is [separating working and life] easier in LA?
uhmmm I don't think so, I think it depends. I have a lot of friends who have moved there for work and stuff, but I like both. I love living in London. I'm here most of the time.
It's probably easier to get like a nice kale salad in LA, cause I know you experienced that drama last night.
yeah I had some friends over from LA...
oh god, get a load of this guys, he had a nightmare!
I had some friends in from LA and they were like lets order in for dinner and I was like cool and they were like lets just get some salads or something and I was like they don't really do that here. I don't really know anywhere you can order in a salad.
It is the year 2101. Healthcare has advanced to the point where the human lifespan easily surpasses 100 years. I am an old woman of 113, sitting in a rocking chair in a nursing home, watching sunlight stream in through the gauze curtains.
I look back on my life, on the days of my youth. I look back on things that had inspired me, saddened me, driven me to be the person I am. I look back on things that the decades have not yet taken from me, on unanswered questions that still burn as brightly in my head as they did when I was younger.
“Why,” I whisper aloud, in a raspy voice, to no one in particular, “the fuck did Ubisoft kill off
Élise de la Serre in AC Unity??”
me and @duvete watched Rossini’s La Cenerentola (basically Cinderella as an opera but 1000x better and more interesting) and we cast Goku as Dandini the valet-playing-prince-for-one-day and asdfghjkfkjd i just had to draw him in the outfit he shows up in when he sings his aria asdfgsdafh PERIOD FASHIONS & WAISTCOATS ARE BEST ahdgahdfAKJHDFJAKSF
“Move, (Y/L/N).” You heard the familiar, hateful voice come from behind you as you stood at your locker. You rolled your eyes and ignored it, prompting him to continue: “Seriously, move, you’re in my way.“
You turned, finding yourself face to face with Montgomery De La Cruz, who simultaneously annoyed you and made your heart flutter. His locker was next to yours, and he always seemed to get so angry when you were there at the same time. "You have plenty of room.” you stated simply.
“Can’t you just move? I can’t get to my damn books because of you.” Montgomery wasn’t the nicest guy in the world in general, or at least that’s what he wanted people to think, but when it came to you? No one had ever been more to rude to you than he is, and no one has ever gotten on his nerves the way you seem to.
You scoffed and slammed your locker shut, intentionally hitting him with your shoulder as you pushed past him to get to class, letting your arm brush against him for just an extra second. What he didn’t notice was that you did it on purpose.
What you didn’t notice was how his eyes followed you all the way down the hall.
But he didn’t realize that you were watching. When he thought no one else was, you were.
You saw how on the very first day of school, he didn’t just tell a freshman where her class was, he walked her there.
You saw how when another freshman dropped her books a week later, he picked them all up for her.
You saw how when a sophomore guy didn’t have lunch money, Montgomery bought lunch for him.
You saw all of the moments that he wanted to hide– he wanted to be seen as tough, but deep down? He was kind-hearted and caring.
You were just starting your junior year and you were standing in Jess’ living room, drink in hand. You felt good tonight– your hair and makeup was done, you were dressed up for the first time in weeks, and the little bit of alcohol flowing through your veins was boosting your confidence.
“(Y/N)! Hey!” Jess slurred, pulling you into a hug.
“Hey, Jess!” you said laughing, "Where’s Justin?“
"He’s late, can you believe that?” she said, rolling her eyes. “What kind of boyfriend shows up late to his girl’s party?"
You laughed again, about to reply when someone bumped your arm, making your drink spill onto your shoes. "What the hell?” you exclaimed, spinning around to see who had knocked into you.
“Problem, (Y/L/N)?” Of course. There was Montgomery, standing there with a smirk.
“God, what is your problem? I don’t ever bother you unless you’re messing with me first and yet you still hate me! What did I ever do to you, Cruz?"
He just stared at you for a second before starting to laugh. Just the sight of him laughing about this made your blood boil and without even realizing what you were doing, you threw the rest of your drink in his face and walked away. You weren’t just angry– you were hurt. You see the way he treats other people, especially when no one is around, but when it came to you, he acted like the stereotypical asshole jock. You didn’t understand what it was about you that made him this way. And the alcohol in your system was just making all of your feelings more intense.
