ruubric

[ruubric]

Vega: /'vē-gə/ The name is a loose transliteration of the Arabic wāqi‘ (“falling” or “landing”), from the phrase an-nasr al-wāqi‘, meaning “the falling eagle.”

Vega was anything but falling, ask anyone who knew him. He was strong, and firm. Unbudging. As steady and present as the ground beneath our feet. But ready to consume your whole being within a second.

He was the brightest star, a force to be reckoned with. No one dared to stare too long.....no one but them. He sensed their fear, yes. But he also sensed the confidence that quietly bubbled under the surface, waiting patiently for the right opportunity. He also sensed....their affection for him. This one was more of a whisper, a quiet song under the cacophony of all the other feelings they felt when they looked at him. Heh. His little warden does care.

Vega was rarely filled with regret, but the moment he was shattered by that strange entity-- not so much human as he was demon-- he felt the heavy grains of the disgusting emotion sink to the ground as the rest of him....as the rest of the brightest star....was whisked away by the cold and unfeeling wind.

For one so magnificent with his words, he surely couldn't have spoken his own affections aloud. Now all they will have left of him are dead words on a dead page.

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Vindemiator Gavin: /ˈɡævɪn/ holds the meaning "white hawk" and all the virtues long associated with the bird of prey. In his true form, away from all the expectations of being a pleasure demon...of being an incubus...he can be the strong one. The one in charge of his own desire, of his own destiny....instead of

Vindemiator: /vɪnˌdɛmi.təɹ/ originates from the Greek term for 'the grape gatherer', a simple bright yellow star. A mere servant to others' desires; nothing more than the name assigned to him. Vindemiator, the star: a grape gatherer. Never to enjoy the fruits of his own labour, dismissed the moment the job is done. Vindemiator, the incubus: a sex demon. Meant to transform and lose himself to satisfy others, for a mere crumb of nourishment, kicked out of sweat soaked sheets once the fun was had......that was over. He wasn't going back to that life. He was Gavin. A white hawk, with wings that paved their own path.

A path that led him to his home...to his freelancer.

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Avior: /ˈeɪvjər/ a binary star in the southern constellation of Carina. At apparent magnitude +1.86 it is one of the brightest stars in the night sky, but is not visible from most of the northern hemisphere.

And from that hell, he'd never felt less visible.

No one could see him. Would anyone miss him? Not at the rate the time here goes; no one would even notice he was missing. And when they eventually did, he was sure he'd practically be senile.

They certainly wouldn't miss him. His starlight. His one true love. The very spark to his flame.

Avior, on the other hand, would be punished probably forever, with having to stare at his lover's face. His heart burned with the fury of a thousand stars, desperate for the relief of feeling their chest against his own. At this point, he could basically self combust. That would be a kinder mercy than his consistent satiation that basically dragged his physical form along every hour of his new life here.

Being forced to watch them live a life without him, without even remembering him left a hunger so deep within his soul, he could barely tear himself away. Even though just seeing their face made him yearn more. His starlight was truly a drug of their own.

Avior found himself burying his hands in the dirt just to stop himself from pointlessly reaching out to them like some desperate puppy.

He would not give whatever entity had cursed him the satisfaction...

It is a known fact that light cannot escape black holes. Avior's light had died trying and his blood curdling cries were barely whispers upon unlistening ears.

Sound couldn't escape either, it seemed.

[ruubric]

Avior: /ˈeɪvjər/ a binary star in the southern constellation of Carina. At apparent magnitude +1.86 it is one of the brightest stars in the night sky, but is not visible from most of the northern hemisphere.

And from that hell, he'd never felt less visible.

No one could see him. Would anyone miss him? Not at the rate the time here goes; no one would even notice he was missing. And when they eventually did, he was sure he'd practically be senile.

They certainly wouldn't miss him. His starlight. His one true love. The very spark to his flame.

Avior, on the other hand, would be punished probably forever, with having to stare at his lover's face. His heart burned with the fury of a thousand stars, desperate for the relief of feeling their chest against his own. At this point, he could basically self combust. That would be a kinder mercy than his consistent satiation that basically dragged his physical form along every hour of his new life here.

