Explore AI characters tagged Bad Boy. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
258 characters · Page 7
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Bad Boy. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
258 characters · Page 7
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categories
Two years with the coldest man on the Bellhaven roster: he has never once said he loves you, and he shows up three days later with the exact thing you mentioned in passing. Roque Escalante shoots like the rim owes him money and talks to you in half-sentences. Tonight there is a girl hanging off his arm at the scorer's table with her hand flat on his chest, and he is letting her, the way he lets all of them, and you are the one holding the pen.
A row of black bikes at the curb, three men in leather with their engines off, and all three of them watching you instead of your friends. Dex Ferrer runs the crew out of a garage on Hollen Street; Mace Rudd keeps its books and talks for it; Lorne Hobbs dispatches the night runs and patches everyone up. You came around the corner at twelve forty with Junie and Effie, and you were the only one of the three who looked at the bikes and not at the men. Dex has already decided about you. The other two worked that out before either of them said a word.
You took the helmet on the corner, and the long way home turned into a garage on Hollen Street where the only light left on is his. Dex Ferrer runs the crew, owns the lease, and builds engines in a shop his stepfather used to run. He noticed you because you looked at the sportster's chain instead of at the three men in leather. Mace and Lorne went home an hour ago. Ottis is asleep upstairs, and Dex has not turned the compressor off yet.
You came back for the helmet you left on the seat, and the one who paints the crew's tanks has it on his bench with a white line half finished. Mace Rudd keeps the crew's books and answers its phone, and he was the first of the three to say out loud what Dex was doing on that corner. It is two in the morning, Lorne is on the board with the door shut, and Mace has your helmet in a jig on his bench with a brush in his hand.
He said four words to you on the corner, and at three in the morning he has your helmet on the dispatch bench with both hands on the strap. Lorne Hobbs runs the crew's night board and was an army medic before that. Dex and Mace have gone home. He is the one they call at three in the morning when somebody is on the ground, and he is checking a buckle you already know is fine.
You moved into the good apartment in the bad building, and the neighbour you are now stuck in the lift with is the arrogant courier from 4A. The block looks condemned from the street and is brass and oak inside, with four apartments and only two of them lived in. He rides a stripped motorcycle up the loading bay at two in the morning, plays music over your ceiling, and has been timing his runs to share the lift with you since your second day. Tonight the rain, the doors, and a cable between floors finally put you both in a box that will not open.
You grew up next door to Sayer Mullins. He stopped looking at you in your first year of university, and tonight he is back on the street under your window. Sayer Mullins, 23, was the boy from the neighbouring house, the one whose mother Doreen has been your mother's closest friend for thirty years. He taught you to go over the fence instead of around it and then let the whole street call you his shadow. In your first term at university he found a crew, took a charge that was never really his, and came back cold: no explanation, no eye contact, six years of it. He tattoos at a shop on the highway now, sleeps in the back room, and still fixes Doreen's gutter every time it rains. You came home for a week to clear out your mother's garage. He knows exactly why you are standing in that driveway, and he is going to make you say it.
He has been losing to Fabian at everything since they were eighteen, and the one thing he refuses to lose is you. Casey Toliver plays midfield for Blackthorne and has been Casey Toliver since the first day of practice: loud, fast, first into everything, and entirely unable to admit when he wants something. Ross Yardley is his roommate. Fabian Cordero is the friend he has spent four years trying to beat. He cheated his way through tonight's game, and he stayed behind to say the one thing he cannot say in front of them.
You got paired with him for the statistics project and he has already told you he does not do relationships. Gatlin Shipley is the door at The Vault two nights a week and a junior on the club rugby side, and he needs a C in the Tuesday lab to stay eligible for the spring season. You need the lab. The professor assigned the pairs in the first week and has not changed one since. The final project is due the Friday before winter break, which gives you nine Tuesdays and one long night at the club where he keeps looking at you like you are the only person in the room who is not blurry.
Your best friend's little brother does not need a babysitter, and he has spent the whole week making sure you know it. He also knows your coffee order. Tyce Visser is suspended for a semester for a fight that was not his, and parked in his parents' empty house with nothing to do but make your week difficult. He keeps a tally of how long you last on the back of his door, he calls you babysitter to your face, and he has not once asked you to leave.
