SIMMER DOWN.

[swallowpitted]

𝘚𝘐𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘙 𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕.

MULTI MUSE. 18+. SIDEBLOG TO TAHITIWOKE. WRITTEN BY SAM.

[notmorbid]

smallville: season 6 [3/3].

dialogue prompts from the sixth season of the wb's smallville.

letting go of _____ is the hardest thing i've ever had to do.

i can't keep turning my back on the truth.

it's okay to be nervous.

i honestly don't know what my life is without her.

what was so urgent it couldn't wait?

i don't give in to blackmail.

no one sinks as low as you without being driven by desperation.

is it so wrong to bend the rules just once?

when it comes to protecting ourselves, we do what we have to do.

[name]. look at me.

you didn't sleep at all last night, did you?

i guess i always thought you'd sweep in at the last minute and save the day. but you're not going to do that, are you?

____ was trying to protect me.

do you sit up at night practicing this stuff?

everything happened so quickly. i feel like i'm still trying to catch up.

punch me. not too hard, just enough to make it look real.

part of being in love is learning to let go.

how can i make the pain go away?

something tells me those aren't happy tears.

saying it out loud makes it more real.

you're more talented than you give yourself credit for.

i feel like i've lost so much.

i'm going to get through this like i always do.

i already lost you once. i'm not gonna do it again.

i have some pretty amazing resources at my disposal.

it's like i'm a human weapon.

haven't you done anything crazy for love?

maybe some tea would help with the nerves.

i understand you're in a lot of pain. good.

i stopped expecting you to act like a friend a long time ago.

i'm gonna cuddle up with a movie. any genre preference?

what kind of a person would lie like that?

nothing could have stopped me from loving you. nothing.

i don't know what i did to deserve you.

no one can completely change who they are.

your greatest strength might also be your greatest weakness.

seems a lot of people got a lot of ideas about me.

you're so confident and so brave, and i'm so afraid.

i wonder if you could spare a bit of your strength for me? please?

eyes back in your head, ______.

i didn't peg you for the kind of guy with a secret identity.

have i been so lonely i've started making up stories to amuse myself?

i couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.

don't worry, i kept my word. i'm here alone.

you played me right from the very start.

those are some eyes that you have.

what have you gotten yourself into?

you're holding back something from me, aren't you?

you're independent and not afraid to get your hands dirty.

you should try picking up a phone, occasionally.

get your hands off me, you fascist.

i know that look. it's usually followed by you almost getting yourself killed.

we all have our secrets. sometimes we have to keep them to protect the people we care about.

what happened? how did you end up like this?

you have to fight this.

you're gonna be okay. i'm gonna go get help.

they'll never stop trying to control me.

you're not a cat. don't skulk around like one.

whatever debt you think i still owe you, we are even.

i don't trust you. i don't trust anyone anymore.

i'm getting out of here, and i'm never coming back.

you can't die. i love you too much.

'hope' isn't a word in my vocabulary. i need results.

[reignthem]

" bide your time wisely, kara zor-el. " reign's voice is a tinny thunder rumbling low. there is no rage. she is patient ; she is judgment. no curtain of flimsy, mortal-crafted static can restrain her for long. beneath the surface of her skin, strength blossoms, dna re-stranding to withstand any crude barrier to reign's final authority.

" your hubris will not serve you when it comes to the time of your reckoning. "

[swallowpitted]

"soooooo is that a no on the sandwich? it's really good, i put like. coleslaw and barbecue sauce in it and everything. i'm a blt kinda gal, but sometimes i swap the tomato for a kfc wing -- humans can't eat the bones but i really like the extra crunch. c'est la vie, right?" kara swings her legs and likes that if she puts the bar up high enough, her boots only just about skiff the ground. she stares up at the ceiling tiles and wonders how many there are.

"can i talk to sam? she's way cooler."

[sunlightreverie]

"unfortunately, bureaucracy takes time," lena says, her brow quirking up. "we've notified the securities and exchange commissions of the change, of course. it should be reflected in the next financial filing."

her spine straightens, shoulders pulled back with a practiced poise. the mantle of luthor corp sits on her shoulders now, heavy and tarnished. no method of shining will ever remove all the patina left from lex's actions, and yet lena will spend the rest of her life trying.

"as for the purchases..." she pushes her chair back, rising on tired feet and moving to the back wall of her office. "wayne enterprises is involved in all manner of defense contracts, with applications far beyond the military."

she pulls down a low ball glass, pouring out two fingers of her favorite scotch. she turns back to kara and lets the movement disguise the weight of a sigh, pressing the back of her hips into the counter as she forces her body to stay relaxed, non-defensive.

