Villanelle’s reaction to finding out Eve is alive.
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@wiinglcss
Villanelle’s reaction to finding out Eve is alive.
Villanelle ➵ Killing Eve Season 3
# going into friday like…
//I’m alive admist a crisis? uwu?
Beautiful Death;; Closed
wiinglcss:
Her eyes narrowed at him, this might be tougher than she thought. One wrong statement and she could be Lucifer and his precious detective’s next suspect. So exactly why did she want to normal? Well, certainly she couldn’t lie to him; he’d catch her in an instant. However, she could probably stretch the truth a bit. Leave Jim out of the equation entirely.
“I don’t want my skin to be stared at every time I go out.” She looked away from lucifer, intentionally using a look of embarrassment to hide the fact that it wasn’t all of the reason. He didn’t need to. She sighed set her glass to her drink aside, her lips curling back into a pained smile. “How about we change the subject, darling.”
A deal with the devil was absolutely not something she wanted and she’d refrain from making one.No, she knew she’d get to where she wanted to be in live eventually. With or without Janey. And even though her desires to live normally didn’t seem to have any dark misgivings, she knew she certainly did. Maybe this was a good thing after all.
Her response had plenty of implications, but he understood why she felt the way that she did. Though Lucifer did wolf-whistle at women sometimes, he never heckled them when he saw that they were starting to get uncomfortable. As unthinkable as it was, the devil did have boundaries. He already had a heavy conscience over his past actions; he didn’t need to add to them by harassing women. But of course, people were always quick to blame HIM when they were accused of sexual harassment. It was getting annoying, really.
“Very well. What subject do you want us to discuss? Anything but science, math, and religion. I’ve had enough discussions focused on those topics to last me twenty lifetimes.” Galileo and da Vinci had been delightful companions, and he found himself enjoying Dante Alighieri’s company more than he expected. The latter ended up writing about Lucifer’s tales of Hell. Fictional tales, just to see if the author ended up using him as inspiration, and the sly fellow did. Shame that the seven circles of Hell didn’t really exist and it was just one large, dark, snow-covered wasteland filled with small ‘cells’. But it had been interesting to see how the man interpreted his descriptions.
Lenas lips pursed. Vulnerability ruined the mood, she’d have to come back to play after her next meal. Lena sighed and gracefully got up from her bar stool, brushing out her dress.
“I apologize for my sudden rudeness but I must go. Lets...” Her eyes followed up and down him while she bit her cheek. “Continue this another time. I’ll be in town all week.”
“I’ll take a cosmo, next time.” She winked at him and hummed as she readied to walk off to the bar entrance.
wiinglcss:
Lena hummed as she sipped on the cuppa, looking over the paper without picking it up. Government relations were indeed very boring, she hardly paid attention to them. Even less now that her brother was gone because James did often have work with many of them like other criminals on all levels.
There was always a separation between Lena’s criminal career and Jims. And Lena was never oblivious to it and she knew neither was James. Jim was much more high-class criminal, and enjoyed the high class life. Lena on the other hand preferred the lower class ‘scum’ criminal that always got a bad reputation. She saw a lot more honesty and value in that life than she did in the masks that Jim and his colleagues put on for one another.
“You act like that isn’t a crime in itself.” She snickered as she shoved the paper onto the floor. Sitting down onto the footstool in front of sherlock. “Fucking hate politicians”
“Never said it wasn’t. But it isn’t a crime I find interesting.” Sherlock let the paper fall to the ground and reached for his cup of tea. He hadn’t offered Lena any, but she was free to make herself one in the kitchen. He was sure there were still a few tea leaves left in the tin, unless Mrs. Hudson grabbed the rest when he wasn’t looking. He tended to space out sometimes, but not when new stimuli presented itself. “Anyone you could recommend? Even a robbery would be marvelous.”
With his mind working as fast as it did, it was easy for him to get bored with every day things. Thus, he ended up deducing things about Lena, hardly caring that she could hear him point out what he correctly observed about her based on her clothes and even the way she was sitting. The last time things had gotten this bad, he’d accidentally revealed that Mrs. Hudson’s ‘boyfriend’ actually had a with in Doncaster. At least he didn’t mention that Mr. Chatterjee had a wife in Islamabad too.
She sneered and shook her head. More like she needed a stiff drink. Politics disgusted her. However, tea would have to do. Lena hummed as she stirred the hot beverage, taking in its scent contently.
