#crimsonsmirks

[aloneinmycage]

continued from here

       Sansa’s eyes fell as he spoke of her blood, as if he had any right, as if he CARED. A good, honorable man would never speak of a woman’s blood.  “ Of course, your Grace, you’re so smart, that MUST be it. ”

       At his mention of another execution, saving one for her, her blue eyes lifted again, trying to read his face while taking care to keep her own expression under control. She couldn’t deny him outright, object to the so called KINDNESS he sought to grant her in his twisted mind. Nor could she find herself capable of feigning the gratitude she knew he expected from her. 

              All she could do was stare.

[stillgotclaws]

lion cub // closed rp starter for @crimson-smirks​ // starter call

           THERE WAS NOTHING ENTERTAINING IN A young servant's life, actually ( if Reyna was honest ) it was boring. she usually woke before the fist light & went to bed after everyone else ---- even her mother. the thought of her darling mother both warmed the young bastard's heart and sent a sharp pang through it, Ambrosia had died at the crag & thus left Reyna's fate at the hands of her lord, who decided to send her as a sign of good faith to King's Landing. she was still adjusting to the change of scenery ---- never she had seen such beautiful place. the crag was her home & would forever have a dear place in her heart, but she couldn't help but be in awe. everything was so rich, so beautiful.             AS SHE WALKED THROUGH THE GARDENS, absent minded & looking up at the sky, the young bastard didn't even have time to realise the first few steps of a small stairs. she lost her balance & would've fallen down the stairs in the most painful way if it wasn't for something ---- someone held her before she met the hard floor. looking up to meet whoever her saviour was, the girl's eyes met firstly a very golden hair, then a rosy young face ( perhaps as old as herself ) that was impossible to mistake. the prince himself.

            ‘‘ oh, pardon me, your highness    ’’   came the apology before she took a  ( careful ) step away to give him room to move if it pleased him, eyes glued on the floor.    ‘‘  did i  hurt you ? ’’ 

[wishfordawn-m-blog]

@crimson-smirks

No matter how often she had already chided herself stupid, Talia did it again when they stepped out between the trees and she realized just what exactly was going on.

The field opening up before her was filled with an army. Men milling around, taking down the tents that had served some of them as resting place for the night, the dew of dawn still glistening on their flaps. Voices were filling the air, occasional curses, some laughter here and there. A few campfires burning, horses being led around, men washing their faces in the small brook at the edge of the camp.

There were Baratheon flags everywhere.

The hand closed around her upper arm tugged her along, and Talia started walking again, teeth gritting. The cords binding her hands still hadn’t loosened, no matter how much she tried to tug on them with her fingertips. That didn’t mean she was stopping.

Ever since she had heard about what was happening in King’s Landing, Talia had been careful - even more careful on her way up north through the Riverlands. Not careful enough, as it turned out now, or the patrol wouldn’t have caught her off guard before the sky had lightened with the coming of the new day. Now the men had her daggers and her boy, her horse and everything else she had with her. Only her clothes she still carried herself.

They moved through half the camp before the man at her arm forced her to a halt and Talia tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp once more, just to be rid of his touch. Running now wouldn’t get her anywhere, she knew, a fact that sat in the back of her throat like a bitter drink that was hard to swallow.

[ivoryxdove]

@crimson-smirks

The golden lion looked upon the wolf. A golden eyebrow was raised as he turned his head to look at her. The sounds of swords could be heard ringing out before them as the knights fight for the king and future queens amusement. Yet the king was distracted from the contest before him as he looked upon wolf with wonder in his eyes.

why was HIS queen upset

“You don’t look it –” He muttered, annoyance leaving his lips as the king raised his hand upwards – the two lowly born knights would stop mid swing and retain their frozen stance until commanded otherwise. “Do they not amuse you?” The king questioned, knowing her reply would hold the fate of these knights life’s with what she uttered to the king.

     “ I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’m enjoying myself, truly, I just got caught up in my thoughts for a moment and grew distracted. I’d like to keep watching, if we may? “ Sansa reached her hand out hesitantly, and placed it on the arm of his seat, meeting his eyes carefully.

