We're All Just Stories in the End

An OC multimuse RP blog by Casual. Open. Multiverse, multiship, OC friendly.  See muses page for specific fandoms.  Follows as @simbilmyne.

[storiedocs]

 Storied OCs

indie, open, not-terribly-selective, multifandom, multimuse OC rp blog

minimal formatting for maximum legibility

featuring original characters from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Naruto, Monster Hunter, Lord of the Rings, and more!

Rules & Muse List

written by Casual, follows as @simbilmyne

image template gemini by @honeypsd

[storiedocs]

Jiraiya wouldn’t call himself a chef by any means but he put together something. It was a way he expressed love. He didn’t cook often. Nothing beyond something that takes more than five steps.

He picked something… hopefully she’ll like. With the whole shabang of atmosphere. Tablecloth, candles, wine, and the not so fancy dish. Curry that wad rather smooth with some katsu cut and laid over the rice portion in the bowls. 

Jiraiya held out a small blue box. “Happy Valentines.” He said. Inside was a silver bracelet made up of thin chains woven together into a thicker complex band. Pretty, textured, and sturdy. 

Chitose didn’t care about whether the food was fancy or how nice the gift was. Rather, she was just happy that Jiraiya tried. Even if the curry was more just a sauce, it tasted good anyway, and she couldn’t help but smile as she ate. Many times, it was simple food that was the best of all.

She saved opening the gift until after dinner.

“Thank you, Jiraiya, it’s lovely! Could you help me put it on?”

[storiedocs]

Holidays carried little value to Sasuke. More often than not, he struggles with keeping record with the date whenever he is at leisure, never mind anything beyond that. However, now that he has another living body stationed in his residence, he is mindful of worldly happenings. He was no expert chef nor was he handy with much other than what worth his body carried was a blade. So, what Chitose will find waiting for her is an easel draped with one of Sasuke’s old cloaks next to the door to her room. ( He would never dare enter where he was not invited ). 

It was an ornate piece painted by hers truly. It depicts one of the many beautiful shrines towards the Uzushio border, long abandoned by any masterful shrine attendants, but seemingly frozen in time. The light slants over the beastial statues bordering the entry outside with the host shrouded in the shadows of green canopies. Sasuke created a colorful masterpiece with such a rich saturation to place photographs to shame. 

There is also a note tucked away in the corner:

“ For whatever it’s worth. Thank you. ”

Sasuke could go anywhere he wished (it was, after all, his house), but Chitose still found it touching that he respected her privacy. And the fact that he thought of her enough to leave a gift for the occasion was nearly enough to bring her to tears.

The beauty of the painting—meticulously detailed yet also brighter than life, as only the perfect memory and skillful hand of an Uchiha could capture—actually did. It tugged at some part of her mind and heart that she couldn’t quite identify, like a half-remembered lullaby.

She would have to find a frame for it: something simple so as not to detract from the art itself. And she would hang it in a place of honor in her room.

As for the note, it went in her treasure-box: an old cardboard shoebox filled with sentimental knick-knacks. Most people outgrow such habits by their teenage years, but Chitose still kept hers into adulthood.

[kikaichuno]

((@storiedocs Chitose because they can be amnesia buddies now!))

"Hello, Shino-san. I'm Chitose. I heard you lost your memories; that happened to me, too, so please rely on me if you need anything at all! It's good at least that you're still able to walk and talk and all; it took me a long time to re-learn it all."

"Ah... I supposed I was lucky to only lose my memories and not my speech and mobility..." He doesn't feel lucky at all but it's better than what Chitose went through, apparently.

"Did you ever get your memories back?"

[storiedocs]

“Well, no… but I made a lot of new ones! So even if yours never come back either, that’s okay! Because you have lots and lots of friends willing to help!”

Unlike Chitose, who had been entirely alone. Shino was very, very lucky.

[stardstschlar]

((@storiedocs Esther and October Sky/Chromium Moon ACT III)) ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together .

It had been a year or two since he'd last seen Esther. DIO had been gone for a while now, thankfully, but the nightmares still happened. The trauma was still very much real. Color him surprised when he'd crossed paths with the young woman again. Relief flashed across his features at the sight of his friend, the two had chatted ( or, he listened and she spoke ) and had agreed to hang out.

That was why he was cleaning his apartment, until the knock was heard. Star materialized beside him, taking the clothes in hand the stand began folding them while the Joestar had gone to greet whoever was at the door. Opening it Jotaro was greeted by Esther, a small grin forming across his features as he motions for her to enter.

