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peccoliawrites · 1 year

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Heere’s chapter two!!

#laterality (fanfic)

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peccoliawrites · 1 year

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hey hey hey i’m finally FINALLY moving laterality to ao3!! and rereading it along the way. it’s probably gonna be slow-going, but for anyone who wants to re-read along with me, here’s the first step, the first chapter, on ao3:

LATERALITY (AO3 EDITION)

#laterality(fanfic)#laterality (fanfic)#forget which tag i used here and the space DOES matter it seems

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peccoliawrites · 2 years

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long time no see

Halo Effect Chapter Four

#reblog #halo effect (fanfic)

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peccoliawrites · 3 years

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What happened to the dragonfly au extra? D:

it’s gone, sorry <3

#dragonfly (fanfic)

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peccoliawrites · 3 years

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backstory for my prompt: Mistuba ends up losing control of her wood release when the two (?) shinobi trample her garden and ends up killing several people. She then ends up going on the run. eventually, she comes across a secluded little village and performs favors for the townspeople in exchange for being allowed to stay there. Eventually her status as a fugitive is revealed and she is soon taken advantage of for her powers.

Prompt: Mitsuba attracts the unwanted attention of one of the men in the town. His wife, having found out about her husband’s straying attention, ambushes her in the dead of night and one by one, breaks Mistuba’s collection of 7 porcelain figures which she had painstakingly worked to raise the funds for. These porcelain figurines meant a lot to Mistuba as they were a symbol of her being accepted as one of the town’s own. Write about the immediate aftermath this action has on her as well her internal struggle of genuinely wanting to help the townspeople (not a well-off community, not partícularly educated population, and none of them can use chakra), having come to grow fond of them before they found out about her status vs struggling under the weight of the labor that’s pushed on her.

It wasn’t worth it. It really wasn’t worth it.

Mitsuba knew that, on a basic level that dealt with what was good and healthy for her, but… A part of her feared that this was as good as it was going to get. For so, so long, she’d searched for a place where she could belong—and this village had been it. For a time.

And now? Now it was as hostile as anywhere else, and she was nothing but a tool, a means to ease the workload, not a person but a thing. Before, she had been the unwanted daughter—now, she was The Senju. Or The Slut—that had been what that woman called her as she threw each of her porcelain dolls onto the ground, sending their smiling faces scattering into pieces with a wicked smile of her own. One doll for each year she’d spent here, growing attached, earning her place, belonging, all destroyed in a matter of minutes.

Stupid woman. And her stupid husband. It wasn’t her fault the man had wandering eyes and wandering hands and she’d never even dreamed of catching his attention anyway. He was far too old. Far too much like her father, all-powerful and in charge and knowing no respect or empathy for her. Unlike her father, always so needy. Fix this, build that. The demands had been tolerable, up until he’d grabbed a handful of her ass and looked so, so smug when she didn’t—couldn’t, not then—retaliate. Up until his wife thought to take revenge on her and not him.

Mitsuba let out a hiss as the porcelain shard she’d grabbed for bit into her skin and drew blood.

As it beaded on her skin and began to drip, so bright and red, she couldn’t help but see red; couldn’t help but remember the slaughter that led her here. Then—it hadn’t entirely been her fault. She was only a child. An angry child, ignored and unable to control her chakra—but now? Now… She could make it happen.

No one would miss this village. No one would miss a single person here.

…Did they know she held their fates in her hands? Did they know the power she held over them, that they thought they had over her? Hell, she’d built half of this damn village for them. They had no idea how much they really needed her, how she could raise them up and better them or raze them with a single thought and turn their village into fertilizer for a new forest.

Someone had misunderstood something. Someone had gotten the situation twisted. But—had it been them, or had it been her? Had she been too meek, too tame, too desperate for their acceptance? Had she been holding back the anger and the unfairness that lived within her heart, rooted in deep? A plant grew according to what was in the soil, what nourished it—and since learning the truth, they’d been feeding her with violence.

The flower that bloomed from that would surely be covered in spines.

Slowly, slowly, Mitsuba pushed herself off the ground, away from the shattered dolls, shattered hopes, what was and what could have been. She stepped over them, crunching their pieces beneath her feet, grounding them fine as bone dust, not looking back as she made her way to the village leader’s fine home, built by her very own hands—ready to tear it down, piece by piece, and send it crashing down broken, just like her collection of dolls.

They never realized it, but the people here were about to receive a rude awakening.

This village was hers—and its rightful leader was about to take her place.

They’d all be better off for it.

