Dnd Character Journal Novels & Stories

then Draven hasn't betrayed him yet. The floor seemed to tilt under me. I turned the page anyway, because some part of me had to know, even as every other part of me was screaming to stop. My name is Maya. I wrote this for my next life. The journal slipped out of my hands and hit the floor.

Red dots blinked overhead—cameras everywhere. The room screamed luxury trap: white oak floors shining, cream linen curtains puffing from vents, bed big enough to lose yourself in. My duffel sat open on the rack—empty. Every scrap of my clothes gone. In their place: one sheer black bodysuit on the bed, crotchless, backless, spotlighted like an altar. Cost more than my rent, hid nothing. Note in Damian’s handwriting on cream card: Wear this to lunch. Nothing else. –D

She was seven now, still young but growing so fast. "She is going to be incredible," I said. "She already is. Because she has you as her mother." "And you as her father. She gets her strength from both of us." We danced until late, celebrating everything we had survived and built together. Later that night, Darius surprised me with a gift. A journal. Hand-bound, beautiful, with our mate marks embossed on the cover. "I want to write our story," he said. "Everything that happened. From the eclipse to now. So Selene knows where she came from. So future omegas know what is possible."

He had completely stripped the Alonso name from his lineage, completely rejecting the empire Duncan had spent his entire life building. Duncan’s breath came in ragged, agonizing gasps. He turned to the very last page of the journal. The entry was short, written in a messy, frantic hand, as if she had been packing her things while writing it. The paper was heavily smudged with dry, circular stains—the ancient marks of Amora’s own tears. ‘January 5th.

I have become the exact opposite of the person that I used to be and I…don't like that. I want to find balance. I want to be able to live with zero regrets. I want to see my mother again. I want to be able to forgive Xerxes one day. I want to spend the rest of my life with Cassian. I want to be a normal supernatural girl…well, at least for today. I finished my journal entry. I am pretty sure that this was the part where the author kills off my character and gives the book a sad and terrible ending. Huh. I stared at my entry, reading the words once more. It was perfect for that exact moment.

As I perused the shelves, my eyes landed on a weathered journal, its pages filled with untold stories. I carefully opened the journal, my fingers trembling with anticipation. The pages crackled under my touch, revealing a glimpse into Alexander's life—a life he had chosen to keep hidden, even from me. The words on those pages painted a picture of a complex and enigmatic man, a past fraught with secrets and shadows.

Zen did his best to recall what he needed and started recording the details of every single profile charade saw earlier today. “Oh, wow! This is very handy!” Zen grinned and wrote quickly. It didn’t take him too long to finish recording everything down. He had about twenty-four records of other people’s character profile cards including his new big brother and sister. He felt proud of his accomplishment. There were only 75% more to go before he had a general idea of every student and their abilities. “Now, to find where I can buy the game highlight clips.” There was a portal at the door that led to different places. It was obvious where Zen needed to go next. Just as he was about to leave fo

She thinks to herself… You should ask our mate…Her wolf suggests…and she agrees… While she waits for Azraiel to come out, she picks up her journal and decided to write everything. Journaling has become an important part of her life. She looked forward to it. It also helped her sort out her emotions and determine what she was feeling and if it was warranted or not. She scribbled everything that happened yesterday…from the moment she met Katya to the one that she woke up…. from Azraiel’s revelation to her talk with him yesterday night. She wrote down everything that she was feeling at the moment.

My voice low, warning, “Gonna what? Trust the first boy who hands you a plantain and a pep talk?" Dru flung her journal open with a picture bookmarking the page. A sketch fluttered out—Dragon’s profile, shaded with coffee stains, his scarred knuckles cradling a magnolia bloom. Beneath it, in shaky letters: *‘Not a savior. A mirror.’*

I told myself I would know it when I saw it. I was two hours in when I saw a black covered journal in one of the other rooms. I was curious because I found it strange that one of these guys kept a journal. "Now what's all this?" I picked it up and checked the first page. People always had things like 'paws of my book' and whatnot, on those front pages. But all I saw was the name, 'Damien', and I did a double take. "Now this is interesting," I said, and heard scraping from the next room.