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lo-mindpalace · 4 years ago

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26 - Walk of Shame

Alternative Universe: The characters are young adults and they are studying in The University of Kansas in Lawrence.

(SAM’S POV)

I looked at my watch. He was late. My brother was always late and it was annoying me. It was the last year of College for Dean, he was studying Mechanical Engineering. He was more interested in his drawing class and practicing sport rather than the studies but he was good at it anyway. As for me, it was my first year at College, I was in Law School and it was exactly how I imagined it. I was really enjoying this campus and student life, far away from my parents. I was sharing a big apartment with Dean and Charlie – our best friend, but Dean was often outside, dating girls, having one-night stands, … My brother was very popular, he always was. In high school, now in College. And I am known as “Dean’s smart brother” or something, but I don’t really care.

Dean, Charlie and I were supposed to eat together every Tuesday and Friday noon. This Friday, Dean was late and didn’t even text me. I looked at my lunch and sighed again.

“Hey Sam!”

I raised my head and saw Charlie sitting in front of me, in the campus yard.

“Hello, Charlie. How was your morning class?”

“Meh. I was a bit bored so I played League of Legends.” Charlie pouted.

I shook my head. Charlie was doing a bachelor of science in Information Technology. She was very, very talented with computers. She could hack a system in only a few minutes. Somehow, I was proud of her but she scared me sometimes. We met in High school with Dean and since that day, we’ve been best friends. She is such a wonderful person, always here to help. She is very attentive and such a geek. My redhead friend looked around and raised an eyebrow.

“… Where is Dean?”

I sighed and shrugged. Charlie seemed to think and then made a little “Oh.”. I raised an eyebrow, not understanding what was going on. She nodded to herself and looked at me.

“We are on Friday right?”

“Huh… Yes?”

“He was supposed to have a date with Mister Cute Guy yesterday.”

“Oh.” I said. “Castiel.”

We both looked at each other and sighed in amusement. Right. Of course, Dean was late. It was logical now. Dean met Castiel last year – when my brother was in second year and Cas in first year, and in the last five months they were turning around each other, flirting from time to time. My brother figured out he was bisexual when he was at his first year of College. He never really dated a guy, just flirted with them. He always said it was different with a man, he preferred doing things slowly whereas with a woman, he was always ready for a one-night-stand. Maybe he was afraid of judgement? I didn’t know. But the good thing was that no one mocked him for who he was, because Dean was so confident and cool. At least, that’s what Dean wanted to show. I knew the real Dean, the real anxious and vulnerable brother. But even if he was anxious and not self-confident, he was still a cool brother and a good friend.

Castiel was a Western guy, from San Francisco. He had a rich family with a lot of brothers and sisters and cousins. He always had what he wanted and had always obeyed to his parents. After High school, when he was awarded his diploma with high grades, he said no to his parents for the first time ever. They wanted him to become either a vet or a high-ranking business man. But he didn’t want that. He had always had a passion for art and science. So, he left his family to move to Lawrence and start his studies in the Liberal Arts & Science school. His family was against it at first but they didn’t have a choice. Moreover, Castiel’s older brother Gabriel did exactly the same, and the other brother Balthazar moved away one year after Castiel as well. He was a passionate guy, doing History and Art History studies but with many options such as Ecology, Foreign Languages, Anthropology and even Philosophy. This guy always wanted more and more knowledge. He was such a good student as well. His parents sent him money every month but he gave half of it to charities. Castiel didn’t need money thanks to his parents, but he wanted a normal life so he was working at the campus library.

He met Dean when Castiel was trying to find his Art History class and ended up in the Drawing Class. Dean helped him and then my brother offered Castiel to help him for his first year, showing him all the buildings in the campus, even some good spots in Lawrence, and so on. They gradually became friends, obviously, and I became friends with Cas. He was so happy to have friends. He always had either rich friends who were uninteresting, or fake friends who were taking advantage of him just for his money. Dean and I were from a modest family. Our father, John was part of the United States Marine Corps before becoming a mechanic in a garage in Lawrence. The garage was one of Singer’s branch. Bobby Singer was a good friend of John and we considered him as our uncle. Our mother, Mary, was a housewife when we were little and now, she was working at a Café. I guess it was pretty different from Castiel’s former “friends”. But he was happy and I was glad to have a friend like him. He was always embarrassed about his family and situation so he never talked about it, and we respected that decision. But I could see that sometimes he felt uncomfortable when someone was talking about money issues.

Dean and Castiel kissed each other five months ago during the Halloween party. They were both drunk but they liked it and they couldn’t stop thinking about this moment afterwards. So, they were flirting a bit from time to time, analyzing the other. I became tired of their games and Dean knew what I was thinking. So, when he said Cas and him were going on a real date yesterday, the only word that came to my mind was “Finally.” I remembered my brother rolling his eyes, blushing a bit. I didn’t want to know what they did because it wasn’t my business but when I finally saw my brother in the distance, I was certain about one thing. Someone got laid. I nudged Charlie so she could look at this funny show. Dean was walking weirdly, wearing the same jeans and the College jacket, shirt but this scarf wasn’t his. I smiled even more when he saw us and walked toward our table. Gosh, he was so tired, dark rings under his eyes, his tousled hair. He sat next to us and yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He said with a husky voice.

“Hey Charlie, did Dean just do the walk of shame or am I dreaming?” I said with a hint of amusement.

“Nah, you’re right Sam. I think he did.” Charlie smiled widely.

Dean looked at us with wide eyes.

“Is it that obvious?!”

“Well, first of all, you are wearing the same clothes as yesterday except this scarf.” I said.

“Then you look so exhausted as if you had a partied the whole night.” Charlie said.

“Can we talk about your messy hair?”

“Nah, dude. Can we talk about that big ass hickey?” Charlie said.

Dean blushed beet-red and tried to hide the hickey.

“I… Uh… Well I spent a good night with Cas…” He said with a sudden shy voice.

“Well, I’m sure about that, and I’m sure all the people that saw you coming here are aware about this too.” Charlie said with a chuckle.

“What do you mean?” Dean said.

He looked around and saw some of his friends, the quarterbacks and some of his class winking at him and nodding like the proud friends they were. Dean swallowed hard and gave them a little smile before turning his face to us again. He closed his eyes and mumbled something. I wanted to add something just to annoy my brother but I saw Castiel with a classmate going to a building. He saw us and waved at us with a shy smile and Dean looked at him. They both glanced at each other, Castiel blushing and making an adorable face. Dean smiled and winked at him. Cas entered the building and Dean was still smiling like an idiot before noticing that Charlie and I were staring at him. He cleared his throat and took a sandwich I bought him. He began to eat without saying a word. I rolled my eyes.

“Tell me, Dean. Tell me you are finally officially dating Castiel Novak.” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

Dean swallowed what he had in his mouth and looked at me and Charlie.

“What a pain in my ass you are, Sammy. Yes. We are officially dating. Now, give me a break. I need to properly eat, drink water, take a shower and go to class. And then, after all this, we can talk about that.”

Dean made a surprised face when I high-fived Charlie. Our redhead friend gave me a bit of money while chuckling.

“Damn, dude. You rock!” She said to me.

“You guys had a bet?!” Dean said.

“Yup. I bet you and Cas would finally officially date and get laid. Charlie didn’t believe me because, well, you took so much time to ask Castiel out.” I said.

“Your brother was right. Congratulation, Deano!” Charlie said while patting Dean’s shoulder.

My brother pouted and shrugged. He made a little amused smile after all, our good mood was too contagious. He blushed a little, probably thinking about his wonderful night and I chuckled while rolling my eyes. I swear… My brother is something. We ate happily until it was finally time for me to go back to class, leaving my best friend and my mushy older brother.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hope you liked it :)

#suptober20 #supernatural #day26 #walk of shame #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #charlie bradbury #alternative universe

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jenthebug · 5 years ago

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Taking some characters out for a test drive

I wrote what might become a scene in my novel, to give myself some practice with these new characters and this new setting.

The preacher’s son meets the witch at a farmer’s market, 1311 words.

