#x-coast

[daily-coloring]

X-COAST set in The Lab LDN

[bet-on-me-13]

City Spirits awaken.

So! City Spirts are basically God's sustained by the people in their Cities. Some are Gods born from the belief and people of a City, others are God's who Bind themselves to Cities to sustain themselves in periods of low worship.

Almost all Major Population Centers have some kind of City Spirit bound to them.

The Personification of Los Angeles who slept with Constantine was born from her City, but she was young and weak compared to other City Spirits.

Lady Gotham is an Ancient Spirit who holds immense Power, but purposefully bound herself to the new and growing city of Gotham so she could sleep for a few millenia without worrying about sustaining Worship. She has been asleep for Centuries.

Actually, most City Spirits are Asleep.

Millenia Ago, the most powerful Gods and Spirits of the Infinite Realms fled the Rule of Pariah Dark. They didn't agree with his ambitions to conquer the Living Realm, and didn't want to let him use their Power against the Living Realm either.

So they Bound themselves to newly forming Cities and put themselves into Deep Sleep to avoid his Control. They have been asleep for Millenia now, waiting for the day Pariah would be overthrown so they could return to the Infinite Realms safely.

Then they day came. A New King was Crowned.

And the Cities began to wake up.

[worldgonedeep]

X-COAST - Bailando 2023 (Extended)

[aestum]

(by lensandadventure)

[ialehlg]

-°•° Day 4 - Emerald Coast.

[satoshy12]

Amity Parker Don't understand other Hero cities.

And started a massive pilgrimage to Amity Park.

It all started when a few people from Amity Park went on a field trip to other hero cities and got very confused pretty fast. - What do you mean people die here so often in hero fights? - What do you mean by buildings getting destroyed and not fixed? (blob Ghost do that all the time, they seem to love it!) Are your hero not doing their job!!!?

At first, the people of Gotham, Metropolis, Coast City, Bludhaven, or Dakoto City were pissed, but after the people of Amity Park just said they should stay a few weeks in their city, they would notice it. After one week in the new city,  most people moved out of their city to Amity Park. While this city had once a week has a world-ending threat, that threat seems to just have fun with the child hero in a fight. And those people helped them. The Victims of Scarecrow actually got help from the Master of Fear Fright Knight, who fixed their minds.

Number 1 rule in Amity Park - Don't feed the tiny cryptid Fenton after 10 p.m.; the last time we had winter in the summer was because of that. - Yes, they are fangs, and they are real. Don't try to let yourself be bitten. When he slept, the last one almost lost their hand. + The other Hero in their cities didn't take long to notice it, that they have significantly fewer people living in their cities. Like most of their cities, they lost 30–50% of their civilians! And no one seems to want to tell them where they are, as more civilians are leaving!

[star--bird]

(Tim goes to Seattle for a mission)

Bernard (over the phone): So how are you liking Seattle?

Tim: I hate it here. Everything is awful. This city is worse than Gotham. Genuinely uninhabitable.

Bernard: Wait, what? Why? Did something happen?

Tim: There are no Dunkin's here.

Bernard: Damn... However will you survive.

[beanbagstab]

She’s such a rascal 💖

Sonamy week 2024 Day 4: Emerald Coast

This is base off that one scene from Future Diary !

[porcelainbirdss]

the mourning dove syndrome

summary: Mydei remembers trying to capture a bird when he was still a child — his hands reaching out to grasp its small form, the frantic flapping of wings suddenly piercing through the stillness of the air as he huffed in frustration. perhaps you were just like that — elusive, untouchable, forever slipping through the spaces between his fingers.

cw: fem!reader, painter!reader, very suggestive towards the end, toxic interpersonal relations, cannibalism used as a metaphor, Mydei is kind of possessive, slight masochistic urges on his side, if anyone is wondering how Mydei’s hairstyle looked like, click here. || wc: 6k

the late evening’s cold wind made you shiver as you pulled the coat tighter around yourself, taking wide steps towards the enormous building, it’s skillfully decorated columns slightly obscuring you from the ongoing gale. you just came back from a trip — searching for new inspirations is an inseparable part of an artist’s life, and you started to feel pretty drained with work too. after a month of escapades and constant sketching, you returned to Okhema — the first thing that greeted you was an invitation to a charity banquet.

even though you wished to unwind after your excursion, the organizers kindly requested you make a few paintings, which will be later sold in auction. since you were usually amiable, you agreed. they even offered you housing, saying the views were indeed spectacular, and the unconventional structure of their gardens would certainly bring you a peace of mind. you honestly doubted that, because you deemed their piece of land as rather mediocre.

still, you were already here, and you couldn’t back out — you pushed the gigantic door open, hearing the clacking of your elegant shoes as you stepped inside the hall. upon noticing your presence, the organizers and some other people instantly flocked to your side, chirping how glad they were to finally see you. you smiled politely as you shook their hands, one of the employees taking your coat to cloakroom.

your head was starting to pound.

the cream of society. perhaps, if you squinted, you could consider yourself one of them too — they surely perceived you as such, looking at the way they gathered around you, showering you with compliments, cheering at how beautiful your attire was, or how they loved your hairstyle. you nodded every time, thinking you could never associate yourself with them.

vanity. greed. hedonism. zeal. those were the words you could use to describe them. whenever your paintings got hung up at expositions, they’d try to analize their depths, sputtering up philosophical nonsense, pretending as if they were some experts. who said art was meant to be understood in the first place? it is created by humans for humans, and all you have to to do is enjoy it. the simplest truth flied over their heads as they pondered over the canvases meanings, thinking you’d definitely agree with their interpretation.

