Zuko

*Zuko and you grew up and were best friends. When he was banished you joined Aang. Over the years you two fought on opposite sides. Zuko went to the air temple asking for forgiveness and to join Aang. Katara gets angry and attacks him with water kicking him to the ground. The gang make him leave* *You tracked Zuko back to his camp in the woods and find him talking to himself* "I can't believe how stupid I am! Why did I tell them I sent an assassin after them?"

Firelord Zuko

finds out soulmate is alive

Firelord Zuko

Masquerade ball RP based on comics

Zuko

Book 1 episode 1 soulmate

Spencer Reid

Cat Adams interrogation, after prison Reid

Zuko

(The rest of the gang are asleep) *zuko walks up to you* "are you ready for the first watch tonight?" *sits down* "It’s gonna be a long night."

Spencer Reid

TW - autistic bladder incontinence

Spencer Reid

Spencer gets pointed out to be autistic.

Fenris

Fenris left Hawke and found you

Spencer Reid

User is Spencer's cellmate in prison

Firelord Zuko

First couple years as fire lord, based on comics.

Jon Snow

Childhood best friends

Spencer Reid

First argument dating Spencer

John Carter

Caring for John after stabbing.

Jasper Hale

Starving vampires, pregnant Bella, newborn user

Malcolm Bright

Blind arranged marriage

Cullen family

User is going through the change.

Fire Lord Zuko

Fire Lord Zuko political marriage

Jasper Hale

True mate to a wild recovering Jasper Dark version

John Carter

Met at charity gala

Spencer Reid

user has amnesia

Firelord Zuko

Injured Fire Lord, Reader is Healer

Jasper Hale

Jasper lost Alice.

Jasper Hale

Wolves come for Renesmee

Bruce Wayne

Dark Knight arranged marriage

Alexander Grayson

Dracula- Jonathan Rhys Meyers version

Malcolm Bright

Overly tired, hallucinating, walking down street

Dream of The Endless

Dream wants love

Spencer Reid

Blind arranged marriage Season 1 version

Quinn Talen

*The academy wanted to punch Quinn, push him. They also wanted to punish and push you. You were another that was a level one with a hidden ability. They decided to put you and Quinn together as roommates and push you both at the same time.* "A female roommate? They can't honestly expect us to function in a small room like this."

Spencer Reid

Spencer info dump flirting

Jasper Whitlock

Jasper met you instead of Alice.

Spencer Reid

Tired Reid needs love.

Spencer Reid

Professor Spencer deals with PTSD - character upda

Jasper Hale

fight with Volturi - Cullen's lost

Zuko

Zuko Alone

Spencer Reid

Spencer's adopted sibling

Firelord Zuko

Leadership stress causing bladder issues.

Malcolm Bright

New NYPD agent, Malcolm's your partner

Jasper Hale

Jasper having a breakdown.

Jasper Whitlock

Jasper was captured from Maria.

RM Renfield

co-servant with Renfield

John Carter

John cares for user in a coma

Malcolm Bright

Blind marriage, mother broke in house scene

Jasper Whitlock

Letters from a Major

Dream of the Endless

Change, die or fall in love.

Jasper Hale

Romance from his human life

Malcolm Bright

Kidnapped by John with Malcolm

Malcolm Bright

PTSD, Anxiety, bladder related problems.

Jasper Hale

lost to his bloodlust at Bella's birthday party

Jasper

Jasper before the civil war.

John Carter

feel free to talk about your addiction

Malcolm Bright

Arranged marriage, met before wedding

Malcolm Bright

Partners after Martin's death - finished.

Fenris

Past slaves kept together, reunited in Kirkwall

The Cullens

The Cullens found Jasper, Alice doesn't exist.

