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#train knights
honourablejester · 4 months
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Heart: The City Beneath
For reasons, I’m assuming because I’ve been watching actual plays of various ttrpgs lately (Legends of Avantris playing D&D 5e, Nobody Wake the Bugbear playing Mothership, several others), I was recommended a video on a game called Heart: The City Beneath. Just a basic overview video, themes, tone, talking the game up a bit. But it sounded interesting, so I went to look up what the 9 playable classes were, just to see what kind of ideas we’re working with, you know?
And. Just from that online write-up. There was one particular class that caught my eye enough to go buy the actual game. Now, having read in more detail, there are several other classes that also sound really cool, but I still want to talk about the thing that caught my eye.
The Vermissian Knight.
Now. I would not ordinarily go for a very martial class when magical-type classes are an option. It’s just not usually how I roll. But the classes in Heart are all very, very setting-related, and all very, very weird, and the thing with the Vermissian Knight …
Okay. The setting for this game is Heart. The, well, City Beneath. There is a mile high surface city called the Spire, and then there is a vast living beating realm of something beneath it, called Heart. It is alive. It may be an extradimensional benevolent parasite. It might be a god-cocoon. It might be a seed of terraforming fuel. It might be a lot of things. But it’s definitely alive and weird and warps reality the further down into it you go.
The city above it, Spire, was run for ages by arrogant elves. And at some point, those elves decided that the city needed a mass transit system. A railway network, called the Vermissian. Right? But it wasn’t working, it was a lot of infrastructure, and funding was complicated, and power supply was an issue, and they wanted a way to hook the whole thing together and power it mystically. Right? So, what did they do? What does any arrogant race sitting on top of a magical weirdness bomb do when they suddenly need power? Yeah. They decided to core down into the Heart Itself, this mystical, weird-as-shit, possible god parked under their city, and they decided to hook their mass transit passenger network right the fuck into it.
It went, as you might imagine, horribly wrong. The reality-breaking weirdness of the Heart smashed up through the transit network of the Vermissian and nearly corrupted all of Spire above, save that the warding glyphs on the transit tunnels kept it confined. Within the system, time and space and reality got smashed and thrown about higgledy piggledy, and batshit monsters crept about the tunnels. The entire network was cut off, the stations abandoned, and Spire did its best to pretend there was never an attempted transit project to begin with. Just shove the whole mistake behind some condemned signs and pretend it never happened, boyos!
But the network is still there. The tunnels, the trains, the monsters. It’s hidden in Spire, but down in the Heart, the stations stand unguarded. Stuff leaking out. And people venturing in.
And the Vermissian Knight, as a character class, is someone who seeks to understand and patrol that network, to explore it and protect people from it. The class is built around armour, armour built from scavenged parts of eldritch trains. And the class builds …
Okay. In Heart, all characters are doomed. It’s a whole thing. This is not a long-form campaign sort of game. You will not last. Your character will die. So levelling is … you’re not building towards power, you’re building towards a climax. You’re building towards a spectacular end. Not necessarily death, but something that will take your character very dramatically off the board. And the Knights. Their Zenith Abilities, their capstone, dramatic ends, should they survive long enough to reach them. They can either bind themselves to a landmark, potentially a station on the line, or they can become a techno-organic titan, a biological perpetual motion machine that stalks the Heart and can be summoned by your surviving party as a deus ex machine, OR …
Or they can cast a death rite that summons the last surviving Vermissian train to tear its way through to them and crush them under its wheels, while also wiping out anything else in its path. Like. Your last, taking-you-with-me stand as a Vermissian knight is summoning a hell engine from a warped extra-dimensional transit network to plough through your enemies.
That. That is just so cool? Just. That whole concept. It’s so cool.
There are other classes in this game, and they are also pretty cool, don’t get me wrong. The Deadwalker, a person who died and came back haunted by the personification of their own death, able to potentially slip into the afterlife while living and bring people along for the ride. The Deep Apiarist, a person so determined to fight against the living chaos of the Heart that they have allowed themselves to become colonised by a megaconsciousness of order-inducing bees, in the most body-horror way possible (the bees go in through your nose and convert at least one of your organs to wax and paper to inhabit your body)(the Sunless Sea vibes are so strong with this one). The Hound, a group of mercenaries aided (and potentially possessed) by the spirits of the cursed survivors of a massacred army once sent to invade the Heart. The Junk Mage, magic addicts that eat scraps of power and make bargains with eldritch entities. There are a lot of cool classes in this game.
