#Sasori x oc

[akamikazae]

Christmas Gift for @moonamayillu 🪭

[rinisasaki]

💮 リニ設定 • Naruto & Naruto Shippuden Settei || Sasaki, Rini 💮

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Name: Rini Sasaki; 佐々木リニ. (Rini translates to “Little bunny,” While Sasaki roughly translates to “trees that help.” or “helpful trees”.)

Alias: Chibi Tenshi (天使ちび; “Little Angel”),

~Oiran Sasaki ( 花魁 Oiran; highest ranking courtesan)

~Hime (お姫様; “Princess”)

~Kibō no ko (希望の子, “Child of Hope”)

Gender: Female

Race: Yokai/ Divine Being

Sexuality: Bi

Age: Classic: 21-22

~Shippuden: 25

Birthdate: September 28th

Astrology Sign: Libra

Birthplace: Amegakure

Affiliations: Amegakure

~Konoha (former)

~Akatsuki

Blood type: AB

Clan: Sasaki & Uzumaki

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So as you may have guessed, Rini's appearance is the same in Naruto as Naruto Shippuden, so that's why the settei is based on the ages of 21 - 25. 🙂

I put a lot of work into this LOL, but Im SO happy with how it came out! 😭 It's been hella overdue. I love where my art style is going, because Rini is finally looking how I imagined she would in the series.

If you ever happen to draw Rini, please use this reference for her! It's got all kinds of good stuff, including her personality, jutsu, tools, and more! ��️

🌸 Likes, Comments, Shares and Saves are greatly appreciated! 🌸

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© Rini Sasaki belongs to me.

© Sasori and Naruto the series belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

🛑 This is my artwork. I did use bases for Sasori/Hiruko. I referenced a Mitsuri fanart for Rini. ❤️ Do not repost or edit without my permission. A couple bases were used. 😄

🛑 Rini is my OC. Her story, design, composition belong to me. Please do not copy her, my work or ideas without credit or permission.

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[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 48: Puppet Loosely Strung (3)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Chapter Summary: Petty revenge feels really good…until it doesn't.

Author's Note:

I'm evil so there's three songs to keep track of this time. The chapter title and breaks are provided by Puppet Loosely Strung by The Corespondents. The song sung within the chapter is Victoria by Jukebox the Ghost. The song played prior to Victoria, though without lyrics it could technically be anything, is imagined by me to be Ailments by autumn keys.

Additional note: idk why some underlining works and some doesn't, I can't easily edit it to be one or the other on tumblr

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Let me put myself in your shoes

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I suppose it’d be apt for me to provide an apology.”

Leader-sama has placed himself in the entry of the attic, not even bothering to close the hatch. Is that part of it? Is humiliation intended as an aspect of this punishment? It certainly won’t be a substitution for it, Sasori finds. It’s more like being backhanded after getting a palm-forward slap.

“The delay was unintentional,” he continues, voice too loud for the space they’re in. It should be noted that those ringed eyes are the same; Sasori has always wondered if it was some sort of front Pain put on, pretending to be the holder of the mystical Rinnegan. But no. It’s here, staring him down like he’s a dog on the street. How asinine. The redhead ensures his face holds no expression, lest the Akatsuki leader gets some sort of vindication from it.

“You must understand the reasoning for my decision…” He’s fishing for a reaction. “...Don’t you?”

…

Sasori doesn’t give it to him; a poker face remains. He will not object, and nor will he embarrass himself trying to when it’s going to happen anyways. Unlike someone else— very cause of all this, in fact—...he isn’t a child about it when people do mean things.

“Then you are dismissed,” Pain says, as if he didn’t barge into his space, uninvited. “I expect results promptly to make up for the risks you’ve so recklessly taken.”

A hop down the hole, then the taps of feet...and the self righteous head of the Akatsuki is gone. Despite himself, despite a stated lack of need for such physical actions...Sasori’s eyes narrow, still focusing on the wall behind where Pain stood.

Images pasted there reflect in his cold eyes.

There’s her face. Amid the bits and bobs and mechanical necessities for his art, a collage of his subject. Swift strokes of ink capturing the shape of her chin, the bend in her knees, the flow of her hair, across different pieces of paper. It is somehow both perfect and wretched.

The performer is both a subject of study and a subject of his frustration. He has yet to not perfect an art he has attempted.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As a puppet loosely strung

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despondent again...like a broken toy, indeed. Like a yo-yo, back and forth between frozen and fine. Just yesterday, she was chipper. Now? Slumped over the piano, looking at it like it called her a vulgar name. Sasori’s eyes narrow again. ...Yes. That’s a good idea. Might as well do her a favor...

“Girl.”

Her head turns up; she looks exhausted. For what? What did she do? For a man that tires so easily from emotional labor himself, he’s quick to dismiss the signs of it in other people.

“I’m heading into the village,” he states. “We’re beginning patrols to maintain relations with our new...’allies.’” A bitterness enters the back of his mouth, just enough to taint how they sound to her ears. “Since this is a problem you started, you’re going to accompany me.”

Out of all the things he could have come in to say...she wasn’t expecting that. Last time they talked, it seemed...fine? Maybe even more than fine, at least by the standard the prickly scorpion has set in their months together. Both him and the burden in question begin to stew in the awkward quiet, and it becomes a question of who can withstand it longer— who will break first.

...But, as already known, the woman is far too weary from these long talks with Kisame, and then the day prior in the village with the leader duo. She starts with a stammer, hoping to stall until he metaphorically reaches in, sees she needs help here to have an actual productive conversation. “I-I…”

But those soft brown eyes somehow harshly demand she explain why on earth she has the gall to disagree.

“I...I guess I figured Leader would want me to stay here for that.”

A swift answer: “You guessed wrong.”

She blinks with a frown, but does not verbally disagree. She can’t; when you’re muddled in your feelings, the reasonable thing to do is stop and think, versus going in headfirst and self-righteous on a position you must apologize for later.

And so, nearly satisfied, he slips away.

“Meet me on the front porch,” the venom drips from pretty lips. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Did you feel the weight of other's views?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Her behavior is something that Kisame would enjoy. It might even be novel enough to humor Deidara, easily amused fool that he is. The way she sticks her arms out for balance, stretches her legs to emphasize each step crunching in the snow… Sasori notices, but does not appreciate. Sasori is not Kisame, especially not Deidara, and Sasori does not readily see the value in whimsy— at least not when he’s pissed. A deeper voice than his own exhales through wooden teeth and a black mask. The paper panels attached to Hiruko’s hat shift ever so slightly as he trudges forward, one drag at a time, like a massive black and red slug. Staring at him begins to tickle part of her brain— the exact part that she usually begs to shut up.

“Sasori?”

He does not answer. She looks down at him as she tip-toes across a log like a tightrope walker, embedding her marks across frozen, chipped bark.

“Why do you travel in that?”

…

Maybe he just can’t talk in that thing; she hardly saw him in it, after all, and never spoke as long as it sat on her front porch first day they met. But just as she’s about to dismiss it all for good, a voice speaks; it isn’t Sasori’s usual dulcet tone, rather something more like gravel in a rock tumbler.

“...I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

The surprise makes her slip on a hidden layer of ice across her makeshift banister. A puffy “shoof!” sounds as snow breaks her fall, compressing until there is a performer-shaped hole a foot deep towards the ground. A small, unblinking eye lined with thick wrinkles pierces in her direction, the puppet staring in leau of Sasori as she lifts herself up by the palms and shakes snowflakes off her hair like a dog.

“Well—” she continues; she’s so single-minded in this that it comes off as resilience. “It isn’t. Not really, I know. But still…I’m kinda curious—”

“And curiosity killed the cat.”

And it’s like an icicle fell and splintered to pieces, the way he breaks her humor in a snap. So grim, so serious, such a tone finally makes a silly girl begin to feel her place as she stares at him from her burrow in the snow.

“I—...okay...”

And they continue in silence, at least of a kind. Crunch, crunch goes the snow, the woman leaving pairs of shoe prints and the man a thick trail like you’re pushing a boulder.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Or was their ignorance a source of fun?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A small relief it is, to go from the cold air to the inside of a familiar place. Er...almost familiar. The dim lights feel less warm, and though all the furniture is the same, it’s all shoved towards the corners. The bar itself— where patrons sat and drank on high seats— is the only thing unmoved and that’s just because you can’t physically haul it away. As the woman takes it all in, the large puppet carries itself forward, uncaring if she gets in the way. A jump back and a gasp, and he doesn’t apologize as she backs up.

How does he control a doll like that anyways…?

“Ah. You must be one of those Akatsuki.”

A judging silence. He’s wearing the cloak, idiot. Takuya abruptly stammers to save face.

