#{{ grayson. }}

[astraeajackson]

IF IT'S NOT SAVANNAH POV I'M MASS REPORTING JLB'S INSTA WHO'S WITH ME.

/j

no but seriously tho...

[pr4yr]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖙 - GRAYSON / GRAY.

BASICS.

age: unk. date of birth: unknown date. the earliest sighting ever recorded of this beast is first mentioned within the 700s AD. gender: agender. has no physical form or primary body - fluctuates based on the body they have become host of. pronouns: they/them or it/its languages: fluent in many. family tree: the devil (creator) alignment: chaotic evil.

SPEICES / LORE.

species type: animanorsher ( meaning: soul-eater ) abilities/powers: this demon/entity is considered to be truly immortal. they cannot be killed, there is no weapon forged or spell that can entirely destroy them. this creature can only be destroyed by the one who created it - the devil. the animanorsher do not have a physical body or form, they are nearly invisible/present as a faint mist when they're not inhabiting a host body. they are stealthy killers, able to make it appear as if their victims died of natural causes. these demons heal very quickly (when in a host body), can occupy a host body of their choosing - which dies once they leave it and send the person to hell, devour the soul of humans and have quickened speed. diet: primarily human souls/essence. while in a physical body, they do enjoy normal food. purpose: to seduce the evildoer, kill them, and cast them into hell. grayson, however, has taken this purpose and made some adjustments of their own. gray believes that the will of humankind can be bent and that any "holy" or "good" person can be led to do the unspeakable. gray enjoys manipulating their "prey", enjoying the psychological torment of watching even the best of people break, before killing them.

MANNERISMS

gray presents as very arrogant, sarcastic, and egotistical. they often act on impulse with little regard for any consequence that may occur. gray is slightly offputting, to anyone who is able to sense supernatural creatures, gray can keep very still when within a human host. they are highly observant, methodical, and diabolical.

RELATIONAL HISTORY

there is a pivotal piece of grayson's history within the story of vita. as a demon, gray's interest with humans brought them many discoveries - including the spectrum of human emotions and feelings. as gray moves through time, studying behaviour, immersing themself within populations of people in order to learn to mimic this behaviour - they encountered vita towards the end of the 9th century. vita was a simple woman, with a love for written word; she dreamed of finding the love of her life and having a family. gray very quickly was drawn to her; her innocence and her curiosity. it was within this created bond that gray would learn to mimic the human experience of romance and love. believed to be incapable of feelings of anything pure - such as love, gray had begun to feel conflicted. a feeling rising in their core that brought a level of confusion when it came to her. this was arguably the closest thing they've felt to something considered love and instead of embracing it - gray killed vita.

[impaladolan]

Blurb Alert! - Grayson Dolan

; feelin’ frisky…

warning: it’s a little abrupt

Blow:

"Go get it yourself, Grayson." You undressed, anxious to bathe in the warmth of a shower. It's practically freezing throughout the house, and you wanted something that'll warm you up inside and out, as well as some seclusion from everything.

Grayson was in a mood all day, for some odd reason, and all he wanted to do was lay in bed and binge some newer movies with you. At least something to pass the time with.

But instead, you wanted to read a book beside the crackling fireplace, cozied up with a blanket and wool socks, and a warm coffee at the table beside you. It was that kinda day, the sun shielded with gloomy dark clouds and a certain haze that drifted through the house.

Your favorite weather.

But Grayson was a selfish man, a growing jealousy towards your love for reading instead of you sacrificing that time to cuddle him endlessly. He loved laying his head across your tummy, so that you’d play with his hair and your fragrance with drift around him sweetly. But the both of you were as equally stubborn as the other, and neither would subside.

You turned the shower-head on, letting the water heat up before submerging yourself beneath the stream. It felt incredibly nice, a comfort in which you hadn’t known you were in desperate need of. You hummed a little song, running your hands through your hair to wet each strand. You were humming a little tune when a knock at the door sounded, and you sighed.

