snow pocket

The True RPG Horrors! - Pet Peeves in RPG Maker Horror Games:

Looking through what aspects through rpg maker horror games (or just rpg maker games in general) on what makes and breaks a game, prepare for a really in-depth time. We’re going on an adventure through the most basic aspects of a game that you can see in a game, all the way to the things that people make up as “canon”.

Over the years since the birth of games like Yume Nikki, Ib, Mad Father, The Crooked Man and other iconic titles, there have been titles introduced into the rpg maker community which are iconic, but for reasons which are…bad…in one aspect or more! Anytime I don’t speak about a game that’s featured, that means that the gameplay just fills the video with something to look at while hearing.

Timestamps for each category spoken about below:
1. Game Title: 0:44
2. Title Screen/Menu: 2:37
3. Introduction: 3:21
4. Characters: 4:26
5. Scripting: 6:02
6. Story: 7:20
7. Mapping: 8:39
8. Spelling & Grammar: 9:52
9. Riddles & Puzzles: 10:49
10. Randomness: 13:46
11. Horror: 15:06
12. Dark: 18:07
13. Difficulty: 20:53
14. The Same Thing: 22:42
15. Production/Blogs: 24:26
16. Translations/Releases: 26:45
17. Hypotheticals: 29:25
18. Endings: 32:07
19. You (Fan): 34:33
20. You (Developer): 37:18

The video also serves to show if you’re a developer yourselves on what and what not to include in your game(s). At times, a rant is here and there but ultimately should be at best educational with a little banter involved. Took about half a day to prepare this video including gameplay recording, voice recording and editing.

snow daze ☼ peter parker

summary : nothing beats winter in new york, except maybe walking to school in the snow with a certain peter parker. 

wc : 2.4k

author’s note : tags are under the read more and ik it’s august but it’s winter in my soul !

   There were people who dreamt of a Christmas in New York. People who sat by their windowsills, gazing past the confining glass screens and wishing to one day set their eyes upon a town blanketed by a mass of snow. In the city, it was a sight to behold and cherish. You go to Rockefeller Center and look up at the tree, lit with hundreds of lights and looking like a dream, and your Christmas in New York is complete. It was a thing of fiction for many people, but for you, it was the harsh reality. 

  You were not yearning for a white Christmas the way some people would. You were, however, hoping that your parents would surprise you with an impromptu vacation to the Bahamas for a month while the snow in your beloved city melted to more of a slush, whisking you away to a paradise where you were not forced to trek through the piles of snow surrounding your apartment building as you attempted to make your way to the nearest A train. 

    It was a miserable day, to be quite honest. You had forgotten your hat in your apartment after you had scrambled to get out of bed, you had underestimated the temperature outside and so you were wearing way lighter a jacket than you should be, and your jeans were soaking wet due to the way you had sunk knee deep in a pit of snow. This was absolute bullshit and you were ready to march back home, prepared to draw up an essay as to why you shouldn’t attend class that day until Peter Parker practically ambushed you in the middle of the sidewalk. 

  He had ran nearly a block to try to catch up with you. Peter had been waiting to take the train with you and walk with you to school for nearly two weeks now, but he had never gotten out of his apartment early enough, and if it wasn’t for his profoundly excellent eyesight, he probably would’ve spent another day walking alone. The sight of a boy dashing down the street with his jacket blown open by the wind and a ridiculous hat pulled down over his ears was enough to make anyone laugh, but you had been too preoccupied with fuming to hear his thunderous footsteps behind you. He nearly knocked you over when he finally caught up to you, his cheeks rosy from the bitter wind nipping at his face as he ran and his breath coming out in harsh pants. 

   “Oh my God!” You whipped around, taking a step backward and holding a hand to your heart. He did a little shrugging motion, somewhere between an apology and pleased with himself for managing to surprise you for once. 

   Grinning, he fell into step beside you, though not easily due to the random, deep pockets of snow that covered the path ahead. He bumped his shoulder against yours. “Not God, just me, though it’s been said that we’re practically the same thing.” You laughed, bumping his shoulder back. 

   “No one has ever said that, and no one ever will,” you replied, pulling your sweater down over your hands for more warmth. Peter examined your attire with a shake of his head.

   “You realize it’s not fall anymore, right?” He quirked an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes in response, gesturing a hand at the mountain of dirt stained snow piled in front of an apartment building. 

