RESERVOIR DOGS (1992) PROMPTS
ₓ ˚ . ୭ ˚ ○ ◦ ˚ as always, some triggering content may be present! change any pronouns to better suit your muse(s) needs! ˚ ◦ ○ ˚ ୧ . ˚ ₓ
what’s special? take you in the back and suck your dick?
she’s been fucked over a few times.
he don’t tip.
you’re acting like a first year fucking thief, i’m acting like a professional.
this is a hard job.
he probably thinks he’s a real cowboy.
stop pointing that fucking gun at my dad!
if you keep talking like a bitch, i’m gonna slap you like a bitch.
i will put fucking bullets right through your heart.
it’s a metaphor for big dicks.
all i asked was how does it go?
you’re gonna be okay.
why didn’t you throw in?
personally, i can do without her.
look, asshole, i didn’t say i ain’t heard of it.
hey, nobody’s trading with anybody!
it’s amusing, to me, to torture a cop.
he’s convinced me, gimme back my dollar!
my way or the highway, now what’s it gonna be?
it’s been quite a long time.
you gotta break that son of a bitch in two.
you kill anybody?
what the fuck was i talking about?
give me that fucking thing.
he don’t tip? what do you mean you don’t tip?
c'mon, throw in a buck!
you can say anything you want, cause i’ve heard it all before.
are you gonna bark all day, lil’ doggie? or are you gonna bite?
if you shoot me in your dream you better wake up and apologize.
was that as good for you as it was for me?
this ain’t a goddamn city council meeting you know.
you kill that man, you die next.
you put that fucking gun down, now.
i’m talking morning, day, night, afternoon: dick, dick, dick.
what was that name?
i mean jesus christ, i was worried about mugshot possibilities as it was.
have you lost your fucking mind?
give it back to me now.
i can say i definitely didn’t do it, because i know what i did or didn’t do.
i don’t tip because society says i have to.
shut up.
do you know what this is?
once she got into her “papa don’t preach” phase, i don’t know—i tuned out.
i don’t like alarms.
you have a cool sounding name.
if you wanna know something and he won’t tell you, cut off one of his fingers.
you’re making me lose my train of thought here.
we’re supposed to be fucking professionals!
she’s feeling something she ain’t felt since forever.
i’m sick of fucking hearing it, i’ll give it back when we leave.
i don’t wanna kill anybody.
i was saying something, what was it?
let’s just put our guns down, and let’s settle this with a fucking conversation.
yeah, that’s easy for you to say.
do they have a sheet on you where you’re from?
wait a minute, who didn’t throw in?
fuck all that.
there’s no need for this.
listen kid, i’m not gonna bullshit you, all right?
managers know better than to fuck around.
i didn’t create the situation, i’m just dealing with it.
i’ll tip if someone really puts forth the effort.
now he knows a.) your name, b.) what you look like, c.) where you’re from and d.) what your specialty is.
all right ramblers, let’s get rambling!
you have no idea what you’re talking about.
i’m hungry. let’s get a taco.
i found this old address book in a jacket i ain’t worn.
you’re making a terrible mistake, and i’m not gonna let you make it.
forget about it.
yeah she was nice, but she wasn’t anything special.
i don’t know what to tell you.
how many dicks is that?
is it bad?
come on, guys! nobody wants this.
excuse me for not being the world’s biggest madonna fan.
if you beat this prick long enough he’ll say he started the goddamn chicago fire, but that don’t necessarily make it fucking so.
hey. how do i look?
i tried it once and it doesn’t work.
hey what the hell do you think you’re doing?
if i gotta get out that door, and you’re standing in my way—one way or the other, you’re getting outta my way.
it’s beneath me you know, let’s move on.
tell that fucking bullshit to the tourists.
“too busy” shouldn’t be in a waitress’ vocabulary.
who cares what your name is?
whoa baby.
all you can do is pray for a quick death, which you ain’t gonna get.
for the past 15 minutes you have been droning on about names.
i don’t give a good fuck what you know or don’t know, but i’m gonna torture you anyway, regardless.
what do you mean when we leave?
god damn you! don’t make me do this!
it’s my personal favourite.
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⤳ @rubyqrtz, asked: ‹ You can make things right. ›
This ain't her style: vulnerability. It sucks to feel it, that unraveling of yourself, self-pity and guilt pulling hard at the seams with a vengeance as you sit across a man you got nothing but the utmost respect for. Admire, even. This is miserable. She tries to force a smile, bring in something of a lighter tone, but it falters near immediately as she nods. ❝ Yeah. ❞ She says, a simple word spoken meekly, which is real unlike her. ❝ Ah don't know about that, ❞ she continues, that nodding action turning to shaking, a defiance to her refusal. Hand moves to rub against her nose, a sniffle sounding out as she drags her arm across her mouth. ❝ It's been ... years. An' Ah'm still trying to make good on a past I don't think I'll ever outlive. And it's not that Ah ain't grateful, because I am. Honest, I am. It's –– beginning to feel, just, like that's all Ah am. ❞ She looks up at him with pitiful green eyes, near-pleading. ❝ Like everything Ah do is about saying sorry for what Ah did. Not even that, it's –– saying sorry for what Ah am. What if Ah'm sick of making things right? ❞ It's a weak argument; she knows she doesn't mean it. Tired of it, sure, but she wouldn't stop trying to atone for the villain she used to be for a single second.
❝ What if Ah don't wanna say Ah'm sorry anymore? ❞
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