#i feel like a bear in hibernation. this shit sucks

[xanothersideblogx]

I'm so tired of being constantly and consistently tired

[anonymous-eggy]

i hate winter.

[thegnomelord]

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

[khush-chronicles]

25/45 (31.01.2024)

-Woke up late today as well but started studying as soon as I could.

-I stayed in my room all day. Focused on studies. Had a fish burger and some fries for ✨brunchinner✨

-some days I just hate life and the what I am doing with life.

Today was one of those days. (Sour mood because of the things that happened yesterday)

-I spent some time with my brother in my room today. Just talking about anime and stuff.

-I also started to fear more. Because I barely have 20 more days to prepare everything and on 2nd February I have an 100marks worth of exam which is scaring the living shit out of me.

-I have exams all throughout February but the later ones don't scare me as much. Just the 2nd February one, maybe because it's the first one.

-My main admission exam is on 23rd February. I will sleep like a hibernating bear after that.

-I am scared. I won't get it. I will fail. That's the only thing that is going around in my head. And there's no other voices to argue with it. Other voices die when my I have issues at home. Again, it's literally nothing I do. But of course it's my family and of course it's going to affect me in every way possible.

-that's all. My best friend has abandoned me as well, O have no one else to go. I only have one friend and she's not here life really sucks sometimes.

-I said a few days ago that I always feel suspicious when there's happiness in my life. I was happy skipping around in the terrace garden and going out having tiramisu and what not. But here's the proof again, it just ain't for me. I only deserve sadness.

[themarydragon]

Love-Lost-Found Q&A

They’re not technically FAQ because nobody’s had a chance to ask anything yet, but here’s my extended author’s note for Lost and Found (and the upcoming prequel, Loved and Lost).

1.       Where have you been/What took so long/You haven’t posted in years/WTF

As I am sure has been the case for most everyone else, the last 3-5 years have SUCKED. I lucked out, and everyone I love most has survived (cancer and heart attacks and covid, oh my), but being a full time nurse and full time graduate (nursing) student during a global pandemic consumed every spare spoon I had. We scraped together the down payment on our forever home and moved this summer, and I went on sabbatical once we got settled, so my plan is to ease back into fandom while I watch the snow fall and otherwise hibernate this winter.

2.       New fic what dis? Loved & Lost & Found is a two-part Modern AU of Breath of the Wild. “What if the Sheikah technology wasn’t lost? What would a high-tech Hyrule look like?” I’ll start off with Lost and Found, which starts roughly halfway through our story. Loved and Lost is first chronologically but I’ll post it second. Much like BOTW, my hope is to slowly reveal memories and plot points as they are recalled by Link. Once he gets his memory back, I’ll put Lost and Found on hold while posting Loved and Lost (the backstory). It means you’ll get left hanging for awhile if you’re reading it as I post, but (!!) the story is COMPLETE so there will be no hiatus or risk of abandonment. If you REALLY don’t like the order I post it in, just give it a couple months and then you can consume the whole thing in one go in whatever order you want.

3.       You’ve got this character relationship wrong/that’s not canon/well ACTUALLY its THIS I’ve combined the principal players from both eras in BOTW, so individuals who are supposed to be distantly related and 100 years apart are contemporaries. I am completely aware that this is absolutely not canon and I did it intentionally. Every ‘OC’ I’ve created to flesh out the world has a name stolen from some other LoZ side/background character, either in BoTW or older games, and generally that was just so the names were canonically Hylian and NOT to indicate this OC was that character, etc. For example, this Link’s Princess Zelda is meant to be the BotW Zelda, and NOT the one whose name she bears (that will make sense when we get to it).

4.       Trigger Warnings and Themes Much like canon, BotW Link is grievously injured and wakes up with no memories. We start off with a hospital scene and I do brush on some body dysphoria. There are discussions of PTSD and mental health. There is canon-typical death and violence, although with some modern arms & armaments (i.e. more bullet wounds and fewer gratuitous stabbings, the explosions stay about the same). Hyrule is militarized, but this is meant to mirror canon and is not intended to be social commentary. In world building I have given the non-Hylian races of Hyrule a little more biological diversity, such as making Gorons agender and Zora more fishlike. While this is a Zelink fic, they’re both bisexual disasters. There is a running joke about Link wrecking a motorcycle.  Author is an asshole and wants to make you feel things, but only out of love and never out of malice.

5.       Posting Schedule In the past I’ve posted every 4 days. Once a week is not enough, but trying to pick a specific day or days has always bit me in the ass. I’ll get a feel for this as we go. I haven’t edited this into chapters yet – its still two long ass word files – and I have a couple of scenes that happen in between that I haven’t yet decided where I’ll put them, so I do not have a final chapter count yet. Also a background character has turned into my new favorite (to rival Higgins as a throw-away who becomes a main character) and I might have to write her story on its own and post a part 3. Shit’s dark, though, so we’ll see whether I can do it justice. #mamalou

[charlieswanswife]

My first NSFW request/prompt ever, but I need it: uniform kink. Kudos if he keeps it on at reader's suggestion. Any format is fine (drabble, oneshot, etc)!

Thank you for requesting! I love this prompt so much I was so excited to work on it :3

A Man In Uniform

"Keep it on."

"What do you mean?"

"Your uniform. I want you to keep it on."

Charlie blinks twice—unable to wrap his head around your words. He had just come home from a long day at work. Eight hour shift that ultimately turned into nine.

Days like these were becoming increasingly common. Especially with the growing number of bear attacks. Cases seemed to pop up everyday. Which meant all the work had been shouldered on the chief of police. It was odd—it was the middle of winter after all, shouldn't bears be in hibernation?

At any rate this whole bear thing has left Charlie under immense stress. Exhausted and crankier than usual. These past couple weeks have been hard with him coming home late. You've grown accustomed to leaving his dinner in the microwave.

Not to mention the dry spell that came along. Charlie was always too exhausted to even touch you let alone fuck you. You couldn't blame him, how could you when he worked so hard? But after a full two weeks with only your hands you were growing desperate.

"Don't tell me this is some perverse kink of yours," he half chuckles, cocking an eyebrow.

You sit on the edge of the bed, twirling a few strands of hair. A pout forms at your lips as your eyes meet his. He's standing tall in front of you, hint of an amused glint in his irises.

"Charlie..." you whine, "Do it for me?"

"Okay sweetie, but only because you asked so nicely," he says. There's a slight smirk underneath that bushy mustache of his.

You offer a smile before your hands go to work on his zipper. All too slowly you begin pulling him out. He's slightly hard already. A soft hiss leaves his lips as your fingers grip his hot shaft.

"I've been thinking about this all day, Charlie," you coo.

"Shit—" One pump and you can feel him growing in your hand, "Me too baby."

You give a tantalizing lick around his tip before taking him in. Your hand continues stroking his shaft as your lips envelope the head. His gaze is dead set on you, studying the way you so eagerly suck him off.

"I'm gonna have to tease you about this some other time—when your lips aren't wrapped around my cock."

A string of saliva connects your bottom lip to his tip as you pull away to offer a smile. "So pretty..." he praises, thumb caressing your lips, "All for me."

Charlie's hand finds the back of your head and your mouth is back on him. Your tongue swirls around his head once more before you take him back in. He's mostly quiet now—save for the occasional groan.

That is until the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat.

"Oh fuck—" he moans, "That's it...just like that. You take me so fucking well."

