#among lions

[langwrites]

Tag Game: find the word Tagged by: @windwardstar Rules: find the words in your WIP and post 'em.

Words: Top, Stone, Glare

Tagging: whoever feels like it.

new words: Out, Crow, Walk

WIP: It Don't Bite--YES IT DO Word: Stone

Kei’s vision blurred even as she stared at the window and her own stone-faced reflection.  Isobu’s eyes, staring back in real life and in her head.  You already know I will accept no new jinchūriki after you, Isobu said, his mental voice dropping to a whisper. This is merely an extension of that certainty.  Well, we can certainly say we’ll never have to face the music alone. Kei wiped at her eyes with one of the overlong sleeves. Futilely, thanks to the lenses of the domino mask and the earlier application of spirit gum. But it let her summon enough control to blink back the pooling tears before they could make wearing a mask even more inconvenient.  No, never alone. 

WIP: A Ninja's Guide to Gotham Word: Glare

Hayate let out a wordless groan, hand still up because the dust was still airborne. “Do you have to do this now?”  “When else?” Obito asked, but he got off the couch and shook off the dust like a dog. His pockets and pouches, loaded down with supplies not stowed in Kamui, smacked against him as he moved.  It somehow made the cloud of rotten detritus worse, and Hayate slid off the counter so he could curl up on the barstool next to Akaboshi’s and hide his face in his folded arms. He glared in Obito’s direction the whole time he approached. If not for the dust, Hayate might bare his teeth in a wordless biting threat. Obito could grow back about half his fingers anyway. 

WIP: part of an Among Lions smut scene set in the distant future, actually, but this part is sfw. Word: Top

“You would know best,” Lambert agreed, lying down next to her after a moment to consider his options. Propping his head up on one hand, he decided to clasp her nearer hand in a way that left their fingers intertwined. “Are you planning to fall asleep like that?” Aversa turned her face toward him, otherwise refusing to move. “Atop the sheets and while excluding you? Never. But if you try to wrap me up like a recalcitrant cat again, I will complain.”  “Noted.”

[trek-tracks]

Sorry, we can't move them

Source

[musicalyeetreblr]

Wicked characters as things in my photo album

Candle

Rain

Liir

Killyjoy

Avaric

Trism

Fiyero

Sarima

Elphaba

Glinda

[cryptic-thott]

I don’t think Sansa would particularly like using a sword, but I don’t think Ned would allow his children to go without the means to protect themselves. I think she would enjoy archery and have a adequate skill in it, but she wouldn’t be a novice in swordsmanship.

Also, I think a lot of traditional northern dresses stop at the ankle, something to try and stop the bottom of the dresses from freezing? They also don’t often wear slippers or sandals. Most, if not all northern women wear thick boots lined with fur.

[cryptidlark]

“You cling to me so—do you still trust me, after all this?”

He said in a low, broken voice, “I have always trusted you.”

[izunias-meme-hole]

Ranking The Ushiromiya's Based On How Good At Among Us They Would Be

Kinzo: 0/10 - My guy would at least do his tasks, but he's always voted out first based on vibes and how he is.

Krauss: 0/10 - Ass as an imposter, and as a cremate he's always the first to die.

Natsuhi: 7/10 - Very good crewmate, always reports bodies if she sees one, but her imposter is flawed because her lying could easily get torn apart by a gut feeling.

Jessica: 8/10 - She'll keep her guard up at all times as a crewmate, won't hesitate to vote someone out based on a feeling, but her imposter is slightly better than her mothers.

Eva: 9/10 - Effective crewmate, always convincing even if she is condescending, and her imposter is almost perfect.

Hideyoshi: 5/10 - Just minding his business as a crewmate and then his neck gets snapped. His imposter on the other hand gets kicked out immediately after he kills someone, not because he's a bad liar, but because someone always sees his ass in the act.

George: -100/10 - Touched Among Us once, broke his computer in a fit of rage, has sworn himself off from playing it again.

