mozzenator
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A failed novelist from our world with no knowledge of Naruto reincarnates into the body of a Kyuubi orphan. Atsuko is content to languish in mediocrity as a career genin.
Bored, she spends her spare time rewriting stories from her old world - only for a publisher to snatch them up. Atsuko becomes a best-selling author built on a throne of lies. Good thing there's no such thing as copyright law in a military dictatorship...?
In which Atsuko shamelessly rips off the Western Literary Canon, is frog-marched into Konoha’s Intelligence division to become a corporate spy, and accidentally steals Jiraiya's thunder. Not necessarily in that order.
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- English
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- 37,970
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- 17/?
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- 29
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Bookmarked by mozzenator
07 Sep 2025
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Maelle looks at the mirror shards scattered across the floor, a disarray of sharp and jagged pieces that can never be put back together again. "I know you’re not him..." she admits in a shaky whisper. Her tear-filled eyes find Verso, the blues and greys of paint starting to unravel the edges of them, mocking him. "But you deserve to be happy,” she says. We deserve to be happy, she means.
“I deserve to be myself,” Verso says, and it sounds like a plea more than anything else. The skin around his left eye aches, as if it’s waiting for his scar’s return.
Maelle sighs before she sweeps her hand through the air, calling for her rapier. It appears in a flutter of gold petals, glimmering in the dim light of the bathroom. Her eyes are cast in shadow and her disappointed smile is somewhat crooked. "Alright. Let's try again."
or: Maelle wants a happy end for everyone she cares about, and she will keep trying until even Verso gets it right.
Bookmarked by mozzenator
03 Sep 2025
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Missing scenes between Verso and Gustave, hypothesizing on Gustave living
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- 4,039
- Works:
- 3
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- 9
Bookmarked by mozzenator
28 Aug 2025
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- Words:
- 28,072
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Bookmarked by mozzenator
27 Aug 2025
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Verso's smile widened, and Gustave knew with crystal clarity that the universe had a sick sense of humor. His Friday night blues had just become his Monday morning colleague.
"We've met," Verso said easily, still watching Gustave with those piercing eyes. "Haven't we, Gustave?"
The use of his full name was deliberate. Not a question, not a tease. A claim. It landed in Gustave’s gut like a stone, heavy and cold, followed by the slow bloom of heat at his throat where the bruises still ached.
He was so, so fucked.
Or: they say when you love a character so much you'd inevitably write them taking it up the ass
Bookmarked by mozzenator
27 Aug 2025