. I would like to have a less prominent chin and cheeks. 

So let’s talk for a bit about long term goals. I am trying to set goals for myself in chunks. I know that aiming to lose 100 pounds the first go around is highly unlikely to get me any sort of success and I know that breaking it up into smaller bits is less overwhelming and more motivating. I am seriously trying to be careful about rewarding myself with any kind of food. 

Realistically, I would like to see myself get into the ‘normal’ BMI range by this time next year. I also know that to do that, I would need to lose around 170 pounds. With OMAD, you can expect to lose between half a pound and one pound a day. I do not see myself losing 170 pounds in 170 days. I do not think it is healthy to lose that much in under 6 months, and I don’t think my skin would appreciate it either, nor do I think OMAD is sustainable for that long. The idea is to try and hold out with OMAD for about 3 and a half months, and in that time, with upkeep, exercise and discipline, I could lose around 100 pounds, but I think the responsible thing would be to hope for closer to 75 pounds. 

I would like to outline my goals here:

Current Goal: 300 pounds - 33 pounds lost - 41.8 BMI

Second Goal: 270 pounds - 63 pounds lost - 37.7 BMI

Third Goal: 240 - 93 pounds lost - 33.5 BMI

Fourth Goal: 210 - 123 pounds lost - 29.3 BMI

Fifth Goal: 180 - 153 pounds lost - 25.1 BMI

Final Goal: 160 - 173 pounds lost - 22.3 BMI

Knowing how much one can lose in x amount of time with OMAD, and assuming I kept with it for a year, it could take anywhere from 173 days to 346 days to reach my final goal. I know that I won’t lose the same amount every day, and I know that it will be hard to keep it off once I reach my goal. 

I also know that I will need to take vitamins and supplements to make sure I don’t lose anything during this time. 

I am trying not to set deadlines for when I would like to reach my goals, though ideally I would be losing about 20 pounds a month. There are some important dates that I am hoping to have lost a certain amount for, however, and based on how much I might expect to lose and some basic math, I have deemed it pretty feasible to do.

I return to work around July 6th. It is currently May 30th. In 37 days I am hoping to have reached my first goal of 33 pounds lost. I lost 4 pounds in 3 days, and I hope to keep up that pace. 

The other date that I am hoping to have lost weight for is my birthday, which is August 31st. In 93 days I am hoping to have met my second goal of 63 pounds lost. I am turning 19 and very excited to celebrate.

For a little in-depth at what I am doing as far as my meal, I am eating a normal supper for me, a snack and a dessert. I am not counting calories. I’ll give some examples of what I have eaten at this time.

Day 1: Gnocchi bake with chicken, gummies, a chocolate bar, a little bit of bread and an iced tea. I made the bake with a package of sundried tomato gnocchi, one chicken breast, an olivieri package of rose sauce, like 2-3 tablespoons of herb and garlic cream cheese and onion. It was so good.

Day 2: I had the 4 bites of leftovers and some cheese bread, an iced tea, chicken strips, fries, a bite of fish, and some coleslaw. This day I felt sort of weak in the evening and so I had a fried egg sandwich with a cheese slice, mustard and mayo.

Day 3: I GUZZLED water all day long, like 4-5 bottles of water. I had crackers, the middle of a cinnamon bun, chicken strips and fries again, coleslaw and then some cake (I was celebrating a family birthday). My pee has never been so clear, let me just tell you.

One of the good things about this diet is being able to have whatever I would like as my meal for the day. I am an excellent cook (friend, family, teacher, boyfriend’s family and boyfriend approved, being fat has helped me master the kitchen) and I love doing it, so I can really get creative with my meal.

I come from a diet family, and so I am definitely supported on this diet, and my boyfriend is doing it with me, because misery loves company. Overall, I do feel hungry, but I feel satisfied with what I am doing and I have a lot more will power than I thought I did before, so I am proud of myself in that regard.

During my fasts, I try to only consume water and black coffee, which I take iced so it doesn’t nerf me with the flavour. Chewing gum is also quite helpful. My eating period is between 7p-8p, or 7p-8:30p, but that may change overtime as my sleep and activity schedule changes in the coming months.

I do not make promises on diets as a rule, but because of the nature of this diet I have made myself a promise that I will listen to my body. If I need a meal, I will eat one. If what is best for me is splitting my eating hour into two 30 minute eating periods a day for energy, especially while I work, then that is what I will do. 

Like I said, the goal is to check in every day with what I ate, my general feelings and if I am changing anything, and then I will try to do a weigh in weekly, and every couple of weeks update any changes I notice in the areas I mentioned earlier that bother me as a fat person. 

‘Til next time,

H

[snarkwrites]

i wish i were that anon because that is a really great title and you posting about it just made me think of the title for the sequel: "throwing stones." (it would most definitely have to be angst because how can anything titled that be fluff??????) anyway i'm done i'll leave you alone now 🖤

Bless you for this follow up title. I love you so so so much for it, you have no idea. This gave me the perfect opportunity to play around with more angst.The first part to this is [ here ] if you wanna read it. 

Tag Squad : ( for the SOA version ) @rampagewriting | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @kyleoreillysknee | @sassymox

( for the stranger things version ) @rampagewriting |

[ tag list doc - add yourself or I won’t tag ] | [ masterlist ] | [ keep ‘em comin - these are hella fun ]

                       STEVE HARRINGTON x CHARLOTTE (oc)

“You’re acting weird lately.” Nancy’s accusatory tone had me looking up from the textbook in front of me and across the table to her. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, studying her a second or two. “How so?” I finally asked, tapping my ink pen against the tabletop.

“Every single time Steve shows up, you get moody. I know what happened but he’s not like that anymore.” Nancy’s words came in a rush, tumbling on top of each other and I took a deep breath, letting them sink in and trying to think of a response. Any response but the truth.

Because I’m just not ready to wrap my head around that just yet, god no. 

I tried simple deflection first. Blatantly ignoring the fact that I knew perfectly well she was right and she had a good point. To pretend like I wasn’t fully aware that every time Steve and I were forced to interact now, thanks to the two of them dating, the air wasn’t so heavy with tension that I couldn’t breathe. That I didn’t get moody and snippy.

“I’m not. It’s just.. Finals. Dad’s having problems with bookkeeping down at the garage too so I’m helping him as much as I can there, too.. I barely sleep. I’m sorry?”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Business for my father has been super slow lately and it’s worrying him, I can tell. Finals are getting closer too and to my shock, this year hasn’t been as easy for me as all the ones prior to. My grades are all over the place and it’s bothering me because I know that maybe I’m focusing a little too much on the fun and not my future. Because until this year? I really didn’t… Have a whole lot of fun.

