LE TERRIBLE PRINCE

I KNOW HIS BLOOD WILL MAKE ME WHOLE.

[unprinced]

#PRINCELETS. INDEPENDENT & PRIVATE SEBASTIAN LACROIX OF WHITE WOLF PUBLISHING'S VAMPIRE: THE MASQUERADE. BELOVED & BELOATHED BY SOLEIL. 21+ ONLY.

ㅤAFFILIATES. 80sPOLAROID.

𝖎. DOSSIER. 𝖎𝖎. PROMPTS. 𝖎𝖎𝖎. MULTIMUSE. 𝖎𝖛. ART CREDIT.

[80spolaroid]

nobody is going to take him from u honey you can loosen your death grip / @unprinced

[ngalitzine]

RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023) dir. Matthew López

[rainystarters]

⭒˚｡🖁‧₊˚ 〖 down these mean streets . . . 〗 a collection of scene prompts inspired by n͟e͟o͟-n͟o͟i͟r͟, v͟i͟o͟l͟e͟n͟c͟e͟, c͟o͟n͟t͟r͟o͟l͟, e͟t͟c͟. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the receiving muse to be "the sender" instead. adjust details as necessary.

dead end. there's nowhere left to run; the sender has cornered you at last. anonymous. disguising your voice, you call the sender to threaten/warn them. loose ends. you thought you killed them! but there's the sender, walking your way. ashtray. your cigarette smokes as you extinguish it on the sender's skin. deck. you lick the sender's blood from your knuckles, still stinging from the punch. backstab. end of the road, pal—you reveal you're double-crossing the sender. blunt. hidden in the shadows, you press your gun to the sender's back.

heel. you stare at the sender from across the room and beckon them to you. fix. not looking like that—disapproving, you fix the sender's appearance. tilt. you take the sender's chin in your hand and make them meet your gaze. staccato. irritated, the sender drums their fingers against you beneath the table. listen. the sender disobeys and you swat their curious hand away. fasten. just something i picked up—you clasp a necklace/tie/etc. on the sender. quiet. you press a finger to the sender's lips and tell them to be patient.

vomit. you can't handle this; you vomit as the sender groans about leaving evidence. wink. don't worry—you wink as you assure the sender you have no morals to offend. up front. the sender's job is a doozy; you demand half the payment now or you walk. hush. talk is cheap but you sure aren't. you accept the hush money from the sender. crossfire. you realize the sender asking you to put out a hit is your next target. gulp. hard to argue with a bullet; you agree to the sender's demands. jugular. you hold your breath as the sender uses you to demonstrate how the murder weapon was used to strangle the victim.

patron. you know the sender is hired to keep you spending but you linger anyway. last call. the sender has one final cigarette in their pack; you take it without asking. loose lips. the sender pours you another glass as you finally confess. bills. it's on me—you pay for the sender's meal. cozy. there aren't enough seats open; you pull the sender onto your lap with a grin. coffee. you look like hell—you press a cup of coffee to the sender's hands. waiting. you duck into the bus stop to escape the rain, intruding on the sender.

gutter. the trail of blood ends and you find the sender broken on the ground. speak up. you press the knife in deeper as the sender swears they didn't betray you. plaster. it's not pretty but it'll do; you wince as the sender patches your wounds. empty. you laugh at the sender as you throw your gun aside, finally out of bullets. rat. the sender falls to their knees and agrees to tell you everything they know. smother. you clasp a hand over the sender's mouth to keep from being heard. cut our losses. the sender won't make it; you leave them to die.

voyeur. you know the sender's watching; you open the blinds so they can watch. slip of the tongue. the sender whispers another's name against your skin. sign here. the sender traces a finger over [your choice], asking you to leave a mark. desk. your most enticing assignment yet: the sender bent over your desk. handcuffs. the sender dangles the key, teasing, but you hope they take their time. window. you press the sender against the glass, watching the city watching them. harsh light. what's worse? the hangover or that you can't recall the sender's name.