”(Y/N), wait!“ you heard him call after you, but you kept going. You walked out of the living room, through the front door, and were halfway down the road before he caught up with you.
"Please just listen to me.” he said, catching your arm and turning you around.
“No!” You were practically yelling now as you pulled your arm away. “I don’t wanna hear it, Cruz. You act like you hate me for no reason."
"I wish I hated you, (Y/N). I hate the way you make everyone love you. I hate that every time I walk into a room, my eyes find you. I hate that your laugh has become my favorite sound. I hate that every time I close my eyes, I see your smile. I hate that you look so gorgeous all the time. I hate that I can’t even sleep without dreaming of you. I hate that I love you, because I know you’ll never love me. I wish I hated you, (Y/N), but I love you so much that it hurts.”
You were shocked, to say the least. For so long, you’d thought that even just the thought of you annoyed Montgomery, but he’d felt this way all along?
“Why do you act like this, then?” you asked, not quite understanding why his actions and words didn’t match up.
“Honestly? Because I’m scared. You’re beautiful and you’re smart and you’re so kind, I don’t think anyone like you could ever love me. I was scared of you finding out and rejecting me.” he admitted, a sad look filling his eyes as he looked towards the ground. “You’re too good for me, so I act like I don’t care."
"Monty…” You whispered the nickname, but his eyes shot up to meet yours. You’d never called him anything but ‘Cruz,’ so the sound of his nickname coming out of your mouth was both shocking and beautiful to him. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t love you?"
"Why would you? I’ve been nothing but terrible to you since you moved here 2 years ago.” he replied, still looking sad.
“You really don’t notice, do you? I’ve been watching you since the beginning and I see it. I see through your tough facade. I see how deep down, you truly do care about people’s feelings. Just let down your walls, Montgomery.” You found yourself stepping towards him as you were speaking, ending up right in front of him by the end of your speech.
“So, you don’t hate me?” he asked quietly.
“Of course not.” You answered, placing your hand on his cheek.
“I love you.” he whispered, pulling your face to his before kissing you slowly. “I’ve always loved you.”
Again, it was impossible to name just one, since there are so many amazing quotes. These are the ones that have had the most impact on me. I know that they are contradictory but so is life so it’s ok. Take the Ed Wood quote for example, that blind optimism can be so motivating and comforting. But I guess my favorites are the Axel Blackmar ones. All these quotes, taken in the context of their films of course, have such an incredible truth, sadness, hope and comfort to them. They are little rules you have to remember in life, little tresures to open when lost or confused.
You have had many conversations with your boyfriend, Monty, about him getting into fights with your brother and vice versa.
Montgomery and Alex both mean the world to you and you hate to see them at each other’s throat. Sometimes they were okay, but you knew that in the blink of an eye one of them could easily push the other over the edge.
You weren’t being unreasonable when you asked them for it to stop-you just didn’t want either of them to get hurt. More specifically, your brother. While you knew he could pack a punch-if you were being honest, you wouldn’t put your money on Alex in a fight between the two. Especially if he had been provoking Monty.
Your friend drags you through the hallways of school, guiding you to the two boys whose punishment you were already mentally preparing.
Pushing your way through the crowd, you grumble under your breath at them all for not bothering to try and break the pair up.
When you finally managed to shove your way to the front, your arms crossed over your chest.
You knew better than to jump in between them, so you just stood there glaring at them and waited for Monty and Alex to both run out of energy.
You couldn’t believe them, after your relentless begging and attempts to mend some form of relationship between them, they go and do this!
Shaking your head, you take a step closer-careful not to get in the middle of their brawl. “Are you serious?!” you demand, raising your voice so they could hear you over the commentary of the crowd and the grunts of their opposition.
It took a few moments and a couple extra jabs at one another before they stopped, realising you were waiting for them to calm down.
“Babe,” Monty begins, almost a pant. “I can explain.”
Alex rolls his eyes and wipes at the blood on his mouth, “You sure you’re capable of stringing together enough words to make an actual sentence?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up Alex!” he replies.
“Shut it! Both of you!” you yell.
The group of students had fallen silent, not wanting to risk interrupting you.
“I don’t even want to deal with this right now,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “When will you grow up?” you ask. “This has got completely out of hand, you can’t keep doing this.”
“(Y/N),” Alex tries.
