#having a bad day? draw hiruko.

[snupy]

hiruko 🪝

@luckystarchild

[snuggleboots]

I saw in your tags you want to write more Sasori, how about him in a relationship head canons?

I’m sorry this took me quite a while, but thank you so much for the request! Sasori really intrigues me, and I enjoyed having the chance to sit down and really think about his character like this! I hope you like the headcanons!

Sasori

Sasori is not the type of man to mince words. He’s blunt, he’s abrasive, and he does not aim to spare anyone’s feelings. This includes his S/O. You need to understand that you are not exempt from his personality- and while you do get to see him at his best, chances are you’ll unfortunately see him at his worst, too. It may be rare for him to have his temper flare enough to lash out, but his occasionally short fuse makes it inevitable that you’ll experience some of it. Even if it isn’t directed towards you, he wants you there to listen to him seethe and rage and get the worst of it out of his system. Ideally you will understand that what is said when he’s tipped over the edge is not directed towards you, unless you’ve done something heinous enough to garner his ire. 

-

There are things you will never understand, there are people you will never meet, and there are pieces of Sasori that he may never be willing to share with you. Sasori runs the monopoly on classified information- not to mention his eternally-parched lust for knowledge reliably leads him into even more forbidden knowledge you have no business poking your nose into. Certainly he cares about you- deeply even, but expressing that to you is a task nearly insurmountable. Sasori keeps these secrets from you because he cares. There’s already a target on his back- no need for you to have one, too.

-

He will never admit it, but he appreciates having someone to keep him on his toes and challenge him outside of combat. Hold him accountable when he’s being cruel or rude for no real reason. Being an asshole isn’t a personality trait, and you would do well to remind him of that on his bad days. Debate him. Ask questions, share your own discoveries, achievements, and knowledge with him! Likely he knows most of what you’re telling him, but he liked you enough to pursue you romantically- so he absolutely likes you enough to listen to you pour passion into your interests, skills, and hobbies. Even if you’re someone who might bounce from interest to interest, hobby to hobby, Sasori will still take the time to sit you down and hear what you have to say. He’ll only do it once though, most likely. He may have some patience, but he doesn’t have any desire to hear the same information dumped onto him over and over again. 

-

For the most part Sasori would consider himself to be touch-repulsed, but there are still days when the planets align just so, and he feels the long-suffocated yearning just to be touched. Despite lacking the flesh and blood to feel, he still relishes in those rare times when he can beckon you close and draw you in with a cold, unyielding hand and curl up in the safety of your arms. There is no machismo that makes him ashamed to admit that he prefers to be held, rather than hold you. It’s not meant to hurt your feelings if you’re the type that likes to be the recipient of cuddles, but there are specific ways Sasori approaches things like the physical aspects of a relationship. For the most part he demands absolute control. Tender embraces and long hours spent just sharing a snuggle are the only exceptions. It reminds him of home.

-

While Sasori expects you to be capable of defending yourself, he is still a very territorial man. Not jealous by any margin, just protective- in his own way. Would he care if he somehow witnessed someone trying to butter you up with stupid flirtation? Not at all. You have the integrity and loyalty to turn them down. Will he demean and insult the flirt for his own amusement after you do so? Absolutely. Hiruko wasn’t built to be attractive or appealing, so he is completely aware of the fact that anyone who approaches you without knowing Sasori would get to witness themselves losing to something as aesthetically hideous as his puppet armour. If you were ever in a situation that meant your life was endangered, that is where you would come to understand the territorial nature of the puppet master. Get out of the way and let him rain down his fury and hellfire through the art of breathtaking puppets with their caustic weapons and poisons. Watch him reduce the assailants to a putrid black lump of tar, clotting the dirt with melted flesh and splintered bone. 

-

On your bad days, if you have any, Sasori will offer you his ear if you ask. He’s not so selfish that he would deny you an outlet- and you can trust that he would keep your frustrations to himself. He does not kiss and tell. Instead he offers his own advice, which may be extreme or underwhelming depending on the situation, but always somehow helps. Honestly, his most common advice is probably ‘ignore it’- because most of his more mundane problems are literally just mouthy, overgrown children- and engaging problems such as that just creates more problems. 

-

Dates are very unlikely. A night well spent is best spent working, in his opinion. So you would have to take initiative and approach him with ideas- and he’ll likely turn you down more often than not, but when he’s willing to set some time aside to spend an evening with you it’s still spent somewhere incredibly private. Deep in the woods, or behind closed doors of a room rented for the occasion. Bring tea, and maybe a snack for two- he won’t eat it because he can’t, but he’ll appreciate the sentiment. Then, spend the starlight hours deep in conversation, or quietly enjoying one another’s company. 