“Well— ‘preciate you comin’! I got word of a couple of those star folk poking around the old farm up north. Ain’t none of us shinobi anyways, but it’s an old lady holin’ up there by herself this winter so she of all people deserve the help first. I’ll give ya directions if you got what ya need.”

Further silence.

“...Okay then,” he drawls awkwardly, providing a few blinks under furry eyebrows and opting not to argue. Maybe the big brute is mute, after all. He’s heard stories of ninja having their tongues ripped off and such. It’s enough to make a grown man shiver. Ugh…!

On the other side of the room, the performer is in the middle of observing dusty, abandoned cobwebs when she with no warning hears a bell ring and a door close shut. She whips around in a flash. Shit!! “Sasori—!!! wait for—”

“Noooo you don’t lass.”

A grip on her shoulder keeps her in place, the woman spinning around in a panic. “I have to go, I need to—!”

“This is dangerous work,” is the stern answer she gets; even though it’s just one hand on her, it’s a strong hold that won’t leave— not until he’s sure she’s not going to run head first into death or injury. “I reckon he left you behind for a reason.” But inexplicably, she argues:

“But...he told me that I was here to help.”

“...Eh?” The old man blinks. “That doesn’t make sense… Must be some kind of miscommunication. Calm down and tell me why the hell that’d be.”

The woman has her doubts— has had them, honestly. “Leader—” she stammers at first, but begins to work back from the start of her reasoning. “I figured, too. That it was a mistake. I thought Leader wouldn’t have wanted me here around stuff like that…but...Sasori told me I was asked to go.”

It’s only now, that he can feel the tension in her muscles relax, that Takuya lets the confused lady go. A darkness washes over her expression, a lip pursing a pout towards the floor.

“Come on, lass...head over this way.”

A cup clacks against the bar tabletop as weathered as he is after all this, opting to give her a pour of sake from his dwindling supply. (Not much to do with the booze besides drink it if you’ve been stuck in renovation hell the past few months.) He nearly feels guilty, her moping over the slab of wood like a kid would left behind by her friends.

...Eh, if she’s not old enough, she’s earned it, he decides.

After pouring himself a glass and taking a shot in one go, the old man exhales, long and heavy, holding his cheeks by the palms as he leans onto his inherited bar table as well. The woman, in turn, looks down at the liquid; it’s clear, doesn’t have much smell. She knows it’s alcohol, but...if he can take it in one gulp, it’s probably pretty light enough for her to do the same—

What remains in her throat after choking on it burns. Holy SHIT—!

“Not much of a drinker, huh?” His words are softer in her ears than the sound of him reaching over to slap her back. She sputters a few coughs, and she can’t tell if her face is hot from the booze or embarrassment.

“N-No. Well— Drinks I’m used to are— sweeter?” Half true! She’s only had a piña colada at her cousin’s graduation party, and she’s finding that’s not much of a base to measure against other drinks.

The guilt returns on the twin’s heart, and with another grumble he takes the glass—

“Wait.”

Her eyes pin it down, fingers twitching as if they can’t decide. But Takuya abides. He waits, and waits...until she decides to take the shot glass and down it after all. There’s a horrible frown on her face, a bit of a squeak in her throat, but she manages the feat.

…

…

There’s nothing more effective to one’s own self-reflection than to let them stew in it, no distractions. He never owned a bar before— not until it unceremoniously got dropped on him— but he’s been to plenty. So...as little as he knows the side of the bar he’s on right now, he certainly knows hers. At least, if nothing else, she’s not about to run off the stool and chase down someone who couldn’t care less.

It’s a bit longer than he had guessed— around five minutes of her looking sorry for herself, face getting rosier and rosier— but she eventually sighs and starts to open up the shell.

“...I think Sasori isn’t happy with me,” the performer eventually mumbles, staring at scratches on the wood, how the condensation from his glass seeps into them.

“Now why’d that be?” the old man prods, attempting to be gentle about it.

“He thinks him having to do this...is my fault.”

Takuya raises an eyebrow. “Lass, you’re raising more questions than answers here.”

“It gets worse— It kind of...is my fault. I got him in trouble. I ran away. And then the hoshi people—”

…

It’s despicable how the tears come to her eyes so quick. Absolutely heartbreaking. But despite himself— the desire to end the conversation there— curiosity gets the best of him.

“Lass. That still doesn’t make sense.” A sip of his own sake and he continues. “The hoshi-nin stuck around with or without ya. Them coming here in the first place is your doin’, sure—” He carries on quickly, lest she frown at nothing even more. “—But it sounds like to me that this big guy of yers dragged ya along today ‘cause he's mad at ye pointing out he did a bad thing.”

“But— but— I wasn’t supposed to run away. If I didn’t, then…”

…

“Then what?”

…

“It doesn’t make sense, does it, lass?”

…

“Explain to me why he’d think it’s your fault. In honesty.”

…

…

“He...didn’t like what I said to him,” she whispers, gripping with anxious, fidgeting fingers the hem of the dress Sasori made her wear. “And he told me I should leave.”

“It’s awfully cut and dry hearing it like that. Isn’t it?”

“But what I said was mean—!” She’s so quick to justify what has happened to her. "I...—”

He’s waiting. The silence hurts more than any words could.

“I said...he was like me.”

Takuya doesn’t have to say anything for her to know how ridiculous that sounds. She swears under her breath and doubles over, at least as much as one can while seated. After hearing he "tonk!" of her forehead falling onto the table, he exhales. This is probably where he should stop and move on, he decides.

“Listen...it’s still good yer here. You were told you could help, right? You wanna help?”

…

Her head raises, but only just enough so it is still dipped and hiding her face. Meekly, she nods.

“Then help me figure out what to do with the damn place.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Well—” he grumbles— nearly growls in frustration; she has her form of embarrassment, and he has his. “Just take a look!”

And she does yet again. The disarray...it’s so distant from the nights she used to perform here, Kakuzu in the corner and Hidan at her heel. It’s a far trip from a place that gave her routine, comfort. So it makes sense she asks first...:

“Why’d you start to change things?”

He hums as if he’d never imagine such a question. Despite the tone of it, how defensive he is, a heart beginning to embolden with spirits and emotional labor is capable of stepping up to task.

“It seemed...pretty good as before. Why change it?”

“Lass, Taiga is gone. Everything as it is will just make people miss ‘em. No business can run on sympathy alone.”

And finally...finally...those big, sad eyes turn to look at him. “...I don’t think that’s true. Not like how you think it is.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I hated the whispers in the street

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What do you think you’re gonna do, slime on me, you huge ugly snail?!”

He has them in a corner, old hay and straw their metaphorical rock and hard place. They’re cowering, and he knows it. They do, too, even if they won't admit. The puppet has no emotions, at least not with his face. Voice, however...it’s seeping with the finest, most potent of his poisons.

“I’m going to gut each and every one of you until you’ve atoned for what you’ve done to me.”

“What? What did we ever do to you?” This first shinobi is a bit more cagey than the other. There’s a twitch in his face, a fear that can’t hide no matter how well he tries; that’s why he’s so subtly begging for mercy with his choice of words.

“Oh?” the monster’s voice groans. “You don’t know?”

The second ninja grins wider in the face of certain doom; it’s the only choice when you’ve spent weeks bullying your way into the stores of a helpless grandmother, living the high life at the cost of nearly nothing. The bravado...that’s the most heinous of sins, in Sasori’s eyes. “You’re just the next plaything for that little whore, always bringing different men around! You think you’re special?” The hoshi-nin nudges his comrade with an elbow, displaying confidence that is not shared. “Betcha someone as hideous as him was just happy to be next to a girl.”

Whip, pierce.

A scorpion tail of steel stabs the first shinobi straight through the heart. Closer and closer, unblinking beady eyes gleam in the shadow cast over Hiruko's face. The untouched loudmouth still can’t shut up even as he watches his comrade being carried like a fork picking up a slice of meat, quivering as he utters small exclamations of fear that mean absolutely nothing. The snow falls, as soft and as delicate as the woman they shattered. Holding the twitching, screaming ninja above his masked head as he dangles from jointed metal and bleeds onto ice, the puppet as low to the ground as its owner’s namesake stares at him. There’s either no emotion or every last one hiding in those eyes at once— whichever is worse is what lies behind rounded, foggy glass. Sasori allows the living whelp the honor of get a nice, long stare at a fate better than what he’s going to have for having a big, careless mouth. His death is going to be much, much slower. After all, having to wait is the worst thing of all.

“I suppose you need a reminder, then...”

But just because he’s quick to start the punishment doesn’t mean that they’ll get their end so mercifully soon. Think of it as retribution for that day. If it wasn’t for them, she could have run off and be recovered, safe and sound— no big deal and nothing more to it. But whatever they did...it changed her, and it is resistant to his mending. It should have been him. It should have been him on the front lines, not shacked up with her and Deidara and the idiot in the mask. Maybe then, it wouldn’t have happened like this. She wouldn’t have been rash. He wouldn’t have been there to make her upset.

