SV fic post: A Young Kryptonian part 23
12/8/07 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxySo I'm rushing this a bit but I have to!
Title: A Young Kryptonian's Travels Or, A Wind In The Sails
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Kal-El/Lex
Rating: G
Summary: Our only point here is to have fun! No message, no moral--enjoy!
The Previous Parts are here,writing Mr. Prachett and begging him to please forgive their little Mommy.
There were a dozen reasons why Daxama evenings were different from Krypton. A sun no more familiar to him then the one that had lit the Earth dropped to the horizon, turning the sky purple. Like clockwork, the nightly chorus of native birds began—shrieks rang out, blood-curdling screams of the damned that shredded the night sky. Kal shivered. 'All creatures Rao created and loved them, great or small' be damned--there was something wrong with a creature who screamed like it was dying and smelled worse than dead. As always, Kal grit his teeth and stared into the sun until it set, waiting for the birds to fall silent again.
Behind him, he heard a foot step in the soft dust. A familiar weight warmed his shoulder.
"The birds of Daxama leave a lot to be desired," Jor-El sighed. "So many changes, Kal, so many changes. So much to get used to." His hand tightened slightly. He let go and came around to stand in front of Kal. "Can I sit here too?"
Kal moved over to make room for Jor-El on the bench he sat on. They faced a stone garden. Pink pebbles were arranged in patterns in the red dust. Jor took Kal's hand and said, "Son, I—we—can not begin to imagine how you must have suffered, but any time you wish to talk about it, you know that we're here, ready to listen. And remember, Rao knows your mind, and Rao listens always. He knows your pain and carries it with you."
"Does he?" Kal was silent for a long moment before he said, "The sun was yellow. Have you been under a yellow sun before? It fills you up, makes you feel invincible—does in fact make you invincible. There's a drink there, a wonderful marvelous drink they call Coffee…they call their planet Earth. Silly, isn’t it? They're selfish and giving and petty and generous beyond fault. They hurt each other terribly, suffer and bleed…but they want so much more, Dad. They really want to be better…" Kal wiped at his cheek and said. "One thing I've learned--if Rao has a plan, it's unknowable to me. I'm beginning to think he has a Morne sense of humor."
"Birdie—"
"I've been thinking about my future, Father. I've decided on a career in Justice." He stood and turned to Jor-El. "Could you let Grand-dad know?"
Joe-El and Lara stood in the dark of the hallway, not needing to lean against Kal's door to hear him crying. It hurt them like being stabbed—the sound of their child in pain. Tears welled up in their own eyes. It was such a broken sound, the cries of a child lost in the wild.
****
A red sun tinted the sky salmon and pink, threw bloody shadows over the distant mountains. Clouds hung low over a sea of mud broken by an occasional outcropping of rock. A steady lukewarm drizzle sank into the mud. In the month that Kal had been at Paradise Base, there had been not a single day that it hadn't rained. Or actually, drizzled. It was the kind of precipitation that seemed to constantly be on the brink of becoming actual rain. It was weather designed to make a person go slowly insane, nature's water torture.
Fortunately for the troops, there was a wealth of activities to keep from doing that—there was 'carry a thousand pound pack through streams of mud, bordered by banks of mud'. There was 'climb a wall balanced on a rock sunk into a field of mud'. There was the ever popular 'slog buckets of mud around and pretend to build a camp', and 'dodge the painful but supposedly non-lethal practice rounds fired by the opposite team and also hide in the mud'. The trainees spent vast amounts of the brainpower not allocated to learning how to kill the enemy in ignoring the omnipresent mud, in teeth and boots and cot and food…Kal was developing a hatred of mud that bordered on the transcendent.
Not to be out done by Mud, there was Mold. Mold grew on everything. Everywhere. Constantly. The war against mold was as intense as Kal's training to war against the universe. Plucky soldiers clutched their weapons: a tiny brush and a bleach based cleaner and unleashed Hell daily. That it was probably a losing battle remained unspoken. Hope was a fragile reed, and no one wanted to be the one to break it.
