#the title is from a cosmo sheldrake song

[leighsartworks216]

Linger Longer

Zayne x gn!Reader

I need this man to release his chokehold on me today so I can sleep

Title from "Linger Longer" by Cosmo Sheldrake

Warnings: domestic fluff, food, alcohol mention, dancing, established relationship

Word Count: 581

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Psst fill this out to be tagged in future fics!)

Strips of thinly sliced beef soaked in teriyaki, chopped vegetables and seasonings sizzle in the wok as Zayne stirs the food around, moving the pan in tandem with the skill of a professional chef. The rice cooker diligently completes its sacred duty, set up by you. It’s the one thing you feel capable of not screwing up when you make dinner with your husband, who seems to know no bounds when it comes to cooking the best recipes he can find.

The table is already set with utensils and napkins. A bottle of wine, thawing after being chilled by his Evol, waits next to two glasses. He doesn’t partake often, and he certainly won’t drink a lot when he does, but tonight feels special, like it deserves a small drink to celebrate.

Celebrate what?

Well, nothing.

Work has been generally the same for both of you. Nothing exceptional has happened in your personal lives, either, aside from winning a plushie from the claw machine that you’d been coveting ever since it was announced.

Still, something in the air felt different tonight.

As Zayne turns off the stovetop and transfers the contents of the wok into a container, the music playing from your phone can be heard again. You feel light as you hear the flowing orchestral melody. The only reason it’s on your phone in the first place is because of a dance you shared with Zayne at a gala hosted by Akso Hospital. It became one of many dances you’d shared ever since. He glances over with a smile as he connects the dots.

Once he sets down the cookware, you take his hand. There’s still some time left on the rice cooker, anyway.

He wordlessly steps away from the counter, holding your hand in his while the other finds your waist. You hold his shoulder, hand resting over the strap of the gag-gift apron you gave him one year, as he guides you in a waltz. The steps are small, accounting for the limited space in your shared apartment, but it feels like you’re in the center of a huge ballroom.

Zayne looks at you like you’re responsible for hanging the stars in the sky, eyes gleaming with adoration. You let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes even as he leans down slightly. His arms hug your waist, holding you close as you sway back and forth. You rest your head against his shoulder. He rests his head on top of yours.

It’s easy to close your eyes and bask in the moment.

The air is hot from cooking, which makes being this close to each other uncomfortable, but neither of you wants to let go. The song has skipped over to the next in the playlist, one far more upbeat and lively, but you continue to move as though the orchestra is still playing their sweet symphony just for you.

In two minutes, the rice cooker will beep. You’ll have to pull away. He’ll remove the lid and fluff the rice while you grab bowls for the stir fry. You’ll both sit at the table and enjoy your meal, talking about your days and your future plans. Afterward, you’ll work together to clean up the kitchen, and come up with a plan for breakfast tomorrow.

The world will move on.

So, for now, for as long as you can, you’ll linger here, in this moment. In his arms. Together.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44

[sliqtril]

okay i have some more OBSCURE BEATS since you said you knew some of the previous ones

i’ll be listening artists and my fave songs from them

(these next few artists are all related in some way? idk weird band drama)(they also have some darker music which you might like)

Black Dresses

MOM

Girl Rituals (you might’ve heard this song before)

—

Cosmo Sheldrake

Slvtever

The Dresden Doll (i like this song but it has a rather triggering title so beware)

Amanda Palmer (who is in the band above!) (She made a story album called Evelyn Evelyn, give it a listen)

Wallows

Cheek face (they also make really shitty/good music)

KevinKempt (loud)

Sidney Gish

Auto heart

EVELYN EVELYN RAHHHHH AUTOHEART and all 3 of devi mcallions projects OUGH. DRESDEN DOLLS everything else will be going on the queue. THANK YOU

[flowersofevilvn]

I do wonder what he his taste in music is, maybe Saria's Song/Lost Woods from Zelda since it is a forest aesthetic theme or perhaps something else that is nature related! What's his favorite type of genre?

I have an inspiration playlist for him here!

His personal musical taste is fairly strings and piano heavy, lots of classical, some mellow jazz, and he's really into some video game type chip tune music (so that Zelda title would be right up his alley!) and early electronica, think Mort Garson. He'd probably go batshit for Cosmo Sheldrake but has not yet discovered him as a musician since he's terminally offline.

[catnippackets]

Is your blog title a reference to a song?

At first i thought mary lamberts "when you sleep" then i thought maybe blue octobers "calling you" but neither of those quite matched.

Also just talk about what kind of music you like maybe?

it is!! it's from How Strange by Emilie Autumn, I've tried changing it on occasion but tbh I feel like it fits my vibe too perfectly haha

my favourite artist is AURORA I have loved her for a few years at this point and she is AMAZING!! another artist I really adore is Agnes Obel, she's got a very haunting fun vibe that I dig. other artists I enjoy (it would take too long to put every artist I love so these are just the current faves) are Soley, Tally Hall, Cosmo Sheldrake, Rabbitology, Sofia Isella, Kiki Rockwell, Paris Paloma, and Hemlocke Springs!

fun fact about music is I make my own, I've got a side channel called Moon Thing where I produce music and it's very fun. I also recently hit 40 monthly listeners on spotify somehow even though I've only got one song up there currently so that's very exciting

[mishacakes]

Do you have any playlists for Alice and the Nightmare? And may I also recommend "Come Along" by Cosmo Sheldrake? Their music in general has a very whimsical-wonderIandian vibe from the lyrics to the sound.

hey i am SO GLAD you asked!! THANK YOU!!! Soooo much of Alice is inspired by music, even the title itself (referencing bands like “Florence + The Machine” and “Marina and the Diamonds”)

I have SEVERAL PLAYLSITS, this one was made as a soundtrack for Book 1 (the first 4 chapters)

and the entirety of Chapter 9 has a song assigned to every page in the alt text! It was a fun little project and here’s the playlist for that!

and here’s one that’s Just Nightmare Vibes, it’s a good one tbh

Happy listening!!!💖💖💖 and I’ll definitely check that out thank you for the recommendation!

[invinciblerodent]

Now that I'm getting close to what feels like the point of no return with Ver (all side- and companion quests done, only a handful of chests and some exploration left to get to), I'm really wondering who of my Rook ideas should be the next I play

like I'm equally excited for all of them, for different reasons!

(just me thinking out loud under the cut- i've narrowed it down to all of four ideas, so that's fun)

Tristan, unlike Verbena, is going to be very straightforward in all his approaches to things- he'll be very direct and frank to the point of crassness, a quintessential "Rook" in the way that his mind moves entirely in straight lines- and it'll be a lot of fun to both experience such a Warden-heavy story AS a Warden, and at the same time roleplay him gradually softening up, and turning that hard edge towards protecting people, instead of only protecting himself.

(Plus, there's that wrinkle that he's not, entirely, uh, alive. And it'll be really fun to play through him and Emmrich kind of stumbling through budding feelings while Tristan is trying to keep the secret that he's kind of, sort of, partially a spirit of Purpose. From a necromancer. Who's teaching him manners. Shit's wild.)

The one thing making me hesitant to go with him is that I can't justify him not choosing to save Minrathous like Ver also did- it's strategically the most advantageous thing to do, and while it's regrettable that Treviso will need to pay its price, someone has to. In Death, Sacrifice. I just don't wanna do the same thing again.

his Inquisitor is my Cadash, with all the opposite decisions from my canon with my Trevelyan.

(he also has a couple "theme songs" in my head already, this one being the latest.)

Tanner, I'm very excited to delve more into all the dwarf-stuff with- she's a Lord of Fortune, a sailor, adventurer, and poet enamored by the ocean, but also an Orzammar-born dwarf- her parents were Warrior-caste, and part of the forces that Orzammar sent to combat the Blight. They decided to then remain on the surface, and Tanner, a very young girl then, fell in love with all the vast openness that the surface had to offer. She first took up arms against the Breach as an agent of the Inquisition- hence the name.

