#dc#dc comics#batman#dick grayson#bruce wayne#tim drake#dc fanart#batfam#batfamily
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Okay but do you even eat ass???
Oh.. well-- that's new. I haven't heard of this thing, 'eating ass' though. Would you be teaching me?
thegrimduet started following you
(/stares with wide eyes)
Briony, Cattail, Cyclamen
Flower And Tree Language Prompts:
Briony: What’s one time your character has helped a friend?
Yixing is always helping people. If someone asks him for help, he’ll help them right away. If they need help with work, he’ll tutor them.
Cattail: Is your character at peace with themself? Why or why not?
Yeah, he’s pretty much at peace with himself He’s finally way from the drama and pressures from his family.
Cyclamen: Who is someone your character has had to say good-bye to?
No one right now, I hope
♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ look at the crowns ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔look how they shine 4 u ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ or sth gay like that ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ i love you ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔
Send me a ♔ if you think I pull off my character well.
{dara u little shit who gave u the right to give me feels cries senpai plsssss}
{4ever gay 4 u
thegrimduet
As the days grew even more unforgiving, the personified sloth was once again at night's mercy, retreating to bed without a second thought. It was only several hours ago where he, along with his partner, were in constant motion, promoting their latest single as well as attending several conferences regarding their plans to collabora--
No. The stress was circling at his head, this won't do at all, thought the perpetually dazed man.
It was there that Minho sluggishly slips into the comfort of his covers, the only place where he wouldn't awkwardly stick out like a sore thumb or a second dick-- he would wait to fall into the pit of slumber because aside from what he was artificially made to do, Minho was specifically built for absolutely nothing, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
When he was to awaken, in his own world, where everything succumbed to his conscience, it was only there where he felt at ease.
But not this time.
His eyes shot wide as he found himself standing in a dark void, the stars being his only light source, nonetheless it was rather difficult to make out where he was. One thing's for sure- he was not in his own dream.
There's stress biting at the tight strings of his scant sanity, and waves of drowsiness threatening to take him away into the depths of unconsciousness where the defending walls of his mind are at their lowest tides. The pain pounds at his nerves and the echoes are almost achingly audible and he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples, attempting to dismiss the constant headaches.
Everything becomes more blurred and the difficulty to drag himself around multiplies. The tiredness in his bones finally excuses the world and convinces him to loosen his strings and collapse onto his bed. There's patches of warmth where his blanket coils over and his squirms closer to press himself into the pillow that smells of chrysanthemum and tinges of fresh shampoo. He shuts his eyes and embraces the darkness that soon fades into visions of colour spectrum. Baekhyun's mind condenses and thoughts become a little too heavy for him to bear with complete consciousness—
So he falls.
into
the state between realism
and dreams.
He recalls flashes of lucidity and expects the control of himself to slip from his fingertips and he waits for the feeling of exhaustion to collapse and knock him into another day of sunrise.
He waits, but there's nothing.
Baekhyun struggles to tear his eyes away from the endless scenes of dim. He makes attempts to pry them open, but the darkness remains enveloped around him and the floating streaks of light have vanished into the thin layers of atmosphere, leaving only scarce star twinkles.
There's a nauseous feeling in his stomach when something clicks and everything snaps into place. He has trashed away the urge for sleep to sweep him away, and he senses obvious chills that've creeped up his neck.
The darkness is unsettling.
Was he dreaming?
thegrimduet:
It was a cruel joke, leaving an infant in the hands of Minho, the slowest man on earth. Though it was all in good fun according to Jessica and the staff of some new reality television show, in which hidden cameras littered the sloth’s every step as he was left with no choice but to look after the small child until the said “mother” of the child comes back to claim what was rightfully hers— or something like that. Which led to the afternoon several hours after fate bounded him to such a responsibility. ”He- he isn’t drinking the formula.” ”Did you try breast feeding him?” … ”Ne, Jessica.” “Fuck off.”
Standing before the entrance, every single thought the man could ever produce began to leak through his ears as he brought a heavy fist to knock several times against the door., the child strapped behind his back hanged innocently as he waited. As he was met with the residence, he gave a slight nod, though his visage made it evident that he was painfully clueless to the concept of infants. ”Good evening. I’d like to know if you might have some- breast milk?”
Restless as ever, he spent his time releasing separate stalks of vine that fought in the middle of the living room. It was a past time the god had yet to tire of. There was a surprising excitement in watching the stalks tangle and writhe among themselves; the remnants of grapes that had been caught in the crossfire streaked the hardwood floor.
He had his bets set on a grapevine that slithered and wound itself around the others with an impressive ferocity. So the sounds of knocks that rung against the wood of his front door caught him understandably off guard. Unfortunately for the deity, he hadn't been expecting company. Giving the battered vines a look, he rose a brow and watched them collapse from their varied positions onto a coil in the floor. Taking note of their obedience, he took to the door and opened it wide.
