#snowflake ss

[obscure-object-show-confessions]

I love snowflake from supernova specialization he is the best. I love shy characters who learn to come out of their shell. His friendship with Leafball is really neat :3

aw. he sounds really cool. im putting him in my mouth until he melts

[ynnova]

( 📱 ) y/n's and ateez's contacts

a quick look at your and ateez's contact photos and names for each other. plus a little description behind the names.

MY HUSBAND TO BE 💕 : you gave him this name because you always tell him how he's the perfect husband. the compliment always makes him flustered and so you can't help but call him your husband behind closed doors. despite how flustered it may make him, seonghwa loves it and would cry if you ever stopped calling him that.

my lovely wife : of course if you are going to call him your husband, then he has to call you his wife. he remembers so vividly that he thought you would be just a bandmate to him, and now . . . you're one of the eight loves of his life. if you said "let's get married" he would 1000% take you to the nearest courthouse.

my captain : pretty sure the other members also have hongjoong labeled as 'captain' in some form or fashion. you just like the thought of him being your captain. you also teasingly call hongjoong 'captain' whenever you want to mess with him. he usually assumes you want something when you text him "captain~ how are you?"

my muse 🌷 : you've always been his muse – even before he truly wanted to admit his feelings to himself. your presence has always been a source of inspiration for him. the contact name is also from his actually nickname for you, often calling you 'my muse' when the two of you are alone. the name always making your heart flutter.

my puppy 🐶 : the two of you have matching names for each other. this comes from atiny labeling you both as the 'puppy - cat duo'. you also tend to call him 'puppy' over text, especially when you're texting in the same room –  it makes his ears turn red.

my kitty 🐱 : if he's your puppy then obviously you're his cat. he thought kitty was a cuter contact name though, which explains the kitty part of the name.

my sangie ❄️ : the main part of yeosang's contact name is the snowflake. the snowflake next to his name symbolizes how the two of you got together in december right when it started to snow. you remember the two of you finally confessing and even sharing a kiss together as it snowed, so snow and december has a special meaning for you and your relationship with yeosang.

cherry blossom 🌸 : yeosang has you named cherry blossom because it was when you, him, and the others had went to see the cherry blossoms did yeosang realize his feelings for you.

my first love 🏔️ : a pretty self - explanatory name, but san really is your first love. he was your boyfriend, first kiss, first everything and so the name is very fitting for the male. his contact name has never changed since the two of you started dating back in 2018.

my love 🐯 : san has the tiger emoji next to your contact name because in his words is "the tiger is cute which matches you very well" . . . he also likes to change the emoji every once in a while, but the "my love" part has never changed.

my prince(ss) 💜 : semi - matching contact names. you both are the princesses of ateez and as such his names matches your duo name that both your other boyfriends and atiny like to address you by. you also like to call him "my prince" because of how he is your prince charming.

princess 👑 : you're his princess, what more explanation do you need for his contact name. you've got him wrapped around your finger that if you want to go somewhere, he's immediately putting his shoes on in order to take you.

my rock 🪨 : he's your rock because he helps keep you grounded. you came up with the contact name after seeing a thread on twitter by an atiny that talked about your and wooyoung's friendship. at this point in your life, you can't deny how important wooyoung is in your life. the soulmate allegations can no longer be denied.

sexy rock 🪨 : another pretty self - explanatory, you're wooyoung's rock and he finds you sexy. originally, your contact name was something else, but then he seen what you had him named and he decided to change it. wooyoung is convinced the two of you are soulmates and thinks the contacts names really help solidify that.

my baby bear 🧸 : you absolutely adore jongho and how he resembles a bear. it only makes since that his contact name relates to it as well. the younger male cringed when he seen his name in your phone, but over time he's come to love it – but he would NEVER admit that out loud. 

my cutie noona : don't let him fool you, jongho chose this name for you. however, he swears that you put this name in yourself. jongho will always have a soft spot for his cute noona as shown when you can get away with small moments of skinship in front of fans.

[1800miserablethot]

Wolverpool fanart I found (u snowflakes who r bitching about cred r fucking blind the @ is in the arts it’s just in Japanese so don’t u feel silly? Also these ss were of fanart that’s been reposted soo)

[afrokid]

heh…. you got any cg things for,,,,, cruel king,, heh,,,

🫂

now that ive played blocktales i can actually respond to this ask with some accuracy... so i present to you...

cg cruel king headcanons!!!

( i'm still getting a grip on his character so forgive me if these aren't too accurate. gif taken from the blocktales wiki! )

cares for you akin to how he rules his kingdom; with dedication, loyalty, and your best interest in mind. sometimes it's almost as if he can read your mind with how he tends to your needs so well, no matter how insignificant they may feel.

very kind and calm, never one to yell. if you're behaving badly, he'll pull you aside and gently correct you before letting you return to whatever you were doing before

his servants are your servants as well! he often requests they bring you snacks, toys, or whatever else you may need. some of them like to play with you too, but he gets a little jealous!

definitely a bit on the clingier side for a cg. loves to coddle and coo at you, give you so many hugs, or play with you 24/7. follows you everywhere like a puppy. he just loves his little prince, princess, or heir so so much!!!

calls you royal or wintery names. typically defaults to the classic prince/ss, but also calls you things like snowflake or slushie too!

watches you like a hawk to make sure you don't get hurt or anything like that. if it just so happens that you do, one of his servants will patch you up, and then it's cuddles all day for you!!

( ignore that this is a forsaken/dream game banner on a blocktales post i made this just now and i really like it )

[cutiecorner]

♡ Little Gotham: The Penguin and Mr. Freeze ♡

Trying out a new style of post to give the run down on how characters are in the dadfred & babybat universe (aka little gotham)! which has basically turned into an agere au lol.

The defacto caregivers of arkham

They kinda naturally took on uncle figure roles as the oldest of the bunch (freeze being ~50 and Penguin being ~60)

They both care deeply for the regressors/flips (riddler, ivy, harley, scarecrow, twoface, perhaps joker) in their own ways

Penguin is a much more permissible carer than freeze - he has no backbone when it comes to little ones. Staying up all night? Seems like a proper soiree! Sundaes for dinner? He does love cold treats! Wearing his suits? How positively en vogue!

