#demon-madam

[asktheredreaper]

♠~?

"Hello~!" Grell sang as he strolled in easily into the room, without a care for knocking or volume.

"How are you today, love...."

His voice trailed off when his ears picked up upon the sound of heavy gasps of air, and immediately his eyes wandered curiously to the unkept bed.

How violently red her face was, almost as shocking a hue as her disheveled, scarlet hair, or her deepest red lips, parted as she greedily consumed the oxygen about her. 

His own face flushed at the indecent state of his dear companion, and a black-gloved hand cupped around his own gasping breath, though he felt a slight smirk creep up upon his cheek.

And so they stood in silence, now entirely aware of the other's presence, and Red Death had the sudden urge to laugh.

demon-madam

[asktheredreaper]

omfg

you did not!

I can't even!

[asktheredreaper]

Shut up~

(oh my god, you horrid creature XD) 

The lady doth speaketh too much!

At least this was what the blood red grim reaper thought.

Her words made his scarlet locks sag in agony at hearing such vile syllables roll from her tongue.

The lady doth speaketh too much!

Didn’t she have enough?

Enough talk, enough words, no more words.

Madam, I beg you!

The lady doth speaketh too much!

And so a kiss placed upon her gentle lip.

And still none too gentle was he with his own.

A bloody kiss upon her crimson lip.

Not anything near a holy palmer’s touch.

Such a kiss was simply too much!

Palm to palm could not be touched so,

Without the dear pilgrim’s hand smashing through the other!

And cry would the sisters, faint would the mothers!

Whoever could stand to view such a folding of hands,

As of a folding of lips such as this here, now?

A hand at her back, and it cradled her still,

How long could this lips’ embrace last until?

With gnashing teeth and severing claws.

A touch so violent it deserves applause.

And perhaps a pause?

But none was known to the lady and lady’s man.

He who held her close against himself, as he felt her in his hand.

(how did this happen…? O.o)

[cinematicbureaucrat]

✉~?

Message "✉" to me, i'll shuffle my itunes songs, and i'll tell you what our song is.

Bubblegum Bitch

[i-dont-particularly-love-it]

[Hello!]

xclaude-faustusx

clawedbutler

demon-madam

cinematicbureaucrat

cassidy-slingby

victoria-bailey

grell21love

sebastian-the-demon-michaelis

"D'you think the Earl will make us clean up after all you lot?"

[Welcome new followers! I decided to kill a couple of birds with one stone and make this big list! 

It's totally not because I'm too in awe to approach you and thank you properly. }

[clawedbutler]

❤

{Infrequently, but very roughly. There’s lots of biting involved. Depending on the other person, he may also feel inclined to show devotion through some amount of asskissing (only if the other is a female demon.)}

[thewatchdogswife]

Mourn Me

"Lady Elizabeth, Madam Red has been murdered." 

It had been a month since Elizabeth heard those dreadful words, yet the sorrow still hadn’t eased. Aunt Angelina was like a second mother to her: she had always been around, playing with her and Ciel in the manor’s gardens, taking them out for strolls down to the docks and to the markets.

She loved her aunt, and her aunt loved her back.

As she’d done the past few weeks, the young lady visited her gave that now stood alongside Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive’s. So much loss. Why did everyone have to keep leaving? She missed them all so much. She wanted life to go back to how it was, where the lot of them would waste a day away laughing and having fun. There was none of that now.

Sadness pricked at her heart like the thorns of the rose she carried. The delicate red flower soon was given a home on top of the dirt where Angelina now rest underneath. "Here you are, auntie."

She didn’t weep. She once read that it was silly to mourn ones’ death if they’ve gone to Heaven. Why grieve when they’ve moved on to a better place from earth? Since the funeral, where Ciel had arrived with a red dress in tow, Elizabeth no longer wore black.

A life should be celebrated, even after its passing. She thought her aunt would like that; to be remembered for her love, passion and life, not her untimely death.

Elizabeth didn’t wear black that day, there at her grave. She wore a red dress. One that matched the feelings she felt so dearly for her aunt.

"I love you."