[thelightninglord-blog1]

The crimson smirk king

Send me your URL and I’ll tell you

My Opinion on;

Character in general: renly is my favourite of the baratheon’s, ngl, but stannis is obviously the mannis. I’m not robert’s biggest fan, shall we say, and as for joffrey… I don’t think I have words enough to describe how much I hate that lil’ shit. a brilliant character and one I enjoyed to no end, but omg, I despised him. How they play them: I’ve gushed enough about andrew’s blog and how much I adore his writing, but I’mma say it again — andrew never fails in his spot-on characterisations, and pours his heart and soul into every thread he writes. The Mun: great! lots of fun to chat with!

Do I:

RP with them: yesWant to RP with them: hell yes, even when it takes me a thousand years to reply.

What is my;

Overall Opinion: an amazing list of characters, all played brilliantly, with an awesome mun behind them!

@crimson-smirks

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

[ofharlawandsilence]

Me: I'm gonna go to the first meme on my dash and find a sentence from it to start a Euron and Joff thread with @crimson-smirks

My Dash: How does Forbidden Love Sentence Starters sound?

[russetwolf]

"Your armies have been beaten! The war is over! Kneel before your true king!"

No one had told, had even tried to gloat to him about it, but Robb knew exactly why he was here. Why he had been dragged all the way through the Riverlands and Crownlands, left to his own darkest thoughts and deepest regrets. Joffrey was about to get married to Margery Tyrell, and he would probably hard pressed to find anything that would bring him more delight than to have an execution during his wedding feast.

Never trust a Greyjoy. Walder Frey is a dangerous man to cross.

He had been warned, but he hadn’t listened. Thinking that somehow, things would work out. Now his wife and child were dead, his close friends and guards were dead, his bannermen were imprisoned or dead. Instead of leading his people to a wedding, he had lead them to slaughter.

And yet maybe that malicious spoiled brat staring down at him might still be the one person in the realm he hated the most.

Robb raised his head a little higher, eyes narrowed as he stared back at the bastard boy king.

“For you to take my head anyway, as you did my father’s? I think I’ll pass.”

[multirem]

            A GENTLE SLURP OF THE COLD COFFEE filled the air, her pinkie pointing out into the air as she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip of the bitter-sweet delicious liquid, her baby blue eyes focused on the book — what else could you DO in an ASYLUM? Go CRAZY?

TOO LATE FOR THAT.

             The blonde jumped in her spot, letting out a quiet scream of surprise when SUDDENLY a few gunshots rang in the air and then a few MASKED men walked into the room, making her arch a brow. And yet, they only stood outside of her little metal cage before one of the threw a mobile phone at her and OUT OF REFLEX she caught it. Harley looked at the screen and saw that someone called ‘BOSS’ was calling.

               “Yes?” The woman answered the phone, still confused as to why the men would suddenly break into the cellroom just like this. Unless—

                                                            “PUDDIN’?”

◝  ◦ ◟ @crimson-smirks​ // random◞ ◦ ◜

[princessborn]

@crimson-smirks / JOFFREY.

HE WAS A KING NOW. Their father was dead. The only good thing he had done for them all his entire life was getting drunk and allowing that boar to rip right through him. The youth held no love for the man. He could not remember a tender moment he had with his father. He could not remember any kind words or advice – he only knew him for the overweight drunkard he had become. A man who drank to remember the past and reigned as a poor king. He would not make the same mistakes as his father made. He would not be a poor king – rather he would become the greatest king in the history of the seven kingdoms.

He was new to this

Mother had always told him he was designed for greatness. That the world would bend the knee to him when he sat upon the iron throne, no doubt those words and teachings where to be put into practice years down the line – not now. His reign had only just started. Only a month in and the entire seven kingdoms had been divided. Five kings where now at war for the iron throne – four false and only one true.

He knew the value of his siblings now during a time like this. A princess and a prince would be needed during this war. His grandfather was trapped in the north fighting a losing war. His uncle had been taken prisoner and no contact had been made. He had no hand of the king. His small council feared him and told him what he wanted. His mother offered advice, but it was always to show mercy to those who had wronged him – he wanted none of that. He was king and when this war was finished he would be the last standing.

