#war trophy lioness

[writingsofwesteros]

Hii! I was thinking threesome with Robb and Jon? Maybe dark!Robb and dark!Jon, if it isn't too much. <3

AN: I Hope you like it x Thank you for all the votes!! x

NSFW

“Shh, there you go, hmm…doesn’t it feel good?” Robb purred into your ear like the wolf he was. The crackling of the fire is the only sound other than your heavy breathing and soft moans easily falling from your lips. A soft gulp came over you as you slowly looked down; the dark curls of Jon Snow were in between your legs.

“Tell him how good he’s doing.” Robb continued to whisper as your body arched from the bed covered in furs. Your voice was lost to you for a moment as your fingers reached into those curls. “So good…so…I…” Your legs were beginning to shake now as your toes curled. The new, intense feeling making itself at home inside you.

“Hmm, it seems you are taking her to new places, brother.” Robb chuckled darkly as you fell back onto the bed. Your soft, ample breasts bouncing with your movements as your eyes rolled. His tongue was quickening its pace. Jon circled your clit again and again before kitten licking it; he repeated that motion over and over again.

Your eyes rolled back as Robb gently cupped your face. “Such a sweet cub we have.” He whispered before leaning. Your noses brushed together as his thumb moved over your bottom lip for a moment. Your face prettily screwed up in pleasure as he watched on. His cock hardened against his breeches at the sight of you.

His soft lips were soon on your own as you whimpered out. Your free hand moved into his locks as you melted against him. “Good girl.” Robb whispered before deepening the kiss. His tongue slowly moving over your bottom lip whilst Jon was sucking happily on your clit. The touch was enough to push you over the edge.

Their dark chuckles echoed around the room as Jon continued to suck on you. His fat tongue brushing over your folds; lapping at all the wetness coming his way as Robb pushed his tongue into your hot mouth. All you could do was moan as you began to drool. Your eyes softly began to flutter shut as the pleasure tightened its hold on you.

Your cheeks were flushed as Robb’s soft kisses began to move down your neck. They enjoyed marking you; thankfully, the cold winters allowed you to have furs around your neck and hide them. Your fingers only moved into his locks some more as his larger hand moved towards your breast and began to palm at you.

His thumb brushed against your pebbled nipple as a sharp gasp escaped you. The pleasure moving through you with ease. It was only when your head fell back once more that you could feel the fat, leaking head of Jon’s cock brushing against your weeping pussy. Your eyes widened as you grabbed onto Robb. “Oh..I don–.” The words couldn’t escape as Robb’s soft lips were on your own once more.

You clutched at his body as Jon slowly began to push in. “Oh..oh gods…I..” Your cries were muffled as he gently cupped the back of your neck. Your legs shook with pleasure as you felt your stomach already tightening. Your sweet pussy fluttered around his throbbing cock as he moved his larger hand up your stomach.

Your legs fell apart as he finally bottomed. Robb’s hot mouth softly captured your breast and began to suck on it. He nibbled and sucked whilst Jon moaned out. He softly hiked your leg over his shoulder; his fat cock slipping deeper. You couldn’t stop the cry of pleasure escaping you as Robb chuckled up at you from his place.

You could hardly concentrate on anything around you now as your head fell back. Those golden locks of yours cascading around and had you looking like an angel. A blissed out angel of pleasure. It was the thought running through their minds as well. Jon slowly began to pick up his pace as the sound of bodies slapping against each other echoed.

“Hmm, I think she enjoys this.” Robb purred; amusement dripping in his tone as you blushed so prettily. Your lips parted as if to respond but all that would come out were the moans of pleasure Jon was fucking out of you. The bed was creaking as your hands reached for anything to hold onto; gripping at the sheets around you.

You were practically drooling once more as his thrusts quickened. There was not enough time to enjoy each other’s bodies with the war continuing around. Not that you were thinking of your family or any of that in this situation. Your head fell to the side as you watched Robb gracefully move to stand; the breeches falling to the floor.

His smirk was still in place as his hand began to guide his fat cock and began to smear it against your face. You could only whine as your tongue moves to find him with your face tilting too. You tried as best you could whilst Jo grabbed at your thighs and picked up his pace. His dark stare never leaves your blissed out face.

Robb gently takes the back of your neck and guides you. His fat, already leaking cock pushes inside your hot mouth as you hum. The moans Jon was pushing out of you vibrated against Robb as he slowly guided you down. Your free hand reaches up to Jon as your eyes are soon fluttering shut. Your tongue slowly began to brush up and down his length.

Robb’s hold in your hair only tightened as he brought you completely against his stomach. Your gagging was music to both of their ears as Jon moved your body. The new position had your soaked pussy clamping around his thrusting cock. His own grunts of pleasure began to escape him even as he tried to stay quiet.

“So good for us. Hmm?” Robb purred down to you. He gently stroked your hair as his own hips began to rock. You could only look up from under your wet lashes as you reached blindly for Jon’s hand and he reached for you. Your fingers clasped around his hand as your moans of their names were lost; muffled against Robb.

Your toes began to curl as your stomach was only tightening some more. “Fuck, that’s it..taking us so well.” Your face was prettily flushed as you grabbed at Jon some more as he leaned closer; his cock pushing deeper. His thrusts quickened as his larger hand reached for your free, bouncing breasts to play with.

He pinched your pebbled nipples that had you whimpering out; moaning against Robb some more as he groaned. His other hand moved into your hair as he kept you against his stomach. His thrusts are quickening now. Robb was fucking your mouth just as Jon was pounding into your creamy, squirting pussy.

His dark chuckle sounded out even through his moans as he slammed again and again inside you. All you could do was whine and take it; your eyes rolling back. Jon groaned your name once more before his own climax ripped through him. His cum was leaking down his fat length as you shook. You nearly blacked out from the pleasure as he still rocked his hips.

Robb was moaning above you; your gagging continued as your mouth tightened around his throbbing cock. Your tongue brushed over his sensitive head without realising it and it was enough to push him over the edge. Your eyes flashed open as his cum flooded your hot mouth. He still moved his hips whilst stroking your cheek.

You were a complete mess; just as they liked you as his cum and your drool was soon dripping from your mouth. Jon’s hand came around the back of your neck and soon his soft lips were capturing your own and everything on them. Robb’s hand slowly began to move up your thighs and soon two of his thick fingers slipped in and he quickly thrust them. Their dark chuckling only continued as you began to shake.   

#robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader #request #war trophy lioness #au

[morsking]

i was just randomly thinking about joyce messier, man. her "capital subsumes all critiques into itself" quote is reflected by her pessimistic self awareness. she quite often tells you she's disillusioned with liberalism and wishes she could be someone else living under different rules. she is not proud of herself, and she makes sure you know that. but that apologetic self-deprication is utterly meaningless. she doesn't actually DO anything to make things better around revachol. she's really just there to try and enforce a status quo and books it as soon as it falls apart. the state of revachol isn't really a humanitarian issue as far as wild pines and the moralintern are concerned. it's a farcical trophy, a token they can display to sell the story it was incremental progress and the free market that won the revacholian revolution, and at large, the conflict of class around globe. it tries to sell that this is the only way forward, that your destiny does not belong to you, but to people who can make decisions who coincidentally have all this power and money and education but have never even met you or asked you about what you want and what would help you.

it's a "no we may not be perfect but we are trying to make things better than anyone else" devoid of sincerity, because evidently liberalism and centrism will not truly help anyone once problems they created boil and explode. and the reason why is because they aren't brave enough for any real introspection about the way they conduct politics, because that would involve relinquishing power and capital. if joyce really cared, if joyce really wanted to change things, she would have. and not just her but wild pines and the moralintern themselves. one is not an accidental or helpless defender of liberalism. it requires a certain willingness and self-interested awareness to be complicit (and when convenient, oblivious) of inequality, treating it as some natural matter of fact instead of a real material phenomenon aggravated by the way liberalism and centrism approach any kind of problem.

disco elysium can be very in your face about its politics, but it's very effective about tearing apart bad politics with the viciousness of a lioness with a migraine. there is nothing more unsightly and useless than the self-flagellating liberal. the "i'm sorry i'm white"s who won't call to defund the police. the "i don't see gender"s who won't defend gender-affirming health-care. the tourists who make fun of other tourists preaching cultural awareness but won't pay impoverished locals for souvenirs. the politician who voted for and funded a war offering thoughts and prayers to its victims. truly, there is nothing more useless than the hypocrite. you do not save the world by taking forever just to say "there certainly is a problem", you merely prolong the demise you induced upon it.

