posted 1 month ago with 31 notes

reapergrellsutcliff:

The chimes of the clock-tower counting down to the stroke of midnight ring out across the dark streets of London, to mark the arrival of the new year.

When Grell hears the first chime, he gasps, and sets out racing across the rooftops. The reaper in red hasn’t been permitted to spend his time in leisure tonight, no parties were to be had by him, he has spent all night reaping. But this moment will not be wasted if he can help it!

Grell drops down into the back-lot of the Undertaker's parlor, with only a few seconds left until midnight strikes and busts into the room that the mortician occupies.
Out of breath, he rushes up to his silver haired lover and exclaims, “Kiss me! Quick!”

The mortician is a busy man, and this night is no exception; he has had his share of guests. Luckily, he is just finishing with his last deceased one when his beloved rushes into his embalming room, grinning widely at his beloved’s exclamation. “Gladly.” Tugging off his leather gloves, he leaves them on the table next to his latest guest, dipping the redhead deeply and planting a firm kiss on those treasured lips. He has never been one to turn down such a delicious command.

posted 3 months ago with 19 notes

I'm curious, did you see the creeper kid this year?

reapergrellsutcliff:

(( *laughs* No, thank the gods! Creeper-Kid did not come around this year! XD  ))

-Click Here for Grell’s Ask Replies-

-Ask reapergrellsutcliff a question-

(Just because you did not see him did not mean that he was not there.)

posted 4 months ago with 10 notes

(It did a fourfold thing. I think this is a record, and I for one am highly amused. Apparently ravens like cigarettes, and cigarettes smell like peasants?)

posted 5 months ago with 23 notes

reapergrellsutcliff:

(( Due to the comments and remarks I keep receiving. Apparently I am supposed to be absolutely fucking perfect the very first time I cosplay a character. -_-

That was my first time cosplaying William. And my first time making William’s scythe; and yes, I realize, it is not 100% realistically accurate. There is a lot that is off about it, I could list 20 things off the top of my head right now. But considering I am not a prop-master, I had never made anything like that before, and I did it in three days; while making, sewing, and preparing 9 other full cosplays (with props and wigs). That’s the best I could do. If you don’t like it, go fuck yourself! You are welcome to do something better!

Despite that being my first time cosplaying William, I think I did a pretty good job. And if you don’t like it, that’s just too bad for you.

Making rude remarks about a cosplayer doesn’t help them; it makes them doubt themself and feel like shit. And, it makes you look like an asshole.

Congratulations. ))

image

(Ignore the haters, I was there with you and I thought you were perfection. You remember how many people told you that you were perfect? Yeah. Trust them instead.)

posted 5 months ago with 27 notes

mossmallow:

Awesome cosplay 9 (last one btw)

(Oh, look…it’s us.)

posted 5 months ago with 53 notes

Anime Banzai 2013

(So, we had a fantastic time at the con, even if we are worn out.

I found a few images of us in a group shot taken by our local Fox affiliate - they’re the liberal media in this area!

Look for the Madame Red/Grell/Undertaker/Undertaker group in the center in the first two and on the left on the last one - the Undertaker is myself and my Grell is the one to the right, you cannot see his chainsaw in these shots.

image

image

image

We had a lot of fun, and met some really awesome people - I look forward to speaking more to the ones that find me on here!)

Things only said in this house.

(Grell just exited the W.C. and asked, in all honesty, “do you think that severed arms can be put in the washing machine?”

Only in this house.)

posted 6 months ago with 20 notes

RP (for undertakertalbot)

reapergrellsutcliff:

undertakertalbot:

reapergrellsutcliff:

Grell’s eyes continue to search the Undertaker’s features for answers, especially to see the responses the other gives, the surprise in those mostly hidden eyes, and then that haunted look that falls into place as those memories are relived.

Murmuring in a whisper as his hand is moved to the scar at the other’s throat. “My precious darling..”  The red one feels his heart breaking for his beloved, to hear what he went through.. the loneliness, the exclusion, the pain. When Thomas turns his head away Grell lifts up to press a lingering kiss to the scar on the pale one’s cheek. Nuzzling him before lowering back to his normal standing height as his arms move around his lover. Wanting nothing more than to hold him, to comfort him, take away every bit of pain his beloved had to experience. “When I first saw you standing there.. I felt so curious. I felt… a synchronicity.. I felt drawn to you.  ..I couldn’t explain it. I wanted to go over to you.  I was so young then that I didn’t even realize you were a fellow reaper. I just wanted to be closer, to talk to you. I was just starting toward you when I was pulled away..” He frowns, “They knew, didn’t they? The reapers that interrupted. They didn’t want me near you, that’s really why they were angry isn’t it? It had nothing to do with me having wandered away from Will. They didn’t let William and I back into the mortal world for a month after that.” Slowly piecing things together as he recalls; or maybe jumping to conclusions, he isn’t sure which just yet. “…What would have happened if they didn’t stop me? If I had been able to approach you? That would have counted as me going to you of my own accord, wouldn’t it?”

