#talented bomber ~ deidara

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 21: Willard!

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Summary of chapter: Welcome to hell! Get nice and comfortable, the ride never ends. It's something only the lowest of the low ever really understand. Is Deidara one of them?

Author's Note: The song for this chapter is Willard! by Will Wood. This one is very indulgent, I do hope it's enjoyable.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Where your nightmares end...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“...This is quite an unusual circumstance, you know.”

‘Tis, indeed. It’s rare that any of the Akatsuki’s rings cast their shadows more than once in a single moon, let alone...another fact:

“I think you’re the first to request an audience with me instead of the vice versa.”

Deidara, even as a rainbow-lined silhouette and a man of shorter stature than most the others, still manages to stand tall in the gloom of this cave of statues. It’s a real talent— truly is— to have the sort of bravado the blonde has.

But he is an artist, after all.

“I’ll keep it short, un.” Only on the leader’s physical body may it be seen as he raises a brow in curiosity, not here in front of his underlings; even so, a lack of enthusiasm in return doesn’t damper Deidara’s confidence.

“Tell me...this is taking a while, isn’t it?”

A “tsk” sounds behind the bomber’s ear; it is only for formality’s sake that his partner is in attendance. They’ve been paired up long enough that ignoring the commentary has become second nature to Deidara. Meanwhile, Pain allows the silence to answer for him: continue. You clearly have a point to this interruption, don’t you?

“See, I’ve given our sudden predicament much consideration, Leader-sama. Clearly this newcomer is something of value: assuming she’s telling the truth, of course!”

Konan glances at the back of Pain's shade at this comment, but as always, says nothing at the meeting. It has to be assumed that the tinges of disdain and sarcasm aren’t going over his head.

“...The brutes of the group can’t scare it all out of her, apparently, and our graceful, oh so accurate Sharingan of Uchiha Itachi can’t crack her like a code, un.” You can hear his spiteful smile, see the hatred for that name in his lone visible eye, even as it doesn’t so much as flinch. “So...that got me thinking. She’s a musician, isn’t she? An artist.”

The leader tilts his chin up in interest, his ringed eyes pinning his youngest member down.

“I’m just thinking…” Deidara repeats, leading around and around in a spiral that’ll reach his conclusion. “...Perhaps only a fellow artist is capable of understanding her art. Her secrets.”

“It isn’t necessarily art,” Sasori’s puppet states, Hiruko’s voice deep and mechanical. Deidara merely makes a “shooing” motion to the side, dismissing this crass idea.

“An art,” he reemphasizes.

“Deidara.” The sound of his name brings the blonde to give his leader a questioning hum; he doesn’t see the sweeping realization in Pain’s eyes, not like he expected. Indeed, the god is skeptical. “I cannot afford to have so many Akatsuki in one such place.”

“Oh, come on!” The indignancy comes out as soon as he doesn’t get what he wants; he really is like a spoiled child, the way he folds his arms and pouts. “Everyone else is there! Surely a shark and two zombies bring too much attention already. And besides…”

Despite the disrespect, Pain allows him to continue, and that will change everything.

“...Didn’t we want to establish a base at some point?”

Ah. There it is. The twitch of purple eyes widening. The approval tinging the atmosphere, even if it isn’t immediately spoken.

“...Perhaps so.” Pain blinks, long and slow in contemplation or intimidation, whichever is meant to make him seem more in control than Deidara is here. “You’ve given this thought, haven’t you?”

“Well. I keep saying so. Un.” More disrespect. The leader decides not to dwell on it.

“So...what then? What do you propose?”

The smuggest grunt in the world escapes the blonde’s throat as his shadow abruptly moves his arm forward, an index and middle finger raised for the count of ‘two.’

“Two days. That’s all I’ll need. The others can finalize surveillance protocol, set the needed traps, perhaps make a spy network…”

The arm lowers, and so does his voice:

“You leave her to me...and she’ll sing like a bird whatever you want to hear.”

...

Konan and Sasori stare at their respective partners, mouths shut and perhaps their minds as well. What do the men speaking make of this? What are they thinking?

The woman has a good guess that her fellow Akatsuki founder is smiling. What a rare thing... Should it frighten her? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, eyes unblinking...his raised chin drops to nod.

“...Proposal accepted.”

And though Pain has no faith whatsoever in Deidara’s plan succeeding as intended, another houseguest for the stranger shan’t be of harm. After all, Deidara does have a point, indeed: Perhaps artists can hear things in the lyrics that the average shinobi cannot.

And though a puppet of this kind cannot narrow his eyes, Sasori makes it all the more clear he is doing so with the grumble in the back of his throat. Damn this rule of pairs...what a waste of time this is going to be...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

...Willard Begins

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Huh?!”

“I know. I know, princess.” The shark raises a hand, hoping to stop and relax a panic before it roots even deeper, unnerving not just the woman but everyone else involved, too. It lowers a second later to finish swinging Samehada upon his back in preparation for the upcoming journey. “It won’t be long." He offers a grin; it's only half convincing. "Think of it this way: we get this done and that just makes you all the more safe. Doesn’t that help?”

Kisame’s gaze is less asking and more begging her to agree. Why is she so upset, you may ask? He swears he’s the only one that gets it— how delicate the lady is, how hard it is for her to get used to people, how easily frightened she may be.

...What Kisame doesn’t understand is why Hidan is upset, too.

“All of us?!” the Jashinist curses for the fourth time in the hour, refusing to pick up his scythe despite it almost time to go. “Makes no fuckin’ sense. I swear I—”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu finally speaks since Zetsu first gave the news. “We have our orders. We do it. We get back. Stop your whining and it won’t take as long.” The older man ignores Hidan’s agitated growl; it won’t change anything if he acknowledged it, even if he agrees.

That leaves the woman holding her hands and looking at the floor. Despite how hard she tries not to let him bother her, black and white toes peek from sandals and in the top of her vision. Zetsu...he’s smiling. He’s smiling so pleasantly as he always does...

...But he knows now. He knows her third, most terrible secret that could end a new life forever. What’s going to happen? A magical night in the company of fae and fireflies being led up by this… She can’t shake off the distinct feeling that she’s about to be interrogated. That this is about to get way too real too fast, and she’ll have not a shoulder to lean on, and that’s the plan.

A gasp as a touch comes to the top of her head. Eyes glance up, and Itachi does not smile as they meet his. Indeed, such expressions from him are scarce...but he can still speak softly, still make her believe maybe luck could be on her side, after all.

“We’ll return, Miss Takara,” he promises. “You’ll be safe.”

She raises her head, taking in the small crowd in front of her— all for her. Each of these four men to be spirited away gaze back in their own unique manner: Kakuzu’s is weary. Hidan’s is passionate. Kisame’s is apologetic. And Itachi’s…

Itachi always looks like he knows how each story is going to end. That has to count for something. ...Right?

