Send ‘K’ For A Kiss From My Muse.

what are your honest thought about your muse’s canon?

what’s the best inspiration ?

how much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood ?

* MUNDAY ASKS .

29. what are your honest thoughts about your muse’s canon ?

anyone who has talked more than five minutes with me knows that my opinions are critical on her wasted potential. i think the basic concepts are interesting, i already liked her KG counterpart and i connected with her through those 30 minutes in-game screentime she had more than any other character, and that's exactly why i was so saddened that she was so awfully neglected. she could have been impactful, and not an subject of memes about how 'clingy' she is about a boy she met once. so in short : beautiful character, awfully handled, deserved a yuna arc.

38. what’s the best inspiration for your muse ?

aside from music, classical paintings and mythology, a big inspiration is the expansion of the lore ( with a little fnc and pitioss tied in ) i made years ago with a few friends back when i wrote leviathan more actively. although i don't have contact with most of them anymore, it's still a very important part of my ffxv character portrayals, and probably will be for as long as i write them.

40. ask anything // how much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood ?

1. “The Super Blood Wolf Moon is seen beside statues in Brussels.”

2. “The moon is seen beside a quadriga on the top of the Cinquantenaire arch during a total lunar eclipse known as the "Super Blood Wolf Moon", in Brussels. Photo: Reuters.”

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship  [ ACCEPTING ]

@moonichor​ 

they both love to learn things through each other, and take enjoyment in doing it. Prompto likes to show Lunafreya his new lenses for his camera, explaining what each one does, how it effects the shot, and he loves using Lunafreya as a model ( bc ,,, lets face it ,,,, you won’t get closer to natural beauty than Her! ) and, in return, Prompto learns all about Tenebrae, her family, what it is to be a Princess. It’s pretty clear early on how Noctis and she have lived different lives. 

But, he makes it his goal to always make her smile. Be it a stupid joke, telling her a story about him and Noctis and some of the antics they have got into trouble over, or, letting her simply laugh at him ( though she probably tries to mask it, not wanting to offend/upset him ) when he struggles to do something (( such as her helping him learn a new skill – maybe how to eat with fancy cutlery,,, lord not me imagining Prompto being invited for tea and making an absolute FOOL of himself )) 

He brings her little sweet treats, that just so happened to be his fave as a kid, so he indulges with her as its a special occasion, but is still very mindful of his triggering foods from youth. 

She’s probably the only one he lets place a hand over his, and just be gentle with him, without overthinking it beyond that of her kind nature. Though, he definitely blushes each and every time, but it offers a different kind of comfort to that of his friends, (ignis, noct, gladio) 

* moon moon has appeared ! what to do ?

brush off

marry

confess

kiss on the cheek

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐃 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐋𝐘.    when the heavens laughed, the hysteria would thrust its cosmic authority underneath the skin like a stubborn malady.  you sought out the moon, coldly engaged in her distant waltz, and like typhon, you sought her out as prey to crack open that which shall entrap you inside its very cells.  this must be a mere star-riddled jest, a divine comedy akin to a dream from which you and her shall waken, but it came closer to a puppet-play rendered by and for one sadistic observer who wanted to see them flail, limp to the ground, and then tried the scenario the other way around.

she flickered like a temporary gleam upon glass, a specter woven of celestial taint, every peeking gaze was a glimpse of yours, a steady mimicry of motion locking symmetrically into you.  where the light shone, therein fell the shadow, and she was one of bleached darkness.  the inverse of death was the birth of something apocalyptic, the fear of it.  the fear of birth was a fear of someone’s arrival.  they repurposed you to an antichrist within messiah flesh, a repetition of history, replay of a replay. a cycle that shan’t ever break in two.  from your ankles she then squirmed loose, asymmetrical fleck struggling across dirtying rock, composing her ragged breaths.  the inverse shadow would still hold onto more shadows, the host urging to get rid of her.

a body could not be without the casting of its contour, so what would occur upon the law-breaking success of such amputation ?  the collapse of an atom ?  the erasure of information which could usually not be erased ?  she did not plan to allow these impossibilities to become phenomena, not without efforts made with blood and tears and sweat.  “ noctis, please, listen to me ! ”  she called upon you when you called upon her.  although she stumbled back up warily, within cyan there sparked some irrational hope, some desperate venture for a dying light. when the heavens laughed, the hysteria stringed two puppets into their play and surrounded them with night-bred daimons who blended their hell into the stage. // @royalarms

WRETCHED ARE THE KINGS THAT SERVE DARKNESS FROM THEIR HAUNTING TONGUES . he's traveled so far on his lonesome , his only company : the ghastly words that cut through his mind & the lead of the snow - white messenger that blinds him in the darkness , the north star that beckons him unto the moon . there is an ever - looming presence of pain that taunts him from his every joint , & every wear at his muscles . it feels heavy , like its seeping through his flesh & corrupting him from the inside , just waiting to reach his veins in crooked efforts toward inevitable possession .

. . . [ luna . ]

he battles these ' thoughts ' on a near - constant basis , beckoning them toward the light of his soul so that they may be washed away with it . the battles are ceaseless , however , & one man can only endure for so long . at times , they have their way with him , all - consumed , & he plays the role of their vessel . a puppet strung to their fucked up marionette .