Rudolf: 8/10 - Much like Eva, he's an effective crewmate and his imposter is also almost perfect. Though unlike Eva, he reeks of too much snake oil to be trusted so he gets ejected half the time, even if he isn't the imposter.

Kyrie: 10/10 - It doesn't matter how many red flags she'd give off, you'd never see her coming.

Battler: 10/10 - Actually a pretty competent crewmate who survives off pure luck sometimes and hates suspecting someone he knows. Though if he has to play the imposter, he'll play the imposter.

Ange: 8/10 - An amazing crewmate, will say "If I die, the imposter is X", and her imposter is good.

Rosa: 5/10 - Would try to play like Eva and somehow fail in one way or another.

Maria: 5/10 - Good crewmate, but her imposter is found out immediately. She also promotes trolling and second impostering to someone in particular.

Lion: 9/10 - Helpful crewmate, and she carried elements of that in her imposter. She can also lie pretty well, but ultimately her imposter needs some work.

Beatrice: 100/10 - If you've finished Umineko, you know that Beatrice would be the ultimate imposter.

[silviakundera]

So I've been listening to the Romance of The Three Kingdoms podcast, which is fantastic, but it's progressing very slow cause I just play it during my commute and I constantly have to rewind things 3 or 4 times because it's always like, wait, which of the 55 characters are you again?

and since I'm asking questions..;

why does everyone always have 10,000 men to ride out with?

can nobody be chill? you dudes are always sobbing & swearing allegiance unto death and then like 3 months later some governor gives you a fine horse and all bets are off.

how does anything get done in this country when you're always feasting for 2 days and betraying your once and future allies at the slightest provocation???

I mean ya'll are faithless hoes.

it really took banging an official's hot daughter, when someone else thought they were promised the hot daughter, in order for everyone to decide to overthrow and murder Dong Zhou. All of the public torture fests, abusing the populace, embezzlement... unpleasant but apparently not a dealbreaker.

It's really always like, omg my dad got murdered in your providence and to quench my anger I gotta massacre all the residents.

and ok, this guy has a way with flattery so I'll spare his life ⏩⏩ (guy with a flare for flattery returns; u and your whole family die)

STOP SPARING OBVIOUSLY DANGEROUS PEOPLE'S LIVES, FOR THE LOVE OF 🤦

so yeah im having a good time

[fandom-puff]

A Doe Among Lions

Chapter 1: The Hand’s Tourney

A Doe Among Lions masterlist

ROBERT

How he hated Lannisters.

They were all much of a muchness: self-righteous and proud and green-eyed and blonde.

It was as though his wife followed him everywhere he went, although he did not actually know (nor care) where she was half the time. But her kin were everywhere. Her uncle’s lad, Lancel, poured his wine. Though the boy snivelled and shook at his booming voice, Robert could see the hatred glinting in those eyes. When Jaime Lannister minded his door while he ate and drank and shat and whored, he knew those emerald eyes that were twinned with his wife’s narrowed in distaste. Tywin’s eyes were icier than all of the North combined, but at least he had the good grace to keep to Casterly Rock.

But Seven Hells was Cersei the worst. Oh, she smiled and laughed and said all the right things, but by the gods was she cold. Colder than any northern bride ever would have been- his Lyanna was warm as they came, summer incarnate, with flowers weaved through her hair like a nymph. Cersei was easy enough on the eyes, but her regal beauty and her hard glare would never compare to his sweet winter rose.

He had decided very early on into his reign that emeralds were his least favourite gem.

At least his pavilion was separate to hers, and with Ned Stark by his side, the trumpets sounding and the banners snapping in the wind it was like the good days again. He had always said that his great antlered helm was far lighter than the crown he now wore.

It took little to make Ned Stark relent to this tourney; that frozen old wolf knew that the King’s word was law. And so the stands and the pavilions were erected; the aurochs were slayed and dressed and salted for the feasts; Dornish and Arbor wine was rolled in by the barrel; and the nobles and knights and commons all flooded to the Capital in preparation for the Hand’s Tourney.

