t not really here

connie, does he know he's weak and/or whiny (occasionally some of us are that self-aware), or does he justify his worst behaviors and most appalling beliefs as really being courageous, just, and honorable?

I've been using the What Would Joss Do? technique for villains and reminding myself that they think they're the heroes of the story. Well, except for this one that I just made kinda batshit crazy, but he only appears for two chapters and I'm OK with having him be more plot device than person.

t /still not really here

Teppy! Monday!

Topic?

Ooof. TeppyMondayNewTopic. On it.

New drabble!

Challenge #82 (tricks and/or treats) is now closed.

Challenge #83 is little gods. (Yes, I just read Anansi Boys -- what of it? You should all read it, too.)

NOTE: If you're so inclined, please remember to post your drabbles in the LJ community. Though you certainly aren't required to.

NOTE, THE SEQUEL: Previous drabble topics are in the "Memories" section of the LJ community, should you ever want to stroll down amnesia lane.

little gods

An inch-and-a-half tall cinnabar Buddha. A tiny tiger eye cat.

"Boy, you've got a lot of clutter on your desk."

A rubber duck with a proper squeak. A wind-up Nosferatu. Catwoman, whip in hand.

"How can you work with all that junk around?"

At home, Eowyn leans against my desk lamp. Spike's De Soto is somewhere under the credit card bill.

"The cat cleared your desk for you again."

Behind the cubbyhole's door, bronze Bast gazes out over the badly fractured but still-whole amethyst sphere in its Baroque stand. I set the Halloween-discount black votive candle in front of the goddess, look over the plastic and vinyl eyes gazing back at me, and relax.

Damn, that's good, connie.

For some reason - despite the subject having been brought back to me forcibly and with extreme poignancy - I'm shying away from this one. I'll give it a few days and see if it shakes itself out.

I love connie's drabble. It may be my one true drabble for this topic. Still, something is fomenting and it might yet end up on paper.

I'm with Sail -- I love connie's drabble. I can see them all...

I have something coming from a totally different direction, if I can just sit and think about it for a minute.

I completely forgot Roderick the skull, who looks good in a tiara.

untitled

Back when Gerry Ford was being shot at and the Who were playing Winterland, you and I saw it the same way.

You said it yourself, before you played my song to a packed house: May the gods bless you; there's many, not just one. So many small things, tiny miracles: a sunrise every day, music running heart to ear, kidneys that functioned, your fingers, my love for you.

Small miracles, a little god for each one. Ours, alone.

Somewhere, I've never known how or why, we came apart at the seams. And all the gods and the miracles died.

Just finished something that's been in my files for a year. I doubt that anyone will ever want it, but it feels nice closing one. (writes article name in black on the Board in my head)