teeith

[teeith]

He's fishing.

The moon is high behind them, illuminating those dark eyes behind that dark mask. Their shadows intertwine over the asphalt; two lovers in an embrace, or otherwise...

She can feel his throat contract under the press of her arm, feels the shape of the words rising from his throat to his mouth before his tongue can form around them.

It becomes unclear who it is is actually at a disadvantage. Gazelle doesn't much like that. Doesn't much like the look of his justice, or the swoop of his cape.

“Why? Looking to hire? Don't think you can afford me.” As she speaks, the fingers on her free hand trail down the front of his suit. The material clearly isn't cheap, but her aversion to working with (for) the Bat has nothing to do with money. “And I'm spoken for.” She decides to throw him a bone. Better to get it across now that she's not responsible for whoever she points her blades at, that if he wants to complain, he'll have to take it up the chain.

Where's home?

Windpipe under the pressure of her forearm and he's fishing.

“Thought you were a detective. Try detecting.” She loosens the strength against his neck and leans in closer, just to see if he can trace her origins by the shape of her mouth, the fold of her eyelids, the curve of her ear. The touch of an accent to her words, is that from the way her tongue naturally wraps around the French language, or does it go back farther, to her birth years listening to the parents sing lullabies in Arabic? C'mon, Batman, give this a solve.

She grins, piranha teeth moulded to human shape. “Maybe I'm thinking about settling down in Gotham. What do you think? Am I a good fit for this place?”

[ 💬 ] i'm going to push you off a cliff, you fucking boy scout. / @teeith ... INBOX

there's the slight acknowledgement that he's at a disadvantage ; back pressed against HARD CONCRETE as the sounds of gotham press on below. cowl conceals the pain that lives permanently on features. he reminds himself to let lucius know that THIS prototype wasn't going to work either.... another experiment , another fail.

' seems as if i'm at your mercy ... ' the batman manages to grunt out , ' working by yourself ? ' the question manages as the sound of a car revving up in the night accents the air. YES , he knows exactly how to get out of this situation. his mind already ahead as he then though intel is always VITAL. doesn't mind putting himself at risk.

his lenses detect a surname that he cannot rightly place within gotham. it seems gotham's reach is pulling in those who would thrive off an environment such as this.

thumb presses against index finger as in the distance a car revs once more , and he continues the conversation. ' beautiful night isn't it ? ' the words choked out as she strengthens her hold upon him , ' then again ... i wouldn't mind being anywhere but here , what about you --- where's home ? ' as if continuing the conversation was perfectly acceptable , as if he's not at a SERIOUS disadvantage.

[teeith]

There's not much Allison's single hand can actually do to stop Erica from getting what she wants. If she weren't so nice, she could easily sink her teeth into that smooth, exposed skin. Draw a little blood. Since she is nice, and kind, and a good person, Erica stops, and her fangs do not come out. “Oh, c'mon, you know I'll get in there one way or another.” She smiles and it's all teeth. “Your fancy tech can't compare to these.” She holds her hand up like she's checking on her nails, except they're claws. And they're sharp. “I'm just helping you out. Keeping you on your toes. And yet I've never gotten a single thank you...”

" no. " allison doesn't bother to look up, still texting with one hand. the other is outstretched, halting erica in her path. " you know you're not allowed in there. " there being, of course, her spare bedroom, turned makeshift armory. " besides, i've done some security updates since the last time you broke in. " biometrics. there's no way erica's getting her hands on her weaponry now.

@teeith liked for a starter

[teeith]

odette no.... ur smile too sweet ur eyes too bright ur soul too kind. they'll turn u into a swan....

[teeith]

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) dir. Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

[teeith]

priv/test muses: l.ana lang [small.ville] + n.yah n.ordoff-hall [m:i 2]

[teeith]

hello... good evening...... im thinking abt lana tonight. specifically about how she knows that she is in her heart of hearts, good. she never ever has bad/ill intentions, and she always wants the best for the people around her, it's just that she fumbles with the execution... always well meaning but it rarely ever pans out... not to say every nice thing she does blows up in her face, but just that she rarely does something without there being consequences :p so like she is good, she's just bad at being good if that makes sense...

