Site hosted by Build your free website today!

Amanda's Smallville Recs

RivkaT's Bare-Bones Site

Is there anyone who hasn't rec'd her? Still, I can't mention Smallville without mentioning RivkaT's work. She's simply amazing, and her characterizations are to die for. All of her stories carry a poignancy that grabs your heart and squeezes, but often include wry, smartass humor, that makes you smile and laugh and adds the details to the stories that make them real in a way only a truly great author can manage. I've rec'd a couple of her stories, but truely, read all of them. I almost never say this, but I have read maybe two Smallville slash stories of hers that I didn't like. Even if some of her stories took my view of Smallville, turned it upside down, and shaked in a creepy, but thought provoking, way.

Rainbow Sign
Summary: Lex shows up to the house Clark's sharing with four of his closest friends and finds out that he's Clark's boyfriend. Too bad Clark forgot to tell him.
          The brunette turned to look at him. "I'm Amber, by the way. Are you--who I think you are?"
          There were so many answers to that, so few of them nice. And he wanted Clark's friends to like him, this time around. "I suspect I am."
          "Good to meet you. We weren't sure you actually existed."
          Lex quirked an eyebrow at her, but she didn't elaborate.

Ceremony of Innocence
         We're going to do this, aren't we?" Clark was smiling, but at least his eyes were uncertain.
          If his father was poison, Clark was heroin and ecstasy on an endless summer Sunday, full of caramel-yellow light that slowed the world down and made it seem like life was a sweet ride, all carousels and ribbons and smiles. Lex was chasing the dragon, riding the tiger, and it was just too late to ask whether he really wanted this when the smoke was already curling its talons towards his face.
          This would be the last chance he would give Clark, now that he saw that he'd thrown his own choices out of the window miles back.
          Lex reached out and touched Clark's cheek, skimming the pads of his fingers across the flushed skin. "We are." He ought to be apologizing, he thought as he brought Clark's face to his. But then, he didn't know whether he was sorry.

Skin Deep
Summary: Clark turns into a girl. And wakes up naked in Lex's bed. Wackiness ensues.
          "No," the computer said. (Clark knew that calling it a computer was like calling Lex a small businessman, but he didn't have a better term.)
          He cast a despairing look over his shoulder at Pete, who was standing at the entrance to the biggest cave chamber, watching the argument. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice too high.
          "Your destiny demands that you exercise dominion over this planet. Your refusal demonstrates your unfitness for Kryptonian manhood."
          "Manhood? Okay, first, that's - that's discrimination!" Clark protested. "That's like saying that being a girl is punishment."
          "If you do not find it punitive, why are you complaining?"
          Clark gaped at the ship. "Because I'm not a girl!"
Summary: "A Kryptonian, huh? I knew this 'I'm the only one, I'm the only one' thing was just an attention-getter.”
          He was still struggling to stand when the walkway began to open, and the two poker-faced Kryptonians who'd held him down for Zoltar's gentle ministrations took up positions at each side of the entrance.
          Zoltar nodded at him, and Lex started to walk down, steady on his feet. He could see Clark at the bottom of the ramp, beginning his journey up.
         They met halfway, which wasn't a metaphor for anything in their lives to date.
         "Hey," Lex said and tried to smile. He hadn't been this close to Clark since that last lab in Metropolis, lo these many years ago. Sure, he'd received Superman's lectures on proper megalomaniacal behavior since then, but it wasn't the same thing. For once, he could see Clark despite the costume. "Last son of Krypton, my ass."
         "My birth parents may have been ... optimistic," Clark said.


The Proposition
Summary: Lex offers Clark a million dollars if he'll sleep with him.
          "She - uh - she came on to me." Clark slanted his eyes sideways to check out Lex's reaction. Nothing but placid confusion.
          "Clark. Everyone comes on to you. That's how it goes. You go out in public; people hit on you. You have to be used to it by now."
          Quick dart of... something... at that. Not pleasure. No. The uncomfortable, suppressed cousin of pleasure.
          "She offered me a million dollars to sleep with her."

