~halo

anonymous asked:

Can you do a scenario where Akashi's s/o who is a skilled artist gives him a portrait of his mother that they made (maybe with older him, maybe without) as a present?

AKASHI had never dabbled into the paranormal, he’d never been interested in the supernatural, and he most definitely did not believe in ghosts. However, the moment he opened the door to the room, the same moment his eyes met hers, he swore to himself that he was seeing the real deal. The sun peaking in through the window was causing a halo of light to surround her, accenting the contours of her face. She was sitting, her position relaxed as if she had been waiting for him the entire time. Akashi felt as if he could walk right up to her and hold her hand. That is, until he took a closer look.

The portrait of the familiar woman was facing the doorway, her face set into a peaceful and natural smile. The painting was only half done, the upper torso of the woman barely colored in, but her face already completed with a natural flush that stood out against the white of the canvas. It was painfully life like. It was outrageously beautiful. It was pure perfection.

It was his mother.

Stepping further into the room, Akashi nearly reached a hand out to see if her painted skin even felt real.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

The sudden voice from behind him caught him off guard for only a moment and Akashi quickly regained his composure before facing the person at the doorway. His s/o was leaning against the doorframe, a pout on their face as they realized Akashi had spoiled his own gift.

“You painted that?” Akashi asked, still a bit breathless from the shock of seeing her once more. When his s/o nodded, a sheepish smile on their face, he quickly strode forward and engulfed them in a hug. Burying his face into the crook of their neck—whether it was to hide the emotions in his eyes or not, he’d never tell—Akashi placed a chaste kiss against their skin before whispering, “Thank you.”

hi everyone! i don’t want to write too much here because it’s all on the donation page, but a lot of people are able to raise money for all kinds of stuff on tumblr, and my school’s drama club could really use some help.

long story short, our theatre program at my high school gets no funding from our board of education. choir gets a budget, band gets a budget, color guard gets a budget, but theatre doesn’t. we’ve tried for years to get support for this fantastic program, but in my city it seems like drama club is never going to be a priority.

every year, footlights struggles to get the funding we need to license shows, not to mention actually performing them. as a competitive theatre group, (through the years, we’ve won a bunch of halo awards, including all student-run best choreography, best lead actor/actress, best costumes, etc.) try to make our productions the best they can possibly be, which is difficult relying on donations to fund the program. 

currently, our spring 2015 production is little shop of horrors. we have a fantastic cast and it’ll be an incredible show, but we’re not sure if we’ll be able to even put on the musical. we’re unable to fund the show right now, and the directors have already used their own funds to help, but we won’t be able to do it alone. for each show, we need to pay:

  • $2000 to license the show
  • $4000-5000 to rent sound and lighting
  • and $1000-2000 to buy/make costumes and build set pieces

while our productions raise a lot of revenue from ticket sales alone, it’s not enough to cover the actual costs of performing. 

footlights is a family not only to me, but to everyone who’s ever participated in it. it gives us a reason to come to school, and something to look forward to. as much effort as it takes to balance theatre with high school, all the members of footlights continue to be dedicated and make the program a rewarding experience. alumni come back to visit every time we perform a new show, just to remember what it was like to be on the same stage. this program changes the lives of everyone involved, and is completely unforgettable. 

i can’t explain what footlights means to me, but it’s been my home for the past 2 years, and i hope i’ll be able to spend the rest of my time in high school with the amazing friends i have there. we need help to keep this incredible program alive and any small donation (or just a reblog!) would mean the world to us.

you can donate here

and see some examples of our work here 

(if you’d like to see more, send me a message!)

there’s not a lot i can do for you if you donate other than saying how much your contribution will help keep this wonderful program going. if you do donate, please feel free to let me know. i’ll make you a bracelet or something. 

please please please consider helping us out, by donating or reblogging or both. thank you!! <3

dead like me

title: dead like me
summary: AU. he has more life in him than all the boys she’s ever dated.
pairing sasusaku
listening to: theory of a deadman - santa monica
note: because i’m feeling morbid.

-x-

Most girls in the throes of a bitter break up might spend time on the couch, watching crappy romantic comedies while eating ice cream and yelling at the screen. Or maybe they’d cry in the arms of their best friend, who would reassure them of their amazingness and denounce all things male. Others might hit the gym, to make him regret his loss.

But Haruno Sakura is not one of those girls, and on a quiet night she makes her way through the local cemetary, carrying a backpack and a large blanket. A large full moon hangs overhead, so close it looks like it could fall out of the sky. The lunar halo is bright enough to nearly blind her.

Carefully, Sakura picks her way among the headstones, many of them old and cracked, blackened by age and acid rain. The large weeping willow tree in the center of the graveyard is her destination, and she spreads her blanket and rests comfortably against its massive trunk. From her bag, she pulls out a calculus book and a pencil, preferring to do her calculations by hand.

She takes her rage and her loneliness out on the numbers, preferring them to the boy that’s thrown her away. At least numbers have rules and follow them. Numbers are consistent when he never was, and the silence from the graves around her is less empty and more forgiving than the ones that had been between them in the last few months.

A worn pink eraser rubs harshly at her mistakes, much like his words. Tears threaten to fall, but she tells herself it’s because she’s frustrated with this impossible formula and not the way he left her for a prettier redhead with longer legs. The numbers won’t line up, won’t make sense, and that’s the final straw because if they don’t make sense then how can her life? She half-sobs, half-screams in anger.

