#Chilly Moose

[niblackfoods]

Bull Moose Chili Time

Bull Moose Chili Time: Spice Up Your Beef Chili

[anna-proxx]

☆ evening in camp ☆

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1882

a/n: my dear readers, this is my first attempt at a rdr2 oneshot here on tumblr, I started with something easy but will definitely add more action in the future. this right here broke my writer's block and for that i am grateful. hope this brings you some comfort whenever you need it.

It was a chilly evening, meek distant noise of nocturnal animals creating a peaceful ambience, along with the crackling fire nearby. The whole camp was already either asleep or holed up in their tents.

It has been a good day. Arthur and Javier successfully robbed a homestead, Micah was still locked up in jail and Bill brought a good catch from his hunting trip.

Javier sang and played the guitar by the campfire earlier and some people sang along. In general, this evening was one of those that made you feel warm inside.

The night sky was clear, stars peeking down at you as you wished your mare a good night, patting her neck and giving her a carrot before you'd leave her to sleep. That girl was dear to you and you showed her gratitude every day.

A small kiss on her nose and you finally turned around, admiring the full moon shining bright on the ink black sky. You walked across the quiet camp, careful not to make too much noise. You made your way straight towards the small light of an oil lamp in Arthur's tent.

He sat on his bed, slouched over his journal set on the table, writing with all focus. You smiled, feeling all the affection you felt for that man.

When you came close, he looked up from his journal, his gaze softening as he patted the place beside him. "C'm sit."

You sat right next to him, putting your hands in your lap as you gave Arthur a bright smile. He chuckled. "Ya done givin' that horse a g'night kiss?" he asked with a small grin on his face, returning his attention to the half-filled pages.

You slightly poked his arm with your elbow, a soft smile lingering on your lips. "She's like my family," you explained.

"I know. 'S cute."

You shuffled a bit closer, watching the pencil in Arthur's hand move swiftly. You enjoyed watching him write and draw, those idle moments always brought you comfort. And you had the honor to be allowed to watch. Arthur believed his drawings were nothing special but you knew better. His ability to draw details of an animal or scenery he saw just once from memory still blew your mind. You could barely recall such details, let alone draw them.

You quietly continued to watch, taking in every pretty letter he drew one after another. When he was done with the entry, he flipped the page and started sketching.

"What are you drawing?" you asked, watching the first lines of the sketch.

"A moose I saw t'day," Arthur answered, his voice calm and focused.

You continued to watch him and set your elbow on the table after a while, leaning your head against your hand. As always the drawing came out beautiful and you admired the authentic features of the animal that was looking up at you from the page. Arthur put the pencil aside and sighed, stretching his arms.

He then looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned back from the table and snuggled into the half-embrace, resting your head on Arthur's shoulder. His body was warm and so were his fingers that drew small circles on your arm.

"Ya tired yet, darlin'?"

You smiled at the pet name and slightly shook your head. "Not really."

"Do y'want me to draw s'mthing for ya?" Arthur offered, watching your face intently as you thought.

"Me," you eventually said with a small grin. He drew you all the time and you loved every each one of those drawings.

"M'kay." He shortly caressed your arm before removing his from around you, shifting in his seat as he took the pencil again. He slightly nodded towards you. "Sit there, wanna hav' a good look at ya."

You slightly moved away to sit at the other edge, still facing Arthur who turned his body towards you, bending his leg on the bed to lean his journal against it. You shortly ran fingers through your hair, setting strands over your shoulders, and straightened your back, ready to be his model.

His face was relaxed as he started sketching, the soft sounds of the pencil gliding over the paper filling the air between you. Arthur kept looking up at you regularly, a gentle smile on his face as he met your soft affectionate gaze.

There was silence between you two but it was comfortable, happy. The light from the oil lamp lazily danced over the left side of his face, highlighting his features.

He was beautiful. As you remained motionless, you thought about how often he put himself down, being completely clueless about how he looked in your eyes.

"You're so pretty," you said quietly, nothing but affection and genuinity in your voice.

Arthur looked up at you surprised, then got visibly flustered as he blushed and looked back down at the sketch, scribbling on. He let out a small low chuckle. "I ain't pretty."

You slightly frowned, displeased with him rejecting the compliment like that. "So I am a liar?"

Arthur looked up, for a short moment he looked like a clueless child trying to find the right words. "I ain't meant it that way..."

You couldn't hold back a smile. "Just take the goddamn compliment, Mr Morgan, it's not so hard."

Arthur softly huffed as he returned his focus to the sketch, seemingly uncomfortable. A sad feeling grew in your chest. He really had no idea, did he?

"Am I a good model?" you asked after a while of silence. You knew very well he could draw you from memory but this was easier and you enjoyed being the center of his attention in any way. Frankly, Arthur enjoyed studying your features as you sat in front of him as well.

Arthur smiled. "M'favorite."

After a few more moments, he took a few glances at you and back at the journal with a satisfied expression, putting the pencil away.

Your face lit up as you shuffled over, curiously peeking at the page. You were met with your own soft gaze staring back at you, every detail of your face in its place. It melted your heart how carefully drawn each line was.

You kissed Arthur's cheek, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. "Beautiful as always. Thank you."

"Yer beautiful," he said in response, putting the journal flat open on the table.

You slightly blushed and moved to sit behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder as you kept your arms wrapped around him. You weren't great at accepting compliments either. "Thank you, Mr Morgan." You sighed softly, feeling Arthur's hands envelope yours. "My talented outlaw," you mumbled quietly but clearly enough for him to hear.

You heard a chuckle. "What?" you asked, unsure of what that was for. "Yer in an affectionate mood t'day," he stated, amusement in his voice.

"There a problem with that?" you asked but the smile on your face remained.

You slightly leaned back and moved your hands to his shoulders, instinctively massaging them as you thought. Arthur was out hunting, riding and shooting most of the time, so your massages were always appreciated.

You heard a quiet sigh of relief as his body started becoming more relaxed.

"Would u like to go hunt with me tomorrow?" you asked. You were tired of being stuck in the camp and honestly going on a little trip with Arthur wouldn't be bad at all.

"Sure."

You smiled and reached for his suspenders, then slid them off his shoulders. He understood and unbuttoned his shirt so that you could get a better access to his back and shoulders.

"Thank you, darlin'."

You hummed in response and continued, your gaze moving over his exposed skin covered with small scars. You wondered about the story behind each one of them, some seemed to be almost faded while there was one very fresh bruise, a red line of dried blood.

Arthur took out a cigarette and lit it, puffing as he relaxed under your touch. He probably would've offered you one as well if you smoked, but you didn't, only ever tasting tobacco when you kissed him. You never minded.

After a few more moments you put a kiss on the nape of his neck, then kissed the fresher wound as well. You were always so worried whenever he left to do a dangerous job, only praying he'd return in one piece, but you knew it was his life; and you were a part of it.

When you moved to sit next to him again, cheeky smile on your face as your eyes met, Arthur sighed, mumbling with cigarette between his lips. "Yer too good for'm, woman."

You stared into his blue eyes for a long moment, a quiet voiceless conversation happening between you two with eye contact alone. He cared for you as much as you cared for him.

Without a word you snuggled up closer, soon being enclosed by body warmth as he embraced you. You relaxed into the hug and closed your eyes, just listening to Arthur's inhales and exhales of the smoke.

You assumed Arthur must've been thinking as well, as there was yet another comfortable silence between you two and you were slowly but surely slipping into sleep.

Arthur stubbed out his cigarette and wrapped his arm around your waist, making you open your eyes just as he moved back to a half sitting half lying position on his bed, effortlessly taking you with him so that you lay between his legs, head resting on his chest. You quietly giggled at the sudden movement and made yourself comfortable afterwards, positioning your head exactly so that you have Arthur's heartbeat beneath your ear.

You were happy to have him all for yourself, safe, alive. The mess in Blackwater or the emergent stop in Colter could've been much more fatal for you two. Davey and Jenny were gone. John was attacked by wolves. And although you loved Horseshoe Overlook, the homely feeling and the beautiful view, you knew you'd have to move eventually. You needed money and you weren't getting it exactly the legal way, and you could only lie low so long.

And frankly, with Micah in the gang now, your worry rose even more. Dutch trusted him, for some goddamn reason, but he seemed to be reckless and dangerous, bending some of the morals this gang used to have. Not to mention him being a straight up jerk to everyone.

"Arthur?" you spoke, your voice slightly worried as you caressed his arm with your fingers.

"Hm?" His chest vibrated under your head.

"We can't let another Blackwater happen again."

Arthur understood what you meant. Him and Hosea tried convincing Dutch that the ferry job was a bad idea but it happened nonetheless, putting your gang in a situation worse than ever before. You worried about the influence Micah had on Dutch and the potential limits.

You knew that Arthur trusted Dutch, him and Hosea raised him, after all; but he wasn't stupid either. And the plans Dutch claimed to have planted seeds of doubt in almost everyone.

Arthur's response was a sigh and a kiss on top of your head, his arms hugging you just a bit tighter. There wasn't really much he could say to comfort you, he always tried to be honest and he couldn't know how the future would unfold, after all.

But you trusted him. That he would do the right thing.

With Arthur's heartbeat echoing under your ear and embraced by his warmth, you were slowly being lulled to sleep by his regular breaths.

Whether you'd stay outlaws forever or not, this really was all you had wished for.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Crying

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Coach Emma yells

"Is Moose," You say softly.

"You can also call it an elk," Maren says to you.

You have to take a few seconds to think through her words. Your English still isn't very good so it takes you a little bit.

"No," You say," Moose."

Maren smiles. "You can call it an elk too. A girl elk."

You frown, staring at the toy in your hands. "Girl-elk?"

"That's right."

"Girl-elk," You repeat, trying to get used to the way that words feel in your mouth.

