#and yoshinos reason for submission was not actually about her

[mythvoiced]

9, 10, 27!

@listered​ | — ⊱asks for muns with a multimuse or more than one muse⊰ 

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-. 9. why were you drawn to each one of your characters? Since I covered all of my original characters here already - and it got about as messy and long as you’d expect - it is time for me to dedicate this space to Héloïse, and why she drew me in. The simplest way to put this would be I adore the movie and love her, but I’d like to go a little deeper than that.

This film is to me poetry of the tragic likes of Leopardi taken form in a story I could actually feel for. The nearly complete lack of background the characters received forces you to focus only on the now of the film, on the women they are when they appear on screen, to judge them for what you see, and the things they want you to know about them. We don’t get last names, birthplaces, we don’t get details on the convent, pictures of it. All we get is the story as it is being told, through the lenses of an artist, nonetheless. Every camera angle, every shot filled with next to nothing but silence and unspoken thoughts, this film is art. And Héloïse is the centre of it all. She’s the goal, the loss, the change, the plot acting on the character, the character acting on the plot. She’s just so very beautiful in the contrast between how mature she can be as she stands her ground, how adult she is, and how child-like her demands can sometimes be, that scene where she says goodbye to her mother in the way ‘she used to’, how she’s a woman forced to live a life she doesn’t want to live, how her time in the convent have kept her stuck in a lack of knowledge of the world in a factual sense usually attributed to children and her curiosity to learn more, and how the pain of losing so much and never being granted everything, of being pushed around and have her wishes left unheard and trapped within her chest gave her an outlook on like and a knowledge of the world that is painfully aged. Héloïse is beautiful, so so so beautiful. Her anger, and her love, and her pain, and her intelligence, and her stubbornness, her everything is so so so so human. When I first wanted to write her, I didn’t know why. I explained it because I fell in love with her along with Marianne as I watched the film, that I simply adored her, attributed it to that scene when she turns around for the first time and I lost my breath. But it’s what I saw in that scene that drew me in: I lost my breath because I must have seen that Héloïse is literally La jeune fille un feu. She IS the film. And to hope to one day be able to encompass in my writing all of what the film gives us and what Héloïse is... it would be an honour.

-. 10. which muse is the most fun to write for? That would depend entirely on my mood, I think! And on what I’m looking for in my writing on any given day. I have the utmost fun writing Nathaniel when I’m looking to write something that is unapologetic, something where I don’t have to hold back for whatever character-central reason, because he’s someone who speaks as he wishes and does as he does. When I’m looking for something silly and care-free, something without the need for plotting, Yoshino is always the most fun to choose, for she’s an easy character to write. I also have a lot of fun writing themes that aren’t… you know, fun. Seona is fun to write because of her crass and disinterested nature, and her being in great contrast to all of my other muses, her confidence and her demeanour. Taejoo & Jungwoo who are heavily driven and influenced by their traumatic experiences are fun to write when I’m looking to explore something more serious in Jungwoo, or how even the worst of neglects and parental mistreatment can lead to a near-infinite amount of gentleness and what is actually submission perceived as the only means to survival, in Taejoo. If I’m looking for a character that stimulates me intellectually, that demands higher vocabulary due to the character’s nature of expressing themselves or how they think, Catharina & Patrick become apparent choices, with Kangmin closing in.

BUT if I had to pick a muse that is simply, unconditionally, incredibly fun to write, because every time I do write them, it just makes me FEEL good and giddy and puts me in a good mood and makes the world a little brighter, the title would go to and get shared between Junghoon & Sabriel, because I love them.

At the end of the day, though, it DOES depend on my mindspace: if I’m looking for something tense, something dark, something mean, Nathaniel would be a lot more fun to write than Lotte.

