#forlions

Send me “/)///v///(\” to see how my muse would talk about yours, to another person.

Mun Interpretation Meme: Accepting.

✎ - What do you wish the author would reveal/had revealed about your muse?

Ah, see - that’s actually the funny thing.  The more Fuller revealed about Bedelia in canon, the less I liked her.  We learned more about her in season three of Hannibal than in either of the previous seasons, but, in my opinion, what we learned often didn’t match up with what came before.  Then again, so little had been revealed about her that Bedelia as a character was really open to interpretation (and still, to some extent, is, which I like better).

I suppose I wish that Fuller had explained more about Bedelia sooner (as, in my opinion, he shifted what he thought of her throughout the seasons - writing her as needed - which isn’t a bad thing, but something I particularly dislike about most American serial television - the reveals are not always consistent, etc.) - sometime in the first or second season - instead of leaving us as an audience constantly guessing.

I wish Bedelia was a Thomas Harris character.

I really wish I knew Fuller’s original plan for Bedelia when he intended to cast her as Angela Lansbury.  (Due to scheduling conflict, she wasn’t available, and so he went to NBC to see who they would like.  When they suggested potentially looking at Gillian Anderson, Fuller aged Bedelia down and had to look into new reasons for her retirement as opposed to simply age.  I doubt that the whole Bedelia retired because she killed one of her patients idea would have happened if not for the actor change.)

the mun's interpretation

✎ what do you wish the author would reveal/had revealed about your muse?

[ A LAST NAME......... unfortunately, only josh/beth/hannah and mike were lucky enough to be given a last name and while it’s not overly important, it would be nice to know. aside from that, i wouldn’t want much else? of course, there’s always the curiosity about family, other friends, hobbies, etc etc etc, but since that has been mostly left out of chris’s in-game canon, it gives me more opportunity to explore his character. which is great because that’s when you see a variety of interpretations in a rp community, rather than just seeing the same stuff over and over again. 

Running errands on Sander Cohen’s behalf had the unfortunate tendency of leaving Kyle in several awkward positions. 

Sometimes there was a conflict of interest; an instance where he was forced to make personal decisions about people he knew personally. And he did hate firing people, which was often a duty that fell on his shoulders, given his tasks as a stage manager. 

This wasn’t that. 

Among his duties as an employee of Sander Cohen (and “employee” was a very generous word; Kyle had heard of worse ones, many of them profane) was as a courier. This was all fine and good when he had envelopes for people. Envelopes could fit in the inside pocket of one’s jacket, if one felt so inclined.

This wasn’t that, either. An envelope, that is. 

No, this was something akin to a gift basket, although there weren’t really any gifts inside. A more proper name might be “invitation”, but many of the invitations he gave to people were less ostentatious than this. Then again, those people hadn’t been as...public as Andrew Ryan.  Adorning the thing were several playbills from former performances, with the upcoming show’s playbill featured front and center. A rabbit mask had been attached to the back, because of course it had. Inside the basket proper was a collection of trinkets and candies which Kyle found embarrassing. He felt like an idiot even carrying it through the Fort, but he wasn’t being paid to complain, so he didn’t. 

Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to make an appointment with Andrew Ryan’s secretary, and so he had no issue getting from point A to point B. When he arrived in what he assumed was a waiting room, she told him to wait there. That he’d be allowed to see Andrew Ryan as soon as he notified her of such. 

♠:Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

Jack took a deep breath. He could do this. It was not like he was going to be saying very much at all. He just had to stand there. And look Ryan-ish. Was Ryanish a word? No. No it wasn’t. Oh shit he was fucked. 

The young man sank to the ground, effectively setting wrinkles into his slacks and his previously crisp white shirt. He was in so much trouble. He was going to make a fool out of himself and by extension his father and by extension Ryan Industries and by extension all of Rapture and the infrastructure as they knew it would crumble and it would all be his fault.

Long fingers ran through his barely tamed hair letting it once again become a mess. He was doomed. Doomed. Doomed. Jack should just crawl under his bed and hide and hope his father never--

A knock on his door. “Jack?”