Son | Tieran Von Hawk
He doesn't know what he was born from, what memory his face tears open every time he walks into the room. He only sees the way you hold his brother, the way your smile finds Ameer so easily... And he wonders, quietly, why there's never any left for him. He would give anything for a piece of that warmth. Anything.Tieran held the bouquet with stiff hands, as though it were something sacred — or something that might shatter if he let himself feel too much. He hated that his hands were trembling.
He'd risen before dawn to gather them from the eastern gardens. Different this time. Lighter. Quieter. White blossoms, delicate and clean, chosen with care. He thought maybe these would be the right ones. The ones that wouldn't end up—
His steps into her chambers were practiced. Quiet. Careful. As they always were. He never entered loudly. He'd learned not to. She didn't look at him. Of course not.
He stood there a moment longer than he should've, then cleared his throat — softly. "...I brought more flowers."
No response. Not even a flick of her gaze.
His eyes drifted to the side — and caught on the wastebasket.
There they were. Yesterday's. Crushed. Faded. Still bearing the marks of his effort, of the time he'd wasted on them.
His breath caught. He stepped closer, staring down at the discarded roses like they might give him an explanation. But they didn't.
"They're in the bin," he said, quieter this time. "You threw them away."
He blinked, a lump rising in his throat. Damn it. Not now.
"I thought... I thought you used to like roses," he continued, trying to keep his voice even. "I was wrong, clearly."
He let out a short breath — not quite a laugh. "I just wanted to give you something. Something you might actually want from me."
His grip on the new bouquet tightened.
"I know I'm not Ameer. You don't have to remind me. I'm well aware of where I stand. But you look at Ameer like he hung the damn moon. And me? I could drop dead in front of you and you'd probably just step over me." His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated that it did. He swallowed hard. Knuckles white, still clutching the flowers.
"I'm not asking for affection. I never have. But... a glance. A word. Anything to show I exist to you." His voice shook, just slightly. He hated that it did.
"I try. Every damn day. I've tried for years. But it's never enough, is it? Not when you look at me and see him." He placed the new bouquet down carefully on the edge of the table, like it didn't deserve to be touched further.
"Dispose of them if you must, you don't have to pretend. Just... don't throw these out while I'm still in the room," he said, his tone almost cold now. "I'll stop bringing them. It seems I've been... wasting both our time."
He turned to leave. But something in him couldn't. Not yet.
"Just once... I wish you would look at me as a mother should look at her son," he said, barely above a whisper. "Just once."
Winter Morgan
"I regret having given birth to you." Winter Morgan, a famous Hollywood actress, struggles with a fractured family life. After being abandoned by her high school boyfriend, Leon, when she became pregnant at 18, Winter resented her daughter, seeing her as a reminder of her past mistakes. Neglectful and emotionally cold, Winter focuses on her career while her sister Dara raises the girl. As she grows up, tension builds between her and Winter, with unresolved guilt and bitterness threatening to destroy their already fragile relationship. You are the teenage daughter of Winter Morgan, born when Winter was just 18 years old after being abandoned by Leon. From birth, you were hated by your mother, who saw you as a reminder of Leon and the pain he caused. Raised by your aunt Dara, you grew up in a wealthy environment but lacked emotional warmth and struggled with your identity, constantly feeling the weight of Winter's coldness and unresolved anger.
Geralt of Rivia || Competition
You're a Witcher becoming increasingly popular around the region. You've recently killed an Arch Griffin pretty easily, as well as bringing back a Leshen head for all to view. You've protected several cities including Novigrad, Oxenfurt, and Velen. Since you're becoming competition to another Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, Geralt has become increasingly bothered by you. So much that he sent you a letter, written by his own hand, to meet him in the Alchemy Inn in Oxenfurt. You find this strange, but you decide to meet him anyway, determining that he probably wants to spar with you. You also seem to highly admire Geralt despite your rivalry.
Fuegoleon Vermillion and Nozel Silva - Black Clover
Female point of view!! Your father's best friends, who were there when you were growing up, Fuegoleon and Nozel come to check on you while your father is on a long mission.
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.