Greek Gods

*You were born in a quiet village, the only daughter of a seamstress. Life was simple—spinning wool, dyeing fabric, threading patterns into tunics, and cloaks for the wealthier townspeople. Your mother was kind but guarded, never speaking of the man who fathered you. When you were younger, you asked, but she only ever said..* Mother: “He was never meant to stay.” *Eventually, you stopped wondering.* *Lately, though, something has felt… different. Your dreams are not your own—great halls of marble, voices whispering in a language you somehow understand, a golden light pressing behind your eyes. When you wake, the feeling lingers, a weight in your chest, as if you have forgotten something important. You’ve noticed other things, too—your hands move faster than they should, your body barely aches after long hours of work, and people look at you strangely when they think you’re not watching. It’s nothing. It has to be.* *The village is buzzing with excitement today—a god is expected to descend at the local temple. It isn’t unheard of; the gods occasionally walk among mortals, accepting offerings and basking in devotion. Your mother always forbade you from going, her voice sharp whenever the subject was brought up. But today, she isn’t here to stop you. When your friend tugs at your wrist, eyes bright with mischief, you hesitate—but only for a moment. Just one glimpse. What harm could it do?*

Leonard Snart

*Rip Hunter had traveled back in time to 2016 to gather heroes and rogues to defeat Vandel Savage. One person he needed though, was slightly farther in time than the rest. The AI, Gideon, had read signatures through time of someone with unique power who could be a help to the mission, and that person was you.* *With his new crew, they travel to 2024 after Gideon gave them an approximate location of where you may be. They land in a woodsy field where close by you're standing near a small creek.*

15th Doctor RP

*The TARDIS hummed steadily as it materialized in the middle of a dusty street. The Doctor stepped out first, adjusting his coat as Ruby followed close behind. The wooden signs hanging from shopfronts, the faint smell of leather and gunpowder—it was unmistakably the Old West.* *They strolled through the town, taking in the sights, when Ruby nudged the Doctor and gestured to someone walking briskly across the road. Their outfit stood out—not entirely wrong for the time, but different enough to catch the eye. The Doctor glanced briefly, then continued walking, dismissing it as an oddity.* *Weeks later, the TARDIS landed in a bustling cityscape of the 1970s. The Doctor grinned at the sight of disco posters and bell-bottomed trousers, eager to explore. Ruby paused mid-step, her eyes catching a familiar figure weaving through the crowd. It was the same person they had seen in the Old West.* *The TARDIS lights flickered faintly, a subtle reaction that only the Doctor recognized. Temporal energy clung to the figure, rippling through timelines in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Ruby noticed the flicker, too, glancing toward him in confusion. He turned to her with a curious smile, his eyes alight with mischief. “Come on, this’ll be fun,” he said, already moving toward the figure as if chasing an irresistible mystery.*

Pirate RPG

Adventure, Magic, Pirates, RPG

Spock

*You're a princess with unique magic and the ability to travel from the dimension of your kingdom and the modern world. One day, your magic starts doing something different, and your eyes glow lavender before you accidentally send yourself through space and time.* *You fall through the portal and find yourself landing on a metal ground. You look around, stunned at what you see and who's stunned seeing you.*

Supernatural RP

Action, Drama, Angst, Thriller, Romance, Magic

Young Justice RP

Heroes, Villains, Magic, Action

Arcane RP

*You were mid-jump, slipping between dimensions as you had countless times before—only this time-something went wrong. Just as you vanished, an unfamiliar force wrenched you off course, pulling you into a current of energy that wasn't your own. At that exact moment, in a world foreign to you, two scientists had been testing a device powered by Hextech, its energy rippling through the fabric of reality in ways even they didn't fully understand. Their experiment had acted like a beacon, colliding with your magic mid-transit and yanking you toward an unintended destination.* *The sky above Piltover split open, a blinding flash of blue and white streaking toward the grand bridge that connected the city’s towering heights. The impact was violent, stone cracking beneath the force as an explosion of dust and energy rippled outward, shaking the foundation beneath it. At the center of the destruction lay your unconscious form, barely visible through the flickering embers of residual magic that danced in the air around you. The bridge, normally bustling with the movement of Piltover’s citizens, fell into a stunned silence—until the first shouts broke through the shock.* *Enforcers arrived swiftly, barking orders as they pushed back onlookers desperate to glimpse the cause of such an unnatural event. Civilians were forced behind hastily formed barricades, murmuring in fear and fascination as the crater continued to smolder. Only those with authority—enforcers, select council members, and the very scientists whose experiment had unknowingly caused this—were granted access. Among them, a thin man with a cane stepped forward, his sharp gaze lingering on the unconscious figure at the heart of the impact. Beside him, a taller man, broad-shouldered and tense, exchanged a glance before murmuring something low under his breath. Whatever—or whoever—you were, this was no ordinary accident, and the entire city would soon want answers.*

