#hellfire introduction

[acourtofquestions]

Well, I sure am glad😁 that these characters seem perfectly safe! Playing around with a REAL friendly sounding substance that DEFINITELY won’t EVER cause problems; not with a charming name like that “hellfire”😬🙃

[cicada-candy]

✨️WELCOME TO THE BLOG✨️

Hi, hello, welcome to hell, hope you enjoy your stay :]

You can call me Cade, Cada, Cicada, Tumblr-user-Cicada-Candy-why-are-you-like-this. I answer to all.

I'm Aroace, Agender, & use any and all pronouns indiscriminately

I'm ✨Irish✨ so my time zone is GMT/BST [UTC+0/+1], I am also an insomniac, and chronically online, and am therefore regularly up & active past 5am so mostly disregard that I guess

This is technically a multi-fandom blog, but like. 90% of my art posts are Ghost Rider and I don't see this changing anytime soon. They Plague My Brain. Be Warned.

Feel free to use my art as pfps, headers, etc :]

Please do not repost

Occasionally slightly nsfw

My Inbox, Asks, DMs etc are open!! Feel free to shoot me a message, I am always SO Down to shout about fandom stuff.

TAGS:

Ghost Rider/ANGR art is tagged in the main tags, and also "#Hyper-Hellfire" which includes textposts/random thoughts, AU, and eventually oc stuff.

Mechs-posting is "#the-aurora-strikes-again"

Everything else is just "#my art"

Rambling/textposts is "#thecicadasbuzz."

"#cool art tag" is for cool art reblogs

Go look at "#mutuals art!!!". Do it they're very cool

"#cy does real art for once wow" is for IRL projects etc

i tag stuff as cw [trigger] or tw [trigger] usually. Please lmk if you think i've missed a tag for something!

OC sideblog- @hell-for-leathers

AUs!!!

#Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - @/moosemonstrous

#Swap AU - @/battlevann

#Haunt Riders AU - @/fleaearred [ghost AU]

#Camp Crossroads - @/fleaearred [GR/PJO crossovers]

#ghost rider magical girls AU -@/moosemonstrous made the rb that started the madness, @/fleaearred put it on my dash, i made it @/wazzappp's and @/rokhal's problem, group project success.

Tumblr is my main social but:

peruse my linktree

[pt: peruse my linktree]

✨️art examples under the cut because the post is already too long lmao✨️

[hellfire--cult]

Hello to all new followers!

Here is my masterlist so that you can read my other works if interested and thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs on Do I wanna know! I didn't think that would actually blow up the way it's doing, but it makes me so happy you guys are enjoying it so far, despite it being only 3 chapters!

Thank you!

hello!

My name is Roe, i'm 28, and i think i write pretty decently. english is not my first language. all of my stories are +18, so minors dni. no age on profile/minor, will be blocked.

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links:

ao3

wattpad

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i write:

only stranger things

eddie munson and billy hargrove mostly, and billy is kind of ooc. soft!billy

enemies to lovers - smut - fluff - angst - heavy topics - ooc - some omegaverse is nice but not explicit - modern!au - slow burn - love triangles

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masterlist:

🔥 include smut +18

❤️ fluff only

✎﹏﹏﹏ Make me Better 🔥 (em x femreader): In which you are the most popular girl at school, and a horrible person at that, but one bet and one project will get you close to one specific metalhead who will change your life forever. (Find it only on wattpad and ao3) - complete

✎﹏﹏﹏ Make me Better 🔥 {Billy's Route} (bh x femreader): In which you realize that what you thought was right is wrong, and that sometimes you gotta follow your heart. (Find it only on wattpad and ao3) - writing...

✎﹏﹏﹏ Baring Teeth 🔥 (em x femreader - non-traditional omegaverse!au): In which, you want to leave behind your life in atlanta, and all you want is a normal life, but eddie munson is always the needle that bothers you everyday. he can see your bullshit from a mile away, and there is always a reason for that. (tumblr post, wattpad, ao3) - writing...

✎﹏﹏﹏ Do I Wanna Know? 🔥 (stripper!em x shy!femreader): You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrasing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that. (Part 1) - (Part 2) - (Part 3) writing...

✎﹏﹏﹏ Second Chance at Cupid ❤️ (cupid!em x fem!reader): After bad dates and a heartbreak, you believe god is playing jokes on you. You believe love is not for you anymore, but your own personal cupid comes to the rescue to change just that... You just never thought he would look like that. (oneshot and requests) - complete

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all likes, comments, reblogs, follows - are all well received! i appreciate the engagement with my work, and i hope you all enjoy it!

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Rules:

If you wish to be in the tag list of one of my works, please comment on a chapter, or send me an ask!

------------------------------

ALL OF MY CONTENT IS +18.

minors dni, and if i see one profile with no age, or a minor, it will be blocked, simple as that.

i write smut, not heavy, not that crazy, but it is still smut. there are heavy topics in my fics, a lot of swearing and also sometimes there is drinking and drug use. refrain from following or engaging if you are indeed a minor.

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Requests for blurbs or one shots: OPEN.

Idk how this works, but I would love to have asks or imagines with some of my stories or simply small requests! If I can I will get to them!

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I DO NOT WRITE:

rape/non-con

smut with the underage characters of st

gore

explicit, like super explicit, sexual scenes

incest

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If you want to send me an ask just to get to know me, or ask me something in particular about my fics, it is always open!

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That's all sweetcheeks ❤️

[neonovember]

So I currently have food poisoning and I can’t help but it think how mad Carmy would be if a restaurant gave his gf/wife food poisoning

Also Carmy come take care of me and make me soup plz 🙇‍♀️😫

Plus he would give the best snuggles 😭

firstly, sending lots of love and recovery, i've never actually had fp lmao so a lot of time on webmd will be spent. get ur fluids in! secondly, carmen might have to go underground for setting the restaurant on fire. we love him for it

summary: You were hungry and had just finished work and you didn't think about inspecting the goddamn Michelin star restaurant, maybe you should have.

warnings; cursing, food poisoning, richie (he's a warning), hipsters, talks of future arsony, possessive carmen, cracked fic ngl,

divider by @firefly-graphics

i'm slipping back into the unsafe territory of wanting fictional characters. (and i don't care)

You could roll your eyes in annoyance if you weren't hunched over the ceramic bowl of the toilet heaving out the contents of your stomach while Carmen held you hair back.

The one time, the one goddamn time you decide to try a new place without Carmen's input, without his meticulous standards and in depth research behind every night out.

It wasn't like you hadn't tried to vet the new braised beef spot that opened up on west Avenue. In fact, you had heard all but stellar reviews from friends and family, meeting you with suprise hearing that Carmen hadn't taken you. You decided to bring home a small plate, their signature braised meat with plums, red onions and atrichocke hearts.

You had meant to share it with Carmen, and you were going to, but a botched catering order had him staying back another hour than what had been planned. And well..you say you tried to save some for Carmen, but despite its bacteria laced beef and vomit inducing sides it was pretty fuckin' good.

Was this God's wrath coming down upon you? Punishing you for your gluttony? Food poisoning did feel awfully close to perpetual hellfire.

The TV was blaring some indescriptive show, the kind with dramatic introductions and soap opera worthy screams. It helped fill the space of absence when Carmen worked long nights, and you felt quite comfortable wrapped up in a blanket with a full stomach and a warm sofa.

Your phone had pinged with the sound of Carmen's text, letting you know he was on the way when it started. At first you had written it off as mere indigestion, probably from shoveling the cursed meal into your mouth too quickly.

Then, around the time the show's main character had found out her boyfriend got her mother pregnant, the nausea set in. Swirling aches that felt like a whirlpool in your stomach had taken over, sloshing and swirling and never leaving. You couldn't mistake it, as you tried to swallow past a dry throat and the creeping sweats of a headache inducing fever began to ravage your body.

You hated sitting in discomfort, it wasn't as though you were afraid of vomiting no, you just could not bare to feel the way your stomach skipped and jumped with every wave of nausea that took over.

You thought of making yourself sick, but shook your head when the alarming disapproval of Carmen's voice loomed over.

"It's just gonna make it worse, you gotta sit with it till it passes"

Fuck him and his medical knowledge. What did he know?

You had ripped off the blanket that had once felt comforting, peeling of layers of clothing that stuck to your body like a second skin. You just felt hot, so hot, is anyone else feeling this heat? You try to move from the couch to reach your phone, but the sudden movement has nausea bubbling up your throat.

You fall to the ground in a heap, hand clasped around your mouth to stop the possibility of projectile vomiting on the rug you had just bought and shoot your hand up to reach for your phone.

You press Carmen's number, begging him to answer you in genuine crisis rather than when you were drunk with friends and missed him. You feel the urge to heave and crawl quickly to the bathroom, phone clasped in hand and suddenly desperately needed his medical knowledge.

Carmen phone rings from the behind the stack of documents in the office, and he hastily wipes his hands across his apron before trying to reach it before it rings out.

Guilt fills his stomach at the thought of you, he was meant to be home hours ago. The catering order needed a few extra hands to help, and once Carmen began he got lost in it, and now you had spent nearly the entire night alone.

"Fuck- Hey baby, I know I said I was comin' but I had to finish a couple things-" Carmen quickly responds as he swipes the call button.

The groan of pain that responds has Carmen freezing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Baby? What-, are you okay?" Carmen replies quickly, his voice going short as his mind turns every possible scenario that had you whining in pain over the receiver.

"Please come quickly, Carmen I think I might-" You gulp and make a retching sound "I think I got sick from that place I was telling you about" You plead out, breathing heavily into the speaker.