Kal struggled to become the best at that activity, the best at *all* activity. He was the best at wall climbing and rope climbing, hand to hand combat and disguising himself as an outcropping of rock and raining doom on his enemies. He knew how to kill a man with a sharpish piece of stale pastry and some string, and how to make a decent soup out of e-rations. He did this because he had to. He knew there was only one way to regain meaning in his life and if it meant standing in cold mud and feeling his orbs try to creep up under his chin, than so be it. He'd take everything the phracking Justice shelled out and more. He'd claw his way up in ranks until he got to where he needed to be. And then, he'd jump in and out of that gods damned mother-phracking time well until he found—
"Recruit Twelve! Dreaming on our feet, are we? Wakey-wakey! Ya know, I'm thinking my boots here need polishing--again. Now!"
"Yes sir!" Kal barked, and seething, reached for the useless boot kit in his pack.
"Ah-ah-ah, Recruit. I'm not seeing that sunny smile of yer's. Let's look happy--and step it up. Matter of fact, why don't we just take care of all of us, hmm?" The rest of the trainees waved their thickly coated boots at him and grinned.
Kal smiled, barked "yes sir!" and bitterly wished for an explosive…anything. Preferably something long and pointed and thick, and a hammer…Kal eyed the sergeant wistfully when he bent to remove his boots and wished harder.
Eventually, his day came. He surpassed all expectations, graduated at the top of his class. His excellence was noted and with a little gentle nudging from Grand-dad Van, plans made for him that if Kal knew, he'd more than agree with.
Graduation day, and Grand-dad arrived to bring him home for a bit before being assigned to his post at the Palace as a member of Cousin's Inner Guard. It was the first anyone knew of his relationship to the throne. Kal enjoyed the sight of his sergeant going the color of stale cheese and he felt a fierce, angry sort of pride that he'd survived this hell strictly on his own merit, no quarter asked and sure as Hells no quarter given.
The waiting was almost over….
****
"He was supposed to take my place in the House of Science," Jor-El mourned, as he and Lara watched Kal go through exercises in the garden.
"My baby, my dear, sweet boy…what did they do to you?" She turned from watching Kal decapitate invisible enemies with the garden rake and to Jor, said viciously, "Never have I wished a planet pain the way I wish it on Soil--Dirt—however it's called. I hope they make it into one single Hell from pole to pole for whatever horrors they inflicted on our son. Can you not tell that great moron of a cousin you have to push up the schedule of the annexation of Dirt?"
Jor watched Kal work himself into a sweat as he did every day—he'd work until muscles quivered and twitched from painful exhaustion. "You know Shnoogie doesn't take advice from me," he muttered. Through the glass, he watched Kal slump to a crouch, and push a concerned Rwrzft away. He rose and gracefully avoided one of the small garden pets where once, he would surely have connected with the pet in a humorous and painful way. He negotiated the rock garden as if he were winged. Gone was any vestige of the slightly clumsy, earnest boy they'd sent out to conquer the world. They'd gotten back a stern, humorless warrior, bent on conquering worlds.
On the eve of Kal-El becoming a finger on the great hand of Justice, Grand-dad Lor-Van passed away, happy in the knowledge that his grandson would continue in service to The Emperor and Light of Many Worlds. He died holding Lara's hand, smiling up at the great God Rao, content to shuffle off the mortal coil. The Emperor was there at his bed-side, devastated at the loss of his long time Hand of Justice. "You, Kal-El, you must take up the mantle your grandfather has dropped," he said, and dabbed at his eyes.
"Whu—me?" Kal-El blinked hard, several times. Again, his words were less than memorable but Those Who Write The History would correct that oversight in days to come, so it was a small thing. "Bee-hunh…me? Hammer?" would no doubt become "You honor me deeply, your majesty. I vow to search out worthy new worlds to bring under your wise and benevolent rule." Something along those lines.
Immediately after Grand-dad's funeral, attended by the most mighty and the powerful in the Dominion, Kal-El of the House of El and son of Jor-El, Master of the House of Science and now the Hand of the Hammer of Justice, swore fealty to the Emperor, swore to protect and to serve him as long as he drew breath. Kal smiled at that line. He then had to sit through many, many long, long, and it cannot be stressed enough, long speeches from various members and representatives of the Worlds and try to look at least somewhat interested. Meanwhile in his head the phrase "Hand of The Hammer of Justice" rang in his head. He was the Hand, in fact, the fate of the galaxy rested in his hand. He looked down at his hand and snickered a bit. He knew where that hand had been....
