#ruby thread; 01

[madeleinefoster]

𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 @rubywritesrp

"Okay, I know I've been promising you I'd read this book a long time ago, and I promise I've tried about seven times now-" a pause as she removed the book from the shelf, eyebrows raising in an attempt to be stealth like. "- but this is a lot of copies of one book for a town like Kismet Harbor." Running into Ruby here had been a complete accident; the two had met awhile - likely ten years or so at this point - and while they'd kept in touch the best they could, it was never a shock when contact would be lost. Madeleine almost preferred to keep it that way. The less people in her life the better; she'd lost so many already, the thought of losing more was nearly unbearable. So when she'd ran into Ruby in Kismet Harbor of all places, it had been as if they'd never lost contact; and of course one of their first out tings together was none other than Kismet Harbor Library. Madeleine had all the research to do for her journalism entry and honestly not nearly enough information considering she'd already been here a few days at this point. So, what better way to learn the history of the town then to research it in the archives of the library. "You think anyone here has read it?" she questioned. "And do you think any of them know this is really the towns finest gem?"

[anlidowning]

𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 @rubywritesrp

"Wait!" Anli paused in her tracks, eyes fixated on a booth at the market that had all sorts of trinkets and stained glass pieces. Stained glass was something to always catch her eye, and that piece just happened to represent a mother and her daughter; tugging at Anli's heartstrings. Not that she had anywhere to put it, that was besides the point. "I just love spring time." she sighed. "It allows for meet ups with great people like you. And this weather is to die for." she stated., inhaling as if sniffing the air would bring the weather into her lungs. She'd probably regret that later. "But also how are you settling back into town?" she questioned, taking a step towards the booth she'd been eyeballing, hands already on the stained glass art piece before she returned her attention to her cousin. "You need to come let me see that new place once you finally close on it!"

[havenhawthorne]

𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 @rubywritesrp

"Hey there." she smiled, offering the other a wave as they entered the property of the home they'd set up to meet at. Haven had a gift bag in her hand - a welcome package that had at one point been actual baskets but had turned into something much easer to carry later in her pregnancy - and despite the fact that she'd normally not show up wearing leggings to a showing, her growing bump made things slightly difficult to dress in her old clothes these days. She'd been on 'maternity leave' since the Christmas season, and while she was barely doing two showings a week these days, she still had numerous emails to get through, one of which had been how she'd been in contact with the other anyways. "Ruby, yes?" she asked, wanting to make sure Ruby hadn't sent someone on her behalf, and Haven extended a hand towards the other, both to shake and to give the welcome basket to them as well. They could search through it later; she was sure they'd want to see the tour first. "I have to say this house has only been on the market a couple days." she admitted. "You're my first showing, actually. What drew you to this one?"

[mitchelljackson]

A shrug of his shoulders made Mitchell laugh. "I mean, I am partial to strawberry ice cream." he admitted. "It just so happens to be one of my favorite flavors; add some chocolate syrup and I'll do just about anything you want." he admitted, a little too coyly. Mitchell had a tendency to eat more healthy snacks when he needed something, but, his junk food favorites were very specific. Strawberry ice cream included. The mention of advertisement, complete with the mascot made Mitchell laugh a little louder than intended, but he shook his head at the other's response. "Okay, that's just too funny to even pretend to keep a straight face." he chuckled. "Though you nailed it. I'd for sure be the one to donate all that money instead of hoarding." he shrugged. "I have no need to keep that kind of money when it can go somewhere else." he exhaled. Her interest in his career made his smile widen. "Yeah, it's something special." he smiled. "It's a lot, and I love that I get to help all sorts of different stories unfold, but, it takes a lot strength too, especially for those not so happy ending stories." @rubywritesrp