Deep down though, I wasn’t sorry. I couldn’t handle being around Steve a lot. I did not handle it well at all. Because being around him lead to all those fucking pesky feelings I still somehow have to flood right back and given that Nancy seems reasonably happy, I just.. Didn’t want to ruin that.

And then there was the fact that lately, Jonathan and I have been talking more and maybe I feel a little bit guilty about that, too. Because I don’t know if Nancy’s ever told Barb this but she’s told me… She really did have a serious thing for him. As far as I know, that hadn’t changed. Until I got back from summer camp this year and everything pretty much had.

To sum it up, I know I hate change and I know I’m not handling it the best way.

My silence must have been too much, because Nancy cleared her throat. “You know you can tell me if something really is wrong… Right?”

I gave a soft laugh and nodded, twisting the pen between my fingertips as I leaned the chair back on two legs a little. “I know. And if there were, I would. I promise, Nancy. Nothing is wrong.”

“Then could you try being friends with Steve? For me?”

“I… Okay, yeah. Sure. I’ll try being friends with him.”

Jonathan walked into the library and I bit my lip, giving him a sheepish wave as he made his way over to our table, sitting down beside me and leaning in to whisper, “I swear to God I thought the teacher was never going to just shut up.”

Nancy looked from me to him and she bit her lip. I could see the brief look of hurt in her eyes and I swallowed hard, the guilt flooding me despite Jonathan and I only being friends. I smiled a little and spoke up. “It’s okay if Jonathan joins us to study, right? Because he’s a thousand times better at this math malarkey than me. He’s been a huge help.”

Jonathan beamed at my words of praise. Nancy, not so much.To an extent, I was dreading the conversation I knew we were going to have later that night. But then, deeper down, parts of me were kind of… well, I was more than a little too smug.

And that made me feel like the most horrible friend ever.

Steve peeked into the library, waving as he flashed a bright grin at Nancy. Nancy gestured him over and I tensed a little. I could feel Jonathan watching me when I did it, so I glanced over at him and bit my lip. He gave me this nod as if to say he understood and I swallowed hard, playing with my hair as I trained my gaze diligently on the book open between Jonathan and I now.

Steve plopped into the chair beside Nancy and broke the heavy, tension filled silence. “I’m having a party at my house this weekend. You two should totally come.” 

The pen shot out of my hands and I grabbed for it quickly. After settling back into my seat, I eyed Steve, shocked to find him already staring at me, a curious look in his eyes. And then a smirk playing at his mouth, almost a teasing one at that. “That means you too, Byers.”

Jonathan and I both tensed up a little because it didn’t take an idiot to see that Steve was up to something. We shared a look and Jonathan spoke up first, begging off. Saying he had stuff to do with Will. I pouted to myself a little briefly, but then I shrugged. “We’ll see. I mean, my dad is still kind of pissed about me sneaking off to Chicago with my aunt last weekend but maybe I can talk him into at least letting me stop by?”

I did it to appease Nancy. But I could tell that Jonathan showing up to study with me and me not having already mentioned that Jonathan and I were getting to be friends lately, well… I pretty much knew the damage was done.

And that bothered me a lot.

I did not want this to create even more tension between Nancy and I. She’s my best friend. We’ve been best friends since we were three. I didn’t want that to be another thing that changed this year.

,, but something tells me that it’s happening, whether I want it to or not.” as quickly as the thought came, I shoved it back out.

                       JUICE ORTIZ x HAZEL (oc)

“Don’t you have crow eaters to bother?” if I sounded tense when I asked the question it was because I’d had to watch them hanging all over him all night. And watch him, eating it up. And damn it, that was torture for me. Sheer hell. So I was frazzled by this point. And here he came, probably back to pick another fight.

As if the three arguments he tried starting earlier weren’t enough.

I reached out and grabbed for the pink Zippo sitting between us on top of the picnic table out back and I lit my cigarette, taking several long drags and letting them escape into the night air. Juice was just sitting there quietly and he really wasn’t saying anything. His gaze fell to his hands and he took a deep breath.

Heard Mayans have been given you trouble, Haze.”

I rolled my eyes. Goddamn Trager. I told him not to breathe a word to anyone about that one asshole who followed me home last night after trying to cop a feel when I was on stage dancing. He swore he wouldn’t and yet…

Juice makes exactly the second person to ask about the incident. Does no one in this goddamn MC know how to actually keep a secret?

I laughed at the passing wonder as it left my mind. Juice cleared his throat. “You know that club’s fuckin dangerous.”

“Yeah?” I eyed him for a few seconds, blowing out another smoky breath. Tearing my eyes off of him, I stared up at the sky. All the stars twinkling above. “If you came out here to lecture me, trust me.. Both my mother and Jax have been giving me literal shit fits for taking the gig at that club. It’s not going to change my mind. I want to dance. I’m not afraid.”

“It’s not you, either.” Juice spoke up, glancing over at me. “You weren’t like this.”

“I was still a fucking kid.” I said it through a jaw tightly clenched and then I sighed. “Why do you even care, anyway?”

He shrugged, not answering my question. Bold of me to assume he does in fact care, I guess . It hit me then just how much that bothered me. My shoulders slumped and I stared down at the bench my feet sat on top of. “I can’t believe you look down on what I’m doing too. You were the one who always said do what makes me happy, Juice.”

“But this? Really? Between that and the drinking so much. Don’t think I didn’t see ya slammin back shots earlier tonight with those bikers who stopped in from the Arizona charter.” 

“They were buying them, what the hell’s the point in letting them go wasted, huh? I’m not working, so it’s not like I was drinking on the clock.” I looked up, directly over at him. He opened his mouth, only to close it again.

“You play it safe, Hazel. You always have. For fucks sake, you fuckin walked away because there was even a small chance I might get hurt when I told you I wanted to pledge and Jax was talkin me up on it.” 

I took a deep breath, shoving my hands into the pocket of my jacket because they were starting to shake, it was taking that much to keep from blurting out the entire reason behind my decision back then. Or to tell him that I very much regretted my decision now. And that if life came with a rewind button, I’d gladly hit it and go back.

Instead, I shrugged. “Yeah. I did.” it was honestly all I could say. I slid off the table top, grabbing my pack of cigarettes and my lighter, slinking through the back door into the bar because my break was over.

And it took literally everything in me not to cry. Not to go track him down among the crowd, shove him against the wall and kiss him until I was light headed and his lips were bruised. Sooner or later, I’m going to crack.

I know this.

But until then, I’m just letting him have his anger and get it out. Because frankly, I deserve all of it. His concern for me out back of the bar tonight though… It was something I truly had not been expecting.

[localrobosexual]

hewwo my fwiends it's currently real Loving Seaside Hours™ again as spurred by talking to a blessed pal of mine earlier today about our comfort characters, so as I'm tryina ride out this thunderstorm going on outside so I can actually go to sleep I'm just gonna take a moment and gush about this robot and how and why he means so much to me, that alright w y'all lmao

putting a breaker on this bc I already know it's gonna get long and ramble-y lmao. Not gonna mind if u skip this over and don't bother reading it, I just wanna kinda shout into the void about my ocs a bit, don't mind me!

