#and.... ask him for Help in a way

[galactia]

anonymous asked:

A note was left upon Kaeya’s desk one day, with naught but a bit of black twine to hold its rolled-up form in place around a glittering piece of crystal. My Starlit Prince. Too long have you been hidden from us, but we have finally found you. When you are ready to come home, the crystal will show you the way. ( @touchofdawn )

Kaeya looked at the note as though it might stare back, with eyes that looked beyond the world as he knew it, to something darker, perhaps not sinister (though he doubted it) but, if nothing else, unwanted. He rolled the stone off the paper, frozen for a moment as he watched it shine in the shafts of sunlight that slanted in through his office windows. A sliver of curiosity, detached from the emotion aching in his chest, wondered what would happen if he touched it. Would it glow? Would it burn in his hand? What resonance with Khaenri'an blood did it possess, and more importantly, was it even real?

Starlit Prince, they called him. There was next to no one who knew the true history of his bloodline: not royalty, but regency and the last Khaenri'an bloodline that held any claim to the throne. A claim to ash and ruin. The very inclusion of such an inference meant this note was no prank.

How he wished it could be.

That evening Kaeya sat at the Angel's Share bar, nursing a Death After Noon. A single one, his first of the night. He seemed-... restless, at least in thought, fingers idly tracing the cusp of his glass and worrying at the coin that showed years of fidgeting in its divots and smooth patches.

As the customers began to trickle out and the hour ticked later, his gaze strayed to Diluc. They'd exchanged very little as far as banter this evening - a remark here and there, and beyond that nothing, except he'd felt Diluc's eyes on him more than once. He'd made no sign that what he needed was urgent, but Kaeya had staid nonetheless.

Now, as bell at the door rang behind the last patron and he heard Diluc turn the lock, Kaeya reached into his pocket and produced a rolled letter and a handkerchief. He laid them out and nudged away the fabric as Diluc rounded the bar,

"I received this today, left on my desk at the Ordo. I-... considered it as a prank, but despite how succinct it is in wording, there is no one in Mond or its surrounding who would... know my lineage."

Kaeya looked at Diluc, watching, "I-... " There was an inhale of hesitation, a breath that wavered on something that he continued through, "...don't want to keep secrets from you, not about this. And I-"

Fear. The word fear was like ash in his mouth and died there, on his tongue. He blinked, and a smile flickered, full of defensive and self-directed humor, "am not convinced of the writer's good intentions. At least not as far as my own loyalties lie."

Kaeya picked, absently, at a bauble on his coat, "But first, there is something you should know, about the Alberich heritage. About my heritage."

[umblrspectrum]

part 4 of a lot funnier in my head than on paper

[peace-hunter]

I just realized. One thing that Optimus will certainly be educated on by the Primes in the Haunted AU is the various was One Can Kill A Quintesson! Leaving some Autobots confused at times when he's teaching them in return because 'This sounds pretty Specific...???'

It's slightly competitive on the Primes' part because yeah, the Deceptions do got the High Guard being good at killing Quintessons too but. They're the Real Experts. (Are they salty? Naaaah they're not. Much. Kinda.)

AKJSHDK YEAH YOU'RE SO RIGHT I LOVE THAT <333

they got so good at squishing the goddamn bugs and they're thrilled they can save Optimus the pain of figuring out their weak points through trial and error like they did. they're gonna make a pro out of their baby brother in no time.

and if they just so happen to know some of the Decepticons will be majorly pissed off at the fact OP is already on par with the best of what used to be the High Guard when he only has a fraction of their experience... well, happy coincidences, y'know?

and if they happen to teach Optimus how to crack open a Quintesson in just the right way to make some Decepticons see ghosts through him... that's between them and the people they're haunting :)

haunted au

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.�� 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I've never been more normal in my life.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[sublimerences]

Sketch of him….

[heyimkana]

A compilation of Sung Jinwoo being a soft, gentle, protective, warmhearted gentleman 😌

(Eng Dub because Aleks' gentle voice is unmatched)

[pineappical]

cooking lessons

[spookberry]

What's the back design of Danny's jacket in your Half normie au look like?

