nobuverse

[nobuverse]

v; Jujutsu Kaisen ( Chacha )

Based heavily off the events in her Modern Verse

Age: 9

Position: Unaffiliated / Unclassified

Cursed Technique: Guardian Phoenix

The Guardian Phoenix is not a technique in the traditional sense - it requires no manipulation or effort on Chacha's part. It is, instead, a protective spirit that reacts to intense emotions. It will come to her aid if she feels she has nowhere to run to, functioning much the same fashion as a Shikigami. The scope of its power and its nature is almost completely unknown. It's rage, however, seems to be an all-engulfing flame when it is activated.

There is the possibility of it becoming an ally, or for Chacha to borrow some of its powers for herself- but it remains an unrefined and dangerous power for now.

The Phoenix's protection makes her completely safe from the effects of fire.

Backstory:

Content warning: vague mentions of child abuse

The first fire was not of a supernatural cause. It was, like many things in life, a tragic accident. That is survived was a miracle indeed. The very last thing she can remember is her mother shielding her body from the fire and the falling debris.

Since then, life hasn't quite been the same. Chacha could clearly see curses she dubbed as 'monsters'. Hanging onto people's shoulders, on buildings in the street, and under bed at night.

After the death of her immediate family, she would not have any luck with the other ones she was welcomed into. For some, it was her demanding behavior that irked them - the kind that follows a child who wasn't raised with proper manners. For others, it was the constant crying they heard at night about the 'monsters' under her bed, or her refusal to enter certain buildings when she insisted something horrible was inside. Eventually, all would lose her temper with her.

In the end, the Phoenix always came to protect her. But it's fire was unforgiving and untamed. It didn't discriminate who or what was in its path, so long as her daughter came out alive among the ashes of the fire.

Such was also the fate of Hideyoshi, who's hands could never touch her again.

Unfortunately, it also means, in her mind, that she's brunt down the last home that would ever accept her.

[nobuverse]

V; Modern ( Chacha )

Content Warning: child grooming, implied csa

Age: 9

Born as one of the three Azai sisters, Chacha should have been destined for a blessed life. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, the child rarely heard the word 'no' for the six years she spent in that mansion.

That is, until the night it all came burning down.

In the beginning, she was considered a true miracle child as its sole survivor. A great many relatives came to her aid, spoiled her to try and make up for the immense loss and trauma she had just suffered.

But tragedy would follow the child like magnet. Misfortune befell those around her, whether it'd be through medical aliments, accidents, and even murders. None of which, of course, had any relation to the child's actions. Whether it'd be due to bad luck, or a more predictable path set by the company her family decided to keep, that blame was eventually placed back on Chaca herself.

She was said to be a cursed child, born of some unspeakable evil.

Just when she thought she'd have to end up on her own, her uncle took her in. Totoyomi Hideyoshi to the outside world, seemed like a saint. Taking in this child that no one else wanted, giving her everything she could ever ask for. Some would even wonder how he had the patience for this 'brat' of a child, who had never been taught discipline.

But Hideyoshi's actions were not as altruistic as they seemed. In exchange for all he'd given her, he wanted her to repay his kindness. He wanted his prized daughter to one day be his wife.

If Chaca acts younger than she is - it's perhaps because she doesn't wish to grow up quite yet.

[nobuverse]

Her class as a ruler had never fit her. It was not the role of a servant to question or challenge what powers their legend granted them. Even so, Jeanne wished to be free of this absurd role assigned to her. Being told to watch, commanded to oversee wars between these magi - and do nothing as lives were taken in grave injustices - was not something she'd ever wanted. This world worked with forces beyond her understanding, but no amount of unseen power could make her abandon the duties God had entrusted her with. As long as she could hear the voice of the angels and saints, she would carry out His will. Even more so, Jeanne would not abandon her own morals. No matter how many times the holy grail war was canceled , how many times the counter force sent her back to the throne - she would interfere when mages used innocent civilians for mana, offer sanctuary to those who no longer wished to fight, and refused to adhere to the meaningless guidelines she was told to uphold.

She'd take her punishments willingly. Not without fear, but a heart full of conviction. Her faith was absolute.