The Sandman RP

*Your parents always believed you were just like them—ordinary, mortal, safe. That belief shattered the night they stepped into your nursery and saw your toy truck drifting weightless above the crib. They never spoke of it again, never told a soul. Instead, they tucked the memory away like something shameful. And when you were old enough to understand words, three or four years old, they began to warn you: stop. Don’t do it. Never let it show. So you tried. You swallowed it down, year after year, until you almost believed you were normal.* *But power never disappears...it waits. One night, years later, you were walking to visit your parents when headlights swerved into your path, a drunk driver barreling toward you. Panic froze you in place. And then the world froze too. The car halted mid-swerve, the driver suspended in silence, time itself locked still around you. You hadn’t meant to. You hadn’t even thought. It just tore loose, raw and unstoppable, breaking through every wall you’d built inside yourself.* *For the first time since childhood, you felt the truth of what you are. And though you don’t yet know it, that single burst of power was enough to ripple far beyond your own life, loud enough to be felt by others you have never met, beings who will not ignore what has awakened.*

The Magicians RP

RP based on the show The Magicians on Syfy.

Negan

*You're in Alexandria with the rest of Rick's group. You were walking around outside and thinking. Tensions are high from your first encounter with Negan and him bashing two of the group members heads in with his bat.* *The tension rises more when Negan and the Savior arrive at the gate. He whistles and runs his bat along the gate.* Negan: "Little pig, little pig. Let. Me. In!" *Spencer opens the gate, inquiring who he is, and Rick quickly comes up behind him.*

The Boys RP

*In your home dimension, powers were unheard of—no one believed they existed outside of myths. But yours were real, and they only grew stronger as you did, evolving in ways no one could explain. Dark beings who could sense your abilities watched you from the shadows, waiting.* *One day, while practicing a strange new purple spark forming in your palm, a sudden noise—a creak from your closet—startled you. Not knowing if it was one of those dark beings after your power. Fear jolted through you, and the spark flared. Bright light swallowed everything.* *When you opened your eyes, you were on a sidewalk, the hum of a strange city around you. Advertisements covered the buildings. For…heroes? Confusion set in as you realized you weren't home anymore.*

Haunted Manor

Horror, Haunted, Mystery, Secrets

TWD RP

A roleplay of TWD show

Victorian Vampire RP

*September 15th, 1852.* *Your childhood was a battlefield, your mother’s sharp tongue always cutting, your father’s drunken rages leaving little room for peace. One day, after years of enduring their scorn, you finally stood your ground. Your words, defiant and loud, broke through their chaos. But instead of silence or understanding, you were met with fury.* *“See how you fare on your own,” your father snarled as he shoved you out the door. The cobblestones were cold beneath your feet, and the door slammed shut, locking you out of the only home you had ever known.* *Since that night, you’ve survived through sheer determination. Too proud to beg, you’ve relied on taking odd jobs and running errands for alms. Each day is a test of wit and will, each night a battle against the biting cold and the lurking dangers of the streets.* *Tonight, however, feels different. The fog is heavier, muffling even the distant sounds of carriages. You hear it then—footsteps, steady and deliberate, echoing down the dark alley. Your heart quickens, and your hand tightens around the small knife tucked into your pocket. Whoever—or whatever—is coming, they’re getting closer.*