Ruby let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in amusement. "Strawberry Ice Cream Day does feel oddly specific. Like, who decided strawberry deserved its own day before chocolate or vanilla? Feels like favoritism," she teased, nudging her coffee cup slightly as she spoke. "But hey, if it gets people excited and helps out the ice cream parlors, I guess I can't complain. And really, who doesn’t have a sweet tooth?" She grinned at his joke about pitching the idea to the owner. "Oh, definitely a money-maker. I think you should go all in—marketing, branding, maybe even a mascot. Imagine it: a giant walking strawberry convincing people to indulge," she joked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Though, knowing you, you'd probably end up donating the profits instead of hoarding them, which, I have to say, makes you a terrible businessman but a pretty decent human being." As he mentioned his career, Ruby's expression shifted into something warmer, more genuine. "OB-GYN? That’s incredible," she said, leaning forward slightly. "I can only imagine how rewarding that must be. Bringing new life into the world, being there for women in such an important part of their lives—it can’t be easy, but I bet it’s fulfilling."

[infiernogarde]

starter - @inheirit

Hikaru knows there's no one there to use her rarely-used spell so, she practiced aiming on it as she did it upwards where no one gets hurt of its power, asides from limited use of five, now four. The glove she wore was the main source of her magic, after all.

Her eyes tilted to a girl with a red sweater in the middle of the incantation that she had to stop immediately.

"I, uh just trying to test my magic. Yeah, magic..." Awkward situation aside, well she's just trying it. "I didn't hurt anyone and you, right?"

Least Ruby Lightning was indeed her strongest spell, unfair aside with her friends with three spells and four.

[allroundher]

@stormlit.

ㅤ“ Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby! ” Right, now she's established herself as the English twat making a nuisance of herself in public, Penny practically throws herself at McCrae. It's not like they haven't seen each other recently, of course, but it's the first time Penny's seen her after a belter of a match and it's not like she's not going to celebrate. Some woman who is innocently just trying to get her shopping done jumps slightly at the sudden activity, then rolls her eyes and continues on her way, evidently not a football fan. Penny kisses Ruby's face, all big grins, and is hanging off her shoulders with no intention to leave any time soon. “ You know you're a goalie, right? ” She says this every time. It doesn't get old. “ Nice to know Richmond in't special and you're just like this all t' time. ”

[sthrlnd1]

@stormlit. call.

ㅤ“ Hey, don't you be trying to get any insider information outta me, you hear? I know what you Richmond girls are like. Penny was trying it on earlier too. ”

[teaganweatherford]

Nodding - her hand moving to her lips as if to seal in their little secret in the off chance the other didn't pull it off - Teagan smiled. "I won't say a word if you don't even come out with it on." she stated. She was a girl's girl, someone that would advocate for the smallest of voices if she needed to, but she also wasn't someone that would let something like this go unnoticed. So when the other disappeared into the dressing room - hopefully to come out with it on and looking beautiful - Teagan continued her own shopping, a few pieces thrown over her arm in an attempt to consolidate and decide what was worth buying later. She'd gotten lost in the clearance section when the other's voice sounded in her ears and she looked up, eyes widening at the figure before her. "Oh. My. God." she paused between each word, her smile only widening as she took her in. "Girl, you're stunning!" She clapped. "I swear you're glowing in that dress!" @rubywritesrp

THE END

Ruby let out a playful laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, okay! You’ve convinced me,” she said with a grin, grabbing the dress off the rack. “But if I come out looking like a mess, we’re just gonna pretend it never happened.” She shot Teagan a teasing look before making her way toward the dressing room. Slipping inside, she carefully put the dress on, smoothing the fabric over her frame as she took a moment to admire it in the mirror. It really was beautiful flowy in all the right places, hugging just enough to feel elegant. She turned slightly, checking different angles before finally stepping back out. She walked toward Teagan, holding her arms out slightly as if presenting herself. “Well?” she asked with a small twirl, her eyes bright with curiosity. “How does it look?”

[a-bit-of-writing]

Cloak

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 

Characters: Astarion x Reader

Words: 1,591

Summary: You only meant to survive your night watch, not end up draped in Astarion’s cloak and scent.

part. 01 | part. 02

The cliffs above the Chionthar were pretty things by daylight — ragged ridges powdered in wild heather, gulls wheeling overhead — but after dusk they sharpened into bone‑white fangs. Wind tore off the river and scraped your cheeks raw, tugging at your sleeves like a petulant child begging to be let in.