I think it'll be a very interesting roleplaying angle, to romance Harding as someone who also has very personal ties to her storyline, and will likely be tossed into a whole mess of identity issues herself.

She'll choose Treviso I think, but her story and reasoning aren't as well-formed in my head yet, so I'm thinking still a bit about an angle to approach it from- then again, that could form as I'm playing.

her Inquisitor is my Josiemancer mLavellan, with the same decisions as the ones I made canonically.

(my working song for her right now is this)

And Coris, my problematic pretty girl assassin, modeled to look as much like a portrait that hangs in the Dellamorte mansion as possible- I have this whole Plotline thought up for her to romance Lucanis through grit teeth and with a dagger behind her back- her "plan" breaking down to basically

make Lucanis Dellamorte fall madly in love with her

talk him into murdering his grandmother and taking the title of First Talon by force

murder him, but make it look like an accident so that she can wrest control of the Crows for herself- a nobody underling to the Fifth Talon wouldn't be able to, but who's gonna say no to the grieving partner of the second First they've lost in such a short time?

bonus points if Illario, that fucking bastard who ruined her life and then proceeded to not even recognize her afterwards, suffers. Even better if he dies. (I was gonna have her be mad at Viago at first, but yknow, plans change.)

She'll fail that plan at step one by catching feelings herself. Then Caterina will get "murdered", and everything is gonna fall apart, and it's a whole Mess, but maybe he won't get too mad once she comes clean about it all starting out as a ploy to crush everything he holds dear.

her worldstate has a Solavellan-romance, even though I've honestly never done that- I'm just really curious how that'll work out.

As a Crow, she'd of course choose to save Treviso too, so that adds up. (And have a fun funky lil song to her name, too.)

......

And then there's Marcus Ingellvar my dear, whom I have not even made a face for yet, but I'm just so unexpectedly enamored by Bellara that I'm even willing to play a mage(!!!!!!!!!!), just to make her smile.

I wanna play him as a Mortalitasi, and a he/him(he/they)(he/any) nonbinary person, partly to explore gender feelings (as of right now I'm in the "if I were to unpack this suitcase I might end up with something tangible but also, my native language doesn't even HAVE gendered pronouns so what do I fucking know, maybe THAT'S why 'they' feels a bit more correct than 'she'" part of it all), and maybe a little bit to confuse Taash a bit further.

yknow, they've figured out they/them as singular pronouns, get ready for a genuinely kinda gender-weird little guy, lol.

He however has the same issue as Tristan in being a pragmatic thinker, and I don't really see a way past him thinking "hey maybe letting the Venatori seize Minrathous is not, uh. the right. move, right now. things in Treviso at least can't get much worse....? maybe....?"

He's probably the least well-formed in my mind as of right now, but that has never stopped me before, has it

.......

writing it all out didn't help me decide

[panzershrike-pretz]

TAG GAME <3

“Spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.”

Thanks for the tag, @xxluckystrike!

(I have too long of a name, send help)

Pelicans We (by Cosmo Sheldrake)

Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive (by Bing Crosby and The Andrews Sisters)

New River (by The Oh Hellos)

Zephyrus (by The Oh Hellos)

Elephant's Dance (by Yer Banished Privateers)

Rock mi (by voXXclub)

Sarcasm (by Get Scared)

Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In (by Will Wood)

Rome Wasn't Built In A Day (by Morcheeba)

I've No More Fucks To Give (by Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq)

Kill The Lights (by Set It Off)

Europe's Skies (by Alexander Rybak)

Pressure Cracks (by OldMan's Poison)

Round the Cape (by The Longest Johns)

Everyday (by Buddy Holly and The Crickets)

Take Me to War (by The Crane Wives)

Zero to Hero (from the movie Hercules by Disney)

Tagging (no pressure): @luckynumber4 @malarkgirlypop @footprintsinthesxnd @sweetxvanixlla @next-autopsy @georgieluz @1waveshortofashipwreck @land-sh @samwinchesterslostshoe @lost-on-the-highway @whollyjoly @blood-mocha-latte @topsii-turvii @coco-bean-1218 @grumpy-liebgott @mutantmanifesto @blueberry-ovaries @ronsparky (it was fUCKING HARD to remember of 18 people???? Too many)

[c-kiddo]

Oh if you like textures in music have you ever listened to Cosmo Sheldrake? It's very nice imo.. a lot of sounds. Even birds songs I think they're pretty old..

i will listen to more maybe since i like some of the titles and birds, but only have liked a couple i heard, one that was fun and had a second vocalist (mind of rocks) and one that was extremely barebones and seemed recorded in a forest or something (Green Grass? live). apart from that the sound is a bit too digital for me, like yknow when the drums are digital in something and you notice and then realise theres not as much to grip onto? and in a clean bouncy way that sounds a bit too much like kids tv music to me (his vocals add to to it i think, reminds me of cbeebies or something not sure). not that kids music is bad at alal but its not th vibe i want to listen to rly lol

[idlenight]

tagged by @autumnfangirler and @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal to bare my music taste to the world. And I will always take an excuse to share music.

Rules: shuffle your repeat playlist ten times and tag ten people

I'm not entirely sure what my repeat playlist is supposed to mean. But the songs I shuffled are from my current list of favorites playlist. (titled: We have vibes at home). Results are as follows:

Red Windows | Nostraightanswer

Slumber | Sløtface (<- pronounced slutface btw)

If You Loved Me Right | Beth McCarthy (<- lowkey could be a chargestep song for certain sidestep dynamics. not for any of mine but i've been thinking about it every time i listen to this song)

Nosebleed | Sophie Powers

Flavour of the Month | Fizzy Blood

Hallelujah | Paul Russel

No Hands | Attica Riots

Does The Swallow Dream Of Flying | Cosmo Sheldrake

3's | Nodaway

love song (hesitations) | Shiloh Dynasty, Lofuu, dprk

Every song is linked to spotify - but for ease i've also put them all in a playlist, which you can find here.

tagging @vin-ill. @capricule. @spectrealenko. @caridinscross. @arcane-lock. @dorkousloris. @aurrieattorney. @spadoodler. @currently-evil. @themelonlad. and trusting them to give me some ace new songs to listen to >:)

and also tagging you 🫵 the one reading this post (and please tag me, I like finding new songs!).

[chickenstrangers]

spell your url with song titles tag game

tagged by the lovely @icouldhyperfixatehim and @chinzhilla 🥰

I saw everyone complaining how hard this was with long urls but honestly I wish my url was longer so I wouldn't have to decide between songs

c - Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake

h - Heavy Balloon by Fiona Apple

i - I had gay sex with god (it could've gone better) by Juno Lev / I Have Considered the Lilies by Connie Converse

c - Christopher Robin by Good Luck Finding Iris

k - Knight by Maddox

e - Einstein's Idea by Johnny Flynn

n - Names Fjord, the J is Silent by Autumn Orange

s - Sing to the Moon by Laura Mvula

t - Til I Die by Parsonfields

r - Redwood Tree by Jamie Drake

a - Agoraphobia by Autoheart

n - Night Flowers by Lo-Ghost

g - The Good Part by AJR

e - Existential Crisis Hour! by Kilo Kish

r - Roses/Lotus/Violet/Iris by Hayley Williams

s - Spinifex Gum by Spinifex Gum

i'm late to this so everyone might have already done this but i'm going to tag a few mutuals from my notifs anyway just in case and feel free to ignore (or send me yours)! @dudeyuri @grapejuicegay @khaotunq @loveable-sea-lemon @loveongsa @ranchthoughts @shannankle @sollucets @williamrikers

[kebriones]

Alcibiades music playlists

Okay here it goes!

There are 2 english playlists and 1 greek. Note 1: so some of these are very self-indulgent and might not make sense but at the very least maybe you'll find a new song you'll like. this was really hard to do because evey song reminds me of him. I tried to make sure all the lyrics fit him somehow, might've failed at that, and the order is completely random.