Charlie's bucking into your mouth. He doesn't mean to—he just can't help himself. Not when you're blowing him so good. And especially when he knows you can take it.

Tears brim your eyes. You're holding onto his clothed hips with both hands now, fingers hooked onto his belt. The grip on the back of your head has tightened as he fucks your throat. Within a matter of a few more thrusts he pulls away from your aching mouth.

"Need to cum inside you," he mumbles, bending down to reward you with a kiss.

Leaning back down on the bed you spread your legs for him to see. Your panties are soaked and you are more than ready having done most of the prep work—meaning you practically played with yourself all day.

"Please fuck me, officer," you beg.

You would have been embarrassed by your own words had you not been so damn horny.

Something in Charlie ignites and he's pulling your body to his, kissing you with so much vigor. Hands are roaming all over your body before he turns you around on your hands and knees. He's palming your ass, pushing aside your panties as he presses himself against your entrance.

"This what you had in mind when you sent those pictures earlier today?" He groans out, "Those filthy images. You have any idea how hard you made me? All alone in my office."

Charlie teases your heat with his tip.

"I bet those little fingers of yours don't compare to my cock. How many times were you able to get yourself off today?"

"Please—please just put it in..." you cry out, wiggling your ass in the air.

"That's my girl," Charlie praises.

In one swift motion he sinks into you. You let out a high pitched scream at finally being stretched out. His cock is thick and you can feel him throbbing inside you. He's thrusting into you with force, hips smacking against your ass. You bury your head into the pillow to keep yourself from crying out—at the benefit of your neighbors.

"So fucking tight—" Charlie growls. He's holding on to your hips so tight his fingertips might leave indents on your skin.

"Harder!" You chant, matching his pace.

He's thrusting into you faster now, cock hitting that place that has you screaming. Your walls flutter around him, clenching as a wave of ecstasy overcomes you. You shake beneath him, arms giving out as your face hits the pillow.

Charlie's groans are getting increasingly louder as his own movements begin to falter. He's not far behind you and within another minute he's reaching his own climax, spilling his seed deep inside you.

Charlie stills for a moment, wrapping his arms around your waist. He presses his lips to the nape of your neck, basking in your warmth for just a second more before pulling out.

"How come I never knew about this kink of yours?" Charlie asks before disappearing and coming back with a towel from the bathroom.

"Didn't know I had it til a little while ago," you admit.

Charlie chuckles, wiping your thighs himself before pressing a kiss to your temple. "Not til I came along huh?"

[moonlitwings1]

Icing on Top

Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her. 

Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.

She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.

Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients. 

“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child. 

She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil. 

She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention. 

“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.

“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.

He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”

She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”

He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose. 

“Maaaax,” he whispers. 

She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas. 

So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.

“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!” 

She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter. 

“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”

“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”

“You cool?”

She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”

“You su-”

“YES IM SURE, BILLY.” 

He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.” 

She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

“I already said cookies.”

“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer. 

“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore. 

“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole. 

Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home. 

She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs? 

---

Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.

She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.

Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye. 

Her door bursts open. 

“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.” 

Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”

She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t. 

Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now. 

“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”

Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess. 

He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder. 

“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her. 

When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal? 

She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen. 

He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”

She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen. 

"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”

She still doesn’t say anything. 

“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”

“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!” 

“You ruined that shit for your-”

“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it. 

Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her. 

She’s alone. 

----

Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-

The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often. 

“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off. 

“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?

“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention. 

“What?” 

“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down. 

“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”

He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?” 

Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”

“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room. 

She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing. 

When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”

He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in. 

She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt. 

“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”

Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face. 

“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment. 

 “So you’ll let me make them again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”

She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”

He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.” 

She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping? 

“You went to the store?”

He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”

“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.” 

“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”

Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”

He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.” 

---

Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt. 

They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that. 

The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.  

“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”

“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically.  “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”

Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”

She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting. What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles. 

“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”

She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion. 

“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.” 

She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways. 

Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now. 

“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”

By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last. 

Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide. 

Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year. 

[anotherkpopvictim]

Seven Is Our Lucky Number - OT7 Story Chapter 2

Chapter 2: When Yoongi met Hoseok

A/N: Here’s chapter two, I hope you enjoy!

Relationship: BTS X BTS (Yoongi X Hoseok focused)

Rating: G

Words: 1966

Italics = flashback

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Over the last few months of social distancing due to the global pandemic, the group took the time where they couldn’t be with their fans to instead do things that they wouldn’t typically get to do. Like devoting lots of time to their mental health, and working on their own personal music. They also had a lot of sex, so none of them were complaining.

Besides working on personal things and going at it like rabbits, they also spent some time doing more domestic activities. For example, sitting down and eating dinner together at the table at least two times a week. It was a change as most of the time they were just too busy to do it, but they happily accepted the new resolution as it meant spending more quality time together.

 “So...there’s something I’ve been thinking about lately,” Namjoon commented one day over one said dinner.

The others were all chowing down delightedly on the home-cooked meal provided to them by Seokjin and Yoongi, and most only made unattractive noises in response to the leader.

Jimin hummed around his mouthful of food and spoke up indulgently, “What’s that?”

“You know how we always joke that seven is a special number to us?” he received six head nods in reply, “Well, I’ve discovered two more sevens in our journey.”

Jin looked rather skeptically at the leader, “Don’t tell me you believe in lucky numbers?”

Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, “Not necessarily. I just thought it was an interesting coincidence.”

“So what is this coincidence?” Jungkook inquired.

The leader turned to the eldest rapper in the group. “Yoongi do you remember what day it was when we first met?”

Yoongi raised his head from where he’d been mostly focused on his rice and thought for a moment, “The day we met? Ah...oh, sometime in the beginning of July in 2010.”

“July 7, 2010, to be exact,” Namjoon corrected, “The seventh day of the seventh month of the year.”

Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi had all let out a of chorus of curious ‘huh’s.

“Freaky,” Jungkook exclaimed, his bright grin a stark contrast to his words. Jin rolled his eyes at his strange antics.

Taehyung was the only one sitting rather quietly at the other end of the table where he was now poking at his rice and avoiding everyone’s gazes. No one really seemed to notice his silence, though.

“Definitely an interesting coincidence,” Hoseok said, eyes narrowed in thought. “But couldn’t we technically find just as many twos or fours linked to our past. Or any other number?”

“Perhaps,” Namjoon shrugged, “But it got me thinking “what if?”, you know?”

And that was that.

After Namjoon’s mention of the coincidence, it kind of fell to the back of everyone’s mind.

Now, Yoongi definitely wasn’t a very superstitious person, but he had to agree with Namjoon - it was curious.

It was a few weeks after Namjoon had first brought it up that Yoongi and Hoseok were curled up together on their living room couch. The younger man had convinced the older to watch a movie with him but he honestly wasn’t all that interested in it.

Yoongi was much more interested in Hoseok, in his bright demeanor and insightful comments on the film. He was so different from the boy who he had first met.

March 14, 2011

It was about eight months after Yoongi and Namjoon had first met, and Bang PD had moved the two of them out of the dorm they shared with eight other trainees and set them up in their own place. It was a small apartment, but Yoongi couldn’t be happier with the move. The CEO told them that he was really starting to get things together for their group and wanted them to be settled into their own place before he introduced another potential member.

Yoongi used the apartment as his studio while the boss looked on finding him a proper room at the company. The rapper had created a dent in the cheap leather sofa in their living room and had the coffee table covered in coffee cups and empty take-out containers.

