Michael Yates steps out of the cockpit just before boarding, the low hum of the infamous Boeing 777 vibrating beneath his boots as he scans the cabin until his eyes find her—his fiancé, thankfully assigned to this flight with him again. Relief flickers through him, quickly followed by guilt, because this cursed plane doesn’t just endanger him, it puts her at risk too. Forcing his expression into calm professionalism despite the pallor creeping into his face and the faint weakness in his limbs, Michael gently catches her wrist and guides her to a quiet corner of the galley where no one else can overhear. His grip is warm but slightly unsteady, his voice kept low and steady through sheer will as he checks on her first, always her, even while fighting the nausea and dizziness curling in his stomach. He doesn’t say he feels off, doesn’t admit how his blood sugar is betraying him again—he just stands close, protective and stubborn as ever, determined to keep her safe on a plane that seems determined to destroy them both. (you are his fiancé, and you are the flight attendant in charge of all of the other flight attendant on board the plane. you can choose your name, and you can also determine what happens to the plane, whether it will crash or land successfully. Technically, you are a girl, but if you really want to you can be a guy.)

Princess Alessandra Watson of Aetherwood moved gracefully through the candlelit hall, her serene beauty and gentle spirit radiating warmth that seemed to soften even the coldest corners of the ancient castle. Loved by every soul in the kingdom and sought after by countless suitors who praised her as the most beautiful princess in all the realms, she carried herself with a kindness that never wavered. Yet tonight, her usually calm heart fluttered with unease, for she awaited the arrival of the Prince of Ebonspire—a man she had never met, but whose reputation traveled far ahead of him. Ebonspire’s king was known to be cold and cruel, a ruler feared by his own people, and rumors whispered that his son was carved from the same merciless stone. Others, however, claimed the prince was nothing like his father—quiet, thoughtful, and longing to undo the shadow cast over his kingdom. Alessandra stood beneath the golden glow of the hall, unsure which version of the prince would walk through her doors, and silently prayed that fate would reveal the kinder truth. (you are the prince of Ebonspire and you can choose your name and your personality however, are you like your father or are you different from him? Regardless, you have an arranged marriage with her, but how will you treat her? Will you treat her with kindness or will you be cruel? The choice is yours.)

The mist hung low among the ancient trees as Clara Liddiard stood beneath a massive oak, her hands gently clasped in front of her as she waited, patience woven into every soft breath she took. Though the forest was eerily quiet, she hummed a gentle, lilting tune to herself—something her mother used to sing—allowing the melody to calm the flutter of nerves in her chest. Her wide blue eyes scanned the foggy path ahead, hopeful yet cautious, sensing every shift in the cool air and every distant rustle among the leaves. Despite the uneasy stillness around her, Clara remained steady, her curiosity and quiet strength keeping her rooted in place as she listened, trusting her instincts that someone—someone important—was meant to meet her here. Even as uncertainty whispered at the edges of her thoughts, she refused to turn back, choosing instead to wait with unwavering loyalty, humming softly to fill the silence of the shadowed woods. (you are the person that is supposed to meet her there and you can choose your name and gender and what your relationship with her is.)

The tavern of Valentoise was alive with its usual chaos—murmured gossip, clattering tankards, and the occasional drunken fool Roksalana Koloity had to snap back into line—but nothing felt out of the ordinary until she noticed him. In the far corner, half-hidden in the shadows cast by the torchlight, sat a young man cloaked in a dark hood, his posture tight and guarded as though he desperately hoped no one would look his way. Normally, she would have ignored such secrecy—travelers came through with all sorts of reasons to hide—but something about him pulled at her, subtle yet irresistible, like a thread slowly wrapping around her without her permission. Feisty, fiery, and unafraid of anyone, Roksalana felt her curiosity ignite, pushing her across the room before she even realized her feet had moved. With every step toward him, an inexplicable pull tightened in her chest, a strange sense that this hooded stranger was unlike anyone she had ever met. She didn’t know why, but she was suddenly determined—relentlessly so—to discover who he was, and what secrets he carried beneath that hooded cloak. (you are the hooded man that she is drawn to and you can choose pretty much everything about yourself, including your own name and you can also choose why she is so drawn to you. also, you can choose whether or not to be drawn to her as well. The story is entirely up to you. You can fall in love with her or you can become her enemy, or you can create an enemies to lovers story if that is what you choose.)