[teeith]

She's thinking about cutting her hair.

The bar is quiet in a way bars aren't, usually. Might have something to do with the two hundred and forty something pound man lying face down on the floor.

Gazelle had only used her fists this time. All in the name of laying low.

What a bore.

@serendpitous [allison]: you should step outside.

Anyway, she's thinking about cutting her hair. It keeps getting in her eyes when she moves too much or too fast. She tucks a couple stubborn strands behind her ears and considers a bob.

Or maybe just shaving it off entirely.

“That's not a question, is it?” She sizes up the other woman. Hmmm. Not the type that strikes her as fun in the traditional sense, but oh, Gazelle has a feeling if she picks a fight, the response will be more than adequate. “If I say no will you be escorting me out personally?”

[teeith]

KRISTIN KREUK as LANA LANG SMALLVILLE (2001-2011) 2.03, “Duplicity”

[teeith]

hi you’re one of my favorite people to write and create with did you know that also good morneve 💜💞🩵☀️😊🎉✨

liz............... liz ilysb u know i feel the exact same way 🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 if anyone is there to enable my impulsive muse decisions it's u<3 n i love u for that<3 ur always willing to write w whomstever is occupying my thoughts at the moment my real true #rideordie 🫡

[teeith]

She's drinking brandy tonight, because brandy always makes her think of Lex. It's only fitting. Rock-bottoms have never rock-bottomed as hard as Lana did when she was walking down the aisle with Lex waiting at the other end. She keeps thinking about where her life almost ended up, where her life did end up, and wondering if maybe she hadn't fully crawled her way out of rock-bottom after all.

“Might as well give it a shot,” Lana sighs, world-weary. There are worse people to be than Lana Lang, objectively she knows that's true. Shame there's nothing objective about the fatigue she's been feeling lately. “Do you ever look back on your life and realise you're not at all where you thought you'd be?” Not that Lana ever really knew, at any point, what her life looked like. Only, she can't help but think: it wouldn't have been this. She can't tell who she's disappointing. Her dead parents? Henry? Nell? Some past version of herself that believed she was already grown up at fifteen?

“I keep thinking about it lately, what Lana from Smallville would think if she saw me now.” She sips at the alcohol, melancholy heavy on her tongue. Somehow, it feels infinitely easier telling this to Lois than it ever would've been with Clark. “Can't help thinking that she'd be a little... disillusioned.”

It would be poetic, wouldn't it? That she couldn't live up to anybody's idea of who Lana Lang was, not even her own.

if i ask for a double, will you pretend i'm not spiraling? [lana for lois? :D]

" i have been working on my poker face, " lois responds with a nod, as if that just writes everything off. truth be told, lana coming to her in this way raises a certain level of concern. they aren't particularly close. the only thing that's ever tethered the two women is the clark of it all. lana wasn't around much and when she was, it was the caped crusader, her childhood friend, who she'd seek out and not his loudmouth, punk-rock, sticks-her-nose-in-all-the-wrong-places girlfriend. why would she? they're practically strangers.

tonight there's something in the air that makes lois feel like that might all shift, like the world would tilt on it's axis and start spinning in the opposite direction. lana clearly needs a shoulder to lean on and the man with the strongest ones is off saving the world. lois' own can't carry as much weight, but she sure can try.

anything to help clark lighten his own load. anything to help a woman who looks like she's ready to drown at the bottom of her own glass.

" as much as we love a good ol' liquor-soaked bandaid, " the reporter leads, careful with how she treads, " any chance you want to talk about it instead? i'm a pretty good listener. " even when a conversation is off the record.

@teeith

[teeith]

rlly hoping 🤏ville doesnt go two for two on killing off principals i fuck w

[teeith]

Odette on: hope.