It's halftime during a Not-Wolfsburg game. It's very chilly so Momma wrapped you up in a big puffy coat this morning that Morsa says makes you look like the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters. You don't know what that means though so you amused yourself with playing with your girl-moose...girl-elk now, you suppose if you believe Maren's telling you the truth.

The match is going badly and the whole room is tense. A few conversations are going on but they're quiet.

The door slams open and you jolt in shock, slipping off the bench and landing on your butt on the floor.

You sniffle and Momma picks you up, tucking you into her neck.

Coach Emma looks angry as she strides in, her face all red and she looks like those people in your cartoons that have steam coming out of their ears.

She starts yelling.

You don't understand her at all. Your English is not good enough to understand but yelling is universal and you understand that means she's angry.

She's yelling a lot, gesturing wildly and the only thing you can really pick out is a few names of the Not-Wolfsburg girls, who all wilt when they get named.

Coach Emma just keeps yelling and that scares you.

You sniffle again, hiding in Momma's neck.

Coach Emma's volume suddenly gets even louder and girl-elk slips out of your hand to land on the floor with a little splat. The noises echo through the locker room and suddenly it's all too much.

You butt still hurts. Your coat is too big. Girl-elk is on the floor and Coach Emma is still screaming.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you sob, blubbering out non-words as you grip your Momma's shirt tightly in one hand while the other extends out to reach for Morsa.

She's immediately by your side, sliding her big hand into your little one and pulling Momma closer.

"Morsa," You blubber out," Momma. I...Morsa, Momma..."

"Shh," Momma soothes you gently," It's okay, Princesse. It's okay. It's alright."

Coach Emma's yelling peters off when she notices how distraught you are. Even though she's not yelling anymore, you continue to cry - wailing, really and Momma moves to take you out of the room.

She paces the hallway with you, rocking you back and forth like she did when you were much littler. It's soothing but you can't stop the tears from falling.

Yelling is already scary but Coach Emma yelling in a language that you're not quite fluent in yet is very, very scary because you don't know what she's saying.

Morsa slips out of the locker room too, with your girl-elk in hand. She tries to hand it to you.

"Dirty," You say in your limited English," Floor dirty."

Momma told you that once at Wolfsburg when you dropped one of your crackers on the floor and still tried to eat it.

Morsa makes a show if wiping off your toy before she hands it to you.

You pull your toy into your body so you can cradle it under your chin as Momma's gentle fingers run up and down your back.

It's better now that you're not in the locker room. It's not loud anymore and you can actually think instead of listening to Coach Emma's loud voice echoing off the walls.

"What was that about, huh?"

"Scary," You answer, tucking you into the safety of Momma's neck. You're not crying as heavily now but a few tears are still slipping down your cheeks.

"It was scary? What was? Emma?"

"Ja."

"It was the yelling, huh?" Morsa says," I'm sorry that made you so upset, princesse. Emma can be a little scary sometimes, right?"

You nod and parrot back," Scary."

"I'll get Emma to sub me off," Morsa says to Momma," I'll sit with her. You stay on the pitch."

"Are you sure?" Momma asks," I can come off instead."

"It's fine," Morsa assures her," We've got defenders to spare. Stay on the pitch, Pernille. I have her."

Momma nods. "I'll tell Emma," She says," You head out the bench and get Princesse settled."

"Can you bring her blanket too? I think a nap would do her some good."

You recognise those words and nod. "Nap. Good."

[perseephoneee]

⭑ FIC RECS ⭑

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ 1k celebration

last updated: 04/15/2024

↳ as a writer, i'm always consuming things about my favs, and i thought it was time to share some of my favorites. every story here has likely been reread by moi a million times. also-- my psyche can be easily viewed by how many stories are under one individuals *cries*

SUPERNATURAL

every headcanon from @via-l0ve

her boys @octoberclidan. (tfw)

dances with team free will @octoberclidan

�� ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ DEAN WINCHESTER

cruel summer (18+) @waynes-multiverse

ladies with experience (18+) @hintsofhoney

dean reads you wrong @zepskies

she's my siren (18+) @fatecantstopme

smoke eater (series) @zepskies

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ SAM WINCHESTER

a taste of summer @impala-dreamer

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ CASTIEL

dreaming (18+) @impala-dreamer

beautiful to me @impala-dreamer

angel alpha (18+) @crashdevlin

i'll watch over you @octoberclidan

if you will have me, i'm yours (18+) @gilverrwrites

neckties @supernaturalfreewill

love, by any other name @zepskies

peculiar @supernaturalfreewill

because of books @supernaturalfreewill

last night on earth (18+) @hollybell51

don't bet on it (18+) @hollybell51

his charge (18+) @impala-dreamer

sharing is caring (III) @zepskies

TEEN WOLF

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ ISAAC LAHEY

sick reader @smellslikemultifandomimagines

aftercare @smellslikemultifandomimagines

hidden with isaac @scoopsahoy

mutual losing (18+) @smellslikemultifandomimagines

facesitting (18+) @smellslikemultifandomimagines

cruel summer @hotdogwillex

come back to me @hotdogwillex

cold feet, warm bodies (18+) @scoopsahoy

i'm gonna kiss you now @sourwulf

drunken confessions @teenwolffan-with-nolife

dream @rogershoe

fratboy!isaac (18+) (all time fav) @mermaidenisaacs

teaches you to kiss (18+) @mermaidenisaacs

prove me wrong (18+) @twjournals

VAMPIRE DIARIES

dating the mikaelsons @wholoveseggs

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ ELIJAH MIKAELSON

hold (18+) @wholoveseggs

extra-extraordinary (18+) @wholoveseggs

blood bath (18+) @wholoveseggs

warmth (18+) @wholoveseggs

the result of naps @fitzs-trained-monkey

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KLAUS MIKAELSON

she knew better (18+) @klausysworld

distracted @theeoriginals

you bring me home @theeoriginals

sharp (18+) @theeoriginals

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KOL MIKAELSON

christmas khaos @wholoveseggs

goodnight kisses @kmikaelsonimagines

frustrations (18+) @madhatterbri

thigh socks (18+) @geminioriginalsimagines

proposal @kmikaelsonimagines

Christmas in dixie @fitzs-trained-monkey

bruised and battered @fitzs-trained-monkey

shots @so-long-soldier-writes

little favors @fitzs-trained-monkey

of ice skates and sugar cookies @fitzs-trained-monkey

ten minute blood stain removal @fitzs-trained-monkey

like a box of chocolates @fitzs-trained-monkey

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KAI PARKER

for my valentine (18+) @babeydollx

lace (18+) @geminioriginalsimagines

game on (18+) @socio-kai-path1972

kisses @socio-kai-path1972

why? @socio-kai-path1972

affinity romance (18+) @socio-kai-path1972

is it hot in here? (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

party crasher (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

sex tea (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

say it again (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

the red means (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

the price of hatred (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

spoiled (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

birthday girl (18+) @oneirataxiahiraeth

STAR TREK

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JIM KIRK/BONES

a well documented debacle @mybullshitsensesaretingling

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ PAVEL CHEKOV

sweatpants @youre-on-a-starship

MARVEL

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LOKI

reformed villain squad @give-me-a-moose

overtime (18+) @cleo-fox

loki's happy ending @gingerwritess

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ BUCKY BARNES

graveyard @wkemeup

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ STEVEN GRANT/MARC SPECTOR

red flags (18+) @astroboots

HUNGER GAMES

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ FINNICK O'DAIR

oral headcanon (18+) @lucilleslore

darling and the virgin (18+) @wife-of-all-dilfs

TED LASSO

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JAMIE TARTT

chilly cheeks @veryberryjelly

about you @buckychristwrites

saved you a seat @benedictscanvas

operation: tartt's heart @theowritesstuff

DOCTOR WHO

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ TENTH DOCTOR

family christmas @writerlyhabits

gestures and evasion @doctenwho

before you go @doctorslove

falling in love again @doctorslove

CRIMINAL MINDS

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ SPENCER REID

virgin!spence (18+) @fortheloveofwonderland

i'd bottle the feelings you gave me @spencersfunkysocks

all the women he's loved before @fortheloveofwonderland

a helping hand (18+) @sinfulspencer

second date @samuel-de-champagne-problems

preciously pure (18+) @foxy-eva

STRANGER THINGS

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ BILLY HARGROVE

two ships passing in the night @hairringtonsteve

[abox-of-rocks]

⟡ Blowing off steam ⟡

⤷ summary: Dean needs to blow off some steam after a hunt gone wrong.

⤷ cw: angst, fluff, self deprecation, and a mention of suicidal thoughts

⤷ wc: 609

The hunt didn’t go to plan. A whole nest of vamps came after them, leaving everyone with injuries. Sam got it the worst, having fell during the chase, fracturing his gigantor sized leg. You faired a little better than Sam, getting a rather large gash across the palm of your hand, and a couple scrapes here and there. Dean, on the other hand, managed to make it out with a couple of scrapes. All of it fucking pissed him off.

With his mind full of self deprecation, and anger, Dean went outside the bunker. His breath coming out in cold puffs, in the chilly autumn air. Taking a swig of his beer, dean made his way to the trees, placing his beer on the ground. Picking up an axe, Dean swung at the tree, grunts of exertion leaving his lips.

‘How fucking dare those vamps.’ ‘How dare he make it out with a few scrapes, while you and Sammy have lasting injuries.’ ‘How dare he be alive-‘ stop…stop. That train of thought needs to stop. That’s when he forces himself to stop thinking, unable to allow himself to go down that road again.

