* MUNDAY ASKS .

munday asks!!!

at what age did you start RPing?

do you RP anywhere else, other than tumblr?

on what platform did you start RPing?

what made you choose this muse?

is there any other muse in this fandom you RP?

is there any other muse in this fandom you’d like to RP?

is there a muse you played on more platforms or in different moments of your life? 

did you have a muse you tried to play, but didn’t feel connected to?

did you have muse you tried to play, but ended up dropping for various reasons? (the rpc wasn’t active, you lost interest, etc)

would you be interested into playing a crossover? if yes, do you have any limits?

would you be interested into playing with doubles? 

what do you think about AUs?

what do you think about OCs?

what do you think about roleplaying with personals?

what do you think about roleplaying with anons?

what’s the best way to approach you to start playing together?

what was your first muse?

did you ever play a muse for more than a year?

do you have ship bias?

what’s a ship you don’t want to roleplay at all with this muse? (except Bad Illegal And Gross Stuff, of course)

what do you think of your muse’s popular fandom ship?

what do you think of your muse’s canon ship, if they have one?

would you play a OC x canon ship?

would you play a crossover ship?

do you play smut? do you play it only with characters you’re shipping with, or are you open for “one night stands”?

are you multiship?

are you interested into poly relationships for your muse?

is your muse canon divergent in any way?

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

what are your favorite RP tropes to play? (angst, hurt-comfort, etc…)

do you regularly play crack?

do you regularly do dash commentaries?

what are your thoughts on dash commentary?

what are your thoughts on reblog karma?

if you aren’t a native english speaker, do you play in your first language too?

do you feel similar to your muse in any way?

do you feel different to your muse in any way?

what’s the best inspiration for your muse?

what’s a song that reminds you of your muse?

[ OBLIGATORY FREE SPACE!!! Ask anything you’d like! ]

* 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 ?

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 , 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 // your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. but it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. you don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

* 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 ?

𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘 // not necessarily to a god, but to hope. to family. in mud you see art. in shadows you see color. if the world fell apart around you, you would start gluing the pieces back together. life tastes bitter but you like the bite. those around you are inspired by your kindness, by your faith, by your hope. you might not speak often, but your words are the loudest in the room. you are rain and its ability to seep into every crack, the promise of new life.

* 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 ?

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐒 // you need to be loved patiently. you need to feel the love slowly creeping in, a warning, a way to back away if you’re too scared. you need to be loved cautiously, as if you’re fragile. you need to be loved gently, because love is messy and muddy and makes your socks wet and hurts if the sun gets too close. but you need to let yourself be loved, because when you do, it’ll feel like spring.

tagged by : @reginrokkr / @oniriqe tagging ( pick whichever quiz you like ) : @asterites ( take this for all your blogs lol ), @asteriskheart ( kairi or aera maybe ? ), @aequitaes ( nero or hank ) , @valorxdrive, @ogaea, @hamadaxfighter, @hopewritten ( maybe colette ? )

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .    //    ACCEPTING .

‘  the handsome fellow that’s trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong.  ’   //    @asterites​​​

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.    that said, while the wit with which it was conveyed, and the context thereof, robbed her embarrassingly of all her excuses, it contradicted with each principle an oracle absorbed and internalized.  hence, her first impulse was to dismiss  —   but what exactly provoked it ?  that her fate threatened a hideous undertone ?  that he, the silly hero, had all intentions to rescue her ?    (  or that he was ... handsome … ?  )    none of these points were untruths and, still, she argued.  still, she made a case for dispute  :    “ he is wrong.  i needn’t be rescued from a particular destiny that i have not chosen  — ”    but with the lakes of fire in their home of darkness, with the heads of conquered children at a gunpoint, and their betrayed roots, had it been a free decision, or unsought necessity ?   ‘ i chose this ‘    on repeat and with effort, the line transformed to conviction, did it not ?  a conviction as real as one to serve an empire which, more than once, manufactured tools out of the flesh of loved ones.  a conviction of devoting to a life of conserved rite.  a conviction that, rather than following survival instincts, there was a choice, at all.

