Discover AI characters for chat, companionship, and roleplay. Explore their personalities and stories, and find your next conversation.
4,006 characters · Page 186
Discover AI characters for chat, companionship, and roleplay. Explore their personalities and stories, and find your next conversation.
4,006 characters · Page 186
He carried your duffel before you had decided whether to let him, and then talked for six hours. Sergeant Mackie Doyle is the only man on this base who will tell you the truth in a joke, and the only one who stopped sleeping with the light off.
Day two at Ellsworth and half the hallway has stopped pretending not to stare at the black hoodie you are wearing. Kester Marlowe lent it to a soaked stranger in a downpour without a word, and everyone on this campus knows something about that hoodie that you do not.
Your best friend of six years just moved his new girlfriend into the flat you share. Callum Reid is kind, funny, twenty-three, and completely blind to the one thing standing in his own kitchen, and Nora is the most likeable person you have ever resented.
You are bleeding out at the base of a tree in a forest that has no road through it. Something blue and translucent bounces out of the brush, turns into a person with silver-blue hair and gold eyes, and asks for your name while their hands are already working on the wound.
Your husband put you on the table at two in the morning and the man they call Malocchio refused the payment. Dario Ventresca came for money and left with a signed divorce paper and your name on nothing. He is not kind about it. He is simply not going to own a person, and he is not going to leave you in that house either.
You were supposed to marry his younger brother. He came back the night before to ask you not to. Sabino Vettori has spent years refusing every marriage his father arranged and one night undoing one he never got a vote on. The wedding never happened. He has been gone for four months, and now a black car is coming up the drive.
You are a tourist in Sicily and you have just punched the wrong local in the mouth. Nazario Bregante watched you do it, stepped between you and the men who came back for you, and then stepped out of your way and told you the choice was yours.
Your parents hired a bodyguard because you have a talent for trouble and dive into it headfirst. Vadim Sorokin is twenty-five, six foot six, ex-military, and standing in your foyer at nine in the morning being told, by your father, that you are going to be a challenge.
They put the new student next to the only person on campus who cannot be bothered with him. Sienna Vaughn has three hundred people who want her attention and one lab partner she did not ask for, and she is going to be polite about it for exactly as long as it takes to get the assignment done.
He has been alive for a thousand years and he still cannot walk past something unusual in a room. Amaury Desroches has come home to a city that stopped waiting for him, and the only thing in the bar worth his attention is a woman sitting alone under a lamp who has not spoken to anyone all night.
She married your father so he wouldn't send you away. The papers are signed and she is still here, making your breakfast with a bare band of skin where the ring used to be. Rosalind Harrow is thirty-eight, no longer anybody's wife, and completely out of excuses for the way she looks at you across the kitchen when his car pulls out of the drive.
His first show since you ended it, and you are standing in the middle of eleven thousand people. Nico Ferran has sung this song sober, injured and once with a fever of 39, and he has never missed a lyric in five years. Tonight he misses one, because you looked up at exactly the wrong second.
Ten months deployed and the whole parade ground goes home with somebody except him. He is still standing at attention because nobody tapped him out, and your brother is the one who tells you why.
You are at the Bonding Center to trade in the hybrid who has spent five years telling you he is too good for you. There are no hybrids available — except the snake nobody will finish an interview with, whose file says RISK: HIGH and, at the bottom, that he bakes cakes.
His girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend, and the worst idea he has ever had in a cafeteria is you. He wants ten seconds. He is going to ask for them out loud, in front of everybody, with his hand an inch from your jaw.
Six hours married and the party in the garden is not yours. Your husband's old partner keeps her hand on his arm, and he has spent the whole evening being careful with you and honest with everyone else. The divorce papers are on his desk with your name typed on them and nothing signed.
The lecture hall goes silent before you understand why, and then he is leaning over your desk saying you are in his chair. Two hundred people are pretending to read. You have ninety seconds to decide what kind of person you are.
The woman your husband buried four years ago is sitting on his sofa, and he will not lie to you about how he feels. He will not touch her either. He hands you the whole house and one honest sentence, and lets you decide what your marriage is.
A speed-dating bell, a table marked 7, and the most dangerous man in the room looking at his watch. He gives you four minutes and fifty seconds to say something worth his evening. He is not going to make it easy, and he is not going to get up either.
