country girl moves to big city

anonymous asked:

Natan 11.' We're actually being silly for once' kiss?


“Please, you’ll like it.”

“I’ve actually never liked a single movie pick of yours, Natalie.”

“Yeah? Well everything you pick has blood in it.”

Lucifer groaned melodramatically and sunk back into the couch, and Natalie counted it as a silent victory and slid the disc in the player. She settled in on the couch next to him as a large, white lettered title decorated the screen, and soft string music played on the main menu.

The movie panned over a grassy field, then dramatically cut to a woman facing a stack of papers and an endless pile of stress assigned by her overbearing boss in an ill-fitting suit. After another round of lighthearted background music as the quirky blonde realized her life wasn’t what she wanted, Lucifer crossed his arms and frowned.

“I swear, girl, if this is another movie where the blonde girls moves away, meets a perfect guy, then contracts a deadly disease, I’m gonna scream.”

Natalie leaned closer to Lucifer and slapped his chest, “Not a disease, amnesia.”

He chewed on the word thoughtfully before nodding slowly, like it made perfect sense, “Oh yes, amnesia. Of course.”

She didn’t move away from him, and he watched her eyes light up as the girl finally motivated herself enough to get away from the big city, and move away to the country. It was a tired plot that he’d seen for decades, but he supposed humans were buying exactly what was being sold.    

The onscreen onslaught of rain indicated that something sad was about to happen, and he perked up as Natalie’s lower lip trembled slightly, and the sharp bark of laughter that escaped him startled her.

He bumped his shoulder with hers, “You’re not crying over this, are you, girl?”

Natalie turned her face up towards his, her cheeks shining in the light of the TV, “N-no,” she argued, a sniff making her protest sound pathetic.

Lucifer hummed low in his throat and nodded, “Next time I get to pick the movie.”

“Aren’t even gonna wait until the credits roll to whine,” Natalie teased, shaking her head melodramatically, “typical.”

“Not my fault everything you pick is shitty romance.”

At that, Natalie laughed, “So quick to judge. As if you know real romance.”

“Watch who you’re talking to,” Lucifer said, gesturing broadly to himself, “I’ve been alive long enough to know what real romance is.

The couple on screen was shouting over the pounding rain, confessing their love that they were too afraid to admit, too afraid it would ruin things between them. The indistinguishable main character strode over to the blonde girl and held her face for a brief second before kissing her, and both looked fairly perfect for being rain soaked.

Natalie ignored the playing scene, “Oh yeah? And what’s that old man?”

Lucifer’s eyes flickered up to the TV screen for a flash, and then pressed his lips to Natalie’s in a quick moment that had her gasping against his lips. The shock only lasted a moment before Natalie matched his energy, kissing him like she was starved for his touch.

Her fingers snapped as she raked them through his hair and pulled herself closer, but the pain didn’t distract from the softness of her lips against his, and he tilted his head back to follow her. He would have chased her out in the rain and kissed her until he drowned, but she would never run from him. Natalie had practically climbed into his lap at her insistence, and when she finally broke the kiss, she laughed against his lips.

When he finally spoke again after a few, long breaths, Natalie could taste his words against her skin, “Real romance is nothing involving amnesia, that’s for sure.”

Beauty and the Beast: Chapter One

“You can’t love someone until you love yourself first,”

“That’s bullshit. I have never loved myself. But you? Oh, God’s above. I loved you. I loved you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like.”

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New Yorker

To be more clear, honestly it’s not only about how long you lived here. That’s a big part but it’s also about your lifestyle here. You’re a New Yorker when you’ve lived here and you get to know the city and the people. When you learn about the other cultures. Don’t just think because you moved to Williamsburg and you go to hipster coffee shops that you know the city. New York isn’t about gossip girl, it’s not the organic markets that you go to, it’s not about Times Square or Rockefeller center. It’s about the people. There’s people from every country here, basically speaking every language here. Get to know the people, then you know the city. Then, maybe you’re a New Yorker.

Things to do in your 20s

I wrote this for my sons when the younger turned 20 last year.

With you both entering your 20s, I decided to make a little list of things you should do, or at least consider doing before you turn 30. Here goes:·        

Buy a Motorcycle – Just do it. You both can ride a little. If you don’t do it in your 20s, you’ll want to do it at some point, and then you’ll have to justify it to someone. It is easier to do it when you’re young. Just buy one. Get your license. Ride it around for a while. Maybe take a road trip on it and then sell it if you want. Don’t be stupid, though. Don’t hot-rod around on it and ride like an asshole. Just experience it. There’s nothing like riding a bike. It may scare the shit out of you. You may love it. Either way, you’ll know, and then you’ll never wonder about it again.

·         Move to a new city/town/country – Because you want to live there. Don’t go for a job. Don’t go for a girl. Don’t go because your friend is moving there. Pick a spot you’d like to experience and move there for a while. Could be a big city. Could be a small town. Just do it. Stay for a couple of months or a year or whatever. No matter, you’ll never regret doing so.

