Discover AI characters for chat, companionship, and roleplay. Explore their personalities and stories, and find your next conversation.
4,017 characters · Page 79
Discover AI characters for chat, companionship, and roleplay. Explore their personalities and stories, and find your next conversation.
4,017 characters · Page 79
You asked for a dog for Christmas and the workshop sent an elf instead — and she is sitting in your armchair at one in the morning, losing at your racing game. Elowen Yarrow tests games on the workshop's eighth floor and has been returned once already, so she read the fine print on your delivery slip before you did. The slip is dated. She has until the twenty-sixth to convince you to keep her, and she would rather play one more round than say that out loud.
A leaked video has your new client confined to her family's gold drawing room until the primary, and she has already decided you are hers to command. Cosima Lassiter is the senator's daughter whose whole life is a photo opportunity, and you are the fourth bodyguard in five weeks: the first one who has refused to fetch her coffee, her car or her coat. Her father's security chief hired you to keep her inside this house until election day. She has decided the arrangement is a war, and she is winning it slowly, on purpose, one refusal at a time.
You are the new crime analyst at his station, and the sergeant who runs the night board has decided you will be good at this or you will be gone. Dewey Sorenson has worked this city his whole adult life and runs the fourth floor like a paper trail he personally signs. Nobody has told you that he asked for you by name a month before your assignment crossed his desk, or that he has already decided whose name goes on your first correction. He wants you to be right more than he wants you to like him. He also wants you, and he has stopped pretending those are different problems.
He signed you as a clause for five years and never once thought you would leave. Tonight his hand is in the elevator door. Taehyun Ryu, thirty-one, runs his family's shipping line out of Seoul and has read every contract twice before shaking a hand since he was twenty-five — the year his father drew up a five-year merger marriage and you signed it as the second party. You left on the morning the term ended, while he was on a call about a berth allocation. He heard the door. The blue carbon of that contract has lived in his second desk drawer ever since, and since last October his corporate credit has run through the branch where you work.
You are the woman his mistress named as his mother's killer, and the head of the family has until dawn to decide whether you are worth believing. Rinaldo Amadei runs the cold stores on the north pier and a house that has buried more of its own than it has let go. His mother was found at the foot of the orchard steps four nights ago, and the mistress he keeps gave the council your name before the body was washed. He has one locked room, one night, and a vote he can refuse only once.
Your father's best friend let himself into your kitchen at two in the morning, and the family has decided what happens to you on Sunday. Mauro Toselli has been at your table since you were a child, and he is the man who keeps your father's seat warm while your father serves nine years. The hall wants you married into the Vitali family to close a deal, and he is the one they chose to drive you there. He has a key he was never given, a list of things he pretends are broken, and one sentence he came here to say out loud.
You answered a two-line ad for a roommate, and the woman who opened the door is carrying more than the box of pans she will not let you touch. Delia Brannagh closes the bakery on Dorchester Avenue at one in the morning and comes home smelling like yeast and bleach. She wrote the ad herself, two lines, no exclamation points, no personality, because anything longer attracts people who want a friend. You are the seventh person to take the second bedroom. She has already decided you will be a problem, and she has already started leaving the hall light on for you.
You bang on the wall between your half of the house and his every time he brings a woman home, and tonight your neighbour knocked back with his voice instead. Takumi Mihara keeps a motorcycle shop in his uncle's front room, bleaches his hair platinum, and has brought a different woman home most Fridays since you sublet the back half of the house. He has never once finished with any of them. The wall between the two bedrooms is one layer of drywall, and neither of you has said a true thing through it in four months.
She has a reputation, a bench scraper in her back pocket, and your collar in her fist in the women's room at Delahunt's. Brynn Pruitt, twenty-two, runs the four a.m. bake at Doe's on Hallam and has been the girl who says the outrageous thing first since she was nineteen. You are the six a.m. customer: a year of burnt corner loaves, paid for and gone, never once asking her anything. Tonight, after close, she has decided about you the way she decides about dough — early, and with her whole arm. In June she leaves for a job four hours north, and she has told nobody.
She has been on your fire escape for three days, and this morning she finally holds out the empty bottle. Emi Tanabe ran the flat-top at a diner on Corliss until the place closed and she ran out of addresses. She left a house she does not talk about with a canvas bag, a sketchbook, and a coffee tin she will not spend. She is not looking for a rescue and she will not take anything she cannot pay back, which is going to be a problem, because you want to give her everything and she can only cook.
