Hell, I don't know. If I had wanted schooling, I'da gone to school.

Jayne ,'Ariel'


Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies  

Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.


Lee - Jul 20, 2003 8:01:39 pm PDT #5276 of 10001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.

aaaawww.

Damn allergies.


deborah grabien - Jul 20, 2003 8:04:34 pm PDT #5277 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.

What is it about Joyce? Maybe the natural death, in the middle of all the stakings and fiery dissolutions and apocalpse moments? Or is it just that it's Mom?


Beverly - Jul 20, 2003 9:05:03 pm PDT #5278 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

I think a lot of it is that Kristine Sutherland is a good actress. Goodness knows, over the years she didn't have a lot to do. A line here, a look there. But whatever it was written for Joyce to do, Sutherland was right there, up to the mark. She did good work, and she made Joyce breathe.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Jul 20, 2003 10:46:47 pm PDT #5279 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

Don't pay full price though.

I don't intend to. Second hand bookshops exist for a reason.

deb, lovely. sniffle


esse - Jul 21, 2003 4:07:06 am PDT #5280 of 10001
S to the A -- using they/them pronouns!

I think it's KS too--she's just stunning, man, and a bag-up actor.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Jul 21, 2003 4:23:20 am PDT #5281 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

Slightly odd policy question-- if one happens to have written a Buffyverse/Smallville crossover, does one post in Bitchy Fic, or PPO, or in one's LJ with links in both, or what? It probably doesn't matter a lot, I just thought I'd see what people think.


esse - Jul 21, 2003 4:41:10 am PDT #5282 of 10001
S to the A -- using they/them pronouns!

Either would be fine. I'd post in Bitchy 'cause there's more people.


Lyra Jane - Jul 21, 2003 4:45:18 am PDT #5283 of 10001
Up with the sun

Connie, that was hilarious!


deborah grabien - Jul 21, 2003 7:03:55 am PDT #5284 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.

Am, I'd put it right here.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Jul 21, 2003 7:11:30 am PDT #5285 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

deep breath Here goes, then.

- - -

Clark had been angry.

On reflection, Lex supposed that he'd had every right to be.

"You spied on me!" he'd said, hurt and accusing and speaking the simple truth, as if he didn't understand that it was the way the world worked. "You spied on me, and mom and dad, and… everyone! Get out my sight before I…"

Lex hadn't waited to hear the threat. He may not have known as much as he'd like about Clark Kent, but the 'has superhuman strength' part was quite obvious, especially when you'd had sex with him.

At first, he'd tried to go out drinking, but after a few glasses he'd realised that anywhere in Smallville was a place he'd seen Clark, or been with Clark, or taken Clark, or thought about Clark while he danced with someone else. Drinking in Smallville was only going to lead to moodiness and brooding and the sort of crying-into-your-drink behaviour that just wasn't right for a Luthor.

Instead, he drove.

He took the midnight blue Ferrari because something about the notion of driving romantically off into the sunset required an open-topped car. Of course, you had to have hair for the wind to ruffle dramatically, but he'd settle for feeling the hum of the engine shake through him and the warm dry air turn chill as he sped through it. While he was driving he could just concentrate on the road, and he didn't have to think about anything else.

He was driving very fast, and that seemed good. He had a sneaking suspicion that before he'd given up on drinking, he'd drunk more than enough to stop him driving safely; and he knew that if he was caught, there'd be hell to pay—not the money, but explaining to his father.

Neither thought made him slow down.

He drove west because that was where you went when you were trying to escape the world and its troubles. He had no idea where he was going except for the vaguest idea that he'd like to see the sea again.

If anyone else was driving that night, he didn't notice them.

When dawn came—and it insisted on arriving, although he'd driven hard and fast from the east—he checked into a motel, telling the bored girl on the desk that his name was Mr. Kent. She didn't query it, even when he handed over a credit card that clearly gave his name as Luthor. The signatures matched, and that was enough for her.

He didn't sleep much—he expected one of his father's goons to appear at any moment, asking just what he thought he was doing, and demanding that he return home at once. He hoped, but didn't let himself expect, that Clark would somehow turn up instead.

Nobody came, and by mid-afternoon he was on the road again.

  • * *

When Clark calmed down—he was a little surprised by how quickly he went from rage to despair, once Lex was gone—he went round to Pete's house, and told him what had happened. All of it. Pete was his best friend, his oldest friend, and he already knew that Clark was an alien. Finding out that Clark was a gay alien who'd had sex with the morally ambiguous son of a billionaire was… well, it seemed to be sinking in. Slowly.

"You're *gay*?" Pete said, frowning as he tried to understand. "But… but what about Lana?"

"I… I thought I fancied her. But… I don't know," Clark said, a little desperately. "I do like spending time with her. Just… not like that."

"So—you're gay. Okay. Um… I… you don't… me, right?"

"No," Clark said. "You're my best friend, Pete. I don't want you any more than Chloe."

Pete nodded—the 'why Lana and not Chloe?' question was familiar. "Okay. I'll… deal with that. What was the next part?"

"I slept with Lex," Clark repeated.

"You slept with—in a…"

"In a bed, Pete. In a sex way."

"You had sex with… who again?"

"Lex Luthor," Clark confirmed.

"Right." Pete was still nodding, as if he could settle the information into his head more easily if he kept moving it. "Do your parents know?"

Clark shook his head. "I needed to tell someone, but they… I couldn't face that. That's why I'm here instead of at home."

"This has been going on a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Two months—since a couple of weeks after my birthday."

"So why now?" Pete persisted.

"Because…" Clark shrugged. This was the hard part, the part he didn't want to think about. "I broke it off. This evening. He was spying on me—and not just on me—and I…"

"Did the right thing," Pete said, firmly. "I don't understand all of it, Clark, but I think you were right to end it."

"It's not going to be easy, Pete," Clark whispered. "For me or him."

They sat together for a while, enjoying the dark and the companionship. It didn't make Clark any less upset, but it made the upset easier to bear.

  • * *

Cars, Lex thought, were a good way of measuring his time in Smallville.

There was the mangled Porsche. The Lincoln Limousine in which they'd first kissed. And now, the Ferrari.

He wondered if Alexander the Great had been as sentimental about his horses; and on the basis that he named a city after his favourite, Boukephalas, decided that he probably was. Maybe he'd name something after one of the cars. No, that seemed silly. Better just to name something after Clark and be done.

His father wouldn't approve, but that was all the more reason to do it.

Aware that his thoughts were wandering, Lex tried to pull them back to the road, tried to decide where to go or what to do. He had no idea.

All he really wanted was Clark—as a friend if not a lover—and that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

He reached the edge of Los Angeles. The sea didn't seem attractive any more. Lex turned north, bought more gas, and kept driving.

Time passed. Lex noticed he was driving uncharacteristically slowly—nobody had found him. There didn't seem to be any reason to hurry.