anonymous asked:

ShikaSai 6

The vast majority of Sai’s missions take place at night, which means he has the daytime free to dream.

He shouldn’t. He’s a puppet with no emotions, a faceless soldier serving Konoha (serving Danzō). There are no allowances, no luxuries. If Sai didn’t need regular sleep to function well, didn’t need his art to fight more efficiently, he has no doubt those would be taken away as well. Extra, unnecessary extravagances have no place in a shinobi’s life, just obedience and duty.

But the dreams—he hoards them, keeps them close, adores them in a way he shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t. Sunlight and slow-drifting clouds and smiles that don’t look painted on, people without masks, no blood at all. He marvels at it, in the handful of minutes between waking and rising that he greedily keeps for himself. Laughter and friends and family, and it makes him weak weak weak because he wants.

He spares all the pity that’s been left in him for his soulmate, seeing through his eyes each night. Sai doesn’t want even himself seeing what he does, let alone the soul meant to cherish his, even if he’ll never be allowed to meet them.

(Shikamaru dreams of blood and murder and ruthlessness, seeing people falling fading dying nearly every night after he reaches a certain age. After the first five dreams he goes to his father, asks him quietly about current missions, and watches his mouth pull tighter and tighter. He leaves the house early that morning, moving faster than Shikamaru has ever seen him move before, and doesn’t come back until right before Shikamaru heads to bed.

“Tell me,” his father says, unwavering. “Every dream that you can remember from now on, all right?”

Even as a small child, Shikamaru is no fool. He nods, trying his best to keep his body language unreadable, and turns away before his face can betray him.

Sleep is a very, very long time coming that night, and many nights afterwards. And if Ino just thinks he’s gotten lazier, well—Shikamaru knows when to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open, and this is most certainly one of those times.)

The missions come more frequently, after a while. Danzō gets tenser, angrier, more prone to punishing small failures severely, and Sai isn’t quite clever or swift enough to entirely keep out of his hands. Too prone to emotion, too sentimental, too easily attached to worthless things—those are some of the milder accusations. Sai takes them all, takes them and brushes them off as best he can to keep moving, clinging to bright dreams during the day and closing his eyes whenever he can on his missions.

And then—

And then one day he dreams of the exterior of the base, of the Sandaime, of a tall man with spiky hair in a short tail and a scarred face. Sai’s soulmate stays far back, watching the ANBU and the Hokage leave, and Sai vaguely hears a rough, tired sigh.

The door of the barracks opening wakes him, and he struggles upright as best he can with his right arm in a cast, already reaching for a weapon.

It’s the scarred man—Nara Shikaku, Sai realizes without the fuzziness of a drug-induced sleep. The Jounin Commander crouches down next to Sai’s bed, assessing eyes sweeping over him, and his mouth curves in a wry, sad smile. “Come on,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

Entirely confused, Sai pastes on a smile, not failing to notice the way the lines around Shikaku’s eyes tighten ever so slightly when he does. “Is something happening?” he asks, in the tone Shin once assured him was a good enough try at cheerful.

(Sai doesn’t get sent on a lot of undercover missions. Sometimes he wonders, if they get the opportunity to meet in another life, whether he should thank Shin or blame him.)

Shikaku watches him push to his feet, but thankfully doesn’t offer to help. Sai’s dignity is already wounded enough from the last failed mission and his multiple injuries that pity will just make things worse. “Root was supposed to be shut down over a decade ago,” the man says, and doesn’t protest when Sai picks up his sword. “This time the Hokage is seeing to it personally.”

That doesn’t sound overly promising where Sai’s future is concerned. Just for a moment he thinks of running, putting all his skill into vanishing and escaping the village, but he’s aware of Shikaku’s abilities and knows he has little hope of beating them.

(Besides, a little, much-quashed part of him whispers. Your soulmate is here, with the rest of the ANBU. If we go with him, maybe we can find them.

Sai tells himself that the little voice has no bearing on his decision to keep his sword sheathed and obediently follow Shikaku. It’s just slightly possible that the person Sai lies to the most is himself.)

He lets Shikaku lead the way up out of the base, into the open air. The sun is up and bright, and Sai is blinded for a moment. He blinks, and sees a shadow moving through the glare.

“This is him?” a boy’s voice asks, trying for bored but with an edge of equal parts calculation and nerves.

Sai blinks the spots from his eyes, and a boy his age comes into focus. Spiky hair, intelligent black eyes, tanned skin—definitely a Nara. Definitely Shikaku’s son, because Sai has been trained to recognize the clans’ heirs, and knows Nara Shikamaru on sight.

Knows him even better than that, if the rising mix of hope and realization in his chest has anything to say about it.

