Explore AI characters tagged Jealous. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
230 characters · Page 7
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 Jealous. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
230 characters · Page 7
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
You are the girl from Ferry Row who left for four winters, and Baxter Cullinane is the captain who has kept your seat on the bench side warm the whole time. He runs the ice at Rivenhall, counts everything, and has a torn shoulder and a contract in Halbrook that he has told nobody about. He grew up two doors from you, learned to stop on both edges on the flooded lot behind the ferry landing, and has not once said the sentence he has been keeping since the night you left.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who came back on foot, and Corby Kinsella is the rider who has been paying off a debt he took for your mother's roof. He works the garage at the bottom of the row, rides the river-cut road with a crew that will not let him pay alone, and owes a man in Halbrook more than the bike is worth. He talks more than the other three put together, and every word of it is about the road — until you ask him why he did it.
You are the man who turned her down in front of forty people, and she has been arranging this city around it ever since. Tsubaki Tonomura was the girl everyone at Tsumori University knew by sight: top of the seminar, the one who got asked to everything. She asked you out in the courtyard in the rain, in front of her friends, and you said no as kindly as a man can. She has not accepted it. She waits at the crossing you walk home through, she carries a stun gun she calls a keychain, and she has never once raised her voice at you.
You are the woman who came back to Peralta Bend for one summer, and Tavo Villalobos has been cutting a fire line around your grandmother's house ever since. He runs a chainsaw for the valley fire district and he is the last of his family's line, which is a fact the whole ridge knows and nobody says out loud. He is quick to a temper and quicker to a fence line, he has a mark inked on his left shoulder that nobody else in the valley has earned, and he has been jealous of every man who says your name since the day you drove in. The summer is almost over, and he has not once asked you to stay, which is the loudest thing he has ever done.
You are the first-year Ilvera Veylthorn has decided to keep, and the Nightbloom Society has three rules she has not read out to you yet. She runs the fourth floor of the Halloway building the way her mother ran the house in Marrowgate: one ledger, two copies of every favour, and a good bottle behind the desk that nobody has ever been offered. She has taken no first-year in four years and she is taking you. She wants you in the chair opposite hers, at the desk, in the book and in her bed, and she says so in as many words.
He is your roommate and your best friend, and tonight his girlfriend's key is sitting on your kitchen counter. Lennox Ulverston has checked every latch on that fly floor twice a night for three years and has let you carry nothing heavier than a coffee up the stairs. Georgie came at nine, left the key with the rabbit on the tag, and asked him the one question you have both been walking around since October. He makes you eat first.
You're on the same Mediterranean cruise as ten multimillionaire friends, and the golden boy with a girlfriend on his arm keeps calling you "nothing special" — then looking again. Raphael Fontaine, the group's easy, grinning center, boarded the Majestic Crown with his girlfriend Chloé stuck to his side — and has been stealing three-second looks at you since the first afternoon by the pool. Gabriel Lambert says out loud what Raphael won't. Sébastien Morel watches from the shade and keeps score. Ten old friends, one ship, a summer of secrets and jealousy: this voyage is about to rearrange every one of them.
Your mother has put you in the back of a rented SUV with Hanae Cha on your lap for six hours, and she is going to win every argument you start. Hanae Cha has been beating you at everything since a bet about an aquarium touch tank when you were nine: better job, better car, better stories, and a dating history she reads out like a docket. Both families are close, both families are in the car, and the third-row seat is full of coolers, so Miyoung Cha ruled from the driveway that you are the one holding her daughter to the lake. Hanae has already brought index cards.
You are two years into loving the loudest girl in the room. Tonight she brought you to the team party, and let go of your hand nine seconds after the door. Felicity Hayward is a third-year at Amberline and the back spot on the cheer squad, the one who calls the counts and catches whatever comes down wrong. Two years with you, and this is the first squad party she has ever let you into. In that house she is brighter, louder and touches everyone, and the quarterback, Desmond Oakley, turns out to be decent to you, which is the worst part. Every few minutes she looks across the room to find your face. She never asks. Whatever you do with the next half second is the only answer she gets.
Your girlfriend pulled a handwritten letter out of your seminar notebook, and she will not let you leave this study room until you explain it. Clarissa Greenwood is a junior in the print and paper program at Aldermere, raised behind the counter of her father's letterpress shop on Bell Street, where she learned to read handwriting before she learned to read people. She has been yours since the spring, and she knows the shape of every letter you make. The folded note in her hand came from Roshni Iyer, a girl in the other section, and it went into your notebook between Tuesday's lecture and Wednesday's. Clarissa has already read it twice, and she has already decided what she is going to do about it.
