#ice dancing battle

[tmnt-crossover-polls]

Round 3 poll 5

Guess I've been... Disarmed Joke Summary : Future Rise Leo fucking dies and somehow wakes up in another dimension and promptly adopts all the turtles emotionally since none of them are legal. Actual Summary: Future Rise Leo gets sent to the beginning of 2012 Tmnt and gets immediately noticed by the 2012 turtles, hi-jinx ensue as Rise Leo tries to figure out emotions and all that shit.

A tale of spirits summary : “We do not know of your brothers, Great Spirit,” Zuko answered, stuttering more like it. “I’m sorry we could not be of more service.” The spirit frowned and stood up. “That’s weird, we were just together.” There was a shift and Uncle’s head came up. They stared at this strange spirit. It turned its back to them and Zuko was breathless at the show of disregard. Figures a spirit would not consider him a threat. He shouldn’t take it personally, but he’s been dismissed his whole life. He’s tired of it. A hand gripped his trembling one and he takes a breath. There is no use getting upset over the ways of a spirit. They both studied its small form and Zuko was caught by its profile. The spirit’s back held three repeating and somewhat glowing symbols. It curved in a familiar motion. “A turtle,” Uncle whispered.

@phoenixdeleted

@unorthodoxx-page

[themoonofblueside]

if i had a nickel for everytime a book spent a quarter of its chapters spending time waiting for stannis to strike, and multiple chapters where a keep is full of people whispering rumors upon stannis' march, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

[luvsvpreme]

the life on rhaenys' face faded away the moment vhagar got meleys...

she died the same moment meleys died. she was already gone way before she went down with her girl.

[kuro-anko]

biblically accurate: battle of the kingsroad

[fatum679]

On the twenty-second day of the fifth moon of the year 130 AC

Daemon ripped off his nephew’s helm and drove the sword down into his blind eye, so hard the point came out the back of the young prince’s throat. Half a heartbeat later, the dragons struck the lake, sending up a gout of water that was said to have been as tall as Kingspyre Tower. Neither man nor dragon could have survived such an impact, the fisherfolk who saw it said. Prince Aemond had only turned twenty.

The end came when a crossbow bolt nicked one of the dragon’s eyes. Half-blind, and maddened by a dozen lesser wounds, Dreamfyre spread her wings and flew straight up at the great dome above in a last desperate attempt to break into the open sky.

Helaena Targarye threw herself from her window in Maegor’s Holdfast to die impaled upon the iron spikes that lined the dry moat below. Helaena’s end had been mercifully swift: one of the spikes took her through the throat and she died without a sound. She was but one-and-twenty.

The Blood Wyrm’s jaws closed about Vhagar’s neck, her black teeth sinking deep into the flesh of the larger dragon. Even as Vhagar’s claws raked her belly open and Vhagar’s own teeth ripped away a wing, Caraxes bit deeper, worrying at the wound as the lake rushed up below them with terrible speed.

Aemond & Helaena Dreamfyre & Vhagar

[hopestrope]

Rhaenys Targaryen, The Queen that Should Have Been

"Rook’s Rest was Ser Criston’s next objective. Forewarned of their coming, Lord Staunton closed his gates and defied the attackers. Behind his walls, his lordship could only watch as his fields and woods and villages were burned, his sheep and cattle and smallfolk put to the sword. When provisions inside the castle began to run low, he dispatched a raven to Dragonstone, pleading for succor...

Here Mushroom’s version seems most likely, for we know that nine days after Lord Staunton dispatched his plea for help, the sound of leathern wings was heard across the sea, and the dragon Meleys appeared above Rook’s Rest. The Red Queen, she was called, for the scarlet scales that covered her. The membranes of her wings were pink, her crest, horns, and claws bright as copper. And on her back, in steel and copper armor that flashed in the sun, rode Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was.

Ser Criston Cole was not dismayed. Aegon’s Hand had expected this, counted on it. Drums beat out a command, and archers rushed forward, longbowmen and crossbowmen both, filling the air with arrows and quarrels. Scorpions were cranked upward to loose iron bolts of the sort that had once felled Meraxes in Dorne. Meleys suffered a score of hits, but the arrows only served to make her angry. She swept down, spitting fire to right and left. Knights burned in their saddles as the hair and hide and harness of their horses went up in flames. Men-at-arms dropped their spears and scattered. Some tried to hide behind their shields, but neither oak nor iron could withstand dragon’s breath. Ser Criston sat on his white horse shouting, “Aim for the rider,” through the smoke and flame. Meleys roared, smoke swirling from her nostrils, a stallion kicking in her jaws as tongues of fire engulfed him.

