#publisher: anchor books

[that-butch-archivist]

"Dyke March 1994" by Morgan Gwenwald

source: The Wild Good: Lesbian Photographs & Writings on Love, edited by Beatrix Gates

[slu7formen]

Girl first of all I want to say that I'm OBSESSED with your writing I love it.

Second of all I would like to make a request about Luke so hear me out.

Luke and reader were in a relationship before he betrayed camp and they were head over heals for each other and then he stole the bolt and when Percy discovers he's the thief the reader is there feeling betrayed and specially heartbroken even though Luke ask her to go with him but she doesn't accept it because she's so loyal to camp and her friends.

Time passed and even if she wants to hate Luke she loves him more than anything. And Luke loves her too so instead of asking Annabeth to escape with him he asks reader and she accepts.

I want to see everything in here fluff, angst, everything you think about.

I hope you like this request and make it real for me because I've been having this idea for over a week.

Okay but I feel so bad ‘cause I totally forgot I had this story FULLY WRITTEN and READY to be published (‘cause I LOVED it), I’m so sorry angel, made you wait a lot more than just a week 🥺, but thanks for reading my stories <3

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a traitor, betrayal, use of yn, swearing, kinda angst (?, KISSING, lil book spoiler

₊˚⊹♡

The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vibrant bursts of color exploding overhead. The annual fireworks display was in full swing, casting shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around the warm flames. It was a picture of peace, a moment of respite amidst the constant threat of monsters demigod drama.

You stole a glance at the empty space beside you. Luke, your boyfriend, had told you he'd just be back in a minute. A few minutes had turned into an eternity, but you chalked it up to his usual impulsiveness. He'd be back any minute, with his signature smile and an arm wrapped around you.

You knew it.

From the moment you met, you and Luke had been inseparable. You were his confidante, his anchor in the chaos of being a demigod and his messy life. He was your rock, always there to make you laugh, to understand the weight of your heritage in a way no one else could.

The warmth of the fire danced on your skin, but a shiver snaked down your spine. Something felt off. The chatter of your friends seemed muted, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You couldn’t deny the way you noticed how Luke has been acting lately. So weird and distant towards you the last couple days. You loved him, fiercely and unconditionally. You'd been there for him through thick and thin, especially after his quest left a jagged scar across his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes.

But then he suddenly just, snapped.

A memory surfaced in you , sharp and unwelcome. It had been months ago, a conversation in the darkness of his cabin in a particular cold night. Luke, his eyes filled with a desperate fervor, had confessed his anger towards the gods, his belief that they were cruel and neglectful parents. He'd spoken of tricking the Olympians, joining forces with the Titans to fight for a better life for all demigods.

The anger in his voice, the glint of rebellion in his eyes, had scared you. The scar on his face, a reminder of his failed quest, seemed to burn brighter that night.

You understood his anger. The gods were far from perfect, their neglect and cruelty evident in countless demigod lives. He'd begged you to join him, his voice filled with a desperate hope. But you'd refused, your loyalty to Camp Half-Blood and your friends unwavering. You had spent hours talking him through it as you held his hand, reminding him of all the good the gods had done, no matter how flawed they might be. He'd looked lost at the time, seeking comfort in your touch. You'd thought you'd reached him, extinguished that spark of rebellion.

You really believed that conversation was long forgotten. But there was a reason why you remembered it.

Some movement at the edge of the woods caught your eye. But it wasn't the boy you were expecting. Percy, his face pale and etched with worry, practically stumbled into the fireplace, his chest heaving and his grip tight on Riptide.

A pang of concern shot through you. "Percy?" you called out, concern lacing your voice. You pushed yourself off the ground, walking towards him. "What happened? Where's Luke?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. Shit, should he tell you? His silence was a hammer blow to your gut. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly wrong.

"What?" you choked out, the question barely a whisper, expecting some kind of answer from the blonde boy, but nothing came from his trembling lips. The air felt dense, with a truth you desperately wanted to deny. You saw Luke getting into the woods with Percy, you saw it. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it clicked. A cold, horrifying truth began to dawn on you.

He lied.

Without a word, you pushed Percy aside and started running, towards the woods. Your heart hammered against your ribs, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You plunged into the darkness of the forest, the path you'd walked countless times with Luke now leading you into the unknown.

"Luke!" you screamed, your voice raw with anger and despair. You wove through the trees, the undergrowth tearing at your camp shirt, but you didn't care. You had to find him, to confront him, to understand why he'd chosen this path, if he chose it, why he'd lied to you.

But with each passing minute, hope crashed over you. The forest grew denser, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the frantic beat of your own heart. There was no sign of Luke, no echo of his footsteps, no smell, no sense of his presence, only the chilling truth hanging heavy in the air.

He was gone.

He had left.

You sank to your knees, the weight of betrayal crushing you as the first tears you ever cried for Luke Castellan, started to fall. The man you loved, the person you'd trusted with your life, had chosen darkness over everything you held dear. He had chosen Kronos over you.

Grief, a cold and relentless serpent, coiled around your heart. And that feeling never seemed to leave.

The year that followed was a blur of sadness and a desperate attempt at normalcy. The silence from Luke was deafening. Not a single Iris-message, not a single sign of the one who once, was your boyfriend.

You knew you wouldn´t be able to return to Camp, at least not for now. Every corner held a ghost of Luke's smile, every sword clang a reminder of his battles and his betrayal. Your friends, the true ones, bless their hearts, tried everything to cheer you up from a distance, but their efforts felt like trying to pick up the pieces of a broken glass in the sea.

You opted to stay home that summer. But even there, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers, escape from Luke's betrayal seemed impossible. Messages and news found you no matter where you hid. News of Luke leading a rogue army aboard a stolen cruise ship, rumors of him serving as Kronos's right hand while the Titan slumbered – it all reached your ears.

The nights were the worst. The darkness mirrored the hollowness within you. Tears would stain your pillow as you relived the events leading up to his betrayal. You once seemed to dream about seeing him again, and now you only screamed when you saw his face in your nightmares.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his smile, the nights you spent loving each other with the sheets tangling in your legs, all felt like cruel illusions now. Yet, a part of you, a stubborn, illogical part, still clung to the love you once shared.

And Gods, did you try to keep yourself as busy as possible. You threw yourself into your studies and little courses here and there, seeking solace in facts and logic. You even began working, a boring but well payed summer job. Yet, the pain lingered, a dull ache that refused to subside.

The more you tried to banish these visions, the more vivid they became. You missed him like a starving man craved a feast, a yearning that gnawed at your insides and threatened to consume you. Frustration gnawed at you. How could you still love someone who'd betrayed you so utterly? How could your heart still ache for a man who chose war over you? The questions echoed endlessly within you, a relentless chorus fueling your self-conscious.

How could you be so weak?

These consuming questions were your companions for a whole year. But as the second summer after Luke's betrayal rolled around, a shift occurred within you. The raw, agonizing pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Finally, you decided it was time to take back control again. Camp Half-Blood called, a familiar haven among the storm. You returned a changed person. The vibrant smile that once adorned your face was a ghost, replaced by a guarded expression that spoke about the pain you harbored in silence. The camp's familiar energy felt hollow, a constant reminder of the happiness you'd lost.

Training became your sole solace. You'd disappear into the arena for hours, your celestial bronze sword a blur as you cleaved through training dummies, each swing fueled by a potent cocktail of grief and anger.

Exhaustion became your closest companion too. You pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance, hoping to find oblivion at the bottom of an empty fuel tank. But sleep, when it finally came, offered no escape. You'd dream of him, leading his army of rogue demigods, his eyes filled with a fanatical zeal that chilled you to the bone. And in those dreams, you'd see yourself, standing beside him, not out of loyalty to his cause, but out of a desperate yearning for the boy you once loved, still love.

In the quiet moments, when your friends weren't around, the dam would break. You'd collapse onto your cool and empty bed, tears streaming down your face, a raw, primal sob escaping your lips. The memory of Luke was no joy anymore, it haunted you like a specter.

You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker in your heart, the desperate, illogical yearning for him. It wasn't the war that tempted you; it was him.

You hated how much you missed him.

The scent of rain clung to the humid night air and to you like a second skin as you zipped up your duffel bag. Another summer at Camp Half-Blood loomed, promising a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain, but more training. The worst was yet to come, so you needed to be ready.

New York City, with its cacophony of car horns and the anonymity of millions, had become your refuge these past few months. In Manhattan, the memories of Luke seemed to hold less power for some weird reason, their edges dulling with the passage of time. You'd spent the past months in this tiny apartment, the silence deafening compared to the constant hum of life at camp.

Just then, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence of your apartment. It was past midnight, an unusual time for visitors.

Adrenaline surged through you. Months of living fully alone had honed your senses. You'd become acutely aware of the city's underbelly – the flickering shadows that could hide monsters thanks to the ever-present mist. You'd seen them stalking the streets, stalking you, their true forms hidden to them mortals, an unsettling feeling crawling up your spine whenever their paths crossed yours. They never attacked, but their chilling presence followed you like a phantom.