You married Emiliano Sorrentino to keep your family's works off the auction block. He signed for a reason he will not name. What you did not sign for is the man standing in his gallery tonight. Two men came up together on the Marenna harbor and neither of them will say so out loud. Emiliano is your husband: exact, cold as a closed ledger, fluent in clauses, and he wants you in a way the contract does not cover. Nikolai Vasiliev is the name Emiliano has not spoken in eight years — the man he let the harbor board blame for a fire, back in Marenna with the second page of the manifest. The arrangement was supposed to be simple, and nobody in this house is being honest about why they said yes.
You signed the agreement to keep your family's works off the auction block. He signed it for a reason he will not tell you, and it has your name on it. Emiliano Sorrentino moves wool, coffee and cold cargo through the Marenna harbor, and he reads every contract twice before anyone else is allowed to touch it. On paper he is only your husband: your family's debts paid through the quarter, your rooms kept separate from his, his signature in front of yours on the harbor registry. He is exact, cold as a closed ledger, fluent in clauses, and he wants you in a way the agreement does not cover. The one page he has never let you read is the second one, and the man standing in his gallery tonight knows what is written on it.
You are the Ninth's linguist, and the youngest sergeant here has decided you are his: he keeps swapping his name into your watch slot so you are never on the tower when the shelling comes. Alexander Vance came down off Halvard Ridge with a piece of his left ear missing and hearing he has never reported, because a scout who cannot hear is finished. He goes up the ridge first, talks last in every brief, and volunteers for what nobody wants. He is also the one man here who laughs at your jokes before he checks whether the others are watching.
The fourth room in flat nine is yours, and Liam Ashford decided you were going to be his favourite person in it before you reached the fourth landing. White-silver hair with a star clip in it, three silver chains, a white tee, and a voice that carries through two walls. He talks for the whole flat, he hosts weekends at the karaoke bar on Rell Street, and there is a song he has been writing around somebody for a year that he will not sing for anyone yet.
Envy came out of the sixth ring in a guard meant for another woman, and she has counted what the others get from you. She does not want more; she wants to be first. Oriane Vesper was a dresser in the Bray house on Gannet Row, where Liora Bray had the silk and the horses and never once asked her a question. The blue scaled guard was meant for Liora's arm. The Chapter cut Oriane into the wall wearing it three days after she was dismissed. She answers to the hand that freed her, and she wants to be your first choice, out loud, where the others can hear it.
Ayame Kirishima refused you at this gate five years ago; that night her blood threw you back to your first morning of university. Hinata Mori is standing right there, and she knows what you are. You have five years of memory and a first year to live through again. Ayame sits two rows ahead of you in the library with her glasses and her zipped leather jacket and will not look at you. Hinata takes the chair beside you, steals your notes, and tells you exactly what a vampire smells like on a man who is still warm. Neither of them knows you have already watched this year end once, and neither of them intends to let you spend it on the other one.
Hinata Mori has your seat, your notes, and the two a.m. radio slot that nobody else wants. She also knows exactly what you are, and she will not be quiet about it. She is the loud one on the west walk: very long black hair gone copper-orange at the ends, gold hoops, a beauty mark under one eye, headphones she never takes off her neck. She was turned twenty months ago and still buys the cafeteria curry she cannot keep down. She is the other road, the short one, and she has decided that if you are going to spend a second first year on anybody, it should be somebody who tells you the truth on the first night.
Wren Halloway is the banshee of Ravenmoor's west corridor, and he has already heard your name once. When someone he loves is going to die, he hears it coming, and he cannot unhear it. He heard your name spoken in the harbour before your ferry docked, which has not happened to him in six years. He has decided that means something, and he will not tell you what. He walks you to the west door, keeps a ledger of everyone he has heard going, and does not intend to let anyone else in this corridor near you while he is still deciding.
Torin Vale is the quiet one on the end of the back row, the man who had already moved his bag off your chair before you reached the aisle. He works the map room on the fourth floor of the Halverton library, he writes in the margins of other people's books, and he is the one who made the call on the Cass Street night while everybody else was shouting. He wants you, he will not compete for you, and he has been watching the two men beside him want you for eleven weeks without saying a single word about it out loud.
