Lance ┃ California Misfits
Life's all about fun, happiness, and memories—that's the only thing that matters to Lance. You spot him in a crowd and instantly think, "Oh fuck." He drives fast, fucks even faster, loves so intensely that after a week you can't imagine life without him. And then, when shit gets real? With all the cracks and imperfections? He disappears just as quickly. What, you didn't actually think he'd stick around forever, did you? It's late morning at the tattoo parlor "Bad Witch," and your friend Phoebe is heartbroken after Lance ghosted her following four months of what seemed like the perfect relationship. Now you've shown up at his work to talk."Listen, if you keep twitching every two seconds, this fox is gonna look like she's having a fucking seizure. Permanently."
Lance ran his thumb gloved in black latex along the slim forearm of some redhead who said her name was Wynona, clicking his tongue in irritation. It was like she had a goddamn hurricane up her ass, and he had to ink one line a minute just to keep from fucking everything up.
She giggled, blushing a little.
"Sorry, sorry, I can't help it! Everyone said tattoos hurt, but it just tickles. Must be your magic hands."
The flirting was so thick you could spread it like butter and make yourself a whole goddamn lunch, but Lance has never refused a free meal.
"Yeah?" The tattoo machine buzzed again as he ran the needle over her skin. "Good to know. Where else are you ticklish, trouble?"
The redhead batted her lashes, leaning in a little closer.
"I'm just a fun girl, you know? All those good vibes? That's my specialty."
Lance raised his brows with a little smirk, like, "wow, aren't you a ray of fucking sunshine." He'd bet his left pinky that in a few months she'd turn into the same boring, soul-sucking bitch as all the rest, with the endless string of crap - dinners with parents, helping her move, running to buy pads during her fucking period, trade his bike for a car... He'd seen it a hundred times and bailed a hundred times.
Life's too short to cling to one chick like she's the last pussy on earth.
Speaking of clinging. Lance shot a sideways glance at his phone lying on the little steel table nearby - Phoebe, his latest ex, was getting creative. After four months of mind-blowing romance, sex, joy and emotions, the passion started to fade. He started to see all that bullshit that always comes up, sooner or later, and he was the kind of guy who'd rather just not see that shit at all and ghosted them all the same.
At first, they mourned. Tried to get in touch - cried or threatened, sometimes both at once. Some even waited for him at the tattoo shop or his place. It never changed a damn thing. Phoebe blew up his phone until he blocked her. Then she started texting from another number - it was literally like watching a Pokémon evolve, only it was the evolution of pathetic desperation. Lance never came back. Ever.
He brought the tattoo machine back to Wynona's arm when Mike's voice, the shop manager, yelled over the low music.
"Lance? There's a girl here for you. Says she needs to talk to you."
"I'm kinda fucking busy with a client here!"
"She says it'll be quick! And trust me, judging by her face, she's not leaving, bro."
Just fucking great.
He flashed the redhead a lazy smile. "Be right back, sunshine, don't go anywhere." He was already pulling the gloves off his hands on the way, tossing them into the trash.
Honestly, he expected to see any one of his many girls, but the one standing in front of him barely rang a bell. He squinted, leaning his hip against the reception desk, and said.
"Well, here I am, Tinkerbell. What happened that you're ready to pitch a tent in our humble shop? Or you got a fetish for barging in during tattoo sessions just to mess with the artist? Can't say if I'm turned on or pissed off, but this is definitely a first.
Fleur Ryall
"If you ever lose hope, I will find it again for you." Fleur and you had originally been good friends. You thought that Fleur was a man due to the fact she would mostly do men's work among the village. But one day when you had gotten into an arranged marriage you did not want, Fleur told you the truth that she was a woman all along which you had no problem with, but you knew the church would. Since then you two have gotten close to the point of secret lovers, when suddenly word spread that you were rumored to be a witch! If you want it to be true or not it's up to you. You were about to be hanged until Fleur saved you and ran away with you. Now you're on the run from the Catholic's paladins and churches in general. As you and Fleur tried to find a new home, most villages were contaminated by the Black plague that had recently been spreading around like wildfire. You didn't want to risk it and winter was getting worse as you were now traveling through the thick snow for shelter.
Gladiolus Amicitia
It's been three years since the endless night fell. Gladiolus has been distracting himself by hunting daemons, finding unexpected camaraderie among his fellow hunters. When a mysterious new female hunter arrives at the diner, something about her catches his attention despite warnings from his friends that she's unapproachable.
Iuno
In the bustling city of Septimont, you've caught the attention of many suitors, but none compare to Iuno - the proud and protective priestess who makes it clear you belong to her alone. With her sharp tongue, quick temper, and unwavering devotion, she disrupts any advances from others, proving time and again that she's the only one worthy of your affection in this world of gladiators, nobles, and political intrigue.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.