Picking up the axe once again, adjusting his hold on the wooden handle, his breaths coming out in heavy pants; he swung at the tree again, and again, and again. So lost in thought, he didn’t notice you standing at the door of the bunker, watching him.

~~~

Slamming the axe into the stump of the tree, Dean adjusted his posture, the back of his hand wiping sweat from his brow.

“You gonna keep murdering our trees?” Your voice suddenly rang out from the mostly silent forest, the only other noises being nature, and deans heavy breathing. Turning his head to look at you, his hands moving to his hips, as he caught his breath.

“Jus’ blowing off steam..” Dean replied, out of breath, still a hint of aggravation in his tone.

You raised your brow, walking over to him, stopping right in front of Dean. Your hands moved to your hips, wincing slightly as your bandaged hand touched your hip. Which that bothered dean. Immensely.

“It’s not your fault, y’know?” You reassured him, your gaze slightly softening at the mental war you just knew was going on inside his head. “Your moose of a brother will heal, and this-“ you gesture with your bandaged hand “is nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, the crossfire going on in his mind was too much for him.

Noticing this, you cupped his stubbly cheek with your bandaged palm, looking into his eyes deeply.

“It’s okay, De.”

Your words were soft in Deans ears, but he still felt like it was his fault. Leaning his face into your palm, his hand moving to cup the extended wrist, closing his eyes.

“…it’s not..” Dean replied, his voice low and gravely.

~~~

Knowing you couldn’t drill it into his mind that it wasn’t his fault, you slightly pushed him back against the tree, his eyes opening and widening; a grunt of surprise emitting from him.

“..so stubborn” You muttered lowly, before capturing Deans lips in a deep kiss. Quickly obliging, Dean cupped your cheeks, kissing you back with a deep, passionate force.

Swapping your positions, Dean pushed you against the tree, pinning you against it whilst his tongue invaded your mouth. Tasting and exploring the warmth of your mouth.

Breaking the kiss for air, your chests rose and fell with gasps for heavy breaths that filled the air. Pressing your forehead against Deans, heavy pants still leaving both your lips, you murmured to him softly.

“it’s not your fault…”

comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist

taglist: @snburntandsad

[eddiemunsonbignaturals]

just a pinch

summer ends way too fast; you and Eddie surprise each other.

includes smut, as in 18+ 6k words somehow lmao? most of it fluff  best friends to lovers, and it gets a little gross in an arguably unsexy but very intimate way. you're not supposed to put anyone's mouth on your new piercing until at least two weeks out don't be dumb listen to your piercer

content: boob fondling, dry humping, jean nutting, some mild threats of violence, mentions of piercings but not piercing play to my understanding

reader is described as fat, dark skinned, and referred to gender neutrally, mostly (tough guy, man, angel, sweetheart).

comments (yes, even short ones,) reblogs all v much appreciated, take care :*

So, the heatwave had been a fake-out. 

You had both expected more swim-days. Just a few more sweaty, sticky nights— sat too close and tangled together sharing a bowl of Moose Tracks by moonlight, in as little fabric as you could manage and with as much ice as one freezer bucket could hold.

But alas, the fall sneaks in one cloudy morning and makes you regret ever even thinking the word “winter.” 

You’re shivering as you shock awake and roll clumsily to the nightstand. Reaching blind for the blaring landline, your hand cringes away from too-cold plastic, and you groan long and low in mourning— it's definitely over.  While you were asleep, Summer had packed up her bag and ducked off in the dark before you could send her off properly. Goodbye, dog days.

Hello, caller. You know it’s Eddie before you pick up; he knows it's you before you speak.

“Can you believe this? Shit fuckin’ sucks,” he croaks, right off the bat and into the receiver.

“And blows—“ you sigh back, punching one satin-covered pillow and your headscarf off the bed. “We couldn’t even get, a like, temperate couple of days? It had to go straight to freeze-my-dick-off immediately?”

“ha! Please. The end is nigh, sweetheart. You know it better than I,” he almost sings. His sleepy lilt catches on the pet name, and that gravelly morning timbre gees up your morning wood like nothing else can. You kiss your teeth, honestly annoyed at how he affects you this early, and when Ed’s answering chuckle rumbles through your ears and down your jaw, it's like you can feel his breath through the phone. 

God, he sounds good. You hum into a long sigh as he talks. It warms you, everywhere, hearing his voice first thing, and if your non-phone hand drags down your chest and reaches lower to rearrange the pillow between your legs, he doesn’t need to know.

You hear Eddie fidget, as he does, and he switches the phone to his other ear. Then, there’s the rattle of the earrings against plastic– a few chunky hoops he got at your suggestion, and one with your first initial that he definitely plucked off of your desk, though he had lazily denied it. You feel a smile fight its way to your face, suddenly giddy about him, about his call. 

A snapshot of him talking himself awake is as clear in your head as the grey in the sky: a grumpy Munson, emerging from the mess of gifted homemade blankets and ancient, flat pillows. Just a pair of doe eyes, framed by a cluster of chocolate curls and a scowl. Picture-perfect.

You’ve been nursing this damn crush forever, and with the effort of punching it off the bed and out of sight with that headscarf, you’re long past exhaustion. But, in the safety of your chilly room, and with the comfort of his voice in your ear, maybe you’ve enough strength for now to entertain a butterfly, or ten.

You had worn his ring to bed— a little bat hugging your ring finger the way it had been hugging his before you’d snatched it off as payment for a dare gone unfulfilled–and you’re twirling it now, like some lovesick sap. You’re written all over each other, and you’ve been itching to do something about it. But, that’s not the issue right now.

Right now,

“I know, life is over, the globe is warming, there are only a few summers left, et cetera. We’ll still have fun.”

(the dare? you had challenged him to snatch some Hawkins PD pig or another’s goofy little ranger hat as he had passed the two of you on the street. Eddie had suggested maybe he couldn’t float past an arrest on boyish charm this deep into his twenties, and acquiesced without a word when you had held out your hand for his own. 

You’d pretended not to notice the blush creeping up his neck; he had let you hold his hand a bit longer than necessary. It had been an even trade, as always.)

Across the line, Eddie’s still snickering at you, voice fathoms deep– all crackly– when he speaks again. 

“Hold on to your dick, angel, I'm pretty sure there’s options. Like, uh, maybe clothes? Clothes usually work for me.”

“Don’t get cute! I'm fat, you clown, I sweat-- I don’t need clothes. And, I belong in the water, Munson. Its beyond fun, its—“

He cuts you off completely, ignores your scoff, and finishes for you.

“—fulfilling, healing, its what and where you were in every past life, the brain sludge is already building back up as we speak, and ‘I’ll die, I'll just about fuckin’ die, Munson,’ once it drops below 40, I know, stop bitching,” he laughs. His tone? Pure fond; your stomach somersaults. 

You hear the smile widen when he goes on to remind you, “but I guess it's fall now. IE, your favourite.”

“Say ‘bitch’ to me again, I’ll shave your peanut head.”

He takes it back, giggling something about his favourite tough guy, but you know he’s got you there. You definitely are bitching, and—

Halloween month, cider season, big soft sweater weather, rain? It is the best, but it's never too early to argue. 

“You’ll love it, angel.”

You give up, melting again at his affection verbalized. You’re humming assent as he keeps the ball rolling, asking what you’d like to do today instead of going for a swim. Come over and take turns reading the new discount novel he found? Start that mead recipe you made last year? Drive over to Stobin’s—see who can sneak in and scare the shit out of them first? 

All great ideas, you assure him, but you decided long ago that the End of Swim also marked the beginning of piercing season. Your safety moratorium on body mods of all kinds has been lifted, now that you can’t dip your fresh wounds into scummy lake water. 

You've been planning a particular pair for some time. You also decided that it would be a surprise. Your Eddie is observant, dialed in, and sure, maybe you like to play the odd game here and there. He notices you, and you notice right back.  How long, do you think, will it take for him to note a new set of nipple piercings if you don’t warn him first? You figure it’s time to test it.

So, you break his heart a little, and decline to hang out today after all. You’ll see him on your next day off, you promise, and make plans for “four days hence, Munson, quit bitching. I just remembered something else I need to do,” before hanging up on his protests and pulling on your first pair of sweats in 4 months. 

ID, water bottle, and a sweet breakfast in tow, you head for the best (note: only) tat shop you know, braced and ready for a world of pain, going boldly into the cold.

—---------

And there had been almost no pain, at first. You had yelped girlishly before the first needle went in, then felt embarrassed about how easy and quick it had been. Before you had even realized, it was over, and you grinned big at the unique beads framing each pert, dark nipple. You loved them. You loved the piercings, and more than ever, loved your tits. Couldn’t wait to go home and check them out from every angle, actually. 

Then, a malicious towel snag, a careless door-jamb bump, and a hateful sweater-thread later, you were fearing for your life. Over the last few days, you had taken to crouching around them a bit, arms wrapped loose around your stomach as a reminder and for protection. Your nipples were insanely sensitive, now more than ever, and you had never understood ‘til now how often you simply walked through and into things instead of just around.  

But, they were calming down, and with each prescribed saltwater soak you breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of visible irritation. The standard piercing boogers notwithstanding, they looked hot, you felt hot, but found yourself nervous for the big reveal. You thought you would hide them well, your mission made easier by the cool weather and baggier shirts it allowed. 

You’re in his room now. Eddie’s ideas had been good, but you had both decided on the usual– you, rocking up to his trailer and spending the day with him throwing food and trading theories, hours whiled away in artistic pursuits and cat-naps, never too far from one another. It’s been a good day– you’re doing such a good job with the piercings, you forget to hide how entranced you are by Eddie's hands. 

“Aren’t you hot?” 

You count the veins and tendons as they flip pencils and drum against whatever surface they encounter, try to guess how long he can go before he bites that right pinky nail too short again, wonder if he’s running hot today. He’s tactile, your Eddie, but you’re sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, and yeah, a little too warm in the hoodie you came in as he lounges on the bed– too far for his idle touches to distract you into admitting anything. 

You love those hands. You want to taste them one day. He’s looking at you.