[80spolaroid]

doodles done for @princelets because #obsessed

[80spolaroid]

@princelets LEFT A MESSAGE AFTER THE TONE: 04. runs fingers through their hair in efforts to soothe.

SO  THIS  IS  HOW  HE  DIES:  face  down  on  the  dirt,  body mauled  and  trembling from mind numbing pain  ---  an  inch  away  from  final  death's  doorstep,  on  the  side  of  a  middle  of  nowhere  country  road,  after  getting  into  a  brutal  match  of  strength  with  a  full  blown  insane  conspiracy  theory  believing  werewolf  when  they  had,  on  impulse,  decided  taking  a  lesser  known  route  would  be  safer  into  the  next  state.

'  they  '  being  him  and  lacroix,  the  latter  who  he  made  stay  in  the  car  while  he  dealt  with  the  tank  with  fur  that  decided  to  tailgate  them  for  ten  miles  ---  who  now  he  can  see  the  outline  of  approaching  his  prone  body  through  the  blur  of  his  muddling  vision.  the  beast  within  rages  against  its  cage,  panicking  and  thrashing:  don't  do  it,  not  like  this,  you're  better  than  this.

weakly,  sharp  nails  dig  into  the  earth  in  the  attempt  to  help  long  arms  push  his  body  up  ---  to  show  strength  he  didn't  have,  to  show  he  wasn't  an  easy  target.  only  to  be  unable  to  support  his  own  weight,  slumping  back  down  promptly  with  a  sound  akin  to  a  dog  growling.

hepburn  thinks  of  all  the  cases  of  diablerie  he's  investigated,  solved,  then  studied  the  case  files  over  time  and  time  again:  decides  here,  almost  instantly,  that  he  can't  blame  lacroix  if  the  act  is  truly  as  addicting  as  described,  and  at  the  end  of  it  all  it  was  the  nosferatu  who  truly,  knowingly,  took  the  risk.  part  of  him  wants  to  stop  fighting  against  the  weight  of  torpor  that's  rapidly  approaching  in  the  attempt  to  make  it  easier,  to  be  unaware as it happened  ---  the  more  stubborn  part  of  him  refuses  to  die  without  making direct  eye  contact  with  his  doom,  however.  has  to  watch  as  lacroix  finally  comes  upon  him,  has  to  watch  as  the  venture  crouches  down  ...  has  to  watch  as  he  panics,  flounders,  looking  at  the  freshly mangled and thankfully still  corpse  of  the  werewolf  then  back  to  the  nosferatu.

there's  no  hunger  in  his  expression,  which  hepburn  is  so  focused  on  that  he  misses  the  pale  hand  reaching  out  for  his  head  ---  lithe  fingers  tangling  in  the  thickness  of  his  hair,  trying  to  be  gentle  with  the  brittle  and  stiff  strands.  the  beast  stalls in the panic to survive,  for  once  reacting  the  same  as  hepburn  does  as  they  both  watch  lacroix's  lips  frantically  move  with  words  that  can't  be  heard  over  the  deafening  thrum  of  torpor,  that  finally  ---  almost  blissfully  knocks  the  nosferatu  out  cold. 

with  the  last recalled  emotion  he  felt being  relief. 

[unprinced]

