#such and how i don’t really allow myself to treat me well for a number of reasons and only do the bare minimum for myself but very

[flippedorbit]

how’s everyones morning going

[ohmyamor]

oh my ***

Pairing: ateez (ot8) x reader

Summary: Everyone supposedly has a guardian angel, one that’s tasked to always keep their human out of trouble and on the right path of life. But you don’t just have one, you have...eight?!

w.c. 10.2k

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experiences, threatening someone wooyoung with a bat, cursing, comfort, reincarnation, i think that’s it?

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself a lucky person. 

You also wouldn’t really consider yourself an unlucky person either. 

You just kind of exist, with the occasional good and not-so-good things happening to you. 

Like when you somehow managed to score you and your friends front row seats to see your favorite group in concert. Or the time that you somehow managed to break your ankle and your phone all in the same day. 

So, yeah, you wouldn’t say you’re the luckiest person in the world, but you’re also not the unluckiest person, so you’re pretty fine with continuing your life as is. 

Today, however, has been going oddly perfect. 

You woke up for the first time in forever feeling incredibly well-rested, which has not happened since before you hit puberty. The weather was perfect, maybe a little too perfect, but you didn’t care. You could finally open your windows completely to let in the cool breeze from outside, listening as the birds sang outside of your apartment. 

Checking your phone, you also noticed that your paycheck came in a whole day early. Opening your bank account, you stared wide-eyed at the number that was deposited. It was certainly a much larger amount than your last paycheck. 

Feeling absolutely ecstatic over how well the morning was going, you decided to make a trip to your favorite coffee shop and treat yourself to some breakfast. 

Connecting your phone to your speaker, you selected your favorite playlist and allowed the music to flow through the apartment. Picking out some cute clothes, you began to get ready. As you finished washing your face, you also noticed that your skin seemed to be really nice today, with hardly any redness seeping through and the dark circles under you eyes had seemed to disappear over night. 

Smiling brightly at yourself in the mirror, you finished applying your skincare before moving to get dressed and apply some light makeup. Once you finished, you couldn’t help but check yourself out in the mirror. 

I look so cute today.

Giving yourself a wink, you let out a small laugh at your own antics before grabbing your purse from where it hung on the wall and stepping outside. Making sure the door was locked, you began the short walk to your favorite cafe. 

You couldn’t help but admire how nice the sun felt on your skin. For the past few weeks, the weather had been anything but nice, and it almost felt like the weather had been reflecting your mood. With the project you had been assigned at work, you had been feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out that you often contemplated just quitting in order to get rid of the stress. 

But thankfully, the project was finally done, you had received great feedback from your boss, and it finally seemed as though your little slump was beginning to improve.

Making your way inside the cafe, you walked up to the counter and ordered your usual drink as well as a small pastry. 

A little treat for myself.

Sitting down at a table that had the best view of the street, you made yourself comfortable with your drink as you waited for your pastry. Though, you were pleasantly surprised when the man who took your order came out with two pastries instead of one. 

“Um, I think you might’ve given me the wrong pastry,” you frowned slightly. “I only ordered this one,” you pointed at the pastry that you know for sure you had ordered. 

“Oh!” the man smiled brightly. “No, don’t worry, it’s on the house!” 

Before you could even respond, the man gently placed both pastries on your table, sending you a small wink and making his way back behind the counter. 

You could feel your cheeks warm slightly at the man’s actions. 

Damn, today really is a great day you thought, bringing the pastry up to your mouth and taking a bite out of it. 

Holy shit this is so good too you hummed appreciatively. 

After thoroughly enjoying your breakfast, you bid goodbye to the barista before making your way out of the store. 

Hmmmm, what should I do now?

Glancing around, you remembered that one of your favorite bookstores was about a block away, and quickly made up your mind to go there. 

Walking to the nearest stoplight, you pushed the button on the pole and waited patiently for the light to turn green. Fishing out your phone from your bag, you scrolled aimlessly through social media and responding to some texts your friends had sent. Glancing up, you noticed the light was now green. 

Placing your phone in your pocket, you began to cross the street. 

You were almost at the other side of the crosswalk when a loud screeching noise caused you to whip your head to the side. There was a car moving down the street in your direction incredibly fast, and you watched as people on the sidewalks jumped out of the way as the car swerved from side to side and hit things on the street. 

Your heart raced you watched the car come barreling towards you. It felt like your feet were stuck to the ground and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. 

Right as the car came feet away from hitting you, you shut your eyes, bracing for the impact of the car hitting your body. 

You barely registered the feeling of someone grabbing your hand and yanking you forward. 

Landing roughly on your hands and knees on the sidewalk, you stared at the cement in front of you as the sound of the car slowly disappeared in the distance. There were people running up to you from both sides of the street, some yelling while others gently crouched next to you and asked if you were okay. 

The strangers helped turn you around and you sat on the sidewalk unable to calm your racing heart. 

“Th-thank you,” you breathed out, looking at the woman who was closest to you. 

Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at you concerned. 

“For what?”

You swallowed. 

“For grabbing me and pulling me forward. I couldn’t move and I though for sure the car was going to hit me,” you explained. 

It was your turn to look confused when she opened her mouth. 

“Honey, there was no one around you. I certainly wasn’t going to reach you on time and neither was anyone else.”

-

After the lady explained to you that the other pedestrians on the street had just barely reached you after you were already on the sidewalk, you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes on you. 

The strangers who had come up to check on you were incredibly nice, and after convincing them to not call an ambulance and that you could stand on your own, the crowd slowly dispersed. 

The woman who had helped you insisted on calling a cab for you, even though you reassured her that you didn’t live far and you could make it home safely. She was adamant, saying that she wouldn’t let you walk home alone after what just happened and said it would weigh heavy on her conscious if she did. 

Eventually, you relented, and waited with her patiently as she called a taxi. 

When the cab eventually pulled up, she gave you a hug and said that she was happy you were okay and to get home safely. 

Waving goodbye through the window, you watched as her figure slowly grew smaller. 

Leaning back against the leather seats, you finally allowed yourself to process what had just happened. 

Your day had been going so well and that car had quite literally come out of nowhere. Even though the lady who helped you said there was no one near you, you were 100% positive you had felt someone grab your hands and pull you forward onto the sidewalk.

Your mind wandered to your parents and the stories they had told you when you were younger of guardian angels. 

“Guardian angels? What’s that?” seven-year-old you has asked your mom.

She smiled, softly running her hand through your hair from where she sat on the edge of your bed. 

“They’re people who are assigned to watch over you and always protect you. They help you when you’re in trouble and make sure you always make good decisions.”

Younger you wrinkled her nose. 

“They’re always watching me? That sounds creepy.”

Your mom laughed, tossing her head back. 

After what you had experienced today, maybe the stories your mom used to tell you weren’t that crazy. 

As the cab you were in slowly came to a stop in front of your building, you thanked the driver and rummaged through your bag looking for some cash to tip him. 

He waved his hand at you, telling you the lady who had flagged him down already paid and there was no need to tip. 

“I’m just glad I could get you home safely.” 

“Oh,” you blinked, kind of surprised he was saying no to being tipped. “Well, thank you, sir.” You said honestly. “I hope you have a great rest of your day,” you said, stepping out of the car. 

The driver bid you farewell and drove away from your building as soon as you walked through the front gates. 

Sighing heavily, you made your way to the elevator in the building and walked into the old machine, watching as the doors closed and the numbers for the floors slowly climbed up.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait to into your bed and knock out. Way too much has happened today that was out of your comfort zone, to say the least. 

Eventually, you reached your front door and reached into your bag to fish out your keys. 

Searching inside your bag with your hand, your eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t feel the familiar metal of your keys. 

I know I brought them with me, so where are they?

Taking your bag off your shoulder, you opened it up and began pulling out everything you had in there. You could feel the pit in your stomach get heavier with every item that was removed and no keys were found. 

You eventually emptied out your entire bag and still, you were unable to find your keys. Leaning your back against your door, you slowly allowed yourself to sink to the ground. 

They must’ve fallen out when I fell, you though bitterly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat. 

This was the last thing you needed today. 

You’re unsure how long you sat outside your apartment door, wallowing in your own misery. 

The sound of footsteps brought you of your thoughts. 

Glancing up, you noticed a tall man with short pink hair come to a stop in front of you. 

“Is everything okay miss?” 

Holy shit he has a deep voice

You sighed loudly. 

“Not really,” you admit. “I lost my keys at some point when I was out today and my friend who has my spare is out of town for the week.”

You’re not really sure what compelled you to tell all this to the strange man who you’ve never even seen in your apartment, but something about him gives off a very peaceful aura. 

You feel like you could tell him anything. 

The man furrows his eyebrows and a soft pout forms on his face. 

“Aw, I’m really sorry,” he sympathized. 

You shrugged, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

He glanced around nervously. Why? You’re not quite sure. 

“I’m, uh, actually one of the maintenance people and we’re here doing some routine check-ups,” he started. 

Check-ups? The building manager didn’t notify me of anything going on this week. 

“If you want,” the man continues. “I can go back down to the leasing office and grab the master key to unlock your door for you?”

You hesitate. 

On one hand, this man is literally offering to go out of his way to help you out and unlock your door for you. 

On the other hand, you have absolutely no way of proving he’s actually who he says he is. He could be a serial killer for all you know and you’ve basically just given him access to unlock your apartment and kill you in your sleep. 

Giving him a once over, you notice the bluish jumpsuit he’s wearing and the work boots he has on. Quite frankly, he does look like he’s been doing some manual labor, so maybe he’s telling the truth. 

“Okay,” you finally reply, albeit hesitantly. 

Honestly, if he does turn out to be a serial killer and comes back to murder you in your sleep, you’ll make sure to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Great!” he smiles widely, his eyes turning into the cutest crescent moons you’ve ever seen. 

At least he’ll be a cute serial killer, you think. 

“Oh!” he says, as though he just remembered something. “Also, my name’s Mingi! It’s really nice to meet you!” the man, Mingi, reaches his hand out. 

Pushing yourself off the floor, you quickly dust yourself off before reaching out as well to shake his hand. 

“I’m (Y/n),” you introduce yourself. 

Mingi hums. 

“That’s a really pretty name.”

You can feel your cheeks get warm. 

“O-oh, thank you.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments before Mingi speaks again. 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go downstairs to get the masterkey really quick. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!” he jokes, beginning to walk back down the hallway. 

“I’ll try,” you laugh nervously, thinking about the day you’ve had. 

If anything else goes wrong today, you don’t think you’ll have the willpower to keep living. 

You’re only waiting for a few minutes before you can spot Mingi coming back down the hall. 

Damn he’s quick.

“Got it!” Mingi says cheerfully, waving a small key in the air. 

You smile back, feeling relieved that you can finally get inside your apartment. 

He stops in front of your door, pushing the key inside the lock and wriggling it around a few times before you can hear the familiar click of the lock. Letting out a small “aha”, Mingi twists the doorknob and sure enough, the door to your apartment opens. 

You might actually cry tears of happiness. 

“Ma’am,” Mingi says in a fake posh accent, gesturing with his hand for you to go inside. 

You let out a small laugh and walk inside. Mingi remains outside of your door. 

“Well, thank you so much Mingi,” you say earnestly. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up at the right time. My knight in shining armor,” you joke. 

Mingi blushes furiously, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head and looking off to the side. 

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’m just glad everything worked out.” 

You nod, unsure of what to say next. 

Mingi’s head suddenly snaps to the side, looking at something down the hallway, almost as if he heard something. You frown. You didn’t hear anything. 

“Well, it looks like I have to get going,” he begins. 

You nod. 

“Better get back before the big boss gets mad at you for slacking off, huh?”

You say it as a joke, but Mingi only lets out a nervous laugh. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Um,” you’re not quite sure what to say. “Okay, well thanks again Mingi, I really do appreciate it.” You slowly begin to shut the door.

“Anytime,” he sends you a small wave and bright smile, turning to walk down the hallway as you finally shut the door. 

You don’t spend too much time thinking about Mingi’s strange behavior at the end, chalking it up to him having a really strict boss. Plus, you honestly can’t wait to change into your pajamas and knock out. 

Dropping your purse on your couch, you make your way to your room and quickly change into your pj’s before flinging yourself onto your bed. 

You hug the stuffed bear on your bed closely, feeling the tension and stress from your body slowly begin to fade away as your body succumbs to sleep. 

-

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up. 

The lack of light coming in from outside lets you know that it’s dark, leaving you to assume it’s either really late or really early. 

You roll back over, fully intending on returning to dreamland when the sound of hushed arguing catches your attention. 

You groan, assuming it’s your neighbors who are always going at it. Seriously, if they argue this much, they should just break up. Arguing that much can’t be healthy for anyone. 

You’ve just grabbed onto your pillow, intending on using it to block out the voices, when you suddenly realize that it’s only male voices you can hear. Sitting up, you strain your ears to try and catch more of what they’re saying. 

You feel yourself freeze when you realize that the voices are coming from your living room. 

You sit frozen on your bed for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. 

Did these people break into your apartment? What are they doing here? What are they going to do to you? 

Reaching out blindly, you attempt to locate your phone, hoping you can at least call the police before the robbers can reach you. Pressing the power button, your heart drops when it doesn’t turn on. In your excitement to knock out, you never put it to charge and now it’s dead. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to think of a course of action. 

Slowly getting out of bed, you reach under the bed to grab the metal bat that you keep in case of emergencies. Maybe, if the robbers don’t have any weapons, you can either scare them off or hurt them enough to grab the home phone sitting on your kitchen counter and call the police. 

You cautiously make your way to the door of your bedroom, letting out a shaky breath before slowly twisting the doorknob. You gently push the door open, thanking whatever gods are out there that it doesn’t make any noise. 

Now that the door is open, you can hear the voices more clearly. 

“Why would you show yourself to her?” 

“What did you want me to do? She was having the worst day, I wasn’t gonna sit back and watch her suffer.” The voice sounds oddly familiar.

Someone else hums. 

“Don’t even say anything,” the original voice whispers angrily. “You should have never interfered earlier.” 

“She was about to get hit by a car, hyung! What did you want me to do, let it happen? Then we would be back to square one all over again.” 

It’s a different voice this time, slightly higher in pitch. 

They’re talking about what happened to you earlier. 

Who the fuck are these people? 

You arrive at the corner of the hallway, gripping your bat impossibly tight and peeking around the corner. 

From what you can see, there’s a few men standing in your living room. One with dark blue hair sits on your couch facing the kitchen, another stands with his back to the hallway where you stand, and there seems to be someone standing in front of him.

You can’t help but let out a small gasp when you realize the man standing with his back facing you has short pink hair. 

Mingi.

All three men whip their heads around. 

They stare at you wide-eyed, including Mingi. 

You come out from behind the corner and point your bat at the men. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. “And why the fuck are you in my apartment?”

Your eyes dart around, trying to keep an eye on every person in the room. Your heart pounds in your chest and your hands are sweaty, but you’ll be damned if you go out without a fight. 

Mingi takes a step forward, his hands raised slightly. 

“(Y/n),” he starts.

He stops when you take a step backward. 

“Mingi, if that’s even your goddam name,” you spit. You miss the way all three men flinch slightly. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” 

“Was helping me earlier just a plot to figure out where I live? Are you gonna kill me?” you question.

A crestfallen look falls on Mingi’s face. A small part of you almost wants to feel bad. Almost. 

