SORRY ALL I’M NOT DEAD -- university is in full swing and its only the second week, please keep me in ur thougths and prayers while i find a balance between everything. also give me more castmates
they looking for saviors, i’m looking for safety
they never gon' break me, take me
down on my knees, believe i'm never gon' beg or plead
yeah, i never say never, but i guarantee
like everyone else, subverted deidara is on the run, desperate to find anyone from his universe. after running thru the streets and inevitably failing to find safety in the city, he’ll run off into the mistwood. he doesn’t want to die, but the virus has already started to affect him, so it’s only going to get worse from here! : )
regular deidara, on the other hand, is pissed! no way he’s letting some fake get the both of them killed, let alone claim to be the original. he hates the idea of another side of himself being given an opportunity to live peacefully; if he had it his way, he’d get rid of the other guy for good!
i will be writing a drabble for deidara and possibly open him up to a limited amount of threads afterwards. i will still be replying to part 1 threads as much as i can until the entire event is over!
“I’ll have a replica image of your heart etched into your headstone.” He vowed, looking very serious. It was a small relief when the hug was broken up (even if he was the one to initiate it), following after him with a calm smile. “I’ll watch it on the way there. If their smoothies are bad, we can riot and then escape through the window. And then find an ice cream store or some place that does sell good smoothies.”
❝ wait, don’t actually watch it, ❞ he laughed, waving licht’s attention away from his phone. their lighthearted prattle, consisting of different ways to radicalize normal people into rioting, made the walk to the breakfast restaurant a quick one. despite deidara’s previous banter, it was reasonably busy. once the waitress directed them to the next available booth at the window, leaving them to consult the menu, did the skepticism arrive. ❝ i really hate belguim waffles, ❞ he confessed, squinting at the laminated foldable, ❝ they just slap belguim onto a regular waffle and it’s suddenly expensive, yeah. do you know what you’re gonna get? ❞
After being lost in thought, he would finally snap from his mind to check his phone on the time. He saw the message right away and chose very quickly to ignore that remark he made. Time was also up for the meeting, and he had turned his back to begin walking. He had, of course, stopped upon hearing Deidara and instantly he began regretting ever showing up. Turning to face the blonde, the look of annoyance as he moved to approach the other with a rather stern look.
“One more comment like that, and you’re going to find yourself having difficulty in eating solids for a few days,” an empty threat but a threat nonetheless as he went along with the handshake. As much as he claimed of his hate and dislike of Deidara, he knew full well of how their friendship was. It existed and it was real. He hated that more than anything, but he wasn’t pulling away from it either. A rather confusing mind that some may wonder if even he, himself, had a grasp on his own conscious, his own sanity.
“As fun as it would be looking around for spooky items, it isn’t that time of year. In fact, this is the time of year where it’s pretty boring as far as an artistic eye goes. Nothing special at all coming up, so inspiration has to be found out in the field.” In which case, Sasori may give away while he agreed to this. He was looking for something to create, and he hoped a day out would help him find something. The public could hold a piece … as much as he hated that.
and so they fell into step as sasori chatted over the time of year and all. though they were both raised in spirale (it never crossed his mind that he had yet to meet someone that was not from the island; the sheer size of the population seemed to prevent the conception), the few things they agreed upon was a preference for warmer climates. something in his heart longed for a desert’s heat, to smell sage in the air and feel the dry cut of the wind.
❝ something inspirational, huh? ❞ he echoed, blue hues hazing over in thought. the cold weather and short days was also getting him down, but figuring a way to please the both of them. an idea came to him with a brilliant, ❝ aha! ❞ just as he stumbled over the uneven pavement. straightening himself, he still grinned widely in spite of the misstep. fibonacci's bottomless pit of skyscrapers may have been off putting, with it’s elite societies and restricted areas, but it was the perfect place for some urban exploration. ❝ how good is your climbing, hm? ❞
your worst self quiz & the russian classics aesthetic
... in one post! talk about resourceful. stole this from everyone, tagging everyone else.
You Are “ Shockingly ” Violent!! There's no getting around this: you desperately need to attend anger management. You're just as headstrong and opinionated, and your energy and enthusiasm can turn into explosive violence at the drop of a hat. You're a walking time bomb of seething rage, and the more you try to hide it, the more it escapes in unpredictable, volatile mood swings. Do yourself a favor and invest in a stress ball or a gym membership before you do something you'll really regret.