And he would have ended this so much more quickly.

With his last coherent breath, the pig squeals— a curse, a condemnation. It makes the man beneath the shell smile.

Why, yes, he isn’t human. Not at all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Till you repose a greeting

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The woman does what she does best: use a song to communicate. The sake makes her head a little dizzy, and she can’t really keep her shoulders in one place as the etiquette typically requires...but she does it anyways. It's the only real choice.

It’s gorgeous, the way it drifts to the outside, compliments the mood of warm candlelight drifting from under the crack of the door as Sasori sits on snow-speckled stone. Slow, mournful, thoughtful. The piano is playing, Sasori can hear, as he approaches the bar entry. Yes, he is assured, the time spent swatting at flies is worth it, so long as the musician regains her strength and grace. It was a good choice to bring her, even if she complains. Perhaps knowing what he does to exact revenge on her attackers is what makes the song come back, bright again with no more moping as she did this morning.

But as soon as it begins to push open, the song changes. A woman is ready, and now the song is the audio equivalent of the loop-da-loops tiny insects make as they fly in the sky.

And then...all of a sudden, it feels heavier. Grand, staged, and confident. She begins to sing, seated all away across the hall from where Hiruko stands.

Victoria approached me with a fire in her eyes

And I swear and I swear, I was burning alive

And now you're crying wolf out to the moon

Yeah, is anybody there or am I just as scared as you?

And now you've given me a mission to do

I've got to rearrange the stars so that they're not as far from you

The man in the doll ever so slightly purses his lip beneath his guard. Not even so much as a glance, even after the bell rang to alert his arrival. She's never ignored him before. Surely she knows he’s there.

Right?

And you are causing me physical pain

It's like you're handing me a knife and from my insides

And without any shame

...Wait.

Victoria's been crying, I can see it in her eyes

And yeah, a part of me is sad, but a part of me is having such a good time!

Wait a damn minute—!

"GIRL!"

But she hardly flinches. She grimaces with wide, shaking eyes so, so angrily at that piano, and it sounds like the keys are in agony from how hard she’s pressing. It’s how she feels.

And I know that likely I am at fault

Oh, but what the hell, I can't even tell if she's putting me on

This...this is the thanks he gets? After all she’s done? After all HE has done?! He growls her designation of "girl" with all the intimidation he can muster, but words have already gone as far as they can take him. Nothing he can say will back her down. She mocks him, a hand to her heart and face towards the ceiling like a Shakespearean actor; her eyes still refuse to look at him.

But you are certainly my poison of choice

And when I drink you down

My heart makes a sound

Her head lowers; she abruptly seems so serious.

Yeah, when I drink you down

My heart makes a sound

Like

Finally, finally. She looks at him. Her expression does not change.

This

A horrible, discordant sound, one that isn’t with feeble, scared hands but entirely wretched on purpose. It isn’t a mere mashing of keys; it is a calculated choice, a selection based on how poor the black and white sound next to each other. Somehow, some way, a wooden doll can glare.

“What?!”

“WHAT?!” she spits back to him, spinning around on the bench. Sasori can tell immediately something is in her system; she never has such poor balance, bob her head side to side this much. The girl’s never pointed at him before, but he can still reason that this, too, is altered under the effect of a substance. “Yeah, that’s right, I got wise to you! You brought me here because of some petty fucking GRUDGE you got! You could have just asked! Not make it sound like it’s MY fault!”

“Watch your words, girl.”

“Or what? You asshole!” She’s so loud. She’s so crass. Where did she go? The delicate little thing that hardly knew how to recognize an insult let alone give it? “You’re gonna LEAVE me here?!” the performer shouts, making her already burning throat hoarse. “Alone? To die?! Sure! I’m fine with that! Sasori, I thought you could actually CARE about me!”

…It’s a spectacle, the way she’s disgracing herself. For once, a talking doll is at a loss for words; he should be grateful his face is hidden, lest his visage of disregard slip.

As before with the barkeep...it’s the silence that does it. Her heart makes a sound; it starts to break.

“Sasori…!”

A slam of her fist on the keys. She’s clenching so hard that her muscles are twitching under her skin; he can see it. It must hurt. The notes echo until they fade, mingle into the sound of her breath as she attempts not to outright sob. Once again, the tears gush and stain her trembling face.

“I owe...the Akatsuki,” she admits. How can such a promising start— in Sasori’s eyes— turn so sour? “I owe...you. Yes! I know I do! I fucking KNOW, okay?! You gave me the dress, and the cape, and— and—”

…The puppet does not speak. She begins to quiet down, but it doesn’t make it much easier to listen to. Discordant notes are still discordant notes, regardless of the volume you play them at.

“Sasori...if I’m a burden, this is the wrong way to go about it. I’m an adult, you know. I’m stupid, I’m silly, but I’m a grown woman and you can treat me like one. You should...treat me like one. If you’re mad at me...can’t you just fucking say it?”

…

“Yeah. I owe you. But you owe me. The bare minimum. The bare minimum of respect from one human being to another. Kill me, maim me, do whatever you want. I just…!”

Smack, smack. Her tears are so heavy it’s nearly a shock they don’t sound the piano as they fall, too. That’s what it takes for Sasori to want this to end.

“...Grave mistake.”

“What?”

“Grave mistake to think I’d ever care about someone like you.”

She looks at him again, a horrid sort of bravery on her face, and the woman is grave herself.

“If I’m not worth the trouble...just say so.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pulling the rug beneath their feet

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

...But she is.

Work done for the day, the killer and his girl take the moonlit trail back home, guilt on her heart silencing her tongue. The wind picks up and she wraps her midnight-black cape around her, biting her lower lip. Dizzy...dizzy...dizzy. Each step is capable of taking her off her balance. What an asshole...getting drunk for the first time and saying things she’d never say otherwise. It was necessary, but…

...

...Oh god. She really said all that, and he still took her home, she realizes like a train running her over. Maybe it wasn’t necessary.

Holy shit and Jashin and Jesus. She really said all that, for real, out loud.

The sickness that twists her body is eventually so bad she witlessly stops in place.

The creature that houses Sasori’s real body trudges...trudges...and she wonders if he’ll leave her behind. The winter scares her, after all. It’s what she’d deserve after talking to him so harshly. Even if she apologized...maybe...maybe he didn’t accept it after all. Maybe this was all a ruse, to leave her in the forest so even the village won’t be there to help her out of pity.

…

…

Just on the cusp of the next hill, the beast ceases his march. Sounds that have haunted her dreams carry despite the whistling wind. The stars are bright on the indigo sky, no leaves to hide a lick of their glitter, and the snow glows a shade of white so pure it verges on blue.

Click. Clack. Slip.

The mask props open with a creak, the scared child in her remembering splintering trees that fall down. As such, she instinctively braces herself for what’s to come. The massive cloak custom woven for such a strange shape wraps around the limbs of the puppet. A man with red hair stands up, back to her...and slowly...turns around. From this far away, he’s so flawless that he resembles a doll himself. The kind with porcelain skin airbrushed to look soft, just the tiniest bit of pink on the nose and cheeks.

“Come here.”

She stares at him a long moment, observing the way the wind plays with his perfect locks of hair...before choosing to obey. Step, step, step. Each lift up and drop down of her boots crunches into the snow, making it just difficult enough to move that it causes the performer to be oh so aware of the choice she is making— the choice to abide. As she does, the bizarre man exits the belly of a walking corpse. A hand reaches out; unsure what to say, she takes it.

It may just be the cold, but his palm is somehow so strange to the touch. Something about it...just so unexpected.

“I won’t let you be harmed by your own incompetence,” he tells her, and despite herself, she feels relief hearing his real voice again. Before she can ask how, pray tell, that is, he begins to guide her movements. Almost like a dream, she watches herself step into the hollow of the empty puppet more than she chooses it; it reminds the woman of how she’d imagine it would feel to fly with Peter Pan, weightless on starlight. How does he do that…?

A shimmer of blue is barely seen stringing at the edges of her skirt.

Finally, finally, her countenance of stubborn anger fades before him, though she could say the same about Sasori.

As she kneels down, understanding what is about to happen, she asks him, “What about you?”

A sliver of his face is all she sees by the time he answers, voice echoing in the dark chamber as the mask hinge shuts.

“I don’t need pity.”

And after a second, the journey begins again. The smell of something almost like mahogany seeps the air around her, the warmth of her own breath and body cycling inside the barriers of this...thing. It must be terrible in the heat, she figures, but tonight it is just fine. Wrapped up in the cape Sasori made her, skirt he wove bundling around her legs like a blanket...this is nice. Curled up, entirely in the dark with nothing to see, all she can do is listen to the sounds that carry through the structure that keeps her safe.

Thump...slide. Thump...slide.

