#hearkeningheartstrings

outinspace. oh my god this is gorgeous -- im -- holy shit

offthethrone. Ahem.

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: igojdsriosjofeoiseugojf. PLS. rsojgoe.

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: Really.

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: They can just--

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: get rid of the-- "strings".

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: And it'd still work.

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: Hellishheart.

outofheart. /--...Trying on a new url for size; let's see if I like the fit and feel of it.

♥ — What does ‘love’ mean to them? 

His smirk falters, and Crowley’s thoughts stumble over the word—

                   his bruised admiration of family members long dead and his quiet affection for things that he should not covet clash in his mind, warring for space, barely cloaked by suffocating red smoke. 

He composes himself before his mocking expression can drop, and the uncomfortably confused furrow in his brow disappears.

"A glass of something expensive and strong— that comes close enough."

♦ — What is one thing about them that they are most proud of?

He trails a hand down his tie, gaze flicking upward nonchalantly as he considers, taking his time— there’s a long list.

"I’m delightfully wicked, aren’t I?” He grins, slipping the tie through his fingers, his thumb brushing the fabric absent-mindedly. “I’ve been told that it’s charming.”

❄ --  Favourite season and why?

"Autumn, if you must know."

Dark, dank streets— leaves rotting underfoot, mingling with the smell of the rain— the promise of a coming winter, and the chill that never left his bones when he sat at the back of his shop, fingers stiff and cramped around a needle.

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: Crow.

cяοwℓ̶є̶y̶: You are great. I don't actually have anything to say-- I just felt like sending that.

sαɱαηd̶r̶i̶e̶l̶tɧα: Pllls.

Well— I’m lonely like you’re lonely,

(but it’s only ‘cause it’s thrown me),

like it’s thrown you; I don’t own you,

And my darling— you don’t own me.

[ We/ll/. It’s /true/. ]