Look up, Jeanne. There's a place where you must be.

The ruler's eyes are hazy, dulled with the same force that overtakes her mind every time she'd been banished back to the throne - Saint Catherine's voice, as sweet as it had always been with her - stirs her into focus.

What she can see is like a light under a pool of water, glowing softly.

I wish to have a protector, a guardian, someone who can help protect all of us magical girls!

A muffled child's voice reverberates, forming ripples on the surface. Jeanne's hand reaches towards the light she sees, giving her answer to the call: I will protect you.

Thus, a most unusual contract was formed. Mana crackles in the air, and the servant is given her physical form: a woman in knight's amor. Her sword was sheathed at her side, the flag of Orleans in her hands. Without knowing - the child had brought forth a servant too powerful to be given to any normal mage: a ruler.

Jeanne, however, does not want to scare her. Asking a heavy question such as "are you my master?" would have been too much for someone who had no knowledge of who she was.

"Hello, little one" she greets her by kneeling halfway down to meet her eyes. Not an action of subservience, but one to eliminate the height difference between them. "Is it you that called me here?"

Her eyes wander to the white creature besides the child.

"Or is it your friend over here? Either way- I'd very much like to know your names. Oh! But I'll start first: my name is Jeanne D'Arc: ruler-type servant, and your new guardian."

@nobuverse liked for a starter (Jeanne Ruler)

_

"I wish... I wish..."

"Speak your wish, Kaname Madoka."

Kyubey swished his tail back and forth, waiting to see the wish of the girl. Akemi Homura was not presently here- so Kyubey was confidant that he could make the contract without intereference.

"You have the potential to be a magical girl of great power. Surely, the wish you can obtain can also be a powerful one."

"... A protector..."

"Hm? You wish to be a protector?"

"No! What I wish for... i-it may sound weird but...!"

"Mami and Homura... seemed to go through this all alone. Maybe... this is a weird wish, but- I'll be a magical girl! But I wish..."

She wanted... to make this easier for everyone, and made an uncertain wish.

"I wish to have a protector, a guardian, someone who can help protect all of us magical girls!"

"... Kaname Madoka, you..."

The magic began to swirl around them. And upon the back of Madoka's left hand formed an odd three-part red symbol, along with her soul gem.

This has never happened before.

While unusual, Kyubey did not expect much to happen as a result of Madoka's wish: he had speculated that perhaps she would gain some kind of powerful magical familiar not unlike a witch's. But the magic that defied entropy seemed to be able to reach through space and time itself, instead summoning a worthy figure to her side.

Could it be? Her magical potential is so great... is it pulling something from a parallel world? Such things had only been theories to the Incubator that he had never explored, due to it being unnecessary toward their goal. Interesting, very interesting. We will have to record and observe this. At the very least, this is a foreign magic we have never observed.

Beneath Madoka had formed a summoning circle, something that had never occurred in any of the miracles granted by Kyubey.

This could be a potential now source of energy for us, after all.

[nobuverse]

Reasons why you should absolutely let my servant muses ( all of them ) form a contract with your muse:

Your muse gets a free friend!! Yippee!!

Your new familiar has kickass powers that will beat up anyone who tries to hurt you

Masters and servants can see each others dreams and memories!! It's a prime opportunity for *character development*

Not knowing about fate is no longer an excuse because i made a handy guide on it for anyone who's confused

[nobuverse]

Let's try something casual, eh?

Do you like Fate? Do you want to interact with someone who really likes making OCs? Do you like a few canon characters, too? Then why not try writing with chaldeanordeal, an independent Fate/Type-Moon multimuse run by The Archfey? Give this post a reblog or a like if you're interested, and be sure to give a follow, too!

(unaffiliated w/ the fandom)

[nobuverse]

"...So we can all agree I'm the prettiest girl around, yeah?"

( The secret is, she doesn't even think she's better than you. She just wants to start a fight )

[nobuverse]

Father didn't think she had a good memory - or that she didn't pay attention. He's wrong on both counts. Nobunaga understood perfectly well why he'd underestimate her. What she can't understand, however, is what possessed him to think she'd ever listen to his instructions.