“No, not at all,” he defends. “Look, it’s kind of complicated, but I can explain. I just need you to put the bat down.” His eyes dart to the metal bat you have a death grip on.

You let out a harsh laugh. 

“No fucking way. I don’t care who the hell you are, I need you and your friends to get out right now before I call the cops.” You demand. 

“The cops aren’t going to help you sweetheart,” a voice comes from behind you. 

You let out a scream, turning around and blindly swinging your bat. It hits something hard.

“OW!” 

A man with long hair that’s black and silver hunches over in front of you, clutching his stomach. You stare wide-eyed. 

There’s more of them.

And where the fuck are they coming from?

“(Y/n),” someone else says your name. You whip back around, moving backward towards the wall and making sure the men don’t leave your sight. You keep the bat pointed at them. 

The man with dark blue hair siting on the couch is standing now, and he looks at you with wide eyes as well. 

“Please, just put the bat down and we can explain everything to you.”

You shake your head vehemently. 

“You guys broke into my fucking apartment and you want me to calm down?” You laugh incredulously. “Are you guys fucking insane?”

You miss the way the shorter male standing next to Mingi has disappeared. 

Mingi frowns, looking genuinely saddened. 

“I’m really sorry we have to do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows, now genuinely concerned he’s going to murder you. 

“What are you-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when you feel fingers touch your temple and you black out. 

-

“What did you do?” 

“What we had to! She already managed to hit Wooyoung and she was obviously freaking out so we had to calm her down!”

Someone snickers. 

“Shut up Yeosang.”

“C’mon, you’re telling me it’s a bat that took you out?”

“She has a good swing! You should try getting a metal bat swung directly at your stomach and see how you feel.”

You let out a soft groan at the voices that surround you. They’re too loud.

You’re laying on something soft and it feels familiar as well. 

Am I dead?

“You’re not dead.” 

Your eyes shoot open. 

Sitting up, you groan at the light that shines harshly into your room and shut your eyes. Opening them softly, you glance around. You’re definitely in your room, which is a relief. 

But the eight bodies that surround you bring anything but relief. 

You tense up, your hands gripping at the sheets. 

You can feel tears beginning to blur your vision and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper. 

Someone lets out a sad noise. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” a deep voice comes from your right side. 

You look over to see who said that. Familiar brown eyes stare deeply into your own, and the soft pink hair instantly allows you to recognize who just spoke. 

“How can I trust you Mingi?” 

A heartbroken expression falls over his face and he looks unsure of what to say. 

“He’s right sweetheart,” another voice speaks up. “We’re not going to hurt you.” This time it’s another tall man who speaks. He has peach colored hair. His eyes bore into yours, and you feel slightly unnerved at the raw honesty that comes across. 

You don’t say anything, opting to take a glance at all the men who are spread across your room. 

A shorter man who stands closest to your bed sighs and takes a step forward. 

“This isn’t how we wanted to meet, so please accept our deepest apologies for scaring you,” the man begins. 

“We’re your guardian angels.”

-

The man, Hongjoong, had explained to you that they were in fact your guardian angels. 

Typically, humans only had one guardian angel, he had explained, but you were assigned eight. 

Guardian angels were also never, under any circumstances, to reveal themselves to their humans, but some people, Hongjoong glared at the man sitting at your desk with dark blue hair as well as Mingi, had broken these rules. 

Which is why you were currently able to see all of them. 

“How do I even know you’re telling me the truth?” You questioned. This entire situation was absolutely insane and you could barely wrap your head around any of the information that was just given to you. 

“Well, we’ve been watching over you your whole life,” the blue haired male spoke up. “Ask us anything that no one else knows and we can answer it.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about different things throughout your life that no one knew about you. 

“When I was in middle school and I asked out that boy a year ahead of me, what did he say?”

There’s no way they could know the answer to this. This is literally something I’ve never told anyone and I intend on taking it with me to my grave. 

“He said no because you reminded him of his mom and that grossed him out.” 

You stare wide-eyed at the man with medium length blonde hair that sat in the middle of your floor. 

What the fuck?

“Don’t worry, you honestly dodged a bullet with that one,” another male with cherry red hair shook his head. “You know that guy ended up marrying his first cousin?” The man snorted. 

You had no words. 

You had never told anyone that secret because it embarrassed you so much, but clearly, the men in front of you knew it. 

Maybe they’re telling the truth.

“Of course we’re telling the truth, we’re angels.” 

The man with two-toned hair speaks up. 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Did you just read my thoughts?” 

He shrugs. 

“They’re very loud.”

You stare at him. 

“Do you want me to hit you with my bat again?”

The man shudders. 

“Please, don’t.”

Another voice speaks up. 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” the man with peach hair pipes in. 

You shrug. 

“I don’t really have any reason to doubt you, I guess.” You hesitate before saying your next words. “Plus, I don’t know what it is, but you guys have this vibe,” you gesture your hand vaguely. 

“It feels...safe?” You shrug, looking down at the spare thread you’ve been messing with since you woke up. “I felt it when I met Mingi earlier, but I didn’t know what to think about it.” 

You miss the way Mingi’s ears turn red. 

An awkward silence falls across the room. 

“Well,” another man, the one who stands next to Hongjoong, begins to speak. “Now that that’s done, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Seonghwa,” he sends you a beautiful smile. 

“I’m Hongjoong, as you already know,” Hongjoong says and you nod. 

“My name’s Yunho,” the man with peach hair speaks up. 

“I’m San,” the man with dark blue hair pipes up, sending you a bright, dimpled smile. You can’t help but send him a small smile back. 

“I’m Yeosang,” the blonde one on your floor gives you a small nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m Wooyoung!” Two-toned hair chirps loudly. You can’t help but side-eye him slightly. “What?” he cries. 

“Please don’t sneak up on me if you don’t want me to hit you again,” you warn. 

A few snickers sound throughout the room. 

“I’m Jongho,” the one with cherry hair tells you. 

Your eyes land on the last man who sits closest to you. 

“I’m Mingi,” he says. “But, you already know that.” 

You nod. He still seems a little bit sad. 

You hesitate, but reach out to softly grab his hand that rests on your bed. 

“Thank you for your help earlier,” you start. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.” 

You glance around the room. 

“But, you guys have to understand that this whole situation is kind of crazy.” 

Seonghwa nods. 

“We understand, and we’re sorry for scaring you so much.” He nods his head toward Mingi and San. “But those two broke one of the most important rules that guardian angels must follow.” 

You nod, understanding what Seonghwa’s saying. 

“Wait,” your eyebrows furrow. “I know Mingi broke the rule when he helped me get back inside my apartment, but what did San do?” 

You look at him as he crosses his arms and pouts, reminding you of a scolded child. 

“He’s the one that pulled you out of the street yesterday before the car could hit you,” Wooyoung explains. 

Your eyes widen and you sit up even further. 

“So I was right!” you exclaim. 

Mingi raises a brow.

“I knew I felt someone grab my hands and pull me forward, but the lady who helped me said there was no one there!” You pout slightly. “I thought I was going crazy for a second.” 

You look over at San. 

“Thank you for saving my life,” you tell him sincerely.

San throws his hands up in the air. 

“See? At least she’s grateful for what I did!” 

Yeosang rolls his eyes. 

“Of course she is, you idiot, she would’ve been dead if you hadn’t.” 

This time, you don’t miss the way they all seem to wince at Yeosang’s words.

You frown. 

“Yeah, actually,” you begin. “If you guys are my guardian angels, how come I almost died yesterday?” You look at them expectantly. “Isn’t the whole point of you guys being here to like, keep me alive?”

They avoid your eyes.

“We were a little...preoccupied,” Hongjoong admits. 

You click your tongue. 

“Well, at least San was there for me.” 

You send a grateful smile to him, which he returns with slightly red cheeks. 

“Hey!” Mingi whines. “I helped you too!”

You roll your eyes. 

“Yes you did, you big baby, but San literally saved my life,” you emphasize. 

“And I didn’t?” Mingi asks, offended. “What if I never showed up? You would’ve had to sleep on the streets and who knows what would’ve happened then?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing yourself back on your bed. 

“I didn’t know angels were this dramatic!”

Jongho lets out a laugh. 

“The most,” he admits. 

The sound of your stomach rumbling has a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. 

“You haven’t eaten?” Yunho furrows his eyebrows.

“Mmmm, not since breakfast yesterday, I think,” you admit. 

Wooyoung jumps out of his chair. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had,” he sends you a small wink before heading out of your room towards the kitchen. 

“He’s not going to burn my apartment down right?” You ask worriedly.

Hongjoong shakes his head. 

“No, Wooyoung’s actually a really good cook,” he reassures you. 

“Plus,” San says. “You have seven angels here to protect you if anything!”

You’re not sure if that makes you feel any better. 

- 

As it turns out, Hongjoong was right, and Wooyoung is an excellent cook. In a span of 20 minutes, he’s managed to make you an omelet that looks like it came straight out of a Studio Ghibli movie, along with some oatmeal, fresh fruit, and what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice. 

“Wow,” you gape at the food. 

Wooyoung motions for you to sit at the table. 

“It was meant for you to eat, not just stare at.”

You happily oblige, sitting down at the table and bringing up the fork to your mouth, only to pause when you realize no one else has food. 

“We don’t have to eat,” Seonghwa explains, reading your mind. “We can if we want to, but it’s not necessary for us to survive.”

You nod, feeling a little less guilty about eating in front of them. 

Letting out a satisfied hum at the taste of the food, you send Wooyoung a thumbs-up. He smiles brightly. 

“So,” you start, swallowing your food and taking a quick sip of your juice. “Now that I’ve met you guys and I know you exist, are you going to go back to being invisible to me?” 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a look. 

“Not exactly,” Hongjoong says. 

You raise an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue. 

“Now that you know we exist, we can’t exactly just disappear,” he elaborates. “It’s one of the reasons guardian angels aren’t meant to reveal themselves to their humans.” 

You nod slowly. 

“So, humans just never find out they have a guardian angel? Like, ever?”

Jongho mutters something under his breath. Yunho kicks his leg under the table.

“Sorry, what was that?” You ask, looking at him. 

He avoids your gaze. 

A tense silence falls over the table. 

You notice how Mingi shakes his leg anxiously. San taps his fingers on the table and Yunho avoids your gaze. 

You narrow your eyes at them. 

“There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.” It’s not a question. 

“I don’t think now is the best time to talk about this-” Hongjoong starts. 

“Humans only find out about their guardian angels when their time is near,” Wooyoung says calmly. 

Hongjoong glares at him. Wooyoung only shrugs. 

“What? She was bound to find out eventually.” 

“Their time?” You look around at the men that sit at your table. “Like, when they’re about to die?”

Yeosang nods. 

You let out a small “oh”, looking down at the unfinished food that stares at you.

It’s silent as you think about the information they’ve just given you. 

“The car,” you swallow. “The car that almost hit me yesterday. Was it,” you almost can’t get the words out. “Was it supposed to hit me?”

Your question comes out in a whisper. 

No one responds, but when you look up, they all fix you with a sad look.

You nod.

“Okay.” 

You push your plate away from you. 

You don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi whispers from your left side. 

His large hand gently encompasses yours. You nod, refusing to look him in the eyes. 

“But we’re not going to let you die.” 

You look up at San’s determined voice, barely able to see him through your misty eyes. 

“What?”

“We’re not letting you die,” he says firmly. “It’s not your time.” 

You shake your head. 

“I’m pretty sure if the universe decides it’s my time, then it’s my time,” you reply. You’re not sure if you’re saying it to convince them, or yourself. 

“I can’t just avoid fate.”

Hongjoong sighs. 

“San’s right.” 

You send him a questioning look. 

“We’re your guardian angels. We’re not going to let you die.” 

“Screw what the universe says,” Yeosang chimes in. 

You stare at them incredulously. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Look,” Yunho starts. “We’ve been thinking about it, and we’re pretty sure the universe is wrong about it being your time. We’ve been around for centuries, usually we have a good sense of when it’s going to be someone’s time and when it’s not.”

“And we don’t get that feeling with you,” Jongho continues for him. “We never have.”

“So, we’re going to do our best to make sure you stay out of harms way,” Yeosang finishes.

Your throat feels constricted and you can barely see through all the tears that have welled up in your eyes. 

“You guys would do all that for me?” You choke out. 

Mingi squeezes your hand. 

“Of course. We’re not your guardian angels for nothing.”

You sniffle, looking down at your lap and bringing up your other hand to wipe at your eyes. 

“Thank you guys,” you tell them sincerely. 

“Anything for you,” Seonghwa smiles softly. 

-

After the conversation at breakfast, the nine of you come up with a vague plan Wooyoung affectionally dubbed “Keeping Our Human Alive”. Despite the look you had given him, you had to admit, it made you laugh.

You all agreed it would be best for at least one of them to accompany you every day, more if any of them felt like tagging along. 

“That way,” Hongjoong explained, “if anything unexpected happens, at least one of us will be able to protect you.” 

You agreed.

“What about when I go to work and stuff?” You had questioned. “Won’t it be weird if there’s a different guy following me around every day?”

Yunho shook his head. 

“Just because you can see us doesn’t mean everyone else can see us too. We can make ourselves visible to other people besides our assigned human if we want,” he explained. 

“Oh, okay. Well, that certainly makes this easier then.” 

“What would you prefer for us to do?” Questioned San. “Do you want us to remain invisible all the time or only at work?”

You think it over for a minute before shrugging.

“Honestly, whatever’s most comfortable for all of you. I would prefer if at work you guys are invisible, but while we’re in public and stuff, whatever you guys feel comfortable with is fine by me.”

At your answer, they all give you fond looks which makes your face feel slightly warm. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“Also, I was thinking about it and if you guys are going to be with me 24/7 now, we need some ground rules.”

Jongho chuckled.

“Technically, we’ve always been here, you’ve just barely found out.”

You realize he’s right, and the memories of every single embarrassing thing that you’ve ever done in the privacy of your own home comes rushing back to you.

“Well, yeah, now that I know you guys are here,” you stumble over your words slightly. “Privacy is really big for me. I don’t have many rules, but I just ask that you guys don’t show up unannounced or else that might really freak me out, and please, if you’re going to come into my room, just knock.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement.

“And,” you continue, “no more reading my thoughts please.”

Only a few of them nod, which makes you grow slightly concerned.

“Is that a problem?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice.

“Not at all,” Seonghwa reassures.

“It’s just that we do get a little concerned for when you’re alone. Being aware of your thoughts helps us decide if you need our help at that moment or not,” Hongjoong explains.

You nod.

“I get that, but if at least one of you is going to be by my side every single day from now on, I really don’t think there’s any need for you to read my thoughts.”

You continue.

“Plus, it’s really just about privacy for me. I don’t really feel comfortable with you guys having access to every single thought in my head, no matter how big or small.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both nod.

“We understand. And we’ll do our best to respect your boundaries.”

“Thank you guys,” you send them a small smile.

“Plus, if I need any help or anything, I’ll just yell out ‘bat’ really loud,” you joke, referring to the bruise you might’ve left on Wooyoung’s stomach.

Everyone laughs except for him.

“Not funny,” he pouts.

You let out a small giggle, patting him lightly on the arm. 

“You did kind of deserve it, my friend.”

Clapping your hands together, you let out a deep exhale. 

“Now that that’s all settled, I need to go grocery shopping. All of you are more than welcome to come.” 

A few of them look very excited, which both excites you and makes you slightly nervous. 

“Thank you for the invitation,” Hongjoong starts. “But Seonghwa and I will have to pass this time.”