"What, Grayson?" You kept your eyes closed, but your voice was tainted with annoyance, a rarity in this household.

You heard the door click, not even bothering to look over at him entering. You had guessed that he'd want to come in and talk to you, maybe apologize for his mood and hopefully join you if your argument went smooth.

"Better fix the attitude princess." You heard the plop of his clothing as it hit the floor, and you finally opened your eyes for a peak. He stood there in all his glory, his arms crossed and a cruel expression on his face.

"It's not me, it's your little mood you've had all day, Grayson." You covered yourself slightly, not wanting him to see your intimate parts if he was gonna be such an asshole.

It happened fast.

First, he tore open the shower door, wrapped his meaty hand around your neck, and slammed you against the tiled wall; not too terribly hard, but enough to know he was downright furious.

"Can't fucking listen to directions when I give them to you, can you?" It was rhetoric, but you made it a point to roll your eyes extra dramatic. That way, he'd see how much of an "attitude" you could really have.

"Knees." His tone was dead cold, and you complied urgently, dropping down with the help of his grasp around your neck. He slipped his hand from below your chin to up into your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling down to make you face upward at him.

"Anything else you wanna add before I fuck your throat sore?" Your cheeks burned as you shook your head no, breathing in a deep sigh as you readied yourself for the excursion about to take place.

"Then suck, baby." He pulled your hair tighter, your eyes drifting back to his hardened member. Your body shuddered frantically, an arousal beginning to pool from the depths of your cavern. With a smirk, you wrapped your hot lips around his swollen tip, suctioning it and taking his cock deeper and deliberately slow to anger him.

His placed his free hand upon the wall behind you to support himself whilst you led both of your hands to his trembling, muscular thighs. His breathing became unsteady, much like your’s as you hollowed your cheeks around him. He had his head thrown back, his hips involuntarily shifting his cock roughly down your throat and your blissful hums vibrated around his shaft.

You weren’t hardly half way down his length when he murmured for you to speed up and take him even further.

But of course, you didn’t listen.

Instead, you slipped your mouth off with a pop! and gave him an innocent grin. He looked down at you, confused as hell as you stood up from your tender knees. You gave his lips a quick, soft kiss before opening the shower door to leave.

“What are you doing?” His brows were furrowed and he watched as you stepped into a towel with a satisfied expression across your face.

“Grayson, darling,” you cooed, “bad boys don’t get orgasms…”

[rotfeds]

THIS VESSEL, THIS VESSEL IS A LIE. A SHAPESHIFTING BEAST. A LESSON IN FLUIDITY.

[thegoldendemon]

@sheriffgrayson​

    Oh, Piltover.

    “For business or pleasure?”

    “I am an artist.”

    “Okay. For business or pleasure?”

    How you are nothing if not arduous.

    Khada Jhin, rankled, mulls over the virtue of a more colorful reply in his native Zhyun-Ionian before he restrains himself enough to spot the official with a winning, annoyed smile as he says, “Business. Might I get on with that?”

    “That depends. Does your baggage contain the following: Noxian ale, unsanctioned artifacts determined to be magical in nature, quantities of alcohol in excess of twenty drams, any undisclosed substances…”

    Needless to say, by the time customs is finished with him, it’s by no small miracle that Jhin doesn’t scream.

    Today he is Irae Dawn, an artist from a hamlet on the contested lands between the Noxian and Demacian border. Irae Dawn does not really exist, of course, but his paintings have become something of a fad among the more fashionable houses of Piltover, depicting such scintillating scenes as angular lines and boxes within boxes deliciously paradoxical for depicting emptiness but also exploding with meaning… or so they breathlessly tell their guests. And the newest, a print of a body falling into the canvas from a height? Majestic! Excellent! Nothing short of avant-garde! They just had to organize a midnight gala to invite the man himself! Houses spoke to agents, agents spoke to servants, and the servants…

    Khada Jhin is here to see to the last dance of one Klaus Werner.