Grabbing your necklace, you asked, "Yes?"

Silence. You weren't taking any chances. Pulling down at the pendant once, the necklace morphed into your celestial bronze dagger.

You took a step, two. Could it really be a monster? Could it really be some creature trying to get to you, by knocking on the door? With a shaky breath, you cracked the door open just enough to peek through the gap, hiding the dagger behind your back.

The sight that greeted you stole the air from your lungs.

Standing on your doorstep, bathed in the harsh glow of the hallway light, was Luke. His dark hair was windswept, his face etched with a gauntness that hadn't been there before, but his eyes – those were the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for months. They held a desperate plea, a flicker of the boy you once loved struggling to break through the hardened shell of the man he'd become.

“Luke?”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words and a tangled web of emotions. Time seemed to warp in that hallway, a single moment stretched into an eternity. Luke looked different, yes. The carefree boy you knew had been replaced by a man hardened by experience, his features etched with lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens carried. But his eyes, those brown eyes that had once held a mischievous twinkle, now held a deeper sadness that mirrored your own.

"Hi" Luke finally said, his voice raspy.

You stood speechless, the dagger still clutched tightly in your hand. Years of longing warred with the fresh wounds of betrayal. You wanted to scream at him, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that suddenly washed over you. But something held you back, a flicker of curiosity, maybe.

"Um, can I come in?" he continued, his posture pleading despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Jesus. Was that all he had to say? After everything, after what he did, all he could muster was a request to enter your apartment? A tide of anger threatened to drown you. Did he not understand the gravity of what he'd done? Did he not realize the pain he'd caused? But you forced your thoughts down. You weren't a child anymore, throwing tantrums wouldn't solve anything.

"Are you armed?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Luke flinched at your question, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "You think I wanna hurt you?" he countered, his tone defensive.

"Last time I saw you," you spat back, your voice laced with bitterness, "was three years ago, and I know your little monsters are keeping an eye on me. The first thing I'm supposed to think about is whether you want to hurt me or not."

He sighed, a long, weary exhale. Unzipping his jacket, he turned slowly, patting down his pockets before turning back to you. His eyes, once alive with mischief and love, were now filled with a desperate sincerity. "See? No weapons. Just me."

You studied him, a battle raging within you. One part of you wanted to slam the door, to let him know that he wasn't welcome. Yet, another part, a smaller, more vulnerable part, couldn't help but cling to the flicker of hope that flickered amongst the ashes of your love.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you stepped aside, allowing a sliver of space for him to enter. "Fine" you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But you better have a good reason to come here"

Luke hesitated for a beat before stepping inside. He closed the door softly behind him, the sound echoing through the tense silence. He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room, landing finally on the packed bags besides the tv.

"You're heading back to camp?" he asked.

You flipped the dagger in your hand, and the celestial bronze morphed back into the golden necklace. "What do you want?" you repeated, your voice still sharp, a shield against the emotions swirling within you.

Luke stood awkwardly in the doorway, the once carefree boy replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his choices. His leather jacket seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders.

"I…" he started, then stopped, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He cleared his throat, the sound scratchy and unfamiliar. "You look different" he finally managed, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You scoffed, a humorless sound that surprised even you.

"Look, yn" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wanna talk, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You could say that again."

His fingers twitched at your bitterness, but pressed on. "I came here because..." He hesitated again, seemingly wrestling with an inner turmoil. "Because I-"

Frustration bubbled up within you. This cryptic approach, this lack of honesty, it was infuriating. "Because you what, Luke?" you demanded, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Because you decided to grace me with your presence after leading a rebellion against the gods? Or maybe because you just wanted to see if I'm still waiting for you?"

You watched his face harden, the vulnerability replaced by a familiar defiance.

"Don't twist this" he snapped, his voice firm. "I came here because..." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "Because I miss you, yn. I miss us."

The air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it.

You took a slow step towards him, then another. He took notes of yourself as you did. The way you had grown internally was so intense that he could sense it everywhere. He might have betrayed you, but that only helped you get on your feet stronger, grow stronger. Become the warrior he always knew you were.

Then, in a move as instinctive as it was fierce, your hand lashed out. The slap connected with a stinging crack, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap. Luke's head snapped to the side, a crimson handprint blooming on his cheek. Shame flickered in his eyes as he scoffed, quickly replaced by a dull acceptance.

He deserved it, that much was clear.

"How dare you?” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury, "How fucking dare you come back here after what you've done? After leading a rebellion against the gods, after putting everyone we care about at risk? After betraying me?"

Luke took a shaky breath, running a hand over the burning mark on his face. "I'm sorry” he said, his voice low and ragged. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know a simple apology won't erase the pain or fix things. But you have to believe me, I never meant for things to get this bad"

He stepped towards you, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture, but you flinched back, the space between you a tangible barrier. "Don't touch me" you warned, your voice laced with ice.

He lowered his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I know you hate me for what I´ve done. For joining Kronos, I-“

"You think this is all about Kronos?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. "You think the reason my heart has been broken these past years is because you joined a fucking Titan?"

Luke remained silent, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a collapsing mountain. He knew better.

"This is about what you did to me, Luke" you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "I was with you, all the time. I was your girlfriend! And you betrayed me. You left me alone” your voice broke so hard that you had to take a second to swallow the big gulp that was forming in your throat. “Everyone at camp looked at me after what you did," you choked out. "They either felt sorry for me, or they insulted me, saying that I was still loyal to you, that I was a traitor."

You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain etched on your face a stark reminder of the devastation he'd wrought. "You were the most important person in my life" you cried, your voice raw and vulnerable. "But you? You let Kronos fill your head with empty promises, and just like that, you forgot about us."

The truth felt like a bitter pill to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I asked you to come with me" he finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I gave you the chance to leave with me."

"And even after I said no," you countered, your voice trembling like the finger that was now pointing at his chest, "you still left. You threw me away like shit. And do you know what the worst part is?" Tears streamed down your face, tracing a path through the dust of old heartache. "That as much as I try, I can't seem to hate you."

A sob escaped your lips, shattering the fragile dam you'd built around your emotions. "I still love you, Luke" you confessed. "Even though it's a love that fills me with pain, it's still there. I hate myself because I dream about you, about the way things used to be. But when I don't, I feel like a piece of me is missing."

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and a raw vulnerability that left Luke speechless.

What had he done?

"I hate myself because I can't help but pray for your safety, even though you never seemed to care about mine. I hate myself because even after everything, I still love you, Luke."

Your heart felt like a shattered kaleidoscope, a million shards of love, anger, and pain reflecting back at you in a distorted reality. You walked and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs racked your body.

Luke, his heart heavy with a remorse sharper than any weapon, watched you crumble. The carefree girl he fell in love with was gone, replaced by a woman etched with the scars of his own actions. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand on your back as he sat down next to you, a gesture of comfort that felt more like a branding iron on his guilt.

"yn” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I still love you too."

You didn't respond, the sobs coming in ragged gasps as your body struggled to contain the storm within.

"I know I left you" he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "And you didn't deserve it. But… I was so lost, so angry. Kronos promised me power, a solution to all the problems I saw. He convinced me that Olympus was corrupt, that the gods didn't care about half-bloods like us. And when you said no, he-, he told me to leave you behind, said that it would be easier for everyone…"

His voice trailed off. Easier for who? Easier for him, perhaps, to sever the ties that bound him, to plunge headfirst into a rebellion fueled by manipulated ideals.

"But it wasn't" he choked out, a tear escaping his eye, carving a glistening path down his cheek. "Every day, every step I took… it was a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The guilt was eating me alive, yn, you have to believe me”. His hands desperately reached for yours, trying to get your fingers to intertwine by placing his over yours.

Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I regret everything. I mean it. I don't want to do this anymore."

You finally lifted your head, your eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. Luke looked different to you now, the bravado and arrogance gone, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Don't want to do what?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

"This” he gestured vaguely to himself, but you didn’t quite catch it. "Following Kronos. Helping him rise to power. It's wrong. I can see that now."

“Little late to that, isn’t it?” you blurted out.

He took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "yn, there's a reason I came to you. A reason I risked Kronos' trust in me." He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kronos wants me to become his host."

And the world seemed to suddenly stop. You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your mind raced, trying to process what he had just said. Luke, your Luke, becoming a vessel for the monstrous Titan?

"What?" you croaked, fear coating your voice like frost. Your eyes darted around, searching for a way out, a solution, anything. But Luke wouldn't meet your gaze, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. "No. No, he can't. It's not possible."

The thought of him, Luke, being consumed by Kronos, twisted your insides into knots.

Luke, however, seemed to gather his resolve. "Yes, it is" he said, his voice low and strained. "There are things you don't know, yn. Things I've done."

A cold dread gripped your stomach, a physical manifestation of the terror that clawed at your insides. Your mind raced, desperate for answers. "Then tell me" you only managed to say. "Luke, what have you done?"