#peccolia writes stuff #senju mitsuba (oc)#3leaves (fanfic)#tw mentions of sexual assault

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peccoliawrites · 3 years

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i read misread that as "oc x canon within tlotl bounds" and mitsuba/mito manifested directly into my brain... all I can think of is mitsuba and mito committing gay crimes and/or horrible mischief that makes everyone around them go "oh my god, there's two of them" this isn't even coherent enough for a prompt lmao, but it lives in my head now and i had to share

listen. LISTEN. i’m still not sold on a ship mitsuba is gonna be part of or if she’ll be part of a sure one at all, but mitsubaxmito is DEFINITELY something i think about a lot. like?? just imagine?? “well, my bro is supposed to marry her BUT LOOK AT HER SHE’S SO COOLSOPRETTYWOW. sorry bro and rip to tsunade and nawaki but i’m going to woo that woman.” and you’re totally on the same brainwave with me here. they’d both be terrors together!! like, i’m not totally sure of a mito personality for the fic yet, but i imagine she’s a slightly more refined and restrained kushina-type considering uzumakis are categorically and inheritably unhinged. with someone like that, mitsuba couldn’t help but be a little shit

anyway here’s a shortfic:

…This totally wasn’t arson. Really. It wasn’t. Besides, there was plenty of seawater around to douse the flames, and soon, with the Uzumaki clansmen scrambling to do so, they were reduced to smoking piles of ash and cinder and charred wood scraps among the shoals of Uzushiogakure—all that remained of the guest house that Mitsuba once took up residence in.

“Let’s make a note that trying to build a DIY kotatsu really isn’t as easy as it sounds,” she muttered to the girl whose side she clung close to, still shaken by the blaze that very nearly trapped them inside. And still unsteady on her feet from indulging in just a bit too much saké that made the fire an issue at all.

“Second note… Charcoal braziers and alcohol should never be placed near each other. Especially when the bottle falls over into said brazier…” Mito sighed as she wrapped a comforting arm around Mitsuba, eyelids just as heavy from the tipsy stupor and warm nap that had turned deadly as she rested her head on her shoulder. “Be that as it may, it was an exciting idea. And it very nearly worked. Maybe making use of the inland electrical developments would have worked better, though…?”

“There’s eclec—electricity—here?”

“Indeed! I have heard tell of ‘lighted bulbs’ and such in more developed areas…”

Mitsuba hummed, eyes fixed on the redheaded clansmen that patrolled the area, checking for stray embers, poking at the damaged foundation, occasionally glancing their way. It was no mystery who caused the little incident, especially when the hems of their kimonos were singed into black lace and soaked from ebb and flow of the tide they still stood among after running into it to douse the flames.

“It’s certainly a good thing you can rebuild what was lost, Micchan. My grandfather will have no reason to banish you.”

“O-oh, that was on the line?” She paused, taking a step back into the waves and tugging at Mito’s arm as a figure storming their way caught her eye. “Never mind banishing—he’s going to kill me. Just look at how he’s stomping over here!”

“Oh, but he does look mad. Maybe you should run?”

“Only me?”

Mito observed her grandfather’s storming, whirlwind approach for just a moment, much too unaffected and unmoved for Mitsuba’s comfort, until a belated grimace crossed her face. “…I think I’ll be coming with you, actually.”

That said, she grabbed up Mitsuba’s hand and broke into a sprint, pulling her along as they ran the best they could across the soft, muddy sands of the beach while inebriated and with bare feet—and only stumbling a few times as the clan leader’s livid shouts followed in their wake, Bad influence, and No wonder your brothers sent you here, among them. Could have burnt down the entire village, and Have you no shame, could have been aimed at either of them.

They shouldn’t have been laughing. Really, they shouldn’t—but who wouldn’t be happy about escaping a little house fire alive and well? In each other’s company, no less. Mito was freedom. Safety. Perseverance. With her, anything was possible. Time stood still, the future didn’t dare press in close as a looming threat, and the past didn’t matter.

Only the present.

Only them.

Their hands gripped each other tight—and Mitsuba never wanted to let go.

#peccolia writes stuff #3leaves (fanfic)#senju mitsuba (oc)#uzumaki mito

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peccoliawrites · 3 years

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Prompt from @mermaidelephant :

Two of your characters have to infiltrate the estate of a noble obsessed with fashion. How would they dress and how comfortable/uncomfortable would they be in their new clothes? How do they feel about the noble’s fashion hobby?

–

This had to be one of the more…interesting…tasks Mitsuba and Gen had encountered during their hunt for two particular Uchiha men. Hints of their whereabouts had taken them to strange places, but this was by far the strangest—and, perhaps, the most dangerous. Nobles weren’t to be trifled with, after all. Not openly, and especially not by two rogue shinobi connected to one of the most well-known clans of the land, uninvited and unwelcome.

Ah, if Butsuma or her brothers caught wind of this…

But, no. Intel was intel. If Mitsuba worried before there was a problem, it would only distract her from their goal.