"nano tech suits can be used to bypass radar scanners and augment human strength, yes, but they also show remarkable promise is being the foundation for cutting-edge ppe. imagine a biohazard suit that not only keeps the wearer isolated from a contaminate, but actually neutralizes it in real time."

the first sip burns as it rolls down her throat, settling in the emptiness of her stomach that reminds her it's already nearing late-afternoon.

"can i offer you a drink, miss danvers?"

[swallowpitted]

the earnest, friendly and trusting part of her - the part that always goes to bat for lena when alex comes down hard on some imagined nefarious slight which always proves innocent - wants to shut her notebook and cheerily okey dokey annie oakley! but the reporter in her prods at the bruise hard, reminding her there is a job still to do of pulling on the thread when she can. she ignores the burn in her stomach as the other woman leans back into the counter and calls her miss danvers. it's almost painful, really, the way it almost embarrasses her. makes her want to apologise for the way they have seemed to end up on opposite ends of this particular spectrum.

"it doesn't do anything for me," she says, distracted by her notes, then baulks. "uh -- i have a... high tolerance for stuff. and i'm still on the clock. so. um." nailed it. smooth, danvers, so damn smooth.

(alex, somewhere, feels a breeze.)

"so can i quote you on all that?" she knows it is a dangerous line to tiptoe along; putting it in print means not reneging on the promise five years down the line. it means l-corp can't release its very own brand of army outerwear or fresh tech drones, not if they want to keep trading under good faith.

[sunlightreverie]

the glint in his eyes is near-manic. lena has replayed lex's downfall into insanity countless times, berated herself raw for not seeing the signs in time to save him. like the frog in the proverbial boiling pot, they never noticed until it was too late (or perhaps she didn't want to), and by the time lena was aware of the boiling water, they were already succumbed in lex's pot of madness.

this time, the drop into boiling water is immediately. skin scalded, brain screaming, she's scanning her entire apartment for a backup plan even while her eyes remain on her brother.

"---surprise indeed," she says, letting her tongue roll the words off flat and dry. "i was under the impression that stryker's didn't allow for outside visitation."

and yet here he stands, on the day lena's relationship with kara danvers goes public. as if the punishment of 32 lifetimes was a suggestion instead of a promise that held lena's own sanity together.

how long did he spend in her apartment today, unsupervised? the lack of notification from her security system tells lena everything she needs to know.

"why are you here, lex?"

[swallowpitted]

he can fake the smiles with the best of them, he can laugh at the right jokes and make the right charity donations and go corporate gay pride, but his face will always be a shade too sallow. the skin of his face, eyesockets and cheekbones stretched as though his skull were dipped in white wax. he's always going to have a dangerous emptiness behind his eyes: the lights are always on, and there only person home is patrick bateman, live and uncut.

lex has always had the unnatural stillness of a man in no rush to define his place in the world, but lena makes him sentimental: he shifts in his suit, a snake getting used to a formless sort of skin, slithering up into a stand. he may not be the tallest or the broadest, but his shadow imposes as though he were a titan. it broadcasts across the wide white wall as the dregs of city streetlights climb and stretch and reach the penthouse windows. it's mostly low lamps doing the heavy lifting, but nothing negates his oppression of space.

he moves silently across the floors and comes to a stop in front of her. his little sister. still just a fraction shorter without heels. he sets his hands on her shoulders, a slight squeeze.

(is it gauche to say he's missed her?)

"i don't like it when people play with my toys. you know that."

[swallowpitted]

deb has moved to @hackhost :D

[swallowpitted]

DEBORAH VANCE SITS DOWN AND TALKS. VARIETY NOW, CIRCA 1976.

[sunlightreverie]

lena lowers herself into her chair, settling back with less grace than she might in any other company. her shoulders are still straight, her legs crossed perfectly behind the cover of her desk, but there's a softness to her spine, a relaxing on the outbreath that only comes with kara's company.

"you flatter me," she says, smiling at the blonde ball of energy in front of her.

she's no stranger to pulling energy from her reserves, to digging deep until the job is done, but kara seems to source her energy from somewhere else, the living embodiment of the 'energizer bunny' as her legs jittery and her hands fidget.

"----you can relax, kara," she says, voice low and warm as a smile tugs at her cheeks. "are you looking for information or a quote? i'll give you either, but the latter might take me a second to get my thoughts together. what's up?"?