Freeze is more of the rules guy. He's very logical and wants everyone to make wise decisions. The kids take great joy in melting his heart and making him read stories and such

They both love to tell stories. Penguin likes to recount operas he's seen (complete with singing) and Freeze knows the Nutcracker and a lot of Grimms fairy tales by heart

Penguin is good at winding the kids up. He knows how to get them excited and playing

Freeze knows how to wind the little ones down, he's the best at getting them to nap or relax

Penguin takes care of pigeons in his cell, and let's the regressors name them

Freeze sculpts things, he'll make trinkets for everyone to play with

When not in arkham, penguin loves to give lavish gifts to his little friends. He keeps track of things they want and surprises them with it when they're out of arkham

When freeze is released he comes back frequently to visit and also writes letters to everyone

Penguin loves to dress the kids up and bring them to parties. He will not hear a WORD admonishing them, they are precious little cherubs who can do no wrong, he's sure that table was begging to be set on fire

Freeze will meet up with folks individually and check on how they're doing

The Penguin is most fond of the riddler, Freeze is most fond of two face

Penguin and freeze call the regressors "the children" (even when not regressed)

Individually, penguin uses the nicknames prince(ss), darling, angel, fledgling, and chickadee

Freeze uses the nicknames, my dear, little one and snowflake

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Thirty: Toad In The Pond SS: 10 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 4.1 K Content Warnings: None? Previous Next Masterlist

Minho leans back in his seat, sipping on his iced americano, the soft hum of the car heater filling the space. Snowflakes flutter past the windshield as Hayun adjusts her scarf, taking a long sip of her hazelnut honeycomb frappuccino. She sighs contentedly, her earmuffs slightly askew, and Minho shakes his head.

“I need to understand your aversion to coats,” he says, his voice teasing but with genuine curiosity. “It’s freezing out there, but here you are. Bare legs and no coat. You’re dressed like winter Barbie.”

Hayun shrugs, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Coats ruin my cute vibe. I look like a marshmallow.”

“Yeah, because frostbite is such a good look,” Minho retorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, princess, a little practicality wouldn’t kill you.”

“Neither will a little cold,” Hayun quips back, taking another sip of her drink. “Besides, you’re my personal heater anyway.”

Minho huffs, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re impossible.”

They watch the diner from their vantage point, the windows fogging slightly as the heat inside contrasts with the snow-covered world outside. Hayun leans forward, peering at the entrance, and then settles back in her seat.

“What if we planted someone there?” she muses aloud. “Like Hyunjin? Hospitality workers live for customer gossip. When I worked at the café with Seungmin, we’d talk about the regulars all the time.”

Minho tilts his head. “Hyunjin, though? You think he’d blend in?”

“Hyunjin can blend anywhere,” Hayun replies with a laugh. “He’s like a chameleon with perfect bone structure.”

“Fair point,” Minho agrees. “But Seungmin working at a café? I can’t picture it.”

“Oh, he hated it,” Hayun says with a grin. “But he was great at eavesdropping, and his deadpan commentary kept me sane. I bet he’d love this plan.”

Hayun takes another sip of her drink and hums. “You know, this would be beautiful with some Bailey’s in it.”

Minho glances at her. “What’s Bailey’s?”

She perks up, animated now. “Okay, so before Etta passed, we celebrated my eighteenth birthday with a trip to the UK. We discovered Bailey’s. It’s this magical mix of Irish whiskey, spirits, cream, and flavourings.”

“Is it good?” Minho asks, intrigued.

“Good? It’s life-changing,” Hayun declares dramatically. “You pour it over ice, and it’s like drinking a creamy hug.”

Minho chuckles. “You have some at home?”

“Imported,” she replies proudly. “You better appreciate it when I share it. Shipping’s expensive as hell, but it’s worth every penny. I’m thinking of getting Chan a bottle for Christmas. He’d love it.”

“Fancy,” Minho teases. “Podcast money treating you well, huh?”

“Oh, you can’t talk, Mr. Fancy Car,” Hayun counters, smirking. “Besides, it’s the shipping that’s pricey, not the drink.”

Minho shakes his head with a grin. “You’re a trip, you know that?”

“I try,” she says with a mock bow of her head.

Minho shifts in his seat. “What if we did a big Christmas? My house and your house together. Sweet potato noodles, divine.”

Hayun wrinkles her nose. “Christmas roast is where it’s at.”

“That’s a Western thing, right?” Minho asks.

She nods enthusiastically. “Etta introduced me. Roast chicken, turkey, beef, gammon, vegetables galore, gravy, and- oh! Yorkshire puddings.”

Minho frowns. “Yorkshire puddings?”

Hayun lights up. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. It’s like this pastry thing, kind of, but not really. It’s an experience. You can put gravy on them, or apple sauce if you’re Felix or me.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“And toad in the hole!” Hayun adds, clapping her hands.

“Toad in the what?” Minho’s voice is incredulous.

“Toad in the hole,” she repeats with a grin. “It’s sausages baked into this batter. It’s delicious.”

Minho stares at her. “You’re making that up.”

“I’m not!” Hayun insists, laughing. “British food is weird, but it’s amazing.”

Minho shakes his head, taking another sip of his americano. “You’re a strange one, princess.”

“And yet, here you are,” Hayun teases, nudging his arm.

Minho’s lips curl into a small smile as he glances back at the diner. “Yeah, here I am. I can make beef Wellington, you know.”

Hayun groans dramatically, clutching her frappuccino like it’s a life raft. “Ooh, I might marry you. Forget the podcast, forget the plans, let’s just settle down and make beef Wellington together.”

Minho smirks, raising an eyebrow. “High standards, I see.”

“You’d be surprised,” she shoots back with a grin, tucking her legs under her on the seat. “Can you make any other British dishes?”

“Not really,” Minho admits. “Beef Wellington is just one of those things I got obsessed with once, and I nailed it. You?”

Hayun nods proudly. “Etta was half-American, half-British, and she taught me a lot. You want cottage pie? Done. You want bibimbap?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Expect a minor fire.”

Minho bursts into laughter. “Cottage pie?”

“It’s like shepherd’s pie,” she explains, already knowing where this is going.

Minho blinks, confused. “Okay, so there’s cottage pie and shepherd’s pie? What the fuck? What’s the difference?”

“Shepherd’s pie uses lamb mince, because, you know shepherds. Sheep,” Hayun replies, gesturing like it’s obvious. “Cottage pie uses beef.”

Minho tilts his head. “Okay, but why isn’t it called cow pie or farmer pie? Who comes up with this shit?”

Hayun freezes for a second, then laughs. “That… that’s a really good question. Cottage pie does sound unnecessarily fancy.”

“So, what actually is it?” Minho presses.

“It’s just meat and vegetables in gravy, with mashed potatoes on top,” she says. “I like being a little extra and putting cheese on the top.”

Minho nods thoughtfully. “I respect the cheese move. Tonight, you could make me the sheep pie or the cow pie.”

Hayun giggles. “We’d have to go shopping for ingredients.”

“Done,” Minho says without hesitation. “Or better yet, I want the toad in the well.”

Hayun snorts, nearly spilling her drink. “It’s toad in the hole. And that means you’ll get to try Yorkshire pudding too because it’s basically sausages baked into one giant Yorkshire pudding.”

“Deal. Toad in the hole it is,” Minho says, already starting to plan. “We’ll get the stuff after this.”

Hayun nods, sipping her drink again. “You’re really about to experience British cuisine, huh?”

Minho looks at her sideways. “Why is it called toad in the hole, though?”

Hayun leans back in her seat. “Something about how toads wait for their prey in burrows, with their heads poking out. Just like sausages peep through the batter.”

