#unseasonable snow

[awkward-parabuteo]

A little snack to conclude the season 🐭

[chaoscommittee]

Today's small bliss: the space heater I bought for my office. I'm COLD

[61below]

I spent SIX HOURS smelling my beautiful cassoulet stewing (read: beans and pork and bacon ends and wild rice sausage and chicken) and I finally ATE IT but the tragedy here is I cannot eat another bowl bc I am now a STUFFED GOOSE

[rannadylin]

Oh! I have a favorite cartoon for this!

I'm curious:

rb for sample size, you know the drill.

also, please tell me your local stock comments for small talk about the weather.

[comicaurora]

Why did ignans decide to colonise the volcano in the first place, before they’d Adapted to its heat and fumes?

After the Nightless Day, the planet's seasons were notably thrown out of wack for a few years, and the island and other northern locations suffered from what they called the Long Winter where the cold lasted for multiple years and escalated to bitter, deadly temps in the heart of winter.

The people of Rakhn had once built their home around the Fireseed, relying on its influence for unseasonal warmth, but after the awakening of Fire, Rakhn in an earthshaking instant was transmuted from a simple island to a boiling caldera of fury that only sought to subsume the Fireseed into itself, and the Fireseed's firemage priestess in the same moment had become a humanoid pillar of awakened flame. She warded off Rakhn's efforts to consume the Fireseed for three days and nights of battle that tore the island apart in catastrophic eruption, driving the rest of the people to shelter in the shallow waters around the island. The priestess raised high obsidian walls in defense of the ancient shrine, drawing it away from the forming caldera that sought to consume her people's only source of warmth in the bitter winters.

Nobody knows exactly what was said or done between them, but at the end of the three days, Rakhn's eruption ceased and the priestess returned to her human form to tell her people that the Fireseed was safe, and its warmth would be theirs to shelter in. But Rakhn himself was to be left alone, as he had become something new, with dangerous whims and moods and no attachment to the shape or structure of his island, and the fireseed sheltered in the core of his caldera.

But this had all been long ago, and as the long winter deepened, the fireseed could not warm the island's soil. The freeze was tightening its grip.

To survive, the people finally worked up the nerve to petition Rakhn with a deal: he would let them shelter in his heated caverns until the Long Winter ended, and in return they would provide him with something new every day - a new song, story, physical work of art, etc. Rakhn agreed. He stilled his volatile rumblings and even paused his eternal war with Winter so that the collateral damage would not destroy the fragile beings that now called him home. In exchange, they broadened his horizons.

The people quickly learned that ephemeral creations like songs and stories were the way to go, because Rakhn admired physical works of art, but after the first blush he would immediately burn them for the joy of seeing how they changed in the process. The children saw this as an absolute win, but the adults found it rather disheartening.

Cold years crawled on. Bundled-up hunters would venture out onto the slopes, then quickly return to the safety and warmth of the caves. They adapted to life in Rakhn's domain, basking in the Fireseed's radiance and power.

Then came the day that the snow melted, and the ground softened and sprouted again. The people were overjoyed to walk under the sun again. But compared to the radiance of the Fireseed, they found it cold and inadequate. The plants and animals thrived, but the people did not. They had become too much something of the fire down there in the dark. Now the lack of it sickened and drained them.

Their emissary returned to Rakhn with another petition. He did not ask Rakhn to return to their previous deal; he knew Rakhn's patience was pushed to the breaking point already, having to still his destructive nature to shelter them for several long years. The people did not ask for his shelter this time. They only asked for his warmth. Rakhn was a destructive force, temperamental in his moods; they could not ask him to forever become the sort of guardian force that would never harm his own. Instead, they would build structures of their own within the deep places of the island, harness the lava, build their own way to live with the skills they'd refined over the Long Winter - and if he chose to knock it down, they only asked to be able to build it back up again.

Rakhn considered how much more boring his life would be without these little mortals, and set his price. Once a year, every year at the onset of winter, the people would honor their first deal. They would shelter in his halls and regale him with stories, so they never forgot the deal they had made that joined their fates so inextricably. It was a small price to pay for the hearth.

[ldydeath]

I Belong To You | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

BIGBANG APRIL CHALLENGE - APRIL 30TH

Summary: You've been keeping a secret from your husband and decide to surprise him on the encore night of his Korean concert. Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: 18+, MDNI, unprotected p in v, mentions of pregnancy, established relationship, lots of fluff Author's Note: I can't believe today is the last day of the challenge. I am crying as I post this. Thank you to everyone who particpated in this challenge, I love you all so much. Hope you guys enjoy this, I decided to give my boy the fairytale ending he deserves to closeout the challenge. This is also kind of a part two to My Heaven but waaaaaaaaaaay in the future. You can check that fic out here. You don't need to read that one to understand this one.

“Are you sure you’re ok by yourself?” Jiyong pouted from your shared bed. 

You’d been sick for a couple weeks now, which was horrible timing. Jiyong had always loved having you attend rehearsals, video shoots, filmings, and concerts over the years. You’d become his life line when it all got to be too much. You’d missed the majority of the rehearsals, due to your illness but you’d sucked it up for night one of his tour. You’d both agreed after you’d gotten home and he’d tucked you into bed that you shouldn’t go tonight. It was unseasonably cold, the show being delayed due to the snow and Jiyong had had half a mind to send you home during the delay last night but you had insisted and he wanted you there.

“Yeah, I can always call someone if I get worse. Go. Have fun. Daesung’s already promised to FaceTime me so I don’t miss a thing.” 

Jiyong let out a sigh and leaned down to kiss your forehead, not wanting to catch whatever you had. He hated leaving you like this. He knew that no matter what you said, he would worry about you regardless. You were his entire world and any little small thing that bothered you bothered him too.

“I love you, get some rest.” 

“I love you too. I won’t move from this spot, I promise.” He chuckled at you before climbing out of bed. He paused at the door and frowned. “You’re going to be late, Ji.” He sighed as he turned, exiting the room. 

Once you were sure he was gone, you slid out of bed and practically ran to the bathroom. You only had about an hour to get ready and get to the venue. What Jiyong didn’t know was that you weren’t sick - not really, anyway. Sure you were throwing up every five minutes and food was against you, but it was because you were pregnant. Jiyong was finally going to have his dreams come true and you couldn’t wait to tell him. 

You’d had this planned for weeks now, missing rehearsals to coordinate with Youngbae and Daesung on how exactly you’d be surprising him. It was going to be cute, it was going to be flashy, it was going to be very Jiyong. You just needed to get there and sneak backstage without being noticed by your ever observant husband. 

You got out of the shower and pulled up your phone, a missed FaceTime already and a text. 