You pout slightly. 

“Aw man.” 

“Trust me,” Seonghwa starts. “We would love to go on our first official errand run with you, little one, but we have some business to deal with upstairs.” 

He uses his index finger to point up and you look up as well.

Upstairs? 

“Ohhhh, you mean, like, heaven and all that,” you laugh nervously at your lack of understanding. 

The two men nod. 

“But don’t worry, we should be back by the end of the day,” Hongjoong reassures you. 

“Don’t worry guys,” Mingi slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “We’ve got this.” 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stare at the male by your side, slightly unamused. 

“That’s what we’re scared of.”

-

It’s officially been about a week since your near death experience and finding out about your guardian angels. 

While having all of them around had certainly been awkward at first, you’ve all slowly begun to fall into a routine. Sometimes, you feel as though you’ve known them your whole life. 

Which, to a certain extent, you kind of have. 

Something about having them around just makes you feel incredibly safe and warm inside. Not to mention the slight butterflies you’ve been experiencing around them, but you’re quick to try and cage them as soon as they appear. 

Wooyoung and Seonghwa have taken it upon themselves to cook most of the meals for the nine of you. Every day when you come home from work, you can always count on a warm, freshly cooked meal to be waiting on the table for you. 

“You’re kind of like my house husbands,” you joked to them one time. 

Seonghwa blushed, while Wooyoung had blown you a kiss. 

“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Yunho and Mingi are the two that typically accompany you to work, although sometimes Jongho will tag along if he doesn’t have anything else to do. Despite the tall men’s playful personalities, they were both incredibly smart and helped you with your work whenever you felt particularly stressed out. 

San was certainly one of the more playful angels, you had noticed. 

Although all of them were fun to be around, San was always the first to notice when your mood wasn’t the best, and he was the best at comforting you after a long day. A bad day at work usually ended with San waiting for you with open arms as soon as you walked through the door for some cuddles and quiet time. 

When Wooyoung and Mingi had found out about this little routine, they both immediately demanded to be allowed into the “cuddle time” as they called it.

Jongho and Yeosang were the two individuals who you enjoyed spending some quiet time with. The three of you would usually wind down together with some tea and some books or a show. Although they were a little more reserved than the others, you still genuinely enjoyed your time with both of them.

But they certainly had their moments where they could be just as chaotic as the others. 

Exhibit A was the day you walked into your apartment to see Yeosang and Yunho standing in your kitchen covered in flour. 

“What happened?” you had asked, absolutely astounded by the amount of flour that somehow managed to cover every inch of your kitchen. You didn’t even think you had that much flour to begin with. 

The two of them sheepishly admitted that they were trying to bake some cookies, but things had gotten out of hand. 

Clicking your tongue, you walked over to the roll of paper towels to begin cleaning up. 

“What am I going to do with you guys-”

You had just turned around when the feeling of something soft and powdery hit your face. You sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the two angels. Yunho looked at you and then turned to Yeosang, who avoided your eyes. 

What followed next was a flour fight that resulted in a very long clean-up shift.

There was also the time you found out Jongho literally had the voice of an angel. 

The two of you were headed to your local plant store to look for some new plants to decorate your apartment with when one of your favorite songs came on the radio. 

Turning the volume up, you began singing along softly as did Jongho. As the song continued, his voice grew louder, and when the two of you reached a red light, you were unable to do anything except stare at him slack-jawed at the voice that was coming out of him. Only the sound of the car behind you honking was able to shake you out of your stupor.

Now, you guys have little karaoke parties in your car when the two of you are alone.

The only angel you had yet to spend a lot of time with, however, was Hongjoong. 

The man always seemed to be busy, as he was hardly ever in your actual apartment. Most mornings when you woke up, he was gone and he wouldn’t show up until the evenings. 

You would be lying if you said the hushed arguments he would have with some of the others didn’t concern you. They always occurred at night, when they assumed you were fast asleep. And they always revolved around the same thing. 

“She’s not the exact same, and that’s okay, but you guys can’t keep expecting her to be the same as our (Y/n).” You heard Hongjoong say one night.

You had been unable to fall back asleep after that.

Today, though, you really needed to go to the post office, and Hongjoong was the only angel available to accompany you. 

You stood awkwardly at the end of your table where Hongjoong sat using your laptop to do something. 

“Uh,” you clear your throat. “Hongjoong?”

He looks up a little startled. 

“(Y/n),” he acknowledges. “Is everything okay?” He looks at you concerned. 

“Yeah everything’s fine!” You reassure him. 

“I just need to run a quick errand and the others are all busy so I was wondering if you could go with me,” you trail off.

God this is awkward. 

To your surprise, although you really shouldn’t be, he nods his head quickly.

“Yeah of course. We can go now, if you’re ready?”

“Cool, let me just grab my bag and we can get going!” You rush to your room to grab your bag before walking back to the front door where Hongjoong already waits for you. 

The two of you agree to make the short walk to the post office, commenting on how the nice weather is today. 

Exiting through the front gates of your apartment, you two begin walking down the sidewalk shoulder to shoulder in silence. 

“So is-”

“I wanted-”

The two of you start talking at the same time. 

You both let out a laugh and you can feel your shoulders relax a bit. 

“Go ahead,” you allow Hongjoong to speak first. 

He takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately,” he says as he stares into your eyes. 

You have to admit, that’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been really distant and pre-occupied lately,” Hongjoong continues. “And I know you’ve noticed, so I want to sincerely apologize. There’s been a lot of stuff I’ve been dealing with and I don’t want you to think I don’t like this,” he gestures between the two of you, “thing we have going on.”

You shake your head. 

“No, please don’t feel like you have to apologize Hongjoong. To be completely honest, I have no clue what it is you guys have to deal with in the first place, but I’m really grateful you’ve all gone out of your way to help me.” 

You let out a small, sad laugh. 

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really get why you guys are helping me in the first place. I’m sure you’ve all had hundreds of different assigned humans throughout your existence, so I’m nothing special.” 

Hongjoong stops abruptly and turns to face you. 

“That’s not true,” he says firmly. The serious expression on his face has you taken aback. 

“What?”

“You said you’re nothing special. That’s not true.”

Hongjoong sighs and grabs both of your hands. 

“Look, it’s complicated to explain, and I will tell you, but we agreed we all wanted to tell you together. So, if you’re okay with waiting, I can tell you everything that’s been going on as soon as we get back to your apartment.” 

You would be lying if you said his words don’t scare you a little bit. 

“It’s okay Hongjoong, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you reassure him, softly running your fingers over his knuckles. 

He shakes his head. 

“I- We all want to tell you, and you deserve to know the truth.” 

You nod your head. 

“Okay. Back at my apartment it is then,” you send him a small smile, which he returns. 

“Before we head to the post office,” you start. “Do you want to visit my favorite cafe with me?” 

Hongjoong smiles softly at you. 

“I would love to.” 

You guys continue walking down the few blocks and after a few minutes, you both stand at the stoplight that sits across from the cafe. You and Hongjoong laugh at the stories you tell him about the antics Yunho and Mingi get up to when you’re at work. The light turns green, and you begin to cross the street. 

“I’m telling you, I just told them about this lady in my office who’s always getting on my nerves and they made it their mission to inconvenience her in every way possible!” You exclaim. 

Hongjoong lets out a hearty laugh and you smile widely at how relaxed he looks. 

Just as your about to continue your story, you notice the wind blowing your letter out of your purse. 

Cursing, you tell Hongjoong to wait on the sidewalk while you run quickly after the paper. The letter lands in the middle of crosswalk and you’ve just barely managed to pick it up when the sound of someone yelling your name makes you whip around. 

Coming towards you at a terrifying speed is a car. 

You stand frozen in the middle of street, unable to move your feet. 

You barely manage to catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s terrified face when you feel your body get thrown back, and everything turns black. 

-

You stand in a green field. 

The scenery is absolutely gorgeous and you can feel the warm sun and cool breeze on your skin. 

Looking around, you notice a large, crystal blue lake in the distance. Your legs begin to take you in that direction on their own accord.

You reach the lake and crouch down, slightly dipping your hand in the cool water. Soft ripples make their way across the surface of the water and you can’t help but feel completely at ease in this place.

Whatever this place is.

As you continue staring down into the water, you notice your reflection seems to look different.

The you staring back has much longer hair than you currently have, and the clothes your reflection wears is older, looking like they come from an early Victorian age.

You tilt your head to the side and notice that your reflection’s head doesn’t move.

A voice sounds out through your mind.

“You need to go back.”

“Go back?” You whisper aloud.

Your reflection nods.

“They need you.”

Other you doesn’t specify who you two are talking about, but deep down, you think you already know the answer.

Your reflection sends you a gentle smile before disappearing. You watch as the water returns to its calm state before gently pushing yourself back up to your feet.

You take one last look around the field you’re in, before closing your eyes.

-

The first thing you notice is how dark it is.

You can hear the sounds of people talking and crying around you, and you can feel hands softly grabbing your body, but you’re unable to open your eyes or move.

“Please,” someone whispers over your body.

“Please don’t leave us again.”

You lose consciousness once again.

-

The next time you wake up, your entire body hurts.

You let out a soft groan, slowly opening your eyes and allowing them to adjust to the soft light of your lamp.

Something heavy rests near your right hand, and turning your head slightly, you can see a head of familiar pink hear laying down next to you.

Using what little strength you have in your body, you raise your hand and gently rest it on Mingi’s head. Softly, you run your fingers through the short strands on his head.

He makes an inaudible noise and turns his head over so that you can now see his face. As you continue stroking his head, his eyes flutter open. He looks a little bit confused for a few seconds before his body is shooting up and he stares at you shocked.

“(Y/n),” he whispers softly.

“Hi Mingi,” you reply.

You watch as tears well up in his eyes and he throws himself on top of you, mindful to not rest his entire body weight on you. You can hear footsteps rushing towards your room before your bedroom door is being slammed open.

You can barely see over Mingi’s broad back that covers your frame, but you already know who it is.

As Mingi releases you, you attempt to sit up, only to stop and hiss in pain when jolts of pain shoot up your back.

“Be careful, little one,” Seonghwa says, moving forward to help adjust some pillows behind you.

You thank him and take a moment to look around at each of the men that surrounds your bed. You notice the dark circles under their eyes and the way their skin seems to lack it’s normal glow.

“You guys look worse than I feel,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Yeosang frowns.

“You’ve been out for 4 days, sunflower.”

You blink harshly.

“Four days?”

Jongho nods.

“The worst four days of our entire existence,” he says.

You look down at the blanket that rests on your lap.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No I’m sorry.”

It’s Hongjoong who speaks.

He comes to your side, falling onto his knees beside your bed and taking your hand into his. He leans down to rest his forehead against your hand.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he cries.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the car coming, I should’ve moved faster, I should’ve gotten you out of the way-” he sobs.

“No, Hongjoong,” you shake your head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done, the car came out of nowhere and it was too fast.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Yunho whispers.

“We swore to never let you pass before your time again.”

You can’t help the confused look you give them, but then, you remember the reflection you saw in the lake.

How the person looked just like you, but from a different era.

The arguments you heard Hongjoong have with the others.

Softly resting your palm on Hongjoong’s tear stained face, you speak.

“I need you guys to explain everything to me.”

-

All nine of you sit in your living room.

The boys helped you get settled on the couch, where you sit with San and Wooyoung flanking both of your sides. Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit across from you three while Mingi sits on the floor next to your legs. Yunho sits to the right of San and Yeosang and Jongho remain standing, but still close.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met you,” Hongjoong begins.

“We’ve been very lucky to have met you almost every single time you’ve been reborn.”

Yeosang continues.

“The first time we met you was an accident. You happened to stumble upon me when I was helping a wounded human at the time. Soon after, I introduced you to the others.”

“But I thought the only time humans could see a guardian angel was when they were close to death?” You questioned.

Jongho nods sadly.

“You passed away shortly after meeting the rest of us.”

“In almost every single life where you’ve been reborn,” Wooyoung explains.

“We’ve managed to find you, but we’ve never been granted the luxury of time.”

You softly run your fingers through his hair, hearing the tremble of his voice as he speaks.

“The last two times that you’ve been born, we’ve been fortunate enough to be your guardian angels,” Seonghwa smiles.

“But in your last life, you passed away prematurely,” San says.

You turn your head towards him.

“A freak accident that we weren’t able to save you from.”

Mingi turns around to look up at you from where he rests by your legs.

“We failed you,” he whispers sadly.

You shake your head.

“You guys didn’t fail me. Not then, and not now. Just because you guys are angels doesn’t mean you can control everything that happens.”

“Sometimes,” you take a deep breath. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t always protect the ones you love.”

“But we have to,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eye. “Not only is that our job, but for selfish reasons too.”

He looks down at his hands.

“We couldn’t take watching you die another time.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“How am I still here then?”

Hongjoong looks back up at you.

“We made a deal.”

You send him a questioning look.

“A deal?”

All the men surrounding you nod.

“What kind of deal?” You prod, noticing how they seem to hesitate to give you more details.

“Our life in exchange for yours.”

You inhale sharply, the sudden movement causing pain to shoot up your back. Wooyoung and San attempt to soothe your pain, but your mind is only focused on the information they just gave you.

“What?”

“We made a deal with God,” Yunho starts. “Our status in heaven as guardian angels, in exchange for the guarantee that you would live a full life.”

“What?” you say breathlessly. “Why, why would you guys do that?”

“Because we’re selfish,” Jongho says, looking at you with such tenderness you’re unsure of what to do with yourself.

“And we don’t care about being angels or having those powers and helping others if it means we have to live in a world without you in it,” Mingi finishes.

Tears begin to well up and spill out of your eyes before you can stop them. San and Wooyoung cuddle impossibly closer to you, hugging you tightly while the others watch on with misty eyes.

“Thank you,” you sob into your hands. “Thank you.”

They all smile.

-

It’s been about a month since you almost (should’ve) died.

In that month, the ex-angels did their best to help you recover from your injuries, although they certainly complained about no longer having healing powers to help stop you from being pain.

“Welcome to the life of being a human,” you rolled your eyes.

“This is lame, maybe we should’ve stayed as angels,” Wooyoung muttered.

You smacked him on the chest, ignoring his yelp and complaints.

“Don’t make me bring out the bat again,” you warned.

After you were fully recovered, you focused on helping the boys adjust to their new lives as humans.

“Why do we have to walk everywhere?” Mingi groaned, dragging his feet behind you.

You rolled your eyes.

He’s just like a little kid.

“Because my car can only fit four of you, but all eight of you decided to accompany me to the store,” you remind him.

He says nothing, but you could still hear his grumbling.

As they’ve slowly adjusted to human life, the nine of you have fallen into a smooth routine that’s oddly domestic.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa continue to cook the meals for you guys, and you all make an effort to eat at least one meal together a day.

Seeing as most of them aren’t morning people, you typically opt to eat dinner together instead.

You’ve also decided to introduce them to your favorite bookstore.

“How ironic,” you muse, walking hand in hand with San and Yunho as you all approach the quaint shop.

“What is, sunflower?” Yeosang questions.

“This bookstore is the whole reason I met you guys in the first place,” you give San’s hand a small squeeze.

He squeezes it back three times.

Later that night, when you’ve all returned home, you guys decide to have a small movie night.

After arguing over what movie to watch, Jongho insisted on watching a horror movie, which Mingi complained about loudly.