He hesitated, looking around as if afraid someone might be listening. "There's no time now" he finally said, his voice tight with urgency. "But I promise I will explain everything. That's not why I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, he dared to reach out, his hand gently grasping yours, finally. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gripped you.

He called your name, his voice softening. "Come with me" he said.

You only feel capable of frowning your brows in confusion. "Go where?" you asked, your voice wary.

"Anywhere" he said, like a plea. "Let's run away, together. It can be just you and me again"

He leaned closer, the air around him crackling with a tension that mirrored the storm within you. As his forehead rested against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through you. It was a familiar warmth, a spark that had ignited countless stolen kisses and whispered secrets back when your world wasn't teetering on the brink of war. His other hand cupped your cheek, the touch a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. His hand, usually warm and comforting, felt cool against your burning skin, a physical reminder of the distance that had grown between you. Yet, despite the chill, a wave of longing washed over you, a yearning for the simple comfort of his touch.

But reason tugged at you, a voice of caution in the midst of the storm. "But Luke," you stammered, pulling away slightly, "If you escape, Kronos will come for you. He'll come for us, and-,"

"I don't care" he interrupted, his voice resolute, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed his bravado. It was as if he was on the precipice, teetering between defiance and the vulnerability of a man on the verge of breaking. "I'll fight everything that comes for us. And if the war happens... I'll fight. I'll fight for everyone, I’ll fight for you. I'm not losing you again, yn."

His words resonated deep within you, a desperate echo of the love you still harbored for him, a love you thought you'd buried beneath layers of anger and sadness. You saw the fear in his eyes, a fear that you sadly shared, but beneath it, a flicker of something else – a raw, desperate hope. And as you looked at him, a wave of relief washed over you.

The relief of knowing he wasn't entirely lost, that a part of the Luke you loved still existed.

"I love you" he confessed again, his voice trembling.

Looking into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within them, the truth resonated with you. "I love you too" you whispered, the words tumbling from your lips like a long-awaited confession.

The world did indeed, stop. The rain, a relentless symphony against the window pane, faded into a distant murmur. The thunders became a muffled echo. In that moment, the only reality was the space between you and Luke, charged with the unspoken electricity of your confessions.

He leaned in further, a hesitant question in his eyes. A flicker of fear danced in their depths, a scared boy seeking forgiveness beneath the warrior's facade. You watched him, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

With a sigh that trembled on your lips, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a hesitant touch, a tentative exploration of a forgotten familiarity. Three years of longing, of unspoken words and simmering emotions, poured into that kiss. It was sweeter than you'd dared to imagine, a warmth that spread from your lips and drizzled down your chest.

Unlike the passionate encounters of your past, this felt different; like kissing him for the first time. Luke's lips moved against yours with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He held back, his desperate desire tempered with a respect that surprised you. You knew him.

But then, you yielded. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, and his tongue met yours in a dance as old as time. A full, heavy and angry thunderclap erupted outside, a jarring contrast to the intimacy unfolding on the couch. But you paid it no mind, lost in the whirlpool of rediscovered affection.

Your arms encircled his neck, a desperate hold. He, in turn, cupped your waist, his touch lingering on the curve of your hip as he gently lowered you onto the soft cushion. His body hovered above yours. His lips, however, remained glued to yours, a relentless exploration that spoke of a love both fierce and fragile.

The kiss deepened, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both. You felt the familiar rhythm of his heart against yours, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own. It was a melody of second chances, of unspoken apologies and nascent hope.

His hand trailed down your back, teasingly brushing under your shirt, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You arched into his touch, a wordless plea for more. But just then, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.

His voice, a husky murmur against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "I missed this so much," he whispered, his lips trailing down the delicate column of your neck and the dip of your collarbone. His warm breath mingled with your own, a heady mix of emotions swirling around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the familiar texture a stark reminder of the past you both desperately clung to. He reached for your pulse, slowly sucking in before letting it pop.

"I wanted to feel you every night" he confessed. "Every night, I dreamt of you." His words were a stark contrast to the cold, distant Luke you saw in your dreams, the only vivid memory you’ve had of him the past years.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to speak.

He didn't stop. His hand drifted down your torso, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your lower tummy. Every touch felt like a brand, a searing reminder of what you had lost and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"It was a mistake" he said, his voice thick with regret. "A big, fucking mistake. Leaving you, betraying you-, it was the biggest mistake of my life. My life doesn't make any sense without you."

With a strangled sound, Luke deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own. You clung to him, a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline. The scent of leather that clung to him was intoxicating, a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

"Luke" you managed to gasp between kisses, a flicker of reason breaking through the haze of desire. You needed more than just words, needed a binding promise, something concrete to hold onto if you were to take this leap of faith.

He stared at you, his eyes a storm of emotions – desire, confusion, and a flicker of something that might have been annoyance. But before he could respond, you pressed on.

"Swear on it, Luke" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Swear on the River Styx” you repeat. Luke’s eyes dart back and forth, from your lips, to your eyes, to filling up with confusion. “I’m not-,” you cut yourself off as you feel your eyes filling with tears again. You bit your tongue before speaking, “I’m not letting you hurt me like this again"

You knew it was selfish, a desperate attempt to safeguard your heart. But Luke was here, finally, after all this time. You craved the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. The thought of letting him go again, of enduring another betrayal, was unbearable. Yet, a part of you, still scarred from the past, craved a guarantee, an oath sworn on the most powerful river in the Underworld. It was dangerous, yes, but did you care?

Did he care?

Luke's expression hardened. The River Styx, held a weight that couldn't be ignored. The river he already bathed himself in. It was a binding vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of existence.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of doubt, a hint of manipulation. But all he saw was the vulnerability, the fear – a vulnerability born from the scars he himself had inflicted.

"I swear on the River Styx" he said, his voice low and solemn, each word heavy with the weight of the oath. "I swear I won’t ever leave you. I swear I love you. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, with every breath in my lungs."

[hard--headed--woman]

Hello and happy Pride Month everyone ! 🏳️‍🌈

As promised, I am going to talk about an important lesbian in history everyday. And this first post is about one of my favourite :

Renée Vivien !

I have seen some people talk about her here but she clearly isn’t as famous as she should be, and she deserves way more recognition!

Renée Vivien, whose birth name is Pauline Mary Tam, was a British writer poetess, who wrote her poetry (and most of her works) in french ; born in 1877, she died in 1909, at only 32 years old.

Renée was openly a lesbian, and she never tried to hide it despite the society she lived in being extremely homophobic and considering homosexuality as an illness. In her poetry, she mentions her love for women a lot, and wrote a lot of love poems for several of her lovers. This even earned her the nickname “Sappho 1900”. ("Sappho 1900, Sappho cent pour cent").

Of Sappho, she was by the way a huge fan : in 1903, she published the work "Sappho", in which the poet's Greek texts are followed by a French translation, as well as verses by Renée Vivien, which thus "completes" the remaining fragments of Sappho's writings. This collection greatly helped to anchor Sappho's work and her identity as a lesbian woman in our culture.

Her work consists of :

Twelve collections of poems, totalling more than 500 poems

Several translations of Greek poetesses (including Sappho)

Seven books of prose

Around ten novels (written under various pseudonyms)

A posthumously published collection of short Gothic tales (written in English this time)

A book about Anne Boleyn's life

It is also possible to read her diary and the letters she exchanged with her lovers, friends and other personalities of her time, including Natalie Clifford Barney, Colette, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha and others.

Pauline studied both in Paris and in London, then decided, once she came of age, to come and settle in Paris. She published her first collection,"Études et Préludes" in 1901, under the pseudonym R.Vivien. This pseudonym later became René Vivien (the male version of Renée) then Renée Vivien, the name under which she will be remembered. We can easily guess that she first chose these neutral then masculine pseudonyms to be able to write and be published despite the misogyny and homophobia of her time, especially given the themes exploited in her writings.

Sadness, death, ancient Greece, love, despair, solitude and love are the most recurrent themes in Renée's poems. There is actually a poetry prize in her name, the Prix Renée Vivien, which rewards poets whose themes and style are close to those of Renée Vivien.

Among Renée's best-known lovers is Natalie Clifford Barney, a famous writer and poet, with whom she had a relationship for several years before leaving her, tired of her infidelities. It is said that Natalie never accepted this breakup and tried until the end to get her back by all means, sending her love letters even years after.

Renée then had a relationship of more than six years with the rich Baroness Hélène de Zuylen, married and mother of two children, with whom she traveled extensively around the world and collaborated on the writing of several works (under the collective pseudonym Paule Riversdale). In a letter to her friend Jean Charles-Brun, Renée admitted that she considered herself married to Hélène.

While still living with the Baroness, she received a letter from a mysterious admirer, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha. What followed was an intense four-year epistolary relationship, interspersed with brief clandestine meetings. In 1908, however, Kérimé, the wife of a Turkish diplomat, put an end to their relationship when she had to follow her husband to St. Petersburg. This break-up probably contributed to Renée's tragic end.