"You wrote in an extra number."

Sakura startles violently at the raspy voice coming from behind her right shoulder. She jumps up, holding a protractor in front of her as a weapon. She’s well-trained in self-defense, but her would-be attacker doesn’t need to know that until she has to use it on him.

"That’s not going to hurt me."

The voice chuckles, a hoarse, dry sound that that cracks and wheezes. Her eyes fly around the tombstones, searching for its source. Her eyes land on a broken headstone a few feet away from the tree and the boy leaning against it.

His skin is a mottled ash grey, his eyes a dull crimson. Jet hair spikes naturally in a messy disarray, bangs falling over his eyes. He’s watching her with what would be curiosity, but his dead eyes are emotionless and glassy.

It takes her a few moments of staring before she realizes that he’s not breathing. There is no rise and fall of his chest, no visible puff of air from between his lips in the cold night air.

Sakura starts to back away slowly. She’s seen the movies, she knows how this goes. Except for the part where he can talk, that’s new. Still, she doesn’t say anything, afraid any sound will attract his hunger.

The boy sighs, inasmuch as he can with no breath. A rattling noise sounds in his chest. “I’m not going to eat you, I’m not into that.”

Still highly wary, she pauses in her backward steps. “But you’re…”

"Dead," he intones listlessly, "No more, no less."

"Okay, but that still makes you-"

"Don’t say it." It doesn’t come out waspishly, but that’s clearly his intent. His voice, like his eyes, is flat and emotionless. "I’m not one of them. I don’t eat flesh or brains. I’m just here.”

Sakura is still unconvinced though, holding her calculus book in front of her like a shield. “What’s your name? Can you even remember?”

His mouth tries to perk up at the corners, but his face is still stiff with lingering rigor mortis. “Nobody’s asked me my name in…I don’t remember how long.”

He pauses to think, his lips returning to their flat line. Time passes in silence as he tries to remember, occasionally punctuated by the sounds of Sakura shifting uncomfortably. Eventually, he shrugs stiffly. “I don’t remember.”

Sakura looks around, some of her unease ebbing. “Were you buried here? It should be on your headstone.”

He ‘hn’s in affirmation. “I was buried right here.” He turns his head toward the broken stone he’s leaning against. Sakura moves toward the front of the stone, still keeping her distance. But the stone is dirty, and she’s forced to kneel to wipe away some of the grime and overgrown moss.

Once uncovered, Sakura discovers that the engraved letters are old, very old. The dates are nearly unreadable, but she can make out that this boy has been dead for many years, if this is in fact his grave marker.

"Uchiha Sasuke…" she murmurs, tracing her fingertips over the name.

Blank eyes watch her intently. “I suppose that sounds familiar.”

Sakura sits back on her heels, allowing herself to study the boy for the first time. His clothes are moth-eaten tatters, his shoes rotted away long ago. He’s tall, or was tall, she’s not quite sure which tense to use in her head. He stands nearly a head and a half higher than her, but his body is wasted from years of decay.

"What are you?" she murmurs, curiosity overtaking her fear.

His shoulders move in what tries to be a shrug. “Just dead.”

Sakura shakes her head, frowning. “You can’t be just dead, you’re walking around and giving me tips on my calculus homework. How long have you been this way?”

The boy, Sasuke, is eerily silent as he thinks, decrepit body swaying slightly. He slowly shakes his head again. “I remember waking up in the box they buried me in. It took a long time to dig myself out.”

He looks down at his fingers, which are stained with dirt. “I hide in one of the mausoleums during the day. And at night…” His head turns toward the gravestones surrounding his.

Reading them, Sakura discovers that they all bear the same last name. “Your family?”

He jerks his head down in affirmation. “I don’t remember it, but I think we all died together. I keep waiting, thinking maybe…”

"That they’ll wake up too," Sakura finishes for him as he trails off, sadness in her eyes. How long he must have been waiting, and been alone all this time.

"I’m sorry," she tells him sincerely.

He smiles ruefully. “Don’t be. Apologies mean nothing to the dead, and neither does time.”

He moves unsteadily toward her, offering her a hand to help her up. Without thought, she takes it. His fingers are freezing, she’s not sure why she’s surprised at that. But his grip is gentle, and he makes no move to chomp at her flesh.

"Thes sun will be rising soon," he murmurs, dead eyes fixed on the east, where the sky is beginning to turn pink.

She looks at him anxiously, his dull skin appearing even paler in the morning light. “What does that mean for you?”

"Hiding," he informs her dully, beginning to totter off in the direction of the nearest mausoleum.

Sakura glances at her things scattered across the ground. “I guess I should go, I have class in a couple of hours.”

At the stone door, he pauses and looks back at her. “Will you come back?”

As she looks into those dulled crimson eyes, she swears she sees a spark of hope.

"Yes," she promises.

And maybe she can make his eternity a little less lonely.

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TWIST the halo crown braid | Nik Scott

Alright Halo Fandom, I CHALLENGE YOU —

— to reblog this post only with something happy or adorable or funny or sweet. No tragedy allowed. No turning someone’s happy post into a tragedy.

Can you do it?

I’ll start:

Sesa ‘Refumee’s hope for his people’s freedom from the Covenant and Prophets did come to pass.

Jon DeRosa “High and Lonely” 3D #GIF. The Current Sea, 2015.

Sneak Peak of our upcoming music video for Jon DeRosa's “High and Lonely,” from his upcoming album Black Halo coming out this spring.