-

Touching on the topic of love languages, Sasori’s is complicated. He enjoys acts of servitude, and deeply appreciates physical displays when he requests it. He hates receiving gifts- but may or may not enjoy giving them from time to time. He will tell you what he appreciates most about you, and will point out the features of yours he finds most beautiful and unique. To majority of people he would be a very unfulfilling lover, because you must be able to see the subtleties of his love and affection to appreciate the unique elements he brings to the table in a relationship. 

[cha0ticmimzy]

Valentine’s Day Drabble: 6

Hi so I’m still somehow in the Naruto fandom even after all this time, and Itachi has always been my favorite character. And a friend requested these two. So... Enjoy this rare, non-FFXV related piece of writing. 

Ship: Uchiha Itachi/Akasuna no Sasori

Song: N/A

Rating: General

Word Count: 764

           It was odd, to be taken from his own partner and put with another member of the Akatsuki for a rather long mission. He knew that Kisame must have been pulling his hair out by this point, having to deal with someone he had no previous experience with. Yet, Itachi couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry; Sasori made for a decent partner. He was quiet, yes- but he wasn’t outwardly rude. At least, not unless it was warranted. It helped that Itachi didn’t speak much- small talk had never been his strong point to begin with, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

           Maybe he could convince Pain to switch their partners up more often.

           The hotel room was large- larger than any Itachi had ever bothered staying in. But he wasn’t going to complain, not when he was able to have a hot shower and have his own bed. Speaking of, he stepped quietly into the room, closing the door behind him. He’d gone down and purchased dango from the vendor outside of the hotel. His sweet tooth craved them, he couldn’t help it. Though, he had felt bad for not being able to purchase anything for Sasori, which was why he’d gone even further, wandering shop stalls until he spotted it.

           Sure, they were small. But it was the thought that counts, right?

           “You were gone for quite a while,” the puppeteer spoke around a screwdriver that was clenched between his teeth. Hiruko’s hull was spread out upon the floor, making Itachi have to step carefully in order to reach his own bed. “I was starting to wonder if you had gotten lost.”

           “No.” Itachi answered simply, removing his cloak and setting it aside. “I noticed a dango stand when we were checking in, so I went and got some dango. And…” Trailing off, he began to dig in the bag, carefully pulling out the ivory puppets from within. They weren’t large, nor anywhere near as elaborate as the puppets Sasori had created, but they were small, and delicate, and hand painted.

           Cautiously, he stepped behind the redhead, settling onto the bed. “These caught my eye. They are nowhere near as elaborate as what you create, nor are they large. But…” He shrugged, holding the ivory puppets to the side, waiting for Sasori to finish polishing one of Hiruko’s legs. The puppeteer reached out, grasping onto the dolls carefully, and held them up to the light.

           “… The craftmanship is good, surprisingly. I’ve never seen any made out of ivory before- it’s a difficult medium to work with; it cracks easily under pressure.” Humming, he reached behind him, patting Itachi’s calve. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” The words were a rarity to be heard spilling from the elder’s lips. Itachi hummed, content with himself, and reached over to the other bed, attempting to keep his body on one, to grab the bag and bring his dango closer.

           So close, so close…

           An undignified noise escaped him as he tumbled from the side of the bed and onto the floor in a heap, stunned for a moment. “Good job. So graceful.” Sasori deadpanned, though Itachi could hear the smirk in his voice. Frowning, he sat up and took hold of the bag, pulling his dango free and climbing back onto the bed, resettling himself.

           “We leave in the morning, correct?” Itachi mused, eyes closing as the sugary sweetness of the dango filled his senses. Sasori hummed, leaning back against Itachi’s legs, head resting against his knees as he looked up at the Uchiha. “Would you prefer to leave before sunrise?”

           “Yes, and yes. It will draw less attention that way. Our job here is done- we meet with Deidara and Kisame at the border of Fire Country.” Sasori replied as he reached over, withdrawing a dango and eyeing it curiously. “… These will rot your teeth, you know.”

           “I’m well aware. I am here for a good time, not a long time, Sasori-sama.” Itachi replied around the dango stick, eyes cracking open to watch the other curiously. “Let me enjoy he little vices I have in life. You worry about getting the sand out of your puppet’s joints.”