Thomas’ arms move instinctively around his lover, needing to feel him close, finding comfort in simply having him near. How he has missed such a simple thing as contact with this cherished reaper. Eyes closing once more as he revels in simply being able to feel emotions at this deep of a level, even if they are painful ones. All too often recently the mortician has felt such hollowness, such a dreadful void, he had wondered if he were to ever feel any kind of emotion once more.

The slightest of nods is given when Grell asks if the attacking reapers knew of the geas placed against him, and if that was the reason for their anger. “Yes, they did; a group of them remained to attack me once they had taken you both back to our Realm.” A humourless smile moves into place. “None of them returned to report back.” He lifts a hand to smooth it over Grell’s hair, sighing softly against it. “We would not have spent the last century apart, my sweet, and I would have fewer scars - or at least different ones.” He shakes his head a bit. “Barton had powers over his cronies even then, and that one’s puppet master still pulls the strings to keep many reapers in full hatred of me.”

Grell’s embrace of his lover tightens. Feeling so protective of him, needing to be near the Undertaker just as badly as the ancient reaper needs to feel him near. Fingers flex in the silvery locks that trail down the mortician’s back. “I… I am so sorry, my beloved. Because of what you went through.. what they did to you. But also, I am sorry that I hesitated.. that I didn’t move to approach you faster.” He frowns, “I didn’t understand then who you were, even though I felt some perplexing emotions. I wish I wouldn’t have waited. I wish I would have made the decision to go over to you sooner.” Not taking into account that the others probably would have tried to stop him regardless of when he decided to approach that day. “You might not have been attacked if I was near you, because you didn’t move to check.. I would have. I could have been in your arms sooner, I could have eased your loneliness so much sooner.” Also not realizing that even if he had been able to greet the retired reaper that day, it doesn’t mean he would have remembered him, it would have been just like striking up a conversation with a stranger. Because even now he still doesn’t remember the life they once had together. He only knows what he feels, and the things he has been told. “Thomas, you have never deserved any of this. You are such a beautiful soul, and I love you so entirely. The way you have been treated.. it’s absolutely deplorable that anyone would dare to do this to you. And it’s all because of William and I; we didn’t intentionally provoke it, but we are the cause of it.” He gives a frustrated sigh. There is just such a melange of deep emotions moving through him, many of them stemming from memories he can no longer consciously access. He knows this mess isn’t directly his own fault. But he doesn’t know how else to express this except to be sorry for it. To be sorry that horrible and cruel shinigami even exist at all to inflict this upon others that were doing nothing to deserve it.

Thomas presses another kiss to his lover’s hair. “Shh, little one. What is in the past is finished; regret and ‘what ifs’ will solve nothing. What was is past, and what is is all we have. Live with me in the now, please. I have spent far too much time living in the past without you that I wish to not waste a moment of now with you.” Letting his fingers play over Grell’s hair as he speaks. Another slight smile moves into place, unseen by his lover, as Grell speaks of his having a beautiful soul. “Perhaps one day I will become the man you see me as.” He sighs and shakes his head. “None of the blame is with either of you; there are long standing jealousies and ones involved that are imbalanced, even for our kind. Even if the two of you had never been created, they would have targeted any that I created that earned greater favour from me than they.” Twining a lock of crimson around slim fingers as he continues, “those at fault have had more than long enough to try and absolve their sins; their days are now limited. All I ask is for a little more patience as we finish the final details before our plan is put into motion. It will not be long now.”

posted 7 months ago with 68 notes

The escapee… (for undertakertalbot)

reapergrellsutcliff:

undertakertalbot:

reapergrellsutcliff:

Leaps and flutters, that is the way Grell’s heart responds when the Undertaker gifts the pale skin of his hand with that tender kiss. So quickly he melts for this beautiful and ancient man. That lovesick expression plays easily upon his face as he smiles up at his beloved.

