But still I am Lady☆Death

Hello~! My name is Grell Sutcliff. Grim Reaper by day, actress by night, and lady all the time. And soon, I'm going to be an angel. Don't believe me? Just watch. ((Indie AU-ish RP blog for Black Butler's Grell Sutcliff. Open to crossovers, multiverse, OCs, etc.)) “Dialogue.” Action. «Written.» ((OOC.))

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

[angeltodiefor]

Grell gave her a baffled look. She thought people were good? What different lives angels lived from reapers. “People have little sparks of good in them,” Grell conceded. “Although the sparks only really serve to illuminate all their evil.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Eventually they all die.”

In contrast, Grell was far from naive. She’d passed through outrage at human nature before she’d even died, moved into jaded cynicism afterwards, and over the past century had taught herself to live somewhere between amused and apathetic. Only a few things could sincerely break through her façade now. Things like children and young lovers.

[angelic-mess]

Charity’s life before rebirth was very happy until her dying days. She had a father, and a mother, and two other siblings that were older than her. The only bad thing that ever truly happened to her was the day of her death. She didn’t think about it much, as her soul was generally light and happy. “What brings you to the—? What is the word?” She swallowed, becoming frustrated when her words escaped her and only Arabic filled her mind. “Ah! What brings you to the market?” She spoke slowly, regaining that huge smile that dimpled her cheeks.

She wanted to know so much more about her. Everything fascinated her, but it wasn’t everyday she came across someone like her. “There are lovely things here–so much life.” She squinted her eyes in happiness, cheeks rosy. She still had the behavior of a human, as she was human a very short time ago.

[angeltodiefor]

“A snack.” Grell held up her little packet of meat. (Blood was beginning to soak through the wrapping. Grell preferred her food raw.) “And I like looking at the finer things for sale. But they’re a bit out of my price range.” A wistful sigh.

“What about you? I don’t suppose your kind need to eat, do they?” Grell knew, of course, that reapers needed sleep and occasional food, and that demons didn’t sleep and only ate souls; but she knew far less about the needs of angels. Most sources she’d found claimed that angels could eat bread, but didn’t say if they needed to, much less whether they ate anything else.

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

[angeltodiefor]

“Charity Abel. A pleasure.” Grell was grateful for the Western name–there was no way she’d be able to remember the Arabic name.

“Yes… it is rough.” She glanced past Charity at the humans hurrying by–the men with their eyes pointed purposefully forward, the occasional woman forced to stay close to her male escort or else to keep her gaze lowered–and for a moment, she scowled bitterly. She had to drag her gaze away from the humans. “That never changes.”

[angelic-mess]

No one could properly pronounce her Arabic name when she came to London, so she decided it would be best to pick out a new name. She didn’t put too much thought into a deep meaning or incredible story behind her name. She just thought the way the English vowels and letters blended together when she said it was satisfactory.

She didn’t understand why people treated each other so terribly. Granted, she was to new to her angelic form to know of the evils of human. She had known them as a human, but she had forgot about them when she was reborn. She did not truly know of hatred, war, or crimes. She only knew of beautiful things like children and young lovers. She didn’t even notice the looks of discust she got at times for being a non-white woman walking alone without a male escort.

“At least almost all people are good, right?” Her eyes sparkled, still so innocent and untouched by the hand of reality. She really enjoyed talking to her, as she seemed like a personality she could get along with with.

[angeltodiefor]

Grell gave her a baffled look. She thought people were good? What different lives angels lived from reapers. “People have little sparks of good in them,” Grell conceded. “Although the sparks only really serve to illuminate all their evil.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Eventually they all die.”

In contrast, Grell was far from naive. She’d passed through outrage at human nature before she’d even died, moved into jaded cynicism afterwards, and over the past century had taught herself to live somewhere between amused and apathetic. Only a few things could sincerely break through her façade now. Things like children and young lovers.

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

[angeltodiefor]

What an unworldly angel, to not recognize a reaper when she saw one. Perhaps she’d never been sent to the human realm before? But, she’d called Grell miss–and that immediately put her on Grell’s good side. “I’m a grim reaper. London division.” Would she know what “grim reaper” meant? She didn’t seem to be fluent in English yet. “I… take dying souls from their bodies.”