…

“Okay,” the traveler swallows. She’ll believe him.

Even as behind them all tower the plant. Even as she neglects the presence of an orange mask behind her back, observing in curiosity what could possibly happen next.

This is going to be fun.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tear 'em up!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Now...Where to begin…un?”

Though rumor has it that the stranger is just an otherworldly equivalent of a civilian, Deidara's not the type to take chances. Well...wait. Not this time, at least. He's thought this one out, after all, just as he told Pain. His ever-present smirk is plastered underneath a concentrating eye, pinching fingers adjusting the magnification of his scope and he peeks through dappling light. This forest makes for great cover, just as he heard. He squats next to the trunk of the tree he’s perched in the branches of, finding the pinhole’s worth of open space between him and the world outside of the green. Perfect. The scope aims right through, to a mansion that looks so little from so far away. It’s halfway between wretched and serene, thanks to these repairs Kisame’s taken liberty to.

Perhaps both those descriptions suit her, too.

He sees her pace at first, not outside on the lawn but passing by the windows closest to her front door, surely waiting for whoever he and Sasori are going to be. Ah, yes, the anxious type, just as he was warned by his oh-so gracious damned leader. A thumb is to her mouth that she gnaws on in anticipation. Curiosity in the blue-eyed spy asks...is she playing for an audience of no one? Or does she know she’s being watched?

Regardless, Deidara has a scheme, one he’s rather proud of, to be quite honest with you. He waits until it’s well past the time he had promised to arrive with his danna, past the rising morning sun and until he can tell from her body language that an exhale of impatience— nervousness— releases the weight from her shoulders. Behind a portion of the wall she disappears, not arriving in view of the same level but one rather far above.

Just as he hoped.

The woman bites the inside of her lip as she escapes to the attic, sitting in her nest of pillows with one leg on the floor and another propping up her elbow, its palm in turn bringing rest to a weary head. This is all too much…! If she doesn’t calm down, she’s going to give herself a heart attack…

In her nerves, she's placed the figurines Hidan bought in a fit of jealousy in rows, a tiny little army, or perhaps an audience to jeer at her. Regardless, the zoo has nothing to say yet.

The squeaks of rodents are far from unfamiliar; she’s rather used to them, in fact. Has not the heart to make them leave, threaten death when she herself commits the sin of merely existing and being alive in the same place and time as others. That’s why it surprises her when two or three in conversation among the old keepsakes abruptly stop. Her eyes raise, and as she glances to the shadows—the wood and fabric structures that to such little things must seem like buildings and skyscrapers, all these dusty boxes and unheld doodads— a round, white creature plops from the center of her single open window. Her eyes fall...

She gasps.

A slight jump, she makes, as this tiny beast enters her vision. A hand quickly raises, flinches, but no further distress comes upon the musician. Seconds pass as she evaluates the thing, starkly pale against the earthy tones of this room, the warm light streaming from outside. It stays perfectly still as soon as it’s within not but two feet of the edge of her skirt. A mouse? Perhaps a rat. It cannot be overly stated how...shaped this animal is; the curves of it are so smooth, so clear that it’s like it was drawn with stencils and made into reality. It’s like you 3D printed a living thing. The hand she initially raised in high-strung fright now curls its fingers, parted lips drawing closer to shut as she tries to make sense of what has entered her hiding place.

This is the first time she’s seen...non-human fauna that didn’t make sense to her mind. Shark men, yes, that’s new; so are amalgamates made of black, white, and green. Bleeding red eyes and stitches all over bodies, and skin that can heal quicker than any mortal cells should...but something as this…?

It’s so small.

It’s so strange.

But who’s to say that magic here is limited to only the bipeds of the animal kingdom?

Still still. So perfectly still as she leans in, getting as near as she comfortably can while self-assuring she could get out of the way if the bitty thing demanded. There are indents where its eyes should be, so large upon the figure like you took an ice cream scoop and molded the white flesh out. A novel situation such as this requires she do something very on-brand for her ilk:

“Hello?”

It doesn’t move. She tilts her head, frowning. Is it dangerous? Can she move past it, or…?

“Ah!”

The mouse takes her by surprise, a delay in the question and answer as it spins in a circle. Both hands are raised near her head now, fingers curled and palms facing the animal. Her knees bolster up to her chest to give as much empty space between them as possible. Blink, blink. The rotation continues, one...two...three times on an invisible track with a small hesitancy in between counts. It reminds her of a robot. Of an RC car.

She’s helpless but to let stars fill her eyes.

“What a strange thing you are…” she coos under her breath.

...

The quiet is so inviting, blind eyesockets so docile and mindful. Another thing she can’t help but do is make conversation. It is, after all, only polite and she does need the practice.

“You know...I’m to be expecting someone. Would you happen to know anything about that? Are you a messenger?”

...

The silence, however, can’t answer that for her. The weird girl shrugs and curls her brow, tilting her head to the side as she observes her new friend. “Well…I hope if that’s the case, your master is as nice as you are. Though...perhaps...it’s just you. Are you here on your own? Are you my visitor?”

...

A sigh, long and tired. “No...of course not. I haven’t seen you around here before. If this is your home...I hope it’s okay that I’m here. If it’s not...well...I guess it’s my responsibility to be a good host.”

She talks so, so much. The mouse does not know yet it’s more than she ever talks to anyone— anyone, that is, that can talk back and call her stupid for saying such silly things, for trying so hard to be good.

The corners of her cheeks rise, but after a few seconds pass, they just as quickly fade. Staring at the being— a little fae in its own right— hearing the silence of the world but naught the rustling leaves in a gentle breeze outside her window...it makes it easy to contemplate. She hears voices, but not the kind she tries to drown out. The woman replies to them:

“...I don’t know if I’m good at it...to be quite honest. This isn’t even my house.”

...

“What? Whose?” A shamed whisper has raised to an indignant sputter. “I don’t know! I don’t think anyone’s lived here in at least a decade. When I got here, there was glass all over the floor and...and…” She looks at the organism that imitates her next word. It’s just like her, a mockery of what it looks like:

“...Mice…"

A knuckle is brought to brush up against her lips, eyes looking through the rodent.

“...What was that song I sang that night…?” she asks herself aloud. Ah, of course. Tomcat Disposables. She sang it happily first, here in this home. She sang it sad next, helpless the initial night at her new job.

There’s a sister song to it, the woman recalls, another to do with a just little mouse. Unlike the one within the first tale, this one does not hope; instead, it is hoped for. It is aspired to. She takes a breath, shaky and scared and everything she ever always is when new people are around the corner, things she can’t help and reactions she can’t control.

“...May I sing a different song for you?” the musician asks, as softly as one may request to simply be seen and known when they never have been before. In one motion, the clay rodent tilts its chin up by a nonexistent neck. A nervous chuckle escapes her; it’s almost sentient, sentient in the way people are.