FIFTEEN MINUTES FROM SISTERS, OREGON. Fifteen minutes from civilization, from civilization that could be razed by the wrath of a werewolf in a frenzied rage, all humanity lost. And that was the werewolf tailgating them — a werewolf in a frenzied rage, an animal who would rend the town of Sisters asunder, an animal who would rend Hepburn and LaCroix asunder. And there Hepburn lies: bloodied and bruised and face, beautiful face, in the dirt, rent asunder, the werewolf nothing more than a bloodied heap of flesh nearby, tufts of fur torn from the lupine's body by Hepburn's hands and claws dandelion clouds in the night wind. Beneath a pallid hand threading through hairspray'd, eternally purple hair, Hepburn stills. Not dead, LaCroix knows, but there's enough affection, ridiculous affection, welling within LaCroix for the Nosferatu that a panic seizes the Ventrue regardless. Torpor, and Hepburn is more human than LaCroix would ever be. Still, LaCroix is afraid. It's not without difficulty that LaCroix gathers Hepburn's gangling body into the backseat. It's not without difficulty that LaCroix retrieves a hunting knife from the trunk and splits the soft, tender flesh of the lupine's throat in two, sawing to and through the bone with gritted teeth and blood spatter until the head separates from the neck and with a sickening sound. It's hideously spiteful, beheading and desecrating the corpse. But it felt right. It felt good, the little revenge. He takes a picture with Hepburn's polaroid. A cabin outside of Salem, not too far from the city but certainly not too close, is where LaCroix settles, all two and a half meters of Hepburn carried 'cross the threshold bridal style and tucked into bed following a drip fed dinner of a blood bag. He would return the favor, in bed and curled 'round Hepburn's corpse-like form whilst Wheel of Fortune airs on the television. He would return the favor. ( He hadn't thought once of diablerie. )

[unprinced]

ㅤRE: "THAT I WAS TOO WEAK TO FIGHT BACK? TO SAVE HIM?" ㅤCC: @mkoshi.

THERE'S A PERSISTENT, PAINFUL ACHE WITHIN LACROIX'S HOLLOW CHEST. What a nuisance is it, thin blood, a pulsing, albeit weakly, heart. What a nuisance it is, experiencing half humanity after a millennia of a still, pulseless heart. But how horrifying it was millennia ago, experiencing the death of humanity, the slowing and stopping of a heart, the existence of the need to breathe, the need to sleep, the need to eat ceasing to be. The memory of Embrace is burnt into LaCroix's memory, the agony, the horror, the anguish that'd settled into LaCroix's body and bones and exists there even now. He'd been abandoned, scorned by the man who'd sired him and left to rot. Stevie had been abandoned, too, by her sire but most painfully by the death of her beloved whose blood is crusted in her engagement ring. "The only ones at fault are the foul Kindred who feed off of fear and suffering and siring childer only to abandon." LaCroix may no longer be affiliated with nor agree with most of the Camarilla's practices, but executing Kindred who forsake their fledgling childer to Final Death — that LaCroix still agrees with. He sets a tentative hand against Stevie's shoulder. "And we will find your sire and all those who participated in your Embrace and the death of your fiancé, that I promise you." As soon as LaCroix's hand settles against Stevie's shoulder, however, Sebastian's withdrawing and standing from the sofa. "First, though, you need to feed. I have blood bags," he says, walking to the kitchen. "We don't eat the Kine. We drink their blood. It is a painless, at times ... euphoric experience for the human." Walking to the kitchen, where a blood bag sits in a bain-marie. "But blood bags are a suitable substitution, if not as fresh," Sebastian, frowning, casts a look over his shoulder at Stevie still on the couch, "Come here."

[vilieldr-deactivated20260104]

@princelets, sc.

there is a carefulness to his movements as the blinds are slightly lifted. the time on his recently purchased mobile phone signifies that the evening has arrived, but out of habit, his attentiveness persists. the city continues to breathe, some might say, even more so at this hour. perhaps, that is why it is easy to simply not miss what happens in the day, when so much can occur within one night. phyre casts a glance towards his companion - it is not often that he brings another back to one of his havens. no, in fact, he has not had to entertain a guest in well over a century. he is, after all, a man who values his privacy. his skills as a host are certainly lacking, for he has not even offered the other a drink. " .. if you are thirsty, i have recently acquired a bottle of gaja barbaresco. " he decides that the means of acquiring such a delicacy is best left unexplained.