Koi's Fanfiction Site

Koi writes a darker, more mature type of story.

         It gave him a sharp look, and he couldn't even bring himself to feel alarmed over the slip, that was how tired he was. He settled back into the propped-up pillows.
          But apparently his mouth wasn't done. "Why?"
          He wasn't sure what he meant -- maybe, why this consideration? This gentle care, when tonight it was to be delivered like a parcel to his father?
          But it seemed to think he was asking something else. Or maybe he was dreaming, now, because as he slipped down into sleep he could just see the creature's dark outline against the shut curtains, a faint afternoon glow behind, and maybe the voice that followed was from his own head.
          "Why? Because given two possible answers, you always choose the dark and assume the light is a lie."
          It shifted then, moving closer, and the voice in his head spoke calmly.
          "And the only victims who survived the Salem witch trials were the ones who confessed."

Three Fairy Tales of Smallville
Summary: Three things that never happened in Smallville. "Julian" is my favorite.
         Lex was nineteen. Two days after his birthday, he was in his bedroom, packing his own bags. Julian walked in, in the quiet, catlike Luthor way, wearing a black turtleneck. He sat on the bed, cross-legged, and watched.
         “Can I have your comic collection?”
         “I’m transferring to Princeton, I’m not making out my will.”
         Lex glanced at the beautiful, opaque face. Why was not a question that was thrown around much in their world. He dropped a few CDs in the suitcase, thought a moment, and said, “Julian? What do you and Dad talk about in the study?”
         “The future,” said Julian.
         “Your future? My future? The future of the human race?”
         Julian was silent. He said, “Are you transferring to get away from me?”
         Christ. It was odd what a shock the question was. Lex had relied on the fact that Luthors communicated with each other in subtext; this was completely against etiquette.
         He turned to get another sweater, keeping his face away from Julian’s line of sight. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, little brother.” When he turned back, he was confident that he showed nothing. “You can read the comics. Don’t touch the ones in plastic.”

Lanning Cook
Lanning Cook's Fanfiction

The Identical Series
If you haven't heard of Lanning Cook's masterpeice I'm tempted to ask what planet you're from.
It starts off with Divergence where we find out something has gone terribly wrong in the Luthor Family. I think what I enjoy most, aside from the utterly gripping plot, hilarious interludes breaking up a dark world, and CLex-ness, is how Lanning grabs you with the first sentences and refuses to let you go. It's long though, so be prepared to give up several hours of your life as you realize there's no way you'll be able to walk away without finishing it.
         "He's up there again." Jonathan sank into a chair at the kitchen table and scowled into the mug of coffee Martha set in front of him.
         "He's been up there since we finished dinner." Martha wandered back to the window, staring through the gathering dark toward the barn. She couldn't see Clark now, but the faint glow of a lantern from the loft was plainly visible.
         "Have you managed to get anything out of him?"
         "No. He says he's all right." Martha watched the light flicker and the shadows move. Clark was pacing again.
         "He won't talk to me. Just smiles and says everything's okay. Lord, Martha, I can see everything's not okay. He's miserable. Why won't he talk to me? We've always been able to talk before." Jonathan pulled off his cap and tossed it onto the table in obvious frustration.
         Martha sighed and turned to him. "He obviously feels this is something he can't talk to us about."

Lenore's Stories
I only really recommend maybe 55% of her work, but when you write as much as she has that's still a good-sized number. Her stories are often dark, so read the warnings.

Summary: Clark can't eat saffron, but Lex forgives him.
          And he's burning up. Sweat starting to run down his back. While only inches away, Lex looks so cool--like air conditioning and iced tea and the breeze you pray for on a relentless summer afternoon.
          "Clark." Lex is paying attention now, frowning. "Are you okay?"
          Clark can only blink.
          "God, you're glassy-eyed. Do you want me to--"
          Lex is so cool, and Clark is hot. Suddenly, it makes all the sense in the world--primal states and opposites-- and God, yes, attraction.
          "Stop," he says.
          And grabs the steering wheel.

