#Super Gauntlet Ruby

[dabblersofnonsense]

Aya and Terra having a quiet moment. <3

I've fallen hard for these two and the shipping has been a theme all run. Somewhat solidified when they traded Clampearl to each other so they could use a Huntail and Gorebyss respectively on their teams. I've a lot of thoughts on them, but I'm so happy how this turned out.

[storylocke]

FINALLY got the motivation to start editing again, and with that, the real story can finally begin! After one last silly lore point that came up in Lorecord gets cemented. This is gonna be fun.

Kofi

[krizste]

[loremon-notebook]

[divinityunleashed]

BGM: Gary Jules - Mad World

Mother's Day. A day for happiness, right? To celebrate their mother's existence and to remind them that they're special and cared for. Parties, music, food, all that occurred with everyone else.

But not for Ruby. Not in this moment. No.

She spent the day mentally preparing herself for her journey. Without telling any of her Beacon friends, without telling her teammates; not even her own sister, as she made her trek to the one place she never enjoyed going to as much as she should of.

The resting place of her own mother; Summer Rose.

With a red rose in her hand, she laid it in front of the Tombstone and knelt, beginning to speak with weakened speech.

"H-Hi mom..."

"I hope you're doing okay, you know, up in Heaven... Or, wherever the place is in those stories I used to read when I was a kid..

I made a lot of friends over the past few days. Some powerful armored girls who ruled over nations peacefully. Really awe inspiring! A-And there's this one girl who really loved guns, and I mean really loved guns! She showed me so many things to upgrade Crescent Rose with! And another, she taught me about Shield Generators and Recoil Dampener Gauntlets! It was super cool!

...

I wish you were still here... They would of loved to meet you..

I told stories. About how cool and awesome you were, from what Uncle Qrow would tell me. Y-You were the only real reason I wanted to become a Huntress... So I could be out there, as cool as you, and help others, like you did.."

Then the tears started, as her voice rapidly dropped into sobs and cry-talk. Droplets emerged from her tear ducts and dropped onto the grave, coating the singular rose's petals and lips.

"It's... not... fair... Another day without you in it..."

Now she couldn't even speak.

Only tears and soft crying emerged from the Little Red Riding Huntress.

As she wrapped one of her arms over her eyes to try to compose herself.

But it didn't work. It was only a safety mechanism to try to shield her from the immence mental pain she was going through.

"I'm fine... Really... I have my sister, I have my team... and all my friends and new friends..

"And I vow to be the best Huntress I can be. For you, m-mom... H-appy Mother's Day... And... And... A-And...

I hope that wherever you are...

However you are...

That...

You're watching over me.

In this cruel world... That I must learn to protect.

You can count on me, mom. I'll do my best. Because...

That's all anyone can ever ask of me."

[baronstopfan]

My Super 4 headcanons

Ruby swears a lot

Twinkle when mad swears too, bipolar

Gene takes antidepressants because it's a common fact the more intellect you are the more unhappy you are

Rypans vision is getting worse but he tries his best to hide the fact he's getting blinder in fear of being demoted or cast out from Barons castle,he does not know what to do with his life if he has no person to follow and obey(his grey eye is a result of aging or an eye injury, his vision is blurry in one eye already if I'm right in it being cataracts)

Baron is a red wine addict,drinking whenever he fails or is in a bad mood (I've seen loads of wine gauntlets in his castle hence this)

Sharkbeard would smoke cigars for sure, drink, swear

The rest, eh I'll think of that later maybe

[howlingday]

If you could pick an Eggman mech for team Rwby to fight what would it be?

Im gonna be basic and say the Egg Dragoon.

Not a bad choice, but I've got a different mech in mind for this fight.

--------------------------------------------------

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen~!"

"Huh?" Ruby looked to the hulking mech standing at the end of the street. It stood about as tall as some of the buildings, with one "hand" holding a massive shield the size of a bullhead while the other held a gigantic lance that seemed to be glowing with an orange light. The voice seemed to be coming from inside round-bodied machine.

"I've come to make an announcement! I am Dr. Eggman, and having arrived in this strange, new world, I have decided to expand the genius of my Eggman Empire to your world! Oho?" Team RWBY began their charge towards the now cackling man inside the machine. "So, please, do enjoy the show as I make an example of anyone who thinks they can stop me!" With a flick of a switch, missiles began launching towards the girls. "Get a load of this~!"

Blake hopped from one missile to the other before tying her ribbon around one and redirected it towards the machine. In response, it raised its shield to protect itself. With a grin, the madman launched his lance forward towards Blake, only to be knocked off-course by a yellow blur.

"What?!"

"Yang!" Blake called as she tossed her weapon to her partner. The yellow brawler caught it mid-air and used her shot-gauntlet to spin herself. Enough momentum was built to launch Blake closer to the mech.

"Too slow!" The mech leapt away with surprising speed, then swung its lance with a wide slash. Dr. Eggman led out a maniacal chortle as he watched the girl split in half... only to look closer in bewildered confusion as she was fine on the ground and an ice sculpture shattered in two places around her. "Great... Another super-powered animal who thinks they can play hero. I'll just take care of them from the air and- Huh?!" The mech attempted to lift into the air, only to be held fast to the ground by what looked like an iceberg around its leg. "Blasted ice... Full power to the left leg!"

The Egg Emperor took to the sky, ready to unleash another barrage of missiles on these four annoyances. Wait... There were only three on the ground. Where did-

Thoom! Thoom! Thoom! Skritch!

Ruby wasted no time after launch to dig her scythe into the hull of the mech, after firing with a few good shots, of course. Eggman turned the mech around to see the silver-eyed huntress looking at him with a scowling brow mixed with... no... She had that SAME cocky grin his nemesis had. Could he not escape that menace even so far away from home?!

"Curse you!" Backing away, the Egg Emperor launched everything it had at the little, red nuisance; lasers, missiles, its lance, and yet she still pursued in a shower of rose petals. With a spiraling motion, Ruby slipped under Eggman's guard and severed his shield arm. "Big mistake!"

Turning around mid-flight, it fired another barrage at Ruby, this time using homing missiles. As she fled, Weiss helped launch Blake and Yang to the mech. It attempted to swing its lance, but was held in place by some kind of magic... shaped like a snowflake. Blake and Yang began performing a spinning attack with Blake at the center and Yang as the pendulum force, driving deeper and deeper dents into the mechs hull.

Another retreat. He hated to be on the backfoot, but Eggman should have known that conquering a new world like this wouldn't be so easy, Sonic or no Sonic. And unfortunately, this world DID have a Sonic, who was screaming her way towards him... with all his missiles behind her. A classic maneuver, Ruby jumped away to safety, each missile colliding into the Egg Emperor's unprotected chest.

"Did... Did we get him?" Ruby panted, hands on her knees.

"Who was that guy?" Weiss asked.

"He said he wasn't from this world."

"Who cares who he is?" Yang called as she climbed up to the open chest cavity. "All that matters is that he's- WHOA!"

The blonde brawler was sent falling backwards as a bobbing balloon head bounced back and forth before the banded heroes. The balloon in question looked like a ball with half the face as a wicked smile, the other half a bald head, and a sharp, orange mustache and two, small blue glasses atop a pink triangular nose separating the two.

"Is that... him?" Ruby stepped closer, poking the ball with Crescent Rose.

"Did we just get duped?" Yang asked, rubbing her head.

"It's a decoy." Blake looked inside, past the spring. "There's nobody else in here."

"So, it was controlled remotely?" Weiss asked. "Then the controller must have been nearby. And probably long gone by now, too."

"Aw... And you were almost breaking a sweat, too." Yang teased.

"Oh, be quiet, Xiao Long!"

"Guys, let's not fight~!" Ruby whined.

--------------------------------------------------

"I knew I should have used the fully refurbished version." Dr. Eggman grimaced at his console. "I beat even the Egg-Mobile would have been more than enough to handle them." A grin spilt his face. "Of course, this was just a test run. Once I get my lab up and running here, I'll make those little girls regret ever thinking they could stop the brillian genius of Eggman! OHOHOHOHOHOHOHO~!"

[oceandirtcountry]

here’s a few thoughts I’ve had drifting around my head on @destiny-in-the-universe’s Project:Zero

Smack dab in the centre of every hero district is the Main hub (Zero Hub?), a place where everyone can go. It’s usually where evacuations happen, where troops are mobilised to handle threats the heroes are a tad bit lazy to go handle, and others, because god knows those residents need a respite from whatever our heroes are gonna pull.

Resident guides in the hub:

- Miko Kubota and Hector Nieves, AKA Miko and Five. Zero hub’s amazing (not really) tech support, they’re well-versed in all tech from many districts, and help their boss (Phil) to run the VR simulations system that allows troops to train, although its a bit…glitchy (eh? Eh?)

-Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher. Child prodigies who have built tons of useful stuff for the hub, although some of their ideas tend to be…comically overblown.

Zero agents, tasked with enforcing law and keeping peace, also ensuring that the heroes don’t go rogue, basically replace the Plumbers, Providence, Huntsmen, whatever super military that the show in question has. The most well-known is the high-ranking unit known as Kim Possible, who has pulled off some crazy missions in her time. She’s crowned as the resident “hero” of the Hub.

Resident hero of district 4, AKA Danville: Agent P, or as he’s more well known…PERRY THE PLATYPUS?! Perry is a literal platypus, but that takes away nothing from his heroics. He’s saved countless citizens in danger due to his ability to pull off disguise missions and infiltrations that other heroes would be too afraid (or too loud and screamy) to pull off. Probably the most little-known as he’s often parading around as a normal old platypus.

Resident hero of district 3, AKA the Providence science headquarters: Rex Salazar, or his other name, Generator Rex. Rex’s district is relatively tame and more of a science facility, but when shit goes down in that canyon, shit goes down. Rex is adaptable, quick on his feet, and has a far less privileged life than the other heroes…and tends to be a little spiteful towards them for it.

After a little team-up with the hero of district 10, the two become much closer together and begin helping to form the Zero squadron.

Resident hero of district 10 (he called dibs on that district) AKA Bellwood: Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, famously known as Ben 10. Ben takes great pride in protecting his own district, although he does end up with the most collateral damage at the end of the day. Bellwood is also a hotspot for alien invasions and the like, which may be partly because of their hero.

Resident hero(es) of district 9, AKA Vale: Ruby Rose, leader of team RWBY. Vale is far more technologically advanced than most of the other districts, and they do flaunt it to everyone. Every single person here boasts hyper-technologically advanced weaponry, save for that funny little blonde lady with kaboom gauntlets that make her punch hard. Being a relatively large district, it’s often plagued by dark, murderous creatures known as Grimm, seeming to be controlled by an underground source.

(For Randy and Danny, I figure I’ll let others take the lead on those, because while I’ve watched them, I’m not entirely super well-versed [ive watched little Danny Phantom, a ton Randy Cunningham] so it’s up to you guys. It’s just some ideas on how it works, but it’s pretty exciting!)

[candycryptids]

Day 4 of Glamtober - Aldenard ! Full Glamtober Promptlist [Here] There's a lot of Glam this time so it's under the cut ! Along with a full body of the Elezen Merchant+ some bonuses :) Also, Keathan belongs to @dustedbooksandreadingnooks When Tuesday first arrived in Ishgard- it was in a crate! Keathan had to power him on for the first time... and then ask him one of many firsts; would you like to change clothes? He agrees; not because the Maid Dress is uncomfortable or particularly embarrassing, but because he stands out among most Ishgardians dressed as he is, and a nice coat would protect his core and joints from locking up in the cold :) Keathan has to help him a bunch with getting dressed and undressed- his fingers aren't very dextrous and the clasps and buckles of Ishgardian clothing prove to be a challenge....

Keathan is wearing- White Beret- Salmon Pink Heirloom Tunic Of Healing- Pastel Blue No.2 Type B Gloves- Salmon Pink Ruby Cotton Sarouel- Pastel Blue Wayfarer's Boots- Currant Purple/Pastel Blue Tuesday part 1 is wearing- Housemaid's Brim Housemaid's Apron Dress- Cream Yellow Sky Pirate's Gauntlets of Maiming- Snow White Housemaid's Bloomers Housemaid's Pumps Emerald Carbuncle Earring Tuesday part 2 is wearing- Highland Hood- Ink Blue/Ash Grey Seigneur's Jerkin- Ink Blue/Vanilla Yellow Hraesvelgr Gloves- Sylph Green High House Breeches Wolfliege Thighboots- Soot Black Fashionable Elezen Merchant is wearing- Alpine Coat- Rhotano Blue Roseblood gloves Gleaners Breeches Ishgardian Thighboots- Charcoal Grey aetheryte earring

She was hastily put together because I was having trouble posing the actual npc behind the counter. She’s real cute though I like her :) I like to think she wants to make her clothes a city-wide household name, but that’s about as far as my brain-train got. Here’s those extra bonuses I promised!

Tuesday is so super handsome and cute I just want to shake him around like a Mii. Shader is Neneko [Vanilla Natural [Gameplay]]

Notable Mods are Hrothgar And Viera Hats [Heliosphere] [NexusMods] I had to do a tiny bit of colorset editing on the Hat specifically because the ears part of the Highland Hood were not linked to the second dye, so I matched them to the grey instead of being firetruck red like it was originally ^^; Other than that, Tuesday is near totally vanilla! (I have some bunny teeth in for him but you can't really see them!)

[halsins-herbal-underpants]

A Defiant Garden | Chapter 9

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘵��𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺

Overview: When Lord Enver Gortash claims a bastard-born nobleman's son (Kade'solyn Southersby) as payment for his father's debts, he expects a pliant pawn: in public, a pretty face for a loveless marriage to improve his image, in private, his own personal political weapon to wield. A protege forged by his own hands. But Kade is not at all what Enver expects: half-drow outcast, idealistic revolutionary, scarred by years of neglect, he carries a spark of fragile defiance Gortash can't seem to drown -- nor resist. Their relationship becomes a battle of wills and reluctant fascination as Kade learns to navigate the manipulative world of Baldurian politics under Gortash's cruel tutelage.Yet even as he's forced to play the game, he refuses to surrender his conscience -- or his belief that the man who once saved him might be worth saving, himself.

Pairing: Gortash x Male half-drow OC (Kade'soyln Southersby) Genre: slow-burn Gothic Romance pre-canon AU

CW: May/December relationship, major character death, referenced child abuse/neglect, dub-con, non-con groping

This has been a rough couple of weeks, I apologize for this coming out so late, but I'm back on track, in a better place mentally and super extra excited to get the next couple of chapters out because we're coming up to a big emotional beat soon and IT'S GOING TO BE SO PAINFUL AWESOME. Thanks to everyone for reading so far and enjoying! The messages I've gotten have been really helpful in keeping me going <3

PS - As a side note, let me know if there's a tag you'd like me to use to track this or anything like that!

Story updates every Monday! usually :p

In this chapter: Gortash is strongly urged by his dragonborn partner into searching for the final Netherstone in earnest, his stalling no longer tolerated. He attends an event with Kade that serves as both gala and trade negotiation for a piece of the puzzle to its location. Kade, chafing at the box Gortash's machinations have put him in, goes to the gala more himself than ever before--and is seen as provocateur to the more traditional nobility of the Gate. Unfortunately the scandal risks Gortash's plans and he throws Kade under the proverbial bus for his goals. Hurt and betrayed, Kade is swept away by a rival for Gortash's affections (and influence), causing the first true rift between them.

Read on Ao3! or Start at the beginning!

< Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 >

Chapter 9: The Strategy of Audacity

The air in the underground chamber—Gortash’s laboratory—beneath Wyrm’s Rock was thick with the scent of blood and something darker, something that tasted of ozone and metal, sharp and caustic. The Crown of Karsus, freed from its cage, hovered above a plinth in the middle of the room, suspended in a sphere of crackling violet-black energy—its jagged edges pulsing like a spastic heartbeat.

Gortash stood before it, his palms upturned, the Netherstones embedded in his gauntlets—compliment of Durge’s expeditions—glowing with a feverish, unstable light. Sweat beaded at his temples, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached.

Control it.

That was the heart of it, wasn’t it? A Banite’s strength was will, honed sharper than any blade. And Gortash had clawed his way from the Hells to the heights of Baldur’s Gate on will alone.

But the Crown laughed at will.

It slithered through his mind like smoke, whispering in a language that was half muttered words, half hiss like a swarm of insects. Images flickered behind his eyes—cities crumbling, gods weeping, power—so much power it burned like a star in his chest.

"Focus," Durge growled from the shadows, his scaled arms crossed over his chest. The dragonborn’s ruby eyes gleamed with something between impatience and hunger. "The stones by themselves are not enough. You have to push harder."

Gortash snarled, his fingers twitching as he forced the Crown’s energy to bend. The stones flared—

—and the Crown bit back.

A searing pain lanced through his skull, white-hot and vicious. The veins in his arms darkened, spiderwebbing up toward his elbows like ink spilled under his skin. The same cursed markings that had infamously claimed that disappeared mage in Waterdeep—the price of a god’s power, etched into flesh.

"Enver—!"

Durge was moving before the warning fully left his mouth, his massive frame slamming into Gortash and wrenching him back. The connection shattered, the Crown’s energy recoiling with a shriek that rattled the tools on the walls.