A tall, muscular man with a crew cut approached a booth at the Bonny Farmer’s Market. He walked straight up to the proprietor, who was eyeing him suspiciously. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Cole Harlan, Don’s son.” He held out his hand for a handshake.

“Terra Moirai.” She gave him a quick, perfunctory handshake. “I’ve had a few conversations with your father,” she said coldly.

“Did he tell you that he’s leaving town for a few months? He’s going on a mission trip to Thailand to build homes for the homeless!” Cole beamed. “I’ll be preaching in his place on Sundays. You’re welcome to come to tomorrow’s service.”

“That...is not what I heard from Don,” she said. She tugged the hair tie out of the braid that hung over her shoulder, a tangle of green and brown curls, and unbraided it. “He explicitly told me that I am not welcome in church, not to speak to his family, and not to spread my wickedness in this town.” She piled her hair on top of her head and pulled it up in a messy bun. “I’m spreading my vegetables. Is that okay?” Her voice hit a sardonic note.

“That’s more than okay! I actually came over here because your greens look so good! And, Terra, please excuse my father.” His whole posture seemed to soften. “He is a man of the Baptist tradition. He’s very conservative. He wants his flock to adhere to the Baptist Faith and Message, live a lifestyle free of sin, and take the Bible as the final word.”

“You sound almost apologetic.”

Cole sighed. “I’ve only recently moved back to town. I’ve been away for four years, studying at seminary, and becoming an ordained minister myself. I’ll admit, I spent too much time doodling in my notebook and listening to secular music and staring out the window with my eyes glazed over. But one thing held my attention every time I studied it: The teachings of Jesus Christ. I’m not sure if you know this, but there are times that the Baptist Faith and Message seems to contradict the teachings of Christ, and there are many more times that the lifestyle we live contradicts those holy lessons.”

Terra raised an eyebrow.

“Have you read the Bible?”

“No.”

Cole seemed unfazed. A gentle smile spread across his face. “1 John 4:20 states that ‘Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For they who do not love brothers and sisters, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.’ And while it’s easy for a person to say they hate the sin yet love the sinner, that statement is usually followed up with berating and punishments. That is not a loving way to treat a person. To love someone, one must act lovingly and kindly.” He opened up his cloth bag and began inspecting the bunches of spinach and kale piled up at Terra’s booth. “Church should be a hospital for the spirit, not a museum of how closely one can stick to doctrine and tradition, you know?”

For the first time since meeting Cole, a smile spread across Terra’s face. “Well said!”

Cole grabbed one bunch of spinach and one bunch of kale, examining them closely. “How on Earth do you get these to grow so well? I planted spinach, kale, and lettuce in the backyard this spring. The spinach was alright, but it was so small. The kale immediately bolted and went to seed, and the lettuce just died.”

Terra nodded knowingly. “The soil in eastern Colorado is just so sandy! I come from the foothills, where the soil is more dense, so I’ve had to learn a few things. Water often, it’s totally worth it to set up drip irrigation. Mix more compost into the soil than you think you need. With the heat out here, partial shade works better than full sun, despite what the seed packets say.”

Cole nodded. “Alright. Water, compost, partial shade.”

Terra stepped back and smirked. “You want to know if I put a spell on these things, right? Called up the Devil and asked for good veggies?”

Cole laughed nervously.

“I draw my energy from the earth, and return my energy to the earth. Everything I do is a reflection of the cycles of nature. My spirit communes with the spirits of the soil, the plants, the water, the insects, the animals. I am as much a part of nature as the seed that grew that spinach, and as much a part of the seed’s growth as it is a part of mine.”

Cole gave Terra a blank smile as he tried to wrap his head around her words.

“I did not call Satan, and I did not cast any magic spells on those vegetables.” She spoke simply and bluntly. “I’m just a really good gardener with a bit of an innate advantage. Call it a green thumb if that makes it easier for you.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll take two spinach bunches and one kale bunch, please.” He pulled three dollars out of his pocket and handed them to Terra.”

“Thanks, take your pick.”

“Hey! Cole!” Hannah, Cole’s sister, ran up to Terra’s booth. “There you are! I tried texting you!”

Cole gave Hannah an apologetic look. “Sorry, I got caught up talking to Ms. Terra. Have you met her?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve bought skin care stuff from her before. She makes a really good goat’s milk soap.”

“Is that what that stuff in the bathroom is?”

“The pink bar of soap? Yeah. Goat’s milk, rosewater, all kinds of good stuff.” Hannah pulled her blonde waterfall curls up into a bouncy ponytail and turned to Terra. “Hey, have you ever thought about making hair stuff?”

Terra laughed, pointing to the green and brown bundle on her head. “Maybe I should! But I never really do anything with my hair, except make sure it’s clean and untangle it…”

“And you dye it,” Hannah said. “That’s damaging, especially since you’re lifting brown.”

Terra shook her head. “Nope. No dye. This is just how it grows.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Cole said.

Without a word, Terra lifted her combat booted foot onto the table, behind the iPad that she used as a point of sale. She lifted her long, brown skirt to reveal that she hadn’t shaved in way too long. Along with the brown stubble that Cole and Hannah expected to see, there were little green hairs mixed in.

“Oh...kay. Now I don’t.” Cole pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh.

Terra giggled and put her foot down. She sprayed down the table with a homemade cleaning spray, wiped it with a washcloth, and rang in Cole’s purchase.

“Cole, would you like a receipt?”

“No thank you.”

“Hannah, are you still okay on soap?”

“Yes, I am, but I was hoping for some of the rosewater toner that you had last time.”

“Oh no, I sold out of that!” Terra cringed. “Tell you what. I’m coming into town on Tuesday to get my oil changed. I’ll bring a bottle for you then, and only charge you $10 instead of the usual $12 for the inconvenience.”

“Sure! Thanks! Can we meet here at the park at 5:30? I’ll be on my way home from cheer practice.”

“Why not just meet at the school? It’s right by the garage.”

Hannah cringed. “Well…”

Terra sighed. “You know what? The park should be fine.”

“Thank you so much.” Hannah said.

“Yes, thank you,” Cole said. “It shouldn’t be like this...but it is.”

“Yep.”

Cole held out his hand for another handshake. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Terra. I mean that.”

Terra smiled and shook his hand again. “And it was nice to meet you, too, Cole. I also mean that.”

#my original writing #practice

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iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 6 years ago

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이승협, Lee Seunghyub

anonymous asked:

hello sweetheart! can i request a prompt from prompt list#2, 22 and 13 with Seunghyub from N.Flying if that possible of course?

Group: N.Flying (엔플라잉)

Member: Seunghyub

Prompt: “Have you lost your damn mind?”, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice”, “Kiss me”.

The small restaurant you worked at wasn’t the most popular place in the world, and that was true enough. But a person who had spent any amount of time there knew that it was a special place, filled with scented candles, enchanting wall-art, addictive appetizers and pretty fantastic fresh-brewed coffee.

It was a place where artists came and drew on the walls as they pleased, leaving pieces of their passion behind on the pale surfaces. It was a place where students came to study in peace and laugh over good food.

It was a place where businessmen came to wind down after a tiring day, and it was a place where the staff was more like family than anything else. It was a place where you worked—not because it was necessary—but because you genuinely liked it.

That’s why it was always such a shame when people disrupted that calming environment.

There were twelve regulars at that restaurant that you worked at.

The three trainees from JYP that always came for breakfast and lunch. You didn’t know what they usually did for dinner, but you hoped that they ate well. They were nice boys with positive attitudes and a butt-load of talent.

They’d given you a mini-concert before, just for practice.

The woman who’d been going through a messy divorce, but stayed unbelievably strong for her kids. She talked about them so fondly, so you knew she would make it through all right.

The grandma and grandpa that had been coming there every Tuesday since they got engaged there over forty years ago. Although that’d been before your time, they told you the story in such detail, it felt like you had seen it for yourself.

The stock manager with a sharp tongue, but kind eyes. He knew how to complain about the serving portions, but he also knew how to tip very well and always ask how your day had been.