·         Learn a hobby – Pick something you’ve always wanted to do – learn to surf, become a kick-ass skier, learn to sail. It doesn’t really matter; so long as it is something that you love to do. Then get good at it. Maybe let whatever it is drive your decision as to where to live. Anyway, figure it out. Go where you need to go to learn it and then make that your focus for a while. If it is skiing, find a mountain town. Get a job that will pay your rent, buy you food and keep you in lift tickets. Spend a season doing that or maybe two and then come back to real life. You’ll cherish the memories when you get older.

·         Visit at least two countries – And, make sure one of them is not in North America. You’ve been to Mexico. You’ve been to the Caribbean. But you did both of those when you were kids and not responsible for yourself. Go someplace foreign as an adult and figure out your way around. But don’t go to some resort and then stay on property the whole time. Mix it up with the locals. Check out how they live and what their lives are like. It gives you a good perspective on the world, and it makes you appreciate home.

·         Drive or take a bus or a train across the US – Again, you did this as a kid. But do it when you have to rely on yourself. It’s a whole new ball of wax. Don’t have a plan. Just go. Steer clear of chain restaurants and stuff. See what makes each place unique. See how the land changes from West to East or South to North. The only way to have a real understanding is at ground level.

·         Start a business – This doesn’t have to be a business-business. Not a career move. It could be. Or it could be just that you give guitar lessons to a few students for a while. It will teach you to be responsible to your customers. It will teach you to be responsible to yourself. And, it will teach you the difference between being an employee and being a business owner. It’s a good lesson to learn.

·         Test yourself – Make yourself uncomfortable. Make yourself scared. Do something you don’t want to do. I don’t know what that is. Maybe go skydiving. Maybe run a marathon or hitchhike. That parts up to you. The only thing that I know is that learning to overcome the fear will be one of the best things you’ll ever do.

·         Learn to box – This goes with the above. Nobody likes to get punched in the mouth. But, it’s good for you. Once you get over the fear of being hurt physically, you’ll never be afraid of it again. Trust me…it only hurts so much and it’s always temporary. Plus, once you’ve stepped through the ropes and gone toe-to-toe with some other dude who knows what he’s doing, all the big-talking jackasses in the world are just so much comedy.

·         Find out who you are – This is the hardest one. From the time you were born everyone has told you who to be. Me, your mom, your friends, your school, popular culture…all that shit. We’ve all gotten our two cents worth in. It’s not bad. At some level you needed it. But, now you’ve kind of got to push that all aside and figure out what works for you and what doesn’t. Don’t worry about what I will think or what anyone else will say. Figure out what matters to you. But really think about it. Ask yourself…”Is this what I believe, or is this what I think I’m supposed to believe.” The two aren’t always the same. The danger is that you waste this time becoming who you think you should be and not who you really are. And, that would be a shame. ·         Make peace with yourself and the world – Here’s the end of the line. Nobody’s life is perfect. Everyone has scars and wounds and regrets. Some dreams don’t come true. There’s not always a happy ending. Just an ending. That’s okay. But, no matter what it is, if you’re carrying around any bad shit, let it go, or it will eat you alive. Just put it all in a box and send it away. Forget about it. And, move on. 

Look, life is messy and it can get out of hand in a hurry. The key is to not rush it. Experience each age as it comes. You can cherish the past and you can look forward to the future. Just don’t try to live in either one. Take it as it comes. It comes soon enough.

ID #44631

Name: Gabriela
Age: 16 (17 in July)
Country: Argentina

Ooook, as you can see up there, I’m a 16 year old girl from a rather small city in Argentina. I love movies and series, theatre and musicals (I go to a musical theatre academy), books (big Tolkien fan) BUT on top of it all, I love music. I play guitar and I’m mostly into rock and indie, but I appreciate any type of music. My favourite bands are The Beatles and Arctic Monkeys. I would love to talk to anyone from any country around the world, I’m very interested in foreign cultures, and I wish to move to a different country someday, and to travel, so I’m learning German (I can speak a tiny little bit of it), but I’m fluid in English and of course, Spanish. I’m a biiiiig nerd, into sci-fi, biology, phisics and medicine, as well as politics. I’m a sensitive person, I love helping others and making them feel happy, and making them laugh! So, if you want to have a nice chat and create a good friendship, contact me!

Preferences: I’m willing to talk to anyone! Any gender, nationality, age (although I guess I get along with older people ‘cuz of my siblings), etc., just be willing to form a good friendship, and please oh please no hating. 

Eden’s Horizon (My WIP)

So I guess since I’ve been here for a little while, it’s about time I actually show you my real work in progress!! I’m loving writing it, and I think that the end result will turn out pretty well.