HEY SO YEE I JUST RLLY RLLY LOVE MY BIG DUMB ROBOT SO SO MUCH AAAAAA HE MEANS THE WORLD TO ME AND I COULD NEVER SELL OR TRADE HIM EVER AND I JUST WISH I HAD MORE DISPOSABLE INCOME TO USE TO JUST BUY MORE COMMISSIONS OF HIM BECAUSE GOD EVERY TIME I DRAW HIM AND EVERY TIME SOMEONE ELSE DOES TOO MY HEART JUST FUCKIN SWELLS W LOVE AND HAPPINESS!!!!! THIS ONE LITTLE TRANSFORMERS OC DOES THAT MUCH!!!!!!!! AND ITS GREAT!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAA

ok but. For real now, besides my initial screams that I had to get out hksjdks. Y'all wanna hear some insight into what all went into making him and why he means so much to me and all. Strap in bc it's gonna get Real

let's start with something pretty well known. Maybe not coming from me but a well known fact regardless lmao. Truth be told I wrote out from the paragraph below this one to the bottom without writing an introduction first and I'm too tired to try to come up with anything good now so uh. Hopefully this isn't too jarring hkshdksk my bad y'all my bad.

Anyways. Mental health! Fucked mental health! that's so much fun right!!

Haha yeah. Nah. We all know this. Being depressed is rlly wack y'all. It fuckin messes up ur head big time. I still don't know if I have downright depression, because I still haven't been properly diagnosed, and I never rlly associated my symptoms and the way I was feeling with depression bc it didn't line up with the stereotypical symptoms of depression, so I was (and still am) just calling it my "existential crisis". That was rlly the only word I could use to describe it. And it was dark and it was lonely and crushing and so, so awful. Despite the fact that I had an extremely loving and supportive friend group, I was always, ALWAYS afraid of speaking up about it. Despite them and all, I still felt super SUPER alone in the way I was feeling about life, my future, and my general purpose. This was all just reinforced by my parents and other adults in my life who I tried to come to in the past who would brush me off by saying I was overreacting, or that I'll "figure it out, because everybody does", or just generally not really understanding or showing any empathy at all. It took my entire life up until SENIOR YEAR ENGLISH CLASS when I went to my teacher about how I was feeling about a certain project that was triggering my symptoms, and that was the first time in my life when any adult had actually shown any sort of understanding or sympathy towards me and my feelings. That was the first time in my life where my mental struggles were validated by someone I respected and held to high regard.

But I still felt so very very alone, with no one to really talk to or who I knew was going through the same thing as me. So I ended up just,, , making someone who did.

Fun fact, before I really went ham on his development, Seaside was just gonna be a one-off oc with a happy go-lucky attitude and not much else about him. It was only until I heard the song What We Will Never Know (which later ended up becoming one of his theme songs bc of this) for the first time that I decided "WAIT,,. ,, BUT,, , WHAT IF,,. , ,,, , I MADE HIM SAD TOO" pretty much hkHKDJDJSK and that's what kick started his development!!

here I was, this sad, depressed, deeply lonely bitch with a love for making characters who played on extensions of myself, finally able to make something to cope with how awful I was feeling all the time. And that's what Seaside kinda was to me at first, he was my coping mechanism for working through hard bouts of my existenial crisis. I crafted his backstory to fit EXACTLY what I was going through at the time. He was content but never truly happy with how his life had been for as long as he could remember, then something exciting and new happens and he's suddenly thrust into a brand new world with so many new possibilities, but as he starts to settle in he realizes just how lost and alone he truly is in this new environment and he doesn't know where to go or what to do with himself. This is literally, EXACTLY a point-to-point retelling of my experience going through high school, graduating, and trying to figure out what to do with my life all with my mental health rapidly deteriorating around me. And having someone like that in my life, even fictional, even one I literally made up myself, made me feel better. I'd daydream scenarios of of us going on little adventures at the beach at night where no one else would see him in robot mode (gotta keep up the disguise aspect and all), but mostly it was just us hanging out, usually cuddled up to each other bc it gets cold on the beach at night, looking up at the stars, chillin and talking and just taking comfort in each other's presences and knowing that we weren't alone in our struggles. And I KNOW that sounds super stupid and cringey and dumb but like, that's genuinely what made, and still does, make me happy and it's what I used to help me hold on just a little longer to get through some of the really rough periods of my existenial crisis. When it got super bad, when I still even couldn't tell my closest friends about how low I was feeling, I still at least had Seaside with me to help me cope.

it wasn't until it got to the point where I was pretty much (lovingly) forced to wake up to the reality that I was rapidly becoming genuinely suicidal that things finally started to change, even just a little bit. I only very recently finally started to get my mind right, I finally told my parents the whole truth about how I was feeling, I got put on some meds that are honestly doing WONDERS for me rn, and I'm definitely in a much better place mentally then I was just a few months ago. I certainly still have a long way to go, but for now I'm just trying to enjoy the ride and just soak up and relish in the fact that I'm, for the first time in years, genuinely going about my days just happy to be out here living life without constantly being weighed down by the soul crushingly empty sorrow that hung over me 24/7. (and to said close group of friends, if you're indeed reading this, this may be the first time you're hearing about what I've been going through all the time, and if that's the case, I'm gonna have to kindly ask that you not come to me about it. I'll know when I'm ready to talk about this openly, but now I don't think I am. I'm really sorry to have kept it from y'all for so long, it really was just eating me up inside, but I think I explained myself well enough)

so now that I'm doing much better mentally, Seaside's outlook has kinda changed, but at the same time, not really?? he's still my comfort character for sure, always will be, but now he's not so much a coping mechanism as he is just a solid source of happiness and peace to turn to every now and again. This one little transformers oc just genuinely makes me really really happy, and I love to just soak it all in and feel every little thing!! We still share the not knowing what we're doing with our lives aspect of ourselves, but now it's a little less completely lost and anguished and hopeless and a little more hopeful and reassuring. Things are gonna be ok. We'll figure this out at our own pace. And we'll still have each other to turn to at every step of the way.