Hah–so this angel was ambitious. Grell understood that. She smiled again–this time more genuinely, her threatening teeth less prominent. “I’m hoping for a promotion myself. If you ever need any help while you’re here, feel free to ask for me. I’ve been in London longer than you. And us working ladies have to stick together, you know?” If this angel was here on official heavenly business, then she was no threat to the reapers. Fallen angels were trouble; but true angels and reapers all ultimately worked for the same boss. Helping each other would be mutually beneficial. “My name’s Grell Sutcliff. Yours?”

[angelic-mess]

“In Arabic I am called Halah-Najem Awad, but– please call me by—Western name; Charity Abel.” So this was a grim reaper? She had only seen a few, but she was far to intimidated by them to speak to them. She wasn’t very experienced in anything at all really. She was reborn only as a young adult, and she never truly left Heaven until this mission. She was perfectly happy watching over the small cherubs and the elderly, but spying was not her thing.

“Good to meet–you, Grell Sutcliff. Yes, us women need to stick together. It is rough out here for us in this world.” She had seen all the misogyny in the human realm against women, which wasn’t present in the Overworld. She desperately wanted to join the women’s suffrage for the right to vote…even if angels took no interest in human politics.

[angeltodiefor]

“Charity Abel. A pleasure.” Grell was grateful for the Western name--there was no way she’d be able to remember the Arabic name.

“Yes... it is rough.” She glanced past Charity at the humans hurrying by--the men with their eyes pointed purposefully forward, the occasional woman forced to stay close to her male escort or else to keep her gaze lowered--and for a moment, she scowled bitterly. She had to drag her gaze away from the humans. “That never changes.”

[micavel-deactivated20210724]

id rather be vain than learn to hate myself again

[angeltodiefor]

cruentus-anima started following you

“Hello, Bassy~” Blows a kiss.

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

[angelic-mess]

Charity was trying very hard to listen to her words, attempting to make sense of each word she said in English. 

“I–like England. The people here are fun to look at.” Her words were broken down, but they had improved in the weeks she had been here. She was sent down to spy on the demonic activity occuring in a certain household in England. As it turned out, Charity was a terrible spy. She didn’t want to give away her true identity just yet, so she went for little detail. “I am from Jordan. I am here for…business.” This was not a lie.

[angeltodiefor]

“Fun, hmm?” Grell glanced out over the crowds. “… You grow tired of watching eventually.” She took the angel’s elbow and guided her to the side of the road, so they wouldn’t be in all the pedestrians’ way. It was hard to hold a conversation when people kept walking into you.

Jordan, huh? Grell had never even heard of the place. Her knowledge of world geography was limited. (For all she knew, maybe “Jordan” was a neighborhood in heaven.) “Business. Sent by your boss?” She glanced pointedly upward, making clear that she knew exactly where her “boss” was located. “I’m usually in London on business, myself.”

[angelic-mess]

She was refering to Jordan the country in the Middle East, where she was from before she became on of the angels. When Grell had pointed up, she became aware that she was on to her. Being as naïve as she was, she took it upon herself to trust this supernatural being. “Oh-? What is it that you do, Miss?” She was constantly afraid that she would insult someone, as they had very different customs in the culture she was from. Heaven was a great place for her, because she didn’t need to learn English. In the human world, she would have to learn the vernacular of the people.

“I was indeed sent by–a boss. I have a lot off bosses, but one day I want to be a boss…” Her eyes twinkled with youth, still having ambition.

[angeltodiefor]

What an unworldly angel, to not recognize a reaper when she saw one. Perhaps she’d never been sent to the human realm before? But, she’d called Grell miss--and that immediately put her on Grell’s good side. “I’m a grim reaper. London division.” Would she know what “grim reaper” meant? She didn’t seem to be fluent in English yet. “I... take dying souls from their bodies.”

Hah--so this angel was ambitious. Grell understood that. She smiled again–this time more genuinely, her threatening teeth less prominent. “I’m hoping for a promotion myself. If you ever need any help while you’re here, feel free to ask for me. I’ve been in London longer than you. And us working ladies have to stick together, you know?” If this angel was here on official heavenly business, then she was no threat to the reapers. Fallen angels were trouble; but true angels and reapers all ultimately worked for the same boss. Helping each other would be mutually beneficial. “My name’s Grell Sutcliff. Yours?”