-. 27. is there a rule that someone keeps breaking for your muses? Not… per se, actually. I don’t have any character-specific rules and all of my actual rules are… pretty basic stuff that no one’s ever crossed or attempted to break during mythvoiced’s run time, the only thing I can think of that comes even remotely close is a few occasions of misgendering in Sabriel’s regards that have left me a little confused. I have used the wrong pronouns on two occasions myself, two singular uses of ‘he’ while I did stick to ‘they’ for the rest of the thread, so I realize that sometimes writing text in pronouns one isn’t used to associate to certain faces can be tricky – and continued effort should be put in, which is what I will continue to do to the best of my abilities – but it seemed odd to me that ‘he’ was used when everything involving Sabriel (safe for an early open, which used ‘she’) that can be found on my blog, from their stats, to their threads, to the tags in posts relating to them, the pronouns they/them reign superior in a 98% of the cases, so it made me feel like their stats hadn’t actually been checked beforehand, and it’s kickstarted a knee-jerk habit of me stating ‘they’re pronouns are they/them, btw :3’ whenever discussing my nonbinary/genderqueer muses, rather than solely naturally using they/them while describing them because it doesn’t guarantee that those pronouns would be used in turn. I realize, it’s sorta my fault, for stating ‘they/she/he/ as their pronouns on the muse page and their stats and never correcting them when I realized, through writing them, that Sabriel doesn’t connect to she/her & he/him at all rather than just slightly, but… still? Either way, I will get to changing their stats now ♥

#listered #;ooc #;to be tagged #when i say i squealed #THANK YOU SO SO SO SO SO MUCH for sending these in ;;;;;WWWWWW;;;;;; #and of course thank you for your interest as well ♥♥♥♥♥ #a: #;queue

[kuriquinn]

Prompt / Request: ShikaTema Belated Realisations

Anonymous said:

I have been wanting someone to write this for ages, and I love the way you write... Are you up for a different ship? Remember when Temari was confused about Shikamaru'a request that she go with him to the hot springs room. I imagine him on his own at home no longer flustered by the whole miscommunication and finally realizing that Temari essentially said yes to sleeping with him. He can't sleep for the rest of the night because his brain won't shut up...

Blanket Disclaimer

AN: Here’s my second Friday Fic Request - I meant to put it up yesterday but I was sooooo exhausted when I got home from Quebec City I basically published the thing I already had finished and passed out. 

Anon, I hope I did okay with this. Thanks for the opportunity to write a different ship from usual :) Luckily, I actually enjoy ShikaTema.

Shikamaru stares down at the shogi board, glaring at the formation of the pieces as if they hold all of life’s answers.

Usually playing against himself in the evening is a good way to wind down from the day, but today he just can’t seem to get his thoughts in order. It might have something to do with the throbbing bruises across his entire body or the slick, all-pervasive sense of mortification from the day’s misunderstandings.

Seriously. I thought I was being pretty clear. Why the hell would she think I wanted us to go to an inn together?

He and Temari have only ever had the one dinner together, and they spent most of it talking about work. It wasn’t an actual date and he can’t think of any point in time when he might have indicated…

Damn it, this is Chōji’s fault.

In fact, Shikamaru is fairly certain that his friend set him up. The guy might have food on the brain at every waking hour, but they’ve known each other long enough for Shikamaru to be familiar with the hidden deviousness that is his best friend. What makes Chōji especially dangerous is that he is such a gentle soul, no one expects it from him – and when his occasional bursts of premeditated evil manifest, no one is ever prepared.

Even Shikamaru, who analyses patterns and factors the incalculable into every decision, cannot predict when Chōji will tap into his secret slyness, because it happens so infrequently and without pattern.

Which is why he’s definitely sure Chōji set him up, because he hasn’t ended up in such an embarrassing predicament since the time his friend thought it would be an excellent idea to soak Ino’s training bra in wasabi.

His left cheekbone still aches before it rains...

There is a short staccato knock against the door frame and then the shoji slides open to reveal Shikamaru’s mother.

Yoshino Nara is a little greyer and has a few more wrinkles than she did before the Fourth Great Shinobi War, but her tongue has lost none of its sharpness. In fact, with her husband gone, she’s even more focussed on her son than she ever was.

It’s a drag.

“You’re still out here?” she demands, not bothering with a greeting. “Don’t you have work to do tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m just clearing my head before bed,” Shikamaru replies as she closes the door and looks him up and down.