“No! Just stop. I’m sick of your excuses.” Monty snorts at your scolding, “Don’t even get me started, Monty,” you spat. “I’m mad at you both.” Your head was starting to pound, you hadn’t even been around them for more than a few minutes and you already felt drained. “I’m going to turn around and start making my way to class, okay?” you tell them slowly. “If either of you so much as tries to start this shit up again,” you continue, waving your hand towards them to show them what you were talking about, “I will not be responsible for my actions.”
Your brother mutters something under his breath, but the sharp glare you send him shuts him up.
“Go clean yourselves up, you look terrible,” you declare.
You weren’t sure how it happened, but once you turned your back on them…it was as if everything around you had gone into past forward while you were stuck behind.
Monty and Alex were back on the floor using their fists to communicate and the crowd of students had become erratic. The people around you were pushing you forward and you ended up falling right beside the quarrelling boys.
You couldn’t make out who’s leg the foot was attached to, they were moving too fast to take notice. It had come out of nowhere and taken you completely by surprise.
It felt as if the pain hit you in slow motion, as if you were frozen in shock. Finally your body caught up with your mind and a wave of pain ran down your arm.
“Oh shit!” “(Y/N)!”
Their voices were blended together and their faces became blurred by the tears in your eyes as they pushed their way in front of you. “Are you okay?”
“Of course she’s not okay! Look at what you did!”
“Stop!” a third voice chimed, your friend more furious than ever as she moved so she was behind you, her hand resting against your back. “It doesn’t matter who did what, look at her! The fault is on both of you.”
You felt dizzy and your head was pounding worse than before. The pain in your wrist was burning and you couldn’t look at it, you knew it had been damaged.
“Is it broken?” Monty asks, crouching beside you and resting a hand on your shoulder. You pull away from his touch and let your friend help you to your feet. You release a small whimper and cradle your hand to your chest. You’d never broken anything before and you weren’t sure. You didn’t think it was…but the pain wasn’t going away.
“Let’s get you to the sick bay,” you friend says softly. “Then we’ll go from there, okay?” You appreciated her attempts to calm your nerves and nodded in reply. “Neither of you will follow, got it?” she demands, directing her attention to the two boys who were standing behind you like lost puppies.
“Monty,” you interrupt. “Just go,” you sigh. “Both of you please just go away.”
You didn’t blame them for what happened…not really anyway. You just couldn’t be around them right now.
Hesitant knocks echo around the room as the door is slowly pushed open, “Can I come in?”
You mumble a response to your brother and he enters your hospital room, closing the door behind him.
After your friend had taken you to your schools sick bay, you had been taken to the hospital for a doctor to treat your wrist. It hadn’t been broken, but they wrapped it up and you were waiting for the doctor to return to give you the all clear to leave.
“I’m so sorry,” he insists. “I never-we never meant for you to get hurt.”
“It’s not your fault, Alex,” you admit. “I’m not mad about what happened, I just wish it never did. It didn’t have to,” you insist. “Why are you and Monty always at each other like that?”
He adverts his eyes, refusing to answer, which causes you to sigh.
“I’m not asking you two to be best friends,” you reason, letting your head fall back against your pillow. “I just want the fighting to stop. It would be great if you two could get along…but I’m not going to push my luck.”
Alex’s lips tug up into a small smile of amusement and he takes a few more steps into the room. You pat the empty space on the bed beside you and he happily takes a seat.
You rest your hand on his and you squeeze it gently, “I need you to understand something,” you tell him. “I love you, you’re my brother-my family-and that means everything to me. But I also love Montgomery,” you whisper. “The way I feel about him…I’ve never felt like that before.”
Alex nods, showing you he was listening to what you were saying.
“My family will always come first, Alex. You know that. But I don’t want to ever have to choose between the two of you. I don’t ever want to be forced to make that decision…but if the fighting continues and if it’s the only way to prevent both of you from getting hurt-one day I might have to. Do you see what I’m trying to say?”
He was silent for a moment, letting the silence engulf you both. “That you would choose me over him?” he asks with a teasing grin.
You slap him on the shoulder with your unarmed hand, “Alex!”
“I get it, I do. I promise I’ll try harder.”
Another round of knocks was heard through the door and when it was pushed open, Monty stepped through. “Am I interrupting?” he asks hesitantly.
