should've been a 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘵 !

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳'𝚅𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙰 𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙾𝚃! 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘥.

[revokedlicense]

annie is calling to me

[valtsv]

*slowly removes my heart-shaped sunglasses* i beg your fucking pardon

[revokedlicense]

travn‌:

        ‘  hmm?  ’   it’s enough to draw his attention away from the coffee maker,  sleep-tinged eyes glancing at her from over his shoulder with all the interest he can manage on a saturday morning — which,  when it comes to annie,  is actually quite a lot.  especially now,  with the sudden flare of vulnerability burning up his spine.  maybe if he gave it some thought,  he might recall a passing comment from college or the academy,  some gibe about mumbling in his sleep,  but the roommates of his early twenties are long forgotten in the once-empty space of his apartment.  he’s been sleeping alone for years now (mostly,  consistently) — nobody’s been around to learn this tidbit,  much less share it with him,  until annie.

and he knows very well that the dreams he has now are different from the dreams he had seven years ago.  hell,  they’re different from the dreams he had months ago.  he imagines whatever he’s talking about is,  too,  if it’s even intelligible.

the light of the coffee maker blinks red as the smell of fresh brew begins to fill the kitchen.  he turns to search for his favorite mug — his only mug,  until recent circumstances called for a second,  which he was all too happy to run out and buy — taking only seconds to find it where he always leaves it,  in the cabinet above and beside the stove,  before turning back around.

       ‘  ‘s news to me,  ’    he mumbles in that way he does when he isn’t quite awake,  when he has yet to have his first cup of coffee.  his smile echoes the feeling,  filled with a tired sort of tenderness and a touch of apprehension.  because what he talks about in his sleep is too close to what he sees in his sleep,  and what he sees in his sleep is nothing he wants her to worry about and everything he wants to protect her from.  it’s a scab he wants to keep hidden,  one he wasn’t aware his own self could potentially rat out.    ‘  anything interesting?  ’

          ❛  mostly  mumbling,  something  about  . . .  uh,  you  said  to  wait  up  at  one  point,  i  think.  ❜   

annie’s  smiling,  telling  jack  about  his  sleep-talking  habit  almost  happily,  as  if  it  were  a  simple,  endearing  quirk,  despite  what  it  may  suggest  about  his  underlying  anxieties.   jack  moves  around  in  his  sleep,  sometimes,  too  --  when  he’s  dreaming  DEEPLY,  it  seems  --  he  can  be  a  very  physical,  restless  sleeper  at  times.  but  annie  leaves  that  part  out.  jack’s  always  been  a  very  physical  person,  anyhow,  it  shouldn’t  be  news  to  him  . . .  and  perhaps  it’s  painful,  too,  what  he’s  doing  in  his  dreams.   she  can  only  imagine  the  types  of  things  he’s  seen  . . .  the  types  of  dreams  he’s  dreaming  . . .  and  she  doesn’t  want  to  make  him  remember  them  again.  but  the  talking  seems  harmless  enough  to  be  a  good  icebreaker  in  the  morning.  annie  can’t  help  but  mention  that.

she’s  wrapped  ( swallowed  up,  rather )  in  a  plaid  sweater  that  is  clearly  not  her  own,  about  four  sizes  too  large,  head  and  shoulder  leaning  against  the  doorway  to  the  kitchen.  she’s  smiling,  gently,  watching  jack;  or  the  back  of  his  head,  rather,  make  coffee,  holding  her  own  store-bought  red  mug  in  a  completely  sleeve-covered  hand.

❛  my  brother  used  to  talk  in  his  sleep,  ❜  annie  continues.   ❛  when  we  were  kids.   sometimes  we’d  have  to  share  a  room  on  camping  trips  our  dad  made  us  go  on.  he’d  always  talk  about  really  weird  things.   it  was  so  funny.  ❜  annie  crinkles  her  nose  in  a  humorous  smile  as  she  remembers  it.   ❛  one  time  he  said  the  name  of  the  girl  he  liked  and  i  didn’t  let  that  go  for  months.  it  was  really  amazing  leverage.  ❜   she’s  still  smiling  as  she  rambles,  tickled  at  the  memory  of  jake  mumbling  ‘  yes,  amanda  ’  from  his  sleeping  bag,  in  his  own  drool  --  and  his  horrified  face  when  she  had  poked  him  about  it  in  the  morning,  laughing  manically  as  he  chased  her  around  the  cabin  with  threats.  one  of  her  finest  accomplishments.  

annie  meets  jack’s  eyes,  then,  her  own  shining,   basking  in  the  light  of  a  victorious  reminisce.   she  takes  a  few  steps  forward,  coming  into  the  kitchen  beside  him,  suddenly  remembering  that  she’s  in  the  kitchen  of  her  fairly  new  boyfriend’s  apartment,  and  not  in  a  log  cabin  in  the  southern  california  mountains  torturing  her  older  brother.   