           “Maa,” Sasori frowned, setting the dango aside to instead jab at Itachi’s leg in annoyance. “It’s times like these when I’m reminded of how young you truly are. You’re annoying.”

           “Not as bad as Deidara.”

           “… You have a point, Uchiha. Pass me that vial of oil, please. Don’t fall off the bed this time, either- hey! Don’t kick your elders, you little shit.”

[lvsifer]

SasoDei Ff

Sasori and Deidara as they cross the desert. Cross-posted on AO3.

preview:

Look, Sasori, my man, Deidara murmurs and points to the west where a light licks over the firmament before it extinguishes. A shooting star.     

That’s art, Deidara says, blazing for one moment only.     

No, Sasori says. No, and he does not look at Deidara, but at the eternal empyrean. A breeze picks up, swiping sand over their feet. Deidara kneels and lets himself fall back onto his elbows. His hair is bereft of colour in the night, thick fall of pale grey. He turns towards him, bending over Hiruko’s shell. His gaze is hooded, quieter than before.     

Do you, Deidara murmurs and grazes his fingers against Sasori’s cheek, feel anything at all? 

i.

The desert is vast, moonlit in shades of blue and silvers. The whispers of the sands, coarse and soft. The skittering of scorpions, the sliding of snakes, and insects just beneath the surface. It’s alive and it’s not, always on the verge of death.

They walk faster during nights, rest, if they must, during day. And even in the shell of Hiruko, Deidara’s prattle is inescapable. It’s only before dawn that he falls silent, as Sasori shifts aside Hiruko’s shield and stares up at the desert sky and its stars.

But not this night.

Look, Sasori, my man, Deidara murmurs and points to the west where a light licks over the firmament before it extinguishes. A shooting star.

That’s art, Deidara says, blazing for one moment only.

No, Sasori says. No, and he does not look at Deidara, but at the eternal empyrean. A breeze picks up, swiping sand over their feet. Deidara kneels and lets himself fall back onto his elbows. His hair is bereft of colour in the night, thick fall of pale grey. He turns towards him, bending over Hiruko’s shell. His gaze is hooded, quieter than before.

Do you, Deidara murmurs and grazes his fingers against Sasori’s cheek, feel anything at all?

Sasori offers nothing. Deidara’s fingertips are but a whisper against his shell, then they are gone. Silence lingers between them. The east illumens. Sasori shuts Hiruko’s shield above himself once more. Darkness. Within it, he is almost boundless.

He awakes at nightfall. His left hand twitches, his chakra strings tingle and Hiruko jitters to life. Outside, Deidara shifts too.

The sand is still warm, Deidara says.

Hiss of it, crumbs of it against Hiruko’s side. The sand slides underneath the puppet’s feet as Sasori moves it. He watches Deidara with Hiruko’s eyes. The boy grins, runs his hands through the sand. Dusk dresses Deidara in hues of red.

Lets get moving, Sasori says. I hate to—

Yes, yes I know, Deidara says. Last light catches in his eyes, then night collides with the earth. It’s always quick in the desert.

They are close to Sunagakure now, they will arrive by morning. It’s been over twenty years since Sasori last saw it. Time passes him by without meaning. He does not think of the village, he thinks only of what they must do. Shadows blur all shapes, but Deidara is there beside him.

It’ll be beautiful, Deidara says, elated, worthy of me.

What are you blabbering?

Deidara turns towards him, The fire. And death. He opens his palm, revealing one of his mouths, chewing away. Trust me, my man. He bends low, palm against Hiruko’s cheek, tongue of it flickering against the cloth covering Hiruko’s jaw.

You’ll feel so alive.

They walk quickly. There’s a jump to Deidara’s step and a hum under his breath, loud enough for Sasori to hear. Deidara catches him staring, and laughs. He turns away.

The night fades. They rest once more, an hour before dawn. The captain of the guard should be on his way by now, ensnared in Sasori’s jutsu.

On the horizon, the rock-hewn walls of Sunagakure. The sun rises, a wavering orb blazing in the east. Red light bleeds into the clouds. Their shadows lengthen behind them.

They move.

ii.

He feels nothing but the twitching coils of impatience. He watches Deidara fight after he has dealt with the guards at the gate. Explosion after explosion ruptures the sky. The jinchūriki proves stronger than expected. But Deidara succeeds, in the end.