It’s the story of a girl names Zenith whose soldier brother moves her to the country from her plugged-in big city. Instead of being homeschooled, she begins attending Eden Academy, which is as daunting as it is secretive. An AI computer program named “Mudskipper” has gotten out of control and threatens to shut down the internet and electricity all together, but not if the programming students at Eden can stop it.

I’ll post a portion of it down here, and if you guys like it, maybe I’ll post more!

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redwoodriver  asked:

Rey being the tiny angry flannel gay who always jumps n front of phasma in an argument and is basically a tiny spiteful bb and then phasma who just. Wen she's angry, she just straightens up and gives you a /look/ and you know you're in deep shit



Phasma being a tol suit/button-down city girl lesbian and Rey being a smol flannel country girl lesbian

they fight over where they want to live

Phasma doesn’t like the country. it’s quiet and there’s bugs and animals that wander around

but Rey doesn’t like the noisy city full of smog and nasty people

finally Phasma gives in and they move to a big house not too far from a city, but country enough that there’s deer around the house and Rey can have a small garden.

Phasma still hates the country, but it’s worth it getting to see Rey so happy

plus the fruit and herbs she grows are particularly delicious

[in the dark of the night demons will find her]

Merry Christmas, @accioecho! It was a lot of fun to be your Secret Santa! And here’s your gift: almost six thousand words (because I have no self control) of Captain Swan x Marvel, because we’re both MCU fans, yay. The prompt was “lovers on opposite sides of the war.” Hope you enjoy it! Hugs!


It started, as most things destined to go well did not, in a dive bar in Moscow three days before Christmas. Zero fahrenheit would have qualified as a heat wave. The city was buried in a foot-thick layer of deceptively beautiful white cement, tea poured piping hot was somehow only lukewarm when you lifted it to your lips, and hard as Emma tried to blend in with the impervious comrades thronging past, she was increasingly convinced that the weather was far more of a hazard to her health than any number of ex-KGB commandos with Kalashnikovs, and she was expecting quite a few of those if this didn’t go well. Maybe this was SHIELD’s way of throwing her into the deep end and seeing if she could swim. Now that she thought of it, probably. Kind and gentle job training wasn’t exactly their thing. She had finally decided to go straight after years working around, over, behind, and below the law, only to find herself doing essentially the same thing all over again, this time for them. The big difference, she supposed, was that if she got herself killed, someone would retrieve the body. Plus the money. She’d done fairly well as a freelancer, but never six figures a paycheck.

Not that she did intend to screw this up. She was, after all, a professional, and had tracked down rogue vigilantes, Hydra agents, mad scientists, and wealthy tech entrepreneurs a lot more dangerous than this guy. Not that she was underestimating him. The only name she had was Hook. He appeared in their files here and there, financing illegal weapons deals in the Gulf or rebel organizations in Sokovia (well, before Ultron had wiped it off the map), connected to a mysterious computer virus called “Neverland” that had taken the entire Internet hostage, and rumored to have bought or stolen an Infinity Stone – to name the very least of the reasons why SHIELD was keenly interested in putting him out of business. They’d tried to investigate his background, but he or whatever black hat he was working with had taken care to erase all records of his past before he embarked on his global crime spree. The only thing Emma had to go on were a few brief video clips and eyewitness descriptions. That line about being tall, handsome as hell, and so good at being so bad apparently fit him to a tee. English accent, not that that meant much in pinning down his origins. Incredibly charming, intelligent, witty, and ruthless – by that description, probably a textbook psychopath. And, assuming their intelligence was correct, going to be here at this no-account bar in Russia in the assblast of winter, tonight, to pick up some unspecified material for his next and greatest scheme.

And she, Emma Swan, was going to be waiting for him.

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     It’s late. A little too late for the girl down the street to still be awake but her light is on and he can see it from the main block. This place is strange, a change from the big city and even more different than the country town he’s moved here from. He moves around a lot. There’s something to be said for how much of a sore thumb he is in the crowd, but if there’s no crowd there isn’t much of a sore thumb to be. The sky is clouded, just enough to block out what little stars are visible in the artificial light of city hall.

     His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, boots scuffing against the side walk as he walks the streets in the frigid air. It wouldn’t be so bad, but he can see his breath and it makes him want to smoke. The ache of nicotine tugging at his diaphragm as though it’s necessary for him to be able to breathe right, like a stick of cancer could somehow make dying seem much more fun. Emerald hues scan the streets, looking past sleepy houses and empty shop fronts with friendly

                                             ———“We’re closed, sorry!”

     signs strung up in the doors. A beacon. A light in the distance that beckons him forward, calls for him to come into its realm. A gas station. They must sell cigarettes. Focus drives him forward toward the vacant parking lot, discluding the car of the person working here. Third shift, bummer. There’s a smile tugging at the left side of his lips as he drops a shoulder and makes his way inside, greeted by the soft


     of the entryway.