rubyneko - Tumblr blog

[rubyneko]

You are a villain famous for “killing” heroes. In reality, heroes come to you to fake their deaths.

[rubyneko]

having ADHD to they/them pipeline. idk im running out of post ideas

[rubyneko]

yea sorry for not responding i just don’t have the mental capacity to hold a conversation anymore

[rubyneko]

Rosemary? You mean spicy pine needles?

[rubyneko]

Con sonido! 🔈🔉🔊

[rubyneko]

solstice

The princess walks through the halls of the castle, candle light flickering in the wall sconces.

She pauses, turns her head to glance over her shoulder.

“I do wish you wouldn’t lurk in the shadows like that, Shiro.”

Her champion’s laugh is soft as he steps out of the darkness. “My place is behind you, not beside you, princess.”

“Oh, please,” she huffs, waiting long enough for him to fall into step beside her. He’s tall, broad-shouldered but she almost matches him for height. He walks silently, not even the toughened leather of his leathers creak in the quiet.  “Since when do you and I ever stand on formality?”

“Never, it would seem,” he muses. “But you should really get some rest.”

“Not you too,” she sighs. “Coran has been telling me for days. But there’s so much to do, so little time. If the rumours are true-“

Shiro stills, turning to her and she mirrors his stance. “Allura,” he says softly, his voice kind and warm and trusted. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you wear yourself down like this. You need to have a clear mind if you’re to lead the armies to defend us.”

“Yes,” she whispers, her lips dry. “I know.”

–

It’s nothing for him to leap across the battlements, to run through the night as one with the shadows, only the glow of the moon to guide him. Nothing for him to scale the heights to the tower proper and slip into the shadows silently. These heights were nothing to what he’s experienced in the past, nothing that could threaten him.

He hears them before he sees them, the princess and her champion, discussing battle plans around a wide circular table. Against one wall logs in the fireplace crackle and pop as they burn, it’s burnished light washing over the rugs on the stone floors.

He listens to their quiet murmurs for a moment, cataloguing the space. It’s not much different to what he remembers and without hesitating further, he slips through the open window and drops soundlessly to the floor.

He melts into the inky shadows.

They’re striking to look at. Twin heads of platinum starlight, tall, beautifully proportioned figures adorned in the functional but delicate armour the Alteans were known for. The princess wears her hair long, braided down her back and draw back from her face. Under the armour, her markings are all hidden save for the two half crescent moons that lie against the dark skin of her cheeks.

He’s lost in the memory long enough that he doesn’t realise the champion has moved. It happens fast. A wide hand curls around his throat, reefing him out of the shadows and slamming him to the ground.

The champion. Fuck. How did Keith miss that? One moment he was at the princess’s side, then next he was standing over Keith’s prone form.

Keith blinks, struggles to breathe under the boot on his throat. He snarls, the smell of dirt and leather stinging his nose.

“The only reason you’re not dead is because the princess sensed you three miles away.”

Goddess, but the champion’s voice is like warm honey, dangerous despite his silky tones. He’s beautiful too, dark grey eyes that sit over high cheekbones. His hair shines like polished silver in the firelight, the kind of silver strands that told Keith he’s been touched by magic. Only the royals and highest castes had these kinds of silver locks, but there’s a buzz against Keith’s brain that tells him that this hue didn’t come naturally.

Undead, something hisses. The boot against his throat is removed and Keith rolls, leaping to his feet and settling into a crouch.

“Hell of a welcome,” he snaps, irritated by the soreness of his throat. “-if you knew I was coming.”

The princess steps forward, a hard twist on her lips that couldn’t possibly be a smile. “It serves you right for not using the front door.”

“Come through the castle gates?” Keith scoffs. He resists the urge to press the pads of his fingers against his throat and rub. The champion still eyes him warily, positioning himself between Keith and the princess. A snarl tries to rise its way up inside him, but it’s fair. He’s the princess’s protector after all. “I’m sure that wouldn’t have sent me languishing in the dungeons at all.”

“Such little faith in my hospitality, Keith.”

The champion’s eyes flicker with something Keith can’t understand at the mention of his name.

“It’s never you I doubt, Allura,” Keith answers softly.

There’s a charged moment of silence that makes Keith’s heartrate pulse in his throat. It’s been years since he saw the princess, years since they’d been close friends. He hadn’t considered their friendship may have changed in the intervening years. She had the champion now.

The champion, who stares at Keith with narrowed eyes and a faint curl to his lips.

“Highness,” Keith amends stiffly. He drops to one knee and bows his head. It burns to offer such supplication. He is a creature of the wilds, free and lethal but it burns more to know that he owed her so much.

“Arise, Yorak,” she says softly and when he looks up, her arms are open.

He climbs to his feet and walks into her embrace. It’s been years, but she still smells the same. Something about his heartbeat clicks then settles into a new tempo, a beat that marries with Allura’s and a part of the magic in his blood sighs and whispers home.

“It’s been too many years,” she murmurs. “Welcome back.”

–

The champion escorts Keith to his chambers.

The princess had insisted on keeping the new arrival close. The same wing that holds her own rooms, the same wing that has his own. This man is small, lean, all sharp lines and sharp voice.