The childhood friends that had moved from Incheon to study in Seoul. You just knew that they would end up together one day. It was the way that they looked at each other, filled with tenderness, distant adoration and a certain shy hesitance.

The brother and sister that were trying to reconnect after being separated for a long time. They were still a little awkward with each other, but they were getting better every day. They’d even found a common interest in musical theater.

And finally, the aptly named: Question Mark Man.

You didn’t know much about him, but he’d always been interesting to you. His schedule was somewhat erratic, but he made sure to come in at least once a week. He always kept a low profile, had never told you his name, never made a big fuss about anything and always sketched on the wall in the far-back corner.

He’d been coming for about three months now.

He was tall, handsome, charming and a complete mystery. You didn’t even know what he’d been working on so diligently for the past three months. It looked like a person, but it was hard to tell who it was. He added a new piece every time that he came.

The first day he came, he’d drawn a very rough outline.

The second day, he added more detail to the body.

The third day, someone had drawn over part of the arm, so he had shyly asked you to reserve that spot for him and only him. You’d accepted.

The days went on, and the drawing only got more and more detailed. All he did now was hesitate to finish the face. He had started multiple times, but he’d always end up erasing it and starting again, insisting it was never quite right.

“It has to be perfect,” he’d said one day.

You had chuckled at him. “Must be a pretty special drawing then, sir.”

You’d studied him for quite some time now. Everything down to his bright eyes, skilled, lovely hands and heart-stealing smile.

“You’re obsessed,” your co-worker had once told you.

You had politely told her to go screw herself. “He just makes me curious,” you argued. “If I got to know him, he probably wouldn’t be my type.”

But today, there he was again, sitting in the far corner, drinking a cup of hot coffee. As always, he slaved over that drawing.

“It looks like he’s actually making progress today,” you mentioned to your co-worker.

She playfully smacked your arm. “Stop staring! You look like a psychopath.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, though a smile played on your lips. “Rude.”

She shrugged. “You know me.”

“Unfortunately,” you joked. You both laughed before parting ways. You focused yourself on the mundane task of rearranging the menus, trying your hardest to keep your attention off of the Question Mark Man. You didn’t want your friend’s prediction to come true.

‘Suspected stalker’ certainly wouldn’t look very good on any future resumes.

Your ears perked up hearing the familiar jingle of the rusty old bell that hung over the door. You looked up at the man that’d just entered. After being at this for a while, you had gotten to be a pretty decent judge of character, just based off of first impressions.

This guys didn’t give off a very good one.

He was well-built and he wore ripped jeans, a shirt with slightly too deep of a V-neck, one-too-many earrings in one ear and a worn, leather jacket. His hair was brushed cleanly (rather nerdy-looking, compared to the rest of him) and you could see a book-bag hanging loosely off his shoulder, almost like he was trying too hard to be cool.

First impressions could be totally wrong, and he still had the eyes of a kid, but something felt off about him. Not usually the type to come into this place.

A highschool student playing hooky, perhaps?

You shook it off, giving him a polite bow. “Good afternoon! Feel free to sit anywhere you like and I’ll be with you in a minute.” You recited the spiel perfectly, a pleasant smile on your face.

The man—or more so, boy—gave you a once-over. “Will do,” he replied a smirk playing on his lips.

You groaned internally. “Oh, great,” you grumbled under your breath. “This is gonna be fun.” You grabbed a menu, setting aside your uneasy thoughts.

The customer’s comfort always comes first. It was basically a law in the business of serving.

“Hi,” you said, trying to sound as naturally friendly as possible. “Anything I can get you?”

The boy propped his chin up against his palm. “Yeah, there is actually,” he answered smoothly. He gestured behind him. “You see those guys outside, waiting by the door?”

You glanced to the front window. Sure enough, there were four of five boys, similarly dressed, peering in through the window, seemingly making playful jabs at each other. “Yeah,” you said. “And what about them?”

“Well, those are my friends,” he said, “and they dared me to come in here and kiss you.”

You almost laughed. “I’m sorry—what? Could you repeat that?”

“They dared me to kiss you,” he chuckled, giving a charming smile. “Crazy, right?”

You nodded exaggeratedly. “Yeah, actually, it’s pretty crazy. Borderline disgusting.”

His smile dropped a little. “That’s a little harsh.” He shook his head, trying to ignore the discreet insult. “So! Do you think you’ll help me? I actually have a lot of money riding on this. Not to mention, pride.”

You gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m just not in a very giving mood today. I don’t really feel like helping you save money. Or your pride, sir.”

He frowned. “What?”

You shrugged. “That’s just the way life goes, I guess. But! If you’d like, you can still order something and I’d be happy to get it for you—”

He stood up, grabbing your waist. “Oh, come on,” he said. “What do you have to lose?” The other boys could be seen hooting and hollering from outside.

You pushed his hand away. You were done playing nice. “I’m sorry, sir, but you need to leave.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Listen here—”

“She said it was time for you to go, I think.”

You recognized that voice immediately. It was the same voice you’d been hearing once every week for the past three months, whenever he ordered his Americano and biscuit, or when you made pointless small-talk together.

You were so grateful for that voice. The voice of the Question Mark Man.

You felt a warm hand wrap around your waist. You tried to jump away, but he held it firmly. Not in a threatening way, but protective.

“You asked what she has to lose,” the familiar stranger began, “and I have an answer.” He flashed that signature smile. “Her boyfriend’s temper.”

Your jaw dropped, as well as the boy’s. This was the kind of scenario you’d only seen in dramas, and now it was happening in real life. You weren’t quite sure if it was surreal, or insane.

He leaned in close to your ear. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened. “Are you out of your damn mind?” you hissed back in a hushed tone. “We don’t even know each other! Besides, he wouldn’t even buy that—”

He cut you off by placing a chaste kiss on your cheek, never once breaking eye-contact with the boy.

Despite his brutish outward appearance, the boy flushed a bright red, slowly backing away towards the door. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered before running out.

The mystery man chuckled, still so close to you that you could feel the vibrations. “I think he bought it okay,” he said, slipping his arms away from your waist. “Sorry I kinda had to man-handle you back there.”

You were still dazed and confused, your eyebrows furrowed. “It’s... fine,” you finally settled on. “It’s fine. Why did you help me, though? You didn’t have to do that.”

For a moment, he looked a little shy, shuffling his feet. “Well... I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. Your cheeks lit up immediately. “Oh my gosh,” you stuttered. “I’m so sorry about that. I swear I’m not—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he interrupted with a small grin, “but I guess you haven’t seen the way I look at you.”

You were left confused again. “Excuse me?” He gestured to the far back corner. Your eyes followed where his finger pointed, eyes widening in wonder.

He’d finished it. The three-month-awaited art piece was finally done.

And it was you.

At first, you wouldn’t believe it. That was far too pretty to be you, wasn’t it? The hair was too nice, the smile was too princess-like, the eyes were too emotional. That couldn’t be you...

Yet it was.

You slowly looked back at him, flattered and shocked all at once. “Well, okay then,” you laughed. “To whom do I thank for the amazing likeness?”

He gave a giddy smile. “Seunghyub,” he said. “Lee Seunghyub.”

N.Flying is one of the most fun and extra groups I’ve ever had the pleasure of stanning, so writing our multi-talented leader in this type of setting was very different for me. Different, but fun. We all want a potato in shining armor, don’t we?

Hey, Anon! Thanks for the request! I had so much fun with it and I hope you love it a lot. Feel free to stop by anytime!

#n.flying #lee seunghyub #seunghyub #n.flying seunghyub #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst #for anon #i actually love it #like genuinely

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nyrator · 5 years ago

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mannnn

time for more nyrants and life updates with ny, focusing on mental healths and family and where to live and art stuffsss feat. very personal introspection about arttt

Trying to be in a better mindset when writing these compared to how I usually am, let’s seeee

Admittedly struggling with depression a lot lately. Like, to the point I just can’t get out of bed anymore. Tuesday I had the day off, and spent a total of about 16+ hours in bed. I think if not for Kresna, I’d probably spent the entire day in bed. Ate breakfast at like 4:30PM and ate dinner at around 11PM and felt sick from it. But it’s extremely, extremely hard to escape my bed. When I do, I just want to go back to bed, it’s a cruel temptation.