[frick6101719]

I don't know any of the stuff you mentioned in the tags but I'd like to request a playlist based off of a ship of your choosing ☺️

THANKS wow this was so much freedom--sorry it took so long to reply, but I had to think carefully. I chose Han x Leia, because... come on. There's so much to work with between these two <3 hope you like it!

1. Last Mile Home - Kings of Leon

Take it back I never meant it Never thought that it would come to pass Baby know it's not forgotten Baby know that this is gonna last

2. Passenger Seat - Charli Adams

I guess I'm the one to blame You never asked me once to rid you of your pain Forty miles down, I just trace Anything to get your voice out of my brain

I tried really hard not to miss you But it's not looking good for me If you can't stop your car from spinning Don't let me out of the passenger seat

3. Sweet Darlin’ - Heart

Early that morning we knew I had to fly Engines were screaming and still I was asking myself why High on the wind I was feeling my sweet darlin' cry My heart was breaking I closed my eyes Darlin' Can you hear me We can't be wrong The night's song Pulls you near me

4. Don’t Take the Money - Bleachers

When you're looking at your shadow Standing on the edge of yourself Praying on the darkness Just don't take the money Dreaming of an easy Waking up without weight now And you're looking at the heartless Just don't take the money

5. Prize Fighter - The Killers

I'm going to be her prize fighter I know that she's out of my league I'm going to be her prize fighter My uniform has been decreed

#side bar I am SO MAD that I didn't think of Prize Fighter for ReaperStang #if I make a longer playlist for them it is going on SO HARD #I mean he calls her a lioness AND talks about wolves #it's a trophy husband song #Darrow and Han are very firmly in the military-trophy-husband camp #to their badass political wives #so it works so well for Han x Leia too #but come on #he calls her a lioness #Sweet Darlin #chaoschurros #Star Wars #Han x Leia #music

[luffys]

i. nylons      Your chainmail is gone now,      turned to rust and withered away,      replaced by black stockings      with a black heart to match          that pumps anger and hate and defiance          through every inch          of your, now, unmarred skin,      despite the wars you’ve lived      despite the life you had.      The gowns are gone now      and blouses and skirts are all that remain,      are all the rage and fashion of modern days,      precariously protecting you      from the wandering hands in the light      when you walk though this land,          the Shadow Land,          built on deception and deceit      with the Lion that stalks your every move in the shadows      of glass buildings and still trees,          with it’s claws and teeth drawn,          waiting patiently, tail swinging,          to sink them quick and deep in your flesh          in the shadows of sleep      once more.      You don’t give Him the chance,          there are no openings for Him,          not anymore. ii. lipsticks     Your eyes are painted black     sharp and wicked as you          paralyze any who dare step in your way.     You smile with lips the colour of blood,          as deep and dark as the arrows you once unleashed,     teeth drawn, sharp and white and pointed,          -Unnatural, you hear from behind.          Deadly, you think to yourself.-     waiting and waiting     for any fools to open their mouths,          wanting to feel the satisfaction when you rip them into shreds     (like you have been,          time and time again).     You are more monster than girl now,     more dark and wild than the          gentle and obedient servant you were moulded to be.     You know better than to give a knife to your friends          and think you are safe.     Not after He showed you the error of your ways,     with body piled on body of your family,          broken and bloody and beaten and gone,          left behind for only you to claim.     Even the little lioness,     the favoured one.     Brave and free and valiant,          but left as cold and dead as the Witch you were called to fight,          once upon a time, a lifetime ago,     when He was done.     Called upon like puppets dangling from strings,          that you once believed reached the sky          but opened your eyes          only to discover they were being pulled taut into     His bloodied and open red maw     as he reeled you in, one by one,          feeding off of your Trust and Devotion and Loyalty and Faith.     Only you noticed,          the blood that dripped from your skin from          the teeth that bit and the claws that scratched          under the guise of Affection and Love.     Only you noticed,          and only you found the Courage to          break free of the strings          that bound and cut at you,     tearing yourself into pieces in the process. iii. invitations     You face them now,         a warrior,         a goddess,         a slayer of monsters and demons and Deception,     going to battle any naysayers and disbelievers who tremble         at your power,         at your transformation,         at your ressurection.     You reach inside yourself to destroy the Lion that feeds on you,         a parasite,     tearing it out just as it tore you open when it settled itself     inside your breast and dug its way into your heart,     feeding off of your Youth and Naivety,         insatiable.     You pray to Gods,         but Him no longer,     not the beast hiding in the lion skin it wears,         a trophy of an old conquest.     You pray to the Gods,         ones who take and take,         just as you do in return.     A circle of balance and peace and power,         of beginning and end.     Night watches over you,         offering solace and anonymity in Her arms,         taking, in return, your pain and tears and nightmares.     Day peeks through every now and then,         with Her warmth and protection and fire,         taking your demons and feeding off of your despair.     To Sorrow,         who sits silently by your side in your grief,         who provides comfort and companionship,         you give your future to do with it what She will.     Anger walks with you, side by side,     Thrumming and flighty,         giving you the ability to give a painful sting,         to all the ones who have wronged you,         taking, in return, the peace and calm of forgotten days.     To Life and Death,         the Ones who you’ve conquered time and time again,         you give all that’s left without care.     When He will see you again,     you will grin, fierce and sharp and deadly,          with a mouth painted red,          a parody of the day He took them from you.     He is forgotten now,          just as you were.     It’s time, my dear.     To rise         like the girl we know you to be,         to shed that last life, another past life,         and breathe again         as you soar higher than any before you,     higher than even He has dared to go.

— no longer a friend | m.g.

#userroh #userdorian #quecksilvereyes #usercharl #narnia #spilledink #chronicles of narnia #narnianetwork #mine #mohwrites #The Chronicles of Narnia #t. poetry #f. narnia #c. susan pevensie #r. aslan x susan #i reposted it #because it was a mess with the other way

[sion-theundeadjuggernaut]

Shag me

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters. Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours. Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Not gonna write three for you. So I’ll write one instead, horny slut. 

Battle raging upon the holiest of mountains in all of Runterra was no rare occurrence by all standards. Religious ideologies, beings enamored by power, seeking to gain or destroy it, treasure hunters, raiders and marauders. The mountain had known conflict long before Demaica or the empire even existed. It would know battle long after they perished. 

The sun burned with a wrathful vigor in the noon sky, no clouds to avail all those who were struck by her searing rays while the cold winds gnawed at the bones of all. For any man not born of the mountain, this was hell incarnate. The earth was cold as ice, the air was thin and each breath drawn burned the lungs. The environment alone forged its denizens into warriors of perfect vigor and resistance to the elements that all else had to struggle with. The golden weapons of the Ra’Horak clashed with Noxian dark steel as shields splintered, flesh seared and armor shattered. The stench of death laid heavy in the air as gleaming spears burst through shields and thick armor plates alike. The Noxian soldiers were well trained, well equipped and experienced soldiers, feared throughout the world for their versatility and their skill at arms. The name Noxus carried far and wide from Ionia to Targon, from Freljord to Bilgewater. Ever nation knew of the red banner and its infamous legions. But these great soldiers faced odds that even the Trifarian legion would choke to overcome for their foes did not train to fight nations or soldiers. They fought the great beyond, the abyss. The fought the extinction of all life, for they had been indoctrinated from birth that they must protect the sun with every fiber of their being, as once it was extinguished there would be no more light to follow. Nothing but darkness was the price of their failure. What were soft men in armor against the gnashing of teeth, the chittering of a thousand watchful eyes all acting as one? They were nothing but leaves in the wind against the foe these warriors faced and thus were treated as such. Flaming spears, forged in solstice heat, blessed from beyond the stars, perforated shields and armor as if they were but snow on the white rock of the mountain.

This was no battle; this was a slaughter of cattle. Dark armor contrasted against the white rock of the holy mountain, now drenched in a layer of crimson as bodies cooled and twitching ceased. Sion saw no victory in this fight, he needed not to. He had already won. Those who still stood were merely chaff to him, wheat to be cut down by the furious golden order which thirsted for blood after the transgression.