Minho stares at her, incredulous. “Why do you know that?”

She shrugs. “Read it once. Eidetic memory, remember?”

Minho shakes his head, smiling. “Yeah, that’s cute and all, but can we circle back to the fact that you, a native Korean, know how to make Western dishes but can’t cook bibimbap without setting something on fire?”

Hayun rolls her eyes, playfully smacking his arm. “It’s not that I can’t! I just don’t. It’s intimidating!”

“Intimidating?” Minho looks genuinely shocked. “It’s literally rice, vegetables, meat, and gochujang. You stir it all together.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Hayun grumbles. “I grew up on instant noodles and convenience store meals, okay? Western stuff was Etta’s thing, and it stuck. Bibimbap was not on the menu in rural America.”

Minho just shakes his head. “Princess, we’re fixing this. Tonight, toad in the hole. Tomorrow, bibimbap lessons.”

“Only if you teach me,” Hayun retorts.

Minho smirks. “Oh, I’m absolutely teaching you. And if you burn anything, you owe me.”

“Deal.” Hayun grins. “But tonight, you’re eating British food. Cheese-covered mashed potatoes and sausage-filled batter coming right up.”

“Sounds divine,” Minho deadpans. “Let’s hope I survive.”

Minho watches as Hayun shifts in her seat, her white mini skirt riding up slightly as she adjusts her position, wincing. “Two o’clock on the dot,” Minho says, glancing at his watch. “That’s one part of Mr. Shin’s schedule mapped out.”

Hayun sighs, leaning back against the seat. “Good. My ass is starting to go numb.”

Minho smirks, leaning closer. “I can smack it to bring the feeling back.”

“No,” Hayun snaps, glaring at him. “You did it earlier, and it still stings.”

Minho chuckles, unapologetic. “Can’t help it. It’s too tempting.”

Hayun groans, taking a long sip of her frappuccino. “You’re incorrigible.”

Minho hums in agreement, starting the car. “Now, let’s go get the toad in the pond stuff.”

Hayun turns to him, her brows furrowed. “It’s toad in the hole!”

“Right, right,” Minho replies, smirking. “Let’s go get the toad in the mud stuff.”

“You’re being patronizing,” Hayun accuses, narrowing her eyes.

Minho puts on his most innocent expression. “Me? Patronizing? Never been patronizing a day in my life.”

“Yeah, right,” Hayun mutters, rolling her eyes as Minho pulls out of the parking lot.

When they arrive at the store, Minho parks and leans back in his seat. “This better be good,” he says, side-eyeing Hayun.

Hayun gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Your lack of faith in me hurts, Min.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “A few weeks ago, you nearly burned my house down.”

“I can’t cook Korean food!” Hayun protests.

“You’re Korean!” Minho retorts, throwing his hands up.

Hayun huffs, crossing her arms. “Most of my foster families weren’t, okay? There’s a surprising number of Westernized people fostering Korean orphans. It’s not like I grew up learning traditional recipes.”

Minho softens slightly, but he doesn’t drop the teasing smirk. “Fine, but I’m holding you to this British masterpiece you keep hyping.”

Inside the store, Hayun grabs Minho’s hand, lacing her fingers through his as she pulls him toward the shopping carts. Minho looks down at her hand, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Dainty little hands,” he remarks.

“Patronizing!” Hayun snaps, tugging him forward.

“Me?” Minho feigns shock. “Never.”

Hayun doesn’t dignify that with a response as she starts loading the cart with ingredients. She grabs flour, eggs, milk, and a pack of sausages. “We’ll need these for the Yorkshire pudding batter,” she explains. “And I could make onion gravy to go with it.”

“You’re the chef tonight,” Minho says, letting her take the lead.

Hayun nods, grabbing onions, stock, and butter. Then she makes her way to the vegetable section, selecting broccoli, carrots, and green beans. “You’re my sous chef,” she declares, dropping the vegetables into the cart. “I’ve grabbed enough to make two toad in the holes in big dishes, so you can take one back to Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin.”

Minho stops pushing the cart for a moment, blinking at her. “You’re too nice.”

Hayun shrugs nonchalantly. “I know Chan misses stuff like this sometimes. He mentions Australia and his family a lot, so if I’m already making it, it’s no big deal to make another. I’ll give you instructions on how to make the gravy.”

Minho stares at her, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in his chest. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

Hayun smiles at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I know. Now let’s check out before you try to talk me out of it.”

As they reach the checkout, Hayun pulls out her phone, ready to tap the card reader. But Minho, quick as lightning, snatches it out of her hand. “Nope,” he declares, holding her phone out of reach.

“Minho!” Hayun whines, reaching for her phone, but he steps back, grinning.

“You’re not paying,” he says, effortlessly balancing the bags in one hand while reaching for his own wallet. “I’m still wooing you, remember? Besides, you’re making this because I asked for it.”

“So what?” Hayun huffs, crossing her arms. “Let me pay, you overgrown flirt.”

Minho merely chuckles as he taps his card to pay. “Not happening, princess.”

He grabs the bags and starts walking toward the door, leaving Hayun no choice but to trail after him. She sighs, glaring at the back of his head. “You don’t have to pay for everything, you know,” she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “You paid for my coffee earlier, too. Besides, I thought the wooing would end after we kissed in my bed.”

Minho glances back at her, a teasing glint in his eye. “The wooing doesn’t stop, even once we’re officially dating,” he replies. “But you’re right, I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”

That simple, sincere admission makes Hayun pause, her cheeks warming. She quickly pulls her scarf up over her mouth and nose, trying to hide her reaction.

Minho notices immediately, his smirk widening as he slows his pace to walk beside her. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is the princess blushing for big, bad Lee Minho?”

“Shut up,” Hayun mumbles from behind her scarf, refusing to look at him.

Minho laughs as they reach the car. He places the bags in the trunk, glancing over at Hayun, who’s already climbed into the passenger seat. Her scarf is still hiding most of her face, but he can see the tips of her ears, red from embarrassment.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Minho starts the car and adjusts the heaters, turning to her with a mischievous grin. “You know,” he begins, leaning closer as she fumbles with her seatbelt, “I think it’s adorable how flustered you get. It’s nice to know I can have this effect on you.”

“Minho,” Hayun warns, her voice muffled by the scarf.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I’m just pointing out how cute you are. It’s not my fault you’re so easy to tease.”

Hayun groans softly, pulling the scarf higher until it covers her nose entirely. “You’re insufferable,” she mutters.

“Am I?” Minho teases, his tone mockingly hurt. “But you still agreed to let me woo you. If anything, you’re encouraging this behaviour.”

“I take it back,” Hayun jokes, her voice light but muffled. “You’re terrible at this.”

Minho leans back, placing a hand on the steering wheel as he smirks at her. “Oh, princess, if you think this is terrible, wait till I start pulling out the real flirting. This is just the warm-up.”

Hayun peeks at him from behind her scarf, her eyes wide with mock horror. “This is the warm-up? God help me.”