[angeltodiefor]

Castle Landorla. What a beautiful future hotel.

Too bad it seemed like the construction site was cursed. Everything from reports of ghosts to accidental deaths among the workers. It was a pity. Grell hoped the construction wouldn’t be delayed forever. She loved the idea of being able to someday spend a night in a castle as part of a luxury hotel experience; maybe with an elegant ball thrown for the hotel guests; maybe with a handsome man sharing her suite… ♡

But she was getting ahead of herself. Castle Landorla wasn’t a hotel yet, and Grell wasn’t here on vacation. She was here to collect the soul of a dead worker.

And maybe earn herself some extra credit.

Ghosts were the bane of the Grim Reaper Dispatch–souls that had escaped during the reaping process, fleeing with their cinematic records and messing up the reapers’ files. There was a Dispatch branch specifically devoted to finding and apprehending ghosts, but all reapers were encouraged to catch them if possible. And rumors among the humans claimed that two of the most notorious escaped souls in the history of the London Division, King Edward and Prince Richard, were hiding in Castle Landorla. If Grell could capture even one of them… oh, that could go a long way toward repairing her damaged reputation.

Which was why, instead of continuing straight on to her next target after reaping the worker, she was roaming the empty halls of the castle, glowing green eyes searching eagerly for any sign of the royal specters.

[richardofshrewsbury]

The little prince in question was roaming the halls as well. He had them all memorized, for centuries of nothing but exploring each small room and every long hallway had its perks.

The kept the skull cradled under his arm and he took a break, sitting down on the floor and leaning against the wall, shutting his eyes as if wanting to take a nap.

He did not like naps as much as he did before.

It had been in his sleep that the mean men had broken in.

The ghost’s eyes fluttered open again, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flash of red down the hallway. He stood up, holding the skull close to himself, both for protection and in protection. He stood his ground, not wanting to get any further towards the stranger.

[angeltodiefor]

Grell almost passed the hall, when she saw a glimpse of color, and turned to look. Well. That certainly wasn’t a worker. Her eyes shone eagerly in the low light as she approached.

“Well, hello there,” she cooed. Based on his size, that was definitely a child. If he was one of the two ghosts Grell was looking for, that would make him Richard rather than Edward. He definitely was a ghost, though. They had a glow about them, and they smelled different from humans. “What’s your name~?”

[richardofshrewsbury]

The little boy shrank away from the grim reaper. He could tell by her eyes that she wasn’t a friend. She towered over him in stature and that made him scared witless.

“H-hello,” the ghost prince returned. 

“M-my name’s Richard… a-are you one of the mean workers who wanna take our house away?” the ghost questioned, knowing full well that Grell had other intentions.

[angeltodiefor]

Yes! One down! That was easier than she’d expected. Honestly, at this point she didn’t even need to speak to him anymore–all she had to do was get her scythe and get to work.

But she looked at his face, and hesitated. The idea of pointing a big, motorized blade, at the face of that sweet child… Grell always, always had trouble reaping children. But usually the children were sick, or injured, or suffering, where killing them was a mercy. And usually they weren’t looking at her.

So instead of doing what she knew she was supposed to do, she knelt down in front of the ghost, so she didn’t tower over him, and said, “No, I’m not one of the workers. My name’s Grell.”

[richardofshrewsbury]

The little boy looked up at her, his lips parting into a surprised ‘o’ as she knelt down before him. He then smiled, a smile that stretched across his tiny face and he giggled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Grell! I’m glad you’re not one of the mean workers who wanna break our stuff.”

The little boy then frowned.

“B-but your eyes… they’re scary…”

[angeltodiefor]

Richard smiled, and Grell's cold, ice-pierced heart immediately melted. "It's nice to meet you too." She shouldn't have talked to him. Now she really couldn't reap him. "Oh--my eyes? They're just like lanterns. They light up so I can see in the dark."

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

As far back as Ancient Greek times, there have been stories of tolls paid by the dead to their psychopomps. It was said that a coin should be left in the mouths of corpses, to pay the ferryman who rows souls from the world of the living to the world of the dead. While there was no actual fine for crossing death’s threshold, there was some truth to the myths.

Grim reapers totally steal their targets’ pocket change.

