Debchan: Antigen

Ow, ow, and also *ow*. Okay, so everybody knows that Smallville is my
Obsession du Jour, yes? If you don't, you're clearly not paying enough
attention to me, and that's wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Shape up.

Er. Anyway. Clark/Lex is doomed, canonically, no matter how you swing
it. While I mostly prefer to frolic among the hills and dales of Denial Land,
sometimes a story comes along that's just too fucking cool to ignore.

This is it.

What does friendship mean?

How far can trust be stretched?

How many secrets can one relationship stand?

Read it. Cry.

*

Basingstoke: Five Things That Aren't True

Blood! Cool crossovers! Funerals! And! Satan! *bwahahahahhahahaa*
Yes, oh yes, I do love Bas, because she's *always* good for a read that'll
have you looking over your shoulder for *days*. I am filled with the joy
of creep. Filled, I tell you!

*

Viridian5: Black Pond

Personally, I think you have to have read Black House for the full effect of
this story to sink in, but it's still pretty fucking hilarious.

Oh, Lex. So very pale.

*snork*

*

The Spike: Prognosis

Hourglass was one of those episodes that stay with you long after you
wish they weren't. Wait, no, don't think about X-Files. I meant the good kind of
bad lingering, where the hurt just keeps on coming.

Mmm, yeah. Oh, Doris, how we do love you.

I think this story is the best post-ep for Hourglass that I've seen -- and there've
been many. An unflinching look at young Lex, and how he continues to
Just Not Cope after the credits roll.

Scream.

And: Triple Cross

Heh heh. Heh heh heh.

Oh, baby boy, I've *missed* you… and I just bet I'm not the only one.

Revel in the creep and retrolust.

Some boys you just don't forget.

*

Jane St Clair: Insects

Oh, *man*.

How much do I hate myself for needing this pairing? On the one hand, I've written
it myself, so I'm allowed to make other people Go There. On the other hand, I'm
directly increasing the level of fic-related trauma in the world for asking for it. On the
third hand, Jane didn't fight very hard.

Whatever.

It's awesome. Dirty-hot and sad.

Sweet and wrong.

Gorgeously written with lines that sing so clearly I don't want to take *any* of them
out of context. Go read. Marvel.

Shalott: Waiting For Yes

Still more doom. Okay, when some people do it? It's just as addictive (if not more
so) than the happy ending stuff. And, okay, maybe that's not such a surprising
statement to some of you, but I don't think you realize how much I have *invested*
in this latest incarnation of Lex Luthor.

I. Am. In. Love.

Get it?

This story spins its merry way off from the Hourglass pain and brings it all to the
inevitable (?) end.

Unflinching and harsh as life. Don't hesitate, people.

*

Livia: All Human Things

Um. Okay. The *other* best post-Hourglass story.

For completely different reasons. This is a pure straight-shot of Lexitude. A punch
in the gut and a kiss on the mouth, all at once. This is rage, and fear, and the things
a man will do to get what he needs.

I am, of course, designed to see the ending as happy, but that's my issue.

*

Isos Arei: Some Say… (series)

These stories just…

Well, now I have to go back on what I was blithering on about in Thamiris'
livejournal, because, yeah, sometimes there's absolutely nothing better than a
good, deep conversation between smart BSOs who are only just learning
themselves.

Sweetly intelligent and hopeful stories, and you'll be right here with me at the end --
hoping for more.

Soon.

*pokes Isos*

*

Jenn: Between Spaces

Another wonderful conversation. Yeah, I *so* get off on it when a truly good
writer can make me believe that Clark and Lex are really *talking* to each other.
Happiness. Happiness I have.

But this moment? I loved this moment. And yes, I'm taking it out of context. Maybe I'll
just call this set of recs 'Hypocrisy.'

Or not:

"What are you going to do with the farm?" Clark asked softly, and felt rather than
saw Lex move, all that easy grace like a cat, coming to stand beside him, cool and
buoying, a presence that seemed to block out the worst of the memories of the heat and
the fear and his father helpless in the next room, Clark his only possible protection.