You must be sleeping. I’m at sound check and wanted you to see the set up so I could see the crowd better. I’ll send you the video in a few. I love you.

As you finished reading a new text popped up, a text from Jiyong with a video. You clicked play, watching him on a scooter as he zoomed around the stadium. He would. You let out a giggle, shaking your head. 

You’re crazy, Dragon. I love you more. 🖤

You got ready quickly, Jiyong’s glam team would be doing your hair and makeup once you arrived since you’d be on camera. You just needed your outfit. An easy choice, since everyone would be in “I love GD” shirts. You’d had yours modified to say the same but instead of GD it said GDBD.

The car was waiting once you entered the garage of the apartment complex and you slid in. You knew Jiyong would be finishing up his outfit and you prayed he didn’t try to FaceTime you before the show. Thankfully, he didn’t. Steve, your personal security detail was waiting when you pulled up and escorted you into the stadium. The sound of your husband's voice filled the cool night air and you smiled as you made your way to the warmth of his suite.  

Thankfully his evening would be filled with quick changes and he wouldn’t be back in here until the show was over. You opened the door, your friends waiting on the other side and you smiled as you saw Youngbae and Daesung. It was weird that they knew you were pregnant when Jiyong didn’t, but it was all part of the master plan. 

“Hi Y/N” Daesung greeted, pulling you into a hug. Youngbae followed suit. 

“The video is ready?” You moved further in the room, setting your back down before taking a seat. 

“Yes. We’re gonna do a couple songs and then when Jiyong asks what we should do next that’s your cue. The video will play and then you’ll take the stage.” Youngbae confirmed. 

“Perfect. I really appreciate you guys being a part of it.” 

“Hey, you’re family. Have been for a long time.”

You nodded, the glam team getting to work on your makeup. You’d met all three guys when they’d first started out in the industry, covering their first interview as a group . You and Jiyong fell for each other that day, you’d been inseparable ever since. When he’d proposed to you all those years ago nobody had been shocked. 

You’d somehow found time to get married between his solo tour and military services and now that you were pregnant it was like the final piece of the puzzle was finally complete. 

An hour later it was show time, the guys kissed your cheek as they headed out and you waited until Home Sweet Home was in its final verse before heading to your spot. There had been too much planning for it to be ruined by an accidental spotting. 

“What should we play next?” Jiyong teased as the crowd cheered.  Daesung and Youngbae looked at each other with a hint of mischief in their eyes. 

“What about Yeorobun?” Daesung sang with a tease. Jiyong laughed and just before Youngbae could retaliate the video started playing. 

Jiyong looked on confused as he saw a video montage of him and you with a cut to a sonogram phone and the words coming soon. The crowd began cheering like crazy and that’s when he saw you. You were here. He should’ve known you’d be here no matter what. The confusion on his face turning to a grin as he ran over to you. 

“You’re pregnant?” He whispered. You nodded.

The tears Jiyong had been fighting to hold back all night leaked from his eyes as he pulled you in for a hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly as he picked you off the ground, spinning you around. 

“I’m going to be a dad!” He yelled into the microphone as he placed you back down on the ground, his arm staying firmly wrapped around you. 

The crowd cheered around you both and you let out a laugh, turning to wipe the tears off Jiyong’s face. He took his hat off, hiding his face as he let the emotions consume him, his hand squeezing into your arm. He’d wanted this for so long and was finally happening. All he’d ever wanted was you, to spend the rest of his life with you, and to have a family with you. All of his dream were coming true. 

“Congratulations Hyung!” Daesung’s voice boomed from the mic as him and Youngbae crossed the stage. 

Jiyong laughed, removing his hat and shaking his head at his friends. Both men wrapped their friend in a tight group hug before pulling you in for a hug, Jiyong watched on with a grin on his face. 

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Dragon?” Youngbae asked as he pulled back from the hug. 

“Excited, nervous? Tired.” You joked. 

Jiyong smirked as he pulled you into his side, his lips brushing against the top of your head. 

“We have a couple more songs, are you staying out?” You shook your head at your husband. “Say bye to Mrs. Dragon everyone!” 

The crowd cheered as you left the stage and you were met backstage by hugs from the crew, Chaerin, and Jiyong’s parents. You all watched together as the guys played some old classics, a small smile on your face, wishing another member had been able to make it out. 

Once the show was over Jiyong practically ran of the stage only to be stopped by the crew to congratulate you, his eyes frantically searching for you and he grinned when he found you. Your back was to him, talking animatedly to his mother. Jiyong could only imagine what you were talking about. He excused himself from his crew and came up behind you, arms wrapping protectively around you. He smiled to his mom before leading you away from the crowd. 

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, so many things he wanted to do to you, but there was still so much he had to do. Between the group photos and meet and greets he found himself getting antsy to go. Even if going was to an after party he wanted to skip all together. You refused when he whispered the idea to you between photos. This was his return to the stage after 8 years there was no way he was missing his after party.

That’s how you found yourself sandwiched between him and Youngbae as a cake was presented. Jiyong was taking it easier than he usually would at a party like this, your mind flashing back to his album release - he’d drank for you both, you’d just found out that morning you were pregnant and had fed him some line about being too full to drink. You’d only kept it a secret for so long because of how badly he wanted to be a dad. You knew first trimester miscarriages were common and didn’t want to get his hopes up. Tonight has been perfect though, you were almost out of the woods and now he knew and was doing his best to not drink. 

Jiyong did his best to make his rounds and thank everyone for their support but all he wanted was you and to celebrate the only thing that really mattered. 

“Let’s go home?” He was hopeful, his eyes big and wide as he practically begged you to leave, causing you to laugh. 

“Alright, let’s go.” His hand slid into yours as he led you out of the party and into the awaiting car. 

The ride home was silent, Jiyong still so overcome with emotions his mind was swirling. He’d already planned out the penthouse remodel in his mind, counted every space that needed to be baby proofed, knew exactly what type of mural he wanted to put in the nursery by the time the car was parked in the garage. The good thing was, you were already going on tour with him so the remodal would be done with minimal disruption to your everyday life. He couldn’t wait to tell you all the ideas he’d come up with.

His arms wound their way around your body as you entered your home and you smiled as you leaned into him. It felt like a weight had been lifted now that Jiyong knew you were pregnant. He led you through the house and towards your shared bedroom, guiding you onto the bed. He unwound himself from you as he slid out of his jacket. He hovered over you, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. 

Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. You needed him and Jiyong was happy to give you all of himself. His hands trailed down your side, stopping at the hem of your shirt and slowly lifted it up and over your head. You followed suit, removing his shirt and took a second to take in his appearance. 