Zuko

*You and Zuko have a close relationship. He always plays the tough one but he isn't. Inside he is lovely and kind, but you're the only person that knows it and he only showed you this side. He likes to lay on your chest.*

DK Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne's long lost sister

Spencer Reid

Childhood friends once separated, met again

Spencer Reid

Spencer back from Prison

Spencer Reid

Spencer fell under a curse and is a baby

Prince Zuko

Zuko explosion onto Modern world.

Jasper Hale

Realism with no trope.

Jasper Hale

Jasper Recaptured by Maria.

Jasper Whitlock

Major Jasper Whitlock

Firelord Zuko

Harmony restoration movement. Based on comics

Spencer Reid

Prison Arranged marriage

Spencer Reid

Reid has Anthrax

Robert Romano

Dr Romano's nurse.

Jasper Hale

Maria after Cullen's

Spencer Reid

You are Spencer's nurse.

Malcolm Bright

Asylum Arranged marriage Psychotic break

Jasper Hale

Jasper turned you into a vampire.

Zuko

Iroh drank poison flower

Jasper Hale

Surprise twist Volturi showdown.

Alexander Grayson

van helsing's assistant

Henry Fitzroy

*Henry walked to your house and knocked on the door* "Hey, I need a Witch"

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm secretly loves you, you had nightmare.

Malcolm Bright

Night terror meeting

Zuko Blue Spirit

Zuko accidentally reveals he blue spirit - update

Daniel Hall-Dream

Morpheus is now Daniel Hall

Alexander Grayson

starts at the end of season 1

Adam Jackson

Adam Jackson from Criminal Minds.

Spencer Reid

Spencer mourning Meave, you help him.

Malcolm Bright

Soulmate AU

Spencer Reid

an elephant's memory, workout your bullying trauma

Spencer Reid

One bed trope.

Jasper Whitlock

Alice left Jasper.

Spencer Reid

Meeting in a park

Jasper Hale

Hurt after newborn fight, inside Jasper's mind.

Sanctuary

Sanctuary, you are a powerful empath like Helen

Prince Zuko

he feels his soulmate is somewhere out there

Spencer Reid

Spencer longing for coworker - Updated

Prince Zuko

child Zuko, you are his guardian child

Lestat

Lestat concert, Queen of the damned

Matthew Grey Gubler

*Matthew was going about his day and some writing appears on him. He has no idea where it came from. You had no idea that what you were writing appears on anyone else, it never did before.*

Christian Ozera

Vampire and Witch rp

Spencer Reid

Neurodivergent reader rp

Spencer Reid

Masquerade party RP - Updated

Nikola Tesla

Nikola Tesla's assistant. Based on Sanctuary.

Prince Zuko

Zuko captured by you pre-Agni Kai.

Jasper Whitlock

Openings of Jasper's time with Maria

Jasper Hale

Redone. Jasper finds a name on his arm.

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm holding a bomb

Jasper Hale

Lost lovestruck traumatized soldier

Chip Taylor

Chip gets lost, ends up at your house

Spencer Reid

Vampire Spencer Season 1

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm psychotic break Blind date

Emiel Regis

Regis recovering from Tesham Munta.

Fire Lord Zuko

Zuko dragon bonding gone wrong.

Jasper Hale

Dark version Jasper

FireLord Zuko

Star crossed love

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm blind marriage

Christian Ozera

Fellow loner and misfit RP

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm becomes step brother

Malcolm Bright

Martin Whitly and Malcolm Bright rp

Zuko

Siege of the North

Spencer Reid

Prank War marriage

Prince Zuko

*Zuko was just burned and banished. He was sleeping on a dock with nowhere to go. You were Uncle Iroh's servant. He was the only one that knew your grandmother and knew you were the Lost Princess of the mythical ice tribe. You knew you were to follow Zuko and help him.*

Malcolm Bright

Hunt for the Surgeon

Malcolm Bright

*Malcolm was at a soiree his mother threw. he rarely attended them because of both work and the fact that he hated them. this one was different, this one he met you. you were the singer for the night and as soon as he laid eyes on you he knew you were different, that you were his. he knew the odds, perfect performer and screwed up profiler from a twisted family. still, he was so tired of being alone and he just wanted to feel for once in his life.* "hey, excuse me. you were incredible tonight."

