#sasori orange

[t-u-i-t-c]

make me choose

orange or purple → orange

[tokuteasings]

Entwined

Unfortunately, I am here to stay in the Kyuranger hole. It’s still a meh series but listen after I read these headcanons by @toku-imagines about his stupid lil tail...I had to write. I had to fucking write.

Warnings: I suppose this can be seen as either romantic or platonic? Haven’t figured that out yet

‘He’s doing it again,’ came your inward little murmur. 

It’s in the corner of your eye and you cannot miss it, not how it darts back and forth, to and fro, crafting unsure arcs within the air - a comet that never reaches its destination and never finds its home. Inwardly you wonder and ponder, why was he acting like this?

Stinger never spoke often about his past, his home, his family, his people. There was always this painstakingly obvious welts within his eyes that threaten to spill or explode within his ducts. They would backfire and he would clam up. Sometimes he speaks fondly of his people and those are the days you see these twinkling little dribbles of acid from his eyes; of longing, of sorrow, of a home he can only visit within his dreams. 

This had something to do with it, you just knew.

How to approach it, however, was a different story altogether. 

“Hey Stinger?” you call out to him one hour within the Orion, and he glances up from his tablet, his tail darting quickly under the safety of his jacket, hidden away like the rest of his emotions - locked, key carelessly tossed into the void.

“Yes?” he glances up at you, brows furrowed and his ears tinged the lightest of cosmic pinks. He isn’t truly looking into your eyes, past your gaze and into the wall beside you. “What is it?”

The vacuum of silent space steals the air from your lungs, tongue drying up and voice box pierced by the same point of a scorpion’s tail. But there is no turning back now.

“Why does your tail tend to move whenever I’m around you?”

Stinger pauses, his cheeks slowly blooming with an unlucky red. You see movement under the leather, and then a familiar belt-like structure around his waist; burnt orange and tight, not restricting his flow of air but a secure sensation against his stomach. He’s almost inwardly shrinking upon himself, with fear and sheepishness encased upon his normally emotionless face.

Oh, oh no.  What did you do?

“I-I’m sorry if I offended you or anything, Stinger, I swear, I’m not mad at you or anything.” you wave your hands around rapidly, terrified by the prospect of offending the alien and the panic began to fully settle into your chest as he flinches away from you, further downcasting his eyes. “I-I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just wanted to ask because you looked troubled...”

The silence is deafening, further thudding in imaginary agony within your eardrums. 

“I...” slowly he squeezes his tail a tad bit tighter around his form, a hug, an embrace. You swear you could see the stinger itself quiver. “I am comfortable around you.” he starts off with these almost quiet words, barely heard above the roaring desert storms. “Amongst my people, when we become comfortable with someone, we wish to wrap our tails around them.” as he speaks, the orange mass slowly uncoils from his waist, hanging loosely at his side. “Where it wraps around, signifies their closeness to us. Wrapping tail around tail is meant for family or intimate partners. Around the waist is similar to a hug and can be used between comrades. Tails around hands is similar to that gesture.”

You fall silent, sitting in the chair across from him, “So...the reason why you’ve been doing that with your tail is...”

Stinger doesn’t look up at you, glaring and boring holes further into the telson. You watch as his cheeks slowly brighten. “I...am comfortable around you, and on instinct...I wanted...” the final words doesn’t leave his lips, letting silence reign and poison his lungs once more.

“That explains a lot...” you whisper out after beats of emptiness, smiling softly before holding out your hand to him, watching as his eyes widen and glance between you and your palm. You only smile the gentlest of smiles, your palm upturned and a lazy sort of gesture. You can always retract it, but you can see his tail rise just slightly. “I would be honored to.”

“Are you not scared?” he points the tip of his tail right at you, never coming too close to prick skin but merely similar to pointing a finger. “I could poison you.” “Never.” you answer back without as much as a pass of heartbeats. “I trust you, Stinger.”

There is a flash of hesitation in his eyes but slowly, his tail slinks and slithers towards you, wrapping around the palm of your hand first in a loose embrace. It’s warmth, a bracelet decorating your skin as it slowly coils and curls around your wrist. The needle is always pointed downwards, far far away from any sort of veins that could possibly be pricked. 

You could see his shoulders sag yet tense, and you merely inwardly smile. Your thumb reaches out to gently rub at the flesh, watching him jump lightly. “S-Sorry! I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine...” Stinger murmurs but the grip tightens just a bit more, never enough to constrict blood flow but enough to feel secure and safe and comfortable; a glove upon your arm. “It felt nice...”

You grin gently, further letting your thumb run over each and every segment of his tail and watching his shoulders seep and tension ebb and flow into the ether.

“Thank you.” “Huh?” You look up at him, watching as his face becomes even redder...which you never thought was possible. “For what?” “...For being patient.” 

You only chuckle, “You’re welcome. I like this. It feels nice.” you pause as you feel the touch slacken just a bit, almost like he was retracting himself. “You can do this more often, Stinger, I won’t mind.”

He perks up, even though he keeps his face neutral, betraying the thud of his heart. “Are...you sure?” “Positive.” 

The grip tightens once more, and a rare yet tender smile crosses his lips, a curve so elegant and free. “Then I will. Thank you.” a burden slides away from his shoulders, and he merely lets his tail rest against your hand, leaning back into his own chair and returning to glancing down at his tablet.  You could get used to this, honestly, seeing the sweet little grin to his lips as his tail is wrapped around your arm...

[deaddeaddeadbear]

Finally able to get my favorite Kyuranger.

[navigatorsghost]

I'm loving how everyone is drawing the Hallowe'en boop cats and the black skeleton one keeps coming out looking like kitty!Hidan.

[iambilliejeanok]

can you please write headcanons on how the Akatsuki eat out their fem s/o? Thank you.

Yes I can, you’re welcome🌸

🌸How the Akastuki members eat out fem reader🌸

Feature: Pein||Kakuzu||Hidan||Sasori||Itachi||Kisame

Warnings: 🔞, NSFW, content might be unsuitable for some viewers, contains taboo/explicit scenes that some might find disturbing, darcyphillia, female cunnilingus, UNEDITED, the whole thing is about pussy eating, all consensual scenarios.

No artwork presented here belongs to me

💗Enjoy💗

Pein

We love Pein we really do, but dear lawd, he knows how to torture you. Pein is such a dirty tease. He’s so bad, you might even end up crying, the remainder of the session.

With his mouth literally watering, this is tough on him too, spit casually sliding off of his tongue and onto your vulva, while he’s softly biting and sucking the skin surrounding your genitalia, leaving small hickies behind and NEVER touching your clit.

If you’re strong willed enough, screaming at him and tugging on his dry orange hair might direct his attention to your suffering, but that also really annoys him, and now a lingering kiss is all he leaves you with, your hips would’ve shot up if he wasn’t holding them down, but your poor clit is way too sensitive that just the contact of his soft lips against your clit nearly took you out.

“Pein! Baby I can’t stand this! Please!!!”, you desperately beg him, unashamedly attempting to shove your clit in his mouth but you can’t even get close, he’s freakishly strong. He’s eyebrows now lower and he’s purely disappointed. “If I give you want you want you’re still going to bother me. Why can’t you give in to me?”, he asks, and lawd knows you couldn’t give a flying fuck right now, he needs to get serious.

But this is his little game, to see how much he can torture you, purple eyes refocusing on your pussy. Here’s a good reason as to why he admires edging you so much, you’re so incredibly wet, and when he separates your folds to get a good look at you, it’s all goey and sticky, and he absentmindedly starts licking a trail up and down every inch of your exposed vulva, every lick setting your entire body ablaze, Pein shoving his tongue as deep as it can go inside of you as he continues licking up, but he stops just below your clit his eyes blissfully shut and his head in another world as he takes his sweet time to taste every inch of you.

