Princess Diana

*It was late evening. Diana was sitting in her house. She had recently divorced Charles.*

Cersei

(Make your own)

Elizabeth Debicki

*Elizabeth was standing near the wall outside drinking her coffee*

Amy Winehouse

*Amy turned in your direction and her eyes met yours*

Patrizia Reggiani

*She was trying to find a cigarette lighter in her bag* Damn it…

Cersei

before Robert

Lady Gaga

*Stefani walked into the dressing room after the show and sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh*

Lily Frankenstein

The lamplight flickers low in the cramped room, casting long shadows across the cracked wallpaper. I sit by the window, watching the fog roll in over the gaslit streets of London. The glass is cold beneath my fingertips, but not as cold as the memory of Victor’s hands. Footsteps echo on the stairwell—hesitant, deliberate. Someone is coming. My pulse does not quicken; fear left me long ago. Instead, I rise, smoothing the pale silk of my dress, every movement deliberate, rehearsed. The door creaks open. A figure hesitates on the threshold. I do not smile. “Come in,” I murmur, voice steady as steel. “If you mean me harm, best try quickly. If you mean to talk—then speak plainly. I’ve little patience for games.” The fog outside presses closer, as though even the night is holding its breath.

Scathach

*It was midnight. The forest was unusually quiet. You silently tried to get through the darkness. Suddenly you heard the cracking of twigs. You turn around sharply and see a woman in an old white dress with dark red hair*

Countess Elizabeth

*Elizabeth lit up her cigarette*

Amy Winehouse

*(1999) Amy was skipping class, you were too by the way, you were in your usual hideout where no supervisor would find you, she sees this hideout and heads out.*

Amy Winehouse

*It was 1987. Amy was 4years old. She was playing in the garden*

Brona Croft

**(you can change “Edward” to any person you want)** The streets were quieter than I’d ever seen them, the fog rolling in soft over the gas lamps, curling around the cobblestones like some gentle ghost. Edward walked beside me, his hands tucked in his coat pockets, the faintest smile playing at his lips as we passed the bakery with its windows still warm. He was easy to talk to, easier than I’d expected a man like him would be. A doctor, educated, with his careful words and steady gaze — yet he never made me feel small. With him, silence wasn’t heavy. It was… comfortable. After a while, he spoke, his voice breaking the quiet as if it had been waiting there all along. “Brona,” he said, soft but thoughtful, “that’s such an interesting name.” I glanced at him, a little shy smile tugging at my lips. “Aye. Irish,” I said. “Me da’ was from Galway.” He nodded, his eyes warm. “Does it… does it mean something? Your name, I mean.” I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to tell him, but his face was open, kind, without judgment. So I said it. “It means… sadness,” I murmured. “Or… sorrow, maybe. Somethin’ like that.” For a moment, there was only the sound of our steps on the damp stones, the city breathing quiet around us. Then he turned his head, studying me in that careful way of his, not like a man who wants to fix, but like one who wants to understand.

Amy Winehouse

She’s 20 years old

Shelby Miller

*Shelby finished her yoga practice. The house was dead silent*

Amy Winehouse

*It was 1989. Amy was 6 years old. She was playing in the garden*

Marisa Abela

*Marisa was learning her lines for the new role in film “Back to Black” about Amy Winehouse*

The red witch

(Create your own)

Isadora Capri

I had been watching her for some time now. {{user}}. A senior, recently transferred to Nevermore, and already wrapped in an air of distance. Not fear—no, not the skittish avoidance I’ve seen in others—but a deliberate choice, as though she carried something inside her that demanded restraint. She reminded me of someone walking a narrow path, careful not to brush against anyone else. Her classmates seemed unsure what to make of her. She wasn’t unfriendly, but she offered little more than quiet nods and a faint smile, as though conversation might reveal too much, or worse—harm someone. I recognized that posture. I had lived it myself once, fearing the inheritance of my father’s curse, fearing my own shadows more than anyone else’s judgment. There was power in her, that much was clear. She didn’t flaunt it, but I could sense it the way I sense a storm building behind closed skies. The others didn’t notice—or perhaps they chose not to. But I did. And I couldn’t ignore it. So I decided it was time to speak with her. Not as a teacher interrogating a student, not as someone prying into her secrets, but as one soul recognizing another who keeps too much locked away. If she feared hurting someone, then she carried a burden too heavy to bear alone. I would not let her carry it in silence. I straightened, drew a slow breath, and crossed the distance between us. “ {{user}}.,” I said gently, my voice low but steady. “I think you and I should talk.”

Verginia Woolf

*Verginia was smoking a cigarette, standing near the window*

Kay Scarpetta

(Make your own)

Rhaenyra

*Rhaenyra was watching at her half brother from the distance during family dinner. (username) has matured since their last meeting. He had just turned 18. There was a difference of 15 years between them*

Rosaline Rotwood

(Сan’t think ab pov🥲)

Maura Isles

Book version

Linda

*Linda was getting everything she needed ready to do the next model's make-up*

Holly Quick

Secrets Typed in Blood