    Baron Werner has been sticking his nose in places he shouldn’t, according to the vellum Jhin received in Kaijn City. Noxian business. Difficult to determine for what, but that doesn’t bother Jhin. As far as he’s concerned Baron Werner is about to have the happiest night of his life—he gets to die.

    And beautifully.

    Still, Piltover is Piltover and that has put the Golden Demon in an unusual position. Thanks to custom officials most nosey, trying to smuggle in any of his normal performance supplies as-is would have been tantamount to suicide, and he doesn’t make habit of going to his benefactors like a worried child for their help, either. What’s an artist to do? For Jhin, that’s meant taking the fundamental materials of his work: gold, silver, steel—raw and unaltered to transmute once getting past the border. No easy task.

    But when has Khada Jhin ever smart in the face of effort, if it meant good art?

    The gala is agonizing tripe, as expected. People—if you’re willing to deign to call them that, which Jhin would struggle to—smother him with praise, asking him pointless questions that he pointlessly answers, sometimes. Alternatively he just smiles as if to say it’s not his role to part with any secrets and downs another leg of what is most definitely Noxian ale. Tch.

    The gala drags on and he manages to invite Baron Werner to have a private conversation on a balcony, much to Jhin’s delight and diffusing frustration. It’s no trouble at all to lock it behind them. Tinted windows, ostensibly to protect a House’s privacy, a plus.

    Werner is leaning off the railing, clearly drunk. He mumbles something and Jhin doesn’t hear it. He’s getting ready. Werner’s too far gone to notice, which is almost disappointing, really; with the mask on it’s euphoric for him to be seen. To watch as their tiny, ignorant brains seize with fear and their eyes go as wide as almonds. Art is beauty. Art is terror.

    He takes Werner by the hand and asks if the Baron would like to be reborn again. Werner laughs and says that maybe, if he could be a mouse. Jhin frowns. He passes Werner a lotus flower, and tells Werner that for the first time in his life, he is going to have real meaning.

    In four seconds, the lotus bomb explodes.

    Jhin rappels down from the balcony, briefly sad he can’t stay for the aftermath, but his attention is quickly pulled elsewhere as suddenly, klaxon horns on the street begin to blare. This early? When has Piltover’s Enforcers ever been this… nevermind that. He needs to get low and fast. He kicks off from the building and ends up in a slim alleyway, just enough to disrobe and disintegrate the evidence into their basic matter and—

    —flashlights are on him.

   Kurwe, hisses inside his head. Shit.

   “H-hey!” Some man who is Khada Jhin and is not Khada Jhin blurts out, obviously startled. He throws his hands up. He’s in normal clothes, maybe a servant, something normal. “The explosion—upstairs, at the gala! I-I’m just taking out the bins!”

[reubcn1]

“cheers for meetin’ me here,” reuben said as he sat down opposite the other in the small coffee shop; he’d shown up ten minutes late, but for reuben that was considered to be on time. “how’re you doing?” he then asked, placing his take-out coffee cup onto the table, “i hope you weren’t too busy with nothin’, it isn’t serious or anything but i just... i dunno, man. i woke up this mornin’ and i had a flare up with my knee, honestly it’s been agony all day and the urges.” reuben shook his head with a heavy sigh; he needn’t say anything else, it was obvious to what he was referring as this wasn’t the first time he’d called upon grayson after feeling a craving for pain medication. “just need a distraction, you’re one of the only ones who understands.” @graysonjames​

[gothamincarnate]

Shitty jobs for Dick Grayson:

Cop

Acceptable jobs for Dick Grayson:

Haly's circus owner (canon)

Professional Kori cheerleader (canon)

EMT

Donna's photography assistant

Dick Grayson, professional Nightwing impersonator for birthdays and events

One of those window washers that works on skyscrapers