Not that it mattered, most everyone ended up falling asleep by the time the film was halfway over, including yourself.

You could hear the sound of someone moving around quietly in the living room and turned your head to the side, burying your face deeper into Mingi’s chest. The feeling of a blanket being laid over the two of you was welcomed.

You felt someone leave a soft kiss on the side of your head.

“Goodnight my love,” Hongjoong whispered softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You hummed in reply, falling back asleep perfectly content and safe in the presence of your lovers.

                                        ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: my fic to celebrate hitting 50 followers, you guys are insane, i love you all so much and i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

[switch-witch-erin]

This post is about the very experience of loving tickling, the feeling of shame for it, the feeling of being somehow abnormal, which as far as I know actually haunts many.

This is gonna be a long read, featuring my journey to finding peace in liking tickles + how I managed to clarify for myself that liking platonic tickling is a thing, and is, in fact, okay. I’ll try to make it as short as I can :,)

❗️All of this is just a reflection of my experience, please be respectful

First of all, I have to say that tickling has always been a main form of showing affection in my family — here

For my parents and siblings, it was of utter importance to never show “weakness” in any way or form, no saying “I love you”, no hugs nor kisses, no words of validation, only stuff like “study hard so you can get a better job in the future”, “don’t forget to wear your scarf, it’s cold outside”, so basically they showed their love through doing anything they could for me to survive and thrive, but without any affection. And since affection wasn’t allowed, my siblings decided to start disguising it by messing with me, like tickling me silly, claiming that they’re just teasing and pestering me, while also making it fun and entertaining. They were gentle and careful, especially considering our big age difference (I’m 25, and my eldest brother is 48), and it made me feel so loved and cherished that I never wanted it to stop. Most tickle fights happened with my sister, seven years older than me, and she’d let me win just to cheer me up, which also gave me an extra boost of joy and love for her.

Therefore, by the time I went to school, I was 100% certain that everyone liked tickling, they just played the game of pretending, while actually having fun. I was called a local tickle monster among my classmates and some of the teachers as I kept tickling my friends all over the school, and I was a very social kid, so it might have been around 30 people on my “wanted” list x) Thinking about it now, I don’t remember a single kid actually getting uncomfortable or disliking the tickling. Maybe that’s because my tickles were gentle and didn’t last long as I was afraid of accidentally hurting peeps and made sure to keep it light. There also was a girl, around 15 years old, who really liked me and treated me like a younger sister because she thought I was a cute kid. She’d hang out with me and some of my classmates during breaks, put me on her lap, tell the stupidest jokes one could possibly come up with, and then tickle me silly, saying “See? I knew it was funny, you’re laughing!”. Unfortunately, I changed schools, and we never saw each other again, but it was fun while it lasted.

When I got older, like 12 or so, I remember there was a girl who kept initiating tickle fights with me on a daily basis, that was so much fun, basically my number 1 reason to go to school at the time x). I was a little overweight and insecure about my appearance, so her willingly touching me (as well as hugging me after the tickling) and saying that my giggles were cute made me feel so much better about myself, no words can possibly describe it. She was definitely a lot rougher than me when it came to tickling, but it was fine, maybe because I wasn’t that ticklish, so it didn’t bother me much. I even remember teachers watching us and smiling. Back then I didn’t feel embarrassed in the slightest, I treated it as any other form of fun activities, like playing hide and seek or drawing. Though it didn’t last long.

Next year, when I was 13, we got a new classmate, she was nice, but her mood kept changing every ten minutes, it was weird, probably a puberty thing, but still. We quickly became friends, and eventually, after about two weeks of getting to know each other, I started tickling her, and she became completely enraged. She yelled at me, slapped my hands away and started a whole ass rant about how people who tickle others are annoying and rude, while threatening to punch me if I tickle her again. To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. It’s like my entire world got turned inside out, and I felt so guilty and ashamed of myself that all I could do was apologise and leave. Of course, now, as an adult, I understand that her reaction was way too intense, and I should’ve at least clarified that I didn’t mean to upset her. But back then I got absolutely mortified. As a cherry on top she started avoiding me like I did something terrible, and only in about three weeks she came up to me out of the blue and started a conversation like nothing happened. It felt weird, but I was so glad she seemed to have forgiven me I didn’t bother to ask questions. But that’s when the shame all tickling community knows started forming. “What if other people whom I tickled actually didn’t enjoy it? I haven’t seen someone tickling others as often as I did, what if it’s not okay to act like I do? What if I’m some kind of creep to others? What if I have been a creep this whole time, but no one bothered to tell me? Bad people don’t know or don’t care if they’re bad, they just do whatever they please, just like I did with my friends before. What if I’m actually a bad person? A creep?” Yeah, well, that was just the tip of the iceberg. Among puberty-related things, that made me feel insecure as well and I stopped being as social as I was, I closed off, but the need to have tickles in my life persisted, and I started watching those silly tickling moments from cartoons and anime posted on YouTube. Watching them has always made me smile, and it felt like a void inside me started to fill up. I can only compare the feeling to hugging my boyfriend or receiving support from my friends - that fuzzy feeling that makes life worth living. I remember panicking when these videos started appearing on my feed even after I deleted them from my YouTube history, as it felt like I’m doing something perverted and unnatural. Once, the videos popped up on my main YouTube page while I was watching stuff with my friend, and I was mortified. She didn’t question it, not sure if she even noticed, but I wanted to die right there on the spot. When I was thinking all of it over as a teen, I used to compare myself to creepy fetishists, who pile up various disturbing stuff in their PC folder just to open when no one’s looking. The thought made me cry so many times I can’t even count, as I couldn’t share with anyone about it, and I assured myself that I am a creep, so if I want to stop being one I should get rid of that liking tickling thing and enjoy “normal” stuff. So I deleted all of the saved videos, art and other stuff, unfollowed the creators and went on with my life. It was a difficult decision, but I was determined.

Several months later my classmates (13-15 years old) started a massive tickle fight, among like ten or so people, and it all was happening right in front of me. I was staring at them with googly eyes, sitting there all tensed up and confused like ??? You’re all not supposed to do that??? How dare you??? And it was mostly among boys, so one of them approached me with a big grin on his face, and some sort of Tarantino dialogue happened

— Hey, why aren’t you participating? Are you not ticklish?

— N-No…

And he proceeded to start tickling me, but I didn’t react, either because I was still shocked or because I didn’t want to be a part of it, I’m not sure myself. And when he saw the lack of reaction, I swear to god, he was UPSET. He lowered his head and pouted a little, mumbling something like “damn, okay”. I can’t say for sure whether he was upset because of me (presumably) not being ticklish, or because he wanted to make me react, but something in my head clicked. Like… “oh, you want tickles? I’ll give you tickles!” And I started tickling him back furiously. Nothing painful or uncomfortable, just rather intense as I targeted almost all of his upper body at the same time. The guy’s laughter was silent, and he leaned over, shaking with inaudible giggles, but he didn’t try to get away. Not even once. When I realised what I was doing, I stopped, feeling mortified once again. It felt like I was using him for my “perverted” needs, like I just submerged this boy to something he doesn’t enjoy for my “sick” pleasure. You know that feeling when you’re about to explode with crying, but you hold yourself back as much as you can with what little power you still have? Yeah, that was how I felt. When suddenly he sat up with an even bigger grin on his face than before, looked at me with such a happy, excited expression, and then turned to the others, yelling out “Beware! She’s not ticklish, and she’s a master tickler!” Then he glanced back at me and said “Hey, it’s not fair you’re not ticklish, you’re imbalanced! (Russian slang for someone or something way mightier than their group) Come with us, you’d be an absolute winner!” [Love men’s urge to constantly compete lol]

A school bell, indicating that the next lesson is starting, saved my sorry ass. Imagine how hard it was to concentrate on studying after all of that x)

By the time I came home I was so confused I could barely talk to anyone, completely stuck in my own thoughts. It seemed like they all were enjoying the tickling, and they were participating in it willingly, having fun together. No one minded getting tickled, and even though no one said out loud that they enjoyed it, it was obvious. So my brain gears started rotating. If it’s okay for others to enjoy tickling, why can’t it be okay for me? Yes, maybe I like it more than they do, but what’s so bad about it? Some people like martial arts, some people like drawing, dragons, marine biology, sports, massages, and I like tickling! It’s a special interest, my special interest. I do it because it feels nice, and not only it makes me happy, other people enjoy it too! Not everyone, naturally, just like not everyone likes being touched in general. But to people, who enjoy tickling, it’s a nice way to unwind and have fun. It’s some kind of monkey brain thing like “me make other monkey happy with tickles, other monkey happy = I happy”. Apes together strong x)

And slowly but surely I began my research, checking what it’s like to enjoy tickling, how it works in biology and psychology, why some people like it and some don’t, why some are more ticklish than others and whatnot. It was fascinating. Humans are so fucking weird (affectionately), there’re so many details, nooks and crannies that take part in our existence…

But scientific part aside, I decided to switch on my critical thinking skills as well and actually look at my situation from someone else’s perspective. And eventually came up with a basic scheme. The questions I asked myself were:

1. Do I harm anyone, including myself, by liking/participating in tickling?

2. Does tickling bring me joy?

3. Do I violate people’s boundaries by tickling them?

4. Is it considered inappropriate to enjoy tickling?

As a result, I came up with several conclusions, which can be summed up in one statement

“If tickling is consensual and brings joy to both parties, there shouldn’t be any problems with it”

Maybe you noticed that some people who don’t have tickling as their special interest enjoy it too! It is a form of affection after all, so, since it brings me joy, why should I be embarrassed about it? Don’t get me wrong, even though all of my friends know I like tickling (they saw my art, we’ve talked about it a lot, I share the news of what’s up with the community and many other things), sometimes I get so fucking embarrassed I don’t have words to describe such strong emotions. Fortunately, my friends are good people, they remind me that it’s okay… it doesn’t stop them from poking and teasing me, but can’t say that I mind x) Even people like my brother’s wife know about that special interest of mine, and ALL of them, and I mean EVERY SINGLE PERSON think that it’s okay. Some said that it’s even cute. But it still wasn’t enough for me to let go and enjoy myself, so I decided to contact a specialist.

By the time I became an adult I decided to talk about my liking of tickling with my therapist, and mind you this woman was definitely overqualified when it comes to all the stuff I asked her. Looking back at it I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it might have looked to her.

“Hello, my name is Erin, I’m 22, I really like tickles, both tickling and being tickled, is there something wrong with me? 🥺”

I bow to her ability of keeping a poker face. True professional. I don’t want to go into the details, but overall she said that enjoying platonic tickles is actually very common, especially for people on autism spectrum and those with ADHD (aka me). [Not that everyone who likes tickles should immediately get tested] She told me that she had a patient with severe autism, he had trouble talking to people, and he didn’t enjoy being touched. So whenever he wanted to express affection for his family members, he’d gently tickle their side a little and smile at them. Tickling was his love language. And, in case anyone is still wondering about whether tickling can only be a kink, I really doubt that it was anything sexual for him. By the way, you can read a post made by an actual psychologist regarding tickling not necessarily being a kink.

And since tickling has always been the main form of affection I received, it’s only natural that I carried it into adulthood. I’m 25 years old, a whole grown ass woman with a degree, a job, my own apartment and goals to achieve. Why on Earth would I drop enjoying something as lighthearted and fun as tickling because someone considers it weird?

The actually weird thing is telling people what they are, and what they’re supposed or not supposed to enjoy.

If getting tickled silly by my man is what makes me happy, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.

Peace out, have fun, and stay true to yourself ✌🏻

Hope my post helps you feel at least a little better 🌸

[nightghoul381]

Sweet Delight ~ Harrison Gray (POV) x Reader

Entry number 1 in @judejazza's An Invitation to Crown Castle event!

Pairing: Harrison Gray (POV) x Reader Prompt: Rain Kisses Genre: Fluff with a lil bit of spice (and an opportunity for a potential part 2?) CW: None WC: 1.3k

You still don’t seem to be able to tell when I’m lying to you. Either that or you’ve gotten very good at acting like you don’t know.

I know it was a weak excuse when I asked you to join me in getting sweets for the upcoming party because I was ‘worried Victor would try to do something weird with the desserts’ but you seemed to be fine with it.

It had taken a while to figure out which shop we should go to for the sweets, so when you suggested we sample a lot of them and go back for the best, I couldn’t exactly refuse. I love getting to watch how your face lights up when you taste something delicious. You have such an honest face.

The first couple of shops were good, different sweets and chocolates but none seemed to be just right. I could tell you were getting a little frustrated when I kept shooting down the shops, but I can’t help but want to keep you out and all to myself.

I know when we get back to the castle, you’ll get swept away into some mission or activity and my time with you will be cut short.

The bell rang out as we entered the next shop and the expression on your face quickly morphed from disappointment to interest as the smell of freshly baked pastries hit your nose.

“It smells really good…” you whisper, leaning your head toward me conspiratorially. I chuckle and nod, approaching the clerk and inquiring about a sample.

“Oh, uh… we don’t usually give out samples, the pastries are rather small and the owner isn’t keen on handing out free portions…” The clerk murmured sheepishly.

Damn, they’re telling the truth too.

“Well, can I get one of the pastries then?” I ask, setting down some money on the counter.

Moments later, there’s a steaming pastry on a plate in your hands. I can practically see you salivating right now, you must be so excited to try it, but you merely carry it over to a table and slide into a seat.

I slowly stroll over to the table, taking my time and enjoying the way you squirm impatiently, gaze flicking between me and the treat sitting before you.

“Harrison… are you stalling for a reason?” You asked, fixing me with your pointed gaze.

“Who said I was stalling?” I laugh, nudging the plate toward you with a smirk.

“The way you’ve been unsatisfied with each shop we’ve been to when normally any sweets are good enough for you… And how you’re not taking the pastry and splitting it in half so you can devour your portion,” you state bluntly.

“Haha, busted,” I admit, flashing a grin your way. “I don’t feel like sharing you with the others today.”

Your face flushes at my straightforward admission, eyes widening as you turn your attention back to the pastry. I pick up a knife and cut the pastry in two, rich red filling steaming as it hits the cold air. I can feel my mouth watering and scoop up my half, nearly bringing it to my mouth before I had another idea.

I reach my arm across the table and hold the treat in front of your face, causing you to let out a surprised squeak.

“Harry, wha—”

I slip the pastry between your lips and chuckle as you give in and bite it. It must be good because the little moan you let out as you chew seems to slip out unintentionally. Your cheeks are so red right now and I can’t hide the smirk on my face as I watch you intently.

“What do you think? Is it good?” I ask, resting my chin on one hand, lazily toying with the other half of the pastry while I await your answer.

“I—uh yeah. They’re really good… ahem… why don’t you try it?” You mumble, trying to regain your composure.

Allowing you a moment’s reprieve, I pop the remaining portion in my mouth, savoring the surprisingly sweet and tart filling contrasting with the rich buttery pastry. A moment later I freeze as I realize that I too have unintentionally let out a satisfied moan.

Damn, there’s no taking that back… you’re going to say we should get these and that we ought to head back.

“Good,” I confirm. When you nod I take that as a sign that my assumption of you wanting to wrap things up is correct.

I stand up and head over to the counter. We take turns selecting different sweets from their display case, having the clerk pack them into two parcels for us. After paying we make our way outside, walking side by side and chatting about everything and nothing, your melodic laugh and cheery voice are like a drug to me. I can’t seem to get enough. I always want more.

“—Oh.”