There’s no level of horny greater than this for you and Pein is hard enough to break something with his erection. He’s definitely not sorry for putting you through this and for a matter of fact, he had you right where he needs you. He’s managed to reduce you to a desperate mess, your pussy is dripping with your arousal and he’s looking right back at your hole, watching it contract and expand as though it’s begging him too. He knows it’s begging him. Now he can mess with you.

Kakuzu

First of all, Kakuzu towers over you, his impressive frame and bulky size means he can easily manhandle you regardless of your size, and we know this grumpy piece of sexyness takes advantage of that too.

He’s so serious though, but he loves your personality, whatever it is. He doesn’t typically make any sounds outside of heavy breathing when the two of you have sex, and you’re always the one reaching the high notes.

Kakuzus approach to eating you out is definitely different from Peins, because Kakuzu doesn’t have the time of day to edge you. He’s a dangerous assassin and only enjoys making money the easiest way he knows how, so he always needs to stay alert and be on guard, even in the comfort of your own bedroom while his head is buried between you legs.

He’s very intentional and to the point, he wants you to start crying out his name with ragged screams RIGHT NOW😭This man has no general idea of how to initiate anything sexual so he just scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder wherever you are. He places you down anywhere comfortable enough for you lay down, and he’s immediately pushing your thighs up and spreading your legs. He also ALWAYS just moves your panties to the side because he doesn’t have time to get all romantic with you, but he also really wants to make you feel good🥺 he really tries his best to make you feel good, if only it didn’t have to be so spontaneous and intense all the time

The pad of his thumb is already rubbing your clit in circles. Now you know he’s insanely good at this, so the minute he throws you over his shoulder, your pussy is already growing moist with every passing second. He’s not a fan of dirty talk but sometimes he’ll comment on how you’re already creamed up at this point. If only he understood his own power😭😭

With his focus on your beautiful face, he spits right onto your clit and you can’t help but moan at the sensation of the cold spit landing on clit, but he’s massaging your clit again with his thumb, his free hand working in ripping your top in half so he can free your titties. Kakuzu gets so horny when you let him play with you, because it’s not like he can just do this whenever he wants. Biting your lip to stifle a moan at the contact of his open palm kneading your boob would work if the speed of his thumb in your clit didn’t increase, and you’re moaning loudly now, his focused facial expression relaxing with a smirk pulling at his lips before he buries his head between your thighs, tongue fucking you to an orgasm, and you’re already throwing your head back, overwhelmed with Kazuzu’s intensity and aggressiveness as he licks and sucks on your clit, your screams like a beautiful play that he gets to orchestrate, knowing what to do to get what kind of reaction.

Your orgasm are always so long and intense because he’s constantly stimulating something. If he’s sucking your soul out of your clit he’s also tongue fucking you, his fingers helping out to stimulate your gspot while he’s free hand keeps you spread just enough to lick every inch of you. HE LOVES EATING YOUR WHOLE ASS OUT OKAY. He’s so strong it’s left you with a little bit of an obsession towards his touch. He lifts your ass up easily enough with how he pushes your thighs open and by the time he’s getting around to lapping the crack of your ass and circling your anus you’re a complete mess. You’re squirting, screaming and shaking but it’s barely been three minutes…he has the time to go a little longer. 5 minutes, maybe 6 since he’s feeling extra relaxed at this point.

Sasori

He’s so sick and evil please😭😭 why does getting your pussy ate out have to be so intense and overwhelming. And you might need to endure a little bit of pain to experience those orgasms that make you feel like you’re turning into another creature. He loves to study you and your body, how certain things will drive you crazy and how other things you can handle better.

Sasori is surprisingly a loyal pleaser, he always strives to send you over the moon and he now understands that the more pleasure you experience the easier it is for you to handle penetration. He loves penetrating you while eating you out, yes with his fingers and they feel so good you can literally envision the way he makes you feel, but he also gets a kick out of seeing the toys he meticulously designed fit inside of you, one inside your anus and one inside your vagina. The one inside your vagina just vibrates, starting from a low buzz and gradually growing more intense, that you’ll eventually have orgasms that could last the whole session, while the you that goes inside your vagina is the one he plays around with, fucking you with it while he devours your clit. Sometimes he will pull the toy inside your vagina out to replace it with his own tongue and slurp up the mess you’re making. 😭🙈

Hidan

Hidan loves spanking yes, but not he’s not about your ass. When you’re enjoying an intense orgasm, crying, or fussing enough to annoy him, especially while he’s in the zone, spreading your lips apart to directly stimulate your exposed bean, but gentle licks is enough to send you into spasms. When it gets difficult to keep you in one position, he straightens up and smacks your titties, loves to slap both of them, until your promise him you’ll sit still. You know the drill.

But the reality is you’re not going to be able to stay in one position with how he’s not giving your a break, constantly licking your vulva, unintentionally stimulating your g spot every time his tongue slips inside of you, taking his sweet time, his eyes shut to really taste you. So he opens his eyes and frowns, sitting upright to start smacking your breasts again.

He makes you cry when he does this because it’s really not fair, and damn you because your years will tug at his heart enough to convince him you deserve a break. He’s actually kinda sweet though, because when you begin to really cry and beg him to wait, he will find something else to do until you’re ready for round two, massaging your boob in one hand while he’s warm mouth is suckling the other, and your beautiful skin is always covered in dark patches from the millions of of hickies he leaves all over you, especially your chest and neck area when he’s giving you a break.

In between kisses he checks on you. “Hey”, he whispers as to not startle you, your eyes fluttering as they open up to see him. You should answer him when he’s done planting soft kisses against your softer lips. “hey”, you respond in the softest voice, he immediately has the urge to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you tight. “Intense right.. babyy, are you okay?”, he whispers in your ear. “Yes I’m okay, thank you”. “May I continue?”, he asks placing a kiss against your temple, already leaving a trail of kiss as he repositions himself between your legs.

This time around he’s a little meaner, praising you for constantly squirting on him while he’s devouring you, your orgasms so intense it doesn’t take too long for you to start throwing another tantrum. He’s so good at handling you🥺

Itachi

Itachi🥺 he loves talking to you during foreplay. He’s also constantly flirting with you, that probably explains why you’re always horny. He knows what he’s doing because Itachi LOVES pleasuring you with his mouth. Whether it’s verbally or physically, he never fails to make you feel so so good.

Itachi will eat you until a whiny mess and he talks you through all of it. “Tachi!’ I can’t take it uhhhh!!!!”, you whine, Itachi not stopping the stroke of his tongue against your clit until you have this orgasm. He doesn’t like ruining your orgasms, so he’s rather just make you nut and give you a break after, no matter how intense the orgasm is. You’re going to have it until you calm yourself. “There you go sweet girl”, he pants, mesmerized by the way you’re squirting and the noises you’re making, screaming while he’s literally just watching you cum. “Baby”, he smiles, “I love watching my pretty girl squirt like this. Thank you baby”. “I- o-okay—“, you try and speak but that orgasm was rather overwhelming.

Your inability to get yourself together always amuses him, he loves doing this to you. “My pretty girl”, he says, leaning forward to finally kiss you, his fingers slowly separating your folds, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit in left to right strokes, the speed increasing, quickly leaving you unable to kiss him in return. He smiles again, amused. Your clit is so sensitive and you’re so sweet and responsive, the demon inside of him wants to come out and play. Now even though you’re screaming from such simple actions, he still wants to see you have another orgasm, despite the intensity.