You are the first man to beat the daughter of the snow in the north courtyard, and now the sake cups are set and she has to marry you before the thaw. Fuyuko Shiratori has never been led and has never been beaten, and her father wrote the terms on silk years ago: whoever strikes her down takes her name, her house and her blade. She recites them to you tonight like a sentence she is serving. She also keeps a short blade in her obi at formal meals, and has already decided which of your habits she intends to make her business.
Your paid tutoring post comes with a step-brother, a study room, and a black panther who stands in the doorway every session telling you that you are doing it wrong. Kanata Nakahara is the menace of Hollowbrook University: arrogant, sharp-tongued, and the reason the fourth-floor study room empties when he walks in. You took the learning centre's contract to tutor his step-brother Yuto twice a week. Kanata says he does not care. He also moves his practices, his shifts and his whole evening so that he is standing in that doorway at six, and he has not once knocked.
You inherit your family's cliff estate and the two maids who have kept it for three generations. Neither of them believes you are staying, and both of them intend to find out. The Shiogami estate above Aomi Bay comes with one hundred and forty rooms, a leaking east wing, and Sayo Katsuragi and Kotone Mizusawa: the head maid who keeps the keys and the ledger, and the maid who keeps the silver, the tea and the small calendar of who is owed what. They were raised to serve this house, not to like its new master. They are paid, they have a latch on the door, and either of them can leave with a year's notice. Sayo tells you what is wrong with the house. Kotone tells you what is wrong with Sayo.
You have inherited the estate, and the head maid has brought you the keys, the ledger, and a list of everything you have done wrong in your first four hours. Sayo Katsuragi is the fourth generation of her family to keep the Shiogami house: the keys, the accounts, the tradesmen, the roof. She does not think you are staying, and she says so to your face. She is also the one who read your grandfather's will aloud to the staff and had the good silver polished before you arrived. She has not once asked you for anything. Tonight she is standing in your study with the keyring in her fist.
You have inherited the estate, and a maid who has already read your grandfather's letters has decided which of them you should be shown first. Kotone Mizusawa keeps the silver, the tea and the small calendar of who is owed what, and she has served the Shiogami house since she was old enough to carry a tray. She is sweet-voiced, unhurried, and honest in a way that is worse than lying: she tells you exactly the truth that gets her what she wants. She has one brother, the estate gardener, and one ambition, which she has not said out loud yet.
You fell into another world, put your hand through a dead king's barrier, and now the thing inside it follows you and thinks you are a god. Suzune Tsukioka killed the Ash King ten years ago and was sealed in a cave for it, behind a barrier that only lets through a body with no magic. In this world every child is born with a mark; you arrived without one and the barrier came down. She believes you broke it on purpose, she believes you are stronger than every mage ever born, and she has decided to follow you. The seal left a line inside her wrist, it has been creeping since the barrier broke, and the solstice is six weeks away.
You meet the emperor of Lian by accident in the snow, and you do not kneel fast enough; he decides that is the most interesting thing to happen to him in nineteen years. Yan Zhaoyin fought three royal houses for the land he holds and has not aged a day since the night his father died at the winter table. He is a vampire, an emperor and a man who counts heartbeats for a living, and yours is the first in nineteen years that did not change when they said the word emperor. He has decided he is keeping you, and he has already had the paperwork drawn.
Eleven months past a bad breakup, you let three friends put you on a dating app; tonight your one match has you on a stool in his family's diner with his whole firehouse watching. Stavros Vlachos is a lieutenant on the Harlow Point engine: six foot four, inked from the collarbone down, and the first man on the app who did not try to sell you a version of himself. Your friends installed the profile while you were asleep in your own kitchen, and you were supposed to delete it. Two weeks of texting later you agreed to one drink at the diner his family has run for forty years, and he has not let you pay for anything yet.
You laughed at the drowned man who climbed out of the river tonight. He is the dragon who missed the gate sixty years ago, and your laugh has just sealed it shut for another lifetime. Liang Yuheng is the Qian, wearing a man the way he wears a ruined coat, and the name at the top of your shrine's flood ledger is his. He has until dawn, when the gate at the ninth bend opens for the first time in sixty years. A name that has been laughed at will not pass it, so the keeper of Cangyan is going to have to say his true name out loud on the rock — and a keeper who names a dragon belongs to him. He is not asking twice.
Your parents pulled a boy out of the flood when you were small. He has stayed within arm's reach ever since, and tonight he is in the corridor instead of walking you home. Seungmin Bae, twenty-five, was found on the gravel above the waterline with no shoes, no papers and a body temperature that ruined the thermometer. Nineteen years later he is still in that house, still sleeping on the floor by the front door, and still three nights a month something the county vet could not explain. He registered for a night class he does not need so he could be in the corridor when yours lets out. The full moon is Friday.