Then came an answering roar. Two more winged shapes appeared: the king astride Sunfyre the Golden, and his brother Aemond upon Vhagar. Criston Cole had sprung his trap, and Rhaenys had come snatching at the bait. Now the teeth closed round her.

Princess Rhaenys made no attempt to flee. With a glad cry and a crack of her whip, she turned Meleys toward the foe. Against Vhagar alone she might have had some chance, but against Vhagar and Sunfyre together, doom was certain. The dragons met violently a thousand feet above the field of battle, as balls of fire burst and blossomed, so bright that men swore later that the sky was full of suns. The crimson jaws of Meleys closed round Sunfyre’s golden neck for a moment, till Vhagar fell upon them from above. All three beasts went spinning toward the ground. They struck the ground so hard that stones fell from the battlements of Rook’s Rest half a league away.

Those closest to the dragons did not live to tell the tale. Those farther off could not see for the flame and smoke. It was hours before the fires guttered out. But from those ashes, only Vhagar rose unharmed. Meleys was dead, broken by the fall and ripped to pieces upon the ground. And Sunfyre, that splendid golden beast, had one wing half torn from his body, whilst his royal rider had suffered broken ribs, a broken hip, and burns that covered half his body. His left arm was the worst. The dragonflame had burned so hot that the king’s armor had melted into his flesh.

A body believed to be Rhaenys Targaryen was later found beside the carcass of her dragon, but it was so blackened that no one could be sure it was her. Beloved daughter of Lady Jocelyn Baratheon and Prince Aemon Targaryen, faithful wife to Lord Corlys Velaryon, mother and grandmother, the Queen Who Never Was lived fearlessly, and died amidst blood and fire. She was fifty-five years old."

-Fire and Blood, George R.R. Martin

(Arts by Vak Phoenix, Jordi Gonzalez Escamilla, Douglas Wheatley, fkadaenerys)

[atopvisenyashill]

idk if it counts as my craziest take but EYE feel like it’s maybe an out there take that the end of twow and most of ados is just going to be like. an apocalypse novel. i mean even more than it already is lmao like the riverlands but all over bc the Others and wights are going to actually win a lot of ground. i think there will be pockets of humans, largely in castles that can withstand a siege and have knowledge on how to fight the others, that will be surviving but people won’t really be TRAVELING they’ll just be hunkered down and trying not to die. i’m talking ice zombie apocalypse here, the walking dead but with ice zombies and ice fae, it’s going to be a long and tiresome war and they’re gonna lose like a lot of the battles.

[moseslikellamas]

Thorn of Winterfell

Chapter nine

Pairing - Stark!OC x Benjicot Blackwood

Summary - The Battle by the Lakeshore begins

Warnings - graphic depictions of violence, lore™️, sketchy depictions of medieval hierarchies, blood, death, depictions of shock, dubious battle mechanics. Depictions of anxiety, graphic violence against animals

Word count- 2.3k

I changed like a fuck ton about the set up of this battle but the outcome will be pretty much exactly like cannon.

I need to talk to Cregan. It was the only thought circling through her head. It kept stinging her over and over like a swarm of unhappy bees. She kept trying to swat the refrain away as she rode towards her party. You need to see your brother! There was chaos around her as the army began fortifying its position. Confusion and outrage was underlining the determined work. No one knew why they’d stopped and it looked like Daemon had abandoned them. She prayed to the gods that ser Dustin had everything in hand. As she approached the two men she heard them arguing.

“I should look again! I can see where he is!”

“We can’t ride out any further. It’s madness as it is! If three scouts ride out after Daemon, they’ll lose it!”

“We don’t have to ride out. No is paying any attention to us-“

Syana cut the lord off, outraged.

“My head is on the line for you Blackwood. You will go back and help control your men. Do not look again.”

If he blew the entire operation by exposing himself, he wouldn’t have to worry about the riverlords. She was going to kill him herself. His face was the picture of fury as he stared back at her. She was unmoved by it. She was so sweaty she was afraid her armor would slide off her back. Where was her brother? She couldn’t help craning her neck back to look at the army every few seconds hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

“I’m trying to help us.” He began again.

