#manific

[shinyillusionz]

For being a grump, Mani is a great, cute slime @dongwongtang

[victoriawolffpagan]

#bondagegirl #manific #bellacriatura #mistic https://www.instagram.com/p/BnFgN6cF5IBASVmqjM6PiggPDO6yw25iQnsphE0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1urab7r1ywrei

[victoriawolffpagan]

#manific https://www.instagram.com/p/BnArNsJHNHQMJFXc7xUuyFQaHwSdErHz3Vqvoo0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1hn76o1ljivc1

[victoriawolffpagan]

#manific #bellacriatura #mistic (en Quito, Ecuador) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bm-7FBbH6E281ZiqCvX8U7bD8ghZu9SfWF2MPk0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=11k5umk20zrax

[victoriawolffpagan]

#luna #manific

[scratchybeardsweetmouth]

Another ghost to carry

There was nothing to be done. She’d been here before. She knew the feeling well yet never welcomed it. The girl in her wanted to deny it, but there was no use. Ser Jorah was dying. 

It took five arrows to bring her bear down for no sword-wielder could. She smiled at the thought earlier, proud of the first of her Queensguard, yet she could not make one now to comfort him. A pool of blood surrounded her and Ser Jorah. None of it was hers – her injuries were mere cuts from feeble attempts of the enemies’ ranged weapons. How could they hurt her, when they were never trained to hit a dragonrider? Drogon’s skin was smouldering too. Any steel of a fired arrow or thrown dagger that hit Drogon melted away with the remnants falling off of her dragon. The blood of the dragon of was boiling then. The blood of her bear was warm now as they were flowing through her knees, legs and the back of her feet. His head was heavy on her lap; his breathing unsteady. Yet his eyes never left hers.

She wanted to say so much. That she missed, dreamed of him, longed for him. She wanted to ask him questions and tell him stories that she may hear his gruff counsel once more, if not for the last time. She could tell him she does not want him to die – that she never did despite what she told him at their last meeting. Instead, she met his eyes and prayed that they could say what her mouth could not. She began to stroke his bald head fondly, again and again, until her lips started to quiver and her eyes began to get wet. The blood was starting to go cold. She decided she needed to say something, something he would want to hear. It would not be a lie for she told him as much before of his place in her life. With all her heart, she said softly,

“Jorah, I love y-“

“Daenerys,” he interrupted, smiling, “you do not.” Regardless of his state, her bear’s face was peaceful and something about his smile made Dany feel like such a child. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, “But I do.”

Still smiling, Jorah lifted his large hand and held her cheek. Dany held it with her own and let her tears fall at last. Fiercely, she whispered,

“I will take you home. I swore to take you home.” 

Ser Jorah wiped her tears with the thumb of the hand on her cheek. He gave the tiniest and laziest shake of the head and replied,

“I did.” 

His hand became heavy and fell to the ground. His eyes closed and his face was still calm, but his breathing was no more.

Dany kissed his broad forehead, and cried. She held the kiss as long as she could. When she was done, she gently laid his head on the ground. Her tears were done as well. 

That would be the last ghost the little girl has to carry.

[scratchybeardsweetmouth]

Only Her (SPOILER if you haven't read until A Storm of Swords)  

It was silent tonight, as it was for days since he boarded Selaesori Qhoran with his two unlikely companions. What was he doing with the Imp? More so, with a useless lady dwarf. Foolish, he thought to himself. Sheer stupidity. Desperate and pathetic. How did it come to this?  

His life was no long summer and he never expected it to be. He was a man of the north, used to bearing long winters and harsh whips of the winds. Tough as the logs that surrounded bear island, Mormonts could withstand any. Yet, never in a thousand winters did he expect to be an exile again. He had no footing, nothing to keep him grounded. By the gods, he was a bear! Bears had claws that keep them steady, might that protected dear ones, strength that fend off threats and fierceness that killed their enemies. Now though, well…he had no home, no friend, no family, no one to protect. Only her.  

The thought of her, more like. To fall for a dragon…madness…but she was his life. He takes a quick glance at the imp and rethinks; she could very well be his death too. Let the stinking steward carry him to her. Let the fool meet the queen. It was more apt for he was no knight. A knight stays true to his vows while a fool entertains. Wasn't he going to be entertaining? Delivering a criminal as a sacrifice to regain his honor and probably add a dwarf servant to the queen's service?! It was a bloody mess and so was he.  

However, the choice has been made. "I vow to serve you, obey you, to die for you if need be."  He had loved her. He would live the rest of his days for her and it would be enough. Enough to heal the broken man he has become. It mattered, yes, that she could forgive him and take him back into his service but it was not something he needed for his cause. The dragon consumed him long ago and he was willing to be burnt.