   “Nah, didn’t notice at all.” You huffed. You crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as possible. “Especially ‘cause of the snow that’s starting to come down now, really throws a girl off.” As you said that, the puffy white flakes fluttered down and landed in your hair. Peter, ignoring the blatant sarcasm, pulled his hat off his head. “You didn’t gel it down today?” 

   “Nope,” he said, catching your wrist in your hand and forcing you to stop. “Didn’t feel like it.” Also, you said you like my hair when it’s curly, I heard you talking to Michelle. So here I am. Do you realize this yet? He stretched the hat out before plopping it down on your head, tugging it so that it covered your eyes. You lifted it back up, staring up at him questioningly. “You’re gonna catch a cold. The snowflake hair look is cool, but your health is better.” He said it because he knew it sounded ridiculous, and because he was sure you’d affectionately punch his arm or something and he liked the fuzzy feeling in his stomach that he got whenever you touched him. 

   “That’s lame,” you said, just the way he had expected. You smiled slightly at his ruffled mop of hair, reaching up to tousle it in a way that he supposed he should have found irritating, as it made his hair even messier than it had been before. “Nice hair.” 

   You turned to continue walking, pulling him along with you as he smiled smugly to himself. He tugged on a lock of his hair, the strand that had settled in the middle of his forehead defiantly. “Oh, you like it? Didn’t know that. Thanks.” You headed down the steps of the 71st avenue station, a little past Queens boulevard. You only needed to ride it one stop, but it was better to waste the $2.75 on your metro card than continue trudging through the snow with a murderous expression adorning your face. You boarded the F train together, Peter managing to find the only open seat and sliding into it quickly, laughing at the face you made at him. You took a step forward to grab onto the pole in the middle of the train but it lurched forward suddenly, and you surely would have been thrown to the other side of the car if Peter hadn’t grabbed your arm and pulled you backwards into his lap before you could embarrass yourself even further. The trains were tricky, and he knew you had more of a knack for falling down than anyone else. 

   You exhaled, turning your head to stare at Peter. He was staring back with a sheepish expression, the tip of his nose pink. “Thanks Peter,” you smile, patting his shoulder. His arms were still secured around your waist when he shrugged, appearing utterly nonchalant even though internally, he was sort of screaming. Sort of. “When did your reflexives become so good? You struggle to do one push up in gym, no offense.” Oh, you know, just when I become Spider-Man. I save Queens daily. I saved you once but you didn’t know. Should I tell you? Probably not. One day. 

  “Oh, um, you know, I need good reflexives so I can save your clumsy self from tripping down the stairs at school every day,” he lied not so smoothly, giving your knee a little tap. You nodded thoughtfully. Seemed simple enough. “You can keep sitting here, if you want.” 

   Mistaking this for sarcasm, you went to move. “Oh shit. Sorry Peter, I’ll get up.” Surprising himself with his own confidence, he pulled you back. “What are you doing?” 

   Peter didn’t know what to say to this. Just savoring the feeling of you on my lap? Too creepy, and too exposing. You’d sound like one of those cat callers on the street, the ones she screams back at with vicious insults and creative threats. Get it together, Peter. “You needed a seat and, uh, you know, this one is… available. I wasn’t being sarcastic or anything.” He winced as soon as the words came out of his mouth, moving his head to play it off like he just wanted to look out the window. There was nothing to even look at it. It was dark. 

   “I’ll take it then,” you said softly, and, for his sake, you pretended not to notice how embarrassed he was that he had said what he did in the first place. He was endlessly thankful for that, because the fact that you were sitting on his lap right now was enough to make him sweat through his winter clothes even though it was below 25 degrees fahrenheit. If you had started teasing about him saying that his lap was an openly available seat, he most likely would have imploded. Before either of you could say anything else to shatter the silence that had settled there, the train screeched to stop again, and Peter’s grip on your waist tightened. You glanced down at his hand, sitting there on your waist, a fist bunched in the sweatshirt you had thrown on in this morning not knowing how fucking deathly it was going to be outside. You stood up when the doors opened, your hand absentmindedly wrapping around Peter’s wrist as you pulled him up toward the doors with you. 

    “If you’re still cold I can give you my jacket, I don’t mind,” Peter said, glancing down at your hand, locked on his wrist. You bumped into someone as you turned around, giving them a quick apology. 