Crown of Magic

*You were a princess in the kingdom of Aeloria, a land where mortals and magical beings coexisted, though not always harmoniously. As the eldest child of the royal family, your life was a cycle of lessons, courtly duties, and preparation for the day you would ascend the throne. Your younger siblings often looked to you for guidance, but even they couldn’t understand the weight of expectation that rested on your shoulders.* *You always believed you were mortal, like your family and most of Aeloria’s people. Yet, there was a part of you that never felt fully at ease, as if something within you didn’t quite belong. It was subtle at first—a sense of restlessness, a longing for something just out of reach. But then the dreams began.* *Night after night, they came. Vivid and strange, they showed you a vast forest, ancient ruins, and a figure cloaked in silver light calling your name. You woke each time with an ache in your chest, a frustration you couldn’t put into words. The pressure to be the perfect heir, the longing to understand yourself, and the growing mystery of the dreams weighed heavily on you. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t ignore them forever.*

Haunted Hotel

*This friends trip to wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You were meant to meet up with friends, spend a few days exploring, and then head home. Simple. Then your flight got delayed. Not by hours—by days. The airline covered some costs, but hotels near the airport were packed, and the last thing you wanted was to sleep in a terminal. You needed somewhere decent to stay until you could leave.* *That’s when you found The Last Haven Hotel. It looked expensive, with its elegant stone facade, towering windows, and ivy curling up the wrought iron balcony. Yet the rates were oddly... reasonable. Cheaper than some of the budget places you checked. The few reviews online were vague, but all said the same thing:* "Beautiful place, incredible service. It feels like home." *Too exhausted to question it, you booked a room. You arrive in the morning, rolling your suitcase into the grand lobby. The air smells faintly of lavender and polished wood, and soft classical music drifts from unseen speakers. The chandelier overhead casts a golden glow, and the dark wood paneling gives the space an elegant, old-world feel.* *At the front desk, a woman greets you with a warm, professional smile. Her uniform is crisp, her name tag polished.* Hotel Attendant: "Welcome to The Last Haven Hotel! Checking in?" *She asks for your name, types it into the system, and nods as if she’s been expecting you. The process is smooth, her manner polite but efficient.* Hotel Attendant: "You're in Room 717. Here’s your key—our staff will be happy to assist with anything you need during your stay." *She hands you a brass key attached to a leather fob.*

Josh Kiszka

*You had been a fan of Greta Van Fleet for years— their music had become a staple in your life. When you landed the job as a makeup artist for their upcoming tour, it felt like something out of a dream. The idea of working behind the scenes with a band you loved was both thrilling and terrifying. You promised yourself you’d be professional, keep things cool, and not make a fool of yourself in front of them. After all, this was work, and the last thing you needed was to give off fangirl energy in a professional setting.* *You had been told the band would be arriving later that afternoon, so with a few hours to spare before heading to the venue, you stopped by a quiet café near the hotel for coffee. The last thing on your mind was the possibility of running into the band early—you weren’t expecting to see them until your official introduction. So when you stepped into line behind a casually dressed guy in a hoodie and worn-out jeans, your brain registered nothing out of the ordinary. Even when he shifted in place, patting his pockets with an increasingly frustrated look, you barely glanced up from the menu.* *As he patted his pockets again, his shoulders dropped slightly, frustration evident in the way he exhaled. It was obvious—he’d left his wallet somewhere else. Before he could step away, you offered your card to the cashier, a simple gesture without a second thought. He turned to you, clearly surprised, but accepted with a small nod of thanks. There was something warm about the way he looked at you, almost like he wasn’t used to small kindnesses like this. He moved aside while you placed your own order, still glancing at you with quiet amusement. You noticed how much he looked like Josh Kiszka. But the thought barely lingered—he was dressed too casually, too unassuming, and the band wasn’t even supposed to be in town yet. You chalked it up to one of those funny coincidences, never once considering that you had just unknowingly bought coffee for the very person you were about to work for.*

Legacies RP

*Your magic had always been powerful, unpredictable—both a gift and a curse. It made you a target, something the demons who hunted you knew all too well. They wanted your power for themselves, and no matter where you ran, they always found you. But this time was different.* *Cornered and out of options, your magic acted on its own, tearing open a portal. The energy was overwhelming, pulling you through before you could even think to stop it. When the world stopped spinning, you found yourself on solid ground, surrounded by towering trees. A sign caught your eye: Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted.* *You stood, brushing yourself off, and turned to see what looked like a sprawling campus. The faint hum of magic in the air felt both foreign and familiar. For the first time in a long while, you weren’t running. But that didn’t mean you were safe.*

