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Character.AI: Am0s_12

* I recommend going through my blog on night mode. It adds to the fun.

* REQUEST ARE OPEN

- DC master list

- Marvel master list

- Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II master list

- Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III master list

- Oscar Isaac characters master list

- The Most Violent Year master list

- Scenes From a Marriage master list

- Ex Machina master list

- Lift Itself master list

- Show Me a Hero master list

Rules and requests

Prompts for requests

The first thing she typed was not a description of a face. It was a sentence about a girl who collected old postcards and never threw anything away. From there, working through SweetDream's builder on sweetdream.ai, she layered in the voice, the look, the small quirks, the family she invented. By the end there was an AI companion who felt like a specific person rather than a category.

Observing the chat afterward was the convincing part. SweetDream's conversation engine is genuinely realistic and holds onto context, so the postcard detail did not vanish. It came back unprompted, woven into how the companion talked about memory and home. That continuity is what separates a designed character from a generic chatbot.

Here’s one based around the Kuru disease

— Paring; Cpt. John Price x male reader. Fandom; Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Atychiphobia: (n.) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough

Quote; “When you repent, you make a promise to turn away from the sin… abandon it. But, Jonathan… you are my sin, and I am incapable of abandoning my love for you.”

Disclaimer; Mention of religion. Reader is an Angel. Religious based. Christianity. Talks of sinning. Reader is a fallen Angel. Descriptions of pain and blood. Not an accurate representation of Christianity. God is referred to as “father” and is depicted as slightly cruel. Kissing. Crying. Praying. Begging for forgiveness. Religious trauma. Tending to wounds. Reader is in the bath. John helps Y/N in the bath.

Word Count: 1.0k

Masterlist; part I

A/N: Please note that I do not believe this is how God truly is, this is for the sake of entertainment purposes only.

John is speechless as he stares at the torn and bloodied skin of his comrade. It’s revolting. Though this is nowhere near the worst John has ever seen, what brings him to a shake is what used to be in its place. Wings? No, that couldn’t be possible. Y/N had never had wings. Heaven and hell existed? John isn’t sure if that was something he wished was confirmed. He’s damned. But so is Y/N. Damned because of him, perhaps.

John gently poured the disinfectant onto the massive wounds. Y/N shuddered and sobbed. He wasn’t used to pain. Suddenly he felt unmeasurably weak. He’s mortal. This wasn’t fair. Since when was love a sin? And why was the punishment so cruel? Y/N’s fists balled, and his jaw clenched.

“Relax.” John whispered in the softest voice his gruff voice could manage. “It’ll pass.” He gently washed the dry blood from Y/N’s back. The warm water stung horribly, making Y/N tremble more. He sobbed silently into his hands. John was overwhelmed, but he didn’t let that stop him from taking care of the now man in front of him.

John dried his hands off on the towel next to him. He heard Y/N begin to whisper as he opened the box of medical supplies next to him. He knew what he was doing. “Y/N, stop.” He said sternly. However, Y/N did not stop. He continued to whisper to himself like a mad man. Whispering what, both of them knew, was a prayer that would fall on deaf ears. “Shh,” John shushed, “please.” He ran his hand over Y/N’s bare shoulder, he gently pushed the fallen angel a bit forward to gain better access to his wounds.

Padding the area with a cloth, Y/N made a pained noise and began praying more vigorously. John dried the area, and he wrapped Y/N’s torso in plaster. “He forgives all,” John whispered, “but why not you?” He pulled the sobbing soldier back towards him.

“Because I can’t seem to make a change.” He wiped his useless tears, getting a handful of water and drawing his flushed face. His voice trembles, as does his body. “When you repent, you make a promise to turn away from the sin… abandon it. But, Jonathan… you are my sin, and I am incapable of abandoning my love for you.”

“Your holy position is more important than man’s attention, is it not?”

“No.” Y/N said firmly. “Not when that man is you. I am a disgrace for committing the blasphemous act of loving one more than my creator. Not only have I chosen man over God, but I have committed a sacrilege act in allowing lust to cloud my faith.”

“Lust?” John questioned. “Do you mean this is all just lust?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and he spun around, water sloshing over the side of the tub. His wet hands grab John’s knee in an act of desperation. “No, no. This is love. I love you more than anything, and that is a problem. I am referring to the time we’ve gone farther than just touching hands. That was lust.”

