#he's cute and got the queen

[egophiliac]

IT WAS ERIC AFTER ALL!!!! I'm so glad we got to meet him (before Vil snaps him away with those Infinity Gauntlets) (can't wait to see what happens when we get the matching Infinity Tiara to go with them, there will be no survivors)

(sorry to be so slow/rough lately, just got a lot of stuff on the ol' brain at the moment! alas, if only I could spend all my time drawing incredibly stupid characters I mean I do but)

[sluckythewizard]

I LOVE QUEEN SOO MUCH I THINK THEYRE JUST SO SO NEAT AND SILLY... the best thing about a cute character is that u get to draw them all scared and bloody and crying and shaking and upset and you can also put a spider on them

[darlingod]

Jude in QoN: “Of course it was a trick” That’s what you said.

Cardan:

[hisbutler-problematic]

what i really love about black butler is they said what if there was one little boy and for some unknown reason absolutely unhinged occult stuff ALWAYS happened around him

they try to play it off by being like “oh he’s a phantomhive, they deal w all kinds of stuff” but then they make it very clear that this little boy is the only one who has to deal with shit like demons and shinigami and werewolves and zombies, etc

like no one is super surprised when he’s like “oh just another day dismantling the zombie factory” but there’s also a distinct “wtf do you mean zombie factory” air to it

queen: there’s witches and werewolves in germany that you have to deal with ciel: why the fuck do i have to go to germany (his only problem w that sentence)

and then the little boy has the audacity to be like “tbh don’t really believe this witch and werewolf thing :/“ to his DEMON butler

[moe-broey]

Alfonse King of Minding His Own Business. Kiran Monarch of I WANNA BE A FURRY I WANNA BE A FURRY I WANNA BE A FURRY SOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING BAAAAAADDDDDD

Kiran drop your fursona NOW‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[hecksupremechips]

Okay this is actually kinda really cute

[purplesoup-lad-le]

Dex Dizzneeeeee my boy 🥰 from the lil Best Keeper Character bracket of 2024

[ellenchain]

Horror movie get together:

47 goes way over the top. Like his Halloween mission, he dresses up as a slasher/monster. The sight of him is heart attack inducing. May or may not wear a pumpkin as head.

Diana looks more tasteful, a bit like a vampire queen, long black dress, pale make up, wine glass.

Olivia is a witch. Big hat, big dress, big attitude. Think Hocus Pocus - like that. Colorful, wild, cackling.

As for Lucas.....either 47 has dragged him into it and he also has an elaborate terrifying costume, or he got lazy and bought a costume onesie. I'm thinking one of the skeleton ones, bonus points for glow in the dark/led parts. Or he really didn't give a fuck and showed up in like an animal onesie, like a giraffe, and glares people into submission. Bonus points if it doesn't even fit properly.

Olivia picked the movie, otherwise Lucas and 47 would give running commentary "people don't make that sound when you stab them", she comes prepared. They let Lucas loose in a supermarket for snacks while Diana sets up the den with a movie projector and blankets. Olivia texts him every 2 minutes, adding to the order. Lucas does oblige, but grumble about it, eating his "tax" in the car and then bringing in everything in one trip because he is NOT walking twice.

47 needs all the preparation time to get out of his costume and make up (or maybe dispose of a body before, who knows? Maybe both).

Honestly I love all the ideas! I took the liberty and drew something together in like 30 min, there wasn’t more time 😩 but I enjoyed drawing our hitman fam - so I hope you like them too!

They are about to go to their Halloween mission party:

I tried to involve your ideas as well @lucas-grey @agent47grey 🤭

[fangirlforeversthings]

People be like ugh i want what they have😩

Well i want what they have 🥺

[queen-scribbles]

I remade a former Agent into a Trooper and regret nothing💪

[blindfoureyes]

I love this episode for a reason

[princeofhags]

i just finished reading about iraestra so wand of twilight for her as well!

Wand of Twilight. Iraestra conjures a spirit from the land of the dead to speak to them.

FANTASY PROMPTS | @foxboyclit

Smoke floods the altar in fragrant plumes, the familiar taste of myrrh coating the back of Iraestra's throat uncomfortably. Her steps, purposefully measured and slow, sound monstrous in the cavernous wings of the ceremonial chamber. The peace is further broken by the occasional murmur of an invocation or rustling cloth. There has been no order given for silence, but the trepidation hanging heavy in the air as the incense enforces the command. They all wait in the lurch of a breathless hush, an animal instinct to a known threat. Still, so that the hunter is not enthralled by your fleeing. Anticipation before the blow.

