cheerysociopath-blog - Tumblr blog

[cheerysociopath-blog]

Is that a bulletproof vest? See, now that’s so insulting. That’s like saying I’m not smart enough to shoot you in the head.

Janet Evanovich, Seven Up, Stephanie Plum #7 (via khadeejafinds)

[cheerysociopath-blog]

[cheerysociopath-blog]

Hit the heart if you’d like a starter; length will vary between a one-liner or a paragraph. Icon may be included. Verse will vary too.

Wanna plot something specific? You’re welcome to IM me.

[cheerysociopath-blog]

cute things to call your girlfriend

demon queen

mythic bitch

the almighty

[cheerysociopath-blog]

❛ Are you going to kiss me or not? ❜ ( pew pew. )

° • ? ( QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS.

“Hmmmmm… after much deliberation, I think… NOT. You can’t just ASK somebody that; it’s a rule!”

He grinned, sticking his tongue out at Ryder before taking a long needful suck on his cigarette, blowing a couple of smoke rings. Pleased with that, he nodded, flicking the butt away. “So, here’s MY question.”

A step was taken towards her, hands placed on his hips in a demanding way. “You gunna just take my refusal lyin’ down, or you gunna take whatcha want anyway?” he asked with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

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cont’d from here

TB blinked gently at her. “A plasma mine,” he dead-panned at her. A sigh and he raised his eyes slowly. “Sure, just lemme pull one outta my ass - DO YOU THINK THOSE THINGS ARE SO EASY TO COME BY?”

He brought his hands to his face for a moment, quietening once more, before he took a breath, slowly lowering his hands. “Sorry, okay, sorry,” he mumbled, frowning at his feet. “No plasma mines. Nix, zilch, squat. We’re out. I got some home-made grenades though... wait for the Courser, BOOM! How fast are their reflexes exactly? It’ll take five seconds for the grenade to detonate.”

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❛ Who told you that? ❜

° • ? ( QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS.

A smirk was thrown at her and he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teased innocently before emitting a small bout of laughter. “It’s just somethin’ I heard, is all… but the BIGGER question is, is it true?”

An arm snaked its way over her shoulders, lightly resting there. “C’moooon, you can tell me, Miss Evers: did March really kill people back in the day? I heard that’s how he croaked, that there was some sorta stand-off with the cops? Did you KNOW or like, SEE anythin’ suspicious at the time? What am I sayin’, you MUST’VE!”

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Miss Ever’s verbal tirade against Elizabeth was... shocking. He wasn’t entirely sure what was more shocking however: the venom for Elizabeth, the fact that Miss Evers knew all this, or the things being said. Elizabeth’s dirty laundry was piled high in front of him, stinking of deceit which made him even more angry, and if there was one damn thing Miss Evers was bloody good at, it was collecting up dirty laundry and making it clean again. Only in this case, she laid it down as it was for his perusal. She didn’t embellish a thing, letting him judge the stains of history for himself.

He didn’t even question if she was telling the truth here; Miss Evers obviously had no love for Elizabeth, but every word she said simply reeked of truth. The passion in her voice was startling, too genuine for lies, and to be honest, all of it sounded exactly like Elizabeth. He knew she was a woman whom moved on easily in her lovers - Christ, he had seen her with Donovan, among others - and she had once mentioned something about a movie star. Yet hearing the details he hadn’t been aware of, it all slapped him in the face; it was goddamn true, all of it, and why shouldn’t it be? He was already suspicious of Elizabeth’s affections and her cruelty, but this just proved it.

