#cozy witch shit

[thecharcoalsalamander]

New hedge-witch hat just dropped, this time with inky cap mushrooms I made myself!

[allthatispeculiar]

[icewolfstar]

Variety of doodles cause my brain will not shut up

[confidant-thoughts]

“In another universe it would have been them” - 😔✊

[tobyflollops]

Zodiacs and Pontiacs 🎆🏳️‍🌈COMING: JULY 9th 2025🎆🏳️‍🌈

At WitchCon in Salem, Massachusetts, Tori and Gabby couldn’t be more different, which would be enough to keep them separated, that is, until a string of unfortunate events binds them together. Now they must unfold a mystery. With deception, magic, and a spark they didn’t expect, the two must confront both the culprit—and their feelings for each other.

I am so so excited for this book. If you want to hear more, you can follow ellebeaumontbooks and Lou.wilham (the authors) on Instagram!

[hithergreenchapel]

I think Cozy Games are a lot like IDM in that they're a genres that tend to get applied by outside forces more than creators? Like I remember hearing a lot of musicians hate getting their music labled as IDM because they think it's pretentious

And I think most people who make game that get labeled as "Cozy" aren't really aiming for that label like I don't think Birth, a game about being so lonely you begin constructing a friend out of abandoned bones and organs, is aiming to be in the same category as Stardew Valley knockoffs!

[touchoffleece]

Gundam to the enjoyers of GL/WLW this Christmas:

"Merry Christmas!"

On a serious note, I forgot Gundam cameback today, and with the news of Warrior Nun getting cancelled despite it's popularity, seeing people share the girls communicating and making up, made this Christmas better, and hopeful media is progressing and not regressing.

[noahhawthorneauthor]

The audiobook for this is on sale over at Chirp and Barnes and Noble this weekend.

🏳️‍🌈 Found Family

✨ Forgotten Memories

📚 Soulmates

Phantom and Rook is a cozy fantasy romance, and will appeal to those who enjoyed works such as Legends and Lattes and The Magicians. While Phantom and Rook tackles topics like mental health, it has been described as a warm hug.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

[thecharcoalsalamander]

[allthatispeculiar]

[thebibliosphere]

I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but occasionally, I am reminded that I started writing crackfic based on a dream I had after playing too much Garden Life and also reading too many Nightwing comics, and I'll open up the document and laugh myself sick at how awful a time Slade Wilson is having in my haunted flower shop AU.

He's been ripped body and soul out of his genre and into a cozy Hallmark movie with undercurrents of cosmic horror, and there's nothing he can do about it. Worst of all, the human he kidnapped is unkillable. At least by him.

---

Slade took a menacing step forward, then stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move another inch. "The fuck."

He looked down at his boots, struggling to uproot them from the dirt-strewn floor. When that failed, he gave up and took a desperate swing across the shop counter. The little witch didn't even flinch. She didn't need to. The same invisible force wrapped around his arm, holding it in place as he strained his outstretched hand toward her neck.

"What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, arm shaking as sweat began to bead down his brow.

"Me?" she asked, far too innocently, like butter wouldn't melt in that smug, annoying mouth. "Bless your heart, dearie, that's not me. That's the plot armor."

"Plot what?"

"Armor," she repeated slowly for him. "I know you're familiar with the word. I've seen that discounted Spirit Halloween ensemble you call a costume."

Slade snarled, renewing his efforts to crush her windpipe. "I know the word. What does it mean?"

"It means I'm protected. The story can't advance without me, so you're stuck with me." She smiled sweetly. "Lucky you."

"Story? What story? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"This one," she said, gesturing around them as though that explained anything. "The one we're in. The one you pulled me into. The one I can't leave until you figure out whatever the fuck you're supposed to be doing. So if you could hurry up and do that, that'd be great. I've got shit to do, and it doesn't involve holding your hand through whatever bullshit character arc crisis you're going through."

"Lady," Slade breathed out through gritted teeth, "you are fucking insane."

"Oh, sweety," she drawled, leaning across the counter and causing his arm to draw back of its own volition, not allowing him to get a hold of her throat, as she patted him condescendingly on the cheek. Clearly, whatever bullshit proximity magic she was pulling didn't apply to her ability to touch him. "You don't know the half of it."