Does their visitor scent the fear he instills in the air, like a hound? Does the chorus of thrumming hearts beckon to him like the call of war drums? Bodies, so many bodies for him to open and bleed.

Itaestra does not doubt that he often relishes it. Bhaalspawn are such curious, depraved half-beasts.

Prince of the Blood. A self-given title, perhaps, but she has heard the reverence Bhaal's faithful pour at his feet like wine libations. Their honored guest is heir to a butcher's legacy. She thinks him little more than a glorified killer draped in the dressings of grandeur.

Iraestra does not cower or draw back from him, but there is still an instinctual unease at the thought of a Bhaalspawn being familiar with her. The Dread Lord’s wicked heirs do not know friends, only warm bodies to bite with steel. The world to them is already dead, merely waiting to be torn asunder to show its truest color: the crimson of fresh spilt blood.

A hedonistic dogma. She holds her tongue due to the respect granted to Bhaal by her own unholy master.

She observes the preparations for the ritual with only half an eye, attention commanded by the ophidian silhouette haunting the edge of the room. What a disquieting picture he paints. His height causes him to loom terribly, heads and shoulders above the flock of mortal meat. He need not even draw his weapon to kill half the room should he wish it. Each finger is tipped with a talon that catches the candlelight with each of his clenching hand. When he had spoken, his teeth had stood out vividly against the stone-black gleam of his scales. The dried gore on his scales embrace him as intimately as any lover.

The wicked length of a barbed tail flickers in what may be a sign of agitation in his people, or merely a quirk of the extra limb. His attention is riveted on the altar. She half expects it to catch aflame.

She attempts not to concern herself with his growing impatience. Any fool can cast a spell to converse with the departed; a Myrkulite only does so at the behest of another and the blessings of the Bone Lord. She will not disregard the tenants of her faith even for this Prince.

"You're eager," she observes. The dragonborn has not left the corpse's side since it was brought to her. Curious. He must be thoroughly invested in the secrets it would spill. "It was good that you preserved the jaw. A wasted trip had you not," she stops by the head, only the breadth of a few steps between her and the Prince.

At that, he finally regards her. Even in his initial instructions he had been short with her. "What of a tongue?

"Is this a theoretical or practical query?" Short of the patience to wait for an answer, Iraestra snaps at one of the attendants. "Bone Talker, check the mouth."

Questing fingers find only half of the appendage still intact. If removed before death, exsanguination is as likely a cause as any.

"It will do," she decides. "I am ready to begin." Her attendants step back as one.

The body has been prepared as best they can given its mangled state. This man, who can be no older than twenty, bares the marks of a slow death. The skull, partially caved, rests unevenly on the cloth. He does not even look peaceful now, as the victims of violence rarely do.

She steps forward, hands rising from her sides. Iraestra readies herself to speak the ancient words.

"Alone," the Prince's clipped voice rings out clearly. Not a request. Demand.

Iraestra hisses her frustration. Better vexation, than dread. She knows the vestments of anger well, slips into them like a second skin. Her mouth twists, her shoulders draw tight. Her hands are half-formed claws in the air. She hears the pound of her own heart in her ears.

What is so important that it cannot be witnessed by the others? What is to be done with her, who will attend to the questioning herself?

"Mistress?" Every cowled head in the room turns to look at her. They hear the call for her death as vividly as she. One of the fools is brave enough to step towards her, as if they could truly do anything to intervene. She admires them for their stupidity.

The Prince watches her, well aware of what he asks for. Trust or faith or maybe both. Clearly, he is looking for a reaction. Will she falter, will she balk? Could he make a bouquet of the stench of her unease? He regards her with a snake's stare, eyes cold licks of fire. He does not blink.

If he thinks he can subdue her so easily, then he is sorely mistaken. She is drow. She is Oblodra. Her own mother's hands were the first to ever try to take her life. He will find no easy marks here today. Let him slake his thirsts elsewhere. There are other, weaker creatures for him to gorge himself on.

"Leave us," Iraestra does not take her eyes from the Prince. She does not speak or move again until the door clicks shut behind the last attendant. How awfully similar it sounds to the closing stone of a tomb.

She rounds on him, irritation clear. "Why did you ask for me?"

The Prince is the first to look away, back to her hands and then the body. Iraestra does not feel like she has won anything of merit. It is impossible to tell if he is pleased. "The Banite confides in you. I thought to do the same."

He does not give a name, nor does she ask for it. She wonders at what the Prince knows of her talks with the other Chosen.

"And what if his confidence is misplaced?" A theoretical. Her loyalty is not often brought into question. It is rare that she pledges it at all.

