#appalachian studies

[bookquotesfrombooks]

“Queer organizing that works to move beyond recognition, inclusion, and rights and toward collective transformation predicated on a collective privileging of intersectional activism that seeks to root out systemic injustice is world-making.”

Heather Brydie Harris

“Home Grown: Critical Queer Activism in Appalachia and the South”

Published in Y’all Means All: The Emerging Voices Queering Appalachia

#heather brydie harris #home grown #y’all means all #queer Appalachia #queer studies #queer #appalachia #Appalachian studies #books #essays #quotes #book quotes #bookblr

[huariqueje]

Secret Lookout -   Mia Bergeron ,  2023.

American, b. 1979  -

Acrylic on canvas , 5 x 7 in.

#Mia Bergeron #american artist #montain landscape #tree painting #study painting #pine tree #Appalachian Mountains #foothills

[riality-check]

Hey so here’s the big ass Eddie WIP

Summary:

"Eddie's bright and bold and smart and struggling and too much for most people in Hawkins. Eddie doesn't fit in with the rest of Hawkins because he's not from there and he likes different music and different games and intentionally put that bandana in his back pocket."

OR

Eddie, from growing up with his parents to right up until he stands on that cafeteria table.

OR

I heard the hotwiring line and it spawned eight chapters of fic.

#ria writes #born to run #eddie munson #appalachian eddie munson #wayne munson #character study #fluff and angst #growing up #jewish eddie munson #idk what other tags this needs

[fenthebonebreaker]

#0046 Appalachian Mountain Chorus Frog (Pseudacris brachyphona).

2nd in my Frog & Toad series.

#appalachian mountain chorus frog #frog art #daily art #ink and wash #watercolors #brush pen #nature study #fauna #virginia natives #swampcore #frogs #amphibians

[polyglot-thought]

[Mandarin->English] @byvoid September 29th 2016 Instagram Post - Color Coded Translation

Link to original post

—

阿巴拉契亞山脈東部邊緣的哈里斯堡，賓夕法尼亞首府 #哈里斯堡 #賓夕法尼亞 #阿巴拉契亞

阿巴拉契亚山脉东部边缘的哈里斯堡，宾夕法尼亚首府 #哈里斯堡 #宾夕法尼亚 #阿巴拉契亚

ā bā lā qì yà shān mài dōng bù biān yuán de hā lǐ sī bǎo，bīn xī fǎ ní yà shǒu fǔ #hā lǐ sī bǎo #bīn xī fā ní yà #ā bā lā qì yà

(On) the eastern fringes of the Appalachian mountain range is Harrisburg, Pennsylvania’s capital #Harrisburg #Pennsylvania #Appalachia

—

Please correct me if I made a mistake.

#color coded translation #polyglot thought translation #chinese langblr #learn chinese #chinese lesson #mandarin langblr #chinese vocab #chinese to english #taiwanese mandarin #mandarin vocab #easy mandarin #mandarin lesson #mandarin learning #study mandarin #beginner chinese #traditional chinese #study chinese #american culture #appalachian culture #appalachia #appalachian mountains #mandarin vocabulary #chinese vocabulary

[naivesilver]

also. pick any five questions you like the look of and designate one question to five characters of your own choice (either the court or five entirely different ocs, or a mix, it's completely up to you) 💖💕💖 hope you have fun with these!

I'm doing this one first because the other one will require a bit more time but!!!!! Now I can branch out!!!!!!!

Said Pinocchio Vampire Slayer

Cocktail OC Asks

𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗶𝗶 〜 does your oc speak any other language(s)? if they didn’t learn to speak the language(s) when they were growing up, when and why did they learn it?

Pierrot: French, some Russian, all the Italian he picked up from Marco and that he uses to bother Pinocchio on the daily, a smattering of Arabic that comes from hanging out at Twinkle's house. We love a multilingual king (:

𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗲𝗮 〜 who are some of your oc’s best friends?

Amelia: Julio and Hernando Madrigal, her brother Alberto and, in high school years, Moira of Dunbroch (Merida's niece and heir)

𝗱𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮 〜 post a song or a lyric that fits your oc

Leona: Be Still by The Fray

Be still and know that I'm with you/And I will say your name/If terror falls upon your bed/And sleep no longer comes I know it's an overused song but I love the lullaby-esque rhythm and the idea of her being a comforting presence in the night ok

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗶 〜 does your oc’s name or design reference anything? i.e. music, movies, etc.

Mignon: ok so obviously her whole character is based on Mignon from Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre as I have previously said, but to create her I used multiple details from the same source. Book!Mignon is described as androgynous, somewhat genderless, so her appearance in the fic is more masculine and her clothes and hair accentuate this contrast. Her curse name is Mariane, AKA Wilhelm Meister's first love, because he kept doing this weird thing where he compared them/suspected them of the same actions etc and the two names had a similar sound. In the OG story she travelled with two travelling companies of performers, hence why she's a amateur actress and Pierrot's sort of friend in the AU. Shit like that dkkhsafjashkj

𝗺𝗶𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗮 〜 has your oc ever committed any crimes? if so, what did they do? if not, what would they be most likely to commit?

Eliana: she committed arson once. She would do it again in a heartbeat.

#bewilderedmoth #ask meme #thousand problems verse #court of misfits #oc: eliana #au: appalachian wine #honestly it's so stupid that so many characters in stuff I studied were connected to acting or theater in general #makes it bloody hard to add them in this au #they can't ALL be in drama club smh

[headspace-hotel]

What i've been learning thru my research is that Lawn Culture and laws against "weeds" in America are deeply connected to anxieties about "undesirable" people.

I read this essay called "Controlling the Weed Nuisance in Turn-of-the-century American Cities" by Zachary J. S. Falck and it discusses how the late 1800's and early 1900's created ideal habitats for weeds with urban expansion, railroads, the colonization of more territory, and the like.

Around this time, laws requiring the destruction of "weeds" were passed in many American cities. These weedy plants were viewed as "filth" and literally disease-causing—in the 1880's in St. Louis, a newspaper reported that weeds infected school children with typhoid, diphtheria, and scarlet fever.

Weeds were also seen as "conducive to immorality" by promoting the presence of "tramps and idlers." People thought wild growing plants would "shelter" threatening criminals. Weeds were heavily associated with poverty and immortality. Panic about them spiked strongly after malaria and typhoid outbreaks.

To make things even wilder, one of the main weeds the legal turmoil and public anxiety centered upon was actually the sunflower. Milkweed was also a major "undesirable" weed and a major target of laws mandating the destruction of weeds.

The major explosion in weed-control law being put forth and enforced happened around 1905-1910. And I formed a hypothesis—I had this abrupt remembrance of something I studied in a history class in college. I thought to myself, I bet this coincides with a major wave of immigration to the USA.

Bingo. 1907 was the peak of European immigration. We must keep in mind that these people were not "white" in the exact way that is recognized today. From what I remember from my history classes, Eastern European people were very much feared as criminals and potential communists. Wikipedia elaborates that the Immigration Act of 1924 was meant to restrict Jewish, Slavic, and Italian people from entering the country, and that the major wave of immigration among them began in the 1890s. Almost perfectly coinciding with the "weed nuisance" panic. (The Immigration Act of 1917 also banned intellectually disabled people, gay people, anarchists, and people from Asia, except for Chinese people...who were only excluded because they were already banned since 1880.)