Once she realizes that Omida isn't here to scold her or drag her down from here, she feels her body relax again.

"Surprised? I've got a thing for faces. It's especially easy to remember when you've been told about a hundred times which ones you should stay away from. But since you're the one visiting me, it doesn't count anymore, does it?"

She gives a small laugh, a wave of her hand encouraging him to join her. There was no hostility or insult to her words, almost as if she'd been joking with an old friend.

"I'm Nobunaga, by the way! In case you couldn't tell, they were expecting a boy when they had me...heh."

The issue of her gender - one that'd caused her and her brother so much grief, was casually mentioned to explain the oddity of her name. It leaves her second attempt at a laugh a bit more hollow than her first one.

"O-oh...you mean...this? " with a flick of her hand, another rifle appears "I guess that means, you can see it too, huh?"

She plucks it from midair to place it on her lap as she continues to speak, pointed away from her guest, of course.

"I don't know, to be honest with you. It was working fine when I was trying yesterday....today, though....none of them have any bullets in them. I don't understand what changed between then and now..."

She's aware it's probably not the best idea to be admitting her weapons weren't functional to an almost total stranger - but she was willing to vent to just about anyone at this point. Traditions be damned.

"Dad he... doesn't even want me admitting to anyone I can do stuff like this. It's not 'befitting of a woman of the Oda clan, or whatever'"

An overly-aggressive shrug clearly displays her disdain for the statement.

"So nobody's ever taught me anything. I'm just kind of trying...stuff.... and hoping it works out. It hasn't been the most effective strategy, as you can see."

Omida had to excuse himself. He would be lying that he find the conversations unproductive and prentious between the members of Oda clan. A bunch of fools who care more about their status than just the land they're protecting and not caring about the bigger picture. He wish he can go back home and do meetings with his demon generals. At least, they got better stories and the mood is much casual and lighter than here. A sigh escaped form his lips.

He knows that Torahito will be managing things during his absence. He understands why grandfather finds these family gatherings boring. They only care about social standings and the cursed techniques. His uncle did not like his prescene given that he listen to rumors about him. But truthfully, he is not here to impress anyone. He is only there since it's required for him.

As he continues to walk as he is dressed in his violet garment, simple and elegant. No doubt, it gotten the attention from members of the family. He wasn't trying to show off. Just attending the gathering like everyone else. As he explores the manison. He decides to go upstairs to get some fresh air. But then. Hm? Then he hears a frustrated cry from the roof. He can't help but become curious as he walks up and goes onto the balcony when he hears a clang as if something is thrown into the groun. He arrives onto the roof to see a young woman creating a weapon out of thin air. A matchlock rifle.? A...tangeshima? It seems she is struggling with something when the matchlock clicked but nothing came out.

The rifle can't fire. Strange. When discarded, the rifle disappears into nothinginless. From the looks of it, she has a interesting techinque but struggling with conjured firearm that cannot fire. But why? Omida had theories to that question. But before he continues to think, she noticed her presence. Hm?

"Ah. Yes, that would be me." His grandfather told him that his name isn't mentioned since his family is distant from the main clan. He is surprised to heard that she knows him, "Sorry for interrupting your training." He held his hand up as an apology. "I heard a noise and end up watching you with your cursed technique." He explained.

Then he asks, "It seems like you're struggling with something. May I ask what is the issue?" He made sure not to insult someone as he is genuinely curious. Also...why does she look familiar?

[nobuverse]

( In case anyone feels like being sad I forgot how tragic Nobukatsu's bond card description is )

A single red spider lily is placed in front of a gravestone at a certain temple.

On the way home after a day of fun at the castle town, near the riverbank, she tells a story that is both bizarre and entrancing. It's an idea for a new unified nation that a mediocre person like you would never have dreamed up in your feeble mind. More than anything, you were captivated by her eyes as they burned a passionate red in the crimson light of the setting sun.

I wanted to keep laughing and smiling in that place forever and ever. I wanted to keep crying in that place forever and ever. I wanted us to be there together in that place forever and ever.

But the times, the warring states, and all that surrounded him did not allow it.

