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I dreamed I was reading a nonexistent paranormal romance series. In each book, the heroine encountered a brooding, powerful, and troubled man who seemed ideally placed to be her love interest. In every book, he turned out to be as big a douchebag as he looked.
In book one, though she had no magical powers, she was the key to saving Dystopian Noir-ish Sci-Fi City from some sort of magic problem. Maybe the fedoras were going to attain sentience or some shit, it wasn't specified. The sorta-honest chief of police, saddled with a thoroughly corrupt force, quietly hired an outsider to protect her; Hunter S. Thompson. Characterization based on Duke from Doonesbury.
(Look. I am not in charge of the shit my subconscious does. "I" is defined a very specific way when writing posts about dreams, a way that does not include the subconscious. I mean, come on, if I included that thing, then every noun in this post would have to be "I." I am the books and the city and the magic and the police. Clearly linguistically nonviable.)
( Read more... )
In book one, though she had no magical powers, she was the key to saving Dystopian Noir-ish Sci-Fi City from some sort of magic problem. Maybe the fedoras were going to attain sentience or some shit, it wasn't specified. The sorta-honest chief of police, saddled with a thoroughly corrupt force, quietly hired an outsider to protect her; Hunter S. Thompson. Characterization based on Duke from Doonesbury.
(Look. I am not in charge of the shit my subconscious does. "I" is defined a very specific way when writing posts about dreams, a way that does not include the subconscious. I mean, come on, if I included that thing, then every noun in this post would have to be "I." I am the books and the city and the magic and the police. Clearly linguistically nonviable.)
( Read more... )