Met with a sight that narrowed his eyes in a confused squint, he drew his look between the young man stood before him and the infant he could barely make out slung on his back. It was just his night, he thought. "Do I look like the sort of person who'd have that on hand? I've got wine though. Nothing shuts them up quicker." Letting a smirk play with the corner of his lips, he gave up a nod towards his back. He spoke from experience-- as little as it may have been.
thegrimduet
As the days grew even more unforgiving, the personified sloth was once again at night's mercy, retreating to bed without a second thought. It was only several hours ago where he, along with his partner, were in constant motion, promoting their latest single as well as attending several conferences regarding their plans to collabora--
No. The stress was circling at his head, this won't do at all, thought the perpetually dazed man.
It was there that Minho sluggishly slips into the comfort of his covers, the only place where he wouldn't awkwardly stick out like a sore thumb or a second dick-- he would wait to fall into the pit of slumber because aside from what he was artificially made to do, Minho was specifically built for absolutely nothing, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
When he was to awaken, in his own world, where everything succumbed to his conscience, it was only there where he felt at ease.
But not this time.
His eyes shot wide as he found himself standing in a dark void, the stars being his only light source, nonetheless it was rather difficult to make out where he was. One thing's for sure- he was not in his own dream.
Sleep, put simply, was a nice free trial for death while being shorter than a coma. It was convenient and recharged Wu Fan as long as he didn't spend more than about ten hours drifting peacefully into unconsciousness. More often than not, he spent most of his waking hours, his eyes unfocused as he stared blankly at the whiteboard, a teacher's droning voice going one ear and out the other.
With his days spent like that, most of his thoughts wandered to being able to arrive at home and crash into comfortable sheets and wrap himself up in fluffy navy blue blankets. It was the mere promise of some blissful couple hours of nothing but rest and relaxation that carried him through the usually boring and sometimes stress filled school day.
Evening arrived blissfully soon and he was able to finally lose the stiff and pristine clothing of the day and exchange it for simple T-Shirts and sweatpants, a soft breath escaping his lips as he crashed into slightly coarse sheets but warm blankets.
The stars remained distant beyond his slightly foggy window, blinking at him.
He blinked slowly back at them. Inhale, exhale. His breathing evened out, his mind slipping past the recesses of a calm sea of sleep. His eyes fluttered open much sooner than he would have liked, the darkness tangible, his velvet dark hues looking only mildly interested as he reached out, feeling it slip past him like water. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, it wasn't time to awake and face the real world again just yet. From the appearance of it, it wasn't unusual for him to dream of the stars and far beyond, stars lazily continuing on their way past him.
Something felt different this time, perhaps it was his imagination but he couldn't quite ignore the nagging at his gut that he wasn't alone. He pivoted slowly on his heel, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth opening as well, perhaps to say something but his words were lost to the void of space. He often met many people in his dreams but those people were always his own mind's creation. Then why did this person look so much more vivid, so real? In an experimental manner, he waved his arms in front of the other, his head tilted in mild confusion. "Hello? Can you hear me? Understand me?" His words were slow in making their way off his tongue, measured and precise as if he was sure that the other would not understand.
Nightmare:
❝Come on, Seulmi.❞
❝We’re not gonna hurt you.❞
She was running. It was a dark night, and what she assumed was grass brushed against her bare feel carelessly. She was running and there wasn’t any sort of indication that the landscape around her had shifted. She was running away from someone.
Two voices. Two voices were chasing her. They didn’t have a face, a body—but they were terrifyingly beautiful. So she ran. In a place she had no idea of where it was, she ran until something rather sticky (it’s not blood, it’s not blood, it’s not blood) was felt on her feet, until her legs started shaking oh-so-slightly. Her steps started to falter, sweat running down her spine as she got closer to what seemed like a huge…tree.
¿ A tree ¿
It wasn’t there when the chase happened— if there was a chase to start with. It was all more of Seulmi running away from whoever those people were. A strange fit of chuckles —terrified ones, the kind of laughter that arrives once there's relief after a complicated moment, but a laughter nonetheless— escaped from the blonde haired's mouth, before she practically collapsed against the wooden surface of that tree. With eyes fluttering closed, she allowed herself to let a sigh of relief, the pace of her ragged breath slowly starting to turn into a normal one.
Two sets of bright teeth and carmesi lips laughed at her, after what seemed like hours of peace. The message was clear. You can't escape us, you can't escape us. A hand was placed on top of Seulmi's hair, and her eyes opened, looking arround completely terrified. The hand pulled her hair in a harsh motion, and her mouth opened to let out a chilling scream. Her back was now pressed against the tree in a rather painful way, and her screams never seemed to stop. Gasping for air, Seulmi shook herself awake and confirmed her surroundings.
She was at Jiho's studio. It was all a dream. fantasy, fantasy, fantasy.