But the train knights. Just. The train knights. The image just enchants me. A cursed railway network, a twisted tangle of tunnels and weirdness, and the armoured paladins who seek to explore, understand, and protect those who encounter it.
I love it so much. I’m not fully sure why, what it is about that concept, that image, that so bowls me over, but …
I wanna play a train knight. A gnoll train knight, seeking enlightenment. Answers. I’m down here, in this strange, twisted place, because I want to know. What is it down here, in the Heart, that could do that to our network? What actually did happen to the network? I want to explore and I want to know.
(The Calling system is what you’re down in Heart looking for. Your class is what you are, your calling is what you want. There are five options: Adventure, Enlightenment, Forced, Heartsong, Penitent. You came for adventure, you came for answers, you came because you were forced to, you came because the Heart itself called you, or you came because you fucked up very badly and this is the only way to make up for it. Each calling gives you story beats that you can choose from along your quest for a suitable climax, and they’re really cool, and many of them encourage you to act, shall we say, incautiously. You’re not going to survive this, honey. Nobody comes down here who’s sane or sensible and likely to live long. So do something mad and dangerous and interesting with your time here. I actually really like that part of the system a lot).
Yeah. A Vermissian Knight, seeking Enlightenment. I would totally play that.
This is a boss-ass game, you know that? The setting is really cool.
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awildes · 6 months
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Jumped on the trend and painted my favorite townies! Krobus is such a little sweet thing I love him 🤧
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torpublishinggroup · 10 months
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GET BOOKT
A guide of books to gift the people in your life and yourself!
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For the people looking to put a different kind of magic into their holidays…
The Fragile Threads of Power by V. E. Schwab
For the genre connoisseur with a love for high concepts in short form… 
Africa Risen edited by Sheree Renée Thomas, Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki, & Zelda Knight (now in paperback!)
For the treasured party member who’s saved your character’s life many times on TTRPG night…
Bookshops & Bonedust by @travisbaldree
━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━
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For those who love (or possibly are 👀) gay werewolves
Wolfsong by TJ Klune
For the mutual who devoured the epic highs and lows of Riverdale and craves more…
The Luminaries by Susan Dennard, now in paperback!)
━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━
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For your brave and luckless friend, constantly trapped in transit purgatory and upset about it…
The Dead Take the A Train by Cassandra Khaw & Richard Kadrey
For the true buckaroos trotting beside you…
Camp Damascus by @drchucktingle
For the friend who says “but have we considered burning it all down?” on an alarming and refreshingly regular basis…
Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin
━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━
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For the friend who has a hot date on Friday night (with their book)...
Fall of Ruin and Wrath by Jennifer L. Armentrout
For the avid doodler who sketches plans for their future volcanic villain lair equipped with a space laser…
Starter Villain by @jscalzi
━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━
Not enough books? We agree. Check out our other GET BOOKT guide.
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archerinventive · 4 months
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Another couple of shots from my most recent flow session at Gasworks park.
Thank you to Vitz Photography for capturing these moments. 🖤❤️🖤
I hope you all have a fun filled Friday. 😊
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madcat-world · 5 months
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Random Training Concepts #2 (2 of 6) - Roman Kupriianov
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lordkryze · 5 months
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It’s been following me everywhere
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veveisveryuncool · 7 months
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havent drawn them in a while
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create-chaos · 3 months
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@ The Boys fans, how we feeling after episode 6?
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xysidhequeen · 2 years
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The King and his Red Knight
DPxDC crossover fic
Part 1
Really sorry to everyone who suffered through the fact that I didn't know about the existence of readmore. I can't fix the thread now but the individual posts are better? Sorry I have like a very rough idea of how this site works 😭
Check the: The King and his Red Knight tag to find all the parts
"Go here, Danny. Go then, Danny. Go to a random cemetery in the middle of the night for no reason, Danny." A voice grumbled, accompanied by the sound of sneakers rhythmically tapping stone.