notice, a frown pinching into pallor and a crooked line that ought to resemble a smile, but did it terribly so, marred her pretty visage as her spoken point dilated to the nonsensical.  the denial so outstretched, it portrayed no longer her own instilled thought.    “ it is not that i want him to do this for me, or that he should continue it.  moreover, he is quite hypocritical ... ”    you see, every day, solheim’s high priestess lied through her teeth.  about a good, giving godhead and redeeming salvation under the throne of his mercy ;  about worship and a cause greater than the worshipers.  every day, she lied about picking up the skeletal remains of a dormant faith, and promised to her subjects a myth cased in crystal.  in turn, she lowered her secrets into the coffin of her past, in hopes the valkyric goddess would find and care for them behind valhalla’s fog and the rotting dreams of sorrowful mwynn.  then she smothered that memory, until her woes emptied and interchanged with robes and a scepter invoking divination, forgot what other purpose her hands served than to reach for the voided universe.  for this reason, she lied again, and again, and again ;  until she believed she wanted the barren holiness, and found herself utterly bemused by the absolute ease it required to welcome festering love to creep through the spaces between her gilded ribs.

“ …  he is so …  stubborn, and foolish.  he does not listen, and i  —  ”    oh, look at her.  poor, wretched woman.  suddenly, her hands were meant to touch the heart of another, and the lies were mouthed with naught more than displeasure ;  for there was this man who learned to know her beyond them, as well as she acknowledged his reckless, careless, endearing whimsicality.  his clumsy struggles and lovable qualities.  and, truthfully, resistance could only be considered an impossible effort.  the thought of such alone torturous enough that she preferred to be snapped out of it by the curious impressions within the glance of her starry sibling  —  the sheer tease radiating off of the silent expression suggested full awareness of the remaining contents within the muffled sentence.    “ don’t you look at me like that now.  besides, something tells me a similar experience plagues and blesses you. ”

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 ; or are the deeper interiors leading to the fayth something that unsettles you ? i noticed you have grown tense upon our visits. " // @reginrokkr

* 𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑨 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑩𝑹𝑼𝑺 𝑰 :    𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎 .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 :   the lush lands of the now-known tenebrae had been one of ruin and darkness long ago.  in the pre-historic age was humanity bestowed with fire, and the waters followed.  as ifrit would gift his sparks, leviathan would gift riverflow.  civilizations would be built with each those tools, but they never ceased their fascination for astronomy and selenology.  where the sun would obtain patron status would man establish solheim, the home of the sun ;  where they would revere the moon, they would establish maniheim, the home of the moon ;  where they would ask the stars for guidance, was the seat of the stjarna people.  maniheim’s and stjarna’s societies were interlocked and influenced each other with their belief in the afterlife, crossroads and prophecies, and had closer relations with each other than with solheim.  and though all three had different celestial objects in focus, they would all greet the dawn warmly.  the global population would worship eos the most as the mother of life.

while solheim was not the only civilization to rise to power, it was the last one to connect people before the astral war split nations apart with babylonic impact.  long has the war lasted and none of their social structures survived.  an era of turmoil gave rise to the darkness that people would soon interpret as the curse of the stars.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐎-𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑 :    during the time of war emerged factions, and the messengers of defeated deity fell from heaven right into the ruins of civilization. some of them, lingering upon maniheim-soil which would simply become known as the "dark land", fell in love with humans and procreated, their offspring dubbed the children of sin.  the line of the fleurets began with skadi, a daughter of sin, born of eos' messenger and a wintery man who originated from the western parts of the continent. she would wander over barren hills, hear the voices of angels, and grew up distanced from her peers.  years pass and she hardly shown any signs of aging, her father long lost to plague and her mother executed. ere she, too, would beget a child with a mortal does bahamut's messenger find her and announce the punishment for her and her descendants : ever shall this blood of molten dawn and rotten light that understands the word of gods bear this burden till the last one falls. ever shall the sons of eos and the daughters of her messenger be the token of guilt.  the draconian shall claim the crossing between clay and ichor.

while skadi had not been bahamut's chosen blood, her daughters and granddaughters would evolve traits closest to the soon-to-appear first oracle aera and her sister gullveig. and gullveig, she'd one day beget another line of descendants with another messenger : selene's.