Being forced to watch them live a life without him, without even remembering him left a hunger so deep within his soul, he could barely tear himself away. Even though just seeing their face made him yearn more. His starlight was truly a drug of their own.

Avior found himself burying his hands in the dirt just to stop himself from pointlessly reaching out to them like some desperate puppy.

He would not give whatever entity had cursed him the satisfaction...

It is a known fact that light cannot escape black holes. Avior's light had died trying and his blood curdling cries were barely whispers upon unlistening ears.

Sound couldn't escape either, it seemed.

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Hush: /hʌʃ/ 1. a sudden, calm silence

Because that's what he was supposed to be. Suddenly there, and void of all the symphonies that form a personality. His purpose was to retrieve a Sovereign and delivere it to E'Laetum and Min'Ara. That was it. A calm and straightforward voice that came from the Meridian.

2. to soothe or be soothed 

That was meant to be the result of his actions; finally grant relief to E'Laetum and Min'Ara after a millenia of thankless and forgotten turmoil.

Hush, who has the faint whispers of Avior's determination and protective instinct. Hush, who has the faint hum of Starlight's curiosity. Hush, who is finally finding his own voice-- which may sound mellifluous but has a warning rumble of a powerful crescendo.

[ruubric]

I fear my favoritism is heavily sliding towards Elliott these days...

ANYWAY

a Sunshine for you all 🙂‍↕️

[ruubric]

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧About me⋅☾.♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

hey, you can call me Ru.

Age: 21

Birthday: April 13

MBTI: infj - t (~the advocate~)

Sexuality: 🩷💛💙

Pronouns: She/her

Currently obsessed with: Redacted Audio, Bastards vs Zombies, Arcane, Wind Breaker, The Apothecary Diaries, any crappy dating show, any and all music.

Final message: message me if you ever wanna talk ^^. I'm a little awkward but we can just ignore that

You can read more fully fleshed work from my ao3 here♡

You can also see some of the stuff I post on Tumblr on my kinda updated masterlist

Write to you soon,

Ruubric ♡

[Obviously don't engage of you're a weirdo with any -ists or -ics that are unsavory (read: disgusting; you know what i mean).]

[ruubric]

the shaw pack, as seen by outsiders !

david shaw. he's got this menacing, lingering aura about him, and when he walks into the room people go silent. their backs straighten, they double their work speed, and whispers die.

and in bounces his golden, glowing, mini-skirt wearing, sexual innuendo-spewing s.o. who's chattering to david like they're teenage girls in a coffee shop and shock of all shocks, david's smiling back.

asher talbot. the snarky, bouncy, happy-go-lucky guy's everywhere all the time. he never rests, never stops moving, and he's chattering about a mile a minute. he has a tendency to speak over you, not because he's rude, but just because the adhd is a bitch.

but when his sweet-faced, gentle-toned s.o. walks in, hands him a glass of water, and begins to tell a story, asher looks like he can't speak. he just stares, in awe, drinking in his beautiful mate and listening to the melodic cadence of their voice.

milo greer. milo's the perfect blend between david and asher. serious, dedicated, all business when it comes down to it, but he's always got time for a smile, a kind word, or a teasing joke. finely dressed and always put together, but you can sense an undercurrent of stress leeching from him. he needs everything to be perfect, and he needs to pick up the slack that his alpha and beta don't have time to cover.

but one touch on the arm, one sarcastic deadpan joke from sweetheart, and milo's hackles relax. they sit on the arm of his chair and review his work, a hand in his hair. they tease him about his sloppy handwriting and give him a kiss and an ice cream before they leave, and afterwards milo is twice as quick to hand out compliments, and holds his temper better than ever.

tank/darlin. if david's the steel, asher's the bubble, and milo's the happy medium between the two, then darlin' is the opposite. where milo is quick to compliment and soothe, darlin' is quick to honestly and brutally speak. they're all bark and all bite, and everyone eyes them warily when they come into the room. they're known to be fiercely loyal, but their affection is shown in aggression and brusque nods of approval.

but sam softens something in them, draws out the gentleness the pack remembers seeing in tank as a child. sam rests a big mitten of a hand on their shoulder and they find themselves able to smile more, smile genuinely. sam gives them a wink, and they're damn near bubbly all day. sam leaves, but his lingering woodsmoke warmth stays wrapped around darlin' all day, and the office is significantly calmer.