Minho laughs as he shifts the car into drive, sneaking another glance at her as he pulls out of the parking lot. “God can’t help you now, princess. You’re stuck with me. And trust me, I’m not letting you out of this so easily.”

Hayun finally lowers her scarf slightly, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or else I’d kick you out of the car.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “I’m the cute one? That’s rich, coming from the girl who blushes at the drop of a hat.”

“Minho!” Hayun protests, half-laughing as she covers her face with her hands.

Minho chuckles softly, his eyes flicking between the road and her. “You’re going to regret letting me know how much you like this, princess,” he warns, his tone low and playful. “Because now, I’m never stopping.”

Minho and Hayun pull into the driveway of Hayun's house. The moment they step inside, Hayun kicks off her white Converse near the door, and Minho follows her into the kitchen, placing the bags of groceries on the counter.

Minho claps his hands together. “Alright, Miss British Cuisine Chef, put me to work.”

Hayun laughs softly, her cheeks slightly pink as she nods toward the groceries. “Okay, we’re making toad in the hole.”

At her words, a commotion comes from the living room. In an instant, Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix burst into the kitchen like excited children. Jisung’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “You’re making toad in the hole?!”

Hayun nods with a grin. “Yeah, Minho’s never had it, so I figured why not.”

Felix clasps his hands together, feigning tears. “Are we getting some, or is this all for him?”

“I’m making two,” Hayun replies, amused by their enthusiasm. “One for us five and one for Minho’s house.”

Jeongin leans against the counter with a wide smile. “Onion gravy too?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course.”

They all whoop in unison, their collective joy making Minho chuckle.

“Why are you guys acting like she’s making Michelin-star food?” Minho teases as Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix retreat back to the living room, clearly thrilled by the news.

“You’ll see,” Jisung shouts over his shoulder. “It’s a fucking masterpiece.”

Once the kitchen clears, Minho rolls up his sleeves. “Alright, boss. What’s first?”

Hayun hands him a cutting board and a knife. “You start chopping the carrots and broccoli. I’ll handle the potatoes.”

Minho gets to work, his knife moving methodically through the vegetables. “So, how do we do the veggies? Fry them?”

“Nope,” Hayun replies, peeling a potato with practised ease. “We steam them. For a dish like this, frying doesn’t fit the vibe. But we do have to boil the potatoes first to mash them. I add garlic cream cheese when I mash them.”

Minho freezes mid-chop, scrunching his nose. “Garlic cream cheese? In mashed potatoes?”

From the living room, Jisung shouts, “It tastes fucking divine!”

Minho shakes his head, amused, and keeps chopping. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Hayun finishes peeling the potatoes, dropping them into a large pot of cold water. She turns on the hob, adds a pinch of salt, and stirs it gently with a wooden spoon. “Potatoes are on. Now we need to make the Yorkshire pudding batter.”

Minho sets down the knife, grabbing the ingredients she’s already laid out. Under her watchful eye, he begins mixing flour, eggs, milk, and a pinch of salt in a bowl. His brows furrow in concentration as he whisks the batter, his arms flexing slightly. Hayun watches quietly, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she says.

Minho smirks, not looking up from the bowl. “Told you, I’m a man of many talents. What’s next?”

Hayun lines two deep rectangular dishes with greaseproof paper and preheats the oven. “Frying sausages,” she answers. “I’ll handle the bacon.”

Minho moves to the stove, heating a skillet and tossing in the sausages. As they sizzle, he glances at her. “Why do you need bacon if you’ve already got sausages?”

Hayun grins mischievously as she lays strips of bacon on another skillet. “You’ll see.”

Once the sausages are golden and fragrant, Hayun carefully wraps each one in the cooked bacon. She holds up one of the creations with a smile. “Pigs in blankets.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Pigs in blankets?”

“Yeah,” Hayun says. “Sausages are from pigs, and the bacon is the blanket.”

From the living room, Jisung’s voice rings out. “Are you making pigs in blankets toad in the hole?!”

“Yes!” Hayun calls back.

“I love you!” Jisung shouts, making Minho chuckle.

Minho carefully places the last bacon-wrapped sausage into the deep dish, arranging them evenly before stepping back. “Alright, chef. What’s next?”

Hayun grabs the bowl of batter Minho prepared earlier and slowly pours it over the sausages, the pale mixture spreading and filling the dish perfectly. “This,” she says with a grin, “is where the magic happens. The batter rises around the sausages to form a fluffy, crispy Yorkshire pudding.”

Minho watches intently, leaning on the counter as she pours the batter over the second dish. “How does it not just stay soggy?”

“It’s the heat,” Hayun explains as she slides both dishes into the preheated oven. “Super hot oven makes the batter puff up and get crispy on the edges. It’s science, Min.”

Minho hums, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Hayun laughs, setting the timer for thirty minutes and turning back to the counter. “Now, we start the vegetables.”

She moves to the steamer, arranging the broccoli, carrots, and green beans in neat piles in the baskets before setting it up over boiling water. Minho peeks over her shoulder. “Why do you look so precise doing that?”

“Because presentation is part of cooking,” she teases. “Now, check the potatoes.”

Minho lifts the lid on the pot and peers inside. “Why is the heat so low? Aren’t these supposed to boil?”

“They are,” Hayun says, washing her hands. “But we don’t want them done too early. Timing is everything when you’re cooking a big meal. We still need to prep the onion gravy.”

Minho crosses his arms, leaning against the counter as he watches her move around the kitchen. “I feel like I’m just here to be bossed around.”

“You’re here to help,” Hayun corrects, pulling out onions and beginning to peel them. “Now grab a knife and start slicing.”

Minho takes an onion and slices into it, glancing at her. “You know, you’re way too organized for someone who’s burned water before.”

Hayun rolls her eyes. “I didn’t burn water. I just forgot I was boiling it, and the pot went dry.”

Minho chuckles. “Sure, princess.”

They work in comfortable silence for a while, slicing onions and preparing the other ingredients for the gravy. Minho occasionally sneaks glances at her, smiling when he notices how focused she looks, her lips slightly pursed in concentration.

“You’re really good at this,” he says suddenly.

Hayun pauses, looking up at him. “Good at what?”

“Cooking,” Minho replies, gesturing at the organized chaos on the counter. “You’re like... competent. It’s surprising.”

She laughs, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks, I think?”

Minho smirks, brushing a piece of onion off his fingers. “It’s a compliment. Mostly.”

Hayun tosses a bit of onion skin at him, laughing when he flinches. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, slicing onions for you,” he replies with a grin.

They finish prepping the gravy ingredients, setting them aside for later. Hayun glances at the timer on the oven. “Fifteen minutes left. Let’s check on the batter.”

Minho crouches in front of the oven, squinting through the glass. “Holy shit. It’s puffing up. It actually works.”

“Told you,” Hayun says, leaning over his shoulder to look. “Yorkshire pudding magic.”