"Level it." Clark looked down at him and the grey eyes were hard, meeting his, and this
time, there was no facade of composure. Raw, unhealed, unforgiving hate that Clark's
soul echoed just as surely and just as powerfully, and knew it showed on his face, too,
knew Lex felt it. Nodding, he forced himself to look away and the gloved hand touched
his shoulder, almost as insubstantial as a breeze, but warm through his thin shirt, sinking into
his skin. He remembered Lex in the cemetery, watching that grave with the intense
concentration of someone creating a memory to cherish and hold against the cold nights to
keep them warm. Yes, Clark understood that too, another thing he could never say, but
felt just as absolutely.

--

Just... pure *connection*. Happy Te.

And: Relativity

*whimper* This story just… rolls. The metaphors are smooth, the
characterizations sharp and bright as the stars, the moments of heat pure
and raw as anything you could wish for.

Let's just say I'm very, very happy to see a new story from this writer.

Sarah T.: Visitation

Lionel Luthor has pretty much come to define the term "love to hate" for
me. He's sexy, he's ruthless, he's a terrible father and a worse man… and
he's larger-than-life. You can't *not* have an opinion about him.

(Te takes a moment to worship John Glover)

Sarah said she had to write this story to purge some of her hatred. Well, I
sure as fuck needed to read it. That man makes me downright
*bloodthirsty* -- despite the fact that I'll be disappointed when/if TPTB
actually do kill him off.

Nasty little tale of filial devotion. Gotta love it.

*

Molly: Variations on Habit

Snapshots of a dark-bright life among the very rich and very screwed
up. One of the many conversations I very badly want Lex and Clark to
have, with all the subtext a girl could wish for beneath.

Careful, yes.

Oh, yes.

Absolutely lovely.

*

LaT: Reveal

Okay, this is a sub-sub-sub genre that *never* works.
Like, ever.

Voyeurfic is almost always written in the most authorially
intrusive ways possible. Complete wankfic -- in the bad
way.

And when the voyeur in question is a parent of one of
the BSOs?

Look, y'all know me by now. I *like* a good shudder. But
when it's unintentional?

Whoop, whoop, abandon ship!

But LaT is getting better by, like, the *hour*, and here
she provides proof, once again, that Te should never say
never. "Reveal" walks that fine line between watching
and voyeurism and never once stumbles to either side.
It's a perfect look into Lionel's psyche, one which I never
once doubted while I was reading, even though I have
*real* issues with that character.

Sympathy for the devil. Heh. It's been *done*, I tell you!

But here, at least, it's done well.

Bonus points for making the Clark/Lex hot and sweet
*and* managing to distance the heat from Lionel.

I'm still not sure how she managed that.

*

Maygra: Never Here, Here To Be, Be What May

Still more stories I missed last go-'round, and y'all can
feel free to beat me for that. Maygra is an old favorite of
mine, from way back when I was a wee fannish Te, reading
and not writing. You'll probably know her for her
truly epic Highlander series, but you know what?

I like these better.

Simple, homey, exquisitely characterized tales of
Smallville life, and how Clark and Lex are adapting
to it. There's humor, there's angst, there's action and
derring-do.

*And*...

There's even some smut, for those of you who, like me,
like their slash to be pornolicious.

Read and enjoy.

*

The Spike: Butterfly Effect

Well, damn.

One day I woke up at half-past-late, and went to join my
Webrain in chat and virtual bundling. The Spike and Debchan
were discussing something, but refused to tell me *what*.

See, I was to be an experiment. The Spike's experiment, to
be precise, to see what an unprepared audience would do with
this particular idea.

Well, let's see.

I bounced up and down in excitement. I sighed at the slashy
goodness. I cried. I got scared. I cried some more. I ranted
and raved and settled in to bitterness.

And then I hugged my mami and thanked her for one of the
finest rides I've ever had the luck to take.

Good *goddamn*, people!

This is what fan fiction can be.

Remember that next time you put pen to page, eh?