You stop in your tracks, head jolting upward as another drop hits you from above.

“Oh no! If it rains the sweets will be ruined!” You fret, looking around frantically for some sort of shelter to run for. Unfortunately for you, there’s nothing but open fields on either side of the road we’re on.

“What a shame. Guess we ought to eat them. That way they won’t go to waste,” I offer, opening my parcel and drawing out a small cake, deep red with a rich white icing. I hold the sweet in front of your face and you stare at me in disbelief.

The rain has started falling more regularly and in a few moments we’ll no doubt be soaked, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I like getting you all worked up like this.

“Harrison, you can’t truly expect us to eat all of these sweets! Maybe if we run, we can ma—” I cut off your words once again by placing the treat into your mouth.

I wait impatiently as you chew and swallow, before leaning in and stealing your lips with my own. I let my tongue dart out, flicking against your lips for just a moment before you melt into me. The rich flavor of the cake and tangy taste of the icing are still dominant as I suck your tongue into my mouth.

I hear both of us letting out eager and needy groans as I continue to devour your lips. I don’t even remember the rain until I go to cradle the back of your head and my fingers meet very wet hair.

Pulling back slightly I allow our heavy breathing to be the only thing between us for a moment before chuckling and stating “…delicious.”

I notice that you’ve dropped your parcel and mine has been discarded similarly, your eyes are filled with an intense craving for something a little more satisfying than sweets. I feel your hands dig into my coat, pulling my shoulders down and giving you better access to my lips.

“Hey, what—”

“I… I don’t think you tasted it properly…” You whisper, pushing your plump lips against mine. How am I supposed to deny that?

I plunge my tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch with acute focus. So sweet… I could kiss you forever and still wish to kiss you again. When I feel the wind blow past us, causing you to shudder, I know I’m going to have to be the one to pause this.

I slip my hands over your fists, still clinging to my coat, squeezing gently to convince you to let go.

Pulling away with disappointment, you look up at me with needy eyes and I remind myself that you need to get dried off before you get sick.

“Come on. We’ll head back to the castle and get you warmed up. Then we can pick up where we left off.”

Taglist: @judejazza @aquagirl1978, @themiscarnival @abundance-pathchooser @xbalayage @maries-gallery @randonauticrap @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!

[scenicphoenix]

Rant about diabetes below (things that grind my gears about what people say, and just general health stuff I’ve been going through lately)

You can tell when people don’t know how diabetes works when they say stuff like a cheeseburger will give them diabetes. Fucker diabetes is a sugar and carb issue not a cholesterol issue. And you can’t GIVE yourself diabetes. Getting diabetes fully depends on your body’s genetics, like family history, or just being super unlucky when it comes to health lottery

You don’t get diabetes from being fat, it’s technically the opposite. Unexplained Weight gain and loss is a symptom.

You can’t get diabetes from eating too much of certain foods. Yes including the offending ones that are bad for diabetics. It’s about insulin production and sensitivity. Some people don’t produce insulin (type one). Some people are resistant to insulin (type two and what I have). Some people will be on medical insulin their entire lives. Sometimes you can manage it with diet changes (might as well be an eating disorder in my opinion but it keeps from dying via ice cream)

Too high or low of a blood sugar can cause a diabetic coma. So if you see a diabetic eating something sweet, it could be their daily treat they allow themselves because people deserve happiness, or they could be treating a low blood sugar.

bread is mean to me, bread is delicious. Why must this be so. Some foods are just unable to be replaced. My favorite cookie recipe <\3 I miss it

Learned I almost fucking went into coma range for blood sugars a while back. I was told the numbers by a nurse at my mental health center and not yooou know….MY FUCKING DOCTOR. I knew low blood sugar could potentially cause a coma, but my doctor didn’t think it important to tell the patient with high blood sugar problems that comas were possible with highs?! I could have fucking killed myself with fucking ice cream of all fucking things.

I’m lucky I found a substitute for pasta. A reasonably priced one anyway!

Plain white sandwich bread has decent substitutes but no more fresh bread for meee :(

I never thought I would miss eating cereal. I am jealous of people’s ability to eat cereal. Even the healthy ones have to many sugars or carbs. Usually carbs. But carbs break down into sugar really quickly, which is what makes them a moderation food category.

Everything breaks down into sugar/glucose technically. It’s the body’s preference on energy. But some foods break down slower than others allowing my slow ass insulin to actually work. Alongside the help of the medical insulin I was given.

I’m on insulin now! It took them long enough. I went from between 200 and 400 to between mid 100 to low 200! It’s funny how much better it when they actually started treating it, instead of just telling me to change my diet which I had been doing for fucking months and it wasn’t working. Strictest diet of my entire life, without the insulin it still was in the 300s and 400s. Like I think my insulin resistance is bad enough I NEED the medical insulin. I won’t be surprised if I am on it for the rest of my life

Lost a lot of comfort foods. Hit my depression hard. I am learning to deal with it. Food is expensive when you have dietary restrictions. I knew that before all of this. I honestly have to thank some of the fad diets for food availability. Sugar free and low carb food is a lot easier to find these days! I still don’t like fad diets all that much. But man, they do sometimes help people who have food restrictions for medical reasons by giving those greedy CEOs dollar bill eyes when they see the marketable trend. Food is still expensive tho

If a white sugar alternative says use it like real sugar (baking or sweetness wise) they are WRONG. A white sugar substitute I have is about the same sweetness, you might notice an aftertaste if you’re sensitive to stevia sweeteners, but it is powdery. Texture is wrong. Not even like powdered sugar. Like that fake snow powder before it gets rehydrated, or really fine potato flakes. Not good for baking. Only good for coffee. Wouldn’t recommend for fruit punch or teas. No/10 wouldn’t recommend if you’re looking for an actual white sugar substitute. If you need it for only coffee maybe/10 get a small amount first

Cooking has gotten more complicated lately 👍

My depression is sooooo happy about that (sarcasm)

[aizawasnumberonefan]

Hi! I was wondering if you still need some ideas? I really like your writing and would like to see how you would interpret a young All Might (or him in his prime) receiving a surprise kiss for the first time! Can be on the cheek, lips, nose, knuckles, idc

I feel like he would be all blushy and cute

Thank you!

this is literally so cute i am in love!!! i'll come back and reformat later but i need this out rn rn rn

Sweet Treats

All Might x Reader

It’s been a long day out for the number one hero, All Might. Between interviews, meeting civilians, and defeating villains, the poor man has hardly been able to catch a breath. He practically falls through the door to his apartment, collapsing in a muscular heap on his sofa. His blue eyes shut as he finally allows himself a moment of peace at the end of his day. He doesn’t notice how quickly sleep overtakes his overworked body until he hears a timid knock at his door. Toshinori stretches, yawning as his dreams slowly drain from his mind. Once again, he hears a knock against his front door.

“One moment!” He calls, his husky voice still muddled with sleep. He stands and his apartment fills with the sound of both him and his sofa groaning in response. He half-heartedly messes with his hair in an attempt to fix it before making his way towards the door. He barely suppresses a yawn as he opens it, but finds himself a little surprised to see you, his neighbor. His eyebrows raise slightly in response. “How can I help you?”

In the amount of time that you’d been living in your apartment, you’d hardly taken the time to meet your neighbors. You knew that All Might, the young, buff, blonde that the entire world was in love with lived next door, but you’d never busied yourself with heroes or their work. You appreciated them, but you weren’t as involved in their lives as many people seemed to be.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you so late.”

“It isn’t a problem.” Toshinori replies with a reassuring smile, glancing at his clock on the wall to confirm that he had indeed been asleep for several hours and it was now approaching midnight.

“I’m baking for a get together tomorrow and I just melted my only mixing bowl on the stove. I know it was a stupid mistake, but no stores are open right now and I promised that I would bring cupcakes. Is there any way that I could borrow one of yours?” You ask, subconsciously returning his smile. You’re embarrassed by the admission, but he can tell by the flour in your hair and on your shirt as well as by the frazzled look on your face, that you genuinely tried every alternative before coming to his door.

He chuckles, opening the door wider and stepping back to allow you in. “Of course. I’m glad that you felt comfortable asking me.” He says, closing the door softly behind you after you step inside. You wring your hands in front of you, but don’t gaze around in awe, which he would expect from most of the public. It’s refreshing, he thinks, to be treated like a person instead of an untouchable item.

You watch as he moves, muscles flexing passively as he goes through his kitchenware to find a bowl suitable to your needs. “I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself before.” You say, holding out your hand with a smile.

He turns to look at you, face lighting up with a grin of his own as he feels the pleasure of introducing himself as, well, himself, instead of his hero persona. “Toshinori Yagi. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says, grasping your hand for a firm but warm shake. “Will this bowl work?” He asks, holding up a large bowl adorned with the pattern of his costume.

You nod eagerly, taking it as he holds it out to you. “Thank you so much Toshinori. You’re a lifesaver.” You say, pulling him in by his hand to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” You say with a sweet smile before disappearing back out his door and into your own apartment.

Paralyzed in shock, All Might feels his face slowly heat up as his cheeks and the tip of his ears turn a burning red. His signature grin replaced by a soft smile that slowly grows until his cheeks hurt. Slowly, his hand moves up to touch his cheek where you kissed him, shaking him out of his temporary paralysis. “You’re welcome.” He says quietly, to the closed door that you left behind you.

The following day was decidedly a good one for All Might, despite it being busy. Throughout his morning and afternoon, his thoughts had been consumed by your smile and your kiss. He knows that it shouldn’t be as big of a deal as he is making it, but it was the first time in a long time that he had been seen as something separate from All Might. He returns home around the same hour as the day before to be greeted with something on his doormat. His bowl, sparkling clean, sits patiently for him, holding 3 beautiful cupcakes. While the cupcakes were divine, he found that his favorite treat that you gave him was a thank you card with your phone number on it.

[brattylikestoeat]

OK, if you don’t mind being detailed here —- could you please share with the class Re: the following —- how exactly do you go about telling you partner what you want/expect/what kind of treatment you want? Like, you’ve mentioned princess treatment/spoiled GF treatment and I found a lot of what you shared is in line w it what I would want. I’ve just never bothered with guys because I find them annoying… but now I’m curious.

So, let’s say beginning stages with Ted or with someone completely new = what do you usually say/how do you say it? Also,

What are your needs and wants?

Again, I’ve never really explored this because I typically just did for myself but now… if a good dude decided to be giving? Maybe…

I feel like if I have to ask, we already aren’t going to work. Being a gentleman should be a base thing he does because he is a good man.

Do I expect new men I meet to just bow down and hand me their wallet? No.

But I do expect gentlemen behavior and respect.

Is he asking for a date or to just chill?

Does he actually plan a date or make you put in the work?

Opening doors, is a minimum.

With gator it was a process because I wasn’t use to it. He put me on game and then Donald came in and finished.

So when I meet TG, Ted, and 6’7, ect I knew what I expected.

Once we exchanged numbers there is no talking stage for me. Either we going on a date or you are blocked. Extended talking stages are killing the dating game. That is what dates are for, to get to know each other.

I give them two weeks, give or take circumstances. If I’m busy I won’t hold them to that two weeks. But I let them know they are on borrowed time.

Something like, “I really enjoyed texting/calling you, can’t wait to get to know you better in person.” Aka plan a date.

I’m not bougie, I don’t care where the first date is. I know some women frown on coffee dates, or going to chain restaurants. I don’t care. I just wanna see you putting the effort in.

People don’t know what you don’t tell them. I tell everyone how much I love flowers. Now I get them weekly.

As far as being a spoiled gf, idk how to explain this other than if he really like you, he gone do it. And everyone definition of spoiled is different. 

I’ve always let it be known that my time is valuable and I won’t allow anyone around me who won’t treat me at the level I treat me or better.

Why do I need a man around if he going to treat me worst or drag me down, and the he expects pussy???

I see it all the time with white women, when their man really loves them, biggest simp in the world.

My needs: I need it all lol. I want all your love, all your attention, all your time, I literally want you to be crazy about me.

My wants: gifts, flowers, money, good dick.

My niggas ain’t millions or billionaires, so I don’t expect a new gwagon with a fully funded trip to Dubai. But yes pay my rent so you know I’m carefree and have a comfortable place to lay at. Yes make sure my car is running well so you know I’m traveling safely.

That isn’t rich nigga shit, that’s just a man who really like you shit. Blue collar men make decent money but most aren’t rich, but they wouldn’t let the women they love be stranded on the side of the road.

Once you find a man that really likes you, he will go the extra mile to ensure you are happy.

[lesbianboyfriend]

((i’m sending this to blogs i know are run by lesbians, feel free to delete/leave unanswered))

recently i’ve had a spiritual awakening.

despite my fluid sexuality,

my soulmate is going to be another woman.

i can only imagine waking up next to a woman for the rest of my life.

i have known this for years yet never said it out loud.

how do i get over the fear that i am “missing” something by not “trying out” men?

how do i live my life prioritizing women and the relationships we have?

please share any thoughts you may have. thank you and blessings. ✌🏼🌿

hi anon!!

okay so firstly i would like to very gently suggest that if you can only ever imagine being in a lasting relationship with a woman, your sexuality might not be as fluid as you think. you might be a lesbian.

and i knowww it can be super scary to admit that. even to yourself. it took me a while to accept it for myself BUT the thing is that accepting i’m a lesbian has made me so much happier in my skin and self….and i say this even as someone who is not “out.” just allowing yourself to live that truth even if it’s just a personal truth is so freeing and wonderful. being a lesbian is actually so fucking awesome

obviously you know yourself your feelings your sexuality best so if lesbian doesn’t fit for you that’s cool. but i think the best way to come to terms with and learn to love your identity is simply engaging with lesbianism. which doesn’t have to be dating—talk to other lesbians, read lesbian novels, watch lesbian movies, find lesbian art….allow yourself to imagine a future where you are with another woman. allow yourself to imagine a future where you are with another woman and happy.

now how to get over feeling like you’re missing something from not having relationships with men. for me this one is really easy bc i’ve never met a man who isn’t the worst fucking person on the planet. i think about every woman i know in a relationship and how she’s settled for someone who doesn’t treat her as good as she deserves, who doesn’t help around the house, who doesn’t know how to express their emotions etc…..and obviously this is a huge issue and i hope all straight and bi women with boyfriends/husbands are happy and treated well. but i also know realistically that’s not the truth and most men fucking suck. so i mostly just think about that. and if you’re not attracted to men, especially with the prevalence of misogyny, there’s really. nothing attractive about having a relationship with a man other than social capital. (NOT saying that lesbians/lesbian relationships can’t also be bad/abusive/etc.)

now i can’t really give advice on being in a romantic/sexual relationship BUT i can give advice on prioritizing women in your life in general. number one, seriously confront the misogyny you’ve ignored from your male friends and acquaintances. chances are, if you’re like me, you’ve let stuff slide because you know they “don’t really believe that” and they’re “just joking.” well that’s not true. they MIGHT think they’re just joking but realizing that misogyny in the first place is even funny to them and actually grappling with that…changes how you see them! and you can do with that information what you will. but most importantly view it as a catalyst to simply prioritize the women around you. talk to them, hang out with them, compliment them, tell them when their boyfriend is being shitty and they deserve better (but be sensitive to the situation and don’t push. let them know you support them but don’t give them cause to pull away esp. if you’re concerned about abuse but that’s an entire other convo). flirt with women, uplift them, etc….if you find yourself focusing on mostly the men in a situation or even like when watching a tv show, ask yourself why? actively look for the women in a situation and ask yourself how they are being treated, who is being prioritized, and make it your goal to treat them right and prioritize them.

and at the end of the day, remember these phrases: “he’s just a man” and “i hope jakey dies”

i hope this was in any way helpful and good luck on your journey…..loving women + being a lesbian is literally the best <3

[cholatey]

Honestly, sometimes it makes me confused why so many people decide to dye their hair weird colors. Growing up, I never really got the chance to be considered a person per se. I was a hyper-visible minority in a country where no one looked like me, and I sort of had to deal with the consequences of that my entire life. If you can imagine being a five-year-old biracial child in a train car with a bunch of Asian adults staring at you, and when you look back at them, they look down at their phones like they’re afraid of making eye contact with you. And just, day in and day out, that being your reality with you growing up with that as your baseline. I felt like a monster at times, I’d get angry, and I glared at them when they stared at me, relishing in the idea of them freaking out at the way I looked. Sometimes, I’d get really sad, and sometimes, I just listened to really really loud music. I had bad social anxiety. To be fair, it wasn’t me being overly paranoid; people really were staring at me. I think it was a completely rational reaction to how people were treating me, but of course, it was bad for my productivity skills, so it was definitely unhelpful for me.

