TODAY IS A GOOD DAY TO LOVE AND CHERISH YOUR FRIENDS(ACCEPTING!!!)
Warning! Mun is quite tired atm so responses might be shorter than intended D:
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Okay so hear me out. Lion is a national treasure. I’m not American but I can totally get away with saying this because I write a Mayor. Shh it’s how it works. ANYWAY. Like with others in this community, Lion basically kicked my door down, yelled in a language I have gotten the hang of understanding, threw photos of Dan Stevens ( @whosyourcultdaddy ) all over the place, and then yeeted off to another fandom, leaving my room in a flurry before there was a proper chance to figure out what was going on.
Not that this is a bad thing, far from it! She’s got this boundless energy, even when she is another unfortunate target of work beating her over the head with a wooden plank. I’ve taken great pleasure in sending a silly meme of some sort and waiting for the Lion-ese reaction over the short time we’ve known one another. :D
Plus! She’s able to work with a wide variety of characters. Life has been busy so I haven’t seen much of it when it comes to threads, but Lion has spoken to me about various muses and it’s hard not to be impressed. And have you seen the edits?? Literal magic. It’s a mystery I still can’t figure out.
So here’s to you, Lion! You’re awesome, and I hope things keep getting better for you!!
hc meme : send ♡ and a word/topic and i’ll make up a hc about it.
there’s no such thing as god in a psych ward. sure, you’ll get a schizophrenic person or two that’ll mention angels in passing, an elderly woman who coughs and sputters and spits when she talks and curses ‘god’ and ‘jesus’ between every word. but no one ever goes to the psych ward’s religious services---perhaps because they’re too early, and when there’s nothing to do, laying in bed with your eyes wide shut, waiting for dreams that fade in and out like static, “sleeping” is much more palatable and entertaining.
xemnas never sleeps, doesn’t even try---and so he’s held his hand on the doorknob to the psych ward’s chapel so many times. saw the cross through the door’s sliver of a latticed window. saw the way jesus hung his head, and pictured real thorns and nails instead of carved wood, and left, rubbing his palms and straining his temples as he clenched his jaw. the thing inside him ached and turned and wept, crying out for something strange and unfamiliar, and xemnas knew he wasn’t meant for any service.
and so each and every time he rolled back into his usual seat in the so-called living room before andrew p.---who never showered and always made the chewed-through armchair smell even worse of mildew and filth---could get it. and he watched the world through static and fuzz, a world he could not touch, and would never belong to.
xemnas has always believed in love at first sight, and he had thought he’d fallen in love a thousand times before he met david. the beautiful men and women in magazines and old hollywood movies, the characters in books and the minds of poets and musicians. they all made him feel less empty, made him feel almost alive, if only for a moment. xemnas was sure he loved them. but what he felt for david, the very first time he saw him, made him question what love even was and if he had ever even felt anything before---not just love, but anything at all.
something inside him had craved something inside david all his life, and though xemnas did not know this---he could feel it. he could see it. the first day xemnas met david---the first thing he noticed was not his face, but his pores, his eyelashes, his cuticles. xemnas noticed every detail about him like a starving man picking at a single grain of rice, to make the feast before him last a thousand more years of potential loneliness.
that day xemnas ate everything on his plate for all three meals. the night after, he spent hours, tossing and turning, thinking of everything he wanted to ask david. they did not get new people there often. but he was so handsome. so uniquely clever. smart, and awkward, and funny. and yet, there was something within them both, he knew, something strange and unfamiliar.
that night he dreamt of david feeding him. xemnas ate from the palm of his hands---not hospital food, but decadent pomegrante, dark chocolate, parfait. he drank wine from his lips, and tasted every drop, his head abuzz with intensity. heard organs in his head instead of just the echoes of soft slippers on linoleum stinking of bleach. and with picture perfect clarity, he saw david’s eyes shine in a thousand different colors and shapes, as he watched xemnas kiss his empty hands and pledge his touch.
the next few days were admittedly awkward after such a dream, but eventually they would grow to be quite close.
“It’s a documentary series. You can’t spoil a documentary. What am I not supposed to say, facts?” To be fair, maybe David just isn’t familiar with the juicier details. Kilgrave, however, has picked Ted Bundy apart a million times over in some form or another. He likes hearing about terrible people and how they’re so terrible. Wonder why.
SHIT MY THEATER PROFESSOR SAID // ACCEPTING // @whosyourcultdaddy
“That’s disgusting. Yes.”
Frankly, he finds it hilarious. It’s ridiculous writing, but it feels, to him, like it would really happen. Stranger things have happened to him. He is an oddity, and he finds that he really only enjoys shows that either parallel the ludicrous nature of his own life or are so simple and normal that it is completely foreign to him.
“I mean. I also like space a lot, but there is something quite Shakespearean and terrible about that scene.” And he’s a sadist, isn’t he? Kilgrave likes when people experience more pain than him. Makes him feel better about his own life. And that he’s not alone in feeling beaten-down. Someone else’s turn for once.
He holds out his popcorn bowl, offering Lenny some. “I hope you’re also finding the poetics comedic, though, because there is a lot of porn out there that would serve you better than Star Wars if not.”