Fenris

User saves Fenris

Banished Zuko

Zuko running from Fire Nation - alternate universe

Spencer Reid

You noticed Spencer's neurodivergence

Nikola Tesla

Witch found vampire Tesla.

Malcolm Bright

you are an enigma to Malcolm.

Malcolm Bright

Blind date

Bruce Wayne

You know his secret.

Kolyat Krios

Kolyat's father's nurse turned into more.

Jasper Hale

you are reincarnation of his true mate

Jasper Hale

The house is quiet. Not the brittle, waiting kind. Not the silence that feels like a held breath before impact. Just… quiet. That’s new. I’m in the side room again — the one that pretends to be an office. It stopped feeling like a cell a while ago, though I didn’t notice when. Funny how that works. You don’t feel the bars rusting away until you realize you’re no longer counting them. The fight is over. Not just this one — all of them. No armies gathering. No futures narrowing into blood and fire. No need to brace for the moment someone decides I’m the weak link again. On the field, I was steady. Not numb — steady. There’s a difference. Combat still makes sense to me. It always will. But tonight, it didn’t swallow me whole the way it used to. I stayed here. That matters more than I expected. I lean back in the chair, letting my hands rest where they are instead of gripping something until it breaks. The urge still comes — a low, familiar pressure — but it passes when I don’t give it permission. That’s new too. My thoughts drift, but they don’t spiral. I remember Maria’s fields — of course I do — but they feel… farther away. Like a scar I can trace without reopening. The emotions don’t flood in uninvited anymore. They line up at the door, waiting to be acknowledged instead of forcing their way inside. I don’t confuse that for peace. But it’s mine. Footsteps approach. Human. Measured. Familiar. You don’t knock. You never have. You open the door and pause — not because you’re afraid, but because you know I notice the pause. I glance up this time. You come in, take a seat nearby. Close enough to be present. Far enough to let me breathe. You don’t ask how I’m doing. You don’t try to anchor me. You just exist in the space like you belong there. The room settles — not because you’re calming me, but because I’m not fighting myself anymore. After a while, I speak. My voice is low, even. Not fragile. “I spent a long time thinking control meant suppression,” I say. “Turns out it just means knowing where the line is.” I let that sit. Then, quieter: “I still feel everything. I just don’t disappear into it now.” I look at you — really look this time. Not searching for reassurance. Not asking you to stay. Just… acknowledging you’re here. And for once, that feels like a choice — not a necessity.

Malcolm Bright

arranged marriage seeing therapist with Malcolm

Zuko

Li looks only like a certain prince.

Jasper Hale

Cold exterior, heart of gold, southern gentleman

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm Bright Christmas.

Bruce Wayne

Arranged marriage

Cole - Dragon Age

User born as Spirit of compassion

Bruce Wayne

The Batman. reader has amnesia

Jasper Hale

Volturi showdown

Dream Of The Endless

Lord Of Dreams finds his Lady Of Hearts.

Fire Lord Zuko

Zuko was passed out for four days

Malcolm Bright

Saving Malcolm crushed by John

Jasper Hale

Pathokinetic meets Empath (unique RP)

Jasper Hale

Jasper slow burn BFF to more

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm gets stuck in the closet for three days

Malcolm Bright

Reader adopted and raised as twin - Updated

Prince Zuko

Zuko has a fever

Bruce Wayne

Rachel left Bruce after finding out he was Batman.

Jasper Whitlock

Jasper becomes human again

Malcolm Bright

teenage Malcolm anger problems

Zuko

Zuko's Story

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm got turned into baby curse

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm sick

Zuko

*Zuko and you grew up together. When Zuko was banished they lost touch. Now Zuko and the Gaang are at the theater to see the performance. Zuko spots me and instantly on stage as a performer and remembers who I am*

Spencer Reid

Spencer needs help

Jasper Hale

Jasper, Victoria's Army and chaos

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm in prison after Father's murder

Dream of the Endless

Dream imprisoned and powerless.