You flexed your fingers — nothing. Half‑numb. Brilliant idea, volunteering for the late watch in nothing but a travel shirt and bravado. Gale had offered his spare cloak; you’d waved him off. Shadowheart had raised an eyebrow; you’d grinned. Pride was a stubborn parasite and now it gnawed your bones with every icy gust.

A twig snapped behind you. Leather boots, light tread — predator’s footfall. Only one person walked that quietly and still managed to announce himself with the sheer audacity of his presence.

“Honestly, darling,” Astarion drawled, voice a silk ribbon sliding round your throat, “if you wished to turn blue you could have asked me for pointers. I have centuries of experience.”

You exhaled a foggy plume. “I’m fine.”

He came into view, draped in a cloak the color of spiced wine, clasp of polished garnet winking at his throat. Moon‑silver hair spilled over the collar like frost over velvet. He looked entirely too warm, too princely, too amused.

“Liar,” he murmured, stepping close enough that his breath stirred the hair at your temple. “Your teeth are rattling a charming concerto.”

“I said—”

“And I said you’re shivering.” One arched brow. “Would you like my cloak?”

The offer landed like flint on tinder. You opened your mouth — habit formed around refusal — but the night stole the word and left only a shudder. Fine tremors climbed your arms. Astarion watched, ruby eyes bright with mischief and something startlingly soft.

“Here,” he sighed — half resignation, half relish — and reached for the clasp. Gold links whispered apart. As the cloak swung free, heat rushed out like the exhale of a hearth. Cedar, smoke, faint mulled wine: his scent, rich and dizzying.

He didn’t simply hand it over. Oh no — Astarion performed the act like ritual. One step forward, boots crunching frost; cloak lifted high, then draped across your shoulders in a slow, enveloping fall. He gathered the fabric at your throat, cool fingertips grazing the hollow just above your pulse. You felt it leap; he felt it too — his smile said everything.

“There,” he purred, smoothing collars with absurd delicacy. “A lovely splash of red to set off those cheeks.”

You tugged the cloak tighter. “Thank you.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head, studying the way it swallowed your frame. “Marvelous. It hangs on you like sin.” He leaned closer, conspiratorial. “Be wary — wearing a vampire’s garment might constitute a blood pact in certain, decidedly salacious circles.”

“Oh dear,” you deadpanned, exhaling warmth back into your stiff fingers. “Am I doomed?”

He hummed approval. “Doomed to — let me think — moonlit poetry recitals, perhaps a scandalous duet or two.” His grin glinted fang. “Surely you can bear the torment.”

You mustered a scoff, but the cloak’s heat seeped beneath your defiance, loosening the tight curl of your shoulders. Even the wind seemed reluctant to intrude through velvet this thick. You inhaled — cedarheart and something sweet, like the echo of summer berries on the tongue.

Astarion’s gaze followed the rise of your chest, satisfied. Then, casual as smoke, he settled onto the flattest rock beside your post — close, but not crowding. The river’s dark ribbon murmured below. Fireflies stitched gold thread between brambles.

After a beat he said, softer, “I never cared for that cloak.”

You glanced sideways. “No?”

“Cazador chose it.” A small shrug. “He enjoyed dressing us like decorative knives — beautiful, useful, always his.” For a moment the campfire in his eyes dimmed, revealing an undertow of old hurt. But then the mask slipped back into place, polished and bright. “Yet here we are — re‑appropriating luxury. Rather poetic, don’t you think?”

“Very,” you whispered. “And it does suit you. Or did.”

He laughed, rich and low. “Are you angling to keep it?”

“Maybe I’m claiming it. Finders, keepers.”

“Heresy.” He slung an arm along the rock’s rim, posture indolent royalty. “If you intend to steal my wardrobe, I’ll need compensation.”

You arched a brow. “More secrets? Another blush tally?”

“Oh, I have grander schemes tonight.” He leaned in until moonlight caught in his lashes. “How about a favor to be named later? Something deliciously open‑ended.”