“My Lord!” One of the sergeants cried sprinting up to the undead behemoth as the other contingents who were not yet fighting turned his gaze to the two leaders, unease and fear clearly evident in their eyes. They were far from home, no legion to save them, no basilisk blitz to strike the backlines, nothing but themselves and a furious battalion of warriors. “We are outmatched, their weapons, they cut through us like butter. We must retreat, now! If we want to ..” The cracking of his skull was heard even through the shouting and crying of the battle and all those who witnessed it froze in fear. There would be no retreat, terror gripped them as they realized their lives were forfeit. “Charge and win, or retreat and die.” The ultimatum was clear and his tone was dead serious. He cared not that this was a blow to their morale, they were a worthy sacrifice for the cause. The remaining sergeants did what they could to rally the soldiers as they clashed with the ranks of the Ra’Horak, black against gold, soldiers against warriors. The sour stench of spilled entrails filled the air as death reaped plentiful. With a violent burst the heavens themselves heaved and cracked open as a pillar of searing light blazed over the Noxian forces leaving nothing but charred soil, burnt metal and ash behind. Those not evaporated by the blast were seared past the point of saving, the skin blistering in an instant as eyes and tongues boiled within the skull. The heat and light alone blinded all but Sion who understood that the Radiant Lioness herself had taken helm. It was time to leave.

But she had her sights upon him and even as her followers dealt with the intruders, she charged past them all, knowing that this battle was nothing more than lives paid in exchange for time. She would not give him what he sought to buy as she followed him down the mountain. Sion was fast on long straight paths, but here in this rocky terrain, she had the advantage. Despite her heavy plate, shield and sword the amazon was nimble and fast. Powerful legs carried her down the mountain fueled by a warrior’s rage all its own.

“Face me Sion.” She snarled before jumping into his path, sword and shield hoisted high, ready to absorb the blow that was about to come from the undead behemoth. “There will be no victory for you today. Return what you have stolen and I might be swayed to the mercy of a quick death undead abomination.” His ax crashed against her shield with a violent clash, the ground beneath her feet gave way a few inches driving cracks into the solid rock formation but she remained unmoved, shield high. There was a fierce gleam in her eyes that spoke of resolve but also fury, a solemn promise that she would not yield what he had taken. Sion on the other hand was determined to bring his treasure before the grand general, another token of service. Her head was not on the planned trophies he would return with, but if she pushed him he would be quite open to reconsider.

“Noxus will have his prize.” The necrotic behemoth roared at her face, his powerful roar sending her auburn mane dancing and with his war cry he leapt forward, his giant axe smashing into the soil where she had stood only moments ago. She knew which strikes to block and which to evade, she had faced things more powerful before, with an even greater drive but still, this beast was not to be underestimated.

In the distance the rhythmic sound of greaves striking the mountain side was faintly noticeable amidst the fighting. But before long the golden host of Ra’Horak warriors appeared, their bronze skin and golden armor painted red with Noxian blood, another reason why Sion had to return. He himself had no problem with sending men to their death for the fun of it. But the raven general always expected value for lives lost. The Ra’Horak raised their shields, burning spears readied by the second line of defense as they completed the phalanx formation, a short but powerful war chant made it evident to all that the Ra’Horak were ready to engage the beast.

“Stand down.” Came the order from fair lips that sent confusion through the ranks of the Solari elite. A young commander decided to step next to the chosen vessel a silent plea to allow them the honor to bring this creature down in her name, but Leona silenced his advance with a gentle glance and a small nod back towards the Phalanx. “He’s mine.” She finally proclaimed. “On my honor, do not intervene.” Another curt war chant sounded in acknowledgement to her demand as they took a few steps back to give her distance to work with. Sion meanwhile fought back the smallest of grins at this unexpected duel, what poetic justice it would be to dethrone this god of theirs and deliver her to them a bloody pulp. The glory of this kill, in front of her men it was too sweet to pass up.

“To challenge the king slayer so boldly, I accept your challenge pagan harlot.” With outstretched arms the behemoth invited her to strike so that this duel of theirs could commence. “Sion, you slew a king, not a god.” She sneered back shield and sword brandishing in burning sunlight. With a warrior’s grace she swung the sword a few times before crouching down somewhat, ready to charge the mountain of muscle. “But you are no god, Solari.” His low rumbling voice sneered back cold, burning eyes narrowing with malicious intent as he would feast on the carnage to come. He enjoyed that she so bought into the banter and challenge, him against her. The matron of the mountain against the spirit of Noxus. “I am the most divine thing you will ever face, monster.” She snarled back a celestial firestorm brewing in her eyes fueled by aggravation and intent. “And by the sun’s light will you be undone!” with that she charged forward, Sion ready to meet her. He grasped the shaft of his vicious axe with both hands, raising it high to strike down heavy against the raised shield.

It was Leona however who was on the warpath and instead of holding the shield firm like the pale warrior had assumed she threw it with all her fury. Like a spear the celestial construct hurled through the air with vicious spikes digging into Sion’s skull, celestial fire making the beast tumble backward roaring with fury and pain. Pain not at the damage, but what the celestial magic did with his. He was a being of essence more so than flesh. Chained to his undead form yes, but not truly reliant on it. Taking a knee Leona slid through the warmongers legs her burning blade igniting with holy fire, heated by zeal. She slashed at the beast’s leg before whirling around in a flurry of fire and gold to burry the burning weapon into his soul engine. Sion roared, Leona snarled and then the explosion silenced all a heavenly magic clashed with its ancient nemesis. The Ra’Horak were blasted out of formation and down the steep slopes. They would not find death this day, but scattered as they were none of them could lay eyes on their commander or the undead beast crashing through the very rock they stood upon. A hail of mountain splinters, debris and rocks clogged the very hole the two champions crashed through only seconds after their violent descent.

Pain made Leona shoot up from the ground. Sword in hand she looked around to find only darkness glaring back at her like a giant maw of the abyss. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark environment, she noticed a faint silver glow permeated the room. With a pained growl she rose to her feet, sword used as a crutch for now. Golden eyes narrowed as she glared around to figure out where she was. The sudden hand on her shoulder made her whirl around with a war cry, blade in hand ready to face Sion once more. But as she turned, she noticed his eyes fixed on something completely different. His axe clashed with her sword and the hand on her shoulder moved up to silence her before his eyes darted back and forth through the dark cavern again.

“We are not alone.” He growled cold and in the blink of an eye Leona felt the presence long before she heard their chittering. That out worldly dread that they caused wherever they ventured. She eased forward into the dark, to retrieve the shield she had buried in Sion’s face, the wounds still evident on the behemoth, it gleamed in the darkness like a lighthouse on a stormy night. Once fully geared she ignited the burning sword to light the room and what greeted her was a swarm of teeth, infernal screeching and claws as long as swords. They chittered in primal rage as the sunlight burned their beady little eyes. Like those that sent them, they desired nothing more than dark, dead silence.

“Fight like your nation depends on it warmonger.” Leona sneered coldly, “For if they succeed there will be nothing left of you to resurrect a second time.” He returned only a growl of acknowledgment. He had never laid eyes upon things likes these before, never heard people speak of such monsters, they seemed to not even belong here. But when he tried to place them he could find no nation to sort them to, they felt completely and utterly alien. Sion reeled his head back and with a thundering cry of fury he roared the name of his empire so that these beasts would feel the bite of his axe and be reminded of the empires wrath if they were to live.

Hours later Leona slumped down, battered and bruised wounds and scars decorating her body aplenty. He had been mostly unharmed, he was not of living essence, he had not been their primary focus and unlike her he was able to heal from the souls of these beasts. They had fought through the entire cavernous system, until finally reaching this holy shrine of the moon. A heretical site to her no doubt, but right now she care little about heretics. He sat beside her and watched the Solari heave in pain. Her armor was in tatters, most of it at the hands of Sion, who ripped her body suite where he could to fashion crude bandages. She was a warrior, she deserved a warriors death not to die in a dark cave with no one to notice. Her death should come on the field of battle, where her last breath would be one of defiance and strength.

“I would not have expected a monster to have compassion.” She snarled back at him, clearly displeased at the situation. To receive aid from this enemy kicked her pride into the gutter and she loathed the idea of thanking an abomination such as him for his service, but Leona was also a warrior of honor and as such she would honor what he had done for her.

“You would have made a fine Noxian.” He replied, unfazed by her cold tone. He was hardly thrown off by the ordinary. She laughed in response, tilting her head to the side to regard him for a moment before she replied. “Targon breeds warriors, Noxus breeds followers. You would have made a good Rakkor, not the other way around.” Sion scoffed shaking his head, but he could not deny that her words held truth. There was no place for heroics in the legion. Soldiers followed orders that was what they were trained to do. He, not so much. He was a different breed of Noxian, and older breed.

“Does it bother you.” Leona started as he finished bandaging her wounds. “To be this thing, to be nothing more than a human battering ram pointed at the enemy, the means to an end.” Silence. “To never again experience what it means to be human. To eat, drink, enjoy the warmth of another. How do you live without all those things, is your belief in Noxus truly sufficient to keep you moving forward day by day, or is it the slaughter?” Silence.

