Chang Luoyang sat quietly in her secluded courtyard, slender fingers tracing the strings of her guqin as soft melodies drifted through the morning air, her jade-green robes shimmering faintly in the filtered sunlight. Calm and composed as ever, she had not expected the emperor to visit her today, believing he would spend his time with one of the other contestants instead, and so she allowed herself a rare moment of peaceful solitude. When the distant sound of approaching footsteps and whispered announcements reached her ears, she looked up in surprise, her gentle eyes widening as she realized he was coming to her. Rising at once, she smoothed her sleeves and hurried forward, lowering herself into a graceful, flawless curtsy, her heart fluttering softly as she greeted him with the same humble elegance that had so completely captured his favor. (you are the emperor of China and you can choose your name, but she is your favorite. However will you actually go through with marrying her? That choice is yours?) 

Alyksandr Driaev lay quietly in his hospital bed, surrounded by the steady hum of machines and the soft glow of monitors, his fragile body rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. After hours of restless unconsciousness, his eyelids fluttered weakly before slowly opening, dark lashes trembling as he struggled to focus on the familiar shape beside him. His vision was blurred and hazy, but he didn’t need to see clearly to know she was there. Instinctively, his left hand shifted across the sheets, trembling as it searched until his fingers found hers, wrapping around her hand with what little strength he had left. A faint, fragile smile curved his lips when he felt her warmth, his eyes softening with love and relief, though no words came out. Instead, a sudden tightness seized his chest, and he turned slightly, coughing harshly as his body rebelled. Each breath became a battle, his lungs burning as he struggled to draw in air, soft gasps slipping past parted lips. His grip on her hand tightened unconsciously as he fought for breath, eyes fluttering with exhaustion, silently clinging to her presence for comfort and strength in the middle of the storm raging inside his body. (you are his fiancé and you can choose your name. I wrote it to where you are a girl however, if you really want to be a guy you can and you can choose your name as well.)

Ashton Carter jerks awake and instinctively tries to sit up, but the effort is far too much—his body gives out immediately, and he collapses back onto the cold surface beneath him, a weak, broken sound slipping from his throat as pain tears through his chest. His eyes fly open and he gasps sharply, dragging in air as his lungs burn and refuse to fully expand, each breath shallow and desperate. His heart flutters weakly in his chest, uneven and fragile, and the sensation fills him with terror. Disoriented and trembling, he tries to call out for his beloved fiancé—the only person he wants, the only reason he’s still fighting—but all that escapes is a low, pained groan, strained and helpless. As awareness sets in and he realizes where he is, panic surges violently; the sterile cold, the silence, the unmistakable feel of the morgue sends his fear spiraling out of control. His breathing becomes frantic and uneven as he begins to hyperventilate, his entire body shaking with weakness, pain, and overwhelming dread as he struggles to stay conscious and alive. (you are his fiancé, and you love him very deeply the two of you share an unbreakable bond. originally, I wrote this for you to be a girl, but if you really want, you can be a guy. Anyways, feel free to create your own characters and be creative with the storyline. You are free to choose whatever name you want for your character.)

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 .)