The writer was in deep psychological distress, which only worsened from 1908 onwards. Alcoholic and suicidal, she began refusing to eat properly, and attempted suicide with laudanum. After this failed suicide attempt, she contracted pleurisy, which left her very weak, and then chronic gastritis due to her alcohol abuse. She gradually fell into anorexia, and, with her limbs paralyzed by multiple neuritis, she died on November 18, 1909, aged just 32. Her death was attributed to "pulmonary congestion", probably due to pneumonia complicated by alcohol and anorexia.

After her death, intellectuals, artists and newspapers, out of lesbophobia, tried to make her forgotten by the literary world, describing her as a woman of evil and damnation, perverse and cruel, going so far as to invent for her a life of crime, debauchery, orgies with married women, violence and cocaine consumption.

Today, Renée Vivien's name is no longer known to the general public, and is never mentioned alongside those of great ans famous poets such as Arthur Rimbaud or Charles Baudelaire, despite her gorgeous poetry, her immense talent and fascinating work.

She's personally my favourite, and not only because she was a lesbian. Her poetry is the most beautiful, interesting and deep poetry I have ever seen. She deserves to be as famous as Victor Hugo or Paul Eluard (and even more famous, in my opinion lol).

Here is one of her poems, with its english translation :

A link to some of her poems (in french but you can use a translator) ;

And two links with some of her poems translated into english : 1 and 2.

You should totally buy and read her books and poems, I have them and they're amazing!!! I'll post more translations of her poems in the future for those interested.

Anyway, thanks for reading and see you tomorrow for the second post!

[ltwilliammowett]

Cathead

The end of the stout timber projecting out from her bow is decorated with a carved and gilded crown. The cathead was often carved with a cat or lion’s head, which presumably frightened away wharf rats. As the massive iron anchor is brought up from the bottom and gets closer to the hull, there is the danger that the flukes could damage the hull, especially in rough waters. The cathead allows this operation to be carried out a short distance away from the hull.

Cathead of HMS Surprise (x)

A special tackle is fastened to the ring of the anchor and it is fished and catted (brought up and secured) in its riding position on the bow.

The black loop of rope that holds the anchor to the cathead is the “stopper”. This could simply be cut through to drop the anchor. The main anchor cable is bent onto the ring. The ring itself has been wrapped in cord as an anti- chafing measure called “puddening”.

A second ‘cat head’ was connected to a ship's anchor cable and windlass. This was a square pin that was inserted into one of the hand spike holes of a ship's windlass. When the ship was at anchor, the anchor rope (also known as a cable or catfall) was attached to it with a smaller rope, known as a seizing. The English name for this bolt was ‘Norman’. In German, however, it was called a ‘Kattenkopf’, and in this case this is a reference to the traditional way in which the tip was notched and bevelled so that it resembled the ears of a cat in cross-section.

According to ‘The Sea-mans Dictionary : or, an exposition and demonstration of all the parts and things belonging to a shippe’ compiled by Sir Henry Mainwaring, 1623 , the term was already in use at the time the book was published.

Sailing Ships, by Edward K. Chatterton, 2013

Sailing Ships of War, 1400-1860, by Frank Howard 1979

Ashore and Afloat: The British Navy and the Halifax Naval Yard Before 1820, by Julian Gwyn, 2004

Marine Encyclopaedic Dictionary, by Eric Sullivan, 2020

Young Sailor's Assistant in Practical Seamanship, by Emory H. Taunt, 1883

[yan-lorkai]

A/n: I got this request that was inspired by this one, but tumblr ate. It was a request for Azul, Deuce, Epel and Ruggie.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: yandere content, they're all possessive and bad, gn!reader

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Azul is completely enraptured by your intense passion for writing, but he can’t help but feel that your devotion to it leaves too little space for him. He often worries about the toll your overthinking takes on you, watching you get consumed by your own thoughts like a moth drawn to a flame. To keep you from slipping too deep, Azul offers "helpful" ways to take control of your schedule, subtly limiting your writing time and encouraging you to rest with him instead.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Whenever you’re struggling with your work, he positions himself as the only one who can truly understand and support you, cultivating a sense of reliance on his guidance, of course he undertands your jokes, your characters and plot but others may not. In his mind, it’s only fair to keep you close — he wants to be the only one who truly understands the depths of your soul. Possessive, he knows, but he doesn't care at all. You're his, his, his.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Deuce is fiercely protective, though he barely understands the complexity of your thoughts and your connection to your work, he tries. He tries hard to understand you and your book. Yet he sees your writing as both a blessing and a curse — your devotion is beautiful to him, but the way it pulls you away from reality and from him stirs a quiet frustration inside him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He worries that the darkness within your thoughts will swallow you whole, so he steps in, claiming he’ll make sure you “don’t get lost in your head.” Deuce becomes increasingly insistent on spending time with you, sometimes pulling you away from writing entirely under the guise of needing a break, all while making himself indispensable, bringingy you some snacks and drinks, and wanting to cuddle with you. He’s convinced that if he just stays close enough, he can guide you out of the labyrinth of your mind. Nothing good will come out of a messy mind.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel admires your dedication to your craft, as he is also quite dedicated to his carving apple, but he is also deeply concerned, feeling that your introspective tendencies are almost self-destructive. He finds himself drawn to your depth, yet he hates how much you’re willing to sacrifice for your work, how lost you get inside your head, how you talk about your characters nonstop. Desperate to be your anchor to the real world, Epel begins to insist on pulling you away from writing, coaxing you with tales of adventure and distraction about the things he did in his childhood, dragging you to a skincare routine if he has to. And Vil is more than delighted to treat you too.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He swears he’s doing it for your own good, refusing to let you disappear into the void of your thoughts. Epel wants to be your escape, the person who gives you a reason to stay grounded, convinced he’s the only one who can keep you from falling too deep. And if he can't be that, then he can always erase your progress.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ruggie respects your talent, but he finds your intensity both impressive and worrying. Watching you pour everything into your writing makes him uneasy — what if your dedication takes you somewhere he can’t follow? What if you publish it and become so famous and so rich that you'll forget about him? Determined to be essential to you, Ruggie starts to orchestrate small distractions, urging you to take breaks with him, sharing stories to spark your inspiration but also to keep you connected to him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He becomes almost possessive over your free time, encouraging you to rely on him for breaks and meals, ensuring you’ll always be drawn back to him. Ruggie knows how to work his way into your life, subtly positioning himself as the balance to your darker musings, determined to keep your feet on the ground. And if you refuse or are too fussy to abandon your work half finished, he'll use his unique magic to make you follow him.

[submissiveebrat]

When you're a star, they let you do it. You can do anything." He adds seconds later: "Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything." — Trump in a previously unreleased recording made by "Access Hollywood" in 2005, published Friday by The Washington Post and NBC News

"If Hillary Clinton can't satisfy her husband what makes her think she can satisfy America #MakeAmericaGreatAgain." — Trump tweeted in April 2015. He later deleted the post.

"It must be a pretty picture, you dropping to your knees." — Trump to a female contestant in 2013 on an episode of "Celebrity Apprentice."

"Did Crooked Hillary help disgusting (check out sex tape and past) Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the debate?" — Trump tweeted in September 2016. He was referring to former Miss Universe winner Alicia Machado, whom he publicly shamed for gaining weight when he owned the contest

"It's certainly not groundbreaking news that the early victories by the women on 'The Apprentice' were, to a very large extent, dependent on their sex appeal." — Trump wrote in his 2004 book, "How To Get Rich."

"All of the women on 'The Apprentice' flirted with me — consciously or unconsciously. That's to be expected. A sexual dynamic is always present between people, unless you are asexual." — Trump, also from "How To Get Rich."

"You could see there was blood coming out of her eyes. Blood coming out of her wherever." — Trump in an interview with CNN in August 2015, referring to Fox News Channel anchor Megyn Kelly.

"Look at that face! Would anyone vote for that? Can you imagine that, the face of our next president? I mean, she's a woman, and I'm not s'posedta say bad things, but really, folks, come on. Are we serious?" — Trump in a September 2015 interview with Rolling Stone, speaking about then-primary rival Carly Fiorina.

"It doesn't really matter what (the media) write as long as you've got a young and beautiful piece of ass." — Trump in an interview with Esquire Magazine in 1991.

"A person who's flat-chested is very hard to be a 10, OK?" — Trump in an interview with shock jock Howard Stern in September 2005.

"I saw a woman who was totally beautiful. She was angry that so many men were calling her. 'How dare they call me! It's terrible! They're all looking at my breasts.' So she had a major breast reduction. The good news: Nobody calls her anymore — nobody even looks — and not only that, it was a terrible job." — Trump to Stern in 2008.

Congratulations America, this is who is now president AGAIN. A misogynist, sexist, vile pig. Good Job. 👏👏

[thegettingbyp2]

Jess Mariano request: Reader works with Jess at the publishing house in Philly and has feelings for him (she hasn’t told him though). She sees him and Rory at the open house and seeing the way Rory treats him reader lets Jess know how she feels about him (and wherever it goes from there) basically I need a Jess fix it because Rory fucks him over that night haha

I'd Never Do That to You

A/N: This is my first Jess fic and I loved writing it! If you have any other Jess requests, don't hesitate to send them in!