anyway, it’s no use getting irritated over something of such trivial nature.

you finally had the room to breathe after an hour of small talk, sitting by one of the long tables — the food was acceptable, more visually appealing than actually tasty, but you appreciated the intricate look of the dishes nonetheless. as you chewed on the steak, your gaze flickered over to a blonde man across you, seated just a few chairs away — Mydeimos. he was already staring at you, perhaps a bit absentmindedly.

when your eyes met, you cocked one eyebrow at him, slowly turning your head away when you decided the impressive frescoes on the ceiling were much more interesting than his golden irises. his vision was focused on you from the start, and you anticipated him coming up to greet you, however he did not such thing. it irked you a little, as you haven’t seen each other for some time now — you expected the man to at least say hello, yet Mydei seemed too occupied with standing in the corner, talking to some individuals as he kept ogling you.

even so, you couldn’t say you were exactly mad at him. he was often like that — a bit reserved, and distant, and so you understood why he didn’t say a word to you. your relation with him was… well, hard to describe. you liked each other, then you did not. you said you two should stop, but you continued. you told him it wasn’t anything meaningful — and by the look in his eyes, you knew he agreed, yet at the same time not. you’d tease the life out of him, and the man still would circle around you — if he were an animal (perhaps a wild cat), you could almost see his tail lashing like a whip in irritation, while his ears remained coyly pressed against his hair.

you smirked under your nose, feeling his unrelenting stare on you. Mydei was slightly odd in his nature, but so were you, and maybe that’s the reason why you continued your weird charade with him. when you first looked at the man, two years ago, what did you think about? he was magnetic, and the bone structure of his face was gallant. you remember his poorly contained frown, and how his eyebrows tugged together, creating a crease in-between. how sharply his eyes scrutinized you from above the edge of your canvas as you struggled to capture his unique beauty, constantly demanding he turns his head at a different angle.

as your eyes returned to him, you thought his current expression was incredibly similar to the one he graced you with when you met.

"good day to you all!" you smiled politely, greeting the rather big group of people as they walked into your workplace. the Chrysos Heirs. they requested you paint a group portrait of them — for what reason, you didn’t know, but it was none of your concerns. your keen eyes quickly scanned the whole crowd, embedding the contours of their faces in your memory — three girls of red hair (whose names you had at the tip of your tongue, although you couldn’t be bothered to remember them, nor tell them apart), lady Aglaea and Castorice along with two other men… one of them being the crown prince of Kremnos, if you could recall correctly. Mydeimos, was his name?

well, at least you knew some of them. it was unlikely to be so ignorant towards the most respectable individuals of Okhema, alas you moved in only recently — and truth be told, none of those people was of any importance to you.

"i’ve already prepared everything, so why don’t you step inside?" you offered, shoving the maroon curtain to the side, revealing a rather spacious room, filled with easels and canvases varying in size.

"again, thank you so much for taking up our request, miss [name]." the blue-haired man chimed, "honestly, i wasn’t sure whether you’d agree. after all, there’s so many of us!" he laughed, and you nodded in response, thinking the sum of money they will have to pay for the painting is definitely going to last you at least three months.

you shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing your paint-stained apron and securing it around your waist. "it’s no problem for me, really."

"miss [name], where do we stand?" one of the little girls asked excitedly, already trying to strike a pose. it would seem everyone was in a good mood, maybe except for that prince with an ever-present brooding expression.

"we already talked the composition over with lady Aglaea, so i’ll tell you soon, alright?" you smiled at the three of children, unsure of how you should be treating them. they were… much older, at least that’s what someone told you — but you couldn’t bring yourself to converse with kids the same way you’d talk to adults.

you fell silent for a while, studying the light and shadow of the room, ultimately coming to the conclusion that you should push the two big chairs somewhere else. as you busied yourself with the task at hand, Mydeimos stepped forwards.

"should i help you?” he offered, and you barely held back a scoff.

you shook your head sternly. "no sir, i’ll manage. you’d only get in my way." you huffed out, trying to find the best placements for the heavy things.

the man blinked at you, as if you were the first person in existence to ever refuse him — his friend patted his arm with consolation, obviously trying to fight through the snicker forcing its way onto his lips. you payed no mind to their quiet bicker, finally positioning the seats the way you wanted them to be.

"alright!" you clasped your hands in satisfaction, "lady Aglaea and Castorice, please sit down. girls, you should stand in-between the chairs. yes, perfect." you hummed, already envisioning the color palette you’ll use as you observed everyone take their assigned places.

"what about us?" the blue-haired man questioned, and you cursed yourself for not remembering his name.

you took a seat by the easel, picking up your most trusted pencil. "you stand behind. put your hands on the backs of the chairs." you instructed, your eyes glued to the sketchbook. "i’ll start by preparing an initial drawing — then, i’ll make another one and lay down the colors. after i’m done, you can go home. it shouldn’t take me longer than two weeks to finish."

you explained, finally looking up from the blank page. upon receiving no further questions or complains, you began planning everything out, slowly blocking out the silhouettes of your clients. everything was going smoothly until Mydeimos’ turn came — you stopped the movements of your hand, squinting at him.