He enjoys the way Thomas desires his touch, how he invites these loving gestures, instead of pushing the redhead away as so many others have done in the past. “My heart is bound to yours, willingly so. Its beat is kept by the rhythm of your own.” One hand remains on the mortician’s cheek, as the other rests upon his lover’s chest. “You could no sooner be lost to me, than I to you. ..It was only a matter of time before I was in your arms again. And the idea that you have waited for me, for all this time.. it’s more beautiful than any storybook I’ve ever read!”
Grell’s smile widens, these romantic little moments mean worlds to him. He has always craved a love like this.

The red one’s smile drops to a perplexed sort of expression seconds later, seemingly without provocation. Still watching his lover, searching his face as if he is trying to solve a puzzle. When he speaks his voice is soft, “I saw you. ….It was you.. wasn’t it?”  His fingers flex against the Undertaker’s cheek. “It was about a week after I had graduated from the Academy. William and I were out reaping together, and something drew me away from him.. a sound.. or something like that, something that made me curious enough to wander off. Then I saw him, a man on the rooftop of the building across an alley from the one I was standing on. The man had long silver hair that was pulled back.. he was beautiful.. but he was looking at me as if he had seen a ghost.” His fingers glide from the others face, into those soft and silvery locks. “He then smiled at me, I smiled back… and I was about to go over to him.. But I was swarmed by reapers from our Library. They were angry, yelling, and shoved me through a portal that took me back home. William was soon to follow. They were furious at me for having left my partner’s side, and punished me for it; which made William angry at me as well because he had to endure it along with me.” He shakes his head, the look in his eyes becomes imploring. “That man I saw.. He didn’t..” He moves fingertips back to the retired one’s face to tentatively touch along the scar that crosses his features, “He didn’t have a mark on his face that I can remember. Was it you?”

Thomas continues to watch Grell with that loving expression as he speaks of their bound hearts and souls; if only the redhead knew just how true he was on that account. Nuzzling Grell’s palm with his lips before turning to look fully at him again, he murmurs, “I have many faults, my lady; however, if this existence has taught me anything, it is the value of patience. I would wait any eternity it took to have you returned to me. As beautiful as books, and the stories contained within them, are, I would much rather live my happiness with you than experience it vicariously through the words or life of another.”

His expression changes as quickly as the redhead’s does; his moods as mercurial, curious, as the other’s. A look of gentle wonder moves into place, surprise brightening his hidden eyes. “I did not think that you remembered.” He falls quiet for a moment, gaze moving to rest on nothing in particular as he recalls the past. “I paid little attention to much of the world around me after I lost the two of you. If I sensed another reaper about, I would follow them. I suppose I was lonely for the world I had lost and sought some sort of familiarity, some distraction and feeling of where I had spent so many centuries.” He sighs and continues, “one of those times it was partners I watched from the shadows, and they spoke of this new reaper named William, and his flame-haired companion. When they mentioned your name…I almost gave myself away. I think my heart must have stopped at that very moment.” A wistful smile plays along his features, giving them an almost haunted expression. “I knew then that I had to find you, to see you for myself. Then to see the both of you…out reaping together…so familiar, yet so different from the little birds that I had shared my reaper life with… I think my heart broke again that day.” His eyes close behind his fringe, remembering. “I still had my glasses then, they had not been broken. I wore them more out of habit than anything, I suppose. The others had tried to take them away with my scythe…but they haven’t succeeded to this day. Heh.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I knew that you had seen me, and if I had had any wits about me, I would have disappeared as I saw your gaze move to me. However…you two have always been my weakness, and I could not turn away. Especially not when you smiled at me. How I had missed your smile. It made my heart start once more. I so wanted to rip you both from that lot’s clutches, but I was forbidden proactive contact with any shinigami, lest harm come to you.” His eyes open and lower, head turning to gaze at a coffin nearby, unseeing. “No, my face was unmarked then. The ones that stole you from me only left me with this as a memento of that experience.” He lifts a hand to guide Grell’s from his cheek to the scar at his neck. “My other scars would come later, from other attacks to attempt to kill me, or at the very least, take my scythe.”