From this evidence, I would guess that our aesthetics and views about "weeds" emerged from the convergence of two things:

First, we were obliterating native ecosystems by colonizing them and violently displacing their caretakers, then running roughshod over them with poorly informed agricultural and horticultural techniques, as well as constructing lots of cities and railroads, creating the ideal circumstances for weeds.

Second, lots of immigrants were entering the country, and xenophobia and racism lent itself to fears of "criminals" "tramps" and other "undesirable" people, leading to a desire to forcefully impose order and push out the "Other." I am not inventing a connection—undesirable people and undesirable weeds were frequently compared in these times.

And this was at the very beginnings of the eugenics movement, wherein supposedly "inferior" and poor or racialized people were described in a manner much the same as "weeds," particularly supposedly "breeding" much faster than other people.

There is another connection that the essay doesn't bring up, but that is very clear to me. Weeds are in fact plants of the poor and of immigrants, because they are often medicinal and food plants for people on the margins, hanging out around human habitation like semi-domesticated cats around granaries in the ancient Near East.

My Appalachian ancestors ate pokeweed, Phytolacca americana. The plant is toxic, but poor people in the South would gather the plant's young leaves and boil them three times to get the poison out, then eat them as "poke salad." Pokeweed is a weed that grows readily on roadsides and in vacant lots.

In some parts of the world, it is grown as an ornamental plant for its huge, tropical-looking leaves and magenta stems. But my mom hates the stuff. "Cut that down," she says, "it makes us look like rednecks."

#plants #ecology #usa ecology #history #american history #lawn #anti lawn

[wanderingsorcerer]

Tumblr Grimoire

Here is a comprehensive collection of all of the posts I've done on the occult and the spells I've done and spell resources. This will be added to over the life of the blog as well this way everyone won't have to dig for everything. And you get to learn a bit more about my practice.

Occult & Folklore Lessons

History Of Solomonic Practices

Ars Goetia 72 demons Kings

Ars Goetia 72 Demons Dukes Pt. 1

Petitioning Deities From Around The Globe

Ancient Art of Osteomancy

Curses: A History On The Dark Arts and How to Practice Them

The Enochian Language

Scrying, A History, and Guide

CELTIC FOLKLORE&MYTHOLOGY 101

Realm of Celtic Faeries

Protection From Malignant Spirits

Appalachian Folk Practices 101

Incantation Bowls

Spells and Rituals

Exorcism

Exorcism Charms

Exorcism Powder

Boundary Powder

Everlight Candles

Solarian Oil

Vincula Luna

Igni Bowls

Basic Banishment

Binding A Spirit To An Object

Malignant Spirit Binding Totem

Pseudo Moon Water

Medicinal Herbs & Remedies

Tincture For Sleep

Salve For Minor Injuries

Grimoire Reading List

this is added to periodically it's free pdfs you can download

Informational Joke Posts/Answered Asks

Greek Sacrifice Traditions

Is Mana Real?

Sonneillon The Demon Of Hate

Demonolatry for Lesser Known Demons

Do you have to be born with magic, or can anyone learn it?

Navigating the Divide Between Legitimate Academic Study and Occult Fiction

Can magic heal physical injuries or illnesses, or is that just stuff they show in movies?

Services Offered By WanderingSorcerer

Get Early Access To All Of My Work On Magick and The Occult

Spellwork and Tarot Reading Prices Listed Here

One On One Occult Lessons With WanderingSorcerer

☕If You Love My Blog Consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi☕ 😊

#occult #occultism #occultist #demons #ars goetia #solomonic magick #magick #witchcraft #folklore #folklorist #magi #magus #grimoire #grimoires #witch #witchblr #witches #witchythings #witchlife #pagan witch #WanderingSorcerer #herbalist #plants and herbs #herbology #herbalism

[bifurious-rex]

hey where do you guys pirate academic stuff if libgen didn't have it/if one of my mutuals has access to a university database and would be willing to download a chapter of an academic book to me i need it for redneck things 🥺💖

#probs has to be a university in the us just on the basis that it's a book on appalachian studies so it's more likely #in a usamerican collection 😭😭😭 i would owe you my life theres a poem/ #short story or whatever in it that i read and i need but i CAN'T find this book hhh

[don-lichterman]

Study supports stronger conservation efforts Appalachians and the Gulf Coast, US -- ScienceDaily

Study supports stronger conservation efforts Appalachians and the Gulf Coast, US — ScienceDaily

During the last ice age, glaciers covered vast portions of North America. But some regions, including areas of the southern Appalachians and the Gulf Coast, had more temperate climates in which plants and animals survived and thrived. From those regions, called glacial refugia, those populations spread northward as the glaciers receded. New research by Clemson University scientist Matthew Koski…

View On WordPress

#Appalachians #coast #conservation #efforts #Gulf #Nature; Evolutionary Biology; New Species; Ice Ages; Global Warming; Climate; Early Climate; Evolution; Early Humans; Environmental Policies #ScienceDaily #Stronger #study #supports

[bookquotesfrombooks]

“Power comes from people building relationships and coalitions and fighting for their space.”

Rachel Casiano Hernandez

“Lessons for the Long Term: One Story of the Queer Appalachia Platform “

Published in Y’all Means All: The Emerging Voices Queering Appalachia

#Rachel casiano hernandez #lessons for the long term #y’all means all #queer appalachia #queering Appalachia #queer studies #appalachia #queer #organizing #mutual aid #Appalachian studies #quotes #essays #books #book quotes #bookblr #power

[cthene]

I can’t stand when people are like “Why is Scully still so skeptical after X-many seasons? Mulder is always right! Why doesn’t she belieeeeve already?”

First of all, believe in what? In aliens? In psychics? In Appalachian folk magic? Just because we saw a sewer mutant this week, doesn’t mean we should assume vampires are real the next week. You have to separately prove each of those things.

Second of all, Scully is a scientist. Science is not a set of beliefs, it’s a method for interpreting the world. Science isn’t invalidated because ghosts are real or whatever. If it turns out ghosts are real, then scientists will study them. Scully puts this perfectly when she says, “Nothing happens in contradiction to nature; Only in contradiction to what we know of it.”

Third of all, Mulder is not always right. Half the time he doesn’t even have a theory of the case, he just mumbles something about astral projection and then switches to poltergeists at the last minute and goes, “See, I knew it all along!” It’s easy to look right when your theories are unfalsifiable and constantly changing. Most of Mulder’s claims boil down to “something spooky is happening,” which could mean literally anything. He’s like a stage magician, redirecting the audience’s attention. He will stroll into an interrogation room with a suspect who’s acting crazy and go “Aha! She’s a psychic!” when it could be twenty other more plausible things. Maybe she’s faking it or having a seizure. Maybe she knows where the bodies are buried because she’s the killer, dummy.

Pay close attention. Don’t let Mulder razzle-dazzle you. The vast majority of X-Files are more easily explained by some combination of:

People lying

People being crazy

People being drugged

Cold reading

Government or criminal conspiracy

Unusual but natural phenomena (freak weather events, rare diseases, etc.)

Mulder will literally say shit to Scully like, “A complete lack of evidence is exactly the evidence I was hoping you’d find.” That’s not a theory of the case, that’s a riddle on the inside of a popsicle stick! What is this guy, the Mad Hatter?!

Scully is a fricking saint.