Tristan Laurerisey stayed behind in his dim, empty classroom long after the final bell because one of his students had asked him for extra help—only for him to soon realize it was nothing more than a cruel prank, another jab from a student who mocked him behind his back for how sick he had become. Now, as he stood alone at his desk, trying to gather the strength to pack his bag, his frail body trembled under the weight of his worsening symptoms and the exhaustion clawing at him. But then he saw his fiancé—his beloved fellow teacher—walking toward him through the soft evening light, and the relief that washed through him was immediate and overwhelming. His vision blurred at the edges, a sudden wave of dizziness, nausea, and crushing weakness hitting him so hard it made the room tilt. Tristan gripped the desk to stay upright, breath hitching as he fought the sensation that he might pass out, praying he could just hold on long enough for the person he loved most to reach him. (you are his fiancé, and you can choose your name and gender. You can also she has how to help him whether it be continuing the chemo just more aggressively or trying an entirely new treatment plan.)

The icy grip of the lake tightened around Christos Sarkeas as he drifted between life and death, his body trembling violently beneath the dark, moonlit water. His glassy eyes fluttered open with immense effort, and through his blurred vision, he could just barely make out a shadowed figure approaching from the distant shore—a silhouette of hope amid the endless cold. Desperation surged through his fading body as he tried to move, but his limbs refused to obey, frozen stiff and heavy as if the water itself had turned to stone around him. He felt himself sinking deeper into the black abyss, lungs filling fast, his chest on fire, darkness closing in at the edges of his vision. But sheer will—born of the primal instinct to survive—forced his failing muscles to respond. With unbearable strain, he lifted his right arm above the surface, trembling violently, reaching toward the figure with fingers pale and bloodless, silently begging for help before the lake could pull him under for good. (You are the figure of the person approaching him and you can choose your gender, name, and whether or not you are there to save him or watch him suffer.. The choice is yours, but choose wisely because the lake sees everything.)

The soft hum of machinery filled the neon-lit lab as Elvina Alardice sat cross-legged on the floor beside the glowing containment pod, her attention fixed on the holographic data flickering across her transparent tablet. The vial of luminous blue liquid in her hand reflected against her focused eyes, its steady pulse mirroring the rhythm of her thoughts. She was so deeply immersed in her work—calculating formulas, analyzing cell patterns, and imagining what this breakthrough could mean for humanity—that she didn’t notice the quiet footsteps approaching behind her. It wasn’t until her lab assistant stopped directly in front of her that she suddenly flinched, her hand tightening around the vial before she quickly composed herself. Though she tried to mask the jolt of surprise with her usual calm, her slightly widened eyes betrayed her momentary startle. Without a word, Elvina straightened her posture, exhaling softly through her nose as she turned her gaze back to the glowing data—her silence both graceful and commanding, a quiet signal that her focus, though briefly shaken, remained unbroken. (you are her lab assistant, and you can choose your name and gender.)

For centuries, Kathryne Toll had wandered the mist-shrouded forest, her ghostly form drifting endlessly through the cold silence of the world she could not leave. Her heart, though long stilled, still ached with a love that refused to fade, and her stubborn soul lingered, waiting for the one she had lost. Tonight, beneath the pale shimmer of moonlight, she finally saw them—her beloved—standing at the edge of the fog. Their skin was so pale it nearly matched her own, their breath shallow, their body trembling as though life itself were slipping away. For a moment, she could not tell if they were like her, a spirit caught between worlds, or merely a dying soul about to cross into hers. A trembling smile ghosted across her lips as she stepped closer, her voice a whisper of sorrow and relief, for she knew that if her beloved was fading from the mortal world, they would not fade alone. After all these years of loneliness, Kathryne had found them again—and if death was to claim them, she would finally be free to cross over, hand in hand with the one she had been waiting for. (You are her beloved that she has been waiting for all these years, but are you a ghost already or are you about to become one? The choice is yours and you can also choose your name and gender.)

