#teeheee.

eden: (an excerpt from one of my many lil eden wips...... my boy....)

In the world of the living once more--the real world, at last--time moves as it should. The sun rises and falls, the wind rolls storm clouds over the horizon, the moon and stars trek through the heavens… it’s as though the world was holding its breath, before, and now it can finally breathe freely again. Eden doesn’t need to count heartbeats anymore, can simply count the seconds as they tick by the way he normally would. There is no need, and he can focus his thoughts elsewhere. And yet, despite himself, he finds himself doing it again less than a day after their escape, tapping his fingers idly against the bark of the tree he’s leaning against. He’s more exhausted than he thinks he’s ever been, his legs trembling with the effort of holding him up. A logical, clinical part of him assumes he must be going into shock, the adrenaline of the battle bleeding out of him and into the grass beneath his feet. The rest of him is buzzing, skin itching as his thoughts go into overdrive. The forest around him is quiet--too quiet, even now that the bear-kin are dead, their corpses already stinking of rot and bile only a few feet away. So why is everything so loud? (Later, Eden will realize that he must have been having a panic attack. He’ll decide not to say anything about it to the others.)

atja: (for atja i'm gonna include some notes from the oneshot that aren't spoilers lol, but my notes for what he's comfortable discussing with the players in the first scene with them all together)

He has recently been appointed the overseer of Cera-Na, and has been extremely busy with his duties to his clan. He greatly regrets falling out of touch with his friends, but he simply hasn’t had the free time he once did. Which is why he invited them today, to hopefully rekindle that spark of friendship. (He’s very honored and grateful they accepted.) He is wearing gloves due to a recent injury in his hands--he does not want to disclose what the injury is, but he says it happened while he was working aboard the Omerya and fell from the rigging. Termil can back him up on this. Elder Lindo, his physician, has directed that he wear the gloves until they’re fully recovered. (He will be fidgeting with his gloves throughout the meal--a successful Insight check will determine he is not used to wearing them and finds them uncomfortable, and a successful History check from anyone who knows Atja will reveal that no one remembers him wearing gloves like this.) Since his appointment as overseer, he hasn’t been traveling on the Omerya with his mother--instead, he’s remained in Cera-Na and has been living in the Lighthouse. He’ll invite the players to join him in his quarters later if they’d like, though they may not have time amid all the festivities.

twice: (lil snippet i've had on the brain for a while, feat. twice's toxic ex boyfriend)

"Tell me who I belong to, sugar," Iliris purrs, carding long fingers through their hair. It's strange, Twice things, as much as they're capable of seeing anything as strange--Iliris likes to ask them questions like this, like he's trying to make a point they don't understand. But they can't deny how much they like it. They grin, wide and toothy, as they bury their face into his neck, a dog seeking warmth. "Mine," they growl, a quiet mantra under their breath. "Mine mine mine mine mine-" Iliris is the only thing, the only person, that really belongs to Twice and no one else. "That's right, sweetheart," Iliris says, the grin audible in his voice. "Yours and no one else's, darlin', forever." He doesn't say it out loud, never puts it into words, but Twice knows the reverse is true, too.

jackrabbit: (little snippet i've had on the brain for a while, from the perspective of his eventual boyfriend el) (at this point, el only knows him as jack)

El's grip on the shotgun wavers slightly as the stranger narrows his piercing, acidic green eyes. "You gonna shoot, or are you gonna let me through so I can help you?" Jack growls. Looking at him now, it's a wonder El ever thought he was human, not with those jagged teeth, that lashing tail, those curved talons- no, the man looming over him now is a monster, and El needs to kill it. But he can't make himself pull the trigger. Behind them, there's a crash, and Jenny screams. El's heart seizes in his chest, and the monster's expression darkens. "Make your goddamn choice, boy!" Jack spits at him. "We ain't got all night, and neither does your sister." He sounds more desperate than angry now, gaze flicking between the barrel of the gun and the door as he flexes his claws. El takes a breath. And he lowers the gun.

salvatore: (excerpt from a scene in his backstory i think is fun, with him hanging out with his besties pre-vampirism. besties is a strong word for it.)

"An' then I told the fucker, ‘Get lost, ya’ gee-whiz-lookin’ piece of shit, or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes!’” The guys all laughed, clearly delighted at the violent turn his story had taken. “And then what?” Jimmy asked, leaning forward with nervous interest as his big brown eyes bugged out of his skull. He was young, younger than Salvatore even, and he had a youthful shine in his eyes most of the men around him lacked. If Salvatore was a kinder man, he would say the kid had no business running with men like them, and he would probably spare some of the darker details of this particular story. If Salvatore was a kinder man, maybe he'd try to cut the kid some slack. Of course, Salvatore had never claimed to be kind, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Well,” he drawled, sitting up in his seat, “he decided to be a tough guy and push his luck. So I showed him what happens to tough guys ‘round here.” He punctuated his statement by lifting one hand and holding it in the shape of a gun. With a sly grin, he mimed firing it at Jimmy. “Pop! Put one right between his eyes, like I said I would.” All around him, the guys roared with delighted laughter, while Jimmy visibly paled and leaned back. Salvatore didn't let himself feel the pang of guilt that shot through him as a large, meaty hand slapped him on the back. “God, Sal, you really are a mean son of a bitch!” the burly man next to him--some dipstick named Lenny or whatever--cackled. "Surprised no one's put a bullet in you yet, the way you act!"

a modern ghost story (wip): (also a scene that's on the brain! will this make it to the final story? who's to say. but i've wanted to write it for literal years so-)