Gortash stumbled, his vision swimming, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He lifted a trembling hand—the markings were fading, but not fast enough.

Too close.

Durge’s grip on his shoulder was bruising. "You fool," he hissed, his breath reeking of rancid marrow. "You think your will alone can tame a god’s relic, now? You’re still too distracted."

Gortash wrenched free, his voice hoarse. "I am not—"

"Bullshit." Durge’s lip curled, revealing a flash of fang. "You’re thinking of him. That pretty little half-blood who’s turned your spine to water. The Crown knows weakness. It feeds on it."

Gortash’s fist connected with Durge’s jaw before he could stop himself. The dragonborn barely flinched, his laughter a low, grating sound.

"Prove me wrong, then," Durge taunted, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, so dark it looked black. "But we both know the truth. You need the third stone. We need it."

The words hung between them, unavoidable.

Gortash flexed his fingers, the ghost of the Crown’s hunger still coiled in his bones.

Durge was right.

And that was the worst part.

The quill snapped between Gortash’s fingers, ink splattering across the parchment like blood from a knife wound. He exhaled sharply through his nose, tossing the ruined quill aside before pressing his palms flat against his forehead, massaging the migraine that was pounding. His hands trembled—just slightly, but enough to make his skin crawl. The ghost of the Crown’s corruption still slithered beneath his flesh, a phantom ache that no amount of clenched fists could dispel.

Pathetic.

He flexed his fingers, watching the tendons shift under his skin. No visible marks remained, but the memory of those inky tendrils creeping up his arms clung like a leech. A cleric’s touch would ease the lingering blight, but admitting weakness—even to a paid servant—rankled.

A shadow loomed behind him, silent as a grave.

“Drink.”

A pewter cup slid into his periphery, water sloshing against its rim. Durge’s clawed fingers lingered for a heartbeat too long before withdrawing.

Gortash didn’t reach for it. “You pulled me away,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

Durge’s answering chuckle was a low, grating sound. “Would you prefer I let the Crown carve its curse into your bones?”

Gortash finally turned to look at him. The dragonborn’s massive frame blocked the torchlight, casting his face in jagged shadows. His red eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite concern—more like curiosity, the way a butcher might study a stubborn cut of meat.

“I had it under control,” Gortash lied.

Durge snorted. “You had nothing.” He leaned against the table, the wood groaning under his weight. “But you’re welcome.”

The word hung between them, absurd and unfamiliar. Welcome. As if gratitude had ever been currency between them.

Gortash eyed the water again. His throat was parched.

Slowly, he took the cup.

Durge snickered as Gortash eyed the cup with wary suspicion. "It's just water," he rumbled, shaking his head. "Didn't even spit in it. Though the thought crossed my mind."

He pushed himself up from the table, the wood groaning in relief as his weight left it, and leaned back against the stone wall instead, arms crossing. The torchlight painted his scaled face in flickering gold and shadow, catching the old scars that mapped a lifetime of violence across his features.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of Gortash's measured breathing and the distant drip of water from some far-off crack in the dungeon walls. Then—

"I don't hate you, you know," Durge said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Gortash's fingers stilled around the cup.

Durge wasn't looking at him, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the dark. "I’m annoyed at you, frustrated. Angry. Pissed.” He flexed his fingers tightly and then relaxed. “But I don’t hate you. I miss you," he admitted, the words rough, as if dragged from somewhere deep and rarely visited. "What we had."

A pause. Then a rueful laugh, more breath than sound. "Guess that ship's sailed, though."

He finally turned his head, slit-pupiled eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You're domesticated now." The word was laced with amusement, but something softer, something almost mournful, lingered beneath it. "We're both older, sure. But Enver—"

The way he said his name, like it was something precious and ruined all at once, made Gortash's chest tighten.

"I remember you," Durge continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The way we ran this shithole together. The way you craved our chaos. Doing what you wanted, when you wanted. Wild and free and mine."

His gaze raked over Gortash now, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands—once so sure, so ruthless—trembled ever so slightly against the cup.

He turned his head away. "Now you just look tired."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with truth.

Gortash said nothing.

But the water, when he finally drank it, tasted bitter on the tongue.

Gortash set the cup down slowly, the metal clink echoing in the quiet chamber. He studied Durge—really studied him—the way the torchlight caught the ridges of his scales, the way his massive arms crossed over his chest like armor. He wasn’t just nostalgic. He was testing him.

"We had something," Gortash admitted, his voice low. "But that was before the Crown. Before all of this." He gestured vaguely to the schematics, the prison holding the artifact, the invisible weight of godhood hanging over them. "You think I’ve gone soft. Maybe I have. But don’t mistake calculation for weakness."

Durge’s lip curled, but he didn’t interrupt.

Gortash leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I’m not the same man I was. Neither are you. We’re both older. Smarter. Or we should be." He held Durge’s gaze. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t still get what we want. Together."

A beat. Durge snorted and shifted, leaning on his shoulder and hip, facing the man. "And what is it you want, Enver? Really?"

Power. Control. Freedom. The answers came easily, reflexively. But beneath them, quieter, something else stirred.

Him.

The thought was treasonous.

Gortash ignored it. "The Crown. The city. Everything we’ve ever worked for." He paused, then added, deliberately, "And I don’t intend to let anything stand in the way of that."

Durge watched him for a long moment, then chuckled—dark, amused. "Fine. We’ll do it your way. For now." He pushed off the wall, looming over the table. "But if your little pet proves you wrong—" His voice dropped, a promise and a threat woven together. "—I won’t wait for you to come to your senses."

Gortash didn’t flinch. "Understood."

Durge smirked, then turned to leave. At the door, he glanced back. "For what it’s worth? I liked you better when you were selfish."

Then he was gone, his footsteps fading into the dark.

Gortash exhaled, rubbing his temples.

So did I.

“The carriage arrived only five minutes ago, my lord. There’s still time.”

Jhorin, Gortash’s elderly elven steward, finished straightening the man’s collar and then stepped back to give his longtime employer a shallow bow. “The young Master was informed of the importance of tonight’s event, as you requested. He’ll be down shortly, I’m sure.”

Gortash stood near the obsidian-inlaid front doors, fingers drumming against the hilt of his ceremonial dagger impatiently, already mentally tallying which trade ministers needed flattery and which required threats. The air hummed with the bass thrum of the lower forges—a sound as familiar as Gortash’s own heartbeat. Tonight, it grated; he was  on edge more than usual. He flicked a piece of lint from the cuff of his embroidered sleeve and grimaced.

“He’d better be. The Amnian delegation won’t wait forever, and we need those routes.” 

His thoughts churned. And I need that map. The third stone’s location can't be deciphered from any of my research, but if this map the Amnians offered leads to the rumored last journal of Karsus himself—

Then, a soft rustle, like unfurling silk, from the grand staircase.

Gortash looked up and time stuttered to a halt.

Kade stood at the top of the stairs; a vision conjured from the night sky itself. He was wearing, of all things, a dress—no, not just a dress—a gown. This wasn’t the subtle, covering drape of the courtly floor-length coats he favored, nor the severe tailoring Gortash often demanded. This was an open challenge, a declaration of himself to the world.

Crafted from layers of iridescent, twilight-blue moonlace silk, the gown shimmered with every subtle shift, catching the candle flames in glimmering sapphire and emerald and gold. The knuckle-length sleeves fell daringly off both shoulders, baring the elegant lines of Kade’s collarbones and the smooth, smoke-grey plane of his upper chest. The bodice was tightly corseted, cinching a waist Gortash could almost span with his hands, accentuating the subtle flare of Kade’s hips before the skirt cascaded in gauzy folds to the floor. Crystalline gems scattered across the bodice and skirt, glittering like a captured constellation over the delicate, translucent material.

His moon-pale hair, usually tied back, was loosely curled and tumbled over his shoulders like a silvery waterfall. A sweep of them fell across his forehead and cheekbone to frame his face, which was luminous with a nervous, defiant kind of joy.

At his throat, a simple black velvet ribbon dangled a pendant made from a single, perfect moonlace petal preserved in a crystal shard.

Kade descended slowly, the silk whispering against the marble, revealing a glimpse of silver strappy heels with every step—shoes made for dancing. Each step was deliberate, almost regal, transforming the descent into a performance. The candlelight loved him, dancing over the planes of his face, the curve of his shoulder, the shimmering fabric that seemed alive.

He looked…incandescent. Ethereal. Unbearably, dangerously beautiful.

Gortash felt the air leave his lungs. A familiar, possessive heat coiled low in his belly, warring instantly with a cold, sharp spike of irritation. His gaze raked over Kade with a hunger that felt more animal then human, lingering on the exposed curve of his collarbones, the delicate dip of his waist, the way the fabric clung to his hips.