                   ❛   so  no  one’s  ever  told  you  you  do  it  before,  huh ?   it’s  cute.  ❜  

[revokedlicense]

TOUGH SHELL

bruised knuckles. bloody noses. eye rolling. empty bottles. messy hair. sarcasm. lip biting. unwashed jeans. coffee breath. loud music. broken neon signs. chipped nail polish. leather jackets. always wearing headphones. swearing. sneaking out at 3 am. dark lipstick. frown creases. burning cigarettes. plaid shirts. under eye circles. dark colors.

SOFT INSIDE

honey tea. flower crowns. giggling. blowing kisses. dancing without worries. white lace. soft textures. fluffy throw pillows. using too many heart emojis. empathy. constant daydreaming. handwritten letters. fairy lights. bullet journals. designated driver. warm hugs. garden picnics. quiet. smile lines. optimism. flowy clothes. pastel colors.

TAGGED BY : @damnjuliet​ ( thank you !! ) TAGGING : @travn​, @her-emotionalcompass​, @sitched​, @theyeardecembered​, @asperad​ & anyone who wants to steal

[pajamasecrets]

Jack Traven + protecting Annie

[revokedlicense]

@travn​   gets  a  one  line  dialogue  starter  !  

       ❛   hey.  you  talk  in  your  sleep.  did  you  know  ?   ❜ 

[revokedlicense]

travn‌:

@revokedlicense​ said: Why do I know the people that I ride the bus with better than you? — maybe on their first Actual Date after everything?? humans series two.

he huffs out a quiet laugh.  tucked away in the back of a restaurant that teeters on the verge of nice enough,  jack sits across from annie at a cloth-covered table,  separated by glasses and plated entrees.  he figured it would be nice to just sit down and have a conversation in a setting that didn’t demand urgency.  some part of him — all of him, really — wishes this had been their beginning.  that they had met in line for coffee or bumped into each other at the bank,  that he had asked to borrow a pen or made small talk about the weather,  worked his way up to asking her out for dinner.  he probably would’ve tried too hard and made a fool out of himself,  but he would’ve asked her out anyway,  sheepish grin and all — because even in that hypothetical,  he would’ve known this was something worth chancing.

maybe she would’ve let him keep the pen.  (or better yet,  maybe she would’ve kept it herself.  after gliding her number across his palm in bright blue ink.)

the reality is jarring,  her reminder.  not that he hasn’t thought of it himself,  in the days between the incident and now,  in the weeks,  but remembering feels strange every time:  they’re practically strangers.  in spite of the shared trauma and matching scars,  there is still very little he knows about annie.  he knows she’s better at handling a bus than he’ll ever be,  and her voice gets a little too high pitched when she panics,  and her first reaction to fear and overwhelming relief is smacking him square in the chest — but he doesn’t know other things,  like her favorite color or her middle name or if she even has one.

and if he feels this way about her,  a woman prone to endearing bouts of rambling,  he can only imagine how she feels about him.

        ‘  you telling me you know ortiz better than you know me?  ’    a brow quirks upwards and the corners of his lips follow,  smile soon hidden behind glass as he takes a sip of his drink.  still,  he knows it’s very likely that she does know ortiz and sam and the rest of the regulars far better than she knows him.  and he wants to remedy that,  he wants to know her and be known in return,  but he doesn’t know where to start.  some amusement lingers in his gaze as he sets his glass down on the table,  but at the center of it,  there’s sincerity — especially as he asks:

                ‘  what do you wanna know?  ’

annie  bites  the  bottom  of  her  lip,  a  nervous,  humorous  gesture,  smiling  through  it.   it’s  the  first  time  she’s  smiled  in  five  weeks,  she  thinks,  oh  boy.  she  leans  back  in  her  chair,  relaxing  her  body.   part  of  her  can’t  believe  they’re  here  at  last,  and  the  other  ten  parts  are  screaming  at  her  that  it’s  JUST  NATURAL,  JUST  RIGHT,  and  to  suck  it  up  and  ask  the  man  across  the  table  from  her  thirty  more  questions  to  find  out  exactly  how  much.  because  annie  likes  jack,  she  truly  does  like  jack,  and  she’s  excited  about  it  --  and  when  she’s  excited  she’s  quickly  prone  to  exhaustive  methods  --   but  she  doesn’t  know  anything  about  him,  either.  