there's a lot of different kinds of comfort energies that many different kinds of comfort characters give off, and different ones resonate more with different people. The most common one I'll see at least is a kind of is parental comfort, someone you can come to for guidance in life because they have the experience to advise you on what to do and can be almost a better pseudo-parental figure. Mom friend types, loving dad energy, that kind of thing. Someone to protect you and give you big strong hugs and stuff. Seaside gives off a similar yet very different kind of comfort energy to me. It's not parental in any way because he's far too young (relatively, even in Cybertronian standards. He'd be like, mid to late 20s in human years) and inexperienced, and, frankly, still a little too naive and unknowing about a lot of things to really be someone to turn to for guidance or just generally be a pseudo-parental figure, but instead, he's just a good friend. He's a perfect kind of friend that'd stand by your side and will always be there for you through the ups and downs of life, someone who knows how to cheer you up when you're sad, someone you can share a solidarity in where you know you're experiencing the exact same struggles. He's just a good shoulder to lean on and a constant reminder that I'm never alone. And I couldn't ask for anything better tbh

so yeah. There's my ramble I guess lmao. To sum it up rlly I just love this big dumb robot w all my heart and soul and I'm so so glad I made him 💕💕💕

[gotta-save-your-ass-for-a-change]

Who Would Have Thought?: Chapter 13

Chapter Title: Christmas Fandom: Shameless, Mickey/Ian Rating: M Summary: Merry Christmas. In June. Notes: I just realized my timeline put us in December. Therefore, surprise Christmas chapter. Also, I apologize for the delay. I know it’s been forever, but I’m back. Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 Link

Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three * Chapter Four * Chapter Five * Chapter Six * Chapter Seven * Chapter Eight * Chapter Nine * Chapter Ten * Chapter Eleven * Chapter Twelve * Chapter Thirteen * Chapter Fourteen * Chapter Fifteen

“Babe?!” Ian calls when he walks through the door. He sounds a touch panicked and Mickey’s not sure what to make of it.

“What, man? You okay?” Mickey questions, concerned, as he leans forward on the couch, eyes seeking Ian’s as Ian moves into the living room, shedding his jacket on the way.

“Christmas is in like two weeks,” Ian deadpans, as he watches Mickey expectantly. Ian’s on edge. It’s obvious from his demeanor, and Mickey’s wary, but unsure of what’s inspired his husband’s sudden frustration.

Mickey shakes his head in confusion, staring at Ian like he’s grown two heads. “So?”

“So?” Ian throws back at him in disbelief, eyes wide with desperation as he throws his hands up in frustration. “So what are we doing, Mickey?”

“What do you mean, what are we doing? Nothin’, man. We don’t need to celebrate that shit,” Mickey offers, and he’s attempting to calm Ian down, but it backfires, and from the look on Ian’s face, Mickey thinks Ian might be about to strangle him.

“Mickey!” Ian chastises, shaking his head in frustration. “We have a kid now. We can’t just not celebrate.”

“Why the fuck not, man? Yev’s not gonna know the difference,” Mickey shrugs, unconcerned and confused by Ian’s panic.

“Yes, he is, Mickey,” Ian argues, his voice a touch softer but no less frustrated. “He’s three. He’ll fucking remember. Svet, V, and Kev celebrate with the kids. We can’t just not. He’ll be devastated. We are not fucking up our first Christmas as an official family, Mickey.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ian,” Mickey murmurs under his breath as he rolls his eyes. “Really? We just fuckin’ bought the kid a bunch of shit.”

“Well, then, we’re gonna have to go out and buy him a bunch more shit. We’re not fucking up Christmas for our kid, Mickey,” Ian sounds almost desperate, and Mickey’s becoming a little concerned at Ian’s irritation.

For a moment, Mickey searches Ian’s eyes—tries to figure out what exactly has his husband so riled up about a holiday they’ve never given a shit about before. He can’t quite figure it out, but he can see that Ian is genuinely upset, and he hates that he can’t understand Ian’s frustration. Mickey sighs a little, his eyes immediately softening, and he gestures for Ian to sit. It takes him a moment, but Ian finally moves forward, taking the spot next to Mickey. Mickey wastes no time in pulling Ian to him, and resting his husband against his chest, stroking gentle fingers through Ian’s hair. “Okay, love,” Mickey promises quietly, his tone calm and soothing as he presses a gentle kiss to Ian’s temple. “We’ll do it up for Christmas. That’s fine. I’m all for it if you are. But what’s going on, Ian? Why are you so on edge?”

It takes a moment, and Mickey almost thinks Ian’s not going to answer. But he finally does, after a deep, steadying breath. “I almost forgot about it, Mick.” Ian’s voice is shaky, and he’s obviously fighting with his own emotions to keep himself steady. “With everything, I haven’t been thinking about shit like this, and when I realized today, I just—fuck, Mickey, I don’t wanna mess this up for Yevgeny. I love him so fucking much, and I always have, but I basically fucking abandoned him after everything went down, and I was barely in his life for a year and a half because of my own fucking bullshit. It wasn’t fair to him. He lived two fucking doors down, and I couldn’t be bothered to take the time to go see him. I don’t want to let him down again, Mickey.”

Mickey nods his understanding, and smiles​ sadly at Ian as he wipes at the tears that have gathered in his husband’s eyes. “Ian, listen to me,” he offers, shifting until he can frame Ian’s face with his hands, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Ian’s lips. “Yevgeny loves you. He’s our son, Ian. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. We’re here now, and he loves you. A lot of shit happened back then. I was a shitty dad, too. But it’s different now, Ian. We’re different. We’re a family, sweetheart, and that’s all that matters now, okay?”

Ian takes a deep breath at that, nuzzling deeper into Mickey’s touch, savoring the comfort he finds in his husband’s arms. “Okay,” he murmurs, and Ian’s not sure he really believes it, but Mickey does, and for now, Ian thinks that’s enough.

“So, you guys make a plan for Christmas?” Fiona asks as she settles down beside Ian, sipping at a cup of coffee.

Mickey and Ian are visiting, mostly at the behest of Fiona, who’s been hounding them for days about stopping by the house, even with their recent visit. Ian’s pretty sure she’s feeling lonely with the mostly empty house, after so many years with the bustle of a handful of siblings and the revolving door of partners she’d become accustomed to.

“Yeah,” Ian admits with a little half smile. “We’re gonna have Yev Christmas Eve. He’s gonna sleep over, and we’ll do gifts Christmas Eve morning and make a day of it before we take him home after dinner. That way he can be with Jemma and Amy Christmas morning.”

“You okay with that?” Fiona asks gently, eyeing Ian carefully. “I know you were kind of worried about the whole thing.”

Ian tenses just a bit—he’s not even sure he’s fully comfortable talking with Mickey about that whole episode, much less Fiona. But Mickey feels him tense and sinks gentle fingers into Ian’s hair from where his arm rests around Ian on the back of the couch. Mickey’s touch soothes him near instantly, and Ian reaches out to give Mickey’s thigh a gentle squeeze in reassurance, tilting his head to smile softly at his husband. It still amazes Ian sometimes that they’re finally really here, together and happy and building a family. Knowing Mickey’s close and so in tune with Ian’s feelings is a constant relief.

