‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ 𝒶nge͜͡l ‍┈ ‍ ey𝚎̲s ‍◞

ᅟᅟᅟ ᅟ𝕷o͟ν͟ᥱ 𝗠𝖾ᅟlov͜͡e 𝓶𝐸ᅟ𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝑚𝑒 ᅟ𝑀o͡re . ᅟᅟ＊ ♒︎ 𝗧͡𝗵𝖺𝗇 you 𝑷͟𝒐͟𝒔͟𝒔͟𝒊𝑩𝑳𝒀 ᅟ𝒄͟𝒂͟𝒏 ⡐⡐ ✩⸺ 𝐘̵𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 ̵𝗇̵𝖾̵𝗏̵𝖾̵𝗋̵ m͜͡eet͡ ᅟ𝘼𝒏͟𝒐͟𝒕𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗠𝗘ᅟ⤹࿔ ᅟ``

ᅠ no one is looking at that damn violin.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ her lips quirk in a pleased smile. “ consider it your late christmas present. ” ͏ ͏

and what the hell is that supposed to mean?

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ she fishes in her pocket for . . . a pack of cigarettes, unopened. “ all yours, 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘰. ” ͏ ͏

i'll complain all i want

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ think i might have something that’ll make your day better.

you can't belive that would actually work, right?

you're out of your mind

how do you plan on doing that

what.

hands' are freezing, christ.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ you seem to be in high spirits this morning.

ᅠ let’s hope the charm won’t wear off in the meantime.

ᅠ then i’m sure you can think of a better one for me.