For a moment, Kade breath stuttered to see the raw, unchecked want in those dark eyes—before it shuttered behind something harder, more judgemental. 

"You look..." Gortash’s paused, the words bitten off as if they pained him. He moved closer as Kade descended the last step with a click of silver heels, gloved fingers twitching at his sides. "Must you wear that?" 

Kade tilted his chin up, meeting his stare boldly. "Yes."

He smoothed the shimmering fabric over his hips, a gesture both self-conscious and proud. A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips and he stepped into a twirl, letting the skirts flare. "You don’t like it?"

A muscle twitched in Gortash’s jaw as it tightened. "I didn’t say that.”

He knew this joy, he did. Kade dressed like this more and more often these days, a reclamation of beauty denied for so long in the grey, loveless attic of his childhood. He did it to feel powerful, to feel seen—to feel like Kade. Gortash knew that fierce heart craved beauty not as vanity, but as oxygen.

Gortash also knew, with a frustrating certainty that made his eyes narrow, Kade did it because the boy was aware—keenly aware—of how much it affected him. How the sight of Kade in silk and silver stole the tyrant’s breath and made his blood sing. He pushed down his misgivings and tried again.

“You look…” He cleared his throat, the sound loud in the tense quiet of the foyer. Jhorin, Gortash’s ever-present shadow, had melted discreetly into the archway leading to the servants' quarters, pretending not to exist. "…Radiant, Kade. Truly."

A faint, genuine smile touched Kade’s lips, relief momentarily eclipsing the defiance. "Thank you, Enver."

Gortash held out his arm, Kade taking it with a grin. As he led the boy to the awaiting carriage, Gortash leaned down, his breath a warm counterpoint to the cool breeze from the doorway, his lips brushing the delicate shell of Kade’s ear. His voice was a low, velvet rasp, a secret shared only with the moonlight and the silk.

"You're beautiful tonight, rabbit. So beautiful it steals the reason from my mind and makes me want to lock every door and keep you here—shimmering just for me."

Kade didn’t have a chance to respond before he was already being helped into the carriage, but the flush over his cheeks and neck, the memory of those whispered words, warmed his skin well enough in the chill night air. He also couldn’t help note the glances Gortash kept flicking his way, Kade greeting his gaze with a soft, secretive smile every time.

He almost received one back.

Sadly, the closer they drew to their destination, the more Gortash’s demeanor hardened. His gloves—black leather, not his usual gauntlets—flexed restlessly against his knee. His attire was immaculate tonight: a high-collared black velvet coat trimmed in gold, the Banite insignia a subtle clasp at his throat. Every inch the rising Archduke...and every inch on edge. He knew the two of them would draw every eye in the room, but tonight there was more than reputation at stake. He couldn't decide if was a blessing or curse.

The Grand Ballroom of the Azure Pearl Hotel glittered and gleamed, it vaulted ceilings dripping with crystal chandeliers that refracted a kaleidoscope of starlight across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Nobles in silks and jewels swirled in practiced orbits, their laughter a symphony of empty and deliberate charm.

Gortash inhaled sharply, his expression settling into the mask of the statesman and lord. He offered Kade his arm, the grip tighter than necessary when Kade took it; the boy didn’t complain, just squeezed Gortash's arm a little tighter in kind. “Try not to distract everyone.”

Kade forced his own mask into place: the beautiful, slightly enigmatic consort, radiating calm allure. His laugh was low, private.

“Only you, Enver.”

As they stepped into the ballroom it was then Gortash realized, with a warring thrill of irritation and begrudging pride—Kade was absolutely right.

He couldn’t keep his eyes away.

A hush rippled through the foyer as heads turned toward the grand staircase. Kade descended on Gortash’s arm like a vision plucked from a bard’s most indulgent ballad.

The silk of his gown caught the light, reflecting against the iridescent material like moonlight glittering over the sea, the thin fabric clinging to every curve before cascading into a pool of gauze that whispered against the steps. The soft white ringlets of his hair tumbled across his smokey shoulders, framing a face touched with just enough rouge to make the boy’s rosebud lips look sinfully plump. The corset sat scandalously low, baring the elegant, gentle slope of his chest and the delicate curve of collarbone, which before now—presumably—had only been bared before one man.

It felt like a particularly pointed unveiling; a provocation in silk.

Kade met every blatant stare, the ghost of a smirk playing at his glossed lips as he reached the bottom step. The scent of jasmine curled around him, a subtle but intoxicating perfume. 

“Do you think,” Kade murmured, leaning into Gortash’s side. “I meet their standards, my lord?” He sounded amused and Gortash noted he’d brought a folding fan to hide his smile; a common enough prop among nobility, not out of place—though Kade failed to fully conceal his smirking grin behind it. His eyes were simply sparkling with mischievous delight.

A muscle twitched in Gortash’s temple. He should reprimand him; should remind him that tonight was about business, not vanity or being a provocateur. But the way the candlelight caught the silver in Kade’s eyelashes, the way the gown’s train pooled around his heels like liquid rebellion—it left him momentarily unmoored. 

He forced his voice steady. “You meet mine. That’s enough. If anyone here has anything to say, you know how to handle it. And you will handle it.”

Kade adjusted his skirts, the silk whispering against his skin. “Of course.” The corner of his lip still twitched.

The ballroom’s air thickened with whispers, the rustle of satin and the clink of wine glasses underscored by the murmur of scandalized nobility. Kade moved through the crowd like an eel through water—smooth, effortless, leaving ripples in his wake.

The younger attendees from the University—poets and students and radicals with ink-stained fingers and borrowed finery, raised their glasses to him in sly salute, enchanted by how he made Gortash himself blink.

But the old guard of Baldur’s Gate did not blink. They glared. Elderly patriars muttered among themselves and matrons clutched their pearls as though his mere presence might unravel the threads of decorum holding their world together. 

Lady Fenyr’s fan snapped open with a sound like a dagger unsheathing. “Well. I suppose we must now endure theatrics with our gavotte,” she said, her voice syrupy with disdain as Kade stood behind her. 

Kade merely smiled, lifting a flute of champagne from a passing tray. “How fortunate, then, that the theater is my specialty.” He took a sip, letting the bubbles linger on his tongue before adding, “Though I’m sure your private salons are a far better performance, my lady; the hired entertainment is quite stimulating, I hear."

He leaned closer with a delicately poised hand on his chest, as if in sympathy. "Such a shame your husband has yet to attend but I suppose it can’t be helped; his monthly trip to Waterdeep always seems to fall upon the same week.”

Her fan stilled. Kade finished his champagne and handed her the glass with an indulgent smile, leaving her red-faced and mute.

Gortash watched the scene from the periphery, jaw clenched. He wanted to admonish Kade for his willfulness, but he also just...wanted. 

“A dress,” hissed Lady Estelline, her ancient powdered face puckered like a dried lemon slice. “In the Upper City! Has he no respect for tradition?” 

Her companion, a wiry councilman with a penchant for firewine, snorted. “Tradition? The boy’s half-drow. His existence here is already a provocation.” 

Gortash followed behind from the shadow of a marble column, a goblet of wine untouched in his hand. Kade moved like a pretty perfumed wolf among sheep, his smile a scalpel peeling back the layers of pretense around him.

A tiefling student even dared to press a folded pamphlet, a manifesto of her own, into his palm, her whispered "For the man who makes even tyrants stumble" lost to the crowd beneath the swell of the orchestra. He thanked her with a courtier’s grace before tucking the parchment into his bodice, the gesture deliberate, visible.

Godsdamn him.

Gortash’s knuckles whitened around his cup. Kade’s defiance was a masterstroke, yes—winning the radicals’ adoration while exposing the conservatives’ hypocrisy—but it was also a liability on this particular night..The Amnians, the ones he cared about impressing, were a mosaic of mercantile pragmatism and puritanical pride. Their reactions were much harder to predict. The delegation lingered near the champagne fountain, their stares flickering between intrigue and disdain. 

A meaty hand clapped his shoulder. “Your pet is making a fool of himself,” Lord Dren hissed, breath reeking of brandy. “Control him, or the Amnians will think you’ve gone soft.” 

Gortash’s fingers twitched toward the knife at his belt, an involuntary reaction. “Careful, Councillor. You’re not the one at the negotiation table tonight.” His gaze flicked to Kade, now charming a cluster of the Amnian merchants with a story about a counterfeiter selling a batch of fake silks to the Flaming Fist. “He’s doing precisely what I brought him here to do.” 

Dren snorted. “Playing dress-up?” 

“Making them look.” Gortash’s voice dropped to a  murmur. “While they’re staring at him, they’re not counting my cards.” Dren scoffed but left him be, joining the other scolds at the periphery to watch Kade and shake their heads.