“Yeah,” Ian assures. And he means it. “We’ll still get to have our Christmas with our son. Doesn’t really matter what day it all happens. And we’ll be here for dinner with you guys on Christmas, so it’s kind of a win-win, you know?”

Fiona nods with a smile. “Yeah. Makes sense. I’m glad you guys are gonna join for dinner. It’ll be nice to have the whole Gallagher clan together.”

If Mickey’s being honest, he had hated the idea of celebrating Christmas—even if only with the three of them. Especially if only with the three of them, really. Because Mickey has never been a part of a family who gave a shit about holidays, and the pressure of trying to somehow live up to all the hype to make their son happy is a lot for him. He knows Ian’s right—knows they need to develop traditions and routines as a family to make sure Yevgeny understands that they are a family, even if they’re all a little eccentric. Mickey wants Yev to be happy and to love the holidays and family time. He wants to make sure Yevgeny has hundreds of happy family memories to draw on for the rest of his life, and Mickey knows that starts here for the three of them.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Mickey doesn’t know how to do this right. All he has to go on are sappy Christmas movies and Ian’s ramblings, and if he’s being honest? He’s freaking the fuck out. Especially since Ian’s sent him to fucking Walmart for cheap decorations, and, apparently, shit to make Christmas cookies, and Mickey is fucking lost. He’s in the middle of a sea of red, green, and silver, and everything’s fucking sparkly, and Mickey is going to kill his husband when he gets home.

After about twenty minutes of staring at a wall full of shimmery plastic shit, Mickey feels like he’s losing his mind. So, in the hopes of getting some help, Mickey pulls out his phone and dials Ian’s number. Just as he’s about to send the call, though, Mickey feels a hand creep up his back, and he spins on his heels, instantly ready for an altercation.

When he spots the familiar shock of red hair and that infuriating fucking smirk, though, he softens immediately, giving Ian a gentle shove before leaning back into his husband’s touch. “The fuck you doin’ here, asshole? Thought you were working late?”

“Nah,” Ian smiles mischievously at that, giving Mickey’s hip a little squeeze, “just wanted to surprise you. Figured you might need a little help over here.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey scoffs, jostling Ian with a shoulder. “Was doin’ fine.”

“Really?” Ian teases, raising his eyebrows at Mickey’s empty cart. “You’ve been standing here looking confused for the last half hour.”

Mickey narrows his eyes and shakes his head incredulously. “I fuckin’ hate you.”

“Mmhmm,” Ian offers noncommittally, amusement playing in his tone as his eyes scan the shelves in front of him. After only a handful of moments, Ian settles on a couple of lengths of garland and tosses them into the cart before tugging the front of it to get Mickey moving with him. “Whatever you say, babe.”

In the end, though, it’s worth it. More than, in fact. Because Mickey has never seen Yevgeny happier.

And it’s not the gifts or the sweets or any of that, really. It’s the way the boy’s face lights up from his spot on Ian’s lap as they sit at the kitchen table decorating cookies and it’s the excitement in the boy’s eyes as they hang ornaments on the little tree and the way he babbles on and on about how happy he is to stay with his daddies.

In the end, it’s all the stuff they do as a family that makes it worthwhile. Mickey’s never had this before, but he’s really fucking glad he’s sharing it with his son.

That night, the three of them snuggle up on the couch and watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Mickey can’t really see the appeal of the film, but Yevgeny spends most of the movie giggling at the characters and the music—to Mickey’s confusion, really, because frankly, most of the film is fucking depressing. But Yevgeny loves it and begs to watch it again, and Mickey tries to say no—tries to promise they’ll watch it again in the morning but that it’s time for bedtime tonight—but Yevgeny gets Ian in on the puppy dog eyes, and Mickey just can’t bring himself to stick to his guns. So instead, they end up watching another time through while Yev tries to babble along to the songs. Mickey can’t help but smile, leaning his head back on the couch and turning toward Ian, who’s already watching Mickey fondly.

For a moment, they hold one another’s gaze while Yev remains oblivious to the exchange. When Mickey mouths a quiet ‘love you’ to Ian, though, Ian leans toward Mickey, and Mickey meets him halfway for a kiss. They stay close for a moment, smiling at each other until Yevgeny notices and scolds them.

“Daddies!” Yev insists, throwing his hands up and rolling his eyes as he shakes his head in exasperation. “No kisses! Watch Rudolph!”

Ian and Mickey both laugh, and Ian murmurs “Okay, okay,” as he tickles Yevgeny’s sides gently. The boy giggles before snuggling into Ian’s chest and stretching his legs out over Mickey’s lap. Mickey’s pretty sure he’s never been more content.

When the movie finishes, they finally get Yevgeny up and headed to bed. He begs for a story, though, and digs out a Christmas book before handing it over to Mickey with a little pout. Mickey gives in almost immediately, and the three of them begin a new goodnight ritual as Yev drifts off to sleep.

By the time Yevgeny is finally down, though, it’s after 10pm, and Mickey’s exhausted.

“Christ, man,” Mickey complains as he glances at the clock. “It’s fuckin’ late.”

“Sure, grandpa,” Ian laughs as he tickles Mickey’s sides to brighten him up. “It’s not that late.”

“Late for the kid,” Mickey protests as he raises an eyebrow in Ian’s direction. “ You gotta learn to say no to him, man.”

“Oh, hush,” Ian teases playfully. “I wasn’t the only one in there. Besides, It’s our Christmas Eve. If there was ever a time to spoil him, it’s tonight.”

Mickey rolls his eyes a bit at that, but there’s a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We still have to do the presents,” he whines as he steps up close to Ian, wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck.

Ian shakes his head as he settles his hands at Mickey hips and leans down to give Mickey a peck on the lips. “You’re whinier than our three year old,” Ian laughs, before kissing Mickey again, just a little deeper this time. “It won’t take long to get everything set out, Mick. Plus, this means Yev will probably sleep a little later in the morning. You’ll get your sleep, you big baby. I promise.”

“You’re such a dick,” Mickey mocks, as he pokes Ian in the side to break his husband’s hold. “Now, come on. We’ve gotta get everything set up for morning.”

“Sure thing,” Ian agrees, as he allows Mickey to grab his hand and drag him down the hall toward their bedroom, where the gifts are safely tucked away.

In the morning, Mickey wakes to find Yevgeny tucked between himself and Ian. Yev is still fast asleep, and Mickey smiles softly, reaching out to stroke Yevgeny’s hair gently before he raises his eyes to Ian.

Ian’s lying on his side facing them both, head propped on his hand as he smiles back at Mickey. “Hey,” Ian whispers quietly, trying to avoid waking the slumbering toddler. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, love,” Mickey answers softly, leaning forward to kiss Ian carefully. “When’d Yev show up?”

