"Niggle was a painter. Not a very successful one, partly because he had many other things to do. Most of these things he thought were a nuisance; but he did them fairly well, when he could not get out of them: which (in his opinion) was far too often...He had a number of pictures on hand; most of them were too large and ambitious for his skill. He was the sort of painter who can paint leaves better than trees. He used to spend a long time on a single leaf, trying to catch its shape, and its sheen, and the glistening of dewdrops on its edges. Yet he wanted to paint a whole tree, with all of its leaves in the same style, and all of them different."
-"Leaf by Niggle", J.R.R. Tolkien
Welcome to my exercise in narcissism. You'll find all my Smallville fanfiction here, most of which is already archived at Fanfiction.net. The only new items are probably not worth reading anyway. I have best-laid plans to make some graphics for this site and add a writing blog for WIPs and perhaps an essay section, but we all know what happens to those. I hope you find something here you were looking for and please drop me a line at guenhwyvar_2@yahoo.com. Comments on my stories and my crappy web design are welcome.
Update 5/25/05: Everything's all finished and ready for public viewing. Not that the public will be interested. It's the principal of the thing. I'm not posting "Olympus" here until it's finished, but there are some entries in the WIP blog about it. Spoilery entries.
Update 3/26/05: I've gotten around to setting up the WIP blog! Before I've even finished uploading all my story files! That's messed up. Warning: Spoilers for "Olympus" abound. Er, will abound. I haven't actually gotten around to writing anything about "Olympus" yet. But I will!
Ronin eyed Clark askance as the blanket was placed on his back and pranced in irritation with the addition of a Western saddle. The six-year-old stallion was much more interested in pursuing Dapple, just within his sight across the center aisle of the stable, than mucking about with riding tack...
He’s been here as long as he can remember. Since the beginning. There was something before, but it is too distant for him to recall...
I stand before the stone, unmoving. There’s a light breeze about me, cool but not chill. Sometimes I worry about you being cold up here on this hill...
Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling,
In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling,
Till o’er the river pois’d, the twain yet one, a moment’s lull,
A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing,
Upward again on slow-firm pinions, slanting, their separate diverse flight,
She hers, he his, pursuing.
Clark surfaced quickly and shook the water from his hair…to find Principal Kwan standing in Lana’s place and looking none too amused...
He walked slowly up the stairs to his apartment, books in one hand, keys in the other, and mail in his teeth. Metal jangled against metal as he fumbled with the key chain, pushing up and in to coax the temperamental lock...
“I just don’t understand why I have to wear a costume to help people...”
When they were finally, eventually alone, the fear returned. The comforting ritual of the ceremony had passed. All the toasts had been toasted, the dances danced. They had left their families and friends to finish off the open bar and now it was only the two of them in a darkened room with the sharpened scent of the ocean blowing in off the balcony...
The crack of thunder disturbs the quiet peacefulness of the open plain. Amidst the somber deluge, the instant flash of light reveals a solitary figure enduring the downpour...
On the Angel’s Night MB sometime earlier in the year, the moderators declared one thread, the “party thread” and invited posters to sort of role play their way through an Angel/MB celebration to take their minds off recent flamings. There were water guns, AngelBots, AngelusBots, frantic asylum orderlies, Greek gods, magic spells and lots and lots of chocolate. Ah, memories...
The sun hovered low in the west as another day reached its end, but the festivities were just beginning at Michael Reiner’s annual Smallville High end-of-the-year party. Cars, substituted for picnic tables, were scattered across the half-mile-long field, while hundreds of kids milled about with beverages, alcoholic and not...
Chloe walked slowly, trying to map out the words in her head. Writing an article for the Torch had never been this difficult. She had hoped that if she just found the right thing to say and the right way to say it, she would be all right...
A rising hum of confused whisperings greeted the stodgy VP as he stepped off the stage. Remy Zero made a hasty exit, pushing past him on their way out of the episode and into more hospitable climes...
He stood in his fortress, looking out over debris and half-finished repairs. Here he was supposed to feel safe, protected. He did not...