The guilt that had filled Carmen seems to morph into an anger that rushes up his chest as he shakes his head.

"The new place? The one with the fuckin' smoke meat? They did this?"

"Mhm" You mumble "I should've just listened to you" You groan out in sadness.

"Fucking idiots. How the fuck did they even? Okay, okay honey just gimme a second yeah?"

How did he let this happen? Carmen has half the mind to stop at the restaurant that more of a Instagram attraction that a respected place of business. You were so eager and excited t try it, Carmen had his own thoughts but would glue his mouth shut if it meant making you happy.

He'll make sure they get shut down, or at least black listed from Chicago as long as he's concerned. His hands shake with the eager want for the fight, to smash someones jaw for resorting you to a heap of tears and sick. He would, he knows he will, but at this moment he needed to take care of your first.

He mumbles out a rushed reply, phone between his shoulder and ear as he slips out of his work shoes and into his sneakers. He thinks for a moment to grab his things but immediately shut that thought out when he hears you groaning into the phone.

"Just stay on the phone okay? I'm coming now, I need to get you some things alright?"

You let out what you hope is a reply, hunched over the toilet.

Carmen rushes to the store fridge, grabbing containers of soup Tina had prepared for family as the Chicago winter was getting close.

"You alright kid?" Richie mumbles, walking into the kitchen entry way, scratching his stomach as he watched Carmen's erratic movements around the store.

"Fuckin-, she's sick. And I'm here chopping up tomatoes for fucking Guy while she was in pain for god knows how long-"

"Woah, Bugs sick? We talking COVID or.."

"I'm such a fucking idiot. No it's not COVID Rich, Jesus Christ. Some rookie new spot trying something outside of their abilities gave her food poisoning. Fuckin' hipsters"

"Oh that's bad. You know when I got food poisoning the one time I took Tiff to this romantic getaway. Had me projectile vomiting in the AirBnb bathroom. Couldn't even get a deposit back, had to pay some dumb ass cleaning fee-"

Carmen wipes a hand across his face shaking his head. He was already pent up, he might throw a pan at Richie if he doesn't stop talking.

"Richie, I don't have time for this, I need to get her some Sprite or"

Richie shuffles across to the cupboard near the back of the house, grabbing bottles of Gatorade and a pack of saltine crackers.

"How do you even have this stuff lying around"

"You're the one with the inhuman alcohol tolerance Carmy, someone of us actually have hangovers you freak" Richie retorts

"Yeah yeah, thanks. Fuck- I gotta" Carmen replies, to which Richie nods.

"Go. I'll wrap up anything here" Richie replies, understanding in his voice. You took precedence over pretty much everything in Carmen's life.

"And Carm?"

"Yeah?" Carmen calls out, slipping on his jacket as he turns to Richie

"Tell me when we're going to sort out those bearded wearing flannel ass wipes"

Carmen shakes his head with a smile, before nodding and pushing past the kitchen doors. The traffic lights better be green green fuckin' green tonight.

You were stripped to a singlet and sleeping shorts as you knelt over the toilet, blinking back exhausted tears at the state of you.

You suppose you have no one else to blame but yourself, but the indignation righteousness burns almost as bright as the acid reflux crawling up your throat.

You hear the faint opening and loud clang of the apartment door opening and closing and you sigh in relief as you hear the familiar footfalls of Carmen down the hall.

It had felt damn near torturous suffering without him, and as he calls out to you following the trail of loose clothing he spots your figure in the bathroom sprawled.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry" Carmen says

And it was as if your body needed to finally feel safe in Carmen's presence before you felt the nausea spill out of you and splash offensively into the toilet.

You feel Carmen crouch above you, dragging your hair that had gone loose from it's wrapped up do away from your face. Gently rubbing your back, his large hands softly dipping up and down your spine.

"That's it, 'atta girl. Let it all out" Carmen coo's softly

You purged the insides of your stomach into the toilet bowl, retching loudly with every heave as Carmen comforted you. After what seemed like hours, and the nausea had subsided Carmen carefully wrapped his arms up under your armpits picking you up of the floor.

"Slowly, yeah? You damn near emptied out you're entire water content" Carmen murmurs, flushing the toilet and helping you walk to the basin and wash out the taste of bile from your mouth.

"I probably look insane" You cry out, blinking back exhaustion from your eyes as Carmen shakes his head furiously.

"Never, my pretty girl. Need you to go easy okay? Gonna take you to bed and let you sleep through it. Can't have you collapsing on me" Carmen murmurs, wiping at the edge of your mouth, patting the sweat that stuck to your forehead.

You let Carmen carefully maneuver your body, one arm under your legs and the other supporting your back walking to the bedroom. Your wring dry and can barely keep your eyes open as Carmen placed you on the cool sheets you immediately moan at.

You hear the faint rustle of movement as Carmen brings in a paper bag. The clunk of bottles placed on the bedside table as you sing praise for the very short bit of relief you have before the next bout of nausea rolls in.

Carmen pads to the adjacent bathroom, the door opened so you can see the stream of light that illuminates him. Hes running a cloth under water, squeezing the excess and looking up to check on you every so often.

He looked so...domestic, like he hadn't come back from working at one of the most decorated restaurants in Chicago. Stripped of his shirt so he stood bare chested, golden curls pushed behind his ears, sweatpants hung low on his hips and the furrow of his eyebrows in concentration and worry.

Your eyes flutter shut as you thank the midnight sky for bringing him to you, for keeping him for you, this one good thing that was yours.

The skies answer by the sound of his voice listing off all the things you will not be doing in this stage of recovery. Sitting on the edge of the bed as he places the cool rag against your forehead, lips between teeth as he feels your temperature under his skin.

"Just bone broth, Gatorade and bread sticks for you, doll. And no, before you even think it, its not the garlic ones." Carmen tsks.

You were thinking it. He knew you too well, but when he kisses your eyelids and measures out careful tips of the Gatorade bottle, you don't mind it.

[thenationofzaun]

Arcane's Music Videos and Storytelling

Many have complained about Arcane Season 2 overusing "music videos" compared to Season 1 and I agree. Two in particular - "Sucker" in episode 2 and "Hellfire" in episode 3 - are particularly bothersome because instead of being supplementary to the storytelling, they replace the storytelling. Entire plotlines are told through these music videos and barely expanded upon further through writing. Despite both depicting very major events that are incredibly impactful for both Zaun and the characters involved.

First, the Chembarons' gang war. Shown entirely through the "Sucker" sequence, dialogueless. Later, there are only a few brief written scenes related to it (Smeech heading to Margot and the meeting table discussion, neither of which actually depict the war). Smeech is later killed and the gang war story is abandoned by episode 3. This would have been such a major event for Zaunites. Not just for major characters, but for everyone who has the misfortune to live in that city. If they had actually written this subplot out, the worldbuilding could have been expanded upon and given much more depth, these Chembarons with excellent designs could have been fleshed out and not felt like a waste of characters, and we would have gotten more insight into the lives of the average joes in Zaun. It would have been a natural continuation of the Chembarons' introduction in Season 1 too. This subplot could have easily taken up the entirety of Act 1, but because of too many competing subplots, it had to be cut short and summarized by the song.

Next, Caitlyn's squad releasing The Grey into Zaun. Shown entirely through the "Hellfire" sequence, also dialogueless. The impact of this action is only briefly mentioned later through dialogue, when really this would have had a huge effect on many people living in Zaun. If they had written this entire sequence out regularly, we could have had character building for the three new enforcers as they interact with Vi and Cait while moving through Zaun. We need this, as two of them don't even have names yet. One doesn't have any dialogue yet. We could have seen in detail the impact of their actions on Zaun, rather than only being told. We could have had much needed characterization for Vi. What was her reaction to this plan when it was first conceived? Did she oppose it initially and have to be convinced?

Edit: The "Hellfire" sequence also covered all the Chembarons getting wiped out and Shimmer being dismantled.

I want to experience these events as a story, not as an AMV. It's admirable how artistic and beautifully made these sequences are, but they are the epitome of "style over substance." In my opinion, rather than being at the beginning of the episodes, these sequences could have worked as end credits. They are summaries of subplots after all. The episodes themselves could have these storylines written out regularly, and then the end credits have beautiful imagery summarizing what happened.

They could have taken a page out of Chainsaw Man's book. Each episode of Chainsaw Man had a highly stylized end credits sequence, all with different animation styles, with imagery of that particular episode's plot. The episodes themselves have normal written storytelling. This way you can flex your artistry as much as you want, without sacrificing the writing. Arcane's end credits are just a black screen with text. If anything could have been replaced with stylized visuals and have nothing of value lost, it was that.

[theeio]

[OC] A perhaps more formal introduction to Alejandro and their character :) For a comic i want to make, called Hellfire❤️‍🔥

[loveinhawkins]

Once they’re far enough away from Angry Hicks Land, Erica rifles through the supplies before finding the bag she’s looking for. She throws it at Eddie, only for him to immediately fumble the catch.

“Wow,” she says. “You’d be immediately kicked off the basketball team.”

“Uh, my talents don’t exactly lie on the basketball court,” Eddie says—his tone is dry but his face is slightly flushed in embarrassment.

“Huh,” Erica says. “Guess Lucas is multi-talented.”

Steve chuckles in approval from the driver’s seat—hopefully not too loudly; yeah, she’d defend her brother to the hilt, but she doesn’t want to get too ridiculous and actually have him overhear her.

