#noctstate

[sutoraiiku]

noctstate replied to your post: you ever drink baileys out of a shoe??

do u love me ? ? ? ? could u learn to love me ? ? ?

YOU  LOVE  ME !!  AND  YOU  SEE  ME !!  AND  YOU  KNOW  ME !! I’M  OL’  GREEEEG

[kyousei-archive]

     @noctstate sᴀɪᴅ:

“Let’s talk about what I want.” / mello to near

     “We typically do,” crosses his mind as a response, but knows doing so would throw Mello into a fit of anger with him at the center. Instead, Near clears a space within reach of Legos and robots for the second in line to sit if he so chose. He returns to building the expansive scene before him -- a war between robots and tiny, green army men.

     ❝If you’d like,❞ he states simply, attention seemingly captivated by the task at hand. Mello should know Near still had his full attention, however.❝What would you like to talk about?❞

[kyousei-archive]

     @noctstate sᴀɪᴅ:

five times kissed, sas and dei!

send me five times kissed // not accepting

          one.

     ❝Brat.❞

     A single word is enough to stop Deidara in his tracks. The final day of the blond’s Kage-ordered trip to the desert had passed in a blur. Whether that was time itself speeding up or Deidara’s intense will to keep the clocks from turning backfiring on them Sasori couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he stood just inside the north gate to Sunagakure to see off his Iwa counterpart.

     He nodded his request for Deidara to turn back for a brief moment as the brat in question looked over his shoulder. Quick to comply, they were standing toe to toe with bright blue staring into muddy brown.

     Fingertips brush blond bangs to the side and behind an ear; Sasori leans closer. He can see red beginning to stain Deidara’s cheeks and hints of a smirk pull at his mouth. Kiss is quickly placed on a tinted cheek and his back is already turned with distance growing between them again. ❝Don’t keep me waiting for the next time...❞ he calls over his shoulder, offering a short wave before hands fall into his pockets.

          two.

     Red brows are furrowed as the puppeteer stares into the inner workings of what should have been just another prosthetic. -- But it wasn’t. The hours put into the wooden arm lain out on his bench had left Sasori with the desire to pull at his hair and throw yet another prototype into the pile that had accumulated over the last couple days.

     Time was running out, and while anyone else would have easily been given any of the limbs tossed into the trash... This one had to be perfect.

     Knuckles struck the door frame of Sasori’s workshop just loud enough for his attention to be brought away from his project. ❝What--❞ he started to snap, but jaw clenched shut with the sight of Deidara and what was left of his arm. Bandages were wound about the stump of missing flesh. Blood was beginning to stain them again. Sasori’s eyes softened and he turned back to his work. ❝It’s almost finished...❞

     Deidara didn’t seem concerned about the wound in the moment, only about the state of Sasori’s workshop. A typically pristine area looked as if a bull had had its way, shelving was knocked to the floor in what must have been fits of anger, tools and knives gouged into walls and the bench he worked off. Sasori heard a sigh and the bench shifted a little with the weight of another.

     ❝... Tonight, I promise. It will be finished tonight, and your procedure tomorrow,❞ he said quietly. Deidara leaned his head against Sasori’s shoulder. Lips were pressed to blond hair; Sasori inhaled and sighed himself. Only a moment was needed before another sleepless night.

          three.

     ❝Again.❞

     Physical therapy was a long and arduous process for the both of them. Arguments between Deidara and Suna’s Medical-Nin had forced Sasori’s hand, and while annoying, the puppeteer took it as an opportunity to personally oversee his work not be destroyed in a lapse of angry judgement.

     Clumps of brittle sandstone lay shattered at Sasori’s table, a stack of card-sized slivers rested on his left while Deidara sat opposite him with a face that spoke of the puppeteer’s murder. ❝Danna, you can’t expect me to--❞

     ❝I can. I said again. Take it from me.❞

     One of many sandstone pieces were held between Sasori’s own wooden fingers, a challenge for Deidara’s own false addition. He had not yet mastered his grip strength with the prosthetic arm Sasori had crafted for him, but it was time to learn. ❝It’s only been a two days, hm!❞ he snapped, glaring daggers at his elder rather than pay attention. ❝I bet it took you weeks -- at least! Maybe a mont-- ... What?❞

     Sasori offered a raised brow and a smirk, nodding toward the piece of un-shattered sandstone grasped in Deidara’s prosthetic hand. Blue eyes went wide at the realization before a grin spread wide over his mouth. ❝Hah! Told you, Danna!❞

     Lapse in judgement came not in anger, but in joy as Deidara tossed the shard and gripped Sasori’s shirt to drag him forward and plant a kiss directly onto his mouth.

     The sound of tearing fabric turned Sasori’s features from surprised to deadpan in less than a second.

          four.