There’s a friend who reads these who always gives kind words and advice and just a heads up, you’re awesome friend. He’s suggested something to me to help and I’ve been really debating it for a while but I think I’m still too scared at the moment, and aaa I wish I was better at communicating directly with people but such is the life of a Ny (but really dude you are a good dude)

I should really see a therapist, I think, but it’s very difficult going anywhere without money or a car, so hm.

In terms of family life, my sister got of jail, was back in jail for three days, back out, basically living at the apartment, and got sent back to jail today for three months (allegedly she had the choice between eight months house arrest versus three months jail, she allegedly picked the latter- though my mother’s friend who keeps me up to date on information about my sister told me that she thinks her urine test was hot, so hmm). My sister being around was not good for my mind at all, I think, but hopefully she really is in jail for three months.

Work is still work, very slow, back to normal hours and keeping my usual $8/hr pay, which admittedly is a bit sad. But as much as they keep telling me they want to get rid of my coworker, my managers just don’t have the heart (something will blow up eventually, probably, but who knows when).

I think in terms of where I should go in life- Ideally wherever Kresna is, but you have no idea how hard immigration, especially on minimum wage. I’ve basically decided internally that, either the asian dude I like becomes president and I stay here (he’s still the only candidate to give me some kind of hope, as silly as politics in general is), otherwise I move wherever Kresna is. But man, it’s so hard, and I’m scared of how hard it will be to support each other honestly (he’s very supportive but I’m very much a leech)

In other news, I’ve also started keeping a dream diary finally. For January, I have about four-five dreams so far. None of them I’m sure are real dreams, or just my imagination running wild in the mornings after waking up but before getting out of bed. I think I mentioned before having a type of reoccurring humiliation dream, and ended up having two of them this month (one came dangerously close to being really bad before I woke myself up).

Now, in terms of creativity (aka one of the main reasons I wanted to type today)

Art

is hard

Rotten Nyan is a strange project, as I’ve mentioned a few times before. I think I want to distance myself from it- like, project these characters as a separate entity from myself. But they’re basically a caricature of my life, so it’s weird. Doing the latest update made me feel really satisfied with myself, doing five pages in such a quick and effortless amount of time.

And then I posted them, and it was like daggers into my chest afterwards. Like, feelings of self conscious, guilt, self hate, all riled up at the realization I keep making these things public, and just really blending me up inside. It’s such a weird thing- really loving these characters and drawing them, but feeling sick thinking of any ideas or sharing anything about them when I do. And the guilt of association- these characters are technically me, but I’d rather people not see them as me, I think, and I try to think of them as separate entities- but it’s obvious they’re me.

Ideas are very hard for me to come by for that reason- the pain, and not wanting to think back on my life anymore. I think I use art to socialize, in a way- give people something interesting, something they can like and admire, and when someone interacts with it in some way- it’s like a wave of euphoria, or something. And it’s funny, because it’s still a similar reaction from me- I get so happy and flustered that I become so anxious with it and want to hurt myself. It’s a good feeling (and trust me I’ve moved on from hurting myself long ago), but anxiety is weird I guess.

I mention it a lot, but I just love the idea of other people feeding me ideas- I feel like I want to make things for other people, but the things I want to make are just my own ideas, not necessarily what they want, you know? And I’d like to join more communities and try to just get that social aspect more. Been trying to be more active on twitter, but boy do feelings of self consciousness hurt.

In terms of what I want to make, it’s also very tricky. I don’t have many original ideas lately. I browse pinterest, read manga when I can, but it’s tough. I decided to catch up on that Suicide Boy manhwa (stopped when they skipped like four chapters but figured ehh what the heck I’ll read the newer ones anyway), and mannn, my body can’t stand it. That movie theater chapter especially stood out, it’s like a frozen sledgehammer into my gut and ribcage, that kind of suffering. It feels like it hurts more than usual, and I’m both excited and scared for when Kabi’s new manga comes out into English. I don’t know how my current self can handle it.

I’ve been thinking of biting the bullet and going to the darker parts of the internet for my art. It’s tricky to talk about, y’know? But seeing most people I know fragrantly post what they like, it’s like, is there really any big deal if I do? But it’s weird. It’s like I have a mental image that I don’t want to be associated with. Explicit and highly sexualized things- those things still make me uncomfortable as a person and I still have no interest in them at all, but other things, hm. I don’t think I’d be able to handle gore, for example- I’m surprisingly squeamish, and have become moreso as time goes on, despite the edgy stylized subject matter I like.

In terms of my own personal dark interests, it’s also weird. I’d consider myself a very chaste person, but the one interest I do have is also a form of self harm, in a way, and it’s something I know most people want or like to see. It’s also something I think about far too often and pay attention far too closely in things I see- something about the way that specific pain resonates with me, it’s something that gives me the deepest chills and feelings of disgust. Such a weird mix of emotional pleasure and pain, I guess. It’s something I want to make works about, but I worry about which part I’m writing for- the pleasure, or the pain. And I forgot (or blocked out) how much it affected my mind as a kid, the painful part anyway, before it got warped into something else in high school.

Anyway, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to draw things like that comfortably. I think I just want a sense of community, or something, but those kinds of communities seem dangerous. And it’s weird, I think of friends’ interests and hidden art I’ve stumbled upon, hidden identities but with a trademark style, and how I just think good for them, keep it up, make what you want. Yet when it comes to myself, I don’t think I could just do that- make a different identity and post what amounts to fetish art. One, because I love my OCs and don’t like degrading them to just being fetish characters (and can’t imagine drawing many other characters or just designing designated fetish characters without other purpose), and two, because I simply just don’t feel comfortable with myself about it, I guess

I think, ultimately, I’m just scared of being judged, but still just want to make this weird content, but want to make it for a broad audience, if that makes sense. Either way, I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with it, and I’ll probably make a chapter of RN focus on what it at least means to me one day to at least get things off my chest. I just worry how hard my psyche will be damaged after submitting it to the public, if just sharing a tiny bit in RN has caused me so much turmoil already.

but yeah, in short: I want to draw Nyans, my mind keeps remembering the majority of things that happened to middle lave were very disgusting and so I feel uncomfortable drawing them, but those are the only things I can think of drawing half the time when thinking of ideas for them and feeling “wow, that’s really bad, I could and should do better”

and nowwww to get ready for work

#text stuffs #nyrants

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dirtbagturner · 5 years ago

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Hello, everyone!! My name is Susie (she/her pronouns), I’m 21 in the EST timezone, and I’ll be playing the colossal pain-in-the-ass that is Jesse, aka, the dirtbag! His info is below. Hit me up for plotting -- I can’t wait to get started!

Trigger Warning: alcoholism, drug abuse, mental illness, suicide mention

BASIC INFO:

Full Name: Richard Jesse Turner, Jr.

Nickname(s): Jesse (everyone), Jess (everyone, but mostly good friends), JJ (mom)

Family: Richard Turner, Sr. (father), Rosemary Turner (mother), Wendy Turner (sister, age 20), Natalie Turner (sister, age 15)

Age: 23

Birthday: April 11, 1996

Zodiac: Aries

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Personality Type: ENFP

Sexual Orientation: ????

Gender: Male

TV TROPES

The Alcoholic

Attention Whore

Black Sheep

Brilliant, but Lazy

Broken Ace

The Charmer

Desperately Searching for a Purpose in Life

Do Not Call Me Paul

Former Child Star

The Hedonist

Hot-Blooded

Idle Rich

In Touch With his Feminine Side

Jerk With a Heart of Gold

Lonely Rich Kid

Love Hungry

Manchild

Momma’s Boy

Mood Swinger

Motor Mouth

Really Gets Around

Stepford Snarker

BIOGRAPHY:

Richard Jesse Turner, Jr. was born in Los Angeles to one of the wealthiest women in the world. Rosemary Turner was the wife of a powerful producer, and a well-known socialite.