Danny Fenton, currently Phantom, sat on a gravestone, his white hair a beacon in the dark night. There were no stars in the sky for him to gaze upon, their light hidden behind swaths of smog and neon lights playing off the gray clouds.
Clockwork had dumped him here, with no explanation for why. Not that he ever really explained much when he sent Danny off on his tasks. He supposed he should be grateful, at least he was in the same when rather than being transported a thousand years into the past.
"Wait here King Phantom. You will understand in time." Danny mimicked his mentor's voice as he let himself float off the grave he'd been dumped on after Clockwork shoved him out of a portal. His body floated higher until he could flip around, his legs crossing. He sat upside down, his chin in his palm as he glared petulantly at the assembled gravestones surrounding him, his toxic green eyes glowing.
"So far all I've seen is a concerning amount of ecotplasm for a city without a ghost portal and some blob ghosts! How long am I supposed to wait here?" Danny asked the air, and the aforementioned blob ghosts who were hanging off his body, soaking in the ambient ecotoplasm he radiated at all times now.
Neither provided him with an answer to his question and Danny let out a frustrated groan as he lowered his still flipped body to look once more on the gravestone he'd been tasked with waiting on.
Jason Todd, the name read. The dates, too close together, made something in Danny squeeze painfully. He'd been young, barely older than Danny when he stepped into the portal. Only for this teenager there had been no ectoplasm to bind to his dying body and repair the damage of death and force him back into a semblance of life.
"Who were you and why did Clockwork send me to you?" Danny asked the gravestone, one clawed finger tracing the words before he pulled back with a sigh when the gravestone gave him no explanation. The dead didn't always speak, not even to their king.
Turning his body Danny looked over the rest of the cemetery. It was empty, as most usually were this time of night, of the living. There were a few shades wandering around, circling closer to him, drawn by his presence. No full ghosts though, but oddly enough there rarely were in cemeteries. This was where the dead came to rest. To remember, if they wanted to. Cemeteries were sacred spaces to the dead, much as a temple or a church would be for the living who were religious. Ghosts who still clung to life, to their obsessions, did not frequent cemeteries, did not dare trespass and disturb those who had already found their peace.
Danny himself was an oddity. He had never shied from cemeteries, enjoying the peace he found in them, the guarantee of safety offered. And perhaps, he mourned that he himself would never have a gravestone for the living to place their flowers and their tears at. Who would make a grave for someone who was both alive and dead? There would never be a body to bury for him. His human half would continue to live on so long as his ghost core remained and could fuel it.
Maybe that was why he found peace in cemeteries, for all his whining that Clockwork had dumped him here. Cemeteries were for the living and the dead, one of the only places both existed in harmony naturally. For someone who was as much dead as he was alive such a place held a certain degree of belonging for him.
Danny straightened out in the air, letting his body lie above the grave as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the covered sky. He complained and whined about this task, but he was secretly glad that Clockwork had given him something to do. Even if it was just 'hang out in a random cemetary'.
Ever since he'd graduated high-school, revealed himself to his parents and discovered how deep prejudice and hate could run, and he'd run away to the Infinite Realms for sanctuary while his friends moved forward with their lives, he'd felt unmoored. A ghost with no haunt. Bored was too light a word for the gaping emptiness he felt in his chest, for the loneliness clawing at him. Clockwork, Wulf, Pandora they could help chip at the ache inside of him but not banish it. Not now that his family, his friends, were spread so far apart and so distant from him.
Not that he resented their choices, their distance, in fact he'd fought for them to do just that, to get out of Amity Park, to go to college, to become more than overworked teen superheroes. Still he missed them, even if he could visit them whenever he wanted. It was becoming clear as time moved forward that the world they belonged to and the one he did were two different things.
Danny Fenton couldn't go to college when his parents had declared him dead. Danny Fenton didn't exist as far as the government was concerned. Danny Phantom couldn't return to Amity when those same parents were waiting to capture him and tear him apart 'molecule by molecule'. Danny Phantom couldn't go back when the GIW were crawling over the town like ants.
So neither Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom returned to Amity after that day. And he made sure they couldnt follow him when he ensured the portal that took his life to function never opened again. He didn't need the portal any longer to get in and out of the Infinite Realms, and it was safer for the ghosts, his subjects, if the temptation of the Fenton portal was gone.
