shall i pour?

hello, stranger! this is an indie, selective, multimuse & multifandom roleplay blog for canon, oc's and fandomless muses as written by mirin (25+), originally est. 2014! activity: on hiatus till 20/07, very sparse!!!

active fandoms as of july '24: naruto, baldur's gate III, castlevania, the witcher saga.

threads | blog updates | carrd (includes guidelines and muses list, mobile friendly!) below the cut, a quick run-down of primary muses:

I feel more positively inclined towards something in their 3rd Shinobi World War era

so I just wanted to make a quick post to let people know I am still alive and kicking, since my last post was extremely destructive and had a lot of folks worrying

I would like to come back but I don't have the time and honestly most of my interest for fandom stuff has kind of died, I am fully into my independent RPG era thanks to TTRPG

Nevertheless I don't think I have the energy or the talent it takes to build up a full oc blog, especially given how the interest in fandomless oc's was always kinda low in the community, which means I am stuck in this perpetual cycle of "want to write, want to RP! oh no everything I do on my RP blog is connected to media I kinda don't care a lot about anymore"

july 15th: Shikaku's birthday!!!

YOSHINO. 愛

The tear traces had dried over the ghastly pale visage belonging to Kage no Mibojin after the night spent in complete shambles. It was the fourth July spent without her husband, the fourth year since he had been ripped away from her arms, and the burden of being without him hadn't grown an ounce lighter.

Yet Shikamaru wouldn't have seen her cry, Yoshino had sworn that to herself and the Yukinohana's old Gods. He had witnessed plenty of his mom's breaking point in the handful of months before her appointment as Regent of the Nara. Shikamaru had his own demons to battle and he couldn't spare any time to be her shield, Yoshino would have never let him. She would have been his sword instead.

That was why, when he entered the room, Yoshino appeared calm and collected despite the storm and turmoil raging in the pit of her stomach. When his arm came to envelop her, she let her head hang loose over his (now stronger) shoulder. Her boy was growing into a man under her watchful eyes. She was sure her husband would have been so proud, wherever his spirit had found refuge. Hopefully, he would have been proud of his sweet doe too.

July 15th: Shikaku's birthday!!

YOSHINO. 愛

Yoshino ruffled her grandson's thick, black hair till both Shikadai and her ended up giggling. He was the prettiest and most intelligent child she had ever laid eyes on, her heart grew ten sizes larger the moment his parents graced her with the gift of seeing Shikadai for the first time.

The sweet, naive Fujiko, Yoshino's mother-in-law, (rest her soul) had a saying that sounded innocent on her lips yet carried some deeper, more disturbing meaning: "the only thing a Nara's mother can give her son are her eyes". Yoshino's chocolate brown eyes graced Shikamaru's face when he was born, and so did Temari's magnificent turquoise gems set into Shikadai's small visage.

But they didn't let history repeat itself, neither Shikadai's parents, nor his grandma: Yoshino had let the Yukinohana wipe itself from Shikamaru's blood along with her disease, but Temari's tragedy-forged strength together with her caring and most empathetic sides carried over into her magnificent, little man. And so did Yoshino's tales, whispered at Shikadai's bedside hurriedly, terrified she would eventually lose them all, because she was starting to lose a few.

Stories of her tribe, Yukinohana memoirs, Kokuyouseki remembrances, Ainai's noble lineage— and other stories. Stories of a more recent past, a past most warm, the gentlest, the sweetest, the fondest. Stories of a dashing young captain leading a newly founded squadron whose 'simple' objective was winning a war on the brink of loss, of his courage, of his well-earned authority, of his brilliant mind, of his arrogance and how it nearly cost him everything. She told Shikadai that the same young man happened to gradually fall in love with his executive officer, a troubled, standoffish young woman who was desperately in love with him, she told Shikadai of how they ended up getting married despite his family opposing their union, of how they governed in perfect harmony and collaboration and how the fruit of their bond ripened into one of the greatest shinobi of his generation.

Shikadai loved the stories of that young man. He loved hearing the stories of his grandfather. To the point that his tiny, little, 4-years-old brain retained that useless piece of information: July 15th. His grandfather's birthday.

july 15th: Shikaku's birthday!

YOSHINO. 愛

'Too young to be all by her lonesome', someone covertly used to whisper as they watched her clambering the dreadful, uphill path towards the graveyard. She was aware of it, and yet it bestowed her no comfort in being pitied, if only for her evident lack of companionship. It wasn't a mere partner she was lacking, but the supporting pillar that allowed her to grow into a woman and gifted her with the most joyful creature, her son.

And her son had eventually grown into a man himself, albeit the many burdens she shouldered for him to allow him room to grow and grow sharper. He was the Nara head now, and he had taken a marvellous young woman as his bride, tough like a tornado and soft like the spring breeze. And now, the man that was the closest to a fatherly figure the breath-taking Temari'd had was presenting her with a gift to alleviate her sorrow.

Yoshino broke into a gentle, misty smile while accepting Baki's gift. Unlike the whispers of the old people in the village, saddened by her solitude, Baki seemed to understand the void of losing someone so dear, so important to her. He knew she wasn't mourning her loneliness, she was grieving her dead husband, whose memory was still ever so fresh in her mind.

@roodanon || impromptu asks I cherish immensely (always accepting!)

YOSHINO + SHIKAKU. 愛 + 客

"Hey there, take that back, you son of a...!"

"Now, now, no need to get this angry, darling ~ you know you are the most handsome man in the village! And I am plenty tiny myself, I fit into your arms perfectly, don't I?"

"Well, yeah, I s'pose... and you do that cute thing where you perfectly slot your little face into my clavicle gap, you know I love that..."

"See? No need to get angry!"