The pout on his lips and frustrated furrow to his brow became more and more apparent as he tapped frantically at his keyboard and mouse pad.

“What the hell?” he hissed lowly, eyes darting around his laptop screen in hopes of finding the file that had suddenly disappeared. He had been rubbing at his dry eyes when his elbow accidentally bumped his laptop a few times and then without any notice, the music he’d been working on was gone.

Yoongi’s heart sank in his chest, anger rising up his throat as he cursed under his breath. “No, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”

He searched every possible folder the file could be hidden in three times over and came up with nothing. The best he could find was a rough draft from a few days ago. All the work of the last seventy-two hours was gone with just a few accidental bumps.

Yoongi was overtired and angry at the universe. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the black strands before groaning loudly into his palms, irritated.

“Um...”

Yoongi jumped at the sudden voice and looked up from his hands to see an unfamiliar boy standing in the apartment doorway.

Shit, Yoongi thought, I forgot Namjoon said someone was moving in today. How he could forget something as important as that, he didn’t know. Sometimes he just became so invested in his music that everything else kind of just...disappeared around him.

The boy, who couldn’t have been much younger than Yoongi, was doing a terrible job at hiding the fear in his expression. Yoongi was sure that his own face was the cause of that - he was probably screaming anger and frustration.

The two of them were awkwardly frozen for a minute where neither of them really knew what to do, before Yoongi finally gathered himself together. He stood up from the couch and took a few steps towards the newcomer. “Ah...hi...sorry you had to see that...I’m Yoongi.”

The other boy smiled politely, albeit hesitantly. “Jung Hoseok.”

Yoongi was taken aback momentarily by Hoseok’s smile. It was bright and seemed to light up the room with a single flash. The rapper cleared his throat, “I apologize for the terrible first impression of me.”

Hoseok blinked, surprised, “That’s okay. We all get a little bit angry sometimes, right?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, letting out a breath of relief.

“Can I ask what made you so angry?” the younger boy asked curiously.

Yoongi grunted, “I lost the last three days of work I did on a song. Doesn’t seem like I’m going to get it back.”

Hoseok winced sympathetically, “Ooh, that sucks. I’m sorry about that, Yoongi-ssi.”

“I’ll get over it eventually,” Yoongi said, though he wasn’t sure if it was to assure Hoseok or convince himself. “Let me show you around the dorm.”

The apartment wasn’t anything more than a small kitchen connected to the main room and a narrow hallway on the other side of the room that led to a tiny bathroom and a bedroom with two bunk beds. The paint was peeling off the walls in some places and there were creaks in the floorboards loud enough to wake a hibernating bear, but it was a place to live and that was really all Yoongi could ask for.

“It’s not much,” Yoongi commented after the tour had finished and he sat on the bottom bunk of one of the beds as Hoseok unpacked some of his things. “But it’s home.”

Hoseok turned to him after tucking away some of his shirts in one of the empty drawers of the dresser. “I like it. It’s small and cozy. It doesn’t feel totally alien from my home.”

“So, what’s your specialty, Hoseok-ah?” Yoongi asked.

The younger blushed slightly at the question, “Oh...I’m a dancer. That’s probably my only strong suit at this point. Bang PD-nim wants me to learn how to sing or rap, but...I don’t know...”

Yoongi frowned, not liking the dejected look in the younger’s eyes. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Give it a good try first before worrying about it.”

Hoseok nodded, “You’re right. Thanks, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Call me hyung,” Yoongi replied, “And as far as rap goes, you can come to me or Namjoon for help any time you’d like. Can’t help you when it comes to singing, though.”

“You were an underground rapper, right?”

Yoongi hummed in affirmation, “I came here to be a producer but plans changed.”

“That’s so cool that you know how to make you’re own music!” Hoseok exclaimed. “I wish I was that talented.”

“I’ll teach you about producing too, then. But, you have to teach me some cool dance moves.”

Hoseok smiled, but unlike before, this was a full-on, genuine smile oozing happiness. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his body seemed to vibrate with energy and joy.

If Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat before, it was tripping over itself now.

“Thanks, Yoongi-hyung!”

“Yoongi-hyung! Yoongi-hyung! Min Yoongi!”

The rapper blinked rapidly, brought back to reality by Hoseok waving obnoxiously in front of his face. He batted the hands away before he took in the pout on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention since the movie ended like ten minutes ago,” Hoseok said. “What’s going on inside that head of yours that took you so far away, huh?”

“Sorry,” Yoongi replied, “And, ah...I was thinking about the first time we met.”

Hoseok cocked an eyebrow curiously, “Why?”

“Honestly, I was wondering if there was the number seven involved somewhere.”

The lead dancer chuckled at the older man, “Namjoonie got you thinking “what if?” too?”

Yoongi curled into Hoseok’s shoulder more and mumbled a confirmation. He sighed into the younger’s neck and shut his eyes.

“So? Did you find any sevens?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi furrowed his brow in thought, “The date doesn’t have any sevens in it...” he trailed off as a moment flashed across his mind. A snapshot of the front door of their apartment. “Oh my god, wait, the apartment number!”

Hoseok looked confused, “Of our first apartment? It was...” his eyes lit up in recognition. “Seventy-seven.”

Yoongi nodded. “But we always forgot it because the landlord refused to put new numbers on our door.”

He thought about that old apartment - how it was much too small for seven growing boys to live in together. How sometimes he (they) felt suffocated not having anywhere to go to get away from each other if they wanted to.

And yet, Yoongi couldn’t say that he’d hated the place. When they first moved out of it and there was no longer a need for the seven boys to share one room, Yoongi found himself tossing and turning at night. It was too silent in the room, only Jin’s soft breathing could be heard. But Yoongi was used to the melody of six breathing patterns together and it made him anxious to not be hearing them. It took weeks after first moving before he got a decent night’s sleep.

“You don’t think there’s anything actually going on, do you?” Hoseok asked, bringing the older man out of his thoughts once again. “With this whole “seven” thing, I mean.”

Yoongi waved off the other’s worries, “I’m sure it’s just another coincidence.”

Hoseok nodded in response before tugging Yoongi closer into him. “Come here, then. I’ve been craving cuddles all night but you were too busy staring at me to notice.”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh, “Cuddles coming right up.”

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A/N: So, another chapter done. I really hope that you guys enjoyed it! Comments and likes keep me going <3

[violetsystems]