they’re  not  a  conventional  pair  in  the  slightest.  the  two  of  them  have  been  caught  in  such  unusual  circumstances  that  they’ve  had  to  start  from  the  top  down,  rather  than  the  bottom  up.  annie  doesn’t  know  jack’s  address,  his  hobbies,  how  he  feels  about  his  mom.  but  she  does  know  how  he  handles  life  and  death  situations,  how  he  would  risk  his  life  to  protect  those  he  cares  for  ( and  maybe  even  those  he  doesn’t  because  he’s  just  that  damn  altruistic ) ,  how  when  he’s  angry  it’s  quiet,  scary  and  unpredictable,  but  not  off  the  rails  and  chaotic  like  when  she  is.  the  truth  of  the  matter  is  she  does  know  ortiz  better  than  she  knows  jack.  but  maybe  that  was  okay.  

❛   ortiz  has  a  big  mouth.  ❜   jack’s  more  of  the  STRONG  SILENT  TYPE.  jeez,  he  was,  wasn’t  he  --  jack’s  exactly  the  type  of  guy  annie  always  seems  to  be  laughing  about  in  those  classic  hollywood  movies  her  mom  just  loves  to  eat  up.   a  trope  of  a  cop,  only  he’s  real.  and  yet  --  he’s  not.  and  yet,  here  they  are.    

        ❛   i  don’t  know.  i’ve  never  --  done  this  with  a  cop  before.  ❜   it’s  all  she  can  come  up  with  at  first.  smooth.  the  last  of  that  sentence  almost  trembles,  gets  away  from  her,  on  a  breathy  laugh,  because  annie  always  laughs  when  she  doesn’t  know  what  to  say.   done  this.  what  was  this  ?   she  guesses  she  had  wanted  to  say  DATED,  but  they’re  not  exactly  dating,  she  doesn’t  think.  they’re  just  on  a  date.  and  when  she  meets  his  dark - cop - eyes  with  her  own,  she  catches  herself  smiling  again,  bursting  at  the  seams  to  continue.  widening  her  own,  playfully  albeit  unconsciously,  she  grips  her  beer  (  she’s  ordered  a  corona  light  ) ,  and  continues.  

                         ❛  when’s  your  birthday  ?  what’s  your  mom  like  ?  those  are  things  you’re  supposed  to  know  before  kissing  someone,  right ?  ❜   it’s  a  joke,  of  course.  she’s  known  all  sorts  of  types  that  kiss  for  less.  but  annie  wants  to  know.   

[travn]

                                                        POP QUIZ,  HOTSHOT.

[revokedlicense]

saw a news story this morning about a cop dad who made little bows for his daughter to wear to school and that’s jack. thanks

[revokedlicense]

@martyfly​  gets  a  starter !

annie  is  on  her  way  to  work,  and  she  is,  for  once,  early.  alas,  fifteen   minutes  on  this  bench  solo,  and  she  remembers  exactly  why  she  never  takes  the  time  to  be  here  before  her  bus   . . .   she  is  bored.  sitting  still,  ugh.  watching  sirens  zoom  by,  passerby  shuffling  through,  a  couple  of  dogs  and  their  humans  . . .  annie  sits,  ankles  together  in  a  slight  criss-cross  beneath  the  bench,  waiting.  waiting.  long  moments  alone  with  her  thoughts  don’t  always  go  so  well;  annie’s  mind  always  moves  quickly.  she  needs  a distraction.  smoking  helps,  somewhat,  hence  her  habit  . . .  but  she’s  not  about  to  light  up  now;  she’s  already  had  one  on  the  way  over,  and  her  concept  of  time  is  pretty  hazy  at  best.  she’d  probably  need  to  stomp  it  out  the  moment  it  was  lit.  it’s  all  of  that  inner  monologue  that  gets  in  the  way  of  practical  things,  like  concept  of  time  and  patience.  too  much  inner  monologue.   talking  usually  does  the  trick,  which  is  why  friends  are  so  great  --  annie  is  friendly  yet  quiet  at  first  glance  --  it’s  better  if  she  has  someone  she  knows  well  to  talk  to.   

she’s  not  alone  right  now,  though;  that’s  one  half  of  her  dilemma  solved.  the  young  guy  seated  beside  her,  however,  is  a  stranger,  and  so  annie  is  not  as  forthright.  normally  she’s  not  one  to  initiate  conversation  with  someone  she  doesn’t  know  . . . but  man,  she  needs  a  distraction.  annie  eyes  the  stranger,  quickly,  and  then  looks  away  again. 

this  guy  seems  okay.  harmless.  annie  leans  forward,  looking  at  him  a  bit  more,  subtly.  he’s  got  a  cool  shirt  to  boot.  annie  smiles,  meeting  his  eyes  quickly,  and  then  looking  away  just  as  fast.   