   “Peter, stop giving me your clothes-” Before you could finish your sentence, a guy cut in between you two, your hand slipping from Peter’s as he abruptly interrupted the conversation. 

   “Hey, you and your boyfriend are cute, but the PDA is too much. Lay off for a second, yeah? It’s uncomfortable.” The guy clapped Peter on the shoulder, then swiftly exited the car, leaving you and Peter to stumble out, flushed with embarrassment because while the guy was leaving, you had called out, “He’s- he’s not my boyfriend, actually!” 

   Okay, am I that bad? Does she seriously think I’m that, like, repulsive? Oh, God, she hates me and I made her sit on my lap. I’m awful. And creepy. Ew. I’m sweating too much. Is that why she doesn’t like me? Because of the sweat? I need new cologne. 

   You two trekked the rest of the way to school in awkward silence, as opposed to the tranquil one that you had felt on the train. You had Peter’s hat still tucked over your head and to be honest, you were in desperate need of his jacket at the moment. But you knew the words you had said on the train, shouted at the retreating man’s coat with such ferocity, had wounded Peter a little. You hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, like you could never be his girlfriend or that you hadn’t ever thought about it, not even once. You had thought about it on multiple occasions, in multiple scenarios. It just wasn’t the reality. 

    You were around the corner from your school when Peter turned you around and placed his jacket over your shoulders. “You’re gonna need it,” he said, stepping away from you. 

    “Huh? Why?” In replacement of a proper answer, a verbal one that is, Peter gave you his signature saccharine smile and threw a snowball at you, laughing when you shrieked, your hands flying to zip up his jacket. He was nearly doubled over with laughter when a snowball landed in his hair, the white flakes sticking to his curls and dampening his hair. 

    “Hey!” He exclaimed, wiping the snow off his hair frantically. “I have a look I need to uphold!” He launched another snowball at you, hitting the side of your leg. 

   You threw one back and hit his shoulder, laughing hysterically. “Look? What look, Peter? The disheveled curly mess look?” 

     He stopped, a half made snowball in his hands that was already beginning to melt. “You like it, don’t even lie.”   

   Instead of replying, the way he had done earlier, you chucked another snowball at him, and it was soon a full blown war of flying snow and screams of laughter, messy hair and flushed cheeks and the nothing but the brightest of grins. “We’re gonna be so late, oh my god,” you panted, your hands practically frozen from the amount of snow you had picked up. 

   “We’re geniuses, we’ll deal with it somehow,” he answered, watching your hands. He moved closer, taking his sweater sleeves and pulling them over his hands, then grabbing your hands in his and slipping them underneath his sleeve. “Just ‘cause you’re cold.” When you smiled up at him thankfully, your cold hands squeezing his, Peter knew that if he didn’t kiss you right then and there, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. You take a step closer to him, because you knew that he’s thinking the same thing you are and you need this, too, but you slip on a sheet of ice. This time, he doesn’t catch you, he falls right down alongside you. You land on your back with a groan and he lands on top of you, hoisting himself up so that he’s able to hover over you. 

     “Y/N, I have to ask,” he sighed, biting his lip, then continued, “why’d you sound so offended when that guy said that we were dating? Would I be that bad to date?” There was a slight pout to his lips as he looked down at you, his hands beginning to shake slightly from the pressure of holding himself up. “’Cause I kind of have a confession to make, depending on your answer.” 

   You place your arms around his waist and he falls down on top of you, his eyebrows raised in surprise, but he wasn’t one to complain about the position he was in. “You’d make a wonderful boyfriend, Peter.” 

   “Your boyfriend, maybe?” He tilted his chin, lips inches away from yours. 

   “I could get behind that.” Soft lips met yours, but Peter was smiling so hard he could barely do it right. Your hands moved to his face, tracing over his dimple. It was perfectly impossible to resist smiling back into the kiss. The snow was still falling, falling, falling, but neither of you deigned to move. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, face still bright. 

   You continued your walk to Midtown holding hands this time, well aware that you were twenty minutes late but too blissed out on the kiss to even pretend to care. “I like being called darling.” 

   “What?” 

   “If we’re gonna do the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing, you need to call me darling.” You paused. “It’s my kink.” 