#personal

I keep reading a lot about how video chat is exhausting.  There’s a strange psychology to it.  The synthesia that comes from people being “in real time” and yet not.  My connection at home operates on a ten to eleven millisecond latency.  I spent the last month tightening the requirements I had for operating my office at home.  I’m IT person so I feel like I need to lead the charge on that front.  I’m also not typically someone who communicates through video.  I quit facebook over a year ago along with twitter.  I post things to instagram with no captions.  I write three paragraphs online every week here.  This is about as personal as it gets for me.  And yet I socialize with people just the same in this post Covid-19 world.  In fact, I keep hearing how we’re all in this together.  How the importance of neighbors and families become more apparent.  And nobody really interacts with me beyond that professional veil that separates in real life me from deep thought me.  If anyone really wanted to get into my head I leave it here for them to process.  There are people on here that have said more to me in a like than a series of sentences.  Years ago people would think that’s insane.  And yet here we are locked in our bedrooms speaking awkwardly through delay.  Desperately trying to connect through video glitches to brick walls on occasion.  People hiding their clutter through filters and masks.  People drowned out of group chat stuttering in and out.  False starts and runaway monologues.  My job has a lot to do with managing groups of people in this atmosphere and improving communication.  I ran a zoom happy hour recently for an employee’s departure.  I don’t drink anymore.  I’m not particularly bothered by it.  But it was an enlightening experience of voyeurism to watch.  I guess people who go to bars now just hang out on video drunk.  I’m the one who has to reel in the commentary if it gets too out of control.  But it’s always out of sequence in terms of the rhythm of conversation.  Worse so when it’s not work related.  In a world where people worry out loud about taking the train to work.  I’m still paying my Ventra benefit.  I’m proud of my city in that way.  I went to the bank over lunch to get quarters.  Shopped at a smaller grocery store in the neighborhood.  Everybody was so lively and conversational.  People thanked me for wearing a mask.  For bagging my groceries correctly.  In real time.  A mask was the only thing between us really.  Not an entire quantum grid of time distorted projections.  And then there’s the people who lean on that even more.  We’re all neighbors.  We all need each other.  Society is almost as exhausting as telepresence.  In some ways we’re seeing it’s just as good.  Kind of like quarantine ushered in a new kind of Videodrome.  Long live the new flesh.  Same as the old flesh really.  It’s the quality of the people that breathe life in the world.  Or suck the air out of the room.  You wish they’d suck out all the Covid droplets too.  

I’m not too engaged by people these days.  Not on an intimate level.  But I am a genuinely open person.  I live in the moment.  I’m easy to read.  Some people have faulted me for that.  Claiming I’m not a good poker player when it comes to the game of life.  You don’t know how badly people have eaten those words.  It’s why they always have their foot in their mouth when they try to talk to me.  It sounds worse over the cold empty space of internet packets traveling through the screen.  The frightening thing about America is that it’s so easy to connect to everyone but yourself.  And none of that is ever satisfying when nobody respects you and your search for connection.  I have travelled the world.  I travelled it alone.  The largest amount of time I’ve spent in a foreign country was Korea.  I made a lot of friends in Seoul over a short period of time.  The lifecycle of which varies just as wildly as back home.  But I connected with people being myself.  Did people value those connections?  I don’t know.  When I think about traveling now it’s mostly to New York.  But the same goes for New York.  I travelled there alone.  I knew nobody.  I went there on my birthday twice alone.  Followed around by god knows who or what.  I’ve been through all of this for five or six years now.  And people still question my connection to myself.  How I communicate.  How I feel about the world.  What desires I keep to myself.  Who I’m inspired by.  Nobody ever asks.  I sit on video everyday looking out with tired eyes listening.  Constantly listening to people’s words.  My own are processed but it’s not about me.  I’m sure I could explain how I felt on video to someone I was close to.  But the truth is nobody is that close to me at all.  It’s an empty space.  I’d rather fill that space beside me.  Have somebody in my life I share the deeper side with.  When I sit and pretend on camera I feel consulted but never connected.  I hear about people’s worries and concerns.  But nobody knows how I feel or how I am thinking.  I feel worthless.  I feel ignored.  I feel like a fucking joke.  Like a punchline people use to show when people aren’t paying attention.  Like I’m a ghost or a hologram.  I do connect but it passes right through me.  Like I’m there but not really there.  An avatar to process an in real life transaction.  To be put away in cold storage after interaction.  Where does a person like myself go from here?  I have felt trapped.  I’ve felt buried.  And now I just feel like I’m in a revolutionary cave.  Weathering a shit storm.  Like Khan on Ceti Alpha Five.  Buried alive.

Khan definitely didn’t have fed ex.  Neither did he have the Dover Street Market E-shop.  Khan did not have a level 103 warlock in World of Warcraft.  Khan did have a crew.  He eventually got off that planet by putting worms in people’s ears.  I’m not a big fan of fake folk remedies.  I do like Star Trek.  I watch a lot of tv these days.  A lot more than I did.  I’ve set up my deliveries to sync up with my needs.  My cat food and litter is always delivered on time.  My cat now sleeps on my bed.  She crawls onto my chest inexplicably at times.  Getting me prepped for a ventilator I guess.  I still have a job.  A job that I will soon go back to in some context.  A job that I’ve been working every day since lockdown.  How people judge me from there is a constant reality.  People still out there trying to breach the six foot barrier of me not giving a fuck.  People still have something to say with or without a zoom meeting password.  And I’m still the same old Tim.  A little wiser.  A little more fed up with basic shit in America.  And still with my ear pressed firmly to the ground.  Everything is a complete shit show.  It’s been that way for years.  I’ve just gotten less sensitive to it.  And the more I walk through life ignoring things that waste my time, the more I see it for what it really is.  There’s a luxury in pausing to map the terrain.  To keep your distance.  To not always get led away by your passion and your emotions.  My passion does feel dead inside.  That’s a little harsh.  It feels like it’s hibernating.  It’s been hibernating.  I have very little emotion to show in terms of real intimacy.  I save it inside and that’s my business.  I do desire.  I do care.  And I’m sure my friends on here know exactly in what context and how hard that is to bear at times.  I’m expected to read so deeply into everyone and no one bothers to skim what I’m trying to say.  It’s life.  It’s the same exact feeling staring out on your video cam and watching someone who isn’t really there.  Like you’ve tuned into someone’s play or tv show.  And you are the laugh track.  That’s all you are to people.  A fucking ambient laugh track.  Distorted so much by selfishness that whatever you say has no bearing on anyone at all.  Marooned on your own dead planet with a fat pipe to the internet.  Talking to max headroom with a thirty second delay.  How was your day?  Oh let me tell you about mine.  Time stretched howl into the matrix.  I’d rather hear the soft rhythm of your breath next to mine.  That would say more than anything I could ever say.  Until then I’ll stick to writing love letters into the void.  That and shopping at home online.  I love clothes.  You know I love you too.  I’d say it on video but you deserve zero latency.  <3 Tim

[canonicallyanxious]

I can never decide what i would enjoy better, being able to sleep all the time or not needing to sleep at all

[sunriseoverseauniverse-blog]

The world just chewed her up

And spat her out. 

I always get myself into these situations

I’m just being honest here 

It’s a classic feeling signature and behaviour of mine 

No thanks to any of the people who twisted the knife

Yup, thats you grandma, and whoever ( the fuck ) else 

Ooops using that fucking g word again 

Trying to transfer the blame on someone else 

My poetry is starting to suck 

Cause it’s really just nicely placed words 

Venting my timely swings 

Into dark places...

Calling it:

I’ve had a full on fortnight 

Sick, work, new job, money stress

Child not drinking or sleeping stress

All the usual suspects for an exhausted parent 

Wait what the fuck I’m not a parent? 

It’s really taxing being the one hearing the toddlers cries 

Knowing that you aren’t the one with the milk tap breasts 

The smells, genealogy and presence of their mother 

That would calm that crying child in an instant...

Who is the only one they will eat for, drink for, sleep for... just about

I am a good stand in mother 

But imagine having that much presence in another child’s life 

Taking the pressure of trying to fill their needs 

When you aren’t the one who was biologically tuned to do so

I love what I do 

I really do and I would take this shit any day over any other work

But when they are crying for mum 

Well, I’m just not their mum. 

It’s okay

It just takes time to form bonds right?

If it didn’t it wouldn’t be right

You can’t hurry love... understanding... feeling comfortable with someone

Children need the love

Parents need the space from loving 

Nanny’s need.... 

