Time To Put On My Very Elaborate Smut Writing Playlist.
time to put on my very elaborate smut writing playlist.
More Posts from Petitmortes and Others
Nicola Coughlan as Penelope Featherington
Bridgerton S3.E6 ∙ Romancing Mister Bridgerton
me staring at my additional muses i’m going to add list: you can’t just cast all the actresses from bridgerton
also me: SAYS WHO
to add more hotd / asoiaf characters or to not add more hotd / asoiaf characters
Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the ‘Dance of the Dragons’ …
- Eddard VII, AGOT
hotd the musical is an in universe thing confirmed. is the dance of dragons westeros’ hamilton? did grrm just foreshadow hamilton here?? rhaenyra is the alexander hamilton. aegon ii is the aaron burr. it was written by ser ilyn manuel myranda.
oh my god. aemond targaryen miku binder.
❛ Is that what I should do? Let you go? ❜ pick your poison :>
interview with the vampire (1994) sentence starters.
she had not ever been the type of woman to think she had a right to say what he should – or shouldn't do. it was easy enough to offer her professional opinion, to say that she didn't recommend the way he so often put himself into the bloody maw of danger, that she did not, and would not, ever recommend stabbing a fork into someone else's forehead, or his own. but this was something else entirely, not a professional matter – not a question of whether or not it was safe, not a sweetly spoken reminder to take caution with where he chose to bleed from.
her back pressed to the wall of her assigned medical room for the night, his hand wrapped around the delicate flesh of her wrists, holding them aloft, the stale scent of cigarettes and his cologne wafting into her nose. if lottie had heard his question, she'd not yet graced him with a response, too concerned with the way this looked, how miniscule she felt with him looming above her.
it was hardly the first time he'd had her like this – but she'd tried to ensure it was the last, had spoken gentle words of insistence, that it wasn't right. that men like him were not made for women like her. his existence alone in her personal space would've set her father raging had he known, would have ensured lottie never know the peace and quiet she'd sought out from underneath his thumb. she was trying to save them both the trouble – to make it easier in the end, when mox undoubtedly decided to tire of gentle hands and honey sweet lips.
“yes.” she manages finally, swallowing thick as her gaze drifts to his. “it's – better for the both of us if you do, isn't it?”
@tymptir said : i can't help you if you hide things from me , from garlan to desmera .
it is with the practised grace of a woman whose brothers have never been helpful that desmera turns, sizing up garlan with tired green eyes before she shakes her head. “ i do not recall asking for your help. ” she says softly, even toned – as sweet natured as is befit her station. desmera has never held a cross word out loud for anyone; she saved them for the quiet, when she was alone and could speak her displeasure without worry. her father had not ceased his intentions to see her wed, ever concerned that with horas and hobber in the depths of kings landing that his heir, whichever twin had not angered him more as of late, would not return home when duty in the arbor called. so his secondary plan had befallen to her, wanting to ensure a good marriage in the case that desmera should inherit . . . and she had not known peace since. garlan's appearance had not helped matters, had not eased her conscience any, more and more she felt as though she were the sacrificial lamb being fed to slaughter.
her cheeks settle with a light flush as she curls her hands around the handle of her pall-mall mallet, squaring her shoulders as she readies to hit her ball. “ in any case, i do not have anything to hide from you, either. ” an inhaled breath, and then she swings, sending the burgundy colored ball through hoop near the fountain. desmera turns to face him again, gentle, porcelain hands still holding onto her mallet, though she hardly looks anything near menacing. too sweet-faced, perhaps too akin to that damned lamb, again. “ i do not have a say in my father's intentions for me, garlan. ” a fact that doesn't settle entirely well on her shoulders, but, that was what had always been expected for her – of her. women like her did not get the opportunity to marry for love.
#PETITMORTES , independent , highly selective multi-muse roleplay blog. featuring muses from wrestling, house of the dragon, a song of ice and fire, interview with the vampire, and more ! minors do not interact. will contain triggering & sensitive topics, follow at your own behest. slaughtered by mowgli , 28 / cst / she+hers.
LINKS: carrd ( wip ) , pinterest ( also coming soon ) , meme tag . CREDITS: promo template from jessource . psd from pinkinnards . TO DO LIST: drafts [ 00 ] , inbox [ 00 ] , queued [ 00 ] .
current muses listed below the cut .
a song of ice and fire -
myranda royce , fc: charithra chandran.
desmera redwyne , fc: nicola coughlan.
val , fc: frida gustavsson.
ashara dayne , fc: priscilla quintana.
fire and blood -
helaena targaryen , fc: phia saban, morfydd clark.
alysanne blackwood , fc: emily bader.
johanna lannister - nee westerling , fc: laura berlin.
jeyne arryn , fc: gemma arterton.
final girls -
quincy carpenter , fc: kathryn newton.
critical role -
pike trickfoot , fc: emilia clarke.
percival de rolo , fc: maxence danet - fauvel.
vex'ahlia vessar , fc: bruna marquezine.
jester lavorre , fc: nyane lebajoa.
wrestling -
anna jay.
cora jade.
liv morgan.
tatum paxley.