Kal spent some time acquainting himself with his new duties, and found when it all boiled down, the job was simple--spank whoever misbehaved, give candy after to make it all better. When the occasional pep-talk was needed, a few World Destroyer class vessels suddenly appearing in one's atmosphere tended to be just the incentive needed to foster good behavior. Even better, he found that when he cocked his head a certain way and creased his eyebrows, people fell all over themselves to offer him whatever he needed. After enough time had passed and he was confident in his abilities to do the job, and confident in his men's loyalties, he decided the time to pull the various strings in his plan together was now.
The next day, with the help of Justice officers loyal to him, he overthrew the Emperor. It was a quick, sharp, painful overthrow.
Shnoogie lay in a pool of blood, eyes wide with disbelief and pain, and gasping for his last breath, wasted it by asking…"Why? Why, cousin? We searched for you, to return you to home…why…"
Kal-El's bright sunny smile twisted into a snarl was the last thing he saw, his voice the last he heard—"Because. You took me away from him."
No time left to even ask who 'he' was….
He strode out of the throne room, over the cooling body of his cousin, the soldiers loyal to him crowding at his heels. That left the throne room effectively empty except for a handmaiden or two, and the men who push the brooms.
They stood off to one side in a dark alcove, and looked at the corpse blocking the tiles on the east side of the room.
"Phrackin' quall. Going to need a mop for that," one said and lit a cigarette. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was there to tell him not to...
"More than one, looks like." He held out his hand until he was reluctantly given a cigarette too.
"Who'd have thought…young Kal-El. Always thought that boy was thick as a brick. Do you mind? Non-smoker here." The oldest of them quavered and waved a shaky liver spotted hand. He'd quit just the other day as his doctor told him if he wanted to live to see his one hundredth and twentieth birth celebration, he really should.
"Yu-hunh. Slept with a friend of my cousin. Or maybe it was my cousin. Anymore cigs?"
"No. And I doubt *your* cousin slept with him. Her lacking that all important element and ugly as a foot besides."
"Not *that* cousin, the other one. The one that doesn't look like a foot." He pointed to the youngest of them. "Get mops."
"Hunh. Well. Thick or not, I guess it's all hail Kal-El, Hammer of Justice, Supreme blah-blah-blah now, eh?" He shifted the broom from one hand to the other, and waited as the youngest one went to get the mops from the mop closet in the hall.
"There'll be hell now, for a bit. Remember when we tried to take Morne? Nasty. Huge hairy smart-assess…"
"Remind me to ask my cousin how it was."
"What, the Mornes?"
"No! His Majesty, Kal. He slept with my cousin?"
"Riii-ght. You said that. Well, here come the mops…oh, good Rao, he's going to trip over—"
"Young idiot."
******
Kal-El was now His Majesty Kal-El the first, by the Grace of Rao, Ruler of Krypton and of the Dominion, Supreme Commander and Hammer of justice, Right Hand of Rao. He examined his outfit critically in the mirrored wall in his new quarters. His now long hair fanned over his shoulders and was barely visible against the traditional cape he wore, so deep a red it was almost black. The soft lights of the royal apartment reflected from the highly polished ceremonial breastplate, made of blue metal mined in the Howling Mountains. It was stamped with the ancient seal of the ruling House of El but done in the colors the new Emperor insisted on—the bright yellow of an alien sun and the red of Krypton's. His parents had refused to attend his coronation, but he forgave them. They had no idea. They didn't know that the wait was almost over. He was so close to victory, so close that he finally allowed himself to say the name. He allowed himself to think it, to say it aloud.
"Lex. Lex. LexLexLex…"
An erection behind the apparently cast iron underwear he was forced to wear on the outside of the stupid ceremonial get up really *hurt*.
TBC
part 24
Title: A Young Kryptonian's Travels Or, A Wind In The Sails
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Kal-El/Lex
Rating: G
Summary: Our only point here is to have fun! No message, no moral--enjoy!
The Previous Parts are here,writing Mr. Prachett and begging him to please forgive their little Mommy.
There were a dozen reasons why Daxama evenings were different from Krypton. A sun no more familiar to him then the one that had lit the Earth dropped to the horizon, turning the sky purple. Like clockwork, the nightly chorus of native birds began—shrieks rang out, blood-curdling screams of the damned that shredded the night sky. Kal shivered. 'All creatures Rao created and loved them, great or small' be damned--there was something wrong with a creature who screamed like it was dying and smelled worse than dead. As always, Kal grit his teeth and stared into the sun until it set, waiting for the birds to fall silent again.