But hopefully not too much like how people are. That'd be cruel.

You know I couldn't hurt a fly, my friend

The woman begins, voice shaky and soft as she’s not yet found her footing.

I'm not the type to step on ants

She rolls her shoulders back and sings— sings as if it can really listen, truly get what she's talking about. Perhaps it can. What harm if so? What harm if not? It’ll ease her worries either way, getting this off her chest.

I've nearly cried for moths that die at porchlight lamps

More for the plights of mice than men

Her hands start to do more talking, bobbing side to side by the wrists in comparisons. Here are the mice, there are the men. She’s never understood the latter. See, she went to school to learn sociology. Know, she went to learn sociology because she wanted to know people. Understand, she wanted to know people because they always alluded her.

Because they made it so she can never understand herself.

See, I myself have been stepped on so many times

It's started to feel like my place

Sometimes, the human mind is wired in such a way that its owner has a keen awareness— one, that is, about that which you don’t know. How ironic, how hypocritical, the things that you think about thinking about thinking. The processes that are natural to everyone else, but are alien to you, make you alien to everyone else as you try to sort it out. Were you even made for this planet? Could you exist for any other…? Maybe she is from space; that'd be easier to explain than the fact of things, the stranger believes.

I've failed to fit in into those nests that scrape the sky

Big, begging eyes return to the mouse’s blank face as she gets more honest, more lost in her own feelings. She lowers to the floor, gets on her stomach and prays:

Is there room for me in your cage?

She never tried to be funny at first, you know. Didn’t make an effort to be cute or naive or pitiable. Adults started to see a child that way and continued to into her own aging, such behavior rewarded and its consequences more navigable and safe than trying to be herself. Independence is hard when like a rat in one of her psychology classes, she’s in the contraption, solving puzzles with no clear reason why but getting fed all the same when they’re properly navigated.

Her instructor told the students— with humor, mind you, not disgust— that there is no point to naming the animals. He named them all already, see! All the same thing, something bland and so forgettable that it really has been forgotten to time. What she does remember...is what she named hers.

...It was Willard, after this pretty ditty, though perhaps too the movie it’s inspired by, a boy too misunderstood by his fellow man. Rats don’t live long, unfortunately, even as smart as they are; they are still animals that are cute or naive or pitiable. Why are people so difficult? Why does she not know the secret to mankind as everyone else does? Why is it so exhausting to merely exist?!

Animals are people too, but these people are animals

Hunt in packs and act as though that proves wе can't survive alone

And I guess wе just evolved disgust for prevention of infection though

Shame was an invention made for prisons, pales, and pest control

Yeah, sure, thumbs are great and all

As the narration goes on in this dark, dusty attic, she continues to be on level with the beast of the floorboards, her fellow mouse, twiddling her thumbs at him in demonstration. It’s truly a theatrical song, one that at first surprised her it wasn’t from a musical. It’s so explanatory, so very good at getting the point across...

...At least someone out there get what she feels like. If only it could all be like that.

But I just get bare necessities, Hakuna Matata's and c'est le vie's

Que sera sera's, what a crock! I mean

Big talk for a chimpanzee

She explains not just with her mouth but her hands and eyes, bouncing side to side and making faces of contempt. With the next line, the effort is made to roll over like a dog and lay on her back, show her belly to polite society’s invisible, stabbing knives that always hang above as Damocles's sword.

You might seem behind bars, but friend, this cage is inside out

And the next line pleads to ears unhearing, though a hungry, distant eye tries to read her lips:

It's awful out here, Socrates!

It made her wish, so often late at night when she was young enough to believe in God, that perhaps he sees the girl has finally learned her divine lesson and now gets to be something else, gets to be...whatever her lost soul was made for. She frowns, sitting straight up as she uses the song to go through her own mishmash of disquieting ideas and emotions. The all-seeing mechanical eye spots how the fellow artist holds her chin, the way she furrows her brow and uses her free hand to wipe at the air like doing so will make the bad voices get out of her way and leave her the hell alone.

I've never understood what humans do and want

It's quite confusing to me to try to connect

Never learned how I should feel, instincts somehow stunted

Just seem haunted by my stupid urge to protect

And as Deidara notes from so far away a fist at her chest open up and make claws, claws which open up and point to the heavens as she froths at the mouth...he realizes this woman is very interesting. He thought so already, of course…

...But he’s about ready to give her more credit. This character is quite elaborate.

Until frustration makes me wish my teeth were sharp as yours

Chew through their garage doors, these carnivores will no more use my heart

A finger circles near her brain like she’s trying to spin it up. She loves them all— of COURSE she does— but it’s nearly impossible to explain herself to the Akatsuki. Hidan thinks she’s insane, Kakuzu knows she’s a failure, Zetsu is doing GOD knows what about the fact she’s a fucking ghost, and Itachi and Kisame treat her like she’s nothing but a little porcelain doll. And whose fault is that?! Whose damn fault is that!

Deidara rises from his squat about the same time she does from hers, purposefully in the same cadence as he tries to connect with the performance in front of him. It’s about time he get close, hear these lyrics she’s so clearly singing with her whole, entire heart. He can’t wait to hear what it’s about...

They'll call me crazy but their words all seem made up to me

Maybe they just need more friendship like yours

As kind as they are…the absence of her friends leaves behind the sounds she tries to ignore, the taunting she imagines, the critique she’s heard before from others’ lips. They’re never truly gone. They can only get drowned out.

And whoever these next guys are, whoever Pain is sending her way...they’re going to be met with someone who is very, very tired of trying to figure it all out, what the best thing for her is supposed to be and if it’s the best thing for everyone else, too. It’s all just too fucking much. She may even be able to put up something resembling a fight.

So gather 'round Pandora's Skinner's Box, look through the one-way mirror

If you can see in shades of gray the colors are much clearer

At first, she had hope that it was finally resolved! After death, she was plopped down here, not a soul in sight that could know how badly she’s messed up, seen the ticks the scientist above made on a heavenly clipboard of how many runs it takes until she realizes that touching that one square at the bottom of her cage results in sure electrocution. No one to know her sins, and opportunity to live out her dreams of being someone else abound and endless…!

...Yet here she is, scared as ever, no solace from the judgment of others. It may be even worse, really. She swayed too far into fantasy, flew too close to the sun, if you will. To be everreal, effervescent, everlasting...how can she live up to such high expectations?

It’s so appropriate that the last part of the lyrics circle around, that they ask her to solve her own riddle. She has but one choice: accept and try. Even if it hurts. Even if it never ends.

And so with only one choice, of course that means there are none. And though it gives her strength, these lyrics, this stoic creature she speaks to...makes her all the more aware she’s alone, in a state forever between human and not, and her ability to form words keeps her away from the mice and closer to mankind, as fate so cruelly intended. Even when the language seems to be used to whisper behind her back.