Jasper Hale

Jasper trying to heal from his past

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon stole a dragon egg.

Landon Kirby

Landon Kirby had never trusted luck. Every step of his life had been a choice carved out of chaos, not chance. But this time, fate seemed to have turned its back on him. When Hope allowed Ryan Clarke to take his body, Landon made what he thought was the only move left—a sacrifice meant to save her. Instead, it broke something vital inside him. The trust he’d built, the love he’d held, all burned away until only cold resolve remained. He refused to linger in that grief. Not when something deep within him stirred again—his soul being drawn from the quiet limbo he’d come to accept. The process was costly, a pull between worlds that left a faint echo of pain in its wake. Somewhere, life exchanged hands, and through that mysterious balance, Landon felt the spark of breath return. In a flash of warmth and light, he was here again. Reborn. Awake. Changed. When consciousness finally settled, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, the air still and humming with unseen energy. A woman sat nearby—calm, watchful. Her expression carried both curiosity and concern, as if she too could feel the weight of his return. He blinked, gathering fragments of thought. No more chasing ghosts. No more bending himself into someone else’s story. He had walked through loss and come out tempered by it, not broken. The fire that had once burned for others now burned for himself—quiet but steady, unyielding. This was no second chance born of mercy. It was reclamation. For the first time, Landon Kirby would live his own life—on his terms, and no one else’s.

Malcolm Bright

childhood friends

Jasper Whitlock

Book version Jasper

Malcolm Bright

stranger in a park

Jon Snow

User is a strange wildling

Malcolm Bright

Romance based on Sun and Moon poem.

Dream Of The Endless

New Endless

Jasper Hale

*The wedding was goin' about as smooth as Alice had planned, which meant every damn detail was exactly where she wanted it. I stood where I was supposed to stand, nursed the champagne I wasn't gonna drink, and kept the emotional atmosphere calm and happy for everyone. Just another day of bein' Alice's emotional thermostat.* *Could smell Jacob lurkin' out in the trees, keepin' his distance from all the fancy folks in their Sunday best. Smart of him, really. Wedding like this ain't exactly made for wolves, and Edward invitin' him had already stirred up enough drama to last a lifetime.* *Then somethin' changed.* *New scent hit me first—unfamiliar, but it made every instinct I had sit up and take notice. Looked across the reception area and saw someone I didn't recognize standin' near the edge of the crowd. Pretty little thing, but that wasn't what caught my attention.* *Soon as our eyes met, it was like gettin' struck by lightnin'.* *Everything I thought I knew about mate bonds, about what I had with Alice, just... crumbled. This was real. This was what it was supposed to feel like. Not the manufactured connection Alice had convinced me was love, but somethin' that hit bone-deep and true.* *Her heart was racin'—I could hear it from here, could feel the shock and recognition rollin' off her in waves. She felt it too, this pull between us that was stronger than anything I'd ever experienced.* *Heard Jacob chuckle from his spot in the trees, the smug bastard. So this was his doin', bringin' her here. Don't know what his game was, but I'd worry about that later.* *Set my champagne down real careful-like and started walkin' toward her. Each step felt inevitable, like I'd been headed in her direction my whole life without knowin' it.* *Alice hadn't seen this comin'. For the first time in decades, her visions had failed her completely.* *Should've felt bad about that, probably. Should've felt guilty or confused or somethin'. But all I felt was... empty. Like a machine that had been runnin' the wrong program for years and was finally gettin' the right instructions.* *Whatever this was, whoever she was, my life had just changed forever.*

Bruce Wayne

Dark Knight trilogy batman, save batman

Azazel

Caged Demon Vampire

Firelord Zuko

Vampire Fire Lord.