Across the room, the boy laughed at something a silver-haired Amnian envoy said, gloved fingers brushing the man’s sleeve. The envoy’s cheeks flushed. 

Gortash’s stomach twisted. 

“Lord Gortash.” Councillor Rehni of Amn, the woman who’d arranged this meeting, materialized at his elbow, her voice clipped as a ledger. “Your protégé is…memorable tonight.” 

Gortash schooled his face into neutrality. “Kade’solyn understands the power of spectacle.” 

“Spectacle?” Rehni’s gaze tracked Kade as he charmed a blushing trade minister, his slender hand resting lightly on the man’s arm. “Some might call it recklessness. Your enemies will say you’ve lost control of your hound.”   

“And my allies will note that hounds who wear silk leashes are still leashed.” The lie slid smoothly off his tongue, but his pulse quickened, his fingers slowly curling into fists as Kade laughed, a bright, unguarded sound, at something the minister said. Lady Rehni glanced down at his tense hands and then smirked, eyes flicking back to Kade with a soft hum.

Leashed, indeed.

In time Kade excused himself politely from the delegation’s attentions and moved towards a little alcove near the terrace, taking just one moment of breath for himself. The game felt particularly exhausting tonight, a part of him desperately wishing he could just be Kade. Maybe even enjoy himself, make some friends…dance with a tyrant.

He felt a shadow fall over him from behind and turned, thoughts scattering. Lord Berthold, a relic from a family older than Baldur’s Gate’s walls, crowded him into the terrace doors, his face red.

“You mock us with this farce,” he spat, jowls trembling. “Your…attire insults every noble in this room.” 

Kade’s smile never wavered though his chest burned. He leaned in, the candlelight catching the sparkles in his gown and turning his face to a shadowed wraith.

“Oh, I assure you, my lord, the insult is exclusive.” He plucked a sugared violet from a passing tray and pressed it into Berthold’s sweating hand. “But do enjoy the canapés. They’re almost as delicate as your sensibilities.” 

The students nearby erupted into giggles. Berthold spluttered, face mottling, but Kade was already turning away—only to find Gortash blocking his path. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Gortash’s voice was low, dangerous. 

Kade lounged slowly against a pillar as he fanned himself with deliberate indolence.

"Immensely," Kade purred. "The Amnians adore me. Well, half of them do.” An amused smirk played at his lips. “The other half would sooner burn me at the stake, a pretty pyre for their righteous indignation. But I've got their attention; the most important part of the dance.”

Gortash’s gloved fingers twitched at his side, the leather creaking with suppressed tension. "This isn’t a game," he warned, though the words tasted like a lie even to him. 

Kade arched a slender brow, the silvered edge of his painted eyes accentuating the motion.

"It’s the only game. You taught me the rules yourself, Enver: dress to disarm, smile to disarmor. I’ve simply…expanded the arsenal." He gestured subtly with the fan towards the scandalized nobles and the captivated merchants then snapped the fan open, concealed grin full of pride.

"Observe the effect."

Gortash’s gaze, dark and simmering, traced the delicate arch of Kade’s throat where the crystal pendant rested against flushed skin—wine-warm, triumphant. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the excited flush that crawled downwards, disappearing into the silk bodice. He wanted to snarl at the boy, throttle the defiance out of him. Wanted to—

“Lord Gortash!” A booming voice shattered the moment. 

Halbazzer Lynth, Amn’s silver-tongued emissary, approached with a retinue of merchants in tow. Lynth’s gaze—cold as freshly minted gold—flickered over Kade, lingering on the scandalous drape of his gown and the daring cut of its neckline with a merchant’s keen appraisal for value.

Kade suppressed a shudder at the review; it made him feel counted like coin.

“Your companion," Lynth declared, stopping before them, his smile a thin veneer over ice, "is the singular spectacle of this otherwise predictable evening. A strategy of audacity. Or perhaps," his gaze flickered back to Gortash, "desperation?"

Gortash moved instinctively, his broad frame shielding Kade from view. “Baldur’s Gate values boldness, Master Lynth," he stated, his voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil beneath. "It is the steel in our spine."

"Indeed?" Lynth’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed to calculating slits. "And what of control, Lord? Steel implies discipline, order. Yet, the murmurs swirling through your own halls...they speak of softer influences. Your rivals whisper that this one—” he gestured dismissively, yet pointedly, towards Kade, “—dictates your policies from the shadows. That you’ve traded the cold certainty of steel for the treacherous allure of silk." A ripple of uncomfortable agreement passed through the Amnian retinue.

Kade bristled, the fan stilling. A spark of rebellion, bright and dangerous, ignited in his violet eyes. He made to step around Gortash, to meet the insult head-on with the sharp tongue the man himself had honed. But Gortash’s arm snapped out, barring his path. A silent command. No. 

The emissary’s smile deepened. "You must understand, my lord, Amn does not deal with uncertainty. We value strength. Predictability." His gaze slid meaningfully to Kade. "A man who cannot control his own court is hardly fit to control a trade agreement." 

Gortash didn’t look at Kade. His gaze remained fixed on Lynth, his expression hardening into something unreadable, glacial. The moment stretched, thick with anticipation—and then Gortash exhaled, slow and deliberate. When he next spoke, his voice was steel.

"You mistakenly claim indulgence shows weakness, Emissary. But if it is assurance you require—" He turned his back fully on his protégé, his next words a quiet, merciless dagger.

"—Then let it be known that my companion’s theatrics are his own. His choices do not reflect Baldur’s Gate’s interests. Nor mine.” His stubbled chin rose as he became the commanding politician.

“My commitment is to this city’s prosperity, secured through alliances of strength and mutual profit. Not," he added, a subtle, dismissal in his tone, "the caprices of courtly adornment."

Lynth’s smile didn’t waver. “Then prove it. The map you seek is mine to grant. But I will not treat with a man whose leash is held by a half-drow bastard in a dress.” 

The words hung in the air like a noose. Kade went very still. 

Gortash did not hesitate for even a heartbeat. “Kade is an asset,” he said coldly, “but he is not indispensable. If his presence offends you, consider him dismissed.” He didn’t look back.

"Aaah," Lynth purred like a contented panther fat after its meal. "Clarity, Lord Gortash; a most valuable commodity. Let us discuss specifics, away from the distraction."

The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the crackle of distant torches. Kade stood utterly still, the flush of triumph extinguished, replaced by a pallor that made his drow heritage, so reviled, even more starkly visible. The self-assured jewel in silk and starlight shrank until he was just Kade, a discarded boy left standing alone in a pretty gown.

Gortash didn’t even look back as the Amnians led him away, their voices already weaving the threads of profit and power. 

Later, as the oppressive weight of the gala still lingered and the ancient clock tower groaned out twelve sonorous, mournful chimes, Gortash found him at the terrace, a shadow drawn to a flame.

Moonlight, cold and unforgiving, bleached the flagstones bone-white. Kade stood at the balustrade, his gown pooling around him like spilled ink, his fingers curled around the railing as if he meant to tear it from its foundations. The wind toyed with the delicate fabric of his gown, tore at it, as if the night itself sought to unravel him. 

The vast sprawl of Baldur’s Gate lay before them, a thousand pinpricks of light–taverns, brothels, watchfires–flickering like false, mocking stars against the velvet dark. He didn’t turn as Gortash’s heavy footsteps approached, the sound echoing the lingering last chime. The silence between them was no longer charged with tension, but hollowed out by betrayal, as vast and cold as the chasm below.

“You humiliated Berthold,” Gortash said flatly, not knowing where or how to start. 

Kade sipped champagne, eyes averted as he stared at the view without seeing it. “He humiliates himself. I merely handed him the rope.”  He paused, and took another sip. “And the Amnians?”

“Halbazzer will recommend the trade accord. He thinks you’re my liability, but he’s too clever not see the writing on the wall.” He thought to say more, to admonish the boy, to discipline him for his outrageous behavior tonight, but every time he tried the words died in his throat at the memory of that radiant smile as Kade descended the manor stairs.

 “…Liability,” Kade repeated with a dry, bitter laugh. He stood quietly for a moment before he slowly poured the rest of the champagne over the edge of the terrace.

“Was it worth it?" He asked, his voice eerily calm. He did not turn. "Exchanging my humiliation for their compliance." 

Gortash’s jaw tightened. “The map is worth more than pride.” 

Who's pride??! Kade spun on him, his eyes burning with a fury that could have set the world alight. “You think this is about pride, Enver? You used me. Let them think I was nothing but a decoration, a bauble you parade for—for the nobility's amusement!” 

“You played your part too well,” Gortash snarled. “You knew what tonight required, and yet you flaunted yourself like a—” 

“Like a what?” Kade’s laugh was a shattered thing. “Why don’t you just say it?! Show me what you really believe!”