“This tourney has naught to do with me,” Ned had protested weakly.

“I named you my Hand, it has everything to do with you,” Robert had responded, slapping his friend jovially on the back. When Ned changed tack and began fretting about coin, Robert had waved him off. “Littlefinger will find the copper, he always does,” he said easily.

Ned had grumbled that a tourney this grand would cost gold, but Robert simply laughed and said “Littlefinger finds his ways. This is how the Southron lords do it, Ned- best get used to it.”

—

He had taken his seat in the royal stand, waved his hand at the commons who called his name and called for the gods to bless him, and had his snivelling cupbearer pour his wine.

His eyes roved over the crowds, squinting for a flash of white scale armour. “Barristan,” he called, and the captain of his guard leaned closer.

“Your Grace?”

“Who have you set to guard my sister today. I would not have her alone with this many strangers about,”

Ser Barristan nodded. “‘Tis Ser Jaime’s turn this morn, your Grace, and I shall man his place once he takes his turn at the joust,” the king grunted, and Barristan nodded into the distance. “I see them there, your Grace, with the Queen and Prince Joffrey,”

Robert squinted, and sure enough there was a gaggle of colour, bookended by the white armour of Jaime Lannister and the dull mail of the Hound. The Prince had a fondness for Lannister’s dog, but Clegane was fearsome enough that people gave him a wide berth, so Robert permitted him to mind the boy. He spied Balon Swann a few paces from the group; no doubt he was minding the queen.

Cersei leant her golden head towards Helaena, and the younger woman tilted her head back. Robert fancied he could imagine the sound of her pleasant laughter as she tittered at the Queen’s remark. He pressed his lips together; he misliked the thought of Cersei influencing his sister, and he could almost picture her gilded claws piercing the girl’s shoulders under the guise of sisterly guidance.

When his queen joined him at the royal stands, their children ushered behind her, he kissed the ring at her finger as she sat down. She smiled pleasantly at the commons who called for her, just as Robert had, but he could see the lack of warmth in her eyes. He grunted, looking away from his bride. “And where is my sister?” He called to nobody in particular.

“She is with Uncle Renly, father, and Uncle Jaime,” said Myrcella. He nodded in acknowledgement to the Princess, before his youngest son spoke up.

“And with Lord Littlefinger,” he said. “We wanted to stay with them but our Lady Aunt said we must join you, father,”

“Lord Baelish, Tommen,” corrected Cersei. “And Helaena is quite right. You are the remain in the royal stands unless commanded otherwise. Look, now, they’re starting,” her voice was drowned out by a blast from the trumpets as Jory Cassel and Horas Redwyne readied their steeds.

—

RENLY

“Stand down, Lannister. I shall mind my sister from hereout,”

Helaena touched the green velvet of his sleeve lightly. “You know Ser Jaime cannot, brother. Robert has commanded he guard me,” she said gently.

Renly smirked at his sister, looking down at her. “And when have you ever paid any mind to what Robert commands, sister?”

Helaena suppressed a pretty smile. “There are many strangers at court for the tourney,” she said, “it would look bad for the king’s own sister to disobey him- and even worse for his own Master of Laws to do the same,” she added sternly, though her blue eyes glinted with mischief.

Renly grinned at his sister. He so enjoyed when she came to court- she made such a pleasant change from sour old Stannis. It was like their days at Storm’s End, in the lull between Robert’s Rebellion and Renly being made Lord of Storm’s End. They looked the most alike of all their siblings, and for much of their childhood it was easy to muddle the pair up. But now Renly was tall and broad where Helaena was shorter. Her hair had grown to her waist, while his remained at his shoulders- but the shade was the same: black as night and glossy like silk. Robert had said once that Helaena seemed to have stolen all of Stannis’s hair; Renly had roared with laughter, while Stannis had pursed his lips together.

“Will you be entering the lists, brother?” Helaena asked. “Ser Jaime and the other white knights have,”

Renly smirked easily. “Of course,” he said. “Though not until later on,” he said. “Can I count on your favour?” He asked, grinning as he nudged her. Helaena let out a laugh.