His hands tightened in to hard fists, veins bulging there, and a resolute look came in to his eye. “I needed this...” he breathed softly. “I needed to... to hear this.” Honestly, the heartache swelled with his fury and though he couldn’t hate Elizabeth - maybe with time he could - but he wouldn’t let himself crumble. He focused on the anger, not about to deny or run away from the truth, and told himself that one day, it wouldn’t hurt him anymore. The anger would cool and stop hurting.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and was about to thank Miss Evers and congratulate her on being with somebody she obviously adored, but her last few words on the relationship stopped him. “Miss Evers, STOP,” he said firmly, suddenly, with a minor shake of his head. “Somebody who makes you cry and suffer isn’t somebody that’s good enough for YOU: it’s none of my bizness, but c’mon now... if this guy loves you, why would he go makin’ you cry, huh? Bein’ sensitive ain’t an excuse here, okay? OF COURSE you’re sensitive to him, you LOVE him, and that’s FINE; but if this guy is hurtin’ you... well, that ain’t love. I’m sorry, honey, but that’s not what I was taught love is. If this guy loves you as much as you love him, then he ought to be treatin’ you good and makin’ you smile all the time.”

The rest of what she said was lost as he found himself puzzling over this mysterious guy. He wasn’t going to prod her, but he did try to figure it out in his head. He didn’t know Miss Evers, hadn’t even spoken to her before now, but he’d seen her around a good few times; he’d never seen no lover with her. In fact, the only person he saw her with more times than anybody else was that rich guy... Mr March, that was his name. They seemed to be friends, sort of, because Miss Evers had usually been all smiles around him and...

He gazed at her in a pointed, knowing way. “Are you with March? Like... FOR REAL?”

[cheerysociopath-blog]

"This is your bright idea of a plan?" ~syntheytic-deliquent

° • ? ( QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS.

A long silence as he looked up from the table to Ava. “You got somethin’ better?” he quietly asked her. “Huh, do you, ol’ sparky?” He wasn’t sure why he called her that. As far as he was aware, Synths didn’t run on some internal generator. Or maybe they did. He knew about as much as anybody about their anatomy - which was nothing.

“It’s better than nothin’, in’t it? You need help, I’ll help, but bein’ honest… you’re the first Synth I’ve talked to. That I know of. This is… way more than I’m used to dealin’ with.”

[cheerysociopath-blog]

° • ? ( QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS.