Why am I so foolish and incompetent? Why did I not have even an ounce of talent to complement those passionate eyes of hers? Why couldn't I even follow in her footsteps?

I just couldn't, so I had no choice but to eradicate everyone who looked down on her. I had no choice but to offer my very body and throw myself into the fire to illuminate her.

A single barren flower laid the path for her to become the Demon King, a being who eventually became known as the enemy of gods, the Buddha, and all creatures.

I'll leave the rest to you, Sister.

Ah, but if it were possible, I would have liked to hang around with Sister a bit longer...

[nobuverse]

Well - it's certainly a lot tamer than the usual "terrorizing" she'd seen in the past. She didn't dare downplay it, of course, but it was nice to have an occasion where there was no wounded to tend to or dead to pray over.

"In other words - a bully." she sighed "Well, I'm grateful no one was hurt, at least."

The concept of danger must have foreign place like this, if this was only a minor inconvenience. In theory, it's not such a bad thing - but it does mean this world would be underprepared for a substantial threat to its people.

"I...I see" the ruler gives as polite of a reply as she could manage, given how horrifying the concept seemed to her. She shivers to imagine the type of anxiety she'd live with, had she been in her shoes.

"It's good to have someone so reliable. Though, he must be quite exhausted if that's the case."

She shakes her head, as if trying to dismiss her own thoughts. She's worrying too much again.

"Forgive me for asking this in ignorance - but you mentioned....'your people'? Does would that make you the queen?"

“Oh, that creature? That’s just King Bowser of the Koopa Kingdom,” Peach said. “He’s a big brute who regularly terrorizes my people and picks fights!”

Despite what she was saying, Peach only seemed mildly peeved by the whole thing. Desensitization, probably. His bad habits sure didn’t dissuade her from inviting him to go karting with everyone, let alone the occasional sports tournament.

“He also kidnaps me every other Tuesday. It’s okay though. I have Mario to save me every time I’m in distress!” Peach said with a straight face, not even pausing once to consider how the other woman might react.

One could call Princess Peach a Professional Damsel at this point.

[nobuverse]

( So often, confident and self assured characters go one of two ways - it's either a mask to hide insecurity, or it's something they regularly remind you of by talking about how everyone's beneath them

The one thing I love about Nobunaga the most is that she doesn't fall into either of those categories. She's got an ego as large as her ambitions, but not for a second does it waver, even if things aren't going as planned. She never lets that stop her, because she knows that every time she's just going to get back up again

Granted, that confidence does make her reckless - but it's really hard to dislike her regardless. She's very special in how she lifts people's spirits rather than crush them

I love her. A lot )

[nobuverse]

Gender is: dependent on ranmanium growth cycle

[nobuverse]

Small headcanon about Ranmaru that doesn't really merit its own post:

Ranmaru actually doesn't mind what pronouns you use to refer to them as, but Nobukatsu and Nobunaga both have different ways of addressing them

Nobunaga uses he/him pronouns to refer to Ranmaru while Nobukatsu uses she/they, and it makes everyone from outside the family quite confused

[nobuverse]

The suit? She honestly hadn't given much of a second thought up until now, only using it to corroborate camera footage and eyewitness accounts of his whereabouts.

Retracing his steps back to the place he bought it could be one option. It's classic intel gathering, the type Okita wasn't particularly fond of. Chatting with locals could yield surprising results, but, more times than not, she ended intimidating them with her straight- forward nature. Her nerves of steel were useful for tense situations, but the same trait made her terrible at small talk.

"You've made me think - there is one other possibility." she shifts the photo around, trying to make out what little detail she could on the stitching and particularities. "Have we ever confirmed this article of clothing is...genuine? If he's wearing a knock off, it could explain a lot of things here. The nervousness behind the questions of money, even the actual lack of evidence itself. We could be dealing with - ah. No. I shouldn't be getting so speculative without confirmation on that."

She leans back into her chair, rubbing her eyes. They were already strained - worn down by the amount of strange reports she'd been working on.

"As if we needed more complications. Things just haven't been right, lately. Feels like all this fog's getting to my brain.."

Her eyes wander to the clock, and the sight of the time gives her a jolt.