                                ❛  nice  shirt.  ❜  

it’s  added  after  a  moment,  so  he  knows  she’s  not  staring  just  to  stare.   she  meets  his  eyes  again  after  she  says  it,  smiling.  she  is  a  little  shy,  but  pleasant,  and  her  voice  nevertheless  carries;  she  is  not  timid.  

[dearbullock-deactivated20201213]

Speed (1994) dir. Jan de Bont

“I said whatever you do, just keep my dress down!”  - Sandra Bullock

[revokedlicense]

@asperad​  gets  a  starter  !

annie  really,  really,  needs  this  cigarette.  she’s  gone  twenty  four  hours  without  one,  and  five  and  a  half  hours  into  her  shift.  seven  tables  have  gone  without  tipping;  two  have  been  rude,  one  has  been  downright  nasty  and  annie  has  a  bleeding  tongue  because  of  it.  she’s  exploding  inside,  held  back  her  bite,  to  incredible  chagrin  --  this  is  her  last  chance,  she  knows;  annie’s  on  her  last  strike.  and  she  can’t  get  fired,  not  when  rent  is  due  next  week.  UGH.  not  that  working  at  MIKE’S  SEAFOODS  is  the  crowning  achievement  in  her  career .  .  .   but,  you  know,  she  needs  to  pay  her  rent.  

one  cigarette,  she  promises  herself.   i  just  need  one.  

annie  pulls  the  untouched,  unopened  FOR  EMERGENCIES  pack  out  of  her  university  of  arizona  sweatshirt  pocket.  she’s  leaning  against  the  outside  wall  of  the  restaurant,  on  her  rushed, five  minute  self  -  designated  break.  she  knows  she  needs  to  be  quick.  she  wanted  to  quit,  and  she  will,  but  this  is  the  lesser  of  two  evils  right  now.  it’s  either  smoke  one  cigarette  and  not  scream,  or  kill  a  guy  and  lose  her  job.  and  her  apartment.  the  apartment,  really,  is  the  main  concern.  

annie  sifts  through  her  belongings  blindly,  feeling  for  her  lighter,  but  her  mind’s  not  in  it  as  she  stares  ahead,  dully  aware  of  passerby  beneath  the  dry  california  sun.   she’s  thinking  of  her  brother,  momentarily,  working  his  steady  job  for  the  senator  of  california’s  office.  annie  sighs,  fingering  through  crumbled  papers,  loose  change,  and  one  pack  of  gum,  but  no  lighter.  it’s  no  surprise  she’s  still  the  more  disappointing  of  the  two.  i  really  need  to  get  myself  together.   

UGH.  and  she’s  just  realized  she’s  left  her  lighter  on  her  kitchen  counter  in  her  frenzy  out  of  the  door  this  morning.  of  course.  of  course  she  has.

there  is   a  woman  passing,  she  suddenly  notices.  annie  is  desperate  . . .   this  stranger  walks  with  a  quiet,  poised,  confident  aura,  annie  notices  that  immediately,  too.  she’s  put  together.  she  looks  like  the  type  that  wouldn’t  have  forgotten  a  lighter  at  home. 

                                      ❛   hi,  i’m  sorry  --  do  you  have  a  light ?   ❜  

annie  smiles  at  the  woman,  forced.  her  eyes  beg.   please,  please  say  you  have  a  light.  i  can’t  lose  my  job.