❝ sometimes the monsters we least expect are the most dangerous. ❞

The saying finds itself holding a topsy turvy perspective within his mind. Through voyaging beyond the stars and across the countless chasms of reality, watching the many ways life flourished or corroded, where people involved within his particular journey as starseekers were thrust into the chaotic grasp of Darkness one way or another, it left him... confused.

For there were many who also heralded the ends days that could produce an instinctively deep fear, the sort that could squeeze and claw at the very matter of your being, Sora's lips thinned as a hum escaped. So where does Luna's words find their lot in this system of experience?

Monsters made through relationships lost? Sides of the self that were all too eager to crawl to the surface, casting away restraint in terms of desire fulfilled? Or, by chance she encountered threats that found pleasure and purpose in intentionally keeping out of sight.

"Heheh, I can't really tell if it's bitter surprises or what you can see deep down that winds up being the worst. ..I'm not sure what I can really least expect at this point anymore."

The day power found itself burning bright within his hands was simultaneously marked by a day of betrayal. Ruin surrounded him, childhood whimsy and dreams smashed against the sea glazed rocks of a calamitous stretch, all while a great darkness lorded above destiny islands. When it came to Riku, in some ways, ..that wasn't the least expected. There was a discomfort that wormed heavily into their gang at the islands.

His distance as a thirst for adventure and an unknown promise allowed the intoxicating sweetness of false promises blind him.

So how about another? When that same individual ripped that strength back to it's rightful heir, when his companions that grew dear decided to follow duty instead of standing by their bond.

A monster known as helplessness had torn and burrowed into his rib cage then. Despite the outcome now days being a lot more positive, that all encompassing feeling that wanted to choke his Heart makes shivers creep through his being even now.

"..Is that another case of least expecting? When all courage within you could disappear from just one little moment?"

If only he could see the pain that contorts his face into such a firm gaze.

@moonichor

moon moon has appeared ! what to do ?

act cool cuddle flatter make them mine

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎    /    𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐌.    quietly, its hymns resounded within her very anatomy. a flicker's rush through spectral atoms as the familiarity of such concept would nudge on the heart ;  a loose memory, too stubborn to be adjusted smoothly into entire recollection.  she pondered on fragmented nostalgia, and a gentle kind of curiosity bloomed from the corners of an unrecorded woe.    “ it does sound demanding, enormously so.  yet, in spite of such strain, you speak so fondly of them.  do you share an affection with your aeons ? ”

❛       aspiring summoners pray to the fayth ————   it can take days for the fayth to respond. if they respond at all. the amount of mental fortitude a summoner requires is astronomical. but if one does succeed,  the fayth heed your call & grant their power. that is how aeons came to be. it's a strong connection that cannot be replicated or broken. every aeon is special. every fayth, unique.     ❜    @moonichor

  *  //  𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .​

𝘼𝙯𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙨  𝙤𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨  𝙜𝙖𝙯𝙚  𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙  𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮  𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨,      the  sun  beams    mockingly,    citizens  gathering  in      fear  and  concern    for  that  which  will  become  of  their    beloved  city.    Prompto  was  merely  a  pawn  in  the  game.  Still,  if  he  could  make      any      difference…    (  would  it    make    a  difference  ??    )

Just  beyond  the  window  he  dissociates  from,  a  small  patch  of  flowers,  a  yellow  hue,  but  too  far  off  that  Prompto  couldn’t    distinctively    label  them.  Swaying  this  way  and  that,  carefree,  petals  caressed  by  gentle  breeze.  Oh,      what  a  gift  that  must  be.      To  be      free.

