Novel & Cerita Reaper Sans Fanart

I can see the wheels turning in her pretty little head. “I accept the offer for being Crazy’s photographer. I am also willing to help with any graphic designs or art that is needed.” She answers. “Ok, I can respect that. I will have a contract written up for the other two offers. I need official paperwork.” I reply.

“Leave me alone, leech, I'm busy.” “How dare you!” She stormed away. Samael huffed. “Women. Bane of my existence.” “You ruined my date!” I yelled. “Is there anything you won't interfere with? My love life? Track practice? Even my driving isn't safe from you.” He smiled lopsidedly. “No one's-” he belched unattractively, “-safe from the Reaper.” He motioned to Puck, who disdainfully removed himself from the nymph's embrace.

“This is suicide, Isabella. Let me come with you.” “No.” I checked the gun in my waistband and the knife in my boot. “He said alone. If you show up, he’ll blow the clinic with Damien still inside. I won’t risk that.” Rico cursed under his breath. “At least wear the tracker.” I nodded. Lena slipped it into the collar of my jacket without a word, her eyes red from crying. “Bring him back alive,” she said quietly. “We need our Reaper.” I didn’t answer. I just walked out.

You’ve got that right, she thought to herself. Piper moved, readjusting on her feet, and Ru continued to scroll down the page. One of the pictures caught her eye, and she stopped. The face she was looking at was male, but he was lovely—perhaps the most symmetrical she’d ever seen, with soft eyes and full lips. There was a haunted look behind his eyes, a sadness, and even though it was just a charcoal drawing, Ru couldn’t help but wonder if the artist had actually seen this face before; it looked so real. She began to read below the drawing. “Thanatos, Death incarnate. One of many demons who walk the Earth searching for souls to collect. Otherwise known as The Grim Reaper. There are many who

The hard face, overgrown with prickly bristles, was devoid of any expression, and in the eyes ... in the eyes of the dead wasteland. Lesana had never seen such a heavy look before. It did not reflect any feelings, no spark of fun, no curiosity, no fatigue. Nothing. And there were eyes, expressionless looking from under black straight eyebrows, as gray as a cloudy winter sky. And just as cold. And the right cheek of the kref was disfigured by a white welt of an uneven scar.

“Your friend, Chrissy. I heard her death was a spectacle. I enjoy spectacles. Sadly, I did not see so this is all I want in return.” “If I say no?” “I do not make threats. I think we have that in common.” He rose from the chair he was sitting on. He wasn’t only big but muscular. Even with his round belly, it would be impossible to mix the muscular density of his arms. “Send my regards to the Reaper. I heard he showed his face after twenty years of hiding. I was tempted to have my man kill him where he stands at the moment but I wouldn’t want to be on your bad side like my son. I hope you have a lovely night, dear one,”