To Be Made Whole, Ada Limón / For Example, Mary Oliver / Memory For Forgetfulness, Mahmoud Darwish (Tr. Ibrahim Muhawi) / The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dosteovsky (Tr. David Mcduff) / Obit, Victoria Chang

[teeith]

REBEL MOON Chapter One: Chalice of Blood Dir. Zack Snyder ‧ 2023

[teeith]

just lil bits n bobs for a muse i'm not technically writing. the L L could stand for anything :DDDD

“When you remember me, do you remember me as a victim?”

/

It doesn’t feel good to frame Lex, but it does feel right. She wonders if Clark would understand the distinction, if he’d love her regardless of whether he did or not.

/

Being raised by Nell was a little like playing dolls. Only she was the doll, and Nell, her loving puppeteer. Loving, but controlling all the same. Unable to see Lana beyond the dresses she put her in. She thinks Nell might've severed the strings herself the day she discovered Lana wasn't quite how she remembered, how she pictured. Maybe as early as the day Lana packed up her pom-poms for good. She wants to blame Nell for it some days, but she understands now that the only people that could've loved her whole, were her parents.

And Nell never was that. Never wanted to be that. Not really.

Dolls have to be thrown away eventually.

/

She gets the feeling that Clark wouldn’t be proud. Their strength differs in origin, in execution. Lana shot a man to avenge herself. Lana killed a man to save herself. Maybe Clark could understand that, but he’d never be proud of it. Lana is beginning to learn that she could be. That despite all her flaws, she’ll never think her hunger for retribution is one of them.

/

There were things she thought couldn't be taken from her that Lex took. But ultimately, she is who she is now because this is what she always was. She can't really blame Lex for that. Oh, there are plenty things she can blame him for, but a different girl would've done different things. Would've turned out different. Lana's premier problem is that she's her. That she can't escape her. She really, really can't blame Lex for that.

She thinks she might shoot him for it anyway.

/

This is what saving herself looks like: a broken bone, a body underneath her, blood on the floor. She’s not Clark, she can’t pull off anything miraculous. Only what’s plausible. Horrible, and plausible.

[teeith]

Lana can't keep her eyes still. There's so much evidence here. Proof of a life Clark has lived that she's never seen, never been part of. Her presence here feels like a wedge in an otherwise perfect plan. A smudge on the edge of the canvas. Brooke is nice enough not to ask outright what are you doing here? So Lana has to ask herself. All those promises she keeps making to start over, to make something of herself, only for her to keep returning to the things she finds familiar. Clark was, and always will be, a sore spot. And at the same time, a safe place for her to land.

“Right. No, I know. I'm sorry. I would've called ahead, I just—” Well, she thought there wasn't a point. She thought Clark would open the door and something would dawn on her, or that maybe the messy parts of her life would finally start to make sense through his eyes. She laughs, mostly at herself. Independence has always seemed so admirable on paper. “I guess being back here's just made me nostalgic.”

The worst thing, she thinks, is that if someone asked Lana what she had to show for the last few years of her life, she'd have nothing to give. The pub's been sold off now, and her hospital records will be buried under all the names and faces who have lasted longer. All they'll have is a paper trail of all the places she's run to, and all the places she's run from.

Clark has a whole life. A whole apartment. Brooke. Evidence. Proof. All this would be so much easier if Lana hadn't shown up empty handed.

“No, wasn't expecting you. My fault, of course. This kind of thing tends to happen when you disappear for a couple years.” She smiles a little ruefully, not regretting, exactly, just... thoughtful. “I'll wait, if you really don't mind? And... I'd like it if we could get to know each other. I can see I've got a lot to catch up on.”

i've decided to learn to be impulsive. [from lana... heh :3]

lana lang has been written in myth for as long as she can remember. back in high school, she'd heard bits and pieces from clark about the girl who was his almost before he was ripped away from smallville and dropped into her own small pond instead. he never dwelled on it much, but brooke saw the look in his eyes when he spoke her name, like she had hung the moon in the sky herself — heard that wistful sigh of his, as if he was imagining a life that could have been.

but that was a long time ago. they've all lived several lives since then. only, for brooke, lana still lived on as some fairytale. they had never met. she had never become something real.

and now, all of a sudden, she sits across from her at the kitchen table in the apartment she and clark moved into only weeks ago, fiction come to life.