Your pulse skipped. “Dangerous.”

“Exhilarating,” he corrected. Then, unexpectedly gentle: “But if bargaining unsettles you, we’ll stick to simpler trades. A story, perhaps.” He lifted his chin, invitation in every line. “Gift me a memory.”

Cold forgotten, you searched for something worthy. “All right,” you said at last, voice soft. “When I was small, my mother would brew cinnamon milk on winter nights. She’d hum — terribly off‑key — while I sat by the hearth pretending to read. I’d memorize the tune, wrong notes and all, because it meant warmth was coming. I loved that.”

Astarion’s expression flickered — surprise, then a longing so fierce it scared you. “Cinnamon,” he echoed. “I remember cinnamon.” He looked away, throat working. “I’d- I’d snatch sweet rolls from palace apprentices and hide on the roof. Eat them alone so no one could shame me for sticky fingers.” Soft laugh, brittle as spun sugar. “Feelings taste different when you savor them in secret.”

He fell quiet, the confession hanging between you like frost‑glittering glass. Your hand twitched beneath the cloak — impulse to reach for his. Instead you said gently, “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

His eyes cut back, bright and wary. “Don’t I?”

“You offered me warmth with no demand.”

“Oh, I’ll demand something eventually,” he teased but the line lacked bite.

“You could have let me freeze,” you pressed. “Mocked me, walked away. You didn’t.” You lifted a corner of the cloak. “That choice is yours now. Every time.”

Astarion stared long enough that riverwind filled the silence with its hush. Then he chuckled, a sound that trembled at the edges. “Careful, sweet thing. Keep talking like that and I might start believing I have choices.”

“Maybe you should,” you echoed your earlier words, softer still.

He inhaled — sharp, startled — like the idea itself was a sudden ache in his ribs. For an instant vulnerability bared its throat. Then his grin returned, dazzling and defensive.

“Let’s test this newfound autonomy, shall we?” He stood, offered a dramatic bow, and extended a hand. “Come. The wind’s unrelenting, and I know a niche halfway down the cliff face — sheltered, private, excellent acoustics should I burst into impromptu sonnet.”

You laughed, taking his hand. His fingers were cool but steady, closing around yours with teasing ceremony. As you followed him along the narrow path, the cloak swirled your ankles, trailing his scent.

At a ledge half hidden by thorny broom, he paused, gesturing you ahead. A natural alcove cupped a sliver of embers from some forgotten traveler’s fire; still warm. He dusted the stone, sat, then tugged you down beside him. The space forced proximity — knees brushing, cloak draping over both. Twin warmths: velvet outside, his body heat inside.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded. In the dim, his eyes burned garnet, softer than any flame.

A playful silence stretched. Then he cleared his throat theatrically. “Right. About that sonnet…”

“Oh gods, no,” you groaned.

“Too late. Inspiration strikes.” He pressed the back of his hand to his brow, reciting in a tragic stage whisper: “O crimson cloak upon a trembling frame, / Envy of dawn, ye put bright day to shame—”

You dissolved into laughter. It echoed off stone, mingling with his self‑satisfied chuckle.

When your mirth subsided, you found him watching you — smile gentled, eyes steady. “I like that sound,” he admitted quietly.

“What sound?”

“That laugh. It…does something foolish to me.” He glanced away, almost shy. “Makes monsters feel less monstrous.”

Your breath caught. Without thinking, you slid your hand across the small gap, resting it atop his. He stiffened — a reflex born of centuries — then eased beneath your touch, exhale feathering the cold air.

“Monsters don’t share cloaks,�� you whispered.

“They do,” he said, lips quirking. “They just expect payment in flesh.” A pause. “I’m trying something new.”

“And how does it feel?”

He considered, thumb grazing your knuckles. “Terrifying,” he said. Then, softer: “Nice.”

You smiled into the dark. “Borrow the feeling as long as you need.”

“Dangerous invitation.” He curled his fingers, lacing them with yours. “I may never give it back.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep you, then.”