There had been reports of an eccentric and grossly wealthy noblewoman called Tenryū Momoka hiring the Uchiha clan to guard the caravans that brought her deliveries of extravagant riches and garments thieves would fetch a pretty penny from—if they could make it out alive. Uchiha presence, though, summarily ended any pilfering.

The reports, however, were only rumors. They needed proof. Receipts, correspondence, sightings… Anything that would lay the next stepping stones and set their search on the right path. And, in order to get that information, they had to play a part.

Namely…

Infiltrating the noblewoman’s manor as one of her several well-dressed and perhaps equally noble guests.

It wasn’t a huge issue as far as appearances went—everyone wore a mask on the manor grounds during the so-called ‘one-hundred day festival,’ so their identities were safely concealed.

The masks resembled those the future ANBU would wear. Porcelain. A bit heavy. In the shapes of fox faces and cats and boars. The ones Mitsuba conjured up through her wood release and painted with swift and sharp smears of paint, however, were much lighter and only noticeably different if someone got much too up close and personal. The lenses of her glasses did press up against the eyeholes uncomfortably, but she wouldn’t have to bear it for long. They’d be quick. In and out in less than an hour. Any longer, and they ran the risk of getting caught.

“I can hardly fathom this type of lifestyle,” Gen muttered at her side, keeping close perhaps not out of necessity, but because they were both adrift in this strange and whimsical world of fashion and faceless forms that seemed so detached from their reality, and if they drifted too far away from each other they may never find their way back. They’d be forever lost, flitting about and chatting and laughing and drinking. “This is a waking nightmare, Mitsu.”

“Only if you think of it that way. But it is definitely distasteful.” She eyed him curiously through the narrow eyeholes of her mask, wondering if he’d ask why she had no trouble with lace-up strings or buttons or frills or the more restrictive seams of these ‘strange and foreign’ fashions when he himself seemed to squirm and itch to return to his sleeveless top and haori and loose-fitting pants. It hadn’t been easy, tracking down the woman’s past stolen outfits, but it had been a stroke of luck that they only needed minor alterations to fit well.

Whoever Tenryū Momoka was, she had access to the far corners of the world, not limited to their land or their culture alone. Western styles Mitsuba was familiar with, once upon a time and likely forever, rang true in fitted pants and double-breasted coats lined with golden embroidered accents. And the full, satin skirts of what could have been Victorian or Georgian-era gowns. She’d never cared to learn the distinction—and, besides, in this world, they probably had different names. Something that even resembled an intricate and flowing Indian sari was displayed by one of the masked guests among them.

If she and Gen hadn’t been dressed in the same vibrant hues and patterns as everyone else, their drab and neutral forest-tones would have stuck out like two sore thumbs.

She did wonder, though, if Momoka had gifted these outfits to her fellow nobles as costume or if they were only on loan until the festivities reached their end. Festivities that also had influences from far-away, much bolder and free than what she’d come to know in this world.

Moving through the crowd, however, was simple due exactly to that boldness and freedom. No one noticed two guests slipping away into the shadows of the manor halls, where the world fell still, and almost quiet, when the doors were closed and when they crept further and further in so that the sounds and music outside were nothing but a whisper.

Inside the manor—inside was possibly worse. More than a manor, she’d go so far as to call it a museum, expertly crafted and curated and creepy, with a plethora of fashions that mirrored those found outside and included headwear, hats, and styled wigs. Some hung up on display boards, some fitted to wooden mannequins—

Gen gripped her shoulder as they came to a halt in the middle of the strange exhibit. “We may have made a mistake coming here.”

“Have you always been such a scaredy-cat, Gen-sensei? It’ll be over soon.”

Mitsuba opened the nearest door—and wished she hadn’t.

She stood before the rows upon rows of fanned-out kimonos suspended on stand-up hanging racks and briefly felt the sting of a not-so-far-off memory that involved her late mother’s own garment. No—not so much a sting, but a shiver that raced down her spine. The colors of the fanciful garb before her took on dull, cool silver and blue hues all awash in the hazy hauntings of the past that no longer, if ever, welcomed her.

She closed the door with a definitive snap. “…Let’s not go in there.”

“Who did you say was a ‘scaredy-cat,’ again?” Gen eyed her with a wry smile, but she ignored it and crept to the next room with purpose.

No matter how many doors they opened, the contents were much the same. No signs of a study, of personal quarters, of a library, or anything useful, and their time ran short.

It wasn’t ideal, but…

Until the hundred days of revelry were up, they had quite a few chances to return and run a thorough search.

#peccolia writes stuff #3leaves (fanfic)#senju mitsuba (oc)#amane genshiro (oc)

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peccoliawrites · 4 years

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here’s my yearly update for this fic!! just kidding--here’s to hoping i can update again soon