Grell’s eyes continue to search the Undertaker’s features for answers, especially to see the responses the other gives, the surprise in those mostly hidden eyes, and then that haunted look that falls into place as those memories are relived.
Murmuring in a whisper as his hand is moved to the scar at the other’s throat. “My precious darling..”  The red one feels his heart breaking for his beloved, to hear what he went through.. the loneliness, the exclusion, the pain. When Thomas turns his head away Grell lifts up to press a lingering kiss to the scar on the pale one’s cheek. Nuzzling him before lowering back to his normal standing height as his arms move around his lover. Wanting nothing more than to hold him, to comfort him, take away every bit of pain his beloved had to experience. “When I first saw you standing there.. I felt so curious. I felt… a synchronicity.. I felt drawn to you.  ..I couldn’t explain it. I wanted to go over to you.  I was so young then that I didn’t even realize you were a fellow reaper. I just wanted to be closer, to talk to you. I was just starting toward you when I was pulled away..” He frowns, “They knew, didn’t they? The reapers that interrupted. They didn’t want me near you, that’s really why they were angry isn’t it? It had nothing to do with me having wandered away from Will. They didn’t let William and I back into the mortal world for a month after that.” Slowly piecing things together as he recalls; or maybe jumping to conclusions, he isn’t sure which just yet. “…What would have happened if they didn’t stop me? If I had been able to approach you? That would have counted as me going to you of my own accord, wouldn’t it?”

Thomas’ arms move instinctively around his lover, needing to feel him close, finding comfort in simply having him near. How he has missed such a simple thing as contact with this cherished reaper. Eyes closing once more as he revels in simply being able to feel emotions at this deep of a level, even if they are painful ones. All too often recently the mortician has felt such hollowness, such a dreadful void, he had wondered if he were to ever feel any kind of emotion once more.

The slightest of nods is given when Grell asks if the attacking reapers knew of the geas placed against him, and if that was the reason for their anger. “Yes, they did; a group of them remained to attack me once they had taken you both back to our Realm.” A humourless smile moves into place. “None of them returned to report back.” He lifts a hand to smooth it over Grell’s hair, sighing softly against it. “We would not have spent the last century apart, my sweet, and I would have fewer scars - or at least different ones.” He shakes his head a bit. “Barton had powers over his cronies even then, and that one’s puppet master still pulls the strings to keep many reapers in full hatred of me.”

posted 7 months ago with 68 notes

The escapee… (for undertakertalbot)

reapergrellsutcliff:

undertakertalbot:

reapergrellsutcliff:

Grell has never had much of a reason to try to understand the process, workings, or intentions of the Undertaker’s bizarre dolls. Though he listens to what is explained, since he did ask about them.

Despite how much his beloved enjoys creating bizarre dolls, and collecting them, the red reaper still doesn’t like them.  …He respects the mortician’s interests in them, but zombies are not something Grell thinks he will ever look on in fondness. .. Disembodied reanimated head-in-a-box excluded.

The redhead’s life has never been ‘normal’ in comparison to most; but ever since he took on a relationship with this handsome silver haired man, his life has become even more out of the ordinary, absurd, and surreal than he ever dreamed it would before. Abnormality has become normality; and at least it is never boring when this mischievous retired reaper is near!

Grell giggles, shaking his head as he looks to the muttering Lawrence. “You certainly seem to be doing very well for yourself in attracting the fairer sex. Most men have to go out to meet a lady, it seems you have them calling on you instead!”
His attention is brought back to the Undertaker, smiling wide with the way his lover laughs. True laughter from this cherished reaper is something he will never tire of hearing.

With hands still gloveless his touch finds it’s way to the other’s scarred cheek, just a loving caress, smiling up at his owl. “It is a good thing I am highly opinionated then.” He grins, “I would hate to have you lose interest in me.”

Lawrence’s lips twitch in what might pass for a grin in one with more flesh and control over muscle, but he seems pleased by Grell’s comment, and the redhead’s attention in general. He makes a cheery sort of gurgle in response to Grell’s compliment, seeming to be in as good of a mood as one could hope, seeing what he is.

The mortician’s gaze to Grell is warm behind his fringe, slim fingers flexing where they rest on the swell of his lover’s hips, his wide grin unmistakeable and, for once, genuine; not the kind he keeps on around mortals, the one meant to keep them at an arm’s distance. Leaning into that craved touch before turning his hand to place a gentle kiss on Grell’s palm, he murmurs, “I could never dream of doing such a thing, my lady. I am far too enamoured of you to ever do so.”