Behind him, he heard a foot step in the soft dust. A familiar weight warmed his shoulder.
"The birds of Daxama leave a lot to be desired," Jor-El sighed. "So many changes, Kal, so many changes. So much to get used to." His hand tightened slightly. He let go and came around to stand in front of Kal. "Can I sit here too?"
Kal moved over to make room for Jor-El on the bench he sat on. They faced a stone garden. Pink pebbles were arranged in patterns in the red dust. Jor took Kal's hand and said, "Son, I—we—can not begin to imagine how you must have suffered, but any time you wish to talk about it, you know that we're here, ready to listen. And remember, Rao knows your mind, and Rao listens always. He knows your pain and carries it with you."
"Does he?" Kal was silent for a long moment before he said, "The sun was yellow. Have you been under a yellow sun before? It fills you up, makes you feel invincible—does in fact make you invincible. There's a drink there, a wonderful marvelous drink they call Coffee…they call their planet Earth. Silly, isn’t it? They're selfish and giving and petty and generous beyond fault. They hurt each other terribly, suffer and bleed…but they want so much more, Dad. They really want to be better…" Kal wiped at his cheek and said. "One thing I've learned--if Rao has a plan, it's unknowable to me. I'm beginning to think he has a Morne sense of humor."
"Birdie—"
"I've been thinking about my future, Father. I've decided on a career in Justice." He stood and turned to Jor-El. "Could you let Grand-dad know?"
Joe-El and Lara stood in the dark of the hallway, not needing to lean against Kal's door to hear him crying. It hurt them like being stabbed—the sound of their child in pain. Tears welled up in their own eyes. It was such a broken sound, the cries of a child lost in the wild.
****
A red sun tinted the sky salmon and pink, threw bloody shadows over the distant mountains. Clouds hung low over a sea of mud broken by an occasional outcropping of rock. A steady lukewarm drizzle sank into the mud. In the month that Kal had been at Paradise Base, there had been not a single day that it hadn't rained. Or actually, drizzled. It was the kind of precipitation that seemed to constantly be on the brink of becoming actual rain. It was weather designed to make a person go slowly insane, nature's water torture.
Fortunately for the troops, there was a wealth of activities to keep from doing that—there was 'carry a thousand pound pack through streams of mud, bordered by banks of mud'. There was 'climb a wall balanced on a rock sunk into a field of mud'. There was the ever popular 'slog buckets of mud around and pretend to build a camp', and 'dodge the painful but supposedly non-lethal practice rounds fired by the opposite team and also hide in the mud'. The trainees spent vast amounts of the brainpower not allocated to learning how to kill the enemy in ignoring the omnipresent mud, in teeth and boots and cot and food…Kal was developing a hatred of mud that bordered on the transcendent.
Not to be out done by Mud, there was Mold. Mold grew on everything. Everywhere. Constantly. The war against mold was as intense as Kal's training to war against the universe. Plucky soldiers clutched their weapons: a tiny brush and a bleach based cleaner and unleashed Hell daily. That it was probably a losing battle remained unspoken. Hope was a fragile reed, and no one wanted to be the one to break it.
Kal struggled to become the best at that activity, the best at *all* activity. He was the best at wall climbing and rope climbing, hand to hand combat and disguising himself as an outcropping of rock and raining doom on his enemies. He knew how to kill a man with a sharpish piece of stale pastry and some string, and how to make a decent soup out of e-rations. He did this because he had to. He knew there was only one way to regain meaning in his life and if it meant standing in cold mud and feeling his orbs try to creep up under his chin, than so be it. He'd take everything the phracking Justice shelled out and more. He'd claw his way up in ranks until he got to where he needed to be. And then, he'd jump in and out of that gods damned mother-phracking time well until he found—
"Recruit Twelve! Dreaming on our feet, are we? Wakey-wakey! Ya know, I'm thinking my boots here need polishing--again. Now!"
"Yes sir!" Kal barked, and seething, reached for the useless boot kit in his pack.