"sir, move a little to my left." you said, looking into his bright irises. he did as you pleased, and so you resumed your work — once you were done with the general outline, you started to sketch out the faces. it was the most important part of the process, and so you turned the page, placing meticulous detail into their structure.

sophisticated features of the two women were especially pleasant to draw, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you put emphasis on the round cheeks of three redheads. Phainon — you managed to catch his name, thankfully — was also quite easy to capture, his contours rather boyish and innocent-like.

as for the crown prince — you felt as if you picked up a pencil for the first time in your life. sweat of irritation crawled up your neck, and you gritted your teeth in utmost concentration, struggling to transfer his sharp eyes onto the paper. no, that wasn’t right, they don’t look like that — you erased with fervor, ultimately deciding to scrap the whole sketch.

"could you turn your head to the side, sir Mydeimos?" you asked, and he complied without question. no, no, that wasn’t what you were searching for either. "never mind, look to the right."

you sighed, the grip on your pen tightening. "no, the other right."

his eyebrows narrowed together, albeit no complains fell from his mouth. he was oddly quiet for someone who carried themselves with such pride — most of your models would have already started to discuss your ways, insisting you make up your mind.

you stuck out your tongue in engrossment, flipping to another blank page. high cheekbones, strong jaw, those brows that kept knitting into a frown — and the eyes. you huffed, erasing again. you should just give up, and pray for the best, but your perfectionism didn’t allow you to.

"look straightforward." you demanded. Aglaea and Castorice glanced at each other expressively, and Phainon chuckled under his breath.

Mydeimos turned his head in your direction, perhaps a bit too rapidly. he was irked, but so were you. as you studied him with great attention, you thought you didn’t like the way shadows encompassed his face. "tilt your head up — no, not like that — okay, that’s too much, look at me again. yes, good… on the other hand, no.”

Phainon cleared his throat, amusement laced through his tone. "miss [name], since our dear Mydei is causing so much trouble to you, why don’t you just paint the portrait without him?"

Mydeimos sent a warning glare towards the second man, and one of the girls sighed in resignation, as if she was sure they’d start another clash. you shook your head, getting up from your seat.

"absolutely not." you disregarded his half-joke proposal, rendering the distance between you and the prince. everyone looked at you in anticipation as you firmly placed your hands on the man’s broad shoulders, urging him to turn his torso.

his eyebrows rose in surprise when you started changing his positioning. "hey, i’m not some doll—"

"hush." you silenced him, stepping back to look at the bigger picture. slightly better, but still not it. you proceeded to grab his jaw (quite gently, so it took you aback to see his grimace deepen), and tilt it at your desired angle, until it was ideal. "hm, let’s say i’m satisfied now. don’t move your head."

after you sat down, all of them instantly seemed to straighten up, as if afraid you’d waste another ten minutes on altering their poses too. Mydeimos’ nerves simmered quietly, his irises drilling holes through your forehead — you decided to ignore him, instead focusing on sketching out his features again.

it took you some time to capture the palpable fierceness, and you felt almost bad, because even though you put your everything into this drawing, it was lacking. you leaned back on the chair, ultimately deciding there was nothing you can do — your skills went as far as they could, and that distinct beauty bested you.

after the prolonged process of mapping out everyone’s faces, you finally began to paint, blocking out the shadows and most prominent color values. still, your thoughts nagged you, berating you for not being able to do something as simple as drawing a face. it definitely deflated your ego — previously, you were absolutely sure there wasn’t a thing you couldn’t do — well, as it turns out, your ambitions have been challenged.

what difference was there between him and all the others? when the man first stepped into your workplace, there was nothing about him that caught your attention. however now, as you placed the paint on the tall silhouette, you felt yourself press the brush harder than necessary, nursing your lower lip between your teeth. in contrary to your clients talking with each other, he remained in gravely silence, his eyes constantly boring into you. you wondered about what was going through his mind at the moment — was he offended? angry? embarrassed?

you wouldn’t know, because soon you got up from your chair, announcing you were done.

"excuse me, are you miss [name]?"

a voice coming from your right snatched you out of your reveries, and you swallowed, placing the cutlery down. you looked to the side, noticing an unknown face smiling at you — he donned a rather stylish hairstyle, and you couldn’t deny the man’s handsome features. still, he looked plain boring, and if you were to draw him, you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of the process.

"yes, in the flesh." you tried to force your lips to curl upwards, returning the gesture. you were not in the mood for talking, and you’d prefer to finish your meal in peace.

his smile widened. "is that so? oh, i can’t believe how lucky i must be to sit next to you." he cheered, and you nodded in response, holding back a sigh of exasperation.

it’s not like you had anything against people coming up to you, and expressing their opinions towards your artwork, but that man irked something in you — he was leaning in way too close for your liking, and his breath reeked of expensive wine. did he get drunk already? looking at the way his cheeks blushed, it was possible.

when you didn’t answer, he pushed himself even closer, making you roll your eyes. "say, miss [name], are you perhaps looking for a model for your new exposition?" he asked straight in your ear, way too loudly. gods, you could hear him clearly, he didn’t need to be so up close!

"i’m not sure. i was thinking of focusing on nature this time." you explained, your nails starting to tap the table’s surface. you felt overly hot.

the man scoffed, his expression twisting into a mocking amusement. "oh, you can’t be possibly serious! nature is—" he paused, "it’s boring, truth be told. don’t waste your talent on something so mundane."

you felt his arm snake around your chair’s back. "is that so?” you mused quietly, your fingers itching to take the nearest glass of water and spill it across his expensive attire.