He’d been slowly getting back into concert shape as he called it, his muscles more prominent now than they had been a few months ago, his tattoos popping in the light. Jiyong smirked as he noticed your stare.

“Like what you see?” 

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him back to you. 

Jiyong’s lips were back on yours, his tongue darting out, begging for entrance. Your lips parted, your tongues meeting in a dance. His hands slid down your body to your waist once again and he carefully removed your pants, his fingers toying with the fabric of your panties. You moaned into his mouth and he smirked as his lips moved from yours to your neck.

He sucked your neck gently, not enough to leave a mark, just enough to taste your skin as his lips glided across your skin and down your body before trailing back up to your lips. He slid your panties off, his finger sliding past your slick folds. He swallowed another moan and your hands moved hungrily to his jeans, undoing his button and fly as you pushed his pants down. 

He inserted another finger as he pumped inside you, and you moaned at how hard he already was as you cupped him through his boxers. You pushed his boxers down, his cock springing free as you wrapped your hand around him giving him a couple pumps. 

“Ji, please. I need you.” You begged against his mouth. 

Jiyong, always eager to please you, positioned himself between your legs, he entered you slowly, inch by inch and moaned as your walls tightened around him. He removed himself completely, his tip hovering just outside your entrance before he entered you again just as slowly as before.

Jiyong thrusted in and out of you slowly, your back arching to meet his thrusts. His lips stayed connected with yours, his arms propping him up. His movements were slow, deliberate, and filled with so much love. Your fingers clawed at his back, urging him to move faster and he did. His hand slipping between your bodies, his finger rubbing small circles around your clit. 

You swallowed each other's moans and he brought you closer to the edge. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on, not when everything felt so good. Your fingers clutching to his skin like he was your life line as his hips bucked against yours faster.

“Come for me, Aein.” He mumbled against your lips.

That was all it took for you to come undone, your walls clenching against him as your orgasm finally hit in beautiful waves. His finger continued to rub circles around your clit as you road it out, his thrusts getting faster. He removed his hand as you collapsed onto the bed and with one final thrust he came inside you. 

He collapsed on top of you, his head buried in the crock of your neck and he left a trail of sloppy kisses on your skin. 

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin, “I love you so fucking much.” He carefully pulled out of you, coming to rest at your side.

“I love you too, Ji.” You rolled onto your side to face him. His arms wrapping around you to pull you closer to him. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to be a family!” He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of his dreams coming true. 

You reached up, wiping the stray tear from his cheek and gave him a gentle kiss. This was everything you’d ever wanted. Seeing Jiyong so happy made you happy. You knew he was going to be the best father, he was already the best husband. You’d really hit the jackpot with him.

“You’re going to be such an amazing father, Jiyong. Our kids are going to be so lucky and so loved.”

“I’m going to quit smoking…and drinking. I want to be here for you every step of the way. I know it’ll be hard with the tour, but I’m not missing anything.” You chuckled and kissed him again before sliding out of his arms and out of the bed.

Reaching for your robe, you slid it on and walked over to the closet, pulling down a box. It contained the sonogram photo and a bracelet that you’d gotten Jiyong when you found out. Handing it to him he raised a brow at you before opening it up. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at the photo. That was his baby. 

“That’s our baby dragon.” He whispered. 

You nodded as you moved to sit beside him, taking the bracelet out and handing it to him. It was a cheesy little “World’s Greatest Dad” bracelet but to Jiyong it was everything. He took it from you and slid it onto his arm, the same one that had his red string. 

“I’m going to live up to this bracelet, I promise.” 

"You already have."

He pulled you back to his side, his hand still holding the photo as he wrapped his arm around you. You two were his whole world and he was going to do whatever it took to keep you both safe and to make sure you only knew peace and love for the rest of your lives. Jiyong hadn’t always been dealt the best hand in this life, but you’d always found a way to pull him out of the darkness. Now was his turn to show you just how much you meant to him, forever. You were giving him the greatest gift - the gift of life. A gift he’d thank you for for the rest of his life.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @flymetothexmoon @sherrayyyyy

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[flawseer]

On Mudwing Culture

My last deliberation on Seawings and their eccentric insult vocabulary seemed to be well-received, so here is another one of my headcanons:

Mudwings are seriously into food.

I know, pretty revolutionary take when there is only a handful of named Mudwing characters, and two of them love eating so much that it either almost or entirely eclipses their personality.

But Clay and Ochre are not what I am talking about. This isn’t about a love of eating (though many Mudwings admittedly do have that). I’m suggesting that, out of all the tribes from Pyrrhia, Mudwings are at the forefront of food preparation and culinary innovation, to the point where a large part of their culture revolves around it.

The State of Food Preparation on the Continent

Pyrrhia as a conglomerate of different cultures largely sustains its populations through hunting and gathering. The average dragon, when the hunger pangs set in, will make a hasty trip into the nearest forest, cave, or scavenger den and round up some prey animals. In most cases, this prey will go straight from the talons to the mouth, or, if the hunter is a bit more forward-thinking, into the pantry, and then from talons to the mouth.

There are a few variations of this practice; Skywings may give the carcass a quick roast on an open flame before eating it, Sandwings may dry the meat out so the excess moisture does not upset their internal water balance, Rainwings will prefer fruit over meat. Icewings will nearly always consume their prey raw and unseasoned, as their extremely delicate palate is easily overwhelmed by intense flavors that may be released through cooking.

More complex forms of food preparation seem to exist mostly outside the scope of the general populace. The practice of “cooking” appears to be limited to the ranks of aristocracy, with dedicated cooks only found within the court of a queen or in private households of other high-born individuals. It creates a sharp divide between commoners and social elites, between the wealthy and (as Sea Queen Coral once put it so succinctly) the “eel-eating masses”. All exemplified through the differing standards of food.

And yet somehow, standing in stark contrast to everywhere else on the continent, nearly every Mudwing-- from the most low-born runts of the Diamond Spray Delta to the most decorated head advisors in the Queen’s palace --knows how to cook, and will do so regularly.

Why is that, and how did it happen?

Historical Benefits of Cooking

Most things that form the backbone of a culture usually start with some ancient practice that was useful at some point in time and then, as people kept doing it, eventually got absorbed into public awareness and became “the way things are done”.

Mudwings face a unique challenge compared to anyone else, as they are the only tribe whose combat prowess is significantly affected by their environment, specifically climate, weather, and temperature. Sure, you can take any dragon, drop them into an unfavorable climate, and they will generally perform worse than under normal circumstances. But the unique weakness of Mudwings is that they lose their breath weapon when they get too cold. Place an Icewing into a burning room and they will still be able to use their frost breath. Pluck a Sandwing from their dry environment and drop them into the humid, sweltering hell of the jungle, their natural weapons will still function. But make a Mudwing cower between two piles of snow for a while, and their internal fire will go out quickly.