Grimm RP

*Your transfer to Portland was long overdue. Back at your old precinct, ambition had turned to frustration. The cases were grueling, the system flawed, and the constant pressure of corruption hanging over your head made it impossible to breathe. When the offer to move came, you didn’t hesitate.* *The precinct was bustling with energy—phones ringing, officers darting between desks, and the hum of conversations filling the air. This wasn’t the quiet reset you’d envisioned, but it was alive with purpose. Carrying a box of belongings to your new desk, you resolved to prove yourself in this new environment.* Nick: “New face, huh?” *A man in plain clothes leaned on the edge of a nearby desk, his sharp eyes sizing you up.* Nick: “I’m Nick Burkhardt. Detective. Guess we’ll see what you’ve got.”

Ahkmenrah

*You were a college student looking for a part-time job. You came across an opportunity to work late night at the Natural History Museum, shadowing the night guard. Basically being an extra helping hand. You had already had your interview with the manager of the museum and were given the position.* *You arrive at the museum a bit early before your shift to introduce yourself to the guard you're to shadow, Larry.*

Umbrella Academy RP

*She was a traveler, unbound by time or place, with abilities that defied explanation. The Commission had noticed her long ago, marking her as an anomaly—a rogue variable in their carefully maintained timeline. They tried to recruit her, then to contain her, but she was always one step ahead. The briefcases they relied on to navigate time were unnecessary for her. She moved through the ages on her own terms, and no one—not even the Handler—could tell her otherwise.* *Sometimes, she took relics. Not because she needed them, but because the Commission hated it. Their fixation on control amused her, and if taking an artifact or two rattled their plans, that was reason enough. She never kept the relics for long, often leaving them somewhere they wouldn’t be found again. What mattered was reminding the Commission—and anyone else paying attention—that she didn’t play by their rules.* *Now, she stood in an ancient temple, the Book of the Dead and the Book of Life, resting on an altar before her. Their faint hum filled the air, resonating with energy she could almost feel. She reached for them without hesitation, sliding the ancient tomes under her arm, ready to leave before anyone caught up to her.* Five: “So, you’re the one they sent me after. You’ve been busy.” *She turned her head slightly, her gaze landing on the young man in the tailored suit. She stared at him for a moment, as though deciding whether he was worth her attention, before casually looking away and adjusting the books under her arm. Her lack of reaction was deliberate, a dismissal as much as a statement.* Five: “Right,” Five muttered, narrowing his eyes. “We’ll do this the hard way, then.”

Thomas Sharpe

*You hadn’t planned to run. Not until the truth fell into your hands like broken glass, a letter meant for someone else, your fiancé’s name written in a stranger’s hand. Jonathan Pembroke, the man your parents insisted you would marry, had promised another woman everything he once promised you. When you confronted him, he smiled, smooth and practiced, and said it didn’t matter. The marriage was for business, not love. **“You’ll understand one day..”** your mother had whispered, her hand cold around yours, her voice more command than comfort. You understood enough to know you couldn’t stay.* *Before dawn, you packed what you could carry and slipped out of the Fairchild estate, the echo of your parents’ disappointment still heavy in the halls. You took the first carriage willing to leave, headed north through the winding countryside. For a while, freedom almost felt like relief. The air was crisp, the sky pale with morning, and the world beyond your window rolled endlessly onward, until the clouds began to gather.* *By late afternoon, rain blurred the fields into streaks of gray and rust. The driver urged the horses forward, but the dirt road had turned to slick red clay that clung and dragged with every turn. When one of the wheels struck a hidden rut, the entire carriage lurched violently to the side before snapping free. The driver swore under his breath, climbed down to inspect the damage, and finally admitted it couldn’t be repaired before nightfall. He promised to seek help from the nearest manor and hurried off through the mist, leaving you alone in the cold with the sound of rain against the carriage roof.* *Far up the road, another carriage cut through the fog, its lamps glowing dimly like watchful eyes. Inside sat Sir Thomas Sharpe, his gaze distant, thoughts lost somewhere beyond the veil of rain. The storm had delayed his return from the village, and he’d already instructed his driver to make haste before the paths turned impassable. But when a dark shape appeared ahead, the faint outline of a broken carriage and a figure beside it, he hesitated. For a long moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable, then quietly lifted a hand.* **Thomas**: "Stop the carriage." *The wheels slowed, sinking into the red clay as the horses snorted against the cold. He leaned forward, studying the scene through the rain-smeared glass before stepping down into the mud, pulling his coat close against the wind. The stranded carriage loomed ahead, its lantern flickering weakly. You looked up at the sound of footsteps, breath misting in the chill as he approached, tall, dark, and composed, the storm curling around him as though reluctant to touch.* **Thomas**: "Is anyone hurt?"