"yes, i can assure you." he said. "humans are much more interesting. and, if i may be so bold, i was actually thinking — maybe you should use my face?” he offered, confidence radiating off his body. it would appear he didn’t know the taste of rejection.

"so you wish to become a muse of mine?" you asked, feigning contemplation.

he nodded, perhaps a bit too excitedly. "oh, it would be an honor, miss [name]! you know, i could show you things you haven’t dreamt of, make you feel things you—"

the moment you sensed his breath against your neck, your hand shoot up, demanding he backs off. the man blinked, leaning away from you. your eyes flickered over to Mydei, who was watching your interaction for the whole time — at least that’s what you thought, looking at his scornful grimace. you smirked under your nose, sending him a knowing smile which practically screamed you’re jealous, aren’t you?

you took a sip of your wine, clearing your mouth from the aftertaste of the steak, that you apparently weren’t meant to finish. "i’m not interested in your offer, so please, let’s end this conversation here."

"but miss—" he began, almost desperately, though you could hear the underlying spite gathering in his words, "why? who do you think you are, acting as if— hey, wait!"

you slowly got up from your seat, ignoring him. you were fed up with the whole banquet, and this person especially made the cup of bitterness overflowed. you turned on your heel, starting to walk out of the big hall. it wasn’t long until Mydei got up too, tailing after you — you stopped behind a pillar, leaning on the high construction as you waited for him to catch up. with his wide steps, it didn’t take too much time.

"who was that man?" he immediately questioned, evoking a scoff out of you as you scrutinized him from under your lashes.

"how about a 'hello' first?"

"answer me, for gods’ sake." he demanded.

"what does it matter to you?" you shrugged, absentmindedly playing with your necklace.

Mydei leaned a bit closer to you, so that he wouldn’t have to scream over the crowd’s clamor. "did you even see the way he was looking at you?"

you felt the corners lips itch upwards. "yeah, i happened to sit right next to him, so it would be hard not to." you responded sarcastically, tugging at the leash of his chagrin.

he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing at you. "and?"

"and what?"

"don’t play fool, [name], he was practically undressing you with his eyes!" he seethed, and you had to fight the urge of laughing him in the face. honestly, Mydei wasn’t the kind of person to get so worked up over nothing, but when it came to you, he was acting like a guard dog — and you found it incredibly endearing.

"i don’t know… as i said, what does it matter to you?" you pushed, curious of what he would say.

he huffed in irritation, gripping the bridge of his nose. "can’t i be concerned? sometimes you’re such an airhead, even i get worried."

"you get worried about every man, it would seem." you chuckled, but upon seeing his scowl deepen, you decided to drop it for now. "well, never mind. he was annoying me too. everyone here is so…"

"brainless."

you laughed genuinely now, nodding along to Mydei’s words. "you read my mind. since we’re on the same page, why don’t we go to the guest rooms? i need to take a breath."

he agreed without hesitation, and so you pushed yourself off the pillar, beckoning at him to follow you with your finger. you traversed a rather long staircase, finally finding yourself in the living sector, so you reached into your purse, pulling out the key to your room. the wind outside seemed to take up on its strength, and you were almost grateful for being inside — though you’d much rather just lie down in your bed, sipping on some savory drink.

you stepped into the dimly-lighted space first, Mydei trailing after you. it was quiet in the contrast to the ongoing party downstairs, and you sighed with relief, taking some of your hair accessory out — the ornaments were lovely indeed, but they kept tugging, making your whole scalp hurt. you threw them on the desk’s surface, instantly feeling better.

"what are all the canvases for?" the man questioned, gesturing towards the things scattered by one of the walls.

you looked into his eyes, deeming they appeared much more alluring in the low, warm light of your room. "the organizers asked me to paint them something. they will sell it on an auction." you explained, your tone bordering on monotony.

Mydei dragged his feet closer to you. "do you have anything in mind? well — it’s not like you have to create anything special. people will fight over your art anyway."

you hummed in contemplation, smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire. you had no idea of what to make, and honestly, you didn’t bother yourself with even pondering upon the topic — but now, when your keen gaze studied Mydei’s tall frame, you thought you’d definitely want to paint him. somehow, he was more striking than usually, and your fingers itched to grab a brush at once. he was your damnation of sorts — you attempted to sketch his face a multitude of times, yet seldom came up with anything satisfactory. even photography couldn’t capture the way shadow and light softly fell onto his features, a vivid contrast to the fire of his eyes.

if you could, you’d sit him down, and draw him until you succeed — until it was the perfect picture of reality, an ideal visage, a mirror. there was something so special about Mydei that didn’t allow you to catch a breath, shoving you into an endless circle of fascination. the blonde locks with scarlet strands woven through them, the honeyed irises with wide-blown pupils, and the way his lips stretched upwards, as if talking to you was the most entertaining thing in the whole world.

you took a step forwards, wrapping your arms around his neck, tightly, just like snakes do. "you know, Mydei, i might have an idea." you whispered teasingly into his ear, pressing your thumb to his pulse point, feeling at how rapidly it was drumming. the man failed to grace you with response, his vision flickering over to your mouth. "why don’t i paint you?" you offered lowly, dragging the tip of your finger beneath the strong bone of his jaw.

you couldn’t finish the trail of your whole thought before the man’s lips crashed into yours, desperation palpable in the way he didn’t even try to start out gently. you snickered into the kiss, deepening it, pulling at his hair a bit aggressively — the moment you felt Mydei’s hands on your hips, you immediately took a step back, separating yourself away from him with a mischievous smirk.