“About a half hour after you fell asleep​, I think,” Ian admits, as he gazes down at their son. “I was almost out until he wandered in. He was really careful not to wake you, but he said he was too excited to sleep. I asked if cuddles would help, and he got all excited at the idea of sleeping in the big bed.”

Mickey lets out a little laugh at that. “He wasn’t scared, then?” Mickey asks curiously.

“Nah, don’t think so,” Ian assures. “Think he was too excited about Christmas morning to be scared.”

Mickey nods at that, a fond little smile playing on his lips. He and Ian fall into a comfortable quiet for a bit, as they watch Yevgeny sleep.

After a bit, the boy stirs slightly, nuzzling closer to Mickey as he opens sleepy​ eyes. “Daddy,” he asks groggily, “’s it time for Christmas yet?”

Mickey and Ian both smile at that, and Mickey leans a bit until he can press a little kiss to the top of Yevgeny’s head. “Yeah, little man,” Mickey agrees happily. “It’s time for Christmas.”

“What do say daddy and I make you some breakfast, and you can watch a little TV while we do?” Ian offers, reaching out to ruffle Yev’s hair.

“Rudolph!” Yevgeny insists excitedly, happy smile radiating up at his dads.

Mickey huffs out a surprised laugh at that and shakes his head fondly. “You and that reindeer,” he murmurs out, amused, as Ian lets out a little laugh of his own and Yevgeny shrieks in excitement as Mickey tickles the boy’s sides. “Yes, you can watch Rudolph while we make breakfast.”

“Thank you, daddy!” Yevgeny smiles up at Mickey, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes and scooting out from under the covers and down the bed. “I set up!”

Ian and Mickey both laugh after him as Mickey shifts to lean against Ian, pressing his face into the crook of Ian’s neck and smiling against his husband’s skin.

Mickey’s not sure he’s ever been happier.

Once they’re up and out of bed, Mickey gets Yevgeny set up in front of his movie, still in his pajamas and wrapped in a cozy blanket. Right away, Ian starts in on breakfast for the three of them. When Mickey returns to the kitchen, Yevgeny is humming happily from the living room, and Ian has a pancake batter mixed up.

“Can you grab the strawberries and whipped cream, babe?” Ian requests of Mickey, still mixing the batter in his hand.

“You trying to give him a sugar high already?” Mickey teases popping the fridge to pull out the requested items.

“Ha ha,” Ian offers sarcastically, finishing with the batter and heating the griddle, “just slice ‘em for me, smart guy.”

Mickey laughs lightheartedly, setting to work washing and hulling the berries before slicing them up via his husband’s ​instructions. He’s not quite sure what Ian has up his sleeve, but he’s certainly not going to argue if Ian’s going to take care of the cooking.

Ian starts with a smaller pancake for Yev before pouring out a couple for each of them. Mickey takes his time plating each, making sure to set Yevgeny’s aside to let Ian work his magic. As Ian tends to Yev’s plate, Mickey busies himself brewing some coffee and pouring a glass of milk for Yev, sneaking a peak at Ian every now and then and smiling at his husband’s concentration.

A few minutes later, Ian announces that he’s finished, and Mickey sidles up beside him to check out Ian’s handiwork. Mickey smiles immediately as he takes in the little pancake version of Rudolph that sits in front of him. Ian’s used a couple of lengthwise slices of strawberry for the ears, a small, whole berry for the bright red nose, and a couple of pretzel nubs for the antlers. At some point Ian also must have dug out a little bag of chocolate chips, because there are little chocolate chips​ sitting atop a couple of tufts of whipped cream for the eyes.

“What do you think?” Ian asks, quirking an eyebrow and smiling back at Mickey proudly.

“You’re a fuckin’ dork, man,” Mickey shakes his head in amusement, “and I love ya for it.”

“No bad words, daddy!” Yevgeny scolds from the other room.

Mickey and Ian both laugh at that, a little surprised the boy was paying attention to anything except his movie.

“Sorry, Yev,” Mickey calls back, rolling his eyes at his smirking husband and giving Ian a playful little shove. “Time for breakfast, bud.”

Yevgeny pouts a bit, but he gets up to amble to the table. He brightens when Mickey tells him they can leave the movie on, and the moment Ian sets the plate in front of him, Yevgeny shrieks with joy.

“Rudolph!” he squeals—again—and Mickey and Ian just laugh, settling in beside their son. After a moment of admiring the pancake reindeer, Yevgeny smiles up at Ian and reaches over to pat his dad’s hand, murmuring a happy, “Thank you, daddy.”

Ian smiles genuinely. “You’re welcome, Yevy. Now eat up, so we can open presents.”

Once they’ve finished eating, Mickey clears the table while Ian scoops Yev up into his arms and carries him into the living room before plopping the toddler onto the couch to the boy’s delight. When Mickey joins them, he finds Yevgeny giggling uncontrollably as Ian tickles Yev’s side and scoots onto the couch next to the toddler. Mickey laughs, and Yevgeny’s giggles slowly die down as he sits himself up and leans happily against his dad’s side.

After a moment, the boy reaches out for Mickey, who sits down beside Yev, giving his son a moment to snuggle next to him before Mickey breaks in. “You gonna open your presents, kiddo?” Mickey asks giving Yev a little squeeze.

“Yes, please!” Yevgeny agrees, excitedly.

“Well, then, we better get down there, huh?” Mickey asks with a grin before swinging the boy down to the floor and following to sit beside him, nodding at Ian to follow them. Ian does, scooting around the coffee table to sit with his boys in front of the tree and grabbing his phone from his pocket on the way.

As Ian preps the camera, Mickey helps Yevgeny pass out the gifts. To make it easier on the toddler, they’d wrapped the gifts in specific paper for each of them. Mickey points out which paper goes to which person, and Yevgeny sets out making sure he’s cleared out everything under the tree. By the time he finishes, the boy is amazed at the pile of gifts in front of him and the few in front of each of his dads. He stops a minute in confusion scratching his forehead and scrunching up his brow.

“Where are all your presents?” Yevgeny asks curiously, watching Mickey and Ian expectantly.

Mickey gives a little laugh at that and pulls Yev into his lap. “Well,” Mickey begins, a little unsure, but careful to keep his voice confident, “Christmas presents are mostly for little ones like you, Yevy. Grown ups like daddy and I already have all we need to be happy, because we have each other and we have you.”

“But I happy, too, daddy,” Yevgeny insists.

“And we are so, so glad about that, Yevy,” Ian interjects, reaching out to squeeze Yev’s arm. “You’re such a good boy, though, that your daddies wanted to give you lots of presents. Is that okay?”

After a moment, Yevgeny nods thoughtfully. “'k,” he agrees after a moment.

“All right,” Mickey smiles, giving Yev another little squeeze. “What’d'ya say we open these up, then, huh?”