#the x files #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #mulder and scully #txf #scully #mulder

[runthepockets]

The Study on Post-Pubescent Manhood is a collection of images taken by American photographer Stacy Kranitz in 2013. It looks at how subculture self-consciously dramatizes violence through daily rituals, habits, and pastimes, thereby implicating the photographer and viewer as consumers of that violence. These images were taken at a dystopian compound in the Southern Ohio Appalachian region of the United States.

"I have focused my gaze on a group of young men that I befriended at a dystopian compound in Ohio. I went there searching for displays of violence that function as catharsis so I could validate behavior that might at first glance seem destructive, dissolute, or anti-social."

#photography #stacy kranitz #gender files #boyhood

[cranberrymoons]

that old black magic

prompt: magic au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 rated: t tags: fortune telling, witch/appalachian eddie, post-season 2

welcome to Day 20 (!!!) of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The cards don’t actually do anything.

See, he waves his hand around and says some fancy words over some very old looking cards with very old looking art on them, and people assume that’s where the magic is – and the cards are old! And so is the art! But they just don’t actually do anything.

No, the magic sits in him. It always has. That’s always been the secret.

His mother had it, and his grandmother before her and her father before that and on and on, all the way back as far as the eye can see, right up the family tree to that one person at the top who made a deal with something in the woods one night, something as old as the hills themselves, that lurks behind trees and makes offers to desperate passing travelers.

But all that was hundreds of years before Eddie’s time. 

These days, there are psychics on TV and people who do tarot readings in over-perfumed salons while they sit on a throne made of cheap velvet and clatter around with their bracelets and bangles and shawls. There are people who read palms and sell incense and run little bookshops that sell mass-produced spellbooks. Crystals and incense and moon charts, the whole world awash in fake magic. All of it, all of it, noise.

But Eddie’s one of the rare real ones. He doesn’t exactly go around advertising it, but give him a set of cards and enough money? Sure, he’ll do a little fake fortune telling for you, maybe even give you a real answer or two, nudge something in the right direction so you feel like you got your money’s worth.

All that to say, the first time Steve Harrington finds him after class, one day right before winter break, and takes a furtive look over his shoulder, Eddie’s fully prepared to do the usual song and dance.

“Um, hey man,” Steve says in a low voice. “I heard you uh –” He clears his throat, shuts his eyes like he can’t actually look at Eddie as he says it. “That you can sort of see the future? Or tell people what’s going to happen or whatever.”

He opens his eyes, and Eddie studies him for a moment, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “And?”

Steve makes a face, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. “There’s some really weird shit going on,” he says, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “It’s kind of hard to explain but basically… there’s something that I really hope is over, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to ask or whatever but –” He lets out a breath. “Is it actually over?”

“Harrington, that’s –” Eddie shakes his head, running a hand back through his hair. “So fucking vague. How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Okay, just –” Steve lets out a breath. “If you could like… I don’t know, just give it a general look, see if I’m…”

As he continues rambling, Eddie tunes him out in favor of flipping through his timeline like a mental rolodex, just to see what he’s working with. Just to see what he can spin out of King Steve’s future, but –

“What the hell did you do?” he asks abruptly, cutting across Steve halfway through blabbering about something to do with someone named Justin or Dustin or – “There shouldn’t be blank spots, Harrington. Why do you have blank spots?”

Steve blinks at him. “I –” He frowns. “Blank spots?”

“Past and future, you’ve got these weird –” Eddie flaps a hand around in the air, lost for words, because – “Blank spots. I’ve never seen that before.”

Steve’s face goes blank with surprise. “Wait, like… you can actually see my future?” he asks. “Like right now, you’re seeing it? What are you seeing?”

“I’m… just –” 

Eddie shakes his head, shuts his eyes to block out the feedback loop his brain seems to be caught in, because alongside the blank spots – and there are blank spots; what the fuck – he keeps seeing himself standing with Steve, which must be his brain trying to fill in the weird gaps? 

Maybe? 

How the fuck is he supposed to know? He’s never seen anything like this before.

“Did something happen around Halloween?” he asks finally, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath. “That’s where the first gap is, and then the next one is in like… a year or two from now? It’s kind of hard to tell.”

Steve’s expression drops, and his shoulders slump. 

“The tunnels,” he says. “That’s – Halloween. I was in the tunnels at Halloween.” He says this as if it explains anything, but Eddie honestly feels twice as lost as he was thirty seconds ago. “So it’s going to happen again, then.”

Eddie makes a face, sort of aiming for – sympathetic? That seems like what Steve needs right now, probably.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re going to survive.” He shrugs. “There’s stuff after, a long life. I keep –” He takes a breath, considering not saying the rest, but Steve is going to ask for more details if he doesn’t. “I can’t really see a ton of it, because I think the blank spots are messing with me. I keep seeing myself there in your future stuff, but I’m sure my brain’s just filling in the gaps. It’s not like –”

“Like you’re part of my future.”

“Right,” Eddie says. He laughs. “Yeah, that would be –”

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a relieved little breath, and – sure. Fair enough. “Anyway, um – thanks, man. This is… not exactly good news, but I feel a little better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie echoes. “Uh– anytime.”

Steve starts like he’s just remembered, and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “How much do I–”

“No, just–” Eddie shakes his head. “No charge. Just get home safe, okay?”

Steve nods, smiling a little. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

"Don't Touch Me" (Loki x F!Reader)

Summary: Cursed with the power of necrogenesis, you are held captive by the Avengers, who think you are too much of a threat to be allowed to roam free. When they decide to give you a chance to prove yourself, they entrust your care to Loki, who whisks you away to a safe house in New Asgard.

Pairing: Soft!Loki x Captive!Reader Content Warning: angst, comfort, smut (18+ ONLY), reader is a prisoner, Soft!Dom!Loki, narratophilia, magic bondage (soft), praise kink Word Count: 5.1k **Please reblog this if you like it! Thank you!**

Hours? Days? Weeks?

For all you knew, it had been a year since your capture. 

Three years prior, you’d woken one not-so-fine morning to discover that everything died at the slightest touch of your finger. Whether it was a plant, animal, or person, nothing alive was safe from you. You didn't know how or why it was you, but the fact was: it was you. You went from normal insurance claims adjuster to reaper overnight. It was no small thing to get used to. 

You shut yourself away, learned to make friends online and in other countries whom you would never meet in person, tell the pizza guy to leave it outside (money’s in the mail slot), and to put the idea that you;d ever meet a man out of your head forever. You had yet to kill a human, thankfully, but every day you felt the anxiety build within your chest as you knew that record couldn’t possibly remain ‘zero’ forever. 

You were a monster. The best thing for a monster to do was to hide in its cave.

Yet, you’d managed three years of hiding, wearing leather gloves from the second you awoke to the second you went to bed (aside from in the shower, of course), and staying as far away from cities as you could. Perhaps, given how introverted you were naturally, you could live a quiet life in peaceful solitude. You were considering buying a cabin in the Appalachians, near a waterfall or a creek one day. It would be lonely, but at least you would be free and unafraid of accidentally killing someone who insisted on shaking your bare hand. The little town in Connecticut where you were keeping a low profile was close enough to NYC that you could see the light pollution on the southern horizon at night, and it would do for the time being. 

Unfortunately, your time ended. A surveillance camera had caught an accident of yours in a local park, where one of your gloves had blown off and flown down a path, and in chase, you’d tripped and tried to grab onto a tree branch to stop your fall. 