Note 2:

a (v) next to a song menas it has a music video I reocmmend checking out,

a (s) means it is heavily socrates/alcibiades focused rather than just alcibiades.

Note 3: Feel absolutely free to add your own suggestions!

ENGLISH PLAYLIST (part 1) -Anger (sleeping at last) -Young and beautiful (lana del rey) (s) -Because the night (Patti Smith) -Cellophane (FKA twigs) (s) -i dip (Sawn Wasabi) -All Eyes on Me (Or3o) -Heavy in your arms (florecne and the machine) (s) -The first disciple (tamino) (v) -Grown Ocean (fleet foxes) -Dots and Dashes (Silversun pickups) (v) (s) -Never look away (vienna teng) (s) -Behind blue eyes (L'Orchestra Cinematique) -Ever fallen in love (Pete Yorn) (s) -Neo Surf (GENER8ION, 070 Shake) (v) -The greatest show ( -everything I wanted (Billie Eilish) -i wanna be your slave (Måneskin) -we have it all (pim stones) -accidentally in love (counting crows) (s) -the shrine/an argument (fleet foxes) -Eros and Apollo (studio killers) -S&M (rihanna) -Scream until you're coughing up blood (against me!) -Addicted to bad ideas (the world/inferno friendship society) -Wicked game (chris isaak) (s) -Everything at once (lenka) -Your younger man (the world/inferno friendship society) (s) -The rifle's spiral (the shins) -two men in love (the irrepressibles (s) -the weight (amigo the devil) (s) -Desire (champs) -Rich (andrea vargas, cosmo sheldrake)

ENGLISH PLAYLIST (part 2, songs that i'm on the fence about kinda) -I'm so sorry (imagine dragons) -Bad Karma (Axel Thesleff) -Mountains (Socrates) -Sugar boats (modest mouse) -Not strong enough (Apocalyptica) (s) -Everybody knows my name (Harley poe) -dear fellow traveler (sea wolf) -Who are they (Danai Nielsen) (v) (half is in greek) -Revenge, and a little more (unlike pluto) -No good (kaleo)

GREEK PLAYLIST (with commentary, some translated lyric bits are in purple . If anyone wants a full translation of any specific one, let me know! songs are linked on the titles for your convenience)

-φρονιμα κουκλα μου (behave yourself, doll, I tell my soul. Everything will happen as we have planned it, there's a flirtiness towards the soul there that UGH idk) -μαγιατικο (every other lyric in this song is so alcibiades coded I am losing my mind) Newly brought spring, my red fate Awaken to speak your dreams Awaken and hold close The most beautiful things, the most distant, with stubborness and bait The haze from the perfumes, your youth's load I woke you up suddenly, I know You'll see I'll turn the wreath twice on my head, my mind is the warp and the weft is the world's daze -αναθεμα σε (the socrates/alcibiades mood here :''') shout out to my best friend, this is their favorite singer ) -κατω στης μαργαριτας τ'αλωνακι ( the overall vibe of the song gives me something alcibiades-like, also: their sleep smells like wildfire, the sun writhes on their teeth) -τα μπλουζ της αγριας νιοτης ("the blues of wild youth") -δεν χωρας πουθενα ("you don't fit in anywhere", but the phrase for fit in is here literally means not fitting in due to size, like something that doesn't fit in a box because it's too big, not because it doesn't match.) -με γελασαν τα πουλια (the birds tricked me and told me I would never die, so I built my house taller than the rest) -κοκκιν' αχειλι (traditional love song, there's some desperate feeling underneath it all that reminds me of alcibiades. also half the sun and the whole moon turns red after a kiss how crazy imagery is that) -ελα ψυχουλα μου (okay so I really fought with myself for this one because I think it's cringy as a song but some of the lyrics scream socrates/alcibiades and that made me put it on the list. I am sorry. I debated this for days but if I have to hear this and think of them, you have to as well.) -σιμουν (everything went wrong and everything is beautiful, along with "sends ships off the cliff, fades the shade and turns me into brushwood, but me, I don't care gives alcibiades) -καιγομαι και σιγολιωνω (again, socrates/alcibiades I am also partial to this version of it) -σπιρτο και βενζινη (tell me this isn't an alcibiades song with soc/al undertones i dare you) -γιορτη (set fire to what burns you, what eats at your soul, the streets outside are breathing, thirsty, open. Love is a trip from celebration to celebration. live with me in the wind, the fire, the rain, empty days and fractured skies await us, love is a trip from wound to wound) -παντα θα ξημερωνει (I'll become a thorn in your throat, dust in the eye, a whisper in your ear and shivers on your back, a splinter on your certainty) -Κρασι, θαλασσα και το αγορι μου ("wine, sea and my boy". a eurovision song from the first time greece took part in it.) -μη χαμηλωνεις τα φτερα (turn your heart into stone, and hold onto the stone)

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 24: Fear & Delight

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Bugs and birds...both alike share the heavens, Deidara and his coveted performer celestial beings in their own right. But birds eat bugs, being swifter than butterflies especially, and in turn the insect's wings warn of their poison with bright color if they so much as think about it. Yet they ride the same wind anyways, dancing till the sun goes down.

And what is a Scorpion on the dusty, dirty ground supposed to make of it all?

Author's Note: Song for this chapter's title and breaks is Fear & Delight by The Correspondents. If all goes according to plan (vague vibes), this will be THE Deidara song in the same way Misathrapologist is for Hidan. It's been a song I've associated with him for as long as I've known it, absolutely burned into my brain for the guy.

The song sung in context of the fic is Solar Waltz by Cosmo Sheldrake.

Sasori is here! I love him too. But he is Not Very Nice, No Sir!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, but I know you'll cause me grief

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dawn has hardly lit its torch when black painted nails lift something up for it to light; these fingers, however, don’t belong to the object’s owner. “Hmph,” Deidara mumbles under his breath, holding the two-sided rectangle in the morning rays evaluatively. “One side yellow…” He flips the thing over betwixt index and thumb, a matte side turning to a glossy one. “...and one side black. Hm…” The blonde blinks, setting it down to fumble through more possessions that aren’t his.

...Except one, of course.

“Ah…! The star of the show.” It doesn’t count as stealing if it’s his sketchbook. The siren is just borrowing it! ...And she can borrow it right back, soon as he’s done. Though he always smiles, the one this artist wears now is most assuredly sincere, even if a bit diabolical. It wasn’t for no reason, after all, he had offered paper and pen to a fellow artist. Oh, Deidara...never without an ulterior motive, are you?

So… What's that you see in her mirror…?

The cover opens and he hums, crossing one leg over the other as he sits at the dining room table, morning sun haloing behind his head. The figure she painted is immediately recognizable. “Huh.” The blonde blinks, flattered. “Well…” he remarks. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“It’s crude,” a soft voice chimes from behind his shoulder. Deidara turns his gaze up from the sketch of himself as he was spotted studying his own clay yesterday, looking to his superior in title but not philosophy.

“What, am I that ugly?” The tone of his voice makes it apparent he is absolutely sure he is not. “Come on...you don’t see potential?” the blonde asks the redhead. The latter man standing behind the chair has no change of expression, not even a narrowing of the eyes. “Look at it here…” Redirecting his attention, the young art teacher traces the line that makes the shape of his own cheek, sloping down at a curved angle to form his jaw. “All in one move, there. She didn’t need a second try, un.”

Sasori stands silent, which is the closest you’ll ever get to him conceding a point. Successful, Deidara’s grin widens up at his Danna. “See? Potential!”

“…”

“Ha!”

And with that chuckle, he is free to go back to admiring himself as another sees him. As Deidara gets lost in the way ink drew his tongue sticking out in thought, the shadow the puppet casts falls off from his blue-eyed partner, his body leaving while eyes stay locked on the overly simplistic rectangle on the wooden table that the woman claims to have brought from another world. Pink glass and black glass…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Close friends of mine are in disbelief

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So...you said you’re a teller, right?”

She none the wiser, the woman talks to Deidara now after he’s combed again through her personal affects, kicking her legs childishly. Innocent and naive, she tilts her head with a questioning blink. “Teller?” she repeats.