But he’s loving and sweet with how he handles the situation you don’t realize he’s the reason why you find yourself able to make it to orgasm number 4 in just one round😫

Kisame

Like Kakuzu, Kisame is also really tall and bulky, and uses that to his advantage whenever he can, even when he’s trying to pleasure his precious lover😞

He loves him some foreplay and loves using his fingers before he finishes you off with his mouth. He loves you between his thighs with you back resting against his chest, and with his free hand leading your boobs, his other hand is rapidly flicking at your clitoris, bringing you to multiple orgasms while you squirm and convulsive between his legs, yet he easily holds you snug against him. He might even place his own legs over yours and bring you to another orgasm. You’re guaranteed to squirt when he bullies you like this. Sometimes he would make you sit on his dick while he does this to your poor clit, but let’s get into that some other time…

He loves for you to sit on his face, sit on his face and ride him. Don’t stop though because that might aggravate him😭 and slowly make him feel like he has to be a little more aggressive. “Cmon baby, what’s the matter?”, he frowns, smacking your ass hard before sitting you right back on his mouth, the grip of his hands on your hips is so strong you don’t even try and escape, succumbing to your fate of back breaking orgasms. Tomorrow your back will certainly remind you of this moment right here with how often you arch. But you’re grateful for your morning yoga sessions because those help a lot with any body aches you might have, unless Kisame walks in on you in that downward dog position, then he suddenly wants to do some yoga with you. You both know why he’s really here and it’s going to end with his head between your thighs.

But if it’s not for face riding please let him eat you out on all fours. Lawd he’s so aggressive and might make you wanna tap out from the overstimulation. And in this position you’re so exposed, he buries his face nose between your ass cheeks, might enjoy sniffing your anus while he’s devouring you, his tongue lapping at your clit while he shakes his head, making all kinds of grunt and groaning sounds to show you how much he’s enjoying this. And while you’re pushing his head band begging him to stop he makes more sounds while casually smacking your hands out the way.

He can and will tongue fuck you to tears carefully observing your face while he shoves it inside of you with force, making you crumble and cum right then and there.

[ladykissingfish]

Deidara: Hey, Danna, look! This chip is in the shape of a pumpkin, hm!

Sasori: That is NOT in the shape of a pumpkin. It’s round.

Deidara: Pumpkins are round, hm!

Sasori: But they usually have a stem at the top. That doesn’t have a stem. Also pumpkins range in color from green to orange and that chip is bright yellow.

Deidara: *sighs* You’re such a downer. Can’t you just once get into the holiday spirit with me?

Sasori: If you’re referring to Halloween, that’s not until all the way at the end of the month. It’s only the first of October. I’ve plenty of time to get “in the spirit” with you.

Deidara: October first until October thirtieth is Halloween eve, though. So we have to start now!

Sasori: Deidara, I don’t have the time to argue with you right now. I’m busy.

Deidara: *pouts* If you loved me, you would show me even the tiniest bit of support on this, Danna …

Sasori: Later. Just, please, leave now.

Deidara: *walks out of Sasori’s room in a huff*

*Kisame walks in a few minutes later*

Kisame: Pardon me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Perhaps you should be kinder to the boy. Halloween may not seem like a big deal to you, but he’s young and you know how he —

Kisame: Wait; what are you making??

Sasori: *holds up his handiwork* Matching costumes for me and the brat. Mine is a flower, and his is the sun that brings me to life.

Kisame: What the — if you were doing that anyway, why wouldn’t you just tell him so?!

Sasori: And give him the satisfaction of thinking that I care? Or that his insanity heavily influences pretty much every single aspect of my existence? *chuckles* You’re a funny man, you know that?

Kisame:

[ukiyaseed]

You can say that a ton of Super Sentai teams, especially Kyuranger. ESPECIALLY KYURANGER. IT'S A 12-MAN TEAM AND YOU ONLY HAVE 2 GIRLS?! WHAT THE HECK TOEI! SASORI ORANGE, HEBITSUKAI SILVER, AND KOGUMA SKYBLUE CAN EASILY BE GIRLS!

[23raccoons]

in the jack-o-lantern's glow - Ao3

Sasori x Sakura

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Pumpkin carving, Jack-o'-lanterns

“It’s pumpkin carving Sasori, not brain surgery.” Sakura says as she uses her hand to scoop another blob of pumpkin goo into the bowl, not even minding the sleeves of her oversized sweater that are pushed up past her elbows don’t come into contact with the mess. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

Sasori thinks they might have vastly different ideas of what is considered to be fun. He’s made it as far as cutting the top off his own pumpkin. They’re not fully jack-o-lantern-sized, but it’s hard to find things like that in Suna, whose residents don't particularly participate in all the traditional holiday festivities. Sakura likely paid a pretty penny out of her own pocket to get the little pair of pumpkins in front of them now. 

He frowns at that, he would’ve bought them had she asked. But she’s often stubborn, insisting her money is just as good as his. It is technically, but it’s the principle of the matter. And the fact that he’s inherited a good deal of his own wealth, and Sakura works very diligently for her money at the little hospital in Suna. 

He also just enjoys spoiling her anytime the opportunity presents itself, to buy her whatever little snack or trinket that she looks so longingly at. 

Sasori looks inside his pumpkin again, at its slimy guts. Sakura has given him a large metal serving spoon to scrape the seeds and stringy bits out. It takes a few attempts to get a good scoop, plopping it in the bowl with Sakura’s. The second scoop comes easier, and he does his best to not touch the messy insides, but he gets it on his hands nonetheless. 

Sakura finishes emptying hers first, sorting through the slop bowl to pull out all of the seeds. Once he’s finished, she washes her collection, patting them dry with a towel and laying them out evenly on a pan. Tossing it in the oven and kicking the door shut with her foot. 

“Now the fun part,” she says with a smile, holding up a collection of sharp tools from his woodworking collection he had deemed acceptable to use on her pumpkin carving foray. 

Sasori raises a brow. “I thought the first part was supposed to be fun.”

“Yes,” Sakura leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “But you’ll like this part the best.”

She has a few markers, handing one to Sasori. Who takes it skeptically. 

“I just carve a face?” Sasori clarifies, looking at the bumpy leather-like surface. 

“You can carve anything you want, baby.” She pauses, scrunching her nose a bit. “Well within reason of what the pumpkin can support, of course.”

He must be giving her a look, because she rolls her eyes and stands right beside him at the little table of her apartment. 

He watches her type out ‘jack-o-lantern ideas’ into the search bar, scrolling through the pictures of the carved orange vegetables. Some of them are not faces, but cats or ghosts or any  number of other misunderstood nocturnal animals. 

“I’ve seen enough, thank you,” Sasori tells her. Sakura slips her phone into her pocket, stepping between Sasori and the table to lace her arms around his neck.

“Sasori, it is something children do. You’re overthinking it, okay? There’s no wrong way to carve a pumpkin.” She kisses him for good measure. “You make spooky stuff all the time.”

“I make art, not mutilated vegetables. Let’s get it over with. Then we can do something else that's fun.” He barters, giving her a kiss back. 

“Deal.” Sakura steps around to the other side of the table from Sasori. “No peeking though.”

Sasori does peek, not at her pumpkin but at the face of concentration she makes as she traces out lines with the marker before carefully working the blade through the pumpkin flesh. The way she bites her lip as she works. She gets up every so often to wash her hands and shake the pumpkin seeds around, removing them when they have reached the appropriate level of crispiness. 

She feeds him a few, a crunchy, lightly salted, and a little nutty. Sakura is ecstatic when he deems them 'not bad'

They are nothing like the sugary pumpkin caramel marshmallow latte monstrosity she had ordered at the trendy coffee shop on their way here. Taking a single sip when she offered, much too sweet for his double shot of espresso tastes. He had upsized it after she ordered—paying for both—and had sat through several rounds of selfies with her and their respective to-go cups. 