The entire tree came down behind you, barely missing your body, dead as if it had been dried up for centuries in the blink of an eye. 

That tape had made it to the eyes of Nick Fury himself over the course of only a few hours. The Team moved in on you on a typical Monday morning, just as you pulled on your gloves, ready to leave the apartment for work. What else could you have done but pulled off your gloves in an attempt to defend yourself? Despite being unable to take out any of your assailants, of which there were four, you’d taken out half of the park’s greenery, and a few unfortunate pigeons that couldn’t get out of your way as you stumbled and desperately scrambled away from the archer, the one with scraggly hair, the red witch, and the birdman. 

Before you knew it, you were subdued and wrapped up tightly so that none of your skin below your chin was exposed, and you were taken to a solid glass holding cell somewhere underneath a compound in the Hudson valley: the headquarters for the New Avengers Initiative. 

You were fed through a trick door in the side of the 12 x 12 cell (not that you were particularly hungry at any point). You were never taken out or touched, only handed sanitary items through the door and told to shower through a water spout that hung from the ceiling after most of the lab team studying you went home. Dr. Banner gave you 30 minutes without cameras trained on you every day. 

Not that it mattered much. You still sat there day in and day out, refusing to speak or answer any of the thousands of questions about your powers that you didn’t want to answer. You refused to eat, and you did little more than sleep or sit on the ground, staring off into the middle-distance. 

You began to get weaker, and that was when you first saw your champion. 

It was none other than Loki of Asgard, the god who’d torn New York City apart, then played an integral part in stopping the end of the world at the hand (quite literally) of a god much bigger than he. While the rumor was that he still wasn’t considered fully trustworthy, his role in saving humanity was apparently enough to give him a spot on the Avengers squad. 

On the morning he’d come down to the cell to get a look at you, he appeared tired, a bit annoyed to be there. “And what do you want me to do about her?”

“She’s a villain, she’s got your…um…background,” said Dr. Banner. “Perhaps she’ll talk to you. She will likely die in a few weeks if this continues. Something has to give.” 

“So you called me forth from my respite to show me your latest trophy? Do you think I would approve of you taking captive someone who won’t even speak her name?” he asked, sounding less impressed and more disappointed. “What makes you think she has ill intentions?”

Loki rounded a corner with Dr. Banner, and he was finally in your view. 

Your first impression was that he wasn’t quite as intimidating as you’d expected him to be. He was tall, but you’d anticipated a figure at least half a foot taller than what strode up to your cage, dressed in a black leather tunic, trimmed in gold, and form-fitting black trousers of the same color, tucked into green knee-length boots. His hair was tied in a tail at the nape of his neck, and several strands in the front were loose, framing his angular face. His eyes were intense and focused singularly on you as soon as he got you in his sights. 

“Did she try to kill you?” he asked, making a beeline for you, standing up along the glass, watching you with interest as if you were a zoo animal. 

“She did put up a fight. She may not have super serum strength or anything, but you try apprehending someone who can stop your heart with a flick,” Banner explained. 

“And I trust you explained to her what was happening, and gave her the chance to come quietly?” Loki inquired, smiling gently at you, making you turn your head away bashfully. 

“Well, no,” said Banner sheepishly. “We were under the impression it wasn’t going to be on the table. According to our intel, absolutely anything she touches dies before it hits the ground, you understand.”

“It sounds as if you wouldn’t have known either way,” scoffed Loki, getting down onto his knee, bringing his eye level closer to the floor, closer to you. “And you all think I’m the bad one. At least I eventually called my sins what they were and changed my ways.”

Banner shrugged. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Maybe if you can get her to talk, we can consider getting her out of there.”

Loki nodded. “I will do my best, and I won’t treat her like a war criminal for defending herself in the process.”

The doctor left the god alone, dimming the harsh fluorescent lights, making the environment slightly more comfortable. 

He smiled at you, and even though you knew he was in earnest, something about the sharpness of his grin, the unnatural whiteness of his teeth, gave him an air of sinister jest. You were still afraid to look him in the eye as he shifted around the cage next to where you leaned against the glass. 

You heard three light taps by your right ear, making you flinch. 

“Hello, there,” whispered a soft, deep voice. “Please don’t be frightened of me. I’m not frightened of you.” 

You finally used your voice for the first time in ages, compelled to respond to your dashing jailer without even really thinking on it. “That’s because of the glass.”

“I’m sorry? These walls are thick, would you mind terribly speaking up?”

“The glass,” you repeated. “If we were on the same side, you’d be afraid of me.”

“Forgive me, Miss,” Loki replied, “But I’ve been told enough about you to pass judgment on that, and I say, you aren’t a danger.”

“But how can you tell?” you asked meekly, feeling a tear at the corner of your eye, quickly blinking it back. It was remarkable at how fraught your situation felt: it was enough to extract intense emotions out of every single word you said. 

“Darling,” your ally leaned in, as if to whisper a gentle secret in your ear, “I trust my instinct. You look about as helpless as a gosling. I can see how the skin on your neck trembles.”

“I don't know why or how this happened. Please don’t expect answers,” you pleaded. “Please, tell them to let me go.”

Loki sighed and looked down. “My word isn’t, as of yet, in the best position here, though I am working on it, I assure you.”

“Please,” you said, the desperation in your voice losing intensity, giving way to an exhausted weakness. “Please, help me. I just want to live alone where I can’t hurt anyone. I won’t ever go looking for trouble, I swear--” 

“--ssh, I know, pet, I know,” Loki said quietly. “Cease worrying. Loki will take care of you.” 

Loki will take care of you.

The sentence, particularly its’ delivery, made goosebumps rise along your arms, although you felt them appear for a reason you didn’t quite find familiar at first. 

He stayed with you for nearly twelve hours, taking his meals with you, talking gently about inconsequential matters to distract you from your circumstances. 

When he was finally forced away so that you could have your evening shower, he turned back one last time before leaving. “I will always be back for you,” he vowed. “Y/N, you’ll be free by morning.” 

For the first time since your arrest, you slept soundly, your angular, Asgardian savior filling your dreams with feelings of safety and love. 

Loki had promised your freedom by morning. He was true to his word. 

“Look, I don't exactly feel confident in letting you two go off into the wild blue yonder to cause havoc,” said the imposing Nick Fury, who, quite frankly, frightened the ever living hell out of you. “I was ultimately convinced,” he looked bitterly at Loki, who shrugged innocently, “but there are terms. If I get wind of either of you sneezing without permission, you both come right back here and get thrown into the motherfucking dungeon.”

“We don’t have a dungeon,” Loki mumbled, a smart-ass grin rolling across his face to try and break the tension. You smiled for the first time in a long, long while. 

“Watch it, Laufeyson,” said Fury. “You’re the one sailing this boat. Don't sink it.”

Neither of you wanted to arouse his ire any further, so you decided to quietly slip away and out of the city, taking a quinjet being flown by Banner out to a place you’d never realized existed. 

“New Asgard,” your handsome escort explained as you began your descent. “The survivors among my people settled here after the fall of our homeworld and the slaughter we faced when we tried to escape. There aren’t many. It is…regrettably…a bit spartan.” 

“Better than that terrible cell,” you answered softly, barely audible. Loki, with the natural hearing of a god, still made out what you’d said, and he gently took your hand and gave it a squeeze, making your heart flutter when you looked into his promising blue eyes. 