“Ah... Forgot so soon?” He raises his chin, eyeliner sharp and redone for the day ahead of them. “You said you’re not a songwriter but a storyteller.”

“Oh!” the woman corrects, straightening her posture to attention. “Yes. Yes, yes. That’s the best way to put it.”

“So," he drawls, "Color me curious: what kind of stories do you like to tell best?” A blessing and a curse: there is no better way to tantalize a neurodivergent person’s mind than to ask them to categorize or to explain things. To say her eyes don’t light up is to deny the moon never meets the stars up in the sky.

…But there, too, is the fear of talking too much. It is a punishment well earned, full of “shut up”, “I didn’t ask” (they did though?), and polite but blank stares. To talk too much is to be too much, and no one wants to be too much. So the joy bites back and the performer turns shy eyes to the corner of the piano room, past hand-me-down knickknacks and memories of times so tangible she can still taste the regret. Deidara spots this shift and hums, that large bang of hair so easily shifting with the cock of his head.

“Hm?”

As they sit together on the bench, backs facing the large instrument, the woman contemplates the fear of being known. As she has always put it: to be embarrassed is to be known. That is, if you feel embarrassed, then remember it merely means you exist, and there is no misdeed in existing as you are. She swallows and tries to let the eagerness creep out, dripping like a toothpick put a hole in a dam instead of the whole thing bursting to high hell. “I like…” Deidara observes her gaze becoming lost, going from the corner to raising up at the ceiling. “...I like certain themes,” she confesses. “I think a word I think a lot about is... alienation.”

The blonde raises a brow. “Oh…?” he drawls with interest, unaware this answer would make perfect sense to some Akatsuki and none at all to others she’s met before. She nods...but doesn’t immediately continue, and so his attention must be asserted. “Yeah? How would you describe that, un?”

The bottom lip is almost bitten but teeth back down, remembering the scolding the woman received for this instinctive reaction to nerves and thinking. They let go, finding words instead of pain. “Trying to find your place,” the siren weaves, attempting a tapestry of her worldview by pulling from her heart like it’s a spool of thread. “Feeling incomplete. Sometimes...feeling complete in being incomplete. There’s a couple things you could compare and contrast the lacking of, you know?”

Deidara does, so he nods, but he still wants her to say it. “Such as?”

Her palms come forward, still feeling unfamiliar with their painted, slightly more weighted fingernails; she bounces from one to the other as she goes through dualities. “Well… One that’s really prevalent in the stories and songs right now, where I’m from, is society itself and not belonging in it. Another I can think of is...reality? Like reality isn’t made for you—” One hand is raised down. “...or you aren’t made for it.” That hand lowers and the other raises next like a scale. “But I think in general I just really enjoy...the individual trying to understand their connection to specific things.”

“...You just repeated your thesis, un,” Deidara patiently corrects impatiently.

“Ah!” Oh, how soon she had forgotten: he is an artist. He knows more than her, surely has much more refined tastes and opinions and arguments. After putting her outstretched fingers in front of her mouth in a show of shameful surprise at her own words, the woman so visibly shrinks. “Sorry…” she murmurs. That just won’t do for Deidara; they aren’t done with the discourse yet.

“Hey, I didn’t say stop!” A bump of one shoulder to another works as a wake-up call, forcing the musician back into her own skin. “Just...find out where you were going with that. What are the kinds of comparisons you like between the individual and specific things?”

“Well...that just sort of encompasses the whole thing, doesn’t it?” she replies, sounding more helpless about it than clever.

“I know! But you started a list. Keep going, un!” He leans more into her space, smile unwavering as ever; anxiety be damned, he seems interested, the way his visible eye glistens nice and wide. She exhales.

“Sorry. I’ll...try again.” Deidara merely nods, metaphorically stepping out of the way now that he’s paved the path forward. “Let’s see...Society? Said that. Existing in reality...broad but...I think you get it.” Another nod, a mouthed hand gesturing in a circular ‘continue’ gesture. “Other individuals. That’s a big one for me. Nature? Yeah. Nature.”

A glance out the window. The branches still dance outside of clear glass, the green a bit more faded than when she noted them last before. In similar fashion, the stranger recalls an aspect of what makes her that very title: a stranger. She named it to Kakuzu in the middle of the night, and even before then played in the midst of its fallen tears, the rain misting down as a swordsman of Kirigakure shared a tender moment.

“...Nature,” she repeats more wistfully. The hush of rustling leaves in the wind answers back. “Where I come from… Well… The relationship humanity has made with it is so...much.”

Now we reach where Deidara is no longer the guide but the follower; matters of art from another plane of existence are out of his current expertise. But this is exactly what he’s been waiting for, anticipation flipping his heart upside down as he waits for her to elaborate. It is such painstaking, teasing silence as he watches her ponder things outside of his comprehension.

He didn’t expect it to be so... bleak.

“Places like where we are aren’t nonexistent,” she begins, trying to imagine her old view out of an old apartment building in the city. “...But they’re not common. It isn’t common to live in the middle of a forest, with a lake right around the corner, with stars that shine so well at night.”

A lost mind stands up from her seat and wanders to the window she stares out of, beginning to undo the latches at the bottom of its pane. “We built things— as a society, I mean. We overtook the forests, the marshes and swamps, flattened the mountains or found ways to fly above them.” The latch is open and fingers curl under the bottom of the wide wood lining glass. As it lifts up, she feels less here and more... there. In the first place she never belonged. “The morning was red,” she narrates her memory of the last day she woke up, “And smokestacks far away poured dark clouds into the sky, overtop the squares and rectangles of buildings that were covered in yet more squares and rectangles, uniform to be easily made and replicated rather than be architectures of art.” Her hand falls limp at her side as she looks over the neighborhood. “If those are made now— art, I mean...they aren’t made for you. For me. They’re things of status. For companies, the wealthy, sometimes government buildings.”

In her mind, the woman walks by a white building as she often does, always wanting to go in but too shy to even request a library card, fake plaster pillars pasted onto the outside of brick. She remembers how she stopped to look at them, saw the pill bugs hiding in the crevasses of wear and tear, dents from somewhat too forceful drawings with donated sidewalk chalk. As other people neared, she got nervous and continued walking her way, lest she be seen in that pensive state over nothing at all. Lest she be known and therefore be embarrassed, the reverse of what gives her hope in being alive. “Really only the library was the kind of place I thought deserved it, out of all the places that got to be decorative like that in how they’re built.”

She feels Deidara’s presence moving next to her more than she sees him. In what might be real life and not a dream, fingers idly reach outside the music room’s window, fumble their prints on a leaf within arm’s length. Indeed, the man notes, she seems to be utterly basking in the existence of something so simple, though perhaps it more represents the infinite quantity that lays beyond in the woods. As best as she can, she tries to describe to him the path she took to get all the way here— or at least part of the way.

...And so it must end.

“Trees are often planted in little dirt squares, in the middle of all the concrete. Little trunks that hardly got enough nutrition to grow, if even that much. So many seemed to be dying after winter last year.”

She gazes up at the distance, past the offices, apartments, signs, and streets, and remembers how at the very end of the horizon she could see where water and sky meet, bloody red both until the Sun was done waking up. Deidara there or not, the memory makes her breath hitch—

“...Anyway.”

The woman shakes her head to where she stands today, as she no longer wants to think about that time, not in such a visceral manner. She blinks first at the fact she finds she had begun walking around the house as she wandered in her imagination, now standing not at the window but to face a pastoral painting, perhaps representing something a little too idealistic: merely a person existing within nature unpolluted. Next she blinks that he followed her all the way here, just to continue to stand by her side, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

“Point is,” she persists, trying to make it all worthwhile, maybe even seem smart, “People where I’m from have a really weird and complicated relationship with nature and technology. Individually we don’t really have a choice; that’s just...sort of how we ended up, in the current way things are. We’re destroying everything. And for what?”