* fandomless original characters, open to any verse:
charlotte 'lottie' o'hara , fc: sydney sweeney , about .
it is with the keen eye of an archer that alysanne considers him, the subtle arch of her brow, depths upon depths hidden within the warm brown of her eyes. but it is the girl who grew up surrounded by brothers that threatens to tease him, the curling corners of her mouth as she shifts her chin, sending spirals of black curls over her shoulder.
“ mostly good things. ” a pretty white lie from sharp white teeth, none had ever so much as whispered anything that wasn't complimentary of him in any circle around her, before aly finds herself shaking off the rust and disuse of her own courtesies, offering lord stark as ladylike a curtsy as one could manage in a pair of leather breeches. “ this far south, they'll blow hot air at anything, won't they? ” flexing her fingers, the itch of war still lingers in her hands – but there's a comfort to be found now, she supposes, if not in the quiet of it all, then in the man that stands before her; steady as they come, none had ever thought to question cregan stark, and when her little nephew – gods, could she even call benji that, now? – had politely suggested a marriage to him . . .
a laugh tumbles forth from her lips, before aly offers him her gloved hand, palm up. “ the arrangements? or you? ”
@petitmortes ❅ ❝ It's good, to finally put a face to the name I heard spoken so often. ❞ / alysanne & cregan
𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 , 𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺 𝑼𝑷𝑶𝑵 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑳𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑯𝑨𝑰𝑹. towering down her back like a storm. it's hardly the gentleman of him to admit how fervently he had agreed to the arrangement of marriage between them. especially not after such a brilliant first impression , looks even aside.
a gentle smile makes its way onto foreign lips. ❝ good things , i hope. ❞ some even and open way into the greeting. cregan bows his head in respect. the tight formalities of the capitol evade him. he does not make any effort , large or small , to catch up to them. his existence on this plane is nothing short of EPHEMERAL , he must tell himself. ❝ i have heard your praise , my lady. even here in the south. ❞ a reach at some northern sort of connection. a desire for someone to feel so misfit as he should feel in the capitol of his plane.
❝ i hope the arrangements are to your liking. ❞ a stifling swallow of bile. he's never grown used to these sort of things. still so far drained in his youth and yet stiff in all that the north has laid upon his skin. he feels some statue in the capitol : the sun warms its subjects too freely here.
she can hear the warning in his voice – the low timber that tells her to watch it, if she knows what's good for her. problem is, cora's never really known what's good for her; if she had, she might not have ended up here with him – might have learned her lesson by now, might have realized that hotel rooms with men treading closer and closer to being old enough to be her father held just as much trouble as the boys closer to her in age. but she's never been very good at listening, either.
a deep inhale before she spins on her heels, turning ‘round to face him, dark eyes that linger on his face like a wild animal that’s been caught in a trap. “ she called you sweetheart seven times. ” jealousy's always been her sticking point; always been the nasty, lingering feeling that wells in her stomach each time someone so much as breathed in the direction of anything she'd deemed hers. he was no different. “ saw her put her hand on your shoulder three times, too. that's not hospitality. ”
jaw set, clenching as cora hears his words – hears the threat within them, and instead of slinking away, instead of allowing the moment to die down between them, crosses her arms over her chest. an expectant look settled onto her features, daring him to finish the statement – daring him to make a decision that'd leave them both upset for weeks to come.
“ you want someone who's quiet and demure, you're in the wrong fucking room. ”
this is the game they play , of late. this back - n - forth that adds grey to his beard and another set of wrinkles at the corners of dark eyes. it makes roman feel his age , quiet regard for her enough to silence most , most days. but cora isn't most. she's far from the norm , her lips taking on a pout he wonders the authenticity of. for a moment , at least. one just fleeting enough he fails to stifle the groan when it comes , shaken by frustration.
❝ i’m not jealous, who said i’m jealous? ❞
" never said you were , " is quick , a bite that warns her as sure as it does himself in its echo. insists he calm down. loosen the fists that formed , defensively , on instinct. because her fingers know how to coax his nerves. because he's made this mistake again and again.. wound up with her in one more hotel room , listening to a tirade that can't quite settle as it drops in his stomach. " said you showed your ass back there. " to a waitress who was doing her job. to the prying eyes of several onlookers who all whispered their quiet judgment as they left. " an' you wonder why i don't take you out more often. " advertise a relationship that wobbles day in , day out. what breathes shallow breaths and always feels one false move from capsizing. " got me fucked up , you think that's gonna fly. " | @petitmortes