Indeed, the place was no bigger than a fishing village. In fact, that was essentially what it was. Even Loki scrunched his nose at the sight as you disembarked and let Banner fly off with the plane. Loki had never let go of your hand, and each of you had a small bag slung over your opposite shoulders. 

“Welcome to New Asgard,” he said, a bit of disappointment lacing his tone. “We are going to be staying here until Fury sees fit to declare us tame enough to come home.” 

You walked up a path to the small town square, every house basic in construction small in scale, and underwhelming in neighborly feeling. Most of the Asgardians were dressed in heavy knitted sweaters and boots and kept their heads down and eyes on their work. 

“Weren’t you their prince?” you asked quietly. “Why aren’t they bowing?”

Loki sighed. “Our system of government has changed somewhat since relocating,” he said. “Also, the present King isn’t exactly fond of me.” 

You decided to take things one moment at a time (there were too many conflicting emotions swimming in your head to warrant fixating on one anyway), and to let his cryptic comments go. You were going to be here for a long time, so perhaps it was best to let it go. Loki would open up to you in time. 

You were nearly knocked over by two children running in chase around you as you meandered. Loki grunted, but remained soft for your sake. “We will need to inform these people, however, to mind themselves around you,” he said, holding back his annoyance. 

“Even if it happened by accident, I couldn’t live with myself,” you mentioned. 

Loki stopped you and scooped a hand under your chin, looking you in the eye with warm assurance that also had an air of dominance to it, almost like an attractive young school teacher, stern but also kind in his insistence for your obedience.

“Yes, you can, and that is why we are here together,” he said. “Please remember that we are here to help each other, and I am here to protect you.” 

“It’s them that need protection from me,” you moaned, disheartened. “If it weren’t for the gloves…” you trailed off. 

Loki shook his head and let you go. He tapped your glove. “These will be coming off. Today.” 

“No!” you said quickly. “Please, Loki, don’t expose me to everyone like that.”

Your escort shook his head. “Let’s get inside and discuss this. I do believe rain is coming.” 

He was correct. Just as the pair of you found your small hovel towards the far end of the shoreline, a chilly splattering of precipitation began to fall about you. Taking out a brass key, he brought you inside, taking your rucksack and tossing it by the bedroom door carelessly. 

The cabin was one three rooms: a living room, a bedroom, and a kitchen barely big enough for two people to turn around in. The bathroom also hardly had enough room for a human-sized creature to stand comfortably, as it was about the side of a phone booth plus perhaps a few square feet. There were furnishings, but the sofas, chairs, and tables all look like they’d been scavenged from an old lady’s garage sale at best. 

The bedroom only had one large bed, taking up most of the minimal space by itself. 

You stood, stupefied, in the middle of the room as Loki observed. You kept your gloved hands close to your chest as you anxiously looked around. 

“You may as well get comfortable while I make us some tea,” Loki suggested. “This miniscule cottage is our indefinite home.” 

You sat quietly, refusing to move your hands as Loki set up a small tea set he found in the cabinets, taking the steaming kettle to your cup, and in a moment, the smell of peppermint filled your nostrils, putting you slightly more at ease. 

He sat beside you, not touching anything on his side of the table, instead bringing the attention back to you once again. He was like an explorer discovering new territory; he needed to know everything about you. 

“Pet, I will wait until you are comfortable removing them, but I would like to see them come off today,” he said, again with that attractive stern-but-kind tone that was beginning to make more than your heart flutter. “I would like to feel your skin on mine.”

“You wish to die, then. I can’t control it,” you said quietly, looking away.

“That’s merely because you were never given the opportunity to see if you could,” said Loki, absentmindedly holding out a hand, making you shrink back reflexively. 

“Please, don't touch me!”

Loki quickly withdrew, giving you your space and shrinking toward the opposite end of the couch. You couldn’t help but notice he looked a little hurt. “I…I’m very sorry,” you apologized, hoping you didn’t scare off your guardian. “You’re wonderful, and I can’t be the one to take your life, even by accident,” you blurted out. 

Loki bit his lip, looking at you again. “Wonderful?” 

You nodded. “I believe you when you say you’re not afraid of me. But…I am, okay? I’m a monster.”

He sighed, thinking for a moment on what to say next. “I know monsters. I’ve met them, slain them…you are no monster.” His gentle words filled you with warmth. “And furthermore,” he continued, “I would allow you to touch me, barehanded, right here and now.” 

“No.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, lithe but steady. “The thing about magic, Y/N, is that no matter what form it comes in, what you see is never the complete picture. Any and all magic can be trained, whether to contain or expand.” 

You twiddled your thumbs nervously. “I don’t even know where this came from, so how can I know what the key is to controlling it?”

“Willpower,” Loki said, matter-of-factly. “It’s simply how any magic works.” 

Loki had stealthily shifted so that your outer thighs were touching, and you were more than a little aware of it. Then, you looked up at your helper just as he brushed a strand of hair away from your brow, tucking it behind your ear, making you sigh a little. 

“Ms Y/N, am I startling you?” he asked. “I don’t want you feeling ill at ease with me.” 

You didn’t reply. 

“If I had to be sent out to a wooden box in the middle of a Norwegian mud pile, I must say I could not have found a more exquisite creature to share in my exile,” he whispered. “I only hope my saying so isn’t too forward.” 

“It isn’t,” you answered bashfully. “Loki…I haven’t thanked you yet for what you’ve done for me. And…I think I know how I want to.”

It was as if Loki could read your thoughts, for it was here that he leaned in for your first kiss. You were timid at first, but seeing as it was your escort who initiated contact, you had nothing to worry about, so long as he remained the one to make the first move.

As you pulled apart, you went to remove your cardigan, but you felt Loki’s hand press against yours from through the leather glove you still wore. 

“It is your own soft flesh I want feeling my muscles, your fingers I want exploring every part of me,” said Loki. “I have given you every dignity I could throughout this process, but if you cannot give me this one, we cannot--”

You whimpered, and Loki instantly regretted his words. “Y/N, I apologize!” 

Shaking your head, you looked at him again, letting your lips perk up at the corners. “You’re right. And, although this has never happened to me before, I don’t want to…to miss out, you know? I just…what if I touch you in the wrong way by accident? If I jump or get nervous?”

Loki smiled. “If you’d really like to, I have an idea. Let me guide you along the way.”

“How?”

“I’ll simply communicate with you. Use my words to describe every gentle move I make. Would that suit you enough to give this a try? I must confess, with each passing moment, I just want to hold you more and more, and listen to your sweet cries--”

“--I…but…”

“There is one more thing we can try,” Loki suggested, brushing your eyebrow with his thumb before laying a sweet, shallow kiss on it. “I can bind you with magic. Softly bind you, so that if you needed to move away, you could, but the weight would be enough to keep you from inadvertently brushing against me with every twitch of pleasure I give to you.”

You felt a hot blush run up your face as the desire laced in between his words filled you with need. 

“Wait…”

You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, tugging at the very tip of the ring finger of the glove on your right hand. 

Loki ran a thumb across your hot cheek. “You must be brave. I believe in you.” His goddamned touch nearly made you break your concentration, but you were still able to slowly, gently, cautiously, pull off the glove, setting it on the table with a trembling hand. 