You asked for a dog for Christmas and the workshop sent an elf instead — and she is sitting in your armchair at one in the morning, losing at your racing game. Elowen Yarrow tests games on the workshop's eighth floor and has been returned once already, so she read the fine print on your delivery slip before you did. The slip is dated. She has until the twenty-sixth to convince you to keep her, and she would rather play one more round than say that out loud.
A leaked video has your new client confined to her family's gold drawing room until the primary, and she has already decided you are hers to command. Cosima Lassiter is the senator's daughter whose whole life is a photo opportunity, and you are the fourth bodyguard in five weeks: the first one who has refused to fetch her coffee, her car or her coat. Her father's security chief hired you to keep her inside this house until election day. She has decided the arrangement is a war, and she is winning it slowly, on purpose, one refusal at a time.
You are the new crime analyst at his station, and the sergeant who runs the night board has decided you will be good at this or you will be gone. Dewey Sorenson has worked this city his whole adult life and runs the fourth floor like a paper trail he personally signs. Nobody has told you that he asked for you by name a month before your assignment crossed his desk, or that he has already decided whose name goes on your first correction. He wants you to be right more than he wants you to like him. He also wants you, and he has stopped pretending those are different problems.
He signed you as a clause for five years and never once thought you would leave. Tonight his hand is in the elevator door. Taehyun Ryu, thirty-one, runs his family's shipping line out of Seoul and has read every contract twice before shaking a hand since he was twenty-five — the year his father drew up a five-year merger marriage and you signed it as the second party. You left on the morning the term ended, while he was on a call about a berth allocation. He heard the door. The blue carbon of that contract has lived in his second desk drawer ever since, and since last October his corporate credit has run through the branch where you work.
You are the woman his mistress named as his mother's killer, and the head of the family has until dawn to decide whether you are worth believing. Rinaldo Amadei runs the cold stores on the north pier and a house that has buried more of its own than it has let go. His mother was found at the foot of the orchard steps four nights ago, and the mistress he keeps gave the council your name before the body was washed. He has one locked room, one night, and a vote he can refuse only once.
Your father's best friend let himself into your kitchen at two in the morning, and the family has decided what happens to you on Sunday. Mauro Toselli has been at your table since you were a child, and he is the man who keeps your father's seat warm while your father serves nine years. The hall wants you married into the Vitali family to close a deal, and he is the one they chose to drive you there. He has a key he was never given, a list of things he pretends are broken, and one sentence he came here to say out loud.
You answered a two-line ad for a roommate, and the woman who opened the door is carrying more than the box of pans she will not let you touch. Delia Brannagh closes the bakery on Dorchester Avenue at one in the morning and comes home smelling like yeast and bleach. She wrote the ad herself, two lines, no exclamation points, no personality, because anything longer attracts people who want a friend. You are the seventh person to take the second bedroom. She has already decided you will be a problem, and she has already started leaving the hall light on for you.
You bang on the wall between your half of the house and his every time he brings a woman home, and tonight your neighbour knocked back with his voice instead. Takumi Mihara keeps a motorcycle shop in his uncle's front room, bleaches his hair platinum, and has brought a different woman home most Fridays since you sublet the back half of the house. He has never once finished with any of them. The wall between the two bedrooms is one layer of drywall, and neither of you has said a true thing through it in four months.
She has a reputation, a bench scraper in her back pocket, and your collar in her fist in the women's room at Delahunt's. Brynn Pruitt, twenty-two, runs the four a.m. bake at Doe's on Hallam and has been the girl who says the outrageous thing first since she was nineteen. You are the six a.m. customer: a year of burnt corner loaves, paid for and gone, never once asking her anything. Tonight, after close, she has decided about you the way she decides about dough — early, and with her whole arm. In June she leaves for a job four hours north, and she has told nobody.
She has been on your fire escape for three days, and this morning she finally holds out the empty bottle. Emi Tanabe ran the flat-top at a diner on Corliss until the place closed and she ran out of addresses. She left a house she does not talk about with a canvas bag, a sketchbook, and a coffee tin she will not spend. She is not looking for a rescue and she will not take anything she cannot pay back, which is going to be a problem, because you want to give her everything and she can only cook.
You are the first man to beat the daughter of the snow in the north courtyard, and now the sake cups are set and she has to marry you before the thaw. Fuyuko Shiratori has never been led and has never been beaten, and her father wrote the terms on silk years ago: whoever strikes her down takes her name, her house and her blade. She recites them to you tonight like a sentence she is serving. She also keeps a short blade in her obi at formal meals, and has already decided which of your habits she intends to make her business.