To be fair, my life was not hard. I grew up in a fairly progressive space, and within, you know, my school, I felt at home with people who looked kind of like me. Still, there was always an expectation, or at least I felt like there was an expectation, that there was something inherently interesting or radical about my existence. I never really felt like I was a person of my own that I could cultivate meaning by myself of myself. And I think I just never learned how to do that. To this day, I don’t really know how to be a person. I feel more like a zoo animal. Or like a person on display.

I feel, at times my life is an experiment on what happens when you put a child through severe social alienation and expect them to be OK. Sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to be visually disabled, to sort of have to deal with that everywhere you go. I watched the movie Wonder when I was in- I don’t know, middle school, high school? And when the main character said something along the lines of “There is a second where people register my face, and they see me as a freak. They try to hide the face, but it always comes out”. That made me cry at the time, as I wanted to watch Deadpool and not really this movie, but it also really bummed me out because I realized that what was that was what was happening to me my entire life. I don’t really know what to do about it. I think- well, you know, I take my antidepressants, and I don’t have to feel these emotions if I choose not to, which is cool. Still, I sort of want to be a person of my own making, being myself and not necessarily a representation of other people or what things could be your political values or anything. I just wanna be myself, and I don’t think I’ve ever been a person. I don’t think I’m ever gonna really be allowed to be a person.

I really love boring people. I love born people because I feel like I was never able to grow up being a boring person. My number one wish is that I could be boring, I could be unremarkable, I could be nothing when I walk down the street.

I have this character in my head, and she’s well- she’s tall because I’m short, and her face isn’t really a face, it’s a white circle, and the white circle has no facial expression has no emotion unremarkable you can’t really feel anything from it. You know, it doesn’t really show any reaction to anything you do to it. It’s just a white circle. And sometimes I think about her tall and lanky, just walking around the world, and no one seeing her, and I think, ‘Wow, that would be nice if it was me’.

[buttmunchmomma]

Why do I baby Beavis & Butthead if they’re teenagers?

Beavis and Butthead were a little confused at first when I started treated them younger than they are. However I did sit them down and explain I would do that.

It took a bit for them to be amused by it, especially Butthead of course. Beavis however is more ok with it.

They still get to act like teenagers, there’s no stopping that. But I set “babyish” boundaries, do sippy cups, footie jammies, bedtime stories, baby toys etc because it’s almost like “starting over”. They’ve dealt with so much childhood trauma that I’d like to give them a safe restart, I suppose. Since I myself use age regression as a coping for my childhood trauma, I thought I’d try this for them and it works decently well.

One thing I try not to bring up, because I’m scared it looks bad, is that I am an adult women and they’re highly hormonal teenage boys so sometimes if I’m wearing a night gown, dress, tank top, shorts etc etc, they do try to sneak a peek yk. It makes me uncomfortable and I have to remind them I’m their mother and they’re not to do that to me. I made it beyond clear in the beginning; I want NO sexual relationship with them, and I don’t want them looking at me in a mature manner. I’m their mother and I want them to look at me as such.

Things I don’t mention often is that I have them play with baby toys and use sippy cups. We have “educational” baby toys that would require some sort of learning/thought to it as there are some things they don’t always understand/remember correctly such as numbers and letters. The sippy cups help prevent messes as well. I don’t want grape juice on my carpet. I do not allow them to drink soda. It’s juice or water. Sometimes chocolate milk as well. This may be controversial, but I give them baths as well, like I wash their bodies and hair. Would you think that’s inappropriate? Without context, probably. But as I’ve said, and will always say, I have no sexual attraction to them. Duh, they’re children. “But they’re not my kids”, biologically, no. But at this point they might as well be. And aren’t they capable of bathing themselves? Yes. They do take showers some days, but some days I like to bathe them to make sure they’re squeaky clean. Beavis can barely wipe his own butt properly (canonically) so this is the perfect time to mention I’ve had to put butt paste on his bunghole because he gets rashes sometimes from being dirty cause he doesn’t wipe well. Plus, they’re not the best when it comes to washing their hair, and I take hair care VERY seriously. I’m a natural blonde curl, my hair requires lots of maintenance. Do they enjoy bathing together? Not really. But, they need to be clean and I’m a busy mom. They’ve lived together their entire lives (and done worse together in the beginning of “Stewart is missing”) bathing together isn’t too crazy for them.

They are very much “IPad kids” just as they are “lazy” teenagers who sit inside and watch TV all day, it’s not much difference. They’re watching the same things they would watch on TV at home, with a little more monitoring of course. I do control how much time they’re on them though! There’s specific times in the day when it’s their “IPad time” morning while they’re eating brekky is one and while I’m doing my “chilling out” routine before bed. They are to put them up on the charger at night once they are in bed. They sleep in my bedroom in front of my TV that I do play all night but they’re not too interested in watching their own show at this point, because I just have “Beavis & Butt-Head” playing all night.

I do live with my mom who is unemployed atm, but just got a job, so once she’s out of the house more, I’ll definitely be playing “SAHM” more. The boys will be in the living room apposed to my bedroom while I can finally do chores around the house in peace. While I’m at in, my mom does know about my mothering to the boys.

They love cuddling with me. Which you’d think is a sexual driven thing but after all this time, it’s certainly not. They’ve been with me for almost a year and do count on me to give them love and care when they need it. For a while, they weren’t convinced I’d never hit them if prompted enough. But now if I say something like “I’m gonna spank your butt” they just tell me they know I won’t, and to that I tell them that they’re right. I’m not going to lay a hurtful hand on them, that’s happened to them enough already.

Of course they LOVE testing my patiences. So if I don’t hit them, how do I correct bad behavior? Time outs seem to actually work sometimes! They don’t like being put in a corner and pushed away from affection. Taking their IPads is the most efficient though. But the best way to discipline them is to sit them down and communicate with them! Most of the time they don’t know what’s wrong or right or what they shouldn’t be doing so why get angry with them? Until now no one has given them the time of day to teach them anything. And believe it or not, they respond well to it! Because they’re NOT BAD KIDS. It’s never the kids fault, but the parents. Beavis and Butthead are GOOD BOYS. They just need love and direction.

I’ve rambled on long enough but please do not hesitate to ask questions as I’m sure there’s lots of stuff I missed and I truly enjoyed typing this all out tbh.

[talkethtothehandeth]

hi, i hope it's okay for me to bring up something in your carrd to warn you about. it's a really bad idea to put the usa suicide hotline up as a resource because i and other mentally ill people have been hurt by it. anyone who reaches out for help will be very unpleasantly surprised by the operator actually sending the cops to your house despite not seemingly intending to in order to "make sure" you go to the hospital just for contemplating thoughts of self-harm alone. we have been traumatized by being kept at wards involuntarily, especially wrt the painfully unsafe and uncomfortable furniture, as well as abusive staff who punish(ed) us for being scared and wanting help... or, y'know, actual treatment. maybe this is just me and my bias as an anti-psych activist but i'm speaking from my own, as well as others', experiences (and i can only imagine how physically disabled people are treated with disrespect). also, i apologize but i don't have any good alternatives to replace the link with instead, so i hope you don't discard my criticism. i simply don't want this to happen to anyone else who might wish to reach out through your well-intentioned advice. please take this message in good faith and have a good night.

TW suicide/suicidal ideation

Howdy!

You’re absolutely not overstepping by sharing this and the negative experiences/feelings you have regarding the subject of using a hotline. Though my blog focuses more on physical disabilities, I am diagnosed with multiple mental disorders that aren’t my autism and adhd, including bipolar type two, anxiety— which might be OCD, and a different personality disorder which I don’t talk about much due to demonization and stigmatization of it, it also isn’t something I’ve fully accepted myself, but that’s another post. I hear you and recognize the harm that psychiatrists/institutions have inflicted on people. I also am aware that these resources, regardless of the negative aspects (which, let’s be honest, there are a lot) are some of the only options that people have.

My psychiatrist/therapist’s [I’m forgetting the exact word for the building] has a crisis line, and the second thing I was told when the number was given to me, the number that can be reached whenever, was that if they think I’m in immediate danger, they would send the police to my house. I’ve come very close to getting into a ward, but I’ve never been forced into one. I am incredibly thankful for that as I know I probably wouldn’t receive adequate pain care there, but just because I haven’t been forced into one doesn’t mean that others haven’t, as you said.

I’ve kept it there because it should be an option still, I’ve had to call multiple times before and I’ve had some good interactions and some not good interactions, I am scared that they will do the same, which is allowing cops into a situation they are not adequately trained for. However, through this, I know that this hotline has still helped people, and has the crisis text line. I don’t want to take it away, but I think I should try to figure out a way to like, explain the potential risks. Everyone is allowed to make the choice for themselves about whether they want to seek outside help in order to aid in their times of distress. I text the crisis line, but many a times, especially during the late nights, they do not answer. Some of them are not helpful, but others are and it’s at times enough to just talk about things. I tell people I have suicidal thoughts, but not a plan, because no matter how much my brain tries to convince me I want to be dead, I understand that this is part of my disorder. There have been times when I’ve tried to take my life, too.

I hear you, and do not devalue your criticism based on your personal experiences, or the experiences of others. It seems to be a “hit or miss” kind of thing when it comes to psychiatric care, and I feel it is similar to us who are also physically disabled. Even though I’ve had some very bad experiences and have been mistreated (to say the absolute least) I’ve still found physicians and nurses who do treat their patients with dignity and respect. And just because I’ve had a few good experiences, it doesn’t mean that suddenly my medical trauma is wiped away.

It is saddening to know how rare it is to have these good encounters, especially with someone whose job it is to help care for something as significant as mental illness. And I feel the same for doctors being horrible about physical disabilities. Additionally, and rewording what I mentioned just in the other paragraph, these options should still exist for people to have the choice of pursuing a hotline, a doctor, or any sort of health care treatment. They can decide if they want to try, just as others can decide that it isn’t for them, whether it be from personal or outside experiences.

My page is welcome to criticism, I keep my anon and messaging open that way those who want to say something can. The one and only time I dismiss “critics” is when people send in nasty messages (like suicide bait). You are not wrong or bad for defending/supporting your position, and I never will take away the validity of other’s experiences just because mine have been different.

TL;DR: I absolutely agree that the mental health field is not as it should be, I agree it can be just as rotten and misguided (those are understatements) or even worse than how doctors who treat physically disabled patients. However, I do believe that keeping these resources can also be beneficial to a person, who is ultimately making a decision whether or not to utilize what is available. I do not support the incorporation of police in mental health situations, and I firmly believe that improper psychiatric care, just as physical care, can be detrimental to people. I understand the negative impacts, and as you mentioned, you (generalized) don’t have a good alternative. Until I am able to find one, I keep this in my carrd.

[self-winding]

Recently, I’ve been hearing Rachel Dolezal mentioned again in relation to identity issues.

I’m actually pretty sympathetic to the concept of transracialism, I think she is just a uniquely bad poster child for it because her identity seems so bound up in “political” blackness and the need to feel oppressed. 

But if you accept that race is a social and cultural construct rather than an immutable physical reality which flows out of biological ancestry, the idea that someone’s race can be negotiable and at least partly based on their social/cultural reality, rather than purely on ancestry, seems pretty straightforward.

I don’t remember the dude’s name but I remember reading an article about a musician with Eastern European ancestry who was fairly dark-skinned and had grown up in a predominantly black community.  Even though none of his ancestors were from Africa, he was perceived as black and saw himself as black.  And that’s not even going into mixed-race people who can pass as either/or.  Even more so than sex or gender, racial categories are very fuzzily defined and porous.

I guess (to state the obvious) the more controversial aspects of “transracialism” come in when people whose natural appearance is more stereotypically white start modifying that appearance to look more black, as Dolezal did.  I will admit that this is more viscerally uncomfortable to me than an AMAB person wanting to present in a very feminine way, and of course there’s the association with blackface performances, but gut feelings are just gut feelings.  Every attempted argument I’ve seen for why these things are different takes one of two tactics:

1.  Transmedicalism; “it’s different because being transgender is a diagnosable medical condition, and transracialism is not.  There’s currently no body of research to support the idea.”  The obvious drawback to this is that a lot of trans people also don’t buy into the transmedicalist framework and consider it pretty limiting.  There are large numbers of trans people it excludes.

2.  Authenticity-by-oppression.  Trans women “catch up” to cis women pretty quickly in terms of the types of discrimination they experience, and might even outpace them, whereas a Rachel Dolezal probably doesn’t experience the same degree of discrimination as someone who naturally looks very black.  There are obvious issues with this framing as well, in that it treats the “realness” of someone’s identity as purely defined by oppression.  If trans women stop being oppressed do they stop being “real women”?

So, does this mean I think Dolezal is “valid”?  I mean, there’s plenty about her as a person that I find objectionable.  But just asking, “Is Dolezal ‘really’ black?” implicitly buys into the idea that “black” is an immutable metaphysical category.  Scientifically, it’s not.  Socially and culturally, it is (at the very least) kind of hard to define in any rigid way, so we’re reduced to a kind of “I know it when I see it, and that’s not it” way of thinking, but that way of thinking has plenty of obvious pitfalls.  My brain still has trouble accepting that a tomato is a fruit and that Pluto is not a planet.

If I allow myself to play devil’s advocate to myself:  Yes, I do subscribe to the common sense definition that if you’re going to call yourself black you should have at least a little African ancestry, but how much is “a little”?  I mean, technically we all have African ancestry.  Also I know jack shit about how DNA works, beyond what I learned in my high school biology classes.  All right, so if you’re going to call yourself black, you should be able to pass as black without modifying your appearance too much...but what is “too much”?  Do dreads count, does a perm count, does a tan count?  Well, you can do what you like with your appearance as long as your primary motive isn’t to appear black...but okay, now we’re talking about subjective, wobbly stuff like motive and it’s getting very tricky.

Idk man.

[destinyimage]

How to Operate in Prophetic Gifts in the Courts of Heaven

We all have prophetic abilities—especially if you are filled/baptized in the Holy Spirit.

These prophetic abilities can be of great help and benefit when operating in the Courts of Heaven. John 16:13 gives us insight into the Holy Spirit and His nature.

However, when He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come.