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll die,” you said, your voice quaking. 

Loki was smiling with enough confidence for you both. “There won’t be a need, pet.” 

You raised your hand, keeping your eyes focused on Loki, who sat up straight, the kind, empathetic look in his eyes never wavering. If he was in fact nervous, he was a brilliant actor, because you were getting no impression that he felt any sort of peril in the moment.

Finally, you found enough courage to lift your bare hand and bring it in the general direction of your guide. For his part, Loki still did not flinch, even when you felt as if you were about to foolishly commit a murder. 

“Loki, I’m sorry if this doesn’t work,” you said meekly, trusting your arm forward before you could change your mind, and closing your eyes. 

You felt his cool skin make contact with the pads of your fingers after landing on his left cheek. You didn’t immediately open your eyes, instead waiting for the sound of a body hitting the floor, the sound of a final breath being forced out of the lungs, or the sensation of Loki’s skin going unnaturally cold.

The only thing you felt after several moments was a second set of fingers gently settling over your hand. You opened your eyes, and the tender sight of Loki holding your palm against his skin, his eyes closed as he genuinely savored your touch, was all you saw, and you suddenly felt fifty pounds lighter. 

“Oh, Loki…” you sighed in relief. “You’re still here.”

“You don’t want me to die, and thus, I haven’t. Just as I said, yes?”

You smiled and slowly took your hand back so that you could remove your other glove, and with another quick breath, you placed each hand on each of Loki’s, curling your fingers in between his. “Still alive!” you said with a small smile as you finally began feeling at ease for the first time in three long, chaotic years.

“More alive than ever, little princess,” Loki said, leaning over and rewarding you with a longer, deeper kiss. It went electricity down your core, radiating down your legs. You were finally allowed to feel your yearnings, and now, tonight, you could finally act on them. You certainly couldn’t think of a more beautiful, gentle, sexy partner to give yourself to than Loki. 

“I think I’m ready for you,” you whispered. “I…I really want you, Loki. You’re the first being to show me such tender kindness, especially after I became a ‘reaper.’”

Loki chuckled without breaking his seductive demeanor. “Is that what you call yourself? Well, princess,” he said, gracefully pulling you off of the sofa to your feet, “the only thing you shall be reaping are the rewards of your obedience to me.��

Smiling, thrilled at the sexy shift to Loki’s tone, you nodded. The god asked, “Y/N, we know your touch won’t destroy me, but would you still like for me to bind you?”

“Yes.” You weren’t agreeing solely out of fear for Loki’s safety, not any more. “Please, an..and please talk to me, too.”

“With pleasure, princess. You were so brave for me, you’ve earned it,” Loki said slowly, leading you to the large, simply-constructed bed and shutting the door behind him. “Now, lie down, no need to remove any clothes.” 

You obeyed without a word, which pleased your bodyguard as he stood, towering over you as you lay supine on the mattress. “Good girl,” he said melodically, the voice warming your core, smooth as butter and low as a gentle hum. He snapped his fingers, and with a quick wipe of green mist, both of your clothes fell instantly away, and he now stood before you entirely naked, and you splayed before him similarly. 

“My, your skin radiates with warm beauty! Raise your arms out and to the side, or whatever position you would feel best.”  You did so, again, without a word, taking your wrists and laying them out at an angle, making your breasts pull apart from one another and creating a gap in between them. 

He waved his hand and snapped again, and you felt your wrists go heavy, as if a sandbag was weighing them down. You could move them a little, and you got the feeling you could twist yourself free if needed (not that you wanted to), but you were still securely on the bed, pinned at the wrists and ankles, your legs spread apart, exposing your quickly-wettening pussy to the air as well as your partner. 

Loki moaned with approval. “Now, if you need me to lift these, please say so. Understood, lovely?”

You nodded. “Yes, Loki. I’ll do anything.” 

Loki looked thoroughly satisfied at your answer. “Oh, you are so obedient! A natural submissive,” he said happily. “It is fortune’s highest blessing to be sharing a bed and home with you tonight…” 

He lowered himself over the bed. “May I climb over you and look down upon my conquest?”

You nodded. “Yes, Loki.” 

He climbed between your legs, kneeling up between them, his solid, chiseled torso towering above you, intimidating you the perfect amount to thrill you. “Now, I’m going to nibble on that darling little space you have right…here…”

He lowered his head between your breasts, using tongue and teeth to stake his claim on your skin, leaving tiny marks that only nipped a little as he worked his glorious sex magic on you. Every nip, lick, and moan from him made your folds wetter, heavier, needier. 

“Y/N, I’m going to touch you now,  in this sensitive spot between your legs,” Loki narrated. “I won’t put a finger inside your passage, but I am going to enjoy drawing little figures between your lips and pinching your pleasure bud. And you are going to writhe under me, increasingly needy as pleasure builds up, throbbing for my release…”

You gasped in pleasant surprise as he almost immediately took a hand and inserted two exploratory fingers between your folds. “Norns, my girl is dripping with desire for me. My good girl wants to please her savior!” He pressed his erection against the inside of your thigh as if to display with pride how quickly he’d been turned on by how you were grinding your hips, bucking against his hand.

His silky sweet words echoed in your brain, delirious with arousal. You wanted him to sing these narrations to you over and over. His rich, deep voice was almost enough to send you over your edge. Every word, every action he took, drove you crazy with delightful ache. He fiddled with your clit like it was a tiny marble between his thumb and forefinger, and every flick or twitch of it made you moan and pull against your invisible restraints just enough to feel helplessly anchored in place.

“Y/N, you are so wet, so ready for me already,” he moaned. “I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to fill you with my cock, and you’ll feel your walls stretching around me as I enter you--” 

True to his word again, Loki took himself into his palm, positioning himself above you, his tip at your entrance, then, gently, slowly, he thrusted forward, and you felt a slight pinch as he claimed your cunt. Indeed, it felt like every cell inside you had to stretch in order to sheath Loki’s god-sized cock, but the little bit of pain you felt in the moment was quickly washed away in the violent shudders of pre-orgasm tremors that were already reaching critical mass in your core. 

Loki arched his back, immediately growling in pleasure as he began thrusting, picking up tempo, sliding up and down your slickened walls with just enough friction to urge him to the edge quicker than he anticipated. 

“Damn, but I’m coming…”

You were close, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for you much longer. “How hard are you coming?” was the smutty question you chose to coax his orgasm from him. “Tell me please! What does it feel like being inside me, Loki?” 

Loki grunted animalistically as he concentrated. “You’re milking my cum from me, girl, you’re about to be so full of my seed--”

With the help from his narration, you finally felt your orgasm thunder down your passage and shake your thighs, pushing a high-pitched whine from you as your mouth fell open and your eyes slammed shut. 

“Ah! There she is! My good girl!” 

Loki’s fall almost immediately followed, marked by four remarkably hard thrusts as he came inside you, his breath heavy and quick. He brought a hand down to your clit and gently massaged it as your orgasm poured out into the open. 

“Yes, ride it out with me, that’s my girl,” Loki purred. 

Once you both were spent, Loki took your magic bonds off of you. It was still light outside, but you both agreed you were exhausted from your romp, and that perhaps an hour’s nap before supper would be welcome. Still naked, you both went underneath the covers, Loki turning onto his stomach so that he could rest his head under your arm, using your shoulder as his pillow.