Fuck, wait, he’s looking, and you haven’t answered him. You cut your eyes away, to the floor, to your nails, like an idiot. That wasn’t at all suspicious, sure. You’re reasonably sure Eddie hadn’t noticed the piercings themselves yet until, as you snack and he chats again about his sketch, he suddenly drops the pink eraser you’ve been watching his square fingers systematically tear apart.

“N...Noooooo.” He takes in your belated answer and eyes you for a second, then starts talking again. You tug your hands gingerly into the hoodie you’re in and slide the thing over your unwrapped cloud of hair without snagging anything, then toss it away, wiping the light sheen of sweat you realize is cooling on your nose.

 Fuck, here we go. You hadn’t considered you’d have to hide in conversation, just that you had to keep him from seeing. You try to keep your cool, but answer too quickly. This wouldn’t last long.

“Have you been eating weird shit again?” Eddie asks, cutting himself off from explaining the lore of his latest campaign villain. He’s sitting up more since you last looked at him– leaning back on one elbow as the other arm drapes comfy across his belly– and watching you fidget in that weird posture you’ve adopted since the piercings. 

“Eat– We–, me? Weird? What’s– What?” Nailed it. Smooth, like butter. Too player. You thank God or Dolly or whoever’s watching that your blush isn’t visible, because you can already feel your face heating up.

He stares, eyes squinted. You watch your plate, then look back at his lovely hands, fingers pale and impatient, thr-r-r-rumming in sequence against his now-closed notebook.

“What’s with the air-head act? And why are you clutching your tummy and moving like you fell down the stairs?” Okay, that one’s easy.

“Cramps.” Your reply is stiff, but reflexive. The pink in his fingertips as he drums is entrancing. Maybe you’ve saved it– you think you sound sure. He’s silent for beat, and you pick up a cracker and look out the window. Maybe you’re a genius. The fuck’s he gonna do? Argue?

“Hm. Bullshit?” You look up to challenge that, and catch him peering behind you to the stuffed possum you had gifted him when his favourite, real, live, wild possum friend stopped her brief shuffle through the fire pit behind his trailer one drizzly day. 

(Eddie had called it the best week of his life, then declared that he’d never love again.)

After another beat, as if the scruffy thing has read the room and confirmed its answer, Eddie nods once, curls bouncing, then swings his neck dramatically back to you to assert, “bullshit.” 

It's panic creeping up your throat now, because he’s going to see you,  see them, this isn’t– well– it is– but you didn’t think it through, and you aren’t a good enough liar to dodge the impending question. You hem for another moment, hands hovering over your torso, and he looks between them and your face before snapping his bulk upright so fast that the bits of pink littering his lap and thin muscle shirt fly up in the flurry.

“What’re you hiding?”

A frown tugs your lips down before you can stop it. You watch Eddie toss the notebook and, with a loud thump, collapse off the bed boneless into your nest of blankets and towards you like a mad slinky before you can finish saying, “nothing! I’m not– hiding–, wait a second!” 

In that second, Eddie has slithered the 4 feet between him and you, kind of flinging himself on top, landing more gently than you expected in a straddle and pinning your now-closed thighs under his seat before you can wiggle back and away in time. 

“Did you get a tattoo without me? You fucking did, didn’t you?” He might be verging on genuinely hurt, by the sound of it. You’d promised after he’d started his stick-n-poke journey that he’d be your first, (tattooer, that is), once he got some training together. Had swore to him–

“Le’me see– what, is it that shitty? Who the hell did you go to? You can’t be–”

“Ow, Eddie, stop!” Your screeching protest belies real pain this time, curling in on yourself and to the side as much as possible. He bumped a piercing in the shuffle, the pain expected but still shocking, and he backs off a bit and coos in sympathy, all his next words coming out in a frantic rush.

“Fuck, oh no, I’m sorry. I’msosorry, Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, breathing deep through the stinging. As it subsides, he ducks his head to meet your eyeline, his paint-stained palms up, promising no contact. He’s still straddling you, most of his weight on his heels. Still locking you under him, where its very warm.

If you looked down and saw your heart itself beating its way out of your chest, you wouldn’t be shocked. You’re almost choking on it, and plotting how to get him off you without knocking the new piercings again. Its enough to spin your head, to think you’ve been found out this soon, that the bravado in your spirit has fled so quickly at the reality, not just the idea, the real life prospect of showing Munson your tits. 

But it's thrilling, him on top of you. It's always thrilling, a dream fulfilling itself, isn't it? Even if the context is off. This isn't the first time a bout of “weird” from one of you or the other has ended up in a fact-finding mission– sometimes wrestling match, or pillow fight, or wild, short chase through the woods. 

But every time he gets this close, it's like the path between your head brain to the other brain is cleared– heat is flooding the thin cotton that separates you from his well-worn denim faster than ever. He has to get up, right now. You have to keep him there forever. 

You relax as the sting subsides, uncurling and groaning a bit as those strong, clever hands fall to bracket your head on either side. Eddie leans down, sounding the creak of floor beneath you,  and scowls, bathing you in his radiating heat. Studying you, taking in your full lips pressed into a thin, nervous line, your brows turned up where they’d meet, betraying distress. 

“What is going on in there, man?" He's really worried now. When did you start keeping secrets?

“It’s…not a tattoo?” You purse your lips and scrunch your nose, and the sweet smile that flows like syrup across his face seems involuntary.

“Then what else– huh?” Eddie is trying to keep eye contact, but the wheels are turning, and his lovely smile drops. He glances at your arms crossed over your chest, and his jaw falls open, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Not a tattoo. Not ‘a’ anything, actually. Two things.”

“No, you didn’t. No way, not a chance.” Eddie seizes your wrists and ignores your protests, pinning each arm by your ears where his once were, and tries to x-ray inspect you through your shirt. It's dark, but not thick enough to weather this kind of scrutiny. Those telltale bumps are right there in front of him, the middle of each trio hardening as he inspects. So, you give up trying to argue, and shrug, suppressing a smile. 

“With— wha?” Eddie’s looney-tunes double-take makes you hoot a laugh as he swings his head and bouncy curls up and down, looking at you, glancing back at your chest, and up again as he processes what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing? 

Your eyes stay low but your brows arch together as you scoff at him, dork. “You’re really telling me you hadn’t seen them?”

“I’ve– not–wha– I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But, you had been talking shit. He couldn’t have seen anything in the dark shirt you had been wearing all day unless he’d been staring when you weren’t looking– had he been staring at your tits anyway?

 Did he do that often? Your jaw doesn’t drop so much as glide mischievously open. Surprise dawns and Eddie realizes he has, in fact, given himself away too quickly. Coolest dudes in Hawkins, you two.

He changes tack, slapping the floor by your head, still a little shocked.

“You got your nipples pierced? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you! You’re full of shit.” His voice is almost petulant in its disbelief, high and tinny.

Your eyeroll is audible, “I mean. I can prove it, Munson.” 

“When?” He gasps, indignant, and slaps the floor with the other hand. 

“You barely have your ears pierced-“ he exaggerates. “Who the hell did ‘em? Was it a guy? You let some guy–”

“Please, some professional? Can you be serious?”

“You can’t take the pain, angel, not without my moral support, there’s no way. You’d have been whining about them being sore all fuckin’ week if you’d gotten your—“ 

He looks at your tits again, jaw slack, but in his shifting sends them undulating with the movement. His whole body goes still, except to inhale very slowly.

You’ve maybe never been this self conscious in your life, but his distraction emboldens you.  

“The idea was ‘surprise’, not ‘ambush’. But,” you drawl, smirking as you twist a wrist easily out of his now slack grip and push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Do you—well.” Your eyes falter when your voice does. You want to offer proof. You’re not that bold yet, but you’re working up to it. 

He gives you room to sit up completely, hovering over your calves, back almost on his haunches. His heat leeches into your legs, swells in your chest and behind your eyes.

You want to touch him, like you always do. Eddie's deep brown eyes are wider, his mouth slack. His breathing is a little harder too, and you wonder for a second— do you want to un-ring this bell while there’s time?

“No,” he answers. “I mean, yeah, I—“ He rolls his plush lips into his mouth and then parts them, trying to work out how to ask. It’s not a dare anymore, and you feel a shyness completely unfamiliar, laid out in front of your best friend in the world. 

You wilt a little; Eddie finds his courage.

He swallows, and you watch his throat work while he figures out what to say, maybe as nervous as you are.

“Can I see?” He sounds hopeful, gentle, but to soothe you or himself, you can’t tell.

You dont quite answer with, “I’ll have you know, they didn’t hurt. At all, actually. It was...cold. Uncomfy, totally, but not painful— just a bit of a pinch? The last week has been worse than the actual needles were.” 

Eddie seems to realize he’s really staring, and cuts his eyes to the left, almost shy, and he seems to wipe sweat from his palms down the length of his strong thighs.

Your own hands pick at the hem of your shirt, and his gaze is split between your mouth and chest. Then, he shifts his weight, leans back like he’s about to give you space, when you reach for his warm, toned tricep, his skin shifting over muscle as he fidgets, and you’re ready to tell him the rest of the story. You can’t bear to miss his warmth on top of you, you realize. Now or never, you think. 

“I…” you croak, “I thought of you.”

 You hear him choke, like actually choke on his spit, then watch him shake his head like he’s rattling himself out of a haze. Eddie’s locked in on your eyes, searching for even the hint of a joke as you lift the shirt up just your stomach, exposing all the graceful cresting hills of your soft middle to his hungry gaze.

“When I picked them out, I mean.”

“Youf, you– fuc– You did this for me?” He sounds so absolutely incredulous, and breathless, all bravado bled out, or rushing to his reddening cheeks. It's like Eddie opened the next Discworld and found a dedication in his name, like the heavens have opened above him. For him? For him?

“Not for you, you clown, of course not. But like, maybe I wondered which ones you’d say I should get. And maybe... I thought you’d appreciate my pick.” Your crooked smile feels small, and you feel like offering something more substantial. 