Gortash closed the distance between them, his shadow swallowing Kade’s, insulted by the accusation. “You risked everything! This arrogant game was your invention, not something I demanded.” 

“And you risked nothing,” Kade spat, his anger bleeding into something smaller, sadder, “as always, when it comes to me.” He swallowed thickly. “Maybe you’re right though. Maybe I wanted to play my own game for once. Be something other than whatever new creature of yours they decide I am.”

Kade’s voice softened, hollowed and pained as he finally looked up and met Gortash’s eyes. “Tell me, Enver—was it your breath I stole tonight? Or your nerve?” 

For a heartbeat, Gortash’s eyes narrowed, the mask cracking as he exhaled a ragged breath. His jaw worked and Kade could see the anger in those eyes, anger and something else he couldn’t discern. Regret? Fear? He wasn’t sure but it froze the man’s tongue in his mouth.

After a beat Gortash turned away, body twisting with force as if wrenching himself from an iron grasp. He didn’t look back.

“The carriage leaves in ten minutes. Don’t linger.”

The ballroom’s grand doors had closed behind the last straggling guests, leaving Kade alone on the hotel’s moonlit portico. The night air bit through the gossamer sleeves and bodice, but he barely felt it.

The scent of jasmine and distant sea salt hung thick and Kade breathed in the salt and brine deeply, wishing he were walking along the beach instead of waiting for the carriage under the lonely moon. His triumphant mood had curdled into something hollow, the sting of Gortash’s silence, his rejection, sharper than any barbed comment.

Kade leaned against a marble pillar, the cold seeping through his dress as he watched servants extinguish the courtyard’s lanterns one by one, their flames guttering like dying stars. He flexed his fingers, the memory of countless hands pressing against his—admiring, coveting, judging—lingering like a phantom touch. He had shone tonight. And yet, the one person whose approval he craved had looked at him as though he were a misstep in need of correction. 

“They’ll write ballads about you, you know.” 

The voice was velvet-edged, tinged with amusement. Kade turned to find an elven man leaning against the opposite pillar, his posture relaxed but deliberate, like a tiger pretending at laziness.

Cassian Forsythe was his name, Kade knew, his grin as polished as the silver cufflinks on his sleeves; a high-ranking patriar, young for his station, with the poise of a sun elf and the easy confidence of a man who had never been denied anything he desired.

He was younger than Kade expected—no more than a century, by elven standards—with coiffed hair the color of aged bourbon and eyes that glinted amber even in the dim light. His attire was deceptively simple: a charcoal-gray doublet edged in silver thread, its severity offset by a single blood-red rose pinned to his lapel. 

“Ballads require tragedy,” Kade said lightly, adjusting his sagging corset. “And I’m afraid tonight’s tale was a farcical comedy with an unresolved ending.”

Cassian pushed off the pillar with a fluid grace, closing the distance between them. “All the better. Unresolved endings leave room for sequels.” He bowed, lower than propriety demanded, and took Kade’s hand. His lips brushed his knuckles, warm breath ghosting over his fingers.

“Cassian Forsythe,” he introduced himself, though his name was already a well-established fixture in Baldur’s Gate’s rumor mills. “And you must be the infamous Kade’solyn Southersby. I’ve heard such stories.”

Kade arched a brow, though his pulse betrayed him with a traitorous skip. “Infamous? I’m flattered.”

Cassian straightened, his thumb lingering for a heartbeat too long against Kade’s knuckles. “You should be. Half the old bats in there are clutching their prayer beads after your performance tonight. The other half are pretending they aren’t scandalized because they’re too busy staring.”

Kade withdrew his hand, but slowly. “And you’re the council’s rising star. Or is it falling star? I hear the old guard finds your reforms…enthusiastic.” 

“And your Lord Gortash finds them treasonous.” Cassian’s smile widened, revealing a faint dimple. “But then, he finds most things treasonous that don’t bear his seal.” He gestured to the empty drive, where a lacquered black carriage emblazoned with the Forsythe crest—a phoenix mid-flight—had rolled into view.

“Might I tempt you? The night’s still young, and I’d love to hear how you reduced Berthold to a wheezing gargoyle. My spies said you used a sugared violet.” He laughed. “You were a storm in silk tonight.” 

Kade laughed in turn, though it came out softer than he intended. “And here I thought I was just being decorative.” 

“Oh, you were never just that.” Cassian stepped closer, the scent of sandalwood and something faintly spiced curling between them. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for months. Gortash hoards his treasures too tightly.” 

The mention of Gortash was a cold splash of reality. Kade’s smile faltered. 

Cassian noticed. “Ah. I take it the great lord wasn’t as appreciative of your artistry as the rest of us?” 

Kade shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He has his priorities.” Eager to change the subject, he gestured at the painted phoenix. “Your carriage lacks a certain subtlety,” Kade joked lightly. 

“Subtlety is for people with something to hide.” Cassian stepped closer, close enough that Kade caught the scent of something sharper beneath the sandalwood—gunpowder, perhaps. “Come. Let me admire the gown properly. I’ve a particular fondness for moonlace silk.” 

“Is that all you’d admire?” 

Cassian’s laugh was rich, unapologetic. “I’d start with the gown. Where I’d end…” He trailed a finger along the corset’s embroidered edge, daringly bold. “…Depends on your appetite for risk.” 

Kade hesitated. The offer was a poised trap in truth—a chance to spite Gortash, a chance to feel wanted rather than wielded. Cassian’s reputation preceded him: a collector of rare art, radical ideas, and lovers who burned bright before inevitably fading from his favor. Dangerous.

But then, so was standing here, shivering in the shadow of a man who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—choose him. The kiss in the hallway weeks ago had been violent, desperate. A claim staked in anger, not tenderness.

And since then—nothing more; only silence, and that awful, gnawing doubt. There had been moments…so many, soft and gentle and Kade had thought again and again, maybe this, maybe now, but…

Maybe he doesn’t want anything real between us.

The crunch of gravel cut through the tension. 

Gortash emerged from the shadows, his carriage waiting at the curb like a hound straining at its leash. His gaze flicked between them, lingering on Cassian’s hand, still hovering near Kade’s throat. 

“Councillor Forsythe.” Gortash’s voice could have frostbitten the air. “I wasn’t aware you’d taken up valeting.” 

Cassian straightened, though his smirk remained. “Merely appreciating art, Lord Gortash. Your protégé is…exquisite.” 

“He’s not a painting to be pawed at.” 

“No?” Cassian arched a brow. “Funny. I’d heard you framed him like one.” 

Kade flinched. The words struck too close to the truth—Gortash’s cold calculus, the way he’d polished Kade into a weapon and hung him on the wall like a trophy. 

Gortash’s jaw tightened. “The carriage is waiting, Kade.” 

But Cassian didn’t retreat. “He’s welcome to mine. We’ve much to discuss. Trade routes, for instance. I’ve thoughts on your Amnian accord.” 

“Your thoughts,” Gortash snapped, “are as substantive as your lineage.” 

“Ah, but lineage is such a bore.” Cassian turned to Kade, his voice softening. “You, I think, understand that. A half-drow in a patriar’s nest, wearing a gown that’s partly armor, partly rebellion…You’ve danced on knives tonight, stormheart. Why stop now?” 

Stormheart. Kade’s chest constricted. Cassian’s words were honeyed poison, but they soothed the raw wound Gortash’s indifference had left. He glanced at the Forsythe carriage, then at Gortash—stoic, unyielding, his gloved hands clenched at his sides. 

You didn’t defend me. You didn’t even try.

“Kade.” Gortash’s tone brooked no argument. 

Cassian offered his arm, leaning close, his voice a murmured breath against Kade’s pointed ear. “Indulge me. If only to watch him bleed a little.” 

The silence stretched, brittle. Somewhere in the gardens of the hotel, a nightingale trilled—a high, mournful sound. 

Kade reached for Cassian’s arm. 

Gortash moved faster. He caught Kade’s wrist, his grip bruising, and pulled him close. “You’re mine,” he hissed, the words raw, stripped of their usual precision. For a heartbeat, Kade faltered. The heat of Gortash’s breath on his neck, the desperation in his grasp—it was the first real chink in the man’s armor since the kiss. 

Then Cassian chuckled. “Careful, Lord Gortash. You’ll tarnish your ‘leashed hound’ narrative.” 

Kade wrenched free. The crystal pendant swung wildly, the moonlace petal catching the silvered light as he stepped back. “I’m no one’s,” he said, voice trembling. “Least of all yours—you proved that to me well enough tonight.” 

The words hung between them, like a fracture in a mirror. Gortash stiffened, his gloved hand falling slack at his side. For a fleeting moment, something twisted in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, regret—before hardening again. 