I think in the past ive doodled the portal with a figure gettin toasted in it but ive decided against it.

Instead you get lil motifs of his death in other ways :)

[mediumgayitalian]

When Lee and Michael pull him from Chiron's exceptionally dry Ancient Greek lessons, Will is excited. When they drag him down, ducking, behind the stables, as other campers walk by, he is intrigued. When they guide him all the way back to their cabin, sit him on his bed, and then drag two stools to sit across from him, silently, he is still excited.

A little nervous, now.

But excited.

"Will," Michael says, solemn. He presses his fist to his mouth, eyes carefully blank. "Will, you are almost ten years old, now."

Will bounces on his mattress, grinning. "Yeah! I'm nine and fifty-six seventy-thirds." He peers at his brothers hopefully, trying to lessen his fidgeting and appear Regal and Adult. "Am I getting my Dad present early?"

Gods, he hopes so. He has been counting down the days -- every tenth birthday, for every kid, Camp-bound or not, Apollo sends them a gift of gold jewelry, smelted in the heat of the Sun by Holy Hephaestus, jewels handcrafted by the finest artisans on Olympus, blessed by yours truly. Will has been watching in seething jealousy as Michael's signet ring glints every time he pulls back his bow, as Cass' hoops swing when she walks. He hopes the gift is earrings -- he finally convinced Michael to pierce his lobes a couple months ago, and he's tired of the ugly studs. Beckendorf made him promise to let him poke around at whatever Will gets, and Will has been itching to show him.

And to get the jewelry, obviously. That's priority number one.

Lee shakes his head slowly. "No. You will get your milestone when you get it." He exchanges a long, fearful look with Michael. Will picks at last summer's clay bead, with the trident on it. "Speaking of milestones…"

Michael makes a sudden, choked noise, covering his face with his hands and curling forward. Will startles. Lee sighs, looking down for a moment as well. When he looks up again, he meets Will's wide eyes with his teary ones, and places a supportive hand on Michael's back.

"Will…" he looks out to the open window, shaking his head slightly. When he looks back, his face is creased in apology, and his eyes are ringed with pity. Will feels his heart drop. "Have you chosen someone, yet?"

"Chosen?" Will straightens, fists twisting in his shorts. "Chosen someone for what?" Michael makes another strangled wailing noise. Will's breath hitches, and his ears white out. "Lee, tell me! Tell me now!"

"We are a Greek camp," Lee says, finally. "An ancient Greek camp. With ancient Greek customs, kiddo."

He says it softly, apologetically. Like the time a seagull swooped down and stole Will's ice cream, right from his hands, on the beach last week. Will recognizes the hopeless tone of his voice and his heart drops.

"How much did they tell you about…our customs?"

"I didn't listen to the admissions video!" Will confesses, panicked. "I'm sorry! It was so boring! There were a bajillion music numbers and they were all kind of bad no offense and the screen made my eyes hurt and I missed my mom and --"

"Will," Michael says, voice shaking. He meets Will's eyes and Will is horrified to see they are wet.

He has never seen Michael cry before -- not even once.

"It's okay, Will. Some people don't know."

"Tell me," Will begs. "Am I being sacrificed?"

To his great relief, both his brothers laugh, waving dismissive hands as they chuckle. Will sags into his pillows.

"Oh, no, gods no. That would be barbaric." Lee wipes a tear from his eyes. "C'mon, Will, we're a little more civilized than that." He smiles encouragingly. Will smiles, hesitantly, back. "You're getting married."

It takes a long enough moment for the sound to travel and the word to register that Will is sure his hearing aids have gone wonky. He taps them, as though it will do anything, and tilts his head.

"I didn't hear you right. What did you say?"

"Married," Michael repeats. "By age 10, like all people had to do back then." He and Lee exchange another weighted look. "That, or you have to marry Mr. D." He rushes to assure at Will's panicked shriek; "Only if you don't choose someone in time. You have until you turn ten, so don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone in time. You'll have most of the summer, anyway."