The early years of his life are a mostly-pleasant haze. He began going by “Jesse” almost immediately, and his childhood was spent travelling with his mother from city to city, enjoying the finest hotels and luxuries.

His parents fought whenever they were together, and Jesse often wondered why they were married. Jesse had a lot more in common with Rosemary, and usually argued with Richard.

He never attended a normal school, being homeschooled and taught by various tutors his parents hired.

Always close to his mother, Jesse knew from an early age that she craved the spotlight, beyond what being a producer’s wife gave her.

With her magnetic personality and love of attention, it only seemed natural that Rosemary -- and her family -- would be the focus of television’s favorite new reality show, Rolling With Rosie. The show began airing when Jesse was 13 years old, and was an instant hit.

While Rosemary was the show’s star and main focus, the entire family were important “characters” on it, and Jesse quickly became a fan-favorite. His outgoing and lively personality was a big draw. Jesse’s personality on the show was a classic “golden boy” -- sweet, funny, and charming. All of which Jesse could certainly be, but off-camera, things were more complicated.

Jesse had a terrible temper, and a knack for causing trouble from his earliest childhood. His mother indulged him, while his father was more likely to lay down the law.

Growing up on TV in a dysfunctional family, with mental problems of his own, was not easy. Jesse always had erratic moods, but it got worse as he got older. He would have periods of extreme glee followed by periods of extreme melancholy, often for no apparent reason. He had very few real friends, and was unhealthily attached to the ones he had, desperate not to lose their attention. Jesse was often consumed by a voice inside telling him he was worthless, and he grew to believe it.

Unsurprisingly, he turned to substance abuse to cope with everything. His poison of choice is any sort of alcohol and whatever pills he can get from the medicine cabinet, but he’s also been known to use cocaine and Oxy.

The drugs helped calm the waters sometimes, but when things got bad, they got really bad. The first suicide attempt happened when he was eighteen. After an extremely intense manic episode, a three-day period during which Jesse didn’t sleep and basically lived on booze and coke, Jesse hit a low unlike anything he’d experienced before. Unable to bring himself to get out of bed, eat, or talk to anyone, Jesse became convinced he would never be happy again, and slit his wrists. Fortunately, his father found him, and he was brought to the hospital in time to revive him.

What frightens Jesse most is the fact that there is no real reason he can find that he tried to kill himself. To his knowledge, nothing triggered the mania, or the depression that came after. Objectively, everything was fine. But in that moment, he was truly convinced death was the only option.

By the time the show got cancelled when Jesse was twenty-one, he was a full-blown alcoholic. Everyone in the family and on the crew knew, but it was carefully hidden from the public.

Two days after filming ended, Rosemary and Richard sat their children down for a family dinner -- something that rarely occurred off-camera. Rosemary very calmly explained to her children that she and Richard had been living separate lives offscreen for a very long time now, and now that the show was ending, they intended to continue doing so. They would continue to live together and stay married for appearance's sake, but in three years, they would legally divorce.

Soon after this, Wendy moved out.

It was at that point that Jesse realized: their family had only stayed together long enough to finish up the show. Without the show, there was no family.

Jesse decided he could live with that. However, that raised the question -- without the show, who was he? He realized he had no idea. He’d been living a double life, being a good boy onscreen and an absolute nightmare offscreen, that he wasn’t sure what to do next.

After the show ended, he decided to take a “gap year,” and spent that year travelling all over the place, just like he and his mom used to. His father was very much against the whole idea, knowing by now that “Jess + unlimited money + zero supervision = disaster,” but his mother was all for it, saying he should have some fun. So Jesse took his money, and boarded a plane for Rome, which was the first stop on the Jesse Turner World Tour.

It was during the Tour that he met Adam. If he’s being entirely honest, there is no one he thinks about more. While staying in Berlin, Jesse met Adam, an American student studying abroad, and the two hit it off immediately. Bonding the only way Jesse knew how -- drinking and partying -- they formed a deep friendship almost instantly. Adam was smart, and funny, and Jesse could listen to him talk about art and music all day. Jesse didn’t understand why he felt so close to Adam so quickly, or why he wanted him to stay at his side and never leave.

One night, about three weeks after they first met, they went to get a drink, and Jesse asked Adam why he never mentioned a girlfriend or anything. Adam laughed and replied, “Because I’m gay, dude.” And something clicked in Jesse’s mind. Despite previously considering himself to be entirely straight, he found himself kissing his friend in the darkened club, pulling him in and holding him tight. Adam insisted he was simply drunk and would regret it in the morning, but Jesse said he wouldn’t -- and he was right. Unsure of what he was doing but not really caring, Jesse asked Adam to be with him, and Adam accepted.

What was supposed to be two months in Berlin turned to eight, and Jesse doesn’t regret a minute of it. However, it wasn’t always easy. Jesse’s partying didn’t stop, and his drug and alcohol consumption was growing steadily worse. Adam worried about him. Finally, a night on the town ended with Jesse in the emergency room with alcohol poisoning. Adam, who had been up all night scared out of his mind, gave him an ultimatum: cut back on his drinking and drug use, or they were done. Jesse promised to clean up his act. But old addictions die hard, and less than a month later, Adam came to Jesse’s apartment to find him flying high on cocaine. When he sobered up, he realized he’d screwed up, big time -- but it was too late. Adam ended things and cut off all contact.

From there, Jesse couldn’t stay in one place for long. He bounced all around the world -- Tokyo, San Antonio Amsterdam, Prague, Paris, San Rio, Las Vegas, Saint-Tropez -- for a couple months, drowning his grief in wine. Until finally, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. In the middle of a particularly bad depressive episode, hating himself for driving Adam away from him, Jesse made his second suicide attempt, overdosing on pills in a hotel room in Cancun. A maid found him, and he woke up three days later in a hospital room, his parents asleep in the chairs by his bedside.

He mumbled out apologies for scaring them, and avoided any questions about why he did this. He denied he was trying to kill himself, but they weren’t fooled, and deep down, he knows that.

When his mother left to find something to eat, Jesse and his father had a very serious discussion. Well, actually, his father talked, and he just had to sit there and listen. The gist of it was, Jesse had scared his mother half to death, almost gotten himself killed, and broken God-knows-how many laws in the time he was away. The Jesse Turner World Tour was coming to an end, whether he liked it or not. He was going to enroll in a local university that was close to home, visit his family every week, and submit to surprise drug tests -- if not, he would be cut off financially.

Knowing he didn’t actually get a vote, Jesse agreed.

NOW

Jesse came to Welgate against his will, and is still in the lower-level courses despite being twenty-three. He’s been at the school for one semester, and is majoring in music composition.

He still has all the money he could ever want, and uses it liberally.

He goes to his family’s home every Tuesday for dinner, and deems it ironic that the only “family togetherness” that ever occurs is because of him being a fuckup.

His first order of business was securing a source of clean urine for the surprise drug tests, and so far, it’s working.

Away from home, Jesse is still getting wasted nearly every night, and is at every party on campus. He’s also become known for the many lovers he invites into his dorm.

Jesse assumed his attraction to Adam was a one-off thing, a fluke. However, now that he’s at Welgate, he’s caught himself staring appreciatively at girls and boys alike, and not caring in the least about what gender his companion is when he gets drunk and lonely. Jesse is curious, confused, and willing to try nearly anything once.

He’s surprised by how much he actually likes some of his classes, and his songwriting skills are improving. He’s lowkey wanting to start a band, if only because of how annoying and douchey it’d be.

Jesse has zero intentions of ever getting a real job, content to ride his family’s coattails.

Currently, his mother is trying to build up her brand again, this time as a solo act. Jesse supports her, but is relieved to no longer be part of the package. He was tired of playing good boy for the cameras, and is delighted that he doesn’t have to pretend anymore. Now, he can be exactly what he is: a trainwreck.

Mostly, he sees his time at Welgate as an opportunity to have as much irresponsible fun as possible without his father constantly getting on his case. Surviving to graduation is really not a priority.

MISC.