“Indeed not,” she smirked. “My favour is reserved for someone with a chance of winning,” she teased.

Renly pressed a hand to his heart. “You wound me, sweet sister,” he said, all theatrics. “And who, pray, do you intend to bestow that pretty kerchief upon?”

Helaena sighed, feigning wistfulness. “Oh, only the most gallant knight here,” she said solemnly. “Mayhaps Ser Jaime or Ser Barristan. Or one of Lord Stark’s northmen, they seem most honourable- and it is the Hand’s Tourney, not the Big Headed Brothers’ Tourney after all,” she added slyly. Behind them, Jaime Lannister snorted, his mouth pressed determinedly into a thin line, and Littlefinger let out a bark of laughter.

“Well met, my lady,” he said with an easy smirk.

Renly placed his hand on the sleeve of Helaena’s pale blue gown. He was not keen for his sister to be in Littlefinger’s company. Helaena smiled pleasantly.

“You are most kind, Lord Baelish,” she said pleasantly. “Oh- they’re beginning,” she said, standing on tip toe to peer down to where Cassel and Redwyne were bowing to Robert.

Renly watched with interest, smirking as Robert waved them away- he was sure he heard him call for them to “have at it, already.”

He leant towards Baelish. “What say you, Baelish. Twenty dragons on Redwyne? I doubt they get much jousting done at Winterfell,��

Baelish smirked. “Aye, I’ll take your wager,” he said with a nod. Within moments, the stands were full of murmurs and calls for various bets. Renly felt secure with his wager on Horas Redwyne- especially as he cantered past in his gleaming armour and his shield emblazoned with the clustered grapes of House Redwyne- and began agreeing on various other bets with those around him.

“Fifty dragons on the Northman!” Helaena called. The lords around her looked at her bemusedly.

“Are you quite certain, my lady?” One elder lord said.

“Sister, you do not have fifty dragons to wager- and I certainly won’t be lending you them,” Renly hissed in her ear, his hand at her elbow.

Helaena shook him off. “If I lose the wager, the winner may have my ring,” she said, holding up her hand, where a gleaming ring of silver and sapphires adorned her slender finger. A lordling below her eyed the ring hungrily; another peered over Renly’s shoulder as the clear blue stones caught the light.

“Done,” said Lord Baelish after a beat. Helaena smiled genially and accepted his handshake.

“You have already agreed to a bet against the Northman,” Renly protested.

Baelish merely shrugged. “If the Northman loses, then I get twenty dragons from you, my lord. If Redwyne loses… well I shall be twenty dragons poorer… but I shall have a fine ring worth double,”

Their discussion was drowned out by the blast of trumpets and the roar of the crowd and the thunder of hooves- and soon the thud of Horas Redwyne hitting the dirt silenced them all. Renly grumbled as he rifled through his coin purse, handing out the winnings to those around him, catching his sister’s triumphant smirk as she replaced her ring. “Not a word,” he said to her, though his smile broke easily when she let out a giggle. “Perhaps I shall have you broker my deals from now on, sister,”

Helaena laughed aloud. “Not a chance,” she told him, accepting the coin pouch Baelish had passed her. “I shan’t bet on every tilt,” she added sensibly.

“Ah, but you will bet on mine, I guarantee,”

“Naturally,” she quipped. “I’ve already bet with Robert,” she added, nudging him playfully.

The day wore on as more and more nobles and hedgeknights took to the field. The youngest Baratheon siblings shouted their support for their favourites and bickered over who they thought the victor would be. There was rather a game of musical knights when it came to be Ser Jaime’s turn in the field; Ser Barristan came to stand guard as Lannister unhorsed two men, and swapped back to do the same. Then it came for Barristan and Jaime to tilt, with Balon Swann blustering over while they jousted.

