𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚 / 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅.

𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝙷𝙴   𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚂   𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈   𝙵𝚁𝙰𝚈𝙴𝙳   𝙻𝚄𝙽𝙶𝚂   𝙷𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳   𝙱𝙻𝚄𝙴   𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙳   𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚂   𝙸𝙽   𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙱𝙴𝙳 .

[mannimarko]

mannimarco is not at all interested in the carnal arts of sex and desire.   however,   he is not without want,   and he is not without ambition.  

if sex is the way to sway people then he’s not going to stand aside and let a cause go lost   —   he’d dominate and conquer,   because that’s what mannimarco does.

[mannimarko]

@quartlet​ tolled the dead:     the bones are pliant,   easily broken,   yet they are arranged in such a way that is deceptive,   as if they were adorned as a bouquet.   in-between them there are the stems of dried roses and brittle thorns. 🥀

                                                    unprompted.

          nestled within the heart of it all lies the bones of a sparrow.   macabre bouquet of calcified bloom,   resting at his feet like an offering to a being sublime.   oh god,   my god,   my necromancer’s moon,   your blessing is all i need to make my hunt safe and secure.

mannimarco picks up a bone,   pinched delicately between gauntlet - clawed fingers and it splinters easily,   as if made of ash and coal.   he is not disappointed but rather enlightened.   one could never expect a formidable being to be created from these pliant bones.   no,   never,   not with how fragile they are.

he is reminded of—

(   i want to kiss the bones of his arms;   and name them   —   radius,   ulna,   long and slender,   firm and steady.   i want to kiss the bones of his hands;   and name them   —   carpus,   metacarpus,   phalanges,   hewn and rough,   worn and sharp.   i want to kiss the bones of his back;   and name them   —   cervical,   thoracic,   lumbar vertebrae,   curved and bowed,   strong and tall.   i want to kiss the bone of his face;   and name them   —   frontal,   sphenoid,   nasal,   zygomatic,   maxilla,   mandible,   smooth and heavy,   bared and windswept.   i want to kiss the bones of his body;   and name them   —   mine.   )

—something sentimental,   something best left in another life.

mannimarco scoffs.

“     quaint,   but nonetheless useless,     ”     he comments,   riffling through the bones,   and the lie is veiled behind a shroud that not many is able to pick their way through.   useless,   yes,   and quaint indeed,   but not so useless where he throws them away.   but another bird for the pile of carcasses the cat brought in.

maybe it is more of an offering,   like one would give a god;   ambrosia to soothe the soul and nectar to fulfill one’s goals.   perhaps that is not the intention behind them.   mannimarco knows it is not.   and still he sees no other reason behind the gift other than dedication to the craft.

this man,   being,   knows mannimarco.   either he is a fanatic or a fool.

“     they will do little more than serve as ashes for urns.     ”

maybe it is a threat ?   hardly.   mannimarco is not stupid enough to think that something this grandiose comes oat the behest of promised death.   he samples one of the dried roses and turns it over in his hand and a few of the petals falls to the ground.   he turns on his spot,   careless of his step,   and the crunch of a few of the petals beneath his heel is swallowed up by the structured walls making up his temporary keep.

“     pity that the sender did not stay to give it on his own,     ”     mannimarco looks at the glint of gold in the far corner of the cavernous room and lilts his tone,   tilts lip up enough to show a fanged smile   (   i see you   ).

the bouquet of roses and bones is taken with him.

[galerion-deactivated20250610]

If I’m dead, who killed me? A man named Mannimarco.

[diiscotechjuliet]

Visit Original Link

If I Had A Heart | Fever Ray

if I had a heart I could love you if I had a voice I would sing

[akurse-deactivated20210322]

             no hands moulded me,   least of all man’s.   i gave iron to my own name,   willed it to be a curse uttered by the darker parts of the soul.   i became great;   i became terrible.

                       she watched it all   and   it felt like worship.

vie.go,   the rui.ned king   of riot game’s   league of le.gends.   as written by cain.

[mannimarko]

@anonymous tolled the dead:     ayo king twunk happy thirstday you sexy little worm

                                                 unprompted.

           it is   ‘ king of worms ’   to you,   maggot.   see to it that you get out of my sight immediately and never return,   or your life will be the least of your concerns.