"Ah-ah-ah, Recruit. I'm not seeing that sunny smile of yer's. Let's look happy--and step it up. Matter of fact, why don't we just take care of all of us, hmm?" The rest of the trainees waved their thickly coated boots at him and grinned.
Kal smiled, barked "yes sir!" and bitterly wished for an explosive…anything. Preferably something long and pointed and thick, and a hammer…Kal eyed the sergeant wistfully when he bent to remove his boots and wished harder.
Eventually, his day came. He surpassed all expectations, graduated at the top of his class. His excellence was noted and with a little gentle nudging from Grand-dad Van, plans made for him that if Kal knew, he'd more than agree with.
Graduation day, and Grand-dad arrived to bring him home for a bit before being assigned to his post at the Palace as a member of Cousin's Inner Guard. It was the first anyone knew of his relationship to the throne. Kal enjoyed the sight of his sergeant going the color of stale cheese and he felt a fierce, angry sort of pride that he'd survived this hell strictly on his own merit, no quarter asked and sure as Hells no quarter given.
The waiting was almost over….
****
"He was supposed to take my place in the House of Science," Jor-El mourned, as he and Lara watched Kal go through exercises in the garden.
"My baby, my dear, sweet boy…what did they do to you?" She turned from watching Kal decapitate invisible enemies with the garden rake and to Jor, said viciously, "Never have I wished a planet pain the way I wish it on Soil--Dirt—however it's called. I hope they make it into one single Hell from pole to pole for whatever horrors they inflicted on our son. Can you not tell that great moron of a cousin you have to push up the schedule of the annexation of Dirt?"
Jor watched Kal work himself into a sweat as he did every day—he'd work until muscles quivered and twitched from painful exhaustion. "You know Shnoogie doesn't take advice from me," he muttered. Through the glass, he watched Kal slump to a crouch, and push a concerned Rwrzft away. He rose and gracefully avoided one of the small garden pets where once, he would surely have connected with the pet in a humorous and painful way. He negotiated the rock garden as if he were winged. Gone was any vestige of the slightly clumsy, earnest boy they'd sent out to conquer the world. They'd gotten back a stern, humorless warrior, bent on conquering worlds.
On the eve of Kal-El becoming a finger on the great hand of Justice, Grand-dad Lor-Van passed away, happy in the knowledge that his grandson would continue in service to The Emperor and Light of Many Worlds. He died holding Lara's hand, smiling up at the great God Rao, content to shuffle off the mortal coil. The Emperor was there at his bed-side, devastated at the loss of his long time Hand of Justice. "You, Kal-El, you must take up the mantle your grandfather has dropped," he said, and dabbed at his eyes.
"Whu—me?" Kal-El blinked hard, several times. Again, his words were less than memorable but Those Who Write The History would correct that oversight in days to come, so it was a small thing. "Bee-hunh…me? Hammer?" would no doubt become "You honor me deeply, your majesty. I vow to search out worthy new worlds to bring under your wise and benevolent rule." Something along those lines.
Immediately after Grand-dad's funeral, attended by the most mighty and the powerful in the Dominion, Kal-El of the House of El and son of Jor-El, Master of the House of Science and now the Hand of the Hammer of Justice, swore fealty to the Emperor, swore to protect and to serve him as long as he drew breath. Kal smiled at that line. He then had to sit through many, many long, long, and it cannot be stressed enough, long speeches from various members and representatives of the Worlds and try to look at least somewhat interested. Meanwhile in his head the phrase "Hand of The Hammer of Justice" rang in his head. He was the Hand, in fact, the fate of the galaxy rested in his hand. He looked down at his hand and snickered a bit. He knew where that hand had been....
Kal spent some time acquainting himself with his new duties, and found when it all boiled down, the job was simple--spank whoever misbehaved, give candy after to make it all better. When the occasional pep-talk was needed, a few World Destroyer class vessels suddenly appearing in one's atmosphere tended to be just the incentive needed to foster good behavior. Even better, he found that when he cocked his head a certain way and creased his eyebrows, people fell all over themselves to offer him whatever he needed. After enough time had passed and he was confident in his abilities to do the job, and confident in his men's loyalties, he decided the time to pull the various strings in his plan together was now.
The next day, with the help of Justice officers loyal to him, he overthrew the Emperor. It was a quick, sharp, painful overthrow.
