seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Murata blinks. “S-sorry, what? What is this about?”
Without missing a beat, Tomioka replies, “Sabito says that he’s so grateful for you saving my life that he’ll let you touch me.”
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a collection of sasodei drabbles
“It’s getting late,” Sasori sighed. “We’ll stop here for today.”
Deidara rested against a strong, aging tree as he caught his breath. A cool gust blew away the heat trapped in his body and the sweat on his skin. The forest thrummed with crickets in the evening as if to sync with his racing heartbeat. He closed his eyes and wished he could just sleep.
“Hurry up,” Sasori said.
Deidara glared at him wearily. “Not everyone’s got an untiring body like you, yeah?” He complained as he got up on his feet anyway and began shuffling out of the forest. “Let’s get something to eat first, hm.”
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Atreus watches the river flow from the rocky bank that he is perched on. Here, the stream drowns all noise made by every creature, be it the cry of an animal or the racing thoughts of a child. He goes here every time he is upset with his Father; nowadays, they’ve kept the score quite even, with Atreus running his Father’s patience thin from his incaution and his Father missing his efforts to thaw the ice between them.
Today, he has retreated here not out of frustration, but out of guilt.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Boy… ” Kratos wants to rip something apart; his fists are trembling to tear up skin and flesh, but he forces himself to keep talking—words don’t spill blood at the very least. In a fit, Atreus walked away to retrieve an arrow from a dead elf’s head. “I was gone only—”
And that’s when Kratos only notices the piles of dead elves surrounding him.
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a collection of sasodei drabbles (updates every now and then)
Title: “Choice”
Nothing hit as hard when Sasori realized that he’d rather let Deidara stay as a human than preserve him as a puppet.
wherein urokodaki rescues a young giyuu from a demon.
Giyuu waited for the chaos upstairs to stop.
Tsutako nee-san had hid him in a wooden box in their basement. She had specifically told him not to make any noise and to stay hidden until the demons were gone.
“How will I know when it’s over?” He’d asked tearfully.
Tsutako wiped his tears away, kissed his hair, and whispered, “When we stop screaming.”
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a collection of sasodei drabbles
Deidara runs the oiled brush across Sasori’s skin, imagining the goosebumps his Master would get if he could still feel.
He is gentle yet precise; he marks every spot as if it were a map that he’d memorized by heart, and doesn’t stop until Sasori is gleaming with wood varnish.
Sasori’s joints clack as he stretches them and inspects Deidara’s work. He is bare and hollow, his entire body other than his face a mere imitation. He is painted in a convincingly healthy color, but the lines all over his body remind Deidara that he is no longer human; he has become one with his art.
Deidara longs to reach the same peak that Sasori currently stands on, but for now, he is content with watching him twirl as he makes sure of his eternality.
“Good?” Deidara asks.
“Aa.”
a collection of sasodei snippets
When Deidara grew tired—which was incredibly rare, but it happened—he was the most beautiful contradiction that Sasori had ever seen. A far cry from the explosive little brat that gave Sasori hell, he looked uncharacteristically at peace in his sleep, settling atop Sasori’s lap like some delicate creature. Incoherent syllables would slip from his mouth when Sasori ran his fingers through the silk of his hair—he’d found it so amusing, because even in his sleep, Deidara still didn’t make sense.
It was amusing at first, but when Sasori realized that Deidara was actually murmuring his name in his sleep, he felt a strangely pleasant ache in his core—a contradiction in and of itself. Then it made him wonder—was this the first time he’d appeared in Deidara’s dreams?
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