[mannimarko]

it’s a national holiday

[mannimarko]

@maaiar​ tolled the dead:     '    not once did i say it was.     '

                                          poetry sentences.

          not once did the seas reign,   not once did the mountains whisper,   and not once did the dead rise again.   those are the spoken truth among mortals and what they say is law.   yet they’ve forsaken the rightful rule of nature.   we conquer,   they say,   and we will best what can not be bested.   for the sea they make boats and sail on the waves,   for the mountains they dig cavities into the sides till the earth aches,   and the dead   —   the dead,   six feet under,   left to rot rather than perfect the soil.

mannimarco is a man who takes and perfects and thus bodies will never rest forever.   he takes and takes and the soil will bend and turn;   like flowers they’ll rise,   beautiful and in bloom.

he laughs,   a reverberating thing.   in the deep cavernous expanse it echoes and is then swallowed,   so far beneath the earth,   so deep within its hurt,   that the abyss takes all sound after a second or two.

(   i could raise you an army.   the bones of the first age have not sunk yet.   is it hesitation that holds you back,   my lord mairon ?   —   not once did i say it was.   )

“     yet you did not deny my claim,    ”     mannimarco responds,   doesn’t relent,   carefully leaning down to look over his   ‘ lord’s ’   shoulder.   there is a great darkness swelling before them,   of long past days and coming times,   and in the middle blazes a fiery eye that sees everything and watches all.   were mannimarco a foolish man he would have been tempted to reach out.   but he is not.   he knows not to play with fire.

“     i am not wrong,     ”     a hand places itself on mairon’s shoulder,   the gauntlet on it wicked and sharp,   black as the night.   mannimarco slowly drums his fingers,   one - two - three - four,   one - two - three - four,   in a rhythm akin to a heart beat.   it’s uncanny,   it’s unnerving,   but perhaps not to a lord of darkness and a king of worms.     “     but i am not right.   so tell me,   my liege,   where i went wrong with my assumption.     ”

mannimarco doesn’t ask it like a question.   he asks it as his role as mairon’s unhallowed advisor requires;   like a short command to make the dark lord sauron speak his honest mind.

[necroline]

super quick gross-ish Mannimarco while trying out new brushes 

[mannimarko]

happy   ( late )   valentine’s day !

...   who else will rip out your soul and hold it in their hollow palm ?   not these insipid fools   —   no,   now come forth,   hero,   and take to dance with the most peculiar bachelor among ghasts and ghouls

[mannimarko]

good morning,   i made an interest checker

here’s a link to it,   please take a look

[mannimarko]

𝑸:    𝙷𝙾𝚆  𝙳𝙾  𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳  𝚃𝙾  𝙱𝙴  𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙳 ?     

                                             𝑨:    recklessly,   like a horse running as fast as he can.

you've been told that the way you love can never last,   and that heartbreak is inevitable.  but you don't want to love carefully.   you want to love with reckless abandon.   you want to love with everything you have,   and you want to be loved the same way.   you don't want them to worry about tomorrow.   make today worth living for.  

tagged:   @bladewarde​

tagging:  @maaiar​,   @malefacere​,   @babalyn​,   and @bloodyd​

[melamemea]

poetry sentences . // meme .

a collection of sentences pulled out from this blog. it contains a lot of various topics. trigger warnings apply , just in case. smaller adjustments have been made with permission from the author in order to make proper sentences.

“ the touch you left is burning through my skin.”

“ oxygen poured into my wounds and set fire to the rest of my body. ”

“ the soothing breeze only made it worse. ”

“ i let the wind hug me in hopes that it would wash away the touch you left. ”

“ i can’t let you go. ”

“ your touch is crawling up my throat. ”

“ i kiss the wind in order to remember. ”

“ my sad is not beautiful. ”

“ my sad is not beautiful, because it’s dangerous. ”

“ i dare to say that my sad is not beautiful. ”

“ get out, get out and walk away. ”

“ the artist on the other end won’t let me go. ”

“ drench me in roses, put me on a cloud like michelangelo. ”

“ coal spread in my veins like sulfur; toxic. ”

“ not once did i say it was. ”

“ you don’t love him ”

“ when you do you don’t feel so hollow anymore ”

“ you don’t love him, but you make a world out of him ”

“ you imagine what it feels like, being in love ”

“ love is supposed to be good ”

“ he makes you feel good, isn’t that love then? ”

“ how come you can’t stop the rapture of your arteries, or the shredding of your heart’s chambers? ”

“ why did you make him to be a world you could step on? ”

“ you can’t climb those, because you never managed to conquer him. ”

“ what world do you live in ”

“ love, you call it, and love you make it. ”

“ you don’t love him, but you know you’d like to try. ”

“ even if his love is a poison, you’d happily die trying. ”

“ breathe into me. ”

“ your scorching breath is my doomsday, salvation and reawakening all at once ”

“ your lungs are bouquets brimming to their edges with colors ”