Shnoogie lay in a pool of blood, eyes wide with disbelief and pain, and gasping for his last breath, wasted it by asking…"Why? Why, cousin? We searched for you, to return you to home…why…"
Kal-El's bright sunny smile twisted into a snarl was the last thing he saw, his voice the last he heard—"Because. You took me away from him."
No time left to even ask who 'he' was….
He strode out of the throne room, over the cooling body of his cousin, the soldiers loyal to him crowding at his heels. That left the throne room effectively empty except for a handmaiden or two, and the men who push the brooms.
They stood off to one side in a dark alcove, and looked at the corpse blocking the tiles on the east side of the room.
"Phrackin' quall. Going to need a mop for that," one said and lit a cigarette. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was there to tell him not to...
"More than one, looks like." He held out his hand until he was reluctantly given a cigarette too.
"Who'd have thought…young Kal-El. Always thought that boy was thick as a brick. Do you mind? Non-smoker here." The oldest of them quavered and waved a shaky liver spotted hand. He'd quit just the other day as his doctor told him if he wanted to live to see his one hundredth and twentieth birth celebration, he really should.
"Yu-hunh. Slept with a friend of my cousin. Or maybe it was my cousin. Anymore cigs?"
"No. And I doubt *your* cousin slept with him. Her lacking that all important element and ugly as a foot besides."
"Not *that* cousin, the other one. The one that doesn't look like a foot." He pointed to the youngest of them. "Get mops."
"Hunh. Well. Thick or not, I guess it's all hail Kal-El, Hammer of Justice, Supreme blah-blah-blah now, eh?" He shifted the broom from one hand to the other, and waited as the youngest one went to get the mops from the mop closet in the hall.
"There'll be hell now, for a bit. Remember when we tried to take Morne? Nasty. Huge hairy smart-assess…"
"Remind me to ask my cousin how it was."
"What, the Mornes?"
"No! His Majesty, Kal. He slept with my cousin?"
"Riii-ght. You said that. Well, here come the mops…oh, good Rao, he's going to trip over—"
"Young idiot."
******
Kal-El was now His Majesty Kal-El the first, by the Grace of Rao, Ruler of Krypton and of the Dominion, Supreme Commander and Hammer of justice, Right Hand of Rao. He examined his outfit critically in the mirrored wall in his new quarters. His now long hair fanned over his shoulders and was barely visible against the traditional cape he wore, so deep a red it was almost black. The soft lights of the royal apartment reflected from the highly polished ceremonial breastplate, made of blue metal mined in the Howling Mountains. It was stamped with the ancient seal of the ruling House of El but done in the colors the new Emperor insisted on—the bright yellow of an alien sun and the red of Krypton's. His parents had refused to attend his coronation, but he forgave them. They had no idea. They didn't know that the wait was almost over. He was so close to victory, so close that he finally allowed himself to say the name. He allowed himself to think it, to say it aloud.
"Lex. Lex. LexLexLex…"
An erection behind the apparently cast iron underwear he was forced to wear on the outside of the stupid ceremonial get up really *hurt*.
TBC
part 24
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
12/9/07 05:05 am (UTC)I loved that he took over. It doesn't pay to underestimate someone, does it?
And his new title? His Majesty Kal-El the first, by the Grace of Rao, Ruler of Krypton and of the Dominion, Supreme Commander and Hammer of justice, Right Hand of Rao. What will Lex think of that?
(no subject)
12/9/07 02:33 pm (UTC)His Majesty Kal-El the first, by the Grace of Rao, Ruler of Krypton and of the Dominion, Supreme Commander and Hammer of justice, Right Hand of Rao. What will Lex think of that?
I'm thinking Lex will think it's cute but only in the bedroom because after all...*G*
(no subject)
12/9/07 05:09 am (UTC)I suspect fireworks. :-D
(no subject)
12/9/07 02:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/9/07 05:51 am (UTC)I'm glad to see Kal working to find his way back to Lex too. *starts humming Working My Way Back To You*
Can't wait to see them meet up again. ;D
(no subject)
12/9/07 02:37 pm (UTC)MMMMMMMwah! Thansk for reading beloved!