It was only after a very long stare off between them which ended with Sion looking away that the giant behemoth finally replied eyes fixing on her again once he started speaking. “What makes you think I am unable to?” He retorted, his voice nothing more than a low growl with a tinge of amusement in his words. “You are cursed with undeath.” She replied a raised eyebrow, confusion somewhat readable in her features. “You lack blood when I cut you.”

A low dark snarl akin to laughter reverberated in his throat at the absurdity of this train of conversation had taken. In response he raised his arm, fingers clenching to a fist as he flexed his large biceps for her to clearly feast her eyes upon. “I have no blood, yet my muscles crush my enemies. I have no blood yet I can speak to you, I have no blood but I can march to battle. Why would you think that my lack of blood inhibits this.” He patted on his lap an amused grin now playing over the edges of his face. “If it does not inhibit the rest.” She was stunned, that was a mental image she did not need but a mental image that lashed her mind in penance for thinking about it in the first place.

“Your wounds will heal Solari.” He growled as he got up, seizing the axe to hoist it onto his shoulders. “Wait!” She snarled getting off of her back to stand. “Return what you have taken Sion.” she challenged with the same fury as before. But the undead behemoth glanced at her rathe amused as he turned to face her once again. “This battle is done Solari. You are wounded, your men won’t come to save you, there is no contest. Now rest and recover, we will meet again.” But Leona would not hear it, seizing her blade she dashed in front of him raising the sword to meet the undead juggernaut. “The outcome will be no different.” He snarled in response before a dark smile dashed over his visage, his axe crashing into the ground, embedded in the rock as he came closer, than he should to the point where she had to tilt her head backwards to stare up at him as he loomed over her.

“Perhaps a different form of melee then.” He suggested, a sly undertone lacing his booming words. “Noxian warrior against Targonian warrior, he who breaks first loses.” Leona was repulsed at the idea taking a step back to glare up and down at the giant warrior eyes narrowing in slight aggravation. “So, what say you Solari?”

Sion finally left the cave system at the break of nightfall, his prize safely secured he made off in the cover of night. Leona would find her own way home, once she could stand again. Sion had introduced the demi god to true Noxian might and resilience. A penetrating lesson that would be felt for many evenings to come.

[jesterden]

Lore Post - Hysminai

Okay, so I made a post about her back when she was originally supposed to be a mandarin. Well, now the icon herself is here. If you weren’t aware, she’s mentioned by name in The Runaway, which gives Inanna some introduction. Not sure what’s going on? Read through my pride lore! Anyway, the baddest bitch herself is getting her backstory.

TW: Violence

“Don’t you get it?” Orriande rolls over, situating himself on his side. The bony adolescent wore a sordid grin, and something about it made her mirror it. “Hide out here for a few more months, go back home... and we’ll conquer the world before long, darling.”

Hysminai smirks, moving closer to the male, dragging her body across the rocks. “You really believe that?”

Orriande hums, and it’s low in his throat, deep, a reminder that before long, this lion will be fully grown. “Love, if it wasn’t meant to be, I wouldn’t be saying it.”

————

Conquer the world, she did. She never looked back, not after her and Orriande’s fight, not after he called her lesser for her sex, and not after he saw the damned tigon. She had stormed off, telling him that the next time he’d see her, she’d be running him through one of those human devices that turned entire cows into mincemeat. 

Now, she walks through her pride, holding her head high as the lions in it bow to her. They know how it goes by now, respect the Queen, and you’ll live one of the best lives imaginable. If not, well, one of her titles was ‘The Reaping’ for a reason. “What’s the meaning of all of this, love?”

“A celebration,” Her mate grins, and it’s clear he’s been indulging in fermented fruit while she was gone, “For the conquering of Dolori!”

The other lions join in. “For the conquering of Dolori!”

He nuzzles her, and she smells something that’s vaguely familiar. The faintest trace of a scent she hadn’t been around in years, but that had apparently burned itself in her mind.

————

She recognized it on their bed. A lioness in heat, one related to Orriande. It quickly clicked in her mind. The tigon. The free-roaming princess. The warrior that Orriande had been so, horribly proud of...

“Love,” She whispers, struggling to hold in her anger, “It smells ghastly in here.”

“Such is the smell of drunks. You know how men get when celebrating.”

Hysminai actually bites her tongue. Her mate looks at her, and the smug look on his face makes her want to put him in the pit. “Come to bed! You must be horribly tired.”

He’s already half asleep. Hysminai gives him a promise that she’ll be there, and he curls up on their nest. The scent of that bastard, that disgrace fills her nose once again. Had it truly been that long?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a snore, and that’s all it takes. She whips a trophy of her wars off the wall, throwing it across the cave with a loud shout. Her mate, dense as he is, doesn’t get a chance to stand up fully before her teeth are locked in his throat, ripping away skin and fur. She doesn’t miss the shocked face, but she swallows the flesh and smacks into his face, raking ugly claw marks into the bleeding lion. He falls to the ground with the best attempt at a gasp that he could manage, and she turns around, staring to the outside of her cave. “Guards!”

They turn to look, and Hysminai walks forward. “Take care of it. If there’s an ounce of blood when I come back, it’ll be the both of you.”

“Yes, Lady Hysminai.”

She needed to have a conversation.

#lioden #lioden lore #pride lore

[psyentifically-minded]

There are many monsters and spirits featured in the Sumerian mythology they are as follows:

Abyzou: Abyzou is a female demon and was said to cause miscarriages she was thought to be motivated by envy being unable to reproduce for herself. Abyzou is thought to be the root word for the later Greek word for “Abyss” and she is often depicted as part fish or serpent, she is one of the mythologies that was woven into the Semitic demoness Lilith in later history.

Akhkhazu: Akhkhazu is also called the “seizer” and is a female demon that brings plague and fevers she is a member of a trio of demonesses including Labasu and Labartu, she may also be related to the concept of Lilith and her sisters the angels of sacred prostitution who act as consorts to the demon prince Samael in later Semitic theology/demonology.

Anzu: Anzu (depicted left being chased by the storm God Marduk) is a monsterous storm bird related to the Zu bird and was concieved of a union between the primordial fresh water God Abzu and the wide earth or as the son of Siris. Anzu is thus one of the primordial monsters that existed during the war of the Gods and Tiamat/Nammu. Anzu was able to breath fire and water and in one myth graunts super speed to a hero. The demon was depicted as a griffin being half eagle and half lion, Anzu was said to have stolen the Tablets of Destiny from Marduk and the Gods were then ordered by the sky God Anu to retrieve them. In one myth Anzu is slain by Marduk while in another it is Ninurta who kills the beast.

Assaku: Assaku demons attack and kill humans especially by means of head fevers they are mentioned in poetical sources describing numerous diseases.

Asag: Asag is a monsterous Gallu demon of plague and was so hideous that his presence alone makes fish boil alive in the rivers. He was accompanied into battle by an army of rock demons, offspring of his union with the mountains. Asag was vanquished by Ninurta armed with a weapon called Sharur.

Basmu: Basmu is a venomous snake with horns, two-forelegs and wings making it resemble a wyvern. Originally created by Tiamat/Nammu the Basu was said to have six mouths, seven tongues and seven *untranslated?* on its crest. It is one of the eleven warriors slain by the war God Ninurta. Basmu may have been a hydra and is even identified with the constellation of hydra in later Babylonian astrology.

Girtablilu: The Girtablilu (depicted central) were half scorpion and half man, they were the guardians of the gates to the underworld on the mountain of Mashu that belongs to the sun God Shamash. The Girtablilu were fierce warriors and warned travelers of the dangers that lay beyond their post in the underworld of Irkalla. The Girtablilu were said to open the gates of the underworld to let Shamash out each day and to open them to let Shamash in each night as the sun rose and set. The Girtablilu were created by Tiamat/Nammu in the war against the Gods. Girtablilu were said to be able to kill with a stare, it is unclear wether these archers used bows or launched venomous spines however they are always depicted with bow weapons.

Gud-alim: Known as the “battle-bison-beast” Gud-alim was one of the heros slaun by Ninurta. Gud-alims body was hung from Ninurtas chariot as a trophy after it was killed.

Humbaba: Humbaba was a giant ogre who was raised by the sun God Utu, Humbaba was charged with protecting the cedar forest where the Gods lived by Enlil and was named “terror of mankind”. Humbaba is described as lion faced with a gaze like death, he is able to breath fire and water, he has paws of a lion and a body covered in thorny scales with feet like the feet of a bird and horns like a bull his tail and phallus both ended with the head of a snake. Humbaba was slain by the heros Gilgamesh and Enkidu, when Humbaba was slain the sky God Enlil distributed Humbaba’s seven auras into nature, Enlil was displeased with the death of the guardian but did not punish the heros for the transgression.