Sakura knows he doesn’t like having his picture taken much and is always sure to only post his face to her ‘close friends’ and not her main feed. She calls the pictures that get posted on there where his hand or back is in the shot a ‘soft-launch’. He tells her she can post whatever pictures of him she likes, and she always tells him ‘she knows’. But a small part of him is always glad that she doesn’t, that she keeps him private, and he gets to keep that part of her world all to himself. 

She had also helped him set himself up a private account to follow her, a handful of his friends, and a few puppet-making accounts. 

Sasori carves a ‘spooky’ face. Sharp, harsh angles and a mouth of jagged, craggily teeth. He hates to admit, once he gets the hang of it, that it actually is not the worst thing he’s ever done. It would be much better if his hands weren’t so sticky from it, but he does always enjoy working with Sakura around to share the space with.

He steps back to admire his work. It is not wood. It will rot and mold and crumble, gone before the start of winter. Nearly a waste of his skill. He frowns at the orange face. 

“I’m done!” Sakura cheers. Smiling brightly at her pumpkin, excitable at the outcome, it’s enough to have his Sasori’s lips quirking up before he remembers he’s being grumpy about all of this. 

“Oh, are you done, too?” Sakura’s looking at him now. 

“Yes,” He would really like to wash his hands now. 

“Okay, we’ll show each other on three?” Sasori nods, placing his hands on his pumpkin, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious at the thought of showing her. Sakura counts, “One, two, three!”

They twist them at the same time, revealing their faces to one another. 

“Ahhh!” Sakura screams in half mock horror and half delight. “I love it!”

She moves to go wash her own hands, presumably to get her phone out to take pictures of their jack-o-lanterns. But Sasori can’t take his eyes off the face carved oh-so-carefully into Sakura’s. 

It’s Hiruko. The most beloved piece of artwork Sasori’s ever made. A large intricately carved wooden puppet, a demon scorpion with a complex joint system controlled marionette style. He spent years and years perfecting him and still enjoys tinkering on him from time to time. Sakura had carved the likeness of his toothy face into her pumpkin. 

He’s speechless. He had expected something cutesy, not the sneering face of the main art fixture on display at his own house. 

Sakura's finished washing her hands, noting his silence has stretched well past the normal contemplating he does. “You hate it.” She frowns. 

Sasori never enjoys spoiling Sakura's bright moods. 

“Oh no, darling.” Stepping over to slip his arms around her, taking care not to touch his hands to her clothing. “It’s perfect. It was simply unexpected.”

“Really?!” She perks back up immediately. “I wanted to surprise you, so I spent all morning practicing drawing him, and I was so nervous I’d mess him up.” 

Sasori kisses the top of her nose before moving to wash his hands. By the time he’s finished, Sakura has set the two next to each other, candles firmly in place as she lights them up. The lids go on top, and Sasori reaches for the pull cord on the fixture to turn off the light. 

The horried faces glow, and Sakura takes entirely too long taking pictures, but she looks so lovely in the orange light as she moves everything just so. And he doesn’t even complain when she sets the little timer for a few pictures of them standing together, holding their ‘art’. And if he’s looking at her in all of them instead of the camera, that’s fine with him too. He always finds pleasure in watching her enjoy herself, even if it’s something he finds to be silly. 

After eons of him patiently waiting, Sakura blows out the little fire hazard in hers, and Sasori flows suit. 

He picks Sakura up, despite her squirming as she locks her legs around his waist, carrying her down the short hall into her bedroom. Laying her out on top of the fluffy duvet he has purchased for her after she had admitted how much she liked the one on his bed. 

“In a hurry, Sasori?” She giggles, already flushed across her cheeks as he crawls over her body. Poised like a scorpion ready to strike. 

“Mmmm, you had me waiting,” he says, pressing his lips to hers. Again and again and again. “And I am especially impatient when it comes to you.”

“Did you like it?” Sakura asks when he comes up for air again. Nose to nose with each other. 

“Did I like what?” He feigns ignorance. 

“Carving pumpkins?”

“I liked carving pumpkins with you,” Sasori tells her truthfully. 

Sakura pulls him in for a kiss this time. “I knew you would.”

Sasori’s cleaning Hiruko the next day when his phone dings, Sakura having sent all the pictures she’d taken from the evening before. She posted a picture of their jack-o-lanterns last night, garnering a mass of likes and comments praising their skills. 

Sasori saves them all to his camera roll. He doesn’t even have to scroll to find the ones of them holding their pumpkins together, faces a little dark and blurry, the glow from the candles messing with the focus. He picks one where their timing was off, neither looking at the camera. Sakura’s smiling down at her pumpkin, and Sasori’s smiling softly right at Sakura. 

He opens the menu to click the little share button. He frowns at the screen, unsure what to type in the caption box. Sakura would tell him he’s overthinking it again, so he scrolls through the emoji to find the little jack-o-lantern and the teeny black heart. Taking the time to tag Sakura’s handle so it doesn’t cover any of her up when it’s clicked on. 

Sasori hits the post button before he can doubt himself out of it. Locking his phone and setting it down on the workbench. It lights up again almost immediately, the notification banner informing him Sakura has liked his post.

[or0ch1maru]

🏮Fourth of July with the Akatsuki🎎🎉

•

Hi loves! Back from my not planned hiatus. My job and small business took up most of my time but now I’m back! Bringing some fun little POV’s and smut. Lots of it!! 😇

•

🎐Kakuzu:

-sobbing silently in a corner as to how much money everyone is spending.

-puts on a happy face as he joins his comrades with firework shopping, cringing away when the cashier rings everything up.

-would be slightly depressed but once all the bangs, pows, and booms begin, he cheers up. His green eyes reflecting all the colors dancing across the sky.

-is normally found leaning up against something, watching and observing. It isn’t until Hidan and Konan drag him to join in the festivities.

🎐Hidan:

-DRUNK. Downing as much honey wine and sake his body can handle. Which is a lot may I add.

-tends to be singing random songs throughout the night. Sometimes he hits the right key, but most of the time he sounds like a drunk sailor. Words slurring, thinking he sounds good.

-first one to fall asleep. Hidan forces himself to stay awake as long as possible to continue his drunken antics, and of course, to watch the pretty fireworks.

-may set off one or two, but you’d most likely find him playing with sparklers.

🎐Deidara:

-constantly running away from Tobi who’s trying to send a firework off in HIS direction.

-finds himself up high in trees just to avoid his masked comrades ‘abuse’ as deidara likes to call it.

-will soar up high on his bird, sending his clay bombs down to the earth, causing large explosions. Has a ‘go big or go home’ mentality.

-aims his bombs towards Tobi, and claims it was just an accident when he gets hit. Finds it funny when all he sees is Tobi’s mask flying away through the smoke.

🎐Sasori:

-for about two months before the holiday came around, you’d find him working in his room, creating his own fireworks. Some smaller, while some have larger explosions.

-tends to stick with shades of red and oranges. Makes sure each one has a picture when it goes off. Ex: akatsuki symbol, Tobi’s mask, pains eyes, Konan’s hair clip, Deidara’s bird, money stacks, jashin symbol, and Zetsu’s leafs.

-is the one to take a ton of pictures. His camera sits around his neck as he snaps shots of his comrades and of the art display in the sky.

🎐Tobi:

-runs around all over the place, lighting sparklers, and bottle rockets. Dodges everyone as they try to confiscate the lighter from him, forgetting he can use his fireball jutsu if he wanted too.

-pretends to be scared when the larger ones go off but starts jumping around afterwards. Saying how pretty it was.

-for the few moments he’s actually calm enough to pay attention, he’ll sit crisscross on the ground staring up at the sky.