[unprinced]

"GAJA BARBARESCO — HOW FANCY." LaCroix's grinning, fangs glinting in the moonlight glistering through the windows and setting Phyre's manor aglow. A fool LaCroix would have to be to not read the innuendo, and a fool LaCroix is, well, no longer. "I'm fine, thank you. Though I may have a sample soon." No longer a fool mesmerized and enthralled by Kindred politics but forever a Ventrue with the taste of a king. A bit of a fool, then, with blood. Mesmerized and enthralled by Kindred politics, however, is why LaCroix is in Phyre's haven in Seattle: to inquire. "You're the Sheriff, yes?" LaCroix asks, legs crossed and leaning back against the sofa. He tilts his head. "Are you with the Camarilla?"

[it-holic]

Darling, what a surprise

[marmuruah]

Every time I look at my cat's reflective eyes I think about LaCroix.

[igari]

"I've met others like you, and they have always ultimately come to the same conclusion, and that is, there is no person or group on this planet they can pledge loyalty to."

[80spolaroid]

HEPBURN'S  PROBLEM  IS  THAT  HE  LIKES  INFORMATION  TOO  MUCH:  lacroix  has  information,  keys  to  closure  hepburn  didn't  think  to  demand  for  in  that  forsaken  office  after  clawing  his  way  through  multiple  floors,  knowledge  that  would  have  been  harder  to  trowel  for  if  he  left  the  venture  to  the  fire  in  that  shattered  apart  skeleton  of  a  building.  sure,  that's  what  his  problem  is  ...  that  is  what  he's  consciously  labeling  it  despite  knowing  damn  well  what  his  actual  problem  was  ---  (  kindred  with  too  much  humanity  get  killed  just  as  easily  as  those  who  let  the  beast  run  wild  )

"  you  sound  surprised.  "  the  man  in  a  monster's  body  flatly  notes,  voice  monotone  as  always  ---  though  it's  noticeably  dryer, more stiff,  now  as  he  stares  down  at  the  former  prince  with  observant  eyes  in  the  inky  darkness  of  the  room.  poor  bastard  probably  was  surprised:  he  was  out  cold  in  torpor  when  the  nosferatu  (stupidly,  insanely,  fighting  frenzy  every  step  of  the  way  as  fire  spread)  pulled  him  from  the  remains  of  venture  tower,  was  still  deep  in  unconscious  when  hepburn  held  him  though  the  cab  ride  out  of  los  angles  and  into  sausalito  and  has  stayed  barely  responsive  for  the  past  two  nights  as  hepburn  worked  from  the  same  room  for  them  both  to  simply  stay  unnoticed  ---  leaving  once  to  catch  rats  for  himself  so  that  stashed  blood  bags  could  remain  for  the  venture.

speaking  of:  knife  -  like  fingers  carefully  set  a  blood  bag  near  the  pillow  by  the  venture's  pale  head  ---  warmed  not  by  body  heat  but  from  boiled  water  in  a  pot  and  careful  seeping  after  making  sure  the  heat  wouldn't  melt  the  thin  plastic  of  the  bag.  warm  blood  energizes  better,  though  it's  not  fresh.  "  here, you look like you're about to eat yourself.  "

if not himself then certainly hepburn, knowing lacroix's track record now. though hepburn doubts the venture could even lift himself to sit up on the bed right now, let alone lunge at the much taller nosferatu.

[unprinced]