𝑨  𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕  𝒐𝒇  𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚.

    They    deserved  that;    he    deserved  that.  They      survived.      Was  that  enough?  Was  it    fair    that  they  were  to  live  when  many  others  had    perished?  

He  could  not  have  predicted  how  long  the  Oracle  had  been  witness  to  his  sighs  and  exhales.  Stance  mostly  relaxed,  hands  in  pockets,  elbows  bent  slightly.  Every  few  minutes  would  he  shift,  unable  to  stay  still  for  long;  he  was    far    too    anxious.  

            Though  something  made  him  look  over  his  shoulder,  lips  dividing  and  shifting  to  address  her  once  he  acknowledged  her  presence.        ❝      —  Lunafreya!  I    uh…    Sorry  –    didn’t  see  you  standing  there  ….      ❞    A  posture  of  respect,  appropriate  for  royalty,  this  to  be  their  first  encounter  that  wasn’t  amidst  the  masses.  

It  was  as  if  she  could  see  the  inner  sketchings  of  his  mind,  scribbled  on  notebooks  that  were      scrapped    and    discarded,      never  to  be  considered  again.  

  ❛    𝑤𝑒  𝑎𝑙𝑙  𝑑𝑖𝑒  𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.    ❜        @ereipiia    / @moonichor  +    luna

  An  unnerving  noise.    Momentarily  paralysed  in      shock.      And  as  he  tries  to  minimize  the  appearance  of  rudeness,  his  lips  meet  in  a  thin  line.  Briefly  looking  outside,  once  again,  he  lightly  bites  the  inside  of  his  cheek.  No  doubt      he  knew      what  she  was  stating  was  true.  

      ❝  …  Suppose  none  of  us  want  our  deaths  to  be  in  vain,  though…      ❞ 

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ,  𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇.    rightfully so, she pensively inferred, by mustering visions of the demanding sea :    its harrowing, pitiless currents were to extract sylva’s daughter from the living world, and edged alone at glistening patterns was (im)mortality preordained to hunt her, the blue pigment of sylleblossom weeds pressed against her cheeks.  most ironic, therefore, to find a city, as illustrious as the altissian grandeur, to be so intimately surrounded by aquatic chant and the under-worldly domain of a serpentine goddess, whose anticipated waking hour prompted an abrupt halt to the peace of its dwellers ;  gave the common salt-flavored air a concerning density.  

as per historic routine, man loved his gods, until he feared them.

fear, however, was an unavailable luxury in close proximity with the impending tipping-point of diurnal scales.  and what good was fear, if it instilled no power to prevent eos’ waning ?  what good was fear, if it only petrified ?  yet, we shan’t let it be forgotten that fading and blending into obsidian blood guaranteed the end of the road for all oracles, from first to last  —  produced to alleviate the world, except their own person.  ever since life paraded itself as a condition of endurance, she hardened the heart and numbed her lachrymal reflexes to the certain and uncertain.      (  endure endure endure    /    live live live  —  akin to a vista of flowers outside the torrent’s edge ;  akin to those flowers under this frame, visibly frail, yet persistent against ramuh’s breath.  )    

“ … ”    her silhouette but a half-ghostly husk, vague on the window glass, brooding in the mirror, tugged between alive and wordlessly falling apart.  with sharp thought, her own quietude ceased to extend itself, and instead allowed the unspoken to be spoken.     “ i concur  —  to vanish unfulfilled and meaninglessly is an undesirable outcome. ”    though admitted with rare personal honesty, it came with the cost of regret.  the occasion to meet a sweet, old friend ought not to be besmirched with doom and gloom.  click of heels met tiling, while the somberness re-sculpted itself to absolute indifference in the face of events she expected but had yet to occur.  an indifference she mastered exceptionally well with the petite mask of a friendly facade.    

“ did i startle you earlier ?  my apologies.  it was very inappropriate of me. ”