"Then I will kill you," the Prince simply states.

She laughs. That intention is only the natural conclusion of the dance. There is no greater aim for those of his depraved bent. "So you say. Did you not plan to do so already?"

His head tilts in a particularly reptilian gesture. His glittering eyes have found the pulse in her throat, her bare wrists. She cares not for his study. It feels too much like a physical caress, high beneath dress and robe. One hunger is not too different from another, and she supposes they may be frighteningly the same for him. Both indulgences of the flesh, in the end. "Do not tempt me. Your blood would spill sweetly on this floor."

Iraestra sneers. "Cast your fetid gaze elsewhere, brute. You will not find easy prey in me."

He chuckles darkly. "Of that I am sure. I would savor the challenge as much as anything else."

"I was under the impression that there were more pressing matters at hand, given your early insistence on haste."

"Time can always be afforded for pleasure, sorceress. Consider the feel of silk on the skin. The burst of fruit between teeth and the rush of the juice down your chin, the clench of a lover tight around you as they sob your name. That final, shuddering breath that flutters out of the throat at death. Do you not feel the drum of the heart in your own chest? Do you not wish to dance to it? If you are so indifferent to it, I could show you how to listen to it once more. To feel it." How reverently he speaks, as if he is at the shrine of his own father-god. His lids have nearly closed in rapture.

There's smoke in the dragonborn's mouth and anticipation in his words, thick enough to choke on. He whispers with the tongue of a snake, words dripping from the depravities he utters.

As mad as his sister, the shape-changer, Iraestra decides with disdain. The seed of Bhaal is truly cursed with madness, complete and true. It was preferable when he was barely acknowledging her presence despite demanding it in the first place.

"You have nothing that I desire." Were she younger, still a fool turned by a pretty face, she may have once allowed herself to be seduced by the offer. She ignores the answering hook of arousal low in her gut, focusing once more on the misshapen head on the pillow. Reminds herself of whose hands exactly have crushed it. There is much to do before she is ready for the grave. "Now, if you will allow me to get on with this, we may be each rid of the other before long."

“A pity that you deny yourself,” but he nods. “Perform your rites. Regretfully, I cannot linger for long.” 

Iraestra does not regret that. She is exhausted and enthralled by him in equal measure. Let this be the first and last time she suffers his company. 

She begins her prayer to the dead. 

[livingdeadvoid]

Jason and Roy were packing away the leftovers. Though there wasn't much left considering just how many people came over to eat. "If I leave without complimenting Alfred, feel free to never let me come over again."

Jason chuckled. "Oh? Who said you were leaving?"

Roy grinned. "Trust me I had no plans on leaving tonight Jaybird. But I did have some plans," he winked at Jason.

Jason looked at him playfully, stuffing the last dish into a small bag. "I'd hope so. Or else tonight was gonna get really boring."

Roy lead into Jason slowly, kissing him softly. Jason smiled into the kiss, like a real genuine smile. They pulled away when they heard someone making a gaging sound in the doorway.

"Get a room you two. Jesus fuck." Damian poured a glass of the non-alcoholic cider.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Says you, now scram nerd."

Damian stuck out his tongue. "Loser," he turned and walked out.

Roy chuckled at the two brothers. "You two are adorable."

Jason shrugged. "I might be, but I know damn well that brat isn't."

"Mhm, mhm. Whatever makes you feel better."

He huffed, shoving the bag into Roy's arms. "It's Oliver's. Go give it to him."

Roy gave him a fax salute before grabbing the bag. "Yes sir."

Jason chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully. "Get out of here."

Roy placed a small kiss on Jason's forehead before turning to leave.

He sighed, placing his head on the counter. "Heard you helped cook. Wouldn't have expected that from you." Jason lifted his head up, looking at who just entered. There in the doorway stood Koriand'r.

Jason shrugged. "I was helping Selina mostly. She's actually a pretty good cook."

She grabbed the bottle of red wine. "So I've heard. She made the apple pie, right?"

He nodded. "And the rolls. Shit was homemade."

Her eyes widened. "Really? They were incredible."

"I know right."

Roy came back into the kitchen. "I'm bac- oh hello there Kori."

She waved, giving him a small smile. " Hey there Roy."

Roy walked over to Jason, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "They said thank you."

Kori smiled at them. "You two are cute. I better be the maid of honor."

[collectorcookie]

Miscellaneous Mahoyaku textposts because I am hardcore procrastinating on my economy exam. And what better way to spend my time

[gothsuguru]

erased the blood in my header and gave suguru a beauty mark :3 for science & love <333 now he’s just smiling :3

[livelovecaliforniadreams]