TO SAY LACROIX IS SURPRISED IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT — Had LaCroix's heart not ceased to function more than a century before, the astonishment at having survived, rescued from the burning and bombed ruins of Ventrue Towers by Hepburn's merciful hand clawed and snarled but so human, so holy, that it burnt to the touch, certainly would have caused it to fail, seize with an emotion and a fear indescribable. Had LaCroix's heart not ceased to function more than a century before, but there's a strange, foreign fluttering within a should be vacant chest. "I am surprised," LaCroix says, voice vulnerable and unrecognizable and mortifying. A caricature, a bloody caricature, of Sebastian LaCroix, all but sniveling. A caricature of a caricature. To say LaCroix is surprised is an understatement, but not so surprised that the blood bag isn't that of blood in the water to a shark. Sebastian swarms, teeth piercing and sinking into the plastic and sucking the blood almost animalistic — more animal than man, LaCroix's been for the better part of two painful centuries, being more monster than man needed to survive a cruel father and a crueler sire, to survive the streets, to survive Aloÿs LaCroix and the Camarilla. With Hepburn, LaCroix hadn't needed to be a monster. And that'd scared him more than anything. It's the plasma allowing LaCroix to sit upright in bed, blankets bunched now in an all but bare lap, briefs and an undershirt all that was left of the attire he thought he'd die for the final time in. A fine suit, he was wearing, though surely burnt and threadbare from the fire. Hepburn had undressed him because Hepburn — beautiful, beautiful Hepburn so devastatingly alive — couldn't fathom him lying there uncomfortable. He's standing, then, or trying to. "I can't be here." He hopes Hepburn will strike him down for trying to run away. He knows, dully, that Hepburn won't. He knows, too, that it's ridiculous to try to run, knees weak trembling, white knuckling the nightstand. "Why did you—?" Not leave me there?

[zeiinoviah]

a treacherous liaison

[unprinced]

LACROIX'S CANON STORYLINE —

LaCroix was, in fact, working with Ming Xiao and those who experienced the Second Breath, however LaCroix's alliance with Xiao was not with the intention of disposing of the Anarchs: LaCroix's intentions were to dispose of the primogen. Why do I say that LaCroix's intentions didn't lie with eliminating the Anarchs? LaCroix failed to enact a Blood Hunt on Nines — he contradicts himself by mentioning that "there is no Blood Hunt on Nines" while also stating, in the same conversation, that the Blood Hunt would be called off, but I believe that the Blood Hunt was discussed, not truly enacted — which would have been an easy way to dispose of the Anarchs' leader without truly bloodying his own hands, thus sending the Anarchs into turmoil. If not a Blood Hunt, LaCroix could have sent The Sheriff to deal with Nines, or perhaps even enlisted the help of the Camarilla, but he instead allowed Nines to escape and did not further pursue Nines until the end. LaCroix will inform a Fledgling with high persuasion that he was working with Xiao solely to eliminate the Anarchs, but I believe that was a lie he told to Xiao. LaCroix's end of the bargain in their alliance, so to speak. He didn't intend to follow through with what he promised, although I do think LaCroix would have eliminated the Anarchs if that were necessary. THE ANARCHS WERE NOT LACROIX'S MAIN CONCERN — THE CAMARILLA WERE. The Camarilla elders not only regarded LaCroix with contempt, but LaCroix's past of diablerie were drawing closer and closer to the surface.