There is a moment where Lee and Michael murmur to each other, nodding. "Yeah," Lee says, mostly to himself. "You'll be fine." To which Michael responds: "Of course, of course. I mean, we did it."

Will sits there, frozen.

"I can't get married!" he cries, coming back to himself. He begins to hyperventilate. "I'm -- nine! I'm a kid!" He looks to his older brothers, blue eyes big and watery. "I don't even know how to file my taxes yet!"

Lee and Michael are sympathetic. They move forward, immediately, one on either side of him; Lee slides a squeezing hand around his shoulders, Michael pats him on the leg.

"It'll be fine, squirt," Lee soothes. He gestures across them. "I mean, me and Michael found somebody. It all worked out."

"You're married?" Will chokes out. His breaths come quick and shallow, despite Lee's comforting hand. "Michael is married?!"

"Watch it, twerp," Michael warns, at the same time as Lee says: "It was a challenge and a half, but yeah, Michael is married."

Will glances quickly down. There is no ring on either of their left hands, but they must notice him looking, because Michael snorts, pinching him on the knee.

"We just told you it's an ancient Greek custom, dumbass. Rings were invented later. We just…" He makes an incomprehensible gesture with his ringless hand. "Followed the book, completed the rite, etc, etc. Boom. Matrimony."

Lee nods. He rubs Will's shoulder a final time, encouragingly, before pulling away enough to give him space to breathe.

"You'll find someone, Will. We just thought we'd warn you because it didn't look like you remembered yourself, and we don't want you to have to…well."

Will shudders. Vaguely, in the back of his blurry, blurry memory, he can recall someone saying something in a video somewhere about partners and their importance in Camp. He had not paid attention, and he curses himself for it, now -- he almost had to marry Mr. D. Mr. D. who is rude, who smells like vinegar, who always has something in his teeth, who sleeps all day and drools more than a waterfall, who scares the satyrs on purpose and never even says sorry. Who is mean and gross and the worst ever.

"Thank you," Will says, tearfully. He grips his brothers' hands in his small fists and shakes from his spot between them, almost-life flashing in front of his eyes. If his brothers hadn't warned him, Mr. D. would have made him rub his stinking feet and feed him grapes for all eternity for sure. There wouldn't even be breaks for episodes of Star Trek. He shudders. "Thank you."

His brothers return the half-hug, although Michal sighs about it. He is too short to see the smirks they flash above his head.

"Anytime, twerp."

-- -- --

next

[sewerratzz]

chip feeling so guilty for dragging people down with him, somehow managing to trick these good people into thinking he’s someone worth following into death, but being unable to stop himself from latching on, asking almost every new person they meet to join his makeshift family because all he’s ever wanted is people to make him feel like he belongs. like he’s safe and cared for. even though he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.

so he asks, and sometimes they say yes, and there’s a new hammock in the crew’s quarters and another life he feels like he’s tainted, like he’s taking advantage of. he makes the smallest dent in repayment by being ready to lay down his life for them if he has to. it’s not enough, because his life isn’t worth much.

chip bastard, so lonely and small and guilty, and so, so selfish.

[1nterspace-2]

Spreading my agenda of Alia and Evrard being cousins <3

[peace-hunter]

Idk if you've read deceptibee before but if you have,how would the primes react while Op and Megs are fighting over custody of bee and Dent his shoulder,I can imagine alpha trion giving Op a long aft speech of why he's a terrible friend

actually, i think OP is quite good at telling himself what a terrible friend he is. a bit too good if you ask any of his siblings.

it is another of the very few things the primes refuse to accept optimus' opinion on

haunted au

[jkvjimin]

seven days a week; jungkook's birthday countdown ↳ tue: a concert close to my heart

[outer-andromeda]

So very glad people seem to like my take on Mr. TV hehehehehe. He's incredibly fun to doodle

[chloesimaginationthings]

Wait hold is Mike...?

Drawing his siblings?

He never stops thinking about them,,