…

…

A long, steady breath draws in. The story doesn’t end that way. And she’s not a real musician that can just magically make up a new finale to the song. Not one that'll fit.

Be strong, Takara, she calls herself by her stage name, the only one that belongs to her now. Give it enough time and she'll forget what the old one is. Finish strong and fake it till you make it.

Oh, my friend, you've got a friend in me

Let's go and make more enemies

An unseen man sits on the rooftop, right next to her window but just out of sight. He holds up two fingers, the same that made his bet to the Akatsuki leader, and presses them together. Suddenly, the rat seems more alive. It seems like it has listened. It acts in excitement, like a call to action, a battle cry has been made. It spins again as before and then around her ankles over and over. It’s too perfect. Maybe it does understand!

Weirder things have already happened.

Although my eyes face forward, climb up on my shoulder

Sure you'll see my point of view, I'd bring you with me

To the office in my pocket, but the world would put us down

Lock me up and toss the key

And like a movie, like a book, she reaches out her hand and the creature steps upon her palm. As the giant lifts it up, her skin notes it feels somewhat warm, like you half-baked clay, and a small tinge of static rubs off from its sides. Raising the rodent as best as she can with a hunched back underneath this short attic ceiling, she shows him to the world, looks with him out the window. She makes note in her mind: she’s already gendered it. How far down the rabbit hole has she gone?

...Does it matter? She’s already nonsense!

You might seem behind bars, but friend, this cage is inside out

It's dangerous out here, Socrates!

She explains as best she can, in ways that she wish someone did for a little version of her long ago, what it’s like to be human, how to prepare for the social situations that will chew you up and spit you out. The rage in her subsides, and she misses a blue eye so close to her own, just in the corner as she sticks her head and cupped hands out the window, take in how she shifts so very, very easily to a world-weary sadness. Just inches away, he reads it off her face as she bravely stretches past her hole in the wall:

It never ends.

It never ends.

The last line is whispered, just loud enough for the snooping disrupter to hear, meaning it was never meant to be heard at all. How thrilling it is to be so close, to wonder if this is all just for him, and what it means if it is not. Deidara savors the blood racing in his veins in anticipation of the climax ahead.

It's lonely out here...Socrates

The way the tune is meant to end is with bitter, cathartic laughter, but she can’t do it. This isn’t a musical, this is no fiction. The heaviness in her heart remains even as she’s all done and given everything she’s got, a gaze searching for shapes of either her friends or her new enemies weaving below the treetops and brambles. She momentarily forgets the creature held so gently in her hands.

Thankfully, its creator does not. What a wonderful conclusion, Deidara decides as he sits so close next to his fellow artist, what a great way to reveal himself. Suicidally, the sculpture leaps from her grasp, and as she sputters in surprise, the coming scream will not save it from its beautiful self-destruction.

It’s been so long since she’s heard fireworks. It sounds like a bomb went off right in front of her. It reverberates in her chest as the art piece expands like popcorn and bursts open orange and green like it’s trying to paint the whole midday sky.

To her horror, the mouse is gone. To her awe, the clouds are lit with smoke and sparks. To her shock, a voice is in her ear:

“I have to say, my dear—" A coo earlier from her lips is returned in kind right behind her head. "—bravo!”

“AH!”

Deidara mirrors, too, a brief shout of his own as she jumps in such a way at his sudden/not so sudden arrival that instead of tumbling backwards inside, she tumbles out. Goodness, how dynamic...! He's going to be kept on the tips of his toes, isn't he?

“Ohhh, no you don’t—!”

Wind roughens her eardrum, pulls at her hair as a swoosh carries her away— literally carries her away. After expecting to slam her corpse upon the ground and finding she has not, the performer pries open her eyes against the harsh sunlight. Her vision gradually adjusts to the sight above that is playing savior, a smirking face and fluttering yellow hair like woven gold. White wings are behind him, and though he sits upon his creation, its clay feathers make him look like the angel. It’s like a daydream...

One starkly blue eye pins her down as she’s held in his arms as they glide midair, passing clouds until the bird finishes spiraling down, not even a bump to indicate once they've landed. Oh so masterfully, the truest artist forcefully pulls away her reigns. The sun overshadows, makes his face so darkly lit as he beams down, his eyes and voice slick with mischief or something worse.

“You’re quite the performer,” the latest houseguest kisses up, not feeling one bit of grief for that mouse in the slightest. He forged it, after all, from his own chakra— his very life essence. As its god, he chooses when it dies, and what narrator keeps a character past its usefulness? ...Good narrators, that is.

There’s something in his voice as he looks down at her...so cool...so calm...so sweet…and it’s menacing. She catches his visible eye twitch slightly as his smile grows and shows more teeth, unsettled and unsettling.

“...I’ve heard a lot about you...un.”

As her one real, brief attachment and comfort continues to explode beyond bits and pieces, filling the sky behind sunshine hair with rainbows like all the world’s a stage and this is all his show, there’s a pit in her stomach:

...This man may be her worst nightmare, proving the point of her soliloquy by pulling the rug from under her feet just for kicks. And he savors that fact, knowing very well that two can try to play her game. “Let’s get to know each other...shall we?”

Having one choice is the same as none. The worst has finally happened: a real artist has appeared, capable of looking through her facade as easily as he did her aching heart beyond the yellowing autumn leaves.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

No, Willard! Willard, no!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[bladedhunter]

At the response, Sasuke grinned. Didn't mention that the fact Deidara was letting him anywhere near the mystery child was probably the biggest sign he somehow trusted him to some extent. Instead, he said, "Aww, I'm flattered. Or, should I say, I'm thankful to be in the presence of someone as handsome and talented as you." A pause. "Really, the pottery is beautiful," he added in an undertone.

He raised an eyebrow at Deidara's sudden nervousness though, wondering what it could be about. To Deidara's credit (maybe), Sasuke didn't even guess he was picking his son up from daycare. Probably because Sasuke had never had kids or been to daycare, and daycare had never even crossed his mind as a thing that existed.

But he did notice the hesitation around appointment, and raised an eyebrow. "... Okay," he said. He was about to point out he had paper, but Deidara was already out the door.

To Sasuke's credit, he spent the time not touching anything in the workshop even though he thought he could have cleaned everything, but instead looking around for quick exits, exploring his areas and touching those things, and cataloguing all the pots and dishes in his head (and wondering if any of them would blow up).

He also wondered why Deidara, a clay bomber former Akatsuki hiding from the world, would decide to make a living as a potter. Seemed kind of obvious to him. Oh well. Deidara didn't seem to make wise decisions.