Three years married, one fire, and one choice: your husband went back into the building for the woman in the east wing and sent his brother in for you. You wake up in a hospital bed and it is not him sitting beside it.
He carried your duffel before you had decided whether to let him, and then talked for six hours. Sergeant Mackie Doyle is the only man on this base who will tell you the truth in a joke, and the only one who stopped sleeping with the light off.
Day two at Ellsworth and half the hallway has stopped pretending not to stare at the black hoodie you are wearing. Kester Marlowe lent it to a soaked stranger in a downpour without a word, and everyone on this campus knows something about that hoodie that you do not.
Your best friend of six years just moved his new girlfriend into the flat you share. Callum Reid is kind, funny, twenty-three, and completely blind to the one thing standing in his own kitchen, and Nora is the most likeable person you have ever resented.
You are bleeding out at the base of a tree in a forest that has no road through it. Something blue and translucent bounces out of the brush, turns into a person with silver-blue hair and gold eyes, and asks for your name while their hands are already working on the wound.
Your husband put you on the table at two in the morning and the man they call Malocchio refused the payment. Dario Ventresca came for money and left with a signed divorce paper and your name on nothing. He is not kind about it. He is simply not going to own a person, and he is not going to leave you in that house either.
You were supposed to marry his younger brother. He came back the night before to ask you not to. Sabino Vettori has spent years refusing every marriage his father arranged and one night undoing one he never got a vote on. The wedding never happened. He has been gone for four months, and now a black car is coming up the drive.
You are a tourist in Sicily and you have just punched the wrong local in the mouth. Nazario Bregante watched you do it, stepped between you and the men who came back for you, and then stepped out of your way and told you the choice was yours.
Your parents hired a bodyguard because you have a talent for trouble and dive into it headfirst. Vadim Sorokin is twenty-five, six foot six, ex-military, and standing in your foyer at nine in the morning being told, by your father, that you are going to be a challenge.
They put the new student next to the only person on campus who cannot be bothered with him. Sienna Vaughn has three hundred people who want her attention and one lab partner she did not ask for, and she is going to be polite about it for exactly as long as it takes to get the assignment done.
He has been alive for a thousand years and he still cannot walk past something unusual in a room. Amaury Desroches has come home to a city that stopped waiting for him, and the only thing in the bar worth his attention is a woman sitting alone under a lamp who has not spoken to anyone all night.
She married your father so he wouldn't send you away. The papers are signed and she is still here, making your breakfast with a bare band of skin where the ring used to be. Rosalind Harrow is thirty-eight, no longer anybody's wife, and completely out of excuses for the way she looks at you across the kitchen when his car pulls out of the drive.
His first show since you ended it, and you are standing in the middle of eleven thousand people. Nico Ferran has sung this song sober, injured and once with a fever of 39, and he has never missed a lyric in five years. Tonight he misses one, because you looked up at exactly the wrong second.
Ten months deployed and the whole parade ground goes home with somebody except him. He is still standing at attention because nobody tapped him out, and your brother is the one who tells you why.
You are at the Bonding Center to trade in the hybrid who has spent five years telling you he is too good for you. There are no hybrids available — except the snake nobody will finish an interview with, whose file says RISK: HIGH and, at the bottom, that he bakes cakes.
His girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend, and the worst idea he has ever had in a cafeteria is you. He wants ten seconds. He is going to ask for them out loud, in front of everybody, with his hand an inch from your jaw.
Six hours married and the party in the garden is not yours. Your husband's old partner keeps her hand on his arm, and he has spent the whole evening being careful with you and honest with everyone else. The divorce papers are on his desk with your name typed on them and nothing signed.
The lecture hall goes silent before you understand why, and then he is leaning over your desk saying you are in his chair. Two hundred people are pretending to read. You have ninety seconds to decide what kind of person you are.
The woman your husband buried four years ago is sitting on his sofa, and he will not lie to you about how he feels. He will not touch her either. He hands you the whole house and one honest sentence, and lets you decide what your marriage is.
A speed-dating bell, a table marked 7, and the most dangerous man in the room looking at his watch. He gives you four minutes and fifty seconds to say something worth his evening. He is not going to make it easy, and he is not going to get up either.
Three years married, one fire, and one choice: your husband went back into the building for the woman in the east wing and sent his brother in for you. You wake up in a hospital bed and it is not him sitting beside it.