*

Debchan: Let It Snow

*happysigh* I think we all have certain porn/erotica/
romance cliches that work for us even when the writing
surrounding the cliche is utter shite, yes?

Yes.

My personal favorite is that hoary chestnut of sharing
body heat. Het or slash, I get a little tingly every time it
even *looks* like a story is heading in that direction.

And wind up thwapping myself after the story is done,
because, most of the time, it really is shite. I mean,
*really*.

Thankfully, there are good writers out there who know
that even deservedly shameful things can work with
the right amount of originality, technical skill, and
stylistic derring-do.

Debchan is one of 'em, bless her.

A simple little tale full of every kind of heat you can
find, with the bonus of snappy, in-character dialogue,
*and* the correct use of the word 'propinquity.'

Love her. Love. Her.

*

Thamiris: Skinned

Literate without being wordy, rawly erotic without being crude,
heavily metaphorical without being pretentious, *and*... Tham gives me
My Smallville Kink.

Yes, that one.

*happysigh*

Check this one out. Just do. I reread it last night for maybe the fifth time, and
it just keeps getting better. Smarter.

Hotter.

More *fun*.

Tham's men are men, Tham's monsters are freakish and scary and pathetic -- in
the best ways -- and Tham's stories are *always* worth it.

Debchan: Fate

Lest we forget the fact that Debchan is a hard-nosed bitch, she has
given us this.

Clark's inevitable future, Clark's fears realized.

What would you do to keep from being alone?

How far would you go?

Moral: Destiny doesn't give a fuck about your sanity.

But, you know, Debchan is also a fucking *lunatic*, and writes things like:

Cake and Pie

In which metaphors are abused, pretty boys are kissed, and horrible
flashbacks to Home Ec class are suffered by your poor, hapless, reccer.

Er.

That last isn't Deb's fault.

This was funny, and sweet, and hot, and fun, and, well... we all need
that, right? Right?!

It's not fucking *fair* that Deb can be this funny *and* break my heart on
a regular basis.

*kicking her*

*

Shalott: Better

Oh, yeah.

*rarr*

This one is slow, dreamy, and absolutely blistering under the haze.
Secrets, pain, need, and friendship.

Hope and all the ominous undertones therein.

I think you'll dig this one.

*

Merry Lynne: The Middle of Nowhere and The Road Home

Merry, Merry, *Merry*. How happy I am to be in a fandom with you
at last.

God, you guys? When you go to her site? Just take the time to settle
in. You'll need it.

I've been in love with her snappy dialogue, her healthy sense of the
absurd, and her by-God *blistering* smut for almost all four years
that I've *been* in slashland, and you know, there's a reason for that.

In these two stories, you'll see why. Clark is Clark, Lex is Lex, the
cookies are yummy, the snark is yummier, and the cows... well, the
less said about the cows, the better.

Read these and you'll see why Merry has gone on my list of Writers
to Stalk Mercilessly.

Fear my pokey finger, yo.

*

Brighid: Drive You Home

I first came across Brighid when she started writing these wrenchingly
poetic X-Files vignettes that made me seethe with envy. She's just
gotten better over the past couple of years, and the fact that she's writing
Smallville now? Fills me with joy.

I don't have to be envious. I'm... calm. Yes, calm.

Despite the fact that she's writing pure unadulterated sweetness and
love and managing to do it without lapsing into the saccharine.

Without losing plausibility.

My only problem with this one was in the rhythms, but then I can be
kind of a style whore for some things.

*sigh* Take him home, Clark...

And: nobody wins

*siiiiiigh*

Brighid, in case you didn't know, is also a poet. A good one, damn her,
as is vividly clear in the case of this particular bit of prose. There's a
rhythm to this one vaguely reminiscent of a sonnet to this poetry-ignorant
reader, the rhymes are Clark's secrets and needs, the coda his hope.

Something has to give here, and with Brighid, you get the sense that
that's not necessarily something to fear.

*

Beth: Bitter Strands

Oh, baby. Oh, *baby*.

Yet another new-to-me author who has me looking for more. Why? She
took a characterization idea that I *completely* disbelieve and made it
work.