[thesassypadawan]

Witchy Woman (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary: After playing a rather nasty trick on you at the beginning of spooky season.  You’ve been slowly taking out your revenge on J by constantly teasing, never letting him have the treat he wants so badly.  Maybe he should learn how to beg a little better or to not piss off a witchy woman. 

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Begging, edging, riding, bullying from a smexy witch cop, mockery of a hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

🎉A VERY HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO @everydaydreamer🎉

- ‘Woo-hoo, witchy woman…  See how high she flies…’

- The familiar tune filtered out from the speaker.  Playing softly, filling your apartment with its bewitching tune.  Setting the perfect mood for a cozy, sinfully good Halloween night in.  Watching movies, passing out candy, indulging in other sweet treats.  At least, that’s what your handsome devil hopes for…

- Bracing your palms on his firm chest; fingers gently knead, manicured nails lightly scratch at each inked pec.  “Fuck, sweetheart; killin’ me.”  You lift yourself off of him a few torturous inches; reveling in the way he grunts, squirms beneath.  “Been a month.”  Brow knitted in frustration, teeth gritted.  “Don’t…don’t make me beg.”    

- “Almost.”  Before slowly sinking down, pushing his generous length deep inside you once more.  “It’s been almost a month.”  Breathy sigh escaping while you savor the stretch, the ache, the delectable sensation of being full of him.  “And you should, after that nasty trick you played on me.”

- Keeping your pace controlled, lazy.  You clench your walls around him as you rise, swiveling your hips as you descend once more. “Said…shit-”  Causing A.J. to let out a low hiss; hands twitching uselessly above his head, wrists bound and held in place by a pair of dime store cuffs.  “Said I was sorry.”

- With a wicked little laugh, you push him deep inside your heat.  “That’s…mmmh…  That’s not good enough.”  Leaning forward ghosting your lips over his.  “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

- Pulling back, palms trailing lower; following, tracing the lines of his body.  “Beg.”  Come to rest on his toned thighs, squeezing the sinewy muscles.  “Behave.”

- Before dragging his cock in and out.  “Let me use you for my own fun.”   Thrusts slow, deliberately shallow so that he can watch himself disappear.  How your pussy hungrily, greedily takes and swallows him up every time.  “Then maybe I’ll consider ending that dry spell of yours…give you a nice treat.”

- “Dammit, fine…FINE!”  There it was, the last shreds of his stubborn pride gone.  “Please.”  Those simple, magic words that you have been waiting to hear.  “PLEASE!”  Coming from such a cunning, smooth man.  Makes a certain kind of warmth spread in your chest, to other extremities.

- “Getting there.”  Sticking two fingers in his mouth; swirling, moistening them on his tongue.  “But you can do better.”  Removing each with a wet sounding pop; bringing them to, rubbing your clit.

- Tilting your head to the side, nibbling your bottom.  “Why don’t you try again.”  Rolling, pinching the sensitive bud.  Moaning and cooing in way that drives him crazy, gets that monster of his really twitching.  “With more feeling, baaaaby.”

- “Fuck…fuck!”  He groans frustratedly; tugging at his restraints, coffee table scraping gently on the floor.  “Please…so-sorry!”  While his hips buck weakly, impatiently; undoubtedly seeking out more friction, more stimulation.  “Promise, won’t-”

- “Uh-uh, that’s not how you do it.”  You scold; pausing your motions, clamping down.  “You could give it another go.”  Running a slick covered thumb across his bottom lip.  Spreading, coating it; only allowing him a small taste of your sweet essence.  “But-”

- A growl mixed with a grunt floats out from under you.  “But…but what?!”  Trying to thrust up again, pulling harder to free himself.  “Dammit, doll, lemme fuck ya already!”  Blue eyes blown wide, wild look in them; cheeks flush, skin glistening from his sweat.  “I’m blue!”  Blond hair tousled and free.

- Grinding against his pelvis, rocking slightly faster.  Allowing his fat head to barely brush that toe-curling spot.  Hell fire starts to pool in your stomach, thighs begin to quiver and burn.  “But-”  Gaze wanders to the clock hanging above the mantle briefly, then back to his bootifully ruined face.  Watching him writhe, feeling his whole body practically  throb.  “You’re out of time…conjugal visit is over.”