The puppet drags itself across the fields of snow. She can’t even feel any control mechanisms in here, nothing ready to be pulled or gripped. It’s just a smooth cave, like a burrow for hibernation— just made out of wood. How does he use it…?

Jutsu and magic aren’t far apart at all, she is affirmed yet again.

Click...clack. Click...clack.

This is her world now, the soft darkness and the melody of a machine, the ever so slight rocking like a cradle. At some point along the journey, the sensations and sounds of the skeleton lull...her...to sleep...

…

…

And eventually, the shell opens up, almost like a locket. The careful touch of a bitter man lifts her up without so much as a stir of her body, a whine from her lips. His knuckles brush the hair off her face once its propped onto the pillow, and he stares until something in him is satisfied.

"How'd the day go, un?"

One artist looks over his shoulder to another, the blonde ready as usual for bed in his green pajamas, about to sleep in the opposing chair. For the first time, Sasori has a guess why he does that, night after night. Deidara's chin tilts up as the redhead walks away, and he sighs.

"Danna..." he mutters, though out of earshot of his partner. "Things would just be easier if you actually talked when you wanted to..."

But instead, Sasori goes back up the attic, to continue his studies of how to find the diamond in the rough. "Takara..." It's the only time he says her name today, and she isn't even around to hear it. His hands attempt to draw while his mind remembers through the haze of fury the song on the piano before she went off the rails. Something soft...something sweet. Maybe it means there's something beautiful in her after all.

"I don’t need anything,” he lies to himself so, very, easily.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm tied to so many things I don't need to do

I'll loosen my strings to feel more like you

I'm tied to so many things I don't need to do

I'll loosen my strings to feel more like you

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[toshiro-taichou]

Naruto Next Generation Remake Characters and Village.

Gaara Uzumaki x Naruto Uzumaki: Uzushiogakure -Shinki Uzumaki: Adopted, Son. Age: 14. Chunin -Hikari Uzumaki: First Born, Son, Older Twin. Age: 12. Heir. Genin. -Boruto Uzumaki: Second Born, Son, Younger Twin. Age: 12. Genin. -Mishina Uzumaki: Third Born, Daughter. Age: 8. Academy Student. -Shinachiku Uzumaki: Fourth Born, Son. Age: 5. Academy Student.

Sasuke Uchiha X Sakura Haruno Uchiha: Konohagakure -Tachi Uchiha: First Born, Son. Age 13. Former Heir. Disowned. (Lives in Uzushiogakure). Genin -Sarada Uchiha: Second Born, Daughter. Age: 12. Heiress. Genin

Sasuke Uchiha X Karin Uzumaki Uchiha: Konohagakure -Daisuke Uchiha: First Born, Son. Age: 12. Genin -Kosuke Uchiha: Second Born, Son. Age 10. Genin

Sai Yamanaka X Ino Yamanaka: Konohagakure -Inojin Yamanaka: First Born, Son. Age: 12. Heir. Genin -Inoko Yamanaka: Second Born, Daughter. Age: 10. Academy Student

Kiba Inuzuka X Hinata Hyuga Inuzuka: Uzushiogakure -Kaito Inuzuka: First Born, Son. Age: 12. Heir. Genin -Himawari Inuzuka: Second Born, Daughter. Age: 10. Academy Student

Neji Hyuga X Tenten Hyuga: Uzushiogakure -Sosuke Hyuga: First Born, Son. Age: 13. Heir. Genin -Reiko Hyuga: Second Born, Daughter. Age: 8. Academy Student

Shikamaru Nara X Temari Nara: Uzushiogakure -Shikadai Nara: First Born, Son. Age: 12. Heir. Genin -Hanami Nara: Second Born, Daughter. Age: 5. Academy Student

Kakashi Hatake X Koyuki Karatachi Hatake (Oc): Uzushiogakure -Toshiro Hatake: First Born, Son. Age: 14. Heir. Chunin -Yukihime Hatake: Second Born, Daughter, Older Twin. Age: 12. Genin -Sakumo Hatake: Third Born, Son, Younger Twin. Age: 12. Genin

Kakashi's DNA + Uzumaki DNA + Uchiha DNA: Uzushiogakure -Kashion Hatake: Orochimaru's experiment. Adopted by Kakashi. Age: 19. Jouinin

Itachi Uchiha X Ayame Uzuki Uchiha (Oc): Uzushiogakure -Shisuke Uchiha: First Born, Son. Age: 14. Heir. Chunin -Osamu Uchiha: Second Born, Son. Age: 12. Genin

Choji Akimichi X Karui Akimichi: Konohagakure -Chocho Akimichi: First Born, Daughter. Age: 12. Heiress. Genin

Jiraiya's DNA + Tsunade's DNA: Konohagakure -Takehiro Senju: Orochimaru's experiment. Adopted by Tsunade. Age: 22. Jounin

Deidara X Aika (Oc): Uzushiogakure -Mika: First Born, Daughter. Age: 15. Chunin

Sasori X Chika (Oc): Uzushiogakure -Reina: First Born, Daughter. Age: 17. Jounin.

Obito Uchiha X Misaki Todoroki Uchiha: Uzushiogakure -Kazui Uchiha: First Born, Son. Age: 14. Chunin. -Rin Uchiha: Second Born, Son. Age: 12. Genin

Rock Lee X Unknown: Konohagakure -Mental Lee: First Born, Son. Age: 12. Genin

Might Guy X Unknown: Konohagakure -Nanami: First Born, Daughter. Age: 17. Chunin.

Kankuro X Akiko: Uzushiogakure -Akari: First Born, Daughter. Age: 12. Genin.

Nagato Uzumaki X Konan: Uzushiogakure. -Yahiko Uzumaki: First Born, Son. Age: 14. Chunin.

[spiritamongdarkness]

A pixel divider I commissioned from Suzumeny-chan on DeviantART, back in March, of all my Naruto x Oc pairings

They are Orochimaru x Sarah, Kabuto x Izume, Sasuke x Akari, Itachi x Aki, Utakata x Ohta, Nagato x Ahmya, Sasori x Sute, Deidara x Kei, Sai x Sonsu, Gaara x Take, Menma x Utano, Ruiga x Onaya, Mitsuki x Moyasano, and Kimimaro x Kana

[jaskittea]

little coloured doodle

[silbaria]

Comic featuring Sasori and @/Hem0lyze's OC Sumi inspired by The Tea Scene from Utena ☕

Commission info (Buy 3 get the 4th free!) ✨ || Ko-fi ☕️✨

[unknownrpstories]

NARUTO RP SEARCH !

Hello, 21+ NB I am searching a Naruto rp!! And in search of someone to play as Sasori(human) and/or Zetsu (the plot technically needs both- but ill explain in PM'S) It can be single OC X CC or a double up! I actually prefer double ups! But if we did that i would feel better if we did the threads in Discord. I have a plot that I would really love to do with Sasori!! But I'm open to plotting

I don't mind if the thread is mostly smut, but as long as there's still a plot to it. (As mine calls for quite a bit of smut haha but there is story)

Also, I prefer to add really, really dark, twisted stuff!! Like non-con, manipulation, torture ect. But when I do have some no go's.

But if you're interested, Like, send a PM or leave a comment and I will get to you asap!

[reiketsunomizunomegami]

Akatsuki boys reaction to my oc Jana Diamond

Warning: cursing mainly on Hidan, Fluff, SFW to the Rest, some spoiler, changes of some plot

Feat: Itachi, Kisame, Hidan, Kakuzu, Sasori, Deidara, Zetsu, and Tobi/Obito

Pain had suddenly recruited me while I was on my way home from my previous Mission.. He talks to me and explain his Organization's cause and afterwards he Invited me to join the so called Akatsuki... I told him that I will think about it and he agrees before he vanishes from the dark leaving me inside the Cold and dark forest...

After a few days I went inside the Forest again and call for his name.. Pain stare at me with a serious face “I'm In” I said in a Calm tone “Come with me” He said sending me the same vibe.. The redheaded man makes me to follow him to the weird looking place “You have to meet the others” he said making me hum in agreement

When we reach at wide looking cave he opens his mouth and calls out a numerous name that I never heard before.. Slowly some unknown people to me approached us gathering in a circle “Everyone I want you all to meet our Newest Member Jana Diamond”

*Their POV*

Uchiha Itachi

-I Silently Stared at her emotionless Eyes while trying to find out what is she hiding from us

-Jana was very Odd to me.. She has this weirdly dominating Aura around her making not only me but the whole group avoided her

-Until she proven her worth to us.. Her power was very Alluring for me..

-we all become more attached to her and she also opens herself to us.. She would even smile or cook for all of us like she was our mother

-And I honestly loved it

Hoshigaki Kisame

-Man she's creepy! Creepier than the Leader himself

-I often Stayed myself away from her until the Leader notices it and makes me to accompany her on her first mission

-Jana was very quite! Like she will only talks to me when she needed something! Like what?! She's creepy as f*ck!

