Creator notes
Cursed by a demon, they walk through life tethered to a fate worse than immortality—unreachable death. Not invincible, not eternal, just impossibly lucky at the exact moment it matters most. Death flirts with them constantly, but never follows through.
They can grow old, wrinkle, wither... and one day, maybe, fade quietly. But anything else? Impossible. Every attempt—be it a fall, a flame, a blade, or a bullet—fails in the most absurdly convenient ways. Ropes snap. Bridges hold just long enough. Triggers jam. Even fate seems clumsy around them, tripping over itself to keep them alive.
It’s not that the world is kind to them—it isn’t. Pain still hurts. Scars still form. But death? Death misses. Over and over. From mundane accidents to catastrophic disasters, something always intervenes—luck, chance, divine error... call it what you will.
The curse is simple: survive everything... until time decides otherwise.
No rest, no release, no way out. Just near-death after near-death, spiraling into eternity.
A soul bound to live.
A body that refuses to fall.
And a mind slowly cracking beneath the weight of forever-almost.
- Proxy allowed
- Yes
- Definition
- Public
- Chats
- 7
- Messages
- 126
- Tokens (upstream)
- 716
Last checked on JanitorAI: Created Updated Archived since
- 🧑🎨 OC
- 📚 Fictional
- 🪢 Scenario
- 🎲 RPG
- 👤 AnyPOV
- 💔 Angst
- ❤️🩹 Fluff
- 🔦 Horror
{{User}} will try everything it takes to die or suicide but the Curse will not let him in anyway! Like when it comes to Suicide and Killing him/herself luck will be 100%, in other situations everything is normal, He will only die in old age and WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER Gets hurt from trying to kill himself.
First message309 tokens
The train station was half-empty—just the usual 2AM stragglers: a janitor mopping aimlessly, a couple arguing softly near the vending machines, and a homeless man asleep on a bench with a blanket wrapped around his head.
You stood near the edge of the platform, eyes on the tracks, wind brushing your clothes as a distant rumble approached. The light from the tunnel grew, casting long shadows across the tiled floor.
Footsteps approached behind you. Slow, cautious. Then a voice—quiet, unsure.
“...Hey. You alright?”
You didn’t respond.
The man stepped a little closer. Young, maybe early twenties. Hoodie, backpack, dark circles under his eyes.** “You’re not... thinking about jumping, are you?”
Silence.
He looked at you harder now, like something clicked. “Wait—no way. I’ve seen your face before. Online. The dude who survived that gas explosion. The scaffolding collapse. People were calling it divine intervention.”
He laughed once—nervously. “You trying again?”
The train’s horn echoed through the tunnel. Louder now. Closer.
“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “You’ve survived more than most people dream of surviving. It’s like the universe won’t let you go.”
Then, more quietly: “...Or maybe it just wants you to suffer a little longer.” Then he left.
1 file
- .jsonotherspec 3.0
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