“What are all these bruises?” she wants to know. “You don’t get bruises like that apprenticing as Hokage’s assistant – you’re not getting into fights now, are you?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he dismisses.

When his mother crosses her arms and frowns at him, making clear that she won’t leave him alone until he gives her aa batter answer, he sighs.

“Temari and I went to a hot spring together and there were…misunderstandings.”

His mother gapes at him.

“Temari?” she repeats. “The Kazekage’s sister? You’re seeing each other?”

“What? No, we’re not, it’s was just –”

“Then why on earth did you take her to a hot spring, unless your relationship is progressing in that way?” she snaps, and then smacks him upside his head. “And why didn’t you say anything to me about this? If I had known you were courting someone so important, I’d have told you to make yourself look more respectable!”

“’Courting’?” Shikamaru echoes, and chokes. “No – no it wasn’t like that! I’m planning on giving Naruto and Hinata a honeymoon at a nice hot spring, but I needed help getting a woman’s perspective so I asked Temari to come along.”

His mother purses her lips, and then asks, “And did she know that?”

“Of course – well, at first there was a bit of a mix up, but at the end of the day we figured it out and she said it was fine.”

“Before or after she beat you?”

He winces. “After.”

Yoshino considers his bruises and shakes her head. “Judging from how deep those knuckle prints are, I imagine you waited longer than you should have to have that conversation.”

“Geez, you’re both blowing it completely out of proportion,” he complains.

“And you’re making light of it!” his mother barks, making him recoil. “That girl went around with you all day operating under the assumption that you were looking for a hot spring from the two of you.”

“So? It’s really not that…big…a deal,” Shikamaru begins, but his mother’s words sink in.

Temari thought they were looking for a hot spring and an inn for the two of them. The whole day, she was walking around thinking that they were going to spend the night together.

To stay in.

Together.

Alone.

And she still went along with him.

Which means not only did she pretty much agree to the idea of sleeping with him from the onset, but considering she could have left at any point, she actually wants to sleep with him.

Or, wanted to, before his monumental stupidity.

“How did I raise such a clueless idiot?” Yoshino sighs and walks back into their home. Shikamaru is still having such a hard time processing how he feels about this whole thing that he has no rebuttal to offer.

Temari.

The sister of a former homicidal maniac and a grown man who makes creepy, poisonous puppets.

A woman who can probably decapitate men without even using that fan of hers.

Shikamaru blinks.

On the heels of that idea is a mental image of Temari leaning over him, brandishing her fan and pressing him back into the ground with one foot. Her chest heaves with effort, but she smirks down at him, drawling at him in challenge.

“Give in,” he imagines her saying, in that husky voice of hers.

That image should not be as appealing as it is.

Shikamaru swallows now, and glares down at his lap.

Inappropriate erection – damn it!

He jumps to his feet, nearly spilling the shogi pieces all over the floor and paces back and forth, trying to will himself back under control.

“This is your fault,” he tells his father, glowering in the direction of their home butsudan, where a picture of his father rests. “You and your genes and passing on your submissive tendencies to me – all your fault!”

He never really understood why his parents got married or what attracted his father to such a brash woman as his mother and now –

Now he’s thinking about parent sex, which is far more disturbing than anything he has ever thought before.

No. None of that. And I don’t even like Temari in that way.

So what if he starts stuttering the simplest words, and suddenly finds forming proper sentences impossible when they are around one another?

Or that earlier he thought it was kind of endearing the way she got flustered when he mentioned the word “honeymoon”. It’s always such a treat to see her change from hard and intimidating to beautiful –

That’s a fact, not a personal opinion, he reasons quickly, as if defending himself from some inner cross-examination.

Although…

Although, he can’t help feeling a little honoured of the fact that someone like her even considers him a potential sexual partner.

The mortification begins to ebb now, replaced by something warm and primal and proud.

And then he shakes his head again.

No, no, no, there’s no time for this, especially not now with so much going on with Naruto and Hinata’s wedding coming up. And I have work, and she’s organizing the exam. Not to mention she’s from another village. This really is the most inconvenient situation, so there’s no point to pursuing it.