"Is it already that late? Shirogane, you should have told me...." despite her usually stern demeanor, the comment showed more concern than annoyance. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help- but you've got schoolwork to take care of, I'm sure..."

Interesting. He’s in the higher echelons of the company, so affording his own legal representation—one he could have under his thumb—would be a walk in the park.

Judging by the reaction, it seems that he doesn’t have a means of securing his own lawyer, in other words, someone he already has under his thumb. However, this is a defense attorney. With little evidence against him currently, securing his ‘innocence’ wouldn’t be difficult.

She looks at the photographs of the man, nothing stands out, except...

“The suit he wears is something you’d find in an expensive store. It looks brand new, too. He wouldn’t need to bribe a defense attorney, but perhaps the comment reminded him that he has lost a great portion of his money with his expensive tastes.”

Naoto has a few ideas as to his motive behind the assault, none as to any evidence they could acquire. Fingerprints were one of the best pieces they could get, but he had been wearing gloves.

“If we could find the store where he bought this from, it’s possible the owner or employees may have noticed something peculiar. If not, they can give us a clearer picture of who this man is. If checking for contradictions won’t work, then we’d need to do our own research.”

[nobuverse]

@demonsofoda || Plotted

"Ugh! Dammit!"

The frustrated cry echoes from above the mansion's roof, followed by a clatter of a thrown object. The sound of metal grinding against clay starts as it slides down the tiles, before abruptly stopping; as if the object itself had vanished into thin air.

Nobunaga raises her hand again, creating yet another weapon that would be invisible to normal human eyes, cursed energy taking physical form. She takes a deep breath, giving a flick of her wrist to try and the matchlock rifle to-

click

"Again?! Really?!"

The chamber's hollow. Nothing fires. She throws the weapon to the side, knowing it'll disappear to dust again in no time. She's not frustrated at the weapon itself, but rather her own ability to harness it. It's serval times now that it's happened - then the issue must be with her.

She can only give a sigh, realizing her afternoon plans of sneaking up here to practice her technique wasn't going to get her anywhere like this.

"I don't get it...what am I doing differently? I was able to do it just fine yesterday..."

A hand goes to scratch the back of her head in frustration, as her attention is once again drawn to the fact that she hardly knows anything about what she's trying to achieve.

"Tch. Whatever. As long as I don't have to go back inside. Just wish I could get out of this stupid Kimono..."

The flower patterned garment doesn't suit her at all. She wouldn't have worn it all if it wasn't for the fact that Ranmaru was the one to bring it to her. It'd weighed to heavily on her consciousness -knowing she'd get them in trouble if she refused. Daddy dearest sure knew how to play dirty ...

She was just about to lie back, condemn herself to quiet boredom until her father would start looking for her, when she hears the attic hatch open.

"...huh?" Where she expects to see Nobuhibe or Ranmaru, she instead sees someone who doesn't look much older than her - a face she's only seen in pictures before. She pulls one of her knees across her chest, tense.

"Aren't you...Omida? What are you doing up here?"

Her voice, although showing obvious confusion, wasn't abrasive or accusatory. If her father had warned her to stay away from this one - it probably meant he was alright.

[nobuverse]

Since the very beginning, his father had raised him as nothing but a tool - a mere extension of his own will. Though, in the end, he would never end up living to those crushing expectations. Yet, he'd never learned to evolve from that mindset: that he was only worth as much as other people could use him.

So how was he expected to react - when he'd done nothing to deserve such a thing? No campaign of war had been won for her, nor was there any diplomatic advantage to appeasing him? The situation is, in many ways, as perplexing as it is terrifying. Yet on the other hand, it is joyous. It feels like a great weight's been lifted from his shoulders, a suffocating pressure lifted from his chest.

I'm enough! I'm enough!

Not a failure of a son or a brother, but enough to be deserving of being well and truly loved.

For a moment, though, he starts to think she's upset at him. The hands prying his head away from her shoulders causes him to tense, forming a lump in his throat at the thought of rejection. ( It was, after all - what even his beloved sister had come to do with him whenever he would try and show her the least bit of affection )

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Looking at her reassures him, finding no hint of hostility or resentment. He began to think he doesn't deserve to be looked at with such tenderness - but quickly dispels the idea of voicing it aloud. That would be criticizing her, wouldn't it? Telling her that shouldn't offer this sort of gentle gaze that she'd not just show to anyone?