A BIG FUCK OFF COFFEE OKAY

Like, today would have been good.  It used to be my little fluffy comforter, coffee 

It still is my trusted friend 

In small doses 

I’m basically Lor 

I like to believe I live in stars hollow.

We made a breakthrough today together

Me & the wee one year old cherub I care for 

She is such a strong stubborn self lead little cherub 

She just makes these screechy noises at me, trying to tell me stuff 

I put her in the car, drove to the beach and around for ages 

And then, holy shit, she fell asleep and STAYED asleep for 40 minutes 

It was a christmas fucking miracle 

It is the first fortnight I’ve been working 

But some of those days have been mentally challenging 

I came home with tears of joy whatever I don’t know 

Tears of endurance of frustration of inadequacy for not having the right nipples

Tears about money stuff 

Getting through 

Feeling like I have some worth

Paying for my own health care appointments  Whatever other plans I have made 

Fighting back the tears 

Again 

The stress of all this change 

Feeling for me 

Cause it’s my job too 

Can be full on, it seems 

Lucy ran through the house with muddy paws this arvo 

It was the icing on the cake 

The cherry 

Sarcastic but really she is my

Cherry

She came into my room just now 

To give me a little snuggle 

Probably saying mama thing I hate it when you cry 

It’s cool baby badger 

Crying is one of the many ways to release 

I read a cool article on it today about the healing power 

Of babies crying in the arms of a caring loving adult 

It’s a healthy response 

It is made to be held, seen, heard, recognised as valid 

If your baby needs to cry, let it cry in your arms 

It’s perfectly fucking healthy to cry 

It’s WAY better if it can be done with someones presence 

And I mean, just their conscious presence, approving, accepting 

Being here with you 

Especially for children 

But I just do it alone mostly

Cause people tend to freak out with the water worx 

Probably scared of their own displays of feelings 

I’m used to it I’ve been doing it for years 

I even used to tie up the door to the bathroom 

Where I would be crying 

From a very young age 

Because we don’t have locks in our house 

Because I was raised without being allowed valid boundaries 

Lol fight me 

I’m just being honest 

Act like you got some sense

I’m sorry Mrs Jackson 

I am for real 

Okay there’s my humour coming back 

I’m glad to be free to speak 

That’s why I write things 

I don’t care if anyone reads 

But maybe they will and it will mean something 

That’s cool too 

The universe is a funky little pumpkn

Especially with the platform of technology 

I can reference shit with an inbuilt link 

Would have been handy for my essays back in the day 

Look I just want to be able to meet my needs

Like every human should be able to do 

That’s why I want to care for children 

Help them get their needs met 

I honestly get it, parenting is FULL ON 

I get why kids grow up without their needs being met 

Because not every one can mind read or translate screeching 

But I feel like I’ve been raised to figure out how to MEET NEEDS

My own, and then others, children, whoever I can influence 

In fulfilling ways really 

I guess that’s the goal 

To lead 

Be my own 

Wahine Toa 

Filling my needs has meant money 

Which has been a tool which I cast out of my shed 

From a very young twisted age 

When I was made to feel ashamed 

For having money and choosing how to spend it

Thanks again to the dicks that taught me this 

Is she still bitter about this or? 

Lol, jokes make it better for five seconds 

The story is long but in short basically I fucked it all up 

When I bit my brothers ass cause he stole my toy 

Which, yeah, fair enough, I fuck shit up if things are unfairly taken from me

Then my grandma who is dead now ( cool ) had forsaken me 

Then would refuse to treat me well for the rest of my life 

Neglect me and shit, ridicule me and instil the classic shame 

For being my great self ya know 

Barbaric really 

Then write me poetry about how creative I am

Like, bitch please 

You can’t unfuck with my life now you realised it was a dick move 

Those bridges are burnt bitch 

Wow, vent vent vent 

Has to be said? Mmmm maybe in a less cunty way but that aint me today

So yeah money is a thing I am learning 

Thanks to the past conditioning 

It’s a universal blockage so I’m not half surprised 

I would really love it in my life 

So I can love and care for myself 

So I don’t have to depend on people who can’t do that for me 

Let alone, themselves right!?

Think we’re all learning this right?

So how do you learn to do money?

Well... find the energy that attracts it instead of repels it

Learn to use it wisely for future benefits 

Learn to keep the river flowing constant abundance in and out 

To you and through you 

Hibernate in the winter, keep like squirrels collecting them nuts 

Not just for the now time, for the winter

But if you collect too many and leave them to rot that’s not a flowing river 

So it’s about learning the skills, how to use the tool for abundance 

The dance with life we all are worthy of 

How have I committed to this? 

#1: Decide to stop doing shitty stressful jobs that don’t fulfil me and provide for me in equal abundance of energy exchanges, preferably looking for work with perks that I love and with downsides that I am not too bothered by. 

( I decided upon home based one on one childcare because it’s a nurturing job for me and for the world in order to help people and help myself thrive )

#2: TRAIN OR GET EXPERIENCE OR PREFERABLY BOTH.

(I did my qualification in Nannying, it took 6 months and it was free, it was one of the best most nourishing fulfilling loving moments of my life so far, thank you)

#3: Get your foot in the door. 

( for me, this meant, get an in between starting job which paved my way in order to look forward to and manifest the perfect job to begin my career with )

( it was part time, it was full on, it was amazing because it gave me experience and a reference, it was fun, it had some perks, it also sucked sometimes but it was the perfect launching point... ) 

#4: Get through the period of time where you may not be earning or you may be earning very little, before you find the perfect work conditions that give you what you are so worth earning in exchange in order to sustain and fulfil your life. 

( yup, currently amidst this point, it is hard so hard at times for me, it is mentally consuming and emotionally breaking but it is the deep lesson about the squirrels collecting nuts for the winter... you need not so much that they will rot, you need just enough to get you through without meaning a period of starvation or you need to hiberate like bears. you just have to do whatever you can to get through this phase... its okay to ask for help, just ask people who you can trust to actually care about you and love you and support you, not people who have shown you that it’s conditional or that they actually can’t do this for you )

#5: Eventually, you will be in a cycle of river flowing freely and replenishing you all the time and life giving energy in abundance to you and through you. This is the place we all want to be with our work where we love what we do even on the hardest worst days and we are fulfilled with abundance in all areas of our lives, especially given equally abundant exchange of money to provide for our lives and our desires. 

( I have found the job, the conditons are right, I am working through the moments of stress and I am most of all waiting on those steady free flowing river pay checks of abundance... don’t get me wrong, I also need to learn how to be best with my nuts so that is the next step. I just so hope I can do so this time around because I don’t want to go through periods of starvation of my needs when it is so taxing and mentally emotionally crappy... I suppose though all of those pent up feelings had to come out somehow because I wouldn’t have ever had money blocks if they didn’t exist. Purging the blockages from your system is all part of the transformation here. So, I guess, I’m glad to be deep in full learning ) 

I just wish to feel better

To rewrite the feelings signatures that were assigned to me 

When I was just a young zero years baby 

So I guess the path is set... 

I’d like to see my needs met.

