I'm 40! Another decade awaits! Whee! *dances*
Happiness is also cornering lynnenne into betaing the AtS s5 A/S Epic of Doom. Which will be finished--finally!--soon. As soon as I'm done wrapping up the very last bit, I'll ship it off to her and she'll pistolwhip it into proper shape. Two years, people! I've been working on it for two years. *cries*
Oh! And a quick rec. This wasn't written for me; but since I happen to have Angel/Riley on interests list, I can pretend. Damage Done by chrisleeoctaves is so wonderfully bleak and spare, with just the right amount of detail. Oh yes.
Now I go on to explain why I'm a heroin spoon today. Because I've got it bad, and I need a fix NOW!
Once upon a time, I'd heard about a show called Smallville. Might be interesting, I said, but the reviews said meh, formulaic, okay if you like that sort of thing. So I didn't watch. And I didn't watch some more. What I did watch was the show that came after, Angel. Oh and Buffy of course, always Buffy.
And so my fandom affair began. No other than you, I said. So deep, so rich, how could I love anything with this kind of passion again? Sure, I watched other shows, saw movies, read books. And I *cannot* do so without fannish eyes. It's all involvement now, you see. I cannot absorb media passively anymore. And so I expanded, slowly, slightly, into other fandoms.
Jossverse is my home, my first love, one in which I still have so many stories to read, experience, to tell.
But Sofia kept talking to me, day after day after day, about the loveliness of Smallville. Okay, I'd seen the pic spam of the actors. Tom Welling is handsome, nice smile, but so puppyish. Michael Rosenbaum looked vaguely attractive, but I didn't see what all the EEEEEEEE!s were about. Kristin Kreuk is pretty, as well as Allison Mack, but that's not enough to make me watch a show. And Annette O'Toole would always be Lana Lang to me. I listened to her and Evette talk about the show with some fervor and nodded along. Sofia, she would not let it go. "You have to watch this show, Romany, you have to!"
Two weeks ago, I purchased the DVD set for season 1.
OMG! *FLAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLL* Oh fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me, yes! This is Greek Tragedy disguised in Dawson's Creek clothing! We know the ending, the inevitability, of it all. Clark will grow up to be Superman; Lex will become his greatest enemy. This is the story of how they *get* there. OMG! It's the freaking journey! We know that Lana Lang will not be the long-term relationship, because we have, I don't know, *fifty* years of comic book tradition that says no.
Dude, slashing this show is like shooting fish in a barrel! And it won't work! There's no *possible* way that it could work, because we have *fifty* years of comic book tradition telling us that too. OMG, yes, perfect! Clark/Lex is the freaking OTP of Doom! It *fucking* hurts to watch them talk of friendship.
And the pretty, omg, the pretty. I guess I just had to see it in motion, the emotion of it. I want to write bad, horrible love poetry to this show. I've got all sorts of meta-y ideas floating in my brain, all JudeoChristian and Greek mythology. Because this is the mythology of my childhood, my personal pantheon. I've *known* these characters all my life. I read in the early 70s, as a wee child at the comic shop--which was actually a cigar shop/porn shop, but we didn't have full comic shops back then!-- the evolution of Lex Luthor from cardboard villain to something more complicated. And I read the evolution of Superman from cardboard hero to something more complicated. They've been linked for so, so long.
Does this mean that I go looking for fic? It sure as hell does. Because omg!flail!Clex! Ihavetohaveitnownownownow! And I know the ins and outs of fandom now, I know how to look! Yay!
My eyes. They bleed. They bleed blood. Blood pouring from my eye sockets.
I was lucky to find exquisiteness on the first try. Because I knew that Fay Jay, pandarus, wrote s1 SVfic. She's a great writer. So I try her. OMG! so good. All of her SV is so good. Her Lex, especially, is so *precise*.
Perversely, in his heart of hearts Lex didn't want to seduce Clark Kent at all. The very thought of Clark being just another pretty fuck hurt him as much as it turned him on. Entirely against his will he found himself (oh, how his father would laugh, how he laughed himself at the stupid vulnerability of it) cherishing Clark Kent, heartfelt platitudes and all. He genuinely wanted to live up to the dumb idealism almost as much as he wanted to take Clark -- pretty Clark with his impossibly innocent eyes, his ludicrous uncertainty, his Dudley Do-Right pugnacity, his guileless smile like a poem to orthadonture and clean living and his sweet, sweet mouth so very clearly designed by the god of blowjobs -- and break him.
Clark Kent fucked with his head. This worried him far more than the prospect of being caught in a hayloft with his dick buried up to the hilt in a criminally beautiful flannel-wrapped fifteen year old -- after all, that's what money was for. But Clark Kent fucked with his head and wrecked his objectivity; Clark Kent cut quite effortlessly through all his defences; and Clark Kent was also, quite definitely, lying to him. So right now Clark Kent was firmly off the menu, along with Columbia's finest export and all the other treats that had once enlivened his evenings in Metropolis. Lex was playing nice.
--excerpt from Mr. Bad Example by Fay Jay
Because yes, the Lie stands between them. There will always be the Lie. And Lex, who is the Prince of Lies and manipulation, wants the truth, just that one simple truth, from Clark. And he will never, ever have it. Lex is always biting into that Apple of Knowledge that Clark offers him, but he never gets down to the core. And once he knows...once he knows, he will never be able to unknow it.
And Lex is Clark's Temptation too. Lex is the one who takes him down from the cross and says "enough, you don't have to do anymore." Lex is the first one he saves and he can't stop after that. It's not in his nature. But he's tired, even at fifteen, sixteen, he's so tired. He just wants to not worry about it for once, do something for himself, take what he wants.
It's all about trust, wanting, betrayal...
So no, Clark and Lex do not go to the Prom and make out in the limo. Stop writing that, people! STOP! MY EYES! Lex is not a fluffly love puppy who just wants to cuddle and make sweet noises. Lex is not a nice man. Sure he has the potential for good, that's the tragedy; but he is not fucking NICE! STOP IT! Clark is young, yes, but he's not stupid. He grows up to be fucking SUPERMAN! Stop it! If you hate him and want to bash him, why do you write him? STOP IT! STOP IT NOW! Ho yay? Sure, fuck yes, ho yay. But LISTEN to the fucking STORY! GAH!
Luckily, I found this gem yesterday by brandil, Being Normal. It's all about the conflicting desires. It always has been. Control and giving in, but not. Thank you.
So all one of you that's read this far, rec me? Where's the good stuff? Because the dreck is killing me and I need this pairing like air. I NEED IT! PLEASE!