You shake your head, a smile taking over your face, “Never. Come on in.”
He moves towards the bed and stands at the foot. The silence that surrounded the room was no longer comfortable, but awkward.
Alex got to his feet and kissed the top of your head quickly before making his way to the door, “I’ll leave you two alone,” he decides, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door before you could say anything.
Your attention turns to your boyfriend who seemed to be shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. You roll your eyes and hold out your arm, waiting for him to come to you.
Monty slowly walks around the bed and leans over the bed to pull you into an embrace. Your release a content sigh and hold him tightly against you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I-”
“I know,” you smile, cutting him off.
“You’re not mad?” he asks, not bothering to mask his surprise.
“Not so much anymore,” you tell him. “I don’t care about my wrist, it will heal. I care about you and Alex. Like I was telling him, I don’t want you to be friends-well I do, but I’m trying to be realistic,” you ramble, causing him to laugh. “But I do want you to try and be civil at the very least.”
He nods, “I know and I’ve really been trying.”
“I understand that, Monty,” you sigh. “And I’ve seen you try and control yourself around him…I know it might take a while, but I don’t want anything like this to happen again. I can’t stand to see you both fight like that. It really hurts me,” you admit.
Regret fills Monty’s face, “(Y/N)…”
“I’m not blaming you. Or Alex. I just…”
“I understand,” he declares. “I’ll try harder.”
“Thank you,” you smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Monty cups your face gently and his eyes lock on yours, “I love you,” he says quietly.
You place a hand on one of his and take it in your hold. You move it to your lips and press a soft kiss against his already bruised knuckles. “I love you too, Monty.”
[submission from @wobblyspelling . sophia notes are gonna be brief because i had so many emotions about it i’ve had to take my actual comment over to AO3 where there’s more space for them. but if you like anything i write for these three or the way i characterise them you’ll love this. it hit all of the things i feel and it’s so beautifully written and HELP IM A MESS ]
*** OP: [So, look, I’ve mulling over this for awhile, because you’ve made me love this ship. And this morning I said “fuck it” and wrote 2,000 words (because I can’t write anything short to save my life). I’ll probably post it on Ao3, at some point, but because this is your ‘verse (congratulations on dragging me into this wonderful hell) I wanted to run it by you first. (This is the first time I’ve played in someone else’s metaphorical fiction sandbox so congratulations on that, too). I hope you enjoy. Again, sorry it’s so freaking long. ]
So look, he’s better. He’s so much better it’s insane. But there are still bad days and hard days and fucking terrible ones: where he can barely bring himself to get out of bed, let alone leave his apartment. Where his hands shake and the Ian-That-Lives-In-His-Head presses in ruthless and close—phantom touch and phantom pain on his skin that has him running his fingers over his scars to make sure they’re not bleeding.
Before (and it definitely needs capitalization for how different his life is now. Before. Before.) he would weather it alone. Lock his front door and the pull the covers over his head and run equations through his mind until his lungs remembered how to work right and the tremors subsided. It could take hours, sometimes, and he would end up emerging after the sun had set, telling himself to be a fucking adult and at least eat something.
But Now (and that requires capitalization, too, okay?) there are at least two people who notice his absence and do something about it. The first time they show up at his door—a few weeks after they started calling this an actual relationship (as in he’s dating both of them, holy shit)—he expects to have to tell them to leave him alone. To flinch away from their touch and explain in stuttering, broken words that he can’t, the Ian-That-Lives-In-His-Head won’t let him. But he forgot that they’ve always kind of been an exception to the rules, and that doesn’t change.
If I told you I loved you, would you believe me?
I don’t mean the love where we hold hands, cuddle and do cute things. I mean the love where you were everything to me, but you didn’t know it. You were the one I was scared to lose, and ultimately enough, what I was scared of became a reality. I loved you for every imperfection you have that I adore. I loved you for brightening my world and making me feel things I thought were only in fairytales.
If I told you I loved you, would you believe me? Because I don’t know if I would. I don’t know if I loved you… Loved is past tense, which means it’s over with. But, I believe you can never stop loving someone, the love might die down, but it doesn’t completely die. It settles down in a dark place inside you and quietens down until it wants to burn a fire in your soul and make its self known again. I loved you, and I continue to love you.