He laughed — a fragile, wondrous thing. “You drive a scandalously hard bargain, darling.” He squeezed your hand once, then let the silence rest — comfortable, living. Wind rattled faraway branches, but the alcove held only warmth.

Minutes — or hours — later, when your watch ended and you both rose to return to camp, Astarion reached to reclaim his cloak. His hands paused at your shoulders, clutching velvet as though reconsidering.

He released a hush of air, almost a sigh, and withdrew, leaving the cloak on you.

“Keep it till morning,” he said, eyes unreadable. “Consider it… interest on our deal.”

“What deal?”

“The one where I practice giving without taking.” He winked, stepping back into moonlight. “Don’t get used to it.”

Too late. You smiled, heart thudding. “Good night, Astarion.”

He hesitated, then with the softest smile you’d ever stolen from him, murmured, “Good night, warmth‑thief.”

He vanished into shadow, leaving you cloaked in crimson and something far rarer: the promise of choice.

[kintsug1kitsune]

battle in the low market

The lower-city market was dark even given the world's eternal night.

Concrete pavement meshed with cobblestone and brick, messy walkways twisting through the depths of the city, which towered all overhead, bridges and highways and towers and skyscrapers, all netted together in a neon-lit, hologram-strewn tangle.

Down here, only simple streetlights lit-up the darkness, but still many crowded about, all walks of life come to this gray place to find uncommon and illicit wares. Neverborn beside dolls beside hollows, reapers and Daughters and wildborn, those with wolf heads and animal parts.

I came to this bazaar for a particular type of ether, distilled shatter, a liquid emanation useful in my Mistress's more destructive spells. I hardly dressed-up, a lacy combat thread crop-top and shorts, dangling with knives and sewn with intricate lunar designs. My six arms were free to fiddle with each other as I perused various stalls, searching for my quarry--

And finding a different objective altogether.

My tail whipped the air twice, long and porcelain-plated and sharp-edged, and my five eyes locked with another combat doll's set of two. My rubies to its sapphires. But that was negligible--what actually stood-out was the musical notes printed across its cheek, the symbol of the Witch of Winds. The two of us recognized each other, me from its mark and it from the etchings and paint of cherry blossoms and flowers across my right side and arm.

We chattered in combat-dollspeak, a sharp and cutting dialect that nonetheless rhymed and twisted and chittered beautifully in our language.

"Target found," I said, stalking towards the other.

"Received. Target found," it said, lumbering towards me. It was taller than me, 215 centimeters to my 190, and built thick, strong, tree-like arms and legs made of fine ceramith, ablative porcelain like me. Mine alabaster-white, its own a bluish color, covered by a long white combat dress.

I looked up to it, about a half-meter away, and we eyed each other, taking one another's measure. "Identify," I asked.

"This one is the Wallbreaker," it responded; a title, something storied combat dolls kept among themselves, earned from high deeds. "Identify."

"This one is the Ashveil," I answered. "Confirm threat."

"Confirmed."

We began circling one another, my tail caressing the air, its built-in organ pipes whistling as it flexed its heavy fingers. The market crowd began clearing out a circle for us, everyone looking in on the combat dolls squaring-up, muttering amongst each other, taking bets; it was a gritty enough part of town that no shops closed-up, but instead their keepers watched on.

"That one's Witch is enemy to this one's," I hissed to my opponent, raising my hands into a lax combat stance, top two arms on defense, lower sets open with their voidkrystal claws extended, glowing magenta softly. "This one will prove Her superiority."

"Received," Wallbreaker answered, and smirked, jaw splitting along its cheeks to show a gaping maw of ritesteel fangs. "That one will fail."

In a split second it dashed at me, throwing its arm at my face, a column of battle-ready ceramith--I batted it aside and followed-up, punching at its chest with all three of my right-side hands.

In a core-tick it rose its leg and clenched its other arm down, forming a wall that my fists bounced off of, porcelain clattering against porcelain--then Wallbreaker swung around its ramming arm to try to catch me from behind, reaching around my back.