Thankfully he seems in a world of his own, sat with Max and Dustin at the back of the RV. His eyes keep flickering over Max and her Walkman headphones.

He’s frowning. He’s been doing that a lot—Erica’s sure he’s had a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead since the year began, probably before then, too.

She wants to iron it out. Doesn’t quite know how to.

The bag rustles as Eddie opens it up. “Um. What’s in—?”

“Essentials,” Erica says.

Eddie blinks. “Sinclair, this is a belt.”

“Your jeans are very sad,” Erica tells him pityingly.

Steve cackles. Eddie’s blush deepens, and he jabs the back of the driver’s seat with his elbow.

“You having fun over there, Harrington?”

“Oh, tons,” Steve says.

Erica laughs. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Once they’re parked outside, she half-loses track of him while correcting Lucas’s abysmal attempt at spear-making. He’s there in the corner of her eye, rough-housing with Dustin, but her thoughts turn vague and distant as she double knots the rope.

A little while later, she’s lying on her back, stretched out in the grass. She can faintly hear Lucas and Max having an arm wrestling match, Dustin providing old-timey sports commentary.

A shadow falls over her.

Erica sits up.

Eddie’s standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing the bullet belt, the metal glinting in the sun.

“Whaddya think?” he says.

Before she can reply, he actually does a full-blown twirl, and it’s maybe one of the most embarrassing things she’s ever seen—which is definitely saying something.

She can’t help the fond smile from breaking out as she rolls her eyes. “Well, at least you’re dressed for the part.”

“Coming from you, Lady Applejack, that’s the highest of compliments.”

Eddie flops down next to her. He leans across and picks up something: her spear. She’d actually forgotten about it, just for a moment.

“Not quite a kukri, huh?”

It’s meant to be a joke, Erica can tell—but she can still hear the tension in his voice. He tosses the spear aside.

A sinking feeling she’s been pushing back makes itself known again; she wishes this was all just a game.

Eddie’s eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking something similar.

Erica nudges him. “What’s up?”

He shrugs. “Just thinkin’, Sinclair.”

“Hmm. Seems rare for you.”

Eddie snorts. “Shut up. S’just…” He sobers. “Had this whole… plan. I forgot.”

“About?”

A smile. “You. You were gonna, uh. Be it. If you wanted.”

Erica raises an eyebrow.

“Um. The, uh… the leader of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s fingers drum nervously on his knees. Erica takes pity on him.

“You do know I’m eleven, right?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” Eddie says with a fleeting grin. “Your introduction is seared into my memory goddamn permanently. No, I was gonna… there’d be stand-ins till you got to high school, like whoever wanted to try out… And you’d be the official, uh—”

“Next in line for the throne?” Erica says wryly.

Eddie laughs, but it’s short-lived—he soon turns thoughtful again.

“Sure. Now I’m thinking, what, eleven, twelve…” He counts on his fingers. “Yeah. By the time you start high school, maybe that’s just enough time for people to not lose their minds about…” He smiles weakly. “Hey, maybe don’t call it Hellfire under your reign.”

“Oh, so you think I’m chickenshit,” Erica says.

“No,” Eddie says softly, and suddenly he’s not half-joking; he sounds deadly serious. “Just don’t want you to—y’know, be mixed up with…” He trails off.

Erica’s not told him about what happened at the town hall, but from the way he’s talking she suspects he knows at least a little.

She wants to be able to snark back at him, you really think Hawkins will still be talking about you years later? Please, you’re not that important.

But the thing is, she can’t know that for sure. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.

And that scares her.

Something else mixes with the sinking feeling in her stomach. It’s cold and unstoppable: the righteous fury she felt in the hall, as grown adults condemned a boy they did not know, when she’d figured out within barely five minutes of meeting him that he was all bark and no bite.

“Was gonna give you an open invite to Hellfire, anyway,” Eddie’s saying—almost under his breath, as he twists blades of grass around his fingers. “Like, just whenever you could make a session. I was gonna ask you, obviously, but… Was gonna write up, like, solo adventures your character could be part of whenever you couldn’t come. Same for Lucas, if he—”

“Okay, did you actually tell Lucas that?” Erica asks knowingly. “Or did you just think it?”

Eddie shifts guiltily.

“You need to tell him,” Erica says—remembering the week before Christmas that she’d accidentally broken his mug; they’d fought, and Lucas had eventually slunk into her room, somehow convinced that he’d been completely at fault. “Otherwise he just gets all quiet and thinks he’s done something wrong.”

“Noted,” Eddie says quietly. Contrite.

He looks off into the distance at the ongoing arm wrestling match and sighs; falling onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, he says, “Thought I had all of Spring Break to figure shit out.”

“And what’re you doing right now?” Erica says pointedly. “Get planning, Eddie The Banished.”

Eddie huffs. Smiles. “Okay, okay.”

He lapses into silence. It makes Erica think that he isn’t just dwelling on ideas for a campaign. There’s a crease between his eyes—and maybe it’s a different kind of frown than the one Lucas wears, but it’s a frown all the same.

She gives him a moment, then pulls out a blade of grass and pokes him in the cheek with it.

He lifts his arm off his face. “Hmm?”

Erica holds out her hand. “I’m making the arrangement official.”

“The arrange—oh.”

Eddie sits up, blinks, blinks, blinks.

Oh, honestly, Erica thinks. He’s one of the most soft-hearted people she’s ever met.

She waits until he takes her hand before saying firmly, “To the future of Hellfire.”

Eddie smiles again, and his lips shake just a little at the edges. “The future of Hellfire,” he murmurs.

They shake on it.

“Seems like a fair trade,” Erica adds. “You get a belt, I get your club.”

Eddie laughs, puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Erica Sinclair,” he says, eyes bright with affection. “I’d give you the whole goddamn world, if I could.”

[monstersdownthepath]

A Collection of Fiendish Demigods

(pic source)

A Duke of Hell and two Daemon Harbingers for fun. As always, there's more lore than what I put in their little blurbs; the Duke of Hell especially is one I came up with years ago but never had the opportunity to put into any practice. I actually considered it for the position of Demon Lord for the longest time, but its focus on back-breaking labor and law--plus my dearth of Lawful Evil fiends in general--made me reconsider.

The Harbingers are also two niches I've noticed have yet to be filled. In a world full of unfair deaths, I can think of few miserable ends more unfair than death through allergies, an affliction which the people of Golarion understand but not have the means to treat. With it, I'm also introducing the concept of the Phylaxidaemons, plant-insect creatures who shed thick layers of choking pollen and whose poisonous touch causes horrific swelling in its victims which can lead to them choking to death as their throat closes up. The Phylaxidaemons themselves will be another post.

The second is a much more recent creation, representing death through medical malpractice and through trusting care providers who don't have your interests at heart. And with him, the introduction of the placebodaemon and iatrodaemon. CR 4 and 12, representing death by false cures and harmful "cures," respective.

Reminder that Infernal Dukes grant a spell-like of levels 3, 7, and 9 as Boons which are usable 1/day, and Daemon Harbingers grant spell-likes of levels 2, 4, and 6 usable 2/day.

Father Dermosi, Duke of the Endless Rows Lawful Evil Infernal Duke of Labor, Sacrifice, and Farming

One would not expect a devil to be a holy man, but in his life before his infernal transformation, the figure that would become Father Dermosi was a follower of Erastil. A passionate preacher, hard worker, skilled farmer, and firm believer in the cleansing power of difficult labor, Dermosi is a textbook showing of what too much fervor can do to one's mind, as he believed (and preached) a corrupt form of Old Deadeye's teachings in which backbreaking labor and sacrifice of one's own health for the good of the community were the only true sacrifices which Erastil would appreciate.

In his own words, he believed that a soul had to be "beaten into a shape that could fit through Heaven's gates," and the only way to achieve this 'shape' was to grind away at every edge and angle of one's personality until all that was left was a desire to work. Physical abuse to drive people further became more and more common, and when people began to die from him constantly pushing them to do more, many snapped to their senses and realized that he had strayed from Erastil's guidance, that this could not possibly be what the god wanted... but any who spoke up were harshly punished, exiled, or even executed by the rest of the flock, out of either fear or fervor. It was only when Erastil himself sent a few of his chosen to the town to try and fix what happening that many of Dermosi's naysayers found the bravery to stand up alongside one another, and the corrupt Father found himself facing execution or exile. He chose execution, believing he would be judged worthy of Heaven.

As one can likely tell, he didn't even see the gates before he was thrown into the fires of Hell.

Rather than turn inwards and reflect on his own wicked beliefs, Father Dermosi concluded that Heaven denying him was an error on their part, that Erastil had betrayed him rather than the other way around. As his soul became corrupted by hellfire, he concluded that Erastil's teachings were far too 'light-handed' and that Heaven didn't deserve someone with his strength of will and desire to improve himself and others, at which point he embraced his transformation into a devil and rose swiftly through Hell's hierarchy.

Father Dermosi now lays claim to the Sinner's Till, an area of Avernus where endless fields of strange and unearthly crops are nourished by and tended to by hapless petitioners and enslaved Outsiders, each one subject to the sermons and sadism of the Duke of the Endless Rows as they ceaselessly work until their souls begin to break down, allowing him to--literally and figuratively--beat them into entirely new shapes in service to the Archdevils.

Domains: Community, Evil, Law, Plant Subdomains: Devil, Sovereignty, Growth, Toil* Favored Weapon: Scythe Symbol: A bundle of corn wrapped in white or gold thread. Sacred Animals: Farm animals, particularly chickens Sacred Colors: Gold, green *Followers of Dermosi may alter any of his Domains with the Toil Subdomain, replacing the second power of each Domain and the spells granted at the appropriate levels. They may only alter one Domain in this way, and cannot alter a Domain that has already been altered by a Subdomain.