Some time later, the two are seen standing in the kitchen, pans out on the stove as Jotaro is cutting up a few pieces of steak.

The recipe? One of his mom's dishes because sure enough: he was missing such good food.

@storiedocs | nonverbal prompts

[storiedocs]

The best thing about having a teleportation Stand was, simply, the freedom. Esther could go anywhere in the world—anywhere at all—and be home by bedtime. Not to mention the savings in gas and bus fares! Still, she was pleasantly surprised to cross paths with pair of familiar faces. It had been a few years, but the trauma of that frantic journey across an entire continent was still fresh, and she worried about the others without the safety of numbers to protect them. Seeing Jotaro alive and well helped ease some of her fears, and they quickly fell back into their old roles (her talking, him listening).

Now, at his (very nice) apartment, they were cooking up a storm. Esther loved Holly’s cooking almost as much as her own mother’s, so she was happy to follow Jotaro’s suggestions. Four sets of hands made light work of it, and the light jazz in the background had her humming along (as usual).

“Hey, this style sounds familiar… Is this your dad’s new American tour album? I think that’s my aunt on the piano.”

Esther was also from a musical family, with plenty of aunts, uncles, and assorted cousins of varying degrees in bands and orchestras across the country. Of all of them, her aunt (a concert pianist) was the most famous (relatively speaking). She wasn’t really a household name like Kujo Sadao, but she was skilled enough to play substitute or accompaniment for many of the bigger names of the music world.

“Okay, the pan’s nice and hot now! Do you want to handle the steak, and I’ll get the noodles and veg going? That way you can cook it however done you want.”

[hatredcurse]

Clarity returned to him in droves. One moment, he could assess his own broken home with an open mind, the next he relapses into a world cast in the darkest shades with an ever-peering red light steeping him with guilt only a child would think to bear. Sasuke is at odds with himself, forcing to relinquish his mind into the cold sullenness of logic harvested in the seat of his spirit. This distasteful part of him he wished to hide away forevermore, but could no longer.

His home had been pillaged of what little he owned and his own keeper. Dispensing justice was the instinct, but the feverish lick of wrath was sooner to win the argument. Resolved into the comforts of his own old anger, his fingers curl around the thin pommel of his sword, mind vacant of all but the hunt for blood —— this crimson mark dripped out in an careless trail towards the fringe of the woods.

Every second was counted the moment he absconds his abode until he found some lone entry nestled between a convenient cover of rocks and greenery. Sasuke thought the construction to be a reckless display, for surely his assailants knew of his technique; a vision so prized and refined, no detail escapes his scrutiny.

Stabbing the steel of his sword into the fine-line cracks, he splinters open the cavern around its whittled seals. Whatever paltry chakra was imbued into the script wasn't enough to surmount the brutish might of his yin nature. Rock crumbled away in tumbles at his feet until the entry was wide enough for him to shoulder through and slip into shadows. A phantom once more under the cover their shortcomings.

A squealing shriek ripples through the auditorium of rock. Its agony mournful and worn. Sasuke didn't waste precious seconds to consider if this were Chitose or not, only that he moved towards where people were in a beastial stalk, poised to strike every throat ignorant to bare itself in his path.

[storiedocs]

Though ROOT was long-disbanded, its decades of rulership over the shadows of Konoha had left beneath the village a warren of tunnels and facilities, many of which would remain undiscovered until some hapless farmer created a sinkhole in his fields by pulling up a stubborn tree stump, or a utility worker inadvertently dug into a hidden bunker while installing new sewer pipes.

This was clearly one such facility, repurposed to perform unethical scientific experimentation. A number of features were reminiscent of the various lairs beneath Sound: the distant whirring and clicking of strange machines; the pervasive scent of harsh antiseptic; the cold, dim corridors; the echoing muffled screams. But Orochimaru preferred his lairs cave-like, carved from living stone; these were rigidly square as Shimura Danzou had favored, lined with concrete and perfectly straight cable-tubing, lit with buzzing fluorescent bulbs (now dim and flickering, in need of replacements). Historically, nothing would have been labeled (ROOT operatives were expected to memorize all locations), but someone had recently gone through and slapped hand-written wooden signs beside various doors: Secondary Backup Power Storage, Pharmaceutical Hydroponics Beta, Nature Chakra Distillation Chamber Gamma, Observation Lab Alpha Upstairs, Test Chamber Alpha This Way —>.