There’s a reason the trees and the sky and the rain seep into her soul. And for what, her spirit begs. And for what…?

That’s the only assurance the traveler has that maybe she belongs here in the world of chakra and magic after all.

“And…?” Deidara presses. Outwardly it’s been quiet, so he’s unaware this was an interruption of such deep thought. “What do you think of it…?”

Silence, though this kind doesn’t worry him; he can tell she’s thinking with intent to answer, the way her brow furrows and lips purse.

“...I wish I could change everything,” she admits, hardly audible at all. The truest answer anyone’s squeezed out of her, more honest than her self-hatred, more sincere than her desire to be accepted. The root of all evil is the inability to change; that of all good is the possibility that maybe it still can, no matter how hopeless it feels.

Her eyes close, and a hand presses against the strokes of paint on canvas that depict flowers and spring. The skin she’s in never realized before… She’s hasn’t felt original paint, dry and textured instead of just replicated in print, in years. A factory exists for every thing she’s ever owned except her very life. There’s a little bee, hardly a swab of black and yellow depicted in the background of the garden scene. It is tiny just like her, though it is in a place she would rather be. A sigh buzzes the tip of her tongue, not with wind but with melody…

But in the merry month of May

A solemn fast does lurk

...and Deidara’s blood turns to ice. The siren sings, under her breath. Does he allow this, so close in proximity?

For spring, it sprung as spring, it does

And put the bees to work

In a split second, he decides as he did when she threw her animal figurines that if he is doomed by remaining, he’s been doomed from the start. Genjutsu or otherwise, let her continue. At least the demise is sweet as nectar.

And work they must, and work they shall

For all the things to grow

For if they don't, as Time, she knows

They'd wither on the bough

Somehow a song about bees sounds like a mourning hymn. Maybe there’s a reason for that turn of phrase...go tell the bees about the beekeeper’s funeral. A fitting tune, it is, to describe the encroachment of nature’s force, how the world will continue even with flowers wilted, even if the pollinators give up on keeping grass green and crops grown. Mankind is not special; honey and wine don’t drip on a king’s command but by the will of sunshine and rain.

Oh, what a dusty burden

That nectar and that pollen

Like Atlas with the heavens

On the back of his head

What if they should falter

And shrug their little shoulders?

And though she barely speaks at all, so quiet as to be on the cusp of not reaching his ears, she still prays that she has not gone too far, been too vulnerable, pushed her own self too much upon him. Deidara is so pleasant… Is he really bad as Kakuzu warned of them all? He reminds her of Itachi, of how nice he is, what a good listener. But it was fake once; what if it’s fake again?

And what would that mean, what would he want when she has nothing more to give?

Well, Time, she'd pass all the same

And on Deidara’s side of the coin, is this siren of the wastelands really safe to be around? Regardless, the rumors are true. If one defines the value of their life by experiences within it, then to hear her song is a pleasantry worth the risk.

Her voice is beautiful.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As they can see what's underneath

The only thing louder than the quiet of the scenery around them is the echo in the performer’s ears at something said less to her and more at her:

Fluttering lashes, red lips and pearly white teeth

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Rather foolish of you to believe that no one else would find this.”

Sasori’s words sting like the scorpion he is, making the performer squeeze her shoulders tighter against herself in an effort to become small. She should have never mentioned it, that she had “found” the lake. Deidara made it immediately clear with an “Oh yeah. I saw that on my way here, un” that it wasn’t as secret as she thought it could be.

“But...Kakuzu told me that he didn’t know,” she defends, but finds less of a sword drawn from her hip and more one being turned against her. Sasori blinks that sharpness at her with no mercy; he only ever seems to blink make a point, she hasn’t caught him just blinking yet when he’s not talking. It’s almost like he doesn’t need to. Goddammit, he’s too handsome with his perfect hair that curls up at the ends, the way his bottom lip sticks out a bit like he’s in a constant pout. Pretty people are the cruelest, aren’t they? It makes his disregard hurt all the more.

Though she had tried not to get on his bad side in the first place, staying close on one literal side of Deidara while Sasori sauntered to the lake with them beside the other. He doesn’t seem keen on her, and she’d rather not be uh... made into a doll. That’s what was implied, right? God, she hopes that wasn’t right. But, perhaps, there is mercy in that she seems to have no redeeming value, no interest in even being a subject to hate. Has to be so, as he willingly speaks to her still.

“Humoring you,” the redhead replies plainly. The woman exhales from her seat, having found a nook of tree roots and a trunk to cradle her like the big baby she is. Ah, the lakeside; she hasn’t been here since Zetsu cooed her hidden story right back. Was he there, too, when she described her alienation to Deidara earlier today? Hell...it doesn’t matter. She can’t find the energy to be convinced it matters. Tired eyes glance at the body of water past her toes, taking it in for at least a bit of meditation to be found on its rocky, grassy beach...but it isn’t long until the view is interrupted. In front of her face, fellow black-painted fingers dangle the sketchbook from yesterday. Oh, he must have gotten it from her bag just now while she and Sasori were reimagining the plot of cult hit 2004 film Mean Girls. The object is taken in her grasp though not immediately understood, its holder pointing a questioning stare up at the man who at least pretends to be nice to her.

“It’s a great place for a study, un.”

Blink blink. An ink brush is placed so easily in her other hand by Deidara, almost dumbly as she still has no idea what is happening. “I… How do you mean?”

“Just that, Takara-chan.” He slaps his knees before sitting down himself, and the woman quickly becomes flanked with one man on either side as Sasori decides to settle down with his back to the same tree as she. Both retrieve their own projects; she can’t see the one of the colder artist, but the one that bursts with warmth reaches into his pocket for a familiar pale substance. She has to ignore the fact that it’s the same chibi of herself from when they first met— otherwise she couldn’t think about anything else.

As far as instruction...that’s all she gets! It is, indeed, just that. Look around, find something to draw, that’s the whole idea of it, really. The peace of the lakeside with the scent of moss and mushrooms in the air surrounds her, bits of blue sky peeking through tall canopy treetops as birds tweet plans to migrate soon.

Blink blink. Silence. Blink blink once again and a turn of her head one way, then the other. More silence...

…

…

As ever, the voices like to talk louder if she gives them space to speak— an idle mind an amphitheater and playground for things that don’t like you— so despite herself— the fear of being known and seen and embarrassed— she has no choice but to put her skill or lack thereof on paper where two professionals may judge her as a fake.

Exactly what they want…though maybe besides that last bit. At least for Deidara. 

…Deidara really shouldn’t speak for the two of them.

Said iwa-nin’s eye that matches the sky darts every so often to its corner, catching snippets of what she’s doing over her shoulder. It’s a shame that she didn’t try to continue his portrait, turn to a new page instead, but a new day deserves a new piece, he supposes. Nervous fingers put a quiver into the trail of ink her brush lays, and though perhaps it isn’t formally a style, there’s charm in it. The little, minute indentations of the horizon where she meant to draw a straight line. Pressing just a bit too long so the shape of a wave becomes more like a blob...making it work by forging it into a foam rather than a clean curve of water.

Watching someone participate in art… It’s really the simplest things that make life worthwhile. The fleeting moments of learning, of creation. Even while he vehemently will disagree with Sasori to the grave...Deidara will always hold the position that there is superior skill in how his partner simply makes. This musician is no different. The azure iris softens, upper eyelid lowering.

And as time passes, the performer’s demeanor becomes the same, lost in her activity with a lull in the air that could nearly help one fall asleep…

...

…

…

Oh. Hold on a second, there.

“Hm? Takara-chan?” It isn’t an urgent request, and so now that she’s been lost in thought a moment, she doesn’t jump out of her seat like she would’ve a few minutes ago.

“...Oh. Yes?” One of the blonde’s fingers moves off the brim of the figurine’s hat to point at her own work.

“What’s that you’re drawing?”