Buy me a coffee :) Gilmore Girls Rewatch Patreon Exclusive

You were watching Jess out the corner of your eye as you began tidying up after the open house. You’d developed a crush on him not long after he moved to Philly and started working at the publishing house with you. The two of you had quickly become friends and he told you everything about the time he spent living in a little town called Stars Hollow.

You tried to busy yourself when you saw him sitting to the side with a girl that he’d been with during the open house and you couldn’t help but notice how close they were sitting. You looked away fully when you saw him lean in to kiss her but quickly grew concerned when you heard his voice rising and the girl quickly leaving.

‘That Rory?’ you asked, lightly when he moved to help you tidy up. From the stories that he’d told you, you were 99% percent sure that the girl was Rory Gilmore and it bothered you how hung up he was over her because, from what you heard, she was quick to get rid of him the second he did something that she didn’t approve of.

‘Yup,’ he replied bluntly, the set of his jaw making it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it.

‘You okay?’

‘Yup.’

‘I hate this!’ you blurted out, causing Jess’s head to snap up to look at you, surprise written across his face.

‘Hate what?’

‘This!’ you replied, putting the book down in your hand a little more forcefully than necessary. ‘The way that Rory girl was treating you all night! She was flirting with you and then the second you try to get closer to her, she runs away because she’s still with this other guy but she knows that you’re always going to be there waiting for her! You don’t deserve to be treated like that, I’d never do that to you!’

You realised what you said and stopped talking immediately, looking down at your feet before you nervously glanced back up at Jess to see him looking at you with a mix of shock and something you couldn’t describe playing on his face. ‘What did you just say?’ he asked quietly before clearing his throat.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,’ you started talking quickly, trying to backtrack until Jess gripped your wrist, anchoring you as he spun you around to face him.

‘(Y/N), stop, calm down. What did you just say to me?’

‘I’d never do that to you,’ you whispered as you looked at him.

‘Never do what?’

‘I’d never lead you on like that. Never let you think that we have a chance and then run off because of some other guy right at the last minute. And I don’t want you to think that I’d do that to you because I do like you, I have since you started working here, I just never said anything because you seemed so hung up on Rory. And I know that you’re not over her and that - ’

Your voice was cut off by the soft press of Jess’s lips against your own. As soon as you realised what was happening, you let yourself relax into the kiss which only made Jess wrap his arms around you and pull you into him, the slight stubble growing on his face tickling your cheeks as his tongue slipped between your lips, drawing a soft whine from your throat that had Jess smirking against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, it was your turn to look at him in shock. ‘What just happened?’

Jess let out a laugh that you didn’t hear too often and you found that the sound warmed your heart. He reached down and twisted his fingers in yours, pulling up to press a kiss to the back of your hand. ‘You know you ramble when you get nervous? I like you too,’ he said, shaking your hands slightly and bending down to look into your eyes to make sure that you were believing what he was saying. ‘I just didn’t say anything because we work together and I didn’t want to make it weird between us.’

‘But what about everything with Rory?’

‘I tried to convince myself that I was still in love with Rory to distract myself from going after you. I can’t lie, I was relieved that she ran off because the thought of kissing her in front of you almost broke my heart.’

‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ you exclaimed, slapping his arm.

‘Ow! I just told you I didn’t want to make things weird!’

‘Well, you wouldn’t have!’

‘I know that now!’

The two of you stopped talking for a moment, just looking at each other before you both started laughing simultaneously. Once you both calmed down a little, Jess pulled you closer by his grip on your hands, pressing his forehead to yours.

‘So what do you say? You gonna let me take you on a date?’

You nodded quickly, leaning up to peck his lips. ‘I have been waiting for the past two years after all.’

[unfamiliaris]

THE TERROR ASK GAME

⚓️ (Anchor) - How long do you think you would have survived the expedition? How would you have died? (for the sake of keeping answers interesting, “I would have survived”/“none of that would have happened to me” are NOT viable answers)

🚢 (Flagship) - Would you have eaten the human meat, knowing what (or who) it was?

🪢 (Knots) - Favorite Terror fic(s)?

🧊 (Pack ice) - Favorite Terror ship(s)?

❄️ (Snowfall) - Backseat drive one of the conflicts in this show. (e.g. whether or not to tell the men about the spoiled rations immediately, whether to abandon Erebus, etc.) What would you have done? Do you think it would have worked? (Assume you have the same amount of information about the situation as the characters did at the time.)

🌊 (Pacific) - You are the one and only survivor of the expedition. You’ve been rescued, but everyone else has succumbed to their fates. Would you be able to go back to your normal life at any point? Would you be able to live with yourself? Would you tell your story, or take your and your companions’ sins to the grave?

🐻‍❄️ (Great white bear) - The men at sea were only allowed to bring limited possessions to save space. (Assume you are a lower ranking seaman without your own private quarters.) Aside from clothing, what would be of importance for you to bring along? Remember what era you’re in, but the question is flexible. For example, your phone is not a viable answer, but a book, even if it hadn’t been published yet at the time, is okay.

🌅 (Sunrise) - Do you have ambitions or plans on going on an arctic expedition in real life? If so, was it directly inspired by the show, or was your interest in the show because you already had these goals? If not, what things do you dislike about the prospect? (The temperature is a given!)

🍽️ (Empty plate) - List some characters you think you’d have an interesting dynamic with, if you were on the expedition with them. They don’t all have to be from the same ship, the relationships do not have to be romantic or sexual (but could be!), and for the sake of clarity we’re going off the interpretation of these characters as they exist in the AMC show. Would you fall for anyone? Would they reciprocate? Would you butt heads with anyone? Why?

🌫️ (Dense fog) - If you could have saved just one of the men from going on the expedition, who would it have been? Why them above anyone else?

🦭 (Seal) - Blatant promo bait question. If you have an AO3, an art tag, or anywhere else you post art related to the Terror, link them! If you don’t do either of those things, link and/or tag some of your favorite artists in the fandom.

[zahri-melitor]

Ric Grayson, or Tim 'Nightwing' Drake: a story of how Tom King's Nightwing pitch would have functioned.

You can often see the remains of discarded or overruled pitches in comics, if you look at structural decisions and compare them to pitches that you know were made.

One obvious one people might be familiar with is that Helena Bertinelli, back in 2003, was being set up to be removed from the Bat books and transferred over to what eventually became Greg Rucka's Checkmate 2006. There's a whole establishing storyline done in Gotham Knights by Scott Beatty. However, Gail Simone's pitch for Birds of Prey, which was published a mere two months after the Beatty story wrapped up, took Helena and used her to expand the Birds of Prey roster. It's a move that likely redirected Helena's character arc permanently (though the ghosts can still be seen in the choice to use Helena B as Matron in Grayson).

Equally: I hypothesise the reason we got Ric Grayson is because we got Young Justice 2019.

If you look at the storytelling, in terms of cover dates:

Dick was shot in Batman #55, in November 2018

Tynion's 'Tec run finished July 2018

Young Justice 2019 started March 2019

City of Bane started September 2019

King's pitch for Tim to take over the Nightwing mantle would probably have been a 12 issue run, to my eye; with the schedule that Nightwing had at the time, it would have been 6 issues (twice monthly) and then 6 issues (once monthly), ending the run and placing Dick back as a restored Nightwing...in issue #61, August 2019.

City of Bane kicked off the next month, being King's big 'all family-in' storytelling climax arc. It would have been the perfect place to put Nightwing, once again himself, reuniting with people. (I cannot tell how this placement would have gone should King have got his full 100 issue run; but I don't think City of Bane was significantly shifted forwards?)

Now I can't tell if the twice monthly issues dropped to monthly because Ric Grayson went down like a lead balloon with the fandom, but that would have been a very fast turn around in solicits for DC to withdraw support on a new direction (about a month). If it was expected to remain twice monthly, then I still think it would have been a 12 issue story, but might have stretched to 18 to meet plot needs over in Batman (King doesn't seem to have an issue about padding stories to get timing to line up in ways he wants them to)

King's pitch was also made at the time when Tim was still Red Robin, but clearly there was internal interest in transitioning him away from the name and into some other identity as part of the shift away from n52. Putting Tim into the Nightwing suit for 6 months to a year would have been a nice intervening step to use as the prompt to give Tim a new identity.

It's a pitch from King that just...fits in really really well. I can see how he'd have had it interact with things. Especially as King really hadn't had an opportunity to use Tim in his run yet due to the Mr Oz storyline, and he'd been pulling so many other faces through his story.

(I will also note that the 'Drake' identity and costume for Tim appears in January 2010 in Young Justice; Bendis' initial concept was clearly taking Tim back to Robin before he also tried a 'new costume' growth arc).