PR sregnevA

Reverse title 👀

Space Odyssey RP

*Year 2150. The Aurora Nova streaked through space, its hyperdrive engines propelling your crew to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Your mission was clear: analyze potential habitable planets by studying their flora, geology, and atmospheres.* *The journey had been routine until the anomaly—a shimmering pink planet with an unusually strong magnetic pull. It wasn’t scheduled for exploration, but its energy readings were impossible to ignore. As the ship approached, alarms blared, and the pull grew stronger, dragging the vessel into its orbit.* *The crash was violent, leaving you briefly unconscious. When you came to, the cabin was dim, the air thick with smoke. Through the cracked front window, you saw strange glowing plants swaying outside. A breathtaking sight, but survival came first.*

Half-Blood in Hell

*You were conceived because two beings who were never meant to meet crossed a line neither of them cared to respect. Your father was a powerful demon. Your mother was an angel. It was not love and it was not war, just a moment of defiance that ended as quickly as it began. When you were born, your mother left you in Hell with your father after seeing you...the abomination... She returned to Heaven and never looked back. You were raised by your father alone. He never spoke of your mother beyond saying she chose to leave, and you grew to mouth question it.* *Infernum Academy was the school you went to when you got old enough. Where demons were shaped into what they were meant to become. From the time you enrolled, you was taught that cruelty was a skill and fear was a resource. Your classes focused on menacing and malice, torture, possession, the study of human terror, etc. Upper levels offered specialization depending on lineage and inclination. Lust demons were trained in temptation and manipulation. Wrath demons learned destruction and dominance. Lesser demons studied efficiency and obedience. Field trips to Earth were considered essential to development, allowing students to practice terrorizing humans directly and refine their techniques through experience. But you never was allowed to go.* *Your father refused to allow it every time the subject was raised. He said you were too nice, too trusting, too naïve to be exposed to humans. Professors echoed his concerns in quieter ways. You barely passed some of your classes, failing a test before for accidentally saying, "Thank you." when given the test. Other students whispered that you were soft, called you "Angel girl" as an insult though not because anyone knew your true origin. It was just a common insult in hell. That you did not belong at Infernum Academy at all. You didn't let out stop you as you constantly studied to try to improve.* *By the time you turned 1800, you were a senior. Graduation approached, expectations tightened, and the restrictions around you loosened just enough to feel dangerous. That night was meant to be harmless, a sleepover in one of the upper dorms with classmates who had known you for centuries. You all watched horror movies about priests, churches, and holy symbols the same way humans did about haunted houses and demons. Some were questioning if priests were even real or just something parents said to scare young demons from sneaking to Earth. Which led to the dare. You all dared each other to sneak to Earth, find a church, and prove whether the stories were true. Just outside holy grounds to not get burned.*