Yev nods in excitement then, immediately diving in to tear the paper off the first gift he can reach, leaving Mickey and Ian to laugh along as Ian films the whole thing.

By the time they drop Yevgeny off at home, Ian’s heart is hurting a bit. He knows it’s only fair for the boy to spend Christmas morning with his mom and sisters. It would be unfair to ask for anything else. But Ian loves spending time with their son more than anything, and he still feels like he has a lot of time to make up for.

So, despite himself, he finds a couple of tears slipping out when he and Mickey turn away to head home. Mickey notices immediately and wraps a comforting arm around Ian’s shoulders as they head down the street, pulling Ian gently against his side.

“I know, love,” Mickey soothes quietly, “but we’ll have him again in a few days. And we had a perfect little family Christmas together, hmm?”

“Yeah, Mick, I know,” Ian agrees with a little smile, “Just miss him, is all.”

Mickey nods, tugging Ian a little closer against the cold as they make their way home.

When they wander into the Gallagher house the next day, Ian and Mickey are greeted with friendly chatter and smiling faces. They manage to hug Fiona in greeting before dropping the bags of gifts they’ve brought by the tree and heading toward the kitchen where most of the family is milling around.

After a moment, they hear a bright little voice squeal in excitement. All they hear is the word “Daddies!” before they each have half an armful of an overexcited Yevgeny.

“Hey, little man!” Ian exclaims, his own excitement matching Yevgeny’s as he boosts the toddler up onto his hip and gives Yev a little kiss on the cheek. Yevgeny returns the affection before reaching out for Mickey. Ian passes Yev into Mickey’s arms, Mickey beaming brightly​ at the new turn of events, as Yevgeny greets his dad and begins chattering about his Christmas morning. Ian can’t help but notice that the boy is wearing the Christmas sweatshirt he and Mickey had left with Svet to leave under their tree for the toddler to open on Christmas morning, and his heart swells just a little more.

After watching Mickey and Yev for a moment, Ian raises his eyes to meet with Fiona’s. “What’s this all about?” he asks, a little apprehensive that Yev might only be staying for a short while.

Fiona shrugs with a little smile. “You seemed a little down about not spending Christmas day with Yevgeny. Talked to V and Kev, who talked to Svetlana. Didn’t take too much convincing to get them all here for dinner.”

Ian thinks he might have tears in his eyes as he wraps his sister up in a hug and squeezes her tight. “Thank you,” he murmurs into her hair before pulling back to watch his husband and their son, Mickey completely oblivious to everything other than their little boy.

“Don’t mention it,” Fiona insists as she smiles at her brother’s little family. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three * Chapter Four * Chapter Five * Chapter Six * Chapter Seven * Chapter Eight * Chapter Nine * Chapter Ten * Chapter Eleven * Chapter Twelve * Chapter Thirteen * Chapter Fourteen * Chapter Fifteen

[evelyntransitions-blog]

Day 39 recovering from crap

It’s been a while since i’ve posted here, mostly from depression and because a lot of lame shit happened we’ll start from the top. -Fuckin’ Kekistan ball won the battle of the balls. Mostly because the admins used a bunch of bots. Then kept making fun of all the leftist esc’ balls. Top tier trolling but kinda shitty. Don’t cheat at your own contest. That’s lame. -Speaking of anarchy I had this little debate with one of the admins, that stemed from me trying to see the good in people from all the political philosophies, and that they were misunderstood leading them to fend for themselves because of their ideal society. Nevertheless most peoples ideals come from wanting to help other people, even really die hard Conservatives don’t want a bunch of lazy people, who can’t have any faith in anything good and want to save their kids from hurting themselves or going to hell. They seem to care about their country too and hate immigrants on the grounds of wanting to look out for their family, because they believe immigrants are making things like healthcare inflate due to the mass amount of people on it. It’s fucking awful and prejudice as fuck, but they’re still looking out for their own. As terrible as ingroups are, to care about a group of people still shows some compassion. No one is truly selfish. They can be evil, but not truly selfish.  So random anarchy ball admin praises me on acknowledging how “Selfish” people become in the face of adversity and explain, that An-caps are selfish too but they don’t want to hurt anybody they just want to make money and be left alone. This is obviously false because if you do something like own a business you’ve created a hierarchy volentary or not, you’ve gained control of other peoples lives for the sake of survival. One could argue all philospohies would implement this, but business overall demands a person strip away their identity for production more often than not blah-blah-blah etc. etc. etc. That’s why people say they’re not real anarchists because they suppress a persons identity for the sake of giving others power or something like that. I actually talked to the purple and black ones, one of them gave me a long reading. Sheesh. It’s a good read none the less, but I think i’ll stick cleaning up the environment and hopefully in the future growing food for the less fortunate and giving it away for free to spite corporations and businesses that sell food or take up land. I don’t want to stick myself into a dogma though. But I digress. I try to explain that people aren’t necessarily selfish, they can do good things and this admin seems to take it really personally, and goes all out in treating me like i’m naive and says people just do good things to feel good. Boi’ you don’t know my life. Have you dealt with someone who’s co-dependent and tried to help them when you have depression because you don’t want to see them kill themselves, not because you want them around (because frankly they’re a burden to your happiness as awful as that sounds), but because you see how wonderful of a person they are and want to see them love themselves, when i’d be easier just to leave. Fuckin’ parents raise kids and make sacrifices sometimes not out of romanticization of motherhood-fatherhood but just because they care. This isn’t as common as people think, but it happens. Forgiveness within itself exists not out of feeling good but knowing it’s right and compassionate. In reality forgiveness is alturism because having to put up with someone who wronged you, and risking feeling like shit (and also feeling like shit for having to listen to them and apologize or hear them apologize) is fucking work, and annoying as piss. I have a lot of stuff to do some i’m not going to go into personal examples. Point is the guy to me sounds like he’s trying to justify sociopathy and i’m not down for that. So we argue but it doesn’t get far. I take the cheap example and go for people who risk their lives on impulse to save others. If people naturally risk their lives without thinking or wanting to feel something, they’re more naturally selfless or at least have the capacity to be totally selfless. There’s HOPE. They have nothing to say to that. Nevertheless I spent 2 days post this between volenteer work and work-work debating myself to make sure I was correct. In case this example tanked, I tried to look for another one in my life or a person and thought back to when I wronged my now best friend as a child, and left him for a girl. I remember meeting up with him and him wanting to serve me shit or tell me to fuck off, as he often tells, but he decided to forgive me. He didn’t even want people around. He wanted to be alone and to die. Maybe he secretly wanted someone, but it wouldn’t make sense that the childhood shithead (me) would be that person. I have faith that he decided to be selfless on his own accord. I’ve grown to love him, and we’ve risked our lives for each other, between standing up to oppressive people, and keeping each other from killing ourselves. We’ve had co-dependent patches when we started but nothing too insane. It’s become guiene love and we can respect each other as opposed to looking at what’s best for us. Little human sacrifices.  Faith-Hope-Love that’s what Christians, they’re clearly unto something. Heh’. Nevertheless the whole discussion made me depressed because I started worrying about the person. All political philosophy aside, if this person is that cynical, I want to know what’s eating at them. Solving that mystery and feeling good about helping them is selfish, and would probably lead to backlash, but I hope they find peace and ditch their cynicism. This  tore me up and fed my depression; me worrying about someone I didn’t even know.