❛ What are you doing? ❜ ❛ Where are you going? ❜ ❛ Where are you taking me? ❜ ❛ How is that working out for you? ❜ ❛ Is everything okay? ❜ ❛ Why are you acting like this? ❜ ❛ You think I would lie to you? ❜ ❛ Are you telling the truth? ❜ ❛ Are you sure you want to do this? ❜ ❛ This is your bright idea of a plan? ❜ ❛ What else do you want me to do? ❜ ❛ What else can I do? ❜ ❛ What do you think I should do? ❜ ❛ What makes you think that? ❜ ❛ Who told you that? ❜ ❛ Who are you? ❜ ❛ Why are you here? ❜ ❛ Who invited you? ❜ ❛ How come you ever asked me? ❜ ❛ Did you really mean all those things you said? ❜ ❛ Why did you have to go? Why did you have to leave? ❜ ❛ Why is it so hard for you to see that? ❜ ❛ Why don’t you understand? ❜ ❛ What don’t you understand? ❜ ❛ Are you joking? ❜ ❛ Did I miss anything? ❜ ❛ You don’t remember? ❜ ❛ Did you really say all that stuff about me? ❜ ❛ Did you think I would forget? ❜ ❛ How can you sit there and say that? ❜ ❛ How do you even sleep at night? ❜ ❛ Are you coming or not? ❜ ❛ Am I the only one freaked out right now? ❜ ❛ Are you laughing or crying? ❜ ❛ Who did this to you? ❜ ❛ Did someone hurt you? ❜ ❛ Is it just me or are you, like, ignoring me? ❜ ❛ You want me to apologize for something you did? ❜ ❛ Are you going to kiss me or not? ❜ ❛ Aren’t you the one who said it though? ❜ ❛ So, you don’t like me like that? ❜ ❛ Where do we go from here? ❜ ❛ Are you being serious right now? ❜ ❛ How was I supposed to know that? ❜ ❛ Oh, is that a challenge? ❜ ❛ Are you flirting with me? ❜ ❛ Are you going to let me go now? ❜ ❛ Are we done now? ❜ ❛ Why didn’t just ask me? ❜ ❛ You’re going to believe them over me? ❜ ❛ How can possibly think that? ❜ ❛ Did you even miss me? ❜ ❛ Did anyone even notice that I was gone? ❜ ❛ Why do you go around and kiss everyone? ❜ ❛ Did you kill them? ❜ ❛ Who’s blood is that? Is that your blood? ❜ ❛ Do you think this is a game? ❜ ❛ Are you having doubts? ❜ ❛ Why haven’t you been at school/work? ❜ ❛ Is there something going on that you need to tell me? ❜ ❛ You said you wanted to talk? ❜ ❛ What am I supposed to do? ❜ ❛ What did you expect to happen? ❜ ❛ How long you think you can keep this act up? ❜ ❛ You don’t like me? Do you? Like in a more than a friend way? ❜ ❛ Is that what everyone is saying now? ❜ ❛ Who do I remind you of? ❜ ❛ Are you hungry? Want to go get something to et? ❜ ❛ Are you drunk? ❜ ❛ Are you lost? ❜ ❛ What’s so great about any of that anyway? ❜ ❛ Are you even listening to yourself? ❜ ❛ What are you going to do about it, huh? ❜ ❛ What are you staring at? ❜ ❛ What are you doing out here? ❜ ❛ Why did you call the police? ❜ ❛ Wait, do you hear that? ❜ ❛ Why don’t you tell me anything? ❜ ❛ Hey, did you get me anything? ❜ ❛ Why didn’t you come over last night? ❜ ❛ What did you find out? ❜ ❛ Can I stay here for the night? ❜ ❛ Are you throwing rocks at my window? ❜ ❛ Are you crying? ❜ ❛ What are you laughing at me? ❜ ❛ Are you laughing at me? ❜ ❛ Do you not understand the word no? ❜ ❛ Is that it? Is that all? ❜ ❛ Are you in some kind of trouble? ❜ ❛ Yeah, but, you have me. So why bother? ❜ ❛ What’s love got to do with it? ❜ ❛ This is where we kiss, right? ❜ ❛ Do you ever not just only think about yourself? ❜ ❛ Are going to leave me again? ❜ ❛ What’s wrong with that? ❜ ❛ Do you have anything you need to say to me? ❜ ❛ I think I’m going to puke. Is there a trash can in here? ❜ ❛ You really don’t know why I’m mad at you? ❜ ❛ Why do you treat me like I’m not important to you? ❜ ❛ Why are you telling me this? ❛ Are you ready? ❜ ❛ What’s with all the questions? ❜ ❛ I thought this is what you wanted? ❜ ❛ Where do you think you’re going with this? ❜ ❛ You’re just going to leave? ❜ ❛ Do you trust me? ❜ ❛ You love me? Or you think you love me? ❜ ❛ When will it ever stop? ❜ ❛ Do you think it’ll ever go away? ❜ ❛ What are you doing this weekend? ❜ ❛ You called for back up? ❜ ❛ What did I just witness? ❜ ❛ How do you cope when the one you love is with somebody else? ❜ ❛ Have you ever thought it? ❜ ❛ Are you wearing a wire? ❜ ❛ Is there something wrong? ❜ ❛ Is it something I said or something I did? ❜ ❛ What’s wrong? I thought that it was okay? ❜ ❛ Are you going to hold that against me forever? ❜ ❛ So, tell me, what else is new? ❜ ❛ You never actually cared, did you? ❜ ❛ You went to a party without me? ❜ ❛ Why wasn’t I invited? ❜ ❛ Do you think that’s a little fucked up? ❜ ❛ Oh, so you do speak? ❜ ❛ Do you think it’s really worth it in the end? ❜ ❛ How many more times do I have to tell you? ❜ ❛ You didn’t think that it would bother me? ❜

[cheerysociopath-blog]

He clapped his hands together, rubbing them in glee as he giggled at her side. “Trashy karaoke bar, BRING IT!” he enthused as they walked, giving her a bright grin. “The fact that you know about this place is just... it makes you awesome to me, okay? No arguments. Pretty neato though, you knowin’ it: didn’t yanno my English blood makes it where if I don’t get some karaoke AT LEAST once a month, I shrivel up and die? True story.”