Post-mortem pick-pocketing wasn’t a very profitable enterprise, but it did give reapers some pocket change. Today, Grell had spent hers at a butcher’s shop, buying a hunk of raw pork. Just something to gnaw on as she wandered the streets of London, peering in the shop windows, longing for the things she couldn’t afford.

She was gazing longingly at a jewelry store–there was a fabulous ruby necklace that she was never going to afford–when from the corner of her eye she noticed something… interesting.

“Hmm…?” She turned to look. Yes… that woman there. She looked human, but any reaper could tell she was of divine stock. What was she doing on earth? Was she another fallen angel here to make trouble?

Grell wrapped up the uneaten portion of her bloody snack, and quietly trailed after the angel. If London was about to have angel trouble again, she should report it to Dispatch. If nothing else, William would be grateful of the head’s up before they were inundated in more overtime.

[angelic-mess]

Charity enjoyed going to the market place often. It was a rarity if she bought anything, but she truly didn’t come for the canary yellow dresses or the rows of red apples that were quite pleasing to the eye. She came to look at all the humans, or to people-watch as she liked to call it. She would listen to them chatter, missing large parts of their conversations. Her English wasn’t the best, but she became very proud when she learned new words.

That day, nothing was out of the ordinary at first. She was still getting used to this European culture, so foreign from the Arabic culture she was born and raised into. No one caught her eye as usual; a few familes, some women gossiping, little boys running around with a scruffy dog…and a woman with the longest, reddest hair she had ever seen.

Normally, she would pass many pwople a day and never give them more than a glance, but there was something different about that red-haired lady. Though as a lowly guardian angel, her senses were rather weak. However, she didn’t seen human. Not even in the slightest.

Charity was trying her best to stay away from divine beings. She had just been recently reborn as an angel, so she wasn’t to far away from human. The divine beings she had met so far were too much for her.

“May—May—I assist you?” Charity managed to say, her thick accent very hard to understand. She seemed to be following her. Hopefully, she was harmless.

[angeltodiefor]

Grell hadn’t quite meant to catch her attention just yet, but she supposed it was inevitable. “I was wondering how a foreigner such as you is getting along in England.” She smiled widely, making no attempt to hide her sharp teeth. “You’re not from around here, are you?” More than one meaning to her words. “What brings you to London–business or pleasure?”

[angelic-mess]

Charity was trying very hard to listen to her words, attempting to make sense of each word she said in English. “I–like England. The people here are fun to look at.” Her words were broken down, but they had improved in the weeks she had been here. She was sent down to spy on the demonic activity occuring in a certain household in England. As it turned out, Charity was a terrible spy. She didn’t want to give away her true identity just yet, so she went for little detail. “I am from Jordan. I am here for…business.” This was not a lie.

[angeltodiefor]

"Fun, hmm?" Grell glanced out over the crowds. "... You grow tired of watching eventually." She took the angel's elbow and guided her to the side of the road, so they wouldn't be in all the pedestrians' way. It was hard to hold a conversation when people kept walking into you.

Jordan, huh? Grell had never even heard of the place. Her knowledge of world geography was limited. (For all she knew, maybe "Jordan" was a neighborhood in heaven.) "Business. Sent by your boss?" She glanced pointedly upward, making clear that she knew exactly where her "boss" was located. "I'm usually in London on business, myself."

[angeltodiefor]

“Oh, don’t look so sour, Bassy dear. I’ll treat you better than that little boy ever did. Much better~♥”

[butleriblis-deactivated20171123]

“I beg to differ. Being with you doesn’t sound better than anything else in this world.”

[angeltodiefor]

"Oh, come now. Is that any way for a butler to speak to his new master? What happened to your famous butler aesthetic?"

[angeltodiefor]

Castle Landorla. What a beautiful future hotel.

Too bad it seemed like the construction site was cursed. Everything from reports of ghosts to accidental deaths among the workers. It was a pity. Grell hoped the construction wouldn’t be delayed forever. She loved the idea of being able to someday spend a night in a castle as part of a luxury hotel experience; maybe with an elegant ball thrown for the hotel guests; maybe with a handsome man sharing her suite… ♡

But she was getting ahead of herself. Castle Landorla wasn’t a hotel yet, and Grell wasn’t here on vacation. She was here to collect the soul of a dead worker.