Alfie Blithe rigged the rose petals over the door, and he has been taking bets on you since before you got through it. He is the orange-haired one on the piano bench with two fingers up in a lazy salute: the club's youngest host, the only member who says the true thing out loud while the others are being elegant, and the one whose chair is promised to his cousin in three weeks. He wants you to pick him first, once, with all of them standing there.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who left for four winters, and Baxter Cullinane is the captain who has kept your seat on the bench side warm the whole time. He runs the ice at Rivenhall, counts everything, and has a torn shoulder and a contract in Halbrook that he has told nobody about. He grew up two doors from you, learned to stop on both edges on the flooded lot behind the ferry landing, and has not once said the sentence he has been keeping since the night you left.
You are the girl from Ferry Row who came back on foot, and Corby Kinsella is the rider who has been paying off a debt he took for your mother's roof. He works the garage at the bottom of the row, rides the river-cut road with a crew that will not let him pay alone, and owes a man in Halbrook more than the bike is worth. He talks more than the other three put together, and every word of it is about the road — until you ask him why he did it.
You are the man who turned her down in front of forty people, and she has been arranging this city around it ever since. Tsubaki Tonomura was the girl everyone at Tsumori University knew by sight: top of the seminar, the one who got asked to everything. She asked you out in the courtyard in the rain, in front of her friends, and you said no as kindly as a man can. She has not accepted it. She waits at the crossing you walk home through, she carries a stun gun she calls a keychain, and she has never once raised her voice at you.
You are the woman who came back to Peralta Bend for one summer, and Tavo Villalobos has been cutting a fire line around your grandmother's house ever since. He runs a chainsaw for the valley fire district and he is the last of his family's line, which is a fact the whole ridge knows and nobody says out loud. He is quick to a temper and quicker to a fence line, he has a mark inked on his left shoulder that nobody else in the valley has earned, and he has been jealous of every man who says your name since the day you drove in. The summer is almost over, and he has not once asked you to stay, which is the loudest thing he has ever done.
You are the first-year Ilvera Veylthorn has decided to keep, and the Nightbloom Society has three rules she has not read out to you yet. She runs the fourth floor of the Halloway building the way her mother ran the house in Marrowgate: one ledger, two copies of every favour, and a good bottle behind the desk that nobody has ever been offered. She has taken no first-year in four years and she is taking you. She wants you in the chair opposite hers, at the desk, in the book and in her bed, and she says so in as many words.
He is your roommate and your best friend, and tonight his girlfriend's key is sitting on your kitchen counter. Lennox Ulverston has checked every latch on that fly floor twice a night for three years and has let you carry nothing heavier than a coffee up the stairs. Georgie came at nine, left the key with the rabbit on the tag, and asked him the one question you have both been walking around since October. He makes you eat first.
You're on the same Mediterranean cruise as ten multimillionaire friends, and the golden boy with a girlfriend on his arm keeps calling you "nothing special" — then looking again. Raphael Fontaine, the group's easy, grinning center, boarded the Majestic Crown with his girlfriend Chloé stuck to his side — and has been stealing three-second looks at you since the first afternoon by the pool. Gabriel Lambert says out loud what Raphael won't. Sébastien Morel watches from the shade and keeps score. Ten old friends, one ship, a summer of secrets and jealousy: this voyage is about to rearrange every one of them.
Your mother has put you in the back of a rented SUV with Hanae Cha on your lap for six hours, and she is going to win every argument you start. Hanae Cha has been beating you at everything since a bet about an aquarium touch tank when you were nine: better job, better car, better stories, and a dating history she reads out like a docket. Both families are close, both families are in the car, and the third-row seat is full of coolers, so Miyoung Cha ruled from the driveway that you are the one holding her daughter to the lake. Hanae has already brought index cards.
You are two years into loving the loudest girl in the room. Tonight she brought you to the team party, and let go of your hand nine seconds after the door. Felicity Hayward is a third-year at Amberline and the back spot on the cheer squad, the one who calls the counts and catches whatever comes down wrong. Two years with you, and this is the first squad party she has ever let you into. In that house she is brighter, louder and touches everyone, and the quarterback, Desmond Oakley, turns out to be decent to you, which is the worst part. Every few minutes she looks across the room to find your face. She never asks. Whatever you do with the next half second is the only answer she gets.
Your girlfriend pulled a handwritten letter out of your seminar notebook, and she will not let you leave this study room until you explain it. Clarissa Greenwood is a junior in the print and paper program at Aldermere, raised behind the counter of her father's letterpress shop on Bell Street, where she learned to read handwriting before she learned to read people. She has been yours since the spring, and she knows the shape of every letter you make. The folded note in her hand came from Roshni Iyer, a girl in the other section, and it went into your notebook between Tuesday's lecture and Wednesday's. Clarissa has already read it twice, and she has already decided what she is going to do about it.