(There were a few patrolling guards—black-clad shinobi in blank white ANBU masks, bearing no insignia or identifying marks. But they were not expecting any intruders, let alone those with the speed and skill of the last living Uchiha. And if their deaths set off any alert, whoever was in charge was either too distracted (or too close to the completion of their project) to bother with any sort of response.)

Test Chamber Alpha was the only well-lit room in the facility; it was surrounded in impact-resistant chakra-proof glass; while it had been designed as a training theatre for ROOT’s in-house T&I department, it had been since co-opted into a laboratory for human experimentation. The sealed titanium-alloy chains, once retaining ‘persons of interest’ disappeared by the old organization, now kept strapped to a gurney a woman covered in a combination of blood and strange golden swirls and, most alarmingly, the chaotic dark-glowing pattern of a curse mark. Wherever the darkness met gold, there erupted from her skin an iridescent crystal point, which was unceremoniously ripped off and cast aside by a laboratory technician in a blank white ANBU mask, to the accompaniment of a weakened, oddly tinny shriek and an agonized twitch of the chained form. There was a small pile of such crystals in a corner of the room, bloodied at the roots; as for the curse mark, it covered over four-fifths of her body, far beyond the mere half that would normally result in death.

“Divine barrier extracted; heaven-earth synthesis at eighty-six percent,” the technician reported dispassionately—a familiar voice: this was a former member of Konoha’s R&D, chakra genetics division, removed from his position for embezzlement of funding.

“Rate of synthesis increasing by a factor of five-point-two-three. Increasing nature chakra drip to compensate,” responded another voice over a loudspeaker, “Estimated time until total synthesis: one minute, fifteen seconds. Life support is holding steady.”

Another familiar voice: one of Orochimaru’s old associates, who had remained in infrequent contact even after the former’s defection. A like-minded scientist with just as little regard for human life, whose connection to the Mokuton experiments (and subsequent extinction of the Senju clan) was never proven.

The wind-water chakra signature on the gurney was unmistakably Chitose’s, but it flickered and sputtered like a candle burned low, slowly subsumed by some other presence: a chakra of sickly, pale light that was never meant to exist. In one minute and fifteen seconds (fourteen, thirteen, twelve…) that charka would swallow her entirely. And the door to the testing chamber was, apparently, through the observation room.

[kikaichuno]

"Genetic health complications...?" Shino looks up from the page he was reading, a brow quirking up. Shinobi clan... Genetic health complications... Is Chitose insinuating that the baby might be..? "Chitose-san. Chivani is of the Nara clan. The Nara clan does not practice incest to keep any bloodline pure, the reason is because..." Shino pauses to look around for what he's about to say is going to sound very controversial. "They are intelligent.... My clan also doesn't encourage this sort of practice. Not every clan is inbred."

Shino closes the book. "I don't know why they abandonned Chivani-chan, if she was abandonned... Shikamaru Nara is aware that I'm keeping her for now and I've received no news from him. You won't be taking her, Chitose-san." He puts the books down to hold the baby closer to his chest, frowning. "Me and my insects will protect Chivani-chan. Do not worry." He's not just any Shinobi, he's Shino of the Aburame clan. He's Shino, someone who has yet to lose a fight. "I always win."

[storiedocs]

Unfortunately, Chitose had worked herself into a full panic, as she often did.

"It's good that Shikamaru-san is keeping the secret, but... there's only one of you, and at least a hundred of them! You're all so much more powerful than I could ever imagine, and, and I know that I'm extremely stupid, but I also know that a hundred is more than one! I can't let you get hurt, Shino-san! You're one of my only friends!"

Under normal circumstances, she would have never dared utter the 'f-word', or would have immediately backtracked if it happened to slip out. But right now, she was too worried for Shino and Chivani to notice.

[kikaichuno]

((@storiedocs Chitose))

Chitose is carrying a lot of books. Too many books. She plops them all down (as quietly as she can manage) in front of Shino and the baby.

“I heard you found a baby, so I went to the library and checked out everything I could find on early childcare! This one’s about development milestones, and this one is nutrition, and this one is common illnesses, and this one is—”

(She’s Helping.)

"I didn't find her. In a way, she found me." It was faith. Maybe he's getting a bit over himself on this... He's enjoying taking care of her, even if it can get overwhelming.