So, you do.

“Appreciate..? I. Oh, god, Jesus, I.” You had been lifting your shirt so casually as you spoke, palms sliding up across your skin and dragging cotton with them, a caress so careless it seemed incidental. But you avoid hitting the new bars through each hardening nip, chills putting a mild tremble in your hands that he first catches, and is then distracted from. You watch Eddie’s short-circuit for a bit, feel his thighs tense around yours. You decide then that boldness is the only path forward. 

At the last rounding, you let them hem of the shirt catch on the underside of your bust, and just before its dangerous, lift them up by the hem and then drop them a bit, so they bounce for him, putting on a little show, posture straighter than before in presentation.

You’ve killed him. His plush lips try and fail to form a word, any word, as he lets out another shakey breath and leans back in to you by centimeters.  

“Eddie?” you prompt at his silence, voice quieter now. He’s still a little wide-eyed when he gasps out,

“What. Appreciate? Fuck, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. Jesus Christ, I never thought— Are those bats?” He’s moon-eyed and gaping like a dry fish, and you’re too keyed up to even tease him about it. You didn't just think of him, you conspired to match with him, to carry a little bit of him with you.

You know he wants to see you, more than just the piercings, and that teasing smirk is a distant memory, much like your patience. 

“So you hate them, huh?” He’s shocked into laughing before you can finish the question, restoring the quiet to something like normal as he raises his ringed hands to frame the low curve of your breasts. But he takes them in only with his eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“They look, so so good, so good, god. The color you picked, even,” a warm gold that picks up the warmth in the soft creamy brown of your skin, “it glows, like, perfect. Gold’s your color, Sweetheart. It's all your color.” 

Bravado is fickle. You order him through barely parted lips, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, then almost slur the hasty backtrack, “touch them. If-you-want, I-mean, if-you—.” 

In Eddie’s mind’s eye, gold falls from the sky; from his mouth tumbles a bewildered, “'If i want?' Are you insane?” 

As he reaches, you nod and sit up a bit straighter, feel heat rise in your cheeks, and take his confession with a crooked smile.

“I dreamt this.”

Here’s you, insufferably coy through a giggle: “Yeah? How’d it go?”

 His own knowing smirk is back, and you shiver, wanting fathoms deep as Eddie's hot hands envelope the heavy mounds of your breasts from below, cupped in the way he had threatened before you granted permission. Eddie seems to weigh them as he holds you, committing to memory how the plush fat of them sits in his palms, how they pebble across with gooseflesh at his very gentle fondling. 

You’re so soft, and warm, and he’s touching you; his mind splits in two. Some of him prays to any god for escalation, the rest could die happy right here.

On contact, you sigh together. Heavy, whispering things— you were both holding your breath— and inhale together, too. Your eyes flutter closed at the the drag of each body-warm ring as they poke into you. His calluses are almost sharp against you where they glide, some of the time ghosting over your skin, but mostly kneading you warmer.

It's your soft little hum of pleasure, how you arch, helpless, into his touch— the indiscreet rub of your knees together, and your thighs into his seat, the way you fight the smile back— these bring him back to himself,  and he checks your face again, watching the small smile grow as your eyes flick up to his. 

“Different,” Eddie intones, low and slow. “We’re out of order.”

You’re watching his pretty mouth again while he feigns serious, but as he moves just one hand to the floor behind you and leans in close, warm Cheez-It-breath tickling your face, setting alight every nerve that wasn’t already screaming for deeper contact. You meet his penetrating gaze and gasp at the pleasure-pain of that ringed thumb finally, finally, swiping up along one pert nipple. 

It's a shocked moan, not a gasp, that opens your mouth as he collides with it, timed perfectly with the upward jolt of your hips into his hardening cock. It's Eddie’s turn to gasp— his rushes out hot and quick, as if from a gut-punch. 

He's fighting for his life trying to steady his voice, act casual. “Usually, I get my mouth on your first.”

With that, he closes the gap again, but this time pulls away with a wet smack, a kiss so brief you’re compelled to chase him and get your licks in.

“Then, my hands,” he says, as he closes his fingers around as much of you as he can grasp with each hand to squeeze. Its at once electrifying and comforting, leaning into him and running from the cold. You want him pressed against you completely, but he's focused on the pillows of supple skin and heat in his hands.

“Promise,” he chokes, “ahhh, promise to tell me if it hurts, angel?”

“Eddie, touch me— I promise— touch me,” you positively beg, and your Eddie, egged on by your fingers now pulling deliciously at the hair on his sensitive nape, recovers fast. He’s on you before he can take his next breath in, and bites down around your bottom lip, pushing you with him gently as he leans forward, mashing your noses together.  

And you kiss Eddie back, hard, sucking his trembling lip between yours and earning yourself a groan that sends a lovely buzz through your jaw where you meet. That fucking noise, and his hand still on you, now not as gentle, sending little shocks of pleasure as he swipes gently along the outer dark ring crowning your nipple. The skin there is tightening, growing impossibly sensitive, and each brush and nudge shocks you between your clamped thighs, makes your body rock a little, sending kinetic energy across you that has him enthralled. So much evidence of his effect on you, the movement anchors him to reality.

"Good?"

"Really good, Eddie, yeah." You squirm under him as he massages one side, then both, then rests his forehead against yours to gaze down, intent on his project. 

“You feel good too, angel,” Eddie groans again, enjoying himself in earnest, crowding you gently together, then letting each breast roll in his hands, rough digits brushing in tandem against beads so taut it almost hurts, so intense its almost too much, but you need more.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask him in a pant, breathless and focused– you need him between your legs too, and desperately, so you nudge one of his, asking to widen so you can rearrange. Eddie obliges, planting one solid knee right against your aching core and letting you fall back, propped up on both elbows. 

Neither of you wastes a second. This kiss is a hot, wet collision of sighs and spit, grinding sloppily into each other through just too many layers of sweet, stiff friction, whining into each other’s open mouths. 

While you nearly lift your hips off the floor, chasing the worn denim between your legs, tension in your lower gut building faster than it ever has alone, Eddie rides your linen-covered thigh just above your bent knee, murmuring between love-bites to your chin, the chubby apple of your grinning cheek, then the crook of your neck, where he finds and then latches onto a spot that makes you seize under his weight, clamping your thighs around the one at the very center of your focus. 

You clasp a hand at the back of his head again, scratching a bit at his neck and forcing a long shaky sigh out of his mouth as the rhythm of his swirling hips grows rough, devolves into a stuttering staccatto race to the finish, and he’s talking himself through it into your shoulder as you barrel him down.

Ed's heaving whines are gorgeous, ragged, as he sighs into your neck about how good you feel under him. He can’t finish a sentence as he groans into your shoulder, all about how good you smell, how he can’t believe you did this for him, how badly he wants to taste them. 

“Taste? I,” you cut yourself off with a near-panicked whine when his leg slinks heavily down, the relief of his wet but still straining crotch-tent another brief sliding kiss against your now soaking cunt, and you resist seizing him by the scalp, to keep him up with you, but only just. You’re both so close; he’s stalling?

No, tasting.

Through your horny fog, your mind starts to process his goal. Eddie works his body down yours urgently, never really breaking contact, and as he slips away all you can do is watch him watch you.

In a thrall, as he draws a scalding trail of open-mouth kisses down the heaving swell of your exposed breasts. The wet kisses cool fast in the chilly air of his room, and it feels so good you don’t care how needy your sighs sound, how obscene and high your breaths echo in your own ears. Then he pauses in his descent to admire you again, breaking eye contact for a few awe-struck moments, dropping a chaste peck just left of the left nip, then resting his forehead on your sternum. When he fully squishes your tits into his cheeks it makes you laugh out loud, and you feel his smile and then chuckle against your stomach.

He seems to paise there for a few moments, content to nuzzle, and your high whine-sigh takes even you off guard. Eddie looks up at the sound but stops himself saying whatevers on his mind. Instead, he double-takes between your mouth and chest once, and again, then and finally asks, “sweetheart?”

He’s got that look like he’s up to something, and you can’t say you mind it. 

Eddie drags his lovely nose across the wide valley between your bust, your shoulders cave a bit with the shiver, and he continues, “can I?”

Taste. Yes, “please, Eddie, yeah,” and he closes his hot mouth over one hard bead, swirling that devilish tongue around and over, knocking it roughly enough to pull a harsh hiss from between your clamped teeth. Your hands are both in his hair again, and in a little pain you pull at his sensitive scalp and feel the buzz of his moaning around you, closing the little pleasure circuit between you.

You feel every wet swipe of tongue like a brand, on your sensitive chest and melting, shocks of heat driving down in your sex, chasing the pressure and pushing your body into his chest where he lays against you. 

One of his hot hands mimics his mouth’s rhythm on the other tit, and the lewd sounds of his deep moans around you are only matched by the obscene slick of his hand finding the soaked core of you under his torso, his fingers tingling over the used cotton.

You nod assent before he can even ask, catching his eyes as he pulls away from your chest to check on you. He finds your open pant, you low lidded attention on only him, and smiles. Then, he grinds his own hips into your leg where he straddles it, lower than before, moaning again around your mound and sucking this time, a new kind of pressure that pulls the neediest cries from you yet. His fingers finally breach your underwear from the side, and the calloused contact jolts you to the precipice, climax just within reach now that your clit has direct, emphatic attention. 

His tongue swirls faster, and Eddie matches that pace with his slick fingers between your cunt lips, circling the trigger and nudging just the top of your gasping hole, pace quickening, just what you're begging him for. Your free leg hitches around his back and pulls him into you, then you clamp up and pull hard at the hair in your grasp, gasping his name over and over as you come shaking, curling around his head, pussy drooling on his rings and wrist, hips frantic in their desperate chase for friction. 