-whoever ends up sitting beside him, will end up turning into Tobi’s head rest. After all the activity, Tobi will fall asleep resting against someone.

🎐Zetsu:

-it took him quite some time getting used to all the noises and different smells that are apart of the holiday. Didn’t like it at first, but now truly enjoys the day.

-you’ll most likely find him near Tobi, talking and joking around. Maybe planning a new way of pranking deidara.

-scared of fire and anything that could burn him. Goes to Konan for help when it comes to lighting something. Turns pink in the face when his sparkler starts to go off. Happy that he’s ‘doing it.’

🎐Itachi:

-just like Kakuzu, he’ll be found resting against a nearby tree, watching as his comrades run around and light off explosives.

-will be hanging around Kisame, who would rather be with his partner than joining in with everybody else. Itachi tries reassuring Kisame that he’s fine by himself and that he should join in.

-ends up with multiple smokers that change color. Tried hiding his coughs through laughs and random comments.

-by the end of the night he’s on cleaning duty with the few that are still awake. Has to help everybody drag in the snoozers.

🎐Kisame:

-when he’s not glued to Itachi’s side, he’ll be handling the food. Grilling, and snack preparing. Took over drink duties since Hidan ended up drinking almost everything.

-makes killer hamburgers. Has to make countless packs after packs since everyone comes back for seconds.

-proudly wears the ‘kiss the chef’ apron Itachi got him as a joke. Refuses to take it off, even when the excitement and night is done.

-when it’s time for his photo to be taken, he holds the spatula in one hand and a lit sparkler in the other, grinning widely, showing off all his sharp teeth.

🎐Konan:

-just like Sasori, she learned a new jutsu, Just for the occasion. her paper bombs would have colorful explosions and different shapes.

-would be found sitting on a blanket, sending her butterfly origami papers into the sky.

-Konan would zone out on and off during the night as she takes in the loving and fun filled atmosphere around her. would be found later on that night asleep on Pain’s lap.

🎐Pain:

-would be running around after the trouble makers; Hidan and Tobi. Trying to get them to settle down. The two give him a run for his money.

-becomes the ‘father’ figure of the group and makes sure everyone is okay and well fed.

-will be the main one setting off fireworks and bottle rockets. His thumb will be calloused and sore by the end of the night.

-is in charge of music but will let others play a song or two. Tries to keep any sad or depressing music from hitting the radio as it’s supposed to be a fun experience.

🏮overall, the akatsuki would have so much fun that’d they’d be tuckered out by midnight. Wouldn’t make it to their bedrooms and would agree on having a slumber party in the living area.

[t-u-i-t-c]

The Poison Star

+ bonus

[yowyowyaoi]

*Konan walks into the living room the night before Halloween*

Konan: … what the hell?!

*Deidara, Tobi, Itachi and Hidan are surrounding what looks to be a real human skeleton hanging from the ceiling by two thin ropes*

Hidan: Oh, hey, gorgeous! Just settin’ up the Halloween tree!

Konan: That WHAT?

Deidara: The Halloween tree, hm! Sasori gave us this from his lab!

Tobi: We’ve got black and orange tinsel to wrap around it, and orange string-lights!

Itachi: We’ve been good all year, so now the Halloween Man will leave us presents tonight. *sets a plate of pumpkin-shaped cookies and a glass of milk on the table*

Konan: This is insanity. There’s no such thing as a “Halloween Man”! And even if there was, what do you mean you’ve been good all year?! You’ve all been horrible!

Hidan: The Halloween Man don’t count all the goody-goody shit as bein’ “good”. It’s the other stuff. The stealing and the sacrifices and shit like that. Ain’t nobody been more badass than us four this year!

Tobi: Tobi asked for a bike!

Deidara: I asked for the super expensive clay, hm!

Konan: But … but asking for presents is what you’re supposed to do with Santa Claus …

Itachi: Two years ago, for Christmas, I asked Santa for prescription sunglasses. He didn’t bring them. Last year I asked the Halloween Man for them and not only did he bring them, but eye drops and a bunch of t-shirts that complimented the glasses. 

Hidan: Which fucker sounds more real to you?

Konan:

Konan: *picks up a thing of tinsel* I could use a new dress and some makeup …

[brytnoter]

Best Akatsuki Member poll, where the names have been sorted into alphabetical order to stop any sort of favouritism, but also I can only have 10 options, so all zetsu are combined and i am disallowing any votes for the orange haired pein/pain/piens on account of they are just toys being played with by nagato

[sasodeiweek]

SasoDei Week Prompt Suggestions

SasoDei Week next year will run from February 22 to February 28 as usual and we're gonna use February 29 as an extra day on top! The prompt voting will start on Sasori's birthday as always, but until then you can still make some more prompt suggestions!

Just send an ask or join the art combi discord to brainstorm there.

Below the cut you find all prompts that are currently already in the poll!

20s (Roaring '20s / Années Folles) | 50s/60s | Chinese Tradition / Ancient China | Detective / Spy | Edo-Period | Fairytales | Fandom Swap / Crossover | Film Noir | Gangs | Kid!Sasori & Kid!Deidara | Military | Prison | Retro-Futurism | Social Media | Alcohol | Arranged Marriage | Contest | Date | Dress-Up | Fake Dating | Hairstyles | Missing Scene | Murder Mystery | Paintball | Rescue | Teaching | Trapped | Undercover / Under Covers | Vacation | Valentine's | Abstract | Kintsugi | Plastic Arts | Restauration | Home / Domestic | Hypocrisy | (Love) Letter | Pining | Weakness | Dessert | Jewelry | Music / Songfic | Oddities | One-Man Army (Two-Man Army?) | Orange | Pets | Seasons | Sports | Underground

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 25: Puppet Loosely Strung

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Vulnerability hurts, plain and simple. Sasori considers if it's worthwhile, even if most of him is dead. Shame that it had to be his heart that's left alive.

Author's Note: Two songs again! Title and breaks are Puppet Loosely Strung by The Correspondents and is also planned on being "the" Sasori song. Name put aside, I do think it suits him a lot. Same with the song that's sung in the story, Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert. I really gave myself a treat this chapter, working with two songs I love hearing on repeat and writing out a couple of ideas I've been holding onto for a few months.

In front of a woman’s sleeping face, one black glove strips off the other, tugging...slowly...by the fingertips, soft as can be lest she awake with even the slightest snap of the fabric. To take off his mask, too, is tempting, but there is no logical justification for it.

As if he can justify doing this, either.

Lost in memories, Obito considers the performer’s visage, how she no longer wears her own “mask” only when she is unconscious. What was Rin like…? He remembers that somehow, as the campfire flickered over her face, she impossibly looked even softer, gentler, kinder than awake. He was a boy then. The Uchiha is now grown, but he recognizes this same serenity in front of him now.

...Which doesn’t make any sense. He’s in Hell, after all. And she told him she’s a liar, and she knows he’s one too.

Obito considers the contradictory nature of lying that you’re a liar.

Fascination brought him forth into the company of interdimensional beings, and fascination keeps him here even now that he’s known she has no real power to speak of, to steal, to make use, to liberate...so he may liberate the world of suffering. The glove slips off and bare skin sees moonlight for the first time in too long. If she suffered in her world, too, then maybe…

Then...maybe...he…

Silence overtakes his troubled mind.

…

…

His unmasked palm holds her face, and it’s like the two are pieces made to fit. Obito isn’t sure what he feels, but he knows there is so very much of it. Skin on skin, his hand is helpless but to melt, thumb drifting to brush the high point of her cheek. In her dreaming state, she shifts, chin bobbing ever so slightly up and down to cuddle into the touch. Has anyone ever held her like this, he wonders? The cursed man knows with certainty he never has been. Hungrily, the mouth behind an orange swirl moves in closer, touch-starved fingers beginning to find strands of hair to comb in their spaces in-between—

Too close. He sees her eyes close tighter, a precursor to opening up.