And maybe earn herself some extra credit.

Ghosts were the bane of the Grim Reaper Dispatch–souls that had escaped during the reaping process, fleeing with their cinematic records and messing up the reapers’ files. There was a Dispatch branch specifically devoted to finding and apprehending ghosts, but all reapers were encouraged to catch them if possible. And rumors among the humans claimed that two of the most notorious escaped souls in the history of the London Division, King Edward and Prince Richard, were hiding in Castle Landorla. If Grell could capture even one of them… oh, that could go a long way toward repairing her damaged reputation.

Which was why, instead of continuing straight on to her next target after reaping the worker, she was roaming the empty halls of the castle, glowing green eyes searching eagerly for any sign of the royal specters.

[richardofshrewsbury]

The little prince in question was roaming the halls as well. He had them all memorized, for centuries of nothing but exploring each small room and every long hallway had its perks.

The kept the skull cradled under his arm and he took a break, sitting down on the floor and leaning against the wall, shutting his eyes as if wanting to take a nap.

He did not like naps as much as he did before.

It had been in his sleep that the mean men had broken in.

The ghost’s eyes fluttered open again, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flash of red down the hallway. He stood up, holding the skull close to himself, both for protection and in protection. He stood his ground, not wanting to get any further towards the stranger.

[angeltodiefor]

Grell almost passed the hall, when she saw a glimpse of color, and turned to look. Well. That certainly wasn’t a worker. Her eyes shone eagerly in the low light as she approached.

“Well, hello there,” she cooed. Based on his size, that was definitely a child. If he was one of the two ghosts Grell was looking for, that would make him Richard rather than Edward. He definitely was a ghost, though. They had a glow about them, and they smelled different from humans. “What’s your name~?”

[richardofshrewsbury]

The little boy shrank away from the grim reaper. He could tell by her eyes that she wasn’t a friend. She towered over him in stature and that made him scared witless.

“H-hello,” the ghost prince returned. 

“M-my name’s Richard… a-are you one of the mean workers who wanna take our house away?” the ghost questioned, knowing full well that Grell had other intentions.

[angeltodiefor]

Yes! One down! That was easier than she'd expected. Honestly, at this point she didn't even need to speak to him anymore--all she had to do was get her scythe and get to work.

But she looked at his face, and hesitated. The idea of pointing a big, motorized blade, at the face of that sweet child... Grell always, always had trouble reaping children. But usually the children were sick, or injured, or suffering, where killing them was a mercy. And usually they weren't looking at her.

So instead of doing what she knew she was supposed to do, she knelt down in front of the ghost, so she didn't tower over him, and said, "No, I'm not one of the workers. My name's Grell."

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

As far back as Ancient Greek times, there have been stories of tolls paid by the dead to their psychopomps. It was said that a coin should be left in the mouths of corpses, to pay the ferryman who rows souls from the world of the living to the world of the dead. While there was no actual fine for crossing death’s threshold, there was some truth to the myths.

Grim reapers totally steal their targets’ pocket change.

Post-mortem pick-pocketing wasn’t a very profitable enterprise, but it did give reapers some pocket change. Today, Grell had spent hers at a butcher’s shop, buying a hunk of raw pork. Just something to gnaw on as she wandered the streets of London, peering in the shop windows, longing for the things she couldn’t afford.

She was gazing longingly at a jewelry store–there was a fabulous ruby necklace that she was never going to afford–when from the corner of her eye she noticed something… interesting.

“Hmm…?” She turned to look. Yes… that woman there. She looked human, but any reaper could tell she was of divine stock. What was she doing on earth? Was she another fallen angel here to make trouble?

Grell wrapped up the uneaten portion of her bloody snack, and quietly trailed after the angel. If London was about to have angel trouble again, she should report it to Dispatch. If nothing else, William would be grateful of the head’s up before they were inundated in more overtime.

[angelic-mess]

Charity enjoyed going to the market place often. It was a rarity if she bought anything, but she truly didn’t come for the canary yellow dresses or the rows of red apples that were quite pleasing to the eye. She came to look at all the humans, or to people-watch as she liked to call it. She would listen to them chatter, missing large parts of their conversations. Her English wasn’t the best, but she became very proud when she learned new words.

