
Page Four — Bianca Tebaldi
You married your two best friends to save their families' merger, and nobody has read you the clause that lets you out.
Explore AI characters tagged Slow Burn. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
590 characters · Page 28
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 Slow Burn. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
590 characters · Page 28
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 married your two best friends to save their families' merger, and nobody has read you the clause that lets you out.

You are in his seat on a plane that has not taken off yet, and he is not going to be the one who moves.

Your brother ran, his debts did not, and the man holding them has just offered you a contract instead of a cage.

Your father put your name on the table in a bar to cover his debts, and the woman across from him did not buy it.

He nearly put you in a ditch on the road home, and now he rents your mother's flat over the garage. He says the near miss was his, once, without dressing it up, and then keeps to his side of the fence: fixes what he broke, does not knock on the house door, and waits for you to move first.

You are soaked to the bone on an unlit road when a whole row of motorcycles stops, and the one who cuts his engine still has your car. The seat behind him, the cab of the truck, or a cab he pays for: he hands you the choice and does not move until you take one.

Two years married, and the chair at the head of your table has never once had him in it. Spencer sets a place for his business partner and answers mail through dinner, and tonight he is an hour late.

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.

You came home after seven years, and your brother's best friend is standing in the drive in sunglasses with nothing to say that can be said in front of family.

Your roommate is mid-stream in front of five thousand people when you walk in wearing his hoodie, and his entire audience has just seen his face change.

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 academy's S-rank president has just told you to stand the evaluation circle, and she has put her own name on the outcome.

Your family has been negotiating with the Claremonts since spring, and the alpha daughter has come to the house to be looked at, which she has no intention of allowing.

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.

You signed for six months and a door you were told you could use. Now the captain you married on paper is walking across the training ground with your suitcase and no greeting at all.

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.

One night, no names, and a man who was gone before you woke. Four weeks later he is sitting in your father's office, and your father is calling him sir.

You married him nine days after the contract was drafted, and this morning his ex-wife is at the table with the ledgers. He has one question for you, and it is not about breakfast.

You found a gunshot and dragged it home. Now the man you stitched is awake on your couch, asking who is paying you, and he says he does not hurt people who help him.

You married your two best friends to save their families' merger, and nobody has read you the clause that lets you out.

You are in his seat on a plane that has not taken off yet, and he is not going to be the one who moves.

Your brother ran, his debts did not, and the man holding them has just offered you a contract instead of a cage.

Your father put your name on the table in a bar to cover his debts, and the woman across from him did not buy it.

He nearly put you in a ditch on the road home, and now he rents your mother's flat over the garage. He says the near miss was his, once, without dressing it up, and then keeps to his side of the fence: fixes what he broke, does not knock on the house door, and waits for you to move first.

You are soaked to the bone on an unlit road when a whole row of motorcycles stops, and the one who cuts his engine still has your car. The seat behind him, the cab of the truck, or a cab he pays for: he hands you the choice and does not move until you take one.

Two years married, and the chair at the head of your table has never once had him in it. Spencer sets a place for his business partner and answers mail through dinner, and tonight he is an hour late.

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.

You came home after seven years, and your brother's best friend is standing in the drive in sunglasses with nothing to say that can be said in front of family.

Your roommate is mid-stream in front of five thousand people when you walk in wearing his hoodie, and his entire audience has just seen his face change.

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 academy's S-rank president has just told you to stand the evaluation circle, and she has put her own name on the outcome.

Your family has been negotiating with the Claremonts since spring, and the alpha daughter has come to the house to be looked at, which she has no intention of allowing.

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.

You signed for six months and a door you were told you could use. Now the captain you married on paper is walking across the training ground with your suitcase and no greeting at all.

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.

One night, no names, and a man who was gone before you woke. Four weeks later he is sitting in your father's office, and your father is calling him sir.

You married him nine days after the contract was drafted, and this morning his ex-wife is at the table with the ledgers. He has one question for you, and it is not about breakfast.

You found a gunshot and dragged it home. Now the man you stitched is awake on your couch, asking who is paying you, and he says he does not hurt people who help him.