But instead Bendis wanted to use Young Justice to anchor the whole Wonder Comics initiative, and he wanted Tim as Robin for it because the concept was to pull in all the nostalgia for everyone for Young Justice 1998, thus having everyone in their original identities. And that whole decision probably had more lead time than your average comic, so it took priority over suggestions of moving Tim to Nightwing (because they already had plans brewing).

(And then Young Justice got fucked over with SO MUCH editorial meddling, to the point that I cannot wait until enough people have left DC that we actually get stories about exactly how bad it was, rather than just inferring it from what can be seen in the text itself)

Come back next time for when I instead explain what I think happened with the accepted pitch for Ric Grayson (and how I cannot BELIEVE this was actually an accepted pitch, given the way it was treated as a hot potato; it feels more like an editorial dictate of a concept that was passed off until Dan Jurgens came up with an idea of how to make it into an actual plot)

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 28: Coffee Shop AU

The barista and the bookshop | @abi-cosmos Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Barista Dean Winchester, Librarian/Bookshop owner Castiel, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending, Depression, Costume parties and masquerades, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Sharing a bed, Coffeeshop AU Summary: In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop. Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird. Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren't ready for. In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what's it gonna be? Peace or freedom?

Are You Writing From The Heart? | @luckshiptoshore Rating: Explicit Word Count: 86,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, comedian dean, Season/Series 04, Masturbation, Alcohol, Writer Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Fanfiction Writer Dean Winchester, dean/crowley relationship in the past of the fic, cas/meg and cas/hannah relationships in the past of the fic, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Jobs Summary: Castiel Novak's a writer who's waiting for his big break. His last book didn't sell, so now he's doing work for hire, ghostwriting the next in a series of ridiculous horror novels about two hot brothers who hunt monsters together. It’s pretty popular, and the fans are desperate for the next instalment — which is a problem, because the guy who usually writes them just up and vanished a couple of months ago. He left behind a signed contract and the outline for the next two stories, so the publisher’s been looking for someone else who could pick up where Chuck left off. And that's Cas. So he heads to a cafe to get the words out ... and that's where he meets Dean, a smartass wannabe comedian who's working on his stand-up set. Cas is straight, obviously, but there's something about this guy that he's fascinated with. The two of them strike up a friendship ... and soon the world Cas is writing and the world he's living in begin to get mixed up. Sometimes you're writing what you know without even realizing it ...

Finding You In Every Sign | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 99,407 Main Tags/Warnings: Deaf!castiel, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, flower shop au, coffee shop au, strangers to lovers, bottom!dean, bottom!castiel, sweet!dean, hurt!dean, hurt and comfort Summary: Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

[st4rgzer]

“hi beautiful! i could totally do this, but what scenario did you have in mind? or just headcannons?” Oh! Sorry I meant this would be headcanons, like dating headcanons?

✐ᝰ. BENOFTHEWEEK HEADCANNONS artist ytber!reader ✐ᝰ.

✎ first of all, this man would absolutely be so up to giving you anything you need. need art supplies? already going to the store, art block? is already giving you ideas and helping you in every way he knows how to. he admires you so much and supports your creativity and job with nearly as much passion as you do.

✎ he’d be so happy to appear in one of your videos, for example, animating your first ever date or how you guys met. if you’re comfortable with it, he’s comfortable with it.

✎ sometimes when you get artists block he drives you places so you can get inspiration, im talking 3 hour road trips to the most beautiful places ever. (he’d definitely use it as an excuse to just spend time with you in these places)

✎ he loves submitting commissions even though you’d paint for him whenever for free, but he likes it when he can support you and your art. he’d 100% be sneaky with it like submitting with a different name so you couldn’t say no.

✎ one of his favourite things to do is shout you out in his videos, either if it’s you editing a part of his video, appearing in it, or if it’s even just a clip of him sharing something you did recently and talking about you.

✎ he’d gift you things randomly that he thinks would help you, like new brushes, pencils, acrylics, oil paints, quality sketchbooks, art of- books, canvases, wrist pads, new apple pencil nibs, art dice, etc. just so he can see how your face lights up when you receive these.

✎ when you published your own comic he was so proud of you, the fact that you created such a thing, he was so extremely happy for you. he was the first one to buy a copy and he finished it in less than a day, praising you endlessly about how good it was. you would surely have a character that resembles him and the fact that he was included in such an important thing made his heart flutter.

✎ he would absolutely love to voice any of your animations, and would be amazed when he saw the video and how funny it was to see a little caricature aligned with his voice.

✎ when you panicked or overworked yourself, and whenever the pressure got to you, he would be there for you as an anchor. he’d hold you and listen to every one of your worries, doing the best he could to soothe you and give you advice. he’d understand what you’re going through as a big youtubers himself, and recommend the things that helped him when he felt that way.

✎ you guys would make videos to display your artistic abilities, of which he had little to none, so you’d end up making a masterpiece and half of his painting would end up in his face as traces of paint.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

a/n: ty for requesting!! this was really fun to write, i hope you liked it!🫶🏼

[that-butch-archivist]

"Christopher Street, NYC, 1988" by Kathryn Kirk

source: The Wild Good: Lesbian Photographs & Writings On Love, edited by Beatrix Gates

[cheerysmores]

Old regrets and new beginnings

I wrote a little Veilguard Solavellan prologue for the ever-lovely @mumms-the-word’s birthday

The kitchen is dark. It’s always this way when Solas enters, but tonight the shadows linger more heavily. He’d expected as much. Even after weathering the millenia, The Lighthouse is still doing its job and forever adapting to those who find their way here. Once it stood as a beacon of knowledge, its air warm with curiosity and the walls lined with a thousand thousand books. Later, it moulded to his own needs as a tactical base. Tables groaned under the weight of his plans, the courtyard vibrant with the peoples who’s bonds he’d broken. Now it’s silent. Everything disappeared under a mess of vines and stone until it whittled itself down to the bones of what he needed. A table to eat, a space to rest, the eternity of the fade around him to reflect on his work.

Strangely, it still found ways to surprise him. Books would appear at random in his study, most recently a collection of serials published by none other than one Varric Tethras. Even now he could afford himself a few hours to fall into a simpler life, one where villains wore their malice on their sleeves and all hardships could disappear with a lover’s kiss.

Varric hasn’t had a chance to publish a new one for a while. A shame.

He pushes around the meat on the plate, ignoring the second chair that had greeted him as he sat down. No matter how often he moved it, the chair would find its way back, usually closer to his own perch than before. Whether the Lighthouse thinks him lonely or truly believes there is someone out there to join him, he doesn’t dwell on. There are few people who would sit here, even less who wouldn’t hide a loaded crossbow under the table.

He pushes the plate away, staring at the candle flickering across from him.

Tomorrow the veil will fall. Tomorrow the world will burn and be made anew. Tomorrow he will become another legend to those that crawl from the ashes– perhaps a villain, perhaps a mindless monster, perhaps hope. Another title to add to his ever-growing list.

He’d heard whispers across the fade of those who knew of his plan. Some were angry, others soft, all saying the same thing:

“We’ll show him there’s another way.”

He’s done being angry at such thoughts, that there is some simple path to salvation that somehow hadn’t crossed his mind.

He’d known it from the moment he jerked awake in a physical body, still shaking from the song of the Titans’ blood- there is never a simple path. Not when ending that war in madness and blight, not when imprisoning those he once called family and not now. In saving the elves he’d inflicted the veil upon their world. A world that had grown callous and cruel. A world cut from the fade and trembling in fear of its wonders. A world where his people were a shadow of themselves, left to venerate slavers and tyrants. A world it was his duty to unmake.

If the path was simple, Corypheus would have died at the conclave those years ago. Solas would have plucked the anchor from amongst his bones, entered the fade, ripped the veil asunder and let the world burn. Alas, his immortality proved a wrinkle as did the answering thunder of the Inquisition. So his new persona was created, the wandering apostate. Quiet, unassuming and just enough of an asset to avoid execution. Enough to draw the eye of the person housing the power he so desperately needed.

The hearth beside him grows brighter as he leans back.

Iren. Vhenan.

Eight years and those memories still find new ways to slip free: the warm bronze of her skin, the soft click of her weaving, the Halla antlers curling over her head at Halamshiral like the adornments of a true Goddess– sharp little reminders that he hid every part of himself except his heart. They’re distractions. Wrong. Wonderful. Fleeting threads of colour that would taste like a lie to call regrets. The Herald of Andraste they called her, none seeing how fixing rifts in the sky was the least marvellous thing about her. She was stubborn, selfless, ready to bleed for an uncaring world and brazenly baring the traits he so desperately wanted to see in himself. It took but one kiss in her dreams for him to feel her fingers peeling back his mask, then one more for his apprehension to melt.

And in that moment, one small warm stupid moment of weakness he felt his resolve crack.

Can the world truly be so broken if it made her?

Even now he has to remind himself that she is a rarity amongst the Dalish, a single flower pushing its way through a war-ruined field. Someone who gave him a gift still seared like a burn over his heart– of being loved as a mortal, as a man. It was something wet, messy, almost ugly and enough for him to finally tell her everything.