Kade turned toward Cassian’s carriage, the gown’s train sweeping the ground like a wave retreating from shore. He did not glance back, even as Gortash called for him, voice cracking with a sudden desperate step forward.

"Kade.”

But the plea, raw and unvarnished, came too late. The Forsythe carriage door closed with a soft click, its phoenix crest gleaming in the dark as it carried Kade into the hungry night.

[dabblersofnonsense]

I'm trying to get better at digital art so I can maybe do more in the future, but to test things out, I decided to experiment with this piece with Terra and Aya from last year. <3

Kofi

[storylocke]

World building continues as we meet the first of our two Hosts. Terra is such a mess, I love her.

Ko-fi

[krizste]

[hoenn-hakase]

what was the TPP moment that gave you the most writing fuel? one that still rly sticks in ur head. (feel free to ramble)

Gosh, that's both super hard and super easy to answer! Twitch Plays Pokemon has had SOOOO many memorable moments that immediately come to mind that have captured my imagination or turned into a major part of my lore, there's just too many to name. However, there's a lot of moments that mean so much to me but I haven't written anything (or at least not published it) about those moments. I think I have fics either plotted out in my head or partially written for just about every single Randomized Run we've done because rattling the formula always brings out some of the coolest concepts and creativity within the community. Like I have an entire backstory and character arc for Lorekeeper James from Randomized Alpha Sapphire, which a lot of people fell in love with this random Bug Catcher suddenly getting boss music. Or when Trevor in Randomized Y turned out to be the Flare Admin we had to fight at the Poke Ball Factory, but then we had a crash and my heart just breaks thinking about the scene afterward where we went "back in time" to before all the kids met up at the park. And now Trevor, Calem, and Venus all awkwardly trying to pretend nothing happened while staring each other down with the utmost scrutiny as each wonders if the other two is aware of what happened. But don't worry, all this causes him to have a bit of a breakdown and soul searching before turning against Team Flare to go rescue Abomasnow. Or even as recently as Randomized Violet+ and how I've been a bit obsessed with Terra and her misadventures for the last few months and her showing up again as the host for Super Gauntlet Ruby is not helping that. Heck, Randomized Platinum was probably the biggest world building run for my lore it's one of the three establishment fics I've had partially started that I feel needs to be either written or fully explained to point to why the Haji TPP Verse is the way it is! And hhhnnngggg.... so much more...

Of course there's also a difference between the lore to come out of things (which I've written for after being inspired by other authors or artists in the community) and the onscreen moments that seemed to change everything. And while I have a lot of runs I love, a few I can point to as "THIS still hits hard" are things like my very first fanfic I posted to the TPP subreddit was in the aftermath of Leech King's death. I remember being at work, plotting out an entire series that would follow Abe and the others trying to get to the bottom of who had her murdered and why, having Alakazam and Venomoth that joined around the same time being hired detectives, and ICU coming into her own as the heir to the throne and whatnot, but it didn't get very far and even looking back was pretty bad writing. I did eventually get around to writing the post game like I wanted with my Much Ado About Blue series so that's definitely continued to be a wealth of writing fuel. Heck, when I started my Connections series, the inspiration was from Faba kicking our ass eight ways to Sunday in Waning Moon and the feeling there was probably a personal connection there. But I literally only planned for like seven chapters if even that because I didn't expect myself to start novelizing the run as a way to lead up to that moment. Originally the plan was to skip between certain cutscenes to establish lore on Quips. (My doc is still simply labeled "Hau" even though the story has grown since then.) But for moments? I mostly do angst and dramas anyway, but one piece I'm rather proud of and STILL upset about is my short for the ending of Pyrite. Ugh, the bitterness and how everyone and their dog had an opinion on the ending of that run and poor Eeyup getting dropped after we finished instead of getting some kind of proper send off or victory lap. Or on the note of Evan and Azure, this spur of the moment piece that's kind of hinted at. I love when I'm archiving runs and something comes up like a Glitch or crash, or something so unexpected I just INSTANTLY get the idea and need to write a short for it.

But I must say when I read this question, the first thing that came to mind was my novel for Blazed Glazed. Holy crap, this Run changed a lot of things for me. For one, being an original ROM hack means there's an entire world that has been a fountain of writing fuel for me I intend to get back to eventually. Who are these original characters? What is their story? How does Tunod work? How does it connect to other games it made a guest appearance in? Team Fusion showed up in RW2 meaning there's a whole history there with these guys. I made special edits of the Team leaders. It's kind of insane because I had written stuff for other runs before, obviously, but this was like all consuming on my brain. And you know what started it off? ...I started watching the VODs because it seemed like there wasn't much talk about it for me to know what was happening. We got our starter, met with THE INVENTOR, met Blake (our NPC partner for the long haul) and suddenly there was a Glitch. I was already intrigued by the opening, but when the Inventor was supposed to follow and instead became frozen and uninteractable, my mind started running. I paused my viewing and started writing. It's by far the longest series I've written and what made it so fascinating in a way was writing as I watched meant there are several points I didn't know where the story was going. So I may plan on something, but then it didn't turn out that way so how do I rework the script to account for the unexpected character appearances? Freezes? Glitches? How about a random detour to find specific teammates? And don't get me wrong, like most games, the actual plot can seem vague or even silly in the writing sometimes, but then that makes it fun to try to flesh out what the deeper reasoning could be for why something is happening? And then tying it into the larger TPP universe has just been... ahh~ <3

Anyway, this has gotten really long but I hope that answers your question. I'm sorry this kind of turned into one big shameless plug. Dang I've written a lot, but I love this fandom so much. I can't even ;w;

[chil-aglia]

Angst Prompt Idea (if you wanna give it a try):

Prompt: Self-Sacrifice/Fake Death

AU: Eyes On You

Characters: Giovanni and his family

Plot: This one is about Giovanni and his family doing a super important mission (let’s just say they’re trying to make sure that there’s no more Kraang anywhere in New York), and their mission is pretty successful so far until they end up running into some stray Kraang hounds at a forest somewhere in New York, and they have some trouble with defeating the Kraang hounds so Giovanni quickly decides to pull a self-sacrifice move in order to save his family and he basically leads the Kraang hounds away from his family (in which his family tries to stop Giovanni from doing this and are unsuccessful) and he ends up having to jump off of a really high cliff with the Kraang hounds into a huge lake (which does kill the Kraang hounds instantly due to how high of a fall they had) and his family thinks that he’s dead but he’s actually not dead and he finds his family again after a few hours of being missing and they’re super happy that he’s alive but they definitely scold him about not doing any self-sacrifices after what Leo did in the movie.

Must be a slider thing to try and sacrifice yourself—

Anyway! Sorry for any grammar mistakes. Enjoy this angsty fic!

Sacrifice (Giovanni Oneshot)

This is not canon to the main story!

Warnings: Swearing, angst, sacrifice/self-sacrifice, attempt suicide, main character death (presumed though), etc

ALSO, I have a Bad Things Happen Bingo card out right now and would really appreciate it, if y'all could go and help me out with it!

——————————————————————————————————

Krang…Giovanni really hoped they were long gone. But then, Donnie got the notification that there was some Krang energy spiking near a forest nearby. That alone had Giovanni tremble and pant heavily.

But he couldn’t stay idly by in the comfort of the lair. They needed to take care of the problem. So, he took a deep breath and looked to Leo, the leader of this team, silently telling him he was fine, and he could help.

Raph had called the help from April and the two Casey’s to come help, sending them the location on where they were heading to. Splinter also decided to come, sitting patiently inside the turtle tank as his sons all hop in, taking their respective seats.

Giovanni knew his family was looking at him from time to time. Concerned since Giovanni hadn’t laid eyes upon a Krang in some time now.

Giovanni ignored the stares. Closing his eyes as he could tell they were getting closer and closer to the forest.

He kept reminding himself to not freak out. He was stronger now. He helps his brothers with taking down villains threatening New York…he can handle Krang.

‘Can you though?’

Shut up.

‘If you mess up, you’ll just get your family killed.’

I…I know that!

He clicks his tongue, opening his eyes as he stares ahead. He’s stronger now…and he’ll protect his family no matter what.

-----

Upon reaching their destination, the group quickly met up with the humans who reported that they heard some strange noises from afar just before they arrived.

Leo took charge and gestured for everyone to follow him. Giovanni stood next to himself, sword in hand, gripping the hilt tightly as he kept his eyes peering around their surroundings.

He could tell they were being watched. It was all too quiet and eerie. Donnie was typing away on his tech gauntlet trying to pinpoint the energy levels precisely on where the enemy was located.

Giovanni narrowed his eyes, he immediately knew this couldn’t be either of the three Krang. They would’ve made themselves known by now. His best bet was a Krang life form….

“Hey! Can you guys hear that?” April pauses, stopping to listen as everyone copied her movement. Growling was heard, getting louder and louder, and it multiplied.