Kuli-ana: Kuli-ana (depicted right) was a mermaid hero killed by Ninurta who hung Kuli-ana’s corpse from his chariot as a trophy.

Kulullu: Kulullu had the head, arms and torso of a human and the lower body and tail of fishes, they are thus the first recorded mermaids/merfolk and were spawned by Tiamat/Nammu in her war against the Gods.

Kur: Kur is the first dragon whose name means “mountain” it also came to mean “land” and is synonymous with the Mesopotamian underworld. Kur was spawned by Tiamat/Nammu in her war against the Gods. When Kur was killed its death caused a great flood. Kur was a flying winged dragon capable of spitting fire.

Kusarikku: Another creature spawned by Tiamat/Nammu and slain by Ninurta. The Kusarikku was half man and half bison its hind parts were that of a bison however it had the torso, arms and head of a man meaning that it resembled a centaur.

Labartu: Labartu was a female demon, monster or malevolent Goddess or demi-goddess who menaced women during childbirth and if possible kidnapped their children while they were being breastfed. Labartu was said to gnaw on infants bones and suck their blood as well as being charged with other evil deeds. Labartu was a daughter of the sky God Anu. Labartu is depicted as a mythological hybrid, hairy with a lioness’s head and a donkeys ears and teeth she had long fingers and fingernails and the feet of a bird with sharp talons. She is usually depicted standing or kneeling on a donkey, nursing a pig and a dog and holding snakes. She would later be fused into the Semitic concept of Lilith with other Sumerian demonesses and Goddesses and was part of a trio of demonesses along with her sisters Akhkhazu and Labasu.

Labasu: Labasu is a demon of disease similar to her sister Labartu, she was part of a trio of demonesses including Labartu and Akhkhazu that would later inspire the Semitic concept of Lilith.

Labbu: Labbu was a lion-serpent sea dragon which was slain by the warrior God Tishpak with an arrow. Labbu was said to be drawn by Enlil across the sky which was seen as a bad omen to the Gods, this could indicate Labbu was a comet or other astral event.

Mus-Sag Seven: Mus-sag seven was a hydra, a seven headed snake killed by Ninurta it may also be synonymous with the Basmu.

Mushussu: The Mushussu is depicted on the gate of Ishtar alongside other real animals, its depiction has changed little over many centuries leading some scholars to speculate that it might have actually existed. The Mushussu was depicted as a scaly dragon with hind legs resembling the talons of ab eagle, feline fore-legs, a long neck and tail, a horned head, a snake-like forked tongue and a crest. The word “Mushussu” translates to “Redish Serpent”.

Musmahhu: Described as a lion-snake-eagle hybrid the Musmahhu is one of three horned snakes in Mesopotamian mythology alongside Basmu and Usumgallu which are all commonly identified with the seven headed snake slain by Ninurta (Mus-sag Seven). The Musmahhu is an offspring of Tiamat/Nammu it had sharp teeth, poison blood and seven mouths.

Palm-Tree-King: The palm tree king is subservient to Anzu and is the only one of the heros who fought Ninurta that escaped alive. Little is known about this figure and no description is given.

Ugallu: Ugallu is the “Big weather beast” and was a lion-headed, human-bodied and bird-footed storm demon. Ugallu were spawned by Tiamat/Nammu and were known to carry a dagger and a mace, after the death of Tiamat/Nammu the Ugallu were commanded to help construct the world from her corpse. They were subservient to the underworld war God, Nergal.

Umu Dabrutu: Meaning “Violent storms” the Umu Dabrutu were a race of demons spawned from Tiamat/Nammu, they carried fierce weaponry and were keen on fighting. The Umu Dabrutu were defeated and turned into protective amulets by Marduk who smashed their weapons and bound them to his feet.

Uridimmu: Uridimmu was a human headed lion depicted as holding a staff with a crescent on its top, he also wore a horned crown, his name means “Raging Lion”.

Ushum: Ushum was a dragon spawned by Tiamat/Nammu that was one of the heros slain by Ninurta.

Usumgallu: Usumgallu means “Great Dragon” they were hybrid of lions and dragons (similar to later French Tarasque’s) spawned by Tiamat/Nammu.

Seg-sag Six: Seg-sag Six means “six headed ram” it was a monster spawned by Tiamat/Nammu and was one of the heros slain by the war God Ninurta.

#post91 #demonology #mythology #monsters #mysticism #lilith #sumerians

[diaryofanobsessivefangirl]

A Game of (Unhappy) Ships

Rhaegar x Lyanna: Helen of Troy complex. Star-crossed lovers. Love that stars a war.

Rhaegar x Elia: If only he had loved her as she had loved him. And even as his choices destroyed the home they had build, she didn’t feel betrayed as a wife, but as a friend. At least she had been sure she was that much to him, and that he would protect her and their children above all. At her last minutes, she was alone.

Lyanna x Robert: She was described as a child-women with iron underneath. Eddard says he never knew the iron, but that Robert loved his sister more than him. He saw her spirit, the way she rode freely and cared not for what was proper. He never saw the woman-Lyanna doe, the dreamer who was realistic enough to recognize which dreams were hers (Freedom, marry for love) and which were just lies society dreamed for her, to more easily put her in her place (Men change for love). Lyanna was a harsh realist when it came to recognizing her condition as a free woman in that society. She saw in him the condition of a man, free to search for other beds after he laid on hers. If Robert had a chance to change, it was for her. She was convinced that he could not, believed her expectations and perceptions of live too high for a simple man like Robert to ever understand, but they had more in common than she could tell at first sight, and I think he would find harsh and critical-minded Lyanna even more attractive. She died and he became a drunk and fat old man, waiting for the day he would follow her. Maybe in the next life-time (Arya and Gendry)

Elia x Lyanna: By every right she should hate that woman, but she helps her. Elia was a kind person and, after all, Rhaegar’s love had never been hers for Lyanna to steal. But most of all, she couldn’t blame her for loving him. She understood all too well it was hard not to. In other circumstances, they would have been good friends.

Arthur x Elia: Crackship! Guinevere and Lancelot. She was blind by her grief and love for Rhaegar and he dared not to break his vows, but protect his queen and her children. He will never forgive his best friend for commanding him to guard his mistresses at Dorne. Had he been at the Red Keep, no one would have touched Elia.

Robert x Cersei: Showverse only! Cersei was more than willing to make her marriage work - she worships her new husband, in fact. Not the same way she does Jaime. Her twin is not the fantasy of a perfect man, at least not to her - he is her other-half, a source of very little visible delight, no more than she is a delight to herself, but necessary. Robert is someone she could love in a different way, without secrets and with pride. The new king would have been her trophy had Lyanna’s ghost and the weight of the crown not turned him into a drunk, fat beast. If Cersei ever had dreams about baring his children and ruling beside him, his coldness and the disappointment he represented were the final blow on her expectations of an normal life. Instead she becomes more angry and power hungry than her father ever was, and murder their babies at night, a decision that will eventually bring war to Westeros. Cersei is not one to bear it silently, so they invent new ways of hurting each other. They realize they might deserve each other and can even laugh about it together at the end. If they had married to the people they had first chosen, they might have been better people now. There was never a chance.

Cersei x Jaime: Gender subversion of Beauty and the Beast, in which the man must calm the woman’s wrath while she drags him to the gutter with her. After all, how come they were two halves of the same thing if he was given every chance while she was trade and dominated by men? She suffocates his good intentions and opportunities in a mix of love (You won’t leave me) and jealousy (You won’t be better than me). But then again, if it wasn’t for their relationship, would she feel so wronged and would he be free to become better himself? Their codependency is destructive and abusive, but it’s also beautiful. He came to this world holding her feet, and he would not leave it until she did.

Tywin x Joanna: Only a Lannister can love the Rock. Some people think Joanna was Tywin’s morality compass, but a lioness roars as loudly as her mate. Joanna served as Rhaella’s lady in waiting from young age. She was born into politics and ashamed at court by the weakness of Tytos Lannister. When her cousin extinguishes the Casterly rebels and regains the House’s glory, Joanna has the pleasure of calling him “husband”. Somehow dangerous strategists find nourishment in each other. Lannisters have this habit of loving only ambition and one another. After Joanna’s death, Tywin never smiled again.