That Old Schizophrenic Jealousy
Summary: Secret identities can be confusing.
          Lex is only trying to get your attention. You see that now. Maybe in some way you've always known it. It annoys you anyway.
          Because you really don't enjoy seeing him hanging by one arm from a helicopter as a vicious bunch of thugs tries to make its escape and nearly sends him plummeting into oblivion in the process.
          You're not even certain what he's doing in the company of Maldivian gunrunners. But then, you couldn't explain the Paraguayan money launderers either or that drug cartel run through, of all things, the Kiwanis Club. And never mind the bizarre cult that worshipped Beanie Babies and started pulling armed robberies to raise enough cash to get the really rare ones on eBay. Lex never appears to be in collusion with any of these criminals. In fact, he seems to be trying to help you. He's just not very good at it.

Summary: After Lionel's speech at the plant, a different kind of storm.
          "There isn't anything left for you in this backwater little hamlet. You know that as well as I do."
          And Lex realized, with a sick lurch, that he really should have seen this coming. Lionel protected what was his with an intensity that bordered on compulsion, and as far as he was concerned, that included his son. Of course, the ugly episode at the plant would only be the opening volley. Lionel always had a backup plan, and he was an old hand at getting rid of the people in Lex's life.
          It was why his expression was so smug right now, certain he could maneuver his son, confident he'd already won. And Lex understood, at last, what it truly meant to grow up.

The Indestructible Truth
Summary: Old secrets come to light.
          There is a route Clark likes to take across the Atlantic, where the winds are favorable, near the shipping lanes. Watching the occasional luxury liner pass helps break up the monotony. Below the water, too, are points of interest, one of the world's deepest trenches and the secrets it keeps. A wrecked ship, in particular, that used to draw his eyes every time he flew past, until finally he had to explore. Down in the murk, the pressure was like nothing else on earth, darkness so complete only he could penetrate it as he circled the hull looking for the name, the Annabelle Claire, a grave of missing answers.
          Later, he looked up the ship in a book of maritime history he found in Lex's library. A British freighter that went missing in May of 1939, presumed lost in a storm. But he has seen the scarred metal, and he knows. Whatever happened to the Annabelle Claire was no act of nature.
          He still watches for it whenever he passes. This stubborn relic has a message for him, he feels certain. Something about truth and inevitability and the persistence of memory, even if these are things he would prefer not to consider.

Summary: Short, faintly humorous, definitely smutty. The rift finally ends.
          It was Kryptonite that finally put an end to their feud, although not in the predictable way.
          Clark had picked up a rumor on the streets and tracked Lex to a secret bunker. For whatever reason, there was always a bunker, and of course, it had to be secret. Clark snuck in and skulked around and waited to see what grandiose scheme Lex had dreamed up now.
          Lex was big on grandiose schemes.
          This time, though, he found Lex waiting for him.

Princess Nat
Princess Nat's Walk-In Closet

Devil Inside
Summary: Concerned that Clark will outgrow him, Lex devises a plan.
          Forcing himself back on track, Clark returned to the matter at hand. "So, you're saying that you hacked into the Justice League's computer system to find out information on the romantic relations of its members? That wouldn't be in there."
          "No, I accessed the Watchtower computer system in order to get a larger sample of superheroes. Six people is just too small a sample for an accurate analysis. I hypothesized the League would keep contact information for possible allies in case of a major catastrophe. I was right." Lex corrected him gently.
         "Oookaay... And what were your conclusions?" Clark asked, positive that he wasn't going to like the answer.
         "It's simple. I have to become your arch rival," Lex stated, removing his hand from Clark's in order to reach for a napkin.