“I am your KING now sister –” He corrected her. Looking at her up and down – taking in her outfit as he scoffed. She looked like a whore in his eyes. A fine silk dress while he had been reduced to wearing armour and being followed his seven at all times for his protection. His first royal command had started a war with half of the land screaming for his blood. “Who are you trying to impress dressing like that –”

He commented as he turned his head to the side and jilted it – he didn’t need his men – not with his sister as he dismissed them all except for the hound who was the only one out of them all who had protected him since he was a mere prince. He studied his sister – taking her form all in. No doubt with father’s death this was a chance for her to step out of his shadow and see the world. No doubt it was time for all three of them to step out of the shadows of their mother and father – one was dead and the other had been reduced to drinking due to his commands and actions.

“You never dressed like that when father was alive – tell my – are you happy that he is dead?”

         “You are. And you were a prince before and yet I cannot recall such demands to refer to your title, Joff.” The princess remain poised as always, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his words; tongue, however, is hardly held --- and it is PURPOSEFULLY that she uses his name, then, instead of title. Myrcella understands well changes in their positions, knows things are not the same as they once were; even more reason for them to remain UNITED as family should, she believes, instead of arguing over petty things such as titles. She knew well he was king, and even better how to properly act towards him publicly; did not mean Myrcella would abide such details when it wasn’t NECESSARY.

        Eyebrow raises at his questioning; answer slipping of her tongue with ease, said as if it should be an OBVIOUS thing (it should, Myrcella thinks, for the king most of all; he should know well what impression we ought to cause --- but perhaps to make statements through clothing was something limited to women, and men failed to notice such details). “As you’re surely aware, we’re all meant to make an impression on your guests, brother; I, for one, simply chose to wear our house colors for such event.”

        Not simply at all, however. Colors worn were reaffirming identity, claiming her place as a Baratheon, as the TRUEBORN CROWN PRINCESS she was. When kingdoms rebelled and war was waged and accusations of bastardy were thrown at them in every moment, such statement was not lightly made. When coloring of hair and eyes she carried the wrong one, the least she could do and all she could try was to wear the proper ones in her gown. 

        With next question, she only blinks. Myrcella cannot follow the train of thought that lead to such a question, but it is certainly a surprising one --- not quite unexpected enough to leave her speechless, however. “I must say I wasn’t aware you payed so much attention to what I wear, Joffrey.” A ridiculous notion, she would’ve thought it to be --- as far as she was aware, he might as well have seen her in the morning and remain clueless to what she wore then. That he would notice the break of pattern was honestly astonishing.

        “----------- And what sort of question is that?” Question in itself is an offensive one (once again she wonders if her brother’s purpose is to spite her still); or should be, in the least. Myrcella isn’t happy at her father’s death, idea itself an OUTRAGEOUS thing. Neither can she claim to be devastated by it, however. She had shed her tears at his funeral, few and brief and proper, but that had been the extent of her grief. The princess had known Robert Baratheon through tales more than in person; journey North had made it awfully clearer ------ Eddard Stark’s children seemed to know her father as well as she did, if not best. Eddard Stark’s children had great liking and respect for a father always present in their lives. Eddard Stark’s children had that which she could not have, and it stung. JEALOUSY had crept in, back then, unwelcome and uninvited and there regardless (oh, how Myrcella had wanted their father to be like that; oh, how the princess had hurt thinking of what made them so UNDESIRABLE to their sire). 

        To miss one you hardly knew was difficult feat. His passing brought her no joy, but neither did it bring her SORROW. Arms crossed, she chooses the simplest answer to give. “Of course I take no joy in his death.”  While words sound properly offended, she cannot avoid the sensation answer is left open ended, as if missing a conclusion. Princess’ demeanor changes, previous playful disregard replaced with seriousness. “ --------- And if you do, I must say it’s ill advised to let people know so. It is expected you’d care. If you do not, others may use it to reinforce those repugnant LIES the pretenders spread about our parentage, brother.” 

[ivoryxdove]

"What's wrong my lady?"

