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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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*whimpering in deep pain*
poor me
seperis
svmadelyn is DEAD TO ME.

I want the fannish equivalent of a divorce. I need an attorney. Or--something.

*narrows eyes at chat box*

There will be *quadruplets*. Oh yes, there will.
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The attorney will get the mixer off my cold dead body.

Any way I can get it. ANY WAY.

Hey! Who gets custody of *me*? Don't the two of you realize what you're doing to me? If I'm really really good, maybe you'll get back together!

care to clue us in? and who would be paying our therapy bills huh? huh? don't you both care about US? I refuse to be child of fannish divorce too !!!!!!

*pets you gently* It's irreconcilable differences. See, she's *evil*. Very, very evil. Heart of darkness and shrunken heads and everything.

but.. but... I'm evil too!!!! and people love me! they said so!!

Being evil is no grounds for divorce. I demand and explanation... or compensatory emotional distress fanfic, whatever works best for you guys.

Jenn... Maddy... Please, stop and think of all of us poor, impressionable children who would be oh so very traumatized. The boys, and we, need you.

*sets jaw sullenly* We just argue and fight over whether or not Chloe is having Lex's babies all the time, and that's just not good for anyone. You'll all understand when you're older and when I spill all about how I'm so, so the good one.

She's been totally sleeping on the couch since May, but I cannot live like this anymore; the constant threats of giving Chloe babies hanging over my head, nay, looming anytime I make some innocent misstep.

*sniffles and polishes up halo as she pitches ring across the room!*

Babies? Chloe? Lex's babies...

Chloe having Lex's babies?

LIKE CLARK NEEDS ANY FURTHER REASONS TO SLIT HIS WRISTS over that lying cheating presidential Chloe boinking bastard!!!

She keeps *threatening* that. And then she'll calm down or I'll say she's pretty and then there are no babies. And then I (seemingly! not actually!) divorce them in a snippet I write for her and she's all, okay, bitch, it's on, Chloe is having *multiple* babies named Michael and Andrew.

Then *I* said fine, LOIS is having CLARK's babies and they now have a HOUSE after he DUMPS LEX'S ASS after the re-election, and Lex is all obsessively watching them with cameras and suddenly there are quadruplets.

*narrows eyes to slits*

You really, really, really shouldn't have mentioned (innocently) Chloe getting pregnant all those months ago...

Really, really, really, really, really shouldn't have.

Ok you couldn't have known that she'd consider it. But still, you really, really, really, really, really, really shouldn't have. I mean it could never have led to anything good and innocent. This is the same person who turned Lex into a cheater!

Then *I* said fine, LOIS is having CLARK's babies and they now have a HOUSE after he DUMPS LEX'S ASS after the re-election, and Lex is all obsessively watching them with cameras and suddenly there are quadruplets.

*narrows eyes to slits*


Why stop at quadruplets? Clark has SUPERSPERM so he and Lois have SEXTUPLETS (named Ashley, Clark Jr., Jonathan, Lionel, Winifred and Binky) and THEN they get two labrador retrievers and once, when Lex decides that nobody can obsessively spy on anybody like a former US President, one of the labradors, named Spike, bites him and Clark just laughs.

("Evil" isn't in my Overlord job title for nothing).

Okay. This is how I had it started, but you are clearly a genius.

Clark’s lived the last decade of his life with cameras recording, so it’s not that surprising he doesn’t notice the few Lex has managed to work in his house.

A part of Lex still can’t believe Clark even bought a house, even though he’d read the deed himself and passed through the rooms once when Superman was out on patrol.

A quieter part wants to know why, what was the point of living in a house all on your own, unless you weren’t planning on being alone for very long.

Lois hasn’t gone home for a few days. Lex hasn’t let himself watch any of the footage from Clark’s bedroom; that’d be completely pointless.

She has a sudden doctor’s appointment this afternoon, and yesterday morning Lex had found himself waking up from a dream, sheets twisted in his fists, distantly hoping that the smoking had finally caught up to her, but then Benny had said no, she wasn’t seeing that sort of doctor at all.

So now he sits, carefully writing out a few words to the important people who’d sent him condolences on the final papers having been signed just a few weeks ago.

*Condolences*. Like Clark had died, but it was just a divorce; to be sure, the separation of the former President and his husband, but it wasn’t like millions of people didn’t get divorced yearly. What fucking right did anyone have to comment, to ask questions, to send fucking cards with flowers on them and Lex supposed he should simply be grateful none of them had said “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

Perhaps people did have senses of self-preservation at times after all.