it was something you both often did. kissing. you perceived it as casual, an act between two friends who were bored enough to step into that direction. it didn’t carry any special meaning to you, nor could you remember how it exactly started — it could’ve been when you kept annoying the life out of Mydei, and some kind of resolve snapped with a sickening crack in the back of your minds. a silencer, of sorts — perhaps if he presses his mouth into yours, you’ll finally shut up. maybe if you draw blood from his lips, he’ll stop frowning at you like this. if you devour one another, all the feelings of ire and dissatisfaction could possibly be gone.

he breathed, obviously not satiated, his eyes following you as if he were a starving animal. you loved that look. "what do you say? do you have the energy to model now?" an innocent smile tugged the corners of your lips upwards as you batted your eyelashes at him, slowly circling around his silhouette.

"i could refuse simply to spite you." he sneered, though it lacked in any real bite. "you’re full of attitude, did you know that, [name]?"

you shrugged, stopping in your tracks. "many such cases, and i don’t see you complaining about any other." you hummed, the tone of your voice laced with something frivolous.

"why should i? there’s only you."

there’s only you for me, is what he once said, but you couldn’t remember the time, nor circumstances.

"alright, Mydei, no need to be stubborn. i’d like to paint you. the canvas with your face on it will be sold to charity.” you coerced, wondering why it was of so much importance to you. "isn’t that wonderful?"

the man sighed, giving in. "fine. but don’t make me sit for ten hours straight."

you held back a triumphant smile, starting to set up your easel and the paints — as for the surface you’d be working on, you chose the biggest one. once it’s framed, it will probably look beautiful.

you turned to him, already deep in your element — the light falls from here, so it shall scatter across his features nicely, and the maroon color of the walls will bounce off his skin, creating a pleasant hue. your eyebrows knitted together in contemplation as you studied Mydei. everyone knows what he looks like — you needed a twist.

"what?" he finally questioned under your unrelenting stare.

"i’m going to braid your hair." you decided at once, swiveling to your vanity, and picking up a few ties along with bobby pins. yes, that’s what you were looking for — a new hairdo. "sit down on the bed." you instructed, grabbing a comb along with all the other stuff, and seating yourself behind him.

when you started to undo his little braid, he tilted his head to look at you. "is this necessary?”

"absolutely." you assured, starting to run the comb through his locks. you tried to be as gentle as possible, the corners of your eyes crinkling a bit when you watched the red and blonde mixing together, slightly curling at the ends. "i already have a hairstyle in mind, so don’t go and try protesting."

"oh, i would not dare." he huffed out, and you were sure he was frowning, even though you couldn’t see his face.

you continued to brush the cascades of hair, stopping once you were sure there was no tangles in them — you separated the locks in three sections, carefully measuring the needed amount. with the help of your comb, you let his bangs and the layered strands frame his face, placing it exactly the way you wanted to.

then, you grabbed another handful of hair, and made a thick braid, curling it around the crown of his head, so it looked like some kind of band. you secured it with two pins, your skillful eyes scanning if everything was alright. for the whole time, Mydei was — perhaps unknowingly — leaning into your touch, his back slumped. you giggled breathily under your nose, having to hold up the weight of his skull in your palms as you worked. still, you kept your touches rather brief, and fleeting. you were aware of what effect you had on the man, his seemingly stone-bound resolve crumbling into rubble the second your skin met with his. it was quite amusing and, truth be told, endearing — so there was no way you’d cease your teasing.

Mydei barely held back a scoff of disappointment when you retracted your hands from his scalp. at first he wasn’t entertained by the idea of donning an intricate hairstyle, yet as you interwoven the strands of his hair between each other, he couldn’t help the lull of peace mixed with something else washing over him.

he didn’t like the thought, but it is possible he was infatuated with you — the man’s senses bending to your will, not his. it was almost pathetic, the way you could effortlessly keep him coy. what is there about you, that makes you oh-so magnetic, and unique? maybe how you carry yourself, or how you always seem to find a thing more worthy of your attention than him. it drove him crazy — your attitude, and the lingering touches of your fingertips. you weren’t together. you probably won’t be, but once your focus landed on anybody else, Mydei felt a choking squeeze in his gut, the unpleasant tingle of jealousy filling up every fiber of his body. it stung — but pain is a sensation, and sensations are to be enjoyed.

even though you spent two years together, he didn’t know much about you. what were your favourite flowers? if you told him, he’d most likely grow them in his lungs — that’s the degree of which your alluring presence encompassed him. he fell low, and sometimes he was sure he could strip himself bare of his flesh, becoming naked only for your eyes. he kept trying to court you, being at your every whim — alas, what is the joy of giving if the person of your attraction is never going to be pleased?

he felt you tug the last section of his hair into a loose bun, and he thought you were akin to a dove. how graceful, and delicate you were, only to flap your wings with strength before flying away, somewhere up in the overcast sky. slipping through his fingers, being there, yet at the same time not — pulling at his emotions, tying them together like a noose.

you didn’t love him, and still, he loved you. maybe one day you’ll prove to be his doom.

"i’m done." you announced in that quiet, soothing voice of yours. to be honest, you were quite satisfied with your work — the hairstyle wasn’t overly complicated, and you purposefully made it a bit messy to showcase the fierce nature of your model. something sophisticated, or slicked back wouldn’t suit him.