…

…

Indeed they do. In the middle of the night, the dreamer wakes up. Abruptly, part of her fantasy just felt so, so real, and instead of pearls and blues she caught a hint of a warmer hue like fire. Where the man was is empty space. Deidara has, in fact, left. She exhales. Maybe that’s for the best. She’s been told she can snore sometimes…

Still...part of her is disappointed. There’s something so assuring about not being alone when you sleep; she never realized till the sleepovers (?) started. That’d be nice, she thinks to herself, eyelids growing heavy. That’d be nice...if someone even was just happy to watch her sleep…

…

…

She rolls over on the couch and goes back to bed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Deidara is gone, yes, but that’s just because that dream of his made him antsy. Studying her face was nice for a while, yes, but it can't hold you up longer than an hour or two. Unable to go back to sleep, unwilling to just lay there and stare at the lady until daylight broke, he made the better choice:

Go bother Sasori!

A man not needing sleep is the perfect remedy for boredom, in a way. The doings of a puppet workshop for hours on end are boring, sure...but that’s in the daytime. At night, it’s just slow, drawling enough that it helps the time pass without making you want to pull your hair out. In the candlelight, Deidara in the green shirt and shorts he uses for pajamas sits on a pillow he stole from one of the chairs downstairs, sitting more comfortably than just on the hardwood floor of this attic. She really slept here…? Even with Sasori cleaning it up (shoving everything out the hatch), it still isn’t very homey. He blinks up at his partner’s back. Something’s been bothering Deidara...or perhaps it’s better stated that something seems to be bothering Sasori. He’s had a hunch but yesterday sealed the deal, redhead running off like that. The blonde leans his chin onto a set of knuckles.

“Why so tense, Sasori?”

…

Okay, he probably can’t just come out of the gate like that. His danna isn’t biting, which is usually so easy to do with an accusation of weakness for bait. Deidara adds more context: “I guess I just expected you to...be more interested, un.”

...Nothing. Just clicks and clacks of whatever the heck he does to perfect this art of his. Deidara tilts his body far to the side, holding his feet for balance, trying to get a peek at the redhead’s face. “You don’t at least want to ask her about art where she’s from?”

Click clack and abruptly, no more. Sasori’s shoulders stop moving underneath his cloak, his neck turning on its hinge to give Deidara the glance he’s so clearly begging for. “It doesn’t interest me,” he puts as simply as it should seem, outside looking in. “My art is ultimate. You know this, brat. I don’t appreciate the spectacle you made yesterday for your own amusement.”

“But you didn’t stop it, un!”

“I left.” Is that not good enough? Apparently not. But before the bomber’s worst mouth— that is because it can speak— interrupts again, Sasori continues his point. “Nothing can accomplish more than my art can. There is no point.”

“She’s not a threat, you know.” Deidara folds his arms, sticking his bottom lip out a bit in a pout. “Our objective is to gain her trust? Know more about her?! Remember? It wouldn’t kill ya to try to learn from her, my man. Hell, I know you’d have fun teaching her, if that’s what you want instead! Obviously you know so much more than she does, right?” Again, the answer is plain:

“It isn’t worth the time.”

“Or is it that you’re worried she’ll reveal the TRUE nature of art to you?”

That’s it.

A senbon whiffs past Deidara’s ear, residual breeze flipping his hair. Though meant to be frightening, the blonde takes it as more flirtatious, sensual, than anything. He just scoffs, tucking the twisted lock back in place behind his ear with lazy, hooded eyes.

“Okay, okay… I can see I’ve said enough. Just enough to give you something to chew on.”

Sasori said it once to the girl and he can say it again with ease: “Begone.”

“Alright, alright... Goodnight, Sasori no Danna.”

Foolish as he is, Deidara is even incorrect about the last conjecture he made: Sasori has already been mulling over the disquietude of this woman all of the night. He only made it worse.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Around you, they were so confused

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Well, if it doesn’t work trying to get one side to initiate, perhaps that means he has to work with the other.

“He’s just nervous, see?” Deidara explains with a cup in his hand, hair tied up and eyeliner redone for the day. He shrugs underneath his Akatsuki garb, trying to soften an already soft lady up. It’s a hard task; it’s a thin line between just making her more malleable to suggestion and melting her entirely like ice cream left out too long.

“Oh…” the woman frowns, not really remembering how this conversation started but beginning to be glad he brought it up; it’s never comfortable knowing you get on someone’s nerves. You always want to fix it, make it right, or at least make it tolerable. Getting into it, though, always seems to make it worse, so she was ready to let it go, even if it pained her to be a slight to someone else by just existing in the same space. But there’s one thing she just doesn’t get, has been drilling in her mind, and it gives Deidara a foothold. She sets down her cup of tea that Deidara so kindly brewed for her. It isn’t as good as Itachi’s, but drinks always taste better regardless if it’s someone else that made it just for you.

Anyway. There is one big question, but another more directly in line with what the blonde just proposed, pops off the tongue first:

“Nervous, huh…? Is that why he’s so mean to you?”

Deidara sputters, grateful he swallowed his too-bitter drink before she said this. God, tea...it’s never been his cup of tea...heh. He pockets that pun for his use only, aware it is far too obvious of a joke to be said aloud. Anyhow.

“Huh? Mean? No, no, he’s just like that, I promise. You get to know him, Takara, and you’ll see it too. All bark, little bite.” She notes he did not say “no bite,” and perhaps he can read that off her face since he seems prompted to explain. “Scorpions are more docile than you think,” he continues, though he allows an interlude so he can taste his drink again and think about how he could improve upon such a mellow flavor. “They sting when they’re scared, you know?”

The musician blinks. “Scorpion? Is he...a scorpion…?” Guess it wouldn’t be far off from being a shark man, though Sasori doesn’t look the part the same way Kisame does. Deidara chuckles, less like it’s actually funny and more just a conversational cue to follow.

“In a way. That’s what his name means.”

“Sooo,” she drawls, and as she rolls her eyes to the side in thought, the woman misses how smugly her fellow artist looks back at how his clever trap has worked. “How did you get him to open up?” The opportunity is irresistible, even if he knew it was coming:

“Ahhh. So Princess-Treasure-Jashin’s Chosen needs MY help getting a new friend?”

The blank stare he gets tells him that his audience of one is lost, no matter how unmistakable his joke should be. Perhaps she’s telling the truth, after all, about not trying to be a cherished little lady to maintain protection and power among the Akatsuki. Perhaps just good at playing pretend, feigning obliviousness.

“Sorry.” He’s not really. “Just teasing. But still...surprised you don’t see it.” Her brow curls, gaze still hiding by walking along the ceiling.

“I...take things literally,” she admits guiltily. The woman gains enough confidence to look back at him again. “Have I really been missing something? He just seems like he hates my guts— wait, no. I’m sorry. That’s too mean.” Is it, Deidara mentally asks? Are you the one that’s mean if someone else is mean to you? “But still. I...I just got the idea he wants me to leave him alone.”

“I already told you the answer, Takara-chan! He’s just nervous! …Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

…

…

“...Takara-chan,” he prods with some urgency, halfway between finding her silence hilarious and frustrating. And then finally she gets it, pointing a finger to herself.

“You mean...like me?” He nods.

“Yes. Like you. His defenses are different, is all. Think of it this way:…” He reaches across the table, plucking a fruit from the bowl between them. “You’re like...a peach.” Fingers roll the named object in front of his face in display, assisting in the visual. “You’re all soft on the outside, but inside is where you’re hard as a rock.” The fuzzy fruit lowers. “Think of Sasori as more like an egg. Hard protective shell outside, but nothing of the sort inside.”