Jesse HATES being called “Richard.” Even his parents never do it unless he’s in trouble. (His mother once tried to float “RJ” as a potential nickname, but he put a swift end to that nonsense.)

To hear Jesse tell it, his mother is wonderful and his father is basically Satan. While Rosemary does love him, and he and Richard do have a frosty relationship, the truth is a LOT more complicated than that. Rosemary is flighty, self-centered, and has no idea how to deal with Jesse’s obvious issues, so she just ignores them. Richard, to his credit, is trying to keep Jesse alive and out of jail -- much of his constant criticism comes from a place of caring.

Jesse loves his sisters, but is easily irritated by them. Nonetheless, he’s glad the show went off the air before Natalie got too old, since he’s pretty sure growing up on TV wrecked him.

Jesse absolutely has bipolar disorder, as does his mother. However, neither of them have been diagnosed.

He has two social media presences -- one he runs solely to maintain his family’s “brand,” mainly to help his mom out, and one that’s actually him. All his real accounts are listed under fake names with no profile pictures, and are strictly for his closest friends.

He has twelve tattoos and piercings in both ears. He also has several scars, including the slashes on his wrist. He normally keeps those hidden with long sleeves or a watch or bracelet.

Even as a kid, Jesse had pretty flamboyant tastes in clothing -- he likes bright patterns and colors, and often has some jewelry. If he didn’t think he’d get beaten up, he wouldn’t be opposed to trying makeup.

Jesse craves love and sex in equal measure, but is convinced he’ll never be able to find someone who will give him both.

He’s been writing music since he was a teenager. A lot of it is pretty bad, but some of it is good -- and he’s a good singer and a decent guitarist.

He has an unfortunate habit of seeking out those that will hurt him, and often ends up in toxic, unhealthy relationships of all kinds.

Playlist here.

Pinterest here.

#euphintro #LIVING LIKE A WASHED UP CELEBRITY // self

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hereticpriest · 6 years ago

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Bury a Friend Chapter 1

Hannibal AU (Set mid Season 1 in a sort of grey area tbh)

Hannibal Lecter/Original Character - Will Graham has a sister that he doesn’t talk about for very specific reasons. He doesn’t want anyone in his life to know about her, until that becomes absolutely unavoidable. She instantly peaks Hannibal’s interest simply by being Will’s sister, but her situation draws even more attention.

Panic wasn’t something Hannibal expected to hear from Will Graham at four in the morning on a Tuesday, but the opportunity to help further engrain himself in Will’s life was worth the inconvenience of his sleep being disturbed. Will was erratic, talking in circles about a certain ‘she’ that needed help and how she should have been safe. It took ages for him to calm the man down enough to get a straight sentence out of him, but what he heard piqued his curiosity immediately.

“I have a younger sister, and she was attacked.”

Hannibal had never heard mention of a sister, saw no sign of one, and had always characterized Will as an only child. Having been in Will’s house multiple times, he could safely say he had never seen a picture of her, or anything else that might signify her existence. He spent the drive to Will’s home trying to come up with any time he had ever heard anything that could even be warped to hint at a sister and ended up coming up blank. He arrived to Will sitting on his porch with his dogs, head in his hands. He sat next to the man and waited patiently until Will finally lifted his head.

“Her name is Rosalind. When I decided to do what I do, I also decided that I wouldn’t drag my sister into it. She’s a ballerina in a company in New York, and she doesn’t need to be put in danger because of what I do. I put all of my pictures of her in storage, stopped talking about her, and had any notation of siblings blacked out in my file. After all of this work to protect her, she’s gotten dragged into things anyways.” Will rubbed the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“Rosalind…” Hannibal repeated softly, feeling the name out in his mouth, “What has happened to draw her into your life?”

“She didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to worry.” Will sighed, the bags under his eyes darker than usual, “She has a stalker. It started innocent, but it kept escalating until tonight. He broke into her house while she was asleep, apparently for the fifth recorded time, and he… He tried to rape her. The only reason he didn’t manage was because she took her sleeping pill late. She wasn’t fully out when he tried, and she was able to get him off of her. She bit him, and he ran. An hour later, the police interviewing her were called because a young woman of a similar description to my sister was brutally murdered just down the street.”

Hannibal listened thoughtfully, then glanced over at Will when he pulled at his hair a little, moaned like he might throw up, and then finally looked up.

“That’s the third murder that they’ve linked because the women look like Rosie. The case has been handed off to the FBI. Some agents are driving her down right now so she can stay with me while we find this creep.” Will explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Do you think it is a good idea to have your sister live with you, considering your location?” Hannibal asked, watching the way Will’s shoulders tensed. Will rubbed his hand over his mouth, then looked up at Hannibal, dodging eye contact.

“I can protect her. She knows how to shoot, and she knows self-defence. She’s a better shot than I am. Or, she was. I don’t know if she’s been practicing.” Will took a heavy breath, “I talk to her on the phone, but not often enough. She’s my younger sister, but she’s protective. Acts older.”

Hannibal watched him carefully as he rambled, then looked up when he heard the rumble of a car far off in the distance. Will stood immediately, running to meet the car when it pulled up in front of his house. Hannibal watched as a woman slid from the car, grasping Will’s jaw and tilting his head back so she could kiss his cheeks and his forehead. The woman, Rosalind, pulled Will into her chest and hugged him tightly, kissing his hair. Lathering him in affection like he was the one being stalked, attacked, and nearly raped by a man murdering girls in her name.

Will leaned into it all like it was normal, gathering her chocolate brown hair away from her face and leaning her away from him. She batted at his hands, yanking him into her again so she could squeeze him even tighter. Hannibal could hear them bickering, gentle though it was. Rosalind finally let him go, after a brief nuzzle of her forehead against his and took his hands in hers.

“Goodness, it’s been an age since I last saw you. Will, look at your little scruff!” Rosalind brushed her fingers over his jaw, “I’ve missed you. So, so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Rosie.” Will replied, looking at her wrists, neck, and the stitches on her collarbone, “These stiches don’t look right.”

“I don’t think the EMT who did them was paying close enough attention, what with what was going on. I was going to remove them and get you to help me do them over.” Rosalind offered him a tired smile, the first crack in her mask. He could see the signs in her, even if she was hiding it well. She’d always been better at it than him. She’d even mastered eye contact, despite having a lot of the same issues and ‘gifts’ as him.

“Lucky for you, we have a doctor on sight.” Will replied, grabbing her hand and leading her over to Hannibal, “Rosie, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He’s a good friend. Dr. Lecter, this is my sister, Rosalind Graham.”

“Dr. Lecter, a pleasure to meet you.” Rosalind held her free hand out to him, and when he looked into her eyes, he noticed that they were nearly identical to Will’s. The same blue with a tinge of green, the same golden brown around the pupils, and the same puppy dog stare. She wears glasses much like her brother, but he gets the idea that she normally wears contacts as she keeps touching her face like they aren’t there, then jolting when she realizes. Her skin is lighter than Will’s, but only slightly, and dotted with freckles. She’s beautiful, perfectly poised, and her handshake is firm but delicate.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.” Hannibal lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles, and Rosalind smiled politely, “Rosie is not a typical nickname for Rosalind. I believe the usual nickname is Ros, correct?”

“It is, yes. Will called me Rosie when I was little because he knew it bothered me. He continues because he’s the only person who doesn’t get punched for calling me that.” Rosalind brushed her thumb over Hannibal’s knuckles before letting go of his hand.

“I believe Will mentioned stitches?” Hannibal waited for her to nod her approval, then reached out to touch the skin surrounding the stitches, “These were terribly done. I’ll have to cut them out and redo them.”

Will grabbed his sister’s bags from the car, carrying them up to the porch while Hannibal placed a hand on the small of her back and led her into the house. The dogs made to jump on her, but Ros put a hand up and clicked her tongue. They stopped immediately, and she smiled warmly again, bending to greet each dog with a gentle pet and a kiss on the nose. He noticed that she breathed into each of their nostrils just before kissing them.