He finished his responses to the ones he needs to answer, but takes them all in his hand and places them in the wastebasket. The liquor’s easily accessible, but Lex has to rummage in his drawer for a match.

Benny insisted on coming over today, he’s downstairs, so Lex has to actually put the fire out before the alarms go off. He dumps a pail of ice to smother it, and dumps a bottle of water for good measure. He chooses that moment to come in of course, and he’s the only one who doesn’t bother to knock now.

“Want to go for a drive?” Benny asks, propping his legs up on the smooth wood chair. “I think the air would be good.”

Lex hadn’t given the nurse his actual phone number, he’d had it rerouted through several lines until it finally reached this phone here. Benny’s figured that out of course, but then, he’s never approved of how Lex sometimes conducts himself around Clark anyway.

“In a little bit. I’m just finishing up here,” Lex says, and Benny makes a point of eyeing the trash can, but doesn’t say anything.

And then she got all upset with me. BUT.

I think the next lines after this needs to be:

Five years later

Lex likes to pretend Winnie is his daughter sometimes. He brings her candy in the hopes she'll be okay with that, and also, to drive Lois slowly insane. Winnie's sugar highs are legendary.

She's more intelligent than Andrew and--shit, what was the other one's name?-- put together, but then, she had Lois' genes.

Lex suspected the twins weren't his; but liked Clark thinking they were his, so he let sleeping dogs lie.

*hums and twirls and tags you*

Lex suspected the twins weren't his; but liked Clark thinking they were his, so he let sleeping dogs lie.

But really - no twins with Luthor genes would be as pale, colorless and boring as Chloe's children. There was absolutely no question of him marrying her - one enormous, life-destroying mistake in that area was more than enough, thank-you. He wonders, sometimes, if she'd really been deluded enough to think that would be the outcome. As it is, he's made certain they want for nothing and of course, Chloe will never have to work again.

Which, he reflects wryly, when he allows himself to reflect at all, is a good thing, because once Lois got done calling in favors owed her and Clark, there wasn't anywhere that Chloe could have got a job. Even a rag like the News of The World wouldn't touch her. She used to complain about that, but then he'd wised up and limited contact to the various trust funds which kept her and his supposed offspring living in the lap of luxury.

Meanwhile, he has miles and miles of surveillance tape, watching Lois and Clark and their six children. As far as he can tell, Clark really did walk away and never look back - he certainly seems happier now than he ever was when married to Lex.

A fact that never fails to aggravate Lex's incipient ulcer.




*twists it in with idle glee*

The Father’s Day card one of them had sent—just a card from Wal-Mart, no signature, just Chloe’s handwritten, “Lex,” and the typed card words is currently his favorite coaster. He settles the glass down right on the shiny happy smiley face.

He’d lost his tape catalog three months ago; he suspected he’d thrown it in the fireplace along with the wedding photo he’d come across of Lois and Clark. Neither of them had ever looked more beautiful; not even Clark on their own wedding day.

Lex knew because he’d scanned both the wedding photos; Clark’s smile was one-eighth of a quarter inch bigger on his photos to Lois. He’d snapped his laptop in two upon that discovery. He was on his sixth one in so many months.

He’d tried to figure out what had happened to the catalog; the problem was that he couldn’t remember what he was doing half the time. Maybe it was because of the mini bar to his left.

Or maybe it was the mini bar to his right.

Maybe it was the coke in the bottom drawer of his desk. There were altogether too many maybes in this equation, so Lex didn’t bother to think about it.

He nursed his swollen arm with his free hand as he continued the painstaking work of rebuilding his library. He’d had to start at the beginning—from Lois’ pregnancy onward, and it turned out there wasn’t enough coke in the world to get him through this.

The painkillers he was taking from where Spike had sunk his teeth into his left arm were working nicely in tandem with the alcohol and the drugs though.

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

He nursed his swollen arm with his free hand as he continued the painstaking work of rebuilding his library. He’d had to start at the beginning—from Lois’ pregnancy onward, and it turned out there wasn’t enough coke in the world to get him through this.

The painkillers he was taking from where Spike had sunk his teeth into his left arm were working nicely in tandem with the alcohol and the drugs though.


Clark had never, not ever, asked Lex why he'd slept with Chloe. In the White House. In the Residence. In the Presidential bedroom. On Clark's sheets. Oh, to be sure, Clark had first shredded the sheets in question, then used a blow torch on them, but all of this was done with no comment whatsoever. The ashy remains had been shaken neatly all over the Presidential bed, however. It was only when Lex, deciding against the embarrassment of calling one of the housekeeping staff, had simply swept the ashes off the bed covers, that he'd discovered his mistake.

