travn

[travn]

revokedlicense‌:

          ❛  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.  ❜  

          “huh.”    it almost sounds like another hum as it leaves his lips.  the word has jack clearing his throat,  sleep still clogging his voice,  but there's quiet relief as his smile pulls a little wider in the early morning equivalent of a chuckle.  even in sleep he has enough sense to be vague — better to be mildly embarrassed over unintelligible mumbling than nervous over revealing too much of himself.  this, their relationship, still feels new.  jack can acutely remember being without it.  sometimes waking up with the evidence that he isn’t alone anymore sleeping beside him (or on other days,  splayed across him) still surprises him.  even with what they’ve been through,  maybe because of it too,  he doesn’t want to upset the balance they’ve found for themselves by bringing up old wounds,  especially if he isn’t awake to filter which ones get shown.  fortunately her reminder doesn’t dredge up anything from the few dreams he can recall,  flashes and blurs that they are.    “wonder what that’s about.”

he’s grateful for the change of topic,  brief as it is.  relaxes further into it,  as those fingertips of apprehension fully withdraw.  leaving just that sleepy affection in his gaze,  watching and listening.  like a piano string pulled through the both of them,  her key his chord.  the latter always reflecting the first.  an actual,  audible chuckle pulled from him as she rambles.  smile turning to a grin for a moment when her nose crinkles.

          “you’re a menace,  annie.”  jack likes these little glimpses into her life,  likes how freely she gives them.  “i’m guessing he requested a different room after that trip?”

most mornings he used to rely on instant coffee.  some water,  a stir.  no reason to spend more than a minute in the kitchen before taking flight from the one-bedroom apartment.  a perfectly fine mr. coffee relegated to counter decor for years in the name of efficiency.  now he’s surprised to find the coffeemaker blinking itself back to sleep when he turns around,  fresh brew waiting for him it seems,  rather than the other way around.

          “cute?”  he passes a look over his shoulder before moving to fill up his mug,  “so what i’m getting is i should sleep mumble more often?”  and if his grin isn’t visible,  it sure is audible.  he shakes his head and returns the coffee pot to its place once his cup is almost full.  “never heard about it before.  i’ve been told i move in my sleep.  almost fell off my bunk back in college and my roommates never let me live it down.  but no...  wasn’t aware i sleep-mumbled till now.”

[travn]

being intuitive is just like... i don’t like this and no i will not elaborate

[travn]

WHAT BODY PART ARE YOU?

HEART.       a heart in a cynical sense feels nothing, it simply carries through all the blood, all the oxygen, all the components the other parts that do feel need. an ugly organ, misshapen and strange when held in the palm of your hand. yet, it is the centre of your being. it is the core. even when you try to act unaffected, it is your heart that gives you away, skipping a beat, fluttering in excitement, halting dead in terror. you have so much of it to give, you just haven’t learned to discern who is and isn’t worthy of it yet. hold onto it. do not whittle it down, carve names into the flesh that you cannot erase. remain patient, remain astute, and remain loving.

tagged by:  i stole it :^) tagging:  @revokedlicense, @ireworn, @wtrss, @diiamondheart

[travn]

[travn]

revokedlicense‌:

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.   

his smile twists and pulls tight at the corners,  like he’s containing a laugh.  another thing to add to the short but growing list of facts jack knows about annie:  her laughter is contagious.  because it’s not her statement that gets him (never done this with a cop before—),  it’s the laugh that follows it.  in the past half hour he’s discovered it’s remarkably easy to be drawn into her expressions,  to match her smile for smile,  and sure,  maybe this isn’t exactly new information,  maybe he’s known for the past month and however many days that mirroring her comes more naturally than it should,  but he didn’t know how much of that was adrenaline — if he was laughing whenever she did just to remind himself that he could,  that there’s something to feel besides the fear and nerves and every goddamned emotion he thought he’d been trained enough to suppress drumming under his skin,  as a nice fuck you to payne and his bullshit game.

now he knows that’s just them.  even without the intense circumstances — that’s just what annie brings out in him.  so when she lets out her breathy,  unsure thing of a laugh,  he can’t help but follow suit,  in his own quiet way.  besides,  he gets it,  he thinks — the uncertainty that comes from this particular new experience,  with him,  with his job.  doesn’t even question what exactly this is,  because he gets that,  too.