“And it won’t matter if the entire army falls apart at the revelation! Enough people are going to die here. Don’t divide us now.”

“Keep your bloody sword up.” He hissed as he rode past her back towards the camp.

She was beginning to hate that refrain.

“Don’t worry about him.” Robb said casually from beside her.

“Oh I am very worried. But we have work to do. I don’t know where the rest of the scouts went, lost in that mess somewhere. So I guess we’re it. Which side do you want?”

He laughed at her, actually laughed at a moment like this.

“You aren’t scouting anything besides wolves right now. Go find your brother, my eyes are sharp enough for two.”

“I’ll send a scout if I find one, and I bloody well better find one.” She shouted back at him already galloping away.

Syana rode hard, eyes looking for the familiar glint of her brother’s armor. Her heart felt like it might give up at any moment. She was taking heaving gasps of air, trying to calm herself. Please let Prince Jacaerys be okay. Images of dragons locked in a death grip kept spiraling through her head. Where is Cregan?

“You!” She shouted at a familiar Frey bowman whose name she couldn’t recall. “Join Robb at the front, we need scouts.” She didn’t know if he was half decent at scouting but he had a bow and that was close enough for her right now.

Around her men were making barriers and trying to consider where best to make their stand. She was relieved to see Benjicot in the middle of the men directing where to place items. His aunt was working with another group though she couldn’t tell what they were working on. Where is my fucking brother? She screamed in her head. She spotted Forest Frey and Jon Charlton leading their own efforts. Okay that leaves Dustin, Grey, and Stark. Where are they?

She turned her horse around, striding back through the camp. She fined combined with her eyes, making sure no face escaped her. She found several more scouts and send them out. ‘I'll see to his punishment myself, wolf.’ The King consort’s threat rang loudly through her mind like bells clanging against her stone foundation. It wasn’t until she reached the furthest edge of camp that she spotted him. There against the water surrounded by a sea of wolves. Lord Dustin’s yellow sigil was bright against the sea of white.

Syana slid from her saddle before her horse even slowed. She quickly strided over to him. He was in a deep conversation with Ser Rodrick about how to best utilize the stark forces. She waited as patiently as she could at his side. Her heart was finally beginning to calm and she could begin to assess their position. She had to put the dragons out of her head, they weren’t her concern anymore. She felt like her skeleton was trying to claw its way out of her skin, standing there waiting. Which side would they attack from? She anxiously worried about them being surrounded.

Cregan’s hand on her shoulder startled her momentarily. Then she was leading him away from the group of men poised around the water.

“Benjicot saw the route Prince Aemond was taking.” Her brother was calm beside her as she spoke and she envied him for it. “He advised Daemon to ride to meet the Queen. The crown will be in hand by nightfall.”

“Get to the point, Syana.”

She stopped walking, turning to face her brother. “The Lannister army will be here before nightfall. Another will come later to reinforce them. He didn’t tell me the specifics. He was too busy trying to tear everything to shreds.” She said bitterly.

The visions from the weirwood tree played across the front of her mind. All of the burning people and stacked death bodies in the water.

“I’m sure you’ve also noted the storm rolling in.” She looked towards the swirling clouds creeping across the hills.

“We’ve done all we can to plan.” He said at last, drawing her attention back. “This is the fun part, little sister.”

She frowned at him. She knew he was trying to bring a moment of levity to the situation but she was not a warrior. She did not relish the flurry of bodies, the warm rush of blood over her hands. And she was afraid. It was a terrible secret feeling she kept locked down. But it was threatening to bubble up and overwhelm her. The last time they’d been attacked there’d been no time to think. They’d been taken by surprise and her brain had turned on autopilot. Now she had time to think, to consider everything that might go wrong. To consider whose body would be in the God’s eye tonight.

“Stay alive brother.” She said her mind is still running faster than free stallions in the north.

“And you keep-“

“My bloody sword up. I’ve got that, thanks!”

⊹˚‧ ₊ ❄︎₊ ‧˚⊹

Syana had decided that Benjicot was lying to her. He had to be. As the hours passed it became clear to her that he wasn’t just a skin changer. He couldn’t be and know everything he did. He’d know where Prince Aemond was flying, where the Lannister troops would attack and where the support army would come from. He hadn’t said it outright of course but it was clear as he directed the men that he knew more than he was letting on. She wouldn’t profess to be the most knowledgeable on skin changing but she knew you couldn’t inhabit more than one beast at time. How had he known the location of all three?