Clark, showing a meanstreak that would've done Lionel proud, had evidenently mixed poison Ivy leaves into the ashes. Enhanced with a small amount of Krytonite (Lex was weirdly proud of Clark on that score - he'd certainly covered all his bases) even Lex's enhanced metabolism took a week to throw off the worst of the rash.

Draggin his wondering mind back to the present, Lex eyed his aching arm in disgust. If Spike hadn't been Clark's dog, and his favorite...Spike was just lucky that Dewdrop belonged to Lois, because otherwise, he'd be doggy toast.

As luck would have it, Dewdrop loved Lex.

It figured.

"Mr. President," Benny again, looking very unhappy.

"What?" Frankly, Lex wouldn't be surprised if Benny had destroyed his catalog.

"No more mixing the painkillers with the booze, OK?"

"I like mixing them."

"Yeh, well, your brain doesn't. Trust me." Benny neatly picked up and pocketed the pills, sidestepping Lex's innefectual swipe with ease. He put something down in its place.

"This better be a better prescription."

"Card."

"More condolences?" Jesus, Lex was going to burn the next person who sent him "sorry about the divorce, condolences..."

"I don't think so."

Lex held out until Benny's footsteps faded, then ripped open the envelope.

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

*grins* It was supposed to be after the Presidency so Lex could properly wallow in his grief and, you know, not have a nuclear arsenal within his grasp. *coughs* But maybe we should go the other way? *indecisive*.

The card’s envelope was addressed to him in a familiar block script Lex couldn’t quite place. Lex searched for a letter opener, but finding none, was left to his own devices.

Dear Lex--

Normally I don’t send my patients cards, but then, it’s not every day you have to deliver this sort of news to—well, you.

Your cancer is doing that thing where—you know. It’s back.

And also, you have syphilis. Come see me for a penicillin shot one of these days.

….sorry that your life sucks, man. I’m halfway to the airport right now; but we’ll talk soon.

~Fondly, Benny.


Lex’s hand twisted around the card in stunned awe.

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

I am *never*. *Speaking*. *To*. *You*. *Again*.

Thsi will be a *bitter, bitter* divorce. Oh yes, it will.

AND GIVE ME MY MIXER!

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

Look. The divorce is already final. It was one of those quickie things south of the border. We can start healing these bitter wounds.

And you and I both know I can give you the silent treatment for far longer than you ever could even hope to try. You mocked the ether treatment, but--*blows hair out of face* You know how I hate redundancy.

THE MIXER IS MINE; GET OVER IT. IT'S BEING USED AS I TYPE.

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

You're right - this needs to be post presidency or Lex will Nuke Lois and take out most of Kansas in the process.

By the way, while you two were fighting over the mixer? I got the remote control.

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

AND YOU!

*no. words*

*sits back to plot against EVERYONE, with Dr. Pepper, too bitter to drink coffee*

Re: *twists it in with idle glee*

You're so going to make them have twins, aren't you?

I blame head trauma!

I was...I was MIND WHAMMIED.

No, really.

I think.

*witheringly*

You have *never* been innocent.

I was once.

Then I met *you*.

you are both giving me headaches!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chloes babies!!!!!!!!!!!!! by lex nonetheless!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
....OK, I just pretend I never heard ANY of this..........and go to read the pretty-universe (yeah no babies for chloe, she is CRIPPLE there!!)........REALLY , NEVER heard of ANY divorce or so.........

if you continue this, I SWEAR , I will go over to the DARK SIDE, and ..............and............go to this CLANA staring board!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and will be a CLANA shipper, you hear me!!!!!!!!!!!!! CLANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHIPPING!!!!!!!!!

A divorce?!? Woes! I shall become a sad latchkey kid, coming home to an empty house after school and making my snack all by myself because I live with the one parent and she's still at work! I will likely burn down the house trying to roast a marshmallow over the gas flame on the stove! And I will die! All because of your divorce! *puts back of wrist to forehead all melodramatic-Victorian style*

(Disclaimer: I actually *was* a latchkey kid, but in no way sad. And while I did roast a marshmallow over the stove burner, I did not burn down the house. Indeed, I made myself a damned good s'more.)

You could punish her by writing another sad installment from Somewhere I have Never Traveled. A really long angsty fic. I think that would be a brilliant punishment :)

Good thing I can live on the payment of writing my own fanfic, because y'all inspired me with wonderfulness.

I have AU!Woobie!Children!Clex!Friendship! with Jionel! for chaser.

And Odd!Couple!College!Clex!

And Sexy Slytherin Lex pouncing on Clark!



Why am I still pouting?


Don't do anything crazy now...put the Lana down and step away from the pink!



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