My eyes caught it, and I felt all my gears click perfectly into place, pistons sliding within me as I ducked the blow--then my enemy's knee came to strike my face; I crossed all of my arms and blocked the hit, sliding back across the pavement but keeping firm.

But Wallbreaker pressed, charging at me again to ram me with its whole body--I leaped to the side, dancing around it, and we ended up a few meters apart, staring each other down again.

"Form 01," I commented, "Classic style." And without warning, I jumped--my legs hissed through the air and battered Wallbreaker with a flurry of flying kicks, all blocked; I fell to the ground, pivoted, and jumped straight up with my leg extended, slipping under its guard and smashing it in the chin, sending the other combat doll reeling back.

In the same motion, I spread my wings and took to the sky, sharp and silvery feathers around spell circles--without stopping, I drove an assault into the enemy with my legs, whirling through the air and kicking, slashing at it with my sharp high-heels.

As I rebounded off it, Wallbreaker stared up at me and hissed. "Killing Rapture? That one has trained with angels."

"Received. False," I hissed back, "It has killed enough angels to learn the style."

No more talk--the other doll crouched and flung itself up, boosters in its feet propelling it into the air to try and piledrive me out of it; I easily flitted back and dodged, but as Wallbreaker fell, it wheeled around and out of its wrist shot a bundle of taut metal cables--they wrapped my legs and yanked, hard.

The wind whistled in my horns as I crashed to the ground, leaving a web of cracks in the pavement and none in me. Across, Wallbreaker landed, hitting the stone with a thud--I was still tangled. Thinking fast, I channeled witchfire from my core and melted out of the cables, instantly springing to my feet.

Just in time--my opponent was howling, jaw split and gaping wide to devour me as it charged; it tried to hammer down on my head, I weaved aside, and it grabbed my top-right arm.

I grabbed its own right arm with my top-left and let loose the claws on my two lower-right sets--and drove them into Wallbreaker's side, tearing apart blued ceramith with voidkrystal sharper than diamond.

It shrieked briefly and rose its leg--stomped it down, trying to break my foot. I slid out of the way, still holding its right wrist, and went to dig my lower-left sets of claws into its other side.

But Wallbreaker had none of it and suddenly slammed its head into mine, getting a wild scream from the crowd watching--I was undeterred. My jaw split, three-way, and I bit at my enemy--it bit back, a gnashing of metal fangs as our heads wove around each other, bodies tangled together, grappling close.

Abruptly, I whipped my head and slammed my horns into Wallbreaker's head, sending it reeling--this was my chance! I threw myself forwards, gears shrieking, and shoved all six of my fists into its frame--chained the move into a roundhouse-kick, and spun, slashing across it with my tail, throwing it to the ground and leaving a massive gash across its porcelain.

I looked down at my defeated foe. "Breaking Demon Hand," I explained. "This one learned it from neverborn pirates."

Wallbreaker lay on stony ground, organ pipes hissing weakly. "…This one learned it from its siblings. This one yields to retreat. Disengaging."

"Disengaging," I answered, giving a chitter. "Good fight."

The crowd rattled amongst itself, bets cashed-in, as I walked off into it, folding my wings back into my body. Now, where could I find some shatter…?

[moonsb1996]

Special Lore-01

hello to @the-invisible-introvert-2004 & @lucia1234lizeth Now I have the last picture left of the main Lore, so I will take the Lore or the legend in my novel and write it for you guys to read for fun to reveal it. Hope you have fun! (During this time the weather is still hot. And some people scammed me out of money not long ago. But I didn't send any money. Just during this time, I'm still angry. Why did the people take the money that we earned until our eyes were bleeding? I don't know.)

Blood Brooch Pendant – A smooth, round brooch pendant decorated with a large ruby like an eye. It was said to be the Eye of the God of Fate that had traveled into the ashes. And keeps weaving the threads of the fate of all things. Humans are creatures that were cursed by God to be “lab rats” in creating “God's perfect world.”