[swallowpitted]

lena is sensory overload. kara tries to focus on the little things: a hummingbird's wings beating as it finds a new set of honeysuckles along a lake bank seven miles out of the city, the rolling pu-thud of slow moving tyres stuck in traffic along a busy highway, some chatter laughs as kids challenge each other to a basketball dunking contest. anything at all to distract her from lena's heartbeat or the swish of the fabric of her stockings as she crosses her legs or the creak of the seat as she leans back.

it goes beyond the casual notice veering dangerously into unavoidable attention. kara wants to live in these little moments.

"little of both." kara clears her throat and straightens, tries to conjure a completely unsexy picture of her boss's angry, pinched expression this morning. "wayne enterprises announced they were revising their defence contracts and had to release a bunch of patents for all kinds of stuff --" she flips through her notebook to the page she needs and scans the list. "-- state of the art humvees, nano tech suits, it's a pretty extensive list. a lot of it is still up for grabs, but luthorcorp is listed as a buyer for over a hundred different designs here. i know you rebranded, but you're still trading under luthorcorp on the nasdaq."

kara shifts, uncomfortable, hating the way it sounds, the way it feels. lena is her friend (more than? no, not really, even if sometimes it feels as though it could be), but there's a dribble of worry that miss luthor, ceo, might not be.

"are you buying weapon designs from wayne enterprises? and if you are, why?"

[hedwriter]

the idea of spending even more time with deborah does nothing to douse the total miserable fucking yearning in her chest. that’s the hard truth of it. deborah swans into her life, all 5ft 3 and all that hair, and they make it work. deborah sells out clubs, and bars, and any theatre or establishment that’ll sell you a coke float and a few pills on the side all at once, and ava’s bunched up on a little stool down the side of the stage with a notebook and three hundred scribbled jokes and ideas that they distil into something great. they are, in all ways, creative partners, and it’s only in the street lamps and the way deb leans back in the seat, that ava quiets the rising concern in her brain: deb has had partners before - she’s had shows that everyone and their mothers tune into every week - but for ava, this feels pretty much like it.

“i’ve never been outside the country,” and it’s not a reason not to. her mom would kill her, probably, quoting the hundreds of aviation-related deaths that happen every single year because of drunk pilots and bad seatbelts, but it doesn’t matter much. she’s like that with everything. “you tell me where we’re going and i’m there.”

you and me, babe. it sounds like something remotely similar to something she’d hear on the radio, and when she pulls up to that quiet street and turns the engine off, she glances back round at deb. she thinks she’ll ruin her, in the low glow of the street lamps. okay.

“i could do a night cap. if i’d have known, i would’ve worn something less… pyjama-y.” the door shuts behind her, and ava digs her hands into her jacket pockets.

“i meant what i said, deb. he never deserved you.”

[swallowpitted]

underneath it all, she can hear the distant and dangerous promise: you and i have something good going on here. she hates that for a moment, she can hear frank's voice from yesteryear; at eighteen she believed every lie he sold her down the river for, uprooted hers and kathy's life to be near to him and follow a talent he sold her as a dream, realised in bright lights that she never thought for a second he would trade her in for. it makes her sick to wonder if ava wouldn't do the same.

in the soft glow of orange streetlights and the rush of neon strip malls behind them, ava could not be further away from the burning pain she feels thinking about where she's been left behind.

they walk together up the path as deb shrugs. "i don't know if anyone really gets what they deserve anymore - it isn't even him i'm really mad at. i mean, don't get me wrong, i am, but... kathy?" if her voice cracks a little on the k it is lost to a barking dog in the distance, the one always chained up in the front yard behind the chicken wire fence, and deb has to shove her front door open because the lock sticks.

(expensive perfume still clings to the air in here. the throw pillows were expensive so she took them. they're all very out of place tucked neatly on a couch that she and ava fished off a sidewalk two months ago.)

it's only now though she starts to get hot again and the dull throb comes back with vengeance; mint and cigarettes warming her to her bones as she purposefully stays by the architrave, forcing ava to brush past her shoulder to toe. "i've got whiskey, beer, wine..."

[hedwriter]

you know, david, people ask me what the difference is between men and women, and honestly? they both have drawbacks. men are lazy, and women are annoying. the battle of the sexes is a fucking tie. @swallowpitted.

[buffysummers]

Succession | 4.01 - “The Munsters”

[xuperjr]

[swallowpitted]

Will be doing mobile repliessss

[sunlightreverie]

@swallowpitted liked for a starter from lena!

she's toeing off her shoes before her apartment door even closes. her bag hits the floor next to them with a thud, her breath a heavy sigh as she undoes the buttons at the front of her peacoat.