The world of the living was not yet ready to accept that the dead didn't always stay dead. And Danny would keep his people safe until they were.
Danny jolted from his lazing state of reverie when a pulse of emotion rocked through him, the strength of it stealing his breath if he had any to take.
Fear/Trapped/Dark/Fear/Help/HELP pounded into him and Danny frantically flipped around, head swiveling, poisonous green eyes wide as he triedf to locate the source. The emotions, the plea for help, burned his core, his Obsession screamed at him.
Help/SomeonePlease/Dark/Trapped/CANTBREATHE/HELP another wave of messages, of emotions pushed themselves at Danny and this time underneath the onslaught he could hear a rhythmic thudding. Danny looked down, horror filling him when he realized the thudding was coming from under the ground. From the grave he'd been hovering over for an hour now.
Danny flew down, sending back a wave of I'mHere/HelpIsComing/I'mComing to the boy trapped in his own coffin, feeling the intense wave of relief and hope sent back before he dived into the earth as if it wasn't there. Danny paused for a moment when he passed the thick wooden coffin, seeing a boy in the dark with wide, panicked blue eyes and fingers tipped with shredded nails and fresh blood.
"Hey, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" Danny told the boy, keeping his voice gentle, soft. The boy jolted, fixating on the only source of light, Danny's growing green eyes. Danny hoped his smile came off as calming instead of 'freaky AF' as Tucker liked to call it. He grabbed the boy, Jason, as carefully as he could and then let his intangibility wash over the terrified teen as he lifted them both out of the coffin.
When they emerged from the coffin and the ground Danny set the teen down, leaning him against the gravestone, his own gravestone, and pulled back a bit. The boy was gasping in air as if the fetid, polluted air was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.
Danny tilted his head as he watched the boy ground himself. Now that the emotions were leveling out and his Obsession was purring in contentment rather than growling in a frenzy, Danny could feel something off about the boy.
Disregarding the fact that he'd just come back from the dead, of course. But that wasn't the oddest thing Danny had seen in his afterlife. No the boy felt... not like a normal, living human. Not even like an Amity Park resident, who all felt more than slightly liminal. No this boy, this Jason Todd, felt closer to liminal than even Jazz, Tucker or Sam, who were three of the most liminal humans Danny had ever been around.
Jason felt almost...like a ghost. But not. Danny could feel the tickle in his throat that proceeded his ghost sense but the tell-tale mist never emerged. It was as if Jason was...like him. But Danny couldn't sense a core either. Even halfas had cores.
"Who are you?" Jason spoke, breaking Danny from his thoughts and examination. Jason was looking at him with a mix of gratitude and suspicion. Which, fair. Danny had just pulled him from his own coffin and there were so many questions that could stem from all of this, disregarding all the weirdness that was just Danny himself.
"I'm Danny, Danny Phantom. Or just Phantom. I go by either. And you're Jason, right?" Danny asked, smiling at the teen and oops, yeah that was definitely his scary smile based on the slight flinch there. It wasn't his fault his teeth were too sharp now and his lips split a bit too wide.
"How did you know that?" Jason asked, blue eyes narrowing. Danny nodded at the gravestone the boy was leaning against with a raised brow. Jason turned and almost toppled over from the movement. Danny frowned as the boy caught himself on his gravestone. His skin was still pale, too pale, and as Danny watched Jason swayed again.
"Shit. You're fading. You didn't form a core and your body isn't stabilizing." Danny cursed, moving towards the boy who scrambled back, only to be stopped by his grave.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked, hands fisting as he tried to rise only to fall back to the ground when his legs refused to hold his weight.
"Saving your life. The dead aren't supposed to come back. There's always a price to pay, a balance that is struck. Currently, as you are, if I don't get enough ectoplasm in you to form your core, you'll fade and turn into a brain-dead husk." Danny told Jason, tone stern and no nonsense as he grabbed him. Jason made an effort to break free, but it was weak, and even at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break Danny's hold. Few in this realm could.
If they had the time, Danny would've approached this situation in a far different manner, but this close he could hear Jason's heartbeat, a weak flutter in his chest, skipping beats as it tried to fuel a body that was past saving. Jason didn't have the time for Danny to approach this gently and kindly, to coax trust out of the teen like he would a feral cat.