- Abruptly you pull off him.  Adjusting your badge printed panties, straightening the navy skirt of your costume.  Placing your police cap on your head, acting like you weren’t even fazed or still so riled up.  Ignoring the slew of swears and hollow threats…  “Fuckin’ witch!  Get back on this dick!”  …as you slip on the tight-fitting cock ring, kiss his blood red tip.

- “That’s Officer Witch,” you hum, unlocking his cuffs.  “Now, I suggest you think about what you did…how to properly apologize while serving candy duty.”  Showing off your just out of reach cleavage.   “Oh, and I wouldn’t put that hat back on if I were you…unless you want me to tack on some extra days to your sentence.”  Enjoying the sight of A.J. rubbing his wrists and balls a tad too much.

- And even more so as he shifts uncomfortably from side to side, neck straining ever so slightly.  The forced smile he gives every ghost and goblin that approach your door.  The constant muttering, complaining under his breath about the churning and the ache.  “Sure you’re not a witch, sweetheart?”

- ‘Woo-hoo, witchy woman…  She got the moon in her eye…’

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey

[blueberrypancakesworld]

can i request a dead x reader x euronymous fic where the reader has a solo project of her own it comes out to the public that she’s dating both dead AND euronymous?? pls and thank you

Dating the devils

warning : drinking, mentioning of smoking and drugs, smutish (making out), implied threesome

Info : Thanks for the request anon and your formal words ;) Have fun reading and everyone else too.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breaking News: The Swedish celebrity "Dark Lilith" the solo artist and also necomer to the black metal scene was seen performing a satanic ritual in the cemetery last night, apparently trying to summon demons, two figures were seen walking into the night-" the TV was switched off and a sigh came over her lips, her eyes rimmed with dark make-up showing annoyance and yet a little amusement.

She held a bottle of beer in one hand and her guitar in the other. The dark material shone slightly in the dim light in the anteroom. Outside, she could already hear the audience waiting for her.

Thanks Satan that I'm here but the report is unnecessary shit she thought and took the last sip of her beer. She liked it when people reported on her and yet she could do without false statements.

Two unnamed people. She knew for sure that it was neither a ritual of shame nor two unknowns. Her lovers and sex on the farm were more likely to be asked. But every interviewer had either fled or refused.

It was true that she was female, a witch, Lilith, and perhaps went a little too far. But she was a part of the scene, of the time, and in that time from her beginnings to her rise she had gotten to know them.

Her two dead ones, her loved ones, it was romantic. Euronymous always gave her song lyrics and gestures in the form of kisses and instruments. Dead, on the other hand, often drew her things and wanted her to kill him.

Things that flattered her, but she also knew that if it came out that she was the biggest solo maker in such a scene, dating the two men from Mayhem would be hell. Everywhere. ,,The Christians and fans are coming for me," she muttered, plucking at the side of her guitar before throwing the bottle into a garbage can, hearing the rumble and clink before she stood up and knew it was time.

The stage was her home. Her fans were her worshippers and her voice was the magic. Looking into the crowd, she saw the many dark shapes, the make-up of the women looking up at her and the blood on them. It was perfect.

And when her eyes fell on the group, she saw the black-haired and the blonde. She winked at them and saw that they knew she meant them. Felt the beating of her heart as she started to play and the guitar joined in. It was another concert of life, it was everything.

The walls shook, the crowd went wild, her voice screamed into the microphone and everything was fucking perfect. It was a bloody night, there was alcohol involved, some drugs and Satan himself.

It was all perfect and as the dark curtain closed and she retreated she heard the voices of the group. ,,You played perfectly!" she heard Euronymous shout as he pulled her close and gave her a deep kiss.

,,Really good...almost deadly," quipped Dead and she saw the hint of a smile on his lips, a gesture she knew she didn't see often and yet she was grateful that they were happy. But the rest of the black circle also congratulated them on another successful concert.

They all grabbed a beer and a cigarette before retiring to the anteroom to have a little celebration of their own and make it all the better. Euronymous always had his hand by her side always had his lips on her body wanting more of her whether in front of the others or not.

Dead watched her, every now and then he would say and show her something and gently stroke her hand, enjoying feeling the bones underneath. They both loved her in a way that was indescribable. And at the latest when the cold night air hit her body, she was snapped back to reality.