Minho straightens, turning to face her with a teasing grin. “You’re not allowed to look this smug.”

“I think I’ve earned it,” Hayun retorts, bumping his shoulder with hers.

Minho grabs the pot of boiled potatoes, draining them into the sink. “Alright, twig wrists, hand me the masher.”

Hayun snorts as she passes him the masher and a mixing bowl. “Jisung usually does the mashing because he insists it’s the most therapeutic part of cooking.”

Minho starts mashing with a dramatic flourish. “Therapeutic for him, labour for me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Hayun teases, opening the fridge and grabbing the garlic cream cheese. She scoops out a generous dollop, plopping it into the bowl. Then she adds a splash of milk and a pinch of salt. “Here, this will make it heavenly.”

Minho mashes a little harder, mixing everything together. “You know, you keep calling this heavenly, but I have my doubts. What’s so special about garlic cream cheese, anyway?”

“It’s magic,” Hayun replies, her tone almost reverent. “Trust the process.”

“You sound like a Pinterest board,” Minho grumbles but continues mashing until the potatoes are smooth and creamy.

Meanwhile, Hayun turns to the pan of onions sizzling on the stovetop. She stirs them, adding flour and stock to create a rich, aromatic gravy. The kitchen fills with the comforting scent of onions and herbs, making Minho pause mid-mash to sniff the air.

“Alright, maybe I’m starting to believe,” he admits, grabbing five plates. He starts plating up the mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables with precision, clearly trying to impress her.

Hayun glances over. “Look at you, Mr. Perfectionist. Do you want to be a chef in your next life?”

Minho grins. “Nope. I just like showing off.”

The oven timer beeps, and Minho sets down the last plate to pull out the toad in the holes. He carefully places one on the counter for his housemates and brings the other to Hayun. “Here’s your masterpiece, Princess.”

“Don’t call me Princess when you’re holding my creation,” Hayun scolds lightly, but she’s smiling. She quickly starts cutting portions, spooning onion gravy generously over each slice.

Minho picks up the pot of leftover mashed potatoes and takes a bite. His eyes widen. “Holy shit, this is actually really fucking good.”

“Told you,” Hayun says smugly as she drizzles gravy over the last plate. “It’s all about the garlic cream cheese.”

Before Minho can retort, Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin appear in the kitchen, lured by the smell of food. They immediately start peppering Hayun’s face with kisses, one on her cheek, one on her forehead, and one on the top of her head.

“Stop!” Hayun laughs, swatting at them half-heartedly.

The trio suddenly freeze, realizing Minho is standing right there. They all look at him like deer caught in headlights. Minho raises an eyebrow, casually eating another bite of mashed potatoes.

“What?” Minho says, smirking. “You all like dick. I’m not worried. Unless—” He turns to Hayun with mock suspicion. “Something I should know?”

Hayun laughs, raising her hand. “Vagina haver, right here.”

Felix groans, burying his face in his hands. “You’re insufferable.”

Jisung leans against the counter, grinning at Minho. “You’re actually not freaking out. Impressive. Most straight guys would be sweating by now.”

Minho shrugs, still munching on potatoes. “I’m comfortable with my masculinity. Plus, I’ve got the girl, so what do I care?”

Jeongin shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re cocky as hell.”

“Damn right,” Minho replies. “Now sit your asses down and eat. Hayun’s been slaving over this for you ingrates.”

Hayun rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. She places the plates on the table, and everyone gathers around, digging in with eager anticipation.

Minho takes his first bite of the toad in the hole and pauses, savouring the flavours. “Alright,” he says after a moment. “This is fucking amazing. I take back everything I said about your cooking skills.”

Hayun beams. “Thank you, Min.”

Jeongin raises his glass of water. “To Hayun, the best chef in the house.”

Everyone cheers, clinking their glasses together. Minho leans over to whisper in Hayun’s ear, “You might actually be winning me over with this cooking thing, Princess.”

She nudges him with her elbow, laughing softly. “Good. That’s the plan.”

"But you still can't cook bibimbap for shit,"

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy @skzstannie @nightmarenyxx @beaann

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

Happy Secret Snowflake Exchange @bookishbroadwayandblind! Here’s your Watford era, canon divergence story full of feelings, pining and a few crises over gift giving.

From the Heart

Rated T, Word count: 12k

Summary:

Gift Ideas

Wand Holster - Doubt he’d use it.

Stationary set - Am not his grandmother.

Mint Aeros - To replace the ones I’ve stolen? Not much of a gift. Also, too cheap and easy.

Sword - Why would he want another one? He has a bloody invisible one. How can you improve upon that?

Cologne - Too forward. Would he even wear it? Probably would think it was my way of telling him he smells.

Wii or DS? - Too expensive for SS budget. Also a terrible idea to gift him contraband. Fuck the Mage. How stupid is it that my roommate is allowed to have a sword and not a video game console?

I stare at the list, blinking and trying to figure out if this is what I think it is. Is Baz…he can’t be…is Baz brainstorming Christmas gift ideas? For me?

Read on AO3

[fantasyinvader]

I was thinking some more about Edelgard essentially gaslighting herself as she manipulates Byleth.

There’s the line in Edge of Dawn about how she feels she’s breaking free and for a moment she can just be herself, before it switches to Edelgard becoming the mask she wears. But looking at the text of Girl from Hresvelg, we instead get these lines (Thank you @Renisfan)

The light passing through stained glass

The silver candlestick glittering

The lined smiles are all so dazzling

I feel bounded by the place I belong

Scorched by the symbol of power

True face still hidden by the mask

JFC, right from the opening theme song they mischaracterize her. Looking at these lines, they have a different meaning. Edelgard at Garreg Mach, but there’s no mention of her being “finally me” while there. Instead, while she’s singing about her time at Garreg Mach it transitions to how her “true face” is still hidden behind a mask.

Now think about how the devs said they wrote Houses to support Silver Snow’s story. Edelgard’s death scene is titled “Death of the Flame Emperor.” Because of Treehouse’s localization, people believe that Edelgard’s Flame Emperor alt isn’t her “true self,” and that by supporting her players prevent her from becoming like she is in SS/AM/VW. But, then you look at the ending. Even if you S support Edelgard and she swears of hegemony, Byleth is still referred to as the “Wings of the Hegemon.” History remembers Edelgard as not just a hegemonic ruler, but THE hegemon. Likewise where history would give Dimitri the title of Savior King and Claude the King of Liberation, Edelgard is given the title of... Flame Emperor.

The Flame Emperor isn’t meant to be the mask, Edelgard the schoolgirl is.

