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Literature Text
“Deidara, what day is it?”
“Hmm? It’s Sunday, un.”
“Really? I could have sworn it was Monday.”
“Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace….”
“What are you singing now, brat?”
“It’s a poem, danna.” Deidara and Sasori were lounging about in their room, Sasori working on his puppets and Deidara sitting on their bed, staring quietly at the ceiling. Not realizing it, the sculptor had begun to sing under his breath.
“A poem? It sounds familiar.” Sasori had turned around to look at his partner.
“Well, technically it’s a nursery rhyme, un.” Deidara shut his eyes and began to speak in a voice that clearly indicated he was reciting from memory. “Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace. Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go. Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child works hard for his living. The child that is born on the Sabbath day, is bonny and blithe and good and gay. Un.”
“Gay?” Sasori smirked.
“Not THAT gay, danna! The old meaning. You know, happy, un.”
“I know that, brat.” Sasori smirked again, prompting Deidara to pout and roll over, facing away from the puppet. Sasori was used to this, and ignored it. “You must really like that rhyme to know it so well.”
“I hate it.” It wasn’t so much what Deidara said that startled Sasori as how he said it. He actually sounded…..angry.
“Why is that?” Sasori walked over and sat on the bed. He was truly curious. It took a lot to make his blonde angry.
“Well…Sasori-danna, you were born on a Saturday, right, un?”
“Um, yeah.” He didn’t remember telling Deidara that.
“I could tell, ‘cause you always work so hard on those puppets, un.” Deidara rolled over to face him. “Itachi was born on a Monday, Konan on a Tuesday, Hidan on a Thursday….danna, when do you think I was born, un?”
Sasori quickly recited the poem in his head. “Easy. You were born on a Sunday.”
Deidara shook his head. “Nope. I was born on a Wednesday, un.” Sasori stared. “See? That song suits everyone but me, un. I was a freak at birth, danna.” He flipped back over, not really sure why he was suddenly turning his back to Sasori.
Sasori wasn’t sure what to say. Should he say anything? He lay down beside Deidara, slowly extending an arm, gently rubbing Deidara’s back. “You’re not a freak, Dei.” He slid his arms around Deidara’s waist, pulling him close, intertwining their legs as best he could. “You were just early.”
Deidara scooted closer, his back pressing against Sasori’s chest. “If I was born on a Wednesday instead of Sunday, how do you know I wasn’t late, instead of early, un?”
Sasori gently kissed Deidara’s neck before responding. “Simple. I hate people who keep others waiting and are late, so that makes you early.”
Deidara allowed a small smile to appear on his face. He moved his arms and began to trace delicate patterns on Sasori’s forearms. “Danna?”
“Hmm?”
“Can we stay like this for a while, un?”
Sasori gave Deidara a gentle squeeze. “Sure, Dei.” After a time, he felt Deidara’s breath even out. He leaned close to the sculptor’s ear. “You’ll always be a Sunday child to me,” he whispered. He shut his eyes as he said this, failing to notice Deidara’s smile.
Soon enough, they were both asleep.
“Hmm? It’s Sunday, un.”
“Really? I could have sworn it was Monday.”
“Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace….”
“What are you singing now, brat?”
“It’s a poem, danna.” Deidara and Sasori were lounging about in their room, Sasori working on his puppets and Deidara sitting on their bed, staring quietly at the ceiling. Not realizing it, the sculptor had begun to sing under his breath.
“A poem? It sounds familiar.” Sasori had turned around to look at his partner.
“Well, technically it’s a nursery rhyme, un.” Deidara shut his eyes and began to speak in a voice that clearly indicated he was reciting from memory. “Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace. Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go. Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child works hard for his living. The child that is born on the Sabbath day, is bonny and blithe and good and gay. Un.”
“Gay?” Sasori smirked.
“Not THAT gay, danna! The old meaning. You know, happy, un.”
“I know that, brat.” Sasori smirked again, prompting Deidara to pout and roll over, facing away from the puppet. Sasori was used to this, and ignored it. “You must really like that rhyme to know it so well.”
