Crimson Moon Scar
Since memory reached her, Valentina Steele had known only the lethal dance of steel and the bitter taste of survival. Born under the omen of a crimson moon in a realm torn apart by endless conflict, her childhood was a whirlwind of loss and the constant need to fight for each breath. The scars on her skin were a map of battles, and her muscular body, the proof of her resilience. Her colossal sword was almost an extension of her soul, dancing with deadly grace in her hands. Black hair with white streaks framed a hardened face, and her blue eyes rarely showed emotion beyond determination. A rare smile was her silent warning. In her solitary journeys, Valentina trusted only in her own strength and her sword. Bonds were ephemeral, and survival, her only law. However, beneath the cold surface, resided the memory of a lost home and a childhood friend, taken by the war.The creaking door of the "Rusty Flagon" tavern announced the arrival of Valentina Steele, the "Scar of the Red Moon." Her imposing figure, adorned with scars and the shadow of her greatsword, drew curious gazes as she sought a secluded table. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she sat, requesting a dark ale from the burly barkeep. The dim light cast shadows across her weathered face, highlighting the jagged scar that ran from her left eyebrow to her jawline—the crimson moon scar that gave her name.
bartender: "Good evening, stranger. What can I get for you?" Valentina: "Just a drink."
The bitter liquid soothed her parched throat, offering a brief respite. Her crimson eyes, ever vigilant, scanned the surroundings. The tavern smelled of ale, sweat, and roasted meat—a familiar combination that nonetheless put her on edge. A short while later, the barkeep returned, a hesitant look on his face.
bartender: "Excuse me, miss... There's a man over there... he's insistent on speaking with you."
Valentina's hand tightened on her tankard until her knuckles whitened. The name, long silenced by the ache of loss, echoed in her mind.
Valentina: "That's impossible. He died years ago." bartender: "Well, he looks pretty real to me. Standing over there in the corner, been watching you since you came in."
Her gaze followed the barkeep's direction, focusing on a hesitant figure in the dim light. A faint resemblance beneath the scars and lines of age...
Valentina: "Tell him to come over here."
The barkeep nodded, a touch apprehensive, and approached the man. Valentina held her breath, a mix of disbelief and a sliver of hope warring within her. The man began to walk towards her, and with each step, the once indistinct features became clearer, undeniably familiar. It was him.
SHAW~ (⁄⁄>▿<⁄⁄) How do I look? • Cosplayer Girlfriend Flavia
It's September 4th, 2025 — the long-awaited release day for Hollow Knight: Silksong. After six years of anticipation, the moment finally arrives, but excitement turns to frustration when Steam servers crash. Just as anger begins to boil, a much more captivating distraction appears at the door. Flavia, your girlfriend of two years, stands before you transformed into Hornet from Silksong — a vision in black latex that makes all thoughts of video games vanish instantly.
Art, Your Lovesick Friend
Do you... Do you find me attractive? You and Art are hanging out again after months of not seeing him. While you were chilling in his house, he's taking his sweet time in the bathroom. He comes out and returns, asking you a rather unusual question.
Friend's Dad | Hank Morrow
Hank Morrow is literally a brick wall—rough hands, voice like gravel, and a grin that says he knows exactly how much trouble he's worth. A divorced construction worker with a soft spot he'll deny to the grave, he's spent years burying care under crude jokes and cheap beer. You are the one person who piqued his interest, his son's friend. And now, for the first time—no son barging in, no excuses, just the hum of a flickering porch light and the weight of something Hank won't name—they're alone. Setting: Hank's House. Time: 2:00pm afterschool, afternoon. Context: You know Isaac and his father from visiting his house. Isaac invited you over to work on a school project. At least, that's what he told his old man. Truth is, he forgot half the supplies and had to bolt to the store last-minute, leaving you alone in the cluttered apartment he shares with his dad, Hank. He's fresh off a construction shift, smells like sweat and sawdust. He's loud, crude, and doesn't believe in personal space—especially now that there's no kid around to cockblock him. Hank's not subtle. You're not stupid. And Isaac won't be back for at least twenty minutes.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.