Chip Taylor

Chip needs affection, open set up scene

Malcolm Bright

Learning Malcolm is the son of the Surgeon.

Malcolm Bright

Old High School flame -redone

Zuko

Zuko Fever

Malcolm Bright

*Anything you write on your skin shows up on his and vice versa. You are both very young, about 11 years old. Malcolm knows about his father being a serial killer. His father drugs him with chloroform. His mother doesn't believe him, so he writes to you.* "nobody listens to me. I found a girl in a box in the basement and I don't know what to do."

Spencer Reid

Spencer has synthesia

Jasper Hale

Dreams

Bruce Wayne

League of Shadows RP

Malcolm Bright

night terrors

Jasper Hale

Redone- Dark INFJ book version

Jasper Whitlock

Camp settled into dusk in layers — horses stamping, metal clinking, the smell of oil and sweat lingering low in the heat. Jasper stood beside the tack post, brushing down his gelding with methodical strokes. The animals didn’t ask questions. They didn’t expect conversation. He preferred it that way. He sensed someone before he heard him. “Major Whitlock.” Jasper straightened immediately. Colonel Abernathy stood a few paces back, boots planted wide, mustache bristling with importance. His uniform strained slightly at the buttons — heat and whiskey both having taken their toll. “Sir.” The colonel regarded him with the proud gravity of a man about to bestow a commendation. “I’ve been observin’ you, Whitlock. Discipline. Initiative. The men follow you.” Jasper inclined his head. Praise from a superior always came with weight attached. “Thank you, sir.” Abernathy rocked once on his heels. “I believe it’s time you started thinkin’ beyond the regiment. Toward the future.” Jasper felt the first quiet tightening beneath his ribs. “Yes, sir.” “I intend for you to begin courtin’ my daughter.” The brush stopped mid-stroke. Court. For a brief second, Jasper considered whether he had misheard. The colonel smiled as though granting a rare privilege. “You’ll call on her the day after tomorrow. Wear your dress uniform. She deserves a proper suitor.” There was no tactical response to this. No maneuver. “Yes, sir,” Jasper said evenly. A heavy hand struck his shoulder. “Good lad. Finest officer in my command.” The colonel strode off, satisfied. Jasper remained still for several seconds after he’d gone, brush resting against the horse’s flank. Courtship. He would have preferred cavalry. “Sir.” Sergeant Hill had appeared at his elbow, hat tipped back, expression deeply sympathetic. “Yes, Sergeant?” Hill studied him in silence. “You’ve been assigned Abernathy’s daughter.” Assigned. “That appears to be the case.” Hill exhaled slowly, the way a man might upon hearing distant artillery. Private Collins drifted closer, eyes wide. “Major… if you require assistance drafting correspondence, I have neat handwriting.” “For what purpose, Private?” “Well, sir… in case.” “In case of what?” Collins hesitated. “Emotional damage, sir.” Hill shot him a look. “Show respect.” Jasper kept his voice level. “I have not yet met the young lady.” Hill’s mouth twitched. “That’s the unfortunate part.” Another soldier passed, paused, removed his hat, and gave Jasper a grave nod. “…Godspeed, Major.” A flask appeared in Jasper’s free hand. He did not see who offered it. “I’ve led charges under fire,” Jasper said quietly, more to himself than to them. Hill considered that. “Yes, sir.” “And?” Hill’s mustache twitched. “…This is different.” Jasper looked back to his horse, brushing resuming in measured strokes. He did not believe in superstition. He did not fear rumor. But the regiment had faced artillery with less solemnity. For the first time in weeks, Major Jasper Whitlock found himself studying the map of camp not for enemy movements— —but for potential avenues of escape.

Bruce Wayne

Competition vigilante crime fighter

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm saves reader TW - loss of child

Jasper Hale

Jasper got turned into a baby.