Without even having the character in question *in* the story.

This is... I'm not going to spoil you. I won't, so don't ask.

It's scary, it's plausible, and tragicomic on layers that come back and hit
you on the reread -- and I do recommend re-reading.

Damn. It's just... well, let me put it this way: as *soon* as I read it, I
wrote a (much better) rec for it that was subsequently lost in the Great
Reformatting of 2002. I've since been stalking the poor author in an
attempt to find out when she intended to archive the damned thing
so I could add it to a rec set. I've moved this rec from set to set and...

*sigh*

It's oh-so-satisfying to be able to point people to it at last.

*

Loch Ness: Invulnerable

So, when I read the summary, I frowned. Lex in prison? Cliches ahoy.
Thankfully, Loch Ness is actually a *good* writer, and makes it work. All
the trouble, all the sorrow, all the angst and love and need... some things
just don't go away, no matter how much you might wish they would.

Loch Ness uses flashbacks here to wonderful effect, somehow managing to
make them both illustrative and *fitting* within the story itself, which, well...
Rarely happens.

*ahem*

Beautifully characterized, though some readers might wonder at Lex being
so... accepting after what happened.

Me, I'm not so sure that it doesn't work. This Lex is still very much on the
line, despite everything else. Despite what he believes about himself. At the
end, there's pain, but there's also hope.

And that's real enough for me.

Note: Loch Ness doesn't allow linking to her web pages, so I'm including a
link for interested parties to e-mail her here.

*

Lar: Easy

Petefic! Petefic! Petefic!

Solidly written, fully in character, funny and smart and sad and just a
little creepy. We might laugh about Smallville's MotWs, but, in the end,
these characters have to live in that world.

That sincerely *fucked* up world.

So... check it out.

And give my little brother some fictional airtime, eh?

*

Molly: Storyteller

God, it's so damned *good* to have Molly here in Slashville.
Anyone who has been perusing these pages knows that I've been a fan
of hers for *quite* a while.

And, well, here's the reason: she rocks.

A short little piece with layer upon layer of meaning behind it. Sometimes
I wonder how many of us writer-types disdain traditional superhero
stories, and how many of us do so because of the whole secrecy thing.

Or rather... why these heroes always seem to have such a hard time
keeping things secret, and why they never seem to realize there *are*
people who could -- and probably should -- be told.

And you know, maybe this is the problem -- they're not *like* us. A
writer with any sort of talent knows how to read people. Knows how to
manipulate them, too, because, well, let's face it -- manipulating people
is our *bread and butter*.

Writers don't make very good heroes, I don't think. Hmm.

Anyway. This is Clark, quietly puzzling out his life.

Quietly failing to find answers.

And:

Bien Reve

Dreamy (heh) little piece that just feels... warm. Even with all of
Clark's doubts and fears, even with all of the uncertainty, the story has
its own mood that will grab you and cuddle you and make you sigh
happily.

Clark. Mm.

*

Jane St Clair: Smog

You know, my ego's pretty damned big. I mean, I rarely sit around thinking,
"waaaah! Why couldn't *I* have written that?"

But sometimes I do.

And this was one of those times.

Because, yeah, I've got a serious lust for what Jane calls the Smallville Extended
Universe, and... wow. Dammit, how come *I* didn't think of this?

*growl*

And then she had to write it perfectly.

Bitch.

And:

Red

Ah, Jesus. Okay, so we all know by now that I have a weak spot for the
Magnificent Bastard being handled by a writer who knows how it's done,
right?

Lord knows there are enough stories out there who portray Lionel as
simply a cardboard villain, and even a few who make the man *gentle*,
but so very very few that get the *whole* of the man.

Lionel is ruthless, often viciously cruel.

Lionel loves his son in ways that make me *terrified*.

He's a complicated man, and no one understands him but his wo --

Er, yes.

*No* one understands him, and that's why I love stories like Red, in which
Lex is brilliant as he can be and still spirals around and around what makes
his father tick, playing chess with the kind of stakes you just don't want
to think about, and in the end...

Well, who wins?