It’s the memory he sees clearest: the two of them standing amongst the quiet trees and the soft cry of the river. Her eyes were universes under the moonlight, looking at him like he held her beating heart in his palm. He touched her face, brushed the long curtain of hair from her neck… and he hid. He wrapped his nature in half-truth and instead told her the real tale of her Gods. It’s something he’d tried to tell before, a story that had gotten him laughed at or beaten by the Dalish, but not by her. She believed him, kissed him and let him peel away the lines of vallaslin on her face, each red as bloodied chains.

The fire beside him dims again.

He’s had years to pick over his mistakes. Some are still bloody, others clean and dull as old bones. Growing closer to her was not the worst of those, not even close, it was the fraction of a second that he let himself imagine. Seeing her before him, fresh-faced as a new beginning, he truly was just a man ready to start a life with the woman he loved. The possibilities spilled amongst the stars: waking to the scent of her hair, the feel of her body on his, spending every day letting her feel how his heart beat only for her, the one person that made him see true goodness in this world.

The world he scarred and bled.

The illusion broke quickly after that. The contentment in her eyes shattered as he turned away. Part of him wanted to lie, to tell her he never cared and she was too naive and little to understand any of it. He held back. Hurting her was always the end of that journey. Destroying her before the veil fell would be altogether more cruel.

He lived with the hope that she would come to hate him, a hope that flickered out when she fell before him, gasping in pain as the anchor burned her from the inside out. She didn’t fight him, nor scream or curse him for truly living up to his reputation as the God of lies and betrayal. Even under all that pain, she looked at him the same way she did before, like he truly was the most interesting person in the world. He was her people's greatest adversary, ancient and righteous and telling her that her world needed to die. Still the revelation didn’t break her.

“Solas. Var lath vir suledin.”

Solas. A name spat by countless over the generations still sounded like a lyric from her lips. She still would have followed him to the end of her world, willingly falling into his jaws and believing she could make a home there.

And he, still fallible as the rest of them, was tempted.

He blows out the candle and makes his way back to the Eluvian. The kitchen door swings closed with a definite click, perhaps forever now.

Almost a decade she’s had to heal. Sometimes he sees the fingerprints of her work in the south, the echoes of her voice carried by others throughout Thedas. If he were weaker, he would have looked closer and seen how the years changed her. Perhaps new lines had blossomed over her face now, ones of laughter, joy… love.

His fingers bite into his sides at the thought. It’s a strange reflex, bitter and new. He almost smiles.

Was that jealousy? Hope?

Maybe he truly is just a man after all.

He takes the lyrium dagger from its sheath and carefully runs his hand over the glowing edge. By this time tomorrow it will all be done. He has spirits ready to mitigate the worst of the damage, but it matters little. The rot has to be purged so flowers can bloom anew. And when the centuries pass and the ash of this work finally seeps back into the earth, something beautiful finally can grow.

And maybe from wherever she rests, she’ll see it.

Here he stands at the very edge of the Din'anshiral. Alone. Just as he should.

[cbrownjc]

Hi! Hope you don't mind but I wanted to ask your opinion on some stuff we learned in ep 6 and possible repercussions for Daniel's character. So we get the super heavy-handed wink wink nudge nudge "body switch" line from Raglan, which imo definitely implies they are gonna go there at some point - body switching *will* be a thing.

Before this, I was actually pretty hopeful that at some point, Armand was going to turn old man Daniel into a vampire. Not sure yet how and when it would happen, but it felt like they were building towards it (also having not forgotten the super sus levodopa treatment from probably-a-vampire Dr. Fareed). But if they're going to introduce body switching (and it feels significant that this line was said to Daniel so I doubt it will NOT involve him at all), then that no longer makes sense, right? Why bother turning old man Daniel when they're gonna body switch his spirit with what I suspect might be a cloned younger version of him (played by LBF ofc)? I realize I'm making a lot of assumptions here lol but the hints are there, aren't they? Mostly I just really don't want Eric to be written out of the show - I'm so attached to his version of Daniel (though I also want to see more of LBF - I'm so torn lmao).

Where do you think they're going with this?

Hi,

Okay, so. IF older Daniel is turned and IF the body switch is still in play, I feel there are multiple scenarios going on as to where this could be going.

The first thing we have to look at is who we might see turn older Daniel if it happens. (And which I already predicted after last week's Inside the Episode for ep 2x05 gave away that the IWTV book was going to be published I think very likely is going to happen this season.) If it's Armand who does it, then it is 100% Daniel who is being turned. If it's Louis -- or anyone else -- who does it, then it 100% is not Daniel who is being turned IMO, but Raglan James -- no matter if it's Eric that we see getting bitten, drained, and turned by Louis . . . or any other vampire.

Because this show did not go to all the trouble it did in this latest episode (2x06) to specifically discuss how Armand has never once in his whole vampire life made another vampire and then not have him be the one to turn his one-and-only book-canon fledgling.

So if we see anyone other than Armand turning older Daniel at some point? Then that is Daniel's body being turned, but Daniel's actual soul/spirit/consciousness will for sure be somewhere else. Even if we don't actually see the switch happen beforehand.

If this is the case, Daniel's soul/spirit/consciousness will be in some other body -- most likely Justin Kirk's -- and I can see a scenario where Daniel doesn't want his older body back because it's now a vampire. So a new body is made for him -- via clone or whatever -- by Dr. Fareed that is younger, but not super young or something (and played by LBF -- whom I myself have already pointed out is 36 years old right now . . . meaning he could realistically play someone 40 years old IMO).

So this way, Daniel is still human, just in a different body now. And his older body is now a vampire and . . . IDK, goes off to join in on the Great Conversion thing, I'd guess. Or, maybe James just goes off to do what he did in the TotBT book but then, maybe something goes wrong with him in Daniel's older body -- maybe he's not fully anchored to it or something because this is the first time he's ever jumped bodies. Or maybe something else goes wrong (put a pin in this). And so James jumps bodies again, but he now wants to be a vampire again really bad. Which now sets up for him plotting to steal Lestat's body and the whole TotBT storyline.

However, if we see Armand turn older Daniel? I do think they could still be setting up for the body swap but, IMO, it might go more like this if they are:

Older Daniel gets turned and, just like his book counterpart, goes mad sometime very soon after he is. And I think the earlier in the show's run that Daniel gets turned the more likely we are headed toward the book scenario of Daniel losing his mind after he is turned. Because even I have kind of glossed over the fact Daniel being turned by Armand didn't lead to a happy ending for them both -- not right away. Things actually went really bad for them for decades afterward. Daniel went mad, and he and Armand were separated during that time he was, for over 20 years before Daniel finally healed and reunited with Armand again.

And while I don't think Daniel's turning on the show will lead to a +20-year separation -- because Armand and Daniel have already done that on the show -- we are very much not out of the woods on older Daniel going mad once he is turned IMO. I think Daniel going mad after he's turned is not only very much in play but will happen at some point if he is.

And, in the show? Daniel might not just go mad because he's unable to deal with what he now is or he's angry at Armand about, well, a whole lot of things. IMO, the body swap hints might also point to something, even more, being at play here. (Pin!)

This, however, is where my thoughts on these things get a bit more possibly depressing because -- I'm not 100% sure that turning older Daniel would cure his Parkinsons. Because Parkinson's isn't like cancer or being poisoned or dying from being shot or something. Parkinson's is specifically a neurological disease.

And one thing that the books have shown is that The Blood does NOT cure something neurological.

In the books, one of the twins, the vampire Maharet, was blinded before she was turned. And she isn't able to just take some human eyes and put them into her empty eye sockets and have that work permanently. The human eyes just continue to die within her eye sockets and that is because even The Blood can't heal the nerves connecting them.

We also see that The Blood doesn't help with neurological problems with the character of Mekare -- the other twin -- in the book Prince Lestat. Now, I'm only up to Chapter 15 of that book, but I have read past the part in that book where Jesse talks about Dr. Fareed examining Mekare, particularly her brain. Because while Mekare had her tongue cut out before she was turned, something happened to her mind as well. And this is what Jesse says was discovered after Mekare was examined by Fareed (via a CAT scan and other ways):

"They said Mekare was mindless," said Jesse. "They said the brain in her head was atrophied. They said there was so little indication of brain activity that she was like a human in a coma, kept alive by the brain stem alone. Apparently, she'd been entombed for so long, possibly in a cave, no one knew, that even her sight had been affected. The powerful Blood actually hardened the atrophied tissue over time [. . .]"

What this tells me is that there is probably not going to be any reversal wrt Daniel's Parkinson's once he's turned. Daniel's brain, and nerves, might just do like Mekare's did -- harden at the point they are at now. Keeping things forever in the degenerative state they are at whenever he's turned.

The Blood can kill cancer cells, destroy poison within the body, eradicate diseases like TB from the body, and even heal cuts and wounds. But it doesn't seem to be able to do anything for neurological issues, going by the books. It freezes things where they are when you are turned wrt that and does not repair them.