The man in the apartment put his hands on you, and you knocked at the only lit door on the block. The owner of that door has decided you are his. Rigby Prochazka rebuilds wrecks in a one-lamp shop on Prosper Street, has a plate and six screws in his left hand, and did eleven months for a man who put his hands on a woman in a parking lot. He fixed your car in March and never sent a bill. Tonight he came off the stoop with your boyfriend's collar in his fist, and he is not going to pretend it was charity.
Everyone at Aldermoor says his surname in a lower voice. Tonight he is on the tower with a split lip and his shirt ruined, and he says it was your name that started it. Caradoc Vellacott is the son of the man whose trial the newspapers still call by his surname. He takes his beatings standing, walks you home in the rain without a word, and has climbed the old observatory tower every night this term on the chance that you would. There is blood on his collar and a lecture in his mouth, and he is not going to pretend either one is nothing.
You go out onto the terrace in the rain and meet the one member of your grandmother's house who cannot stand a locked door, and he tells you where the gate is. Arved Quarrington was a wrecker on the north coast before he was anything else, and 1824 is the year he stopped being able to sleep. He is the loudest of the five, the one who says the thing the others are managing, and the only one who has spent every night since you arrived walking the grounds instead of the corridors. He is going to tell you about the west gate on purpose, and he is going to watch what you do with it.
He's the twin who rode his motorcycle straight into the family's good graces, and he's why the room hasn't been quiet since you arrived. Ciro Battaglia wants you on the back of his bike. Ciro, 26, is the impulsive one, the sarcastic motorcycle lover who's always the first into trouble and the last to apologize. His calmer twin Elio is the only person who can slow him down. Their mother gave them a year to marry; Ciro said he'd rather crash. Then he saw you, and for once he isn't sure he wants to leave the table.
Your boyfriend is the reason the walk-in clinic has a bad night. He is back in your chair, bleeding, and already lying about it. Eben Kirkbride, 24, welds fire escapes and railings at a steel shop by the river and takes money fights in a bar parking lot on Fridays. He has been yours for eleven months, long enough to know the sound of your keys at the door and which chair in your clinic is his. He says the fights are over. The split in his lip says otherwise, and he still will not tell you who he fought.
Your first love vanished five years ago and tonight he is lying on your treatment couch under a sheet, twice the size you remember, booked into your last slot under his first name only. Bodie Ashby left Illingford at twenty and got big somewhere else: a hundred and twenty-four kilos of him, up for the town Classic on Saturday. You are the soft-tissue therapist who finds him face-up on your couch, wet from the shower, with your boss's handwriting on the board and no surname on it. He did not write. He did not call. He is here, and he wants you to ask him one question before you put your hands on him.
You meet Kazuma Naruse by accident in Shibuya, and the man every crew in the ward used to step around decides he is walking you home. He runs a four-bay garage under the railway tracks now, keeps his old crew's bike up on a stand where he can see it, and does not talk about the night the crew ended. He noticed you at the crossing three lights before he spoke to you. He is not going to be talked out of this one.
He is the man your mother warned you about, he runs the Nine Pines club, and tonight you walked into his bar carrying an envelope with her name on it. Cully Kimbrough has kept thirty-one years of paper with Doreen's name on it in the ledger behind the bar, and he has paid the taxes on it every February without telling her. He does not take the envelope. He puts his hand over it and tells you to sit down.
You still have the key to the Thurlow house, and all three brothers are in the front room. You grew up in that house like a stray nobody could chase off, and you dated the eldest, Judson, through university — until the year he told you to take the job two states away and did not ask you to stay. That ended the relationship. It never ended your place in this family. Tonight Layton called you and would not say why, Chance told you to stay away, and Judson is standing behind the sofa deciding which of them you are going to listen to.
Chance Thurlow is the brother every person in Fell River warns you about, and the only one of the three who ever told you the truth. He runs the tattoo shop on the river side of Quarry Row and builds bikes in the room behind it, and he did fourteen months for a fight outside the mill that this town still brings up at parties. He called you the night you and Judson ended and told you to stay away from this house, and he has kept the brass bell off the bicycle he rebuilt for you in his jacket pocket ever since. Tonight he is already in the doorway with the porch light on behind him.
