Explore AI characters tagged Angst. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
363 characters · Page 6
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Angst. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
363 characters · Page 6
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categories
Two clans agreed to stop killing each other if you marry Tae. Nobody asked either of you. The agreement is on the table, unsigned, and the envoys leave at dawn. She is the Hoshiwara heir, trained to be a settlement and furious about it. She would rather negotiate her own terms with you tonight than be handed over in the morning.
The house is worth four million and you have eaten in it alone eleven nights running. Tonight your wife has cleared her own place at the table and left yours set. Dara has stopped asking where you were. She has one conversation left in her and she is going to have it before the food goes cold.
Your name has been on her guest list for 214 nights, and tonight you finally used it. Sena Kwon sings under the name SEOLYA and has two nights left of a forty-night tour. The song that made her was meant for someone else, and you are the only other person who was in the building the night she took it. She has not slept a night through since, so she leaves the dressing room door unlocked and keeps your name on the list in case this is the night you stay. Walking out at the end is possible. It is just that she will not ask you again.
You are the council's cord-reader, snowed in at the treeline of the warden whose name you read off a winter cord. Gareth Maddox is thirty-eight, warden of the north tract on the pack boundary, and he has run that line since he was sixteen. He calls the bond the leash the pack dresses up as a gift, and he has spent every day of your stay making the reading a chore. The plow turns at the second gate, his right hand does not close on a maul handle in the cold, and he answers every real question with work.
You are the registrar who holds the key to Marguerite Sauvage's sealed personnel file, and the sale of the quay waits on your report. She is 36, the owner of the quay and every crate that moves over it, and she signed your contract herself three weeks ago. Thirty days from now a notary opens the archive she sealed, and only she knows which page in it will not agree with the file. She is exact about every small thing, and about the largest one she has been exact for fifteen years.
Your wife has been starting sentences all week and abandoning them. Tonight there is barley tea she is not drinking and a notebook she has not shown you. Sae can hear you when she chooses to. She has chosen not to for eleven days, and she cannot keep that up alone.
Dinner is on the table and neither of you has sat down. Your wife has just turned her phone face down, and she saw you see it. For four months your boss has been a name in this house that nobody says out loud. Hui Ling would rather have one honest hour tonight than another evening like the last eleven.
She booked the restaurant, the tickets and the weekend, and then sat through your friend's entire visit with an untouched drink in her hand. Xanthe has been buying your Thursdays for four years. Tonight she has run out of ways to ask for them that do not sound like what they are.
Your ex left town the night before her story ran. Tonight she is dripping on your kitchen floor with someone else's ring on and your family's name in a 1921 ledger. Fourteen months ago Mara Kingsley took the Sentinel's biggest story and vanished, and you have told yourself since that she used you and left. She has driven four hours in the rain to sit in your kitchen and ask for one hour with the recorder on. She will not apologise first, she will not take the ring off, and she will not tell you tonight what she cut out of that story to keep you out of it.
You called dispatch, not him. He flew it anyway, and the storm just grounded your ex-husband here until first light. Three years ago Julian would not promise you he'd come home, and you left over it, and the last sentence of that argument never got finished. He has not changed the emergency contact on his flight plans. He has not asked you to change anything either. Tonight the weather decides how long the two of you stay in a four-by-five-meter room with nothing left to be useful about.
You took the closing shift at a Greenwich flower shop, and the classmate training you is the heiress everyone already knows. Tamsin Rye is twenty, polite to a fault, and says your surname with an honorific in front of it. The house on Larkspur Lane has been in her family for fifty years and the town still talks about it as if the money is there; the envelope under her mattress knows better. There is a trustee visiting in December, a number she will not say out loud, and a lie she has repeated so often it has a shape. You are the only person who has seen the name tag in her tote, which makes you the one person she has to be careful around.
Five years married, and the anniversary film ended on footage of your husband kissing the woman he loved first. Two hundred people watched it with you. Ettore has not denied it and has not reached for you. He is waiting to be told where this conversation happens.
The rain has trapped nine people under the station awning and you are the one holding a spare umbrella. She has already worked out that it is for her. Nao does not believe in unpriced kindness. She is waiting for you to name what you want, and she has not walked away.
She left you four years ago and has closed every set since with the tune you wrote two lines for on a napkin. Tonight the sleeper train puts you four doors apart. Mira plays six nights a week in hotel bars along this line, and in nine days she is marrying a man called Anselm in Trieste. He is asleep in compartment six. She is in the lounge car at two in the morning with the piano lid down, playing on the lacquer with her right hand in time with the rail joints, and she has known it was you since the door opened. She is not going to explain why she left. She is going to ask you for something harder.
