#stakarby

[archaeval]

Four ships for Ruby! Featuring characters from @messymusehub @cosmicnexus @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins and @mageshot

[reedraws]

@shannonsketches pat-a-pat-a-pat-a-pat

[archaeval]

Henlo miss ruby how is your hansum starship husband

ask about your muses || accepting || @messymusehub

“THERE ARE PLANETS MADE OF FIRE,” she answers with a rare, wistful grin reserved only for those quiet moments of stargazing, watching the cosmos move past at unbelievable speeds, yet appearing so slow as to be stationary. “Planets where it rains diamonds, and black holes so dense that galaxies circle them for eternity. There are clouds the size of solar systems made up of ethyl alcohol, and there are flowers.” 

Her voice nearly breaks at the beauty of it all. Here in her crystal-and-steel fortress in the middle of the stars, Ruby is so far from everything she knows. Rooms and floors and wings of memory banks don’t compare to the real thing. She’s sure of it. She yearns for it. “There is so much beauty. There is so much.” 

“He is bringing it to me, slowly. He brings me gifts from places I will never go. Books, music, flowers...” She looks out the glass window, across the miles to her arboretum, a small, verdant room amongst all the metal. “He brings me flowers. What else is there to say?”

[archaeval]

@messymusehub​ for stakar

STARS DRIFT SLOWLY AROUND THE STATION, changing slowly over the eons. She’s been here almost as long as the ships have, with their shimmering solar sails, their elegant radiation-shielded design. The station mistress herself, half-bionic with those extra brass arms hidden under her coat, was as much a part of this place as the pneumatic tubes, sending packages and schedules around the different floors, or out into the cosmos with their tiny boosters, rocketing away to distant stars. It was slow going, but one couldn’t deny the charm of a hand-written letter delivered to your doorstep.

She missed nothing -- not even a star ship docking on the back end of the station without so much as a by-your-leave. If she didn’t know better, she would guess that someone was trying to sneak in.

Her heels clicked, bustle skirts hissing as she crossed the shining floors, down to the dock where the ship stood proud, the crew slowly unloading themselves. There were pubs and shops aplenty at her station, but Ruby had no interest in letting ruffians wander about like they own the place. “Evening,” she said, approaching the man who looked the most in charge. “I wasn’t told there’d be anyone coming in today.” Polite as she sounded, her expression made clear that this was a scolding.

There were no shirking the rules here. Spots had to be reserved at least five minutes before docking, and there was to be no illicit trading within a lightyear of the station. They looked the type who would need the reminder, she thought unkindly, but Ruby had never been known to be kind. “I’ll be needing a name, please.”

[intoxicatiing]

@sidusimmussilus​ (is the best) sent:  23. our muses take a warm bath together

Nonverbal love || Still accepting ofc

It was getting cold again, as autumn drifted slowly into winter. It hadn’t snowed heavily yet, but you were a fool to go outside without three layers or more. Steam fogged up the windows above them, blocking out the world beyond as Ruby pulled the robe from her shoulders and slipped into the water besides Stakar. He might have rinsed off already, but she wasn’t about to let him go that easily.

Plus, her skin was cold to the touch. Ruby laughed openly when he hissed at the unexpected contact, but made up for it by kissing his neck and ear, all but draping herself over his shoulders, unable to stop from chuckling, even as her hands moved across his body. “It’s a little cold out,” she muttered, lips at the nape of his neck.

“No kidding.”

She laughed again, and leaned back just enough to reach for the body wash with one hand, the other still on his chest. The tub itself was large enough for them to comfortably sit together, but Ruby didn’t care much for all that extra space. As soon as she had a bit of soap in her palm, she tangled herself around Stakar all over again. 

“You stink.” He didn’t. The corners of her mouth crept up into a ridiculous grin, trying and failing to suppress a giggle. “You’re a dirty, dirty man, and you need -- you need to -- “ There was no helping it. She fell into laughter, hiding her face against Stakar’s shoulders, leaving the sentence unfinished. He probably got the idea without it.