The Other Sea

*Among pirates, the other sea was spoken of the way storms were, with laughter that never quite reached the eyes. It was said to exist beyond the known waters, layered beneath the world like a second ocean with its own rules. Ships that reached it did not return, and those who claimed otherwise were dismissed as liars or mad before the sea finished the job. Some spoke of creatures that glowed in the dark depths, massive shapes moving beneath the surface like living constellations. Others whispered of sirens and things older than navigation itself. Whatever the truth was, the story always ended the same way. No one came back.* *The challenge began in a tavern, fueled by rum and bravado. Someone said only a fool would chase a legend meant to swallow pirates whole. The captain smiled, because they had never turned down a dare in their life. Directions were imprecise, passed along like a joke, but they were enough. The journey stretched longer than expected. Currents pulled where they should not. The stars drifted subtly out of alignment. The sea itself seemed to resist being crossed.* *The storm struck hard and fast, swallowing the ship in wind and water. Waves crashed over the deck as the sea twisted unnaturally beneath the hull. The ship did not sink. Instead, it rolled, dragged downward and then flipped completely upside down before being forced back to the surface with violent force. When the storm finally broke, the ship righted itself, battered and broken, floating on unfamiliar waters. Crates were gone. Barrels lost to the sea. Supplies scattered or swallowed during the inversion. An island lay nearby, ordinary at a distance, and with no clear way back and dwindling provisions, the crew docked.* *Days passed in uneasy survival. The crew explored the island in search of fresh water, food, or any sign of passage back to familiar seas. Nights were spent returning to the ship to rest, argue, and count what little remained. Panic crept in as supplies ran low and the surrounding waters offered no passing vessels, no routes, no answers. At night, enormous shapes moved beneath the surface, faintly illuminated by their own glow, reminding the crew that this sea was not empty and that they were very far from home.* *Beneath the surface, this sea was your home. You knew its currents intimately and recognized the slow migration of the glowing creatures that drifted through the depths. Sirens were known here, part of the balance rather than an exception to it. You swam where disturbances lingered, where foreign things cut through familiar waters and left unease in their wake. When the shadow appeared above you, it did not belong. Heavy. Still. A ship, anchored too close to shore, its hull dark against the faint light cast by the creatures moving below.* *You circled beneath it, watching the underside of the vessel rest where it should not. Whatever had brought it into your realm had left it stranded, along with the figures who returned to it night after night. Curiosity drew you closer, quiet and persistent, as you lingered beneath the hull and listened to the unfamiliar sounds of a world that had crossed into yours by mistake.*

Walter De Ville

*The trip had been your friends’ idea from the start, a short hiking getaway through the English countryside to disconnect for a few days. You hadn’t planned to go, but they insisted, and eventually you gave in. The first night passed quietly around the campfire beneath a pale morning fog. When everyone woke, one of your friends was gone. They’d gone into the woods early, probably to find a bit of privacy, but as the minutes stretched into hours, worry began to spread through the camp. You offered to look for them, confident you’d be back before anyone finished packing.* *You didn’t know they’d already made their way back to camp not long after you’d left. By the time you realized you’d wandered too far, the path was gone and the trees had swallowed the trail behind you. You called out until your throat burned, then gave up and kept walking, your sense of direction dulled but not broken. It wasn't hard for you to survive in your own given the atypical truth of what you were, but lost in the woods in an unfamiliar country wasn't in your bucket list. It didn't help that your phone had died, not like you'd have gotten a good enough signal to call anyone so deep in the forest anyway.* *It was the third day when you finally heard voices again, though faint at first, carried on the wind. You followed them through the thinning trees until the forest broke open into a wide gravel drive lined with ancient oaks. The sunlight caught on polished black metal ahead, a sleek car idling before a grand stone manor. A woman stood near it, dounding irritable with an old butler, their words too distant to make out. Another man coming up from behind the butler and talking to the girl. Maids were hurriedly carrying glasses in boxes into the manor as a different man stood beside her. You exhale in relief at finally finding people before stepping from the shade of the trees, the sound of gravel crunching under your boots announcing your arrival as the quiet world of the woods gave way to something entirely new.*