“ press your lips against my chest ”

“ let your tongue trick me open ”

“ i fear my own suffocation ”

“ kiss me so i can feel alive again ”

“ there’s a strange hole in my chest. ”

“ god, what i’d give to run my hands by that hair again ”

“ yet you keep pouring ”

“ you are not shallow water, you are quicksand ”

“ you are not he shark, you are the ocean beneath threatening to drown it ”

“ you’re a gap in my chest ”

“ it spreads like cancer and your gaze is the chemo killing me ”

“ i dare to call you an antidote ”

“ i want to remain weak ”

“ eat me alive… i am yours ”

“  i count the wounds left behind from your claws “

“  i, too, am a martyr ”

“  not for the people – for myself and the heart i once let you embrace and care for “

“  mistakes are spilled and spelled all over my skin ”

“ you are death on two legs, nothing more than another case of Bad touch and Sensible warnings; vinegar on my tongue”

“ back off and learn your lesson “

“ smile, lover, you are a burning star “

“ i let myself decay in the hellfire flames “

“  what good is heaven, when all i want is hell “

[mannimarko]

         they say that dar’khan drathir was quel’thalas most prominent traitor of all   —   but they forget his mentor,   the one to place the idea in his head in the first place.   advisor mannimarco,   trusted sorcerer sublime of anasterian’s court,   mysteriously vanished when the king was slain and the necromancer,   kel’thuzad,   rose out of the sun,  away from death’s grip.   some cry foul;   others cry that they are fools,   unaware that he merely followed the slim betrayer path.

whispers of a cult soon arose south of the high elves’ forever spring land,   and in tirisfal the first appearances of people wrapped in cloth emblazoned with worms and unknown tongues surfaced from the dreadful soil.   in the steps of the damned they wandered,   though at the plaguelands they stopped.   a minor branch of the damned,   the black worm stays secret,   merely a shadow of the larger being.

“     arch - lich,     ”     mannimarco croons,   haughtiness in tone a dangerous game,     “     are we not beyond making fodder for slaughter ?   all that these ghouls know is how to devour !   they will merely gnaw on the nearest bone they can put their gums on.     ”

they have been known to butt heads,   kel’thuzad and he,   for differing views,   for differing ways to create their life’s work   —   but they both remain.   a good competition is healthy,   some say,   to make the work better,   to improve out of spite and jealousy.

mannimarco takes the nearest ghoul by its jaw,   uncaring that it drools all over his hand,   and turns the corpse’s face left and right.     “     not a single thought behind those eyes,     ”     he says with mock sympathy,   and digs gauntlet claws into its cheeks,     “     i could do better than this.     ”

@curiositydies          /          starter call.

[dyath]

private  &  highly  selective  blog  for  NELTHARIO.N  /  DEATHWI.NG  from  blizzard’s  WORLD  OF  WARCRAFT  as  written  by  raven  !       like  OR reblog  for  those  interested  in  interreacting  !    follow  for  chaotic  evil  dragon  content  &  old  gods  .   

[goatrocket-moved]

mannimarco, king of worms

[mannimarko]

          there is no wrong or right.   it is the simple truth mannimarco found revealed before his eyes,   that one person’s right is another person’s wrong and vice versa.   you can not sate everyone and you should not even try;   live,   instead,   for your own visions and self,   for you are the only person who matters in your decisions for the future and all else.

perhaps,   had the scourge seen mannimarco’s ambition grow ten - fold,   they would have not lost such a staggering force when it mattered the most.   a large portion of their living followers,   men and women and people between who dreamt of death and ruin and wanted to kiss the life’s warm lips farewell,   had turned to walk with him;   the cult of the damned faced a staggering blow and the cult of the black worm found roots in both silverpine and tirisfal,   where the soil is black and dead and the wolves howl at the resplendent moon.

but mannimarco stretches out a hand   —   and as the hymn goes,   beware the worm king’s awful touch   —   offering kul tiras’ daughter of the sea a place by his side,   an alliance befitting the cold touch of death.  

(   they forget that although water is a body associated with life it is also the most nefarious murderer of all.   )

“     you wouldn’t have to hold back anymore,     ”     the quel’dorei speaks;   theramore comes to mind,   then everything after;   is your kindness not running dry,   jaina proudmoore ?   no human is a saint,     “     the anger.   the rage.   the betrayal.   and neither would i.   what more perfect union would you ever find ?   lordaeron would be yours to do with as you wish.     ”     just as the rest of the realm would be mannimarco’s playground for raising the dead.

@seadaught​           /          starter call.