Deciding he’s certain enough to risk it, Sai gives Shikamaru his best smile, putting his effort into it, and dips into a bow. “I’m sorry for making you see such dreams,” he says.

There’s a long pause, and then Shikamaru sighs. “Stop doing that with your face,” he complains. “It’s creepy.” His father clears his throat, somewhere between exasperated and amused, and Sai just catches sight of Shikamaru rolling his eyes as he peeks up at the other boy.

A huff, and Shikamaru says, the tips of his ears just a little red, “Don’t apologize. I'm…sorry we couldn’t do anything sooner.”

There’s an ache in Sai’s chest to rival the one in his arm, a strange feeling in his throat, and he’s never quite been betrayed by his body, before, but—

It’s not…entirely bad, he thinks, a little dazed, as Shikaku drops a broad hand on his shoulder. They walk away from the Root base, and Sai thinks for half a second about looking back, but right before he does Shikamaru takes his hand.

Sai looks up at his soulmate, at the red-tipped ears and the face very determinedly not looking at him, and laughs. It’s strangled and unpracticed and a little shaky, but Shikamaru smiles back, small and wry, and doesn’t let go.

stardust-rain replied to your post:mrkinch replied to your post “cryptalgia: a…

BA has been fairly consistent with the workings of Newtonian magic, so I dont think he’s the type to just handwave something that crucial to worldbuilding? he’s got continuity issues, but not on this.

Right, it wouldn’t be a continuity error, it would have to be a very deliberate “well Nightingale told Peter this stuff about signares, but he was mistaken/didn’t know there’s a way to change them, and the Faceless Man has forgotten or has amnesia about Nightingale’s signare so he doesn’t recognise Peter is his pupil”, and, like, it’s possible, but it wouldn’t be an actual twist. It would be a “I changed the rules behind the scenes” twist. And BA is better than that; his twists are organic and well-signposted. 

(Actually, the “Nightingale was mistaken” part is just about logical but it’s after that it goes off the rails - plus, nothing Peter has sensed or learned about signares since MoS supports it. Nightingale is often under-informed about the world of magic but rarely, perhaps never, about the mechanics of Newtonian magic.) 

anonymous asked:

I think I finally realized what really hurts me. I don't question Sam's moral compass, I never did. If this mess was about any of his friends or Cait, he would have started a WAR against the person responsible for it. But not for us, we're not worth it. What hurts is the fact that we, as fans, are people of a lower category to him, just a faceless crowd. I believe Sam is a wonderful man, and I will love him and Cait until the day I die. I just need to accept that we don't really matter to them.

I’m trying to figure out how to answer this because I have a lot of conflicting feelings about this. Yes, most of us are nameless figures to them. That makes sense because they don’t know any of us and they get thousands of tweets a day. They can’t “know” any of us, but I do think they know some. I also think they do both care about their fans a lot.

This situation is and isn’t complicated in my mind. It’s gotten so out of hand that to continue to ignore it feels like being complicit, but I understand why they tried that route at first. It’s just not working anymore - maybe it continues to work for the show, but it doesn’t for me as a fan. Does any of this make sense? 😐

In this gif pack, you will find #37 mostly scenic images from THE CHAINSMOKERS lyric video for ROSES. Each of these gifs are 540px by 211px, are high quality, under two MB, and completely clean; no PSDs have been applied, sharpening done or watermarks added, however on some gifs, a particle overlay was added in the original video. In addition, some of the footage utilizes slow motion, or slow motion to fast forward and these techniques are reflected in many of the gifs. Feel free to use in graphics, aesthetics, edits, as overlays or apart of any other project you can think of.

No credit is necessary, but please like or reblog this post if you download and use any of the gifs. These gifs were created by me, so please do not edit and reupload as your own or include in any other downloadable resource packs. 

Please note that some of the gifs included involved cliff diving/jumping and underwater footage, so if those happen to be triggers, please be aware when viewing. 

{ d o w n l o a d }      

Nohrian Festival: Rinkah and Setsuna Conversation Pt. 1 & 2


Here’s another conversation where it turns out that these two characters have known each other for longer than the actual game. Setsuna and Rinkah apparently met before Hinoka took in Setsuna as her retainer. And Setsuna used to go Faceless hunting apparently. 

Oh yeah, and I changed the theme because the amount of links at the top were starting to fold over each other. I can’t program for my life, so… 

Keep reading

annedey  asked:

Hey, first of all I love your Hellsing fanfics (all of them yes) especially how you portray the characters. So I wanted to ask you since you haven't touched this subject at all (yet) in your work, do you have any headcanons for Integra's mother?

Thank you very much for the ask, and I’m so happy to hear that you enjoy my stories! You’re right, I don’t talk about Integra’s mother that much and I’ve mentioned her only in Pushing Daisies:

“She envisioned a faceless, dark-skinned woman, arm in arm with her father.”