     Tears choked her voice, and she swallowed them down and took a breath before she said anything. “ Nothing, Your Grace. Thank your for your kindness in asking, but I’m well. “ It felt dirty to say. 

     Sansa was glad her sleeves fell past her hands, as she held the inner silks of one of them, distracting but grounding herself by focusing on the feel of it.

[thelightninglord-blog1]

;;ooc

when you're trying to answer ask memes but you're too tipsy and suddenly super serious conversations about stannis baratheon become contemplations on the first person to eat a potato.

[shesquiinnsane-ar]

“I’m the hero you and this city deserve!”

❖ @crimson-smirks ❖

“WAS THIS AMEME?” MEME

“HERO? OH PUD’ if that’s on ya mind, keep dreamin’.” She mumbled the word ‘dumbass’ under her breath but tried to keep it to herself.

[multirem]

        “No, no, no, NO.” The blonde shook her head, stepping away slowly from the drunk man, her baby blue eyes wide - though not in excitement. Not this time. She held her hands out in front of her, as if trying to calm the Joker down. She knew that he had been drinking and getting high on some kind of drugs when he became like this. Harley tilted her head to the side and bit on her lower lip “No, you won’t Puddin’.” The woman replied, trying to soothe the man “You’d miss those lips.” She added, offering a small smile - she tried not to think about how the only fucking time that something interesting could come out of this - he was drunk and fucked up on chemicals. “---you need to lay down, daddy.”

@crimson-smirks​  //  cont 

[ivoryxdove]

@crimson-smirks

“What do you mean by that my lady?” The young king was confused with her words. She spoke as if she no longer loved him – that he was not the prince she had fallen in love with

He had done the things he done for her. The butcher boy was killed for harming her sister. The wolf was slaughtered as it was a wild beast and had no right being the pet for the future queen – his future wife. He killed the people, because her brother had raised his banners against him.

The king had the right to protect himself and the realm.

“Am I still not everything you want?” The king questioned. He would slowly place his hands upon the sides of his throne as he would push himself up to stand – towering over her as she stood below the steps to the iron throne as he stared at her – only them – no one else stood in the great hall of the king as he almost glared at her for her words to him.

     Sansa hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until he replied. It felt like her heart was in her throat, and she had to take a moment to calm herself. While she had wanted to speak to him, when she arrived it was as if her words were taken over; perhaps someone lived in her head and controlled her tongue for her, sometimes. Someone who hated her.

     “ That wasn’t what I meant, Your Grace. I spoke stupidly, please forgive me. “ She thought he liked it when she called herself stupid; it felt like she was saying that he was smarter than her. 

     “ I only meant that I fell in love with a prince, and you’re a King now. “ Maybe that would work; Sansa grabbed the line of thinking and stuck to it. “ You’re a King, and I’m a traitor’s daughter. I only wish that it could be simple, like it had been beforer; you are everything I could ever wish for. “

[thelightninglord-blog1]

⋆ —- continued with @crimson-smirks

beric’s gaze falters at the mention of robert, an unwanted twist of cold guilt seeing his eye lower to the mossy ground beneath their feet. had the former king truly spoken so highly of him? he can’t remember, robert’s face little more than a blur of dark curls and ruddy cheeks. they had known each other, once — lifetimes ago. the very idea seems preposterous. 

whoever he had been back then, the beric dondarrion that lifts his chin now is not the same man. he had sworn an oath to renly’s brother, and to that he would someday adhere; for now, however, the smallfolk of the riverlands need them more than they do squabbling lords. stark forces have sacked as many villages as the lannister’s armies, their fighting often trampling those they considered inconsequential. how many have renly's pushed aside for his cause? the brotherhood without banners do not bend to any faceless man or woman on the throne, no matter the number of soldiers at their back.

still, they are little use to the smallfolk dead. beric spares a glance toward thoros, who nods genially, that calm smile of his as ever fixed in place.

“forgive me, your grace,” beric bows his head once again, and if his words hold a note of sarcasm then his impassive expression does not show it. “I would have thought that executing the enemies of your great house was something a king would appreciate. if my men have committed crimes in the eyes of the lord of light, justice will come to us.”