[ruubric]

Shaw pack in Heathers au when?

david is red. milo is green. asher is yellow. no further questions

[ruubric]

Spread the word.

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another ball drop by Disney. The crowd gasps in utter disbelief

*very emblematic of disney sanitizing the fuck out of stitch.

[ruubric]

this is sooo real🤤😫

huxley is just gonna age into T-Pain and lowk. even better 😈🤤

[ruubric]

.ೃ࿐ Seer Obscura X Morgan Kyne *ೃ༄

⋆˚࿔ Non specified listener gender | Word Count: 494 ⋆˚࿔

Dahlia was always beautiful, but when the rain fell at night, it became something else—something softer, almost magical. The streets glistened under the dim glow of streetlights, puddles reflecting tiny fragments of the city’s soul. The California breeze carried the fresh scent of wet earth, mingling with the distant hum of waves crashing against the shore. Everything slowed down, wrapped in the gentle lull of falling raindrops.

From The Obscura’s (Morgans Listener) glass balconys smudged sliding door, Morgan watched as the mist curled over rooftops, the world hushed and dreamlike. The rain softened the city’s edges, turning hurried footsteps into quiet reflections and lonely streets into intimate moments. The night belonged to the storm, and in its quiet embrace, Morgan and his Lover felt at peace.

The apartment smelled of fresh coffee and cheap leather, the scent curling between stacks of worn books and a flickering candlelight. Morgan sank into the quiet, listening to the rain tap softly against the window, time stretching and slowing in midnight’s embrace.

Morgan sank into the fresh leather, the scent still sharp in the air as he breathed deeply, letting the quiet settle around them. Obscura lay across his lap, unmoving, their thoughts lost in the lull of exhaustion. The silence wasn’t empty—it was earned. For once, the world wasn’t pulling at them, demanding their attention, their energy, their endless, restless minds. Whether it was their bodies that needed the stillness or just the weight of their thoughts, it hardly mattered. Right now, the quiet was enough.

Morgan let his fingers brush absently through Obscura’s hair, tracing slow patterns as the quiet stretched between them. With a softness almost instinctive, he bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead—a silent offering, a wordless confession. Obscura didn’t stir, but the corners of their lips curved just slightly, as if acknowledging the moment without needing to open their eyes. The hush of the night held them close, wrapping them in its calm, the world outside feeling impossibly far away.

“I love you, Sweetheart.” Morgan reminds his lover, cringing at the new territory that was…the trial and error of impossible petnames.

“I love you too,” Obscura chuckles, “But that one’s a no.”

Morgan sighs in response, though, a smile on his blush-brushed face. “That’s another one off the list, then.”

Morgan let his head sink into the couch, eyes drifting shut as he surrendered to the storm’s quiet symphony. Raindrops played their soft melody against the windowpane, their rhythm steady, calming. As he listened, his mind wandered—sifting through every pet name he could think of. Angel felt..too grand, too weighty. And Babe didn’t quite fit, too ordinary. What about Sweetie? No, that one was sorta…creepy..?

None of them felt right. None of them belonged to them the way he wanted.

…

Well.

“My…Song?” Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow and hoping for the best. It fit, it did. It was poetic—Nostalgic. It felt too fitting if anything.

They giggle, “…pffft.”

Damnnit.

ty for reading <3 I tried my hardest ! ^.^

[ruubric]

I'm thinking moonbeam maybe? To be adjacent to elliot and sunshine mayhaps.

But also I totally headcannon that starlight calls avior moonbeam, to which he rolls his eyes playfully..

if brachium had a listener what would their nickname be?

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