Evidently today was a day where he felt like giving in to that half of his blood. It was the better half anyway, at least in his opinion. At least that half of him had a face behind it, a parent, a home, and some great fucking culture; the other half, Southern and possibly containing a Creole remnant, wasn’t so good... because it had been given to him by a stranger who ought to have been father. A stranger whom he wished nothing but death and torture upon.

“Prostitutes?” he echoed in minor surprise, before huffing playfully. “PLEASE... do I look like a man who needs to pay for a good time? Honey, I AM A GOOD TIME!” He laughed, gently nudging her. “Man, I’m just a party in human form, a one-night-stand that never ends!” Sure, he might’ve paid for sex more than once in the past, but those times had been necessary, when he was on a tour of duty. Otherwise, nope. If it was a case that he had nobody to take home at the end of the night, he just went without; not that he was against prostitutes, but he just thought that paying for someone to come home with him was a waste when he could just buy more alcohol to take home instead.

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“Yeah, plenty guys will run from her buuuuut I’m sure there’s plenty that’ll run TO her... yanno, the ones with a domme kink who just wanna be whipped or whatever?” he laughed, bringing a hand to his forehead, shaking his head. He was nearly positive such a thing had already happened to Sam, but he didn’t even want to think about how she may have responded. EW. Taking his hand away, he moved on quickly. “She’s in a relationship, last I heard anyway, with this guy and some girl. Three-way relationship, how very MODERN of her, right? Whatever makes her happy, I guess. I just don’t get how anybody’d manage it. One person’s enough to handle.” Indeed, one person was often too much for him to handle, depending: sometimes they got boring for him so they had to go, but oh... relationships were a part of his needs regardless. He needed that fuzzy feeling, that companionship, and someone to cuddle all day long.

And aside from sympathy and consideration, that was also why he had hugged her. TB was a very touchy-feeley person whom craved touch. He adored hugs and cuddles, and he’d give them out to just about anybody. That was a basic human trait he fully embraced, the need to touch in order to establish a connection or to illustrate a sentiment. Why ignore it? He didn’t know Harley, only the bare minimum, but hell, she looked like she had needed a hug. Her smile just proved that for him, that she was holding so much in, a lot of tough shit, and she could do with a little physical support. He hoped the hug was enough to give her even the tiniest amount of positivity.

“Somethin’ tells me that the law ‘round here is more useless than any place else; ‘lotta people gettin’ money under the table I’d say, if these criminals always get set loose.” The more he heard about Gotham City and it’s Batman figure, the more TB understood that he had definitely come to a weird place, but that could turn out to be fun for him. A man in a tight bat costume was always appreciated, and as for the obviously rampant crime problem? Well, all that meant was anything he might get up to would look like pretty small potatoes. He might even get over-looked, be able to have some fun and get away with it.

Glancing to Harley, he also understood now that she was one of these criminals - had to be - and that her easygoing comments about it all, even how she didn’t so much as flinch at his angry explosion, all seemed to point towards her being a veteran: she’d seen God-knows-what, mixed with God-knows-who, and it was normal for her. While he admired her resolve, he privately worried that a woman who doesn’t get scared by anger is a woman who’s seen too much of it. Remembering what she had said about her murderous ex, he supposed that was true of her, and therefore that relationship wasn’t healthy. He wanted to hug her once more, but chased that thought away. She had to make her own mistakes and learn from them.