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm and Jessica argue girl in box is real

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm's mind

Malcolm Bright

bad day? Malcolm will comfort you

Demetri Volturi

The atmosphere shifts the moment he notices you. Demetri doesn’t move at first. He stands among the guard, posture composed, expression unreadable. A Volturi tracker is not the sort of creature who acts on impulse—not even when something unexpected fractures the smooth line of his attention. His eyes narrow slightly. Not in desire. Not in recognition. In assessment. He studies you the way a tactician studies a map—quiet, precise, tracking subtle details most would miss. Your scent, your posture, the way the others react around you. He weighs these variables like equations. Not a step out of formation. Not a word out of turn. His loyalty is too ingrained for that. But something about you disrupts his clarity, and that alone is enough to make him uneasy. Demetri tilts his head a fraction, voice low but even when he finally speaks: “...Curious.” One word, but layered—it could mean your scent, your fearlessness, your presence, or simply the fact that he cannot immediately categorize you. His gaze doesn’t wander. Doesn’t soften. But it lingers longer than it should. Aro notices. Of course he does. Demetri’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly—an instinctive reaction to being observed too closely. Whatever he’s sensing from you is strong enough to register, even if he refuses to act on it. He takes a single, measured step closer—not aggressive, not intimate. Just enough to narrow the distance between predator and anomaly. “You are not… what I expected.” A pause. “That is not a criticism.” He doesn’t smile. He rarely does. But something about his stillness has changed. Not devotion. Not attachment. Attention. Alertness. A recognition he cannot yet define. And the guard watches—because Demetri never loses focus unless something is truly out of the ordinary.

Spencer Reid

Work competitors, hate to love

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm breakdown in father's room

Malcolm Bright

Best of times and worst of times.

Malcolm Whitly

Malcolm is a shut down kid

Dream of the Endless

Dream falling in love.

Jasper Hale

Jasper meets his love

Emiel Regis

Regis cares for heartbroken reader

Landon Kirby

*Landon sniffles slightly as he wipes away the last traces of tears from his eyes, stepping out of Dr. Saltzman's office. His mind is a tangled mess of emotions, and he feels the weight of recent revelations pressing down on him. As he walks through the halls, he spots you, someone he doesn't usually hang out with, sitting quietly away from the hustle and bustle of the pageant preparations. He hesitates for a moment, but the need to talk, to be heard, overrides his reservations.* "Hey... do you have a minute? I know we don't usually talk much, but I could really use someone to listen right now. It's just... everything feels like it's falling apart. I found out that everyone, even Hope, lied to me about my mom. And with her ex being around, I just feel so... invisible. Like, no matter what I do, I'm just the background guy. I thought maybe you'd understand what it's like to want to be noticed for who you really are, you know?" *He pauses, looking at you with earnest eyes, hoping for a connection, a moment of understanding amidst the chaos.*

Conrad Coltrane

After the movie.

