Marie Lune

✶ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ✶

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 : Marie Lune

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 : 20/04

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 : she/her

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 : obviously drawing (charadesign), writing about my lores, reading books/manga, playing video games, decorate my social pages.

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : VAMPIRES !! in love with horror/gore, dark fantasy, gothic genre, art nouvea/gothic architecture, romanticism, goth/rock/grunge vibes, gloomy ambiance, folklore, witchcraft, ancient myths, soulslikes, Baldur’s Gate III, Alice Madness Returns, The Witcher, low-poly, Silent Hill, Fatal Frame, Drakengard, NieR, Castlevania, V Rising, Blasphemous, Haunting Ground, Moonscars, The Last Faith, Ender Lilies, Rule of Rose, Cult of the Lamb, Life is Strange.

✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋 ✶

⟢ my art, OCs, some fanarts and my writings about my lores.

⟢ my support for my artist friends.

⟢ memes about my interests.

⟢ explicit nsfw/disturb contents (always cropped for viewer discretion).

✶ 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 ✶

carrd comms info ⟢ instagram ⟢ twitter (x) ⟢ bluesky ⟢ cara ⟢ toyhou.se ⟢ vgen

Some wonder what it would be like to see the world through my eyes.

I had never really asked myself that question. Now that I do, the thought alone makes me nauseous.

My gaze lingers on details that others forget in an instant. Things of no importance, passing shadows, little nothings that somehow cling to me.

I feel too much, or not enough. My emotions always seem out of step, and I can never quite keep up with the rhythm of the world.

My chimeras inhabit my dreams. They soothe me when the weight of the world becomes too much to bear, yet they pull me further away from reality each time I open the door to them. Sometimes they keep me captive for days, lying motionless, staring at the ceiling in silence, until I begin to question the very meaning of my existence.

There are also those memories that refuse to fade. My mind returns to them again and again, driven by a necessity I do not fully understand myself. People tell me to move on.

But how could I ?!

Some wounds cannot be forgotten. They remain there, quiet yet persistent, etched somewhere deep within the folds of my mind.

I do not want to forget. I do not want to forgive.

They are fragments of myself that I carry despite my wishes, parts of my being that I regard with a sadness tinged with disgust.

And sometimes, I wonder if I am nothing more than a dissonant note, a detail barely noticed, in a world that could very well go on without me.