I've just caught up with this and... WOW. Your writing style is so uniquely descriptive; its sparseness is poetic. My favourite part so far is this I have a recurring nightmare.
In the nightmare, my ribcage cracks open and a tree grows out of it, and on the branches of the tree are the sticky-sweet fruits of all the things I wanted to keep to myself.
And Clark planted the seed with his oak tree hands.
Guh. Those lines alone, without knowing Lois, without watching the show, reveals so much about her. It's gorgeous. Thanks so much for writing this!
Thankyou! I always worry that I don't quite have Lois's 'voice' down, and that what I'm writing is vaguely out of character or somehow not her, so it's reassuring when people leave comments like that. ♥
While I certainly don't see Lois saying things like that, I can believe she has those thoughts tightly closed up just like you showed in this chapter. I think that's why I'm liking it so much. Her internal voice is so at odds with her external brashenss.
Oh, lovely -- I just raced through these two installments (was on the road last week and missed the other). Now I will re-read them to savour all the rich imagery and quiet moments you've woven into the story-telling, like Lois, with her nightmare that morphs into a lovely finish to this chapter!
Phew! Lana came, saw and went away - conquered I imagine by Clark's failure to fall at her feet. He's moving on! And how lovely that Lois's nightmare turns into a sweet dream that "all that was sensitive and warm about me blossomed, unfurled softly in the night." What a glorious turn of phrase!
Me too. There's a lot about Lana as a character which I love, so I don't have fantasies about seeing her cast out by Clark or Lois or revealed as a villain. I have fantasies about her and Lois having cups of coffee together and coming to a mutual understanding of each other, heh.
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All I know is that you always blow me away and I'm always so happy when LJ alerts me that you've written. :)
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I have a recurring nightmare.
In the nightmare, my ribcage cracks open and a tree grows out of it, and on the branches of the tree are the sticky-sweet fruits of all the things I wanted to keep to myself.
And Clark planted the seed with his oak tree hands.
Guh. Those lines alone, without knowing Lois, without watching the show, reveals so much about her. It's gorgeous. Thanks so much for writing this!
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[I still love how serious Clark looks in that photograph from "Plastique"; and how smirk-tastic Lois is.]
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