-But my View lf her Changes when she saved my ass from getting killed.. She healed me before taking my fight into her hands.. I stared into her fighting skills like what?! She's so Elegant and very Stunning!! Like a Goddess

-afterwards we took the 8 tails back to the hideout and then I approached her again “U-Uh Thank you so much for saving my ass back there” She smiled at me making my poor heart jump “You're welcome” She turns around before making her towards her room

-She's so beautiful! I loved her!

Hidan

-What a Hot chick!

-She's a solid 1000000/10!!

-But she was very cold and I couldn't just constantly Flirt with bef because she actually creeps me out! Like what kind of f*cking Beauty has this kind of menacing Aura?!

-Wait?! Did she just talks to Kisame and smiled at him like an angel?! But how?! How the f*ck does this fish face manage to talk to her so casually?!

-Aweee man! What Am I supposed to do?!

Kakuzu

-Hmmm she's fine.. She not t noisy and annoying liked Hidan does

-But something in her that is very fishy to me

-I always keep my guard up around her like when I Notice that she's about to approach I will just constantly move away from her or sending her a threatening Look

-I always despises her presence until she helped to caught the biggest fish making me to earn 10x more bigger than it was used to be

-and more importantly she even declined my her part of the bounty.. I stared at her again staring at her now smiling face making my face turns red

-She was now my most favored akatsuki Member! And I will stay with her even if she pushed me away

Sarori

-She's fine

-She's not loud so I liked that

-Wait?! She thinks that beauty is eternal?!

-Marry Me! She's too perfect! Beautiful, Intelligent, Strong, powerful, and lastly she thinks the same way As I did!

-I would loved her to be my partner on my next mission

-*Frown* Why is she talking to Kisame?! She's smiling?! Why?! What she sees in him?! And also why does Hidan was staring at her like an idiot?! .. Oooohh I think I have rival already.

Deidare

-Ughhh I hate her! She agrees with Danna hm!

-But I had to admit that she's Quite a beauty herself

-maybe I should give her chance and talk to her to change her point of view about art

-Ohhhh man she's so Elegant! How Am I supposed to talk to her?! Wait! Maybe Danna knows how?! But he will ask me why would I wanted to talk to her so bad.. Well I have to give it a try right??

White Zetsu/Black Zetsu

-She reminds me of a carnivorous plant

-She's too serious all the time

-“I Hate her!” I actually Liked her “Oh Shut up!” No you shut Up!

-I was actually spying on her all time but not in a bad way tho “You can't Fool anyone by your Stupid statement” But ut was True! I'm doing it in a very friendly way! “Yeah Whatever you say Creep” *Sigh* You're so Irritating sometimes

-“I think that she was delicious” Please don't “Why not?! She looks tasty *Lick his lip* I would loved to devour her now” Oh My God! You're so Disgusting “As if you don't desired it too?! So don't act so innocent here and help me to lure her over so we can devour her!” No! “N-No?!” Yes! NO! And It will stay that way! Whether you liked it or not!

Tobi/Obito

-(tobi) I loved her so much! She's so cute and beautiful! But I have a question for her tho.. Why is she always wearing black??

-Well I'm always approaching her not Intimidated by her Dangerous Aura

-She seems mean but believe once you get to know her you will loved her liked I do!

-Jana~Chan is the best!

-(Obito) She seems normal to me

-She's not annoying so its okay too

-Oh she's very intelligent.. Very impressive

-She can be a great asset for the organization in the future..

[sanrio-gyal]

The cultural significance of

Akatsuki amvs to “calling all the monsters” or “pokerface”

the Kakuhida and Sasodei “anything you can do” I can do better animatics.

“Akatsuki funny pictures” with the songs hamster dance, witch doctor, and boom boom boom boom.

The yaoi, seme, uke, lemon discourse. The “ukes” randomly ending up in skirts and dresses

The various mpreg Akatsuki fanfics. The Akatsuki fan children.

Kisaita, Sasodei, Kakuhida and tobizet amvs with the “warning yaoi. Don’t like don’t watch.” Or “warning boy x boy. Please no flames”

The Akatsuki cat fics.

Them literally being the tumblr sexy men.

The random “glomps” and Japanese words throughout fanfics.

The skinny black jeans and converse fits in every fanfic.

The Akatsuki high school fics where they were all bad boys and wore hoodies with the cloud on it.

The rock band aus.

The random ocs that somehow always got with Itachi.

The Akatsuki cosplay videos on yt and the awkward cosplays posted on deviantart.

The Akatsuki forums.

The Akatsuki members having to share one bed while traveling.

The end notes where the author would argue with the Akatsuki members.

Naruto joining the Akatsuki. The various fanfics and artwork that had an obsession with collars.

The time where people were confused about Deidara and Konan’s gender, sasori was drawn with white hair, and people thought Tobi was a teenager.

The ships sasori x zetsu, konan x Hidan, Madara x Deidara, Tobi x Zetsu, Itachi x Deidara.

The fangirls and ocs harassing the members and konan being a fujoshi.

The Akatsuki dress up flash games.

Sigh….what a time to be alive

[airireum]

AIRI's ROLEPLAY ZONE

┊┊┊┊⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵ ┊┊┊☆ *　　 * ⋆ ┊┊★ * ┊┊* . *　✦ ┊☆ ° ✧　 　 · ★*

hi hi ! Thanks for stopping by!

My name is Airi, I’m a 21+ roleplayer ! I’m looking for roleplayers who are 18+, semi-lit to novella style and NSFW safe.

I do only roleplay on discord but I’m willing to plot out ideas on tumblr.

I’m comfortable doing oc x oc (selective/mxm or fxf) as well as oc x cc . For oc x oc I usually prefer to play the female role unless it’s mxm or otherwise specified. I only do double ups unless it’s oc x oc!

If any of this interests you, please feel free to message me ! I love coming up with plots or plotting in general. I also love ooc banter and making new friends! Below you’ll find my rules and fandoms!!

RULES!

01. Minor, please DNI. I'm 21+ and do not feel comfortable writing with anyone underage. I will not budge on this!

02. My roleplay style is literate/novella style. I do tend to copy my partners writing length so if you write more, I will too. I do prefer lengthy replies over shorter ones, but if the plot is good enough I'm willing to drop down to semi-lit.

03. I roleplay oc x oc or oc x cc. For oc x cc fandoms I always double up. That way both my partner and I are enjoying our roleplays to the fullest. For oc x oc, I prefer to write as the female character unless we're doing fxf or mxm!

04. Outside of roleplay, I have a pretty busy schedule! I work from 3pm-11pm EST (M-F) so my replies during the week won't be as much as on the weekend. Please note that I will get at least one reply per day, if not more given the free time I have. I try to always let my roleplay partner know if I won't be able to reply or if I'll be busy, so I expect the same thing in return.

05. I love some good NSFW! I tend to be a bit more detailed when it comes to writing out NSFW, kinda tend to immerse myself in! That being said, I don't have many triggers but the ones I do have will be discussed prior to starting the roleplay!

06. I love chatting outside of the roleplay! I know that sometimes life gets busy and we aren't able to reply to the roleplay but we might have some time to talk ooc, and that's totally fine with me. I love making new friends and I'm always down for a chat!! <3

07. I only roleplay on discord! I'm willing to plot out anything on tumblr but the roleplay itself will take place in a private discord server. I love making different channels and aesthetics for our roleplay!

08.Fandom characters that are underage will be AGED UP!

FANDOMS!

ANIME:

I. Jujutsu Kaisen || Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Shoko Ieiri

ll. Bungo Stray Dogs || Osamu Dazai, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chuya Nakahara, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Atsushi Nakajima, Akiko Yosano ((currently still watching the anime))

lll. Tokyo Ghoul || Juuzou Suzuya, Ken Kaneki, Ayato Kirishima, Seidou Takizawa (ghoul)

lV. Blue Lock || Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Nagi Seishiro, Reo Mikage ((finished the anime, starting the manga))

V. Black Butler || Sebastian Michaelis, Undertaker, Claude Faustus ((currently still watching the anime))

Vl. Chainsaw Man || Aki Hayakawa, Makima, Angel ((finished the anime, haven't read the manga))

Vll. Naruto || Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Sasori

Vlll. Death Note || L, Near ((stopped watching after L's death, though I do know the whole gist and spoiled the ending))

lX. Diabolik Lovers || Ayato Sakamaki, Laito Sakamaki, Subaru Sakamaki, Azusa Mukami

MISC:

X. Homicipher || Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Scarletella

[rinisasaki]

💮 リニの話 • Kazekage’s Rescue Arc 💮

.

.

.