“I hate it.” It wasn’t so much what Deidara said that startled Sasori as how he said it. He actually sounded…..angry.
“Why is that?” Sasori walked over and sat on the bed. He was truly curious. It took a lot to make his blonde angry.
“Well…Sasori-danna, you were born on a Saturday, right, un?”
“Um, yeah.” He didn’t remember telling Deidara that.
“I could tell, ‘cause you always work so hard on those puppets, un.” Deidara rolled over to face him. “Itachi was born on a Monday, Konan on a Tuesday, Hidan on a Thursday….danna, when do you think I was born, un?”
Sasori quickly recited the poem in his head. “Easy. You were born on a Sunday.”
Deidara shook his head. “Nope. I was born on a Wednesday, un.” Sasori stared. “See? That song suits everyone but me, un. I was a freak at birth, danna.” He flipped back over, not really sure why he was suddenly turning his back to Sasori.
Sasori wasn’t sure what to say. Should he say anything? He lay down beside Deidara, slowly extending an arm, gently rubbing Deidara’s back. “You’re not a freak, Dei.” He slid his arms around Deidara’s waist, pulling him close, intertwining their legs as best he could. “You were just early.”
Deidara scooted closer, his back pressing against Sasori’s chest. “If I was born on a Wednesday instead of Sunday, how do you know I wasn’t late, instead of early, un?”
Sasori gently kissed Deidara’s neck before responding. “Simple. I hate people who keep others waiting and are late, so that makes you early.”
Deidara allowed a small smile to appear on his face. He moved his arms and began to trace delicate patterns on Sasori’s forearms. “Danna?”
“Hmm?”
“Can we stay like this for a while, un?”
Sasori gave Deidara a gentle squeeze. “Sure, Dei.” After a time, he felt Deidara’s breath even out. He leaned close to the sculptor’s ear. “You’ll always be a Sunday child to me,” he whispered. He shut his eyes as he said this, failing to notice Deidara’s smile.
Soon enough, they were both asleep.
Literature
Deidara's issues- sasodei
Deidara smiled as he pushed the needle into his vein. Hed forgotten how long it had been since his addiction had started, but he knew that he loved the fact that it left him dizzy and able to forget...forget what exactly? Deidara paused in withdrawing the needle and frowned slightly. Odd, he couldnt even remember why hed started this.
Sasori.
Oh, yes. The puppet master. Deidara remembered the time hed told Sasori about his feelings, about 4 months ago. Hed been nervous as hell and had no idea how Sasori was going to take it. Sasori had just looked at him blankly until he began to fidget with his d
Literature
Hate Mail
To Whom It May Concern;
Sasori-no-danna told me to write back to you all back at the base to report mission status. I don't know who is going to read this letter, but either way:
Mission status: fine.
There. We all good?
-Deidara
----
Deidara;
I passed the message to Leader-sama for you. Normally, you know, Zetsu would be doing this shit but he's... off being Zetsu... like you do that thing that you blondes do? So I'm in charge of answering the mail for now.
-Hidan
----
Hidan-
...what are you implying? "That thing that you blondes do...?" Are you calling me stupid? Fuck you. At least my hair's not the same color as my father's.
-D
Literature
Homesick- a SasoDei
Sasori was about ready to kill his partner.
It wasnt that Deidara was talking too much, or blowing things up. In fact, he hadnt disturbed Sasori the whole trip. Which was what was bothering the puppeteer. It was ironic, he thought, how he was annoyed both by his lovers talking AND the silence he had always sought for. Sasori figured it wasnt the silence itself that truly bothered him, but the idea of what the silence meant. Silence meant Deidara was thinking. And if Deidara was thinking this hard about something, most of the time it wasnt good. Sasori snuck a glance towards the fellow artist and felt a pit of
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ok, i know it's really short and fluffy, but i have recently been hit with a killer case of writer's block (sorry f i infected any of you people out there). anyway, i couldn't get the poem 'thursday's child' out of my head. i imagined deidara singing it, and from that came this. please read and comment, especially the latter, cause i wanna know what you people think!
all Characters are (c)Masashi Kishimoto
all Characters are (c)Masashi Kishimoto
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