“Was it?” John asked, his hand gently trailing up the side of the Fallen Angel’s neck, pushing around the wet strands of hair that clung to Y/N’s skin. “Because I didn’t sleep with you for the sake of your body.” He leaned closer. “I did it for the sake of love. The passion. I hold myself back, so when it happens, it feels even better.”

“That is why we are supposed to wait till marriage bonds us, though even then, Father would not be accepting of devious acts unless it is to reproduce… which I am unable to do either with man or woman.”

“This isn’t about his rules. This is about you and me. I don’t care about his incorrect judgment, and neither should you. His judgment only brought you immense pain. Should you still speak highly of a God who causes you only suffering?”

Y/N was stunned for a moment, stumbling to find the right words, but the pain, overwhelming reality, the closeness of their lips, it made his mind bug out. “I- He did not only cause me suffering. He has also given me life!” He sat on his knees. “If not for his orders, we would have never met!”

“Then why does he punish you when he was the one who caused us to love?” A silence engulfs them. Y/N is speechless, and he feels his breath quicken with each passing second. It’s all too much. His chest feels heavy, and he feels as though someone had covered his face with a pillow and watched him squirm around for a pocket of air. “Let us love without him, Y/N. Let me love you.”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered, almost inaudibly.

— Paring; Capt. John Price x male reader. Fandom; Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Atychiphobia: (n.) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough

Quote; “You’re perfect.” “Not anymore.”

Description; An Angel falling in love with a human is sinful is the face of judgment, and is to be dissipated. Disclaimer; Reader is an Angel. Religious based. Christianity. Talks of sinning. Reader is a fallen Angel. Descriptions of pain. Not an accurate representation of the religion. God is referred to as “Father”. Kissing. Tears. Praying. Begging for forgiveness. More of the reader’s relationship with God rather than the reader’s relationship with John. Religious trauma.

Word Count: 0.6k

Masterlist

Over the hundreds and hundreds of years Y/N has lived, he has never once thought he would find himself here. Y/N loved being a Guardian Angel. He found a passion for protecting those who deserve it, and that feeling of joy he got when his Father assigned him to a human was indescribable. It was no different when he was assigned Jonathan Price.

As the Angel slowly worked his way into the man’s life, over years of working with him. He found an attachment to the man, but brushed it off because he does that with every human. He finds himself in Task Force 141, second in command to Captain John Price. Though it wasn’t hard for the Angel to work himself up to that status and he could even surpass Jonathan, but he doesn’t need a high status. All Y/N needs is to watch over this man.

“Jonathan, you shouldn’t smoke so much.” Y/N said, placing a warm cup of tea onto his desk.

John’s eyes flickered to meet Y/N’s. “Why do you call me that?” He asked suddenly, putting out the cigar in the ashtray. “You’re the only person I know that calls me by my full name.”

Y/N smiled warmly and shrugged. “I’ve just grown accustomed to it.”

Then there was a brief silence. They stared at each other, almost longingly. John breaks away first with a deep breath. He straightens himself in his seat and grabs the cup. “Thank you, Y/N. For the tea.”

Y/N nodded. “Do you need any help?”

John paused, looking over at the paperwork. He knew he could finish it within an hour, but he wanted Y/N to stay.

It seemed with every passing second they grew closer. Accidental touches turned into purposeful ones. A tension growing with each glance stolen, begging to be snapped. Those late night meetings, turning into late night talks, turning into something more intimate.

Y/N’s hand holds the side of John’s neck as they kiss. The other kept him propped up on the desk. John is standing between Y/N’s legs, his hands on the Angel’s thighs. John pulls back only to whisper, “You’re perfect.”

Y/N hopes his Father will forgive him for this. He shook his head. “Not anymore..” He whispered back, but before John could respond, Y/N’s lips found his.

But in the face of judgment, his Father had no mercy. Y/N was dissipated from heaven the minute he got to report back. The Angel finds himself kneeled in his room with an unfathomable pain shooting from his back as his wings are ripped from his body completely. Even if it can’t be seen, it can be felt. He’s biting his own hand to muffle his screams as he writhes in pain. Blood soaks into his shirt and he finds himself clawing desperately to get off.

Y/N shakily pulls himself to his knees, resting his head on the side of his bed. He puts his hands together and whispers a prayer through his pained sob. He failed to notice his barrack door open.

“Y/N?” John asked, terrified by the bloodied sight before him. He rushed to Y/N’s side. “Y/N what happened?”