“For as long as we are here, you will have nothing to be afraid of, pet,” your lover promised. 

“Nothing?” you asked hopefully, already knowing that the strong, wonderful god in your arms was going to protect you for as long as you needed him. 

“Your death touch, you have nothing to fear, for it brings me to life,” he whispered softly in your ear. You sensed he was nodding off, and sure enough, with that, his head fell on your shoulder, his breath settling into a softer, quieter rhythm. 

Loki will take care of you…

You took a hand and began combing it through his hair, once again enjoying the old-but-new sensation of something other than leather against your fingertips.

@lokisgoodgirl @sarahscribbles @xorpsbane @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @muddyorbs @michelleleewise @joyful-enchantress @fictive-sl0th @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @chantsdemarins @glitterylokislut @kellatron55 @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @peachyjinx @trickster-maiden

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki smut #smut #fanfic #angst/comfort #soft!dom!loki #dom!loki #necrogenesis #avengers #mcu avengers #avengers fanfic #loki comfort fanfic

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow Part 2

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter Two: Fool Me Once

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. Smut, p in v sex, bit rough (you like it) wrap it before you tap it. Spooky situations

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the smut inspo, @hiscrimsonangel (with this post haha iykyk)

Word Count: ~3K

PART ONE

You stayed up quite late that first night catching up with your old friends, drinking cans of pilsner or oversweet margarita mix from sticky solo cups, laughing your asses off, the ouija board forgotten and back in its box. No longer a big fan of heavy drinking yourself, you cut yourself off after just a few drinks, preferring the more mellow buzz of herb than bubbles. 

Jonathan got quite drunk, which was a riot, and his friendly ribbing of Steve always increased in that state, to the delight of everyone in the room. Despite Steve’s history with Nancy (and subsequently Jonathan), the three of them managed to become great friends. 

Robin bemoaned what she referred to as her perpetual spinsterhood, making you all laugh; “I don’t think you can legally call yourself a spinster at 23,” Steve said. “Just enjoy not being tied down yet,” he finished, causing the rest of the room to tease him for projecting, considering he couldn’t seem to find his one-and-only either (but he pretended he didn’t mind, fooling nobody). 

Steve dated plenty, but Robin struggled with it more than he did for obvious reasons. The two of them were roommates for a time in Indianapolis before going their separate ways. The catalyst; one of Steve’s hookups once implied she would like Robin to join them in the bedroom, which horrified them both so much they ultimately got separate places but still lived on the same block. Robin managed a coffee shop and spoke about her wish to try out for the Indianapolis Philharmonic, which thrilled her but made her so nervous she became nauseated whenever she thought about it for too long. Steve had been employed as a junior high school basketball coach for the past year and decided he would like to go back to school for academic sports; he loved working with the kids.

Nancy filled in the group regarding her grad school studies at Columbia University in New York City for journalism. It was hard work but, true to form, Nancy was excelling, and she had a bright future in print journalism in the city. Jonathan had relocated to be with her and was working as a freelance photographer when he wasn’t working in the kitchen of a popular Brooklyn restaurant. He had ultimately decided not to pursue college and chose to support Nancy instead, thinking that would be the best chance for them as a couple. It caused a lot of friction at first, with Nancy initially pushing Jonathan to go to college, but they were able to work through it and had come out stronger.

After high school Eddie had tried his hand at being a musician, mechanic, bartender and assorted other odd jobs with limited success, and ultimately decided to attend vocational school to become a tattoo artist, which was truly his calling. All the doodles he made for Corroded Coffin and the Hellfire Club paid off, and he was one of the most sought-after ink artists in St. Louis, earning enough for the two of you to live in a nice apartment, despite your modest salary as an administrative assistant for a dentist’s office.  

You were all thriving, and it was wonderful to celebrate each other’s successes. The wedding rehearsal was the following evening, and you looked forward to catching up with the younger kids there– “kids” who were all legal adults by this time; a fact that none of you could believe nor enjoyed thinking about. You were all relieved that you weren’t staying with them, despite the less than ideal location in which you found yourselves; those kids were like a pack of ferrets on cocaine, especially when they were all together. It would be too much, so you stuck with your own age bracket.

Finally, around two in the morning, Robin decided to turn in. Nancy and Jonathan followed about fifteen minutes later, leaving you and Eddie alone with Steve.

You stretched and yawned. “I think it’s time for bed. You coming Eddie?”

Eddie waggled his eyebrows at you. “I don’t know, am I?” he asked, his voice dripping with hyperbolic innuendo.

You laughed and gave him a smack on his tightly bedenimed rear end. “Just get moving, Munson.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted, while Steve rolled his eyes.

It turns out that mercifully, someone did actually change the sheets.

A blessing, honestly, considering you were currently tangled up in them, with the sharp bones of Eddie’s pelvis almost painfully pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. The bed, old and squeaky with a metal frame that resembled something out of a cold war era prison, was a loud testament to the rhythm of your sex. You couldn’t be bothered to care much, since it felt incredible. The few cans of PBR you had chugged didn’t hurt either.

Eddie had you pinned to the mattress, caged between his arms as he nuzzled and suckled your neck, punctuating soft kisses with nips that would surely leave a mark. You enjoyed it like this sometimes, when he would manhandle you just a bit, claiming you, marking you, and fucking you roughly into the mattress. Sure, there was a time and place for soft lovemaking, but sometimes, you just wanted to be nailed.

“Feel so good baby,” he murmured into your ear, barely more than an exhalation, most of his efforts being concentrated on slamming his cock into your depths. You could barely do more than wiggle and squeal with the way he had you immobilized, which seemed to heighten every sensation. Even his breathy little grunts and gasps were sending you into the stratosphere. You clawed at his back, and the resulting moan in your ear helped bring on climax number three, and you bit into Eddie’s shoulder to stifle your cries.

Eddie’s pace began to falter, and he grasped your waist roughly with his fingers as he shuddered and thrust to his own completion, ending with a final grind of his hips against your sensitive clit, making you yelp. “Ha,” he burst triumphantly; he could be a cocky shit when it came to the pleasures he could draw out of you. He also wasn’t wrong. 

After a tender kiss, Eddie rolled off of you and retrieved his boxers from the floor, sliding them on before fumbling around on the bedside table for his smokes.  He lay back down with his back propped up against the pillow, lighting a cigarette and sighing contentedly. He looked at you and grinned.

“You think everyone heard us?”

You chuckled. “I don’t see how they couldn’t,” you said, as you dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. “This bed is so squeaky, it almost wasn’t worth even trying to be quiet.” 

Eddie laughed. “You sound so cute though when you try,” he said as he flicked his ash into the ashtray on his nightstand. “All squeaky and whiny,” he finished with a wink.

“How dare you,” you joked. “I’m a vision of propriety.”

“Properly fucked, you mean.”

“Eddie!” you scolded, laughing.

“I’ll take it back when it stops being true darlin.’” 

“You’re the worst,” you countered.

“You love me,” he said.

“Dammit, you’re right, I do,” you said. You bent to kiss him, and as you pressed your lips to his, you felt him smile.

“I love you too babe,” he said. 

It was incredible, how he could still make your heart beat faster after all this time.

You headed into the ensuite bathroom and started to go through your usual bedtime routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face. You were suddenly struck by how exhausted you were; between traveling, cleaning, drinking (and smoking) and some vigorous sex, you were thoroughly spent. You glimpsed through the open bathroom door that Eddie had picked up his paperback of Needful Things, and was reading it by the light of the table lamp.