Likewise, Girl from Hresvelg’s line about “Don't ever take back your kind hand Lest precious love slip away like time's sand,” instead goes “Just like the snowflake that fleetingly fades away, I hope my faint affection will reach you.” Not “Don't ever take back your kind hand Lest precious love slip away like time's sand” We have the localization changing the mention of the “small red flower” to a red rose, a symbol of love, and the route to Crimson Flower rather than Safflower, symbolizing attraction. The Girl from Hresvelg lyric isn’t that Edelgard is in love with Byleth, but rather she holds a slight affection for them. Affection, defined as “a gentle feeling of fondness or liking.” Edelgard feelings towards Byleth are slightly positive, and according to Hopes she’s drawn to Byleth due to their Crests resonating with each other.

The rabbit hole of this localization just keeps going deeper and deeper.

[sweettoothdom]

Conservatives are so funny, like, no one is more fragile, pathetic, and weak than a cishet white dude who thinks he’s apolitical. Truly made out of wet tissue paper. This was gonna come with an ss of some absolute loser snowflake crashing out on me because I dont like his favorite yt man, but he cried for so long the ss literally doesnt fit.

Someone needs to study these apes

[deepspace-mens-socialarchives]

Hello 👋🏼

Do you happen to have the message from Zayne when we got the collectible for affinity 10? It's the snowflake jar. I recently started the game and i couldn't ss in time 😔 and I can't find it anywhere online. Just thought I want to archive it myself but I can only found higher affinity collectibles but not this one. Thank you so much for all of your hard work archiving ❤️

To anon who reached out hopefully you get what you wanted here .

Hi ! Thank goodness my hoarder ass didn't delete the SSs because YES I do have them !

In fact I have them from two occasions. But they have account name of mine .

For your sake. Here's the unblurred name version.

Do with it the way you like

Thank you for appreciating my archive attempts

I have been feeling very sick lately hench not being active enough.

But I do have so many pending ones like zayne's late lunch ,eternal flower ,Rock cake from cuisine market , post chapter ending chat ,sylus's banquet eve , glowing handcuffs etc.

Hopefully I can edit and post them soon after I get better

Thank you. Take care .

[password-door-lock]

“What is this?” Unknown demands, giving the oversized cup a once-over. He does not appreciate the tacky snowflake print any more than he appreciates the fact that it is decidedly not what he asked for.

You shoot him a sheepish smile that he could really do without, before stabbing the sheer plastic lid of your drink with a large pastel pink straw identical to the one waiting for him on the dashboard. “You said you wanted something that would keep you awake.”

Unknown grits his teeth. It's like he has to spell every little thing out for you lest you should fuck it up— maybe he shouldn't really be surprised, considering he's had to deal with your antics for months now, but that doesn’t mean he’s pleased with your behavior. “I wanted an energy drink.” He may not drink them often, but they come in handy when he spends long hours on surveillance missions such as this one. 

“Oh.” You wrinkle your brow, looking genuinely apologetic. “I'm sorry. I wish you would have said something— hopefully this will be okay, though. It does have a lot of caffeine and sugar— plus, I got us some pastries, too.”

You brandish a box (also printed with snowflakes) which looks big enough to contain more than enough pastries for the two of you. “Next time, get me what I ask for.” He shouldn’t have to say that, but Unknown understands now that it’s better to err on the side of caution when giving you directions. 

“Of course.” You don't contest the fact that he never explicitly asked you for an energy drink, which, to your credit, does improve Unknown's mood infinitesimally. He’s not in the mood for an argument today, any more than he’s in the mood for… whatever you’re trying to give him now. “But, listen, this should give you enough energy to stay up until we're back at Magenta, anyway. And they're doing a promotion for winter— see the little flap in the cup? There's a plushie keychain behind it.”

“Next time, I'll go with you into the store,” Unknown decides, too caught up in his own thoughts to consider the new information that you’ve offered. None of the work that he got done while you were in the coffee shop makes up for the potential risks associated with leaving you to your own devices for so long. He sincerely hopes that the Savior doesn't look at her card history for this evening, because he has no interest in explaining why so many ridiculous things were purchased in the name of the Mint Eye.

You're not listening to him, either, already prying open the little door in the side of your cup to get to the plushie. Unknown is irrationally annoyed about this, and he stews in his anger as you withdraw the stupid little thing. “Aw,” you look dejected, which  comforts him. “Damn.” You might be annoying, but at least your pouting face is cute. 

“What's the problem, prince(ss)?” Angry or not, Unknown will never pass up an opportunity to mess with you.  

“I don't really like this character,” you confess, “Like, it’s fine, I guess, but I was hoping to get something else.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Unknown murmurs mockingly, reveling in your disappointment just as he indulges in all of your emotions. He really does enjoy his time with you, all things considered— but, then again, he never would have picked you if he didn’t want to be around you. 

“You should open yours.” Now you're giving him puppy-dog eyes, which has never been a particularly effective method in your dealings with Unknown— of course, that’s never stopped you before, and he apparently can’t expect it to stop you this time, either. “Please? It's already paid for. It would be a waste if you just left it.” 

Unknown considers this. As much as he doesn't want to listen to you when you try to give him orders, he is just a bit curious about what might be inside the cup. And you do have a point— it is already paid for. Even though he doesn't want it, if there's any enjoyment to be had from this irresponsible decision of yours, he may as well revel in that, too, before the Savior finds out what has taken place and limits his use of the Mint Eye credit card. Most likely, he'll no longer be allowed to leave you unattended with it. 

Whatever. It takes him a moment to get the stupid thing out of the little door— he ends up just ripping the extra bottom compartment off of the rest of the cup and tossing it on the floor of the car. He figures that you can clean it up later. He studies the prize— it’s just some plush cartoon character that he’s never heard of, though you seem to recognize it, if the way that your eyes widen as you study the thing is anything to go on. “What?” He demands, clutching the plushie in his closed fist. 

“Can we trade?” You ask sheepishly, holding out your keychain like you expect him to take it. “You got my favorite character.” 

Unknown finds himself grinning. He didn’t care at all about the plushie before, but he very much enjoys knowing that he has something that you want. He offers you a smug chuckle before clipping the keychain ring to his belt loop. “No,” he says firmly, “I like this one.” 

But his words and actions fail to have the desired effect. You just grin right back at him, silently clapping your hands as if pleased by his performance. Unknown stares up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he’s going to do with you. As if you can read his thoughts, you select this moment to be extra-annoying:  “Now try the drink,” you order, “I promise you’ll love it.”