Leaps and flutters, that is the way Grell’s heart responds when the Undertaker gifts the pale skin of his hand with that tender kiss. So quickly he melts for this beautiful and ancient man. That lovesick expression plays easily upon his face as he smiles up at his beloved.
He enjoys the way Thomas desires his touch, how he invites these loving gestures, instead of pushing the redhead away as so many others have done in the past. “My heart is bound to yours, willingly so. Its beat is kept by the rhythm of your own.” One hand remains on the mortician’s cheek, as the other rests upon his lover’s chest. “You could no sooner be lost to me, than I to you. ..It was only a matter of time before I was in your arms again. And the idea that you have waited for me, for all this time.. it’s more beautiful than any storybook I’ve ever read!”
Grell’s smile widens, these romantic little moments mean worlds to him. He has always craved a love like this.

The red one’s smile drops to a perplexed sort of expression seconds later, seemingly without provocation. Still watching his lover, searching his face as if he is trying to solve a puzzle. When he speaks his voice is soft, “I saw you. ….It was you.. wasn’t it?”  His fingers flex against the Undertaker’s cheek. “It was about a week after I had graduated from the Academy. William and I were out reaping together, and something drew me away from him.. a sound.. or something like that, something that made me curious enough to wander off. Then I saw him, a man on the rooftop of the building across an alley from the one I was standing on. The man had long silver hair that was pulled back.. he was beautiful.. but he was looking at me as if he had seen a ghost.” His fingers glide from the others face, into those soft and silvery locks. “He then smiled at me, I smiled back… and I was about to go over to him.. But I was swarmed by reapers from our Library. They were angry, yelling, and shoved me through a portal that took me back home. William was soon to follow. They were furious at me for having left my partner’s side, and punished me for it; which made William angry at me as well because he had to endure it along with me.” He shakes his head, the look in his eyes becomes imploring. “That man I saw.. He didn’t..” He moves fingertips back to the retired one’s face to tentatively touch along the scar that crosses his features, “He didn’t have a mark on his face that I can remember. Was it you?”

Thomas continues to watch Grell with that loving expression as he speaks of their bound hearts and souls; if only the redhead knew just how true he was on that account. Nuzzling Grell’s palm with his lips before turning to look fully at him again, he murmurs, “I have many faults, my lady; however, if this existence has taught me anything, it is the value of patience. I would wait any eternity it took to have you returned to me. As beautiful as books, and the stories contained within them, are, I would much rather live my happiness with you than experience it vicariously through the words or life of another.”

His expression changes as quickly as the redhead’s does; his moods as mercurial, curious, as the other’s. A look of gentle wonder moves into place, surprise brightening his hidden eyes. “I did not think that you remembered.” He falls quiet for a moment, gaze moving to rest on nothing in particular as he recalls the past. “I paid little attention to much of the world around me after I lost the two of you. If I sensed another reaper about, I would follow them. I suppose I was lonely for the world I had lost and sought some sort of familiarity, some distraction and feeling of where I had spent so many centuries.” He sighs and continues, “one of those times it was partners I watched from the shadows, and they spoke of this new reaper named William, and his flame-haired companion. When they mentioned your name…I almost gave myself away. I think my heart must have stopped at that very moment.” A wistful smile plays along his features, giving them an almost haunted expression. “I knew then that I had to find you, to see you for myself. Then to see the both of you…out reaping together…so familiar, yet so different from the little birds that I had shared my reaper life with… I think my heart broke again that day.” His eyes close behind his fringe, remembering. “I still had my glasses then, they had not been broken. I wore them more out of habit than anything, I suppose. The others had tried to take them away with my scythe…but they haven’t succeeded to this day. Heh.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I knew that you had seen me, and if I had had any wits about me, I would have disappeared as I saw your gaze move to me. However…you two have always been my weakness, and I could not turn away. Especially not when you smiled at me. How I had missed your smile. It made my heart start once more. I so wanted to rip you both from that lot’s clutches, but I was forbidden proactive contact with any shinigami, lest harm come to you.” His eyes open and lower, head turning to gaze at a coffin nearby, unseeing. “No, my face was unmarked then. The ones that stole you from me only left me with this as a memento of that experience.” He lifts a hand to guide Grell’s from his cheek to the scar at his neck. “My other scars would come later, from other attacks to attempt to kill me, or at the very least, take my scythe.”

posted 7 months ago with 68 notes

The escapee… (for undertakertalbot)

reapergrellsutcliff:

undertakertalbot:

reapergrellsutcliff:

That look of surprise and curiosity remains upon the redhead’s features when the situation is further explained. This just becomes more and more odd. “I see…” His expression turns thoughtful, obviously trying to make sense of a situation that is probably better left alone. “Your bizarre dolls have no conscious thought process.. only hunger? … Then how does Lawrence,” He pauses, glancing to the disembodied head-in-a-box, “No offense, dear.” Lifting his gaze back to the Undertaker, “How does Lawrence manage a .. preference in women, or is it a sense of hunger as well?”  Grell never thought he would one day be concerned over whether or not he was offending a zombie..