. . . [ luna . ]

even now , he follows pryna's guide as she warps into something threatening , something evil , & he strives so hard to dismiss the awry transformation , but it the ability to do so seems so far away from him . everything feels so real . this false illusion of existence , a reality warped in the throes of nightfall . their rage lights a flame , crimson , beneath his eyes , irises glowing through the dimness of their surroundings & his only goal [ luna ] distorts into something monstrous .

' i have to get to . . . '

& he looks down to see a girl in white , defending herself . against . . . who ? . . . him ? shit . . . dusk has fallen & his scream tears through the atmosphere .

. . . ❛ LUNA ! ❜

@moonichor

* 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐋 // there is strength in softness and no one knows this better than you. no one knows cruelty it took for you to learn to be so vulnerable. your sensitivity is your armor. you refuse to let the world crush you. you refuse to stop seeing beauty in broken things. you will always look for the light in the darkness. people underestimate you. they think you are far too delicate. but they don't know your gentleness was forged from hardship. there are depths beneath your smiles no one will know. when was the last time you did let someone know, though ? when was the last time you let yourself cry, when was the last time you didn't bury your anger ? you're more than what you give to others.

Tagged by: @reginrokkr Tagging: whoever wants to do this !

* 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 . // @re-no

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐓 , 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 , 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒.    it was always the trails of her fingerprints, evidence of applying the remedies upon open wounds crying another resin’s ooze.  always sitting close and being accompanied by herbal scents or alcohol bottles.  nursing was her own love language.  adore her, adorn her with the stains of your regret, the dried smear of radiant spider-lily bloom.  by her sneaky beneficence did honey-gold glisten all over the sullying hues, forced itself onto your pallor with a warmth that, she had forgotten, would prompt your outlines to instinctively jolt.  ‘ ey, luna ! ‘  you blurted out, your treated shoulder flinched, your spine tensed up in a straight line, your brain rang the alarm for what careless thing she attempted.  ‘ i told you not to do that. ‘  and she blinked thrice, pursed her lips in surprise, chuckled then, picturing your pout turned towards the wall, away from her, away from the selfless creature she was supposed to portray.  

and it’s been difficult to look at, has it not ?  difficult to refuse it, to disdain it.  that terrible, angelic, woe-devouring thing that would conveniently not memorize your wishes.  you, at her mercy, and she possessed too easy an unspeakable power, unnatural but right just how it should be and how it always was.  it was always the patching, the undressing and dressing of a burning spot, the mercy at which the beast growled beneath her hands caressing the beauty marks.  “ oh, pray forgive me.  a force of habit, you know.  it is not easy to keep in mind that you’d prefer to suffer and complain. ”  all the remark in good jest, but it failed at convincingly delivering the actual apology.  ( please, turn to me again when all is said and done, i did not mean it.  )  

would you keep your anger in your mouth for the next hour, for the rest of the day, had she succeeded to take your pain ?  why were you so greedy with it, what did you hoard it for ?  hurt was no treasure, it was just hurt.  or was the treasure golden and you did not want it ?  never one to be able to rationalize the agreement between you and her, the side-note embedded between the lines, she simply sighed and kept tending to the cuts serving as the cause of refuge sought in the most empty inn to be booked within the next radius of a mile.  the sun now hung low to the point it dimmed out the reminders.  she raised from the couch and played god, the candlewick on, the darkness off.  she sat back again behind the subject who did not ask for more miracles, and after brief inspection of her hard work would a larger band aid be seized, planted over the marrings.  the long pause nestled within the dialogue fell apart with a delayed answer, whispering  ‘ it’s not about that. ’  and she, smiling, said :  “ i know …  i know. ” of course. of course, it's not about that. it's you not wanting her to hurt. it's you wanting the hurt to be a one-way-street.

we have known it as second nature to this woe-devouring thing for her to adore and be adored.  in truth, it frightened her to not see the limits of it.  it frightened her to have seen it in the spilt blood she dreamed of, it frightened her to see so much red that was both hers, on paper, and not.  it frightened her so much she would let her lips sink to your pain and hurt and ached to still take it but — she kissed it worse, instead.  she hurt you more, and would keep hurting you and realized what she had done, realized that the stain of regret would've always been red, oozing from the patch, limbs stitched together, her cold cheek pressed against your shoulder-blade, her heart slipping from her open mouth.  “ it won’t happen again. ” 

please, turn to face me, will you ?  even when i lie.

▬ ❝ On my honour as Oracle, I will not rest until the darkness is banished from our world and the light is restored.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑.    within eons, they dwindled away like a flame sunken into candle wax, and it proved as a scarcity of occurrence, indeed, to find them among the rubble of ruins.  she would join the half-grave of this withering, arid earth only to find a little sprout.  thusly, beside you, she kneeled to examine further, wondrous and keen, an unintended mimicry.    “ the pleasure is mine, marlene.  i am lunafreya, or luna if you prefer to shorten. ”    even the hound barked in greeting, his sister a silent observer to a ghost communing with a child.    “ how come you are all alone here, are you waiting for someone ? ”

Though the child somehow feels eyes staring in her direction, she does not turn her gaze away as she eagerly awaits a reply. Once she hears the woman's confirmation, she can't help gleam happily. "Really?"

Only a single word in spoken, but the way her happiness takes over the atmosphere speaks volumes. She doesn't seem to look around her, completely oblivious to the result of her excitedly raising her voice.

"Umbra..." She repeats, looking in the dog's direction. Before even approaching the dog, she carefully extends her hand towards him.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Marlene."