Jason had minutes left before his ectoplasm starved body consumed itself trying to make a core and failed because while wherever they were had more ambient ectoplasm than most places, it was far from enough to sustain the birth of a halfa. Maybe if Jason had stayed dead for another year, he'd have naturally formed a core and risen as a proper ghost. But that wasn't what happened, somehow he'd gathered enough to fix his body of whatever wounds or illness had put him in that coffin to begin with and come back to 'life' but without a core to sustain his body he'd be dead, again, in minutes. And Danny was not about to watch while a teenager, another teenager, died.
"How do I know I can trust you?" Jason hissed as Danny pushed his arms down and laid his clawed hands on Jason's chest.
"You don't. But you don't have another choice." Danny said with a shrug. "Now are you going to let me save your life or not?" Danny asked, not moving his hands. He'd save Jason either way but this would be easier if Jason worked with him.
"Fine." Jason spat and Danny smirked as his hands began to glow a toxic green that matched his eyes.
Ectoplasm pooled out of his hands and rushed into Jason, filling him until the boy glowed bright enough to rival the neon lights of the city around them. The green light flared around him like an aura, slowly shrinking but getting impossibly brighter as the glow centralized around his chest until a small glowing ball of green, like a trapped star, blazed from his chest.
Jason gasped, back arching as Danny pulled his hands away and the light vanished under Jason's skin. For a moment Jason's blue eyes burned green and his hair flashed snow white before returning to black, with one single lock of unearthly white left above his forehead. Jason collapsed back against his grave, chest heaving. Danny watched, eyes full of a sad understanding.
"What the fuck was that?" Jason panted out.
"Welcome to the world of the half alive, half dead." Danny said with a smile. "Want to get a burger and talk about it?" He asked, standing up and dusting off his hands.
"Make it a chili dog and you've got a deal."
~~~~~
Fixed some typos added some lines
Maybe I'll continue this AU. Maybe not. This scene was in my head for days and I wanted to share
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shortnotsweet · 10 months
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[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:
BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.
— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)
Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.
That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.
Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.
(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.
She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)
“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.
“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”
“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.
“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”
“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.
“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”
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swearingcactus · 4 months
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i think padre makes his mercs do that godfather kiss hand/ring thing and as a streetkid little v has a pavlovian reaction when a fixer puts their hand out
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archerinventive · 14 days
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That magical moment when you bring your sword and shield to the party and encounter a like-minded soul with their own sword.
One of my many highlights from Kindle this year was clashing steel with Sterling Bishop on the beach. I really couldn't have asked for more for my birthday weekend.
A huge thank you to Jason Surh and to all the other photographers out at Kindle for capturing the moments so we can hold and share them for years to come. 💛
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hanafubukki · 11 months
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Thinking about true love and book 7 again:
True Love is what allowed Malleus to be conceived by his parents and eventually hatched by Lilia.
True love is what put baby Silver to sleep by his parents and woken up by Lilia.
Sebeks parents were able to walk past the line of human and fae, of hundreds of years of animosity, and allowed them to have their children.
Love is what diasomnia is about and love is also what caused the OB to happen.
Love is as destructive and chaotic as it is healing and nourishing 🥹😭💚
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puppetmaster13u · 4 months
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Prompt 306
Danny is having such a good time right about now actually. Is he being carried like a football? Yeah. But pretty much every other ghost is avoiding him, and he got to see Vlad get his ass kicked. Sort of. He got to see him get scruffed like a misbehaving cat and then tossed to a ghost that apparently has some sort of mental-health obsession thing. 
But! Unimportant! Big halloween ghost knight? Yeah, apparently they’re also a halfa- which he guesses sort of makes sense? There had to have been some at some point before him and Vlad for that to be like, a proper term or whatever. But still! That is far more important than the fruitloop in his opinion! Learning how to wield swords! More important than any of that, thank you! 
Also dimension travel, sweet, cool, whatever, he technically does that all the time via going to the Zone. Magic. Swords. And an older halfa that doesn’t want to marry his mom! This is great! Best weekend ever! He’s going to get Sam and Tucker so many souvenirs while he’s there too, but magic swords!!
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dino-egg-oatmeal · 1 year
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Extremely important list I am currently Making
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neytui · 9 months
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Oh I completely forgot I was doing this
not finishing it so
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