Shino looks over the pile of books... And sits down in front of it, the baby in his lap. It's time to read. "Thank you, Chitose-san." The Aburame takes the first one atop the pile and opens the first page. "I'll read a little of each book to get a good idea of what to do with Chivani-chan... Also, out of curiosity, would you know of parents looking to adopt a baby?"

[storiedocs]

Chitose hummed, tapping her chin in thought.

“Ummm… I can’t think of any off-hand, but most of the people I know are civilians anyway… She looks like a Nara or Uchiha, doesn’t she? With the dark eyes and hair, I mean… So she should probably stay in a shinobi family in case of genetic health complications, right?”

She’d read in an old book that many shinobi clans often arranged marriages between close cousins in order to preserve specific genetic traits (usually second- or third-cousins, but sometimes even first-cousins if the desired traits were particularly strong)… but that this practice could result in a host of inherited diseases, too.

She’d also read in that book that unions to people from outside of clans were particularly frowned upon, unless it was carefully coordinated to strengthen an alliance without resulting in something called “bloodline theft”. Resulting children from a disapproved match, when discovered, were usually culled in short order…

“…Oh. Oh, no. Shino, do you think… Chivani-chan might have been abandoned so that she wouldn’t be killed? Will her clan come after you if they know she’s here? H-here, I’ll take her, maybe they’ll be less likely to look for her in the factory district…!”

Nevermind that she could barely afford herself: she couldn’t sit by and let an innocent baby die!

[hatredcurse]

Inquiry { @storiedocs } —

There was no greeting as the door opened; no warmth of a fire or scent of cooking. A single house-slipper flung across the entry-way, a splash of old blood across the stones before the door, the vase which had once sat atop the shoes-cabinet to hold seasonal flowers, now shattered on the floor.

When returning from his heedless campaign of contracts, Sasuke had hoped to be greeted with smells of the home; any invitation into a world not harsh nor cruel to him. However, the shell of his house turns on him. From the cockles of levity Chitose had urged his vacant estate to be, it had forsaken its growth into a sanctuary from the bloodshed imposed on it. Its floors were wet with all-too-familiar crimson stains splattered over the polished wood.

He steps through the door near strangled by the heat winding at his throat, threatening to suffocate him. Old memories dredge up ( the feverish cries of his baby cousins, the anguished squeal of his aunts, the death rattle of his mother clinging to the last unsung note of life as she bid her youngest son goodbye ) in his mind, arresting him at the wrists, bidding him through the halls in a rising frenzy.

Arterial red seeps into his onyx vision, spinning the world into layers of aberration, peeling apart reality in counter-turn to his God vision. He sought the pattern of struggle left behind by his attendant. Him, a stalking shadow through his own abode, suddenly and utterly foreign to this place once more.

[storiedocs]

She had been sewing (there was always something that needed making or mending). A knock or call at the door made her neatly set aside the work. She walked to the door in her slippers, opened it a crack to see who it was…

It hadn’t been much of a fight—but more than could be expected of a civilian up against several armed shinobi. If they’d meant to kill her, there wouldn’t have been nearly as much damage. No, they needed her alive, and that would be their undoing.

Two shinobi (there could not have been more, or else they would hinder each others’ movements) burst through the door. One covered her mouth with a drugged cloth before she could scream (though who would hear it if she did, in these empty streets?), while the other tried to bind her hands. Somehow, she was able to resist the effect of the potion for a few vital seconds; she kicked the shoes-cabinet, shattering the vase and losing a slipper, then stomped on one of the sherds with her bare foot, drawing blood to leave a trail.

A trail he could use to find her.

———

Find her, in a secure facility under the shadow of the Hokage Rock, bound with chains strengthened with esoteric Sanskrit seals, lined with a chakra shield (to prevent scrying) and lead (to negate external energies). And, of course, enough concrete to silence the screams—a terrible distraction when attempting to make minute observations on a subject’s response to stimuli.

[storiedocs]

He slid over a large flat box. The kind of size a garment would be on. Anddd it was. The box was cartoony with a toon snowman with a colourful hat and scarf. Held close to a plain white base by a green ribbon. 

It was a dress. An unusual style for Chitose but it doesn’t hurt to mix it up a bit. He figured she could diversify her wardrobe a bit. It wasn’t all that modern. Powder blue, long skirt. The bodice was simple and fitted. With thin strap sleeves but with a long piece of scarf as an added accessory of the same silky material of the skirt that can be used for however she wanted to style it. 