Deidara's question has Sasori recalling a conversation that he and Rini shared years prior to this. He had known Rini a long time now, she always did odd things. She was strange. This was one he couldn't quite understand. Praying.

[[Sasori's Flashback: 3 years prior, shortly after Deidara's recruitment.]]

"Rini," Sasori began.

"What do you think you're accomplishing right now?" Although sounding mockingly rhetorical, Sasori was quite serious. He had known her to do this 'praying' thing for awhile now, he always had to make a smart-remark during those times. Rini was *mostly* efficient. Except when she wasn't. These moments irritated him and he needed answers at these times.

Rini luckily took on his attitude with stride, most of the time.

"Praying that the souls attached to this world let go so that they're free to reincarnate into their next life, a life that is hopefully easier and kinder to them."

She continued, "Afterall, when we have earthly regrets, our souls can tag onto objects in this life as a way of holding on, only to be grabbed by kinjutsu of some form and taken advantage of."

Sasori immediately interjected, "I'm aware of the basic principles of Edo Tensei," He had done his own research into this technique that Orochimaru had. It was part of his quest for immortality after all, "I don't know what possesses you to do something as pointless as caring for someone who would want you dead. You're their enemy.”

"I may be their enemy, but are we really so different? We are all connected, just like how nature connects the entire world."

"We all have our reasons to fight. For safety, security... and love. Wouldn't you want someone to care enough to help finally put your soul to rest?" Rini asked, very serious, very enduringly, as if Sasori would ever agree.

"That's not something I have the displeasure of worrying about," Sasori retorted.

But he couldn't help but think, forming harshly into words: "If you're trying to foreshadow your upcoming death, I'll make sure your soul never rests."

"Huh?" Was all Rini could respond.

To answer Deidara's original question...

"She's just soft," He said with annoyance at his young partner.

.

.

.

I'm once again taking forever on story posts, I apologize. 😂

To be continued~! 🩷

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 60: Puppet Loosely Strung (4)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Chapter Summary: There is nothing more horrific, agonizing, and accursed than a living human body. And yet, and yet...the best of life can only be felt if you stay inside one.

Sasori has given up his body long ago, and no one has made him regret it at all...until her.

Author's Note: The final installment of this song! The title song and one used for breaks is Puppet Loosely Strung by The Correspondents. The song sung within is Body by Mother Mother. Thank you @sharkymothfaby for beta reading!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In the past you would have been seen as a family's disgrace

Now they think you're putting on a brave face

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“This craftsmanship…” Sasori interrupts his own disgust with a grumble. “...Deplorable. It’s like you wanted her to get infected.”

“She’s not a doll.” the other man scolds, his stitched arms fold as he glares, practically feeling his masks twitch for an opportunity to kill again. “And I’m not a medic—”

But the response is dismissive: “Clearly.”

“Can you fix it?” Kakuzu asserts, deadly serious. He leans closer to the scorpion and, in doing so, leans too over the subject at hand. His shadow rests upon the woman who lays on the autopsy table, as if she isn’t still alive. Wood-brown eyes narrow at the challenge.

“Of course.”

Kakuzu then shifts the opposite way, pressing uncomfortably (due to his height) against the wall of the attic. He’s agreed to it,so what’s happening now? The patient continues to scan the scene from her strange perspective. Everything is so...quiet. Sasori levels his gaze. After some silence, he asks:

“What are you doing?” 

His answer is simple.

“Observing.”

A “tsk” clicks Sasori’s tongue. “Guarding, more like.” Indeed, he sees right through the threads of the other man. “What…? Don’t you trust me?”

Silence again. He doesn’t. Of course Kakuzu doesn’t. Each Akatsuki, just as the bounty hunter warned his treasure of long ago, is more than capable of killing her ten times over. Sasori is like his poisons; a single second alone with him, in a circumstance as hefty as this, it’s more than enough. That being said, such feelings won’t put it to words. It’s too precarious of a situation for that. The puppet’s expertise is needed too much. Sasori is all Kakuzu has— and therefore all she has— to save her.

“Take my word for it when I say that I can’t exacerbate this wound any further than you already have. The piss poor quality of your stitching, followed up with nary a bit of aftercare, already did the job. Kakuzu…” He nearly coos his name. Sasori only does that when he’s superior to someone and he knows it. But the smirk fades, and then he’s as steeled as ever, tongue sword-sharp. “I presume you don’t wish to arouse suspicion. No one needs to know the rumors are true, after all.”

Rumors? What rumors? This isn’t good...

Kakuzu, bare of his cloak as it again lays underneath the woman, grips his threaded arms so tight you can start to see dents under his fingertips.But he still says not a word.

“My point is…” the redhead continues, “You know as well as I— very well, I’m certain—that the longer you stay up here, the more attention our little situation may raise.”

And no matter how much his muscles twitch, how difficult it is to hold back his fury even as it shakes his gaze, the pipsqueak is right. Nothing is more demeaning than the likes of him...being right.

That will take on new meaning, unfortunately for the woman on the table.

“I suggest you take your cloak back and carry on like we’re not even here.” Sasori blinks, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I assure you’ll be the first to be told when she recovers, if she doesn’t walk down and do it herself.”

Kakuzu looks down at the performer. The buttons of red clouds are done around the torso but, of course, don’t go as low as the legs. The fabric there is split and spread so as to show the injury. But then are her eyes. She is terrified. It doesn’t help, not at all, that she can see Kakuzu is afraid too. A lot of thoughts and emotions run through his head, all the variables about what he did versus what he could have done, about the blame on Hidan's part in all this...about hers… And yet there’s really only one thing that he comes back to, all in all.

“Takara” he tells her, brushing stray strands of hair aside with one hand while the other reaches down. “You’re going to be fine.”

And he has to ignore the fear on her face, lest he change his mind and turn a cautious ally into a sure enemy. He can’t even tell her he’s sorry as he urges her to sit up and begins to undo her only layer between her skin and cold, stagnant air. An exhale confirms a few things: one, that her breath is shaking, and two, that it’s chilled enough to be seen. Every mask and the organs they hold ache with pity.

“Wrap her in a blanket,” Kakuzu demands, as he cranes his neck to Sasori once again. “She’ll freeze to death otherwise.” Ballsy of him, considering the circumstances. No fog comes from Sasori’s lips as he gives a small huff of disapproval.

“Don’t worry.” And then he uses the same words the other man did, somehow sounding much less kind. “She’ll be fine.”

The artist looms behind her back as the woman holds herself, shivering, and watches the bounty hunter climb downstairs.

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They might fear that one day they'll wear your shoes

But you're the one who's laughing, you had nothing to lose

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The traveler begins to wonder if all the mice are dead.

She has not seen or heard a single one since she started staying in this attic once again. Perhaps it’s to do with Sasori. Or maybe they just all left. How long has it been?

No blanket was provided, and though the woman is not surprised, it is alarming. He just looked at her. Eyes wide— unnaturally wide even, and he slipped away. Is she hideous? He urged her before to never harm her body again. It’s so dark here... It was dark before, when she stayed in spring and summer, but it’s even worse now since Sasori has moved in. Up until now, she’s been afraid to do so much as flinch, as all he told her was to not move, but she still can’t help but glance at the window eventually. It’s the lone way to the outside world, if you ignore the hatch to the lower levels. The way the cloth (a blanket, ironically) has been tapered over it... It nearly makes a square halo of light where the edges are pushed in. Why did he do that? She never thought it too drafty herself. Does he work better in the dark? Even though this place is so shadowed, it makes the light so much brighter. Dust motes waltz in the wispy, weak rays of sun, or moon; she has no idea at this point. It makes her imagine that the mice have died and danced up to heaven.

It’s a more romantic idea that the reality of things, being all alone, so exposed and at the mercy of the one man who can fix you. A reflexive swallow crawls down her throat, as another wave of cold tingles over her body. Nudity is many things in a story. It is purity— your true form. But it is also a humiliation. Nothing is her own, not any strip of cloth to save her modesty. They took away her dress before— the very one Sasori made— as neither of the zombie duo was at the time interested in saving the fabric from its bathing in blood. At the time it made sense, but now that Kakuzu’s cloak is gone…

A breath she exhales in dread wafts up and over her head, and she follows it with her gaze until turning over to the other side of the room.

A figure, or rather several, with one among the many centering them all. He’s hunched over, gripping the ends of his work table, over which towers his display of tools. She didn’t get such a good stare at them before. Some of them are normal ones for making dolls, yes, but several are...medical. The bone saw, of course, is hard to ignore, but he too has a small-bladed scalpel and the needle of an empty syringe. What kind of work does one do to need this whole array of materials? To manipulate each end of the sliding scale of human and mechanical bodies, and everything in between?

She’s known the answer, in the back of her mind, for a very long time. But she’s never wanted to admit it.