Marag's Offerings

The Fantasy
Summary: When life gets to be too much, fantasy can be the only escape. But what happens when fantasy isn't fantasy?
          "The whole point of attempting suicide is death."
         "God Lex, do you always have to be such a fucking drama queen?"
         "Aside from that whole pot/kettle thing, I always thought of it as part of my charm. So, where are we going?"
         "My place."

ALexander the Great
Summary: Clark stumbles across gay fiction on the 'net. The author calls himself 'Alexander the Great'. Something more than the name makes Clark suspect that the author is Lex.
          Clark shut down the internet connection. Wiping the tears from his eyes he leaned back in his chair.
          "Oh Lex," he sighed
          …and barely noticed as he and his chair hit the floor.
          It can't be.
          I'm imagining it … it's a … a… coincidence.
          We have those here. This is Smallville - Hellmouth without the nice California weather
          It can't be him...
          Clark picked himself up off the floor and logged back onto the net.
          Welcome to Live Journal of ALexander the Great
          ALexander - there it was, ever time the name was typed, the L was capitalized.
          "Well holy shit."
Summary: Short, sweet. A character sketch by seasons.
         Summertime in Metropolis was sticky and hot and unpleasant. It stank of tar and exhaust and grease.
         Lex hated the summer.
         Sweat and frustration and anger, fuelled by more than the humidity, permeated everywhere from boardrooms to backrooms to rooms even Lex didn't admit being.
         Metropolis wasn't home; it was a place to exist.


          Summertime in Smallville was hot and sweet.
          The sun bore down, oppressive but not unbearable. The humidity made the air feel thick, but the sounds of the grasshoppers made it seem as if there was a drought.
          The smells were intense:
          The sweet smell of honeysuckle
          The smell of wet grass and dry soil and cattle, and corn.
          Lex hadn't known that corn had a smell.

Abivalent Pleasures

Summary: Semi-AU futurefic. It is Lex, of course, who suggests journalism.
          "Knowledge is power," Lex drawls, ensconced in a high-backed leather chair, tossing a dagger back and forth between ivory fingers. Clark is used to Lex's theatrics by now. "Knowledge is power, and there's no weapon like the power of disclosure."
          "Right." Clark picks through the TV Guide. "And why would I want to be powerful?" He flips to the evening's listings.
          Lex is used to Clark's own version of theatrics; sees that there's a flannel-and-corn wall around something which isn't all that well hidden. "Say you wanted to protect the good people in the world from the bad people," he says caustically, "information is the best means of defense."
          Clark arches an eyebrow at him. "And of attack?"
          "No. Like money, it's more useful if you haven't spent it."
          Clark flips through the glossy pages to today's listing. "But like money, it's no use if you never spend it at all."
          Lex tosses him the remote, and doesn't answer.


Forget me asking what planet you're from; if you haven't read her, I'll ask what universe. Jenn is possibly one of the most famous Smallville Slash authors, and for a very, very good reason.

Honestly, I do not have words. Jenn's talent is... amazing. Incomparable. Pure beauty to see and pure joy to read. She writes long stories and short series', one shots, silly fic and angst. She can do descriptive, lyrical prose or short, hard fragments, and somehow always makes it work in ways that I cannot adequately describe. I've selected only a few of her multitudes of fic's, and if you love her as much as I do there's more. Read, you won't regret it.

A Handful of Dust
Summary: futurefic. You can't run forever.

          Lex knows how to run.
          At the first startling green glow against black leather, he's ready, unplugging the laptop from only ground line as he reaches for the case at his feet, shoving them both into the canvas bag on the table. The alarm is at best an afterthought before the electricity cuts out, but Lex knows the old LexCorp tower like his own hand, even in perfect dark. The lead-lined door pulls open with the lightest touch and closes with a heavy click like the bank vault from some half-repressed childhood memory.
          The alley stinks of rotting garbage and backed-up sewer, and Lex leans into a clammy brick wall to catch his breath as sparks dance hazily before his eyes. Exhaustion, nothing exactly new. Sleep is a luxury; Lex doesn't remember the last time six hours were strung together with anything but dull pressure sinking into the bottom of his stomach, swimming lazily until he knows he'll throw up if he so much as breathes.
          And someone had asked him--God, Pete? Dominik?--why he was losing weight. Jesus.
          Outside, the car's waiting, always is, key in the ignition, and he starts it, growling to himself at the broken sound of the motor turning over. Visions in dark red and silvery-grey slick the skin behind his eyes, and then it's running, thank God; time is something he's never had enough of, not even close. He guns the engine and peals out, an ancient nondescript brown sedan darting into the worn, potholed asphalt of the Metropolitan south central district.