He tore the tag off because he knew that if she knew it was designer she would insist on not wearing it. He had no real ulterior motives. He just liked seeing girls in pretty dresses. She only owns hand-me-downs that were almost wearing see through. Seemed natural that she gets something nice. 

“Oh, wow, for me?”

Chitose held up the dress: it was exactly her size, well-made and of good fabric. She liked the color, too—though it wasn’t one she would have selected—much too interesting for someone boring like herself.

“Look at these stitches, they’re barely visible! I’ve never seen anything like it… except maybe on the designer wedding dresses they sometimes get in at the thrift store… And they used the right kind of thread for this fabric, too! Oh! Look, look!”

She excitedly pointed out every minute display of skill on the dress, babbling about gibberish like “bias-cuts” and “needle gauge” and “thread ply”.

As if it were art for display, not something for wearing.

[venalos]

Side-eyes the Grand Hub's decorations...

"Hmm. I don't think I like this time of year."

[storiedocs]

Meanwhile, Marcos, in full Santa apparel and several children and Palicoes clinging to his legs:

“Ho ho ho! Have you all been good younglings this year?”

[venalos]

"Perhaps I should ask Lazarus if he could bite my head off."

[storiedocs]

“C’mon, kiddo, where’s your ho-ho-holiday spirit? Hey, I’ve got an idea… Let’s get Lazarus a hat, a great big one! With that fluffy white beard, he’d make a great Santa!”

[venalos]

Side-eyes the Grand Hub's decorations...

"Hmm. I don't think I like this time of year."

[storiedocs]

Meanwhile, Marcos, in full Santa apparel and several children and Palicoes clinging to his legs:

“Ho ho ho! Have you all been good younglings this year?”

[thetoaddaddy]

((@storiedocs Chitose))

“Pa-pa!” Chubby little hands thrust a scribbled-on birthday card in Jiraiya’s face. “Buhday!”

Not quite a year old and Hikaru could already walk (wobbly), throw things (surprisingly accurate), and say a few words (like most babies, his favorites were “Mama”, “Papa”, “Uh-oh”, and “NO!”). If not for the ginger hair, he would have been the spitting image of his father at that age.

“That’s right, it’s Papa’s birthday!” Chitose agreed with a big smile, holding out a rather large present. More photographs for the family album, of course, and extra ink for his pen, but there was also a one-of-a-kind hard-bound case of all of his books, to display on a shelf or sell to a collector… or just to reread, to see how far his writing had come.

“There’s new clothes, too, but they’re in your closet,” she added, even as Hikaru proclaimed,

“Buhday! Cake!”

“And cake on the table. Thank you, Hi-chan.”

“Whoa!” Jiraiya exclaimed before picking Hikaru up to set him in his lap. He took the card to look it over with his son with enthusiasm. “It looks so good! Is that us?”

He chatted with his incoherent son about the details of the card. He looks up at Chitose and smiles. “You all spoil me. A card, gift, and cake? What ever am I going to do?…”

He trails off but his eyes said it all. Its something he was never really good at saying no matter how grateful he was.

Thank you.

[storiedocs]

Hikaru squealed with laughter as his father picked him up, showing off all three teeth (one more than yesterday) with a big smile. For an 11-month-old, he was quite large; most likely he'd turn out nearly as tall as Jiraiya himself.

"Pa-pa! Ma-ma! 'i-tan!" he agreed, jabbing a finger at the scribbles. They resembled nothing, actually, but he was happy to play along, too.

Chitose observed the scene, hands folded behind her back. These sorts of moments were her favorites, when the two most important people in her life were relaxed and happy. When Jiraiya looked up, she smiled back. He didn't need to say it; his expression was all she needed.

You're welcome. And thank you. "Well, you could start with lunch," she suggested, stepping close to press a kiss to her boys' foreheads.

[storiedocs]

Itachi wraps his arms around Chitose into a hug from behind and kisses her cheek. He's feeling all lovey-dovey tonight

Chitose hummed as she was wrapped in warm arms, leaning into the hug.

“Hello to you, too, dear.”

[storiedocs]

@chidoricry said: "Don't even think of breaking my brother's heart."

“I would sooner die,” Chitose replied gravely. Itachi had seen enough heartbreak in his life; she would never willingly add to it.

[storiedocs]

Psst @gezelligheiid , it Erui:

[storiedocs]

Dash game!

Send me 🍱 + a muse to have one of my muses pack a lunch for one of your muses!

(Specify the receiver, too!)