RUSSIAN CLASSICS AESTHETICS. bold whatever applies / attracts your muse.
BROTHERS KARAMAZOV : orthodox monasteries , deep woods , starry nights , the sound of paper being torn , dimly lit rooms , withered roses , an unfinished letter , piles of books , the sound of shattering glass , ticking of clocks in a silent house , heavy wooden furniture , the air before the storm , the smell of earth , a crowd of people dressed in black , distant murmurs , emptied streets , the fear of walking alone in dusk.
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT : coldness of the skin against a blade , slender fingers & slightly shaking hands , a red stain blooming on white fabric , lonely steps in a corridor , the slow dripping of water , looking out the window into the thickening darkness , a single dying candle on the table , listening to one’s breath & counting heartbeats , too many stairs , the desire to be invisible , a subtle memory of kind words.
THE IDIOT : classical statues , wealth covered with dust , a dark house tainted with inherited madness , an unsettling feeling , long walks in the park , useless chatter , a silken ribbon being forgotten on a bench , a melancholic face , an unexpected spring rain , the joy of reading one’s favorite book , the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world , looking at the cloudless sky.
ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops , flowers brought from an early morning walk , the wind caressing a girl’s hair , a bowl of fruit , the smell of ripe pears , the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea , children’s laughter coming from the garden , soft sunlight & white curtains , the sensation of velvet against skin , pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor , a sudden silence in a room full of people.
WAR AND PEACE : a glass of wine , the brightness of a crystal chandelier , white lace , a raging snow storm , the sound of a door being gently closed , the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room , indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light , closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing , the sweet smell of strawberries , a pair of gloves left on an armchair , light scent of powder.
THE MASTER AND MARGARITA : the chaos of a lively city , ambient jazz in expensive restaurants , jumping on a moving tram , the sight of moscow from the roof of a house , yellow flowers in a vase , leaning out of the window , shelves stacked with books , a small tin box with old photographs , strange shapes in the night sky , laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony , colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.
EUGENE ONEGIN : a lonely mansion , reading a book in the parlour , faint piano melody lingering in falling silence , long evenings , passing seasons , discussing french novels of the moment , unspoken thoughts , leaning against the door frame , quickly averted glance , eating a peach absent-minded , bright mornings , footprints in the snow , a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.
FATHERS AND SONS : birch groves , morning mist , moss-covered stones near a moor , scientific books , white roses , cheap champagne , shabby pocket - watch , light - hearted irony , a maladroit cello sonata , freshly mowed grass , letting thoughts come & go , a slow yawn , picturesque plates & bowls filled with traditional dishes , drinking tea on the porch.
DOCTOR ZHIVAGO : a strange feeling of loss , writing poems in a diary , travelling by train , the hesitation before touching someone’s hand , the gaze of one lost in thought , the warmth of cinnamon , a scarf brightly embellished with flowers , a glass of water , a threadbare jacket , the tempting void , the evanescent serenity of yesterday.
CHERRY ORCHARD : a lone chair in an empty room , falling blossoms , old samovar , the unsettling need for change , a mirror reflecting full moon , the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance , a piano out of tune.
Send a symbol for a headcanon about my muse. All horror/angst/scifi related.
✘ Have they ever committed a murder?
▼ What is their greatest fear?
✿ Would they ever trust dark or wicked magic?
△ Name one thing from their past that they regret.
✂ If they had to choose one weapon to carry forever, what would it be?
☣ Would they kill someone close to them if they had to?
☢ Would they survive an apocalyptic situation?
❣ If someone had the power to bring them back after death, would they want them to?
☠ Do they fear death?
♱ What do they think awaits them after death?
¿ Are they easily frightened?
╳ How would they react to seeing a loved one become possessed?
☹ Name one person they would kill for.
☼ If they had the choice to be immortal with one other person, who would they choose?
☎ How would they react to receiving a phone call from a deceased love one?
★ Do they have a favorite scary movie? Book? Show?
♣ Do they believe the world is made up of good and evil?
♥ Have they ever acting out of heartlessness?
☾ What is their favorite and least favorite thing about the night?
ψ Do they think they deserve punishment for their wrongdoings?
ϟ Have they ever gotten pleasure from causing others pain?
♚ Do they consider themselves to be evil?
♒ If they could choose how to die, how would they want to go?
™ Are they possessive?
✔ Are they holding a grudge against anyone?