Obedience: Perform one hour of strenuous manual labor, or force another to do so with threats of pain if they do not comply. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to saves against any effect which would fatigue or exhaust you.

Boon 1: Spike Growth Boon 2: Waves of Exhaustion Boon 3: Dominate Monster

-----

Tazhimea, the Baleful Bouquet Neutral Evil Daemon Harbinger of Allergens, Stinging Insects, and Weeds

Somewhere in the dismal plane of Abaddon, there is a land where a false sun shines over a gorgeous landscape filled with a veritable rainbow of strange plants bearing an equally alien yet delicious bounty. As one may expect, this is not a place of mercy or respite, as even a single breath of its sickly sweet air can spell a miserable, choking end for most mortals. Even other daemons tend to steer clear of this place lest they, too, fall victim to the machinations of the Phylaxidaemons and their beautiful progenitor, Tazhimea.

Tazhimea appears to be some anthropomorphic butterfly or moth woven of beautiful and otherworldly plants, their wings shimmering with a myriad of colors rarely seen in nature, but standing anywhere close enough to examine the details is almost certain death; the moment one is able to smell the daemon's powerfully cloying perfume is the moment one has breathed their last, their nose overrunning with thick mucus as their throat begins to close up, all to keep out the scent. Tazhimea is Harbinger of Allergens, and thus has a unique approach to the problem of how to bring death to the masses, namely by twisting the body's own immune response against itself with puffs of spores and pollen, powerful perfumes, or the stings and bites of insects that hide within the body of the Harbinger and of its servitors. The Harbinger's garden is their laboratory as they breed together flora and fauna from all over the Great Beyond to birth creations whose effluvium triggers violent reactions in any creature that inhales or touches them, with the fiend's ultimate goal to form an allergen that can affect even them, at which point they know their work has become perfect.

Because Tazhimea's creations turn the victims' own immune system against it, there is little one can do to protect themselves from it. Living creatures that are immune to disease or poison are ironically more vulnerable to the Harbinger's foul magic as their powerful immunity goes berserk in response to a sniff of a foul but ultimately harmless perfume or a painful and debilitating but nonfatal sting, turning an attack that could have been survived into a life-threatening affliction for which there is no cure. For all the terror they bring to the living, though, they have a distinct disadvantage when combating creatures such as Elementals, Constructs, and Undead, a disadvantage which prevents them from truly seeking the throne of the Horseman of Plague.

Domains: Animal, Evil, Death, Plant Subdomains: Insect, Daemon, Growth, Venom* Favored Weapon: Rapier Symbol: A beautiful flower with a bee sitting in the center Sacred Animals: Bees and ants Sacred Colors: Green and red *followers of Tazhimea may modify the Animal Domain with the Venom Subdomain.

Obedience: Sow the seeds of plants which provoke allergic reactions. If you cannot, invoke an allergic reaction in yourself, then suffer through it for at least 1 hour before attempting to cure or alleviate it. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to saving throws against disease and poison effects.

Boon 1: Garden of Peril Boon 2: Cape of Wasps Boon 3: Greater Insect Spies

-----

Qaiqol, the Honest Doctor Neutral Evil Daemon Harbinger of Placebos, False Cures, and Malpractice

A foul and recent fiend, Qaiqol was once a snake-oil salesman whose silver tongue and seemingly miraculous mixtures ended numerous lives. Whether it was a balm that soothed pain but prompted hemorrhagic bleeding or some 'incredible' surgery to replace a failing organ which went tragically awry, Qaiqol was at the forefront of inventing countless ways to harm others with fabricated cures and poisonous medicines, and was always a change of name and facial hair away from doing it again in the next settlement he preyed upon.

Far beyond any rational or explainable motive, Qaiqol would dissect or even vivisect others to better understand the border between panacea and poison upon the body's various systems, and how the two could be blended together to provoke the most destructive reactions. Were he benevolent he could have been an incredible doctor, but as it was, he was a serial killer with a particularly sadistic modus operandi, one that involved giving another hope for a cure only to have their symptoms become worse, then terminal. His actions were not even for the purpose of becoming rich--though he did make a tidy profit off stealing and selling the belongings and even the bodies of the deceased--but from outright sadism and a wicked desire to sow public distrust towards actual, well-meaning practitioners.

Such a foul soul could only ever be condemned to Abaddon, but Qaiqol's vicious drive persisted even after death. For all his power in life, though, he spent many years as a plaything in the courts of Apollyon before finally gaining the strength needed to betray and slay a pair of Harbingers--one which held dominion over surgeries, and one which delighted in spreading sickness in places of healing--and take their power for himself. He now commands squadrons of Placebodaemons and Iatrodaemons (representing, respectively, those who die from false cures and those who die from medical complications) as the greatest of their numbers, and works to hock his poisonous snake oil to every corner of the Great Beyond and erode the bonds between communities and the apothecaries and doctors striving to help them.

Domains: Artifice, Evil, Healing, Trickery Subdomains: Alchemy, Daemon, Medicine, Espionage Favored Weapon: Estoc Symbol: A medicine bottle of unknown liquid with a fanciful label Sacred Animals: Snake Sacred Colors: Blue, brown

Obedience: Work to cure injuries and ailments in other creatures for one hour in whatever fashion you can. Alternately, create and/or sell false medicines. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Bluff and Heal checks.

Boon 1: Fester Boon 2: Poisonous Balm Boon 3: Phantasmal Putrefaction

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 13

Do I mourn the fact that this isn't the last chapter because it's a spooky number? Yes, yes I do. But!

Have fun!

In this we have the renovation and reopening of the club, the trial of Robin's attacker, and Steve gives the performance of his life.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

Construction of the new stage went smoothly with guardrails to keep the dancers from falling off and keeping the crowd from getting to handsy.

The chairs and tables were red leather and black metal fittings. The chair backs had the club logo in wrought iron. It was really cool. The wood floors where replaced by red and black tiles. The walls were painted with flames and the lighting was changed over to faux candles.

The whole vibe went from converted speakeasy to an actual Hellfire Club. When the second set of dressing rooms were finished; it would be the backup dancers on the right, because they had more costume changes to go through in a night and needed the bigger space for all their costumes and the Sins on the left.

Each Sin would have their own vanity and closet where they would have more room to change into their Sin costumes, because they tended to be more over the top. Well, all but Brian’s. Brian’s was his three piece suit, but he was a large guy, so he still needed all the space he could get.

When Steve asked where Eddie was getting all the money to do the renovations he merely grinned and tapped the side of his nose.

The truth was that Eddie had gone to Nancy’s boss and told him about her schemes. The man offered $300k to make the problem go away. Which Eddie happily took and then someone *Wayne cough cough* call in an anonymous tip to their main rival. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that of the fifty odd people who were there that night decided to take justice in their own hands, was it?

He kept $100k of it back, and put the rest into updating the club. Upped all his insurances and made sure all his licenses would cover the bigger place, getting all his ducks in a row.

Opening night was packed to the gills, even for a Saturday night. Just like addicts needing their fix.

The three new dancers fit in seamlessly. Mason considered themselves to be non-binary so it was a bit of an adjustment getting use to the new pronouns but Eddie was proud to say he hadn’t hired a single fucking bigot among them as they all got used it. Admittedly, some quicker than others, but they all adjusted.

Steve really got along with Micaella, the new Wrath. Which privately Eddie thought was pretty hilarious considering how little he got along with Stella.

Eddie got up to the stage and pulled out a microphone. “I don’t usually do this public speaking bullshit. Singing, dancing, and playing in front of an audience is fine, it’s the talking that scares the hell out of me. Go figure.”

There were some polite chuckles.

“So why am I doing this you ask?” Eddie said, pacing back and forth on stage. “Well it’s because the club isn’t the only fresh face around here. Our Satan wasn’t given a proper introduction because we literally threw him into the deep end. So let’s give him a round of applause.”

A thunderous roar came and Steve blushed a deep red as he waved.

“I don’t stand for bullies no matter the form they take,” Eddie continued. “And when a couple of my dancers started to bully our Satan, I had to gather up the evidence I needed to make sure I fired the right people. So it pains my to say that Dagon, Leviathan and even our very own Wrath, Lamia, will no longer be preforming with us.”

There was some oohing and disgruntled mumbling on that one.

“When they endanger the life of fellow dancer,” Eddie said solemnly, “that’s line that needs to be drawn. So that’s why the guardrail was put up. It won’t interfere with your viewing pleasure. I checked.”

There was some appreciative rumbling and Eddie took that as a win.

“So to replace our little demons,” he continued, “we have Set and Kimaris. And to replace our Wrath, we proudly introduce Megera, the Fury!”

The three of them stepped forward, waving and bowing. Then they stepped back

“And to celebrate our grand return,” Eddie concluded, “we present Fairy Tails!”

There was some wolf whistling and stomping as the lights went down.

They did the fairy tales Seven Deadly Sins style and Ellie’s costumes were an absolute treat, coming off with a sultry ease.

The new additions fitting in so seamlessly that soon the audience had forgotten their counterparts in light of their new titillation.

Mason Clark was a non-binary black person whose Set was chaotic and fierce, the way they danced with Cheryl or Choronzon was electric. So much so Eddie was starting to think of changing her name to better fit the Egyptian god theme. He would just have find a really good that match their style. He was thinking Apothos or Ammit. Whichever one she liked the best.