That day, nothing was out of the ordinary at first. She was still getting used to this European culture, so foreign from the Arabic culture she was born and raised into. No one caught her eye as usual; a few familes, some women gossiping, little boys running around with a scruffy dog…and a woman with the longest, reddest hair she had ever seen.

Normally, she would pass many pwople a day and never give them more than a glance, but there was something different about that red-haired lady. Though as a lowly guardian angel, her senses were rather weak. However, she didn’t seen human. Not even in the slightest.

Charity was trying her best to stay away from divine beings. She had just been recently reborn as an angel, so she wasn’t to far away from human. The divine beings she had met so far were too much for her.

“May—May—I assist you?” Charity managed to say, her thick accent very hard to understand. She seemed to be following her. Hopefully, she was harmless.

[angeltodiefor]

Grell hadn't quite meant to catch her attention just yet, but she supposed it was inevitable. "I was wondering how a foreigner such as you is getting along in England." She smiled widely, making no attempt to hide her sharp teeth. "You're not from around here, are you?" More than one meaning to her words. "What brings you to London--business or pleasure?"

[angeltodiefor]

Window-shopping.

As far back as Ancient Greek times, there have been stories of tolls paid by the dead to their psychopomps. It was said that a coin should be left in the mouths of corpses, to pay the ferryman who rows souls from the world of the living to the world of the dead. While there was no actual fine for crossing death's threshold, there was some truth to the myths.

Grim reapers totally steal their targets' pocket change.

Post-mortem pick-pocketing wasn't a very profitable enterprise, but it did give reapers some pocket change. Today, Grell had spent hers at a butcher's shop, buying a hunk of raw pork. Just something to gnaw on as she wandered the streets of London, peering in the shop windows, longing for the things she couldn't afford.

She was gazing longingly at a jewelry store--there was a fabulous ruby necklace that she was never going to afford--when from the corner of her eye she noticed something... interesting.

"Hmm...?" She turned to look. Yes... that woman there. She looked human, but any reaper could tell she was of divine stock. What was she doing on earth? Was she another fallen angel here to make trouble?

Grell wrapped up the uneaten portion of her bloody snack, and quietly trailed after the angel. If London was about to have angel trouble again, she should report it to Dispatch. If nothing else, William would be grateful of the head's up before they were inundated in more overtime.

[yuzupool]

enough

i’ve got to take a stance on this shit because ugh

Keep reading

[nukesakus]

incredible. I can’t believe this

[angeltodiefor]

((what the f u c k))

((this is the frigging TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY, why is this even still an issue??)

[angeltodiefor]

((for the record, £72 in 1889 would, today, be worth about...))

((Grell is hella thirsty.))

[butleriblis-deactivated20171123]

“Why in the heavens am I sold to a shinigami?”

[angeltodiefor]

“Oh, don’t look so sour, Bassy dear. I’ll treat you better than that little boy ever did. Much better~♥”

[hisfeat-blog]

#eXCUSE YOU IM A FREE MAN I CAN DOOO WHATEVER I WANNA DOOOOOOO#but yes i am loyal to u #just u <3333 accept my undyING LOYALTY before i eat your soul

[hisfeat-blog]

butler up for sale

Pros: he can make people hurt you cry, perfect, charming looks, bakes cakes Cons: asshole-ism and eats your soul before you die

[angeltodiefor]

Yes hello Grell is willing to bid £72, Madam Red’s old coat, and a list of sixteen morbid jokes that will probably make Undertaker laugh.

[hisfeat-blog]

£72. BEGINNING WITH £72 AT STAKE. ANY MORE WILLING TO BID? NO? Good.

     SOLD.

[angeltodiefor]

That’s the best money Grell’s ever spent.

[hisfeat-blog]

#eXCUSE YOU IM A FREE MAN I CAN DOOO WHATEVER I WANNA DOOOOOOO#but yes i am loyal to u #just u <3333 accept my undyING LOYALTY before i eat your soul

[hisfeat-blog]

butler up for sale

Pros: he can make people hurt you cry, perfect, charming looks, bakes cakes Cons: asshole-ism and eats your soul before you die

[angeltodiefor]

Yes hello Grell is willing to bid £72, Madam Red’s old coat, and a list of sixteen morbid jokes that will probably make Undertaker laugh.