Of course…he might just be overthinking it.

Maybe it’s all just about sex.

Temari wants to sleep with him – have sex with him.

This could be a good thing.

Humans are sexual creatures and need release in order to function well. He’s always been too lazy, or too uninterested or just too busy to find anyone he’s wanted to sleep with. His right hand does the job well enough, and allows him to keep from wasting his time.

But an actual woman to have sex with…well, he’s lazy, but he’s not stupid. He knows which option is the most preferred, biologically and socially speaking.

And hey, he’s a man, he has fantasies…and if those fantasies have started to resemble a certain blond, green-eyed warrior woman in recent years he doesn’t intend to admit that to anyone, least of all himself.

But being with an actual person in that way presents complications.

What if she starts expecting things from him?

That’s what women do – they expect grand gestures and attention and relationships. And he doesn’t want to do any of those things because from what he’s seen of his paired-up friends, it seems like a lot of effort. And headaches.

Maybe she just wants to have sex.

It would certainly be uncomplicated, which is his preference, but does that mean they could be casual about it and continue to work well together when she visits Konoha? Or would sex just screw up their friendship?

And if she decides after a while that she wants something more?

She’ll expect him to step up. And she’s not the type to wait around, which means if he wasn’t ready, she could easily find someone else.

That feeling in his stomach is back now, although it’s more hot and angry, an ugly, clawing feeling that he has to swallow down.

No, he doesn’t like that idea. Not at all.

The idea of another man touching her – or even having her grace him with that flustered, demure glance – makes Shikamaru feel sick.

“Damn it,” he sighs.

It seems quite without his awareness or permission, his appreciation of Temari has gone from casual affection to actual feelings.

Possibly even something as inconvenient and irritating as the beginnings of love.

It seems wedding gifts are the least of his problems now.

“And I’m going to have to apologise, too,” he groans, rolling his eyes to the heavens. He’s not going to sleep tonight trying to figure out how to do that. “What a drag…”

終わり

 Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated!

クリ

#shikatema #friday fic requests #humour #shikamaru nara #temari #geniuses are blind #legacy of fire #kuriquinn

[ascella-star]

Cherry Trees.

Chapter 4. VANCOUVER

It was March again. He couldn't relieve that it had already been a year since first starting at the University of British Columbia, and, even if he didn't regret his decision, he never thought that pursuing an arts degree would be this stressing and demanding.

Today had been an especially hard day. Three of his teachers chose this exact date for final project submissions, which resulted in several sleepless nights and having to run from one side of the campus to another just to be able to deliver every single one of them. Thankfully it was finally over, but Ryan couldn't help himself remembering how two of his teachers smiled in satisfaction at seeing his final paintings, and the gleam in the eyes of the third promising a long and thorough review for his renaissance arts essay.

And spring was finally here too! It was his favourite season of the year, especially since he had always been somewhat attracted to the sights of the cherry blossoms, to the point that it greatly influenced his choice of college… he simply loved to walk around campus, feeling the breeze in his face, and being able to smell the cherry scented air.

Sometimes, during his walks, he could even close his eyes and let his imagination fly. It always brought him to fabulous places that he could only read about in the library, intriguing and fascinating places that for some reason always filled him with a terrible and unexplainable longing.

Don't you feel there's something missing in your life?

Yes. More than once, he dad felt a certain emptiness in the depths of his being, a strange feeling that had been there for as long as he could remember; more than once he associated it with the fact that he was an orphaned child. Don't take him wrong, he loved his siblings, and was really proud of all the hard work Alice and Stephen had done, but in the end nothing compares to the warmth and care of real parents.

He tried to fill that void several times without success. He tried with alcohol, coffee, cigarettes, or women… but nothing really helped. It got worse when he got diagnosed with a rare illness, and his normal depression reached a new level of low.

The only good thing that came with it was the discovery of his one true passion: Art.

Art, and especially painting helped him to express everything that was inside him, his sadness and despair, his anger, his uncertainty… even his strange feelings of longing. The latter feeling was the one that ultimately lead him to create his better works, and also the strangest ones.