“Ah? …Oh.” She looks back down at what she was sketching; it suddenly doesn’t look familiar. “It was meant to be the lake.” But there are no trees and this water painted in ebony is clearly moving rather than as still as what’s past her feet now. Her eyelids lower even more, and though nearing sleep, it is not more relaxed, because as it isn’t a place the blonde knows, it is one his siren has seen before. She has, after all, replicated the very paradise of her slumber and death.

“I...guess my mind started to drift,” she understates, the ocean of her dreams staring her back. All the worse that last night, she imagined she and the man on her left told her sweet nothings while the one on the right held her so commandingly by the jaw again, making her feel wanted. She can feel the latter’s stare joining in over her shoulder right now and it again makes her so very, very nervous. It isn’t always a good thing to be seen, especially when it is reality versus your fantasy. She prays as the puppeteer's dull brown eyes crawl over her that the ocean stays her secret, unlike the lake. Her poor heart couldn’t take it otherwise.

What she really should be grateful for is that she never peeked herself at what Sasori was crafting, that the clacks and twists of mechanical parts were of one hand picking into the others’ knuckles with a tool similar to her world’s screwdrivers.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I don't show it but I quiver whenever you come near

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Deidara looks up at the passing treetops as they return “home”, remarking internally that he hasn’t given them artistic thought in a long time, not the same way he does the birds above. He glances briefly over the collar of his cloak to the woman walking to his right, seeing she too is looking up rather than watching where she steps. The tip of her brown boot hits the edge of an earth-embedded stone, but before the blonde can open his mouth to warn her, an oh so well-known glimmer of blue spiderweb glows underneath the sunshine. With the most subtle flick of Sasori’s wrist, her step is readjusted and the doll in a pale dress is none the wiser. 

“Tsk…” Sasori says under his breath. With the redhead on the woman’s left, Deidara leans his head past her to give the older artist a very amused smirk.

“You ever do that for me, un?” Predictably, the woman hums in confusion, but the two briefly speak as if she is simply not there, she nothing more than a barrier to overpass, a fence to talk through. Without even the time of day to roll his eyes, Sasori merely blinks his disdain through her to him.

“Only when necessary.”

“And how often is that?”

“More often than you think, clumsy brat.”

This reprieve from unkind thoughts isn’t as relieving as expected, her chin turning from one shoulder to another to get any goddamn hint at all what the hell is happening. But the conversation continues, Deidara putting his hands behind his back in an all-too casual, oh-so teasing fashion; it’s delightful to him where it is meant to be shaming from Sasori.

“Protecting me like that… Perhaps you respect my art more than you say?”

Sasori does the closest thing he can to growling, letting a hum barely roughen the back of his throat. With utmost precision, Deidara decides now is a great time to play out their age old argument, see what a fellow artist will make of it:

“Mayhaps art in its purest form is fleeting?” Evaluatively, the woman looks her right side man over.

“Fleeting?” she repeats. Deidara nods, and the edge in his eye isn’t due to his liner.

“You see...there’s a reason that Pain-sama paired Sasori no Danna and I together... It is because we both use aesthetics and philosophy in perfecting the art of war.”

“...War?” she repeats, quieter this time, but Sasori hitches onto another aspect of that statement:

“It’s because our fighting styles are complimentary,” he corrects with no compliment to be found, already weary of the coming conversation; they’ve had it ten times over, of course, with Deidara just trying to find the right buttons to push to get him so wondrously annoyed.

And damn him, Sasori falls for it every fucking time.

“Perhaps that...but you can’t mistake fate! Art brought us together.” A glance to the woman between them as he begins to slow his walk methodically. “...With you, too.” He acknowledges her bewildered, flattered gaze back in mind only, not with words; he continues: “So...tell me, Takara-chan. I believe art is an explosion. A bang. Its nature...hm…” He mumbles as if he hasn’t said these very adjectives over and over, even in his sleep. “...Fleeting. You can’t appreciate beauty if you consider it as an eternal state of being...or at least, not as well. You remember more that which scorches your memory with a flash!” A gesture of a mouthed hand to his most recent victim of art theory, inviting her to his trap. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

By this time, Deidara has stopped walking and so has the woman trying to follow his train of thought. “That all...sounds true,” she admits. Immediately, another tsk sounds behind her ear; it is the loudest she’s ever heard Sasori speak, and she regrets turning her back to him, perhaps even stand by him without Deidara as a buffer in the first place. In surprise, the woman jumps as the man that examined her in the dark steps forward, though at the moment he’s still ignoring her entirely, choosing instead to speak with his partner. Thank god.

“Misguiding, smarmy little brat,” he seethes. “You’re misleading with such broad statements, no context to be found. Art is eternal.”

“Eternal?” Yet more repetition. Whether he hears or her not...no idea! He just goes on, seeing no hypocrisy in his own sweeping generalization.

“Art is everlasting. To withstand the sands of time, their decay and erosion...that is true beauty. By definition, to state it should be fleeting is simply repulsive.” Deidara’s grin widens to show teeth.

“Repulsive, you say?”

“Yes.”

The woman tents her hands in front of her mouth, looking side to side to each argument and the man that delivers it. A blue eye begins to trail onto her, but it doesn’t speak...And then brown eyes do the same, though cold lips do find something to say.

“I’m sure even she can see that, given proper instruction.”

“Why don’t we ask?” Ohhhh yes! The maniacal grin of a cool but unsettling sculptor whips to bare fangs at the new subject of torture. “What do you think, Takara-chan?”

Oh Jesus fucking Christ on a bike.

Her pulse is racing.

“I...I…”

...No!

No more mumbling! No more being small, she abruptly decides. Physically she shoves the distraught away with a swing of her arms, then clenching her fists in front of her heart with a determined frown. If they want her opinion, it will be given. It’s far from it that she doesn’t have one, after all, these two guys throwing such absolutes around like confetti at a wedding or candy in a parade. If they ask...surely they value her. Maybe even as an artist.

...That’d be a wonderful thing. Her hopes get high up.

“So...let me get this straight.” The stranger motions to Deidara first after reopening her eyes, flipping her palms up to the sky to convey open thought. “You think art is best defined by the briefness of it?” A nod.

“Yes, of c—!”

“Shut up and let her continue.”

Ah, there’s the harder one to address; the dollmaker, in her so limited experience of him, is very, very hard to please. But she abides by the plan, as it is only fair, gesturing next to Sasori. “You th—...know that it’s best defined by its endurance through time.” Another nod.

“Among other things,” he corrects again, wiser than the singer. “But yes.” That’s good enough for her, so next, the hands she use to guide her words return in front of her pensively, one on her chin and the other tapping her cheek. In retreat, her eyeballs stare up at the sky to find room to better think, freer space in the cosmos than in the atmosphere down on the ground.

“I don’t know about here, but...back where I’m from, people have spent lifetimes— multiple ones, really— trying to define what art is. There’s a guy who tried to prove a point by stating a urinal was art because he gave it a label and put it in a gallery.” She reads how both seem distinctly disgusted with the idea, Deidara wearing a sour face for them both with Sasori’s eyes merely— but for once— widen, so she quickly pivots. “...Though the taste of such thing wasn’t in question, the validity of it was. Art…— I only know a bit about visual art, but… I think it can be a lot of things.” Deidara’s advice comes back to haunt her; stop repeating the thesis, add your points. “I think…” She swallows, tasting the thought in her mouth before she says it, eyelids shutting till closed tight as her brain is combed for answers:

…

…

But her eyes open and she, indeed, can say her truth confidently:

“I think the answer has to be both. That by the human experience of art, a firework is brief in the literal sense: it only lasts so long. But it lasts longer than that in other ways. The smoke in the air, the mark it makes in your vision. And then the memory of it! You can remember it until you die. And then if you replicate that vision with a painting, it can last even longer than you’ll be alive. Many artists of my land are defined by their work not within their lifetime but long after they’re dead.” A tinge of sadness. “It always makes me wish I could go back and show them how they impacted me— err, everyone.”

Selfish to do something as miraculous as time travel just to talk about yourself, after all.