The Advanced Masochism Series
Summary: humor, pre-slash. In which Lex is curious as to why he's become a proxy stalker.
          Clark needed insight into the human mind--badly--if he could possibly be missing what amounted to being several months of the least subtle behavior Lex had ever displayed in his life, and Lex was counting the times on Ecstacy when he'd been known to remove clothing to get the point across. It was actually becoming somewhat tempting to simply push the boy down on his back and make the facts apparent the old fashioned way--
         --oh so tempting. And so illegal. No, Your Honor, I swear it was totally innocent until I tripped over him on the hood of the car. Total accident. This is *Smallville*, your honor. These things happen. You take checks? Vehicles? Pictures of said boy?

When the Sky Falls Down
Summary: Clark's pretty sure it all started when he said, "yes," when Lex said, "you want to go to a movie?"
          "I will hunt you down" Lex promises, taking a step toward the man and getting the gun pointed at him. Crap. Clark judges his chances of getting between Lex and the bullet pretty damn good. His chances of explaining it without a mitigating concussion aren't quite so hot. "I will find out your social security number and your residence and the name of your dog. I will *ruin* you. I will have you audited by the IRS for so many types of tax fraud you will be *buried* under paperwork for the next fifty years."
          Clark realizes, about the same time as the gunman, that Lex has, in fact, gone off the deep end. Or maybe the man is thinking of his last tax return.
          "You had better run," Lex says menacingly, taking another step forward until the barrel of the gun is against his chest. "No matter how far you go, they will *find* you. And they will audit you."
          "Jesus," the man whispers, looking at Clark like he could possibly be any kind of defense against this.
          Lex takes the gun from shell-shocked fingers, cocks it, and looks the man dead in the eye. "Start running. And tell your auditor that Lex Luthor sends his regards."

Summary: Second in the Spaces series. Lex is having a lousy night and Clark's trying to figure out why.
          Lex's head tilted, shifting gears until they were almost certainly breaking the speed limit and possibly some Indy 500 records. On the other hand, who would pull Lex Luthor over anyway? Local law enforcement had at least one family member working in the Luthor plant, one family member benefiting from Luthor money. The library, the school, the Church--it was there, an unwritten rule of life, that a Luthor could do things and say thing and be things that no one else could.
          Which really explained Dad's hostility, considering the sheer number of speeding tickets accumulated by the Kent family over the years.

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled
Summary: futurefic, long. Clark decides on a change of lifestyle. Lex decides on a change in the status quo. And the world's doomed.
          "It's been awhile." He can't help smirking.
          "Not long enough." Under Clark's hand is a warm thigh, wool covered and solid, easy to brace himself on. Grounding, too, and his fingers like the feeling of the cloth a little too much for comfort. Lex's arm around his chest is almost too-tight, but Clark doesn't care. It's enough that there's something to hold on to, grip with the next spasm that rips up his body like he's being cut open inside and out. "I assume this is reaction to whatever the fuck you did up in the Fortress?"
          "Yeah." Clark chokes out a laugh. "Should have stayed--there. With the medical facilities." Can't get back now. Frankly, he's not even clear on how he got back to Metropolis, since obviously he didn't fly on his own. There are vague memories of a private plane and a man that didn't speak much English but watched him a lot. Okay. "You bought my pilot."
          "Michael was very disappointed you weren't carrying something interesting like heroin or weapons of mass destruction. A let-down for the man, I assure you." Lex shifts a little--motion isn't good, but Lex is about as capable of stillness as Lois is of silence. Strong arms reposition themselves under his arms, and Lex pulls them both up effortlessly.
          Lex is really too strong to be completely human. Clark wants to laugh at the thought that Lex is now the most alien in the room. In a manner of speaking.

