So I've been playing around with icons lately. And I've actually gotten pretty happy.
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Created with
angelamaria's
Icon Table Generator @
Bauble And that was my icons.
For now, something I'm like woah proud with and its only here so I can show off to my friends;;
Another bit of the AU future universe. Timeskip, Deidara and Sasori meet Gaara. Kankuro gets in trouble. Kekekeke.
Now, Sasori had never really /thought/ about how his hair might just look nice if he actually took care of it until Deidara told him so. So upon this realization of that thought, Sasori frowned. This thought? Not good, not good at all. He tried not to brood on it too much longer, because really. If he thought about it, he might actually care some, and that would be bad. Something he didn’t need to do. But really, it wasn’t as if he needed to impress Deidara or something. That’d just be stupid. If anything, the blonde should be the one trying to impress him!
Shaking his head, Sasori pulled his backpack closer as he started to walk out the door, out into the streets. His cap was tight against his head once more.
---
He sat, huddled close by the trash can on the corner where Tema-chan and Kankuro-san left him, always. A quarter of a sandwich with cheese and ham in the middle was what Gaara was chewing on nervously, eyes flicking around as if he was frightened that his food would be taken from him. Slowly, the small boy shifted up into a crouch, reminding himself that he couldn’t let his guard down for anything anymore. It was much too risky.
Kankuro-san had just left him. Gaara tried not to pay attention to the red slap mark still on his brother’s (well Gaara didn’t consider him too much of a brother, or Temari a sister, because though that was what they told him it didn’t make sense, it just didn’t, because why was he here if he wasn’t with them and…yeah) face.
Kankuro, Temari, and Gaara had been brothers and sister for the longest time. But Gaara had been taken away from the former two as a baby because…he killed their daddy. But ‘father’ had hurt Kankuro-san! And Tema-chan too! Gaara had to, of course, do something about it. Their ‘father’ didn’t pay much attention to the fiery redhead, either. He was the one who was always standing out of the way, away from everybody and everything. They said he’d amount to nothing, such a quiet boy, who would probably die before he turned two and twenty years. Gaara didn’t like that, but it wasn’t as if he could do something about what they said. Back then, he’d just play with Tema-chan and Kankuro-san but ignore mostly everybody else as he kept to himself. He was fine that way.
And then he’d seen what ‘father’ had done to Temari and Kankuro and…he talked to them about it. And it was bad stuff. So he’d done what he did. Unfortunately, with their ‘father’ dead, and them having no mother meant that the two good kids were sent off to adoption and the little boy was thrown out. Into the streets of course, like the bad boy who would amount to nothing that he was.
Temari and Kankuro hated their home, but had gotten used to it. Kankuro was slapped because he’d snuck out, again, to do something that he wasn’t telling their new ‘mother.’ But like he’d tell her! She was the one who forced Temari in dresses and with the make-up (which Kankuro always stole, giving her more of a reason to hit him, but it was okay a little bit) and everything. Kankuro, though not the oldest, found it his job to protect his baby brother and older sister. Not because they couldn’t, but because he could. A little bit.
Gaara curled up closer towards the trash can where nothing was in (food got re-used, not thrown away these days) that was edible and finished the sandwich quickly. His small tail was wrapped tight around his waist. Back when he was little, he could hide it. When they’d found out, of course they kicked him out. Why he had no home now. Gaara hide a slight whine of protest as he huddled closer to the dark, hearing footsteps.
---
Kankuro was leaving, small sandwich that he’d stolen from the dinner table that they had with the luxury of cheese was gone from his hands, leaving only the faint smell. Now, though, Kankuro pulled his small wooden doll that this one man had handed to him years ago, when he was a little kid. He’d been outside of the adoption center, just sitting on the steps, and this guy with a hat had come up and handed it to him. Kankuro had carried it with him ever since. He couldn’t help it, but he loved it. It wasn’t really a doll, though! Okay, so maybe it was. But it was jointed like a puppet without strings, and crafted with care to perfection. A handmade, wooden doll.
Kankuro loved it, having carried it with him ever since. But he honestly couldn’t help it. It was just so pretty, so he was sure to take the best care of it. The owner must’ve loved him, and that was how Kankuro showed his thanks.
Nearing the steps of their house, Kankuro stopped when he saw those two boys and the girl. They…were the ones who didn’t like him. And Temari wasn’t here today to beat them up, like he wouldn’t. He tried to be nice; he really didn’t want to be hit even more. He was hit enough because of when he snuck out.
“What’re you, gay?” The girl sneered, seeing his doll. Her nasally tone bothered Kankuro, as he shifted, his hair falling slightly away from his face as the hood of his clean jacket fell down and behind his neck. Her voice bothered him, and Kankuro tried to ignore them.
She snickered. “I think he is. He /must/ be if he carries that /doll/ around all the time!” She laughed at him, amused. “Maybe we should take it from him.” One of the boys suggested with a smirk. “See how he does so fine without it.” Kankuro glared at them and opened his mouth as one taunted him again. “Oh so the rich brat /isn’t/ mute! That’s such a shocker.” He snorted, and Kankuro frowned. “Please just let me go.” He said, being slightly polite. He’d fight if he had to, because he didn’t want them to take this away from him.
Temari…Temari wasn’t here. He wished she was. If only she was. Then maybe everything would be better.
And asides from that, I'm worried I'm going to fail my german final. Oh joy.
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