     A month of dexterity practice had successfully been completed and Deidara’s constant, incessant wish for symmetry was finally going to be granted. Prosthetic arm had not yet been outfitted with the signature mouth that his kinjutsu was known for -- only because Sasori knew Deidara would be quick to ignore the recommendation to not use it until his chakra control was better suited for the arm itself.

     And the fact that Sasori hadn’t crafted Deidara’s new hand at the time of the procedure. Something as intricate as that needed weeks to create sufficiently. The short few days he had to be able to seamlessly integrate the limb into Deidara’s chakra system did not allow for that. But it was neither here nor there.

     ❝Now, don’t mold any chakra until I-- Deida--!!❞

     BOOM!!

     Smoke cleared to reveal a sheepish Deidara and Sasori pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course. Sasori had been the fool to install the new hand without instructions first. His work lay splintered around his workshop and in their hair. He was thankful to have enough foresight to have a spare at the ready, but had hoped it wouldn’t be needed...

     ❝Sorry, sorry, hm..!! Dannaaaa, don’t be mad... Please?❞ Deidara pleaded, peppering affection wherever he could reach -- Sasori’s hair, cheeks, the back of his hand. ❝... You do have another one... Right..?❞

     ❝You’re lucky I like you, brat.❞

          five.

     Another parting, Deidara’s new prosthetic fully functioning and no longer prone to exploding upon the application of his unique chakra. He was quick to show it off to those who came to guide him back to Iwagakure -- they could hardly believe it wasn’t real. Sasori’s chest swelled with pride at his work.

     Maybe a little at being able to ensure Deidara was still in his position at the head of the Explosion Corps. Just a little.

     ❝The next time I see you I expect you to be in one piece...❞ Sasori teased lightly, ready to turn away to leave Deidara to his journey home.

     Arms were wrapped around his shoulders and lips were against his in a farewell kiss that Deidara refused to leave without. Hardly a beat passed before Sasori conceded. This time it was Deidara bounding off, leaving Sasori to watch him pass through the north gates.

     ❝... I mean it, Deidara.❞

     ❝I know, hn! Love ya, Danna!❞

     ❝Hm...❞

[kyousei-archive]

     @noctstate sᴀɪᴅ:

“I will hurt you. That’s just a fact.” // from mELLO TO NEAR

     Words left a burning sensation between the clavicles, deep in the rib cage where Near could pinpoint no source. Emotional and physical pain were connected in ways that science was hardly able to explain, let alone L’s successor. Snow white bangs hid the slightest furrow of a brow at the lack of understanding at the feeling -- perhaps if Mello were paying enough attention he would notice Near’s fingers curling uncomfortably into the cotton fabric draped over his knee.

     Physical pain was something Mello had left in their childhood. Hair pulling and shoves onto the ground were replaced with malicious words and less-than-satisfactory test scores in any attempt to belittle the number one pick. Near had long since learned to ignore Mello’s attempts at forcing a reaction from his rival, and instead had begun enjoying the other’s presence. A presence often accompanied with an air of disgust, but a presence nonetheless.

     So why did Mello’s statement (fact, as he had said) cause such a tearing pain in his chest? Was it the idea that Mello was, in fact, right? Was this the type of hurt he knew Near was going to experience?

     ❝I know,❞ he says without considering what spills from his lips. -- And he does know. Just as Mello knows the hurt, Near knows the inevitability. The inevitability of the variables that Mello consists of that cause the inexplicable.

     The inevitability that Mello is right.

[shuoshuzhe-a]

“ the risk i took was calculated. but clearly i am bad at maths. ” / from hinata to a hq muse of your choice ! !

[ pinterest quotes / accepting / @noctstate ]

            soft laughter bubbles from koushi’s lips as he reaches to pull hinata off the floor, “ well, you still tried your best, ” he said, taking a step back to compensate for the other’s weight as he stood up. “ you’ll learn on how to perfect it and it won’t be a calculated risk anymore, but a learned skill, ” he continues, giving the younger a quick once over to ensure that hinata wasn’t injured from the fall that he just took.

[pasttorn]

MISCELLANEOUS ⟡ ALWAYS ACCEPTING !

@noctstate​​ said: ❝ so when you put your shirt inside your pants , you're tucking in your shirt. so does that mean when your shirt's out of your pants, your pants are tucked into your shirt ? ❞ / u__u from kiwi to ash

       -- ❝ what ? no it-- ❞ 

                  wait.... WHAT was he even trying to say ? 

       only a few seconds ago, he’d actually been CERTAIN of his answer & of his objection-- it having been particularly obvious in his head. but now that he was thinking twice ( now that he was actually thinking the question through ) it was growing harder & harder to come up with a retort. fingers FIDDLE with his own shirt as he looks down, because it was really fucking with his head to have to think all that up without the help of some visual aid, ❝ ... it’s not tucked in ? little bro, i don’t think that can even be CONSIDERED as an actual, good tuck. the shirt is just loosely on top of the pants my dude. ❞