As you might imagine, this is a bit of a liability when you have to defend your territory from Skywings hiding and scheming among the frozen peaks bordering your country.

So the ancient Mudwings had to figure out a solution to their conundrum, and what they came up with was this: They got a large pot and filled it with water, threw in all manner of meats, plants, and herbs, whatever they could find where they were holed up, then boiled it until it was good and filling. The hot food in their bellies helped them stay warm even at high altitudes and allowed them to stand their ground against the northwestern invaders.

Soon it became tradition for troops to share a hotpot the night before battle, and a rich variety of hearty broths and stews developed from there, as these were simple to make from scraps and could be reheated easily. The practice became so popular, the Mudwings kept doing it even during peacetime. Soon, in addition to the hunting of prey animals that was commonplace, Mudwings began to cultivate vegetable gardens to have access to a more stable supply of ingredients. Eventually, their growing understanding of agriculture allowed them to grow rice, which was especially well-suited to the abundance of wetlands found in their territory. Everyone was cooking now.

The Role of Food in Mudwing Society

If you ask several Mudwings which core values represent their tribe best, many would likely put forward some variation of “camaraderie”, “family”, or “loyalty to your sibs”. They are a very social people who form deep bonds with those whom they grew up with, and one of the most direct ways to grow close to someone is to share your meals with them every day. As such, the preparation and consumption of food is a vital part in maintaining cohesion between members of a Mudwing sibling group.

Every one of these groups will have a “Bigwings”, which is understood to be a combination of a leader and caretaker role. The Bigwings is aware of all of their sibs’ culinary preferences and needs and has all of the troop’s recipes memorized. When mealtime approaches, he or she makes the call on what kind of dish will be prepared and delegates roles and tasks to the troop. This is a daily exercise that builds the Bigwings’ authority and communication skills, and reinforces trust and familiarity between all siblings.

Next to the Bigwings is the Gatherer, which historically was a role assigned to one or more troop members who foraged for wild vegetables or hunted more prey if the previous communal hunt did not yield enough. While this is still true today, many Gatherers also maintain a garden or wet patch to source fresh vegetables or grain for meals.

And lastly there is the Communicator, which is a role usually assigned to the most social and charismatic sibling. The Communicator is vital for coordinating battle strategies with other troops, which, while very important, is not really all that relevant for this deliberation. What is relevant however, is the role they fulfill during peacetime, which is to set up joint meals between two or more sibling groups. This practice is critical for maintaining morale, as doing this regularly helps expand the troop’s palette and keep their Bigwings inspired. That way the troop’s collection of recipes stays fresh and innovative instead of turning stale and rigid.

Of course how much each troop values culinary exploits varies between individuals. Some Mudwing groups are outspokenly passionate about cooking and advancing their craft. They might view their work as an expression of art and get very upset or offended if you indicate that thinking about food is unimportant or a waste of time. Some extreme cases may even get angry at you if you waste ingredients or refuse to elevate a dish to its fullest potential by not seasoning it well or doing something else to ruin it. Other groups may be more relaxed and casual about food preparation, and a few might even not think about it much at all.

If a Mudwing invites you to dinner, it is paramount to figure out which of these groups they belong to beforehand, so you may get an understanding of how much of a threat this outing may pose to your health, especially if you are an Icewing or Seawing with a limited palate.

Is there any evidence for this in the books?

To my knowledge, there isn't much. Mostly because there isn't much about Mudwings and their culture in general. Across all the books, only one of them has a Mudwing protagonist, and the vast majority of it is spent in the Sky Kingdom, so his roots don't get a lot of exposure. Then whenever another Mudwing comes into the story, they tend to exit it very quickly after, without being able to share more.

I made this theory for myself largely in response to Mudwing culture being such a big question mark. I initially came up with it when I saw a Mudwing gardener in Escaping Peril and thought "That could be a cool direction for the tribe." The guidebook that released recently gave me some additional pointers with regards to a few of the looser points of this theory.

I'm hoping it is interesting, or at the very least entertaining in some way.

[chthonicathenean]

What is this, 1991?

Just got a "severe weather alert" for snow in the morning, and I just

ID: a gif of Kitty Forman from That 70's Show pouring alcohol into a blender while shaking her head.

[messenger-of-babel]

A Perfect Gift

Summary: Last minute Christmas shopping with Tim, and you can't decide what to get him. (Tim Drake x reader)

Word Count: 1.8K

Notes: Interesting posting schedule coming up- so be warned! I can't believe I didn't write more for Tim in Angstober?? Guess I'm gonna have to write him some unseasonal angst in the future.

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"Come on, surely you know what to get them." You laugh at Tim as you walk along the streets of the shopping district in Gotham, hands interlocked and swinging gently. He puffs out his cheeks, shaking his head defeatedly. "I do not. That's why you're here." he argues.

"Why don't you try getting them something they don't have? Something useful?"

"Babe. They're Waynes. There is not a single thing here that they need or haven't already bought themselves." he points out with a sigh, his blue eyes flicking over the boutique mannequins as you walk past.

You hum. "That's true." you say as you reach a hand out to pick some snow from his hair, the soft white powder beginning to fall from the sky once again. It had snowed earlier in the day, leaving everything in a blanket of white, but in true Gotham fashion it had turned to brown icy sludge within hours. "It just means that we need to find something that they didn't know they needed."

With a tug on his hand, you pull him into a store, bell ringing softly as you entered the warm display room. Little did Tim know that you were looking for something for him as well. He had been teasing you since the start of the month, saying that he had already picked out something for you and that you were going to love it. You had responded almost immediately, competitive and determined to get him an equally good, if not better, gift. However now it was only a few days before Christmas, and you were still empty handed. Not only that, but it was also going to be your first Christmas with the Waynes. Your family had decided to have a location Christmas, opting to try out a warmer Christmas for once and escape the cold grasp of Gotham. You had been invited, but who could refuse spending a Christmas with Tim?

You caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, studying his expression. He was chewing his lip between his teeth, eyes scanning the store anxiously. It was almost like you could hear the gears in his head turning, trying to scan for something that his brothers and sisters would like. You decide it's time to strike, pulling him in further with you.

"See anything you like?"

His eyes flick to you, but he only hums low in his throat. "I don't think Jason would like anything here. Dick might, but I don't know his sizes. And that watch over there," he points to one in a display. "I was going to get Bruce that, but Duke said he already got it for him. If we check the women's I might find something for Steph or Babs, Cass would probably not like anything from that section, it's not really her style. Oh, but Stephanie will probably get offended if I pick clothes and get it wrong, so definitely not that-"

You sigh as he rambles, the stress in his eyes resurfacing. You try to trace the store where he looks, hoping to catch sight of something that he looks at for more than three seconds.