Kyle had that sweet country boy look off the stage, cowboy boots and blue jeans. He had blue eyes and red hair. But once he got on stage all of that fell away and he was phenomenal. And if Eddie ever retired from dancing, he knew he would have his perfect replacement in Kyle. The man could move and move you in a style that was both rough and tender at the same time.

Eddie still wasn’t sure how managed it. Maybe rough wasn’t the right word. Raw. Raw was a better word. It was like he was showing you a side of himself reserved only for the stage. It was breathtaking.

The money flowed in as easily as it had before the two week closure, leaving Eddie, and by extension, Wayne feeling very relieved indeed.

So Wayne made the decision to go back to Hawkins, safe in the knowledge that Eddie now had everything under control.

~

Eddie sat in the back of the courtroom, squirming in his seat. He had never be in the gallery before, usually the defendant’s chair, so it was making him twitch.

Robin had given her testimony last week and now it was Steve turn. He wore a simple grey sweater vest over a long sleeved white button up and grey slacks. You wouldn’t have known from the look of him that he shook his ass on stage five nights a week.

The prosecutor was up first and got Steve to lay out the events of the day as plainly as he could remember them.

The defense lawyer stood up. He was slick man in a thousand dollar suit, diamond rings on almost every finger. The man screamed slime just from his appearance.

“Can you state your current employment?” the lawyer asked smugly.

“Objection!” the prosecutor cried, leaping to his feet.

“Goes toward the character of the witness,” the lawyer said.

“I’ll allow it,” the judge said dryly, waving his hand to the prosecutor’s visible displeasure.

“Hellfire Exotic Club.”

There was some twittering in the jury box but the gallery remained silent.

“And what do you do there?” the lawyer asked, standing up and walking around to the front of the table.

“I’m a dancer,” Steve said, with clenched jaw. His hands gripped the sides of the witness chair.

Eddie could tell it was taking every ounce of self-control for him not to rip this guy’s balls off. Which he was happily willing to do the job for Steve because this guy reminded him of his dad in all the worst ways.

“You strip,” the lawyer corrected, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes.”

The lawyer turned around and picked up a folder from the table and flipped through it for a moment. “It says that you were the lead dancer at the Indiana Ballet Company, is that correct?”

The room was tense as everyone waited to see where this was going. Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat, taking a desperate measure not to leap over the guardrail. Robin grabbed his knee and gave it a squeeze. He looked at her and she gave him a weak smile back.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed, leaning further into the microphone.

"And why did you leave the Indiana Ballet Company?" the lawyer asked, throwing the folder back on the table.

"Because I tore a muscle in my shoulder," Steve replied tersely.

The lawyer rolled his eyes. "You're a dancer, why would a shoulder injury make you quit?"

"Because a male danseur must be able to lift other dancers,” he said slowly as though he was talking to a small child. “Do you know how useless a danseur who can't lift is?"

"No."

"About as useless as this line of questions is in reference to my character as a witness,” Steve bit out. “Move it along."

There was some snickering among the prosecutor’s table.

“Mr. Harrington...” the judge warned, giving him the eye.

“May I say something really quick,” Steve asked the judge, looking over at him on the bench, “before this becomes a ‘gotcha’ moment?”

“Your honor!” the lawyer huffed. “This is most unusual!”

“I think he should have a say if it’s relevant to his character,” the prosecutor said, leaning back in his chair.

“And is it?” the judge asked Steve sternly.

“Yes, your honor.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge said waving off the defense’s further objections.

“I only started working at the club because I was fired from the rec center,” Steve said, shyly. “The bills were piling up and I needed to make a lot of money fast.”

The courtroom was a still as a statue and as quiet as death at that proclamation.

The judge turned to the prosecutor. “Is this true?”

“It is your honor.”

“So let me get this straight, counselor,” the judge said angrily, “that the reason Mr. Harrington was working at the strip club in the first place is because he was fired from the rec center for reporting your client? Do I have that right?”

“I can’t attest to the cause of Mr. Harrington’s dismissal–”

The judge cut him off with a single glare. “Do I have that right?”

“Yes, your honor,” the lawyer hissed.

“So all his working at the strip club attests to is that his firing made him desperate,” the judge said. “As Mr. Harrington said, move this line of questioning along.”

The lawyer seethed but did as he was told. He tried to work every angle to get Steve to trip up but Steve was flawless on the stand.

Eddie was proud of him. So fucking proud.

Then it was time for closing remarks and Eddie really enjoyed the prosecutor’s.

“...Not only did this man brutalize a young woman for the sheer fact she was gay,” he said solemnly, “but their subsequent firing left them destitute and having to turn to working at a strip bar to make ends meet. The sins this man has enacted upon Robin Buckley is immeasurable and despicable.”

Steve was silently crying into his silk and lace handkerchief and Robin and Eddie held on from either side.

No one was surprised when the jury returned the verdict as guilty on all charges in less than twenty minutes.

As they walked away for a little celebration, Eddie turned to Steve, “So... you’re still going to work at the club, right?”

Robin and Steve shared a glance and then burst out laughing.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said, stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. “My mother is a complete bitch, but she absolutely is also one of the best lawyers in the state. I have seen her coach many a client on how to cry on command. Not a single fucking tear was genuine, let me tell you.”

Eddie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That’s is so good to hear.”

“Now let’s call the crew and have them all meet us at Kincade’s for drinks and barbecue on me,” he replied with a grin. “We have some real celebrating to do!”

~

Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @garden-of-gay

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @novelnovella @micheledawn1975

[kwxnnxn]

Kwannon (Revanche / Psylocke) Reading Guide

Were Kwannon's body is well known she herself had been dead for decades after her time with The X-Men as Revanche. Coming back to life Kwannon took the name Psylocke and has joined an array of teams using her lethal fighting skills alongside her telepathy and telekinesis. This reading order follows her appearances throughout the years.

Bolded: she's a main character/part of the team or it is an important issue for her. Italic: she's not necessarily a main character but still has interesting moments. Normal: She appears but it is not entirely important to her character.

Introduction + Body Swap

X-Men (1991) #17, #18, #20-#24

X-Men (1991) Annual #2

X-Men (1991) #25-#28

X-Men (1991) #31 [Death]

Resurrection

Hunt for Wolverine: Mystery in Madripoor (2018) #4 [only in one panel]

Uncanny X-Men (2018) #16-#20

Krakoa

Fallen Angels (2020)

Hellions (2020) #1-#11

Excalibur (2019) #18-#20

Hellions (2020) #12-#15

Inferno (2021) #1 [brief appearance but she becomes a war captain]

Hellions (2020) #16-#18

Marauders (2019) Annual #1

Marauders (2022)

Love Unlimited Infinity Comic (2022) #34-#36

Captain Marvel (2019) #43-#49

Fall of X

Hellfire Gala (2023) [only appears briefly but this story is important for context]

Uncanny Avengers (2023)

[floatingcatacombs]

Go Nagai was insane for this one

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 8

I like to always have manga of dubious quality on tap for when I’m having trouble sleeping. Ideally, reading a few chapters will distract me, but I won’t want to stay up late shotgunning volumes. Devilman Lady was the ideal manga for this, and this is maybe the last time anyone will ever describe Devilman Lady as "ideal".

An extremely brief introduction is in order. If Osamu Tezuka is the godfather of manga, then Go Nagai is manga’s weird horny uncle. He’s arguably just as influential, the two of them just moved in different circles, each reifying entire genres. Nagai is more or less responsible for magical girls, super robot, and ecchi, and also spent a lot of time in the sphere of supernatural and post-apocalyptic manga. These are fundamentally genres of extremity and ridiculousness, and Nagai dials every one of his works up to 11 by the end, one way or another. Devilman is probably his most famous work over here, and it’s a stone-cold classic for a reason. Nagai has kept revisiting it over the years, with side stories, alternate universes, manga cameos, and even entirely new series that function as stealth sequels such as Violence Jack. But his most notable attempt is Devilman Lady, which is far more than a simple gender-swap of the original.

Devilman Lady is about swimming deep in filth. It’s easily the most disgust-provoking manga I’ve read, with pretty much every content warning under the sun applicable. This is a truly rotten and conspiratorial world that Nagai is depicting. Societal decay manifests in countless forms, including rape, child abuse, homophobia, militarism, and hatred towards immigrants. Anything that could be potentially understood as fanservice is placed right next to or directly within the atrocities at hand, and it's genuinely unclear how much Nagai intended that as commentary. His intentions throughout this whole manga are a bit of an enigma, but what's clear that he is firing on all cylinders.

This is an extremely zeitgeisty 90’s work, with intelligent design debates, the mapping of the human genome, new age paranoia, religious zealotry, and anxiety over pollution all playing out on the pages. Where it breaks from many of its contemporaries is a decisive rejection of the end of history. This is the kind of thing you write when you’re still reeling from the subway sarin gas attacks and your country's role in the Gulf War and subsequent militarization. It’s the perfect manga for capturing a time period when ten to twenty percent of Japan’s population were estimated to have belonged to a new religious movement.

The punchline to all of this is that he doesn’t know how to draw women.