Doctor Grout, after all, was aware of LaCroix's past, informed by the voices all Malkavians hear. Grout didn't dare speak LaCroix's name, but Grout did speak of LaCroix's "blackest crimes" from the past as well as from the future. Grout wasn't able to inform the other primogen of LaCroix's past, but it's likely that LaCroix's fixation on the Ankaran Sarcophagus was suspect to the other elders. THE CAMARILLA DO NOT BELIEVE IN THE ANTEDILUVIANS, believing that the Antediluvians are dead or that the Antediluvians never existed at all, and strictly forbid notions implying otherwise. Therefore, it's more than likely that the primogen in the Camarilla didn't believe that the Sarcophagus contained an Antediluvian. It becomes increasingly obvious, however, that LaCroix does, in fact, believe that a torpor'd Antediluvian slumbers within the Ankaran Sarcophagus. That in and of itself is "sacrilegious" to the Camarilla. But did the Camarilla truly believe that, if Antediluvians did exist and one was within the Ankaran Sarcophagus, that LaCroix would be capable of diablerie? No. The Camarilla severely underestimated LaCroix, and though LaCroix truly feared being found out and then put to death by the primogen, it was spite that spurred LaCroix's plan to "clean house" in the Camarilla. Time and time again was LaCroix regarded with contempt, and time and time again was LaCroix sneered at not only for his youth and his inexperience but for having been a Caitiff, abandoned and scorned by his sire, before the Tzimisce primogen took him in. LACROIX'S INTENTIONS WERE TO DIABLERIZE THE "ANTEDILUVIAN" IN THE ANKARAN SARCOPHAGUS and eliminate the Camarilla to act as the independent Prince of Los Angeles before waging war against those who experienced the Second Breath. LaCroix thought no further than this. In The Enemy of My Enemy, LaCroix asks the Fledgling to find Nines to arrange an alliance with the Anarchs. Depending on LaCrox's relationship with the Fledgling, the alliance is either proposed in earnest, if the relationship positive, or an elaborate lie if the relationship is negative. By default, LaCroix had a positive relationship with the Fledgling and, therefore, the attempt at an alliance was authentic. Most importantly, LaCroix did not set the fire in Griffith Park. ( If LaCroix's relationship with the Fledgling is negative, then, LaCroix did set the fire. ) The fire was set by Xiao's organization in response to LaCroix's betrayal, both Nines and the Fledgling intended to perish in the fire and LaCroix intended to be implicated in their Final Deaths. LaCroix calls the Blood Hunt against the Fledgling, however, by his own volition. ( To cover his own ass, of course. ) LaCroix survives the Ankaran Sarcophagus explosion and escapes, succumbing to torpor in a dark area of a sewer system he'd sequestered himself away in for a year. He never fully recovers from his injuries he sustained, blood weakened and returned to the potency it was before he'd diablerized his adoptive sire: that of a Thin-Blooded.

[phantom-threaded]

"Remember how once we were?" — Nosferatu (2024), dir. Robert Eggers

[unprinced]

#PRINCELETS. INDEPENDENT & PRIVATE SEBASTIAN LACROIX OF WHITE WOLF PUBLISHING'S VAMPIRE: THE MASQUERADE. BELOVED & BELOATHED BY SOLEIL. MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE. 21+

HYSTERICAL ( YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE ) USELESS

[ohisms]

✱ ˚｡⋆ ↪ MORBID CURIOSITY ... [ REMASTERED ] ( a collection of various original dialogue prompts centered around asking questions. adjust phrasing / gendered terms as necessary. )

give that to me! where did you find this?!

do you drink coffee or tea?

sorry– am i crazy, or have we met before?

do you trust me enough to close your eyes?

when were you planning on telling me?

at the risk of being a cliché, do you want to get out of here?

can i convince you to stay the night?

do i look like someone who knows what that means?

would you consider giving me a second chance?

do you really think that's helpful right now?

would you mind showing me around?

do you ever plan on forgiving yourself?

are you thinking what i'm thinking?

can we ... go out and do something crazy?

why are we whispering?

who exactly are you, anyways?

can't we just be civil for a minute?

does the past ever keep you up at night?

if you have nothing to hide, what's the problem?

how long has it been since i saw you last, [ name ]?

did the power just go out?

are we still doing the thing where we pretend not to care?

how should we celebrate?

can we just ... start over?

why is this so important to you?

how was i supposed to know that?!

do you want me to stay? it doesn't have to mean anything.

where are you? nobody's heard from you.

can you help me zip this up?

why do these things always happen to me?

you don't secretly hate me, right?

can i get you something to eat? –or drink?

ready to see what i've been working on?

where have you been disappearing off to?

what's that perfume you're wearing?

you're laughing?! do you really think this is funny?

are you planning to stay for dinner?

did you think it was going to be easy?

you see where you went wrong, don't you?

when did we become so cold and distant?

who are you working for?

did you really do all of this for me?

can i open my eyes yet?

haven't you heard the stories?