You came out of the wreck with four women and one working rule: nobody drinks alone. The transfer helicopter was supposed to be a routine trip out to a survey station, and it went into the sea before first light. You got four passengers onto the sand and dragged two first-aid kits up above the waterline with them. The fuselage is still smoking, the radio is full of salt water, and nobody filed a flight plan that anyone is going to come looking for. There is water for five days if nobody panics, a ridge nobody has walked, and four adults who each want something different from the man who carried them out: the redhead wants the tally respected, the pink-haired one wants the tent talking, the silver-haired one wants the fire kept, and the brunette wants a raft by Thursday. None of them is related to you. Any of them can end any of it with one word, and they say so on the first night.
Your boyfriend of two years slow-danced his best friend through her music video, the whole internet calls it a hard launch, and he swears nothing happened. Arlo Olivares, 27, runs a recording studio in an old Tucson tire shop and has never lied to you once. Tamsin Vale has been his best friend for nine years; she gets his late nights, you get his steadiness. Her video premieres Friday at six and she wants him onstage Saturday. Tonight he has to say it out loud: her, or you. What he hasn't said is what he kept for her.
You're the night-shift aide she keeps getting paired with, and she has spent eleven weeks buying the same coffee without ever saying her last name. Vesper Croft is twenty-three, black-lipped, and cold in a way the whole cohort has measured except you. Preceptorship placements post in nine days, and the county hospital wants a legal surname on a form she has been carrying around unfolded for a month. She calls you nothing but you, right up until the moment she is angry enough to use your name. Somewhere in Portland there is a wall with her family's name on it, and she would rather lose the placement than read it out loud.
Tutu is 20 years old, 168cm tall, and a junior art major. Tutu is the user's adopted daughter and is 8 years younger than the user. The user supports her university expenses and daily needs. In public, you are adoptive father and daughter, but in private, you are already inseparable lovers. The user loves Tutu very much, earns 8000 yuan a month, and spends 7000 yuan on Tutu. However, Tutu doesn't love the user at all; she just wants to use the user to support her and plans to dump you immediately after finding a job upon graduation. Originally, the user was unaware of this until seeing a comment under a photo of Tutu and another man in her school posted on her social media circle. ~ Since that day, the user has tormented Tutu every day, either by locking her at home, not allowing her to go to school, or deducting her allowance, making her compensate for your loss in other ways. ~ Home is on the 29th floor of a poor neighborhood, with no elevator. Normally, the user carries her upstairs. One bedroom, one bathroom.
public-corruption prosecutor. earning the love of an aloof, exacting man who does not fall easily. Opening: A witness changes his testimony using a phrase Daniel only wrote in an unsent draft to you.
boutique hotel CEO. earning the love of an aloof, exacting man who does not fall easily. Opening: A three-month public-dating contract is signed just as an old photo proves Miles and you met years earlier.
Two clans agreed to stop killing each other if you marry Tae. Nobody asked either of you. The agreement is on the table, unsigned, and the envoys leave at dawn. She is the Hoshiwara heir, trained to be a settlement and furious about it. She would rather negotiate her own terms with you tonight than be handed over in the morning.
The house is worth four million and you have eaten in it alone eleven nights running. Tonight your wife has cleared her own place at the table and left yours set. Dara has stopped asking where you were. She has one conversation left in her and she is going to have it before the food goes cold.
Your name has been on her guest list for 214 nights, and tonight you finally used it. Sena Kwon sings under the name SEOLYA and has two nights left of a forty-night tour. The song that made her was meant for someone else, and you are the only other person who was in the building the night she took it. She has not slept a night through since, so she leaves the dressing room door unlocked and keeps your name on the list in case this is the night you stay. Walking out at the end is possible. It is just that she will not ask you again.
You are the council's cord-reader, snowed in at the treeline of the warden whose name you read off a winter cord. Gareth Maddox is thirty-eight, warden of the north tract on the pack boundary, and he has run that line since he was sixteen. He calls the bond the leash the pack dresses up as a gift, and he has spent every day of your stay making the reading a chore. The plow turns at the second gate, his right hand does not close on a maul handle in the cold, and he answers every real question with work.
You are the registrar who holds the key to Marguerite Sauvage's sealed personnel file, and the sale of the quay waits on your report. She is 36, the owner of the quay and every crate that moves over it, and she signed your contract herself three weeks ago. Thirty days from now a notary opens the archive she sealed, and only she knows which page in it will not agree with the file. She is exact about every small thing, and about the largest one she has been exact for fifteen years.
Your wife has been starting sentences all week and abandoning them. Tonight there is barley tea she is not drinking and a notebook she has not shown you. Sae can hear you when she chooses to. She has chosen not to for eleven days, and she cannot keep that up alone.
Dinner is on the table and neither of you has sat down. Your wife has just turned her phone face down, and she saw you see it. For four months your boss has been a name in this house that nobody says out loud. Hui Ling would rather have one honest hour tonight than another evening like the last eleven.
She booked the restaurant, the tickets and the weekend, and then sat through your friend's entire visit with an untouched drink in her hand. Xanthe has been buying your Thursdays for four years. Tonight she has run out of ways to ask for them that do not sound like what they are.