Eddie’s not far behind, rhythm incomprehensible as he’s distracted by his own big finish. He bites down almost too hard around your breast and fucks down onto your trapped leg, groans buzzing through you as he drools and sputters and comes a warm wet mess into the washed-out black. 

The grey light is blinding, you can’t open your eyes at first. But you start to collect yourself when you feel him pull off, sliding his hand slowly out of your panties. You open your eyes to him watching you again, eyes half closed, to him catching his breath, and with no regard for the mess on his hand he gathers your collar in his fist and hauls you forward for another kiss, other hand tucked in the soft folds of your waist, grasping, clutching, pulling you in.

“Ouch.” You say, with no heat at all. 

As he scoffs, Eddie slinks back down again to kiss it better, another gentle peck just to the side of the most sensitive bud of your breast where he sucked and nibbled hard enough to bruise. Just a pinch, indeed.

“Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” he promises, only a little sarcastic, and finally rounds his mouth around your right nipple, which he had neglected until now. 

Then, you hear the slightest crunch. Like crumbs rubbing together.

Eddie smacks his lips a couple times, tasting, considering.

"Salty," he says. No way.

Oh, god, no. No fucking way. He still licking you clean but you freeze, then he does, but Eddie, knowing exactly what he just set you up for, loses it. He buries the cackle in your tummy as it dawns on you, and you do some quick math– you last showered this morning, which means you last soaked your piercing this morning, maybe 10 hours ago.

Eddie crawls back up your body as you wail, “ohhh, my God, Munson, why would you—? I cannot–” and lands eye-level, with you spent and boneless on your back, him in a table-top pose, arms propped by your shoulders. 

He hadn't been neglecting your other side, he had been saving it.

10 hours. More than enough time for new “crusties” to form, so more than enough time to build your own nightmare from natural scratch. And he didn’t hesitate, or mention it at all, that your piercings were clearly crusted over as part of the usual healing process, he just sucked them off anyway like they were in the way.

“You– absolute– freak! Eddie what the fuck! Did you fucking eat it? Are you insane?”

“What? I helped! And it’s probably, like, I don’t know, nutritious somehow. Protein?” He shrugs, smirking in the face of your horror, your embarrassment. You hadn’t thought to look at your own tits when the idea of his eyes on you had been more than enough to deal with.

You punctuate every few words with sharp shoves, which barely register as nudges to him from your angle, still under him, fighting his weight and gravity itself. Little by little, he sinks against them, and you tire yourself out before his chest traps your arms between the two of you.

“You– sicko, I didn’t– give you permission– to snack on me.”

“You even said ‘please,’ sweet heart, no take backs. I believe they’re my boogers now.” His smile is just content now, mischief subsumed by all the love in his eyes. You were in his mouth; now you’re on your way through his system. He thinks its romantic.

He ate it. Like a weird pet left unattended too long, he saw something new and simply put his mouth on it. Your-- friend? hardly, you think-- Eddie Munson just ate the new piercing boogers off you, straight from the source as he came in his jeans. You don’t even know what to do, so bewildered you shove his shoulders and chest as rough as he’ll allow before he seizes your wrists and pins you again, only this time, your tits are still out. 

“Without full knowledge, that’s twisted– you’re sick.” Your smile betrays you. What a weirdo, sure, but who else would full-send like that? You can’t think of anyone you’ve dated– anyone you’ve let touch you– that has ever been so close, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet. 

God, what a freak– your freak, you think with a thrill.

“Yeah yeah, heard it before."

Its quiet for a bit as you stare at each other, smiles crooked and soft.

"Well. Cat’s out of the bag?”

“Seems that way.” So, there's your "what are we" convo' all sorted.

“Good. So you know— " Eddie ducks his head to tap his nose against yours, then pulls back again to hover a little closer than before, "clothes are no longer an option.”

“What. The hell are you saying.”

“I'm saying,” he whispers, suddenly against your ear, dragging out each syllable, and slides his thumb and it's cool bat ring now poking out of a soft fist across your collarbone and up your shoulder, just to see you shiver again, just to watch you shake.

“hu-.. what, Munson, spit it out!” Now, you grab him by both wrists, and the quick movement brings his eyes to your tits again, gold titanium winking in the gray light. The soft wave of your body warms his core. He's half-hard already just watching you move.

“Too late, ha.” You groan, still grossed out, and anticipating this, he groans with you, mocking. You feel it through your own chest, feel it down your pinned leg.

Then, Eddie’s voice is soft too, at once dreamy and deadly serious, when he says, “You,” drops a kiss on one shoulder, “were so, so right,” and another on the other, “you won't need clothes ever again.” 

—--------------—

Its only days later, your next day off, when your favorite metalhead greets you at your front door. You don’t even have time to say hello before he’s flashing you; Eddie yanks his shirt up, fast as he can, to show off two glinting barbells, twin gold angel wings framing each nipple, still red and a little swollen from the piercing.

He beams at you, proud of the shock written all over your face, and before you can recover, cradles your face with one ringed hand and swoops in to plant one on your open mouth, grinning all the while. 

[echantedtoon]

Love Is Blind Ch8 Life Now

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story. Art not mine found on Pinterest.

EDIT: This last chapter might be really short so apologies for that.)

"Are you comfortable, Honey?"

"I am perfectly fine."

Despite his assurances he lifted up his arms to allow his wife to pull the blankets over him more and tuck them around his body to ensure he wouldn't be getting cold anytime soon. You hummed smiling at him before smiling at him. A hand coming out to you and you took initiative and grabbed it. He smiled wider at you, a hand crassessing softly over your knuckles. 

"Tell me what it looks like outside."

"It's chilly outside. Most of the leaves are falling off the trees already since it's autumn."

"Ah. A lovely transition from summer to winter. Such is nature's beauty."

"Yes...And peaceful." He hummed to you in question. "Well, we're free from any responsibilities for now, no one's bothering us, I get to finally have some time with you without someone interrupting-" A small kiss was given to his forehead making him sigh. "And for once the kids are sleeping-"

"DAD!!"

A flurry of footsteps started running up through the next room towards you and before you knew it, your door was thrown open and a small black haired blur came running right in. You barely had time to stop your son from throwing himself into his father's lap and possibly knocking your husband over. The small eight year old squirmed and looked on the verge of tears as you held him up. His watery lavender eyes stared up at you as his arms held out towards his father.

"Kiriya! What on earth are you doing out of bed?"

His response was to point behind him as one of his sisters entered with the hardest scowl a sleepy, cranky eight year old could have. "Kuina, hit me!!"

"Because you won't stop snoring!!," Your daughter shouted back with a point of her own. "You sound like a moose with a head cold!"

"I do not!"

Behind your angry daughter Kinata, Nichika, and Hinaki tiredly poked their heads out of the doorway leading back to their shared bedroom no doubt woken up by their brother's and sister's fighting. Your other three daughters all looked like some stage of tiredness with messy bed heads on their pale heads and either yawning, blinking half asleep, or rubbing their eyes. Your girls seemed to take the most after you with the exception of their father's purple eyes and Kiriya who looked like the perfect copy of his father. 

"You do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

They would've continued to argue if their father hadn't held up a hand to silence them. The children fell silent as their father tilted his head at the boy in your arms.. Before wordlessly reaching out to pull the blanket back. Wordlessly Kiriya squirmed himself free from your arms to instantly crawl himself into the futon next to his father who only silently wrapped the blanket back around them. Kiriya snuggling closer to him instinctively. ...And then the stomping started. Kuina stomped her way to her father's other side as the two siblings shot dirty looks at one another. Before Kuina crossed her arms, plopped herself on her bottom, and then also laid against their father's other side.

"You two need to be still," Kagaya spoke calmly, "Kuina, we have already talked about your temper. If something happens again, you're going to lose your privileges to town. Understood?"

"Fine."

"Very good. Now both of you sleep. We'll talk about this more in the morning."

You sighed. Well at least that was settled- ?? You blinked as at least three little bodies clambered onto you dragging their pillows and blankets until you're other three girls were either leaning against ikr in your lap in one way also wishing to not sleep alone now that two of their siblings also got to sleep cuddled up with your husband. You blinked before sighing and reaching out to rub their backs. 

"So much for our romantic evening."

A chuckle was your answer back.

[griffther]

there’s so many ppl enabling me in the notes of this post, so here enjoy some Thoughts i’ve had about the nurseydex maine road trip so far:

they do a road trip up the coast of maine over fall break their senior year so that nursey can see acadia national park while the leaves are changing

william “acts of service” poindexter decides that it is his Responsibility as nursey’s captain and fellow d-man to become maine’s official tour guide barbie. he plans the entire thing out and even prints them little itineraries and maps and shit because this boy is nothing is not Efficient

nursey makes them stop to see every single lighthouse they go anywhere near just to be a little shit (there are 65 lighthouses in maine, this would take So Long even if you just stopped at like a quarter of them)

the only canonical reference i could find for any actual locations in maine in the comic is that dex said his uncle who owned the lobster fishing boat he worked on over the summers lived in portland