[revokedlicense]

@her-emotionalcompass​  gets  a  starter  !

annie’s  upset.  fighting  is  always  a  doozy.  she  does  it,  though,  often  --  more  often  than  she  wants  to,  honest!  people  are  just  so  often  such  jerks,  she  can’t  help  it.   she  can’t  let  them  step  all  over  her.  they  try  to;  oh  man  do  they  try  to.  annie  wonders  sometimes  if  it’s  her  size,  or  her  look,  or  the  fact  that  she  apparently  sounds  like  a  wind  -  up  toy  when  you  get  her  excited;  louder  and  quicker  and  never  -  ending  monologue  --  and  that  amuses  people.   that  was  according  to  mark.  ASS.

blowing  some  air  from  her  cheeks,  she  notices  a  man  to  her  left  at  the  bar;  she’s  not  particularly  paying  much  attention;  her  mind  has  difficulty  focusing,  especially  after  she’s  just  expelled  high  emotion.  nevertheless,  he  is  there,  and  she  is  not  without  propriety,   so  she  addresses  him  before  sitting. 

                     ❛    is  this,  uh,  taken?    ❜ 

[revokedlicense]

@sitched​  gets  a  starter !

❛   shit.   ❜      annie’s  eyes  dart  around,  her  movements  quick,  succinct,  and  almost  spastic,  a  dead  giveaway  that  she  is  feeling  nervous.  she  grips  her  watch,  holding  her  wrist  in  a  self-soothing  attempt  to  center  herself,  and  stands  still.  focus.  annie   searches  for  any  information  around  her.  she’s  not  a  cop,  of  course  --  far  from  it  --  but  she  has  been  in  enough  strange  situations  to  warrant  concern  for  things  out  of  place.  a  person  in  shades  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  for  example.  a  security  camera.  the  strange  knapsack,   on  the  lobby  bench,  in  immediate  view.  it’s   all  by  its  lonesome,  black,  fairly  big.  annie  remembers  that  you’re  supposed  to  notice  things  like  that.   see   something,  say  something.  or   . . .   whatever,  along  those  lines.  

annie  glances  around  again  for  any  sort  of  clue  or  immediate  solution.  there  is  not  one.  the  only  thing  she  sees  is  a  young  woman,  standing,  to  her  left.  she  smiles,  a  small,  unsteady  smile  that  breaks  just  moments  in,  cocking  her  head  toward  the  other  without  looking  away  from  the  knapsack.         ❛    i  can’t  be  the  only  one  who  thinks  that’s  weird,  right ?    ❜        no,   please,  i  can’t  be.   there’s   a  breathy,  unsure  laugh  sifting  off  of  the  end  of  her  question.  annie  has  a  difficult  time  telling,  sometimes,  if  she  is  overreacting  or  not  these  days.  intense  experiences  will  do  that,  her  counselor  had  said.   maybe  this  young  woman  can  tell  her.   maybe  the  bag  is  hers.  or  maybe,  most  likely  of  all,  annie  is  really  just  looking  for  a  camaraderie.  

[revokedlicense]

annie.

# 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂: 1 / 2 / 3 + . ( she speaks a tiny bit of spanish, but is not fluent. )

𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴: high / average / deep  𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃: yes / no. ( kind of an odd question because everyone has an accent. she is native to the western USA, so? ) 𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚁: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other ( she’s shy at first depending on the person, but at the same time weirdly very active and social / approachable, which was why i chose both. ) 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed. 𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact /  maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at distance.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝚅𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁𝚈: ◼◻◻◻◻   𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: ◼◼◼◻◻ 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴: ◼◻◻◻◻

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈:  ◼◼◼◻◻ 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈: ◼◼◼◼◼

𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘. arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓. christ on a bike. christ on a cracker. damn. goddamn. godsdamn. hell. holy shit. jesus. jesus christ. jesus h christ. jesus h. roosevelt christ. lord have mercy. jesus, mary and joseph. sweet jesus.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 contractions or enunciation?  straightforward or cryptic?  jargon or toned? complexity or simplicity? finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind?  masculinity, neutrality, or femininity?  formalities or abrasiveness? ( depends on context; she is able to be polite. ) praise or equivocation?  frankness or lies?  excessive or minimal hand gestures? name-calling or magnanimity?  friendly or blunt nicknames?

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝙳𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. ( small ladie that yells when she speaks, always at 8/10 volume at least. )

𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ‘𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙼’ 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴? yes / no / only ironically.

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚄𝚂𝙴? but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂? walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t. ( i’ve got GUM ON MY SEAT not an option? that’s criminal. )

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂? titles / first names / surnames / full names / nicknames.

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙾, 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺? upper / middle / lower.

𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂? accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

tagged by : @sinisteraugurey​ ( thank you so much <3 love how similar they are lmao. )

tagging : steal it from me!

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requested by @ladyreapermc ♡

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I love this photoshoot so much because it looks like an engagement announcement lmao.