Yes, there is a softer part in there, isn't there...somebody who started out very different than what he ended up(and some of that is front, anyway...the hardened soul. I know cause I have one. And I make jokes about the stuff that hurts, too.)
'Never Leave Me'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
I always liked Munch, mostly because he seemed to really Not Care what other people thought of him, which gave him the freedom to be the jerk. I'm having a memfault, though -- didn't he care about Kay and the Lt. exam? That was humanizing and irritating at the same time. I should probably rewatch a lot of Homicide. Oh, Meldrick, how I miss you ...
Yeah, I think he choked on the Sargeant's Exam, because he never showed up and his explanation sounded like bullshit, imo.And I think he was offended that around the squad odds were 87:1 in favor of her score being higher. And of course, "jerk" is a relative term because I love that he is anti-authority enough to get booted from liquor class, but somebody who considers coloring inside the lines a "core value" as the books say, would think him antisocial. I thought he reminded me of my mom when that happened, although she is a lot more shy. Old hippies and their authority problems, gotta love 'em. I guess that woman did not have the authority to withhold the Waterfront's license after all. And of course after the detectives get shot, it's the Munchkin that makes me cry. "They wrecked my shoes, Gee." tears me up.(But part of that isn't in the script, I don't think...helped along by acting, which I may never have for my characters
Okay, I've finally taken the lj plunge! Despite my trepidation and fear of rejection! So befriend me! 'Cause it's scary to me!
At any rate, this turned out to be the impetus for me to join up. I couldn't resist the drabble challenge, it kept going round in my head till I got it out.
So all sweaty-palmed and anxious, here (and there) I am.
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It’s the detail she remembers. Lipstick fleck reflection in the chrome counter. Toast crumbs on his frayed sleeve.
“The usual, miss.” His coarse voice, hacking laughter. Like she was the drifter off the street, and he secure in his work world. She wasn’t even sure she knew his usual order. Someone she could hate?
On his way out, his eyes suddenly liquid. “You’re the only family I’ve got now, you know.” And she did know. Someone she could love?
Today they haul him off, body cold but not yet rigid. “You knew him?” “What? Oh. No.” Someone she could ignore.
I saw your drabble and wondered who you were! (Because all the GWW drabblers are buffistas, right?)
And I've 'friended' you.
I'm Ro-Astarte on LJ, Liese.
Welcome!
debg here, and you're friended, you bet.
That's a wonderful drabble.
I'm having an I'm-not-worthy moment, which I should be used to. It happens basically every time I read one of three authors: John Crowley, Robertson Davies or Michael Chabon. Today I'm rereading Chabon and wondering why I think I can write.
That happens to me about once a week.
I'm having an I'm-not-worthy moment, which I should be used to. It happens basically every time I read one of three authors: John Crowley, Robertson Davies or Michael Chabon.
I've only read Davies, but that happens whenever I read Lorrie Moore.
Or, you know, any time at all.