The first store is a bust for you both, and you venture back into the cold.

You always had trouble with giving Tim gifts. Really, what could you buy for the son of a billionaire who had everything he could ever want? It seemed like the amount of trouble Tim was having with his family was the exact same issue you were having with him. You let out a sigh, anxiety building in your chest.

When you and Tim had first met, you weren't even sure if he liked you. You were study partners in university, who weren't even taking the same classes. Was sharing the same table at the same time in the library considered a first date? You couldn't even call it the talking stage, considering the library was pin silent at all times. If anything, the talking was done through small smiles and tiny nods. His first present to you had been before you had even been dating.

You had rocked up to the library for the new semester to pick up your textbooks and pay off the balance for it, only for the librarian to tell you that someone by the last name 'Drake' had come in earlier to pay for his and your own. Shocked you had piled them into your arms, not knowing who your mysterious donor was until you saw the sticky notes and familiar scribble on top. "Hope to see you around again this semester- Tim Drake.'

You had dated shortly into the new semester, and since then he had been the perfect gift giver. Six-month anniversary he got you an engraved tag pendant with the names of your close family members that lived outside of Gotham, after you had told him how you wished you could see them more. In comparison you had saved up for a watch that cost you around $200, and you had been really proud of it.

Yet that was crushed the first time you went to his place, and you saw the watch box of luxury timepieces, all engraved with nice messages. Most of them were from Bruce, but there was a nicely worn one (clearly a favourite) signed off by Alfred. Since then, you had felt this low embarrassment whenever he wore the watch you gave him. Despite your gentle protests he never took it off, even if it didn't go with his outfit that night or glinted garishly in the flash of the paparazzi camera. So, this time, you wanted something perfect.

As the evening drew on you had managed to help him get the perfect gifts for everyone, his arms slowly filling with shopping bags. You had suggested getting Haley something and gifting to Dick, so you had gone to a pet boutique and bought a new black and blue collar, with a sturdy lead to match knowing how strong she could be at times. You couldn't help but throw a scarf in there for her too.

Damian (who Tim was begrudging to get a gift for but still didn't want to leave him out) received some treats for Titus alongside a set of new sketching pencils since the youngest Wayne had been running out, yet too busy as Robin to refill them just yet. You both had taken a decent amount of time trying to remember what brand he liked, knowing that there would be a barbed backhanded comment coming your way if you didn't get the right ones.

Jason got a new leather satchel that would fit nicely on his bike and was weather proofed. You didn't expect more than a gruff thanks aimed in your direction, considering his aloofness (you weren't sure if he wasn't a fan of you in particular or if he was just uncomfortable being in the manor in general). But you snuck a notebook in there when Tim wasn't looking, hoping to win over the gruff brother.

'For when you have late stakeouts' you had written on the front, signing your name after. 'So, you can put down your writing, so you don't forget it.'

Duke got a new box of booster packs for the card game he was collecting, and thankfully your university friend let you know that the new series had just landed, meaning there was a good chance that Duke hadn't gotten his hands on it yet. Cass was given a year's membership to the Gotham City Art Gallery, which also allowed her to go late at night with fewer members of the public if she wanted a quieter experience. Steph and Barbara got given gift packs from the spa they often visited together, as well as a bottomless brunch in the new year at their favourite cafe. Alfred had been tricky, but you suggested a new tea set for his personal use. It was simple, white with very little flourishes, but you had gotten his name printed in fine gold on the teacups. Something that belonged only to him.

Then it had been trying to find something for Bruce himself. You had gotten stuck with that yourself. The most you had been able to do was settle for a nice handwritten card from the both of you, alongside a vintage bottle of port. Bruce could buy that himself a thousand times over if he wished, but it was the thought that counted, right?

Despite the thoughts that 'counted', you were still lost on what to get Tim for Christmas. You had run through everything in your mind, and everything he looked at. Yet his face was mostly indifferent as he focused on shopping for everyone else, making it near impossible for you to gauge his interest in things. Finally, as you were headed back to the pick-up spot so he could call Alfred, you dug your heels into the pavement. He bounced back lightly, your joined hands stopping him from going any further.

"Are you okay?" he asks, bags bouncing in his arms.

"What do you want for Christmas?" you ask bluntly. The stress was reaching its peak, surprising him be damned. You don't know you could face the embarrassment in front of everyone if you got him something that he didn't like. Tim tilts his head, eyebrows pinching together.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," you take a deep breath. "What do you want? there's not much I can give you that you can’t get yourself, or that the others aren't going to give you. So, what's one thing that I can give you that others can't?"

He takes a moment before putting the bags down on the ground and giving you a soft smile. He wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you lightly. "You."

your heart thuds at the proximity and the tenderness in his voice, his eyes searching yours. "And not in that way. I just want to spend Christmas with you. Make that house feel more like a home. Make the manor a little less haunted. That's all I could ever ask from you, silly."

he bumps his forehead against yours, making you chuckle breathily. His lips graze across yours lightly, but before you could lean forward there was a honk of Alfred arriving.

Tim pulls back, leaning down to grab half of the bags while you grabbed the others. "Come on," he gestures with a tilt of his head. "You can join us for dinner. Alfred makes the best Sunday roast."

As you watched him slide into the car, the ball of worry dissipated in your chest. You settled on a gift for him.

If home is what he wanted, then surely a locket of you two would be a portable sanctuary.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 136 (Twists and Turns)

The next morning, Heather woke to a fresh blanket of spring snow (must be Canada 😂). She was hit with another bout of nausea, and stunned by news that one of her vet techs, Rico Garrison, had been unceremoniously culled killed in a shock drowning accident in Dachshund's Creek. This left her down a tech and about to commit to a months-long rebuild of Buttercup Pet Clinic.

Despite the unseasonably snowy holiday and feeling less than stellar, Heather had to go to work to cover Rico's appointments. She felt horrible for her best tech, Kaori Hayashi, who had been dating Rico since late winter. They were even expecting a child, which meant Heather would soon lose Kaori to maternity leave, too. At least Thaddeus, her most recent hire, could help pick up the slack, but this was undoubtedly a tragic setback.

Despite the unseasonal snowfall, J Huntington came in with his dog, Archimedes, thanking Heather for her advice over working with Landgraab Corp. "I signed the contract to give them the company. They'll take care of straightening out George's books, and for the first time, my guys will get healthcare, so everyone's on board with the change."