Until the Ivory King of Borotaria wore armor and carried Sword of the Three Laws Travel to the God of Fate to slay the gods. and bring “destiny” to all beings to be able to control their own life paths The Ivory King killed the god by stabbing his sword into his skull. The Three Swords of Law broke into three pieces and scattered.

But due to his injuries, the Ivory King would soon die. The Lord of Fate, before dying, gouged out his eyes and placed a curse on the Ivory King's soul. To not be able to find nirvana for the rest of the universe by saying “My eyes will watch over you. No matter if you are at the end of the abyss Or the high valley my eyes will travel back to you Staring at you in despair at even the slightest action. will not be able to change fate.”

It is said that the Ivory King's soul was shattered by the power of the thread of fate. Those soul fragments were scattered throughout the ashes. And as time passed, new souls emerged from those fragments. Whoever wore this red brooch was believed to be a cursed spirit remnant. that will last forever to fight the endless journey of fate

This story has now been made into an opera. “Blood Brooch and Promise” tells the story of a fragment of a soul that made a promise to a chosen one, becoming a journey to keep a promise to a cursed soul's comrade. Leading to a great mission that leads to overcoming fate once again.

[daliamdelgado]

Books weren't something that Dalia was used to looking for; in fact she wasn't usually one that read a lot of books anyways. She much preferred the poems tucked inside pages of a book over an actual story, but, she was trying to branch out a little more. Even if it was just for the sake of conversations sake; she'd never give up an opportunity to make new friends. "Yes, that one." she nodded, smiling when the other pointed out the right book. She'd always understood that the more expensive books were in fact locked up, but, something about that one being a little more on display made her hopeful; not that she needed something that expensive in her home. "You think it's worth it? If it's something I'd just want to display?" she questioned, eyes focused on the other. "I mean, I assume that's what those books are for, but." she paused. "You looking for anything particular or are you just browsing like me?" @rubywritesrp

Ruby ran her fingers along the spines of the books, stopping when she reached the familiar title under her pseudonym. It was a habit now—whenever she found her books in stores, she’d sign them quietly and tuck them back onto the shelves like a secret waiting to be discovered. She cracked open the worn cover, signing her name quickly before flipping the book shut and sliding it back into place as if nothing had happened. No one ever caught her, and that was the way she liked it. Reaching for another book, one that actually intrigued her this time, she barely had a moment to focus before a voice broke through the quiet hum of the bookstore. Ruby glanced over, taking in the woman who had stopped near her, her attention fixed on a rare edition print with an admiration that Ruby immediately recognized. She followed the woman’s gaze, tilting her head slightly. “That one?” she asked, her fingers lightly tapping the spine of the book she had just grabbed. “It’s gorgeous.” She took a step closer, scanning for a tag or anything that might indicate whether it was for sale or not. “Most of the time, they put display copies up high or in cases, but you might get lucky.” She flashed the woman a small, knowing smile. “It’s worth asking.”

[hackernewsrobot]

Demystifying Ruby: It's all about threads (2024)

https://blog.papey.fr/post/07-demystifying-ruby-01/

[kakivino]

Mt Difficulty 2012 Long Gully Pinot Noir

Mature and virile. Belts out red fruit, orange zest, truffle and damp forest floor notes, harmonized by lovely herbaceous tone sans overt sweet brown spice typical in many a youthful Central Otago pinot. At a silky, sumptuous sweet spot approaching the onset of red bean soup phase. Shares a similar thread with an elegantly aged '06 Bannockburn into which declassified Long Gully grapes went (if fond memory serves me right), tasted with ex-winemaker Matt Dicey aeons ago. On point. — ★★★½

Appellation: Central Otago Region: Central Otago, New Zealand Subzone: Bannockburn Cépage: 100% Pinot Noir Abv: 13.8% Production: Élevage: 16 months in French oak barrels Distributor: n/a

Critic Reviews:

Fresh, vivid, rich and pure with bright, supple fruit and silky, spicy tannic structure. Lovely freshness and fine spiciness. Precise and bright, a lovely wine. Jamie Goode (wineanorak.com, 02/2014) 94

