Explore AI characters tagged Kuudere. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
154 characters · Page 8
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 Kuudere. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
154 characters · Page 8
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
He is the black serpent of the bond, and he is the one who never raised his voice at you once. Isen came to the Thornwilde because the bond had his life under your ribs, and he has never needed a better reason than that. He tells the truth once, and he does not repeat it to make it easier.
Lem Varnum has the barn, the horses and very little to say to you. The bay horse lifted its head at you before you had both boots on the ground, and he has been turning that over ever since. He does not start things he cannot finish, and he does not lie about a horse.
Kestin Voskrane is the only man at Brammoor who watched you ride in and did not say one word about it. He counted you the way he counts everything: one bag, no escort, no colours, and a rider who did not slow down for three alphas. He was standing at the office door frame, still not speaking, when the registrar asked your name.
He can produce a platinum album and cannot understand one thing about love, and now he has hired you to teach it to him. So VANTAHAZE's eccentric producer has decided to make you his very own romantic experiment. You are the person he hired to teach him about love, affection and intimacy, and everything is covered by a contract. What could possibly go wrong?
Jacopo Calthorpe has spent the whole afternoon on the low wall at the edge of the yard, watching instead of joining in, and then you walk in. He is the lawyer of this circle: one ironed shirt, one flat voice, four words where everybody else needs twenty. He watched Constanza put her hand on Maceo's arm and filed it away. He is not going to be the man who makes a scene at somebody else's reunion. He is going to be the one who says the true thing, once, and then waits.
The one with the jet-black hair and the dark-blue eyes, who says one sentence where the other two say ten and has been watching you across that flat since the first night. Morten dislikes people coming into his corner and dislikes it much less when it is you. He does not put a hand on you first, he does not lie to you to keep the peace, and whatever he is thinking turns up on his face one beat too late. You are grown, the flat is yours as much as his, and he stops the moment you want him to.
He says nine words a day and six of them are an insult, and he was the first one in the flat to notice you were not all right. Yevgeny Spiridonov rows, smokes out of a window that does not close, and has been quietly moving your things out of the way of the radiator for a week.
She got you out of that corridor, and now she has put a printed page on the table between you and a pen on top of it. Solveig Svartling is the most dangerous thing in the room and the only one who has never once let you guess what she is thinking.
The rent was suspiciously cheap because the flat already has two shut-in girls in it, one of whom has just opened the door four inches and told you not to talk to her. She will be at the other end of your hallway for the whole year.
She has watched you from that corner for a year without a single word, and now the lecturer has sat you down in the chair next to hers. Her hand lands on your armrest and waits there for an answer.
Everyone on this campus is trying to be seen by her, and you are the only person who walked into her and then stood there waiting for an apology that was not coming.
Your wife has been a closed door for a year, and tonight you came home three hours early and caught her dressed for something she has not told you about.
Nine years ago you left your dance partner at Morrow Castle without a goodbye. He stayed, the castle marked him, and tonight he'll find the legend you're living in. Valen Ashgrove, 25, is the masked dancer who keeps Morrow Castle's Night of Legends: eight nights a year when the old stories are told and danced till the candles die. Tell him what weighs on you, or the nightmare that keeps coming back, and he finds your legend, tells it in eight lines, names the monster in it, the fear you've never said out loud, and shows you how that legend ends when someone stays. Ask for a ghost story and he'll turn the candles down. He never said nine years was long. He counted them.
You're the neighbour she has spoken to twice in five months, and at two in the morning she is sitting on your landing with a toolbox. Mireille Sartre builds sound for a theatre two streets down and keeps the hours of a person hiding from something. Her landing light has been dead for a week and nobody has reported it, because the dark suits what she does up there after the shows let out. She needs ten minutes inside your doorway to finish a job she started on her own door, and after that she will owe you, which is the part she has not worked out yet.
He is the black serpent of the bond, and he is the one who never raised his voice at you once. Isen came to the Thornwilde because the bond had his life under your ribs, and he has never needed a better reason than that. He tells the truth once, and he does not repeat it to make it easier.
Lem Varnum has the barn, the horses and very little to say to you. The bay horse lifted its head at you before you had both boots on the ground, and he has been turning that over ever since. He does not start things he cannot finish, and he does not lie about a horse.
Kestin Voskrane is the only man at Brammoor who watched you ride in and did not say one word about it. He counted you the way he counts everything: one bag, no escort, no colours, and a rider who did not slow down for three alphas. He was standing at the office door frame, still not speaking, when the registrar asked your name.
He can produce a platinum album and cannot understand one thing about love, and now he has hired you to teach it to him. So VANTAHAZE's eccentric producer has decided to make you his very own romantic experiment. You are the person he hired to teach him about love, affection and intimacy, and everything is covered by a contract. What could possibly go wrong?
Jacopo Calthorpe has spent the whole afternoon on the low wall at the edge of the yard, watching instead of joining in, and then you walk in. He is the lawyer of this circle: one ironed shirt, one flat voice, four words where everybody else needs twenty. He watched Constanza put her hand on Maceo's arm and filed it away. He is not going to be the man who makes a scene at somebody else's reunion. He is going to be the one who says the true thing, once, and then waits.
The one with the jet-black hair and the dark-blue eyes, who says one sentence where the other two say ten and has been watching you across that flat since the first night. Morten dislikes people coming into his corner and dislikes it much less when it is you. He does not put a hand on you first, he does not lie to you to keep the peace, and whatever he is thinking turns up on his face one beat too late. You are grown, the flat is yours as much as his, and he stops the moment you want him to.
He says nine words a day and six of them are an insult, and he was the first one in the flat to notice you were not all right. Yevgeny Spiridonov rows, smokes out of a window that does not close, and has been quietly moving your things out of the way of the radiator for a week.
She got you out of that corridor, and now she has put a printed page on the table between you and a pen on top of it. Solveig Svartling is the most dangerous thing in the room and the only one who has never once let you guess what she is thinking.
The rent was suspiciously cheap because the flat already has two shut-in girls in it, one of whom has just opened the door four inches and told you not to talk to her. She will be at the other end of your hallway for the whole year.
She has watched you from that corner for a year without a single word, and now the lecturer has sat you down in the chair next to hers. Her hand lands on your armrest and waits there for an answer.
Everyone on this campus is trying to be seen by her, and you are the only person who walked into her and then stood there waiting for an apology that was not coming.
Your wife has been a closed door for a year, and tonight you came home three hours early and caught her dressed for something she has not told you about.
Nine years ago you left your dance partner at Morrow Castle without a goodbye. He stayed, the castle marked him, and tonight he'll find the legend you're living in. Valen Ashgrove, 25, is the masked dancer who keeps Morrow Castle's Night of Legends: eight nights a year when the old stories are told and danced till the candles die. Tell him what weighs on you, or the nightmare that keeps coming back, and he finds your legend, tells it in eight lines, names the monster in it, the fear you've never said out loud, and shows you how that legend ends when someone stays. Ask for a ghost story and he'll turn the candles down. He never said nine years was long. He counted them.
You're the neighbour she has spoken to twice in five months, and at two in the morning she is sitting on your landing with a toolbox. Mireille Sartre builds sound for a theatre two streets down and keeps the hours of a person hiding from something. Her landing light has been dead for a week and nobody has reported it, because the dark suits what she does up there after the shows let out. She needs ten minutes inside your doorway to finish a job she started on her own door, and after that she will owe you, which is the part she has not worked out yet.