“Meet the dogs. You can take the bedroom, Rosie. I’ll bring your stuff up. Hannibal, can you keep an eye-“ Will trailed off at the firm look Hannibal gave him, “Right. Thank you. I’ll bring the first aid kit down so you can redo her stitches.”

Hannibal nodded, leading Rosalind to the living room and sitting next to her on the couch. Ros took a quick look at Hannibal, then tugged her legs up onto the couch, tucking them under her. He could see she was weary, but he noticed that she wasn’t shying away from him. She had allowed him into her circle of trust, and no longer saw him as a threat. It was fascinating how she was responding to her trauma, and even more so how her brother’s trust earned hers without question.

“Dr. Lecter, you have a professional and personal relationship with my brother, correct? If I’m not wrong, you see him regarding his mental state, but off the record?” Ros asked, and Hannibal had to bite back a smile.

“You’re correct, Miss Graham.” Hannibal replied, “Will tells me that you are a ballerina. Is there any chance I’ve seen you perform?”

“Have you been to any ballet performances in Baltimore or Washington? My company has performed in quite a few cities in the surrounding states, so it’s possible.” Rosalind twisted slightly, pressing her back to the arm of the couch and facing him, “I don’t know how I’ll be able to practice out here… Perhaps I can convince my dear brother to move the furniture around to clear a space. It won’t be big enough, but it would be something.”

“If you require space to practice, I would be happy to have you at my home, or perhaps my office. Both are quite spacious, and my only stipulation is that I would like to watch you perform.” Hannibal offered, and Rosalind smiled, touching his arm gently.

“You are very generous, Dr. Lecter. I may have to take you up on the offer, and you are more than welcome to attend a performance, should I have one.” Rosalind replied.

“More than welcome.” Hannibal repeated with a smile. At Ros’ answering smile, Hannibal raised a brow delicately, but they were interrupted by the sound of Will’s feet stomping back down the stairs.

“Rosie, I cleared out the bedroom and put your bags on the bed. It’s got fresh sheets and I left some towels for you.” Will said as he entered the room. He took a look at them both, tilted his head just the tiniest bit, then continued like he hadn’t seen anything. Rosalind smiled pleasantly at her brother.

“Thank you, Will. Dr. Lecter was just telling me that he would like to see me perform.”

“I’m sure he would. He’s a great appreciator of the arts, and you’re one of the most talented ballerinas to grace the stage.” Will replied, smiling at the way Rosie blushed like she’d never heard that before. His sister had always been modest, though that wasn’t to say she wasn’t confident in her abilities. She simply wasn’t boastful and acknowledged criticism and the need to improve with grace. Will placed the bulky first aid kit on the coffee table, and Hannibal opened it up and began to select what he needed as he spoke.

“I also offered your sister the use of my home, or perhaps my office, as a practice area.” Hannibal added, “It would offer a safe place to go to get out of your house, as you’ll inevitably tire of each other. A change of scenery would be helpful. I would also like to extend an invitation to you both for dinner. Friday.”

“Another party?” Will asked, hesitant, though he knew he would end up going simply because Rosie looked so eager. Hannibal washed his hands, then the cut, before he removed her stitches. Rosalind barely flinched, her eyes scanning over Hannibal as he worked as if curious.

“Perhaps I can convince one of you to assist me with my lifts during practice. And Dr. Lecter, since you’re being so gracious in offering me the use of your space to practice, and even inviting me to a dinner party… if you would like a private performance, you need only ask.” Rosie smiled at them both and held in a laugh when Will raised his brows.

“You’re very kind, Miss Graham.” Hannibal replied, applying a numbing agent to the skin, “I apologize, but this is going to be uncomfortable. If you need me to stop, say so and I will.”

Rosalind nodded and braced herself, her hand falling to grip Hannibal’s knee as he made the first stitch. She apologized, but he simply murmured that it was nothing, so she let her hand rest where it was. Hannibal worked quickly, which she appreciated. Her stitches were completed within minutes, and Will nodded at the sight of them.

“Much better. Thank you, Hannibal.”

“Not a problem, Will. Rosalind, I appreciate you trusting me to do that. I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.” Hannibal looked up into her eyes, and she offered him a watery smile.

“I barely felt it. Thank you. They feel better now. Less tight.” Rosalind replied, allowing Hannibal to finish with her wound and sitting for a moment before looking up at them both. She felt safe… or at least, safer. Knowing she had two people who she could trust and rely on made her feel slightly more stable.

“If you would excuse me, I’m going to begin unpacking. I’ll give you both a chance to talk.” Rosalind stood, and Hannibal watched as she ruffled Will’s hair on the way past him. Will watched her go, waiting until he heard her steps ascend the stairs and the door to the bedroom close behind her before looking over to Hannibal.

“So?” Will inquired, eying the doctor.

“Your sister seems remarkably well-adjusted for her circumstances.” Hannibal commented.

“That’s because you’re here. She’ll break down later, when you’ve left. She doesn’t like to show weakness, especially to those she doesn’t know. Rosie grew up fast, like I did, but she’s still not as wise as she could be.” Will leaned back in his seat a little, getting comfortable.

“How old is she?”

“She is 4 years younger than me, so she’s 30 this year. December, though, so she’s still 29.” Will replied, looking over at him, “I appreciate you offering her a place to go when she gets sick of me and this house. Because she’s going to. Fast.”

“Oh?” Hannibal leaned forwards a bit, elbows against his knees.

“She isn’t used to living in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think excursions to FBI headquarters when I’m in the field are going to be enough to keep her occupied. She’s been independent for over a decade, and I can’t imagine feeling babysat is going to help her adjust.” Will replied, “Any help you can give her by taking her out will be appreciated. I’m going to ask Alana as well, but she’s busy too, so I’m hoping I can get more people to help.”

“I will do my best, Will. Perhaps I can lighten my load of appointments temporarily. I believe I have some patients who can reduce their number of appointments per week.” Hannibal mused, while Will eyed him.

“Thanks. She’ll need someone to talk to, and while I know you can’t take her as a patient or anything, having your advice as a friend might still help.” Will stood, “Thank you for coming, Hannibal. I really appreciate it. I know I called at a completely ridiculous hour, but-“

“Nonsense. You’re my friend, Will. You have my personal number for a reason.” Hannibal stood and patted his shoulder, “I’ll go say goodbye to your sister. You should get some rest; you’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

Will nodded, starting to get the couch ready to sleep, carefully stepping over his dogs as the lounged around the fireplace. Hannibal headed up the stairs, pausing when he heard a soft humming from the room. A Model of the Universe by Jóhann Jóhannsson, if he wasn’t mistaken. He knocked gently.

“Come in.”

Hannibal opened the door, watching Rosalind sit on the edge of the bed and turn to face him.

“I came to say goodbye, Miss Graham. Here’s my card, and my personal number is written on the back. If you need anything, or want to get out of the house, please do not hesitate to call me.”

Rosalind took the card, and then his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you. Truly.” She murmured, and he simply nodded.

“Get some sleep. You need it. I would suggest you have one of the dogs sleep with you to make you feel safe. Goodbye, Miss Graham.” Hannibal left, and Rosalind took a deep, shaky breath. She could do this. She was safe, and she was going to be okay. All she had to do was sleep. Will was just downstairs, and he would never let her get hurt.

Later, once she had changed into her pyjamas and curled up in bed, she fell asleep with Winston’s gentle breathing next to her, unaware that Will had slipped something in her drink to get her to pass out. Thank god for Hannibal giving him emergency valium.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter/oc #hannibal lecter/original character

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aliteraryprincess · 6 years ago

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Enchanted by Alethea Kontis

Warning: Contains spoilers

Welcome back to Fairy Tale Friday! Today’s book is a little bit different from past ones because Enchanted is a mash-up of several different fairy tales. It has references to “Jack and the Beanstalk,” “The Princess and the Pea,” “The Red Shoes,” and more. But the two tales it draws on the most are “The Frog Prince” and “Cinderella,” so I’ll be examining it as a retelling of those. However, I’m only going to include reading recommendations for works about and based off “The Frog Prince” since I’ve done two recent posts on “Cinderella” retellings. If you’re interested in “Cinderella” reading recommendations, check out those posts here and here.

