Remember In 1993 When Jurassic Park Was Like…the End All, Be All Of Special Effects?

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DCxDP Fic Idea: Lex Luther's annoyance

Vlad Masters is....a pain. Not in the usual elite way Lex is used to. Not the empty-headedness of wealthy men like Bruce Wayne or annoyingly humanitarian like Oliver Queen.

Masters was annoying in the confusing kind. He was new money who danced around Lex's manipulations as if they were mere flies. He never gives Lex a reason to take him out but always leaves the bald man feeling weary.

Unsettled. Unsure.

The effect Masters had on him was irritating. Lex Luthor doesn't get unsure.

Luthor's family money came from his father, but it was Lex who turned the moderate company into one of the biggest powerhouses in the world. He was ruthless, always three steps ahead of his peers, using his clever mind to his every advantage.

Lex prides himself in being the danger in plain sight. He charmed kings and politicians alike, carefully placing a controlling hand on the back of their necks with each casual joke or helpful investment. Wherever Lex went, it wouldn't be long before he gained control of the floor and moved his pieces on the board to his liking.

That was if Vlad Masters wasn't in attendance.

Masters rarely join in high-class events- why should he? He was wealthy, of course, but nowhere near Lex's level. He just didn't run in the same circles- but whenever he did, it was like a rock being thrown in Lex's clam river. No matter where he was, Lex found his eyes tracing the underwhelming cut of Masters's suit (Easily one of the cheapest ones there) or catching the man's gaze that hid barely concealed amusement.

That was another thing. All social rules and etiquette indicated that Masters should be chasing after Lex's attention and approval or, at the very least, feel nervous in his presence. Masters acted like Lex was a part of the background, never impolite but never dazed or impressed.

Equals in a way that made Lex's stomach lurch in anxiety.

He has met some people who thought themselves better than Lex through arrogance, but none have taken one look at him and deemed him unimportant. It was as if Lex were just another man walking down the street who was only worthy of getting a passing greeting.

As if the man had a presence at all. Lex was often the man of the hour, and Masters was the guy nursing a drink by the wall, watching the crowd with a calm, nearly detached expression.

Masters was known for being a rather dull wealthy man, only seemingly interested in conversations if it was about his precious football team or random scientific discoveries. Seeing as he made his wealth through scientific discoveries, it was understandable that he knew an awful lot about them.

However, besides being a fantastic investor and stock buyer, Masters didn't have a single social bone in his body.

Lex had witnessed him flout through galas, parties, art galleries, and political rallies without a hint of displeasure or pleasure. Always engaged in conversations, but only if someone approached him first. He would often be seen admiring the decor, as though he was visiting a museum rather than networking or losing himself in a vice-like alcohol or bed partners.

It was almost as if these grand events that others killed to get an invitation were mere walks in a lovely garden for him. A break from whatever hectic life he lived.

Except that after having his people look into it, Masters didn't have a hectic life. He barely had one. No matter how much Lex dug into his background, besides that one accident that landed him in a hospital in college, Masters's life had been a pretty average rise from rags to riches through his hard work and intelligent mind.

A wealth that would likely only be passed down two generations with no hints of wanting to raise it like Lex had. No hints of ambition for something greater. No hints of nefarious schemes or back-alley deals. No hints of any sort of crime.

Just a man who wasn't amazed by Lex's world of wealth.

Lex hated how utterly boring he found the man and yet, how his eyes always followed him through the room, fascinated by how Masters didn't make any sesne. It was irritating how Masters didn't even have to do anything to grab Lex's attention; just walking by had him nearly tripping over his own two feet to watch him.

He didn't even know why he wanted to watch Masters. He wasn't even that handsome! His long silvery hair tied in a perfect tail, his slightly dry-looking skin, the dark circles under his eyes, and that teeth-gritting accent of his.

He didn't even know why Masters sounded like an upper-class British man. He was born in Wisconsin!