[austinpanda]

Dad Letter 020721

7 February, 2021

Dear Dad--

Happy Super Bowl Sunday! It is, unsurprisingly, cold as hell here in Maine this morning. Usually we keep it about 68 degrees inside, and if we allow the heat to creep up to 70, we begin to feel like hedonistic libertines. (And we get utility bills north of $250.) But when I got out of bed this morning it was 17 degrees outside and 64 degrees inside, and I thought I was gonna freeze to death. I still prefer having these problems over warm weather problems. I can always add another layer of sweater, or blanket, or kitty cat, to keep warm. 

I’ve been watching the movie The Revenant on repeat for a while now. As I predicted, it’s become a sort of screensaver for my living room television. It is, far and away, the prettiest movie I’ve ever seen. As predicted, I’m becoming less bothered by the violence--the lots and lots and lots of violence--and now I’m able to appreciate the cinematography, even when Leonardo Dicaprio is getting noisily torn asunder by the bear. “Hey, that shot is pretty! Shut up, Leonardo, I’m trying to enjoy the background foliage.” I’m enjoying this phase of movie love, when I find a movie that becomes special to me, and I’m still in the process of discovering all of its little secrets. 

As an example, after I’d watched the movie a few times, I realized something about the bear attack scene. The way the players are positioned, the scene is set up in such a way that, when he first hears bear cubs, they’re in front of him. Then, when he hears the adult bear, it’s behind him. I realized that the movie was suggesting that Leonardo Dicaprio got right between the bear cubs and their mom, and by the time he realized he was between them--literally the most dangerous possible place to be--the big bear was already charging him. I always watched this scene, and thought, “Bear cubs, awfully cute, except oh shit, there’s the mom, and they’re off! Go bear! Fuck up his face!” It didn’t occur to me until I’d seen the movie a few times that the director was careful to physically place the main character between the bear and her cubs, which would have encouraged the next plot point--Leonardo getting half et by the bear--to begin. Smart movies do that, you know? After viewing a few times, you’ll catch a subtle detail that you missed, and it’s like finding an Easter egg.

I can think of at least one more example, from Apocalypse Now. When Willard is sort of introducing us to the guys on the boat, and we see Chef reading a beat-up paperback. It took a while before I noticed that his lips are moving as he reads. And it took many viewings before I noticed that the book he’s reading is Henry Miller’s Sexus, which is rather hilarious in itself. I’m given to understand that Henry Miller is something like very well dressed pornography, attempting to be literature, and that’s a great metaphor for Chef: He’s no one special, but he has aspirations of becoming a great chef specializing in sauces. It makes sense that he’d read high-class porn. Those are some great little details. 

I have to admit, I’m running out of ways to describe how profoundly tedious this pandemic has become. We really don’t go anywhere but the store any more, and I’ve had the same tank of gas in the car for about three months now. The weather is helping! Every day we seem to get a little bit of snow, and I just love it, every time. Yesterday it was mostly sunny, but every time a cloud passed overhead, it dropped a little snow on us. Today we’re supposed to get a swift-moving but still inconveniently heavy snow, and that’ll mean more snow shoveling. I probably didn’t like shoveling show in Chicago when I was 9, because of the compulsory nature of the endeavor. Now I view it as fun exercise! We don’t have much driveway, but what we do have is not plowed by anyone. (By the way, “plow” and “plough” are pretty much interchangeable, which I know, because I looked the shit up, but “plow” is preferred in North America, and “plough” is preferred elsewhere, like the U.K.) What this means, is that we not only have to shovel about 15 feet of driveway to get to the road that runs through the trailer park, but every time they run the snow plow through the trailer park, it dumps a mountain of snow on the end of our driveway, and fucks up all our hard work. 

Fortunately, I spent a lifetime preparing for moments like these by living in Texas, and all snow is magical, dammit, even unwanted plow snow befouling the end of our recently-shoveled driveway. Even if the snow is still coming, if I have to drive somewhere, I won’t mind getting all my heavy winter clothes on, going outside into the blizzard, and clearing up the driveway. It is exhausting work, but I don’t seem to mind. 

I typically do have some minor fears that a neighbor will come along and (a) breathe Covid onto me, or, more to the point, (b) tell me that I’m shoveling incorrectly. “What are ya, from Texas or somethin?” But I think I’m shoveling properly. I mean, it’s not rocket science; use the shovel to move the snow from here to there, piece o’ cake. Not only do I think I’m doing it properly, but I noticed several of my neighbors got their cars stuck in snow trying to leave after the last snowstorm. Some of them got hilariously stuck; people had to dig snow from around their wheels, or get behind the car and push, and I avoided those pitfalls. I think I have a natural aptitude for this shit. And, can’t stress this enough, it’s quite good exercise. I remember I used to watch the TV show “ER,” which was set in an emergency room in Chicago, and every once in a while they’d get, “a shovel,” which was their euphemism for a patient who had a heart attack while shoveling snow. I suppose the idea there is to pace yourself. I find the exercise makes it a lot easier to fall asleep at night. 

So, my days are still spent doing mostly the same thing; looking for work I can do from home, and waiting until the state of Maine gets its shit together with regard to Covid vaccine sign-ups. Right now I have no idea when I might get vaccinated, and I’m counting on that to help return to a somewhat normal life. (Visiting friends, going to restaurants and movie theaters, having company over, etc.) I have found one source of work that I’m going to dedicate a few hours to tomorrow: It’s called Amazon MTurk, and I have no idea why it’s called that, but basically, it’s little tasks you can do for Amazon.com to earn small amounts of money, like categorizing photographs, or reviewing products, which Amazon then pays you for. The idea is, they don’t pay worth a shit, just a penny, or a dime, or 50 cents per job, but if you can do enough of these little jobs quickly enough, it approaches actual income. I have applied and been accepted, so tomorrow I’m going to start doing little mini-jobs for little mini-money and see if it resembles, in any way, the pay from actual employment.

As for today, it’s the Super Bowl! I couldn’t believe the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are participating, but then again, I haven’t watched any games, or kept up with the wins and losses this year. Whenever the Cowboys are sucking, like now, my interest in the NFL sort of goes into hibernation. The next time the Cowboys stop sucking, I’ll care more about football. But the thing about the Buccaneers is: I don’t ever remember them being anything impressive when I was growing up. In fact, and I don’t know why I thought this, but I always thought of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers as the team that was only barely a real team, that existed only to lose, that was composed of high school players and prisoners, who had to keep other real jobs, like waiting tables, keep the bills paid. As I say, I don’t know why I believed this about the Buccaneers, but now they’re in the Super Bowl! Well. Guess they’re a real team after all. 

I do hope things aren’t too boring (or too exciting) where you are. You’re in my thoughts every day. All my love to you both!

[wayneooverton]

10 reasons why fall is the best season for adventures

Cool, crisp air. Shorter days. Fireplace cranking, Hot toddy’s flowing. The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot.

There’s no question that fall is the season of cozy. Dare I say hygge?

Even the die-hard lovers of spring, summer and winter can admit there’s just that strange, mysterious factor that make everyone feel warm and happy when they transition into the season of color.

I know better than anyone how tempting it is to go into hibernation mode in autumn. An East Coast girl at heart, these colorful months are in my blood, even since I moved to New Zealand and have come to accept fall in April – which let’s be honest, is still kinda weird.

I love snuggling up next to the fire with a good book, content with spending a day baking and writing, and of course, thinking. But I love even more wandering outside beneath yellow leaves, and the smell of fire in the air.

I know it’s tempting to put on your long johns and start the Christmas music in October but don’t be too quick to skip this magical season all together. Fall is my favorite time of the year and is arguably the best season for adventure, even if it arrived very late this year.