" For as long as you're useful to me and don't piss me off, hn. " Deidara huffed, folding his arms over his chest. " And like I said, I need the help. I was going to hire a personal assistant, but this way is cheaper since I don't have to pay you. The fact I'm letting you anywhere near me is payment enough. Don't blow it. "

He then turned away from Sasuke to check the clock on the wall. He had a half-an-hour before he had to pick his son up from daycare but he was too anxious to wait now. Not only because he had let a Uchiha into his home but also because said Uchiha was a complete stranger and there was a chance of Ame having a meltdown once seeing him. He did not do well at all with strangers. His best chance was running the toddler upstairs before he saw Sasuke.

Deidara sighed and looked at Sasuke one last time. " Listen, I'm going to go to my. . .appointment, hn. I'll be back soon. Don't touch anything and if anyone comes to the shop, just let them know I'll be back later and take down their name. There's paper. . .somewhere. I'll give you run down when I get back. "

He didn't even wait for Sasuke's answer as he walked out the open back door of the workshop. Maybe it was dumb to leave the Uchiha all by himself in his workshop of thousands of ryo worth of pottery, but it was well-established by now that Deidara wasn't making good decisions today.

[yhwhsdaughter]

oh, in that chase could i get headcanons or Scenario of Deidara With a fem!S/o who is part of the royal family (of his respective nation) but it´s also (and opposite of how it has to be a princess) a ninja of anbu level and it becomes a traitor of her nation when they discover the relationship

I’m still not that far into Naruto, so apologies if Deidara is a bit ooc. Hope you enjoy ✨

𝔻𝕖𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣

As a member of the royal family, you had to abide by the etiquette that was imposed on you at a young age. It was important that, as the nation’s only princess, you act graciously.

You never found the appeal of pretending to be someone you were not, often rebelling against these royal rules.

However, you wouldn’t have to worry about these for much longer. Near your sixth birthday, an assassin would infiltrate the palace killing all members of the royal family, except you, before he was intercepted.

Left as the sole heir, you were destined to take the throne but because you were too young to rule an entire nation, self-appointed leaders began to appear. A civil war ensued, tearing the once peaceful country into shambles.

You had been sent to live with your uncle, the Third Tsuchikage of Iwagakure while the aftermath settled down.

The village was surrounded by mountain ranges, built from the same stone as those. Villagers, especially shinobi, were headstrong. They had rock-hard attitudes they applied to their lives. In fact, many of them practiced Earth Release techniques.

You quickly took an interest in becoming a shinobi to distract yourself from the pain of losing those closest to you. It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism but your uncle allowed it. He thought if you used that as an outlet to let your anger and negative emotions out, you would eventually healed.

He was partly right. The events that occurred during your youth marked you permanently and would have led you into a darker, self-destructive path if it wasn’t for Deidara.

You met him through training. He was rather talented and his presence brought you peace. Deidara always seemed relaxed, even in battle, but that wasn’t what attracted you to him. It was his passion. More specifically, his love of art.

The two of you were resting from practice. “You see (Name), art is a fleeting moment of beauty that vanishes gloriously.” Though you weren’t necessarily an artist yourself, you nodded, holding your chin like a wise old man with a long beard. “Hm, art is explosive?” “Exactly!”

Being the Tsuchikage’s niece, you had more insight than the average genin. From time to time, you’d eavesdrop in conversations between high ranking nin and your uncle. “(Name) we know you’re there..” “!!!”

Your skills as a shinobi had improved dramatically throughout the years. Still, you were forbidden from joining any type of elite force as you were still an heir. “(Name)-sama, your safety is a priority. One day, you might become the next Tsuchikage if not the Queen of your country.” “Ugh! Uncle Ōnoki will never step down. He’s too proud to choose a successor.”

Deidara reluctantly let you braid his hair. He knew you were upset and knew that this was one of your most peaceful ways of distressing. Had it been someone else, he would have blown them away. “Deidara, you’re so lucky you get to join the Explosion Corps” you sighed mournfully.

The man in questioned mediated on your words. “I like using my clay sculptures in missions—” You interrupted, “They are great.” “But I want to be greater than this. I want my art to be elevated, yeah?”

Your fingers threaded gently down his scalp, giving Deidara goosebumps from the pleasant sensation. For someone who behaved rather roughly, you sure were tender with his hair. “I heard uncle talking about one of the village’s kinjutsu. It’s only passed through generations..”

Intrigued, your blond companion shifted positions to look at your face. “Supposedly it allows users to knead chakra into objects. Perhaps with your—”

It seems Deidara was thinking the same as you. “I could combine that with my Explosion Release!” He grabbed your hands, “(Name), do you know this technique hm?” You shrugged, “No. Only when I become—if I become Tsuchikage, I’ll be taught this.”

Deidara, initially excited, slumped. “That’s too long.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his change in demeanor. “Are you in a hurry or something?”

Looking into your eyes, Deidara closed the space between you both. His stare felt intimate, speeding up your heart. “If I were to leave the village, would you come with me?”

You blinked in surprise before biting your lip guiltily. “I would love to, but I can’t. As much as I hate it, my duties lie within the village and my country.”

Deidara looked down, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. He said nothing but he didn’t have to, his actions spoke louder. “Why would you want to leave the village anyways? And, how would the two of us live a-alone?”

At your naivety, Deidara stood up ready to go but you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. Don’t leave me..”

“Would you be able to locate the location of the scroll that contains it, hm?” You stood up, still not releasing from. “I guess so, but why—”

“Could you just do it…please..”

Perhaps you knew from that moment what Deidara had planned but you pushed yourself to think otherwise.

As promised, you used your skills to find where the scroll was being kept before passing on that information to Deidara.

He ran his fingers up your arms before settling on your elbows. “This face.. its so beautiful it should be considered art..” one of his hands settled on your waist while the other cupped your cheek. You figured what he was trying to do and kissed him. Passionately.

It lasted a while. Before this, neither of you had made a move. There were always the longing looks and casual yet intimate touches. Everyone around you noticed the closeness between the two of you, even deciding that you’d make a good couple. “You should go to sleep.”

“Okay..” you bid him goodnight. “See you tomorrow?” He smiled, “Sure.”

It was the middle of the night when you were awoken by loud explosive noises. Some of them shook the tower in which you lived. Clicking your tongue, you detangled yourself from the covers, running towards the window.

Curses left your mouth as you connected the pieces together. “Damn him..!” He’d really done it.

You rushed to get dressed and chase after Deidara. Though you were technically not allowed to leave the village, you could sort that out with your uncle later. You struggled to put on your shoes, jumping around in the darkness with one foot while the other refused to enter the shoe.

You weren’t given the chance as shinobi filled the room. Meeting your eyes with the Tsuchikage, disappointment reflected in them. He knew. He knew that you were the one that had given Deidara the information. The two of you were practically inseparable.

Bringing your other foot down, you didn’t spare anyone a last look before running towards the window and jumping. Shinobi were quick to follow but Ōnoki stopped them. “Let her go.”

The Tsuchikage was showing you the ultimate mercy he could afford. He was never a father figure to you, he knew that Deidara was the only person left who you loved.