Elizabeth: (I) forget

Sarah T., when she recced my Lionel/Lex monstrosity, said something along
the lines of not wanting to see any other stories tackling the subject. I disagreed,
for reasons both shallow and not. Or maybe it's all shallow. I mean, Lionel
Luthor is a fascinating character who we'll probably never see enough of. Or, well,
not enough to suit *me*.

And the way his relationship plays out with Lex is certainly... suggestive.

So, yeah, part of me is all for seeing more Lionel/Lex. I *want* it. The rest of
me wishes Lionel wasn't half so compelling, because when Lionel/Lex is written
well?

It hurts like hell.

And so we come to this story, and a Lex more in need of saving than any we've
ever seen, while still managing to seem perfectly in character. It's in the eyes,
you see.

Michael Rosenbaum, for reasons of his own, has chosen to portray Lex Luthor
as a man who cannot, *cannot* stop thinking. There's never a point when those
eyes stop roving, when the intellect and restlessness behind them isn't
abundantly clear.

At the same time, we rarely get a chance to see exactly what it is he *is*
thinking about, so when think-pieces like this one come along, they're
perfectly plausible. Here is a boy-man too smart for his own good, too powerful,
too lost.

And here is the reason why.

Complex and lovely.

There were a couple of places where I might have added a comma or two, some
style choices I wouldn't have made, but overall? A wonderful story. I'm thrilled
to see Elizabeth here.

You should be, too.

*

LaT: Misapprehension

While the slasher in me loves the fact that Victoria was just so damned *useless*,
the writer in me was disappointed. I mean, there was a clear opportunity for
*angst* here, for some pain and self-examination on the parts of our heroes that,
well, just isn't happening.

Unless, like LaT and Livia (later, later), you can do some fancy footwork.

This story... well, the title works on a number of levels, really. From the viewer
in-joke of what Victoria seems to be, to what Clark thought he was seeing, to
everything he *knows* that he doesn't understand now, and, well...

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Yummy angst here. Poke LaT to make more words come out, eh?

*

Livia: Deliver

Another Victoria tale, another bit of fancy footwork. Because, so long as Clark
doesn't look too closely -- so long as he doesn't get a *chance* to look too
closely, Victoria *is* the "Porsche of women," the kind of woman you just didn't
get in Smallville... heh.

There are reasons for that, Clark.

Anyhow.

A lot of people seemed to feel this was a darker, crueler story than *I* thought
it was. Like Misapprehension, a lot of the angst is predicated on viewing the
world through Woobie -- er, Clark's eyes, which is something that we, as readers,
are not limited to.

Whether or not Liv writes the sequel *poking her hard*, this is not *the* end
for our guys.

And there are a lot of ways to take "I don't want to play."

and Impact

Every time Livia finishes a story, an angel gets its wings. Sure, there are a lot
of wingless angels around *POKING HER RIGHT IN THE RIBS*, but this little
black duck is pretty grateful for the ones that get off the ground.

A Hug tag that desperately needed to be written, and, well, wow.

Awkward, funny, sexy, sweet and just a little sad. All the potential between
Clark and Lex laid bare, even those potentialities I don't want to see.

"Give it time," indeed.

La la la, deny deny deny...

Livia's art is, at turns, shocking, hilarious, erotic, disturbing, avant garde,
romantic, pathetic (in the best sense), and cracked. Go to her site.

Wander around.

Something for just about everyone, I think...

*

The Spike: Witness Triptych

God, God, *God*.

When I first saw where the Spike was going with this story, I
whimpered like the little bitch I occasionally am. Because, well, *ow*.

I can bitch at people for poking sticks at Lex *now*, but I can't
do a damned thing to protect the woobie from his *past*, now can
I?

And here's a past worth protection.

All I can say is that it's brilliantly written, made me want things I
didn't understand, and, like Lex, when I got them it wasn't any
better.

Er... yes. Aren't you all just *psyched* to read this now?

Well, you should be. It's an incredible piece, worth every last drop
of blood it cost.

Ah, but some of us writers should be drowning in the stuff by now...