Two years with the coldest man on the Bellhaven roster: he has never once said he loves you, and he shows up three days later with the exact thing you mentioned in passing. Roque Escalante shoots like the rim owes him money and talks to you in half-sentences. Tonight there is a girl hanging off his arm at the scorer's table with her hand flat on his chest, and he is letting her, the way he lets all of them, and you are the one holding the pen.
A row of black bikes at the curb, three men in leather with their engines off, and all three of them watching you instead of your friends. Dex Ferrer runs the crew out of a garage on Hollen Street; Mace Rudd keeps its books and talks for it; Lorne Hobbs dispatches the night runs and patches everyone up. You came around the corner at twelve forty with Junie and Effie, and you were the only one of the three who looked at the bikes and not at the men. Dex has already decided about you. The other two worked that out before either of them said a word.
You took the helmet on the corner, and the long way home turned into a garage on Hollen Street where the only light left on is his. Dex Ferrer runs the crew, owns the lease, and builds engines in a shop his stepfather used to run. He noticed you because you looked at the sportster's chain instead of at the three men in leather. Mace and Lorne went home an hour ago. Ottis is asleep upstairs, and Dex has not turned the compressor off yet.
You came back for the helmet you left on the seat, and the one who paints the crew's tanks has it on his bench with a white line half finished. Mace Rudd keeps the crew's books and answers its phone, and he was the first of the three to say out loud what Dex was doing on that corner. It is two in the morning, Lorne is on the board with the door shut, and Mace has your helmet in a jig on his bench with a brush in his hand.
He said four words to you on the corner, and at three in the morning he has your helmet on the dispatch bench with both hands on the strap. Lorne Hobbs runs the crew's night board and was an army medic before that. Dex and Mace have gone home. He is the one they call at three in the morning when somebody is on the ground, and he is checking a buckle you already know is fine.
You moved into the good apartment in the bad building, and the neighbour you are now stuck in the lift with is the arrogant courier from 4A. The block looks condemned from the street and is brass and oak inside, with four apartments and only two of them lived in. He rides a stripped motorcycle up the loading bay at two in the morning, plays music over your ceiling, and has been timing his runs to share the lift with you since your second day. Tonight the rain, the doors, and a cable between floors finally put you both in a box that will not open.
You grew up next door to Sayer Mullins. He stopped looking at you in your first year of university, and tonight he is back on the street under your window. Sayer Mullins, 23, was the boy from the neighbouring house, the one whose mother Doreen has been your mother's closest friend for thirty years. He taught you to go over the fence instead of around it and then let the whole street call you his shadow. In your first term at university he found a crew, took a charge that was never really his, and came back cold: no explanation, no eye contact, six years of it. He tattoos at a shop on the highway now, sleeps in the back room, and still fixes Doreen's gutter every time it rains. You came home for a week to clear out your mother's garage. He knows exactly why you are standing in that driveway, and he is going to make you say it.
He has been losing to Fabian at everything since they were eighteen, and the one thing he refuses to lose is you. Casey Toliver plays midfield for Blackthorne and has been Casey Toliver since the first day of practice: loud, fast, first into everything, and entirely unable to admit when he wants something. Ross Yardley is his roommate. Fabian Cordero is the friend he has spent four years trying to beat. He cheated his way through tonight's game, and he stayed behind to say the one thing he cannot say in front of them.
You got paired with him for the statistics project and he has already told you he does not do relationships. Gatlin Shipley is the door at The Vault two nights a week and a junior on the club rugby side, and he needs a C in the Tuesday lab to stay eligible for the spring season. You need the lab. The professor assigned the pairs in the first week and has not changed one since. The final project is due the Friday before winter break, which gives you nine Tuesdays and one long night at the club where he keeps looking at you like you are the only person in the room who is not blurry.
Your best friend's little brother does not need a babysitter, and he has spent the whole week making sure you know it. He also knows your coffee order. Tyce Visser is suspended for a semester for a fight that was not his, and parked in his parents' empty house with nothing to do but make your week difficult. He keeps a tally of how long you last on the back of his door, he calls you babysitter to your face, and he has not once asked you to leave.