◯ Do they believe in ghosts?
✦ Who is their favorite villain?
☄ While watching a scary movie, are they the one clinging to a friend or being clung to?
웃 Do they believe in aliens?
He’s lost in the toy again, just nodding along to what is being said towards him, then looks up. “Oh. The place down the street? I don’t think I’ve had their hot chocolate. Is it that bad?”
Although not usually a physical person, Licht actually hugs Deidara and leans all his weight on him. “You’re amazing, compromising so we can both get good food.”
❝ remember the size of my heart when i die, ❞ he joked, patting a palm to the other’s back with awkward affection. displays of any kind of tender emotion were not his forte, but he struggled against the urge to slip away, trying to embrace it as his darling honey lemon had taught him. small progress was still progress. he pulled away to make for the door, turning only to confirm licht was following. ❝ i promise their hot chocolate is that bad. you can even check my vlog review of it, yeah, but if their smoothies suck too i’ll no choice but to riot. ❞
Hyde is laying about, taking a much needed break from doing anything. After the past few days, he absolutely needed one. Granted, his break was being taken on Licht’s bed instead of his own, but such trifling details are hardly worth noting.
One eye cracks open with the door. He doesn’t move from his spot, arms folded under his head, legs crossed near the ankle. He is far from startled by the intrusion, unlike how Deidara seems to be by his existence. Given how he could hear the guy moving around and that he recognizes the scent as familiar enough he isn’t alarmed.
He grins widely, making sure to show off his fangs. “Hey! I don’t remember ordering delivery, and it comes with some light dinner reading! Must be my lucky day.”
❝ i must have the wrong address, then, because i’m almost certain this can’t be your apartment, ❞ he jeered shortly, reclaiming his composure and losing the tension in his shoulders. it was almost too hard to believe licht pal’d around with other weirdos. what was with his natural magnetic pull to people with breaking-and-entering tendencies? the artist decided to shelve the query for a later discussion.
crossing the room, he yanked out the desk chair to sit beside the lounging other, deadpan intact but losing steam. curiosity shone in his eyes as he noted the fang, but resisted the question. spirale’s on-going human/non-human conflict was too sensitive to get into with a stranger. ❝ how long’ve you been here? ❞ deidara finally asked. the copies of spiderman and other miscellaneous heroes fell into his lap, prompting him to unconsciously iron out the wrinkles with the palm of his hand. ❝ i don’t suppose you’ve seen licht around today? ❞
One day Licht would learn to lock his window, but today was not that day. Besides, it made it easier for his future room mate to get inside without having to use a door. Who uses doors anyway??? Doors are lame.
Like a child at Christmas, he accepts the toy with excitement, adoring the cute fuzzy shape and color. “You are a god among men.” He couldn’t wait to show Hyde.
It took him a moment to tear his eyes off of the new toy, though now he was playing with it while talking. “If you mean food, we can go get some crepes.”
ego swelling in his chest, he couldn’t help beaming with pleasant satisfaction with licht’s reaction, giving a wave of his hand to signal it was no big deal. all it took was the spare change in his wallet to please the other! rising from the couch, deidara pondered on crepes and shook his head. ❝ mmm, think i’m more of a pancakes guy, but i’m pretty sure the mom-and-pop place down the street has both options, even if their hot chocolate is questionable. lucky for you, ‘m willing to compromise. ❞
▼ “Interesting. So you work with clay primarily? I suppose a conventional critic might find these unusual, but I’d say the care you show them shines through. They’re very pretty.” Zelda had been allowed a personal tour of a local university, being a wealthy heiress and all. But she’d broken away from the tour and slipped into an art room where a lone artist seemed to be working. She was a scholar, yes, but she enjoyed the arts as well.
❝ conventional critics are too busy recycling commentary to review anything experimental, actually. ❞ fingers ceasing to mold the glob in his hands, he swiveled around to meet the mystery admirer with a gracious smile. it was commonplace to lose track of time while he worked, but judging by the girl’s grasp of the clay bird from earlier in the day, deidara realized how long he’d been going at it.
❝ no worries -- if you hadn’t come in, my fingers might’ve fallen off this very second, yeah. what brings you around? i don’t think i’ve seen you around the university before. ❞
She’d always been proud of him, had always admired his work from her first days scrolling etsy and visiting his galleries, and even now, as she closed the door to his art studio behind her, she would always find beauty in what his hands crafted.