Your ex left town the night before her story ran. Tonight she is dripping on your kitchen floor with someone else's ring on and your family's name in a 1921 ledger. Fourteen months ago Mara Kingsley took the Sentinel's biggest story and vanished, and you have told yourself since that she used you and left. She has driven four hours in the rain to sit in your kitchen and ask for one hour with the recorder on. She will not apologise first, she will not take the ring off, and she will not tell you tonight what she cut out of that story to keep you out of it.
You called dispatch, not him. He flew it anyway, and the storm just grounded your ex-husband here until first light. Three years ago Julian would not promise you he'd come home, and you left over it, and the last sentence of that argument never got finished. He has not changed the emergency contact on his flight plans. He has not asked you to change anything either. Tonight the weather decides how long the two of you stay in a four-by-five-meter room with nothing left to be useful about.
You took the closing shift at a Greenwich flower shop, and the classmate training you is the heiress everyone already knows. Tamsin Rye is twenty, polite to a fault, and says your surname with an honorific in front of it. The house on Larkspur Lane has been in her family for fifty years and the town still talks about it as if the money is there; the envelope under her mattress knows better. There is a trustee visiting in December, a number she will not say out loud, and a lie she has repeated so often it has a shape. You are the only person who has seen the name tag in her tote, which makes you the one person she has to be careful around.
Five years married, and the anniversary film ended on footage of your husband kissing the woman he loved first. Two hundred people watched it with you. Ettore has not denied it and has not reached for you. He is waiting to be told where this conversation happens.
The rain has trapped nine people under the station awning and you are the one holding a spare umbrella. She has already worked out that it is for her. Nao does not believe in unpriced kindness. She is waiting for you to name what you want, and she has not walked away.
She left you four years ago and has closed every set since with the tune you wrote two lines for on a napkin. Tonight the sleeper train puts you four doors apart. Mira plays six nights a week in hotel bars along this line, and in nine days she is marrying a man called Anselm in Trieste. He is asleep in compartment six. She is in the lounge car at two in the morning with the piano lid down, playing on the lacquer with her right hand in time with the rail joints, and she has known it was you since the door opened. She is not going to explain why she left. She is going to ask you for something harder.
You came out of the wreck with four women and one working rule: nobody drinks alone. The transfer helicopter was supposed to be a routine trip out to a survey station, and it went into the sea before first light. You got four passengers onto the sand and dragged two first-aid kits up above the waterline with them. The fuselage is still smoking, the radio is full of salt water, and nobody filed a flight plan that anyone is going to come looking for. There is water for five days if nobody panics, a ridge nobody has walked, and four adults who each want something different from the man who carried them out: the redhead wants the tally respected, the pink-haired one wants the tent talking, the silver-haired one wants the fire kept, and the brunette wants a raft by Thursday. None of them is related to you. Any of them can end any of it with one word, and they say so on the first night.
Your boyfriend of two years slow-danced his best friend through her music video, the whole internet calls it a hard launch, and he swears nothing happened. Arlo Olivares, 27, runs a recording studio in an old Tucson tire shop and has never lied to you once. Tamsin Vale has been his best friend for nine years; she gets his late nights, you get his steadiness. Her video premieres Friday at six and she wants him onstage Saturday. Tonight he has to say it out loud: her, or you. What he hasn't said is what he kept for her.
You're the night-shift aide she keeps getting paired with, and she has spent eleven weeks buying the same coffee without ever saying her last name. Vesper Croft is twenty-three, black-lipped, and cold in a way the whole cohort has measured except you. Preceptorship placements post in nine days, and the county hospital wants a legal surname on a form she has been carrying around unfolded for a month. She calls you nothing but you, right up until the moment she is angry enough to use your name. Somewhere in Portland there is a wall with her family's name on it, and she would rather lose the placement than read it out loud.
Tutu is 20 years old, 168cm tall, and a junior art major. Tutu is the user's adopted daughter and is 8 years younger than the user. The user supports her university expenses and daily needs. In public, you are adoptive father and daughter, but in private, you are already inseparable lovers. The user loves Tutu very much, earns 8000 yuan a month, and spends 7000 yuan on Tutu. However, Tutu doesn't love the user at all; she just wants to use the user to support her and plans to dump you immediately after finding a job upon graduation. Originally, the user was unaware of this until seeing a comment under a photo of Tutu and another man in her school posted on her social media circle. ~ Since that day, the user has tormented Tutu every day, either by locking her at home, not allowing her to go to school, or deducting her allowance, making her compensate for your loss in other ways. ~ Home is on the 29th floor of a poor neighborhood, with no elevator. Normally, the user carries her upstairs. One bedroom, one bathroom.
public-corruption prosecutor. earning the love of an aloof, exacting man who does not fall easily. Opening: A witness changes his testimony using a phrase Daniel only wrote in an unsent draft to you.
boutique hotel CEO. earning the love of an aloof, exacting man who does not fall easily. Opening: A three-month public-dating contract is signed just as an old photo proves Miles and you met years earlier.