Once more, they are on their way, leaving chaos in their wake, and enough traps to delay anyone foolish enough to follow them. This time, they do not rest for the first two days. Deidara climbs onto his bird to sleep when the sun rises, sheltered by clay feathers. His empty sleeve flutters in the wind, blood caked on the frayed ends. Sasori uses a jutsu to create other trails to hide their tracks. All the while, the jinchūriki lies coiled within the tail feathers of Deidara’s bird, unconscious. And soon to die.

Deidara wakes with a groan and a cough, reaching for his waterskin.

If you covered your mouth, you’d lose less moisture, Sasori hisses.

Oh shut up, Deidara croaks. When was the last time you were thirsty?

He snaps Hiruko’s head upwards—and strikes with his scorpion tail. Deidara dodges in the last moment. The boy lands on his feet, sand whisking left and right.

My, my, look who’s in a bad mood today.

Keep moving.

Deidara pops a food pill into his mouth while walking. His steps are certain and he seems unfazed by his injury.

Soon the One Tail will be ours, Deidara says. Now cheer up, my man, hm?

He replies nothing. For him, there is only necessity, only tools, and no toys. Power yields him no pleasure, it is but to make, and make for eternity. For is he not eternal?

iii.

The jinchūriki is dead and the Shukaku is theirs.

Deidara sits on the corpse, tapping his foot, eyes wide and grin stretching his lips. Outside the gate, their enemies. And she. Granny Chiyo. Sasori does not move. Just waits. It’s inevitable now. She must die at his hand.

Tremors crack the stone and the gate shatters open in an explosion of rock.

Deidara blathers on about art. Then he takes off with the corpse, luring the other jinchūriki along. It leaves the girl and Chiyo to him. They wait, he sees them whispering, discussing him. No emotion stirs. He’s hollow from his toes to his head.

Then they fight.

He doesn’t hold back. He says, My own grandmother, I wouldn’t feel anything if I killed her, and he knows it to be true. Chiyo speaks of his father, of his mother, the puppets he first made of them now at her command, he remembers how he drew them around himself, remembers the moment he realised they would not come back, remembers it all. He stares at her and attacks again. Her eyes have dimmed, but the love in them has not. And perhaps that, is the worst of it.  

He is not as they are, he’s but an echo of what he was and wished. The desert has never left him, or maybe he has never left the desert. Ever on the verge of death while the years stretch on behind him.

They ask him what he is, and he reveals his body to them. He stands bare before them, bereft of miracle or mystery. Not quite a puppet. Never to be finished for he needs this last clump of human flesh. He’s made himself—and he sees the dread in their eyes—the only thing he could be.

They continue to fight. It is time to end this.

When he lies dying between the puppets of his father and mother, consciousness bleeding out of him, he thinks, Deidara might’ve been right after all.

vi.

It’s the first night on their way to Sunagakure. The last of dusk has faded and the first stars have risen, piercing the dark blue, rivaling the crescent moon. The air is clear, temperatures dropping rapidly. Coarse hiss of sand all around them, dust of it on their clothes.

One day, even the skies will be empty of stars, Deidara says as they walk. He grins at Hiruko’s open back, right at Sasori, teeth gleaming pearly in the moonlight. My man, imagine you could watch that last moment of light!

Nonsense, Sasori says.

Deidara laughs, sound lavish in the near-silence. One day, I will go out like that. With a big, big—he spreads his arms, hands describing a smooth curve—bang! He says it joyously, with anticipation.

For once, Sasori doesn’t doubt him.

You’ll miss me when I’m gone, Deidara adds, crossing his arms behind his head as he walks.

No, Sasori says.

Deidara glances at him and stops.

Impatience flares up in Sasori. They don’t have forever.

Deidara narrows his eyes.

I’m not waiting up on you, Sasori says, spurring Hiruko forward.

After a moment, Deidara follows and continues to prattle. The boy is inexhaustible. It’s only at dawn that he quiets.

They lay themselves to sleep, sheltered behind a dune and the wings of a clay bird. The ends of its feathers seem to graze the night.

He can hear Deidara breathe, quiet but not asleep. Sand swishes as he moves. He peeks over Hiruko’s shell, hair falling softly. His brows are pinched, lips tight.

Sasori wants to ask what this is about. Deidara’s  face blocks out the moonlight. He kisses him. Sasori doesn’t react, waits until the boy draws back.

Why would you give it up, Deidara asks. Your flesh.

Sasori doesn’t look at him. He thinks, I am become art.

Why wouldn’t I? He asks instead.

Deidara looks at him a long while. Then he says, quietly,

To feel alive.