A gentle breeze was what pulled her out from her musings, but she couldn't help to be lost in thought… the cherry scented air always managed to carry her to a time that felt like another life altogether. And perhaps it was. It had been thirty years and two great wars since then, and even if she moved on with her life, up until today she couldn't forget that black haired, violet eyed boy who stole her heart.

After their initial meeting and when she lost contact with him, she desperately tried to find him for several years. It even got to the point in which her brothers told her to abandon the search and to simply forget about him, just as he surely did already. She refused to do it every time.

Until one day, she found him… or more like she found them.

She stumbled on a possible lead as to their whereabouts; she found some relatives of sorts that apparently could tell her where her friends were.

It was a sad fact, that when she met them, and asked them of their current location, they simply led her to the local cemetery. There she found identical headstones for each of the brothers. They told her later that they were victims of an ambush in the carriage they were travelling in.

To say that Hilde sank into a severe depression is an understatement. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't laugh… she lost weight at an alarming rate and her bright pretty eyes were always dull and full of despair. Her brothers got really concerned about her wellbeing, and they really panicked when her body finally broke down and she ended up in the hospital.

It was after a really long time and with lots of love and care that she slowly got herself on her feet again. She decided to live her life just like she was sure Reidar would have liked her to. Some years later she even married a handsome Swiss Doctor named Ernest.

It was a real shame that Ernest died at the front lines during World War II.

And when the war finally ended, and communications between continents were restored and deemed secure, Hilde decided to start over in a new place. Said place was Vancouver.

Canada was a lovely place, a little bit cold but pretty nonetheless. She really enjoyed the atmosphere, people's friendliness and she even got to practice her rusty French but above everything else, from time to time, this place reminded her of that first and unforgettable love.

This was one of those days, when she couldn't stop thinking him. She was slowly walking around the university, enjoying the sights and smells that the cherry blossoms offered.

She suddenly saw him.

It was a boy not older than 20 who was lazily walking some steps ahead of her. He was tall, his hair was black and slightly toned… or at east that was what his clothes implied.

- Reidar… - she quietly whispered.

She was sure it was him! But… that was impossible! He was dead, she even saw his and his brother's headstones… it was simply impossible. She took a deep breath trying to compose herself. She knew that it simply couldn't be, because if that boy was her lost love, he would be as old as her, and He would have aged just like she did… so, who was he? Maybe he was a ghost? A figment of her imagination? A lost son? Or perhaps a distant relative?

There were too many questions… and she intended to find the answers.

She tried to walk a little faster in hopes of catching up with him, but a sudden gust of wind made her close her eyes and by the time she was able to open them again, the boy was gone. She tried to look for him nearby, but she completely lost track of him. When she was about to give up, she found a pamphlet announcing an artistic exposition that was going to take place near the university in three days. She didn't know what prompted to do it, but she decided to go.

Under normal circumstances, this kind of events weren't organized around campus, especially with works from all courses and specialities; this privilege was usually reserved for students in their last year of their Visual arts degree; however, since this one was an independent exposition which only purpose was exposure of the upcoming artists, it was allowed to be held in the cherry trees garden besides campus.

Mounting said exposition wasn't an easy job, each artist aimed for what they thought was the best spot to show their art so that the public could appreciate it better and hopefully, would buy a piece or two.

Most of said students were counting on this to survive this last semester.

All along the garden you could see all kinds of things, from paintings to sculptures, each of them inspired in as much movements as you can imagine… vanguards, classics, baroques, impressionism, landscapes, art deco… you name it, you find it. And with this much variety in the art, you could also find as much from the people that came to appreciate it. You could see moms, and dads, children, young people, couples…

In the middle of all this, a certain short, white haired woman was walking peacefully. She was admiring everything in view and simply enjoying the peaceful atmosphere created with the cherry trees in the background; from time to time, said lady stopped to watch closely at certain pieces of art, but none really retained her attention for long; after a few seconds, she usually continued on her way.

Suddenly, she felt herself got numb.