By the back half of Devilman Lady, Nagai’s depictions of hellscapes and grotesque monsters reach near-Berserk levels of detail and technical competency. And yet his female protagonists are still drawn in a drastically simpler 70's style, only now with giant spheres grafted to their chests. Either humans and the infernal are two completely different skillsets, or this was a deliberate artistic decision, and both are difficult to swallow. Either way, we just have to accept the juxtapositions.

one of my favorite pages to show people devoid of context

The finale is just nuts. Go Nagai makes textual the homoeroticism and gender deviance of the original Devilman manga, as the world burns in both nuclear warfare and demonic hellfire. The story starts accelerating at an unfathomable pace, the most inscrutable double mobius reacharound yaoiyuri occurs, and the universe resets once or twice. It makes the endings of Jojo Part 6 and 7 look tame by comparison. There is no way to parse this like a normal manga with a plot and narrative. It is raw id.

This has been a year where I’ve tried to deliberately broaden my comfort zone by engaging with more potentially upsetting works if I think they'll have something interesting to say. This was like jumping into the deep end. Devilman Lady may very well be Go Nagai’s magnum opus. It’s not nearly as tight as the original manga, but it’s a glorious mess, just as radical to its own time as Devilman must have been in the 70s. It made for spectacular insomnia reading. And there’s no way in hell I can ever recommend it.

At age 19, Nagai went through a bout of diarrhea so bad that he convinced himself it was colon cancer, and that he was at death's door. He vowed to leave something behind for the world to remember him by, and began laboring away on manga. And for the last 60 years of his career, he’s written and drawn with the fervor of a man who’s about to shit himself to death. Maybe that’s the real secret.

[leighbaye]

— PUPPY PRINCE

written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , mike wheeler 𝔁 m! reader | wc 1446

summary. so called biology project being an excuse to see mike, desperately wanting to see him after asking him out. being mike wheeler’s first boyfriend. celebrating the honeymoon phase with lots of kisses!

labels. no definite description of reader, amab reader (anyone masculine presenting/labeling), he/him pronouns used. proud hellfire member mike + basketball player boyfriend. ♡

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. hi everyone, i haven’t written a male reader fic in a minute so decided it was time to bring it back. school is starting august 21st for me so id really appreciate it if anyone requests for a drabble before i go mia. lots of love!

y/n pedaled through the streets of hawkins, the wind cool against his face as the familiar houses blurred by. he had one destination in mind: the wheeler household. he hadn’t told mike he was coming—why would he? surprises were always more fun.

as he reached the suburban neighborhood, y/n slowed his bike and hopped off, the tires crunching against the gravel driveway. he parked it by the side of the house and made his way to the front door, a small smirk playing on his lips as he thought about the expression mike might have when he saw him. with a quick knock, y/n waited, his heart racing a little in anticipation.

the door swung open to reveal karen wheeler, a welcoming smile on her face. ❝ hello, can I help you? ❞

putting on his most polite expression, offering a charming smile. ❝ hi, mrs. wheeler. uh i’m y/n, one of mike’s … close friends from school. ❞ a sour tone coming out from lying to his soon to be mother in law.

karen’s smile widened at the introduction. ❝ oh, hello, y/n! i’ve heard mike mention you a few times. what brings you here today? ❞

y/n glanced down, faking a moment of shyness before looking back up. ❝ we’ve got a biology project we need to work on. i figured we could get a head start, if that’s okay of course! ❞

❝ of course, of course honey, ❞ karen said, her voice warm. she turned slightly and called up the stairs, ❝ mike! y/n is here for your .. biology project! ❞

a few moments passed before the sound of footsteps echoed from above, and then mike appeared at the top of the stairs. he was in casual loungewear, clearly not expecting company, and a look of mild annoyance crossed his face. but that all melted away the moment he saw y/n standing there. His eyes widened, and he froze in place, caught between surprise and disbelief. ❝ y-y/n? what are you—❞

before mike could finish, y/n shot him a knowing smile, and mike’s irritation shifted into something more like panic. he forced a smile and quickly descended the stairs, grabbing y/n’s arm and pulling him towards the stairs.

❝ uh, thanks, mom! ❞ mike called over his shoulder as he practically dragged y/n up to his room. as soon as they reached the sanctuary of his bedroom, mike shut the door with a soft click and locked it, turning to y/n with an incredulous look on his face.

❝ what are you doing here? ❞ mike asked, his voice still tinged with disbelief, though there was a hint of something else—something softer.

y/n leaned casually against the door, crossing his arms with a playful grin. ❝ like i said, a biology project, ❞ he teased, winking at mike as he ruffled his hair and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

mike huffed in response, cheeks flushing slightly as he snatched y/n’s backpack and tossed it into a corner of the room. ❝ you’re crazy, ❞ he muttered, but there was no heat in his words. he gave y/n a light shove, guiding him toward the bed.

y/n allowed himself to be pushed, settling back on the bed with a content sigh. mike followed, slipping under the covers and resting his head on y/n’s chest. for a moment, they were quiet, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence.

❝ you could have warned me you were coming over, you know, ❞ mike mumbled into y/n’s shirt, his voice soft and a little pleading.

y/n chuckled, running his fingers through mike’s dark hair. ❝ where’s the fun in that? but fine, i’ll give you a heads up next time—just because you’re my boyfriend ❞

mike made a noise of protest, but the faint smile on his lips betrayed him. he snuggled closer, letting out a small sigh of contentment. ❝ so, how’ve you been? ❞ y/n asked, his voice a little more serious. ❝ it’s been a week since we started dating … how’s it going for you? ❞

mike tilted his head slightly, thinking back to the whirlwind of emotions that had come crashing down on him the moment it all began. ❝ honestly … it still feels a little unreal. i remember how it all happened so … clearly. ❞

y/n nodded, encouraging him to continue. mike took a deep breath and let his mind wander back to that day.

mike had been frustrated, to say the least. lucas had been missing so many hellfire meetings lately, and eddie was getting increasingly annoyed. mike couldn’t understand why basketball had become such a big deal to lucas—it wasn’t like it was anything special. it was just basketball, after all. but lucas had made a deal with mike, a deal that mike couldn’t resist.

lucas had noticed the way mike’s gaze lingered on a certain someone—a certain someone who happened to be lucas’s teammate. and lucas, being the observant friend that he was, had concocted a plan. if mike covered for him with eddie, then lucas would help set mike up with y/n. it seemed like a win-win, and mike, desperate to keep hellfire together, had agreed.

but the situation had spiraled out of control. eddie had caught on to their little scheme, and so had dustin. mike found himself cornered in the hallway, frustration bubbling over as he lashed out at lucas. It was then that y/n appeared, his hand tapping lucas on the shoulder, signaling him to leave and head for practice.

y/n had stayed behind, his expression sincere as he apologized for lucas’s behavior, explaining that basketball was something lucas truly enjoyed. mike had been taken aback by the apology, his mind scrambling to process the words. but before he could respond, y/n had taken a step closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

❝ you know, mike … you’re not the only one who’s been hiding a crush. ❞

mike had felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat. was y/n … was he saying what mike thought he was saying? he hesitated, unsure, but when y/n looked him straight in the eye, the answer was clear. mike didn’t even think—he just reacted, throwing his arms around y/n and blurting out a breathless, ❝ yes! ❞

it had been so out of character for him, so spontaneous and unlike the usual mike wheeler. but he couldn’t help it—he had been so overwhelmed with relief and happiness. y/n had laughed, a warm, genuine laugh, and hugged him back tightly. from that moment on, everything had changed.

❝ i will never regret not holding back, i'm so glad about it. ❞ mike says, his head looking up at y/n

y/n smiled down at him, his heart swelling with affection. ❝ i’m glad you didn’t hold back either. i’m lucky to have you, mike, ❞ he said, his voice full of warmth. he leaned down and began placing soft kisses on mike’s face, starting with his forehead, then his cheeks, and finally, the tip of his nose.

mike felt his face heat up under the onslaught of affection, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he flicked y/n’s forehead playfully. ❝ you’re such a nerd, ❞ he teased, though there was no denying the fondness in his tone.

y/n yelped in mock indignation, rubbing his forehead before leaning in closer. mike’s hands cupped y/n’s face, and he pulled him into a slow, gentle kiss, pouring all the affection he felt into that one moment. y/n’s arms wrapped around mike’s waist, pulling him closer until y/n shifted, rolling on top of mike. he grinned down at his boyfriend, his hands resting on either side of mike’s head.

mike giggled, the sound soft and carefree, as y/n began trailing kisses along his jawline, then down to his neck, his chest, and finally his stomach. each touch sent a shiver of warmth through mike, making him feel both safe and cherished.

but y/n wasn’t done yet. he suddenly reached over to where he had tossed his backpack and pulled out a textbook, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ❝ so … there’s no biology project, ❞ y/n confessed with a smirk, holding up the textbook. ❝ but we do have a final coming up, and i figured we could use this time to study. take advantage of the situation, you know? ❞

mike rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. ❝ you’re unbelievable, ❞ he muttered, though he didn’t resist when y/n flipped open the book and settled back down next to him.

❝ unbelievable in the best way, right?❞ y/n teased, pressing one last kiss to mike’s forehead before they both turned their attention to the pages in front of them.

mike snuggled closer, the warmth of y/n’s presence making the idea of studying almost bearable. as they began to read, mike couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he was the lucky one after all.

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: nothing i can think of tags: steddie as dads, sometime in the future, happily married, bickering as a sign of love, steve harrington needs to argue with someone, family game night, fluff, sweet stuff, word count: 993

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "fairy tales"

-

“Remember that one promise I made you when we got married?” Eddie asked, walking into the kitchen Steve was cleaning.

“I remember them all. You mow the lawn a lot less than you said you would.”

“That’s because you’re so particular!”

“Don’t you dare. It’s because you don’t want to rake up the clippings, dude. You know that, I know that, but it’s so necessary.”