The woman glances one more time at the puppets, the loose hands and jaws, and empty eyes that linger out of the straps of overlapping shadows. And then they go back to him. Sasori...has not moved. Not at all, not one bit.

“Sasori?”

No response. It’s unnatural. It’s like he’s dead.

“Sasori…?” she tries again. The silver tray underneath her abruptly feels so much colder, so chilled, it stings. It’s the same one, she realizes. The same one. The last person who was laid on this table...

The way she matches that person yet again makes her heart race. It thumps, louder and stronger as horror dawns. A glance whips to each face she can see. Men, women, other and in between. The image of the corpse is crisp in her mind, but she is not there. The woman manages to speak, even as her voice quivers, even if she is only going to ask what he is about to instead show. Whatever happened to the body...it might just happen to her.

“W-where— where...is Hiniri?”

This is the first time she really accepts that the way he turns his head isn’t normal. That there’s no way anyone could turn it so cleanly like it’s on a hinge. His eyes— normally so bored, so empty— they’re still wide. But this time she can feel the fire in his body, the fury hidden behind his visage of perfection. Perfect, round lips hang parted a long, long second before he speaks back:

“...Why?”

“What...what do you mean…?”

A gasp chokes her throat as a whip cracks from an object in his wrist. It takes a second for her to realize that it was something from his work table thrown onto the floor. Recognition continues, gradual and horrible all at once, as she recognizes the embroidery, the painstaking detail now wrinkled and bloody, rotting with death and misuse. The abruptness and violence of the motion makes her now sit up, feeling all the more frozen, as more of her is exposed to open air. He says nothing.

Not as he turns around,Not as he pulls one last thing from the surface he had been staring at.

Nothing at all...until he undoes the broach from her cape and holds it between two fingers, pink glass with a rose petal staring at her as if to mock good intentions.

“Why—“ And the scorpion finally has a voice to match his namesake. His eyes are so sharp it cuts her to the soul “—Didn’t you use it?!”

“I— W—?!”

“My gift…” he whispers, though there’s nearly a tremble in his voice. “I told you it would save you from anything! I told you I made it to keep you safe. How DARE you!”

She holds herself closer as his arm thrusts down in rage back to his side. A snarl begins to curve his skin, and it’s even more clear it perhaps isn’t meant to move that way. It doesn’t fold...doesn’t push the way she’s used to mouths moving.

“You forgot EVERYTHING I’ve done for you!” he hisses. “You ignore me. Ignore what little I’ve demanded in exchange for what we have—” What we have…? “—And you return to me. You return to me with my art in disrepair and begging me to fix you. Why?”

…

And suddenly, it isn’t just about the past couple days.

“Why…” he whispers, a haunted doll in himself. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

The sincerity of it. He steps. Closer...closer...closer. Is he...crying? No. But his eyelids are...twitching. Twitching as if he should be. The performer marvels, even as she mumbles. “I didn’t...want you to worry.”

“Liar.” His eyeballs shine in the dark, almost like the glass broach in his hand. She persists

“Kakuzu only knew because he was there—”

“And Hidan?”

“Hidan too!”

Sasori stares at her leg. “It mars you…” he murmurs, and it almost looks like you may as well have slashed a painting of his in half instead of her thigh. “Why…? How could you let this happen…?”

The half-assed mending only makes it worse. The stitches let him know:

“You worried him.” It sounds less like a statement and more like an accusation.

“...Yes.”

“You bothered with him but not me.”

“He was there when it happened—!” she repeats, but it means little. Seething, seething…!

“You don’t trust me,” the doll hisses.

“No, I-”

“Tell me why. You didn’t use it.”

“I- I forgot.” Not good enough.

“ Why?”

“I was scared—”

“How could you forget?”

“I’ve never-.” And she chokes. It’s like she’s pressed between slides, put under a microscope. How close he is...it's suffocating. Scrutinizing. She never realized...he cared. Not this much. She wasn’t sure he could ever care at all. “I’ve never been…”

And in between the ugly hiccups, the breaths that cloud in puffs, one by staggered one, Sasori finally begins to realize again. She’s just a civilian. She’s never been attacked before. And sometimes you do stupid things— forget important ones—when you’re under the glower of a glistening knife. But that leaves something all the more boggling...

“...How did you get that injury?” the artist asks, monotone. The woman can feel the way he glides so lingeringly with his stare from her thigh...to her face. “If you weren’t under attack?” Every inch of how her expression twists...no place to hide, so very exposed, even more than the way she’s before him with no clothes.

“...I did it,” she admits, as there is no other choice. She cannot blame the zombies, her fellow dead. A tear begins to fall. “It was me.”

Trail...trail down her cheek. And as she bends over…

Drip.

Drip, drip, drip.

Onto the medical tray.

The woman told Sasori long ago she understood him, and it was in more ways than one. Time freezes and he is out of his body again. Though, perhaps, Sasori has never been fully in it in the first place. Numbness climbs inside him like kudzu vines.

“Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

“The prison of your body. The tear in your thigh is only the most obvious one. What about the aches in your joints? Headaches when you finally go out to see the sun? If you stab yourself on purpose...then you know. You know how terrible it is to be alive. All that will happen...is that you’ll age and you’ll die. If it wasn’t for your standing here...I would have just taken liberty to fix it for you.”

“Fix it…?”

“Yes. Make you like me.”

That’s even more confusing. “Like...you?" And she ventures what will ultimately be the final, most fate-changing of guesses. "You mean like your puppets?”

“No. It’s rather...my puppets are like me.”

That distinction is...nonsense. What the hell does he mean?! Her brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”

“Even after all this time...so close— closer to me in this form than most anyone else will ever see—...you haven’t noticed.” And the strangest of smiles begins to push up his cheeks. “I suppose maybe I’ve finally accomplished it after all.”

He’s happy...!? “Sasori, I’m not following—”

“A puppet, my dear. A puppet like me. A puppet like…"

He holds a pink glass in front of his heart and with a press...the woman finally understands why her very first question brought them all the way here. A puff of smoke fades...and someone is wearing a dress, just like the one she covered in blood.

“Hiniri,” she whispers. Unmistakable. It's her. The shinobi who argued for the stranger’s life, in spite of her kin. Those eyes...the hair...the same.

The same ones that made a corpse and a performer two sides of one mirror.

Her hands go up to cradle her face. She’s cold. Deathly cold, just as when the hoshi-nin was on the autopsy table instead of the performer now. The performer holds her, cradles someone who isn't alive to feel it, and the crying from before returns even louder and uglier. It's ridiculous. It's unsightly.

Yet Sasori lets it go on.

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They just couldn't see

That it was me needing you, not you needing me

They just couldn't see

That a puppet loosely strung is not who I wanna be

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The window takes full shape as the covering is pulled from the crevices. Sunlight streams inside for the first time since Sasori entered this place, and the stranger in force had left. He doesn’t hide the way he looks her up and down, as if savoring the sight, before stepping in front of her and wrapping her in the blanket like a present. With the flick of a fingertip, he arranges the puppet of her forgotten savior just so that it leans against her side, like an old comforting friend. For the other side, to her surprise...he joins, seating so his wooden forearm is next to hers. She huddles into the fabric, finally beginning to feel her nose again.

“Thank you…” she murmurs, voice still shaking from tears.

Sitting next to her on this operating table...he says nothing. His lids are lowered again, in their regular way, and yet only now she sees it as so...wistful. The blanket twists around her neck ever so slightly as she tries to look at him.

“Sasori?”

He says nothing. Before, his silence was a welcoming challenge— a dare for her to even try to explain herself. Now…he simply has nothing to say. At least not until she asks.

“Have you always...been…?”

Another exhale, with no fog to be found. His eyes hood further those beautiful, flawlessly carved lids underneath brows painfully placed one hair by one.

“Yes...and no,” the self-made artist finally murmurs. “No in the literal sense. Yes...in reality. I changed myself as soon as I figured out how.” In a motion as smooth as silk he stands up from the table without even a sound; then, in such a way so she must witness, the doll begins to unbutton the top of his cloak.

“Sasori—" she stammers, realizing in some way the intent of this action. "You... You don’t have to—”

But he smirks, and somehow, some way, it’s like he has nerves and synapses with which to feel pain again. “It’s only fair. I subjected you to exposure for so long. Let me take my turn.”

Snap. Snap. Snap. And then it slips off. While his face and hands are so flawlessly sculpted, she understands now why she's never seen him without the black coat. Her eyes easily lock onto the obvious ball joints of his elbows; the flat, matte sheen of his collarbone. God, even his midsection...it’s coiling metal intestines. But the most obvious thing of all still requires explanation, he knows, and so a wooden finger taps to it.

“The only part of me that is still human–” he says, unbelievably, as he touches a circle embedded into his chest. Veins sprout from it and into the walls of his abdomen. “Is my heart.”