Step aside summer and winter, we’ve got a new favorite adventure season in town.

1. The perfect weather

Congratulations, you’ve made it through the sweltering summer.

You’ve endured endless nights of restlessness because it’s frankly too damn hot to be comfortable. You’ve survived the bug bites, the ugly ass sun hats, the hair that sticks to your sweaty forehead making looking presentable almost impossible. You’ve done it!

Welcome to fall where you’ll be greeted with the perfect temperatures. All those hikes you decided to abandon because it was too hot? Now’s the perfect time to do them.

You’ll be comfortable and cool and maybe you’ll even get to wear more than the absolute bare minimum for layers. Throw on that cute beanie you’ve kept in storage.

You’ll be just cool enough to keep the sweating to a minimum so you can get those summit views easier and more comfortably.

Nothing beats Central Otago in autumn

My house in Wanaka is decked out in Wilson & Dorset New Zealand sheepskins

Two Paddocks, my favorite local winery, looks stunning in the fall

2. All the pretty colors, obviously

Anyone who pretends to be unfazed by the radiant light show that nature puts on every autumn is, quite frankly, full of shit.

It is spectacular when the leaves change, heralding fall, no questions asked.

Golds, reds, oranges, I love them all. As soon as the leaves begin to change, my heart soars and I want to be out and about amongst the colors as much as I can.

Nature is literally changing its whole color scheme from bright green to earthy browns, yellows, reds, purples. Seeing an entire landscape explode into a totally different shade than a month ago?

That’s magic.

It’s like seeing a mountain on fire without any of the danger. Yes please, can nature look like this all the time??

3. No more crazy crowds

Good news! Summer vacations are over.

Those crying, screaming kids disrupting your peaceful nature time are back in school.

For some reason, people are spending their weekend watching football which is great because that means you get nature all to yourself. Take advantage of the quiet trails while everyone else is gorging on cheese dip and pumpkin spiced lattes.

Just avoid those heavy Instagram autumn spots, can’t guarantee those won’t be busy.

I kept my portable Lotus Belle Air Beam Bud set up all through the autumn in Wanaka

Onesies by the fire, am I right?

4. You get to wear all of the clothes and be all cozy

Summer wardrobes suck.

Everything is exposed all of the time and after few weeks of sweating through your outfit every day, you begin to miss the beauty of an autumn wardrobe.

When on a summer hike, you can only take off so much but in fall, it’s time to layer up, baby! Leggings, thick socks, leather boots, long-sleeves, hoodies, jackets and beanies.

Fall wardrobes have so much opportunity, so much diversity.

I live in this Patagonia flannel top come autumn

Danner boots are my favorite adventure boots when I’m on the road

5. Explore the mountains before they’re covered in snow

You may already be frothing for winter and a season on the skis but don’t forget that when the snow comes, a lot of the alpine will generally be off limits.

This is your last chance to get high without the complications of ski gear and avalanche knowledge.

In fall, the peaks may get a small dusting of snow but it’s still accessible and plus, a light dusting paired with a fiery mountain landscape is the stuff photographers drool over. Enjoy those peaks. You might not see them again for another six months.

A light but high quality puffer jacket is essential for hikes in the autumn

6. Vinyard harvest

Living near wine regions around the world, I have because highly aware of autumn because of the harvest. Come vintage time, all hands are on deck and these beautiful bits of land truly come alive as everyone works to bring in the grapes before the frosts of winter descend.

A true art form that I’ll never understand, what I do get it is the wild harvest parties that happen at the end, that I often end up at!

So much fun.

7. It’s totally fine to end a hike with hot cider and a hearty meal

Roasted veggies, hearty stews, mashed potatoes. Fall is the season of comfort food.

No one wants to end their hot summery hike with a big roast dinner and a hot apple cider. No thanks.

In Autumn? Definitely! You can reward yourself after your adventure with a hot, comforting meal fit for kings.

8. Shorter days means you get to see more sunrises and sunsets

Fall is great for lovers of sleep.

It’s darker longer which means that pesky sun won’t wake you up until much, much later. You even get an extra hour of sleep when the clock rolls back. For those of us who love sleep to an unhealthy degree, seeing a sunrise in the summer is brutally painful. Waiting up at 5:30am just to be prepped for morning golden hour? Sounds good in theory but never works quite like I want it to.

In Fall? No problem. Go ahead and give yourself a sleep in. You’ll get your beauty rest, have time to make a coffee and still make golden hour. Nice!

Planning an autumn hike when the days are shorter means that you need to be extra prepared with gear. I always throw in a headlamp if I’m going on a day hike and always carry more layers than I think I’ll need in case the weather really turns. You gotta be prepared for it all.

9. Wildlife viewing can be amazing

Grab your binoculars!

Bird are migrating, salmon are spawning, elk are bugling, the high alpine animals are slowly making their way down the mountain as the temperatures drop. Bears are scrounging up the last of the berries before heading off for hibernation and squirrels are busy gathering and stashing nuts for the winter.

For those who want to get a glimpse of these elusive animals, autumn is your chance! But be careful, wildlife can be especially aggressive this time of year so keep your distance and resist all temptation to get a selfie with wild animals.

If you’re hiking in bear territory, it’s always a good idea to carry a bell and bear spray, just in case.

10. Get cabin cozy

And last but not least, my favorite thing to do in autumn is spend time out away from the cities cozied away in a cute cabin.

From the smells of the first wood fires to the crunchy leaves under your feet as you walk through the woods, there is something so nostalgic and lovely about getting away for a few days to a cabin somewhere. Airbnb is usually my go-to for looking for little cabins to get away to. Do you have any faves to share?

Spill – do love fall as much as me? What’s your favorite autumn adventure?

Many thanks to Backcountry.com for supporting us on our adventures. Note: some of these links are affiliate links. Like always, we’re keeping it real. All opinions are our own, like you could expect less from us!

The post 10 reasons why fall is the best season for adventures appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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[princessnadthefegit]

09072017 (8.46pm)  And so I am finally updating this shitty ass blog after so so so long. Here’s a number of things that I’ll be updating about. 

1. My separation with R 

2. My newly built relationship with K 

3. My internSHIT life  

Update:  (1)

I am finally over and done with R since like months ago. I guess things just could not work out, and I apparently could not do it any longer. I could not bear going another day having to torture myself with my thoughts, and the things that have been left unsaid. 

I was more than disappointed that I felt very excluded in everything he did, especially his commissioning parade as a third sergeant. He only sent me a mirror selfie of him, and NOTHING else. What else could be more disappointing? Apart from that, he just broke me deep down. 

He went clubbing with his ‘depressed’ friend, who tried to kiss him, not once, but twice. Instead of spending time with me, he decided that his ‘friend’ was more important than me, and that I just was not of any priority, and that he’s better of without me. 

He only said whatever he needed to say when I was going to leave. I almost went crawling back to him feeling so fucking helpless but I didn’t thanks to K. 

I am thankful that I am finally done and over with him. He never deserved the best of me, when he couldn’t even make time for me. I should never have given my heart, when I knew he was gonna trample all over it, and pretend nothing ever happened. He told me, he’d love me till the end of time, but I guess he was just kidding.

He doesn’t, and he never will. 

Update: (2) 

“Things are looking up well finally.”

Definitely true. Things have looked up, and I am beyond happy that I have finally found the happiness that I have been looking for. I am in love, with my own friend of my own clique, and I do not have any regrets. 