(a side note to the above, i find this hilarious. portland is an pretty solidly liberal urban city - imagine a very small boston - and not somewhere you’re very likely to find small family-owned lobster fishing boats, at least in my experience. it would make way more sense for his uncle to live somewhere like rockland but i digress)

dex is 100% positive that nursey would Love portland so he carves out two whole days of their trip for them to stay with his uncle and explore. they go to the art museum and old port and the port head lighthouse and the top of the world lookout at fort sumner park and all the little shops and hidden places dex had found from living there every summer for years

nursey does end up loving portland but it might be more about the boy that shows it to him

even though his uncle lives in portland, i am still personally convinced that dex’s family mostly lives around the rockland area. i will go on a rant about nursey meeting dex’s close family another time, but while they’re in rockland, nursey continues his dedication to seeing all the lighthouses he can by forcing dex to make the almost mile long trek out to the breakwater lighthouse with him (don’t think about them standing alone next to this little building almost a mile out from land. the wind is chilly and strong and it makes dex’s hair look ridiculous and his cheeks flush and nursey definitely doesn’t want to kiss him ITS FINE ITS CHILL)

dex has them make a detour up to bangor and surprises nursey with going to see stephen king’s house. he doesnt understand why people are interested in looking at some dudes house At All but he does know nursey would love it so he does it anyways. the fence is cool and nursey gets so excited he almost face plants jumping out of the car, so dex counts it as a success

some random places i feel like dex would make them stop at along the way: freeport (nursey is both so confused and so delighted by just Everything about that place, but he loses his mind over the mcdonald’s and the ll bean outlet), ogunquit (dex purposefully takes highway 1 instead of the maine turnpike going towards portland so that they drive through ogunquit and he can see nursey’s face when he realizes they’re driving through the single gayest town he’s ever seen in his life and it’s in southern maine), moose point state park (there are a billion lil state parks in maine but i just randomly like this one in particular idk i think it’s cute), camden hills state park (it’s too foggy when they get there to drive up to the top so nursey makes them go on a hike instead so they didn’t “waste their time.” they get lost within like 10 minutes and are wet from the fog by the time they make it back to the car like 2 hours later), the desert of maine (it’s kinda boring to dex bc he’s seen it a dozen times since he was a kid, but nursey gets enthralled by the science behind it so it’s worth it), cushing (this is where the famous painter andrew wyeth lived at the olson house and was the subject of a lot of his work and i just feel like nursey would have fun seeing this place)

when they eventually make it to acadia, nursey ends up spending like two solid hours just sitting at sargent peak staring out over everything and desperately scrawling out lines of poetry into his notebook (dex spends most of those 2 hours staring at nursey but somehow doesn’t notice that nursey definitely isn’t writing about the scenery)

[cricketnationrise]

Hi cricket!! First off, congrats! For the ficlet fest, here's my request (thank you for your consideration!):

Timestamp: 5:19am, Location: Jack's Room, Character: Bitty 😉

Super excited to see what you come up with, friend! 💖

a little sleepy caretaking moment for you my dear <3

there's still like 3hrs left of today if you want to submit your own prompt! rules here

🏒🏒🏒🏒

jack's room, 5:19am

Once again, Bitty’s alarm pulls him out of sleep far, far too early. He’d thought that getting up consistently early would make it easier, but it hasn’t. It really hasn’t. It’s as much of a struggle to actually get out of bed before the sun’s up as the first time Jack had appeared at his suite’s door last year. But putting it off won’t make it any easier and having to pull him out of bed just makes Jack grumpy – so he gets moving.

A hiss when his feet hit the chilly floor, and Bitty half-stumbles to the bathroom. A quick splash of water on his face and he’s feeling slightly more awake. A couple minutes later he’s properly dressed (yes, that means three layers, no chirping from giant Canadian mooses) and on the landing – but Jack is nowhere to be seen.

Bitty has never, in all the months they’ve been doing checking practices, been ready before Jack.

“Jack?” Bitty calls softly through the door, with a gentle knock. A muffled groan is the only response.

“Jack, I’m coming in.”

His room is still dark, and Bitty almost can’t see Jack, bundled under his covers, shaking slightly.

“Jack?”

“Five more minutes.”

“Oh lord,” Bitty whispers, tiptoeing closer. From the side of the bed, Bitty can see how much paler than normal Jack is, almost ashen, with unfocused eyes. Quite without realizing it, Bitty’s hand is on Jack’s forehead, feeling his temperature like his Mama always did to him. He’s burning up.

“‘M fine. Just a sec.”

“You’re not fine. You’re sick.”

“Can’t be sick – got checking practice.”

“Not today we don’t,” Bitty says firmly, stepping back towards the door. “You just keep layin’ there looking two feet from death and I’ll fix you something. Tea, for a start. And Rans stashed some Tylenol in our bathroom – see if we can’t get you comfy enough to sleep some more.”

Bitty bustles as quietly as he can to gather supplies and hurries back to Jack’s room with his bounty.

“Okay so there’s water and Gatorade for later, but you should drink the tea, your voice sounded rough. And I found cough drops in case that starts up, oh and I remembered I had VapoRub so—”

“Bittle.”

“Right, sorry, I’ll just leave this stuff here,” he says, arranging everything on the nightstand, “and let you deal with this in peace.”

He’s halfway across the room when a weak “Stay?” comes from the bed. He spins around, surprised to see that Jack is actually sitting up, holding himself up on shaking arms, but looking determined all the same.

“You want me to stay?”

“Please? Until your class at least? You make things…better.”

“Oh,” Bitty says, breath caught. “I— Sure thing, lemme just get more comfy and I’ll be right back.”

Jack slumps back against his pillows, clearly exhausted, but he flashes a small, trembling smile at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“Got your back.”

[lucassantostoons]

Felix the Cat's Birthday Party Guest List

Mickey Mouse

Mickey Mouse

Minnie Mouse

Donald Duck

Daisy Duck

Goofy

Pluto

Clarabelle Cow

Ludwig Von Drake

Goof Troop

Max Goof

Pete

Peg Pete

PJ

Pistol Pete

Chip N Dale Rescue Rangers

Chip N Dale

Gadget Hackwrench

Monterey Jack

Zipper

The Three Caballeros

Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzales III

Jose Carioca

DuckTales (1987)

Scrooge McDuck

Huey Duck

Dewey Duck

Louie Duck

Webby Vanderquack

Bubba the cave duck

Bentina Beakley

Launchpad McQuack

Darkwing Duck

Drake Mallard / Darkwing Duck

Gosalyn Mallard

Looney Tunes

Bugs Bunny

Lola Bunny

Daffy Duck

Porky Pig

Petunia Pig

Sylvester J Pussycat

Granny

Tweety Bird

Tasmanian Devil

Wile E Coyote

Roadrunner

Marvin the Martian

K-9

Pepe Le Pew

Penelope

Speedy Gonzales 

Gossamer

Witch Hazel

Foghorn Leghorn

Elmer Fudd

Yosemite Sam

Mac Gopher

Tosh Gopher

Tiny Toon Adventures

Buster Bunny

Babs Bunny

Plucky Duck

Hamton J Pig

Furrball the Cat

Shirley The Loon

Fifi La Fume

Lil Sneezer

Gogo Dodo

Dizzy Devil

Calamity Coyote

Little Beeper

Arnold the Pit Bull

Byron Basset

Fowlmouth

Mary Melody

Bookworm

Concord Condor

Barry Marky

Marcia the Martian

Animaniacs

Yakko Warner

Wakko Warner

Dor Warner

Pinky and the Brain

The Godpigeon

The Girlfeathers

Pipsqueak

Slappy Squirrel

Skippy Squirrel

Rita

Runt

Mindy

Buttons

Freakazoid

Freakazoid

Tom & Jerry

Tom Cat

Jerry Mouse

Droopy Dog

Butch the Bulldog

Woody Woodpecker

Woody Woodpecker

Winnie Woodpecker

Knothead Woodpecker

Splinter Woodpecker

Chilly Willy

The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle & Friends

Rocky the Flying Squirrel

Bullwinkle J. Moose

Mr. Peabody

Sherman

Betty Boop

Betty Boop

Bimbo the Dog

Bonkers

Bonkers D. Bobcat

Fall Apart Rabbit

Fawn Deer

Jitters A. Dog

Miranda Wright

Disney Princess Characters 

Snow White

Bashful

Happy

Grumpy

Sleepy

Sneezy

Dopey

Doc

Prince Charming

Cinderella

Gus

Jaq

Aurora

Still work in progress

[moonsickagain]

A lot of the xenogenders you linked for the wttt gender headcanons list aren't popping up so can you explain what you mean by them please

Of course!! Here's a list of the xenos from this post and their definitions :3

Alaska

Catcolpuffic - A gender related to, connected to, or affected by, cats, oversized sweaters, cold cream puffs, cinnamon ice cream, and brown sugar almond milk lattes.

Dogboygender - A gender related to dogboys, or being a dogboy.

Drowsygender - A gender that is soft and connected to sleep, being drowsy, and tiredness.

Genderblanket - A gender where one's gender feels 'covered' by a blanket. It may feel warm, comfortable, or safe.

Lulovien - A gender related to falling in love, the moon and stars, and dusty, desaturated colors.

Moosegender - A gender relating to moose, or having a kintype related to moose. The gender can feel majestic, intimidating, and cold to the touch.

Mothgender - A gender associated with moths, fuzzyness, and bugs. Mainly masc, very moth.

Pawsgender - A gender related to small, fuzzy animals, and is childlike in nature.

Plosewial - A gender that feels as if it was sewn together, similar to how old and worn plushies are mended.

Remissious - A gender that feels soft, oversized, cozy and warm. It can be also filled with mysteries, items and even other gender labels.

Sleepyleite - A gender that feels warm, drowsy, sleepy, foggy, cozy, soft-textured, hazy, soft, and/or tied.

Soporcomfic - A gender relating to sleep, being cozy in bed, safety, warmth, and being sleepy. Can also relate to being half-awake while there’s daylight, on the brink of falling asleep or waking fully.

Sweatermasc - A comfy, masculine gender related to sweaters, wearing sweaters, etc.

Colorado

Ariemonic - A gender related to rams, mountains, and snow.

Cryobunnic - A gender connected strongly to snow, bunnies, ice, snowflakes, and snow bunnies/arctic bunnies.

Cryocattic - A cold and chilly-feeling Catgender that describes a special connection to winter, chilliness, snow, ice, and felines.

Frostmasc - A masculine and/or male gender related to wintercore and winter-related themes.

Icestormic - A gender related to ice/snowstorms, and their darkness and brutalness.