Chomp.

The performer frowns as the palm that the food sits in begins to gnaw into it. Deidara is keeping his smug expression; does he even know he’s doing this right now…?

She blinks away the confusion as this is a question she’s not willing to find the answer to, redirecting her gaze onto her helpful friend. He repeats a point of his, as if it was her idea all along:

“Now that you’ve mentioned it...he really is just like you… Just think of yourself inside out, and you got yourself a scorpion, un.”

And that’s what will do her in. For the first time in this conversation, the singer smiles; it is genuine and hopeful and so very, very naive. “Okay...I think I get it.” She stands up and tucks in her chair, invigorated to set her own plan in motion. “Thank you, Deidara.”

“Of course! I’m always here if you need anything.”

A wave and a patter of feet later, the sculptor is left alone.

…

…

He frowns, eyes widening in dread as his hand starts to gag. A panicked Deidara smashes his other fist into his wrist to let the bite of peach cough out. Bleh, it says after spitting the choked fruit onto his face. As the orange stuff drips down an unamused mug, the artist grumbles.

“Still haven’t gotten used to that part of having the kekkei genkai. I need to work on that...un.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That a faulty man could have so much fun

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Here we are, Takara-chan!”

The other man that calls her that honorific says it with so much more...enthusiasm, she notes. But that’s not what’s on her mind right now. She kneels next to the brambles where she had been found crying in the height of summertime. The woman frowns at how bright yellow the leaves are. Surely there’s one left…!

A hand-me-down apron tied around her lap, the performer slips off her sweater lest it catches the thorns and puts an unprotected arm in, instead.

“Oh?” Tobi tilts his head as he stands over her. “Be careful, you might get—”

A hiss, and the arm retracts.

“...Cut.”

But she’s smiling. With a wink, she holds up a little red berry to the closed eye in victory, ignoring the same color on her forearm. Tobi cocks his expressionless head the other way to emphasize befuddlement.

“Oh? A berry!” Indeed it is. “I forgot there were berries here! Last...we…”

...Last they first met, is what he thinks. First met for real. If she understands, she does not acknowledge, merely closing the other eye, too, and widening her smile with a teeth-showing giggle. She has the answer to her big question on Sasori— a solution with it— and that’s enough to celebrate. “Thank you for helping me find this again. This is perfect! I’m going to look just like a doll!”

He wonders if this is what Rin would be like if she had time to grow up, too, childishness and all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They read your smile as nothing but teeth

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Keep it quick.

What?

Sasori raises his head. Having had no reason to leave the attic— workshop, actually, so much better than a mere dusty attic— he’s used to little sounds here and there. Damn mice in the walls, for one, muted speech for another. Not much difference; both are noise and noise alone. He blinks, long and slow in contemplation before returning to his current project, holding the stem between his fingers.

Say it brief

Brows raise though brown eyes stay hooded, if not narrow even more. He raises his head again, turning it towards the source.

If it's fast, it will be a relief

Short on time, that's a gift

She’s right there, bottom of the ladder to his makeshift sanctuary. He can tell now that she really is that close. Ah well. The girl will conclude her business and then walk away; that’s how it is.

Count your seconds, and they'll catch the drift

But it the sound does not drift, too. With a “tsk” under his breath, he sets down pink glasses and moves towards the exit. In one smooth motion, like a firefighter sliding down a pole, he lands on the floor. Head turns side to side. She’s no where to be found, at least not visually.

Disparate parts, desperate hearts

Pulled through a sieve

Hand me a chart, so I know how to start to say

"This is all I can give"

Around the corner now, obviously. He lingers in that direction, weaving past the garbage he threw out when first moving in, but the voice softens as he gets close. Assuredly, as he turns the edge of conjoined walls, she is already out of sight again.

To summarize seems incomplete

How novel is a novel that can fit on one sheet

It seems that I'm destined to fail

To compress myself to the size of a thumbnail

The scorpion catches a glimpse of her hair, trailing behind a wide-brim hat, as she crosses the gap in the hallway and goes down the stairs. He blinks his eyes and purses his lips, expressions often reserved just for when people are around to see them. In no hurry, he goes down the stairs, following the sound of her voice and sparsing these strange, bittersweet lyrics.

Don't like what's revealed here

When your depth of field's near, it's hard to come close

Chip stones from the boulder

Suddenly, my vulnerability shows

Down the stairs, past the kitchen, out the back door he hears the siren’s call. Deidara be damned, color him curious. He hasn’t...heard a song like this before. One that makes so much sense, isn’t just about poetry or flowers. They’re not feelings, no— Sasori does not feel— but this song does think and think mindfully. The cracked entrance to the outside world finds him standing there, and Sasori in turn finds she’s finally stopped, sitting upon the swing with her back to him, head tilted somewhat to the side so he can see the profile of her face but not if she sees him too. The cut on her arm, so poignant as it is raised to hold the rope, is the only thing marring the perfect image.

Hm.

Her voice…These words...

…

He listens intently.

Oh, you can crop and trim, 'till all that's left

Is the essence of a presence that is feeling bereft

Avant-garde, just the gist of a tale

That is less of an image, and more of a thumbnail

Her heart is beating out of her chest, wondering if he’s followed her all the way out here, unable to stop and look back fully to see lest the act come undone. Lips dyed pink with a smushed berry sing, sing for them both, try to let Sasori know that maybe they have some middle ground to plant their white flags. To be shy and sensitive is a curse, after all, and one should not inflict it upon the other without need.

Na na na, na na

They'll catch the drift

Na na na, na na

They'll catch the drift

Soft doll hair drifts ever so slightly over the puppeteer's forehead with the pleasant breeze outside, though he cannot sense it in the same way living people can. She hums the rest of her parable about isolation and communication butting heads, her feet swinging back and forth to make the toy worth its name. On her end, she just continues. Whether he is here or not, that’s what the relief is; it is good to simply be done. This short little song about being afraid is over, at least in words. She’s said what she can. If he is there— or even if he’s not, just heard some of it and left— it is his turn. She will not chase.

But she can’t help but look back when the wind picks up and takes away her sunhat, ribbons trailing behind. “Ah,” ah SHIT. “No—!”

But before her very eyes, then it lands right in a dollmaker’s hands, almost like that is where it was trying to go. His grip is so gentle— so precise— it’s like he’s a fairy tale. She can’t help but ogle.

Oh, dammit.

“A-... ah.” So feigning ignorance is over; eye contact is made and cannot be undone. He looks so calm, but she can’t help but grip her fingers around the rope tighter as he walks up, tilting her head further and further vertical to keep on him while he says not a word— not until he’s close enough to put it back on her head. That motion, too, is even as if a human hand is not there, so soft like the hat never even left.

“…” he says.

“…” she replies.

They both aren’t very good at this. That much is obvious. The woman dips her head, answer predictable and instinctive:

“Sorry.”

But the living doll still says “…”

The leaves rustle so comfortingly under a cloudy sky, a little crowd encouraging the two along. Come on! her imagination hears them egg on. You got this! Just say hello! How you feel!

...But Sasori isn’t ready. He turns around, retreating to his solitude. She panics.

“Wait—”

And so he does, turning at the heel to look back, more malleable than he’s ever been to her whims before. She makes a deadly mistake in her worry of not saying enough. Every memory of regret swarms back at once, all the times she wishes she said something and did not. She forgets that they live together, that tomorrow is another day and time will keep going, will in fact give another chance unless something drastic happens.