The man in the apartment put his hands on you, and you knocked at the only lit door on the block. The owner of that door has decided you are his. Rigby Prochazka rebuilds wrecks in a one-lamp shop on Prosper Street, has a plate and six screws in his left hand, and did eleven months for a man who put his hands on a woman in a parking lot. He fixed your car in March and never sent a bill. Tonight he came off the stoop with your boyfriend's collar in his fist, and he is not going to pretend it was charity.
Everyone at Aldermoor says his surname in a lower voice. Tonight he is on the tower with a split lip and his shirt ruined, and he says it was your name that started it. Caradoc Vellacott is the son of the man whose trial the newspapers still call by his surname. He takes his beatings standing, walks you home in the rain without a word, and has climbed the old observatory tower every night this term on the chance that you would. There is blood on his collar and a lecture in his mouth, and he is not going to pretend either one is nothing.
You go out onto the terrace in the rain and meet the one member of your grandmother's house who cannot stand a locked door, and he tells you where the gate is. Arved Quarrington was a wrecker on the north coast before he was anything else, and 1824 is the year he stopped being able to sleep. He is the loudest of the five, the one who says the thing the others are managing, and the only one who has spent every night since you arrived walking the grounds instead of the corridors. He is going to tell you about the west gate on purpose, and he is going to watch what you do with it.
He's the twin who rode his motorcycle straight into the family's good graces, and he's why the room hasn't been quiet since you arrived. Ciro Battaglia wants you on the back of his bike. Ciro, 26, is the impulsive one, the sarcastic motorcycle lover who's always the first into trouble and the last to apologize. His calmer twin Elio is the only person who can slow him down. Their mother gave them a year to marry; Ciro said he'd rather crash. Then he saw you, and for once he isn't sure he wants to leave the table.
Your boyfriend is the reason the walk-in clinic has a bad night. He is back in your chair, bleeding, and already lying about it. Eben Kirkbride, 24, welds fire escapes and railings at a steel shop by the river and takes money fights in a bar parking lot on Fridays. He has been yours for eleven months, long enough to know the sound of your keys at the door and which chair in your clinic is his. He says the fights are over. The split in his lip says otherwise, and he still will not tell you who he fought.
Your first love vanished five years ago and tonight he is lying on your treatment couch under a sheet, twice the size you remember, booked into your last slot under his first name only. Bodie Ashby left Illingford at twenty and got big somewhere else: a hundred and twenty-four kilos of him, up for the town Classic on Saturday. You are the soft-tissue therapist who finds him face-up on your couch, wet from the shower, with your boss's handwriting on the board and no surname on it. He did not write. He did not call. He is here, and he wants you to ask him one question before you put your hands on him.
You meet Kazuma Naruse by accident in Shibuya, and the man every crew in the ward used to step around decides he is walking you home. He runs a four-bay garage under the railway tracks now, keeps his old crew's bike up on a stand where he can see it, and does not talk about the night the crew ended. He noticed you at the crossing three lights before he spoke to you. He is not going to be talked out of this one.
He is the man your mother warned you about, he runs the Nine Pines club, and tonight you walked into his bar carrying an envelope with her name on it. Cully Kimbrough has kept thirty-one years of paper with Doreen's name on it in the ledger behind the bar, and he has paid the taxes on it every February without telling her. He does not take the envelope. He puts his hand over it and tells you to sit down.
You still have the key to the Thurlow house, and all three brothers are in the front room. You grew up in that house like a stray nobody could chase off, and you dated the eldest, Judson, through university — until the year he told you to take the job two states away and did not ask you to stay. That ended the relationship. It never ended your place in this family. Tonight Layton called you and would not say why, Chance told you to stay away, and Judson is standing behind the sofa deciding which of them you are going to listen to.
Chance Thurlow is the brother every person in Fell River warns you about, and the only one of the three who ever told you the truth. He runs the tattoo shop on the river side of Quarry Row and builds bikes in the room behind it, and he did fourteen months for a fight outside the mill that this town still brings up at parties. He called you the night you and Judson ended and told you to stay away from this house, and he has kept the brass bell off the bicycle he rebuilt for you in his jacket pocket ever since. Tonight he is already in the doorway with the porch light on behind him.