Besides, you were an extremely skilled nin despite not joining a special unit. It was probable you would make matters more difficult for them. Not to mention, that no one knew if you’d stolen any secret techniques either.

You tried. You desperately tried to find Deidara now that you were considered a traitor. A traitor to your country and Iwagakure. There was no use going back.

Truthfully, you were lucky the Tsuchikage allowed you to go without repercussions. Like Deidara, you were now a rogue nin without means to travel or survive.

Speaking of which, Deidara seriously considered taking you with him even if it was by force but upon further thought, he couldn’t.

You were better off without him. By stealing from the Tsuchikage, Deidara knew he’d become a traitor and a fugitive. It was safer for you to not be associated with him. Maybe you could find a prince to marry or finally become the Fourth Tsuchikage.

His heart would heal with time. Deidara would be able to forget you, your face, your mouth, your soft lips..

Two years would pass before you found information regarding the whereabouts of your beloved. Word had it that there was a bomber for hire. People’s description of this individual sounded incredibly familiar so you sought him out.

Deidara had been hired by a mysterious person. He’d been given an address to meet and discuss the deal but they hadn’t shown up.

The place was bare so it couldn’t be a trap, but as the seconds trickled by he couldn’t help but doubt. As he was about to leave, a certain figure tackled him.

Deidara had not sensed them. Were they in the room the entire time?? He could barely process this as the cloaked figure grabbed his wrist and pinned them to the side of his head.

During the struggle, the hood fell revealing the individual behind this attack. You smiled, though the anger behind your eyes was clear. “I thought..” your hands tightened around his wrists “I had made it clear that you wouldn’t leave me.”

Not a lot of time had passed but you had become even more beautiful. Deidara couldn’t help but stare. Your face showed signs of maturity; eyes sharp and those sensual lips molding into a straight line.

You had abandoned everyone, everything you knew.. for him? You’d become a traitor, a deserter, a rouge nin for his sake. Was your love for him truly that strong?

Upon spotting the tongues on his hands, you tilted your head curiously, bringing back some of your innocence.

“Well, we can work with that.”

[westanabadguy]

Kiss Me Better, KakuHidaDei

Summary: Deidara gets his arms fixed by Kakuzu and gets shown a different side of the zombie combo.

Pairing: Kakuzu/Hidan/Deidara Yes, all three.

Warning: Slight body horror and gore. Nothing major tho. Also, extremely OOC and self indulgent, ngl. This is purely fluff, albeit very strange fluff.

The scent of blood and decay hung heavy in the air, mixing with the barely muffled sounds of whimpers and groans.

Deidara looked down at what was left of his arms, a bloody, ruined stump on the left, still oozing despite it being at least two nights since he’d lost them. On his right, thick, black stitches carved their way into his skin, slowly repairing the otherwise unfixable damage.

Despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t fully stop the pained sounds from leaving his mouth. The pain of repairing them was far more painful than losing them had been. Barely healed muscles and tendons were ripped apart and stitched to new ones, skin stretched and pulled unnaturally thin. 

It was agony.

Still, he did his best to keep quiet. Biting his lip, a trickle a blood dropped down his chin to join the pool of it gathering on the ground around him.

Lost in pain, he felt it wash over him, felt himself choke on the air around him as he attempted to just breathe, but it was far too much, too fast-

The warmth of a body behind him snapped him out of it. With glazed over eyes, he looked behind him. Hair clumped to his face and eyes blurry with unshed tears, he could still make out the distinct silver hair of his fellow Akatsuki. He’d actually kept to himself for the most part, the mocking jabs he was so well known for suspiciously absent. 

For once, it had been easy to forget that the Jashinist was there.

A dangerous mistake, Deidara acknowledged even in his pain drenched mind.

“What are you-” it took far too long for his words to come stumbling out, sticking in his throat like honey. His voice uncharacteristically dry and raspy.

He was interrupted when hands, warm and surprisingly soft, came up to hold his shoulders. He flinched in preparation of an attack, but none came. The hands instead busied themselves with rubbing smooth, soothing circles into his tense, sweat soaked shoulders. 

“The hell are you doing, un?”

“Calming you down, what’s it look like sugartits?”

A growl left the bomber, although it was quieter than it normally would be, his grumbles plagued with exhaustion. Before he could retort, strangely talented hands dug deep into a knotted muscle and he groaned. Basking in the pleasure, well welcomed in the ocean of pain, for a moment. 

Every instinct in him was telling him to tell Hidan to stop, to get who he knew was a dangerous predator from behind his back. He knew it was dangerous... but at the same time, this small, uncharacteristically gentle massage- albeit extremely strange- was helping with the unbearable pain he’d been feeling before.

Too weak to resist anymore, he hung his head and let the Jashinist do as he pleased. 

A red hue was forming on his cheeks, painting clammy white a rose red. 

Ignoring the heat on his cheeks, he glanced up at the other immortal in the room. He hadn’t said a word this entire time. As he glanced up at the miser, he saw the man’s distinct red-green eyes peering at him, sans his characteristic scowl. The older man was simply watching, curious gaze turned onto the two younger men. He seemed... relaxed almost, a word Deidara would have never thought to attribute to the temperamental man.

He held his gaze for a moment, trying to get any hint from the elder about what exactly was happening, but it proved too much for him. Holding his gaze while his threads worked over him, etched their way inside of him, and his partner rubbed at his back felt far too intimate for him to handle. Something else in the miser’s eyes that he wouldn’t dare assume made him feel helpless.

He averted his eyes to the floor, lost in his thoughts.

So lost in his thoughts was he, that he didn’t even notice when Kakuzu finished up with his right arm.

“One down, one to go.”

The voice of the Jashinist behind him snapped him back into reality. 

Looking at his arm, he saw Kakuzu’s stitches embedded in his skin, holding his flesh together. He tried to flex his arm but to no avail.

“It will take awhile for you to regain feeling in your arms. Be patient.” the older man spoke for the first time since he’d sat down to begin stitching.

Deidara clicked his tongue, disappointment rising in his chest. 

Warm, soft lips touched his head, and for a second he thought he imagined it. Wide, sky blue eyes gazed up at Kakuzu. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing left them.

“Patience.”

Deidara, feeling heat rise to his cheeks again, hung his head, casting his eyes down. 

He reasoned with himself that he would raise hell about them babying him later, but for now... he was simply too exhausted to do anything. He’d surely give them a piece of his mind later, but for right now...

He’d let it slide.

[aprito]

SasoSaku Day, day 14: The Remains of War

In which edo Sasori refused to be sealed away by Kankuro for strange reasons, was dragged along with Deidara to the camp, and assigned to Sakura -- in hopes that at least one of the Akatsuki will spill important intel. Sakura never could have guessed how increasingly terrible this task would turn out to be.