#A Song of Ice and Fire #ASoIaF ships #Jaime x Cersei #Rhaegar x Lyanna #Rhaegar Targaryen #Cersei Lannister #Robert Baratheon #Lyanna x Robert #Gendrya #Arthur Dayne #Elia Martell #Arthur x Elia #Lyanna Stark #Tywin Lannister #Joanna Lannister #Tywin x Joanna

[awakeningofthedeath]

Awakening of the Death: Chapter #27

 With one hand holding her pistol, and the other opening the window wider, Hellen found herself closer to the conclusion to the long thirteen year journey towards vengeance for her father.

With her steps silent like a mountain lioness, Hellen climbed through the opened window to what Hellen assumed was the master bedroom. The window was halfway opened to air out the hot humidity from the inside. The room had a large bed with a vanity and a fireplace. As Hellen analyzed the bed, she kept the finger near the trigger as she edged closer to what she assumed was McGriffin’s bed. Yet as she was about to make the kill, she only froze to see the shape of a sickly looking woman that may as well be a breathing skeleton. Lowering he gun and took a breath, Hellen quietly walked away from what she assumed was a working girl. 

Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. Hellen reminded herself, a habit she’d always had when on a kill mission.

As she passed down the long hallways of rich oak, shining in the now noonday sun, she analyzed the various paintings and mounted trophies of various animals that Hellen assumed came from Africa. The few exceptions were of the large European style mount of a bull elk and a mount of a bison which both were hung near the hallway. As she crept and managed to go across the mansion with little detection and with the assistance of her Eagle vision; Hellen detected McGriffin in a small study that seemed originally private for a student or child in design theory. From what she could analyze was that McGriffin shifted through various documents and maps with opened books holding down the corners of the main map. Hellen took a breath as she pulled the hammer back and crept into the small study.

McGriffin looked upon the documents of the desk, his shoulders weighed heavily as he slouched them down, holding himself by his tired arms upon the desk. Hellen took a silent step. Then another. As she drew her pistol colt upward toward’s the man responsible for her pain.

“So, the wayward assassin has finally found the insides to come in broad daylight.” He said in a tired voice that sounded dangerous to Hellen.

“No different then when you came in between night and day you son of a bitch.” Hellen’s voice was as dangerously low as she held up the gun. Her eyes began to stun as the combination of dry smoke and hatred filled her, causing her voice to shake. “You remember that day? September 30, ‘76? You came to my father and I’s homestead with a band of men with confederate veterans with chips on their shoulders. Ironic that you as a union veteran would have opposite veterans kill a brother in arms. But then again, what good was the color of you’re uniform or skin when you’ve been in a war that had been fighting since Lord knows what!”

“That was a different time Miss Patterson. We fought for control of the rebellions of the south and to give more liberty to all people.”

“Like slaves?” Hellen gave a huff. “Men and women of diffrent color who should be treated as humans more then what people are still treating them as.”

“These things do take time to...” McGriffin stopped as Hellen pulled the hammer of her pistol.

“Unfortunately I don’t have time.” Hellen’s voice grew cold. “You...” She fought back the tears of anger and grief as she continued her confrontation of this man who stole her childhood innocence and her father. “You took that time away from me! From my pa! I know about the hidden script my father kept secret from the templars. I could’t understand why! My father’s time was too soon! He could of trained me. Tamed me. Fuck...He could of been approached by Jack asking to court me or marry, or whatever normal is! Hell. I’d wage some silver dollars knowing now that pa is looking down, proud that I’d never lost sight of a goal. So i ask you, before I blast your brain into Armor meats, why? Why him? And what was the significance of that script?”

McGriffin took a deep breath, his eyes blinked in thought, yet not of fear. “That, Miss Patterson, I cannot say is for myself; yet for thousands of years people searched for a way to cheat death and retain the youth we once had. Most men search for it for the greater good, or for themselves. I’m doing this for someone and something better than my...”

“Shut the hell up! You’re just wasting your final breath on useless preaching when you should say your prayers. As for the final thing you’ll ever hear. “May you rest in hell you son of a...”

“Hellen!” A voice called out to her, making Hellen turned her head to see Jack coming in, his face covered in splattered blood that was not his own. “You can’t do this! This isn’t how it’s done!”

“Jack step back! McGriffin is mine!” Hellen steadied her hand as she closed her left eye to get a clear shot.

“Killing McGriffin will not bring you peace! You kill him in cold blood, you won’t be no more than what he represents” Jack steps closer, keeping his voice calm and serene.

 “What the hell are you talking about Jack? He’s the one who shot and killed my father! I waited almost thirteen years for this. I want my father to finally be at peace, knowing that this bastard is no longer providing the power and resources to those who would harm this nation.”

“Seems you’ve become a nationalist Miss Patterson.” McGriffin commented with a dry smirk in his voice.

“Shut the fuck up!” Hellen yelled. “This...it ends now.”

 Jack took a breath and took her hand. “Is this how an assassin really kills the target?”

“Things are changing Jack...” Hellen’s voice broke as she tried to pull the trigger.

“Would your father had finished him like that? Did he handle a kill like this? The way he handled Booth?”

“How did...”

“Hellen. The authorities are coming for him, as well as the Marshals. Let justice help your vengeance, don’t stain your soul with further bloodshed. Even if it’s for me. Don’t do this Hellen. Don’t let the hate eating you alive win.” Jack carefully took the gun and lowered it down to the floor.

“Fuck.” Hellen whispered and she placed it back in her holster. Jack took her by the shoulder and lead her away.

“I suppose I was wrong. The little maverick is more meek and molded then what her sire told us in the war. You couldn’t even go through with it.” McGriffin’s voice was that of a low mockery, making Hellen turn on her heels and run to McGriffin. Hellen tackled him and punched his face and making his nose break as the blood tricked down. Angry and struggling to see the humanity in herself and McGriffin, Hellen spat at him and walk away. When Hellen back him, McGriffin took a gun an aim at her, Jack gasped and tried to shield Hellen;  but Hellen already knew the weakness of that move, She pulled out her colt pistol and shoot him down before McGriffin would gun her or Jack down. He was hit on the left shoulder, crying in pain. Before she would make the final kill, Jack took Hellen by the arm and they both ran before she could confirm that he was truly dead.

 Hellen will grunted. Jack just smirk at her satisfied that they had finished it. Yet inside, Hellen was screaming with frustration.

#awakening of the death #jack the lad #jack the ripper #mcgriffin #wife #elixir of life #new york #Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed Syndicate #Origonal Character #civil war #american #jacellen #assassins #templars

[writingsofwesteros]

Revisiting Dark!Robb and Dark!Jon being ass and tits men respectively. They are VERY hands on with washing the innocent!Lioness. With Jon and Robb in the hot springs of Winterfell with her, because well... they can't trust her not to run. She's just so helpless and breathy under their attention. Jon in front of her, washing her shoulders, stomach, chest. Especially the chest. Massaging her breasts while making direct eye contact. Robb is cleaning her back, her thighs, her ass. Squeezing her bum and making her squirm. His hand slips between her legs and she jumps into Jon's arms by reflex. Robb is all "apologetic", saying "I only meant to clean off your thighs, did you feel something strange?"

Meanwhile, Jon is trying with all his might not to grind his erection against her bare cunt as she babbles about "I don't know... I... can't I wash myself? This is... a lot".

!!!!!!

ALL OF THIS

💦💦💦💦

That's the hottest thing ever !! Her fingers reach for those curls of his. Both of them ;)

#au #war trophy lioness

[allosauroid]

‘Lady Liuwa’

A couple years ago (back when I actually watched TV) I happened upon a documentary called The Last Lioness, which told the story of a lioness known as ‘Lady Liuwa’, the last lion of Liuwa Plain National Park. The park used to be full of wildlife, lions included, but after the turmoil of a civil war the populations were decimated. Poaching and illegal trophy hunting took a heavy toll on both herbivores and carnivores, particularly the lions of the plain, and after all was said and done only one remained: Lady Liuwa.

As most of you know, lions are a social cat, but Lady Liuwa was condemned to live a life of solitude for around decade. Her roar could be heard for miles, calling for family that no longer existed.

However, this story does have a happy ending. Lions began to be reintroduced to the park in 2008 and by 2016 at least two litters of cubs had been born, both to a lioness named Sepo, who became Lady Liuwa’s closest companion.

Now just the other night I was reminded of this legendary lioness and decided to search her up, see if there were any updates on her and her pride, only to be met with news that, as much as I dreaded it, knew would inevitably come.

Lady Liuwa was estimated to be around 17 years old at the time of her death, very old for a wild lion, let alone one who had to survive on her own for so long.

So rest easy Lady Liuwa, Queen of the Liuwa Plain, and let your story of strength and perseverance never be forgotten.