He’s beautiful and Shiro knows he could rip him to shreds the moment his back is turned.

But he’s part of the princess’s inner circle, and Shiro long since swore to protect that. Ever since she laid her hands on him, healed his failing body, and his dark hair turned white.

“This is yours,” Shiro says, pushing open the wide panelled door and motioning for Keith to step through. Inside, three maids rush around with linens. They bow hurriedly as they slip past, the door sliding shut behind them.

“Hm, nice,” Keith barely glances around.

He would be happier on the ledge, exposed to the stars. Happier with the dirt under his back, the energy of the earth humming against his blood but for now, this would suffice.

“Why now?” the champion asks after a moment. “Why are you back now?”

Keith’s pacing pauses instantly. His shoulders stiffen but he doesn’t turn. Shiro can only see the dark line of his jaw, the dark braid that hangs down his back. He truly is beautiful to look at. Skin moon pale Shiro would love to taste, hair Shiro wishes he could touch. Is it as soft as it looks? And those eyes, sparking with something hungry and wild that calls to magic inside Shiro’s blood.

“War is coming.”

Shiro narrows his gaze. “It’s already here.”

[rubyneko]

Art by  haqiaaaa

Posted with Permission (reprint/edit and/or commercial use prohibited)

[rubyneko]

Shiro and Keith always gave me a warm sense of familiarity, like old friends who haven't seen each other in a while and suddenly find they've become more to each other than they ever meant to be. Their edges meet differently now, but not in a bad way, and it's new and sweet and a little scary because they're terrified of messing it up but it's better than they ever thought it could be and they aren't sure they deserve it because they each think the other is so amazing and deserves so much and—

[rubyneko]

[rubyneko]

I know I talk about being old and tired, but tumblr is trying it’s fucking hardest to sell me luxury SUV’s and chairlifts and jesus fuck. I’m not *that* old.

[rubyneko]

Reminder: Bi Visibility Day is September 23. Remember to leave cookies out for Freddie.

[rubyneko]

god how do people just function?!? its like i can either take care of my schoolwork OR keep my apartment clean OR look after my mental health OR have a social life… but never two or more at a time. no matter which aspect of my life is going well at a given moment, theres always 3 dumpster fires blazing away in the background. i feel like im playing adult whack-a-mole

[rubyneko]

ppl don’t understand adhd/autistic cleaning processes. we think so far ahead it’s like,,, impossible to do shit. you want me to vaccuum my bedroom floor? okay. we need to pick up all the stuff thats on it first, though. and where are we going to put the stuff? well, theres a couple categories of Stuff- Clothes, Random Items, and Trash. Trash is easy, we just throw it away. Clothes have to be sorted into Clean, Not Clean- and then the not clean ones have to go in the laundry bag, but theres so many so i might have to start a load now- ugh, distracted. lets go back to the clean clothes. well, these go in my drawer but- my drawer is really disorganized, so i’ll have to organize the clothes first so that theyll fit and look neat. by the time i’m done with that, i’ve spent an hour and a half trying to do stuff in my room. i finally turn to random items, most of which can find a home on my desk, but others i dont really know what to do with. plus, my desk is dirty. so i have to organize my desk, figure out where everything goes, and the stuff that doesn’t have a place can go in… a box, i guess. (not like i don’t have three other boxes full of random stuff in my closet)  so i put all the items back up but now i have this box full of stuff i dont know if i need so i have to go through it, sorting it into donate and dont donate piles. i might as well throw in some clothes to, so i dig through my clothes drawer and get the clothes i dont want, throw them in there too. okay, back to the random items- the ones i dont want to donate are still here, so i have to put them somewhere. i dont have anywhere to put them- maybe i should get a shelf? i start googling shelves, figuring out which ones would be best for my room, debating prices, learning about installation, and eventually im like ‘well, already on my computer’ and i decide im going to ‘check’ social media and end up lost in it for an hour or so. you walk back in, and theres stuff all over the floor, albeit in bags and boxes, and it still hasnt been vacuumed. its been five hours since i started. how does it take five hours to clean your room? it just does. 

[rubyneko]

Imagine an alien sharing a cool human fact they just learned like ”hey guys did you know that the silvery markings on humans actually aren’t true stripes? They’re called stretch marks, they happen when the human is growing fast enough to actually outgrow their skin, which is apparently something that just fucking happens to almost all of them at some point of their life.”

and another one is like ”wait so you’re saying humans don’t have stripes.”

”actually they do, but the stripes are invisible. There’s genetic code that’d give them stripes but they’re just the same colour as the rest of the skin. So the visible stripes are not real stripes and the real stripes are invisible.”

”I swear if you tell me one more weird human thing today I’m beating your ass.”

[rubyneko]

Thematically speaking, the most important thing Terry Pratchett taught me was the concept of militant decency. The idea that you can look at the world and its flaws and its injustices and its cruelties and get deeply, intensely angry, and that you can turn that into energy for doing the right thing and making the world a better place. He taught me that the anger itself is not the part I should be fighting. Nobody in my life ever said that before.

[rubyneko]

i know a lot ot us have that "what if i'm actually annoying" fear, and while i COULD self-soothe with affirmations like "i'm not annoying, it's okay" i prefer "it is my human right to be annoying and cringe"