“And on the other hand...let’s think of a book. A book in a literal sense can last forever, at least if it’s cared for well enough, maybe have the pages laminated. But you experience each word one at a time! And there are lots of stories where you’ll wish you could read it for the first time but know you never can; the first reading of it can’t be replicated because of the knowledge you hold. Sometimes, the second readings teach you something you didn’t notice before, maybe the third. So on!”

For once, a smile from her lips graces not only Deidara but the elusive Sasori. They let her speak this long; so that means she did, indeed, have things worth saying. Her confidence soars.

“Isn’t that right?” Separated hands finally clasp together in symbolic unity. “To confine your definitions… Sure, preferences are real, but to say one is or is not more artistic just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You can practically see the thought bubbles above their heads, each mind going “. . .”, drawn out with one period at a time to form the ellipsis. It’s only now that the performer notices the sculptor hasn’t been smiling himself...that is, she only notices because he begins smiling now.

“While I don’t agree...I see your point, un.” A turn of his head. “What of you, Sasori?” The two youngsters of the trio look to the named man, one calm as can be and the other’s heart running marathons.

“…” he speaks.

“…” they answer, on the edge of metaphorical seats. Under scrutiny, ever so slightly, the scorpion’s eyes narrow with one last parting strike.

“...Nonsense.”

And just like the piano, Sasori is gone in a puff of smoke. The woman’s arms flail up and a shriek pierces her throat, becoming so off-kilter that Deidara has to put an arm around her back to keep her from tripping yet again.

“Ah..” he comforts, a fingertip scratching his chin, “Well… Don’t take that too harshly. He likes to think in private...especially when his ego is crushed, un.”

Perhaps she should’ve just answered the initial question more sincerely, that instead of getting involved in discourse she’d just rather kill herself again. That’d be less painful.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And I cannot decipher between the thrill and the fear

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A heavy, heavy sigh escapes her chest as they finally reach the mansion, the woman practically collapsing onto the rocking chair upon the porch, human arms limp upon wooden ones. “What? You really tired after that?” But to Deidara’s question she weakly shakes her hanging head.

“No...just...long day.”

“...Mm?” His chin raises to the sky, a second of quiet breaking his thoughts. “...It’s only midday.” He’s answered with a pitiful groan:

“Don’t remind me…”

The whine is unlike prior tones she’s worn before, he notes of the performer, though a following grunt in surprise causes her to perk up again, even if only so slightly:

A butterfly, orange and black like burning leaves, putters ever so delicately in front of Deidara’s face; it makes the woman by accident stare right at him...especially so as it lands right there, tip of his nose. A wistful chuckle sounds from her lips and he remarks, again, how perfectly melodic her voice is.

“A butterfly...it’s a little late for you this time of year, friend.” Almost like they were made for it, one of her fingers are offered to the bug and it eagerly accepts, the siren withdrawing a symbol of nature’s beauty so it may be properly seen by them both. Another chuckle— no, a giggle!...— and she smiles wide enough to show her own teeth. Her eyelids lower so slowly as if the flutter of her lashes alone could scare the creature away. “You looked like Tobi’s mask, black and orange on his face like that!”

Deidara ignores the heat on his cheeks, being compared to someone so uncouth, and instead lets his pout speak for him...that is, until he has a question. “Takara-chan...what do you mean by that?”

“Well, his mask is orange and the eyehole is—”

“No. I get that. The other thing you said.”

“Ahhh, mmmm, oh!” Vocalizations help her remember what happened mere seconds ago. “It’s getting late in the seasons for butterflies to still be alive, at least if things here work the same way as where I was before.” The perch for the bug is raised, letting the flame of its wings catch the glitter of sun rays. “With fall around the corner, I don’t expect you to stick around here.” How lovingly she looks at the insect, Deidara notes. The way her eyes pinch, the adoration that graces her lips. Ah...yes…

That’s the goal he’s going to set.

“Takara-chan?”

“Yes?”

For once, his smile is bashful, lopsided but not with abandon but with self-conscious ideas. “It’s not a...what did you call it? Tin can in the sky...but maybe we could spot more of these butterflies if you go for a ride with me.”

“Mm?” The woman follows his gesture, putting his arm to his side. She doesn’t get it at first; there’s nothing in his palm, no clay or anything else. What’s he pointing at…?

…

…

Oh. She’s gotten so used to that giant white blob that she’s forgotten it’s been there, just sitting in the yard. An unsure finger points to the sculpture that rescued her before. “On the bird?” He nods in response...and the nerves in his grin grow and stretch his mouth wider as distinctly the woman looks...uncomfortable.

“I...I don’t know.”

His eye pinches, but not in joy— searching, instead. “You’re much too shy Takara-chan,” he says spitefully in lieu of saying she thinks she’s too good for his art. But to his surprise, she shakes her head, unconfident herself but sure in her answer:

“I’m scared.”

Well that just doesn’t make any sense! “Why? You’ve flown before. A couple times, right?”

“I haven’t—...oh.” Her voice trails quiet. So that’s what he means… Man, she did a piss poor job describing an airplane ride, huh? “It’s...really different. Being in a plane is like sitting in an office. You hardly feel anything. You’re in a long, tight room, and only get one tiny window.” She cranes her neck up, still avoiding Deidara’s face looking back. “One tiny window versus a big sky. You don’t...feel it. You don’t feel where you are.” Head lowers, gaze pinning to the dirt for stability as hands fumble in front of her lap. “Without that setting…” she admits a sin, “I’m afraid of heights.”

With yet another hum today, Deidara cocks his head and tries to imagine such a thing. To be up in the air, high enough to fly over mountains...and yet not feel it? Then what’s the point? Might as well be asleep in a crate the whole way if you’re missing the experience of flying. “So…” he prods, cautiously seeing if he can reboost his pride. “...You’ve never flown. Not really.” She shakes her head.

“No...of course not. That’s not a thing.”

“…”

And to make sure she spots the softness reentering his eyes, Deidara gently takes fingers under her chin and turns her face to look at them. As best as he can tell, she’s at least not lying about the fear. He waits patiently until he knows she sees him, sees his convincing, confident smile.

“You haven’t lived till you tried it.” The hand lets go, and thankfully her stare remains, no matter how tenuous. “Give it a shot, un?”

“…”

Her heart isn’t even beating right now, it’s just a tight, twisting black hole sucking the rest of her in. He’s insane. He’s insane…!

…

She’s insane.

Redness tinges her cheeks once more as she preemptively apologizes. “Forgive me if I cling too hard.”

“Darling—” Oh, she realizes. He hasn’t called her that since they pretended to be in love. Her heart reenters the fray; she can tell since it’s doing flips now to pump hot, excited blood through the body. “—It would be an insult if you didn’t.”

Not even five minutes later, the woman wraps her arms around his back tighter and tighter with each flap of clay wings, the scent of salty earth an aura as she buries her face in his neck and gilded hair exactly as soft as it looks, with one eye barely able to peek in the frontier of the heavens. The turbulence rings in her ears and as he laughs so fondly, she shrieks. Like being on a rollercoaster, it is in both fright and exuberance.

But the ground is so beautiful from up here, and though a rough lover, the wind plays with her hair until it sends tingles down her back.

And for Deidara to turn his own back on someone... Risk is most certainly the most erotic of foreplay. They ride until the day is over and the sky turns red, the night the same color as the morning she died. Butterflies chase and dance around them, beginning the long journey home for the winter.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I wanna stop it but like it too much to let it stop here

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The night is somehow both so quiet and so noisy, the sound of his breath from mere feet away.

She is scared of her dreams, especially as the bizarre man insists another sleepover together. He looks so...sweet, so innocent with his makeup wiped away to show a gentle visage, and hair down and around him like a golden blanket draped over his head. But each Akatsuki member she's met is deadly, and there is no reason for him to be any different. Her brow curls as she looks him over, on his stomach with hands near his face so tenderly. Why is he here...? She never thought herself the type to be romanced by thrill, a dichotomy of it next to something more relaxed...but here we are. With the blonde ahead who made her taller than the trees, a woman who has only ever tried to be small feels her sight fade in and out. The sigh of the ocean fills her ears and drowns into her chest, and while she fears the little death of sleep, so too is it anticipated, arms open in acceptance of fate and unbridled desire. Her fascination with death, after all, is rooted in wanting to understand that which frightens. Who better than an angel from the sky to sweep her up and away, asking now to sleep under these stars? (Well...under these stars under this roof; as alluring as a true camping experience would be, it isn’t so peaceful in execution.)