Notice that when He speaks, He speaks what another says and He tells us about things to come. This means the very nature of the Spirit of God is prophetic. If the Holy Spirit lives in us, then the prophetic nature of God is in us as well. I want to encourage you to stop saying you are not prophetic or don’t have prophetic abilities. Your voice and words work against you.

I remember being in another nation and praying with a group that was in great distress. Before we began to pray, I told them, “I do not see.” What I meant by this was I’m not a seer; therefore, don’t expect that of me. As I later considered what motivated me to say this, I saw that it was born of insecurities and uncertainties of who I was. Then after we had prayer and I had received some very significant revelation concerning their situation, they were commenting on how it helped them. I then began to make light of my abilities because I felt uncomfortable with the affirmation they were giving. At that moment, the Lord said to me, “Stop saying that!” I knew the Lord was correcting me. He began to convict and chasten me with my treatment of what was coming from Him. He showed me that I was devaluing His gifting in my life. He showed me that if this gifting was to grow, I needed to treat it as holy. My not treasuring what was from Him was an actual offense to Him. This is one of the ways we grieve the Holy Spirit. Ephesians 4:30 exhorts us to be careful to not hurt and offend the Spirit of God.

And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.

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The word grieve in the Greek is lupeo. It means “to be in distress, heaviness, to make sorrowful.” This is what I was doing by diminishing the gifting of the Lord in me. Out of my insecurity and sense of inferiority, I was offending the Spirit of the Lord. I remember excusing myself and walking to another part of the room. I began to repent for my serious error. I promised the Lord I would not do this again. I would instead value and regard the giftings of God and seek to develop them. The result has been that I have increased in my prophetic abilities. It has greatly helped me in my function in the Courts of Heaven. It has allowed me to step out of the old and into the new.

For instance, delay has always been something that has sought to attach itself to me. I successfully dealt with it on a certain level, but it tried to reattach to me later on. There were a couple of opportunities that had been promised to me. However, actual occurrence had not happened. The history of delay in my life made me worry that they would not happen. I was in a hotel room and simply said to the Lord, “Is there something yet resisting me in the spirit world?”

Without hesitation, the Lord seemed to say, “Yes, there is.” The truth is that I could have dismissed this as my imagination and questioned whether it was really the Lord. However, I treated it instantly like it was. The result was the Lord started speaking to me. Just like we shared in the last chapter about Moses, my movement unlocked an encounter with God that brought tremendous breakthrough. As a result of my faith to embrace this whisper of the Lord, I then felt I heard the Lord say, “I need for you to say before Me what Moses said when Korah accused him.” As the Lord said this, I remembered that Moses in Numbers 16:15 renounced the idea that he had taken something from someone.

Then Moses was very angry, and said to the Lord, “Do not respect their offering. I have not taken one donkey from them, nor have I hurt one of them.”

I realized that there was an accusation in the Courts of Heaven against me that I had stolen something that belonged to someone else. I knew that I wasn’t guilty of this, yet somebody in the natural was speaking these things about me. The devil was taking their words of accusation and using it against me in the Courts of Heaven. These words were causing delay to occur in my life. I understood this from a prophetic standpoint. I then knew intuitively that if I said what the Lord told me to say, it would give God the legal right to look into the books of Heaven to verify what I was saying. There are all sorts of books in Heaven. This is why Daniel 7:10 tells us the Court is seated and the books, plural, are opened.

A fiery stream issued And came forth from before Him. A thousand thousands ministered to Him; ten thousand times ten thousand stood before Him. The court was seated, and the books were opened.

Everything is written down and recorded in the books of Heaven. The Jewish people believe that even our thoughts are writ- ten down. We know that our words are recorded. This is because according to Matthew 12:36-37 we will give an account for every idle word we have spoken.

But I say to you that for every idle word men may speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment. For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.

If we are to give an account in the day of judgment, then these words must be recorded somewhere! They are written in the books of Heaven. If words are recorded, then there must be books in Heaven that are recording everything concerning us and our activities.

I was aware that as I said what the Lord told me to say, it was granting God the right to investigate these books. The books revealed that I was not guilty of what was being said about me. This allowed the Lord to render a decision on my behalf. The words being spoken against me, accusing me of taking something that wasn’t mine, were now annulled. I felt a tremendous release as I prophetically walked through this process. I thought that maybe I had dealt with that which was causing a delay. I didn’t know that the prophetic process still had a necessary piece to be accomplished.

As I returned home the next day or so, I had a dream on that night. In my dream, Mary and I were standing before this very well-known minister. In the natural, I have no connection to this ministry. I’ve never supported them. I’ve never attended a meeting. I’ve only seen him on television a handful of times. In fact, I don’t even really enjoy his ministry. In the dream, however, as we were standing before his ministry, and we were deciding how much money we were going to give to his ministry. Mary said, “Let’s give $100.” I said in response, “No, let’s give $1,000.” This was the end of the dream. When I woke up, I knew immediately what I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to give this ministry $1,000 so that the money would speak for me in the Courts. I had this knowing that the activity in the hotel room had silenced the voice against me in the Courts, but I needed something speaking for me also. This comes from my knowledge that money has a voice in the Courts of Heaven. Hebrews 7:8 is clear that our tithe speaks for us in the heavenly realm.

Here mortal men receive tithes, but there he receives them, of whom it is witnessed that he lives.

The writer of Hebrews is making a distinction concerning bringing tithes to the Levitical priesthood and the Melchizedek order. Jesus is our High Priest after the order of Melchizedek. Therefore, we honor His priesthood with our tithe. Notice that when we do this, there is a witness released on our behalf. The word witness is the Greek word matureo. This word means “to give testimony, to be a witness judicially.” Therefore, when we give our tithes, Jesus receives them as our High Priest. This tithe is releasing testimony that we believe He lives. This testimony connects us to His present-day life and activity on our behalf. We are told that Jesus is alive and interceding for us. When we bring our tithe, the witness on our behalf joins us to His present-day ministry for us. This is because your money has a voice/testimony in the Courts of Heaven. We also know this is true because of Matthew 5:23-26.

Therefore if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. Agree with your adversary quickly, while you are on the way with him, lest your adversary deliver you to the judge, the judge hand you over to the officer, and you be thrown into prison. Assuredly, I say to you, you will by no means get out of there till you have paid the last penny.

Jesus is clear that we are not to bring our offering if there are problems in our heart. This is because the wrong testimony coming from our offerings will result in judgments against us from the Courts of Heaven. The devil will take advantage of the words against us from our offering and build a case that is adverse to us. The result will be a decision against us that can result in us being thrown into prison. This is why we are told that we should make sure things are reconciled before bringing an offering. Otherwise, our offering will be tainted with a wrong witness. It will be speaking against us in the Courts of Heaven rather than for us.

Notice that we are then judged and end up in prison. This is all based on the testimony of our gift. The other scripture that is so powerful is Malachi 3:3-5. This scripture unveils the power of a right offering speaking for us and even the culture we are a part of.

He will sit as a refiner and a purifier of silver; He will purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, That they may offer to the Lord An offering in righteousness. “Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasant to the Lord, As in the days of old, As in former years. And I will come near you for judgment; I will be a swift witness against sorcerers, against adulterers, against perjurers, against those who exploit wage earners and widows and orphans, and against those who turn away an alien— Because they do not fear Me,” says the Lord of hosts.

This portion of scripture is declaring the power of our offerings to bring testimony before the Lord. This testimony will cause God to judge that which is afflicting society. Our offerings are mighty witnesses in the Courts of Heaven. They not only speak on behalf of us but also on behalf of the culture we represent before the Lord. When this occurs, the testimony God needs to render righteous judgments is provided. When I bring my offering as a part of the House of Prayer, these offerings speak for our culture as well as for us as individuals. This is why God can render judgments against what is afflicting society based on the witness of our offerings before Him.

This is what I knew concerning the dream I had about bringing an offering to this high-profile ministry. I considered and thought about this dream all day after I had it. That night, Mary went to bed and I was still up. I started flipping through the television channels. As I turned the channels, I came upon this ministry that I had dreamed about. Only because of the dream did I turn to this channel. As I did, the main man and another guy were speaking. They were raising money. They were saying, “We are asking you to give $1,000. However, if you can’t do this, then give a tithe of that and give $100.” As I heard this, I thought, That’s my dream. That was all I needed. Any reluctance to sow $1,000 into this ministry was gone. I went to my computer, found this ministry, and sent the $1,000 to them immediately. It was 11 p.m. when I sent the money. I had fulfilled what I had been prophetically told to do.

The next morning at 10 p.m., my phone rang. It was the people I had been waiting on to get back with me. The end result was that things were arranged and I was given a worldwide influence that still exists to this day. As a result of listening and moving prophetically, I had operated in the Courts of Heaven. I had silenced the voices against me and released voices to speak for me. The result has been a wide open door to a great effect in the nations of the earth. God is faithful and true to His word. He will allow us to move with Him when we operate in the prophetic realms. It is not beyond us. We all have these abilities and giftings on some level. Start using them today.

Lord, I come before You as the Judge of all the earth. I thank You for the prophetic abilities You have granted me as a Spirit-filled believer. I receive the prophetic nature of the Holy Spirit who lives in me. I repent for any devaluing of the prophetic gifting in me, because it doesn’t “look” like that in someone else. I honor Your gifting in me. I treasure that which You have trusted me with. I purposely stir up these giftings. I ask that I might use these to function in the Courts of Heaven on a higher level. May this function move me from the old and into the new. I pay attention to the revelation You bring to me from these prophetic places. In Jesus’ Name, amen.

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[marlasomething]

(my) Mag a Week: Banished Future

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened.

For today I rolled Archivist!Martin Blackwood and The Extinction (Eps. 140-146).

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: death, destruction of public property with no regards for human victims, discussions of losing the will to live, swearing, mild gashlightning

Also on AO3!

Statement of anonymous student, regarding the future burning to the ground of their university.

Audio recording by Martin Blackwood. The Archivist, I suppose?

Statement begins.

 I don’t know how you people work. Maybe you are like those bloody priests and fucking shrinks and have to tell what I am about to confess since it hadn’t happened yet…but, let’s be honest, you are a bunch of goth nerds on your old ivory tower: you must have so many skeletons in the closet you don’t want any relationship with the literal rotting and also actual burning of a public building.

Sorry, not building: Institution .

Anyways, I have absolutely nothing to lose, as I am going down with it. This World has nothing to offer to any of us, so, why bother staying in it? I am just writing to you people because…well, I don’t really know why . I’ve just heard about your existence and it sounded like a fun thing to do.

I used to never do fun things. Actually, some might argue that I am going to embrace death without having done a single fun thing in my entire life. It is not my fault, though. I had to be…maybe not the best, but more than good enough. Constantly, tiresomely excelling…if I followed the path marked for me, I would have my reward in the end. A would earn my reward…

…I just can’t figure out what that would have been. Maybe it was just death in my own terms, and I have simply chosen to speed-run towards it.

Still, I bet you are wondering what on Earth is this all this rambling about…well, how it all begun. That was, as many things do when you are studying almost any degree in any Western country, with a midnight mental breakdown.

 I was at my ridiculously small dorm room, trying my best to barely pass a subject I was supposed to enjoy. A subject I had been looking forward for years , in the hope that, maybe, this one was actually half as well-taught as it should have been…to find another dumpster fire of organisation and topics that we were meant to learn as parrots instead of by reasoning the statements learnt.

I wanted to cry myself to sleep, but that would have meant to lose another night of studying and hard-work, which I couldn’t allow myself because there were another five subjects also waiting for me to be studied…was this really how Superior Education meant to look like? What was the hope of all of us if this was our base for Real Life ?

I was about to restrain myself from getting up and throwing my chair against the dorm’s window when a voice behind me asked, in a rather cynical tone, if I wasn’t ashamed of still getting disappointed at a System that had been failing me since primary education. Upset at the rather accurate argument (mainly about not having had it first) I turned to face one of my classmates, a pretty regular boy that would very likely enter that category commonly known as twink . He had always been shy, nice, and well-put; never top of the class but not as terrible at all tests as me. He had his group of friends, a couple teachers that treated him a little bit better than it was usual and another pair that seem to believe he was public enemy number one.

In other words: the most mundane boy of my class, just stating something I already knew, even though I only acknowledged it completely very deep down. Obviously, I asked him what on Earth he was doing in my room and why bringing that subject just before exams. For all answer, he gave me a pill, smiled with a fake kindness that froze all my blood streams and told me that it was a present: if I ate it, exams would become considerably easier.

In the stupidest yet smartest movement of my entire life, I did so.

 Since then, my marks improved wildly and even my proficiency when it came to deal with works for uni was better beyond all measures. I was the student I was supposed to be, with a bit of free time every other week!

And nothing else changed . Everything was equality shitty, just while I was being perceived as much smarter by people whose opinion I didn’t value that much, if at all.

Exasperated, one night, while at a bar, the boy from class came to me. At first, I didn’t recognise him, for he was that level of dull and mundane-looking, but then, the cynicism in his voice was unmatchable and he asked me if I tried to drink while the pill was still keeping its effect.

I jumped, yelling about how stupid he thought I was: I wasn’t about to OD for the shake of an experiment whose purpose I hadn’t even been explained and he…he just shrugged and told me, once again, what was the other option I was so hell-bent on preventing from changing. He might have called me a coward while he took something that looked a bit too much like degraded plastic from inside his irregular fingernails.

Was this the first time he had such poorly preserved nails or I was just seeing him clearly for the first time?

I didn’t waste more time in thinking about that. Somehow, the fact that there was something extremely dirty and broken about him, as small as it was…just made him much more compelling as an actual human being I was interacting with and not just a delirium for the barely slept nights.

Without contemplating why I was doing what I was about to do, I took the stronger pill, the one he was now offering, asked for a Whisky on the Rocks and drank while shallowing.

Nothing happened (apart from the theft the prices of all kind of brewages), until I went back to my bed and felt asleep.

Do you know our buildings are filled with insects, extremely flammable and with foundations as weak as a nonagenarian’s pair of knees? My dreams did; they were just documentaries, à la History Channel and, somehow, I knew they weren’t lying.

Not about the poorly made buildings that had cost me my sanity and hopes in mankind, but also about how the current human body was far weaker than it had been various generations before, so overprotected while being destroyed by the junk we put inside of it that it had basically become a ticking time-bomb against its owner .

I decided to prove whether this was as true as I believed it to be.

You have heard about the latest deaths of local students? The one that had the most random allergic reaction to a very particular clothing material? The one that couldn’t digest too much vegetables out of lack of habit?

Well, I must say, my dreams were right.

 And that is why I am destroying the University next week. That and the fact that, now that I am literal top of my class, my opinion towards it has not changed in the slightest. I must thank that boy; he has an extremely ragged raincoat, had I mentioned it before? I hope so…it just matched him .

Circling back: I am doing what my dreams showed me. Well, more precisely, two of the most likely scenarios simultaneously. There will likely have no repercusion when I finished, except for some that will lose jobs and lives in the process but…there is nothing in this life that could make me feel responsible for cutting the thread that connecting them to this plane of existence before time. And I really don’t care about it not mattering in the end.

Maybe, even, they should be grateful to me. You all should. Just as I am.

  Statement ends.

  Well…this person had obvious mental issues and yet…it is a clear example of how Jon described the Extinction to me (he was so adorable being excited with something that took his mind off The Web and the rather bizarre new direction The Institute is heading towards).

