#lex creates

[hawkinslibrary]

Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, and Max Mayfield Stranger Things 4 Chapter Seven: The Massacre at Hawkins Lab | 4.07

[murdockcastleslut]

summer lovin'

synopsis: what if chandler groff had never abandoned his son with luke maybank? instead, larissa genrette divorced her seemingly abusive and power-hungry husband, chandler groff, and raised her son with the help of her father. enter jackson j. genrette, the playboy casanova, who is best friends with rafe cameron, also known as the "king kook." one day, while at the country club, he meets pouge!reader, the new summer server, and is immediately entranced. will these two people from opposite sides of the island fall for each other?

a kook!jj maybank smau!

intros part one two three four five six seven

[radiance1]

A new business started up in Metropolis by the name of MastersCo. Headed by man who simply goes by the name Masters who just happens to have a large lion with black fur, mane, and red eyes.

Now, as any sane person would think, Masters is the ultimate brain behind MastersCo's brilliant, brutal, ruthless, and utterly efficient business practices that let the seemingly nobody company rise to one of the largest in the city and the world at large.

A fact thag Lex Luthor is both impressed by, and utterly hates for the simple fact he is a targe of an unfortunate amount of those practices.

But you see, in reality, it is the lion that, according to Masters himself. Was an experiment that he managed to save from his brutal captors when he was being trafficked on accident one day and as such, was the reason he made his company in the first place. That is the brains of the opperation.

Who is the lion, truly? Well...

None other than Vlad Masters himself, of course!

Who just so happened to be on the wrong side of his own tech that was supposed to target none other than the hero Phantom. Turning him into a random animal and causing his powers to be temporarily out of control long enough for him to open a portal to another dimension entirely and push him through to get him out of the way and then some.

He never expected that he would be the victim of his scheme. He had Danny right where he wanted him and that, unfortunately, made him cocky. Cocky enough that Danny reversed the tides and it ended up being him to turn i to an animal and forced into another dimension.

He knew he should have had the portal activation be manual instead of automated.

In a last act of desperation, he tried to drag Danny along with him. He failed.

So then there he was, trapped in the form of a lion with powers that did not heed his wishes and, ubfortunately, about to be sold off to the highest bidder. He, of course, would not have gone down without a fight and managed to pull off an act that crashed the container he was teapped in with the casualty of death to those who tried to turn him into a profit. Forrtunately, he was then saved by a man too curious for his own good and had his wounds treated well enough.

Let it be known that Vlad Masters does not forget kindness shown to him, especially when it pertains to his very own life. So he restared VladCo, now known as MastersCo and turned it into an empire in return. Though it also doubled as a rescue for other 'animals like him' he didn't really mind nor care about that fact.

He dislikes Lex Luthor because the man called him a pet. Him a pet. The Vlad Masters, a mere pet!?

The utter gall of that man, truly.

He also holds a dislike for Superman as well, not to the extend of Lex Luthor, but the amount of property damage that man creares is astounding not to mention the fact he exposed Vlads rather... unique heartbeat situation. From nothing of good intent, he has since realized, but still.

He coukd have done without that, thank you very much.

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[brucie-baby]

clark kent in the smallville show is so funny to me. biggest gaslighter to ever gaslight. literally "i would never lie to you," he lied. nobody's doing it like him

[inators]

Perry is a photo addict. A celebration of @chio-chan2's art. I love you so much braincell, and I'm proud of how much your art and your blog has grown! Here's to many more years of your art. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 No I didn't include art from Forever and a Day what do you mean I'm biased

[mamawasatesttube]

the geoff retcon is just so poorly done in so many ways. when i think abt it i just rly do have to roll my eyes because it wouldn't even be that hard to be like "actually, paul westfield was duped by agenda under orders from the contessa" and have that as the explanation for the introduction of luthor dna instead of paul westfield's, if you MUST include it. like that way it doesn't blatantly contradict the entire luthor plotline with mae in reign of the supermen, and it could've been a reveal to luthor himself, too. that couldve been fascinating ESPECIALLY in the context of lex having baby lena in that era, until the y2k event.

but fuckign. why do that when we can directly contradict kon's entire origin story which explicitly states he escaped before they were able to put control codes in his head. and when we can also just completely dismiss the ethics of "they [wanted to] put control codes in his head" in favor of "what if... some genes... make you BAD..." which is just very thinly veiled eugenics that the narrative entertains, for some reason. frankly, imo, lex was far more interesting as a character in every plot other than this, because he became so one-dimensionally evil in a very boring stock "manipulative" way. and we didn't even get a single mention of lena in all of his "my son" bullshit. using the contessa wouldve been such an easy and perfect way to tie it all together!!!! but sure. why do anything like that, right geoff.

