Stockholm + Selene news
While I'm still working on finalizing the concepts and terms and background stuffs of Stockholm, I've been writing in Selene's voice lately to get a grip of her. She's so volatile it's hard to write in her voice, which is not good at all if I'm to continue with Chronicles.
And she's so dry it's not even funny. They say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, and jesuschrist, it is if you read the shit I wrote as Selene.
Oh, god. Merlin Morgana King Arthur whatever Circe.
--- snippets from Chronicles: Hunters
If there is one story that Selene hates above others, it is the story of James Fucking Reiner and her father who’s been MIA for the past thirteen years. It is not that it reminds her of her absent father. He can go to Hell and she still won’t give a damn. It’s just that it’s sickening, the story. How it paints her father as some sort of saviour saint or whatever shite the Seers said.
She almost snapped her phone in two with that thought. Those fools love to romanticise everything. If there’s one thing her father isn’t, it’s saviour saint or whatever shite nearest to it. He’s just a reckless bastard who loves to show-off his stupid Unnatural skills, skills that Selene unwillingly inherited (That bloody bastard) and despised for all the misfortunes caused.
Never let it be left unsaid that society is governed by lies of free thoughts and fucking rainbows and whatever shite that spews fucking rainbows, because society is everything but such. The amount of glares and trash thrown her way (or the sidewalk, when she’s lucky) can attest to that. She just wished her father has the decency to drop by her flat at least once every full moon to tell her he’s alive and not out there gallivanting in Hallow knows where with some nymphs or nymphos. It lessens the worry and stress and the dire urge to murder some poor kitten.
But hey, he’s the bloody Saviour of the world. He’s the Holy Unnatural, the son of God’s angel, never mind that he’s also the son of a murderous she-devil, brought down to the mortal realm to vanquish the evil Slayer. Let him be the Oh-Great Unnatural, the Blessing from Above while the rest of them are anomalies of nature and God’s last curse to mankind.
Jesus Christ, talk about antithesis. Yeah, he’s the perfect example of it. Bloody fucking stupid Father.
--
“Hey.”
Facial tics aside, Selene can be approachable. Well, to a certain extent, of course. It’s largely because of the hypersensitivity of her Unnatural senses, a mild stimulation of which can be equal to either a mind-blowing orgasm or just mind-blowing pain, but more on the latter and definitely rare on the former.
“Yeah?”
Crouching beside her, Kirk Polonski chewed on the inside of his bottom lip as he eyed the No Left Turn sign across them rather crossly.
“When was the last time you got laid?”
Selene sighed. She should have seen that coming. Or not, pun intended, thank you very much.
“Has it occurred to you yet that we have been on a stake out for the past three days?”
“Does that mean it was last Tuesday?”
“I have no idea why you’re suddenly interested in my sex life, or the lack thereof as you have noticed due to the shade of my hair, but whatever it is, please stop.”
The warm weight beside her fidgeted slightly before it settled down onto a comfortable stance.
“It’s not that I’m interested or not, it’s just that I need a... well...”
“An unlikely poor bird who’s also in need of and thus very willing to get shagged?”
“There’s no need to be so crass about it, Christ,” Polonski muttered.
Selene turned her attention from her target (which currently was the No Left Turn sign post that she hoped would just move) to her partner. “That’s the only comeback you can think of? Honestly?”
“Yeah. Jesus, there’s no need to be prickly!”
Selene scoffed. “You should be glad I’m prickly. I’m probably one of the few honest people left in the world.”
“No,” Polonski shook his head. “You’re just evil and mean and a bully and needs to get laid by someone that isn’t a cop.”
“Shush, you.”
“Aw, did I hit a nerve?”
“Get back to your job, yeah? We have a demonic cat to catch.”
--
Demonic cat turned out to be a captive liger went wild. Literally, and somehow, in some stupid karmic way or another, they ended up as the culprits of the fiasco and not whoever the bastards who tried to smuggle the liger out of its cage.