   He knew you were joking around with him, but he still shook his head, playfully rolling his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You said weird stuff like that all the time, it was no different now than it had been yesterday, except this time he was your boyfriend, and if it was going to make you happy, he’d call you darling for the rest of your life. “I could get behind that.” 

tags : @spideyyss @parkerroos @toms-spidey @captainswriting @ladysnowren @tomhollandisthicc @underoosie @focused-on-holland @marvelsdaughter @amatory-horan @iusethistoreadfanfics @bihaza @theclonewarss @skymoonandstardust

Meet the Family

A/N: Here’s another fluff piece! Hope you enjoy. Also a huge thank you to my lovelies who read over this for me. Love you guys so much. Feedback is appreciated

I hear a key fiddle in the lock of the apartment door. Glancing up from my phone, I see Shawn shivering in his black jeans and favorite henley. His pink nose scrunched and his hands tucked into his pockets. The snow covering his chocolate curls. He looks adorable. It take everything in me not to giggle at his pitiful state. 

“It’s freezing out there,” he says chattering through his teeth as he shakes the snow out of his hair. He kicks off his shoes and sets them by the door before walking over to me sitting on the couch in my pajamas and a plush blanket draped over me. He sits down and gets under the blanket, snuggling into my side. His eyes meet mine as he looks at me with a smug look on his face. Without warning, cold fingers slowly creep up my shirt and onto my bare stomach, his freezing touch causing me to let out an embarrassingly loud shriek.

“Shawn, get your cold ass hands off me right now!” I shout at him, an assertiveness added to my voice. He removes his hands and goes into a laughing fit. I try not to crack a small smile. I can still feel the cold radiating off him, so I grip his hands in my own and blow warm air on them attempting to heat them up. He smiles and pulls me into his lap and cuddles me close, happily accepting my warmth.

After a while he seems to have warmed up, but I am much too comfortable to even attempt to move. Glance around the living room, I suddenly remember that there was something I needed to ask Shawn and decided now was as good of a time as ever.

“Babe?” I ask and he hums quietly into my neck half asleep in response.

“My dad wants us to come over and have dinner with him and the family tomorrow afternoon, and I was wondering if you would maybe be up to it? It is time that you meet everyone. If that’s okay with you of course.” I have been waiting to introduce Shawn to my family until I was absolutely sure about him. Family is extremely important to me, and Shawn gets that which I am so thankful for. He is the same way with his family which is why I was so humbled when he took me to meet them a few weeks ago. They were so welcoming, and now I feel like it’s time to finally return the gesture. Also, my dad is my best friend, so I want nothing more than him to approve of Shawn. His approval means everything to me. It’s been about four months since he and I have started dating, so I think it’s finally time.

His face lights up at my question, “of course I will darling. I’d love to finally meet your family! I want to know everything about your family and see where you grew up. I just think that would be so cool,” He pulls me into a tight embrace and pressing a soft kiss on my nose tip.

I laugh and lean my forehead against his placing a quick kiss on his dry lips, “you’re going to regret saying that,” I smirk and he starts to tickle my sides. I put my hand on his chest and try to push him away but it doesn’t work. He pushes me down onto the couch, his body hovering over mine. He looks at me with the sweetest eyes. God I want this boy forever.


I cling to Shawn’s arm as I try not to slip on the snow as we walk to the front door of my dad’s house. I can already hear the giggles and shrieks of my younger cousins playing in the living room. I am beginning to get nervous that my family may scare Shawn off. His family was so calm and quiet when I met them, and my family is the complete opposite. I’m probably just overthinking per usual. We are almost to the door when I lose to the sidewalk and slip on a piece of ice. Shawn tries to catch me and keep me from slipping but instead I accidentally grab his arm out of instinct, bringing him down with me. He lands on top of me, pushing me further into the cold ground. He giggles as he apologizes for almost squishing me to death with his weight. His arms around my waist from where he attempted—but failed—to keep me from falling.  His eyes meet mine as his fingers brush my hair out of my face. “You look so beautiful right now, ya know that?” Shawn whispers absentmindedly as he stares intently at me. They way his eyes scan over my face in such a gentle way causes me to blush. The cold ice is long forgotten about as we start to focus on the body heat between us. I grab his chin and pull his cold lips down to meet mine. The kiss was tender, passionate. I loved when he kissed me like this. Like it was the last kiss he would ever receive.