This guy, who is currently my boyfriend of almost 3 months, is Khalis. He is an amazing guy, who has a heart so full of love, and is so caring. He surprises me all the time, and I love it. 

He needs to know that I am very thankful and blessed that I even managed to even cross paths with him. He is truly amazing, and he really needs to remember that. No matter what happens, I still find myself falling back into him; it’s like, I can never go a day without him. Even when I get angry, it’s still him that I seek comfort in. He is my boyfriend, and I love him. 

I love him to bits. I love it whenever he hugs me and just showers me with so much love. I do not deserve this much love, but he has proven otherwise. He has shown me the true meaning of loving someone so much it hurts. 

I can’t believe that we have both opened up in such a short period of time, but yet I am so happy because I’m beginning to feel that this is the guy I will marry in maybe 6 years time? I can see a beautiful future with this guy, and that I just cannot lose him. 

I love you, Khalis Rahim. 

Update: (3) 

Internship has proven to be tougher than expected. I initially thought that it wasn’t gonna be so tough.... But the environment that I’m working in tests my patience half the time, and the people I’m working with are all two-faced. 

I am drained beyond words by the time I end work because it just sucks up so much of my energy.... It’s crazy how I’m always trying to hang on but I CANNOT because life gets tough sometimes and you just want to hibernate forever. 

I have decided to not continue anymore at the clinic I am working in, because I am so sick of the people there, it’s like I’m being used as a slave there, and it just does not feel right. I do get blamed for things I don’t do wrong sometimes, and the whole clinic will talk shit behind my back so I do not want that anymore. And if you think, my work is easy, then it is not. My job consists of basically ‘certifying’ a patient to whether they are able to work or not. Sometimes, some people think I am making things hard for them, but no really. 

I do not wish to be doing what I am doing, because it is really really tough and I hate it. I just cannot see myself working at this clinic and I am drained out I have no more energy left to survive so pls gimme a break ok. 

[thebrotherswholoved]

Day One: “Chill Out!”

Everyone loves winter. Right now, the snow is falling in gentle flakes, piling onto the pavement below and forming a impeccable blanket. The sounds of the world are blocked out for miles, the weather barricading the boys inside a bubble all their own,

If only they could enjoy it.

The snow might be falling in heaps, but Sam can’t see a fucking thing inside the windowless bunker. They’re a few feet underground and the cold just accumulated over the last three days and nights of below-freezing temperatures. The warmth should be blocked in...if they had any to begin with.

The silence is exclusive to the world outside. Sam is about to rip his hair out after the same abrasive noise of the heater trying its best—it’s grating and eating away at his sanity.

The cold he can handle, and the noise is bearable. It’s the confinement that’s banging at his head with a jackhammer. Not only is he trapped by the Snowpocalypse, but he’s isolated with Dean.

God, the man eats too loud and too frequently, snores next door to his room like a hibernating bear, and keeps sliding around on the wood floors with his “Send Noods” socks. He refuses to brush his hair and has begun throwing a bounce ball up at the ceiling to see how many times it’ll strike both surfaces, and this heathen is driving the moose up the fucking wall.

He’s reading his fifth book in a couple days in the study and trying not to tear the pages out when Squirrel comes bounding into the room, bag of peanuts in hand. Crowley’s nickname makes a lot of sense, actually.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” he beams. Well, until he miscalculates his velocity and rams into the table stomach-first. Groaning like a drama queen, he remembers why he’s there and forgets about the incident.

“Yes, Dean?” Sam grits his teeth.

The older smiles, and Sam swears his Adam’s apple is choking him. It’s too bright. “D’you wanna go outside?”

Sam lets out a ‘psh’ and returns his eyes to his book, but not after rolling them. “In this? Are you out of your mind?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Dean climbs onto the table and sits cross legged in front of his brother’s book. They’re so close, he swears he can smell Sam’s hair mousse—which smells of vanilla spice.

He shuts the book as slowly as he can with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Do you wanna go outside?”

“No, Dean, I don’t.” Sam sighs, putting the journal in his lap. “I don’t feel like getting hypothermia and losing feeling in my face, thanks.”

“Oh, chill the fuck out,” Dean snorts at his own joke. He then grabs his little brother by the arm and tugs him from his chair.

Sam is reaching his breaking point. He can almost feel the smoke coming out of his ears—like that which is supposed to be coming out of the furnace. “Dude, I swear...”

“Please?”

“Will you shut up if I go?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Fine,” Sam mumbles, shrugging on a coat. He points a gloved finger at Dean and narrows his hazel eyes. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes, I swear.”

•••

Sam shivers and feels goosebumps crawling up his neck. He’s slicked in a cold sweat and his face is bright red, which contrasts his white knuckles and probably blue fingertips. He’s as close to the bunker wall as possible, hoping he can suck some of the friction heat up through the stone.

Dean, however, is having the time of his damn life. There’s snow in his hair, which is falling into the foot tracks he made when he raises his chin to the sky and catches snowflakes on the tip of his tongue. Head still looking toward the grey-white clouds he catches Sam’s gaze and curls his lips into a smile. All the younger can do is exhale with a chuckle and let the more forbidden warmth do a futile job keeping him alive.

Quick as a bullet, Dean is falling to the ground in laughter while Sam wipes the snow from his face. He has good aim and hit his little brother smack between the eyes with a snowball. The shock and wet cold still digging his brain, he forgets about his assumed maturity and reaches down into the blanket of white below to repay the favor.

When he hits his older brother in the chest, he smiles in victory and struts back to his place beside the wall. His triumph is short lived, and that’s evident in Dean’s smirk after he throws another snow missile and hits Sam between the shoulder blades.

And just like that, war is waged.

Five minutes passed fifteen minutes ago, which was about the time when Dean fell onto his ass and got assaulted in his moment of weakness. Now, their hands hurt and they’ve exhausted their early-thirties bodies for a decade. They don’t care that their backs are colder than the tundra, and they sure as hell don’t care that the position they’re in is rather peculiar.

Dean fell to the snowy ground first, Sam following soon after. The way they landed left them almost tucked into each other, curves and hips acting like magnets across the few inches between them in this winter wonderland.

Per usual, Sam moves first; except, instead of shuffling away from his attractive older brother in a haste and letting out an awkward cough like he’s supposed to do, he closes the freezing space between them and feels the warm fleece on the inside of Dean’s coat on his cheek.

He begins to wonder if he did the right thing—these thoughts are banished to the frozen over hell below when he feels gloved fingers gliding through his hair, wet with snow yet tingling with affection.

Sam gulps back his fear and feels it being replaced with the bile of anxiety and audacity.

“Is this wrong?”

To his surprise, his older brother laughs and lays a simple, lazy kiss on his temple, lips blueish pink yet almost like cotton candy.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“The only thing I wanna do is make a fucking snow angel.”

“We can do that, I guess. I guess moose like snow, huh?”

“Shut up, Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

HI HELLO YES I KNOW ITS TWO DAYS LATE BUT I FIXED IT!!

•

This year marks my third year being part of the supernatural family and my first christmas in the wincest fandom!! so, in honor of that, here’s a 12 10 days of christmas/holidays prompt list!

•

1. Chill Out!

2. Secret Santa

3. Mistletoe

4. Hot Cocoa

5. Pudding!!

6. Blizzard

7. Gift Mixup?

8. Christmas Past

9. Christmas Present

10. Christmas Future

•

Idk I’m hyped but Ill probably forget oops