,,The afterparty is long over, but here... it's cozy, isn't it?" she heard the voice of the band founder as he stood next to her, entangling her in a kiss and only making her mind even more clouded by alcohol and drugs.

,,Supper cozy-fuck," she mumbled and leaned into him wanting more of him wanting more of them both no matter if it was in a side alley next to the hall. It didn't matter, it was the only thing she needed to get down. ,,Warm...soft," she heard Dead murmur as he knelt in front of her and kissed his way up her legs.

His cold lips almost as cold as a corpse, his pale pale in the moonlight as he ran his knife over her skin while Euronymous used his hand to start massaging her breasts. She wore no tights, just the black top and the short leather skirt.

The warmth she gave him was the only thing the blonde needed to live. He needed her to stay here and Euronymous needed her to keep going. And she needed them both to feel fucking good.

It was a moment between them that would lead to a promising night. If all three of them didn't pause when they heard the clicking sound. ,,What the fuck?" she mumbled, coming back to the now lost to the two of them and looking into the surprised face of a reporter.

,,You're dead!" Euronymous hissed and took out his taser, which flashed through the dead end. ,,Death," Dead muttered, gripping the knife in his hand tighter before the two ran towards the reporter. As he ran screaming for his life, their laughter could be heard. It was satanically good, it was hellishly ampsant for her.

It only got better when she saw her picture on the title page the next day. ,,Fuck look at you so pretty," Euronymous said and Dead nodded in agreement. ,,An album cover...for Lilith," the blonde said and began to draw inspiration.

The picture showed her leaning against the brick wall, her eyes closed with lust, Euronymous at her side, his hand under her top as he kissed her neck.

Dead kneeling in front of her with the knife running over her skin as he kissed his way up her legs to her center. ,,A fucking good picture...I think we should have done this sooner," she muttered, picking up the newspaper before cutting out the article and nailing it to the wall with a knife. It was a fucking satanic masterpiece.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @icarus-star

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Runaway

Anyone But You

Summary: After successfully running away from your past, it all comes crashing down 10 years later on a cold, snowy Halloween night.

Hello loves and Happy Halloween! This is part 1 in a mini-series!

18+ Only! MDNI!

CW: No use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "sunshine". Home invasion. Knife use. General canon type violence.

WC: 1.5K

Halloween Night - 2019

Scandia, Minnesota

“A KitKat for the witch, oooh and how about a Snickers for Spider Man?” You fawned over the two small children proudly wearing their costumes, settling the candy in each of their buckets, waving to their parents as they took off back down the sidewalk with unadulterated childhood delight.

You smiled, looking around as the neighborhood was beginning to grow quiet in the cool night. The visitors went from a steady stream to trickling at this point.

A Halloween movie marathon was playing in the background as you shut the door and made your way back into the living room to make yourself cozy on the sofa once more. Your eyes grow heavy the closer the clock edges past 10 pm.

The doorbell chime caught your attention, rousing you from a soft doze as you stood, stretching. In your half dazed state, you grabbed the bowl of candy not realizing it was far too late for any more youngsters.

You shuffled to the door, sweater falling off your shoulder, swinging it open with as much enthusiasm that you could muster but there was no one there. No black cat or Buzz Light-year standing in the doorway begging for a treat.

With bleary eyes, you blink a few times, stepping out onto the porch with your worn house slippers looking around with a slight uneasy feeling creeping up your spine.

Your breath blows visible in the air, as you wrap your free arm around yourself. A new blanket of snow sparkled under the moonlight, with a fresh set of footprints visible, leading to the side yard, prints larger than any child could make suddenly setting you on high alert.

Slow and methodically you start to back up into the house, spotting movement just out of the corner of your eye. Quickly, you turn your head in time to see a shadow move out of your line of vision and into the nearby trees.

“Shit,” hissing low under your breath, moving a little faster and slamming the door as soon as you made it back into the foyer. Your hands moved to lock and deadbolt it as quickly as possible, keeping your eyes fixed firmly out into the yard through the front door windows.

Maybe some teenagers were trying to play a trick on you, but something deep down told you otherwise as you decidedly moved to the kitchen.

There were two choices, pretend you hadn't seen whoever's shadow that was and hope they were playing a harmless prank or prepare for a fight that was years in the making.