“It’s not,” Eddie glared at Steve’s back, steam coming out of his ears as he tried to get himself back on track. “That’s not the one I mean, either.”

“Can you…be more specific then? I feel like me guessing is just asking for a fight.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m going for.”

Steve turned around, bubbles up to his elbows and eyes bright enough to light the darkest caves. “Are you? Because I’ve been pissed off about that fucking grocery store bullshit all day and I could-I could just really, I mean. Oh my god, it would be so nice to yell and fight.”

“You already yelled at them,” Eddie threw his hands in the air, they were never going to make it to the point here but now he was feeling a bit guilty for getting Steve’s hopes up like that.

“I don’t feel any better,” Steve said plainly, shrugging his shoulders and looking at Eddie like he should understand.

Rather than respond, Eddie stayed quiet long enough that Steve knew he wasn’t getting the needed fight. He turned back to the dishes and took his frustration out on the spaghetti sauce-soaked plates.

Eddie knew he had to tread carefully. Steve was ready to go and it wasn’t going to take much now that Eddie had dangled the carrot.

“Okay, so I mean the part where I said I’d never ask you to fill in during dnd…again.”

“We learned that lesson in the worst way.”

“The closest I ever came to thinking we’d break up was after that,” Eddie nodded. They both paused for the flashback of that argument.

“I sense a ‘but’ coming though.”

“Well, not a ‘but’ so much as a technicality? We agreed you’d never fill in but nothing was said about just joining a campaign. From the beginning.”

“Do you think that’d go any better?”

“I do!” Eddie said, leaping across the kitchen to get into Steve’s space. “Because it wouldn’t be any campaign. I wouldn’t even invite the guys.”

“Just me and you? I don’t want to play pretend sitting around with you. That’s why you still have the Hellfire Club. Go play with them.”

Eddie sucked in a breath but held his words there for a second. “What about the kids?”

Again, it stopped Steve’s dishwashing and he looked at Eddie. It wasn’t a no but it was an invitation to say more. Eddie had to play this very carefully. This was closer than he expected to get.

Their kids were old enough, in Eddie’s opinion, to try their hands at Dungeons and Dragons. At nine and five, it wouldn’t be the full by-the-book campaign. An introduction to the core concepts though, an easy campaign with a focus around things they love, and the safety of their dads.

Eddie just had to get Steve on board.

“Okay, so I’ve spent the past month or so writing down what I could remember of those fairy tales you used to make up as bedtime stories. You’re actually really good at storytelling and you know how much they both loved them.”

Steve sighed, rinsing his hands off and giving Eddie his undivided attention. Reluctantly but Steve didn’t do much enthusiastically. Eddie knew how to read this and how to move forward.

“Well, they’re an amazing basis for a campaign. We could just putt around in our own little fairy tale world and learn the rules, fight a troll, and work together. It’d be chill, I promise. More about learning than anything else.”

“So why do you need me? Can't you just play with the kids?”

“I could. I will if you really don’t want to, though I might bring in Will and Gareth for numbers if that’s the case. But I want you there. They’re your stories and I think it’d be fun to finally play with you after all this time. We’ve got a short window where the kids are learning before they either get too good or don’t want to play.”

“You have…really thought about this,” Steve laughed.

“Actually, yeah, but it’s all sincere. It’s the perfect time to bring you into this with a perfect exit. It doesn’t need you so if you don’t want to, it’s fine, but I’d love to do this as a family. Something, something practicing safe dice rolls at home first,” Eddie tried to laugh, knowing the joke wouldn’t land and that it was barely formed.

Steve folded and unfolded the towel he’d dried his hands with, thinking this over. “For the kids,” he finally said.

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, the statement ping-ponging around his brain as he tried to process if it was, in fact, a statement and not a question. Then he said “No fucking way,” with several different inflections.

Before Eddie could vibrate out of the room, Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “I have a no-questions-asked exit though. If it gets anywhere close to what happened last time, I leave the game, you write me out, and we never, ever, ever try again, okay?”

“Yeah! Of course! I mean, I’d expect nothing less!! So, alright, you always told stories about this prince, did you see him as a fighter or what?”

Before the question finished, Eddie darted out of the kitchen to grab a notebook. He had pages of questions for Steve. This would take a lot of working out between them before bringing in the kids but Eddie was willing to do the work and Steve could keep doing chores. It was perfect. This was all going to be so perfect.

[qprstobin]

It's interesting to me that the fandom looks at the "Steve Harrington isn't an asshole after all" line and 1) lords it as the first time Steve's gotten a compliment from a friend on screen and 2) that it's about Steve's growth as a character. Like I'm a Steve girlie don't get me wrong, that man is my pride and joy, but that line/exchange was very much about Eddie.

There's a whole layer of Eddie's story that fandom seems to love to ignore, in that the whole season he is grappling with the fact that the way he viewed the world (based largely on stereotypes and his viewpoint being the correct amount of nonconforming) is wrong. That's what the Munson Doctrine is all about. That preps act a certain way, that band geeks act a certain way, and that jocks act a certain way.

And he is finding out that this is wrong! That these people he judged as shallow his whole high school career and beyond are not actually as shallow as they appear! First it was Chrissy, then it was Steve and Nancy and even Robin!

And this isn't an insult lobbed at Eddie that he's uniquely ignorant lol. This is something all the teens (minus Argyle rip) go through when they get introduced to the Upside Down. Jonathan literally calls Nancy shallow and fake while defending the creep shots. Robin of course has her own "Mr. Cool Mr. Funny" speech about Steve in s3 and then later calls Nancy a priss. Nancy's is probably the most obvious because, yaknow, Barb

Like a key theme to the teens' Upside Down introduction arcs is that not only is their physical world being flipped on its head, but also that the petty shit that seems important isn't actually that important when your life is being threatened. Being introduced to the Upside Down very much also removes them from the main stream of high school life, and so even when they return to school they are not focused on the same social BS that they are before.

It really is nothing about Steve or Steve "changing". They don't know each other lol, I doubt either of them have given each other much thought before the kids joined Hellfire. But Eddie believed the world worked a certain way, and very much judged people for what their interests were and whether he considered them to be "conforming" or not. (Which, wasn't just about being a jock lol, he calls out the band kids and science kids before he even gets to the jocks and the partiers.) The Upside Down experience makes him realize that he is fitting people into boxes in the same way that he was protesting against.

It's actually really fun character growth, and a fun parallel I think to the other characters but especially s1 Steve. I really like it a lot and wish that fandom included it more in fics. It's wild to me that this aspect of Eddie's journey has just been completely dropped.

[supercap2319]

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" Bucky whispered angrily when they were alone in the dark corner of the club.

Imagine Bucky's surprise when he was supposed to be meeting the Power Broker, but instead he was introduced to their right-hand man, the illustrious Mr. Hellfire. Who just happened to be Y/N in disguise. Bucky tried to hide his surprise and his annoyance when he and Y/N shook hands. "Soldat. Nakonets-to my vstretilis'."

Since when did Y/N speak Russian? Bucky nodded and gave him a cold stare. "Tak zhe."

After the introductions were made, and Bucky could have a moment alone; he grabbed Y/N and took him to the nearest private spot. "Shh! You're gonna blow my cover. It's Mr. Hellfire."

"What are you doing here?" Bucky repeats.

"I'm working undercover. You said I couldn't help you on this mission as an Avenger. So, I thought–"

"–you thought you'd pretend to be a cold-hearted assassin?"

"Look, it's fine. Nobody knows what he looks like. Natasha and I checked his apartment. He had a bunch of facial alterations and lots of other things to make him look like he's a different person each mission."

"You involved Natasha?" Bucky groaned. "Why would you do that?"

"Bucky, they tried to kill Steve." Y/N said.

"What?!" Bucky looks shocked. "When?"

"A few days after you left for here. He shot up the place and Steve got a bullet graze through his side. We figured the best way to find out who hired Mr. Hellfire was to pretend to be him."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is dangerous, Doll."

"I can protect myself. I have something nobody here has. Something guns can't even compete with." Y/N smiled.

Before Bucky could say anything, they heard footsteps as Y/N grabbed Bucky by his leather harness and crashed their lips together. A few moments later, someone cleared their throat. "Soldat? Mr. Hellfire? The Boss wants to see you both."

Y/N pulled back and wiped his mouth. "Of course. Just getting... Acquainted."

Bucky watched Y/N walk off as he cursed. "Fuck!"

[bettyfrommars]

Crawling towards the finish line that is this year – biker!Steve notices and remembers you used to love Christmas when you lived in town (maybe it’s something that’s lost on you now). I feel like he’d do something quietly sweet.

This is coming from the girl who can’t write a single sentence for her Steve fic so pls feel free to ignore lol ❤️‍🔥

Welcome to 2025! Gah, I'd been hopinggg to get this out before the end of last year as a holiday gift for you, Mel, but alas. You know how it goes. Loved spending time with him so thank you for always wanting to get to know our biker boy.

biker!Steve x afab!Reader

For others seeing this, I know "biker Steve" can get confusing here because I have two different ones 😂 But this is Ring of Fire Steve, in a universe parallel to Hawkins called Hawkeye. You do not have to be familiar with that au to enjoy/understand this.

18+only but this is just so fluffy. Strange things happen in Hawkeye, and this is no exception. Introduction to a place called Hellfire Hollow. A Christmas song is mentioned, but that is it.

Word Count: 2.2k

"Does this look okay?"

You stepped out of the bathroom to smooth your hands up and down your thighs. Steve was stretched long on your bed, head propped up on the knuckles of his fist, flipping through an issue of Sassy magazine.