[le-sluagh]

#14 Incorrect Batman: Vigilante (My AU)

Harley Quinn: I taught Bud and Lou a new trick. *throws ball* Fetch!

Bud and Lou: *just stands there*

Poison Ivy: They didn’t do it.

Harley Quinn: I taught them to ignore social conventions and think for themself.

*****

Alfred: Sleep is the body’s best safety mechanism.

Bruce Wayne: How so?

Alfred: It keeps you from screwing up for 8 hours.

*****

Riddler: What goes up but never comes down?

Mad Hatter:

Scarecrow:

Riddler: The amount of stress you're giving me.

*****

Harley Quinn: Hey, are you okay?

Harvey Dent: Yeah.

Harley Quinn: You don't look okay...

Two Face: Then stop looking.

*****

Mad Hatter: Everyone thinks I'm this soft cute person but I'm not!

Scarecrow: Mad Hatter, you cried for an hour after stepping on a bug yesterday.

Mad Hatter: It had feelings! It was probably going home to dinner and I killed it!

Riddler: ...It was a bug.

Mad hatter: It was a BEETLE, and its wife is definitely worried sick, wondering where it is, and I really don't get why you all think I'm so sentimental because I'm not!

Scarecrow: ...

Riddler: ...

Mad Hatter: Stop looking at me like that!

*****

Harley Quinn: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.

Two Face: No, that's not how you make cookies.

Joker: FLOOR IT!!

Harley Quinn: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!?

Two Face: YOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN-

Harley Quinn: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!

Joker: DO IT!

Two Face: NO-

*****

Mad Hatter: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers!

Riddler: Please, just say fuck.

*****

*After discussing a plan during a meeting of the Legion of Doom*

Lex Luthor: Does anyone have any questions?

Harley Quinn: Is this legal?

Lex Luthor: Does anyone have any relevant questions?

*****

Riddler: Stressed.

Two Face: Depressed.

Scarecrow: Possessed.

Mad Hatter: Obsessed..

Joker: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Joker: I just wanted to join in.

*****

Riddler: What's the signal when something goes wrong?

Scarecrow: We yell.

Mad Hatter: ...That'll work.

[rozugold]

trick or treat :3

Cakemizx

[bisexualmultifandommess]

Every episode where Jonathan criticised Lex sounded like this tbh

[cantsayidont]

June 1961. The preeminence of Lex Luthor's 1986 reinvention as a billionaire industrialist has created a lot of misconceptions about his pre-Crisis counterpart, a "renegade scientist" who spent as much time in prison as out of it. This Edmond Hamilton story from ACTION COMICS #277 presents a good summation of how Luthor was positioned narratively in the pre-Crisis period (1958–1986). Luthor, who we see is not popular even among his fellow inmates, is asked to use his scientific genius to prevent a catastrophic incident:

After saving the bomber, Luthor uses his anti-gravity ray to immobilize his guards, then carjacks Lois Lane to make his getaway. We then get our first glimpse of "Luthor's Lair," the villain's secret headquarters in Metropolis:

After touring his lair and getting a good night's sleep, during which he has a satisfying dream of defeating and humiliating Superman and his friends, Luthor devises a plan to rob Fort Knox. This succeeds marvelously: He uses a new shrinking ray inspired by his dream to shrink the guards, a "fourth-dimensional arm" to remove the bullion from the vaults, and "gimmicked trucks [that] can turn into planes" to carry the loot. When the commander of Fort Knox calls for Superman's help, Luthor is able to draw Superman away with a machine that creates what appear to be globes of Kryptonite (although they're actually "harmless fakes"). Afterward, Luthor is triumphant — but not for long:

A common complaint about the pre-Crisis Luthor (and other villains of his ilk) is that his plans make no sense because the super-scientific equipment he creates undoubtedly costs more than he could ever hope to recoup through the robberies he commits. (Stealing all the gold in Fort Knox might be an exception, but it's hard to see his being able to convert more than a fraction of the gold to liquid cash.) That's true so far as it goes, and it's a legitimate complaint about some of Luthor's '50s appearances, but this story, like many later Silver Age and Bronze Age Luthor stories, makes plain that money is really not what Luthor is after. He's driven mostly by ego, with his hatred of Superman functioning as a useful object for that drive. Interestingly, in Luthor's dream, when he has the Man of Steel at his mercy, Luthor can't make up his mind about what to do with his foe:

The Silver Age and Bronze Age stories generally present Luthor as a kind of quasi-hero. He exists in the same kind of demimonde of secret headquarters and fantastic gadgets as heroes like Batman, and like them, he applies his extraordinary skills not to conventional pursuits of wealth, power, or social progress, but to his own somewhat quixotic personal quests. It's true that his elaborate schemes seldom seem likely to make him any money, but that's equally true of Batman or the Silver Age Green Arrow, to say nothing of Superman — Superman could certainly engineer a more lavish lifestyle for Clark Kent than his Daily Planet salary provides, but he's never shown any interest in doing so, and people rarely question that.

Of course, Superman also performs various acts of heroism and altruism (not all of which involve fighting crime), but Silver Age stories repeatedly emphasize that Luthor can and occasionally does do that as well, and even when he has an ulterior motive, Luthor's efforts are usually surprisingly sincere. This is most evident in the stories set on Lexor, a distant world whose inhabitants think Luthor is a great hero, but even in this story, notice that Luthor does in fact save the bomber from crashing before using his device to escape. To the extent that the stories present Luthor as a tragic figure (which they do surprisingly often), the tragedy, as the unnamed government official remarks in this story, is that he only rarely applies his talents "to the good of mankind." On the other hand, that's also true of Batman and the rest of Superman's Justice League colleagues, who could certainly use their abilities to benefit society beyond simply fighting crime and upholding the status quo, but choose not to.

The pre-Crisis Luthor, then, is not simply a villain, but an inverted hero: His logic and his motivations are very similar to those of his superheroic counterparts, except that the (equally arbitrary) lines around what he is and isn't willing to do are drawn somewhat differently.

[hawkinslibrary]

Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson 2.06 | The Spy and 4.06 | The Dive

[murdockcastleslut]

Summer Lovin'

synopsis: what if chandler groff had never abandoned his son with luke maybank? instead, larissa genrette divorced her seemingly abusive and power-hungry husband, chandler groff, and raised her son with the help of her father. enter jackson j. genrette, the playboy casanova, who is best friends with rafe cameron, also known as the "king kook." one day, while at the country club, he meets pouge!reader, the new summer server, and is immediately entranced. will these two people from opposite sides of the island fall for each other?

author's note: i hope yall like this one! if you wanna be tag just lemme know and i will add you just make sure your tags are on!

part three | part four | part five

y/n's phone

jackson's phone

taglist: taglist: @ivysprophecy @kimoralov3 @k-k0129 @xoxo-ada @rafecameronsloverrrrr @jjslaybank @vivian-555 @kolsmikaelson @papercranesandinkstains @yoongling @urfavbennett @augustbucky @writer-who-rarely-writes @spenceatiny18 @heraliveken @thaxtmarvelchick @pixie-verse @212-apricity @slut-era @baocean @yulianie

[ladyintree]

can someone remind me to talk about jackie/tai beef sometime

[dykeredhood]

Don’t even try to fuck me if you can’t get me as riled up as the score of Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) gets me

[milfygerard]

idk if id call it enshittification bc they havent really taken away any functions but the....crowded and overly cutesy and rounded yet extremely silicone valley style of lex now makes the app actively stressful. whatever happened to newspaper confidentials and missed connections bc now its just identityless and claustrophobic.

Also no you cannot close the giant banner begging you for money that covers up ¼th of the top of the screen and yes that does make me want to kill someone.