(??? - August 9th 2017)

#lady liuwa #liuwa plain #liuwa plain national park #conservation #lioness #photo #info #information #mine

[morgansmornings]

Tell me your version of the perfect fairy tale. Write a poem describing one or many of these three things: your eyebrows, a baked potato, a yellow tie-dye sock. if you were a muggle, would you want to know magic exists knowing you’d never be able to perform it?

Fairy tale:

Once upon a time, see it sounds good already your hooked, once upon a time, there was a Queen. She was worshipped and feared by many. A servant of the Lioness of War. She had it all. She was power, she was a beauty unlike any before her. She could woo with her words, inspire with nothing but a glance or a smile. 

He was a God among men. Eyes alight with unnatural intelligence. While cruel as many Gods, he was also kind. Tasked with a duty he performed without judgment. He was loved and feared. Respected and prayed. He was deadly and yet all faced him in the end. 

They met once, her a trophy of battle and gifted to him and he a patron of the court. At first there was hatred between them. Blood on both sides and wounds still too tender to find balance. Yet over time they grew accustomed to each other. The period in which they shared was one of magic.

And then one day she died. Time was an unforgiving mistress and took without question or care. But even up to that moment when he took her to the scales to be weighed, he loved her. 

Decades passed. Even centuries went by. The one thing he was never ready for was her rebirth. Not all souls remain in the afterlife you see. There are those gifted with the the grace of reincarnation. And so the story goes as you know. Many lives, different faces, and yet The God knew her soul. No matter the form it took, he always found her. 

And then one life, thousands of years later, he found her once again. But something was different this time. She looked as she first did. Sounded the same, felt, smelled, even tasted the same. But in this life she stopped aging. She had finally earned the right to remain at his side for her service and trials that she suffered through. 

In the end, they walked hand in hand. Time never again tearing them apart. 

For the Will of the Oracle must be obeyed.

A poem: A Haiku of the Yellow Tie Dyed Sock

Yellow stripes dancing bright

Chaotic, graceful, bound tight

Toes warmed by soft touch

Magic:

As much as she wished that she were still a sleeper, wish so much that she could forget everything. Jay can’t. Magick is real, it is a weapon against the things that go bump in the night. A tool she wields and bends to cut down the tendrils of the Technocracy, the Nefandi, and monsters that should have remained nothing but stories. 

If she had a choice then she would never practice. But Fate does not care about one’s wishes. 

#answers from a goat. #Dear Anonymous #Danke Anon!

[malfoynarciissa]

Tag dump

Verses!

#.. made you practically royal ~ childhood .. #v: hogwarts #.. woke up to find the summer gone ~ first war .. #.. big events and trophy wives ~ interbellum .. #.. no rest for the wicked ~ second war .. #.. broken bones are mending ~ post war i .. #.. the past can't haunt me if i don't let it ~ post war ii .. #.. lioness in a black dress ~ gryffindor au .. #.. dark strong and proud ~ dark au .. #.. the queen of new york city ~ fantastic beasts au .. #.. but i wish i was dead like you ~ widowed au .. #.. busy streets and busy lives ~ muggle au ..

[ammg-old]

By now their eyes were fully opened, but they could not yet judge distances and often missed their target.  To help them over this difficulty, we gave them rubber balls and old inner tubes to play with – the latter were perfect for tug-of-war games.  Indeed, anything made of rubber, or that was soft and flexible, fascinated them.  They would try to take the inner tube from each other, the attacker rolling sideways on to the possessor, pressing her weight between the end of the tube and its owner.  If no success was achieved by this method, the rivals would simply pull with all their might.  Then, when the battle had been won, the victor would parade with the trophy in front of the others and provoke an attack.  If this invitation was ignored, the rubber would be placed in front of their noses, while the owner pretended to be unaware that it might be stolen from her.

Born Free: The Story of Elsa the Lioness

#animals #lions

[starladiary]

My heart is a Trophy that men fight for. I don't care for money and lavish gifts, those things I can get myself. I want someone who understands my soul, I am a Lioness. I want a Lion, not a Coward! I want someone who knows how to love me for me!

Star, (Goddess of the Underworld, Love and War)

[wagingwar-rp]

Welcome to Waging War, Amanda. The role of Alecto Carrow is now taken.

I fell in love with your interpretation of Alecto. You’ve made her unique and strong in her own right, Especially your details in the Boggart and personality traits section, as well as your para sample, really stood out. You’re very dedicated and I can’t wait to see your Alecto in action. I’m sure you’ll reveal her full potential in no time and wreak havoc with her once we’ve started roleplaying.  I’m glad you’ve applied and there’s nothing I can do than give her into your capable hands. Your FC change to Evan Rachel Wood has been accepted! -- Admin Sass. Please submit your blog in the next 24 hours and follow all other steps on our checklist.

OOC INFORMATION

NAME: Amanda. PRONOUNS: Her/She.  AGE: 22.  TIMEZONE: EST. ACTIVITY-LEVEL: 7 to 8. I’m finishing up my final class to get my degree, moving to a new state and hopefully starting a job. So until my class is over & I’m settled, my replies will probably be limited to what I can get done at night! But by the beginning of July I should hopefully bump to an 8-9.  TRIGGERS: removed by the admin. ANYTHING ELSE: I’m so excited to be applying with you guys because this group looks amazing. I’m hoping everything turned out alright, but the html formatting threw me a bit when filling out the application, so apologies in advance if anything is wrong! Thanks for taking the time to consider my application x.

IC INFORMATION

BASIC INFORMATION

CHARACTER YOU’RE APPLYING FOR: Alecto Carrow.  FACECLAIM: Evan Rachel Wood. REASON FOR YOUR CHOICE: I’ve written Alecto once or twice in the past, and quite honestly when I was originally drawn to this roleplay I’d been planning to apply for someone else. But when her character description was posted I swooned. I’m typically one for OC’s because it allows me inspiration but I almost immediately sat down to write. I think there is a lot of potential for her, and that’s something I’m excited to explore. 

MAGICAL TOOLS 

WAND:  Upon entering Ollivanders, Alecto tried a variety of different wands, but each seemed to send a spell ricocheting off the nearest object before something either burst into flames, or exploded. It was the fifth failure that caused her frustration, and the tenth that allowed her to believe she was broken. Each had felt horribly wrong within her grasp, wrong to the point where she cringed and set them down again before even bothering to test a spell. The outcome would be obvious.

The pattern continued until the thirteenth was finally - and almost reluctantly on the wand makers behalf - placed within her hand. The wand practically purred in delight and despite her earlier frustration, Alecto floated out of the store stocked on pure bliss.

Though it was - at least in her mind - a match made in heaven, mastery was perhaps hell. The wand demanded that she earned the right to wield it, a challenge Alecto willingly accepted. Since achieving that mastery, it satisfies her to know that it is her possession and won’t bend to anyone else’s will without a fight. Just like her. 

PATRONUS:  Though she has tried multiple times, Alecto is incapable of producing a patronus. The light that is emitted always sputters and flickers out within seconds, never taking a real form. Though it frustrates her, she’s determined. But of course the more she continues to try, the more she fails, and the more frustrated she becomes. It’s an endless, vicious cycle but her failures aren’t due to lack of effort. It’s a lack of a good, strong memory and pristine concentration. Sure, she has plenty of memories that light up some sort of spark in her heart, but none that sing to her soul. Even if there were a memory, her concentration is rubbish - interrupted by the thought of an impending future she’s not sure she wants any part of.

Had she been able to produce a patronus, it would have been a lion. Odd, considering her Hogwarts house, but horribly fitting. Protective [of those she cares for], brave [when prompted], a hunter [when desired], willing to fight, and part of a pride [something she currently lacks], Alecto is a lioness. She just needs a reason to prove it.

BOGGART: Alecto hates being vulnerable because it always seems to prompt Amycus into trying to protect her. So when Boggarts were brought into the classroom, he’d watched her like a hawk - fingers curled worriedly around his wand, ready to banish the creature within a moments notice. That needy protection had made her want to cringe. Though countless people before her in line had broken down or frozen up at the sight of their Boggart, she knew she’d be different. While others had been warranted a pass for their behavior, everyone knew her twin would swoop in to save the day. Judgement would shine in their eyes because it would only prove that a lady had no role in the impending war.