-So more politics but no anarchy. This part isn’t bad but a quick note. The Libertarian party is doing pretty well and they seem optimistic. Though i’m not from New York i’ve looked into a particular candidate named Larry Sharpe. I’ve been watching his posts for a while and he seems to sacrifice a lot of his personal beliefs for what he thinks is fair and liberates the masses. He seems to hate taxes and his opponent. His opponent hasn’t said much about him so far, but seems to mean well too. He’s tried to help a bunch of people from what I gather, but has raised taxes so high that small businesses are failing and people can’t move to new locations are get their bills paid. In helping people he overstepped his shit, and fucked up. I gather this from the comment section on his posts. Generally speaking, people don’t like him on those grounds, but the ones who do only like him because he’s nice. This constant debate on how much people should help is fucking with my head. What really is best for humanity? It’s fucking with my head, but I can’t let it control my life. Personal shit/Shit regarding taking care of myself. I went to my therapist and he’s being a butt. I gather he’s worried about me transitioning because he asked a lot of questions about my presentation as a (trans) woman. The questions felt very intrusive asking why I don’t do “x”. Some of them were redundant and I felt the need to justify everything. I don’t like being put on trial, my Dad that and it fucked me up. I wanted to give him the right answers as opposed to how I felt, or just be avoidant. There was a lot of glaring and him sounding stressed. So when Mr. Therapist did something similar, it fucked me and I had an “episode” and began spewing out a bunch of information and asking him what he’s going to do, what he thinks, if he would just listen, that he doesn’t trust me and that all the doctors visits make me feel less like a woman and more like a lab rat. They feed my dysphoria. I had sort of this weird out of body experience where I was just talking but my body felt like it wasn’t there. That I had separated myself form reality to keep myself safe. It was pure anxiety and miserable. He proposed that I didn’t trust him and that I thought he was against me, but I tried reassuring him and it just ehhh. I kept going over the possibility that I might have autism (See next paragraph) considering my psychiatrist keeps thinking that because I can’t always communicate my thoughts, and it was a mess. I “yelled” a lot trying to get my points across, not really angrily but my voice was raised. He gave me a journal to write in. Even after he said our time was up, I got really selfish and glued myself to the couch wanting him to reassure me and asking him questions with what ifs. Like what if I just took estrogen, and he said he’d support my decision and root for me. This is why I think he’s decent. None the less the intrusiveness and lack of transparency bother me. The think that bugged me most is that he said he didn’t think I was ready because I had “one last hurdle to overcome” And when I asked “What?” He said he didn’t know. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I spent the time after in my car having a panic attack and feeling numb. I didn’t even schedule another appointment. I wanted to just die but my inner voice told me to breathe, strap in my seatbelt, drive home and get some sleep. I posted on Facebook about my depression and everyone got worried. I’m glad I got good friends. I went home and got to sleep. Woke up and went out with chinese food with my roomate and her boyfriend(?).

-I went to get tested for (Asperger's) Autism earlier in the week because my psychatrist seems to think I have it. Every doctor I have says one thing, while others suggest different. It’s the same with friends and family. Mom thinks I have it. Best friend doesn’t think I have it. Mom knows me at home, Best friend however has autism and has autism run in his family. Am I autistic? Who knows. I’m sure right wing neckbeards edgelords would think I am, because I respect women generally speaking. Nonetheless they did an interview sort of thing, and i’m able to go in and get officially tested. This will be when I have money. That doctor said it was a 50/50. The visit was the same as all the others XP

- After a good 3 bottles of Mikes hard practically in a row I finished that fucking English Essay and turned it in. -I was able to talk to my school councilor for the first time in months. She’s the best. I’ve had her around since I started figuring out my gender identity (I think that’s a stupid as word tbh, considering the brain is an organ, so to some degree i’m female). I gave her an hours worth of rambling and she as always responded with kindness, listening and sincere advice. She doesn’t care for my therapist or psychiatrist from what I can gather, and I already know she doesn’t care much for my parents. She did want me to try to be more honest with the therapist though, despite the panic, and just address my needs upfront. I’m not sure how capable i’ll be of doing that, but I can respect the advice, mostly because it’s her. I can almost fully trust her. She’s at like 99% where most people are at like 40%. My best friend is at 100% unless it’s making plans. He tends to fuck up with that. Oh well, nobody is perfect.

- I did some volenteer work over the weekend which was nice. Blockers/lack of energy and stiffness in my limbs didn’t fuck with it too much. It feels nearly impossible to lift boxes at my work though.  -Though it doesn’t have to do with me, some fucker stole shit at my work and got caught. It was a thing of cool whip, in which he’d do something that a manager described post arrest as “whip its” in which a person would inhale nitrogen from a whip cream can. Personally if he wants to do drugs and ruin his life that’s his own business. Sure someone cares about him but trying to prevent shit like drugs via police seems to cause more problems. Just let people voluntarily go to rehab and be there for them. I am glad he got caught for stealing though, i’m not a fan of stealing unless someone is trying to feed their kids, or themselves because they’re living in severe poverty and prices for x company are high. Even still a lot of businesses can be decent at times and if you tell them you’re poor they sometimes really help people out (been there done that). You’d think someone who prasies things like anarchy would be like “DOWN WITH THE COORPERATE GREED” you could also argue that someone who’s okay with Captalism would be like “NO THIEVERY PEOPLE EARNED THAT MONEY” there’s also the thought of “HOW DOES ONE LIKE ANARCHY, CAPITALISM BUT HATE ANCAPS. WHAT ARE BELIEFS (I’ll talk about that in another post).” Nope my reaction is that stealing is terrible for everyone because x company will just give employees less hours or jack up prices. It makes things harder on the poor. Stealing also lets in police prescence and furthers the police state. If people really wanted to piss on the government if applicable be totally obidenent and expose police violence. If people don’t believe in police and don’t feel a need for them the state would eventually defund them or people wouldn’t become cops. It’s happening in the county I live in, and it’s awesome. Hopefully one day there won’t be any police or at the very least police that are more social workeres than anything. I could live with social worker police. Some countries have that. That’s how it’s supposed to be (except in terms of major riots which may not happen due to less police, and kidnappings. Police existing to hunt down kidnappers is ideal. I wouldn’t mind private cops to do that though) That’s it, no go outside =w=