When he realizes what her intentions are after that, he doesn't fight it. But it's not with the same passivity he's faced so many things in life with. He melts into her touch, leaning forward as one hand gently begins to support the back of her head. She smells wonderful. It feels him with the same warmth of a campfire on a cold winter's eve.

Even after it's finished, he realizes that, for the first time, there's not a ounce of tension in his body. The sight of her smile and the sound of her laugh fills him with an indescribable level of joy. He's lucky. He's so incredibly lucky.

"T-that's okay..." he only stutters because he laughs, caught off guard by the swift change in topic - as if he'd forgotten where he was and for what occasion.

"I'll show you someday...we'll have all the time the world to do that, won't we?"

"Mm?" Xiang reacts firstly with bewilderment. The way he'd started crying out of nowhere, not even realizing that he had started crying, and kept his sight away while she was talking brought confusion to her.

Of course, she'd come to know that he had some troubles of his own, of those imprisonments that her older brother's entourage said emerged from the mind, those scars that were much deeper and harder to heal than the ones on the body, much that she could relate deeper with than she might like to admit, but to think that they ran so deep that they caused him this much turmoil over being shown decency of this little amount, to her mind at least.

When he got up and started stammering out apology after apology, she only sat still, a bemused smile (something that came to her naturally, even if it wasn't amusing in the slightest, but was her instinctual reaction to, frankly, discomfort in her body, not discomfort at his behavior but at her own inability to come up with appropriate response) spread on her lips, and she let out a sardonic scoff.

Even when he approached her, all that baggage crashing down on her along with him, grabbing onto her like a pleading enemy begging to be spared, she only was able to keep looking, humming in response to his every sentence, until his face fell on her shoulder.

Oh, she's a little upset. He's staining her favorite shawl with tears, the one made in colors appropriate for this holiday, one that had been handmade by the brother she idolizes so much with textile he had made and weaved by his own roughly calloused fingers for hours. So her first response is to tighten the garment around her neck with her hand and click her tongue.

"A~ah," she hums out, "My poor quezquemitl is getting stained~."

But her hand reaches to the hand covering his face to interlace their fingers and pull it away from what it was trying to obscure. She forces him to face her with her other hand, a face that showed a gentleness and mischief that stemmed from adoration and not pity on her soft, youthful features. A face that none would have thought came from her century's most crazed warmonger.

She lets out a soft laugh at his crying face, noticing that he's smiling, and figures out exactly why he's crying so much. Her attempts to comfort him took a different direction then, and she slowly closed the distance between their faces.

Slowly, after all, to show what her intention was enough to anticipate, but also to deny an attempt to stop it, and the scent of orange blossom and cinnamon invades the distance before both their faces are touching.

Whatever she did in that action, afterwards she rests her forehead against his and an almost childlike giggle escapes her lips. A mirthful, joyous, and innocent fluttering laugh, one that proved why she was named bright.

"Thank you for joining me, Katsu. I'll be honest, I was nervous that you wouldn't like me doing this..."

In truth, the entire time she was preparing everything, she'd been paranoid in all the little details she had made. Entirely focused on making sure everything was right, her shaky hands setting everything up to be right. Even before decorating the room, she almost gave herself an ulcer worrying about what to put on the menu. She kept barging into her older brother's room and demanding that he look over the food she'd listed after another rewrite and give his own input on what flavor combinations would work best, or what to include or take away.

She barged into his room about thirty times.

"I didn't do this for you. I did this for us. Together. You didn't ruin anything, seeing you like this proved I did right by you. Now take a seat and eat with me, I don't know how to reheat rice."

[nobuverse]

"They're wonderful - aren't they? Lovely, destructive beasts...the warmth of their fire, the rough pattern of their scales....Fafnir had such large, magnificent talons. I used to be able to hold a single one of them in my hands..."

Did someone say dragons?

[nobuverse]

"...I miss Fafnir."