regardless ,   he holds the food under sasori’s face ,   in between him and the limb he’s sculpting.   ❝ brought you some food ,   yeah.   your work’ll suffer if you don’t keep your blood sugar up. ❞

“Or what..? You’ll explode? Hah.”

    It was entirely likely that Deidara was planning on embedding his explosive chakra into the clay piece once it was complete – for once the blond didn’t use those mouths implanted into his hands in assisting in the creation (and Sasori could say he was almost shocked that his partner had taken so much time and effort into the project), but it hadn’t yet dried. The brat had taken most of the evening into this endeavor, meticulously adding details upon details to ensure its perfection.

    “Please do, Deidara.”

    – And as Sasori walked by a wooden hand casually pressed atop the clay bird, distorting its visage as easily as if he had done the very same to softened butter. The scorpion himself was unable to feel the clay as it curved against his fingers; he’d need to take a moment to check his nails to clean out any stray residue that may have remained.

    He was dared, after all.

    Deidaras eyes got larger as Sasori’s woody fingers dug into his precious art. He didn’t think he’d actually do it, he could have sworn the red head would have brushed it off like any of the other times the blond pursued him into doing any of his silly schemes or tricks-- then again this puppet was unpredictable. He slapped at Sasori’s hand “Don’t ruin it, jerk.” He picked up the clay bird and tried to salvage the shape of it with his fingers. It was too late, the clay was no longer good to form. He threw the white junk on the floor with frustration.

        “Look what you did!” 

        “You ruined my art before I had the chance too!”

★ : pressing a kiss to the back of their hand (the sasodeis tho)

intimacy.   it’s quiet and  soft.   it’s fleeting and full of care.   it  tugs  at  deidara’s  heart  strings.   his fingers curl in at the brush of lips to the back of his hand.   despite the amount of blood lost during his most recent string of recklessness ,   cheeks stain a light pink of embarrassment.   a whole section of arm ,   completely destroyed ,   it would have ended him.   as a ninja ,   as the captain of the explosion corps.   as an  artist.   it’s near unbearable to think about what his next course of action would have been if not for sasori’s expertise coming to his aid.

he isn’t used to it ,   though.   he can’t quite grasp the intricacies of the complex movement that the other’s explained something like twice now.   it takes a very delicate ,   fine tuned chakra control.   something outside of his realm of expertise.   but he will master it.   has  to.   he can move his fingers ,   bend his elbow ,   but can’t grasp anything yet.   can’t create his artwork with it yet either.   but he’s  appreciative  to what the redhead’s done for him all the same.   the amount of work and sleepless hours he’s put into this.   the fact that deidara can even feel the sensation of the touch of lips is a miracle in itself.

🔥 Pull my muse down by the collar/by their clothes - in a sexy way (the sasodeis but he didn't mean to make it sexy, that's just how it turned out)

face to face with sasori ,   eyes level and unblinking ,   deidara’s pupils restrict then expand with the sudden jolt forward.   his lips parted in sharp inhale.   he should  know  better ,   shouldn’t let something that was no doubt done without thought to how it may come across get to him like this.   the way his stomach feels ,   it might as well be doing  backflips  in his gut.   sasori knows.   has  to  know.   no way he  doesn’t  know  how deidara feels towards him by now.

the blonde swallows the lump in his throat ,   swallows down trepidation and pushes past hesitation.   hands reach up to wrap around sasori’s still clenched in his robe ,   not quite so much a threat as it is a  reminder.   flushed cheeks fade ,   yet blue eyes are still soft despite hard words  only  lessened  by his low volume.

ref – accepting.

it’s so easy ,   too  easy ,   for deidara to feel comfort in having sasori so close.   to be  without  shame  as his fingers comb through red strands in a motion that brings him just as much comfort as anything else.   like he was meant to be nowhere else but  right  here.   the soft sound of sasori’s breathing and the rustle of the occasional readjustment as he reads further down the scroll.   the shallow rise and fall of his own chest ,   the warmth of the desert and sasori’s body being close.   deidara’s eyes initially close in contentment of where he’s found himself ,   fingers still moving in the calm ,   repetitive pattern.   