Fanfic by Shallot

Summary: Clark makes things better.
          Clark stared down at his hands. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been scared of someone finding out. It had been the first thing he'd learned, before English, before shoelaces and patty cake, a lesson drilled into him by loud voices and frightened eyes, by the thrumming heart under his ear as his mother hurried him back to the car. Never let anyone see. Never do anything in public. Never, ever, ever tell anyone.

Livia's Library
Tends towards shorter stories, but for all of that they have no less impact.

Summary: "Twelve years ago, it had taken an ridiculous amount of effort; these days it was pure reflex."
          "Come to convey your congratulations?"
          "Actually, yes." Superman said. Lex's sarcastic tone seemed to bounce right off him, like... well, like everything did, really. "How is your daughter?"
          He spoke with flawless, inhuman composure. Nothing like anything human, least of all the heart-tugging, helpless beauty of Lex's daughter's face. Tomato-red, messy, squalling like a little goblin as she rested in his arms. Lex smiled to himself. "Perfect."

All Human Things
Summary: post-hourglass. "All human things are subject to decay, and when Fate summons, monarchs must obey."
          "Why?" he protests, wide-eyed in the dim barn, and you let your snarl show.
          "Why shouldn't I? It's the reason I'm a freak, Clark!" He shakes his head, not understanding, and you can't fucking believe it, but you're going to have to spell it out for him. "It's why I'm bald. I was here, in Smallville, when I was nine--"
          "Oh god." Clark actually blanches beneath his tan, and his hands jerk up reflexively, palms out, as if he could physically block your words. He covers his reaction just as quickly, forcing his hands down and turning away, a slim black shade. But.
          You're intrigued, now.
          Intrigued, and calmer. Almost deadly calm. Predator's instinct, something in the primitive lizard-portion of your brain taking over. Because suddenly you know that you're closer to cracking Clark open than you've ever been before. That witch at the nursing home is rotting in the ground, but maybe you didn't need her after all.

Just Pie
Summary: AU. Silly. Sparked from Nia's comment: "A fandom without tons of hookerfic is like a day without orange juice."
          Clark stared at him. "Seriously. I'm-- I'm working. I'm a college student. I have a couple of jobs."
          Lex liked to think he was quick to pick up on even complicated concepts, and this one was dawning, albeit slowly. "You're a... college student."
          "Yeah," Clark insisted.
          "You have a couple of jobs." Lex repeated.
          Clark nodded energetically.
          "Including being a *pimp*?" Lex said, and Clark's eyes went huge, and he nearly dropped his tray.

Summary: and i try / to draw the line / but it ends up running down the middle of me / most of the time. Clark and Kal-El and Superman - because sometimes separate identities just aren't that easy.
          "Don't you ever wish you were Superman?" Lois said, and Clark choked on a mouthful of hot coffee.
          "Um, why?"
          "Just so you could do something," Lois said, still typing, eyes flickering back and forth across her screen. "About all the shit that goes on. Like this."
          "We are doing something," Clark said, "And, you know, I'm not the one who interviewed the guy, but--"
          "Yeah, yeah, I know, non-interference in human affairs." Lois smiled wryly. "I couldn't do that... Guess you're all lucky I'm not him."
          "Yeah, lucky." Clark stood up, grabbing his jacket. "Look, I can finish this at home. I think I'm gonna head out."
          Lois didn't look up. "Say hi to Lucy and Ethel for me."
          Clark smiled. "Have a good night, Lois."