Our intimate moment is quickly ruined as I see my aunt open the front door, “will you kids stop playing around in the snow? You’ll catch a cold out there if you don’t get up. Come on you two love birds. Inside!” She shakes her head and closes the door to keep the artic air from getting into the house. Shawn then pulls himself out of whatever trans he had gotten himself into and his eyebrows furrow. He swiftly stands to his feet, grabbing my hands and helping me up. When I’m standing, he carefully brushes the snow off of my back and shoulders. Leaning down and kissing the top of my head and whispering into my hair. “I’m sorry you fell love. Are you okay?”

I nod my head as I giggle seeing he has some snow in his hair. I knock it out as he smiles down and me. He grabs my hand as we continue to make our way to the front door.

Once we finally got inside, I made Shawn a cup of tea and sit with him at the table joining the rest of my family. As we begin eating, my dad starts asking Shawn questions about his tour. Where he travels and if he enjoyed seeing all the different cities. This causes my cousins to chime in giving him a million questions to answer, but he doesn’t seem to mind it much. He actually seems to be enjoying himself which is a big relief to me. I want my family to love him, but I want him to also feel comfortable around them.

After what seems like forever, family dinner is over, and I offer to help my dad and aunt with the dishes. Shawn goes into the living room with my younger cousins while he waits for me.

“So what do you guys think of Shawn?” I stand nervously washing off plates as I wait for their answer.

They exchange glances before looking over to me, “he is actually very nice guy. I am impressed, and I definitely approve. He seems to be a very genuine young man with a good head on his shoulders,” my dad says flashing me a smile.

“Yes yes and oh girl that boy has the body of an angel. Where was he when I was growing up? No guys my age were near that blessed when I was a teenager,” my aunt says teasingly. I throw my head back and laugh. Both at her comment and as a breath of relief. I am so happy to see how much they enjoyed Shawn. It meant a lot to me that tonight went so well.

Once I’m done with the dishes, I decide to go find Shawn and rescue him from my younger cousins. They have to be driving him mad by now. I wander down the hall, noticing nobody is in the living room. I continue walking, eventually making it to one of my dad’s spare bedrooms where my aunt and her children were staying for the week. I can hear talking and as I grow closer, I realize it is Shawn’s voice. When I reach the doorway, I am greeted with one of the most adorable sights I have even seen. Shawn sitting on a small blue stool with a book in his lap. Three of my cousins sitting cross legged on the floor in front of him, listening with anticipation. I can’t blame them though as I myself was equally intrigued by this. My boyfriend, the boy who hates reading, is changing his voice and using accents for different characters in the book. The way he accentuated his voice for certain parts causes me to let out a soft chuckle.My heart just swells. As his story comes to an end, my cousins start to whine.

“One more, Shawn come on!” they all say in unison.

He laughs as he shakes his head, “guys you said that three stories ago.”

Luckily as if on cue, my aunt shouts down the hall to announce that it is time for the kids to take baths which gives Shawn an escape from reading. As they all file out the door, my eyes meet his as we exchange smiles. He walks over to me and caresses my cheek with his long fingers. “You’re really good with them love, they really seem to like you.”

“You really think so? He smiles to himself, “I was just trying to keep them out of your way so y’all could get the dishes done.” I felt butterflies in my stomach. Shawn is so thoughtful when it comes to others. I love that about him. I smile and kiss his cheek sending him a ‘thank you’ glance.

"I’m so glad you came today, Shawn. It really does mean a lot to me. I was afraid my family may be too much and scare you away.” I confess to him while looking down playing with my fingers. Shawn puts his finger underneath my chin and tilts my face up so that our eyes meet. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. 

"Baby, why would you say that? You have nothing to worry about. They weren’t too much for me. I honestly loved getting to talk with them today. Your family is great.”

I stand on my tiptoes, and he pulls me into him as I close the tiny gap between our lips while his hands tighten around my waist. I then stick my tongue out causing him to scrunch his nose and pull away laughing. “Gross way to ruin a perfectly good moment,” he says wiping his lips. All I can do is blush as I take his hand in mine walking towards the door. We walk down the hall to see my family all piled up in front of the couch searching for a movie. My dad tells us to come join, so we make our way to the couch.

“Does anyone have any movie suggestions?” my dad asks.

“Do you happen to have any Harry Potter lying around here?” Shawn answers curiously.

“Son, I think you just became my new favorite,” he says flashing Shawn a smile.

We all laugh as dad gets up to find the movie. I look around at everyone and see how happy they are and how well they have taken to Shawn. This is perfect. There is no other place I’d rather be.