“Well, I guess I could suggest you deduce my past crimes. I know I have left a few cold cases out there if you wanna take the time to figure them out” She shrugged with disinterest. She knew Holmes almost never took cold cases, at least not to her knowledge.
“Or there’s that mugging that happened on fourth street. Was taking my own personal interest in that one cause the guy who got mugged, names Robinson. Old client of James.”
//you ever wanna talk about how fucked Lena is. Shes scared of Jim someday getting fed up with her and murdering her but she always wants to do everything she can to attempt to push him there.
//Lena singing Cant Help Fallinf In Love to Janey is tonight's mood
//I should probably get back to writing lol
feel free to change pronouns / wording !
“ hey, they’ve got some work for ya. ”
“ just follow me. ”
“ don’t try anything stupid. ”
“ uh - so you see any good movies lately ? ”
“ i don’t like this. ”
“ keep your eyes on it. ”
“ what are you, stupid or something ? ”
“ i was looking forward to punching you in the face. ”
“ i already hate my job, why are you making it more difficult for me ? ”
“ look no offence but i’ve already lost interest in what you’re talking about. ”
“ you don’t have a girlfriend, do you ? ”
“ this place seriously gives me the creeps. ”
“ holy shit - he’s dead ! ”
“ do not trust your senses. ”
“ do not trust anyone, or anything. ”
“ i need help, and medical attention too ! ”
“ is there someone else here ? ”
“ everybody just stay calm. ”
“ you’re coming with us. ”
“ oh thank god, someone actually found me. ”
“ thought i was done for a moment there. ”
“ well ? what are you waiting for ? ”
“ i wouldn’t blame you if you don’t think i look trustworthy. ”
“ i’m starting to lose my patience here. ”
“ you see ? you can trust me. ”
“ just please … don’t do that again. ”
“ unfortunately i never had any intentions of taking you with me. ”
“ oh my, yet another victim of the disease. ”
“ i’m here to cure you. ”
“ the pestilence is here, and i can sense it. ”
“ i am the cure. ”
“ do not be afraid. ”
“ we rarely get visitors down here. ”
“ there’s no need to hide, i’m here to help. ”
“ i hear you breathing. ”
“ you need my help, and i need your help. ”
“ i have no business speaking to you. ”
“ i hope the rest of them are alright. ”
“ maybe i’m just hearing things. ”
“ are you injured ? ”
“ who the hell is there ?! ”
“ what the hell are you ? ”
“ oh god, what the hell is that ? ”
“ i thought i lost you for a moment there. ”
𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔄𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔠
𝔐𝔠𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔥:
the howl of wolves. moonless nights. dirt under fingernails. stained silk. chattering teeth.voices hoarse and cracked. rotting fruit. echoing drums. dry heaving. hanging cobwebs. stifling humidity. bloodshot eyes. the roughness of rusted steel. wild rosebushes. muscle cramps. the sound of splintering wood.
𝔄 𝔐𝔦𝔡𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱’𝔰 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪:
crackling fires. ivy crawling on stone. the faint music of running water. petrichor. dirty, bare feet. tattered clothing. thistledown. wilted wildflower crowns. late evening birdsong. curling leaves. a symphony of croaking frogs. drifting feathers. the eerie sound of windchimes at night. humming bees. beds of clover.
ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔱:
warm golden lamplight. worn shoes. crumbling brick walls. whispered poetry. embroidered (cloth) satin. cool, hazy mornings. tousled hair. rosewater. flushed cheeks. distant orchestras. unfinished marble statues. cobblestone streets. loose threads. ink smudged on parchment. tapping fingers. dust illuminated by sunlight. poison vials.
ℌ𝔞𝔪𝔩𝔢𝔱:
shattered glass. a cluster of fraying ribbons. unanswered knocks on doors. lingering dampness. white noise. inexplicable drafts. migraines. bleeding ears. the taste of metal. reflected mirrors. dry, cracked lips. the sound of tearing paper. fogged windows.memories of dreams. tarnished silver. protruding veins.
tagged by: @warringpeace
tagging: @strangerinourmidst @holmestheheart @thesherrinfordwoman
me as a writer: Oh no I can’t write that, somebody else already has
me as a reader: hell yes give me all the fics about this one scenario. The more the merrier
dude get your fucking flashlight out of my face i can’t see shit
i don’t care if “my eyes are glowing” and “humans can’t do that”, turn off your fucking torch and stop screaming you idiot
mangotwistedtea:
i have a PhD in getting myself into really bad situations
#Happiness looks great on her