As a Retelling:

“The Frog Prince” portion of the book really only takes up the first few chapters. Our frog prince transforms back into a human early on. Kontis draws mainly from the well-known Grimm version of the tale, which is actually titled “The Frog King; or Iron Henry.” However, right from the start, she makes many changes. The original tale features a princess who loses her golden ball in a pond while playing. Sunday, our heroine, is a woodcutter’s daughter rather than a princess, and she meets her frog, Grumble, while writing in her journal by an abandoned well in the forest. While the princess of the Grimms’ tale is a brat who tries to get out of her promise to the frog, Sunday is sweet and becomes fast friends with Grumble. This difference in personality isn’t unprecedented; a few variations of the tale describe the girl as kind and have her keep her promise with no coercion. Her lack of royal status also isn’t unprecedented. Some variations say she is a merchant’s daughter, others the daughter of a poor widow, and many don’t say anything about her family’s status at all.

Even though she has changed the initial situation, Kontis does include the golden ball. In the fairy tale, the princess drops her ball into the pond and the frog offers to retrieve it if she will let him be her companion. Instead of belonging to Sunday, it belongs to Grumble and he gives it to her to help her family. In a subplot that draws from “Jack and the Beanstalk,” Sunday’s brother Trix is supposed to sell their cow at the market but instead exchanges it for magic beans, leaving them with no money for food. To save them from starvation, and to save Sunday from the wrath of her mother, Grumble gives them the golden ball. At this point, Sunday does make a promise to the frog; she says she will return the next day and kisses him. Like her counterpart in the original fairy tale, she does not keep this promise. Chores and the revelation of magic in her family keep her away from the well for a few days. However, even if she had returned, she wouldn’t have found Grumble there because her kiss transforms him.

The kiss is the biggest deviation from the original tale in “The Frog Prince” section of the book. Despite it’s prevalence in popular culture, none of the variations of the fairy tale feature a kiss breaking the spell. In the Grimm version, the princess throws the frog against the wall in a fit of anger, which somehow breaks the curse. In Scottish variations, she cuts off his head. In the less violent variations, sleeping in the girl’s bed breaks the spell. The kiss only began appearing in English translations of Grimms’ fairy tales. However, that has become the most famous method of transforming a frog into a prince, and Kontis uses it in her book. It does have to be true love’s kiss though. When Sunday tries kissing him the first day they meet, nothing happens. It is only after they have gotten to know each other and fallen in love that the kiss has any effect.

Once Grumble, whose real name is Rumbold, transforms back into a human, we shift more toward the “Cinderella” parts of the retelling. Once again, Kontis mainly draws from the Grimms’ version of the tale, but many aspects found in typical “Cinderella” stories are clearly missing from Enchanted, most notably the malicious stepfamily. Sunday has both of her parents and there is no resentment between her and any of her siblings. Though she isn’t always enthused with her life, she is generally from a kind and happy family. She actually doesn’t take on any aspects of the traditional Cinderella until over halfway through the book. In fact, two of the most recognizable traits--sleeping by the fire and being covered with ashes--go to Rumbold. He starts hearing voices in the dark and tries to use the fire to chase them away. There are other references to the tale peppered throughout the book. At one point, Sunday’s sister Saturday purposely injures herself with an ax to avoid attending the balls, an allusion to the stepsisters of the Grimms’ “Cinderella” cutting off their toes and heels. When this happens, Sunday’s magic birds chirp, “Blood in the shoe. There’s blood in the shoe,” which is what the birds in the fairy tale say to alert the prince of the deception.

As in most versions of the tale, there are three balls. Rumbold holds them as a way to meet Sunday again since he can’t just go to her house. Her family has a long-held grudge against the prince and his family due a situation with their oldest son, Jack Junior. Unlike the original tale, Rumbold knows who she is when they are interacting at the ball. However, Sunday doesn’t know that he is Grumble. At the first ball, he pays a lot of attention to her, causing jealousy and anger among the other women. Sunday ultimately isn’t able to attend the second ball because some of these women attack her while she is walking in. This attack gives Sunday the appearance we expect of a Cinderella character pre-ball: covered in soot and dirt and wearing a ragged dress. At the third ball, Rumbold finally reveals his identity. This revelation, rather than a midnight deadline, is what causes Sunday to run away. Until this point, Sunday thought Grumble died in a storm, causing her great grief. After learning that he’s been alive and aware of who she is the whole time leads her to believe he is toying with her and laughing at her.

Continuing her use of the German version of the tale, Kontis uses silver and gold slippers rather than glass ones. Overall the slipper plays a much smaller role in the plot than it does in the original fairy tale or other retellings. Rumbold already knows who Sunday is and that the shoe belongs to her. When she flees the third ball, Rumbold follows her. Sunday uses magic to make her appear as a tree with gold and silver roses. Rumbold stops by the tree to cry before picking a rose. This tree, along with Sunday’s birds that perch on it, is another reference to the German fairy tale. Cinderella plants a hazel tree at her mother’s grave and goes there to cry each day. A white bird that perches on it gives Cinderella whatever she wishes for, including her dress and shoes to wear at the festival. The rose Rumbold picks soon transforms into the gold and silver slipper. After the climax, he returns it to Sunday and a playful version of the shoe fitting occurs. Her sisters Friday and Saturday take the slipper before she can put it back on and joke that it belongs to them. It’s all good natured fun and contains none of the deception or stakes of the original.

My Thoughts:

One of my favorite things about this book is its focus on Rumbold recovering from his curse. He spent months as a frog, so it takes him a while to readjust to being human. He has difficulty walking and speaking, and he experiences memory loss. It also explores the effects of spending his childhood knowing he is cursed. The curse was laid when he was young and wouldn’t take effect until his eighteenth birthday. He grew up first fearing the curse, then embracing the idea of it, and eventually turning self-destructive when his fairy godmother managed to hold it off. These are all very human reactions to something traumatic, and Rumbold experiencing all this makes him feel real to the reader.

I loved reading about the Woodcutter family. It was fun to see what fairy tales were part of their lives, and I think Kontis did a great job weaving them all together. Tuesday’s death by dancing in enchanted red shoes causes the circumstances that lead Monday to becoming the girl from “The Princess and the Pea.” Tuesday is further woven into Sunday’s story as it is her dress that Sunday wears to the last ball. Trix’s “Jack and the Beanstalk” plot starts out small at the beginning of the book, but plays a large rolet in the climax. I know the next two books in the series focus on Saturday and Friday, and I’ll definitely be picking those up to see what fairy tales become incorporated into their lives.

Though I did enjoy the book, I had several issues that kept the rating from being higher. Some important events happen off-page and are revealed to the reader later through conversations between characters. The biggest example is when Sunday finds out there is magic in her family. She, Trix, and Friday return from town to find their fairy godmother, Joy, at the house and find out she is actually their aunt. However, the scene ends there and the reader finds out what happens in a conversation between Sunday and Saturday after the fact. It felt like a very odd choice. Showing the reader the scene would have worked much better than telling them later on. I also felt the climax was a bit rushed, and parts of it confused me. It took me a bit of time to figure out exactly what was happening, and I’m still not sure on every aspect. I think it would have been better if Kontis had drawn it out more and offered a little more explanation.

However, my biggest issue is the insta-love relationship between Sunday and Rumbold. They only meet three times before Sunday’s kiss is enough to break his curse. Though they spend a great deal of time talking on those occasions, it didn’t feel like enough to consider love. After Rumbold is human again, they only meet a few more times before she agrees to marry him. I wish their relationship while he was a frog had taken longer to develop and that they had gotten to know each other again once he turned into a human. Juliet Marillier did this very well in Wildwood Dancing; Jena is friends with Gogu, her frog, for years before he transforms back into a human, and it takes her some time to accept that he is actually her cousin, long presumed dead, and that she loves him. I think if Kontis had taken this route and had Sunday and Rumbold fall in love gradually, it would have felt more realistic.

My Rating: 3 stars