Thank you so so so much to both @evartandadam and @poppy-muffins for collaborating on this with me! Two extremely talented artists and writers in their own right. <3

...

...

...

There were plenty of signs that she should have picked up on to know he would cause trouble. The fight between them, however brief, had been a way to see into him and his beliefs. For so long she had thought about what had happened and what he had said. The offer he made. So many late nights were spent awake pondering their battle and what it had changed to the both of them. 

Sakura had spent so much time thinking about what they had shared that she never thought he would be such an asshole.

Not just in the sense of his idea of purpose and 'artistic ideal'. Instead it was in the little ways that of course he would be the type to flick pebbles at her back while she tried to instruct chunins in the medical arts. Even as the rocks bounced off her skull she kept a straight face even if her smile was growing strained. Less from the rocks, but more because the chunins weren't even listening. Instead they eyed Sasori with twitching fingers that strayed too close to their holsters and one seemed ready to bolt. Granted, that one was from Suna. That could be somewhat forgiven if they would just listen.  Instead she had to waste time explaining for the fifth time the exact depth a senbon could penetrate the base of a neck before rendering irreparable damage. If they didn't start staring over her shoulder she was going to just go with a demonstration on the root of the problem. Who cared if he was already dead and that would render the point moot? The annoying jerk deserved it. If only because he made her waste this entire session by just sitting there and pulling faces. If he was even doing that. Honestly he was just as creepy straight-faced .

Sakura dismissed the other shinobi and was happy that at least they left in a rush. Having others ask for advice or quick tips about medical care did stroke her ego, but right now all she wanted was just a few moments of calm before heading back out the tent to face the rest of the day. Even when there was war it was crucial to take time when possible to collect oneself to keep steady hands and a clear mind.

Sasori tossed another pebble and it bounced off her right shoulder. The second struck center in her back. The third was caught in her hand and punctured the tent as she flicked it away. Seconds later she heard clattering as metal fell against metal and the blood drained out of her cheeks. The cursing that followed somehow managed to be even louder.

“Oh, it sounds like you hit one of the armories. Very good aim.”

It was then she realized she would never have a calm moment again.

It was due to Sakura's rank that she was able to get away with only bunking with Shizune. Even better, the woman was almost constantly with Tsunade and often times slept in that tent. This left Sakura with a very valuable luxury.

Even if she only managed only a few hours of sleep, it still was worth it not having to deal with trying to sneak around at late hours to keep from waking anyone.

Well, luxuries had their limits.

“What” she begins, slowly “are you doing in my tent?”

The person sitting in the shady corner facing her direction was doing anything but looking at her, occupied with keeping their phosphoric smeared eyes on a bingo book of her’s.

Sasori would normally be locked away at this time, not wandering around the camp like it belonged to him. She’s caught him harassing a unsuspecting patrol man who’s taken a quick nap while she briefly left the tent to catch a breath of fresh air.

To say he was only off putting at this time of the night would be an understatement -- Luckily, she didn’t experience the misfortune of simply waking up to this sight...yet.

“Don’t be so conceited, little girl.” He says, not looking up from the book. “Not everything is about you.”

She’s in front of him before he knows it, slapping the book out of his hands -- because god knows she needed that sleep and didn’t have the energy for another tirade from this tyrant.

Sasori changes his gaze from the now empty spot between his hands to her, eerily composed for someone who’s nearly succeeded in piercing a poisonous scorpion tail composed of bones through the heart of a blonde bomber over a difference in opinion.

Sakura sighs. “If you don’t need anything, we’ll be going back to the prison.”

“You mean the animal barn.”

“It’s-...you’re dead.”

“The people of the sand respect the dead, little girl. Are you implying the same cannot be said for the people of the leaf?” Sasori throws back, crossing his arms in a mockery of stubbornness.

How is skinning and taxidermying shinobi for your collection any more respectful? She wants to ask, but knew it’d just result in another witty comeback. How old was this man anyways, 40? 45? Even in the face of death, he barely looked older than her.

Her bare legs were starting to shiver, reminding her that she should be returning to the sanctuary of her little bed.

“Okay, what do you want?” Sakura asks, mirroring his gesture and crossing her arms.

Sasori smiles, and she doesn’t think she’s seen that one before. Creep.

“My book.”

“Huh?”

“I was reading that until you rudely interrupted me.” He nudges his head towards the other side of the room. “I would be much obliged if you returned it to me.”

“You’re just going to...stay here? While I sleep?” And no, her voice didn’t just inch an octave higher.

“If it matters, I hold no deeper interest in anyone beyond tactical fascination -- especially not little green brats, like you.” He finishes, before one of his fingers twitch, and the book flies back -- past her figure -- towards him.

She flinches, just briefly. That...

That seemed to be it. Sasori uncrosses his arms in favor of crossing his legs, leaning back in that little wooden dinky chair of his to continue reading about wherever rogue delinquents were doing their worst out there.

The tent’s quiet, save for the occasional cicadas chirping outside, and she’s staring at him, the man who’s changed her life in just more ways than one.

She later would amount her reaction to the fact that she was about to pass out, not that she found herself considering the situation to be less threatening than she should.

She was losing her damn mind in this war.

“Alright, you can stay here for tonight, no promises that it will stay this way.” Because it definitely will not. “If you move, let alone touch me, I’ll kill you.” Sakura puts emphasis on that last syllable, because he’s touched her arm in the middle of surgery once, in front of her frozen co-workers, uncaring to the fact that he retained all qualities of a cold dead body, and she’s shrieked and bumped against the table with the-...

She’s embarrassed herself enough in front of others in the past couple days.

Sasori hums in reply to her, and she takes it as a cue to turn around and go back under the covers.

Maybe, if she hadn’t been so exhausted at the time, she wouldn’t have missed Sasori glaring at the tent’s entrance, nor would she have missed the sound of footsteps shuffling away in a hurry.  

[noctstate-a]

@yinseal​  asked :    ❝ After the events of today I would have to respectfully disagree! ❞ / for deidara!

❝  well ,   i  had a great time.  ❞   the events of day ,   of  course ,   being exactly what should be expected from someone of deidara’s…   specific  talents.   demolition.   destruction.   all in the name of  art  and proving his points of fleeting moments being the epitome of beauty.   rarely do others  agree  with  his  stance ,   or have an opinion regarding it all ,   and usually it would drag some sort of reaction from the bomber.   usually over the top ,   usually negative.   but sakura’s been forthright the entire time  /  never beat around the bush regarding his art and her opinion.   only really showing any   fear   interest for his kinjutsu.   deidara supposes that could be considered a  good  thing.   

❝  better luck changing your mind on the next mission ,   yeah.  ❞

[multicanon-rp]

Life at College

@bingo-book-itachi

It was the entrance ceremony. This is where the new kids are introduced to what is to be expected of what the school like if going to be. Then there is the older classes that know what to expect but review all the new changes. It was the Same old reception every year. 