When young Hugh of the Vale was killed by Ser Gregor the Mountain, the colour drained from Helaena’s face as she stared at the pool of blood surrounding the young boy, and it took several more tilts for her to regain the spirit of the day. “D’you want to retire?” Renly murmured to her, but she shook her head and waved him away, plastering a smile on her face. Likely she did not want Robert to catch a glimpse and see that something was amiss; Renly was of the belief that Robert would keep her in a gilded cage if she allowed it.

“No,” she said bravely, looking up at him. “I must see your joust,” she insisted. Renly nodded and squeezed her hand. He kissed her sweetly on the forehead, before retiring to his pavilion to don his green enameled armour and golden antlered helm.

Renly’s joust was a failure; he fell to the Hound on the first tilt, a tine from his helm snapping with a terrifying crack that the crowd took for bones. Despite being the loser, however, the commons still cheered for him. When he returned to the stand, Helaena smacked his chest, the slap dulled by the velvet of his doublet. “Hey, now!” He said, grabbing for her wrist. “Clegane has already bruised my arse, sister. I won’t have you doing for my chest,”

Helaena frowned. “You frightened me, you fool,” she chastised. “And you lost me a barrel of my favourite summerwine,” Renly roared with laughter, and soon Helaena’s lips tugged into a begrudging smile. “From now on I shall bet against you,” she declared, but that only made Renly laugh harder, and the two sibling sat back down to watch the remainder of the day’s tilts.

The Knight of Flowers rode onto the field to cries of adoration from the crowd, his cape of a thousand roses streaming behind him, his polished armour gleaming in the sun. Helm in hand, he plucked a white rose from his cape and held it out to Helaena. As they spoke the usual courtesies of knights and high ladies, Loras’s brown eyes flicked to Renly’s, the two exchanging a secret smile before Loras cantered off.

His Knight of Flowers rode gallantly, and was soon declared a finalist alongside the Kingslayer, the Hound, and the Mountain That Rides, but the sun was setting and Robert decreed that the final would be on the morrow, before the archery contest and the mêlee.

“Come, brother,” Helaena murmured, drawing his attention away from the Tyrell boy’s streaming cloak of blooms and his enameled armour, and the ladies and girls with romance in their hearts swooning over him. “We must away to the feast,”

Arm in arm, the youngest Baratheon siblings began the walk from the tourney grounds to the feast, where a huge table had been laid out beneath the sunset. The air was perfumed by the smell of roasting meat and vegetables, of fresh seafood, of summer wine and plump fruit, and filled with mirth and celebration and plenty.

Already, Robert seemed to be in his cups, roaring with laughter at every jape, calling for his cup to be refilled by the minute, and for his friends’ cups too. Renly and Helaena took their places once the usual formalities had been spoken.

“Have you enjoyed the day thus far, brother?” Helaena said to Robert, who incline his head.

“Aye, especially when Renly was knocked onto his arse!” Robert said, his face already ruddy.

Helaena smiled politely, and rested her hand on Renly’s arm. “I have already had words with our brother,” she said, feigning seriousness. “And I shall have that barrel put aside for your next visit to Storm’s End. Perhaps we can share it- none for Renly,”

Renly chuckled at his sister’s teasing. “That’s fine, sister, I wouldn’t drink that piss you enjoy so much of you paid me!”

The three laughed, and the feast progressed. Joff was playing the perfect Prince with the eldest Stark girl, it seemed, despite all that bother with wolves and butcher’s boys on the Kingsroad. Ned Stark still looked out of place, even at his own tourney feast. The queen’s face was ice as well as her husband grew louder and louder, boasting of his prowess and his intention to put it to use in the mêlee. “Perhaps that is unwise, your Grace,” the queen said in a form voice. “I would not wish to see you injured,”

The laughter around them stopped, and the air soured alongside Robert’s mood. “I will,” he said stubbornly, waving for his cupbearer to refill his cup. Renly sat straighter, and he saw Jaime Lannister and Ned Stark do the same. Helaena opened her mouth to speak, reaching to take Robert’s hand, but he brushed off her sweet, mollifying words and her gentle touch as though she were but a butterfly.