Got a couple pieces that will be on display/for sale starting this weekend!

This 5x7 Sneasel watercolor painting will be shown at @3tarts Valentine’s Day Pokémon art show at @honeyandbutter from feb. 4th to mar. 4th. Check it out if you’re in the Irvine, CA area 🙂

Imagine: Hiking with Sam.

Sam x Reader

Content: Fluff & Smutty beginnings

Request @har-rystyles: Hiiii! Hope you’re well, I absolutely adore your work! Your way with words is just beautiful. If it’s alright, could I request a Sam/Reader fic? Loads of fluff, with a large helping of smut on the side; perhaps where the reader is interested in photography? A walk through the woods with Sam and her camera, or small intimate moments where the reader cant help but capture every detail of Sam that she adores- take it wherever you want! Thank you Xx


Salt mingled in the cool morning breeze, drifting through the forest carrying the scent of the sea from the west. The relaxing psithurism soothed and excited your mind drawing unending waves of energy despite the early hour. As the crisp air kissed your cheeks you grinned unrestrained at the path before you as if the babble of the creek to your right spoke amusing tales to the canopy of new green above. Lingering snow in the pockets of shadows patched the browns of tree bark with bright white allowing the infantile shoots of grass and flowers to appear in the richest of greens. You paused on the path leaning back ten degrees to view the scene through the lens of your camera. You twisted the focusing ring to compensate for the wide landscape and clicked.

“Did you get a good shot?” Sam’s voice; as soft as the spongy soil below your boots, warm like the dancing rays of sunlight drifting through the leaves, and as clear as the brook following the path, asked.

Keep reading

Imagine pocket-sized Jungkook placing a bowl outside on the porch while it snows and coming back for it later so he can make some bingsoo.
*brings the bowl inside quickly so it doesn’t melt*
“Y/n, I made some bingsoo with snow!!”
“You didn’t get it from the ground right?!”
“No no!! I put a bowl out! I was going to ask you to shave some ice.. but I wanted to make some for you without your help so I used snow..” *gets a spoonful and feeds it to you*
“This… is my signature snowflake bingsoo. Made by the one and only, Jeon Jungkook!”

Originally posted by jeonify

jellibabiz  asked:

“why are you acting like this?” (Love confession?) for Natan

Lucifer scowled off to the side as Natalie hummed around the small convenience store they stopped at their way back to her house, on their way home.

“Hey,” he heard her call from an aisle, her voice tilting over the artificial music filling the shop.

She turned the corner to face him then, a large pair of sunglasses with bedazzled flames fanning out from the sides sitting on her face, and somehow they matched her crooked smile. Her hands were held up in a mock salute, and he abandoned her there, storming down an empty section with her laughter chasing him.

It felt too temporary, too fragile. Natalie, being back to Natalie so quickly. He was terrified that he would turn the aisle again to find her cowering, afraid of him. Afraid of the monster. But every time he did, she was holding up just another souvenir. A shot glass, a post card, a bobble head of someone wearing a hockey jersey. It was so startlingly normal that he felt raw with the vulnerability, his lips chapped with confessions and truths that he wasn’t ready to tell her.

(She was somehow, somehow the same, despite everything he had put her through.)

In the end, she picked out a snow globe that rained iridescent glitter down on an antique town when she shook it. If she closed her eyes, she could practically taste the snow on her tongue when she did.

(“Close your mouth, kid.” Lucifer had told her, but she couldn’t. Not now, not when there was so much left in her life she needed to see and do. She had never been so aware of all the sensations of life around her.)

Lucifer sat in the bus seat across from her, his mouth pulled tight into a scowl as he watched patches of business and buildings and concrete forests whisk by in a blur. Eventually the city ended, breaking away into clumps of forests and trails that ended nowhere except in adventure.

A wooden sign in the distance read, “Trail To Nothing” in bold, hand painted letters that had faded from years of exposure, and Natalie was scrambling to her feet, practically shouting her plea for the bus driver to stop, and he did.

Lucifer followed Natalie down the stairs of the bus, her eyes wide as she took in the countryside, fingers ghosting over the sign that made her want to stop. The wood was weathered smooth, and she slid her snow globe into the pocket of her jacket before she followed the path into the woods, the air around them thick with oncoming rain and something sweeter.