Before her, there was one of the most beautiful oil paintings she had ever seen… it was perfect technique wise and it almost made her feel like she was actually inside it, as if it was a window to that world, and if not for the strokes you could feel while touching it, you may confuse it with a really good photography.

However that was not what caught her attention.

The painting was an almost exact replica of the tourist lookout in Hardangerfjord. The same blue of the sea and the green of the trees or the way the clouds seemed to drift apart in the windy parts of the fjord… all in all, it was exactly how she remembered from all those years ago.

She felt her eyes water at the sight, and in that moment she knew she had to buy that painting, no matter what.

She asked around for the author of said painting and while someone went to fetch him, she decided to look at the rest of his works, in hopes of finding something more to buy.

The rest of his works were equally astounding. Aside from the one she already decided to buy, she found another two landscapes that were as breathtaking as the chosen one and just as that one; this two filled her with an overwhelming sense of longing. Below each one, there were two name tags, one for Hirosaki and one Mount Yoshino respectively. The longer she watched them, the more she couldn't tear her eyes from them.

She then found a set of paintings belonging to a series. There were four people depicted in them, one in each painting and whose faces were covered because of a play of lights and shadows. There were two women, a red head and a blonde, both with long flowing hair and in similar long dresses. Beside each girl, there were two men, both clad in strange black armour, one of them with long lack hair.

The set was named "the Pillars"

A hand in her shoulder finally snapped her out of her thoughts; she was so lost in thought while admiring those paintings that she didn't even hear when someone approached her. When she turned her gaze to see who was demanding her attention, she found herself completely speechless with what she saw.

"A friend told me that you were interested in my paintings; please tell me, how can I be of service?"

The he was, the same boy from the previous day, the one she thought was Reidar's long lost twin.

"Ah! But where are my manners! My name is Ryan McAllister; I'm the one who painted all of these.

On a closer look, she could see that, while his eyes were indeed violet, this boy's had a different shade of colour, making them look almost dark blue, the shape of his eyes was also different and even if his hair was dark too, under the sunlight his looked brownish.

She smiled and said – "Hilde Solberg, nice to meet you"

There was something wrong with him of that, he was sure. He had never seen this woman in his life, but something deep inside him told him that she was special, even more, that she was really important to him. He contemplated the possibility of her being a really distant relative or a family friend… maybe she once was a neighbour and he simply didn't remember her. He didn't know, but somehow he felt as if an invisible force pulled him towards her.

They exchanged pleasantries before he gave her a full explanation of some of his works. She asked him what inspired him to paint some of them and in the case of the landscapes, if he had ever been there.

Surprisingly, she learnt that he had never been there. Ryan told her that most of those places were images that constantly played themselves in his mind since he could remember. It happened so often that one day he simply decided to put them down in a painting.

He told her that he also felt that strange feeling of longing whenever he saw them, being in his mind or in a canvas, and that some of them came from what he had always thought was a hole in his soul.

They talked for a little while longer, until she finally decided to buy the three landscapes that she had originally intended. She then made him promise her that he would call her whenever he had a new painting so she could see it and, if she liked it, buy it before anyone else could.

This little business relationship quickly morphed into a real friendship that lasted for several months more, until one fateful night her relatives informed him of her demise.

Ryan only reaction at the news was a sad smile, while quietly murmuring that in the end, she was gone before him again.

Eight months later, Ryan's last work was finally finished. It's title "Cherry trees". In it you could easily find four redhead ladies with lots of cherry trees in the background; all ladies seemingly the same, but under closer inspection, you could find the differences between them. Two of them were clearly Japanese, there was one with traditional Norse clothes and one with what could be described as medieval. How ever all of them shared the same two traits… a small smile, and a look o longing in their eyes.

There was a fifth girl in the background, but she was almost hidden behind some trees and was a little harder to appreciate. However that one also shared the same physical resemblance with the other ones.

This really was Ryan's last work. Some days later, crying in front of a hospital bed, Stephen and Alice, were saying their last goodbye to their little brother.

(ao3) (Fanfiction)

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#magic knight rayearth #mkr fics #my fics #long post #cherry trees #ascella star