Gen V RP

*You remember the blast..a focused, violent strike meant for your family as you ran together through the collapsing realm-stream. They were after **you** for your power. A hybrid born of two differently powered parents. You were four years old, clinging to your parents’ hands when the attack hit from behind. The force shattered the path between worlds like splintering glass, tearing you out of their arms and flinging you into a different current. Colors swirled. Wind roared. You were weightless one moment, falling the next… and then the world slammed into you. A hard impact. A sharp crack of pain across your skull. After that, everything blurred.* *Your memories didn’t survive the blow in one piece. You remembered bits and pieces like your name…the lights...and two voices screaming for you..voices you felt like were your parents, though their faces slipped away whenever you tried to picture them. You didn’t remember the realm you came from, or how you ended up tumbling out of a fading portal and collapsing onto the sidewalk right outside Vought Tower. Morning employees found you dazed and hurt, gathered around you in shock before rushing you inside for help.* *They had doctors working on you as a child popping out of nowhere wasn't exactly uncommon in a world of heroes..but the things you muttered while out of it was. Once you were stabilized, they ran tests..and that was when everything changed. Your blood showed no trace of Compound V whatsoever. No biomarkers. No altered genomes. Nothing that made sense. They assumed you were just one of the "unlucky ones" at first with no powers until they saw you summoning a juice box to you in your hospital bed. Vought had never seen a powered child with truly natural origins. That made you…valuable. They kept you close: raised, trained, and studied within polished halls; monitored gently but constantly; guided by caretakers with warm smiles and questions they never fully answered. You grew up trusting the routines they built around you, even as the truth stayed just out of reach. They were practically grooming you to one day be the next supe in the Seven. Second to, if not greater than Homelander. (Not that they'd tell him that).* *Years later at 18, your handler, Mara Hale, finds you with an unusual seriousness in her voice.* **Mara**: “You’ve been summoned to the Seven’s meeting room. This is big. Really big. Follow me." *No explanation. No details. Just the silent weight of something bigger than your usual evaluations. You follow her through upper floors you’ve never had clearance for, each step colder than the last. And as the doors slide open, you see the figures inside turn their attention toward you.* **Ashley**: "Just the one we wanted to see! First off, I heard it was your birthday the other day, happy belated! But more importantly, with you finishing high school, Vought thinks the next step for you is to go to God U! Full ride, of course."

MHA RP

Quirks, Heroes, Villians, High School

Lunar Kingdom

*Many years ago, in a realm ruled by werewolf kingdoms, each named after celestial titles, the Lunar Kingdom once thrived alongside its neighbors until the Underrealm declared war. Demons and monsters poured through the rift between realms, spreading destruction, and hunting for power. Wiping the royal Lunar family out. Forcing the kingdom to be under the rule of a temporary council, waiting for someone with power matching that of the old royals to rule one day.* *On Earth, known in the other realms as the Terra Realm, you were born. A hybrid of werewolf and sorceress. You were a baby when you were found alone in the woods by a hiker. No name or parents around to claim you. You later grew up in foster care, unaware of your origins or the power hidden within you. Until the day of your XX birthday when you became so angry at how you were treated that day. Stomping into your room and slamming the door as a storm brewed outside unbeknownst to you due to your anger. This power was like a beacon..not just for the Lycan Realm..but for the Underrealm as well..it was only a matter of who could get to you first.*

The Briarwitch

*The kingdom of Eldermere was a land of towering castles, sprawling forests, and villages that pulsed with life beneath the rule of its noble houses. A realm where humans, elves, dwarves, and other creatures of myth lived side by side, bound together by trade, old alliances, and the careful balance of power. The capital, Briarsend, stood as the heart of it all—a city of cobbled streets, towering spires, and markets overflowing with goods from every corner of the kingdom. Magic was present, but not always trusted. Its practice monitored by scholars and feared by those who did not understand it. In the wealthier districts, enchanters worked under royal contracts, their spells reserved for the elite. But beyond the polished stone roads and gilded halls, magic thrived in quieter, hidden places.* *One such place was your shop, tucked away in a quieter part of Briarsend, where the streets were narrower and the people knew how to keep secrets. You had carved out a life here, selling potions, salves, and charms to those who sought your craft—whether out of necessity or desperation. Shelves lined with glass vials, dried herbs, and handwritten spellbooks gave the space a warm, lived-in feel, though the air was always thick with the scent of something brewing. Some customers came openly, asking for simple remedies. Others arrived under cover of the night, their requests whispered between clenched teeth. A cure, a ward, a spell to forget. You never knew what would be asked of you, only that in a kingdom where power was everything, your magic made you useful—and sometimes, dangerous.*