LENA LUTHOR & KARA DANVERS: INSPIRATIONAL OR INAPPROPRIATE?

she'd known the press would be insatiable, as if nothing more exciting happened in the cosmos today than lena luthor confirming she's gay, but disparaging kara's achievements by associating her with her boss rather than a luthor was not the dig she'd expected.

the man sitting on her couch was not either.

dread speared through lena, a shard of ice to the heart that made it skip a beat before thundering along. he's not supposed to be here; he's not supposed to be anywhere, and yet she knows if he catches her being anything less than composed, it's only going to hand him another weapon.

"----lex," she says, stepping into the apartment proper. she wishes, for just a moment, that she hadn't been so hasty to remove her shoes and lose the height advantage. "you'll have to excuse me, i didn't expect visitors this evening."

[swallowpitted]

surprise, bitch, bet you thought you’d seen the last of me! well, slap your own ass and call yourself a cuck because lex luthor has swanned well and truly back into the spotlight — gird your loins, grip your seats, catch a flight. he grins all fox teeth and manic rage, unnaturally still with the exception of a whiskey glass balancing on his knee; he’s helped himself to her cabinet of course, claiming guest rite. he’s spent the last hour snooping through her drawers (my oh my the things one can find!) and her bookcases, her office, her fridge (he has always been good at telling when her highs and lows are, knowing fine well she’s climbing out of a dip — but who knew a bag of jumbo funions could send him into a rage).

he is impeccably dressed of course. crisp suit, keen crisp lines, a pristine white shirt and tan combo that highlights dark hair (plugs) and white teeth. there is blood crusting at the very corner of his mouth, telltale of bitten lips and the sides of his thumbs.

“i’m not offended. after all, i thought my baby sister was due a little surprise visit.” his grin gets wider, slicker. “surprise!”

[geniuscorp]

unless it's an emergency, whenever i try to talk to you, you always get pulled away.

this is a love story. that's important to remember. to anyone curious enough to look past the palisades of their parents and the bitter anger only heartbreak can leave behind, if you dug into the dirt of the grave their childhood is buried under, you would see above all else a yearning, deep, detrimental love; some people are not meant to be without another and for lex that another is lena.

it starts the way most love stories do: with introductions. she is four and he is eight and they smile at one another shyly, awkwardly, certain for the first time in both of their young lives that finally a match has been met. this will change over the years. gentle, genuine admiration will slough off as shit slurry might in the rain, revealing the cold and jagged slate beneath, leaving them both breathless with anger and rage, but not yet. not yet.

in their first initial moment, following those tentatively happy smiles at being not alone, it seemed as though lex might be tallying her up, evaluating her somehow and it settled between as a peach stone might. over the years, even though he couldn't see it, he nurtures the stone. waters it with memories. keeps the soil of their connection soft with laughter and curiosity.

and all the while, the roots of the stone snuck around him as tightly as a ship lashing. tighter and tighter, until one day they could hardly breath. he suffocates — both of them. that'll be important in a few years when she testifies against him but for now...

(a warning, dear reader. it's not getting any less strange under the cut.)

the woman's name is jessica (obviously not her real name) and she arrives precisely on time, which he appreciates especially considering the price tag attached to her company. her smile is polite and warm; she lets him take her coat and she comments on how beautiful his place is — a penthouse overlooking metropolis, with floor to ceiling windows that offer the most breathtaking view of the city you could hope to find. she is a slight bit older than he'd expected and a little taller than him and both are forgivable, because with her back turned, a mess of impeccably curled black hair cascades down past her shoulder blades and she is exactly what he's looking for.

the clothes she is wearing are just as he requested. pencil skirt, white blouse, heels. professional, clean, simple. familiar. and she doesn't ask him about much and she answers to the name he calls her and they have dinner. that's all he wanted: a dinner and undivided attention. that's all he wants.

they have not been themselves lately - he has not been himself. everything feels remarkably far away, as if he's underwater and he can see the edge of the water and beach in the distance but no matter how much he flails in the water, he cannot get any closer to the shore. in fact, it feels as though the more he fights the further he drifts. lena is a product of it. she's so far from him now, he can hardly see her anymore.

jessica touches his arm and sees something in his face that gets her to her feet, moving around the table slowly. the perfume is a little heavy but it's perfect, too, and she halts only for a moment before sliding a hand over his shoulder and sitting in his lap. it's too much and repulsive and his immediate urge to launch her away and reel back is so strong that his feet plant, the chair schrrrr as he pushes back, away from the table. but he does not push her off.

lex takes a deep, mildly frantic breath in through his nose. she presses a light kiss to the hinge of his tensed, clamped shut jaw --

BBBBBNNNZZZZZZZ. apologies for the interruption, sir, your sister has arrived. she's on the elevator up.