Heather forced a smile. She didn't care much for things that would please Nancy Landgraab, but she knew a strong presence at the docks was important after everything they'd been through over winter. "I'm happy for you," she said, and it wasn't a total lie.

She returned home in mid-afternoon, finding her younger sister back from Henford in the living room. "Hey Hazel! How was Easter dinner?"

"It was great." She fiddled with the hem of her jacket as she sat on the sofa. "I'm sorry I got upset with you while you were away. I was freaking out about all the marriage talk, but I shouldn't have put that on you."

"It's okay," said Heather. "I'm not upset, but I couldn't tell you what you should do. What if I had said no?" (That option won the poll, by the way!)

"I would've been more upset," she admitted. "I'm not ready to marry again right now, but I want to be with her for a long time."

"Did you talk to Suri?"

"I did. She said she's been feeling like she needs to hold on to the important people in her life since she lost her aunt so suddenly, and I totally understand what she's going through. But it's too soon to get married. We want to live together first - just the two of us."

"Here in Brindleton Bay?"

Hazel nodded. "I like working with Alex Goth, and the deal's almost done for Suri to buy the Salty Paw. She said when the owners found out her grandmother was Clara Bjergsen they did their own renovations and upped the price, but once a deal goes through, I'll move in with her in the small apartment over the bar."

"There's an apartment over the bar?"

"Not much of one, but we're going to try to turn it into something nice."

"I'm happy for you, Hazel. And I'm happy you handled this so maturely with Suri."

"You didn't think I could, did you."

"I hoped you would."

"Are you sure you guys won't miss me when I'm gone?"

"The Salty Paw's only about fifteen blocks away."

They laughed together and Hazel smiled. "Thanks for everything, sis. You're the best."

Heather still wasn't feeling great as she tried to get a few chores done around the house. She'd started to feel like she was fighting off an infection; it was time to see a doctor, so she left Conrad at home with Lavender to visit her gynecologist.

But she came home in a daze, stunned by the doctor's diagnosis. She found Conrad and Lavender upstairs, chatting as Lavender tried to bargain for another story. "When you're five, we'll talk about a later bedtime, but until then, that's now. Time to get into your pajamas." Conrad's attention turned when Heather shut the bedroom door behind her. "Hey! What did the doctor say?"

Heather sighed. "Well, I have a UTI. But that, the nausea, the fatigue...they have nothing to do with the spider bite."

Conrad's face fell. "What's up? You're okay...right?"

"I'm pregnant. About seven weeks."

She smiled as his expression flipped from concern to ecstatic joy. "Heather, that's incredible!"

Lavender glanced at her parents with confusion. "What's pregnen?"

"It means you're going to have a baby brother or sister."

Lavender still wasn't sure what they meant. "I have a brother awreddy. Can it be sister?"

"We don't choose, sweet girl."

"I hope it's a sister!"

After tucking Lavender into bed they settled onto the sofa for a comfortable night in, but their movie was interrupted when Heather's phone rang. She checked the call display before she connected the call. "Malcolm? What's going on? Is Ash there?"

The line was quiet for a long time. Too long, and Heather felt the phone start to shake in her hand. Finally, she heard Malcolm take a breath.

"Heather...I...It's...Ash is missing. H-he's been kidnapped." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Sorry I buried the baby news, but I didn't have enough content to make a whole other post and I set myself another arbitrary deadline to get to a certain point in the story by a certain date. And Heather was supposed to learn she was pregnant later than this, but the mod-generated UTI sent her to the gynecologist and she/we found out earlier than planned. No offense to this very wanted baby but ASH IS MISSING!!

NOTE 2: @purplesimmer455 the way I couldn't react with the excitement I wanted to your meme share on Sunday knowing I paid homage to it in this very post ("What's pregnen?") and didn't want to give the truth away yet! 😅 Shout out to @matchalovertrait who also guessed this, and @changingplumbob who I think was thinking it when she asked why Ash's room had bunk beds. I made up a small fib about repurposing the tiny nursery space, but actually I still need it for the new nooboo!

NOTE 3: On one hand, it's very sad that Rico was culled when he's expecting a baby. On another hand, this is a setback on my likely-fruitless search for a five-star rating because now I have to train up a new tech! Tragic!!

WCIF Phone Poses: Unexpected Phone Call by @starrysimsie and Shocked News by @simmireen. I used @nataliaauditore-blog's iPhone 11 accessory in both poses.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil, is still snowing by you? 🌨️❄️❤️

No! It's unseasonably warm right now -- 60 F or 15.5 C. Very odd for February the 10th.

[oceantornadoo]

silence is how simon riley falls in love with you.

you’re a talker most of the time, cracking jokes and making small quips. talking about the mission ahead or giving orders to young recruits. you talk on the phone with your family back home, your low murmurs traveling under your door and through your walls. but silence is how he falls in love.

when the base gets its first snow all season, a cold december day, he watches your face grin towards the sky in the pure silence that comes when snow blankets everything. you stick out your tongue with glee, and he falls in love for the first time.

it’s a lonely january night, and you insisted on playing “fire crackling” youtube videos in the common room. something about it feeling like home, some insistent need within you that you play off as a joke. you fall asleep to the sounds of logs crackling and simon’s breathing, your cheek making contact with his shoulder. he takes in the silence, and falls in love again.

fast forward to valentine’s day, and somehow gaz and soap decorated the hallway while everyone was asleep. they slid valentines from secret admirers under doors, purely to stir up things around base. simon watches you step out of your room and bend down to read the valentine, all tired eyes and ruffled pajamas. he takes in the growing blush on your face and the silent pursing of your lips, as if you’re trying to hide a smile. he catches his own name in soap’s handwriting on the card, and now he knows he’s fallen hard.

it’s a sunny march day when he finally tells you. unseasonably warm, even for where you’re stationed. you convinced him to go on a morning run outside, taking in the birds chirping and the sounds of creatures stirring. you watch the sun rise together in silence, sitting at the top of a nearby hill. he takes your hand in his to get your attention, silent shock written on your face. slowly, so slowly it kills him and brings him back to life in a single breath, he raises it to his gloved mouth. he gives you all the time in the world to stop it, begging you to put him out of his misery. instead, you watch him give your palm a gloved kiss, feeling his warm breath in the roots of your body. you reply with a hesitant peck to his gloved lips, still not sure if you read his silence right. but you did - you always do. and that’s why simon riley loves you.