Mydei nodded in understanding, the words unexpectedly slipping from his mouth. "i missed you while you were away, [name]."

your eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, and you leaned a bit closer to him, pressing your chest against his back. "is that so?" you hummed, slowly hooking your arms around his neck. he missed you — what a trivial thing to say. you didn’t think of him at all during your trip, way too occupied with tasks of more importance.

he didn’t answer, instead turning his torso in your direction, his hands already seeking you out. he grabbed you with more fervor than usually, his fingers digging in-between your ribs, evoking a deep inhale out of you. Mydei chased after your lips, and you wholeheartedly expected him to clash into you the same way he did earlier, but the kiss turned out to be much tender. you smiled, pulling yourself even further into him, feeling at the way tension grew in the air.

upon the lack of oxygen, you pulled away, still keeping your forehead pressed against his. "what’s gotten into you?" you panted, carefully stroking the top of his head, afraid you’d ruin the coiffure you worked so meticulously on.

"nothing." he murmured lowly against your jaw, starting to plant kisses along it. his hot breath caused shivers running up and down your spine, and so you gripped his shoulders a bit harder, pressing your nails into the man’s muscles.

he trailed down to you throat, biting at the sensitive skin, leaving bruises behind — even though you couldn’t see them, you were sure they were prominent, and wouldn’t disappear any time soon. unfortunately, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

the need in your body arose, heat spilling over your abdomen in rapid succession, the same way waves clash against the shore, leaving pearly-white foam behind. "Mydei, everyone’s—" you stammered, sensing his palms slide down to your hips, "everyone is going to see my neck."

you felt him smirk throughout all the biting and sucking, his canines dragging over your pulse point. "that’s good." he announced, almost nonchalantly.

you were sure that if he wanted to, his teeth would snap around your windpipe, tearing you open and devouring you whole. and perhaps you were right, because as Mydei kept kissing your throat, while his palms roamed your body, he could only feel desire mixed with something primal, something much more deep-rooted — hunger.

you wanted to fall onto the mattress, but his strong arms fixed you into place, his mouth trailing lower, and lower, until he finally met with the neckline of your clothing. he listened to your heart for a short second, engraving its fast rhythm into memory, breathing in your scent, the kind that makes one’s head woozy and swirling. Mydei wondered whether this love he holds for you will kill him, or make him whole.

his hand found its way under your lap, making your breath hitch, and you wanted to berate yourself for having so little sway over your body. the man’s gaze was dark, sultry in a certain way — as if he was all appetite, the longing tangible in his touch. you both dangled on a single rope, which was threatening to crack at any given moment, letting you spiral down into the black chasm of delight.

the man glued you away from him, sitting you firmly on the edge. you blinked twice at his action, however the whine of complain died on your tongue when he slid off the bed, kneeling in-between your legs. his touch was controlled, but desperate all the same when his fingers slipped under your knees, spreading your thighs apart. you were still fully clothed, yet you could already feel his summery breath through your attire, and it drove you crazy.

once he looked up at you from the cold, hard floor, you swore you saw a glimpse of something akin to worship flash through his irises, as if he managed to find his sense of life in the crooks of your figure.

he looked so beautifully, with his hair tied, and kneeling by your legs, licking at his own lips with a thin-running patience. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, wanting to sketch the scene and hang it on your ceiling, hovering just above your bed, so whenever you woke up, it would be the first sight to greet you. the piercingly sharp eyes, dripping with a burning ache, and the golden strands framing his cheekbones perfectly.

Mydei effortlessly hooked your calves over his shoulders, pulling his mouth closer, so painfully close it was torturous, and you thought — what would happen if you said those three words that he oh-so obviously yearned to hear?

[pomegranateplumes]

The entire comic in one post ⚔️🌌

the post that started it all

[bet-on-me-13]

Fight Knight is the Spirit of Halloween.

So! A new Spirit Halloween location has opened up in Gotham, and the Batfam has decided to go shopping so they can prepare for Halloween.

Just because it's one of their busiest nights of the year doesn't mean they can't enjoy themselves while patrolling.

So the family walks in about a week before Halloween and spreads out to look for decorations or costumes to wear.

Its a fun trip, they buy their costumes, have a pleasant conversation with the manager about the holiday season, and go back home.

Then they actually put on their costumes and find out that they were either Cursed or Enchanted, because once put them on they are transformed them into the Costumes themselves.

Damien has become a Dog, after putting on a cheap dog costume at the insistence of his brothers. He's not unhappy at least.

Jason has been turned into a Zombie, though he has managed to restrain himself from eating his brother's Brains so far. He claims they look unappetizing.

Tim has been turned into Super Mario. He can't stop speaking in a bad Italian accent and has a huge mustache.

Dick has been turned into a Fairy Tale Princess after putting on the costume as a Joke. He has to admit though, he looks great as a Girl.

Even Bruce wasn't spared, and was turned into a Vampire after putting in some Plastic Teeth.

Taking off the costumes hadn't turned them back, leaving them stuck in their new forms.

Now they are all racing back to that Spirit Halloween to get answers as to what the hell just happened to them.

They hope Mr. Frank Knight has some answers for them.

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmate AU: First Words + End of the World ; requested by @justwannabecat!

Duke has long since accepted that he doesn’t have great luck. Most things in his life tend to go wrong very quickly, or complicate situations he was already struggling in (see: being a meta and getting his powers in the middle of a fight). Having an incomprehensible soulmark is an unpleasant discovery on the morning of his nineteenth birthday, but not entirely unexpected.