What did he take voice acting lessons to craft an accent? (Lex's checked. He didn't. Masters is just like that. It made his heart beat like Superman was about to burst into his office. He called his doctor to check if he's developed a heart condition)

The worst part was the way Master lingered in his mind, sitting at the back of it with inane questions like: What was he doing? Does he like chocolate or vanilla more? Why has he tried to buy the Parkers from Green Bay ninety-five times?

It made him look like a fool. No one made Lex Luthor look like a fool.

In a fit of madness, Lex had ordered Mercy to blacklist Masters from any parties they would host. He could not stand to have that man throw him off his game a second longer.

It worked for about three months, and Lex did not have to suffer from stomach twisting or heart hurting due to the sudden increase in heart rate. Then he ran into Masters at a Wayne Gala of all places where the man was dressed like an idiot with his pure black-on-black outfit only to throw on a Packer's scarf.

It looked so stupid that Lex had to hide in the men's bathroom for an hour after spotting the man chatting quietly with Wayne's butler. He could not describe why that stupid green and gold scarf had nearly brought him to his knees.

According to Mercy, who had eavesdropped, Masters' mother was from England, which explains his odd accent. She didn't quite judge him openly, but Lex could read the subtext of her stare as she reported everything Masters did at the gala.

He danced to one song with Bruce Wayne. Lex had nearly broken his hand when he punched the way to the bathroom.

The night after Waynes' gala, Lex lifted Masters' ban because he missed the rather dull man's presence. This gala had been the season's highlight, and compared to the other various parties, Lex had found himself feeling something besides boredom or contempt.

The next time Lex saw Masters was at a charity five months later. Once again, Masters was wearing his black suit, but this time, he had a silver undershirt and a ridiculous red bowtie. Lex had spent five hours changing outfit after outfit, trying to find the most flattering one, and Masters had the audacity to wear a red bowtie.

"He looks good," Lena says, eyes drinking in Masters, leaning on a wall with a blue drink in hand and gazing over the dancers. Lex felt like hurling up when Masters' lips twitch up into a grin as a man stumbles by with his unimpressed dance partner. "You should ask him to dance."

"No," Lex bites out, feeling sick. "Why would you even say?"

Lena shares a look with Mercy before muttering, " It's almost pathetic how he doesn't know how to handle his feelings."

"What was that?"

"You're pathetic," She says with an eye roll. She grabs Mercy's hand and drags her to the dance floor, though his bodyguard sends him a look, asking for permission. He waves his hand, knowing his sister would bite his head off if he stopped her from dancing with her girlfriend, even if she was currently on the clock.

" I'm not pathetic. I can make a living clone with my own DNA." He grouches, glaring at her as she twirls under Mercy's arm.

"You can?" The familiar accent has Lex jumping a foot in the air. He spins around only to look down into Master's blue eyes. Lex had always noticed that he was a head taller than the other man, but it was one thing to know on paper and another to see in person.

He felt like Masters' blue gaze had grabbed him by the throat. "What?"

"You make clones?" Masters repeat, eyes alight with delight. "I've dabbled in that technology myself. I have a daughter, thanks to it."

Lex stares, feeling off-footed. "You're married?"

"Oh no, no." Masters laughs, though Lex can pick up a hint of anger from the curve of his jaw. "I'm a single father. My daughter happens to have some characteristics of her DNA donors, but she's mine entirely."

"I see." Lex suddenly feels like every social skill he's ever developed has evaporated. Or, at the very least, all of his brain cells because why else would he have blurted out, "I have a son. He's my clone with another man."

"Oh, congratulations. You and your husband-"

"No! I'm single. I mean, I'm not married. I was never married. In fact, it's been a long time since I've been in a relationship. So long I think I forgot how they are supposed to go." Lex cuts in, nearly spilling his drink as he shakes his hand. Masters' fae clouds with amusement, and Lex realizes he's been talking for too long.

"Well, it's hard to date while being a single parent." Masters hums before smiling, and Lex feels like Superman has just punched him through a wall without wearing his power suit. "Science is a wonderful thing, isn't it? To allow us to have our children."

