“ sorry we f u c k e d? ” lilith questions, a scoff evident in her words. in her voice. as if. if anything, this night, wasn’t one to regret. death rarely, deathnever regrets. wasn’t able to feel that emotion. wasn’t able to feel a vast variety of emotions. not that she expected the blonde to be aware of that. to be aware of just who she was. she had never told her. there was no way for emma to know, who she was. “ why would i be? ” she questions, turning towards the other once more, completely dressed. a grin slips across her lips. “ nothing to regret. ” she offers, mischief shining through her eyes. truth be told, she would stay if she could—- but, duty calls.

their meeting, hadn’t been by chance. it had been no accident, that she’d knocked over the blonde’s glass at the bar. these days lilith rarely left anything to fate. everything, had to mean something. “ i’ll see you again? ”she questions. no. if anything, emma would be the one to regret. would be the one to be sorry, that they met.

REGRET ?  it’s no secret she secretly possesses a list full of her life regrets, but this, this certainly doesn’t belong there. she had learned to hide behind a mask, feelings locked behind the wall of ice that she routinely presented to the world. it was easier than getting hurt and betrayed every single time, although, there had been those who didn’t let it trick them. but last night ? she had felt the most alive in god knows how long. and a part of her wants more, the part that emma tries to shut out and pretend it doesn’t exist.   

❝  will you really ? .  ❞  the blonde smiles because really, it’s okay. it’s what happens. but is it what she wants to happen ? a one night stand doesn’t have to be just one, right ?  she has nothing to lose, she decides, propped up on her arms as she lets the sheets slide down her torso, revealing nothing but pale flesh with a flirtatious glint in emma’s eyes.  ❝  maybe, this will help you change your mind ? ❞           

❥   has something ever happened for you to hate a ship? why?

*STARES AT HOW FRANCIS’ DEATH WENT DOWN IN S3*

☁   what's a fc that you refuse to play with? why?

i think i’m naturally leery of any fcs from su// pernatu //ral because the fandom is largely unpleasant. and if there is an actor i don’t like then a muse with their fc is going to rub me the wrong way, like joh// nny dep //p or mich //ael fas// sben// der. mostly just personal preferences. 

★   what type of historical au would you like to do one day?

mmmmm!! i love all kinds of historical aus, because they really hamper francis’ physical recovery of his cleft lip and he struggles with major societal setbacks. it would be interesting to have a verse where he works as someone’s secretary or works in finance of some kind, like an apprentice making a class transition, and even though his appearance and inability to talk makes people underestimate him, he’s really vastly clever.

♦   what's an au that you've always wanted?

i already did one, but i can do another and say that an au i’ve always wanted is... maybe not necessarily an au, but something that focuses on the idea of serial killers as celebrity, and how francis would react to that kind of glorification if he encountered it face to face, like if he was caught and brought to court, interviewed, and things like that.

☯   is there a muse you've always wanted to play?

          It’s more than just that which leads him back to 8 Grandage Place, though. It’s not merely her acceptance he’s after. There’s that reciprocal CARE between them; that, dare he say it, love that’s kept him grounded in a way he barely understands even now. So damn the risk and damn the consequences. Maybe it’s his trying to keep her safe that’s led them into the mess they found themselves in mere hours ago, anyway. Who says this one-time self-centred choice won’t be good for them, in the end? 

          The door groans upon opening and he notes Sembene’s absence behind them, but daren’t pay mind to it fully at present, lest he feels an itch to flee the place that houses his reason to be as well as a large portion of his guilt. The stairs creak equally, as do the floorboards of the corridor to Vanessa’s room. The threshold is crossed after he takes and holds one final breath, released only in relief upon witnessing her safe and sound in bed. She’s sleeping. He wonders how long it’s been since she’d last done so properly, and can’t help but draw in closer to witness the tranquility that now surrounds her like never before.