#grellrot

[deathlymemoirs-a]

|I ✝ I|  @grellrot  |I ✝ I| Closed Starter

Cold wind whistled through the trees, leaves rustling in its wake && the loose ends of his overcoat stirring right behind him like something that was half-alive. And out the distance he stared, features partly lurking beneath a hood of shadows projected by long, unruly ashen bangs, nothing short of the ordinary for him.

❝ You’re alone. ❞ The Undertaker claimed. So suddenly did he speak that even the ravens stirred from their perches on top of gnarled ironwoods, some cawing in protest -- oh how dare he disturb the silence? -- others taking off in flight. ❝ Why are you alone? Mm~? ❞ This time, the male only half-pivoted to the source of the sound -- the scuff of heels crunching gravel beneath -- && flashed other a knowing smirk.

[umbradevore]

@grellrot

Mortals were easy to give into desire, their wants becoming needs and needs becoming wants. This was something many that lived the way of immortality learned in their time. In the end the more malicious of creatures tended to abuse this fact, making mortals go deeper down their personal rabbit holes. Today was no different. The last of a once proud noble family had been trying to demand a desire of power, getting it before soon being snuffed out by the creature they made a deal with. The last of these nobles getting their neck snapped by a clawed hand grabbing by the throat.

“It is amusing how far people will go to get what they desire, no matter what cost comes soon after. Forgive whatever mess you saw coming in here...I tend to get messy when many don’t pay the dues.” The stranger spoke rather loudly at the halls of this silent home, sensing someone was in here with him. The sound of breathes made out of tubes would echo the halls, as the stranger gave rasped breaths while he spoke out.

[mezzo-amato]

                       @grellrot

    Extravagance. 

     Rather, the illusion of extravagance. Being sent here was all to keep up a front on his father’s end, under the guise of his father wanting only the best for his son. ‘You know,’ he had said, his hand hot and heavy on the back of his neck as he talked to his delicate, thin featured wife, ‘I only want the best for our oldest son and England currently has the best.’

     He hadn’t even spoken English. Not until he was thrown onto the ship with the English sailors and sent off. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to his mother. He hardly had time to press a kiss to her check as she hugged him before his father practically kicked him onto the deck the moment a syllable of Japanese passed his lips. When he had finally arrived on English shores, the arrangements for his arrival were so hastily made that he spent a full night on the docks before his escort had finally shown taken him to the school where he was to stay?

     And all for what? Because he had found his father with another woman? An ugly sort of woman who had enough money to get fashionably fat, he hadn’t seen why his father would have been between her thighs rather than his own wife who was still a very young looking woman. Yet it had caused such a stir that now he can’t even be at home with his sisters and brothers and his mother, and instead he’s in some school learning greek and latin and mathematics and whatever nonsense when he can hardly conjugate English.

     The boys who know him have been taking to dumping water on him lately, scrubbing at his face and arms with rough cloths, mocking the fact that his skin looked constant speckled with grime and dirt thanks to his freckles. It wasn’t his fault he had more spots then a leopard, but they were making it his fault. He’s just gotten away from them, once again, trying to find an isolated spot on the grounds where he can dry off. 

     He tries shaking out his hair to get it to dry back to the darkish brown it normally was, noticing to late that there was someone else rather close by, the auburn color of their hair catching his eye as he shook out his own.

     “Ah, Scusami. sei bagnato?”

     He bites his cheek for a second, before trying again, slowly and in a hesitant voice.

     “Pardon, are you dripping?”

[swxrdsheath-blog]

@grellrot liked for a starter!

Demons and reapers never got along and although Hannah liked to think of herself as the expection to many of the demon sterotypes, she wasn't any different in this way. So when faced with the appearance of a reaper, it was no surprise that she was weary.

The last thing she wanted was a fight and though she was decently strong, it wouldn't be so easy to defend herself against one of their kind.

"What are you doing here, reaper? You should have no business here."

[deathlymemoirs-a]

@grellrot |I ✝ I| continued because somebody is totally not an enabler and feeds my mind with evil notions over discord 

It wasn’t that he minded her being vocal, but there was an underlying eroticism to the way such suggestive sounds would squeeze past her throat in the form of raspy moans whenever his hand seized hold of her neck, constricting it as if to take control not only of the situation, but also of her intake of oxygen. Initially, that had been to quiet her down some, should they ever happen to get intimate in places where others could hear, though with time, a habit began to grow.

❝ What was that, love~? ❞ A husky whisper dripped in her ear, thick && hot with desire. The so called second round she’d been this prepared to start on had been denied her. ❝ Mmm...? ❞ He pressed on, her body now trapped between the wall && his form, from which heat radiated like he was the sun && stars amidst the cold && the damp. Hand seized firm hold of her ass from the flank, fingernails sinking into the fine layer of fabric as his pelvis had taken to a pattern of slow, measured thrusts grinding his front against her backside, clothes && all.

[krupnick]

® from grellrot!

Send Me A Symbol For A (Fluffy) Starter! || @grellrot / @asherwritesSend me “®“ for your muse to hug mine

So quietly had the reaper snuck up on the songstress, who sucks in a deep breath as she rises to the tips of her toes, practically levitating off the ground and right into Grelle’s embrace. Like a jack rabbit, that doodle heart races around the toon’s ribcage wild and untamed, settling only when she recognizes the scarlet locks pouring over her shoulders. 

WHEW.

“Ms. Sutcliff.” Jessica sighs in quiet relief, an arm coming to rest over the other’s. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you again?”

[michaeliism]

“In German, we don’t say ‘I love you’. We say ‘sterben’, and I think that’s beautiful.” (grellrot)

@grellrot

Grell had a talent of saying things so confidently that they would nearly fly past him. Nearly. Maybe if he was a little bit more distracted, he would’ve just let it slide. Sebastian currently had his brows furrowed as he was focused on whipping the batter of tonight’s cake; the young master was putting on a ball tonight (rather against his will, but throwing it nonetheless), and of course he waited until the last minute to request the most extravagant cake he could think of, and of course it was in his orders to take things one step at a time like a human.

“Hmm.” He glanced up to her for a moment, before he started pouring the fluffy batter into the readied pan. When did she even enter the manor, let alone the kitchen? “And when did you start taking German?”

[gcdlsskxng-a-blog]

@grellrot liked for a starter

    Of all the people to have shown up out of nowhere & through the window, it just had to have been Grelle. The child rolling his eye at the dramatic entrance from the other as well as the boisterous shout of her arrival. If anyone could make their presence known, it was definitely the red reaper clad in his deceased aunt’s coat draping off the reaper’s arms--far too small to fully fit her bigger frame. A comment he could make about the other in general, but chooses to stay tight lipped about the whole thing, no need to dig old things when it was already long since over & dealt with.

    “The door. Use it.” He said within seconds & crossed his arms.