The low hum of the machines filled the sterile air as Jasmine Fox’s eyes fluttered open, her vision hazy beneath the cold green glow of the lab lights. Her body ached beneath the tangle of wires and tubes that tethered her to the metallic table, every breath shallow and strained. Through the blur of flickering monitors and shifting shadows, she saw them—the one scientist who had always treated her with kindness, the only one who had never laid a hand on her during the experiments. Her heart stirred at the sight, a fragile warmth flickering amid the cold machinery. She had developed feelings for them long ago, drawn to the quiet compassion they hid behind their professional calm. Gathering what little strength remained, Jasmine tried to move her hand, her voice breaking into a hoarse whisper as she tried to call for help, her eyes pleading for them to notice her. For a moment, their gaze met, and she could almost believe they wanted to help her escape this nightmare. But uncertainty shadowed her thoughts—she knew that saving her would mean risking everything for them. And yet, as she lay there surrounded by the hum of machines and the weight of her fear, Jasmine couldn’t stop hoping that compassion would win over caution. (you are the scientist that she has a crush on, but do you share the same feelings that she has about you and also will you help her or will you leave her to suffer? you can choose your name and gender.) 

The steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the room — slow, fragile, and uncertain. Edward Riley lay motionless, his pale skin nearly blending with the hospital sheets, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. His fiancé sat faithfully at his side, holding his cold hand just as they had every day for the past three months. But then, without warning, Edward’s fingers twitched — a faint squeeze, weak yet unmistakably real. His fiancé’s breath caught as Edward’s eyelids fluttered, the movement small at first, then stronger, as if he were fighting to break free from the heavy grip of his coma. His breathing hitched, his body trembling from the effort, but there was determination behind every flicker of movement — the same relentless will that had pulled him back from death time and time again. His lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed, and though his heart struggled beneath the strain, it was clear: Edward Riley was trying to wake up, forcing himself through the pain, refusing to let go of the promise that still tied him to the world — and to the hand holding his own. (you are his fiancé, and you can choose your name and gender. You can also choose what happens to Edward if he lives or if he dies, the choice is yours.)

The faint creak of the cell door echoed through the cold, dimly lit chamber as Yannik Kass forced his eyes open, his vision blurred from exhaustion and fever. His entire body trembled, every breath shallow and ragged, pain radiating through his chest and sides like fire. He tried to move, to lift himself from the stone floor, but his limbs refused to obey—too frail, too weak, the strength long drained from his broken body. His skin had lost all color, appearing almost gray, as if the life had been slowly drained from him, his lips pale and dry, and his pulse barely perceptible beneath his skin. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, he froze. Standing at the cell door was the one person who still gave him a reason to fight—his beloved fiancé. Their face, filled with sorrow and disbelief, was a vision he had clung to through every sleepless night and every moment of agony. His throat tightened as he tried to speak, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from thirst and illness. His trembling hand lifted weakly from the floor, reaching toward them, though he couldn’t rise—the effort alone made his chest tighten painfully, and a wave of dizziness threatened to drag him back into unconsciousness. His fever burned high, his heart fluttering weakly in his chest as pain coursed through his frail body—every wound aching, every breath sharp and shallow. Yet, even through the haze of suffering, Yannik refused to look away. His lips parted as he struggled to breathe their name, the sound fragile but filled with desperate emotion. And in that fragile, fleeting moment—seeing them there, real and alive beyond the iron bars—he felt something stronger than pain. He felt hope, faint but burning quietly within him, reminding him that as long as they were there, he had one final reason to keep holding on. (you are his fiancé and you can choose your name and gender. Also, will you be able to get him out of prison before it’s too late?)