“You will not,” the queen insisted, setting down her wine cup. “I forbid it,”

“NO!” Robert boomed, and silence fell across the full length of the table. “You do not command me, woman. I say I shall ride, so I shall ride!”

Face drained of blood and green eyes glinting with silent fury, the queen stood from the table and stalked away. Cross words were exchanged between King and Kingsguard, and Jaime Lannister was knocked to the floor. It seemed besting Lannisters was the only thing that could sweeten Robert’s mood, but the feast was called to an end all the same.

Helaena sighed and stood. “Come,” she said to Renly. “You can escort be back,”

Renly smirked, mentally replaying the moment the Kingslayer hit the dirt. “And if I want to stay here and drink and feast and whore?”

“Then I shall make my own way back,” Helaena said with a shrug. “It is dark out, brother, but it makes no difference to me,”

“Certainly not,” Renly said, standing and offering his arm, which Helaena took with a triumphant smirk.

“Do you truly care for my safety and honour on these dark roads, Renly, or do you fear our brothers’ fury so?” She teased. Renly rolled his eyes.

“Oh hush, you conniving wench,” he said, but he grinned at the mischief in her eyes, leading her back to the castle and safely to her apartments, his cloak brushing over young Loras Tyrell’s legs as he went.

I hope you are enjoying this story thus far! The first few chapters lay the groundwork, but the action shall truly begin soon… we just need rid of Robert…

[wiirocku]

Ecclesiastes 9:4 (NET) - But whoever is among the living has hope; a live dog is better than a dead lion.

Better to Be Poor but Alive than Rich but Dead

[vertigoartgore]

Disney's The Lion King turns 30 today. Feel old yet ?

[wyrd-author]

So I’ll be the first to admit this is a weird one. I wanted to experiment with combining separate books into one large omnibus. The Wicked Years Series (which was the inspiration for the musical Wicked) is so full of weird things I figured it would be fitting to combine them into one thicc volume. It’s now up for sale in my shop at the link in my bio.

All four Wicked Years books (Wicked, Son of a Witch, A Lion Among Men, Out of Oz) were bound together in black hand dyed sienna leather with green foiled page edges and green vinyl tooling. Normally I would have charged more for this thicc boy but the green foil page edging is a little splotchy in some parts because it was impossible to press the pages tight enough for the edging process.

[langwrites]

Sorry if you've answered this b4, but is Among Lions still in the works? I just read all of it and it was very 👌👌👌👌👌👌

Strictly speaking, yes. I've just had a hell of a time coming up with motivation for it.

The way I tend to write scenes is that I like to lean on an opening line or opening paragraph that helps get into the POV character's head, and Aversa has decided to be difficult. Which isn't out of character for her, actually.

Also, I tended not to get a lot of feedback for the story relative to some of my other works, which means I was mostly motivating myself. This is an entirely subjective thing, but I also have a tendency to feed off other people's enthusiasm if it's mirrored back? Idk, it's a thing with me. Sooner or later, the well runs dry without rain somewhere.

I coincidentally started reading a lot of Batman fics around December, to the point where my friends were like "Ah, I see the Next Thing on the horizon."

Might've shot my own muse with that one.

[skrs-cats]

Sometimes I think of Jay being there for Lion's first kits being born and I'm all 🥹🥹🥹.

Lion describing what each of them looks like to him too. 😭. They are brothers 😭😭.

the way i.. have a comic idea for this and have had some dialogue written in my notes for a while now.....

[ameliasshepherd]

Nanny outlived all three of her thropp girl charges 🥹😭

[cryptic-thott]

Arya becomes a fairly fearsome Fighter in her teenage years. It’s hard to find her a husband tbh not that she particularly wants one for the time being

I think she’s Rob’s shadow after Jon goes to the wall. He humors her for the most part, letting her tag along hunting and to most of the meetings. He likes that she’s interested in learning how to keep winterfell together

[warningsine]

"A Lion Among Men" by Gregory Maguire