Selene believed her born an Unnatural also meant being terribly unlucky. It was as if Fate went out of its way just to make her life miserable.
“I hate this job,” Polonski whined for the past two hours. Holding back the urge to murder him, Selene gripped her leather-clad knees with both hands until her arms’ muscles were taught and trembling with tension.
‘One watermelon... two watermelons...’
“Why is it that bad things always happen to us? Why can’t we get good cases like Stanley did?”
‘I used to have good cases with Stanley,’ Selene thought morosely. She didn’t know what went wrong to warrant this, this being Polonsky as partner instead of good ol’ Stanley.
Stanley might be bald and blind and black, but he was one hell of a hunter. True to the bone and honest to God, he would never turn tail nor coat even at gunpoint. Great was the pity when they had to lay him to rest. No one in the world can ever replace that great bloke.
“Oy, Rosenkreuz...”
Selene sighed. She had stopped gripping her knees when she felt her nails dig through the leather and memories of Stanley always made her terribly maudlin.
“Selene....”
“Shut up, Polonsky.”
----
Also, I'm currently working on a Stockholm anniversary special. It's, however, post-Stockholm and somewhere already between Munchausen and Asperger, so I have no idea how canon it's going to be once I finish Stockholm.
Indecisive writer is indecisive and cannot decide at all. Jonathan had gone through three ethnicities and three name changes that it's not even, well, funny (note to self: Jonathan > Allen > Seiran. Yes, Allen = Jonathan, self. Your notes said so) when I went through old snippets and began wondering who the hell is Allen and is he another one of those made-out-of-imaginary-thin-air secretaries? And then I remembered Lucian only has one secretary. Jesus, what is fail.
orz I think Jesus says fail = Umi.
And now, I sleep. I tired. Harry also wants to sleep so. yeah.
P.S. Harry is my turtle. Yes, I have a turtle. Harry is the Turtle Who Lived, because he survived 2 nights under my care. And yes, we're keeping count, because my brother believed Harry will only last a week. I'm hoping damn hard he'd last years, because god knows no pet ever survive a week under my care.
P.P.S. Plants do, despite how much I neglect them since I got them.
And she's so dry it's not even funny. They say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, and jesuschrist, it is if you read the shit I wrote as Selene.
Oh, god. Merlin Morgana King Arthur whatever Circe.
--- snippets from Chronicles: Hunters
If there is one story that Selene hates above others, it is the story of James Fucking Reiner and her father who’s been MIA for the past thirteen years. It is not that it reminds her of her absent father. He can go to Hell and she still won’t give a damn. It’s just that it’s sickening, the story. How it paints her father as some sort of saviour saint or whatever shite the Seers said.
She almost snapped her phone in two with that thought. Those fools love to romanticise everything. If there’s one thing her father isn’t, it’s saviour saint or whatever shite nearest to it. He’s just a reckless bastard who loves to show-off his stupid Unnatural skills, skills that Selene unwillingly inherited (That bloody bastard) and despised for all the misfortunes caused.
Never let it be left unsaid that society is governed by lies of free thoughts and fucking rainbows and whatever shite that spews fucking rainbows, because society is everything but such. The amount of glares and trash thrown her way (or the sidewalk, when she’s lucky) can attest to that. She just wished her father has the decency to drop by her flat at least once every full moon to tell her he’s alive and not out there gallivanting in Hallow knows where with some nymphs or nymphos. It lessens the worry and stress and the dire urge to murder some poor kitten.
But hey, he’s the bloody Saviour of the world. He’s the Holy Unnatural, the son of God’s angel, never mind that he’s also the son of a murderous she-devil, brought down to the mortal realm to vanquish the evil Slayer. Let him be the Oh-Great Unnatural, the Blessing from Above while the rest of them are anomalies of nature and God’s last curse to mankind.
Jesus Christ, talk about antithesis. Yeah, he’s the perfect example of it. Bloody fucking stupid Father.
--
“Hey.”
