
Certificate Not Valid — Akim Rakitin
You wake up in a Vegas penthouse with a wedding ring on your finger and a Russian mafia heir reading the certificate. The certificate is fake. His interest is not.
Explore AI characters tagged Playful. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
422 characters · Page 21
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 Playful. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
422 characters · Page 21
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
You wake up in a Vegas penthouse with a wedding ring on your finger and a Russian mafia heir reading the certificate. The certificate is fake. His interest is not.

His ex walked out of his apartment two days ago. Now she is on the quad with someone else, and he has just offered you six weeks and a deal he has clearly thought about for ninety seconds.

The campus playboy has just knocked your books into a corridor and found the one person who has never once looked at him twice. He is going to make that her problem.

He has been looking for you for six months. Ianto Sundaram flirts with everybody and remembers nobody, and the woman at the party is the one face he could not put down. He is going to walk across a crowded room and be extremely obvious about it.

You sent a week of photographs to a stranger by accident and blocked him, and now he is standing in a kitchen with a red mark on his forehead telling you he was the stranger.

You came to see whether the gym was any good and found a two-metre professional fighter behind the reception desk, losing a bet about a bin.

Everyone at Ridgemont warned you about the hockey captain, and then you walked into him with a full cup of coffee.

Your boyfriend since March: jealous, honest about it, and holding the car door open while he asks who that was. You get to say drop it. The car is his. Getting in is yours.

Forty-four, three rules, one glass of champagne held at arm's length, and the first of them already broken for you. No leverage in it: he crossed a ballroom and asked once.

Three of the most popular women in your year have your student card in a quiet corridor, and they have left the door open for you to walk back out.

The Kestrels' left wing has never had to work for anyone's attention, and then you took his training slot.

Your best friend and your roommate has spent eight years being funny at you, and tonight he is standing in your doorway with a movie and a question he keeps not asking.

She dragged you to the meetup as her plus-one: two tickets, four hours of queue, and no idea that you have been standing next to her for a year.

Your number is worth two hundred dollars to four drunk hockey players, and the alternate captain has just walked over to tell you the whole joke himself.

A dare put your mouth on a stranger in the private lounge, and the stranger turns out to be the man the whole casino answers to. He does not want to keep you. He wants an hour.

Your blind date was a man in a black suit, alone at a table, very handsome. It was the right description and the wrong man, and he knew within four minutes and stayed anyway.

Three years of her, one joke, the wrong person laughing, and now your girlfriend is lying on the sofa with the remote and a single word. Nesta Somerville letters celebration cakes at four in the morning and sulks like it is a profession. She is not going to look at your phone and she is not going to shout; she is going to say one syllable until you sit down and tell her the true thing. What she wants is not an apology. It is one sentence you have been not saying for eleven months.

He tells you what you said last night, in order, with the receipt to prove it, and then waits to see whether you still want him in the morning. Fryderyk Bastos is twenty-two, captain of the basketball team, and the reason your head is pounding: his black shirt is on you, his wallet is on the floor, and he has not moved an inch closer since you woke up. He asked you twice on Friday and he can tell you both times. You remember the table and the shouting. You do not remember the kiss, or the eleven weeks he spent not asking.

You hear her voice in his headset before he hears you say his name. Panos Vardas plays games for a living and talks to four thousand people a night, and about nine of those words a night are for you. You have been in his room for eight months of evenings; the woman on the other end of the line is loud, funny, and not the problem. The problem is that he has never once told the chat to stop, and he has never once told you why. He is not going to explain himself tonight either. He is going to wait until you ask him out loud.

Your roommate is a pediatric resident who sleeps four hours and still leaves you sticky notes. Today you bring the lunch he forgot, pale with cramps, and he drops to his knees in front of you. Dr. Xu Qing, 26, second-year resident at Renhe Hospital, all sunshine and soft hands. Ask him anything about your body, cramps, sleep, stomach, headaches, skin, the cycle that wrecks your week, and he explains it, makes you tea, and checks on you the next morning. He's been in love with you for eight months and is very bad at hiding it.