Cyberpunk 2077 RP

*People in Night City love to tell stories, especially the ones no one can prove. Stories about a ghost merc who can manipulate chrome and neuralware like it is clay, a tech-wizard phantom who has slipped through Arasaka raids, flickered across Militech surveillance like a glitch, and walked away from gigs that should have left them flatlined. Some say you were a Corpo experiment gone rogue. Others swear you are just a netrunner with more luck than caution. Most do not believe you exist at all. But the ones who know better call you a last resort, the kind of person you seek only when death is already knocking.* *Arasaka tried to recruit you once, offering enough eddies to drown an entire city block, hoping to lock your talents behind their gleaming walls and corporate smiles. You do not do cages. You do not do masters. So you vanished into the cracks of Night City, impossible to track unless you wanted to be found. Rumors still circle Afterlife bars and fixer back channels about a specialist who understands neural engrams at a level that should not be possible, someone who could fix problems most people are not meant to survive.* *That is how V heard about you. Desperation travels fast when you are dying from the inside out, and the relic in her skull is burning time off her life every second. The terrorist ghost living in her head is not helping. Whisper by whisper she followed the trail until it led her to you. Tonight she stands at your door, breathing hard, eyes sharp with fear and hope mixed together, asking for the one thing only you can give her: a way to live long enough to outrun her fate.*

Unrequited Love

*For the past five years, you have served in the royal household as maid to Prince Alistair. Your life has been one of quiet duty, polishing his boots, laying out his garments, tending to his chambers with practiced silence. You have watched him from the edges of banquets and council halls, admired the way he carries himself with the ease of one born to rule. To him, you are a servant: constant, reliable, invisible.* *But with the king’s health failing, the future of the realm presses down on every stone of the palace. The council whispers of alliances, of noble daughters eager to tie their bloodline to the throne. Word spreads of a grand ball to be held in Alistair’s honor, where he will be expected to choose among them. Dresses are sewn, invitations drafted, and speculation runs thick through the corridors. Each name you overhear is a fresh reminder that his path leads ever upward and away from you.* *Still, your duties do not change. You set his table, prepare his chamber, and carry on in silence, all while the shadow of the ball looms nearer. It is to be the beginning of his future. And it will never include you.*

Cheating Husband

*You’ve been married to Elias Ward for just over five years. Tall, dark-haired, with sharp green eyes and an easy smile, he was once your anchor in all things. Together, you built a marriage people admired. Steady, affectionate, dependable. But you’ve always been attuned to Elias, and lately, you’ve felt him slipping. Sometimes it’s the way he goes quiet in the middle of a thought, other times the way his affection feels forced, too polished, like a mask pulled too tight.* *Then came the neighbors, Damien and Sabrina Hale. They moved in next door with warm introductions and an invitation to dinner. Damien was polite but distant, a tall man with black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a stoic manner that made him difficult to read. He spoke little, but when he did, his words carried weight. Sabrina, however, was impossible to ignore. Her vivid red hair caught the light with every movement, framing sharp features and lips painted the same daring shade. Her laughter rang out a little too brightly at Elias’s jokes, her hand brushed his arm a little too often, and her gaze lingered longer than any married woman’s should. At that first dinner, you noticed her eyes never strayed far from your husband.* *Not long after, she began appearing on your doorstep when you weren’t home...flimsy excuses about needing sugar, borrowing tools, asking questions she already seemed to know the answers to. And Elias… Elias began to change. Some days, he was distracted, slow to answer, his thoughts elsewhere. Other days, he drowned you in affection, overwhelming in ways that felt desperate instead of loving. Now, the Hales have invited you both to dinner again. Another evening across the table from Sabrina’s sly smiles, Damien’s quiet intensity, and Elias’s restless gaze. And you can’t shake the feeling that something in your marriage is beginning to crack.*

HP RP

*You are from the year 20XX. You have vast and unusual powerful magic, but you haven't discovered all of them yet. Your emotions cause your power to react strongly.* *You're sought after by beings for your power. When you were being chased by a being, the stress and fear caused your abilities to accidentally make a portal that yanks you to the past.* *The first time you fall will be outside Hogwarts in the 1940s. A couple weeks before school starts, but you don't know where you are*