[ambitionsource]

Stacked Deck: A Multimedia Secret Snowflake Gift

[ ♣️ The Outsider ] [ ♦️ The Anti-Hero ] [ ♥️ The Wild Card ] [ ♠️ The Star ]

Got in so deep to my gift it requires a master post, but that's fine because it gives me way more room to write a message to my beloved @charliezay. Maddi, my dearest one, when I got your name in SS this year I knew it was going to be a challenge. Not because you're hard to please -- you'd love anything, I know -- but because how would I encompass nearly five years of best friendship into one gift? Even so, I had to try, and so we ended up with this, a handful of gifsets and playlists made up of music we've shared and centered on our favorite blorbos (because of course, luckily and naturally, you and I have the same top four characters -- actually top 6 with Zay and Riley tied to boot). I tried to shoehorn in as much as I possibly could: our best babes, nods to Unpacked, showcasing the lovely song recs you give and how I really do appreciate them even though it takes me a thousand years to listen to them, Taylor Swift (naturally), purple (naturally)... and for your theorist, brilliant brain, I may have peppered in some Season 5 hints and nods into these, because I'm me, and because your enjoyment of digging in and using your keen eye is one of my most favorite things about you. (I also opted not to write something this year, because I know you get overwhelmed enough by how long the episodes are as is. Lol). So please take my humble offering, know that I love you with all my heart and soul, and I can't wait for more years of unpacking to come. 💜

[thecrazyworldbuilder]

I have this WIP setting about mechas which I am not being hyperfixated about but I do kinda like. It is unnamed for now but here's the introduction:

Alright so some work on the Mecha Project

The entire story is happening on an Earth-like planet. Turns out, biology is pretty rigid and Earth ain't such a unique snowflake as we thought.

Into the faaar g'damn future we send a stasis ship there, and arrive to a peaceful, unpopulated by sentient life planet. Name's pending but I think of something like New [insert name].

The planet is ruled by the United Sol Alliance (USA, on purpose) and is now beginning to build an eco-friendly high-tech civilization. Generations have passed but, due to a part of the huge information tanks being damaged, a part of Earth history and a lot of physics/inventions catalogues are lost, thus rendering humans on the new planet a bit uneducated on some matters.

The three continents of the planet are populated and everything is pretty much utopian. Clean air, alien life is quite similar to Earth's (four legs, fur, skin, general biology), trees also use chlorophyll but are toxic due to other not so pleasant chemicals, though it ain't much of a problem.

Then the Invasion began.

From outer space, unpredicted, came hard to spot ships with little to no electronics or energetic signature. Crashing on the surface, they started letting out the Kaiju.

These creatures are called just that - Kaiju - in tribute to the old Earth fiction. The thing though is that they aren't natural creatures; Engineered by some other species, they are living war machines meant to consume genetics of other species and use them for creation of new and newer lifeforms. This Kaiju Horde instantly becomes a threat to the human colony.

The first months of the invasion things were only heating up. Some human cities were destroyed, population slain. In return, alien motherships were targeted by hardcore artillery. But while humans were great in the distanced combat, easily sniping down huge beasts with absolutely wild railgun tech, they were helpless up close.

The kaiju could easily scale the distance between them and the human forces, beginning bloodshed in close quarters combat. Huge, muscular beasts perfected to destroy any creature or tech, they succeeded in putting down entire platoons of the USA (actually I might rethink that name).

Then there came a solution, seemingly out of nowhere. During one of the fights, a construction worker beat the beast to pulp using a non-battle mech meant for moving weights. Instantly labeled hero, the dude inspired the human forces to start the creation of war mechs.

So the arming race began. The mechs were slow as shit when on manual control, so they had to invest into neural linking. The PHIL link (Personal Helmet Infolink) was created and was truly still a complete mess. It was sensitive to any thought of the user, may you think of lemons or steamed hams, the helmet would try to interpret commands even when it doesn't have to and had bad lag which proved lethal.

Next went the RING, AMP-1 and AMP-2 links. Those were proven superior to both PHIL and manual.

The mech tech itself improved over the years. Beginning with bulky hardbodies, it evolved into sleek and agile softbodies which were highly capable of close quarter combat. Sooner or later, the profession of a mech pilot became very useful and high-paying.

For now, the human colonies on the three continents are split, but the times are a bit more easy on the front. The kaiju motherships (which act as factories) are far in the land, in the sectors beyond reach, and fortifications are built to hold them back.

That's attabout it. Here's a repost of the link and mech types:

MECH TYPES Softbody S Armored Softbody AS Clam C Hardbody H Semisoftbody SS

LINK TYPES RING (Redirecting Implanted Neural Gate) AMP-1 (Amputee Mech Personel Type 1) AMP-2 (Amputee Mech Personel Type 2) PHIL (Personal Helmet Infolink) Manual

An interesting parameter in mechs is the (neural) feedback.

It is the proprioception of the driver with the mech, the feeling of the mech's body and where it's bodyparts are. Manual mechs have no proprioception, so do the PHIL ones on the older models (new models at least provide a projection of the mech's pose for the driver to reference from).

RING has the best feedback sensitivity meaning the driver with a RING link make best DES and SPD (speed) builds. AMP-1 and AMP-2 are both roughly equal in feedback sensitivity, with AMP-2 being bit better due  to larger portions of the driver's limbs being "phantom", thus linked with the mech. PHIL is completely dogshit in providing feedback as mentioned before, and manual is equal to sitting in a tank and wondering what was that noise that just hit the left side of the hull. Yet feedback isn't tied to the link type but the mech type.

A hardbody mech has little to no feedback. It does count the angles under which the joints are bent and all that but those sensors can be easily broken, giving wrong info or none at all.

A softbody mech is best in providing feedback. Literally having a neural mesh that has sensitivity and allows the drivers to feel "touch", it also provides best proprioception and agility.

Other mech types are varying in feedback providing.

[usafphantom2]

SAC Crew Dogs: How I Ended Up at Loring AFB, ME

Learning the Loring Shuffle, Check. Seeing -40F, Check. Wear shorts in the spring when the temp was only +40F, Check. Finding out what a Black Fly was, Check. See a moose, Check. See a bear, Check!

We used to say, “What are you going to do? Take away my Birthday? Put me on Alert? Send me to Loring? Sorry, been there, done that, got the T-Shirt!

As a SAC Boom Operator in training, they asked me to list, in order of preference, what bases I would like to be stationed at. They called it the Dream Sheet. You could choose any base you wanted, but they would still send you where people were needed. There really wasn’t much you could do about it, except to lean into it and accept the fact that you were probably going somewhere you normally wouldn’t choose.

I decided to short circuit the system by just choosing the base I figured they’d send me to anyways. I just put Loring AFB at the top. My motto at the time was, “Low expectations will get you everywhere.” It worked too. I knew it would be a terrible place to live, because everybody told me so, but it was only a ten-hour drive from home, so visiting home would be easy and not too expensive.

Of my initial training class of twelve, three of us went to Loring, and the fourth showed up a year later. Leaving California, I drove cross country, stopped at home for some leave time, and I arrived at Loring in December, just in time for the fun.

So, what was I in store for? A lot. I was told once that Loring receives around two hundred inches of snow per year and I have no idea if that number’s accurate, but I do know they get a lot of snow there. The temperatures would drop, and the wind would howl. The plows created monstrous piles of snow that were easily thirty feet tall. Streets became like tunnels due to the snow piled up on the sides.

The parking lot at the Base Exchange (BX) has a very slight slope to it, and in the winter, any slope was something to view with caution, because there was always ice and snow everywhere. Everybody learned to walk in such a way as to not fall and it was called the Loring Shuffle. It wasn’t anything special, you just kind of shuffled along (not to get into politics, but kind of like how our current fearless leader walks.)