He smirks then, when the mortician’s little joke hits him, “Oh, you are droll.” He laughs softly, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t be attracted to a woman without a brain, hm? .. I think most of us can agree with that. Even if the reason of interest in a lady’s mind may differ..”

The mortician only becomes more amused by the moment at how very perplexed Grell is by Lawrence’s adventures, the other having long since ceased being simply one of the former reaper’s experiments - most of the others destroyed by his own hands or the hands of others - and is simply now his friend, albeit a rather strange one. He never was quite like the mortician’s other dolls; possessed of a singular personality and awareness that the undertaker had never been able to replicate quite to the same degree. However, he always did enjoy having his odd friend around, and enjoying hearing of his adventures, as preposterous of the notion of world-traveling bon vivant disembodied, reanimated head seemed. “Some are more aware than others, I am still perfecting the process. It much depends on what kind of person they were in life; we all have hungers, some simply learn to control them. Some are controlled by them. It is the same for the dead.” He looks over at Lawrence, still grinning. “I think he simply enjoys the company of the fairer sex, present company included. He’s never shown any desire to go find food on his own, or eat anyone in particular. If I offer him something, he won’t turn it down, but in many ways it seems that he hungers more for their company than for simply meat.” Laughing heartily in response to Grell’s comment about his joke; he finds himself quite humourous, thank you very much! “Indeed. A woman that doesn’t think for herself doesn’t hold any interest to me.”

As for Lawrence, he doesn’t seem offended in the slightest, his jaw working, his lips moving slightly as mumbles come from him, perhaps talking to himself, much like his creator has a wont to do.

Grell has never had much of a reason to try to understand the process, workings, or intentions of the Undertaker’s bizarre dolls. Though he listens to what is explained, since he did ask about them.
Despite how much his beloved enjoys creating bizarre dolls, and collecting them, the red reaper still doesn’t like them.  …He respects the mortician’s interests in them, but zombies are not something Grell thinks he will ever look on in fondness. .. Disembodied reanimated head-in-a-box excluded.

The redhead’s life has never been ‘normal’ in comparison to most; but ever since he took on a relationship with this handsome silver haired man, his life has become even more out of the ordinary, absurd, and surreal than he ever dreamed it would before. Abnormality has become normality; and at least it is never boring when this mischievous retired reaper is near!

Grell giggles, shaking his head as he looks to the muttering Lawrence. “You certainly seem to be doing very well for yourself in attracting the fairer sex. Most men have to go out to meet a lady, it seems you have them calling on you instead!”
His attention is brought back to the Undertaker, smiling wide with the way his lover laughs. True laughter from this cherished reaper is something he will never tire of hearing.

With hands still gloveless his touch finds it’s way to the other’s scarred cheek, just a loving caress, smiling up at his owl. “It is a good thing I am highly opinionated then.” He grins, “I would hate to have you lose interest in me.”

Lawrence’s lips twitch in what might pass for a grin in one with more flesh and control over muscle, but he seems pleased by Grell’s comment, and the redhead’s attention in general. He makes a cheery sort of gurgle in response to Grell’s compliment, seeming to be in as good of a mood as one could hope, seeing what he is.

The mortician’s gaze to Grell is warm behind his fringe, slim fingers flexing where they rest on the swell of his lover’s hips, his wide grin unmistakeable and, for once, genuine; not the kind he keeps on around mortals, the one meant to keep them at an arm’s distance. Leaning into that craved touch before turning his hand to place a gentle kiss on Grell’s palm, he murmurs, “I could never dream of doing such a thing, my lady. I am far too enamoured of you to ever do so.”

posted 7 months ago with 68 notes

reapergrellsutcliff:

pumpkinsandmonsters:

Pumpkin Chipotle Cream Pasta Sauce

Undertaker! We need those serving utensils! <3

You think so, m’dear?

reapergrellsutcliff:

pumpkinsandmonsters:

Pumpkin Chipotle Cream Pasta Sauce

Undertaker! We need those serving utensils! <3

You think so, m’dear?

viα crimesandkillersJack the Ripper is the best-known name given to an unidentified serial killer who was active in the largely impoverished areas in and around the Whitechapel district of London in 1888. The name originated in a letter, written by someone claiming to be the murderer, that was disseminated in the media. The letter is widely believed to have been a hoax, and may have been written by a journalist in a deliberate attempt to heighten interest in the story. Other nicknames used for the killer at the time were “The Whitechapel Murderer” and “Leather Apron”.