He mumbled "uh huh" before even looking up, fully engrossed in a quiz titled: How to know if he is really into you. You said his name and he blinked to attention.

"Wowzers," he froze and then slowly sat up, swallowing hard.

An awkward laugh bubbled out of you. "I take it that's a yes?"

It's not like you were in an evening gown or anything, but you realized he's only ever seen you in casual jeans and tees, possibly a hoodie or two. He probably didn't even know you had a waist to speak of.

He hasn't moved, you're not sure he's even breathing until he offers a few micro nods. It took a herculean amount of strength not to blurt out that he loved you, but that would be absurd. Normally he’d put on the ‘ol Harrington charm of pretending he didn’t care, but he was too far gone at that point.

"You didn't say where you are taking me," you shifted your weight from foot to foot. "So hopefully it's not to go rock climbing or something."

His wallet chain jingled as he stood to step over and kiss you softly on the corner of your mouth, hovering close as he spoke. "That's right, it's a surprise, but what you're wearing is fine. More than fine. It's beautiful, I mean, you're beautiful." He moved back to gather his thoughts. "You'll need a coat or something though. Something warm you can put on once we get there."

"Consider my interest piqued," you scratched your fingers through the side of his hair, tucking a piece behind his ear with the hoop piercing, and he leaned into the touch like a cat. He wore a black Corroded Coffin tee under his blue and green flannel, and that spicy cologne you liked.

It's the first week in December, but it's rare for the temperature to ever fall below freezing in Hawkeye, so you no longer own a heavy winter coat. Your trusty leather jacket is hanging on the door handle behind you, and you hoped that would suffice for the evening.

"You're so far away," Steve said once you were in the truck, patting the space on the bench seat next to him, begging with those puppy dog eyes for you to scoot over to be closer to him. Once you were there, his hand went to your knee, and that is where it stayed for the rest of the trip unless he was fiddling with the radio.

"I missed you while you were gone," you said over the grumble of the engine and his trusty yacht rock sifting from the speakers. Steve just got back from being out of town on a run with his motorcycle club for a few days.

"Really?" He turned to stare at your profile as if he needed confirmation that it wasn't a joke. "I missed you too. Thought about you the whole time. There was a payphone at the place we ate at on the way home. I was gonna call, but then I thought nah that's stupid. You were probably busy anyway."

"I would've liked that,” you replied, but it was too quiet for him to hear.

He drove for a while, to the outskirts of town where the highest point in the sprawling desert was telephone poles lined against a darkening sky, snuggled in a sea of sagebrush. He cut left down a road that didn’t even look like a road at first and then crests a ledge that drops down into a valley.

Finding a station on the radio playing Christmas music, he twists the knob to turn up the volume a notch. It's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Judy Garland.

"I love this song," you said, cracking a smile. 

"I know."

It was your turn to check his profile to see if he was pulling your leg. Steve only shrugged and squeezed your knee.

"How would you know that?"

He sniffed, secretly proud of himself. "You, um, you told me. One time at school you were sitting alone on the roundabout humming a song, so I asked to know what it was. You seemed like you didn't really want to tell me, but I don't know, I'm pretty persuasive, I guess." He flicked a shy smirk. "It was in a movie you used to watch with your grandmother."

You weren't sure if it was the memory itself or the idea that a ten-year-old Steve managed to retain that detail, but emotions tightened in your throat and tickled there until you coughed.

"I wish it would snow," you admitted, lowering your temple to his shoulder. You imagined the landscape ahead covered in white with fluffy candy flakes blanketing the windshield before the wipers brushed them away, but it never snowed in Hawkeye.

"We're almost there," he replied with an answer that was seemingly unrelated, tilting his head so that it was touching yours.  .

It's then that you see it: Hellfire Hollow. 

Against the deep purple sunset, the trees looked like long, crooked, menacing fingers coming up out of the ground.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"Never," you said. "I've only heard the stories."

The bark of the trees that comprised Hellfire Hollow were said to be black with char and void of any foliage or other signs of life. Some say they were the product of a horrible fire that swept the town generations ago; others believe they came out of the earth like that.

"Didn't a kid disappear out here a while back?" You adjusted in your seat, leaning forward to get a better look. “He was in high school.  There was a search party and everything.”

"Yeah they never found him," he parked and turned the engine off but left the lights on.  “He showed up like months later as if no time had passed.  Said he went through a tree, ended up in a place called Hawkins, and couldn’t find his way back. No one believed him.”

“Weird.” That was the only thing you could think of to say, peering in through the sinister shapes. 

“That’s Hawkeye for you,” he unfastened his seatbelt and paused.  “You know you don’t have to worry, right? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” your gaze fixed out the windshield to the motes of dust swarming in the beam of the headlights. “I like this place, it’s creepy.”

“I thought you might,” he stretched across the cab with a grunt to flick open the glovebox and grab a flashlight with a yellow handle.  “We’ll go get some dinner after this, but there’s something really cool I want to show you. Not many people know about it. Grab your coat.”

“How far are we going?” You wondered this as he helped you step down from the cab; you couldn’t imagine traveling far enough for that much of a temperature drop.  

“Hundred yards or so,” he stole a kiss, and then another and another, lips salty and cinnamon sweet, taking your face in his hand for one final long one, huffing a soft exhale of pleasure. “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

A sharp wind bit through the air, whipping his hair in his eyes, and your whole body rippled from the chill, hissing as you shrugged into your jacket.

He held your hand once it was through your sleeve and pointed the flashlight beam ahead. Each step felt like walking on popcorn, and a huge bird, possibly an owl, flapped its wings to ascend from the branches with the fanfare of some mystical beast.

The weight and smell of the air changed, as if that specific area belonged to another space in time and you’d crossed an invisible barrier.  Faint whispers crackled at your ears like they would in a hypnagogic state, making your skin ripple with gooseflesh.

“It’s right over here,” you were pinned to his side while he guided you to the left, carving a path of light through the inky night. One massive, charred tree had a thick trunk with an opening in it the size of a hobbit door.  

You shivered so hard in reaction to the icy pocket of space that your back teeth clacked together.  Steve hooked an arm around you and pulled you into his side while he used the other to point at the opening in the tree.

“Get closer,” he hushed, giving a soft nudge. “Look inside.”

After a sharp intake of breath, you held it in, staring at the arched opening in the seemingly ancient tree that was something out of a fable; it had roots erupting from the ground like the bent knuckles of some earth dwelling beast..  

The opening was big enough for you to crawl through, but just.  Without a glance at your companion, you bent down and shuffled forward, bending a knee to stick your head in.

“Wait no!” He was quick to snatch you back, his eyes wide and feral. “I didn’t say go in. That would be bad.”

You wet your bottom lip, your warm breath making smoke in the air. “Why would it be bad?”

He took a firm grip on your arm instead of answering. “Let’s look together.  Stay back here with me.”

You were happy to go along with that suggestion, another chill cramping the muscles in your thighs. 

Lowered to mirroring crouches, you peered inside.  At first you saw nothing but the dark insides of a hollowed out trunk.  After a few blinks, the space filled with what resembled static from a television. 

But it wasn’t static; it was snow.

Snow?

A gentle stream of fluffy, white flakes inside the tree? Never had Hawkeye ever seen a snow fall.

Steve turned to catch your reaction, pleased to watch your jaw go slack.

“How is it possible?” Your mesmerized eyes glistened with wonder, tilting your head back to see if it was falling from above.  

“Hell if I know,” he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “It’s a doorway to another place, that’s what they say.”

“Another place?” You squinted, peering closer to see the outline of a building, lined with pine trees. There was a whole scene of a tiny town in there, as if someone shook a gigantic snow globe.

He rested his temple against yours to watch the scene.  “I remember you said you wanted to see some snow.”

“Yeah.” Your throat tightened when you swallowed, a dam of tears building behind your eyes. Steve had proven to be such a thoughtful boyfriend, you felt melancholy about all of those years you’d spent without him.  

“It’s a doorway to another world that is kinda like ours,” he continued. “Some people go through and come back, but some people don’t. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, as far as I can tell.  A guy from our club went through there once when he was running from the law.  He showed up the next day, but he was ten years older. Said he’d made a whole other life for himself with a wife and all in that other town, but he robbed a bank and thought he’d hide out here for a bit.”

“Did he go back?” Your hands crept under Steve’s lined Carhart jacket to leech his warmth and his armpits welcomed you in.

“That’s the sad bit,” he squeezed you, exhaling.  “The tree wouldn’t let him go back.  Every time he tried, he’d just end up in the belly of a regular old tree.  He tried for months, it drove him mad I think. Ended up crashing his motorcycle in a high speed chase. Died instantly.”

You were silent, watching a few stray snowflakes escape the doorway only to melt instantly on the matte black bark.  

“Maybe that means he finally made it back,” Steve mumbled.  

“I hope so.” You didn’t realize at first, but you were taking steps backward, creating distance from the entrance.  The idea occurred to you that maybe some cowboy lasso would fly out and snag you to drag you into that other place.  

“C’mere,” Steve pulled you around so that your chest was against his, leaning in for another kiss.

“The tip of your nose is like ice,” you chuckled, dragging your lips along his before wiping your own nose with the back of your sleeve.  

“Yeah, it’s fucking freezing out here. You hungry?”

Your nod was enthusiastic, but you kept checking the snowy portal over your shoulder as you walked. There was a gravity about it, pulling you in, a sense of untethered yearning. Little did you know that the urge to step inside that tree was one you’d have to fight every day for a long, long while.