Her eyes close and she hears his voice, and a piece of her naughtily loves the goosebumps on her arms and the twisting in her chest. The ocean takes her away, drifting her into waiting hands and cooing praise.

Deidara's dreams, in turn, are unlike his usual: They bring cute bumblebees, and one lands with intent to sting as she whispers in his ear, this siren of flowers and butterflies and trees that emerged from the lake to sing her song of wine and plague. Just as she did, she asks him to drown too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It's wrong but I want you tonight

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[surveillance-0011]

My Splatband ideas

TBN: Experimental Electronic/Pop

Three-piece band based in Octo Canyon, with a Blanket Octopus Octoling (Synth+Mixing and Vocals), a very small octotrooper (Bongos, kazoo and other assorted instruments) , and a runaway salmonid (Banjo + Ukulele) .Their music takes notes from both the Octarian and Salmonid music scenes, and their music can be pretty varied. Most, however, is synth pop and electronic with that “weirder” edge to it. The sound is kinda like Pomplamoose, Rednex and a lil bit of TOP blended into... something.

All But Ready: Alt rock, emo?

An inkling duo making their name with lively guitar riffs and heart wrenching lyrics. Dark blue and cherry red ink. One has spiky hair that looks like a cross between Noiji/Clash and Mizo(le) ‘s hair

Metronomad: Alternative, Folk Rock/Americana

A quartet (maybe quintet later on) of sea folk with a strong connection to the past (they’re all fish and critters that existed in prehistoric times). In touch with their heritage and even times before sentience, this band tries to invoke the feeling of a “pervious life”, using natural sounds and old recordings in their work. They sound like a cross of Cosmo Sheldrake, Imogen Heap (esp her most recent endeavor) and maybe a hint of OMAM and/or The Lumineers

Nautilus, Coelacanth, Wobbegong Shark, Sturgeon and/or Alligator Gar.

Six Feet Underwater: Electronic, experimental

The first musical endeavor of ω-3’s DJ. Extremely dreary and intense. They’ve been on a semi-hiatus since joining ω-3, but released some music around 2020-21, which caught the attention of a much larger audience than their first works under the title. This project is under heavy scrutiny and theorization of curious inkfish, trying to unravel the “mystery”. Yknow the type. Currently the popular theory/rumor is that they’re some depressed octoling hidden away in some apartment who may or may not have killed someone or died somehow. People debate whether the latest album is telling a fictional story or is one last cry for help.

α-5 (name tentative): uh Salmon

Another salmonid band. 5 piece, but I may change my mind for 6. Their sound is a lot more noisy, possibly even cluttered, and high-energy. If ω-3 is panic, dread and stress, then α-5 is rage, spite, and the determination to go out with a bang. They do not play around with time signatures as much and are more symphonic, instead staying very intense and loud. I’m not quite sure abt the exacts of instruments but I’d say guitar and drums are both a part. I think their sound would bring Igorrr and Ridiculon to mind, mixed with some songs from the Pikmin games. They’re all girls or fem aligned save for maybe one. They get along better than ω-3.

One of their members is a mudmouth with weird iridescent muck. She provides odd noises by shifting around in her mud form and can form pseudopods of sorts to multitask. Basically fills in misc instruments.

Another is a Flipper Flopper who adores cute things, even collecting inkling/mainland trinkets that wash up. The other members are worried her own preferences will bleed into the sound, which contrasts heavily. She has a separate project or persona that delves into the cuteness she desires. Drummer?

Tidal Bore: basically 100 gecs in splatoon if the ska-ish bits of stupid horse were in more of their songs . Musical duo? Trio?? Warabi might be a part of it but this is more of a concept and idk abt the actual members. Whale Shark and an Inkfish? Octoling?? Maybe a Cuttle-ling?

[spineless-lobster]

Holy shit wait wait.. I was just listening to Cosmo Sheldrake and on the playlist is egg and soldiers. Is that where you got the cute little ship name alt for pat and cap ???? I'm sorry if you've already stated this but you do post a lot and I'm a recent follower

I think I said it in tags a long time ago, but yes! That is where it came from!!!

Not only does the title fit but the song itself reminds me of them! I won’t rant about it right now but I gladly would in a different post if you’re interested lol

Also, it’s great to see another Cosmo Sheldrake fan!!!!

[jmenvs3000f23]

Nature sings and man is it fun to listen! 🎶🐤🌊🌲🦗🍂🏖️(U7)

One of the many beautiful, intriguing things about nature is that it interacts with not one, but all senses. You see, feel, smell, and often taste the world around you but my personal favourite? The sounds!!

You can’t walk through the forest without hearing the leaves under your feet, go camping in the summer and avoid the crickets or cicadas calling away, or be within even a few hundred meters of a water body without the comforting crash of waves patting you on the back. There's a symphony of music in nature everywhere and it only takes a moment and a deep breath most times to notice.

Speaking of music in nature, I thought I'd try out a little vlog moment to share with you a hack I've recently learned on how to ID natures most notorious singers! This week’s prompt was timed well for me, as I’ve spent most mornings walking to school working on my bird ID by sound, a great opportunity to shout out the worlds' natural musicians. (let's give it up for birds!)

(so sorry there weren't any birds out guys....guess you'll just have to try the app yourself 🤷🏻‍♀️, you can download it here!)

As for nature in music, I’ve added some of my favourite examples of music I truly can’t separate from nature, where when they play I unavoidably imagine I’m just a bug, or the wind, or something like that (and I’d really love if you shared some with me too!)

Ambi Nature Radio station - a live stream of the sounds of a forest in Switzerland! On the Radio Garden site, you can access any radio station in the world, with many others nature themed like this! (I use this for study background music a lot)

Mother Nature's B****  by Okay Kaya - if you give the title a chance, the song’s a reminder to not take everything so serious, because in the end, it’s Mother Nature that’s in control. It’s only a few words but it’s groovy and happy and well….I agree with her.

Wriggle (instrumental) by Cosmo Sheldrake – Hear me out……when this song plays I can almost hear a whole mini movie: a rabbit minding it’s little business, who starts getting chased by a wolf and then they’re running and dodging each other through the forest, passing other plants and animals who chime in too.  It reminds me of the urgently late white hare from Alice in Wonderland and I think it displays through audio a good example of how chaotic (but beautiful) an ecosystem can be.

Entangled life by Cosmo and Merlin Sheldrake - Other than Cosmo’s voice, this song was made by amplifying the sound of fungus digesting an actual book, so what you’re hearing is mushrooms singing too!!

[hammerbearer]

Tag Game Rules: Shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people. Tagged by @theotherwesley My repeat playlist is currently just a shuffle of all of my 'likes' on youtube music, so it's likely to get weird. 1. Orgy for One, Ninja Sex Party (look I warned you) 2. Fading Memories, Fair Game (from a playlist called Silver Lining a friend whipped up for a household acid trip, that then became my go-to comfort playlist) 3. Way Deeper Down (2023 Remaster), The Stupendium 4. The Last Length, Colm R. McGuinness (Incredible voice, all the vocals are him. No really) 5. Moby Duck, The Longest Johns 6. Big Night, Tom Cardy 7. The Pilot's Eyes, Bill Sutton (Oh, I was wondering if one of these tear-jerking space ballads was going to show up) 8. Come Along, Cosmo Sheldrake 9. Tom Cruise Crazy, Jonathan Coulton 10. It's Nesting Season, Brian David Gilbert And an eleventh because it was too good not to share 11. Call ACab, Sam Stone Edited to add: links in the song titles because I didn't remember I could do that at first