"I suppose"

Masters ponders something before he holds out a card. "My daughter has always wanted to meet others like her. Would you and your son care to join us for dinner if it's not too much trouble?"

Lex thinks he makes a sound of confirmation, and just as he appears, Masters vanishes. He walks into the crowd, disappearing from sight, taking his mind-numbing, amused eyes and his stupid bow tie.

It takes him a moment to realize the card has Masters' phone number. Lex stares at the seven digits, feeling like he's freefalling and he's seconds away from being sick. He stumbles to a chair, falling into it without his usual grace.

Mercy is at his side in seconds, eyeing him wearily as Lena touches his shoulder. "Lex? You okay?"

"I have...to make a call." He hears himself say, stumbling for his phone. With shaking hands, he taps on a contact, bringing the device to his ear and listening to it ring. It takes five rings before it's picked up, and a voice bites out.

"What?"

"Conner." He starts, hands still shaking slightly. "Are you free this Friday?"

"i support aspec people!" yeah but do you?

are you normal about aplatonics?

are you normal about asexuals who have sex?

are you normal about aroallos? alloaces?

are you normal about asexuals that are sex repulsed because of trauma? hell, are you normal about asexuals that are asexual because of trauma?

what about aromantics who date?

what about everyone else who you ignore because they make you 'uncomfortable'?

what about, oh, i don't know, cishet aromantic men? because apparently you don't fucking support those people.

you cant support just some of us. you cant call yourself an aroace ally if you refuse to acknowledge those who dont fit your bullshit stereotypes and standards.

They’re not allowed to get interviewed anymore

A fun Danny Phantom idea:

One of those “mediums tormented by the fact they can’t turn Off the ability to see ghosts” types moves to Amity, and for the most part, it’s great! Like yeah maybe there’s still ghosts everywhere, but now they can react normally, because finally for once in their life everyone else sees the ghosts too. Granted, judging from what everyone else says it sounds like they’re seeing significantly tamer humanoid proper-manifestations than the near-incomprehensible masses of emotion, spectral energy, and whatever that particular spirit’s associated with they’re used to seeing, but eh- between how jaded they are to seeing stuff like that after all these years and the fact that in practice the response of “GTFO” tends to be applicable regardless of whether you’re dealing with a poltergheist in overalls who likes hucking boxes at people, a giant robot guy who’s yelling about world domination, or reality breaking fever dream vomit, it’s not too big a deal

…There’s just ooooone little problem

Which is that when people look at the Fenton’s youngest kid and when people see local town hero/cryptid The Phantom, clearly everyone ELSE is seeing two different people/entities, but in their case, all they see is the same wild plasma-lightning living tear in reality either way, and they’re afraid if they mix the two “identities” up they’re either A) gonna fuck up some poor kid’s life/put him and those around him in danger, B) piss off a very powerful spirit whose repeatedly proven why that’s a very bad idea, or C) both-

(Bonus points if it’s some completely mundane guy like Ted the Bus Driver/ the county deputy in training/ some poor janitor who’d be reasonably expected to come in contact with either one fairly frequently-)

I bring you… my silly little comics. Saw a tik tok this morning about British Museum recognizing emperor Elagabalus as a trans woman 🏳️‍⚧️, and I just had to draw this.

basic things you should know about your main characters

how is their relationship with their family

what are their beliefs, if they have any

what is their motivation (preferably something unrelated to their love interest/romantic feelings)

who were they raised to be vs. who they became/are becoming

what are their plans for the future, if they have any

how they feel about themselves and how it affects their behaviour

how do they feel about things they cannot control

and last but not least: Why is This Character the Protagonist??

i see y’all with your “steven goes to work at the mystery shack” headcanons and i’ve just gotta say… he would absolutely be the sketchiest person in gravity falls

#SpaceKaren broke me

I love the trope "don't know how to behave (or function) like a normal human because of some individuals or organization"

Where's the angst

Wheres the feelings

Where's the recovery

There are some in my favorite fandoms but those are so few and far inbetween I crave hhhhhhh