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@jozetsuka
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LOW ACTIVITY
Mobile-bound from Monday to Friday. Replies to threads on the weekends.
General info;
This is an RP blog for Zetsu from Naruto.
This blog is 18+. Minors DNI.
I am not a mutual exclusive blog. I am semi-selective and have a strong preference for interacting with other Naruto characters and Naruto OCs.
Rules;
No godmodding. No infomodding
IC =/= OOC. Mun =/= Muse.
The Mun;
I’m Smokes. I go by any pronouns. I am 25+
“I would love to sit back and enjoy your art, but I’m still curious.
If you sculpted a match box out of your clay and someone were to strike a match against the side of it, would that detonate the clay?”
Zetsu mimics the motion of striking an imaginary match box with a match, then splays his fingers to visualize the boom.
“I’m in need of your skill.
Is this something you can do?”
Deidara smiled.
Even if it was Zetsu, it was nice to have someone see value in his art, too need his art. It made his heart pound with excitement, a tingling sensation squirming from his chest and through his limbs, down to the tips of his fingers.
"Of course that's something I can do. Hah!" he dove his hand into his pouch to chew up some clay, kneading in a good dose of explosive chakra. Even for something as small as a matchbox, it could make one hell of an explosion.
"Is this for Hidan? You two are always bickering. Didn't you get into a pretty big fight recently? Hm?"
“Not for Hidan, no.”
Zetsu returns a devious smile of his own as he hovers a tad too close to inspect the sculpture Deidara had created.
“But if you’d like to pull a prank on him such as this, I would turn a blind eye and a deaf ear for you.
Now,
this is lovely.”
Seems like Zetsu doesn’t want to touch on the topic of their most recent squabble. He’s almost already gone and forgotten about it all before Deidara piped up about it.
A step back and an appreciative nodding of his head.
“And what about a candle?
Other things that someone would bring a flame close to…
A lantern? With a compartment for oil. I think that would do some serious damage!”
Hands on his hips, staring out of the base with a small smile on his face.
“I should start a harem.”
A moment passes as he thinks critically about the decision.
His smile fades as the contemplation inside escalates.
One hand comes up to his chin as the other balls itself up to act as a plateau under his opposite elbow.
A tilt of the head, and,
“A whore house wouldn’t be too unsound of an investment, actually.
Plenty of information to learn from many different people.
Another den to strike deals in.
Business men, politicians, the men who carry out the wicked deeds of others for the right amount of pay.
Hmmm…”
A whore house in Konoha.
Would that be too bold of a move?
Hands on his hips, staring out of the base with a small smile on his face.
“I should start a harem.”
Deidara.
I have a question.
Or, more of a curiosity about your clay and your ability to mould things.
A small number of curiosities, actually. So, more than one.
One, can your clay be detonated by any other means outside of the remote activation of your jutsu? Like if the clay was set on fire by a jutsu, or by a match.
Second, can you mould your clay into everyday shapes and objects? Like a candle, or a box of matches.
And thirdly, the least important, and more for my own personal interest, can your clay be painted? Is there a way for you to introduce different colors to your clay??
"Of course I can make stuff like that. I've made a bouquet of flowers once before. But when it comes to color... I don't really know. I think you need a special mixture for it? Though I suppose you could use acrylic paint or something." he shrugged his shoulders.
"And as for your first question-- just sit back and enjoy the art. That's all you need to worry about. Hm."
“I would love to sit back and enjoy your art, but I’m still curious.
If you sculpted a match box out of your clay and someone were to strike a match against the side of it, would that detonate the clay?”
Zetsu mimics the motion of striking an imaginary match box with a match, then splays his fingers to visualize the boom.
“I’m in need of your skill.
Is this something you can do?”
It's such a disappointment that tearing someone's throat out with your teeth kills them. Sex would be so much more fun if we could maul each other and come back from it.
When's your birthday?
Why so you can look up my natal chart? So you can figure out my weaknesses? So you can destroy me?
Damn. I ain’t got time or energy for my hobbies anymore. And there’s not much I can change up in order to make time or have the energy.
This isn’t personal toward anyone but I’m putting my threads on ice and not gonna pick up any new threads for the time being. Maybe some funny short ones that wrap up in a day or two but nothing extensive or serious. I just don’t have the time or brain power to be creative. Getting myself anxious and worked up about owing people threads is counterproductive so I’m freeing myself from those shackles so I can actually have fun and RP on the dash again
probably feels good af to latch your jaws onto someone and not let go
Landsat
— isa b. this survival hasn't been soft
If he eats my boyfriend, I will cut Hidan out of him piece by piece.
I learned my lesson from last time.
I’ll spit this time. Not swallow.
He's back after almost three weeks of absence. He's road weary, his clothes need to be properly washed, and he's headed for a hot shower and a solid rest, but he's got the rewards for three more bounties secured and the whereabouts for two more kept for later (as well as a handful of new kinds of tea that have been dropped off in the proper kitchen cabinet).
There is no fanfare.
There is no one sitting idly by the door, just waiting for Kakuzu’s return.
There is nothing to welcome him back but the familiar sensation of background paranoia since the moment he crossed the invisible perimeter set around the base.
The feeling grows more intense the further he walks toward one of the hidden entrances. The genjutsu barrier dispels to give him way then, as if he were a drop of rain joining a puddle, the barrier reseals itself behind him with an unnatural rippling to the forest’s image.
Background noise of paranoia increases tenfold past the threshold.
There is no ambush.
There is no ill intent behind the hidden set of eyes clocking each of his footsteps. And there’s not a hint of malice as it’s committing all of Kakuzu’s new bruising and scars to a mental notepad.
He’s studied from on high and never directly questioned by a voice. It’s as if he’s being haunted by a ghost— the walls and floors take turns creaking around him, movement out of the corners of eyes indiscernible from a proper poltergeist or the common malaise of his three week excursion.
Kakuzu is smart enough to know better than that though. The Akatsuki base wasn’t haunted. Not by a ghost, no, but something that could easily pass for one. Zetsu makes quick and quiet work of making sure Kakuzu has nothing else more to focus on than relaxation and recovery; the moment his robe is left unattended and all eyes are off of it, it’s gone. The dirty clothing from his bathroom gathered from the floor and replaced with a fresh set.
His laundry is started before he even finishes his shower.
A pot of water is set to boil with his nighttime choice of tea ready to be steeped in his favorite cup.
All of this and more waits for Kakuzu at his bedside.
Years spent at each other’s side and there’s no need for Kakuzu to wonder who it was violating his space and privacy without a second thought. Especially when Zetsu leaves one of his signatures behind; a plate of freshly cooked nira reba under a metal cloche.
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