The Underground

Freshman Orientation
Summary: Welcome to Metropolis University.
          Lex speaks Latin, scribbles quantum equations on cocktail napkins, and mumbles about Alexander the Great in his sleep. He gives impromptu speeches about bad science-fiction, collects comic books, and chooses restaurants based on what he's driving. He has ten pairs of the same black pants, hates to fly, and always knows the exchange rate for the yen. And even if he's never used the words, he loves Clark, and Clark's beginning to realize just how badly he underestimated him.
          Clark had assumed that Lex would be the one confused about how love works, but apparently it's Clark that needs to get a clue. He thought he understood the boundaries of their relationship, but maybe there weren't any, maybe Clark just thought there were. Maybe the reason Lex hasn't made any grand gestures is because he's waiting for Clark to be ready for them.
          "Chaerophyllum has valet," Lex is saying. "But that's better for lunch."
          "How about somewhere new?" Clark suggests, shifting the basket of books to his left hand and reaching out for Lex with his right.

The First Four Years
Summary: The prom theme had something to do with Paris. If Paris was a high school gym with a band.
         Thanks to thirteen grueling years in Smallville, Clark has learned to expect the unexpected. When he hears hoofbeats, he doesn't think horses or zebras. He thinks six-legged radioactive gazelles. It works with everything except for Lex because Lex is so screwed up on so many levels that it's never just one thing. It's horses, zebras, and gazelles, along with a couple stray antelopes and lizards. It's a big noisy mess, and all the running around and yelling only masks the problem.
          For the first time since crashing into Lex, Clark finally understands what all the drama is about. Lex is afraid of being alone. He's afraid of not being alone. He's afraid of pity, of being second best, of being used, forgotten, misunderstood, unloved. Lex, like everyone else on earth, though he'd unleash an army of lizards and antelopes on you if you ever suggested such a thing, is just afraid.

Curator of the Life and Death Museum
Summary: Lex kept it all
          A teacher from the high school stops by to talk to Clark, and Clark drags out a reluctant smile in greeting. The smile turns into a wince when the teacher points at something on the table, and Clark shakes his head. The woman moves off down the aisle and Clark picks up a paperback and starts reading, cracking the spine and folding the cover back with casual malice. He's scowling again.
          Lex loves him like this, irritated and beautifully oblivious. Clark, who can lie well enough to hide his secrets but never his lies. Eager and trusting and still young enough to sulk in public. Lex had never been that young, and despite Clark's stumbles and blushes, it's hard for Lex to believe it about Clark. Lex can see what the rest of Smallville can't, and Clark Kent is not the boy he pretends to be.

Summary: He doesn't know why this is happening
          It's a Saturday night and he calls home. His mother tells him about a calf born just that morning, a new bookstore on Main, his father's constant struggle to repair the porch. The world he left behind is going on without him.
          He tells her about the tree in front of his building, his neighbor that works graveyard and always comes home with fresh bread, the old theater he found that shows dollar-fifty movies.
          They say goodbye and I love you and he hangs up without mentioning the real reason he called.
          When he was six he got tangled in some fencing wire. He bled, scared his parents, ended up with a morse code scar along his arm. It lasted a year, then started to fade. By his tenth birthday it was gone entirely. But he's twenty-two now and he thinks the scar is coming back.
          He turns off the lamp. It's still early but he doesn't want to be awake.

The Green Room

Summary: He'll always come back
          Lex felt that a smart man should have an imagination to better deploy his intelligence, so he rather enjoyed metaphors.
         This one came to mind as he stood in the cornfield he’d faced two life-altering events in. Combine those with his recent near-death, thus life-altering, experience in the Porsche, and he could only conclude that returning to Smallville had returned him to the starring role in a bizarre melodrama.
         But he certainly couldn’t complain about his mysterious and alluring co-star. If Smallville ever felt the need to expand its population, posters featuring a picture of Clark Kent, perhaps with the caption "home-grown," would do the trick of recruitment nicely. Who could resist stunning good looks paired with a total, sweet unawareness of said stunning good looks?
          Even if Clark did seem to be slightly broken. But he was broken in such a pretty way that Lex didn’t know if he wanted to fix him or break him more. It only added to his allure.