❝ It’s coming alooong~ ❞ She bounced to his side, her happiness spilling over in waves as she closed the distance and came to Deidara’s side, an arm instantly looping around his and hugging it to herself a little tighter than necessary then she offered him a drink from her frappuccino, holding it for him so he could access the straw as his hands were currently covered in wet clay. ❝ Soooo, did you eat yet, babe? We can go somewhere? Oh! Or, or ooo~r~!!! We can get something delivered~? ❞ She didn’t want to pull him away from his art, but she also didn’t want to see him starve. ❝ What do you think? ❞
the job could be a lonely one, even for the most dedicated; the risk of misunderstandings, soon followed by disagreements, censorships, hung right above an artist’s head, threatening to turn the world against their work. he was grateful to have someone as loving as honey lemon to keep his heart from hardening to stone.
peering up with mischief shinning in his eyes, deidara broke out into a usual grin, swelling with affection for the girl. mindful of the slick material caking his fingers (and the way his body immediately leaned into embrace at the slightest touch), his head shook in response. ❝ i could some sunlight, ❞ he admitted, thoughtfully, already reaching for a rag, ❝ and you didn’t have to stay here while i worked, yeah. but -- ❞ he paused shortly to laugh, already hearing the protest in her voice, ❝ -- you did, so let’s go somewhere nice. how much sweets have you had today? there’s this cafe i found, but if your sugar levels are already too high, we could go somewhere else. ❞
With no particular destination in mind, he casually saunters down the corridors of the grand university; drawn in by his slight curiosity, his feet come to a halt before a door, which had led into a rather large classroom—an art classroom to be more specific. The view he had wasn’t at the right angle, and yet still he managed to make out a student inside, apparently too hard at work to notice his presence, which of course, he preferred. Moving to continue on his way, he abruptly stops in place once again upon hearing a crashing sound arising from the classroom in question. Being who he is ( one who aids others ), he peeks back into the room, only to be met with a few tools scattered about the paint stained floors. Walking toward one instrument, a chisel knife from the looks of it, he promptly crouches down to take it in hand, and then seconds later he rises up, reaching out to the student with it in his grasp.
it was just another day at the office! most people crumbled under the weight of upcoming deadlines and responsibility, but his spirit was energized by productivity and a long to do list. perhaps more so today than any other; as he toed towards a personal breakthrough with a recent piece, his physical movements quickened at the cost of care. inattentive as he stepped back to marvel at the work in progress, his hip bumped against a stool stacked with supply, sending them to the ground. deidara had been to absorbed, by work and his playlist, to notice until someone else entered the otherwise empty classroom, already lifting the knife that scattered farthest.
❝ well, a little help never hurt nobody. much appreciated, friend. ❞ returning the tool to its original placement, he bent to gather up anything within his reach. the glow of twilight told him how late it was. ❝ i thought most people went home by now. any reason to still be here, or do you just like school that much? ❞
After punching in a message on his phone, Sasori would slide it back into his pocket and turn his attention up ahead. A simple day from what he could speculate, but he was probably going to regret not spending it at home and getting some work done. Deidara had talked him into spending the day out and away from his works which didn’t go too well for the artist. He only agreed to it so the blonde would shut up.
“He makes me wait for more than five minutes, I’m leaving…” he muttered which was the message he pretty much sent the blonde before arriving at the meeting spot. It was a simple day planned, but he wasn’t exactly the social type. He didn’t want anything to do with most people, and he preferred to remain alone. What reason did he have? A lot more than most may care for. Were they good reasons? … Probably not.
❨ text » senpai ❩ i know ur excited to see me but patience is a virtue 😌
stifling a snort, deidara continued along the street at his leisurely pace, despite the threats of his life. for as long as they had been friends, sasori had always harbored an old soul, complementing deidara’s erratic and youthful personality quite well. he only wished they could agree that meeting times were suggestions, rather than strict deadlines. five minutes and thirty seconds later, the grinning artist arrived.
❝ somebody film this, the hermit has come out of his cage! ❞ he laughed, clasping the sasori’s hand in typical bro fashion. regardless of his jeers, he was truly surprised the other had finally agreed to an outing after so many failed attempts. their art fields were total polar opposites, pushing the pair in different directions. no matter! there will always be times for friends. ❝ so what’s first on the agenda, my man? i know it was my idea, but there’s bound to be one you hate. we can go look at haunted dolls. i ‘unno, you pick! ❞
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