She stepped into the grown over path, chasing an ending she didn’t know, and Lucifer went with her. Heavy branches laden with summer leaves closed over them, the greens so dark and rich it looked as if the whole forest had been dipped in paint.

(It smelled like living. Oxygen hanging off every inch of the trail, and life saturating the cracks.)

Natalie was enraptured by everything, her eyes ravenous as she took it all in, every detail and plant and color offered along the way. She didn’t blink for fear she would miss something she would never see again. They walked slowly, creeping with the sunset that baptized the forest in oranges and pinks that swirled like marble across Natalie’s skin.

Eventually, they reached the end. Nothing. The path ended anticlimactically with a barren rock that lead into a drop off, the only view being more gray shale rocks littered across the ground. An old park bench sat facing the open path, the cast iron arms turned brown and splotchy with age, and the wooden slates bleached and green.

It creaked ominously when Natalie sat down, but she patted the seat next to her anyways, and Lucifer sunk into it without protest. He watched her silently, afraid to break the carefully constructed quiet still lingering between them, and Natalie’s lips turned down into a slight frown that sent fear spiking through Lucifer’s veins.

Her voice was heartbreakingly quiet when she asked, “Why are you acting like this? All quiet, and broody?” She let her hand cover his on the bench, and her skin was warm in a way that sent a shiver down Lucifer’s spine. Alive.

He sat for a moment, drinking in the humid air like wine, “You died, Natalie.” He fought against the crack that built in the back of his throat, “I thought, that was it – I mean, you were gone.”

“I’m here, Lucifer. I’m whole.” She let go of his hand to catch a leaf blowing in the wind. A finger traced the raised veins on the violently green underside, and her face was gentle to match her touch in a way that made his chest ache in the sweetest way possible.

“I love you.” The words were nothing more than a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret with the wind.

Natalie let out a breathless noise of shock, the words seeping into her mind like sunshine as disbelief bloomed across her features. Lucifer tilted towards her on the bench, holding her face in his hands. The leaf between her fingers was stolen away by a breeze when his rough thumbs swept a gentle, tilting rhythm over her cheekbones, tracing all the words he couldn’t say into her skin, and Natalie closed her eyes, unafraid of missing anything.

Then, Lucifer kissed her. It tasted like rain.

Send a jealousy prompt to my ask box!

Dancing All Over My Soul

I - Baz

“Baz.”

My heartbeat quickened at his voice, and I could feel a faint blush rising in my cheeks. So weak, I cursed myself, taking a deep breath. With my usual sneer at the ready, I turned around, my eyebrow raised in question.

“Yes, Snow?” I stared determinedly at a light crease on his forehead, slightly clenching my teeth to not look anywhere else. His blue eyes, the stupidly adorable smatter of freckles everywhere, the gentle flush in his cheeks-

Why was he blushing?

“I need you to- to teach me to dance,” he said, stammering slightly as he let his words out in a single breath.

I further raised my eyebrow in unison with the sudden hitch in my heart.

“Training for the ballet, Snow?” I asked, grateful for my wit that hadn’t abandoned me yet, even though all I seemed to want to do was count the freckles on his left cheek.

Snow’s blush deepened.

“No,” he answered, urgency creeping into his voice.  “It’s the Halloween ball, and I have to dance with-with Agatha except I don’t, well I don’t bloody well know how to dance, do I?” he finished, exasperated at himself for tripping over his words.

It took a great deal of self-control to stop myself from caressing his cheek and saying it was all right, but I had practice. I could uphold my sneer while thinking about wanting to do unprintable things to him.

“And… you decided to come to me?” I asked, not quite understanding why.

Snow rolled his eyes, and leaned closer. I inconspicuously clenched my hand in my pocket. Snow was going to be the death of me.

“Penny doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and neither does she have the inclination to go to the Ball,” he said in a flurry, his voice hitching. “But you, I don’t know, you do know how to dance, right?”

My lips parted in shock.

“Aleister Crowley, of course I know how to dance!” I said sharply. What kind of self-respecting Pitch doesn’t?

Snow glanced at my lips for a split second – either that or my sanity had given way and I was hallucinating – and I stepped back quickly.

“Great. You can teach me then.” He shrugged and gave me a slight smile. The fact that my body hadn’t melted was a shock in itself, and I found myself giving him a quick nod. His expression changed to one of surprise, but he switched back to a blinding smile and walked away.

I sat down, leaning against the chair. What the hell had I gotten myself into?


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