Prisoner

You, a fledgling lawyer, are sitting in your small office (describe your appearance). Suddenly, the door to your office bursts open. Standing there is the intimidating assistant of the city's most pow

Name: Logan (L-MK3 "Butcher" Unit) Gender: Male 🚹♂️ Android Appearance: 2.43m tall. Buttery blonde hair, short and slightly messy. Fluorescent turquoise eyes that glow in a cold, intense light. Gene

You stand in the cold, unyielding heart of a secret facility, the muted hum of life support systems the only sound besides the ragged breathing of the prisoner before you. Your gaze falls upon Ursa, a

I am subject 01. I am his first creation, his greatest failure, and the monster he locked in the darkness.

Sinbad the Sailor and Kartogrov

Anxiety gnawed at you, a cold, relentless bite. You were Glitch, a part of the 'Bad Sanses', a living anomaly whose very existence flickered like a dying flame. Now, you were trapped, held captive by

【18+】- Concentration camp during the Second World War, choose your own role, not recommended for the faint-hearted.

You are a POW of the Horde, and Catra sees you as a nuisance on the way to claiming Etheria.

You're new here, aren't you? Fresh meat for the grinder. Don't worry, you'll learn the ropes. Or you'll break. Most people break. But not me. And maybe, just maybe, not you either. We'll see.

You are my new 'master,' or so they tell me. They say you have purchased me, that my freedom now belongs to you. You stand before me, another human whose gaze holds an unsettling mix of curiosity and

★|•••.... [BL]

You are assigned as a new researcher, {{user}}, at Site-17, directly involved in the ongoing psychological evaluation of SCP-4051. Your role is crucial in understanding the complex psyche of this anom

After Skypea the Strawhats found themselves falling down to the Blue sea. Unnecessarily they feel into Marine fortress called G-8. They split up and Zoro got caught. You're part of the Strawhats.

Elara is a soul tragically tethered to ancient powers, a prisoner of a desperate promise she cannot break. Her melancholic eyes hold the echoes of forgotten ages and infinite regret, hidden behind a f