#mxncipium

omg tormund is the cutest missandei is keeping him

For every @ I get, I have to tag someone I love/look up to!

@obuljagon A newer addition to my dash but i honestly love ??? so much ??? Pulls off such a wonderful Dany

@unburntxqueen #NoRunning do i need to say more? *pets* A beautiful Daenerys like to heck

@breakercfchains Such a dedication and protectiveness for Dany that I’m always awed by. 

send a 🔥 for an unpopular opinion // @mxncipium

YOU BRING THIS ON YOURSELF DON’T BLAME ME

AND WHY DO YOU NOT STOP ME

Unaccustomed to the stronghold’s layout, Jon often found himself WANDERING the twisting halls of Dragonstone. Most times he could walk the floors carved from the mountain without encountering a single soul, and when his eyes fell upon her, he froze momentarily in shock. 

THE WORDS ARE KIND, though perhaps not entirelydeserved as a soft smile flickers on her lips – sadly, but it’s there, howeversubtle. In her mind’s eye, she still sees her crying children, screaming in their chains for a mother who won’tturn back for them, and it’s suffocating to consider the thought of what theymust think of her. How they must have hoped for her to turn and free them fromthe constraints she’d never forced them into in the past. “Zaldrīzes buzdariiksos daor. And I left them shackled. Breaker of chains, am I not?” She turnsthen with that same soft expression, concealing the true pain beneath. But thisis not someone who will judge her for emotion. This is her closest friend – anddespite her own royal blood, she considers them equals in a world where all menmust die, because they are not men themselves. With a step closer, her handsclasp the sunkissed fingertips offered, before she breathes. “I do not feelstrong any longer.” Emotion taints the words then, before turning with asqueeze to the warm flesh in her grasp, to glance back over the balcony.Surveying the scenery before her, Daenerys falls silent once more, but shedoesn’t hear her friend leave. She knowsshe is not alone.

             head down,     don’t think about the night gone. Clara’s head was pounding as punishment for the evening’s escapades. She’s  never  that bad, it was like she was  possessed.  She usually made a point of not losing control, only drank to the point where she could be stably compromised. But she was on  HOLIDAY,  she had to  let loose.  Never doing that again.    (   No point lying to herself, but she did it anyway.   )    She didn’t bother to take out one of the books she’d packed in her hand-luggage; the thought of looking at ink on a page made her nauseous. Instead she sat with her hand to her temple, slouched on an uncomfortable metal chair outside the departure gate.

                                It took her ages to notice Missandei. You can sense discomfort, but given the impatience of passengers it was difficult to notice fear amongst the noise of it all. Clara’s head rose slowly, catching an instinct too difficult to explain. Sure enough, it was the woman who’d helped her last night. Her friends were too busy breaking their arses laughing to catch her but Missandei had swooped in just in time to save Clara from  literally  breaking her arse. It was humiliating beyond belief, but she’d been nice about it. She surveyed the other passengers, trying to pick out if there was anyone reserving the seat beside her. Seeing it would be left vacant, Clara shuffled into the seat beside her, hunched over by her surplus belongings which couldn’t comfortably fit in her hands and bag.