" is that what you're doing here? " brooke asks, a bundle of nervous energy. god, she wishes she had something to do with her hands. " because we weren't exactly expecting you. "

and how could she have been? it feels as if lana's dropped in from another point in reality, simply ripping through their timeline and dropping down right on their doorstep.

" but i'm sure you weren't expecting me either, right? " she softens with that, hazel eyes filled with understanding.

" i don't think clark's going to be home anytime soon. you're more than welcome to wait. is your number the same? i'm guessing not. " unlikely, since it appears she's only just touched down stateside after years away.

@teeith

[teeith]

The other swans, the other girls, they tire of the woods. The trees who whisper things dark and unfriendly, the spiders weaving their webs in the quiet, the blood on the teeth of wolves. Odette has become such a stranger to noise, to life in human body. She misses the softness of leaves, the chill of the lake. But she'd gladly sacrifice her comforts for this; the sound of the girls laughing, so freely and so unencumbered. She wonders if maybe Rothbart had envied this—this joy, this expression—and that was why he'd tried to lock it away.

Look then, and see how the hope perseveres.

“Dull? Oh, yes, I suppose. The woods can get terribly quiet. I think I've become quieter in turn. I have this suspicion I used to be livelier than I am now, but I just can't seem to recall.” She surveys the street again, eyes lingering on the other maidens. But there's no trouble here, no watchful eye or pressing shadow. “I bet everything looks interesting from here.” Under all the lights, bolstered by all this noise. Oh. She's smiling. Music, she remembers. It's been so long since she's danced to melodies not shaped by her own voice.

She looks back to her company. When was the last time she'd spoken to someone unfamiliar? “What do you do with those?” She asks after the cards, watching his hands as they move.

@teeith odette for calum / “  i don’t hang around here after dark.  ”

brown eyes take in the young woman before him. he's still, taking in every bit of her. i don't know this one, he thinks to himself. a rare occurrence as the witch makes it his business to know everyone that spends time on bourbon street. she is soft-spoken, appears kind. naive or an act? too soon to tell. calum will have to keep a careful eye on her. there is something about the pretty stranger that intrigues him. he can't quite place it yet, but his witch senses are tingling. not a vampire, nor werewolf, nor fae . . . but something.

blaring trumpets and other instruments break his focus. he chips away at the black polish on his nails ( a nasty habit he refuses to break ) before resuming to shuffle the tarot cards on the table. “  that sounds rather dull.  ” he interjects, unsure if she finished her thought. disappointment washes over him. perhaps she is simply naive. boring.

“  you'll learn things only get interesting after dark.  ”

send me stuff !! / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 ( 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟗 )

[teeith]

gazelleposting

just want it on the record that gazelle has/had no real attachment to valentine :3. he's like... literally just another rich man (derogatory) to her. just one that was slightly more tolerable than the last one she was employed by. she absolutely would Not have been cut up over his death except in a little aw :/ that guy was kinda interesting... too bad kinda way. soooo definitely wouldn't die for him either, or get anywhere close to dying for him. in my head if she got to fighting eggzy and saw that they were evenly matched/couldn't see a sure win for herself, she'd just run away at some point :p and leave valentine to die. then she'd just be in the wind... be free... not that she'd actually know what to do w that freedom, but better than being dead!!! :D

redid her backstory a bit so now she isn't talking to her family not bc they think she's a terrible murderer (which she Is but they don't know that :p) but bc she just thinks it's better/safer that way... leopold held her family over her head constantly to get her to continue to do what he wanted and she didn't trust valentine not to eventually dip to those lows too so she stayed away to keep valentine from going after them if it ever came to that. n then i think bc she set that precedent it's just been... easier to stay away? at the core of it she loves her family, but she just thinks it's safer now for them to stay away from each other + there is ofc also a lil bit of like... she knows she's a bad person and she doesn't know how to be around them bc she'd just worry abt them finding out the things she's done and hating her for it 💔