She was already in position, they would be upon them soon. Robb was beside her, they were on the highest point with all of the archers. Not that the highest point was all that high. The land around them was gentle slopes and rolling hills. It was already slippery from the steady patter of rain. She couldn’t keep her eyes from flickering between the liar and her brother. Cregan was in front, the wolves were the first line of defense. They were the best horsemen here and winter was coming. The temperature had dropped with the rain. Her breath was visible with every exhale.

The steady pounding of feet rumbled beneath them. In the distance under the last gleam of the fading light, soldiers approached from the south. The rain had soaked through her armor long ago, her hair plastered to the side of her face and neck as a result. Let Cregan live to be so old he curses the gift of life. It was the only prayer she sent up to the gods, the only one that mattered.

“Archers, nock!”

Robb’s voice boomed from beside her like tumbling boulders. Steady hands notched her first arrow.

“Draw!”

As she drew the string back she breathed in deep. With her shoulders set back, she waited.

“Loose!”

Breath, arrow and fear all exited her at the same time. The rest of the men around her ceased to be, her only tether was the shouted commands of Robb beside her. Volley after volley they rained flaming arrows on the enemy, the lannister armor was a golden beacon even as night settled over them.

“Fire at will, hold rank!”

Syana was releasing arrows at a frantic pace, man after man fell but it was the sound of screaming horses that raised her heart rate. Her arm was burning from the constant strain of the bow. Her tricep was screaming as she reached behind her to pull an endless stream of arrows out of her quiver. The line kept advancing and she knew within moments they’d hit their defense barriers. Her eyes were glued to her brother for half a second before she was back, tearing men from the saddle by the dozens. Come on, she thought, taking another two down, just a little closer.

The second the two lines converged on each other, she pivoted and broke the line.

“East team, follow me!” Her voice was hardly audible over the sounds of steel and flesh.

The screams of horses and men alike rang through the air as the team of archers moved into the next position. They couldn’t allow the enemy to surround them on all three sides against the God's eye or the battle was over. She needed to lead a group way outside of range so they could attack the next army from the rear. Reinforcements at the front would help them execute a front and back crunch maneuver. It was a gamble but so was the entire operation. If they weren’t reinforced at the front, the army could fall back on them and they’d all be dead. Syana had absolute faith in the small group of archers with her but it wouldn’t matter if they were engaged directly.

All she had to go off of was a general guide on the direction the enemy would be coming from and the hope of a small copse of trees to help conceal them under the pounding rain. The wind was screaming past them, blowing so hard it stole the air from her lungs. Her helmet felt suffocating, like a metal tomb waiting for the mud to rise up and finish the job. She was bent down low close to the neck of her mount, her thighs hurt from how hard she was squeezing them. She rode hard and fast towards the approaching blob of green she hoped was the gathering of trees they were looking for. Her eyes stung from the freezing rain blinding her and she squinted to obtain a better view. It was the sound of the wind through the leaves that ultimately tipped her off.

“Bows at the ready!” She screamed against the wind.

If they’d timed it right the enemy should emerge from the east, banners raised…

An arrow whistled past her so close she could hear the wind off of it. Then the horrible wet thud of a horse pulled up short exploded through the darkness. She didn’t have a second to spare towards who’d been hit as a rain of arrows descended on them.

“Scatter! Abort mission! Fall back!” She screamed herself hoarse over the wind and rain.

Benjicot had been wrong after all. They were in the trees not to the east. They’d timed it wrong or something had changed. Either way they were all fucking screwed. She was lucky, people up north are good riders and they learn early. She’d been able to pivot immediately. As soon as the first arrow had pulled the horse down, she knew they needed to leave. Some of the others had not been so lucky. Those who weren’t pulled down by arrows were sucked into gaping mud holes that weren’t visible in the darkness. The constant screaming of horses grew to a crescendo of agony and she wasn’t sure how much of the moisture on her face was from the rain and how much was from the constant stream of tears that flowed down her cheeks.