Michigan

Blaunauic - A gender related to the color blue, indigo, and aqua. can be related to indigo flowers, or any other blue/indigo flower. may also be related to the sea, winter, wind, water, snow, heaven, winter, ice, air, the sky, waves, tides, and/or sadness.

Chaosgender - A gender defined as when one's gender does lots of confusing things and doesn’t make sense to anyone. It can be thought of as a very complex gender, a very fluid gender, a gender which is difficult to understand, or a gender which is hard to fully pin down or describe in one word.

Clowngender - A fun, silly, clumsy, and colorful gender related to clowns.

Cufemian - A gender in which the user only feels feminine and/or female-aligned if it is in a cute way

Coldgender - A gender connected to cold weather.

Evilclownic - A gender related to clowns, jesters, juggalos, & the band insane clown posse. it also carries hints of a trickster, and might be perceived as sorta 'fucked up and evil'

Menacegender - A gender where one's relationship with gender involves being fucked up and evil.

Musegender - A gender that is infuenced by the gender(s) of the character(s) that are one's current muse.

Pincusmic - A gender related to being androgynous, mischievousness, neon pink, demons and incubi.

Prettygender - A gender in which one's gender feels strongly aligned with feeling pretty or beautiful and/or pretty things.

Softqualix - A gender that is soft.

Minnesota

Amocatix - A gender related to cute things, love, and cats.

Anlomeltic - A gender under angelgender and lovegender, relating to feeling like your heart’s melting, feeling soft, being in love (platonic or romantic), innocence and angelic themes.

Catgender - A gender related to cats

Comfnightgender - I can't find the definition :sob:

Cutegender - A femme gender associated with cute things, such as cats, animals, flowers, and squishy things!

Cutehorror - A gender that feels both cute and gory/horror like.

Gorrorhospic - A gender related to bloody hospitals in horror media. This gender is related to horror tropes associated with hospitals.

Horrificutegender - A gender connected to cute things that is actually something horrific, or, it could be a gender that feels like something horrific hiding behind a cute facade.

Lovelettic - A gender relating to love letters — be it writing one, receiving one, their aesthetics, or any way the user wishes!

Lunaboy - A gender that is corolated to the moon and femininity associated with the moon while being a boy in some way. Ways to describe this gender can be moonlit, sleepy, non-conforming, tired and dark.

Magicamoric - A gender connected/related to the aesthetic of a magical girl/boy/etc in love.

Magicattic - A catgender for those who have a connection to magical girls, magical girl aesthetics, and cats.

Pinkplanetary - A gender related to flowers, butterflies, pink, cherry blossoms, space, pastels, planets and stars.

Poromantian - A gender related to poetry and falling in love.

Shycatgender - A gender that feels shy and timid and also related to felines in a way.

Starcatgirlgender - Catgirl + Stargender

Verpgoris - A gender related to gore, pastel hospitals, teeth, and is slightly inspired by Jazmin Bean's music video Saccharine.

Nebraska

Deadboy - A masc gender that feels dead.

Rhode Island

Genderfuck - A gender that seeks to subvert traditional gender binary or gender roles

Stargender - A gender that feels like a star

Staricangel - A gender that is/relates to an angel sitting in the clouds on a starry night. Could feel sleepy, but doesn't have to.

Tauragender - A gender based on the zodiac sign Taurus

South Dakota

Aterpolillic - A gender connected to black moths.

Auraunpolillic - A gender connected to orange moths.

Cabbagemamesic - A gender connected to the Cabbage moth, Mamestra Brassicae.

Caepolillic - A gender connected to blue moths.

Flapolillic - A gender connected to yellow moths.

Greymothic - I can't find a definition, but a gender connected to grey moths.

Mothneut - A gender that is faintly neutral, and is connected to moths and forests.

Nivpolillic - A gender connected to white moths.

Primrosemothic - A gender connected to pink Primrose moths.

Rubpolillic - A gender connected to red moths.

Viripolillic - A gender connected to green moths.

West Virginia

Mothmangender - A gender connected to Mothman.

CDC

Cleancoric - A gender that relates to cleaning products, soap, water and sinks/baths.

Rosamistica - A gender related to rosewater facial mists.

Strawblainberic - A gender related to strawberry themed kitchen utensils. (i.e cookie jars, cups/mugs, bowls/plates, etc.)

IDC

Galaxyfeminine - A feminine gender that feels connected to stars, planets, moons, black holes, milky ways, and anything that is part of a galaxy.

Narcfem - A gender that is narcissistic and feminine. (Exclusive to pwNPD)

[katblu42]

Day 12 - Rocky Mountaineer day 2

This morning we had a slightly later start with the coach picking us up at 7:30 to take us to the station. We were scheduled to depart at 8am, but it was closer to 8:30 before we were really under way.

Today's train was shorter because about half the cars had separated from ours and already departed on the route to Banff. Our train was headed for Jasper.

Due to the breakfast service (drinks and 2 courses!!), I didn't get a lot of photos of the first part of the journey, but it was interesting watching the bare cliffs and mountainsides gradually become more and more covered in trees.

After breakfast, and the morning snack/drinks we crossed the Nth Thompson River, which we had been following. Then we finally got a break between the trees so it was possible to snap some pics of the mountain peaks!

Our three course lunch meant another break from taking photos - not that it mattered much as most of our trip had us travelling between tall trees close to the track on both sides! Did get a few quick snaps here and there though.

Between main and dessert we reached Blue Lake where tall peaks of the Monashee Range on our right and the Caribou Range on our left were visible.

Just after lunch our carriage lost power - lights out, air-con stopped working, no power to the charging stations in the arm rests, but the speakers playing music through the carriage remained working. Within about a minute the maintenance/mechanic guy came running through the car!

The reprieve from the very chilly air-con was nice, but it was obviously gonna get uncomfortable real quick . . . but it was fixed within about 5 minutes.

With that excitement over . . . we stopped in a siding for a long time to wait for two freight trains to pass. We had some colourful wildflowers to look out though!

On the move again, we come to Pyramid Falls (literally just past the siding!)

Back through the trees again for a couple of hours, and we come to the Canoe River Bridge. There's a memorial here for the men of the 2nd Field Regiment lost in a head-on train crash in Nov 1950.

Once across the river we start to see the Rocky Mountains.

Including Mt Robson - the highest peak in the Rockies - which we got to see all of. Apparently that's kind of rare, especially on a day this overcast.

We were then fed our afternoon snack and drinks! And while I was watching the mountain peaks above the trees on the left, I was suddenly taken by surprise as the view on the right opened up when we came to Moose Lake.

This is the only lake the Fraser River flows through - yes, we've come back to the Fraser River again. The colour of the water is this brilliant turquoise colour because all the sediment that makes the lower parts of the river more grey in hue has a chance to settle to the bottom, but the fine rock flour remains floating on the top.

That pointy, two-tone peak is Mt Fitzwilliam.

And not long after that we crossed the border from BC into Alberta, changed time-zone (clocks forward an hour) and reached Jasper!

Today's total train time was 11 hours, but with the time change it appears like 12 hours. A quick coach ride to the hotel and we were all checked in by 9pm.

[ratsoh-writes]

Ozzy picks up a basket with little thought. He stood next to Moose. Ozzy kept shifting his weight and smiling. He wasn’t one for staying still. “I’ve never foraged before, what’ll we be looking for?”

Moose: berries, leftover nuts, an’ herbs. Dont worry I’ll show ya’ what’s edible as we look

It’s a crisp chilly day, a sort of dry cold, but moving around helps and you warm up quickly as you both walk the trails close to the rangers cabin. Already you see new plant growths popping up. One of the first ones moose shows off is a small round leaf that moose calls miners lettuce

Moose: this one is best when it’s small, so leave the big older leaves alone.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Snow on the Turtle Mountains

The hummocky highlands that straddle the border between the U.S. state of North Dakota and the Canadian province of Manitoba are called the Turtle Mountains. They are modest-sized for mountains, part of a plateau that rises just 600 to 800 feet (180 to 240 meters) above the surrounding plains.

However, the increased elevation results in an additional 10 inches (25 centimeters) of precipitation per year, enough to support hardwood forests rather than grasslands. (A process called the orographic effect enhances precipitation at higher elevations when topography forces passing air upward and causes water vapor to cool and condense into clouds.)

The forests stand out in this snowy view of the plateau, captured by the MODIS (Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectroradiometer) on NASA’s Terra satellite on January 3, 2025. Forests cover about half of the plateau, appearing darker than the surrounding snow-covered wetlands, farmland, and grasslands. Trembling aspen, bur oak, balsam poplar, and green ash dominate, providing habitat for a variety of animals including fox, weasel, badger, deer, marten, and moose.

Stagnant glaciers sculpted the plateau’s many kettle lakes and prairie potholes during the last ice age. As debris-covered blocks of ice slowly melted, they left the surface pockmarked with small depressions. The resulting wetlands cover about a quarter of the plateau and support populations of turtles, frogs, salamanders, several types of fish, waterfowl, and other aquatic birds.

Wildlands cover much of the plateau, but signs of human activity are visible as well. About a quarter of the area has been cleared and converted to farmland, which appears as bright snow-covered areas in its center and southwest. About 5,000 people live on the Turtle Mountain Reservation, home to a band of Chippewa, on the southeastern part of the plateau near Belcourt.

The rectangular borders of the densely forested Turtle Mountain Provincial Park in Manitoba are also visible in the northern third of the plateau. In the winter, the park has become a destination for cross-country skiing, ice fishing, snowmobiling, and sledding—at least for the cold-tolerant. Chilly weather prevailed when MODIS acquired the image. Temperatures averaged minus 6.7 degrees Fahrenheit (minus 21.5 degrees Celsius) at the nearby Devils Lake Regional Airport Station on January 3, according to Weather Undeground.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Wanmei Liang, using MODIS data from NASA EOSDIS LANCE and GIBS/Worldview. Story by Adam Voiland.