he only gives an amused,  acknowledging glance in return,  but the statement doesn’t have time to linger before she’s going into her questions.  this time he doesn’t bother stifling the chuckle that weaves itself into his agreement as he nods:    “right.”     and his grin eases into something smaller,  subtle,  as he chews the inside of his cheek.  gaze warm,  yet tentative.  jack doesn’t do a lot of this,  talking about himself,  sharing — doesn’t give himself much of a chance to — but he thinks,  as he sits here,  taking in her widened smile,  he doesn’t mind it.

        “my birthday’s march 31st.”    an easy enough question,  almost impersonally personal,  and had it been anyone else,  he’d probably leave it at that.  but it’s not anyone else,  so the mirth in his eyes shines a little brighter as he finds himself eager to add:    “i’m an aries — i think that’s also something you’re supposed to know before kissing someone.”     the corners of his mouth quirk upward before his gaze shifts,  off to the side and unseeing,  as he considers her other question.

on the list of things to ask your date post-life-or-death experience,  what’s your mom like?  isn’t that much more personal than birthdays,  but it does give him pause (one or two seconds of absently staring at a chalkboard near the entrance that boasts BEST FAJITAS IN L.A.),  because he doesn’t know which things to tell,  how much to share.

        “my mom — my mom’s nice,”    he starts and restarts with an endeared sort of huff and an eyebrow that seems to raise on its own.    “in that tough love kind of way.  she cares a lot,  has a big heart,  just has a funny way of showing it.”    not an unkind way,  there aren’t many people who would call julia traven unkind,  just funny — in the same way jack can be funny with how he cares for people.  quietly sentimental;  more actions,  less words;  the kind of affection that sometimes requires close inspection for it to really register.  (and somewhere,  between his words,  his gaze drifts back to annie.)    “she’s a middle school teacher,  she teaches history,  so she kind of has to be tough dealing with preteens all day.”    then,  as an afterthought:    “dealing with me and my sisters probably wasn’t much easier.”    though he doesn’t mention that he was the one most prone to getting into trouble.  only by a slim margin,  but still.

he takes another sip of his drink (a michelada:  another thing this restaurant declared the city’s best,  though jack has nothing to compare it to) before leaning forward and smiling as he returns the questions,  readily adding his own.

            “what about you — birthday?  mom?  middle name?”

[travn]

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 :   @damnromeo​​ & @revokedlicense​​,  thank u!! TAGGING :   @ireworn​​​,  @lackingfaith​​,  @generalchief​​​,  @ginkst​​​

[travn]

Speed, 1994.

[travn]

@generalchief​​ / sc.

jack hates hospitals.  no hedging,  no excuses,  he hates them.  a full thirty years old and he still gets that spike of anxiety every time he enters the too bright, too pristine corridors of a hospital.  only thing worse is being seated in a room.  he can handle sitting in the back of an ambulance,  being patched up by emts,  just fine — but something about sitting on an actual hospital bed under the watchful eyes of doctors and nurses puts him on edge.  usually he’s good at avoiding this part of his work,  either turning up unscathed or convincing higher-ups that he pretty much was,  but crashing into the middle of the street in a runaway subway train sent him straight to the emergency room under strict orders.  no amount of i’m fine’s would convince anybody to let him go home,  so he didn’t bother.

he’s been quiet throughout the ordeal,  only speaking when spoken to,  humming when questions can be answered with a simple yes or no,  nodding when his humming isn’t clear enough.  he feels like he’s seen most of the staff on duty as they cycle through him and annie and the bus passengers who arrived hours before them,  scattered in different rooms on different floors.  at this point his nerves have given way to a dull ache.  it seems like he’s spent more time waiting than anything else.  waiting to be evaluated,  waiting for feedback,  waiting to be released.  now when a familiar face out of the handful he’s seen in the past hour comes back around,  he’s more than eager to speak.