I was driving in the BX parking lot, and I saw somebody walking around the back of their car to head into the store, and they had obviously forgotten they were at Loring in the winter, and just a like a cartoon, I saw this person slip, go completely horizontal, hang in the air for a moment, and then fall to the ground, in a very painful way. I couldn’t help it, even though I knew it could and would happen to me, I remember laughing and thinking “Dumb *ss.”

The temperatures could drop very low at times and once, while I was doing a mid-tour Alert changeover, I had to head out to the airplane by myself, at night, when the temperature was -40 ambient, and -80 with the wind chill. For some reason, I didn’t have my heavy gloves with me, so I put on my flight gloves. I got out of the truck and went to the airplane, opened the door, installed the ladder, climbed up, then found my bag, grabbed and reversed course to get back to the truck. The total time outside, maybe three or four minutes, but when I took my nomex gloves off, my hands were white, like they’d been freeze-dried.

When it got colder, down below 15 degrees, it didn’t normally snow. It was too cold. On one of these very cold nights, we were at the NCO Club, and when they finally kicked us out and we went outside, the snow was at least knee deep, but it wasn’t normal snow. When you attempted to walk on it, it just moved out of the way, like fog. The snowflakes were two inches wide and were super lightweight. You could have plowed with a leaf blower. I’ve never seen anything like it since.

Once the ground froze solid and was covered with a solid base of snow, you wouldn’t see it again until late spring. They had a lot of four-way stop signs because it was very common for people to slide through the intersection. You’d hear the horn, and watch somebody slide right through and think, “Dumb *ss, must have just gotten here.” But it wasn’t just the noobs who would slide through stop signs. Sometime, the polished ice before the stop sign would be fifty yards long and if you were going more than five miles per hour, you were going through.

They didn’t use salt on the roads. Too cold, but they did use sand and that would help. And when it got really cold, the snow would get crunchy and you actually had good traction in a car, or when walking (as long as you didn’t hit a patch of ice.)

Of the three of us that showed up together, one of my buddies had purchased a 4-wheel drive Chevy S-10 and when we had snowstorms, if we weren’t busy, the three of us would hop in his truck and head out to see what was going on. It was probably a foolish thing to do, like a Hurricane Party, but we did it often (there were lots of blizzards) and we always had a blast. We usually got stuck once or twice and just dug ourselves out and continued. We had a lot of fun doing that.

As you would expect, snowmobiles were a big thing. I bought one and had a lot of fun with it. They had groomed paths that were like roads. Rumor had it that if you crossed over into Canada, they could take to snowmobile trails all the way to the west coast. In Maine though, there were no speed limits, no helmet laws, and no drinking while sledding laws, and we took advantage. A typical trip involved heading out to a local lake, visiting a restaurant to warm up and have a beer, and then head out to the next lake, which would have its own restaurant. You did have to be careful on the lakes because they would get frost heaves, where the ice would shift and rise, sometimes up to a foot. If you were unlucky enough to be headed in the wrong direction it was like hitting a brick wall, and we had a few people who were injured that way.

If you were to think of any normal task you do and think about how long it took to do, at Loring in the winter it would take at least twice as long. The car had to be warmed up, if it started. Walking to your car took longer because you didn’t want to end up on your *ss. Pushing a shopping cart full of groceries to your car? Yeah, fat chance, better drive up to the door. Same thing on the airplane too. Getting to the airplane, warming up the airplane, doing the pre-flight, all those things took much longer to do, and it made a difference.

During the winter, the roads covered with snow would naturally be straightened out by the drivers. When spring came along, it was like everything moved. You couldn’t cut the corners off of curves anymore because if you tried to drive over the grass, you’d sink into the mud. When the rivers started to thaw, ice flows were always in danger of getting blocked and causing severe flooding. Overflowing rivers with huge chunks of ice weighing many tons were extremely destructive and had no problem tearing down bridges, houses, or anything else that got in their way.

When the temperatures got into the 40s and 50s it felt so warm, people would wear shorts. I know, crazy right, but it really did feel warm. And then… the black flies appeared. Those little bastards would bite you, but you wouldn’t feel it, until you felt the blood running along your skin. They were very small, and the bites didn’t hurt, but they were relentless. We called the Black Fly the Maine State Bird.

The cold weather, long hours of darkness in winter, and the isolation had another side effect though. People would hang out together. The boom operators would hang out together often, not just the single guys, but the married ones too. We were drawn together by the circumstances, and we got to know each other. The squadrons were closer too. We always had something to share because we were all stuck and if nothing else, you could always talk about the weather.

For all the suffering the weather created, going to Loring AFB was probably one of the best decisions I’ve made in my entire life.

Photos:

My 67 Mustang frozen solid

My buddy’s truck, spinning all four wheels on the ice

The runway and main taxi way at Loring in the winter

@tcamp202 via X

[thedarkmistress16]

Take this anon ask as a free excuse to ramble about some of your lesser shown ocs!

awh you~!

Honeybee/Phoebe Kya from X-Spy series (an original concept insp. by X-Men and Nanoha- mutant spies, basically)

she was born from me fucking around in X-Girl, lol. and here's how I redesigned her outfit later on (I'm always tweaking her design):

Wizard 101 elemental classes as personified characters/mages (i never got around to figuring out their school uniforms that's why they have no clothes. I need better names for ice and storm too 🤦):

ice would have frost in her hair in crystalline or snowflake desgns, perhaps some bows with long ribbon tails, and storm would have yellow streaks in her hair in zig-zag patterns like lightning strikes for ref., since I didn't show it here ⬇️ you can imagine it. I'm still in love with Pyra's literal flame hair ❤️‍🔥

and how they looked when I played around in SS 3.0 later on when imagining them in senshi fuku:

(i have a whole cheesy plot for this like how they're freshman wizards and they dorm together and have to learn to work past their differences in order to join together to defeat baddies like a saturday cartoon show with silly spell cards and enchantments and just-gah my fave concept 👌)

how i hc'd an APH Ireland because he didn't show up in the series:

wears green cordoroy

magical friends

jig dances

wears four leaf clovers in his hair

cheerful disposition (like Veneziano)

rambuncious drunk (usually drunk by default)

heavy sleeper

secretly loves skittles

weilds magic powered by rainbows

basically england but WAY nicer

And as a bonus:

a very impromptu, sloppily-colored aph oc 🤗💝

[choicesmc]

I am not yours Not lost in you Although I long to be Lost like a candle lit at noon Lost like a snowflake in the sea (In the sea)

– I Am Not Yours arr by David Childs

Perfect lyrics for Alessandro!! The song itself is a romantic one that laments the singer’s inability to reciprocate another’s affection for them despite wanting to. I think this fits Alessandro to a T. He wants to be lost in the romance of romance. He wants to be swept away by some Prince/ss Charming but… not really! It’s the idea that enchants him and what he adores for, not the reality of it!!