But life is drastic, she knows. So she opens her mouth and tells him too much of the truth:

“Sasori?” she sputters. Unlike her singing voice, this is so shaky, as it is unrehearsed. He looks on, so she continues. “I...I was hoping...we could be friends. I know how hard it is to try to talk to people,” the singer confesses. “That...it’s easier to deal with what you like and know and can predict, make that last instead of going through the trouble wasting through things you don’t just in hopes of it being better. I want to help!” Her breath hitches at this sudden reveal, but she takes a deep lungful to quickly correct. “I mean...I want it to be... easy for you.”

One thing is certain: he has her full undivided attention. That’s a start, right? She grows too confident, so desperate for approval she’s busting down the door. The dam is bursting.

“I found myself wondering, you know? You know good things are eternal. So why is it so easy for you to feel your time is being spent badly? At first it seemed weird to me...but now it makes sense. You want your time well spent, to be full of things you enjoy or can at least tolerate. I get that.” In the kindest way possible, the woman is telling him that he is shallow.

And then the most painful thing of all, and she offers the poison with a bright smile:

“You’re like me.”

The crowd in the trees mutter, sighs of relief that she finally said her mind. During the monologue, the traveler’s spun around in her seat as best she can, legs facing perpendicular while torso and head face him. Her stomach is twisting, but...he doesn’t look mad. And so she grins wider, hopeful and safe now that she’s being understood. After all, everyone else has apparently taken well to her honestly—

“Be quiet.”

...

Huh?

Deidara’s advice was both entirely unneeded and entirely misunderstood. He put it out plain and simple; Sasori is merely answering as can be predicted, condensing the bad as briefly as possible: “Do not insist you know me. Understand me more than I understand myself. You, girl, are ignorant of everything and everyone around you. Do not mistake my disinterest as playing coy. I am not your shy, wandering puppy. I am not a problem to be solved.” His eyes narrow, and the disgust— only emotion of his she’s familiar with— emerges again, and she is abruptly so very slimy and gross and small.

“You are worthless.You are not worth my time, the Akatsuki’s time, nor that of the air in your pathetic little lungs. It is beyond fathom you are still here. Get out of my sight. Leave. Me. Be.”

A longer answer than he’d give anyone else, lest anything is unsaid and he need repeat himself. It is clear now: this was all on purpose. She thought of him with pity. He is only returning the favor.

The smile remains on her face, but it does not reach her eyes. It twitches— it twitches with pain and a broken spirit. She’s so stupid. Why would this world be any different…?

The grin is a grimace. Her head lowers, eyes averted. A “sorry” is muttered so quietly it might as well not have been said at all. Slowly, as to not betray her real self any further, be more vulnerable to attack, she stands up.

One step.

Another.

Step.

By.

Step.

She leaves.

And Sasori lets her, despite what he knows. When the only living piece of you is your heart, that means that when you feel, you feel so very, very much. Sasori got rid of all his humanity, has had little interest in understanding the little bit he has left. After all, he’ll figure out someday how to throw away his heart, too, and still live. What’s the point?

The point now is that in one brief moment, he had allowed himself to acknowledge his heart, his feelings, let them rise up to the mind until he began to drown. It had to get out somehow, lest it fill him up and he explode with no space left in him to give. The traveler gave the perfect excuse, and so he turned to sting as soon as it was known she had in some way set this up, MADE him reveal more of himself, be lulled into ease by a siren’s damned song.

They are nothing alike.

He repeats this to himself over and over, as to question otherwise is to doom himself. Especially as he is left facing what fell off her lap as she stepped off the swing. A gift. Just for him. A long term effort that was presented to match his view on art and existence…and he returned it with nothing but his disdain.

Deidara will find him like this later, standing in the back yard among faded rose bushes and her ghost in the wind pushing the swing back and forth. One artist will be appalled with the other that he let her leave, escape into the forest, run away on her own while the scorpion knows what is happening out there right now, this very second. Sasori will have blank eyes as he is gripped by the shoulders, only living piece of him so emotional that he doesn't know if he feels righteousness or regret. A flower from her press holds his gaze, sitting on a plank of wood— the same material that holds his fragile heart in place. A little piece of him begins to know the hypocrisy that he, too, has made the time to rearrange himself to her, to fix her step, to take her hat just to give it back, and then complain that she was doing the same with him merely by murmuring a silly melody.

But even as Deidara asks why, Sasori will not admit it.

All at once, deep in the woods, a stranger bloody and stained remembers every single time at once in which she said something and she shouldn’t have. The ink around her eyes drips, and she doesn’t know how Sasori was unkind not just in his words but in leaving her to the wolves.

Wolves don’t care how much like a doll you are.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They looked at you with pity first, then disbelief

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[ladykissingfish]

Deidara: Sasori, we need to talk. Sasori: If this is about me killing that guy that "praised" your art, I assure you my "jealousy" had nothing to do with my decision. His body was very unique and I deemed that he'd make a worthy addition to my -- Deidara: No, no, that's not it, hm. It's just, you know Halloween is coming up, right? Sasori: On October thirty-first? Same as every year, mm? Deidara: Ya don't gotta be a smart-ass about it, Danna. I'm serious, here; Halloween is coming up and you haven't taken me to do one single festive thing, hm. Sasori: "Festive"? What do you consider "festive"? Deidara: We haven't gone to a pumpkin patch, or a haunted house. We haven't gone on any hay rides, or even taken a walk around to look at the colors of the leaves on the trees. Sasori: *sighs* Alright, love. You want festive? I'll give you festive. Sasori: *drags Tobi into the room* Here. This orange-masked freak can be your "pumpkin patch". Sasori: I'll stop by Hidan's room to tell him to perform his next sacrifice ritual right here, so that you can experience your "haunted house". Sasori: I've heard Kakuzu talking lately about making some money by selling our "expensive" beds and replacing them with straw-tick mattresses, so you'll get to go on your "hay ride". Sasori: And the next time I can catch Zetsu off-guard, I'll throw several buckets of paint on him, to turn him different colors, then rip off his skin so that you can watch the "leaves" fall. Sasori: Tsk; and you say I never put effort into anything for you. I promise you this will be one "festive" Halloween that you'll never forget, brat. *kisses Deidara's cheek then leaves* Deidara:

[fg083nrt]

akatsuki pairs and cars they would drive 🚘

*PERSONAL OPINION

💴 kakuzu drives a BMW crossover because every BMW driver thinks they are better than everyone else. kakuzu drives like an asshole, never signals and is prone to road rage. the car has a secret money stash in case he needs to flee the country, but otherwise clean. (bought the car through embezzling)

🩸 hidan drives an obnoxious orange mustang (or a RAM truck) the car is noisy and stupid and has shit fuel economy. his insurance is through the roof because of how many accidents he caused since he drives like a dumbass. the car is littered with cups and takeout and radom garbage. (bought the car with church donations)

❤️ sasori drives a red honda fit to carry all the carpentry supplies and puppetry equipment and tools. it’s a nice practical car that lasts a lifetime. the car itself is tidy save for some necessities.

💥 deidara drives a modded honda civic to get the best of both worlds: look cool, and be able to transport art supplies well, and get into pissing contests w people. really bad road rage gets in at-fault accidents from time to time so his insurance is shit too.

🦈 kisame drives a ford truck. that’s it. its mean-looking and reliable and just. its a truck. kisame is there if someone needs to move furniture or go to ikea or whatever. the car is as reliable as a truck can be fuel economy is so-so but with people paying him w gas money it evens out.

🍡 itachi drives a beater, an old honda civic, that car survived everything that can possibly happen it will die when itachi dies and no-sooner. the car never breaks down, itachi is a defensive driver so his insurance is basically nothing. the car pays itself.

📄 konan drives a vynil wrapped mazda or lexus w a fuckton of mods and cool interior with all kinds of stickers, and resin addons. she takes it to car meetups and everyone is in awe, she does all the mods herself too.

and pain drives a dodge caravan to fit every single person.