Attacks ascribed to the Ripper typically involved female prostitutes from the slums whose throats were cut prior to abdominal mutilations. The removal of internal organs from at least three of the victims led to proposals that their killer possessed anatomical or surgical knowledge. Rumours that the murders were connected intensified in September and October 1888, and letters from a writer or writers purporting to be the murderer were received by media outlets and Scotland Yard. The “From Hell” letter, received by George Lusk of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, included half of a preserved human kidney, supposedly from one of the victims. Mainly because of the extraordinarily brutal character of the murders, and because of media treatment of the events, the public came increasingly to believe in a single serial killer known as “Jack the Ripper”.

theshinigamiwilliamtspears:

reapergrellsutcliff:

Grell has to focus considerably to calm his fits of giggles enough to be able to hear what the Undertaker has to say, in reply to all the questions that were presented to him. His breathing remaining heavy for a short time from the exertion of laughing; but mostly because he is trying to stop those humorous hysterics from happening all over again.

"Heavens! My heart goes out to the reapers that had to make do without any corrective lenses at all." Distraction is a good tactic to keep from laughing, when he focuses on this segment of the conversation.  "I understand that if it’s all you know, and don’t have any other option, that it wouldn’t seem abnormal. …But I fear that I would get lost trying to cross the room, and poor William wouldn’t even make it two steps out of bed!" More giggles spill forth. Grell’s own eyesight is quite bad, but he knows that William’s is much worse; and he enjoys teasing their hawk on any topic whenever he gets the chance.
His expression turns thoughtful as he regards the direction of Thomas’ voice. “This must be why you don’t find it to be too abnormally difficult to go about without any glasses at all; when like the rest of us, you could no doubt benefit from them.”

Grell looks a bit shocked with what his grey owl goes on to say concerning his past, the beard Thomas apparently had, and the remark about women; which makes the red one instantly picture the bearded lady in the circus sideshow.  Grell doesn’t even want to think about himself with facial hair, let alone any of the women that work at their Library, that is just too damn weird! …And then those same mental images of before come creeping back to him, and he cannot contain the humor he finds in the whole situation. Laughter carrying in his voice as he speaks, “I am glad you came to that decision, my darling. I enjoy being able to see your handsome face.”  Ignoring, once again, William’s annoyance in the things he says or does.  “The only reapers I can think of now that have any sort of facial hair are Pops and Slingby. ..Ronnie once tried to grow a goatee, about fifteen years ago.” Another explosion of giggles, as Grell flail-fans himself with his hand, trying to calm to continue what he has to say. “Lets just say he wasn’t very successful.. and it didn’t look as good on him as he expected it to.” He snickers, “I shaved it off of him one night while he slept.”

What the Undertaker states in reply to William causes near immediate silence in the redhead. Looking quite intrigued, and emotionally touched to hear this. He just stares at the blur that is his silver haired lover for a long moment to let the notion of this sink in, before looking up at William as a wide and loving grin splits his features.  “Aww… William~!” He squirms some more in the supervisor’s lap, as he makes these odd little pleased whining sounds. “You -do- love me!” He turns to wrap his arms around the dark haired man as he leans to nuzzle happily against the side of Will’s neck.  Another joyous whine is exhaled, when as predicted the red one’s mind burbles with more questions. His speech now slightly muffled since he doesn’t bother to sit up when asking, “Was William my Death?..  When I was mortal, was he the one to reap me?  Ooh! That would be so romantic!!”

Asking such questions almost feels as if he is asking about someone else’s dream.  As far as he and William know, the first soul their reaped was that of the young writer boy, and they had reaped him together.  But in another ‘life’, so to speak, the existence he and William had before their memories and records were tampered with, they had a much deeper connection.