Facial tics aside, Selene can be approachable. Well, to a certain extent, of course. It’s largely because of the hypersensitivity of her Unnatural senses, a mild stimulation of which can be equal to either a mind-blowing orgasm or just mind-blowing pain, but more on the latter and definitely rare on the former.
“Yeah?”
Crouching beside her, Kirk Polonski chewed on the inside of his bottom lip as he eyed the No Left Turn sign across them rather crossly.
“When was the last time you got laid?”
Selene sighed. She should have seen that coming. Or not, pun intended, thank you very much.
“Has it occurred to you yet that we have been on a stake out for the past three days?”
“Does that mean it was last Tuesday?”
“I have no idea why you’re suddenly interested in my sex life, or the lack thereof as you have noticed due to the shade of my hair, but whatever it is, please stop.”
The warm weight beside her fidgeted slightly before it settled down onto a comfortable stance.
“It’s not that I’m interested or not, it’s just that I need a... well...”
“An unlikely poor bird who’s also in need of and thus very willing to get shagged?”
“There’s no need to be so crass about it, Christ,” Polonski muttered.
Selene turned her attention from her target (which currently was the No Left Turn sign post that she hoped would just move) to her partner. “That’s the only comeback you can think of? Honestly?”
“Yeah. Jesus, there’s no need to be prickly!”
Selene scoffed. “You should be glad I’m prickly. I’m probably one of the few honest people left in the world.”
“No,” Polonski shook his head. “You’re just evil and mean and a bully and needs to get laid by someone that isn’t a cop.”
“Shush, you.”
“Aw, did I hit a nerve?”
“Get back to your job, yeah? We have a demonic cat to catch.”
--
Demonic cat turned out to be a captive liger went wild. Literally, and somehow, in some stupid karmic way or another, they ended up as the culprits of the fiasco and not whoever the bastards who tried to smuggle the liger out of its cage.
Selene believed her born an Unnatural also meant being terribly unlucky. It was as if Fate went out of its way just to make her life miserable.
“I hate this job,” Polonski whined for the past two hours. Holding back the urge to murder him, Selene gripped her leather-clad knees with both hands until her arms’ muscles were taught and trembling with tension.
‘One watermelon... two watermelons...’
“Why is it that bad things always happen to us? Why can’t we get good cases like Stanley did?”
‘I used to have good cases with Stanley,’ Selene thought morosely. She didn’t know what went wrong to warrant this, this being Polonsky as partner instead of good ol’ Stanley.
Stanley might be bald and blind and black, but he was one hell of a hunter. True to the bone and honest to God, he would never turn tail nor coat even at gunpoint. Great was the pity when they had to lay him to rest. No one in the world can ever replace that great bloke.
“Oy, Rosenkreuz...”
Selene sighed. She had stopped gripping her knees when she felt her nails dig through the leather and memories of Stanley always made her terribly maudlin.
“Selene....”
“Shut up, Polonsky.”
----
Also, I'm currently working on a Stockholm anniversary special. It's, however, post-Stockholm and somewhere already between Munchausen and Asperger, so I have no idea how canon it's going to be once I finish Stockholm.
Indecisive writer is indecisive and cannot decide at all. Jonathan had gone through three ethnicities and three name changes that it's not even, well, funny (note to self: Jonathan > Allen > Seiran. Yes, Allen = Jonathan, self. Your notes said so) when I went through old snippets and began wondering who the hell is Allen and is he another one of those made-out-of-imaginary-thin-air secretaries? And then I remembered Lucian only has one secretary. Jesus, what is fail.
orz I think Jesus says fail = Umi.
And now, I sleep. I tired. Harry also wants to sleep so. yeah.
P.S. Harry is my turtle. Yes, I have a turtle. Harry is the Turtle Who Lived, because he survived 2 nights under my care. And yes, we're keeping count, because my brother believed Harry will only last a week. I'm hoping damn hard he'd last years, because god knows no pet ever survive a week under my care.
P.P.S. Plants do, despite how much I neglect them since I got them.