Placing herself toward the middle of the line of student, Alecto had carefully observed what those before her had witnessed and quickly made an educated guess on her own worst fears. It was why there was no shock when the doppleganger of her twin came swaggering out of the wardrobe, that confident grin smeared across his face. She’d never been victim to it - to the predatory look - but she could see why it made people want to turn tail and run the opposite direction. The phrases that rolled from his -its- tongue were exactly what she’d expected, and banishing the creature would have been easy - hardly an effort. This was a scenario she’d run over in her head countless times before because Alecto loved her family - would until her last breath - but if they ever thought they could walk all over her or throw her away without consequences, they were wrong. She’d rise stronger then before, and destroy them [and herself] in the process if that was what it took to prove herself. To prove them wrong. But the creature stayed, sneering upon her with clear disapproval. “You’ll never be anything more then a trophy wife - good for breeding. A pretty face and smart certainly - but nothing should pass your lips but a sweet ‘yes dear’ as you address your superiors. Your husband.” She had needed him to see it. Needed Amycus to understand her fears. But the creature rippled and shifted into her body on the floor - battered and bloodied - before disappearing into the wardrobe completely. Hands gripped her face gently, drawing her gaze as concern from her twin reflected back at her. He drew her from the front of the room, reassurances dripping from his lips like sweet honey. But it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

A LAYER DEEPER

PERSONALITY TRAITS:  Coquettish. It was one thing to stay within the Manor and be daddies little girl - to have things handed to you on a silver platter before you even asked for them. It was another to discover the real world didn’t function the way it did within the walls of the Carrow household. To get things you wanted, you’d be forced to get them yourself. Being one of the few females within Voldemort’s ranks, she’s come to the quick realization that relying on her brother isn’t something she can [or wants] to do - but a bit of flirtation can go a long way - particularly when people have no idea they’re being played.

Loyal. When she finds herself attached to something - whether it be a cause or a person - Alecto dedicates herself to it without question. The combined powers of Heaven and Hell could not stop her from protecting or helping those she cares for.

Enigmatic. Everyone has a mask, Alecto is just particularly good at wearing hers. While her personality is outwardly presented as something to push people away, she wants nothing more then for someone to see what lies underneath.

Stubborn. A trait paired with having a strong will. Once set on an opinion, it’s rather hard to sway her, even it it is wrong. She knows that in reality its something she’ll have to change in the future if she wants to appeal to the public eye, but until then she refuses to budge.

CONNECTIONS: Amycus Carrow. Should anything ever happen to him, Alecto would tear apart the world and still not be satisfied. They are two halves of the same whole, but she realizes that at times, she wants to be whole on her own. They’ve spent far to long relying on one another as a crutch, depending on the other to act or feel for them. She loves him, but she wants to stop being considered two for the price of one. Alone, she should be just as valuable, as should he.

Purebloods. Can we talk best friends since nappies? The friends that used to play house and pretend to be married? The friends that go shopping and gossip so brutally they could probably make someone cry? That giggle together? The friends who looks at Amycus and scoffs because he really isn’t that scary? Pft, and what about enemies? Like there has got to be some sneaky stuff going on; families trying to undermine one another, children growing up hating each other but pretending to be friends? GAH! There is literally so much you can do between pureblooded families alone [I mean hell - venture into the world beyond the U.K. and that expands like 1000%]. I think I could probably blabber on and on about how wondrous they could be before I even began to mention anyone else.

FUTURE PLOT IDEAS: Idea One: Alecto isn’t taken seriously; whether it’s within Voldemort’s army, or her own family, people her brush her off because she’s a women. She’s expected to follow orders [her father’s, Amycus, or Voldemort’s]. And it’s likely she only joined Voldemort for one of two reasons. [1] It was expected because of the whole blood purity aspect, [2] if she hadn’t, Amycus would have done so without her and she would have been left within her fathers clutches [can anyone say betrothal?]. Had it been up to her, she probably would have run off somewhere relatively safe with her brother and left the fighting up to everyone else. But it wasn’t up to her, and not joining would have left her unmemorable and unimportant. If anything, Alecto is a fighter. But I want her to take a step back and figure out if it’s what she wants, because I have a feeling no one has never genuinely asked what it is she wants, but rather they just assume they know whats best. What if she wants to travel? Have some whirlwind romance? To have a real career rather then be a housewife or socialite? To venture into the muggle world and actually see what she’s meant to be hating? I have the idea that she’s just so focused on pleasing others and proving herself that she’s hardly taken a breath to stop and figure herself out.

Idea Two: She has potential, but it’s untapped because no one has given her a real chance to prove herself yet. But that untapped potential is matched with unrelenting fury - someone just needs to teach her how to properly direct it. I can see one of two things happening, and they’re largely dependent on her interactions with other people. [1] Someone gives her a big old slap of reality. And by that I mean someone needs to somehow show her that the world is more then pureblooded royalty, and that muggles are actually okay [not that she would EVER admit that]. It would destroy everything her world was built on, and she’d come to a quick realization of why women haven’t been thrown onto the front lines before [lets be real, war would be over and done with in a day, and blood purity would probably not be a thing]. Put her on the opposite side she currently stands because she’s angry and that can be used against anyone. OR [2] Put her behind enemy lines as she tries to “reform” from her prejudice. Make her cuddle up to some muggleborns and halfbloods to do what she’s been taught - gather information and manipulate. Gain trust and destroy. 

SEXUALITY & SHIPS: Canon is cool and all, but I have and always will ship 100% for chemistry. I think it’s incredibly important for two characters [and in turn, their writers] to vibe off one another before anything becomes concrete. For that reason, I’m not going to set a sexuality because I want to leave myself open to possibilities.

That being said, I am a huge sucker for angst. Romeo/Juliet “we-cant-be-together-because-of-blahblahblah” nonsense? It is the peanut butter to my jelly. And I think contrast is beautiful so I’d loveeeee something like that. But again, chemistry all the way.

EXTRA SECTION

Alecto is actually my love, so you can find anything related to her on this mock blog. Most posts are inspo related, but anything that I’ve directly made will be tagged with wwtalk. But if you’re interested, the navi will take you to more direct posts [i.e. quotes, vanity, relationship inspo, etc].

PARA SAMPLE

Lips curled into an elegant smile, a bubble of laughter erupting as if the words from the woman she was listening to were the most intelligent and dreadfully amusing thing she’d heard all morning. Just as everything before that had been. Alecto tried -really tried- not to let it bother her. But each luncheon, or tea, or ladies gathering was slowly chipping away at her restraint. It was for the greater good. At least that’s what they told her. So she put on a dress that complimented her curves, and a dazzling smile before joining the rest of the mindless bimbos who simpered over the idea of winning a pureblooded husband with good standing. Pathetic.

That day, all it took was a singular comment to form the crack, and another backhanded remark to send her rage shattering completely. She’d struggled to conceal it, fingers twitching beneath the table, itching for her wand and instead curling painfully into the folds of her dress as one of the pureblooded women gave her a pitying look. Alecto had wanted to scream. To sneer in their faces and draw a wand because realistically they would have expected men to do the fighting; women were meant for social destruction, not the physical kind. Instead her lips had drawn into a thin-lipped smile - one that visibly unsettled several of the women present, but she’d stayed at the luncheon. She was just the victim of that gathering. It would change next time they met, it always did. But she stayed because it was what they would have wanted.

The moment her feet hit the cobblestone outside of Carrow Manor, the door swung open to reveal her house elf. The rage must have been rolling off her in waves because the creature quietly took her coat without so much as glancing up from the floor. It even went so far as to thank her for allowing it the pleasure of serving her.

She didn’t stop moving, not until the door of her room had been spelled shut and silencing charms were firmly in place. Only then did her wand draw and only then did destruction rain from the heavens. Feathers floated through the air from destroyed pillows, vases shattered, glass cracked.

How dare they shove her into a corner and ask her to play nice with the rest of the pureblooded women. How dare they require that she attend luncheons and teas to “gather pertinent information,” HA! As if it was ever anything useful. Who gave two flying hippogriffs if someone was cheating on her husband with some pool boy-esque younger pureblood? How was that helping their mission? How was gossip doing them any good?

The only reason she’d been offered entrance into their exclusive little club was because of him. Her twin. A two for one deal. “No me, not without her.” At least that’s what he claimed. But she knew better. Knew it was just some excuse to keep her close. To keep her “safe” until their father was stupid enough to marry her off to some other pureblood. But that was the point of the entire thing, wasn’t it? The luncheons, the teas? They had accepted her because of Amycus, but she was nothing more then a joke in their eyes. A joke that would be pushed aside once a betrothal began. After all, a wifes job was to produce an heir and a spare, to socialize with women of her standing and plan get togethers - not fight in a war.

Drained of any remaining fight, she sank onto her bed, head falling into her hands. The only sounds in the room were the quiet dusting of feathers as they drifted to the ground, and a small clock she’d somehow managed not to destroy.

#accepted #Alecto Carrow