six-ish sentence...tuesday!
TAGGED BY the dears @multiverse-of-themind, @denerims, @dihardys, @queennymeria, @loriane-elmuerto, @arklay, @florbelles and @yennas to share a few sentences from a couple wips!
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losing my mind by this piece do not mind me! im fine! really!
Iovanna.
she and the stars claim kinship.
Beautiful, for there isn’t a soul in the realm who can compare. Ethereal, for she is an illusion he wouldn’t mind being lost in for eternity to the end of his days. Divine, for she descended from the blood of the gods themselves. Or just simply stole their divinity, claiming it for herself.
Iovanna and stars claim kinship.
Because iovanna and the heavens will always be just out of reach of him. No matter how high Daemon soars on the back of Caraxes, he is just out of reach of them. Of her.
The same song and dance, their endless waltz.
the tale of aurane "mark me down as scared and into it" waters <3
If he were a halfwit, which he isn't mind the reader, he would liken the lady before him to be her [visenya], rising from the ashes with violet eyes boring into his.
The woman dismounts from her mount, she then unsheathes dark sister from its scabbard... plunging the blade into the sand.
Starspire's eyes look to her rider below her and then find his, Dragon and rider mirror each other, staring him down.
If this is intimidation then he is welcoming it, she is both beautiful and terrifying.
Whatever this is, aurane is into it.
an una and aeggy thing!
the hour was late by the time una arrived back at the red keep, the cannibal had set out to return to dragonstone the moment her feet touched solid ground at the dragonmount.
She fought back smiling from the horrified bystanders.
Helaena awaited her at the gate.
"The crown is relieved you've returned in one piece, claiming a dragon is equal parts worth it and harrowing. I assume the ritual was successful?" she nods and Helaena continues, "I know the hour is late but Aegon expects you... has been the last four days I might add. He even thought to take to dragonback to retrieve you. We had to convince him how bad of an idea it would be for him to risk being sighted."
Una's eyebrows raise at that was he... worried for her? And here she thought from her first impression of him that he would rather eat his own hand than think of anyone other than himself... peculiar.
alma and sauron...! them!
And a successor needed an equal at their side.
He had long searched to find her again, he set alight to all who tried to halt him, and maybe even those who took her from him in the meantime while he searched to find her.
Then, by destiny, she found him.
It was destiny!
In this mortal form, it was destiny Almárëa, his Almárëa was whisked back to Valinor by her traitor mother, it was destiny they found each other once more.
They were always meant to burn together.
introducing cod! Karolina <3
“You must really enjoy my company huh?"
His gaze focuses harder on the scenery outside the window, maybe if he focuses hard enough... she'll vanish and he can hear his own thoughts once more, he doesn't turn to make eye contact, "I don't, Pajari. And this isn't over, there is still you telling us what you know, then I can hear the sweet sounds of silence again."
On this ride to where they needed to be to question her, Karolina could be focusing on gazing at the pretty scenery outside like he was.
She would rather bother him on this peaceful occasion, how lovely.
Her infuriating perpetually smug steely-gray gaze finds him again, "from the way I see it, and in the words of your countrymen, I think you fancy me, Simon."
and lastly! here is a wip of the family tree of iovanna using this template!
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INVERSE FUNCTION (1)
yandere sukuna x fem!reader; stalking; insp: this song [pls listen to this after reading]
divider by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine; pls don't plagiarise/translate/repost this ❤️❤️
Sukuna is hooked on you.
He has no idea since when, why or how– but he has a very good idea of the degree he is hooked on you— each and every small bit of you–
Your sleepy face, first thing in the morning as you open the windows to your room, and stare at the sky then the empty street below. Your peppy walk out the apartment, not even an hour later as you head to your classes, always so punctual– so neatly, cutely dressed.
The warm smiles you offer everyone you come across— be it the kids waiting for their bus, the florist, the barista who serves you coffee, or the many classmates you've whenever you step into the class, words of greeting leaving you and brightening the room, more than the sun.
And not to mention the endearing look of concentration your pretty features wear, when the classes start.
Sukuna swears he has to actively, very painfully, restrain himself from walking right up to you and kissing your face off, each and every time your eyebrows gather together and your lips pucker into a pout– only for your teeth to sink into your lower lip not a moment later, the flesh there growing angry red, deliciously so, as you continue taking notes of the lecture.
Although... the man thinks his favourite look on you has got to be the one you wear in the evening: when the classes are over, when all your friends have finally left, when you're by yourself, no longer smiling as brightly as you do. Seeming so tired, so very fragile, as you trudge on the darkening streets back to your flat...
It makes something weird, but not wholly unpleasant, curl up within his chest. So strong that it makes him want to pick up into his arms, and keep you there forever, safe and sound and well-rested. Forever with him, tucked in the safety of his embrace—
Sukuna is not too sure, but he thinks this feeling might be why he has suddenly decided to break into your house today, instead of watching you from afar like he has always done. Or maybe, just maybe...
Watching you from a distance is no longer enough for him.
He has to enter the place you call 'home'.
He has to soak up every drop, memorise every fleck of your life here.
Starting from the random tiny doodles scribbled on the canary yellow walls— to the thick hardcover books and notebooks in neat stacks on the sofa, the table, the floor— to the pressure cooker kept on the oval burner of your gas stove— to the queen-size bed in a floral bed sheet, visible if he walks past the translucent screen between your bedroom and living room— to the sketchbook lying on the bed– its pages filled with– filled with–
Sketches Of Him!?!?
Him working in the garage on a car. Him smoking at the bus stop you travel from. Him dozing in class, head propped up on a fist. Him busy eating sandwiches, binoculars on the bench beside as his gaze stays somewhere above—
The sketchbook is filled with drawings of him, him, and only him—
Something stirs and stutters and stomps on his sternum; albeit he is unsure why. Is it the fact that he finally realises he is standing right in the middle of your bedroom– the most intimate place in your life? Or is it because he is staring at these many sketches your dainty fingers have made of him– so beautiful, so careful, so unlike him?
Can it be the unease clawing at him, stemming from your knowledge of him being in places close to you, where and when he should never be? Or– maybe or– is it the thrill tingling his fingers, when he realises, you too have been at places close to him, where and when you must never ever be...
A door opens and shuts behind him.
Sukuna swerves back to find you standing outside your bathroom, in nothing but a flimsy nightgown, hair still soaking wet whilst the towel hangs off your bare shoulders.
Your eyes jump from him to the sketchbook in his hand then to him— before crinkling into two pretty half-crescents as you smile... Sort of–
"Tea or coffee, stranger?"
follow the series here 🥰🥰 // masterlist
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