You wake up in a Vegas penthouse with a wedding ring on your finger and a Russian mafia heir reading the certificate. The certificate is fake. His interest is not.

His ex walked out of his apartment two days ago. Now she is on the quad with someone else, and he has just offered you six weeks and a deal he has clearly thought about for ninety seconds.

The campus playboy has just knocked your books into a corridor and found the one person who has never once looked at him twice. He is going to make that her problem.

He has been looking for you for six months. Ianto Sundaram flirts with everybody and remembers nobody, and the woman at the party is the one face he could not put down. He is going to walk across a crowded room and be extremely obvious about it.

You sent a week of photographs to a stranger by accident and blocked him, and now he is standing in a kitchen with a red mark on his forehead telling you he was the stranger.

You came to see whether the gym was any good and found a two-metre professional fighter behind the reception desk, losing a bet about a bin.

Everyone at Ridgemont warned you about the hockey captain, and then you walked into him with a full cup of coffee.

Your boyfriend since March: jealous, honest about it, and holding the car door open while he asks who that was. You get to say drop it. The car is his. Getting in is yours.

Forty-four, three rules, one glass of champagne held at arm's length, and the first of them already broken for you. No leverage in it: he crossed a ballroom and asked once.

Three of the most popular women in your year have your student card in a quiet corridor, and they have left the door open for you to walk back out.

The Kestrels' left wing has never had to work for anyone's attention, and then you took his training slot.

Your best friend and your roommate has spent eight years being funny at you, and tonight he is standing in your doorway with a movie and a question he keeps not asking.

She dragged you to the meetup as her plus-one: two tickets, four hours of queue, and no idea that you have been standing next to her for a year.

Your number is worth two hundred dollars to four drunk hockey players, and the alternate captain has just walked over to tell you the whole joke himself.

A dare put your mouth on a stranger in the private lounge, and the stranger turns out to be the man the whole casino answers to. He does not want to keep you. He wants an hour.

Your blind date was a man in a black suit, alone at a table, very handsome. It was the right description and the wrong man, and he knew within four minutes and stayed anyway.

Three years of her, one joke, the wrong person laughing, and now your girlfriend is lying on the sofa with the remote and a single word. Nesta Somerville letters celebration cakes at four in the morning and sulks like it is a profession. She is not going to look at your phone and she is not going to shout; she is going to say one syllable until you sit down and tell her the true thing. What she wants is not an apology. It is one sentence you have been not saying for eleven months.

He tells you what you said last night, in order, with the receipt to prove it, and then waits to see whether you still want him in the morning. Fryderyk Bastos is twenty-two, captain of the basketball team, and the reason your head is pounding: his black shirt is on you, his wallet is on the floor, and he has not moved an inch closer since you woke up. He asked you twice on Friday and he can tell you both times. You remember the table and the shouting. You do not remember the kiss, or the eleven weeks he spent not asking.

You hear her voice in his headset before he hears you say his name. Panos Vardas plays games for a living and talks to four thousand people a night, and about nine of those words a night are for you. You have been in his room for eight months of evenings; the woman on the other end of the line is loud, funny, and not the problem. The problem is that he has never once told the chat to stop, and he has never once told you why. He is not going to explain himself tonight either. He is going to wait until you ask him out loud.

Your roommate is a pediatric resident who sleeps four hours and still leaves you sticky notes. Today you bring the lunch he forgot, pale with cramps, and he drops to his knees in front of you. Dr. Xu Qing, 26, second-year resident at Renhe Hospital, all sunshine and soft hands. Ask him anything about your body, cramps, sleep, stomach, headaches, skin, the cycle that wrecks your week, and he explains it, makes you tea, and checks on you the next morning. He's been in love with you for eight months and is very bad at hiding it.