(no subject)
12/9/07 07:15 am (UTC)I LOVE Kal's reason for killing Shnoogie - "you took me away from him" AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(no subject)
12/9/07 02:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/9/07 07:44 am (UTC)You keep surprising us with all this good stuff. We are so spoiled. LOL. *g*
(no subject)
12/9/07 02:42 pm (UTC)Good-bye little Birdie, hello CrazyCakes Kal!
(no subject)
12/9/07 08:20 am (UTC)<--- Is silently wondering if this whole slip to the darkside is somehow the result of separation after their bonding. lol.
(no subject)
12/9/07 02:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/9/07 07:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/9/07 07:47 pm (UTC)Thank you so much, lovie!
(no subject)
12/9/07 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/12/07 02:33 am (UTC)Thank you, you generous soul, you! *HUGS*
(no subject)
12/11/07 03:34 pm (UTC)"Phrackin' quall. Going to need a mop for that," one said and lit a cigarette. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was there to tell him not to...
"More than one, looks like." He held out his hand until he was reluctantly given a cigarette too.
HAHA. I love the "little guys" of this universe.
(no subject)
12/12/07 02:35 am (UTC)dropped dead---me
12/13/07 08:44 pm (UTC)"Whu—me?" Kal-El blinked hard, several times. Again, his words were less than memorable but Those Who Write The History would correct that oversight in days to come, so it was a small thing. "Bee-hunh…me? Hammer?" would no doubt become "You honor me deeply, your majesty. I vow to search out worthy new worlds to bring under your wise and benevolent rule." Something along those lines.
yep, that our Kal...............*doubledies*
no doubt, i could be one of those historians, who would rewrite history like that :D
Re: dropped dead---me
12/13/07 11:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/17/07 04:47 pm (UTC)All Hail Kal-El
6/3/09 01:42 am (UTC)The first thing I picked out was this: >>Kal was developing a hatred of mud that bordered on the transcendent.<
The first thing I picked out was this: >>Kal was developing a hatred of mud that bordered on the transcendent.<<_when Kal first got to earth he said who would name a planet dirt, soil, earth--it would be like calling krypton mud. Is this a clue that he hates mud (Krypton) now__or am I just getting crazy trying to figure out what's going on?
You have so transformed Kal-El; it's amazing. He isn't an idiot anymore. And with all the drama you still managed some humor: >>An erection behind the apparently cast iron underwear he was forced to wear on the outside of the stupid ceremonial get up really hurt.<< The prince of pleasure kills his cousin-the ruler of all-and becomes the new ruler-didn't see it coming at all. The whole story of his transformation was excellent. The Hammer of Justice-and he gets to decide what is just and what is not. You haven't told us how much time has passed on Kal's side either. But Lex is aging quicker than Kal_so it can't take them too long unless he wants an old Lex_or Lex is growing himself a new body,a clone-like they made superboy at cadmus-who happens to be a clone developed from the dna of superman (Kal) and Lex Luthor--the 2 stars of your story. Or maybe the nanites from the suit keep his cells rejuvenated. Gonna have to wait and see. I can't write any more because i want to spend more time reading......story's excellent. And it just keeps getting better. Yeah You!
I don't know why a couple of my entries have duplicated paragaphs. I only wrote it once-but on the preview it was there twice-even though it was only once in the text box.
Re: All Hail Kal-El
6/3/09 02:09 am (UTC)It was, and it wasn't. Kal just figured in his kind of innocent way that ruling the universe would get him what he wanted, ships and the authority to do whatever he wanted. He was probably a little nuts at that point.
You flatter me immensely, I really tend not to think all that deeply about where I'm going--I just go there. I think of myself as a story teller--the story should be fun, exciting and fast. I asked myself what would happen if Clark never lost his parents, and some how came to Earth grown, and knowing his background and then I tried to tell that story. I wrote him as a bit of a slut, because I personally like a slutty Clark. Or Kal. But I like a nice slutty Kal.
The time change is different--Lex's universe is moving faster than Kal's universe. It doesn't take long for Lex to do what he did--I'm not sure now, maybe about ten years? It's been a while since I wrote this and I've forgotten some of the details. I'd have to look through my notes to make sure.
It's really a great pleasure to get comments on older stories!
(no subject)
11/29/12 01:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
11/29/12 02:54 pm (UTC)I'm glad that Kal taking over was a surprise! Hard to think of our little Kal as a murderous dictator, hunh? :)