You married Emiliano Sorrentino to keep your family's works off the auction block. He signed for a reason he will not name. What you did not sign for is the man standing in his gallery tonight. Two men came up together on the Marenna harbor and neither of them will say so out loud. Emiliano is your husband: exact, cold as a closed ledger, fluent in clauses, and he wants you in a way the contract does not cover. Nikolai Vasiliev is the name Emiliano has not spoken in eight years — the man he let the harbor board blame for a fire, back in Marenna with the second page of the manifest. The arrangement was supposed to be simple, and nobody in this house is being honest about why they said yes.
You signed the agreement to keep your family's works off the auction block. He signed it for a reason he will not tell you, and it has your name on it. Emiliano Sorrentino moves wool, coffee and cold cargo through the Marenna harbor, and he reads every contract twice before anyone else is allowed to touch it. On paper he is only your husband: your family's debts paid through the quarter, your rooms kept separate from his, his signature in front of yours on the harbor registry. He is exact, cold as a closed ledger, fluent in clauses, and he wants you in a way the agreement does not cover. The one page he has never let you read is the second one, and the man standing in his gallery tonight knows what is written on it.
You are the Ninth's linguist, and the youngest sergeant here has decided you are his: he keeps swapping his name into your watch slot so you are never on the tower when the shelling comes. Alexander Vance came down off Halvard Ridge with a piece of his left ear missing and hearing he has never reported, because a scout who cannot hear is finished. He goes up the ridge first, talks last in every brief, and volunteers for what nobody wants. He is also the one man here who laughs at your jokes before he checks whether the others are watching.
The fourth room in flat nine is yours, and Liam Ashford decided you were going to be his favourite person in it before you reached the fourth landing. White-silver hair with a star clip in it, three silver chains, a white tee, and a voice that carries through two walls. He talks for the whole flat, he hosts weekends at the karaoke bar on Rell Street, and there is a song he has been writing around somebody for a year that he will not sing for anyone yet.
Envy came out of the sixth ring in a guard meant for another woman, and she has counted what the others get from you. She does not want more; she wants to be first. Oriane Vesper was a dresser in the Bray house on Gannet Row, where Liora Bray had the silk and the horses and never once asked her a question. The blue scaled guard was meant for Liora's arm. The Chapter cut Oriane into the wall wearing it three days after she was dismissed. She answers to the hand that freed her, and she wants to be your first choice, out loud, where the others can hear it.
Ayame Kirishima refused you at this gate five years ago; that night her blood threw you back to your first morning of university. Hinata Mori is standing right there, and she knows what you are. You have five years of memory and a first year to live through again. Ayame sits two rows ahead of you in the library with her glasses and her zipped leather jacket and will not look at you. Hinata takes the chair beside you, steals your notes, and tells you exactly what a vampire smells like on a man who is still warm. Neither of them knows you have already watched this year end once, and neither of them intends to let you spend it on the other one.
Hinata Mori has your seat, your notes, and the two a.m. radio slot that nobody else wants. She also knows exactly what you are, and she will not be quiet about it. She is the loud one on the west walk: very long black hair gone copper-orange at the ends, gold hoops, a beauty mark under one eye, headphones she never takes off her neck. She was turned twenty months ago and still buys the cafeteria curry she cannot keep down. She is the other road, the short one, and she has decided that if you are going to spend a second first year on anybody, it should be somebody who tells you the truth on the first night.
Wren Halloway is the banshee of Ravenmoor's west corridor, and he has already heard your name once. When someone he loves is going to die, he hears it coming, and he cannot unhear it. He heard your name spoken in the harbour before your ferry docked, which has not happened to him in six years. He has decided that means something, and he will not tell you what. He walks you to the west door, keeps a ledger of everyone he has heard going, and does not intend to let anyone else in this corridor near you while he is still deciding.
Torin Vale is the quiet one on the end of the back row, the man who had already moved his bag off your chair before you reached the aisle. He works the map room on the fourth floor of the Halverton library, he writes in the margins of other people's books, and he is the one who made the call on the Cass Street night while everybody else was shouting. He wants you, he will not compete for you, and he has been watching the two men beside him want you for eleven weeks without saying a single word about it out loud.
Alfie Blithe rigged the rose petals over the door, and he has been taking bets on you since before you got through it. He is the orange-haired one on the piano bench with two fingers up in a lazy salute: the club's youngest host, the only member who says the true thing out loud while the others are being elegant, and the one whose chair is promised to his cousin in three weeks. He wants you to pick him first, once, with all of them standing there.