The Very Secret Thoughts of Clark Kent
Summary: Clark gets in touch with his inner goth. *snicker*
          Life sucks. It sucks more than... some great big sucking thing. When I walked into the kitchen this morning, Dad gave me a great reaction, just totally paralyzed with shock, but Mom said, "Oh, honey, your eyeliner’s...." Then she came over to me and smudged it a bit with her finger. Mom!
          Still, it looked better afterwards.
          School started out well, with Whitney saying that he never would have strung me up in a cornfield if he knew it would lead to this. Lana stared at me with wide eyes and looked more confused than usual. What did I ever see in her?
          But Chloe and Pete just died laughing. Pete ragged on the leather pants and ripped-up shirt. At least the eye makeup just made him speechless. Chloe got even bitchier. She kept staring at my eyes and checking out my butt, though. I will never understand girls.
          Still, it feels great getting all the oppression against me out in the open instead of pretending. People should stare! I’m an alien, darn it!

Te Land
Te's such a hot writer. And writes a lot too. It's a good combination.

Summary: Lex finds out. *snerk*
          And suddenly he's swooping low and to the south, knocking a branch off a tree and this close to screaming.
          Or laughing.
          Because... he's *flying*. Flying even faster than he can *run*, and he thinks maybe he could even do *tricks*, like maybe --
          Yes! He does an effortless triple back-flip, loops the loop until he's not entirely sure where the ground begins and the sky ends, and flies so many spirals he feels a little nauseous. And he's just resolving to take it easy when he smacks into something face-first and drops like a stone.
          For about ten feet.
          He could've sworn he was higher than *that* --
          "You know, if you tell me you weren't flying just now, I'm going to kick you very hard, Clark."
          "Lex! I was... um... oh damn." Clark's mind helpfully supplies that he's landed on one of Lex's balconies. Which would be okay, if Lex wasn't there. Looking down at him with a glass in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. Looking *amused*. "Um. You're drunk?"
          Lex takes a long, ostentatious sniff. "Ginger ale." Sharp little smile. "Want some?"

The Project Series
Summary: It starts off with The Project where Lex does some deliciously twisted thinking, and it all flows from there.
         He'd been sent here as something between a punishment and a opportunity, a chance to 'work his way up' in the family business. A chance to get Lex as far away from Metropolis and everything worth doing until he'd... learned his lesson?
         But he's had his near-death experience, his de rigeur epiphany, and now...
         Now he has a project.

Summary: "Though this be madness, yet there is method in't." Clark is making a point.
          It would be entirely too optimistic to believe that Clark didn't know *exactly* what he was doing every time he showed up at Lex's penthouse (or mansion, or villa, or wherever, he always knew). Certainly not after the fourth time. Once was unpleasant coincidence, twice was God's laughter, three times was pure dumb luck, but...
          Clark was taking time off from keeping the world's hapless citizens alive to... watch Lex pretend to sleep.
          And really, a case could be made, some Jesuitical study or another on the nature of fate and God's will, and it might even make perfect sense. If, say, Clark was the instrument of some God with a truly befucked sense of humor.
          Give the people a hero that can do the impossible, save the unsaveable, leap tall buildings in a single bound and divert the course of rivers with just a bit of elbow grease. Get them good and complacent.
          And then take the hero away.

Kid's Game
Summary: Games people play...
          Lex is still staring at the fire. "Truth or dare."
          Shocks a laugh out of him. "Are you kidding?"
          Lex grins at him. "Not in the least."
          "Sometimes I actually forget you're only twenty-one..."
          "You think Truth or Dare is a kids' game?"
          "Well... yeah."
          "Sometimes I forget you're only fifteen..." Lex gives him one of those slow smiles that could mean just about anything. "Play with me."

    Feedback can be mailed to
    Graphics property of Eos Development