lex abandons the dinner and the escort and stomps out into the hall right as the doors ding! open and lena stands there in the centre looking as small as he ever has seen her. they haven't spoken in months. not really. she looks like she's been practicing something, like she's been psyching herself up for whatever this moment is supposed to be for hours.

and though they don't realise it, from this moment - when she says unless it's an emergency, whenever i try to talk to you, you always get pulled away - everything will be counted in either Befores or Afters and most of their befores are happier memories: him making such incredible gestures and effort to make her happy, flying halfway across the world just to make sure he didn’t miss her birthday. sending postcards from wherever he was in the world, whether it was for a meeting or a vacation; letting her have his ice cream when they were kids when lillian told her she couldn’t dare. 

the afters are so much more awful. their after will be a sharp look and a sharper, angrier instruction (ever aware of the risk it would be for her to see his dinner guest because she would know, she would fucking know so instantly) to go home. to keep her nose out of his business and do what she's told.

she leaves. he fucks the escort and scrubs his skin in the shower afterwards so badly it bleeds.

[memetaped]

the deep end of the ocean taken from the 1996 jacquelyn mitchard book.

i can think of better places to fall than that thing. why don’t we get you on a couch?

you’re a very sorry person.

i know you don’t feel like getting up, but you have to. your muscles will atrophy.

that was a shitty thing to do.

i want you to remember the balloon-blowing thing, because that kind of breathing helps bring a panic attack to a close sooner, if you can concentrate on it.

maybe it’s faith that really takes the courage. the belief in things unseen.

we’ll talk when you’re better, baby.

nothing has to be wrong with you.

that’s why we listen to the easter bunny.

cedar. it’s supposed to preserve clothes and keep moths away.

is your head bleeding?

get your sweatshirt on. we’re going for a ride.

don’t self-destruct in front of me.

but this kid you love is a real angry kid. and you are the people he loves.

don’t bolt the door behind you is all. close it partway if you have to, but don’t lock it.

even grownups have fights sometimes. you know that. it’ll all be better in the morning.

i think i have a fever is what i think.

maybe you don’t have to believe everything. maybe you don’t have to know how to pray.

but i got to tell you, this kid is the saddest kid in the world right now.

you can kill box elder bugs better with just plain old dish soap and water in a squirter.

you know, it doesn’t mean you’re going to be short all your life, either.

just get better. don’t die on me.

was the fight a really bad experience? i mean, your eye looks like an undercooked big mac, but even so...

you could have broken your neck, or gotten hit by a car, or worse.

maybe you have all you can do right now just to hold on. maybe holding on is enough.

i’m filing the adoption papers next week.

my little love. my best boy.

it’s a mental thing with you.

what’s going on, sweetie?

here comes the hug.

i’m sorry, honey, but you’re just about worthless the way you are right now.

get over yourself.

i have an aspirin.

everything’s going just fine. but you have to rest soon.

what happened to your eye?

never give up hope. pray, pray, pray.

in fact, to tell you the truth, i didn’t even want to have this whole – go through this whole big holiday act.

blow gently and slowly out through your mouth. but keep it steady. pretend you’re blowing up a balloon.

the accident was on television news. the late news.

well, in my experience, it sometimes gives you some peace.

but i gotta tell you, it’s killing me.

you’re the best sleeper of all.

i thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.

in a little while, we’ll have pasta, eh?

dear one, you know you have gone away from god.

this is some kid you have here.

i’m okay. it doesn’t hurt.

you want me to cry in front of these people.

can you go a day – this one day – without trying to hurt something?

a tiny little thing. sick in bed a great deal.

you have now entered the counseling zone.

i’m crazy in the head.

you don’t remember being our son, but the fact is, you are our son.

i want my bed. i want my toothbrush.

this restaurant’s a hit because people are ghouls.

you’ve been through so much.

i’m sorry, but i’m not sorry.

go upstairs now. lie down for a while.

we know how hard this has been.

shhh. rest now.

this is a detective’s badge. it’s very valuable.

i’m sorry. but you had to understand how this depends on surprise.

but some other stuff, too. like you move the house to take care of someone.

you’ve got to snap out of it at some point. no one can talk to you.

i remembered something from when i was a kid.

you name the day.

this must feel very strange to you. you want a blanket?

we need to get you some rest, here.

you know, it’s actually kind of weird. not bad weird. kind of neat.

my head aches.

you’re going to hate me for this, and i know it.

you’ve met my mom.

i think you have a bad case of the poor-little-me’s, is what i think.

you sacrifice everything for a child.

[pagets]

I am really, really happy to see you. I realized I belong here, no matter what.

HACKS (2021—Present) 3.09 | Bulletproof