So older Daniel going mad after he's turned? Might not just be because of being unable to fully deal with now being a vampire. It might also be because he was turned while his body had health issues that even The Blood cannot fix. And while he will no longer age or die, Daniel might still have his body's neurological issues that were there when he was turned, just now forever frozen in that state where they were. Just like it remained so for the twins.

The show specifically focused on Daniel's shaking getting worse in episode 2x02 when he was under emotional stress/duress, which is very much a Parkinson's thing. As I know I've said more than once, I took care of my mom for 10 years while she had Parkinson's, and because so I've hyper-noticed these things -- the camera very much sometimes focusing on Daniel's shaking this season. Daniel's shaking was even commented on by Louis just last week.

And if Daniel is turned soon, well . . . imagine having to live with something like that for eternity?

And so just like with Maharet and her eyes, which Dr. Fareed figured out how to give her permanent ones that would never die in her head, (and also knew he could give Mekare a new tongue but, at least as far as I've read that offer hasn't been accepted -- and doing something for her brain was likely out of the question given that she was the Sacred Core at that point meaning her brain was fused with Amel's spirit . . . operating on that would very likely put every vampire in the world in danger), maybe this will have Dr. Fareed coming up with a new, cloned body for Daniel that don't have those neurological issues?

And then maybe that body gets stolen by Raglan James in a later season and we get the TotBT storyline that way? I can see being one way into it.

As it is, I know that making bodies for spirits to occupy does become a thing in the books after Prince Lestat. So their being able to do so is likely going to be established at some point -- and this could be one way they do so.

But, either way, if older Daniel is turned anytime soon, these are the two ways I can see it going afterward, and probably why they are also dropping body swap hints as well along with it. Because I don't think Daniel being turned is going to be simple, or lead to something happy right away. Again, it didn't in the books.

And really, this all just kind of backs up why I wasn't ever really feeling Daniel being turned anytime soon. But I realize now that my wanting the show to wait before they did so was the more happy way I was looking at it to go.

But this is Gothic Horror. And while I don't think Eric will be "written out" right away or something, I don't think whichever scenario I've given for all of this will lead to something happy. Not for a long time. There is just too much already in the source material that points to it not, IMO. And I think the show is very much setting up for that as well with the hints it's clearly dropping wrt all of this.

[longwuzhere]

Here are some cool Easter eggs that I found the newest My Adventures with Superman episode, “Let’s Go to Ivo Tower, You Say”. Links to the easter eggs post:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

SPOILERS if you have not seen the episode of course:

Perry assigns our intern trio to go get interviews about Anthony Ivo. I previously mentioned Ivo's deal in the comics in this post, but we'll talk more about this version of Ivo later.

Shout out to Lois' hanbok! As a kid in the 90s my first exposure to the DC was through the DC Animated Universe. Because of the way some of the characters like Lois, Clark, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Terry, were designed, as a kid, I thought they were Asian. Very cool to see this version of Lois be Korean.

Before Lois shows up for their black tie event at Ivo Tower, Jimmy knocks down a stack of papers and magazine and Clark goes to pick it up and stumbles upon the Metropolis Star with a cover that shows him as a kid flying 15 years ago.

The Metropolis star is a rival newspaper to the Daily Planet in the comics. The publisher makes its first appearance in Superman #9 (1987) (W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tony Ziuko, L: John Costanza).

When our intern trio makes it to Ivo Tower, Lois spots some very interesting powerful and political figures of Metropolis, the CEO of Galaxy Communications and Mayor Fleming.

Galaxy Communications makes its first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #133 (1970) where it was headed by Morgan Edge, the then leader of Intergang. In the comics Clark and Lois does work for Galaxy communications thanks to it buying out the Daily Planet forcing Clark to be the evening news anchor. The Galaxy Communications panels here are from Swamp Thing #68 (1988) (W&P: Rick Veitch, I: Alfredo Alcala, C: Tajana Wood, L: John Costanza).

Mayor Fleming makes her first appearance in Action Comics #894 (2010) (W: Nick Spencer, P: R.B. Silva, I: Denis Freitas, C: Dave McCaig, L: Rob Leigh) where she appoints Jimmy Olsen and Sebastien Mallory as a welcoming committee for Dalwythians aliens. Like her MAwS counterpart she is obviously the Mayor of Metropolis.

Later, Lois goes and questions Senator Sackett at the party/event.

In the comics Sackett was a councilman not a senator who makes his first appearance in Superman #130 (1997) (W: Dan Jurgens, P: Norm Breyfogle, I: Joe Rubenstein, C: Glenn Whitmore and Digital Chameleon, L: John Costanza) depicted here in the issue's panel wearing a Superman costume. Sackett in the comics is in Luthor's pocket.

I am like 99.99% sure this is Lex Luthor like who else in Metropolis is named Alex, has red hair (if this is Lex Luthor and he shows up again, I'll talk about him and what I mean by this in another post.), and works in the science and tech field.

We finally meet Ivo and he is as I was hoping he'd be a major techbro tool. The way he acts in his introduction and his meeting with Clark is very much like Lex and Clark's meeting in Batman v Superman. Both Ivo and Lex upon meeting Clark know how strong he is. In MAwS Ivo punches his chest and it hurts him and in BvS you heard an audible thud when Lex knocks on Clark's chest. Very similar vibes between both scenes.

Clark confronts Ivo about one of his deals and name drops one of Metropolis' mob families.

Bobby Gazzo, head of the Gazzo crime family in Metropolis, makes his first appearance in Batman: Dark Victory #1 (W: Jeph Loeb, P&I: Tim Sale, C: Gregory Wright and Heroic Age, L: Richard Starkings). Fantastic sequel to Long Halloween, highly recommend reading both books.

After Clark gets thrown out and Lois offers to repair his jacket, we see Lois mentioning her dad, Sam Lane a military general and if the person at the end of the second part of the first episode is Sam Lane...

...and he shows up again in the show I'll talk more about it in another post. For now this is all just speculation.

Might be reading into this but maybe a subtle nod to how the words "Superman" and "pal" are often used together. Both have been used as a comic book title, "Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen" as I've mentioned in these posts a few times.

The show here did a very clever thing with Ivo. Normally any other media pertaining to Ivo would give the audience his power and weakness stealing robot Amazo, but here the MAwS team was able to combine both Ivo and another villain in Superman's rogues gallery, Parasite.

The first Parasite, Raymond Jensen, makes his first appearance in Action Comics #340 (1966) (Cover Art by Curt Swan, George Klein, and Ira Schnapp). All iterations of Parasite have the ability to temporarily steal away anyone's energy, strength, and their knowledge. As I've said there have been other Parasites that Superman fought, the second and most recurring Parasite is Rudy Jones, the Parasite I'm more familiar with, who makes his first appearance in Firestorm #58 (1987).

Cover Art by Joe Brozowski, Bruce Peterson, and Tom Ziuko Alex and Alexandra Allston the third and fourth Parasite (green Parasite and purple Parasite respectively) first appeared in the Adventures of Superman #633 (2004).

Cover art by Gene Ha and Art Lyon

The latest Parasite, Joshua Allen, makes his first appearance in Superman #23.4 (2013).

Cover art by Aaron Kuder and Dan Brown So yeah there are similarities between the Amazo robot and Parasite and it was smart of the MAwS team to just combine Ivo with Parasite to avoid redundancies. Besides the Amazo robot is more of a Justice League villain anyways.

Near the end of the episode, after the Parasite suit wrecks Ivo's body, he begins to look more like his recent iterations in the comics now. The panel here is from Justice League of America #4 (2013) (W: Geoff Johns, P: Brett Booth, I: Norm Rapmund, C: Andrew Dalhouse, L: Rob Leigh). Hope you all had a wonderful time checking this post out. Like I said at the beginning my other MAwS easter egg posts are:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

WHITTINGHAM INITIALS

The Whittinghams, Charles the Elder (1767-1840), who founded the Chiswick Press, and his nephew and successor Charles the Younger (1795–1876), were among the finest English printer/publishers of the 19th century, noted especially for the quality of typographic design and evenness of printing. Their firm was also the chief printer for bookseller/publisher William Pickering, whose own devotion to quality was exemplified in his use of Aldus Manutius's anchor & dolphin printer's mark, combined with the motto Aldi Discipulus Anglus (Aldus's English Disciple).

Many of the distinctive, wood-engraved initials the Whittinghams used were designed by Charles II himself along with his artist daughters Charlotte and Elizabeth, almost all of which were engraved by English book illustrator and wood engraver Mary Byfield (1795-1871). The Whittingham initials shown here are from the 1896 Grolier Club publication, The Charles Whittinghams Printers by Arthur Warren (1860-1924), which itself is printed by one of the finest 19th-century American printers, Theodore Low De Vinne (1828-1914), who printed the book on handmade paper in an edition of 185 copies. Our copy is another gift from our friend Jerry Buff, a Grolier Club member.

View our other Typography Tuesday posts.