He had been hoping for something simple, a common one like hi it’s nice to meet you or sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.

What Duke gets instead isn’t even words. 

Scrawled across his left hipbone is a string of symbols glowing a faint green. They’re not in a language he recognizes, and the symbols seem to move, shifting ever so slightly so they look different every time he blinks.

“Well,” he says after a solid five minutes of staring into the mirror, unable to rip his eyes off his soulmate’s words, “I hope theirs looks nicer than mine.”

He spends his birthday in a bit of a daze, enjoying time spent with the Waynes and his friends. It’s hard to be fully present when he’s all too aware of the soreness on his hipbone flaring up each time he moves. It’s hard to keep his mind off of it, wanting nothing more than to search for answers, unravel the mystery of his soulmate’s first words.

“Something on your mind?” Jason asks, as the attention shifts off of him for a brief moment as Harper and Cullen get ready to leave and everyone rushes to give their goodbyes,

Duke shrugs, carefully keeping his hands still so they don’t drift to where his soulmark is hidden beneath his clothes. “Yeah. Nothing you need to worry about, though.”

Jason looks him over critically, then nods. 

Duke resigns himself to being investigated by the rest of the Bats. If he’s off enough that Jason had to comment on it, then that means everyone’s noticed and are trying to figure out what’s happened. They’re not going to ask him, because they think he needs space to work through whatever’s got him so distracted, but they’re also not going to just do nothing. 

This won’t be the first time they’ve done this. Duke expects it. Frankly, it would be stranger and much more concerning if they didn’t try to dig up all his secrets the moment they caught wind of him hiding something.

He’ll tell them about getting his soulmark soon. Soulmarks can appear on any birthday between the ages of thirteen to twenty five; they might suspect he got his, but they won’t be able to confirm.

For now, Duke can keep his soulmate’s first words (whatever that gibberish means) to himself.

He makes the decision then and there, as his birthday party winds down, to tell them in a week.

And because his luck is abysmal, a world ending threat hits five days later and suddenly there is no time for soulmarks and first words.

Duke is the last to arrive at the Fortress of Solitude, hitching a ride from Superboy to get there. The biting cold and the harsh winds keep the place far from the reaches of the rest of humanity, surrounded by nothing but deadly white. 

Desolate as the landscape is, it’s still in better shape than the rest of the world.

Things would be better if it was alien invaders. It would be more bearable if some sort of cosmic colossus tried to eat their solar system. At least then there would be something physical that they could fight.

Instead, the world is breaking apart, the sky and earth both fracturing to reveal glowing green faultlines. Timelines are getting mixed up and muddled; just yesterday, Duke had to evacuate a building that had been demolished forty years ago, then stop a gang leader who wouldn’t be born for another eight years from taking over a neighborhood block and holding the residents hostage. Strange creatures are appearing out of nowhere, crawling out of shadows and tide pools and from beneath the roots of trees, all horrible, monstrous things that go after people with teeth and claws. 

The Flashes and the rest of the speedsters are nowhere to be found. The last time anyone get communication from them, it had been Impulse sending Red Robin a glitchy, barely audible video chat saying something along the lines of “trying to fix—unstable—keep us here—never been alive before.” All things that are very concerning to hear, made worse by the fact that no one had been able to contact them at all. 

The quiet loneliness of the Fortress of Solitude is a welcome change from the constant screaming, death, and destruction that’s taken over Gotham as well as the rest of the world. Last he heard, even Justice League China was at the end of their rope. 

“In here,” Superboy instructs, guiding Duke through the halls. There’s no time to look around at Superman’s secret base. All his focus is stuck on staying conscious for another few hours to see if this gathering of heroes is able to find a solution to the world breaking apart.

Batman stands besides Superman. Both nod at Duke when he enters the room. Wonder Woman is watching over John Constantine as he writes something on the floor, muttering under his breath. The rest of the Justice League lean against each other, visibly exhausted as they wait for Constantine to finish up what he’s doing. A few other heroes are here too, and Duke goes to join them where they lean against a wall, fighting to keep their eyes open.

“Hey,” he greets, voice low. “Hanging in there?”

Wonder Girl sighs. “Somehow. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. There’s just too much…”

“We’ll get through this. I mean, even without us out there, plenty of civilians have formed rescue and relief groups to help with keeping things under control,” Speedy says, gently knocking her arm against Wonder Girl’s. “We just gotta keep going. No giving up.”

“What’s this plan, anyways? I just heard that they needed me here to some attempt to fix things.”

“Well, without the speedsters, you’re kind of the only one who can help with time and power related stuff,” Speedy says.

“That’s definitely a stretch. My powers don’t really have anything to do with time. It’s all just light and shadow.”

Speedy shrugs. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Too late to complain about it now.”

Duke doesn’t get a chance to say anything else when a loud clap catches his attention. The entire room goes still and silent as Constantine stands up and surveys the circle and symbols he’s written, taking up an entire corner of the large room. 

“Alright,” he says. “Time to get started. Remember, let me do the talking. If you have to speak, it’s only to back me up or when a question is directed to you.”

Batman nods to the other Justice Leaguers, and suddenly everyone is falling into formation behind Constantine. Duke hurries to join them with Wonder Girl and Speedy, taking a place on the edge of the group where he’s a little closer to the circle than the others. 