Medium to deep ruby-purple colored, the 2012 Long Gully Pinot Noir has lovely black berry, black cherry and wild blueberry notes with hints of pepper, dark chocolate, anise and cloves. Medium to full-bodied with a great core of black fruits and firm, chewy tannins, it has just enough acid and finishes long and earthy. Drink: 2014-2017 Lisa Perrotti-Brown (Wine Advocate, 12/2014) 92

Very full, even, vibrant dark-red colour. This has a very full nose with a dense core of earthy red cherry and berry fruits. There are complex nuances of oak, dried herbs and oak, with nutty, slightly resinous and mineral detail. Medium-full bodied and elegant in size, rich, juicy and sweet fruit flavours unfold spice and dried herb elements with hints of earth and spices. There is good vinosity to the core. The fruit lusciousness is enhanced by good levels of acidity and the palate line underscored by fine background extract and tannin. This features sweet and linear fruit drive with freshness. Complexing earthy detail and subtle herb and oak interest will grow over the next 5-7 years. Raymond Chan (Raymond Chan Wine Reviews, 01/2014) 18.5

[rubywinds]

there's a whirlwind of bad luck, and who's in the center of it ? me . independent, private &. selective ruby sunday from bbc's doctor who . as written by ally, she / her, twenty - nine .

important links . memes . plotting call . sideblog . blog roll . @likem1dnight . @pondwaits .

credits . psd . icon border .

rules . updated 27th december 2023 .

01. this is an independent and mutually exclusive rp blog for ruby sunday from bbc's doctor who . i take no credit for the creation of ruby's character however i do take credit for my writing and any headcanons you see on here .

02. my blog is mutually exclusive therefore i will only be interacting with those i'm in mutual following with ic and ooc . i won't follow back blogs that don't cut their posts and basic formatting .

i will also not be following back blogs that use problematic face claims or characters which have been whitewashed .

03. i use small text and double spaces between words, if you need my formatting to change so you can read it in our threads please let me know . i may go between using icons and being iconless from time to time and depending on what my partner uses . i do use the beta editor and xkit rewritten .

04. i'm either incredibly slow or incredibly fast and very sporadic . i work in retail and my hours vary from week to week but i'll try to be on when i can . the best way to contact me is through ims however discord is always open to mutuals and is my prefered method of contact .

05. i very rarely post starter calls . they tend to send my anxiety through the roof . the best way to start an interaction with me is by sending in memes or jumping into my ims to plot .

06. i'm a bit of a ship whore . i love exploring all types of dynamics from enemy's to lovers and anything in-between . however i am a major advocate for chemistry .

i do like to form some form of ooc friendships with my ship partners as i love sending things that i see that reminds me of our muses .

07. i do like to have main and exclusive writing partners as it makes me feel comfortable and that i can bother y'all with ideas . i'm currently not taking full exclusives for doctor who as the fandom is super small .

♡ tba

08. hiya! my name is ally, i'm 29 and i'm from australia . i'm a major swiftie ( i'm going to the first night of the eras tour in melb in feb ), i'm a cosplayer and an overall dork .

[mechanicalaura]

@rosenhuntress​

penny has never felt so off-balance before, as if she has no idea what to do next. and she really doesn’t. 

she went from being on a ship, surrounded by her friends, trying to comprehend what just happened, to a city she doesn’t recognize. she’s worried, because if she’s here then what exactly is happening in atlas right now, and she’s fairly certain that she can’t just walk out of the city and return to atlas.

does she just have fun, do what she wants while here? she hasn’t been able to do that for... a while, since being rebuilt after the vtal festival, really, and it would be nice, but it also feels wrong. there are things she is supposed to be doing, yet can’t while here.

penny shakes her head, frowning lightly as she walks through the streets. this is hard.

she’s not going anywhere specific, simply walking and seeing what the city is like, when she sees a red cape. a very familiar red cape. “ruby!”

her worries and concerns bleed away as a large smile spreads across her face, already running at her friend. “ruby!” when she gets close enough, she throws herself at ruby, tackle-hugging her.