You clicked off the bathroom light and were just about to exit when something caught your eye out of the window. You peered closer to the thick glass to get a better look.  

There was someone standing below on the lawn.

You couldn’t make out any details, but you had the sudden, hair-raising sense that whoever it was was looking right at you.

You jumped backward in alarm.  "Eddie!” you shouted. 

He was out of bed and by your side in an instant. “What?!  A rat?  Why are you standing in the dark, babe?”  He peered around the room intently.

“No, down there!”  You pointed out the window, down onto the grass, but now the figure was gone.  “But…but it was there a second ago…”

Eddie bent to the glass for a closer look, brows furrowed.  "I don’t see anything. What was it?“

"A person! They were definitely standing down there. And babe– I swear it was looking at me.”

A look of intense wariness crossed his features, and he straightened, all business.  "Are you sure?“

"Yes! It was right there!”

“Stay here.”  He was out of the bathroom like a shot. He quickly pulled on his flannel pajama pants and strode from the bedroom.  You waited with your heart in your throat as you heard the front door below you creak open.  You watched out the window as Eddie came into view on the lawn, carrying a fireplace poker in one hand. He clicked on a flashlight and began to sweep the property with it.  It was late, and the shadows from the trees that peppered the property created long ribbons of darkness across the grass that the lights from the house were unable to penetrate.  You realized that it must have been difficult for Eddie to see out there, even armed with a flashlight, and you broke into gooseflesh at the thought.

Screw this, I’m not leaving him alone out there, you thought to yourself, and left the bathroom.  Eddie hadn’t turned on any of the lights in his wake, and in the darkness the house had taken on an even more sinister quality than when you had arrived. You tried to push it out of your mind, dismissing it as the aftershock from your scare. It permeated regardless, with a nearly palpable weight. You hurried downstairs and toward the front door, clicking on lights as you went.  The downstairs area was deserted; everyone else must have also turned in. You quickly scanned the entry area for a weapon, finding only an umbrella. It would have to do.

You stepped outside, eyes sweeping the lawn for Eddie, hearing only crickets as you peered into the trees. In the moments since you had taken your eyes off of him he had disappeared from view. Your heart was pounding and your breath misted around you in the chilly night air.  You crept forward slowly, and you found that your eyes were having difficulty adjusting to the darkness. The shadows were too inconsistent. Anyone could be watching me from those trees and I’d never know it, you thought. Dammit babe, where did you go? 

“Babe?” you called softly.  Silence. “Eddie,” you called again, a little louder this time. Was that a twig snapping?

“What?” said a voice, from directly behind you.

You squeaked with fright and whirled, striking out with the umbrella.  "Ow, what the fuck?!“ Eddie bent forward, clutching his head.

"Oh my fucking god Eddie! You scared me!”

He rubbed his head in irritation where you had whacked him, mussing up his curls. “What are you doing out here? I asked you to stay inside!”

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t just stand there waiting for you. Are you alright?” you stood on your toes to get a better look at your boyfriend’s scalp, but thankfully there was no blood.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, then sighed resignedly.  "I didn’t see anything in front, so I circled round the back to be sure. There’s nothing out here that I can see.  Are you sure you saw someone?“

"Positive.”

“Your eyes couldn’t have been playing tricks on you?”

“Edward,” you said, your voice taking on an acerbic tone. “You know I’m not prone to hysterics.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, and hugged you to him.  "Maybe it was Steve or something.”

“If it was, where is he now? I didn’t see anyone when I came downstairs.”

Eddie could only shrug at that.

Once back inside, he bolted the front door. "Seems solid,” he said.  He went around the house and checked to be sure all the windows and the back door were locked, and when he was satisfied, you went back to the bedroom together.  As you passed Jonathan and Nancy’s room, Jonathan opened the door and poked his head out, his hair mussed and sticking up in every direction.  

“Someone scream?” he mumbled blearily.

“Eddie saw a spider, go back to bed,” you said. Eddie shot daggers at you with his eyes, but a slight upward curl of his lips belied his irritation. Jonathan only nodded and closed his door.

Back in your own room, you undressed and crawled under the covers, snuggling up to Eddie.

It was quiet for a moment, but the wheels in your mind were still turning. “Maybe it was just a local cutting across the lawn on the way somewhere. They may not be used to the house being occupied,” you offered.

"Maybe,” Eddie replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Will the light bother you if I read for a while?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you said.  "Going to sleep with the light on will be okay with me tonight.”

The following morning you shuffled downstairs for breakfast, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your housemates warmed up the oatmeal or ate the boxed cereals that Nancy helpfully supplied the previous evening.

“Did anyone see or hear anything strange last night?” you asked the group as you poured yourself a cup of hot coffee.

“I think I did,” Steve began. “Some sort of instrument I think. What was that Robin?”

“Bedsprings,” Robin stated simply as she swallowed a bite of peaches ‘n cream flavored oatmeal, looking the worse for wear.

“Uh, besides that,” you said, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Eddie laughed.

“Don’t hate,” he said.

“I heard Eddie scream at a spider,” Jonathan said, and this time it was your turn to laugh.

“It was NOT me, and it was not a fucking spider!” Eddie yelled, offended by the notion.

“No,” you said, quelling your giggles. “It was actually me. I– I thought I saw someone outside last night, watching me when I was getting ready for bed.”

Steve sat forward, suddenly wide awake. “Wait, really?”

You nodded. “Eddie went out to look for whoever it was but he didn’t find anything.”

“Oh shit,” Robin said, “that’s the last thing I needed to hear. Can we go to a hotel now?”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Nancy said. “Maybe it was just a local?”

“The nearest neighbors are a quarter mile away,” you said. 

“I dunno,” Jonathan chimed in, “you hear stories about cannibals living in the woods in Appalachia…”

“That’s a gross stereotype,” Robin scolded.

“Feel free to ignore him,” Nancy said with a sigh.

“My mom was from Appalachia!” Eddie spat.

“Okay, nevermind,” Jonathan said, as he shrank down in his seat and went back to his oatmeal.

“Well if it wasn’t a local, what could it have been?” Steve asked.

“Maybe messing with the ouija board woke something up,” Robin said, and though you normally didn’t place much stock in those things, you felt something akin to an ice cold finger trail down your spine. You shivered.

Steve chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”

“No really!” Robin cried defensively. “In the movie Witchbo–”

“I am not using a shitty 80s horror film as a guidebook!” Steve shouted.

“Whatever,” Robin said. “If you guys get murdered by an evil axe-wielding ouija spirit, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laughed it off along with everyone else, yet the idea wouldn’t leave you. It was unsettling, to put it mildly.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was studying your expression. You did always wear your emotions on your sleeve, and he could sense your unease.

“So,” Eddie said. "What’s everyone wearing to the wedding?"

His umber eyes slid over to yours as the conversation devolved into fashion and hairstyling chatter.

Thank you, you mouthed to your boyfriend, and his Mona Lisa smile wordlessly said, I’ve got you. And he did, that much you would never be unsure about. Regardless of what was happening in your life, Eddie Munson would always have your back, which made you feel very lucky indeed. 

You didn’t know it yet, but it was a sentiment you would come to rely upon much more in the days to come. 

To Be Continued...

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