THINGS MY PARTNER SAID AT 2AM ; Starter Pack.

THINGS  MY  PARTNER  SAID  AT  2AM  ;  starter pack.

feel  free  to  change  any  pronouns  or  subjects  (or  reverse).  these are real sentences spoken to me in one night from my very sleepy girlfriend,  han.

❛  do whatever you want,  i don’t believe in god.  ❜

❛  i have to like it ironically because i don’t know what it is.  ❜

❛  what would you do if you found out you were jesus?  ❜

❛  why isn't radioactivity yummy?  ❜

❛  you're depressed,  and you're high.  that's what we've figured out today.  ❜

❛  this is no time for that man.  ❜

❛  is that steve?  ❜

❛  CVS stand Child Vacation School,  because they're all children.  ❜

❛  testicle!  ❜

❛  what the fuck am i?  a bitch?  ❜

❛  i don't have a leg in this horse.  ❜

❛  who's banana?  ❜

❛  i'm not banana,  bitch.  ❜

❛  no more air.  ❜

❛  who are you to play god?  ❜

❛  i almost said arthur;  who's arthur?  ❜

❛  i'm gonna lock me and [ name ] in a room and see who happens.  ❜

❛  i'll be like their beloved grandmother,  sitting in my rocking chair.  spouting wisdom.  ❜

❛  i want pancakes.  ❜

❛  banana thigh.  you know,  like a chicken.  ❜

❛  i could have been a bitching shoe - man.  ❜

❛  you learn me how to make some shoes.  ❜

❛  i had to be in an era with choices and rights.  ❜

❛  what am i,  your cow?  that you milk?  ❜

❛  those are bees!  duuude.  ❜

❛  i should make a rug.  ❜

❛  do you think griffin mcelroy would be proud of me?  ❜

❛  why are we playing with corn?  stop that.  ❜

❛  good,  then you can't exploit me.  ❜

❛  there was a dog in the store and it was just a dog.  ❜

❛  the dog was drifting around her.  ❜

❛  the lady the dog came with asked me questions.  ❜

❛  you're profiting off of my exhaustion.  ❜

❛  i don't say that many funny things!  ❜

[ SINGS ]  for my muse to aggressively sing Kokomo by The Beach Boys at yours.

[ LAUGHS ]  for my muse to laugh at something unprompted at all.

[ MEOW ]  for my muse to meow like a cat at random to yours.

"Then they can go to hell! They don't tell us what we're capable of."

bullying the traumatized

“‘Us’? ‘We’? Who the fuck d’ye think ye are?!” Anne spins on her heel as she spits the words out, pushing herself into the other woman’s face with the suddenness and ferocity of a striking snake.

“Ye think a shared pint and a few sob stories suddenly means ye know shite about me? Think a-fucking-gain, cunt! Ye don’t know the first thing about me, or ye’d know that was me telling you to go to hell with ‘em.”

An apology springs to Anne’s lips, a protest—she’d misunderstood, thought this was based on someone come to even the score for the unconscious man she’d split open—but it dies almost as quickly as Mary continues. Right. This isn’t a place of people on their right minds, on the one hand serially threatened with extinction merely for existing in a way some fanatic or another thought abhorrent and on the other never seeing actual justice due to a meddling egomaniac playing vigilante. All while calling a prison a hospital—or worse, nice versa

They don’t just carry guns in Gotham. They look for reasons to use them.

Jack would be pissed she’d given away the game this easy. So Anne tilts her head back with another swig, thinking it over, pretending to drink. (It’s very convincing; it’d needed to be, once upon a time.) The only tell is that the level never really lowers after all the sloshing, a fact she guards by leaning on the bottle and using it to help prop up her arm, the other wrapped around her in front of it.

“‘Fraid I misunderstood the question, but now I’m curious. The way I hear, he lets very few in personally. Who’s he to you, then, that he lets ye in?”

Anne considers the question with more seriousness than perhaps is deserved: it’s a clear come-on, and even though she doesn’t rise to the bait, she’s still feeling dangerous.

“It’d be none of my fuckin business if ye was, frankly,” Anne answers honestly, shrugging, and adds, “but aye. Prob’ly hers.”

Anne fingers the broken half-glass on the table and considers it before nodding, as if having made a decision. “Aye. Tint cunt like ye, might bleed out—and then I got a corpse t’deal with. So. Glass t’her face, knee t’the big fucker’s nose—this is assuming I get on the table, mind—maybe a boot t’yers.” Not the girl, one of the dodgier looking bastards with her; he clearly doesn’t appreciate being called on, like she gives a rat’s ass. “Don’t fancy my chances if ye’ve got knives, but it’d take a real mad bastard t’start shooting in here. Everyone here’s got a fucking gun and more lint in their heads than sense.”

She’s made a good show of hiding it, but Anne hadn’t been expecting that voice out of that body: the big eyes, the cutesy curls, the fact that she all but needed a high chair at the goddamned table—but she had a voice as rough and hard as a fucking brick, if not worse. Anne feels a bit dazed by it, like it’d hit her in the back of the head and left her stunned. Gotham really does take ‘em fucking young—here sits some mobster’s brat, to guess from her company, but instead of spoilt she sounds days away from taking to chain smoking.

Anne shrugs again, unbothered and probably starting to feel the effects of the last few drinks. “Why, whose face would ye recommend? And don’t say mine—‘cording to ye, I’m the one using the glass.”

YOU don’t have to be perfect to be loved. but I do

Who do you ship with my muse?

Bonus: Include why you like the ship!

“ Sometimes giving up is the strong thing. ”

taylor swift : evermore album … sentence starters

Anne turns her head and clears her throat against the lump of emotion that’s suddenly formed there. It pisses her off—that the lump exists, that it’s his fault, that she’s still somehow transparent enough for an annoying stranger to call her out on it. She pounds her fist against the table and sniffs, sudden and abrupt, keeping the emotion at bay. Damn it, and him, and her, too! All of them!

“Aye, well—I didn’ fucking give up, did I? And now I’m up a shit fucking creek and I’m trying t’buy a damned paddle. So now that ye’ve had yer lecture, tell me who’ll buy the damned bike offa me, so I can start working my way north.”