[ name ], what are you doing here?

what's it gonna take for you to trust me?

do you believe people can change?

how about we catch the ten o'clock showing?

don't you remember what happened last time?

why is it so unbelievable that i'd want to help you?

you're [ name ], aren't you?

who did this to you?!

how did you know i'd be here?

what's that supposed to mean?

do you think i'm irredeemable?

what kind of mess have you gotten us into?!

do you see anything you like?

what do i owe you for the food?

why won't this stupid thing work?!

does tonight really have to end?

holy shit. can you believe we really pulled that off?!

i can tell you're upset, [ name ]. what happened?

how long have you been standing there?

do you ever wish you could just ... run away?

haven't we been here before?

wait, shush ... did you hear that?

did i miss today's newsletter or something?

can we put our differences aside for a second?

what are you getting out of this, exactly?

you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?

are you willing to bet on it?

would you kill for me?

what made you think that was okay?!

do you believe people can change?

what's the worst thing you've ever done?

you were going to leave without saying goodbye?

[ name ], can you sit up for me?

can i kiss you?

where are your keys? you're not driving like this.

how's life been treating you?

where have you been?!

aren't we supposed to be alone tonight?

aw, has someone had a little too much to drink?

where are you going with this?

are we really doing this right now?

have you eaten today?

can i crash here for the night?

how did you learn to lie so well?

can i at least buy you a drink?

where should i meet you?

is that  ...  blood?!

are you trying to make me jealous right now?

what’s your problem? you're acting weird.

[ name ], you're ... real, right?

where’s your sense of adventure?

do you like horror movies?

what are you trying to prove?

can you give me a ride?

do you have any idea what you've done?

shouldn't you answer that?

why should i be the one to calm down?

have you been up all night?

why are you lying to me?

is that my [ jacket / hoodie / shirt ]?

what are you so afraid of?

do you want to grow old with me?

you’re gonna walk away from this?

are you nervous? your hands are shaking.

where am i supposed to go?

how many fingers am i holding up?

you want me to just walk away from this?

[ name ], slow down– what's wrong?!

are you embarrassed of me?

what's that smell? something's burning.

how can i make it up to you?

why can't you stay out of it?

is this some kind of trick?

come on, what do you have to lose?

do you ever still think of me?

idiot. why didn't you tell me?!

can we stop and think about this rationally?

how long has it been since you’ve slept?

what's your ideal first date?

are you ready to tell me the truth?

i almost died, and you're laughing?

what do you mean, "sort of"?

can we just stay like this forever?

when can i see you again?

can we put this behind us?

oh ... you thought of me first?

where did you learn to do that?

oh my god,  are you bleeding?!

where are you?  nobody’s heard from you.

[ name ], are you drunk?

how can i make this go away?

someone's jumpy today. are you feeling okay?

are we safe here?

what can i do to convince you?

what could possibly go wrong?

you have no idea who i am, do you?

how do you really feel about me?

why can't you look me in the eyes?

did you know you talk in your sleep?

were you following me?

can we just pretend this never happened?

are you just barely getting home?

are you even listening to me right now?!

where does it hurt?  can you show me?

are you trying to get yourself killed?!

how about we just forget the world exists?

how long have you been keeping this from me?

were you ever going to tell me?

what do you make of this?

[ name ],  what the hell?!

can we just be honest with each other, here?

are you trying to keep me a secret?

why does your story keep changing?

how long have you known?

it can't be that bad, right?

are you happy? i mean, really happy?

isn't this place amazing?

did i interrupt something?

how am i supposed to trust you?

are they still following us?

are you fucking serious?

do you remember our first kiss?

can we take a break for a minute?

how about we disappear for awhile?

you're going to walk away from this?

can you please just cut the crap?!

why didn't you tell me you were hurt?

how can i make this go away?

can you just look at me, please?

is there anything i can do to change your mind?

do you ever stop talking?

that depends. are you done lying to me?

are you sure this is legal?

how do you take your coffee?

can you keep your voice down?

why does your phone keep buzzing?