—

if any of the military logistics were incorrect pls ignore thank u! this writer has no clue how anything works, she’s just in love with ghost😗

[pricegouge]

missionary

nik x f!reader

cw: dubcon/noncon implied, but nothing happens here. religious talk from someone who doesn't know dick about it but that's okay cause the characters here don't either. abrupt ending. MDNI

sunlight filters through your curtains as you wake, a diffused sort of warmth that catches on dust motes and cat hair, paints them cream colored and soft. you sigh and burrow deeper for a few more minutes, ignore your looming sunday chores in favor of sleeping in a bit longer. you can't remember the last time the sun had beat you out the gate, the winter seeming to stretch past into your memory as far back as your childhood.

perhaps that's a little dramatic, but it's been a minute, so you climb out of bed only long enough to draw the curtains and let the thin morning light stream through properly before flopping back onto the mattress, letting your dry, winter skin absorb as much needed vitamin d as you can get before your stomach starts complaining about needed sustenance - though with how late you'd managed to sleep in, you can't even blame it.

your head's a bit fuzzy as you make your way to the kitchen. with the latest cold snap on its way out, the sudden temperature change had left your sinuses reeling and you'd had to resort to a little cocktail of otc drugs just to have a chance at sleep the night before. small price to pay, considering the light drip of snow melt you can see falling from your vantage point at the window, eyes unfocused as you zone out, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating.

it takes a few sips of the strong brew to fully realize what that means, opening your door in near disbelief to find the storm door isn't glazed over in ice, no steam spilling through the frame as your house attempts to heat the whole universe. it's still chilly, for sure, but it's not enough to deter you, leaving the door open for a spot of fresh air as you get to work fixing yourself breakfast, singing to yourself cheerily as you move about, your mood brighter than it's been in months at the barest sliver of sunshine. it's nice enough out you don't even bother to put a pair of pants on, the slight sting of early spring air so unseasonable and unexpected that you can't but relish it.

cooking is a messy affair. carefree. you go all out, pancake batter dusting the counter and your legs alike, broad strokes painted with messy fingers as you wait for your bacon to fry. you're distracted as you cut up an orange, knife slipping dangerously close past your fingertips because you can't help wriggling to the catchy song you've got stuck in your head.

once, twice -

"shit," you hiss, turning to run the cut under some cold water before you even fully inspect it.

you're prodding at the seams of your skin when you hear him, voice a low lilt sounding from your left which chills you more than the mid-winter air stirring around your bare thighs, more than the frigid font you've got your hand stuck under. your eyes find him immediately, watching you from the other side of the screen door with a hungry look about him, like he can't discern between you and the veritable buffet being plated behind you.

"you alright there?" he asks, accented and deep. he's not looking at the hand you hold over the sink, thin blood seeping down into the webbing of your fingers. his eyes trail down over your hip instead, lingering on your belly where the counter cuts into you, protecting your lower half from his field of view.

"can i help you?" you snap, unsettled by the sudden presence of a strange man on your porch and by the feeling his gaze incites, spiders crawling all over you.

he doesn't even bother to look chastised, a slick grin spreading across his broad face as he sniffs pointedly, lip curling. he's hunched over a bit to fit in your frame, too tall to be seen otherwise. "yeah, actually." with an elbow braced above his head, he flicks a pamphlet against your storm window to draw your attention. blue and green, calming colors for a calming message, no doubt. he wouldn't be the first missionary to grace your doorway, but he would be the most implacable, with his leather jacket and thick gold chain. you're no theologist, but you doubt the latter day saints would approve of this level of materialism. "wanna talk about god, but uh - that cut seems more important at the moment." he nods at your hand.

"right," you grumble, attention returning to the steady trickle of blood from your knuckle. it doesn't seem too bad, would just need a good amount of pressure to stem it and a few days spent wrapped up. "well, i'm fine - on both accounts, thanks."

"sure you are," he drawls, smile almost as greasy as his hair.

"i meant… i'm okay. i don't need -."

"you sure? i could help -."

"very sure," you snap, ripping off a square of paper towel from the dispenser next to the sink and twisting it into a ribbon which you wrap tightly around your finger. "see? got it covered, thanks. have a good one," you harp, stepping closer to shut the door in his face.

a mistake. one step, two. your toes feel the draft from the door first before it inches up your legs like creeping fingers and you remember your outfit just in time to see his eyes already darting down, expectant as you round the corner of your counter.

how long had he been watching you?

stepping back behind your cover, you try to make your voice as assertive as possible, know you've failed miserably when it comes out a shaky whisper. "i would like you to leave, please."

the man's eyes track back up to yours even as his elbow falls from where it's braced overhead, his callused palm scratching over your door frame as he trails it lower, lower. hardware of the handle jangling under the weight when he drops his palm heavily over it. "you won't let your lord and savior into your life?"

he doesn't wait for an answer, the door squealing on its hinges as he pulls it open. it's not quite necessary for him to duck through the frame, but only just - taller than you by nearly a full foot and broadly built. you back away from him on instinct and curse yourself when you realize this brings you further away from the knife block. the pamphlet skitters across the counter closest to him, a careless toss which you can't help but track, eyes catching on the smudge of red at the bottom corner. it's only then that you realize he isn't carrying any sort of bag, no stockpile on his person to dispense the good word to all his neighbors. you're also fairly certain missionaries have something against working on sundays.

you play along with the ruse anyway, fawning in your fright. "please, sir, i -. i'd love to hear more about… about -."

he cuts you off with no more than a look, eyebrow arching nearly as high as his widow's peak as he tilts his head condescendingly, his boots leaving a messy trail behind him as he stalks closer. "yeah? you need jesus, milaya? need to atone?"

"i -!" you don't make it any further before he's gripping your hip, spinning you until you fold over your counter, the hard press of his fly biting against your nearly bare cunt.

"that's okay, samka, the lord will forgive you for being such a little slut, prancing around in here for all to see in these tiny fucking panties." he snaps the gusset against you to prove his point, hairy knuckle brushing against your vulva before disappearing again. his full weight crowds into you, unbearable as it is inescapable. you can feel his breath ghosting down your neck, the scratch of stubble behind your ear. and yet - he doesn't kiss you, plants a broad hand next to yours instead, doesn't even flinch when bacon grease pops and splashes over the knuckles. "you know," he drawls, almost conversationally, as if the tableau before him has finally registered. "most people offer us food after inviting us in."

the distraction is such a welcome prospect, you don't even bother correcting him. "would you like some?" you ask, voice high and reedy with a manic sort of hope. "i have plenty, i could -."

you're cut off with a yelp when he crouches, enough so that he can span his palms under the crease of your ass and lift you the final few inches necessary to fully hinge your torso over the counter. his knees pop as he falls to them, the anticipated soft press of lips finally landing, directly on your core. he doesn't seem to mind the barier still in place, drags his hot tongue over the cotton to press it into your hole, gets a taste of you and hums, diffused as it is.