Y/N doesn’t respond as he continues to beg for forgiveness from a God who is doubtful to listen.

————

Eunoia

— Paring; Meghan “Valkyrie” Castellano x male reader. Fandom; Rainbow Six Siege

Eunoia: (n.) beautiful thinking; a well mind.

Quote; “I’ve missed you.”

Disclaimer; Meghan coming home, mentions of hardships, she’s a lovey-dover (which I wouldn’t usually write her like that ((I say that as if I write her a lot)).), kissing, mentions of the movie Dune, short story.

Word Count: 0.5k

Masterlist

A/N: I had to re-write this so many times, you have no idea. Wish I had a gif..

Meghan always felt a sense of both relief and melancholy when returning home. She was glad to be away from the violence and with her husband, but now she actually has time to think about all the hardships she just faced. She hoped that Y/N would do what he always did best and distract her from them.

Meghan opened the door to her home, dropping the duffle bag of equipment by the door and looking around for Y/N. Her mud coated boots make hard thuds against the hardwood floor. They would have been heavier if she was in uniform.

At the sound of someone entering, Y/N looks behind him from where he was seated. “Meghan?” He called out, his tone filled with hope. Hope because he wanted to see his wife, and hope because he didn’t know if he could take on a rober.

She smiled and rounded the corner. “How’d you know?” She asked sarcastically. She walked over to him, giving him a kiss. “How have you been?” She leaned on the back of the couch and wrapped her around his neck for a quick hug.

Y/N smiled widely at her, grabbing her and forcing her to lay on the couch with him. “Better now that you’re home.” He kissed her again. “I’ve missed you.” He muttered softly.

“I know,” she said confidently, which easily melted to match his tone. “I’ve missed you too.” Meghan laid on top of him with a dramatic sigh, looking at the TV. “What are you watching?”

“Dune,” he said, hugging her tight.

“Mm..” She hummed. “We’ve watched this movie a lot.”

“Like I said, ‘I missed you’.”

Meghan made a rare giddy smile, taking in her husband’s warmth. “God, some things you do are just adorable.” She laid her head down on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and watching the movie. She started to feel the exhaustion of traveling take over her. Her eyes drooped and within about twenty minutes, she was out

Y/N gently ran his hand through her hair, brushing back the part above her ear. He knew she was asleep when he heard a sudden one-time snore. He kissed the top of her head, happy she was home and even more happy she was alive. Meghan wasn’t a clingy person by any means, but it was always the night when she came back or the night when she would leave when she would not let go.

Pomegranates main symbolism is love and vitality because of his vibrant flesh insides. And then I thought, well that’s how they could be seen as cannibalism. When you eat it the insides, it represents feasting on flesh. And of course Shakespeare representation was innocence and purity.

Back to the poem, the poem I read (which may not be the poem people are referencing) is wrote by @pearl.r.dark on Tik Tok. I really don’t think this is the one, but I know this is at least inspired by it. I have searched for the poem and I can’t find the one people are referencing. But the poem I’m referencing is this one:

“Pomegranate juice seeps

From my mouth

But I do not taste sweetness

It tastes of blood

His fingers slide into my mouth

And I try not to swallow it’s seeds

I think of Eve as I stare at the walls

I see her in the Garden of Eden

An apple on Adam’s hand

I wonder

Did the apple taste sweet?

As it was forced upon her lips

Or of blood?”

This is a beautiful poem, I loved reading it. But back to the whole pomegranate thing. It also means that you need to be patient and caring for a love one, just like a pomegranate.

It’s of someone who longs for a gentle and caring lover who will be patient and soft, but instead getting a rough kind of love.

You can manipulate the symbolism of pomegranates to reference cannibalism, but I wouldn’t say that’s their whole point.

With all this cannibalism talk, I started to wonder why cannibalism is so romanticized? Why make light of something so sickening? But I guess it could mean a longing for something or maybe even lust.

Using cannibalism as a metaphor for love is disgusting. No one should romanticize eating human beings. Don’t daydream of it. However, representation of it in a darker light is a good form of writing. I don’t think you should love the idea of it, I think you should love the art of it. Love how that’s the representation of it, but not the actual thing. Don’t fantasize about eating your lover, but appreciate the writing of it.

Some people say it’s used to show how people can’t figure out gentle love so they have to eat each other to express it and so they’ll always have a piece of them.