outofheart. Temporary url change for the holidays.
offthethrone. Everyone— lookit how great this is.
[ not gonna lie, i totally read ‘taylor swift’ on my first go over the first line]
offthethrone. —————————-… i can’t unsee it.
A red tie slipping smoothly through swift tailor’s fingers;
Steel screws sitting secure in their sockets, securing a twisted contraption around an angelic skull;
Fists clenched, clamped around a memory.
I’ve always held you too tightly.
"Oh, are you so starved for a touch that isn’t a slap that my refusal wounds you?"
She smiled and made a tsking sound. Clasping her hands behind her back, she shifted weight to one more, a more casual stance.
"I expected more from the great Crowley."
Crowley inhales through closed teeth, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth reproachfully— he shakes his head, fingers linked loosely in his lap.
"Come now, Claire. There’s no need for all this uncomfortable bitterness, is there?"
He tilts his head, his mouth closing into a knowing smile.
"We used to get along rather well."
[ She watches him for a moment, heeled boots clicking on the stone floors as she crosses her arms over her chest.]
”You’re right. We haven’t.
—-They call me Buffy.”
[ He tests the name lazily, holding the last syllable on his tongue for a beat longer than strictly necessary before grinning, one eyebrow jumping upward
—How did a charming girl like you come to know about someone as delightfully wicked as myself?”
Sam returns with an equally unimpressed look, a sweep of his gaze over the Devil’s Trap, bindings, visible status of their prisoner. No amount of eye movement can level the playing field, here.
"I’d say this is a challenge." Deliberately obtuse. Looking for confirmation it’s worth his energy to drag the chair over. "Ten names, and we can begin talking about what you were asking before: A say in meals, chances to stretch your legs, maybe even hygiene products." Lift brows expectantly. "—Or I could leave?"
Crowley shrugs, mouth set in an obstinately uninterested line.
"It’s nice to know that someone else cares about the definition of my sculpted calves as I do, Moose, but—"
His flatline lips quirk upwards in a facsimile of a regretful, apologetic smile.
"Leg stretching won’t be necessary, thank you."
Whereas I am not afraid of anything because nothing can move me,
I am terrified of you because of everything you inspire me to do.
offthethrone. Anon, pls. It’s here. I have nothing else to say in response to this message.
A small, incredulous laugh escapes his lips, and his eyes narrow as he leans forward, head tilted incrementally to the left— his mouth flattens into an unamused line, the mocking chuckle dying in his throat.
"—Is that so? Well.”
His hands turn, palms up, and gesture towards the figure, his eyes wide.
"If you’re this loyal, darling— why don’t you start gathering the kindling?
— Or, better yet, release me from these chains?"
Crowley shakes his head scornfully, sitting back in his chair, feet firmly planted on the grimy floor; he settles into it, and it might as well be a throne.
He doesn’t lower himself to respond.