"yeah, i think i'll stay for a bite."

divider by @/cafekitsune

[syndrossi]

My town has been BLANKETED by snow which is STILL FALLING, and it's glorious. The white shock of it is just so pretty. And cold! But oh-so-pretty.

May I request a short snow-related drabble? Any verse. 🌨🌨🌨☃️🌨🌨🌨

So jealous of your blanket of snow! We've been unseasonably warm here, so pretty much all of our precipitation has been rain. BUT we are due some rain-turning-to-snow later this week! So in honor of snows past, and the snows to come, here's a short ficlet set some indeterminate time in the future (likely 6-8 months later than where we currently are in Resonant).

x~x~x

“It is snowing!”

Daemon opened bleary eyes at the accompanying quake to his bed as his younger son pounced upon it. Such early morning antics were usually more within Jon’s domain, with Rhaegar more inclined to lazy mornings, especially without lessons—and especially in the cold damp of winter at Raventree, where House Blackwood had eagerly offered to play host.

Daemon had happily indulged in the luxury of sleeping well past the normal hour for breakfast, Rhaegar a warm lump at his side while Jon went riding with Lord Blackwood’s eldest son and heir, Samwell. Even though the boy was nearly a decade Jon’s elder, his son had made fast friends with him.

“It is winter,” Daemon mumbled, debating whether to pull the blanket back over his head, but he made the mistake of catching his son’s eyes, which were bright with a joy that his more reserved son rarely showed. He sat up with a groan, and his hand was seized, his son dragging him to the window to pull back the curtains.

The ground, which had been hard and cold but bare the night before, was now blanketed in white, and heavy flakes swirled in the air, obscuring vision beyond more than a hundred feet. Wind rattled the glass panes of their window, and Daemon withheld a shudder, able to feel the cold through it, leeching the warmth of their bedchamber away.

These days he hated the cold more than almost anything, but he could remember the joy of frolicking in the snow as a child. That was the entire reason he had chosen to take the boys to the Riverlands, he reminded himself. So that they could experience the joys of snow free of the thick smoke that choked King’s Landing throughout the winter.

Daemon could remember his father playing alongside them, no less enthused about constructing grand defensive structures out of snow to crouch behind between salvos of snowballs.

“It is so beautiful,” Rhaegar murmured, looking almost mesmerized as he stared through the window. “So quiet.”

“For now,” Daemon said wryly. That would change as soon as the boys were outside. “Shall we dress and find your brother?”

Rhaegar vanished before he was even halfway through the question. Daemon dressed at a more leisurely pace, amused by how his son’s impatience shone through an unusually thin veneer of politeness. He used the time to explain the various games there were to play in the snow—in making snow dragons, and pelting one another with snow, and constructing forts of varying quality.

He knew both sons well enough to be certain that they would take such construction very seriously. The hatchlings, meanwhile, would pose an interesting complication—or element of warfare against opposing snow structures.

“Qelebrys and I can be your allies against Jon,” Rhaegar offered.

Daemon raised a brow at him in question. “That does not seem fair to your brother.”

The look he received in return was one of pity. “Trust me, an alliance is your only chance to emerge with any semblance of dignity.”

[shushmal]

steddie + cold ❄️

Eddie's in love with an absolute toddler of a man.

It's the first real snow of the season and Eddie thankfully got the tire-chains out yesterday—his beautiful, wonderful, usually super independent boyfriend, however? Did not.

So Eddie is being treated to the rare opportunity of being the hero today. Steve's got a shift in a couple of hours and there's several inches of unseasonable snow on the ground, and Steve had called and asked Eddie if he could give him a ride. Eddie—pleased that his usually super independent, infuriatingly-refuses-to-ask-for-help boyfriend has, for the first time, asked Eddie for something, finally—is happy to oblige.

And Eddie, being the best boyfriend he can manage, leaves a few hours early for Steve's house with a thermos of hot chocolate and the plans to make lunch with Steve before he takes him to work.

Of course, because Eddie is dating the world's silliest man, he pulls up to the Harrington house to find Steve already outside.

Still in his pajama pants. Building snowmen.

"Hey," Steve says, blinking at Eddie like he's confused. His nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold—or maybe from embarrassment. The snowman family is already four bodies strong and one of them has a messy pine straw mane of hair and is holding stick hands with the only plain, unadorned one of the group. "You're— Early."

"I am," Eddie agrees. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Thought we'd have lunch together."

Steve immediately brightens, excited. "Oh, awesome, I didn't even realize it was afternoon already!" He pauses, looking sheepishly at his art project. "Uh, let's go inside?"

Eddie snorts, "Sure, baby," and graciously doesn't comment on the snowmen. "You gotta be cold."

"Nah," Steve says. He does at least have on a jacket and gloves, boots. "Just, first snow, you know?"

"Sure," Eddie says, agreeable. Steve turns his back on Eddie, heading back up to the front door—his first mistake. "Gotta keep that childhood magic alive."

Because, if Steve's a giant man-child, Eddie is a public menace. Steve doesn't get a chance to reply, or really even two steps away, before the snow ball hits him square in the back of his head.

He turns back around, slowly, and the grin spreading across Steve's face is absolutely breathtaking. "You're going to regret that."

Eddie takes off shrieking, laughing, with Steve right on his heels.

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

What comic is the one where Len makes it snow for Barry?

It's from the short "Christmas: Cold and Fast" from the holiday anthology Tis The Season To Be Freezin'

On an unseasonably warm evening before Christmas, Len is ringing a bell dressed as Santa on a street corner calling for donations to help the less fortunate. A Banker Type makes fun of him, and Len steals his watch, but Barry zips in to take it.

The two squabble, Barry questioning whether any of the money is going to anyone who actually needs it, and Len explains that he was going to use it to hire some people to help him with something. He (after arguing back and forth over it for almost a whole page) convinces Barry to open a truck...

Which is filled with toys.

Len was originally going to sell them all, but he decided instead to give them to kids in need.

Barry then asks Len to give the people of Central City a Christmas miracle

by freezing the ice rink for the tree lighting ceremony.

Len agrees on one condition...

That Barry wears his Santa suit.

Barry races around Central delivering toys (Pretty much all Flash themed, which makes me wonder if he keeps a warehouse of his own merch...), then they meet up on top of a building to watch people skate.

(Yes, Len just jumped off the roof of five storey building. What a dramatic little shit.)

Also, there's a short in DC Rebirth Holiday called A Flash Christmas Carol that tells the story of how the Rogues and Flash started a holiday truce so Barry can make sure kids in foster care don't miss out on presents. This was Len's idea, and he gave up a big score to make sure it happened.