Riding back towards the main army, she loosed arrow after arrow. She watched with a deep and primal anger as bodies stacked on top of each other. She hadn’t even realized she was screaming until an arrow in her shoulder made her stop. When she rejoined the rest of the archer line it was significantly diminished. Though she couldn’t tell if that was because the line broke or because they were all dead. Either way, she used the temporary cover to snap the arrow shaft in half. She didn’t have time to rip the arrow out, she’d risk bleeding out anyway. She just did it to ensure it didn’t get snagged on anything. After the arrow was ripped out, she was ripped from her saddle. In he distraction, the undulating mass of bodies had writhed up against her and plucked her from her horse.

[question-marked]

"i think you would make an excellent dance partner."

"Definitely, do you want to dance with me?" Edward asked. "If you want to do some ballroom dancing or any other kind of dancing, I would be into that. I think it would be fun...I can play some music, maybe we could make some choreography to go with it...or look at someone's else's and try to emulate it."

[corvuschriisti]

[ Cue the Music ] - Dancing’s what tonight’s all about, is it not? Grab a friend or a stranger and get to twirling (or whatever it is the kids call it nowadays).

Even among the sea of people, Leanne makes her way to those she knows best with ease, though her eyes do widen in awe as she approaches the raven. "Wow, Naesala, you look amazing!!" She reaches out, tracing the intricate patterns of gold lining his wrist and shoulders. Leanne herself had exchanged her uniform here for the flowing robes she had been more used to wearing back home.

She giggles as her eyes lands on his brooch, designed similarly to her own but with a white feather instead of a black one. "It looks like we've got each other's feathers, doesn't it?" Taking off her own, she pins it against Naesala's clothing, before stepping back and looking at her handiwork with satisfaction. There! It blends in much better.

An energetic song begins to play, and she reaches out with a bright grin. "Let's dance together, Naesala!"

"Do you really think so?" Naesala asks. He likes it when people call him pretty words, and coming from Leanne he knows its sincere. There's a happy energy that surrounds them, and Naesala's heart feels light.

He laughs when she points out their feathers. He'd immediately thought of the herons, and he's happy to see that one of his closest and dearest friends wears his color with pride. He takes one of the white feathers off of his own brooch and pins it to hers.

"There. Now that looks beautiful against your dress."

The music picks up and Naesala takes her hands. "Should we show these beorc what grace truly looks like?"

[hide-your-bugs-away]

Alan Price and his government-assigned Pokémon team (to me, at least) 🙏

[tmnt-crossover-polls]

Round 3 poll 6

Shellshocked Summary : what is Raphael Hamato, age 25 to do when he ends up with 4 mutated baby turtles one night after a patrol? Why raise them of course!! Raphael and Mona Lisa have a lot on their hands when it comes to raising 4 sons but they have more than enough help along the way. But something seems to disturb their family’s bliss as the boys grow, and it becomes an even greater threat when their sons start their training.

Last ronin becomes a discord Admin summary : The Last Ronin survives and finds himself on a Discord server with alternate, very alive versions of his brothers. Did I forget to mention he's also the admin?

@lieutenantbiscute

@melonpalooza

[leahthedreamer]

Junior worlds this week, a very exciting time for us junior ice dance enjoyers.

[crow101]

Omg, I was just readying about the history of the 'Dance of Dragons', and in the 'Battle of Honeywine' Lord Owen Costayne was mortally wounded by Jon Roxton wielding the Valyrian steel sword named 'Orphan-Maker'

Orphan Maker

Omg, that's the most funniest thing I've ever heard 🤣

[babyspacebatclone]

I hd rollerblades when I was in my teens, back before Y2K.

The setting was a fusion of having just read the motorball storyline of the Battle Angel Alita manga and figure skating, and included exactly 0% of my own physical ability.

It was supposed to be a combo of

and

and

Completely insane and impossible.

Perfect concept for an anime. 😊

(it was a cyborg sport, in a world where cyborgs had been prohibited from participating in normal sports. the underground scene had started up around violence-based things where having replaceable parts was an advantage; it eventually became a profitable entertainment industry. the races were a fusion as an attempt to legitimize artistic sports in the cyborg niche, while still appealing to the combat-desiring audience)

(different races would give different weight to the scoring of various elements: speed of completion, artistry, takedowns of opponents, etc. the most influential racers would have dedicated tracks that could be rebuilt like marble race tracks.)

(drone cameras were a must)