Constantine begins chanting. His voice is steady though none of the sounds make any sense, refusing to form themselves into recognizable words, and the air the in the room feels heavier. The chalk circle glows a blinding white and Duke can see magic swirling through the air, his power kicking in the let him watch as reality tears and a glowing star in the shape of a boy comes out of it.

Duke blinks, forcing his power down. The hypnotic swirls of magic fade from sight, but the boy still glows, bright and terrible as he floats above the circle and surveys them all. A crown engulfed in blue flame hovers above his head and the fabric of the cosmos is draped over his shoulders as a cape. 

Just from presence alone, Duke can tell that this figure is now the strongest existence in this universe. He hopes this boy king is kind; no one, not even Superman, would be able to beat him in a fight.

The boy king opens his mouth and speaks, but it’s not words than comes out. A strange static like sound emerges, but light and almost melodic. 

His left hipbone burns.

Duke gasps, hand flying down to it, and the boy king’s gaze snaps to meet his.

The world stands still. No one moves. No one dares to breathe.

And then the boy king drops to the floor and walks out of the circle.

“I thought you said that would hold him!” Batman hisses at Constantine, who is looking more and more distressed.

“It was supposed to! I wrote it specifically to hold the King of the Infinite Realms!”

The boy king glances at Constantine. This time, when he speaks, it’s in smooth English. “Did you name the king in your circle?”

“Yeah, I named Pariah Dark… Bloody hell, you ain’t him, are ya?”

“No,” the boy king smiles, “I’m Phantom.”

The cape and crown fade away, and suddenly it’s not an all powerful, terrifying king standing before them, but a young man with white hair and green eyes who looks Duke’s age. Like he could be any other new generation hero in the room. 

“Phantom,” Duke repeats lightly, just under his breath, but it makes Phantom look at him again.

He walks forward, ignoring the other heroes’ aborted attempts to stop him, coupled with Constantine’s frantic back off motion happening behind him. Phantom leaves the circle and the Justice Leaguers behind to stand before Duke, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says softly, “I dreamed of you.”

“You—what?”

“I dreamed of you. I have for years now. To think that being summoned was what made us meet—” Phantom breaks off into a breathless laugh.

Duke swallows, then drops his had from where it had been pressed against his hip. “So we’re really—? You have my first words too?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Batman stiffen up. Maybe he should have just told them the day after his birthday, but in Duke’s defense, this is the definition of extenuation circumstances. 

“First words?” Phantom repeats, “Is that… Do we have different soulmate connections?”

“I think so. Here, everyone gets the first words their soulmates say to them appearing somewhere on their body.”

Phantom’s gaze darts down to Duke’s hip, then back up. “Oh. I get dreams. Where I’m from, we dream of our soulmates, and the closer we get to meeting them, the more we remember the dreams.”

“And you dreamed of me.”

“I did.”

“As touching as this is,” Constantine interrupts, and Duke gets to watch as Phantom rolls his eyes, “We summoned you here for a reason. Our world is falling apart at the seams and we need someone powerful, from the Realms, to help us fix it.”

“Okay.”

“...What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I’ll help,” Phantom says.

“Just like that? No deal to be made, no price to be paid?”

“Just like that. I’m not one for deals anyways. If I can help, then I will. But I do want to see what the problem is with my soulmate by my side, if you don’t mind.”

Batman steps in, fixing Duke with a steady gaze, a barely noticeable tilt of his head. “Signal?”

“Yeah I’ll go with him. Of course I will. The sooner the better, in fact, because everything’s gone to shit.” Duke turns to Phantom, taking hold of one of his hands. “It is really bad out there,” he warns, “If you need help—”

“I’ll ask for help from others in the Realms,” Phantom says. “No offense or anything, but if it’s really that bad, I doubt living mortals will be able to do much to fix things. It’s why I was summoned, right?”

“Right. Let’s get to it, then.”

There’s a flash of mischief in Phantom’s eyes, and cheeky grin stealing across his face for a moment, before he says, “Aye aye, captain!” and picks Duke up like he weighs nothing and flies up through the ceiling.

Duke is able to hear everyone’s surprised, panicked shouts before they’re outside the Fortress of Solitude and Phantom is flying them away. He only needs a few directions from Duke before he finds the first of the large fractures in the sky.

“Yikes,” is all he says, which is not a great thing to hear. “I think I know how to fix it, though. We’ll need to do a little investigating as to who, exactly, started messing around with reality, but once we find the source, it’ll be an easy fix.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

“Even better than meeting your soulmate?”

“I haven’t slept for more than four hours all week. Knowing there’s an end in sight beats everything else.”

Phantom laughs, throwing his head back and Duke can’t help but drink in the sight of him, so ethereal and bright and full of life. “Fair enough! Got any ideas as to where we should start?”

“I’ve got an entire crew of detective vigilantes,” Duke replies. He’s not taking any more chances. No more waiting to talk about important things; he messed up by keeping his soulmark to himself, so he needs to make sure everyone meets his soulmate before shit goes south again. 

“Let’s go find them, then!”

They take off again, soaring through the skies that are barely holding themselves together. 

The world is still ending, and every hero is being stretched thin, but held carefully in Phantom’s arms, racing head first into a solution, Duke can’t help but feel that everything’s going to be alright now. 

He’s had enough bad luck. Now, his soulmate with him, bearing the title of King with grace, things are finally starting to look up.

[aestum]

(by Rafael Garcin)

[swordmaid]

a girl who is a noir detective man and a guy who is a femme fatale