happiness.   there’s happiness within him despite a rough start to life ,   despite his own inner turmoil once raging beneath his skin  like  a  barely  contained  storm.   despite his theft.   he’s  still  here after the war.   he met suna’s greatest artist for all his troubles.   fell in love with his art ,   with  him.   deidara’s life has never stopped being interesting ,   that’s for sure.   he’s not sure that it will ,   either.   not with their  artistic  duo ;   at odds ,   yet a compliment of the other.   

ref – accepting. 

surely sasori knows what he’s getting into bringing up this topic around deidara ?   has  to.   his response is spit out quickly ,   hardly a beat missed between the end of sasori’s statement and his own beginning –   ❝  that’s a misdirection perpetuated by  movies  trying to keep you from knowing the truth !   it’s actually styrofoam not orange juice…   the styrofoam melts into the gasoline and makes a jelly ,   and the jelly is  obviously  extremely flammable ,   yeah.   it’s like a  liquid  fire !   it burns for a very long time –   i can show you ?  ❞   

ref  --- accepting.

the act of being killed isn’t something that’s  PARTICULARLY  new to hidan.   the only new piece is the person attempting to do so.   usually it’s his own partner ,   but this time it’s barbie’s.   he’s experienced  MANY  TYPES  OF  PAIN ;   aching ,   sharp ,   stabbing ,   burning ,   throbbing.   the jashinist can describe it all with  PINPOINT  ACCURACY.   his actions reflect such ;   the pure  RECKLESSNESS  of his attitude as he speaks to those who care little for whether he  LIVES  or  DIES.  

the first symptom happens within moments of the scorpion’s tail cutting him. 

his muscles  GIVING  OUT  on him and knees  BUCKLING ,   falling to the ground and waking in a puddle of his own vomit.   trying to push himself up but no longer having the  COORDINATION  or strength necessary to do so.   three days ,   for  THREE  DAYS  the zealot couldn’t sleep ,   the poison having its way with his body wouldn’t allow it.   off and on sweating ---   he’s fairly certain he’d had a handful of  SEIZURES.   but it all began to blur together ,   even the  HALLUCINATIONS  of his own mother ,   her words as harsh and pointed as he remembered them ,   became nothing but background noise to a  BLISSFUL  PAINSCAPE. 

groans of  AGONY  would become something bordering on ecstasy.   hidan’s clenched shut eyes would roll back in  PLEASURE.   nothing quite as good as experiencing true death ;   hearing screams of pain from their friends and loved ones as he  IMPALES  himself with his scythe.   his  HEART  giving out ,   there’s along with it.   their final emotions carried along the link created by his curse.   never anything  TRULY  profound ,   and more often than not ,   it’s just  REGRET.   

but oh ,   he can taste his own just as well here.    he knows when his  BODY  begins to shut down its organ function ,   he knows when his  HEART  STOPS  from too much strain after faithfully beating for as long as it could.   each moment of pain is  TREASURED ;   a sacrament to his god.   

when the seizures stop and his muscles begin to respond to him again ,   a finger  TWITCHES  as a test.   within the same hour ,    hidan’s  SITTING  UP  for the first time in several days.   his eyes scan the room as a weak hand is lifted to wipe the mixture of saliva and bile from his lips.   they lock onto the one  RESPONSIBLE ,   and hidan bears his teeth in a  FERAL  GRIN.   

RANDOM MESSAGES   ||   ACCEPTING.

deidara startles at the  SUDDEN  TOUCH ,   but doesn’t jerk away from it.   it’s only him and sasori here.   the both of them settled into a comfortable silence ,   or were.   he  BLINKS  at the serious expression  STUDYING  the mouth on his left hand ,   splaying his fingers to reveal it fully for him ,   hoping to make it easier.

it opens at the finger’s contact ,   as if waiting for the usual clay that deidara feeds it.   he isn’t surprised by this investigation ,   sasori’s always seemed  INTERESTED  in unique abilities.  TRADING  IN  SECRETS.   and an iwagakure kinjutsu would certainly fall into that category.   what is surprising though ,   is the  GENTLENESS  that accompanies it.   the two artists nearly always bickering about something.   sasori’s lack of feeling in his “skin.”   one might think he would be even slightly rougher ,   but no.   it’s almost as if he’s being  GENTLE  FOR  DEIDARA’S  SAKE ,   which would be ---   a pleasant change of pace.   he lets the investigation carry on undisturbed for only a handful more seconds ,   before finally speaking up ,   ❝ are you looking for something specific ,   yeah ?   i could probably answer your questions a lot easier than it can. ❞