I also can understand why Floyd Matharu, even being a Desolation Avatar, can be so scared of what might happen if they got enough power. Sad to have to agree with the new boss…

Fear of the screw-ups of mankind itself…I just hoped I could get better the whole University bit. Even as they described it, it sounded better than my personal alternative.

Uh…this is harder than I expected, I just hope Peter’s idea of bringing the whole staff to have a drink is still on (he is quite talkative for an End’s avatar, I must say).

  End recording.

[anime-rambles]

“Welcome Home Omega”

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, SFW  

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: I’m new to all this, but I dreamt about this the other night and really wanted to share this with everyone. I have a tone more to write, so please follow along and any feedback would be hugely appreciated. Thank you so much.

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear begin rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.

 *****************************************

“Everyone please welcome to the stage, the one you’ve all be waiting for, Pro-Hero Shadow…” a loud voice spoke into the microphone as I waited backstage. Once my name was called, I left the spoke I was hiding in and joined them. The crowd was screaming and shouting, holding banners of my name and posters with my face. This was something I didn’t expect to happen when I returned home to Japan from my many years abroad. I smiled towards the women on stage, already determining her as a beta.

“Welcome Shadow, to your first ever hero-con” She spoke to me looking in my direction. I brought my mic to my face,

“It’s so good to be here, look at all these people wow.” I smiled towards the crowd. The cheering began again.

“So shadow, how are you feeling being back in Japan and being high on the hero board, especially as an omega…” she continued on looking at me, this was something I was used to.

“It feels so good being back, I left Japan 6 years ago after I graduated with my friends/pack members from UA, which many of you know...” I waited for the screaming to stop before I continued. “I was faced with two choice really, be a omega hero that would only get 2 years in hero work before being forced to stop by the hero commission or I could leave my pack and go to America and have a really good hero career helping other omegas reach their potential and then come back home, I think you can guess what I chose” I said, and turned to the interviewer waiting for her reply.

Being an omega in Japan and America is very different from each other, especially in hero work. In Japan, you get an unspoken max of 2-year work and then often omegas go to desk jobs in hero agencies. In America, you can be a hero no matter your 2nd gender but the chance of being taken seriously as an omega is very slim and was something I worked hard at. During my time in America, I created an omega hero agency and left it all to the very capable hands of my sidekick, frostbite. It was my time to come home, I need my family back.

“So, tell me, does you pack know your back?” She asked with smile in her eyes.

“I mean, yes and no. Our pack is a big one and it was created when we were back in school. The time that I left, I had an agreement with the unmarked alphas that I would not contact them at all, but to know I was safe, I was only allowed contact with the omegas. So, they know” I replied, laughing slightly back.

“So, a lot of alphas in your pack, how does that work?” she pushed for an answer.

“I can’t really say, our pack dynamic is private, so I won’t tell you who or what position everyone is but, we have a main alpha who us our leader, they have a second and then we have one alpha that doesn’t really care and then one alpha who gave up their position years ago.” I replied smiling hoping she would not ask any more questions about the pack.

“That’s fine, tell me about your work as a hero omega and how difficult is” She asked again. This is something I could talk about openly. I took a deep breath and began to speak about the importance of separating your 2nd gender, from your workplace, and they it does not define you. Yes, you can still have a timid nature but do not let it halt your growth as a strong independent person. That if you want to be head of heart surgery you do it and tell those Alphas/ beats to shove it, its your time to shine. I continued until I felt the interviewer wanting to ask another question.

“Although I’m strong, I would not have gotten to where I am today without my pack, in public they treat me like a hero, not an omega. I mean it didn’t take long to do bu…” I went to say but was cut off.

“What do you mean, didn’t take long?” she interrupted. I hesitated for a bit, and then looked out into the crowd.

“Okay, I really should not be saying this, but he won’t mind. Okay so when our pack was created, I was never allowed to do anything, and it really annoyed me. So, when our first Alpha was being chosen, I kind of challenged Pro-Hero Dynamite…. And won.” I replied looking out into the crowd and everyone started cheering.

“Since then, I was treated like a person, not an omega. Well not in public, in private we still use the proper greetings.” I smiled and turned to the interviewer again.

“Wow, you are amazing. We all know your now number 5 on the hero board, can you remind everyone your quirk again.” She asked gesturing to my hands. I look down and noticed the black sut coating my fingers. I nodded and began to explain. I can create my own smoke from my body and ignite it. From this smoke I can create solid weapon and if I have enough smoke in the area, I can tell a person’s movements. I do have a drawback; the smoke uses up the oxygen from my blood and can make me pass out or it stains my skin with black smoke.

The interview continues and eventually is opened to fan questions, near the end of the questions. I notice the back wall starting to fill up with tall dark figures, already guessing that my pack got word I am here. Excitement rises through me, and I find it hard to sit still.

“Well, I think the cats out of the bag your home, Shadow” the interviewers says to me gesturing to the back wall. Light shines to the back wall, standing there when their arms crossed is Pro-heroes Dynamite, Red Riot, Deku and Chargebolt who is waving crazy towards me. I laugh to myself, locking eyes with Bakugou lowering my head slightly.

“I guess so” I reply, and the cheering slowly dies down.

 ************************************

While sitting at my signing booth, listening to some amazing stories from fans. I hear my name being called the curtain behind me. I have a break from the fans for a second and approach the curtain.

“Hello, little omega.” The voice says, as I instantly know its Bakugou. I smile to myself, wanting to rip the curtain away and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hello Bakugou, don’t move the curtain, I can’t look at your right now” I say honestly.

“Okay, at least put your hand through the curtain, Kiri’s here to.” He replies nudging the curtain. I sigh, it’s been 6 years and I can barely hold myself together with he thought of being back with my family but being a hero right now is what I need to do.

“Okay, but only quickly I have to get back” I whisper, and slowly put my right-hand backwords them. Instantly I can feel like touching my hand and kissing it.

“Can’t smell you omega, how come?” Kirishima asks.

“Stupid American pheromone blockers, I’ll take them off later at home, promise.” I say and pull my hand back to finish quickly and get back to my family and quickly as I can. I can hear both alphas walk away, and I pull my hand to my chest.

*********************************************

Hero-con is over, and I can finally come home. After we all graduated, everyone pulled their money together and we bought a huge house together which allowed all of us to live together as a pack. Before I left, I entered a relationship with Bakugou and Kirishima but now I do not know if they still want me in a dynamic with because they’ve been an Alpha/Alpha relationship for 6 years. I don’t’ even have a room anymore, Denki took it when I moved to America. There might be room, I think, Midoriya (A) and Todoroki (A/O) have a room, Sero (B) and Mina (B) have a room, Shinso (A), Jirou (B) and Denki (O) all have separate rooms even though they are together which leaves Bakugou (A) and Kirishima (A) who have the biggest room. I could always share with Denki until I find a new place, I say to myself as I knock on the front door.

I wait patiently, until the door is opened revealing a very excited Denki. Practically jumping on the spot.

“Y/N YOU’RE HOME.” He shouts while throwing himself into my arms. I hug back, I breath him in and tears start to fill my eyes.

“Oi sparky, you know the rules. She needs to follow the greetings as she’s been away for so long.” Says Bakugou with his arms crossed. I enter the house and look around seeing everyone in their groups. I cannot believe I am home.

I quickly great Mina and Sero first, presenting our pack mark and then onto hugs. Next, I go straight over to Shinso, presenting my neck to show I am not a threat to his omega or beta. Which he simply nods and as these dynamics, Shinso does not really care for. I great Jirou and then great Denki properly by touching our noses together. I approach Midoriya next as he used to be the main Alpha who brought us all together, I greeted him the same way as Shinso but instead Midoriya threw his arms around me puling me into a hug.

“Please never leave again, Bakugou’s been impossible” He whispers into my ear. I laugh looking over his shoulder to a very anger Bakugou. I turn to Todoroki who is half Omega/Alpha, I greet him the same way as Denki, I know he prefers that greeting than the alpha one. Its finally time to see if they still want me. Kirishima is practically beaming at Bakugou side. I approach with my head down; I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I approach him. As he is lead Alpha, I must wait to see what he will do.

“Still can’t smell you omega.”  Bakugou announces loudly.

“There’s a pheromone implant in my neck, Alpha, see you can feel it.” I reply, taking his hand to my neck. In American you are not allowed to use pheromones in public, so for hero work you must use an implant to block it. Bakugou feels my neck and I can tell he is not happy. He grabs me by my neck, slamming me on the wall behind him. Everyone runs forward but Kirishima stands forward stopping them. Telling them it must happen and that Bakugou won’t hurt me, much.

With his claw Bakugou cuts into my neck to pull the impact out, I do not make a sound and only look at him in the eye. It must be done, and I know he will not hurt me. Once the implant is out. Bakugou lends forward and breathes me in. He hesitates, and calls Kirishima over. Kirishima looks between the two of use and breaths me in.

“Oh, y/n, you should’ve come home sooner.” Kirishima says, pulling me towards him for a hug.

“Please, Bakugou, get rid of the rest they can’t see me like this.” I whisper.

“Oi, extra’s don’t you have a party tonight. Your hotels have your clothes, now get lost.” Bakugou calls out, looking at them all. No one moves.

“NOW!” Bakugou yells, using his alpha voice and everyone leaves.

As soon as the door closes, I start to cry. Six years of being all alone hit me at once, yes it was my plan to be a strong hero, its hard to do it without your pack or alphas.

“The first sign of your omega depression, you should’ve come home little one.” Kirishima says whispering into my hair.

“How could I, I would’ve let you all down and all other omega’s out there without a voice, so what I had to go through omega depression….. more than once.” I say back looking up into Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou stands beside us, looking slightly smaller.

“Bakugou, go run a bath,” Kirishima calls out and Bakugou follows his orders.

“Wait, what’s going on. Bakugou what are you doing” I ask, looking confused. Bakugou leans over the stairs to look at me.

“Kirishima’s the Alpha now, we’ll the others haven’t picked up on it yet because we haven’t publicly fought, but he’s been the main Alpha for a while now, I can’t be number one all the time now can I.” Bakugou replies with a smile. I look to Kirishima who still holds me but is beaming with love as he watches Bakugou. I try to pull away from his arms. It is stupid why did I think this would work. They do not want me anymore, I just know. Kirishima noticed how I suddenly changed but decided not to say anything.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and smelling natural.” He says, picking me up with no issues. He climbs the stairs and I place my head into his scent gland in his neck. I notice that neither him nor Bakugou do not have a claiming mark yet. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I see my old bedroom door and ask Kirishima to put my down, he walks ahead to the double doors at the end of the hallway. Which is their room.

“I’ll only stay for tonight, and then I’ll find somewhere else to live, I don’t even have a room here anymore.” I say to Kirishima which makes him freeze.

“Silly omega, come here.” He replies, gesturing me to follow. I start to hear the water running in their private bathroom. Kirishima opens the door and lets me enter the room first.

The first thing I can smell is the strong smell of Alpha but slowly a familiar smell enters, I look around the room and see my stuff. Things that I had left behind, my paintings, photos of the three of use. The queen size bed with three sets of pillows, big enough for all of us. I look around and notice a curtained canopy hiding something. I look to Kirishima who leans on the door frame by the Bathroom and nods. I breath in again and noticed the familiar smell but I am not able to pinpoint it yet.

I pull back to curtain and freeze. “Is that m..” I say unable to finish as I look down, tears filling my eyes. Bakugou comes out of the bathroom and leans on the opposite side to Kirishima. I look at the two of them and then look down at my old nest, they kept it, they really kept it. I can’t speak, only cry. Bakugou comes over to me and hold me bringing me towards the bathroom. Kirishima entered first. He began to undress and tied back his long hair, He entered the bath first, as Bakugou began to undress me as my emotions were betraying me at his moment. There was nothing sexual about this moment, it was about Alpha’s taking care of their Omega. Bakugou lifted me and lowered me into the water to sit in Kirishima’s lap, he quickly undressed and joined us.

I started to calm down, feeling I could now speak. “So, you mean, you have forgotten me, and you still want to be with me.” I ask looking down at my hands. Kirishima wraps his arms around me more and places his head into my scent gland breathing me in, tickling me slightly.

“Of course, silly omega, we’ve wanted you since the day you knocked me on my ass.” Bakugou replied leaning in to kiss me.

[growandrecover]

ed recovery and the holidays

This time of year can be very stressful, especially for those with eating disorders! Most gatherings are centered around food, or at least have some kind of food there, and a lot of the time, that’s overwhelming to us, understandably so. 

So here are some things that have helped me get through it :)

Allow yourself to have the food you enjoy if you can. It doesn’t have to be anything that will cause you intense fear, maybe just a bite to start off! I have a massive sweet tooth, and while I was in my eating disorder, any kind of sweets were a no no, but I missed them so much! I found that when I let myself have (and enjoy) the foods I loved, especially around Christmas when there are so many good sweets, it made the events more pleasant and also helped me step out of my ed shell. 

If you gain any weight this month, please, please try not to let it get to you. I think most people know that around the holidays, people gain weight. It’s a fact well known by our society, and while the people you may be around could have unhealthy coping skills for this, please don’t let yourself succumb to them. 

Going off of that last one, it seems like the holidays are huge for diet talk among loved ones. If you’re getting together with people, there’s a chance you may be exposed to some triggering topics. That’s not a reason not to attend events, it’s an opportunity to strengthen your recovery. As I’ve stated in a previous post, if anyone says anything to you about your body, what you’re eating, or how much you’re eating, do not be afraid to set boundaries. I’m a pretty non-confrontational person myself, so I know how hard this can be, but it can be as simple as changing the subject, or saying something (I put a little list below)

If you’d rather be more open, tell them as much as you’d like. Just know, it’s not your job to educate people, but you can certainly do so if you want!

If all of the people you’re around are involved in diet talk, do not feel bad about separating yourself from the conversation. Leave the room if you need to! There’s nothing wrong with that at all. 

Practice mindfulness and grounding. Remind yourself what you’ve learned throughout your recovery journey and how far you’ve come. Even if you’re on day one, that’s still an accomplishment you should be proud of! The holidays will come and go, the parties will end, the get-togethers will end, and it won’t seem so prominent anymore. You can get through this. 

Look at things as matter of factly as you can. This is something that always helps me, so I’m hoping it’ll help you, too. I start by asking myself if this is really what I want: Do I want to have all my thoughts consumed by my ed when I’m around my friends and family or do I want to try to enjoy my food and not worry (to the best of your ability, I understand that it’s very hard not to worry about something when you’re super focused on it) about the numbers, and have a nice time with the people I care about? I then go to: Your looks have nothing to do with your worth. You may be bigger or smaller than you were in the past, but you’re still beautiful! Your size does not determine your worth, nor does it define your beauty!

If you relapse: There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not a failure. The progress you’ve made is not suddenly lost. Talk to someone you trust, or if you can get out of it by yourself, please be gentle and treat yourself with love and compassion. Life is not supposed to be about numbers, food, and other disordered behaviors. You’ll make it out, you’re strong and your ed does not control you. 

Things you can do or say if someone says something to you about your body/weight/eating habits/etc

“Is it okay if we talk about this another time?”

“Let’s talk about this another time.”

“I’m not really comfortable talking about this.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“I’m not comfortable talking about diets/exercise/etc”

“Please don’t make comments about my body.” “Please don’t make comments about my eating habits.” 

“I’m in recovery from an eating disorder, please don’t make comments like that.”

“I’m in recovery from an eating disorder.” 

“So, how’s work?” 

[simply ignore them]

[change the subject]