“I’ll ask you again…” he continues after letting her gape. “I can make you any body. To your specification, to my impeccable standards. Eternally beautiful, exactly the way you want to be. I know you ache for it. A kindred spirit...rare and in need.” He cocks his head, again in such a way that no human being could ever. “With my skill, I can give it to you. No more pain, No more infection.” Her leg stings as he continues to speak; she fumbles over the irritated spot underneath her quilt. “You won’t even age. I certainly haven’t.”

It’s a quiet moment. She isn’t horrified— no, that isn’t the word. She’s more...hallowed. Hallowed and confused. Her brow curls as she urges him to explain:

“Does it take away...everything?” And from the way he answers, she can feel the double edged sword that presses into that tube he calls a heart.

“Yes.”

…

…

She dips her head, and a few more tears fall just for him. The glow of them in the sun reflects over his marble eyes.

“I’m...I’m so sorry.”

“Why? Why pity me?”

It's so simple that it'll sound stupid as her truth tumbles from her heart through her lips. “Because you must have hurt so bad to have needed to do all that...!”

...

And it’s like he got hit with a hammer. Emotions and memories explode around him, knock the wind out of his lungs and the pulse from his poison-filled veins. He experiences everything, in such a brief moment, all over again. And now a little boy is left in a doll’s hollow body. All of a sudden, Sasori is but a ghost. Unfortunately, every ghost lingers this world for one thing: closure. That's why he speaks back, even when she's saying things that shouldn't be true, things that insult everything he's ever worked for.

“ ...Tell me why,” he demands, craving words and validation he’s never had before. He leans right into her space, tilts to be eye level, to absorb the marvel that is this thing so foreign and unbelievable to him.

She twitches. She flinches, and becomes short of breath, and her mouth begins to tremble. His prior assumption was correct, he already knew— that he knows how she feels.

He just didn’t realize that it could also mean the vice versa, that she could know how he feels too.

It’s horrible that he thought he could take away feelings— sensations, emotions, what have you— forever. For once, he was wrong. Stopping the ability to feel...doesn’t change the fact you’ll crave feelings all the same. It doesn't take the source of human desire away.

She parts the blanket, and again feels so...exposed. Icy air floods around her like a hug, a caress of a lover around every inch of her flesh. He’s right. Her body is a prison. It stings and aches and it punishes her for wanting and for existing. But a body is not just a thing you own. It’s you. And that’s something she’s come to accept since he first held her by the chin and stared her in the face, all those moons ago. Their leader told her something— that you can’t numb the pain. But she knows, too, that you don’t have to be alone with it. Misery loves company, and that's because everyone needs a friend.

And so hands reach away from holding herself, raising so they instead take his hands...and she sings to him.

I’ve grown tired of this body

A cumbersome and heavy body

Naked together, the man naturally cold and the woman still quivering to stay warm. In order for him to help— to heal her gash— she needs his trust. She needs to trust him.

He watches himself fall apart and be dissected— not literally but in the whites of her eyes. Sasori remembers the process. The scientific fascination with his flesh, the simultaneous disgust that it is his own. The analogues of first insects, then mammals, then humans...seeing himself in each pulsing organ, in each gush of fluid inside him. Inside him. Inside him.

Eyes. Face. Arms, legs. Lungs, tongue, ears. Joints. Teeth. Nose. Pulling them aside and apart. The performer lists them one by one as if she is inside his mind, an assistant to his surgeries.

To be rid of yourself is to know yourself. To know yourself is to hate it. Thus the cycle of Akasuna no Sasori spiraled in an inevitable— irreversible conclusion. Only difference being that it was simply never before someone was actually capable of becoming their own opposable doll.

Bodies break

And yet, even in possession of everything he ever wanted, it wasn’t enough. His heart, even in a canister, is still his. No amount of fiddling with life itself like a mere toy could change that, even if you handle it like a child. No matter how brazen, disregarding, or disrespectful the puppet has been for the rules of the game, some things just stay the same.

I've grown tired of this body

Fall apart without me, body

How does she know? So flawlessly, without hesitation? She fears, yes, but there is certainty woven from those lips as she speaks the truth. How? How? He’s said all along this moment that she does understand,and yet… maybe he didn’t realize how well. Maybe he thought of them as master and student, artist and creation… His eyeballs tremble ever so slightly in their sockets as he begins to exit his body and witness hers. She’s beautiful. He’s studied her, every inch of her anatomy and disposition, so of course Sasori finds her beautiful. But to immortalize it would be to take away the flush in her cheeks, the lightest bit of steam that rises from her shoulders bared against the cold, the softness of the fat upon her breasts and stomach. He’s been accustomed to thinking of the final product abstractly. That like the Third, and like the one that leans against her side now, to transform her would be an improvement. But that, he begins to see, is to change things— things that he would miss.

And we all know how Sasori doesn’t like to let good things go.

Heavy body

Without his consent, eyelids shaped by his own two hands lower and he melts into her, a wooden forehead and silky doll hair pressing against hers. All of a sudden, many things are true. He thought every obstacle had been overcome...but once they aren’t ignored, they come flooding back. The force of it is enough to make a puppet limp at the strings.

Heavy body

For once in his life, he accepts comfort.  The weight of the world slips from his shoulders to hers.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm tied to so many things I don't need to do

I'll loosen my strings to feel more like you

I'm tied to so many things I don't need to do

I'll loosen my strings to feel more like you

They just couldn't see

That it was me needing you, not you needing me

They just couldn't see

That a puppet loosely strung is not who I wanna be

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[katsuyuswritings]

— ᕦ kei ᕤ —

a lonely writer who has a few friends. asking for mutuals, also an employed attorney and has no social life 💗

— MALE — genshin, naruto, saiki k, chainsaw man, stardust destiny (oc)

male; aether, dainslief, kaeya, diluc, albedo, venti, bennett, razor, mika, zhongli, chongyun, xingqiu, xiao, baizhu, tartaglia, itto, gorou, kazuha, heizou, ayato, thoma, alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno, capitano, dottore, pantalone, scaramouche/wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, freminet, wriosthley

naruto uzumaki/namikaze, sasuke uchiha, kakashi hatake, iruka umino, kotetsu, izumo, asuma sarutobi, sai yamanaka, shikamaru nara, choji akamichi, aburame shino, kiba inuzuka, kankuro, gaara, itachi uchiha, kisame, sasori, deidara, kakuzu, hidan, orochimaru, kabuto, jiraiya, minato namikaze, neji hyuga, zetsu, zabuza, haku yuki, suigetsu, juuga, maito gai, boruto uzumaki, mitsuki

saiki kusuo, kaidou shun, aren kuboyasu, toritsuka reita, nendou riki, hairo kineshi, makoto teruhashi

denji, aki, angel devil, shark devil (that's literally all)

aifuyo hime/yuzuki, renyue yuzuki, kōhaku hayashi, eijiro yuzuki, aoi hime, anh hyu, eugene hyu, feng xiang

— FEMALE — genshin, naruto, saiki k, chainsaw man, stardust destiny (oc)

female: amber, fischl, noelle, mona, jean, lisa, eula, klee, barbara, xiangling, xinyan, yunjin, ganyu, keqing, shenhe, ningguang, beidou, qiqi, yaoyao, kuki, kujou sara, yae miko, raiden ei/shogun, raiden makoto, kokomi, ayaka, sayu, yoimiya, faruzan, layla, nilou, dori, dehya, candace, dunyarzad, focalors, navia, lynette, yuelin, tsaritsa, la signora, sandrone, arlecchino, columbina, raiden makoto

sakura haruno/uchiha, hinata hyuga/uzumaki, karin uzumaki, konan, kurenai sarutobi, hanabi hyuga, ino yamanaka, tsunade senju, temari nara, tenten, anko mitarashi, kushina uzumaki/namikaze, guren (mommy), himawari uzumaki, sarada uchiha

kokomi teruhashi, chiyo yumehara/teruhashi, kuriko/kusuko saiki, aiura mikoto, rifuta imu, mera chisato

power, makima, yuro, himeno

katsuyu yuzuki/hime, chiyo hime, shinkkami ayakemi-sanjin (teiko), kohari hayashi, mina noshiro, maikka yue, yan xiang

— ᕤ can request ᕦ —

smut, suggestive, angst and fluff

aged up characters smut/suggestive

child!reader x parent!character or vise versa

song related storyline

ships and oc x reader

— ᕦ can't request ᕤ —

minor character smut

oc x canon (I have my reasons)

weird shit like armpit kink and others (I don't wanna name them 😨)

Also I know most of y'all are minors... You can't hide from me

[spiritamongdarkness]

Another of my new Naruto Oc pairings, with Sasori and my Oc Sute

This was made using elements from a doll maker game by Hapuriainen on DeviantART

[jaskittea]

sketchbook dump~

I draw my oc and him a lot when i'm feeling down and it shows.