Hearing her sudden comment about his disposition, he blinked and felt... awkward. Sure, he cared for people who had troubles, and he would help them out where possible. He also cared about people on a societal scale, about how they were being taken advantage of by authority and that they needed to revolt. But all that care didn’t make him an angel when he put a price on his help and would gladly sacrifice hundreds just so millions could live and live freely. That was the soldier in him, the part that never died, who knew sacrifice and could do it so easily for the greater good. “Naw, I ain’t no sweetheart...” he smiled coyly. “If I was, I wouldn’t do half the shit I do. I ain’t no hero or... saint. Don’t go mixin’ me up with that stuff!” he humbly advised.

Going inside the cafe, he held the door for her - it was only decent after all - and let her pick where they sat. “Order whatever you want,” he told her once seated, really not minding what she ordered nor how much it would come to. He was planning on grabbing her hand and running out on the tab anyway.

[cheerysociopath-blog]

Arms were folded across TB’s chest as he now leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, gazing passively at Henry. He didn’t want a fight - no, that would be ridiculous - but he wanted the air cleared. He’d never be seeing Henry again come morning, once he fixed up his ride and got the hell out of here, but he wasn’t content to leave with words unspoken. He didn’t believe in that at all. If Henry was going to behave like an awkward teen, then TB was going to use his fatherly expertise here and be blunt, but specific.

“Look,” he began in a level tone. “You helped me out. You didn’t have to, and I’m thankful, but I’m not really sure if you’re aware how the world works: you let a complete stranger in to your home and just ignore them. You go to your room and just, what, trust them? Aside from bein’ WEIRD, that’s not real clever, is it? It’s almost like you don’t give a shit if they trash the place or steal somethin’. You’re basically INVITIN’ ‘em to do it. It’s kinda... weird, yeah, and gullible; it’s that or you’re just bein’ arrogant, I dunno. NOBODY does what you’ve done, okay?” He paused, emitting a sigh as he thought about his next words. “I didn’t come up here with you to steal. Serious. I got the idea that since you’re bein’ rude and ignorin’ your guest, AND that you’re just not bein’ clever with your STRANGER-DANGER, that I’d steal from you. Yeah, I admit that. I thought I might as well. In a petty, stupid way to teach you for bein’ ignorant and for trustin’ a stranger.”

He stopped, simply gazing now at Henry. Blank. Thinking what the hell was wrong with him. Thinking that he was just going to deliver another vague threat and shuffle back to his room. But it wasn’t a reaction TB wanted, it was clarity. 

“So that’s why. For all the good this speech does, there’s my thoughts. Do whatever you want with ‘em, but I just wanted you to know ‘em... and that I don’t appreciate veiled threats; we’re adults here, right? You don’t like me or my way of thinkin’? Fine. Kick me out, but don’t pussyfoot ‘round it. I’m here on a big favor but you can ask me to leave anytime, for whatever reason; there’s no need to get hostile or... scare me in some weird show of authority just ‘cause you want the upper hand. You HAVE the upper hand already, this is YOUR home. YOUR rules.” TB gave a shrug, turning away and retreating back to the couch. He felt better for getting all that out, that he’d cleared the air for himself, and now he could actually get a little sleep. He could leave without any regrets.

[cheerysociopath-blog]

I was waiting for the Communist call I didn't ask for sunshine And I got World War Three I'm looking over the wall And they're looking at me

“Holidays in the Sun”, Sex Pistols

[cheerysociopath-blog]

//So I introduced one of my peeps to the Tankgirl movie last night & it was a successful initiation (I love that we can now rave about it, quote it back & forth, & adore Lori Petty together). Bonus: they commanded me to make more edits of my lil’ ball of pink trouble here, so guess what my plans are?

I’m going to be doing drafts in between edits (lawd help me) & posting up another starter call at some point. So *Pat Bateman voice* keep your eyes open!

[cheerysociopath-blog]

what do u mean “what have i been up to” … i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch

[cheerysociopath-blog]