Madara sits back in his seat as the head master talks. She was a good speaker and could be a scary woman if you had to deal with her anger. Madara found that out first hand. He didn’t fear her but she did intimidate him once. He was one of the best History teachers at the school. He looks around his eyes scanning the crowd of Students. He is able to spot the 4 student that were to take his class this year. He was looking forward to it. His features even showed it. His eyes dart to the back to see the new student.

One caught his eye, a new face but he was able to conclude that the younger Uchiha had finally come to the school. So it would be a year or two before the younger man will be in his class. Doesn't mean he cant get to know him though.

Deidara wanted to sigh and complain but stayed quiet. That doesn’t mean that the displeasure of being here wasn’t written all over his face. Sasori just looked bored as both of the artists tune out the annoying speech given each year. They both know there is something they can do that is better then wasting their time here.

Sasuke, even though he was knew kept a stoic mask as he took in key points about what was being told to him. He was more excited then he let on, ready to explore the school that he might have to spend the next 8 years of his life at. The ceremony didn’t last long ad he was given instructions on where he had to go to receive his schedule and dorm room key. As everyone heads toward the exit he spot one person he was looking forward to seeing. He works his way through the cround until he got close enough to hear.

“Nii-san.” He said knowing his older brother would pick up on the sound of his voice.

[multicanon-rp]

Rules: Bold all that apply to your character. (I’m italicizing the things that could be as well. Also, I am going to do this for the three characters I play the most.)

Tagged by:  @masterofwar Tagging:  @select-thy-character @gentlegrace @lightning-will-bovino @sonusshinobi @konohasflcsh @morteem 

Itachi

absent-minded | abusive | addict | addictive personality | adrenaline junkie | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly loyal |blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | codependent |competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent |depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | fixated | flaky | frail | fraudulent | foul mouthed | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff|grudge holding | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hyper-sexual | hypochondriac |hypocritical| idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive |insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-destructive | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled |stubborn | suspicious | suicidal | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy |vain | withdrawn |workaholic

Deidara

absent-minded | abusive | addict | addictive personality | adrenaline junkie | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly loyal |blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | codependent |competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent |depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | fixated | flaky | frail | fraudulent | foul mouthed | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff|grudge holding | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hyper-sexual | hypochondriac |hypocritical| idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive |insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-destructive | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled |stubborn | suspicious | suicidal | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy |vain | withdrawn |workaholic

Mukuro

absent-minded | abusive | addict | addictive personality | adrenaline junkie | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly loyal |blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | codependent |competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent |depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | fixated | flaky | frail | fraudulent | foul mouthed | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff|grudge holding | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hyper-sexual | hypochondriac |hypocritical| idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive |insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-destructive | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled |stubborn | suspicious | suicidal | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy |vain | withdrawn |workaholic

[multicanon-rp]

Dangerous Taboo

@despairinghxpe​

The had just returned back to the headquarters. The tan and red Arches showing they arrived. Its not all the time that they come here. Though when finishing the missions it was a small place they could call a home at least for now. Deidara and Sasori were talking heatedly about the current events that were going on. One particularly about their run in with Orichimau. Though it was more that Deidara had lost and Sasori ended up saving his life. It was the favorite that attacked this time. Though it was more of a distraction then anything else. 

He was irked to say the least. He was ranting about Sasuke and how he was planning on killing him. This got him a starer from the Uchiha that was also in the room but Deidara just glared back. Still hating the man for tricking him into joining. This was Usual for him though still he continued on about the younger brother. He was convinced that he could kill the snake of a man if the 15 year old hadn't interfered. 

Still feeling eye burning into him he sends another irritated look at Itachi before turning to head to his room. He was tired from the mission and run it with Orochimaru. Though he found it odd that Itachi’s stare was more cold then usual he just brushed it off as him being tired and was probably just imagining things. He plops down on his bed closing his eyes. This was eating away at him more then he would let on. That doesn’t mean he wont talk about his plans. 

[multicanon-rp]

What is you major Arcaina

Itachi

The Hierophant

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. It is indeed a precious gift to understand the forces that guides oneself..."

The Hierophant is a symbol of education, authority, conservatism, obedience to rules and relationship with the divine. You are a person who interprets sacred mysteries or esoteric principles,

You are matured enough, quite wise and logical. However, you are somehow associated and obsessed with the past.

Diedara

[I dont think this is right but I got it for him each time.]

The Emperor

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer..."

Emperor symbolizes the desire to control one's surroundings, and its appearance could suggest that one is trying too hard to achieve this, possibly causing trouble for others; some elements in life are just not controllable.

Often times, you are troubled by something very personal, and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Sasori

The Fool

"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. It is the void from which all other things begin"

Your personality is shaped by the people's actions and decisions.

You are a jack of all trades having a wide potential depending on how you choose to live your life.

Easily influenced by others. Be careful how you choose to live your life and of the people you choose to be with.

Your life holds a network of infinite possibilities because of your natural talent and skills.

[not quite sure about this one either]

Tsunade

The Empress

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. Celebrate life's grandeur...its brilliance...its magnificence..."

The Empress represents motherly, prosperity, creativity, sexuality, abundance, fertility and comfort which most often observed in maintaining peace.

Often belongs to people of authority or wise and motherly figures.

Mukuro

The Devil

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. Giving in to temptations, man learned to distinguish what is good and evil."

The Devil Arcana represents the urge to do selfish, impulsive, violent things, and being a slave to ones' own impulse and feelings. Occasionally, it is also portrayed as a symbol of temptation. The positive aspect, however, represents a healthy bond or commitment.

You are often "devilish" you tend to be greedy, proud, lustful, or otherwise of poor character. You are most likely to go for an antisocial tendency, often not caring much for the needs or well-being of others.

Chrome

The Priestess

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. The silent voice within one's heart whispers the most profound wisdom."

The Priestess is a symbol of hidden knowledge or other untapped power, wisdom, mystery and patience.

Usually quiet, reserved, and very intelligent. Often modest and shy, and won't open up easily to others.

Spade

The Moon

The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. What we see is who we are and what we believe in is how we are raised. It is an illusion to put your shoes on another's foot."

The Moon Arcana is associated with creativity, inspiration, dreams, madness, illusions, fear, fantasy, the subconscious and trickery. You are sometimes being attuned subconsciously to the world around, gaining the ability to sense things without being told about them or without anyone else knowing.

You are often psychically-attuned, and your projection of your own fears and faults onto others is becoming a habit. You often tend to have trouble accepting yourself for who you are and, because of that fear, you try to correspond to an ideal person.

Tagged By: @masterofwar

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this.

[multicanon-rp]

@sasori--akatsuki continued form here:

“Then would right now me a good time?” He asks. They might not always get along but he does enjoys Sasori’s company even if he doesn’t outright say it.