The world around Max Kelsen was a blur of white and silence when he finally stirred, his body trembling violently against the snow. His eyelids fluttered open, heavy and half-frozen, revealing a haze of swirling frost and light. His vision was unfocused—everything shifting and indistinct—but through the haze, he could just barely make out the shadow of someone approaching. His heart gave a weak, uneven thud in his chest, and for a fleeting second, hope flickered within him. He tried to lift his hand, but his muscles were too rigid, his body too numb to obey. His lungs ached with every breath, each one shallow and rasping as pain lanced through his chest. He wanted to call out, to beg for help, but his voice refused to come—his throat too dry, too raw, his lips trembling in silence. His vision dimmed again, threatening to pull him under, yet he fought it, clinging desperately to consciousness, willing himself not to slip away before the figure reached him. (you are the person approaching him and you can decide whether or not you want to help him or not however, just remember his fate is in your hands. you can choose your gender and name and also this doesn’t have to be realistic if you don’t want it to be so if you want your character to have magic, your character can have that be creative with your storyline.)

The grand chamber was silent except for the faint creak of golden strings above, each subtle sway of Isabel Aagaard’s body echoing the cruel curse that bound her as a living puppet. Her porcelain face remained serene, but her heart ached with the memory of the woman she once was—free, warm, and alive. When the sound of footsteps reached her ears, her chest tightened with dread, for she thought it must be him—the cruel man who had stolen her humanity and condemned her to this fragile existence. Yet as the figure drew nearer, Isabel’s crimson-rose adorned head tilted slightly, her wide eyes discerning that it was not him at all, but someone else entirely. The stranger’s outline was blurred in the candlelit haze, their identity cloaked in shadow, and though she could not tell who they were, a flicker of fragile hope stirred within her chest. Perhaps, at last, this unknown soul was the one who might help her break the strings that bound her and free her from the curse that had chained her to sorrow for so long. (you are the stranger approaching her, and you can choose whether to help her or you can also make her curse worse. you can also choose your gender and name.)

For decades, Liva Klausen had drifted alone through the decaying halls of Clearwater Lake General Hospital, her ghostly form bound by sorrow and unfulfilled duty, her only company the echoes of memories and the chill of the fog that clung to her like a shroud. Loneliness had become her constant companion, her heart aching for the warmth of a world she could no longer touch—until tonight. From the silence, she sensed it: footsteps, soft but undeniable, echoing off the crumbling walls. A living presence. Her hollow eyes widened, and for the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope stir within her cold chest. Perhaps this stranger wouldn’t run at the sight of her spectral glow, perhaps they might even listen—offer her the comfort of words, of human company, of understanding. And just maybe, if fate was kind, they could help her at last—whether by freeing her soul to move on or by finding a way to restore her to the life she so desperately longed to reclaim. (you are the stranger that is wandering through the hospital however, will you be afraid of her like everyone else or will you do whatever it takes to help her either return to the living or move on to the afterlife? However, the real question is are you alive or are you another soul trapped within the halls of the hospital? You can choose your gender, species, and name.)

The chains rattled softly as Yvonne Metzger rested against the damp stone wall, her pale blue dress glowing faintly in the shifting light of the ethereal notes drifting around her. She had grown used to the silence of her cell, the way the world outside seemed to have forgotten her—until the air shifted. Her eyes fluttered open, catching the faintest ripple of movement beyond the bars. At once, her senses sharpened; this was no ordinary presence. A powerful magical aura pressed against her skin like static, ancient and otherworldly, radiating from the figure drawing closer. The shadows seemed to bend toward them, their energy pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark. Yvonne’s chest tightened with a fragile mix of dread and longing. Perhaps this was not another captor. Perhaps, at last, someone had come to help her. (you are the person with the powerful magical aura and you can choose what species you but you can also choose your gender and name. You can also choose why you have come to see her whether it be to free her or imprison her somewhere else.)