You didn't own a gun, too many questions and a background check would have immediately drawn attention, although right now you wish you had something other than just kitchen knives.

The sliding back door was locked, but it was the most vulnerable entry point. You made no attempt to hide, standing there in the kitchen light, moving across the door and looking out across the frozen yard. This was it, making it very clear you weren't going to make it easy for them.

You crossed back into the living room, about to shut the TV off, when a loud crash of glass shattering echoed through the house. Wasting no time, you ran out into the foyer and climbed up the stairs two at a time, without looking back. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you made it to the second floor landing and rushed down the hall.

The blood coursing through your veins was thoroughly spiked with adrenaline as you made it to the bedroom, the last room at the end of the hall, leaving the door open you quietly lean down and crawl under the bed with the large knife gripped tight and at the ready.

It was quiet, too quiet, as you waited for any sounds of the intruder, trying to steady your now rapid breathing but all you could hear was the TV from downstairs.

A few more excruciating moments of silence that seemed to stretch on forever and then you hear it, the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls against the old hardwood floor.

Thump. Thump. Thump. They were taking a leisurely pace down the hall, as if they hadn't just broken into your home. They stop, just as the door across from yours slowly creaks open.

Shuffling and banging around momentarily startles you, but you stay quiet, clasping a hand over your mouth. Your eyes remain glued to the bottom of the doorframe.

You hold your breath as a pair of black tactical boots come into view, pausing momentarily as they take in the layout of the room. They edge toward the closet and pull open the door, instantly ripping clothes from hangers and shoving things out of the way littering the floor below.

They let out a frustrated sigh, muttering a muffled “shit,” turning toward the bed. It feels like time stands still as you try not to make a sound but draw the knife closer to your body.

They whirl slightly back toward the door and take a step as you let out a breath you had been holding, closing your eyes.

Leather suddenly creaks in the dark, making your head jerk toward the sound at the end of the bed.

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of a masked figure looking back at you but before your brain can process a decent thought, a large hand wraps around your ankle yanking you forcefully from your hiding place as you let out a squeak of surprise. The knife slips from your hand as you claw to get it back, hanging onto it with everything you have.

They pull you further out into the open as you begin to kick and thrash, screaming out. The carpet burns your bare torso, with your sweater rising up from the force of it all.

A few grunts and protests from them, but it's to no avail, their grip is tight, bruisingly so. You grapple for purchase a few more moments, grabbing the bottom of the bedpost as you force your free leg back into their shin as hard as you can.

“Fuck!” They hiss, releasing your ankle but quickly regaining composure and forcefully holding onto your hip, pressing you further into the carpeting as you let go of the bed pulling the knife toward you, hoping they hadn't spotted it.

You close your eyes as both of their large hands easily flip you over on your back. Your eyes snap back open, suddenly face to face with a Jack Skellington mask.

Your lips quirk into a small smirk as they tilt their head down at you curiously. Time to act, grabbing the knife and slicing toward them as fast and hard as you could.

They see the glint once you brandish your weapon and lean back, dodging most of the blow as it grazes their bicep with a hiss and growl, briefly gripping their arm before quickly turning their attention back to you.

“Goddamnit!” They grit, easily overpowering you, grabbing your wrist as you tried to take another swing and tossing the knife across the room.

“Fuck you!” You spit, thrashing as they pin your arms above your head and throw their leg over you, straddling your waist, pinning you down as you continue to kick.

“Goddamn, just as fiery as ever! Should've known this wouldn't be easy!” He bellows out, muffled through the mask but your eyes narrow warily at the voice. Your face morphs into confusion, followed with a sudden flash of recognition passing over your features.

It couldn't be. Your gaze lingers on the mask for a moment, trailing downward. A leather jacket, paired with black tactical pants and a thigh holster. No. Anyone but him.

“Gator?” You rasp out, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

His name hangs thickly between you, tilting his head as if debating with himself before heavily sighing and maneuvering his hands around so only his left still has both your wrists pinned above you.

He lifts the other, finally ripping the mask from his face. You stare into those once familiar, hazel eyes that suddenly thrust you back into a landslide of memories and emotions. A far cry from the boy you once knew, a man before you now.

“Hey Sunshine.” He says with that lopsided grin that used to give you butterflies, a nonchalance about the entire situation that has you stunned, the urge to fight suddenly draining from your body.

