s-a-h-j-h-a-n.
OK. Kewl.
Thanks, with a muchness. And you're both right - it looks weird, no matter how I spell it.
OK. The theme is "prophecy". Not sure this works.
Trouble
He moved through the crowded club, hunting for trouble.
Things were quiet these days. Holtz was dead, Justine had taken her damaged psyche and vanished into the night. He was free now, and looking for some action.
The fight broke out near the door, a joke, a slur, things out of hand. Students started punching, yelling; this, Sahjhan thought, should be fun. He waded in, instigating, laying hands on the wrong girl.
The bottle to his skull took him by surprise and into the world of light. And his killer, Connor by name, stammering and shaking, waited for the sirens.
Oh, lovely. Are you thinking of that as post-Home?
Oh, I'm so glad that guy got his comeuppance. I never liked him at all, at all.
Yup, post-Home. On the whole Scots-play thing of, go right ahead, rewrite prophecies all you want, it's going to come back and bite your bum.
none of your stuff that I've read - only a bit, but more than a lot of peoples' - would be described as forgettable
Heh. Well. Considering how much of it I've forgotten, I'd have to disagree. (Or perhaps it's just that I'd rather forget I wrote it.) But I still don't remember a story with the specific title this person is referencing. So unless it's something more than 4 years old, she be barking up wrong tree.
I'm mid-drabble and I don't know for sure how to spell "Sajan"
Shooting scripts say SahJhan. FWIW.
I could also go back through Erika's LJ and format if anyone wants me to do it. I'd have time to do it on Tuesday, for sure.
Just watched a rerun of the arrival of Connor in the pouring rain. If I could spell synchronisity.....
I assembled it as a word doc and sent it to Askye...she said she would help post it. (Like sands through the hourglass...yada yada...) It came out 43 pages in this version. I cut Munch off a lot, I'm thinking...man's got a lot to say. And any trip through Tim's head? Not going to be short on words. But this time I thought ahead so there wasn't much to it. It was the whole "not worthy"+freaky pairing thing that kept me from saving stuff before.
So, Askye, insent to the fic address, babe.(And I really have to stop doing that as Not!Munch. It could be a tic so easily. And I really don't need that, not with this personality.)
I really should be writing something else, but the devil on my shoulder isn't through yet.(This is Munch's POV, what he is thinking after he, well, pees in everybody's Kool-Aid at the restaurant in "A Many Splendored Thing.)
PROPHECY
He never claimed to be a freaking oracle. Leave that to Dionne and her Psychic Friends. But he couldn't stand the delusion any more. Stan canoodling with a nymphette violinist pretending to be worried about his...bow. Kay carrying on with Ed Danvers, Establishment man...probably drove a Volvo, for Chrissake. He was so not good enough for her it was nauseating. And before they noticed him, Munch could see Ed's eye scoping the waitress' cleavage, looking past Kay. Who knew that look better than John Munch? Sometimes, he thinks he wears the dark glasses so he won't have to see so clearly.