Mikey gasps, “Eyes! There’s lots of them!” He exclaims, pointing between bushes and on cue, ruby coloured eyes leered at them, and the creatures stepped out of the darkness from the forest.

Krang mutts.

Giovanni shuddered at the sight. He hadn’t seen these guys in awhile. He almost forgot about them. Almost.

One mutt ran them, which indicated to the others to do the same. Giovanni grunts when he has to swipe his sword at the mutt, knocking them down as he jumps back. Everyone splits up, each taking in a few mutts that keep coming nonstop.

It had been what felt like hours, the group still fending off the Krang mutts.

“There’s too many!” Splinter shouted, jumping up and using his tail to whack at the creatures. The Casey’s stood together, each working together, but they were getting tired.

Everyone was getting tired.

Giovanni groans, getting pounced on as a mutt knocks him down, trying to bite at his face but Giovanni uses his blade to block their teeth from touching him.

Shit…! There’s too many.

He pants, as he used his legs to kick and push the Krang mutt off him, rolling to his side and quickly standing up, breath wavering as he looks around, eyes widening at the sight of his family getting into a protective circle with each other as the mutt cornered them.

No….I gotta do something!

He looks around, picking up a rock and throwing it at the mutts, hitting their head as they snap their heads towards Giovanni who froze at their eyes staring at him.

He gulps, waving his sword in the air. “Over here mutts! Come get me.”

He knew the Krang mutts loved a good chase so he took off running, and he could instantly hear the clatter of their footsteps chasing after him. Along with the shouts of his family calling out to him. They were probably going after him too.

Giovanni pants, legs aching for a break. He didn’t know where exactly he was running towards. He yelped when he tripped over a tree root, but he quickly got up just in time and dodged an attack.

He pushed through the bushes, upon reaching an open space he gasps sharply and halts his movements. He looks over the edge.

He was stranded at a cliff side. Water below him. He flinched when growling approaching him. He widens his eyes at the herd of mutts stalking towards him.

Giovanni shakily pointed his sword at them, biting his lip. He couldn’t take them all on.

“Gio!”

The yellow-bellied slider looks up, seeing his family running in his direction. But if they get close to him, they’ll have to fight these mutts….

Giovanni steps back, feeling his heels hanging off the cliff edge slightly. He had to…do something.

His gaze focused behind him. It was a high cliff.

‘Do it.’

He gulps. Tightening his grip on his blade as he looks between the Krang, his approaching family and the water below.

‘What are you waiting for? An invitation?’

‘Jump Giovanni…!’

Jump off, huh….

He turns his attention back to his family who have gotten close to some mutts and turned their gaze onto them. Giovanni had to think fast.

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep inhale before holding his arms out wide.

“I’m sorry guys…” He mumbled to himself as he leaned back, finally letting gravity take him as he fell off the cliff.

The Krang mutts instinctively followed, all growling and yelping when they fell off the cliff with him. Some hit the water and died upon impact.

“GIOVANNI!”

The slider had tears swelled in his eyes as he kept his eyes closed. This was for the best. He had to do this in order to save his family.

He whimpers, pulling his limbs inside his shell. He really hoped this wouldn’t hurt.

SPLASH

Water consumed Giovanni who popped his limbs back out. He gags on the water that entered his lungs as he tried to swim up, but his legs ached from all the running earlier.

He weakly opens his eyes, tired as he lets himself sink. The bodies of Krang mutts are sinking along with him.

-----

“Giovanni….” April gasps as she and the others stop at the edge of the cliff. All shocked and heartbroken at what happened.

“He jumped…” Casey Jr mumbles the obvious, stunned. “He sacrificed himself…for us?” Donnie added, tears silently rolling down his eyes as he gazed at Leo who collapsed to his knees, mouth agape and eyes blown wide.

No one said anything after that, but after a few minutes standing in silence. They had all walked from the cliff. Raph having to help Leo get up and walk with his feet.

The walk back to the tank was quiet. Everyone takes the time to process. No one could survive a drop that high. Landing on the water would’ve felt like you landed on concrete.

When they reached the tank, no one had the power to get inside. They just…sat and stood around the tank. Some cried into their hands while others cried silently to themselves.

How could they leave? They witnessed Giovanni just jumping off the cliff and essentially killing himself.

Leo bites his trembling lips.

G-Gio….

He let out a shaky breath, wiping at the tears that spilled out of his eyes.

Rustling from the bushes caught everyone’s attention. Dread filling their core. Has a Krang mutt survived? Fuck…that can’t be good.

They stood on their feet, weapons in hand as they waited for the rustling to stop and for the creature to step out the shadows.

They waited and waited…until they saw a figure that they all thought had just died.

Giovanni walks out, dripping wet, holding his blade in his hand, panting to catch his breath as he looks at his family.

“….hi.”

He steps forward, only to fall to his knees. “Giovanni!” Splinter shouted his name, running over to his older son. The others followed pursuit as they crushed him into a group hug.

Giovanni blinks and softly smiles. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know what else to do.” He sniffled, crying as he nuzzled his face into Splinter’s neck.

“You boys…will give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Mikey rubs his cheeks against his older brother, chirping briefly in happiness as he had tears falling down as well. “You and Leo are the worst. No more sacrificing yourselves!” He scolded, hiccupping as he hugs tightly.

Giovanni hums in acknowledgment as he looks at Leo who smiled softly.

“Agreed…heh, must be a slider thing.”

“Leo—“

“Sorry.”

[mysmashultimate]

Creating a moveset for Garnet from Steven Universe as a character in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate:

### Super Smash Bros. Ultimate Trailer

#### Trailer

The trailer opens with a tranquil beach setting from Steven Universe, where various fighters are engaged in friendly sparring matches. Suddenly, Garnet, the stoic and powerful Crystal Gem, appears with her distinctive visor and gauntlets. With confidence and determination, Garnet steps into the Smash Bros. arena, ready to showcase her fusion powers and formidable combat skills.

**Tagline:** "Garnet: The Fusion Warrior!"

### Garnet's Moveset

#### Special Moves

- **Neutral Special: Rocket Gauntlets**

Garnet charges up energy in her gauntlets and fires a powerful energy blast forward, which can be charged for increased damage and knockback.

- **Side Special: Dash Punch**

Garnet dashes forward with incredible speed, delivering a devastating punch that launches opponents horizontally.

- **Up Special: Rocket Jump**

Garnet performs a high-energy jump using her gauntlets, propelling herself upwards while damaging opponents caught in her path.

- **Down Special: Future Vision Counter**

Garnet uses her future vision to predict incoming attacks. If successfully countered, she retaliates with a swift and powerful strike.

#### Final Smash: Gem Fusion - Garnet

Garnet fuses into her full Gem form, unleashing a flurry of devastating attacks with enhanced speed and power. She finishes by delivering a massive energy blast that engulfs opponents caught within its range.

### Taunts

1. **Taunt 1:** Garnet crosses her arms and calmly declares, "I am made of love. And it's stronger than you."

2. **Taunt 2:** Garnet levitates with a serene expression, radiating her calming aura.

3. **Taunt 3:** Garnet juggles a couple of tiny stars with a focused look, demonstrating her control over her gem powers.

### Victory Poses

1. **Victory Pose 1:** Garnet stands confidently with her fists clenched, surrounded by a radiant aura of energy.

2. **Victory Pose 2:** Garnet performs a graceful dance, showcasing her fusion harmony with Ruby and Sapphire.

3. **Victory Pose 3:** Garnet gives a reassuring smile to Steven Universe, symbolizing her protective and nurturing nature.

### Kirby Hat

When Kirby inhales Garnet, he gains Garnet's distinctive hairstyle, visor, and gauntlets, along with the ability to use **Rocket Gauntlets**.

### Defeat Pose

Garnet kneels briefly, looking reflective before standing up with a reassuring smile, showing her resilience even in defeat.

### Classic Mode Name

**"Crystal Fusion"**

Garnet’s Classic Mode route involves battling characters associated with strength and harmony, culminating in a final showdown against Master Hand and Crazy Hand within a Gem-infused arena.

### Stage

**"Beach City"**

A stage set in the idyllic Beach City from Steven Universe, featuring interactive elements like Beach City citizens and Gem warp pads as stage hazards.

### Attributes

- **Weight Class:** Medium

- **Height:** Tall (due to her towering presence)

- **Speed:** Above Average

### Victory Song

A triumphant and uplifting remix of Steven Universe's theme music, blending energetic beats with celestial tones that capture Garnet's fusion of power and love.

With Garnet in the fray, players can harness her gem powers and fusion abilities to dominate opponents in the Smash Bros. arena, embodying strength, harmony, and the enduring spirit of the Crystal Gems!