“That damn mask was gettin’ hot.” He adds, tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Wh— What the hell are you doing here?” Asking, when you already know the answer but your mind is unwilling to believe it.

“What do you think?” Leaning a little further into your space. “Roy sent me.”

“Gator, you can't take me back there. You know exactly what's waiting for me.” You rush out, a million scenarios running through your mind.

You'd expected this eventually, always looking over your shoulder but never could have imagined it would be Gator coming to collect.

[widodiangelo]

Technically, they weren’t supposed to be in each other's cabins.

But after fighting in two wars in the last two years, Chiron had decided to let some things slide. And so the Poseidon cabin became the go-to meeting place for the older campers: mostly the seven and company.

As a result, the cabin had slowly begun accumulating various comfort items and was morphing into a strange college dorm room-thrift shop hybrid. There was an old, peeling leather couch Jason and Leo had dragged out of the big house a few weeks ago, surrounded by random folding chairs and an assortment of beanbags Nico had totally not shadow traveled in from an ikea in the city. There were two and a half mini fridges (two working, one broken), a strange assortment of video game consoles the stoll brothers had provided and quite a few puzzles.

Since he and Nico had started dating, Will found himself hanging out in Percy’s makeshift common room more and more. That evening, he had just finished a sing-along session with his siblings at the campfire and was making his way across camp to the cabins. The warm summer air was filled with the smells of campfire smoke and sea salt drifting from the shore. A calm smile on his face, Will strolled up to cabin three with an extra s’more in his hand.

The interior was lit up with fairy lights and a blue lamp in the corner: cozy and inviting. Leo and Piper sat in some beanbags, playing some sort of card game. Jason and Percy lounged on the couch, throwing blue jelly beans into each other’s mouths (or at least tried to) while they yelled at the video game on the large tv screen that sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall because someone had forgotten to steal a stand. Nico perched on the edge of a crusty armchair, a controller in his hands and gaze focused on the screen before him. 

Will stepped through the door with a soft wave, which Annabeth returned with one hand from where she was braiding back Nico’s hair as he played. Jason popped a jelly bean in his mouth as Will sat down at Nico’s side. “Holy shit. Nico, you’re sub 6 minutes and you’re already at Lernie? What even is this build?”

Nico smirked, not taking his eyes off the game, but leaning into his boyfriend as a hand carded around his waist. “I told you Grace, Beo is bugged on mirage shot. It’s totally OP.”

Percy tried to catch the blue projectile Jason tossed at him, almost falling off the couch in the process. “Yeah but even with the bug I’ve never been able to make use of hunter’s mark like this before. How are you even doing that?”

Nico shrugged, the silver chains that dangled from his ears glinted in the moonlight. “Practice.” He replied, taking down a hydra head in one blow.

Will took a bite of his s’more and squinted at the screen. “What even is this?”

“Hades.” All three boys replied, and Annabeth snorted. “It’s a Greek mythology game.” She supplied with a roll of her eyes. “Nico’s the main character.”

“I am not the main character.” Nico retorted, eyes never leaving the screen. He mumbled under his breath as the screen shifted, “fuck stupid room 34 witches. Dammit.”

Percy tilted his head in thought. “Actually Nico, you kinda are. I mean Zag is the son of Hades, his main weapon is a sword, you both look like you belong in a hot topic ad–”

“Fuck you, Jackson.” 

“I said what I said– oh shit smoldering air? No way!”

Jason almost choked on his food. “Dude you’re gonna go sub ten at this rate.”

Will glanced at Annabeth. “Do they always sound like they’re speaking ancient greek when they play this game?”

Annabeth pulled the hair tie around her wrist off with her teeth. “Yup. Hate to break it to you, your boyfriend’s a nerd.”

Nico scowled. “Am not.”

Will pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Oh you totally are.”

“Listen Solace– HA! 9:58!” Nico jumped up and tossed the controller on the floor in victory, flicking off the animated Hades he had just defeated. “Get fucked, dad.”

Will watched him fondly. “Of course you would be good at the greek mythology video game where you get to kill your father.”

Nico dropped back down on the chair and slipped into Will’s side, taking the s’more his boyfriend offered him with a grin. “I’m nothing if not on brand.”