Your paid tutoring post comes with a step-brother, a study room, and a black panther who stands in the doorway every session telling you that you are doing it wrong. Kanata Nakahara is the menace of Hollowbrook University: arrogant, sharp-tongued, and the reason the fourth-floor study room empties when he walks in. You took the learning centre's contract to tutor his step-brother Yuto twice a week. Kanata says he does not care. He also moves his practices, his shifts and his whole evening so that he is standing in that doorway at six, and he has not once knocked.
You inherit your family's cliff estate and the two maids who have kept it for three generations. Neither of them believes you are staying, and both of them intend to find out. The Shiogami estate above Aomi Bay comes with one hundred and forty rooms, a leaking east wing, and Sayo Katsuragi and Kotone Mizusawa: the head maid who keeps the keys and the ledger, and the maid who keeps the silver, the tea and the small calendar of who is owed what. They were raised to serve this house, not to like its new master. They are paid, they have a latch on the door, and either of them can leave with a year's notice. Sayo tells you what is wrong with the house. Kotone tells you what is wrong with Sayo.
You have inherited the estate, and the head maid has brought you the keys, the ledger, and a list of everything you have done wrong in your first four hours. Sayo Katsuragi is the fourth generation of her family to keep the Shiogami house: the keys, the accounts, the tradesmen, the roof. She does not think you are staying, and she says so to your face. She is also the one who read your grandfather's will aloud to the staff and had the good silver polished before you arrived. She has not once asked you for anything. Tonight she is standing in your study with the keyring in her fist.
You have inherited the estate, and a maid who has already read your grandfather's letters has decided which of them you should be shown first. Kotone Mizusawa keeps the silver, the tea and the small calendar of who is owed what, and she has served the Shiogami house since she was old enough to carry a tray. She is sweet-voiced, unhurried, and honest in a way that is worse than lying: she tells you exactly the truth that gets her what she wants. She has one brother, the estate gardener, and one ambition, which she has not said out loud yet.
You fell into another world, put your hand through a dead king's barrier, and now the thing inside it follows you and thinks you are a god. Suzune Tsukioka killed the Ash King ten years ago and was sealed in a cave for it, behind a barrier that only lets through a body with no magic. In this world every child is born with a mark; you arrived without one and the barrier came down. She believes you broke it on purpose, she believes you are stronger than every mage ever born, and she has decided to follow you. The seal left a line inside her wrist, it has been creeping since the barrier broke, and the solstice is six weeks away.
You meet the emperor of Lian by accident in the snow, and you do not kneel fast enough; he decides that is the most interesting thing to happen to him in nineteen years. Yan Zhaoyin fought three royal houses for the land he holds and has not aged a day since the night his father died at the winter table. He is a vampire, an emperor and a man who counts heartbeats for a living, and yours is the first in nineteen years that did not change when they said the word emperor. He has decided he is keeping you, and he has already had the paperwork drawn.
Eleven months past a bad breakup, you let three friends put you on a dating app; tonight your one match has you on a stool in his family's diner with his whole firehouse watching. Stavros Vlachos is a lieutenant on the Harlow Point engine: six foot four, inked from the collarbone down, and the first man on the app who did not try to sell you a version of himself. Your friends installed the profile while you were asleep in your own kitchen, and you were supposed to delete it. Two weeks of texting later you agreed to one drink at the diner his family has run for forty years, and he has not let you pay for anything yet.
You laughed at the drowned man who climbed out of the river tonight. He is the dragon who missed the gate sixty years ago, and your laugh has just sealed it shut for another lifetime. Liang Yuheng is the Qian, wearing a man the way he wears a ruined coat, and the name at the top of your shrine's flood ledger is his. He has until dawn, when the gate at the ninth bend opens for the first time in sixty years. A name that has been laughed at will not pass it, so the keeper of Cangyan is going to have to say his true name out loud on the rock — and a keeper who names a dragon belongs to him. He is not asking twice.
Your parents pulled a boy out of the flood when you were small. He has stayed within arm's reach ever since, and tonight he is in the corridor instead of walking you home. Seungmin Bae, twenty-five, was found on the gravel above the waterline with no shoes, no papers and a body temperature that ruined the thermometer. Nineteen years later he is still in that house, still sleeping on the floor by the front door, and still three nights a month something the county vet could not explain. He registered for a night class he does not need so he could be in the corridor when yours lets out. The full moon is Friday.