So I’ll build on from there. First, I haven’t watched the original Hellsing anime series, but I’m aware that they hinted that Integra’s mother was an Indian woman and I’ve always liked that idea. I don’t know if Arthur would have met her in India or if she would have been a British citizen of Indian descent, but anyway she would have been very beautiful and intelligent, seeing as Arthur the playboy actually settled down with her and they produced the magnificence that is Integra. I say “settled down” as in, yes, they did marry, because if Integra was illegitimate then I am pretty sure Richard, the coarse bastard that he is, would have made some slur against that when he was hunting down Integra.

I think she would have been unaware of the true nature of Hellsing. I mean, Arthur did a damn good job keeping Alucard a secret from his own brother for twenty years so hiding supernatural creatures from her for less would have been cake. She would have known it was a paramilitary organization but it would have been inactive during that time so I’m sure it would have mattered less to her.

And if she was aware…there’s a plot bunny I’ve been vaguely considering in which Integra’s mother learns the gruesome truth of the organization and runs away with baby Integra so that Integra grows up never knowing Hellsing, and Alucard ends up being forced to serve Richard. In that scenario I envision Integra’s mother as a determined person who is willing to risk her marriage for her daughter’s happiness. Conclusively, my headcanons for Integra’s mother are merely bare ingredients at this point, since I have no use for her in my current works, but it’s a possibility that I may write her as a full-fledged character someday.

Texas Landscape / St Peter and Paul Cemetery / Nameless grave

Some graves on the St Peter and Paul Cemetery were nameless; not only perfectly nameless, but faceless, too–such, anonymous, graves are a habitual sight at almost whichever cemetery you walk.

One would-be portrait stopped me–a glass shielding a rectangular aperture in a concrete cross. A tiny window into the other world. The space perhaps should have lend a place for a photograph, or for a small installation in loving memory of the deceased. But it was empty, with the exception of a miscellany of branches, leaves, dust, shards; and I think it contained, despite the heat, some water–the window became a small aquarium. Or at least it produced this impression, although the glasswall was broken. In some sense this spontaneous nature’s installation stood for a portrait of absence. It was a recognizable, albeit abstract, portrait of any dead being in the universe.

It is ironic that the very same signs which should commemorate the names, become the eloquent symbols of oblivion, of the shortage of life, of limitations of the living’s energy. They struggle to express their love and unfading memories materially, but invariably fail under so many other obligations. And the dead can wait, they could have no requests. Their requests is the requests of the living’s guilty consciousness.

#cemetery #portrait #dead #walk #installation

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Faceless swains embrace each other before me. I sigh. My shriveled lips hang apart. Alas, they shall never meet again. 

One lover goes left hesitantly. The other goes right reluctantly. An ephemeral bliss. When all will have been said and all will have been done, an eventide will cease to darken one joint path, but will darken two seperate ones, forever altered with the reverberation of a known solitude. 

And I watch. 

Lingering appetency. 

So here I sit, idling for eternal oblivion or eternal rest, humming too loudly a requiem to my juvenile years. 

But I cannot seem to make the lay rhyme, once again. 

Despondency comes and sits by me. 

But my mind continues to lumber, aimlessly, searching for colubrine parity, this inexistent equity, in this world drunken with disfavor. 

I want to be clear about something, because I have gotten more than one message about it, just because you didn’t know someone was horrible doesn’t mean you are too. Giving someone the benefit of the doubt and being a little skeptical after hearing about someone, from someone not involved, is okay. Acknowledging it after you learn what people are saying is true is the important thing. And just not knowing is okay, you have nothing to be sorry for, another person’s nastiness is not a reflection on you. People can be fake, they can seem sweet and innocent but be totally different people beneath the surface. Some people are just like that, especially when it’s so easy being faceless behind a computer screen. And I repeat believing that at first is not a reflection on you and ily all. It is someone else’s fault and in no way anyone else’s. Don’t for a second feel guilt because no one blames you or thinks that of you.


In s1, Anya was acting on Lexa’s orders. The faceless commander was the antagonist BEFORE we knew that she was a lesbian, but it was still Lexa.

She was an antagonist (among others like Dante/Cage) in s2 as a foil for Clarke, proven when she betrayed her allies.

You could argue she was an antagonist (though to a lesser extent) in s3 for not letting the sky people have Mount Weather which became rightfully theirs when they conquered it without her.

Seriously, how much fanon does it take for you to think a character that regularly goes back on her promises (Mount Weather/not releasing Roan/reaffirming Clarke’s status as her prisoner in Hakeldama) and tried to murder 100 (UNARMED except for a single pistol until after they were attacked) children has never done anything wrong?