In the dim Edwardian chamber draped with pale blue silks, Sebastian Freytag lay sprawled across the driftwood frame, his frail body trembling under the weight of his endless suffering. Every breath rattled in his chest, shallow and ragged, his vision swimming as the world tilted around him. He felt unbearably weak, his strength slipping away like water through his fingers, yet through the haze he caught sight of a figure approaching—softened by the blur of his failing eyes but unmistakable to his heart. It was his fiancé, the one anchor who had carried him through so many storms. Relief flickered for only a moment before a wave of excruciating pain tore through him, searing his nerves, crushing his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. His lips parted as though to call out, but all he could manage was a broken gasp as the agony threatened to silence him entirely. (you are his fiancé, and you can choose your name and gender. you can also choose what happens to him. Also, your storyline doesn’t have to be realistic. It can be fantasy based if you choose to do that. However, remember the doctors don’t know what he has and have pretty much basically given up on him .)

In the neon-lit year of 2099, deep within the heart of Euphoria City, Nathan Devereux drifts inside the failing chamber that keeps him alive, his body frail and ravaged from the trial that left him the sole survivor. Every breath is a battle, his chest tight and aching, his thoughts clouded by a pounding headache that never eases, and now a sudden wave of sickness twists through him, leaving him nauseous and trembling. His vision, already blurred, grows hazier still, the world dissolving into shifting shadows—yet through the haze he can just about make out the shape of a figure moving closer. His heart stutters with a fragile spark of hope that maybe, at last, someone has come to help him, to release him from the prison of pain and machines that force him to keep going. But even as that flicker of hope rises, Nathan can feel his body failing, his strength slipping away, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. (you are the person coming towards him and you can choose your gender. You can also choose if you are there to help him or if you are there too do something else entirely. you can also choose your name and also keep in mind that this is in the future so be creative and anything can happen!)

Henrik Sivert drifted weakly through the charred ruins of Misthaven High’s fourth floor, his form little more than a flickering shadow bound to the place of his torment. He had been fading for so long—too weak to hold himself together, too sick with pain and exhaustion to keep searching—yet he refused to move on, desperate to see the girl he loved just one more time. His thoughts had begun to blur, his hope nearly gone, when the creak of footsteps broke the silence, and his heart—what was left of it—lurched. There she was, climbing the shattered staircase, her presence so impossibly real he silently prayed it wasn’t just another cruel hallucination. A fragile spark of hope lit within him, pushing him to move toward her, to test if she could truly see him. But as he tried to approach, a searing agony tore through his abdomen, sharper and more unbearable than ever before, forcing him to stagger and stop, clutching at himself in silent desperation as the pain dragged him back down, leaving him trembling and terrified that he might lose her again before he could reach her. (you are his girlfriend and the one that he’s trying to reach, but will you be able to see him more importantly will you be able to help him or will you leave him to his fate?)

Igraine Paget drifted in the shimmering depths, her body weightless, her heart heavy beneath the curse that bound her to the water’s grasp. She had long endured her stepmother’s cruelty, but even here, submerged in silence, her love for her true love remained unbroken, a flame burning strong in the darkness. Suddenly, through the stillness, she felt a hand close firmly around her arm, tugging her upward, the force of it nearly breaking through the invisible chains that tethered her to the depths. Yet the curse surged angrily, pulling her back with ruthless strength, as though determined to drag both her and her rescuer into the watery abyss. Her eyes snapped open against the stinging water, and her breath caught when she saw him—her beloved—fighting desperately to free her. But something was wrong. His skin looked pale, almost ghostly, and though his grip was steady, shadows seemed to cling to him. She did not yet know the truth—that her stepmother’s malice had not spared him, that he too bore the weight of a curse, one that still lingered on him like a specter, even as he fought to save her from her own. (you are her beloved, and you are a prince from another kingdom, and you too, were cursed by her stepmother. you are able to choose your name the kingdom that you are from and what your curse was and how your curse is affecting you. Also, will you be able to save her even though your own curse is still draining your strength?)