William scowls even more when the redhead in his lap dares to tease him about his own poor eyesight. It is no secret, but it doesn’t mean that he enjoys being a resource for humour. Grell is testing his patience at being allowed to remain so near him. His jaw clenches, speaking through his teeth in reply to the Undertaker in a flat tone, doing his best to ignore Grell’s remarks. “More tea would be lovely, thank you.”

The supervisor’s high annoyance that is nearing anger is disrupted momentarily when Grell recalls the event of Ronald attempting to grow facial hair. He doesn’t comment on it, but he is silently thankful that the red one took matters into his own hands and forced the blonde to be rid of that fashion statement. He cannot even imagine the younger reaper looking that way, nor does he want to. Not reacting to the Undertaker’s own little teasing remarks on the topic. Though it would be odd enough to imagine his creator looking that way as well.

William resumes his quiet brooding, or at least he intends to, that is until Thomas makes that remark on the past that William himself has no recollection of. His eyes widen slightly behind rectangular framed lenses. He has been told before by the retired reaper that he, in those forgotten bygone moments, had shared a close relationship with both of these reapers near him now. That he had a hand in Grell’s development as a new reaper. But, he hadn’t entirely realized just how involved he had been; to actually be the one to select Grell’s soul, and to assist in his creation. That is a very personal position to hold.

The hawk becomes lost in his own thoughts as he stares at the silver haired one across from him. Only jolted away from the inner workings of his own mind at this high pitched sounds Grell is making. He looks to the redhead when he feels those eyes upon him; the way Grell is looking at him makes William wish that the smaller reaper wasn’t presently in his lap. He would brace himself if he only had time. But before he can stop it from happening Grell is clinging to him. His body goes rigid, and he is unable to stop the blood from rushing to the pale skin of his face with the way Grell is nuzzling his neck.  He has no idea how to react to this, what he should say, or even do.  So he resolves to just sit there, being tense and uncomfortable, not breathing.

Thomas simply appears amused as Grell continues to laugh and wiggle, always pleased to see his lover happy, even if it is at his own expense this time. He is far too old to mind such things at this point. Smiling idly at the commentary. “You do not miss what you have never had, my lady. We might be a fair amount ahead of the human world with some of our technology, but up until fairly recently, all of us, human and reaper alike, had to make do with what sight we had, relying on memory when our eyes failed us.” A soft chuckle. “It is true that our hawk’s eyesight has always been poor, but you must remember, he is quite a bit older than you, and as such, his eyesight is that much worse, as mine is worse than his.” He shrugs. “He has not let that stop him; he is still one of the most distance-accurate reapers I have ever seen. Most need to be quite close to their target to land a blow, but he has honed his distance skills admirably.” He sets his beaker down upon the coffin and uncrosses his legs as he continues, “I find eyeglasses useful, of course, but I cannot allow them to be a crutch. I would rather rely on skills that cannot be taken from me; I had my glasses broken in battle once, and it was part of why I lost something very important as a result.” Not mentioning what or who that could be. “I vowed then that I would stop relying on them and learn to trust my other senses, since you cannot lose what is a part of you.” He chuckles and lifts the end of his braid, toying with it idly as he muses. “It just seemed the thing to do at the time. One of the things that we can do to be able to judge humans with impartiality is to stay with one foot planted in their world, and to change with the times. Beards fell out of favour, and drew more attention than we needed. One needs to blend in with humans, not stand out, So, I shaved.” He shrugs. “It matters little to me otherwise.” He lifts hidden brows in mild amusement at Grell’s renewed giggle-fit over his partner’s inability to grow facial hair. Truly, he finds more to smile about at Grell’s pleasure in it than the situation itself, which is something he hardly has an opinion on.
He smiles again to see Grell climbing into their hawk’s lap, and the inevitable annoyance that crosses William’s face when the redhead does so. It is both humourous and sad, really, that one that craves contact so very badly fights that very need. However, that is his William’s way now, to fight what he needs and desires, to deny himself even the admittance of the need for it. Does he think it makes him weak? Perhaps. However, it does make the supervisor’s rare displays of affection all the more treasured. Moving to prepare more tea for William, enjoying the quiet surprise from the other at his little revelation; he always enjoys being able to catch the surly reaper off-guard, to catch those flashes of his actual personality in those nanoseconds before the wall rises again, and the dark-haired reaper becomes a proverbial statue as Grell clings to him. Not looking up, the mortician murmurs, “for heaven’s sake, mon faucon, just breathe and put your arms around him. He’s not going to try and eat you or strip you at the moment. He just wants your affection.”