       ‘  how’s everything looking?  ’    the words are said on a sigh,  only because he can’t help it — the sigh very much escapes him the second he opens his mouth.  another thing he can’t help:    ‘  think i might be able to head home soon?  ’

[travn]

I will take good care of you everything you feel is good if you would only let you i will wash your hair at night and dry it off with care I will see your body bare and still I will live here so stay with me hold my hand there’s no need to be brave

[travn]

revokedlicense‌:

@travn​   gets  a  one  line  dialogue  starter  !  

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

        ‘  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?  ’

[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?  ’

[travn]

HUMANS SERIES TWO (2x01) sentence meme. feel free to change context/pronouns/etc as necessary.

I was hoping you’d dance with me, that’s all.

It’s cool if it’s not your thing.

You don’t talk much.

So, should I shut up?

Are you sure you want this?

You need a bed.

So, what are you doing in [LOCATION] with just a bunch of dead white guys for company?

Do you want to do something? 

Can I ask you something?

When did you know you liked women? 

It’s hard enough to know what you want. If you have to know why you want it, too…

A stone speaks more than you! 

If you had the power to create life, would you?

You know what century we’re in, right?

Doing anything I’d understand?

Bit weird, having a stranger in the house.

It just doesn’t really feel like a fresh start, does it?

It’s a difficult situation, I just… I’m just asking if you’ll help us through it.

You don’t need to thank me.

Yeah, I know I don’t need to say “please” and “thank you” but it feels weird not to.

Don’t tell him I said that.

Bloody hell, you have to tell him now, don’t you?

I don’t deem your remark pertinent.

Well, I’ll see you in the morning.

You okay? You haven’t said a word. 

Did someone use your mug at work again?

I’ve been a bit busy with, you know, life.

How can you possibly presume to figure out our emotions when you have none of your own?

Stats? You’re using stats? 

We’re not the only people in the world to go through this.

If you weren’t here, I’d be talking to the bloody cake stand.

I wanted to help.

What? What do you mean, you wanted? You can’t “want” anything can you?

Please don’t be frightened.

I’m experiencing a catastrophic malfunction.

You don’t need fixing.

Why did you run?

Now, you think and feel just like a human.

We know you’re confused but we’ll help you.

You can’t decide who to trust, and trust is a new concept. So, don’t trust either.

Don’t go with them.

Let’s just all stay calm, yeah?

You told me my place here would always be safe.

Look, it has nothing to do with you.

They may know where we are. We should change route.

That means you’re mine now.

Let me see your scar.

There’s nothing that you could show me me that would make like you any less.

I’m not stupid. When I touch you, I know someone’s hurt you.

Are you ashamed of this?

Why do I know the people that I ride the bus with better than you?

Stay. Please. I want you to stay.

I’m unable to fully consider the implications of our conversation.

I’m needed elsewhere.

You’re needed here.

I’m sorry. I have to go.

Ask him if he wants a coffee, first.

Apologies for turning up unannounced.

I guess I should have returned your messages.

Are you sentient?

What is it that you want?

You’ve been reading too many tabloids.

I have to be super careful, here.

Why did you ask me to lie to him?

Unless I’ve got you very wrong, I don’t see you finishing me off any time soon.

We have to let him go.

They killed our friend! He’s not coming back!

It’s not your job to save them.

If you try to fight these people, you only put us at risk.

You’re the one putting us at risk.

One slip, and you’ll give us away.

If I don’t work, we’ll have to steal.

We both know that’s not why you do it.

I want to be around people. I want to find out who I am.

This excess of sensory feedback, it serves no useful function.

Emotions have functions. You’ll see.

I am so stoked you’re here!

Disappoint me quickly so we can all get back to work.

And how do you feel right now? 

You just found him like this?

I know everything’s not perfect. There’s been a lot of change. But this can still be a good thing for us.

I can’t “move on” from that. And why would I want to?

It’s pretty hard trying to be normal when we know what we know.

Moving on might be hard, but we have each other. That’s what matters.

If I was here to kill you all, I wouldn’t have rung the bell.

[travn]

I’m not really so hard & cynical after all – in fact I’m still dangerously soft.

Tennessee Williams, from Notebooks (via victoriajoan)

[travn]

                                                        POP QUIZ,  HOTSHOT.

[travn]

Keanu Reeves in Speed (1994)