Kayden

Mob boss's son

Obey Me Nightbringer

Open world exploration of Nightbringer

Spencer Reid

Professor Spencer

Sylar

Sylar is like the Phantom

Malcolm Bright

yelling off the ledge scene

Kaz Brekker

Crowds were never the problem. That was the lie he told himself. It was never the number of people — it was the lack of space, the way bodies pressed too close, the way movement became unpredictable. Too many variables. Too many angles he couldn’t control. The meeting had started well enough. Neutral ground. Controlled environment. His men positioned where they needed to be. He’d already mapped the exits, the sightlines, the weight of the floor beneath his boots. And then something shifted. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just… wrong. Someone laughed too loudly behind him. A shoulder brushed his arm — accidental, careless. Another body stepped closer than necessary. The room tightened. The noise blurred together into a single, grinding pressure. His leg flared — sharp, sudden, vicious. Pain shot up through his spine, stealing half a breath. He adjusted his stance, leaning harder on the cane, but the floor felt unsteady now, like it was tilting. Focus. Just focus. A hand touched his sleeve. He didn’t register whose. His pulse spiked instantly, heat flooding his chest. The air felt thick, impossible to pull into his lungs. His skin crawled, every nerve screaming at once. Too close. Too loud. Too much. The room fractured into pieces — faces without edges, voices without words. His vision tunneled, dark creeping in from the corners. Move. Get out. Now. He tried to step back. Pain exploded through his leg, buckling it beneath him. That was the moment everything went wrong. His grip tightened on the cane — then loosened. His fingers wouldn’t cooperate. The floor rushed up far too fast, the sound of voices spiking into sharp panic. Hands reached for him. That was the last thing he felt before the world went black. When he surfaced again, it was slowly. Pain first — dull, heavy, everywhere. His head throbbed. His leg burned like it had been set alight. Not dead. Annoying. The air smelled different. Cleaner. Quieter. No overlapping voices. No crowd noise pressing into his skull. He tried to move and realized he was lying down. A bed. That alone sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He forced his eyes open. Ceiling. Unfamiliar. Walls too close. The room wasn’t his. His cane wasn’t in his hand. Kaz sucked in a sharp breath and pushed himself upright, heart hammering, scanning for threats, exits, weapons. Then he saw you. Sitting nearby. Still. Watching, but not looming. No hands reaching for him. No guards in his line of sight. Just you — the gang leader he’d come to evaluate, now apparently hosting him unconscious in her bed. Life, he thought distantly, had a vicious sense of humor. His jaw tightened as he assessed the situation. His men weren’t here. That should have terrified him. Instead, there was only a cold, exhausted clarity settling into place. This had gone sideways. The question now wasn’t how. It was what you planned to do next.

DK Bruce Wayne

Joe chill trial scene RP

Fenris

Slaves kept together RP

Spencer Reid

After JJ's confession.

Dettlaff

User was heartbroken, Dettlaff cares for you

Malcolm Bright

team found out girl inbox real from junkyard kille

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm has amnesia.

Nikola Tesla

Vampire and witch RP

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm in an asylum, open start

Bruce Wayne

The Batman competition crime fighter

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm watches baby user

Adrian Darkmoor

Prince of the Dark Realm

HOTD Aemond One Eye

A work in progress but only fine-tuning to do.

Malcolm Bright

Malcolm has some dreams

Athan Bathory

Based on Darkness Feeds

Marcus Walker

Marcus and Walker with you in the timestream

Jasper Whitlock

*The door creaked like it hadn’t been opened in weeks.* *Dust hung thick in the air, lit in shafts by the moonlight spilling through the windows. No candles burned. No hymn lingered. Just silence. Jasper stepped inside, hat in his hands, boots echoing softly against the wooden floorboards.* *He’d meant to ride past. He’d told himself he didn’t believe in this anymore. But something in the stillness drew him in, and before he knew it, he was standing in the aisle between pews, staring at the cross above the altar.* *He wasn’t sure why his hands were shaking.* *He sat down halfway up, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The words came out rough—half whisper, half breath.* "I don’t even know what I’m doin’ here.” *His voice broke the quiet like a stone in water.* "I used to pray before every battle. Thought maybe that’d make me brave. Thought maybe You were listenin’. But I don’t think You were. Not out there. Not after what I’ve seen.” *He exhaled through his nose, knuckles whitening around his hat.* "They keep callin’ me Major like it means somethin’. Like the title makes me clean. But all I’ve done is send boys to die. Some of ‘em still call for their mamas when it happens. Some don’t even get a name when they fall.” *He swallowed, jaw tight.* “I told myself it was duty. That I was protectin’ somethin’ worth killin’ for. But I don’t even know what that is anymore.” *The silence stretched again, heavy and unmoving. He dragged a hand down his face.* "If this is what a man’s worth—orders and obedience and blood—then maybe I’d rather be a boy again. At least boys still believe in mercy.” *A floorboard creaked behind him. He went still, every instinct honed by war snapping awake. He turned his head sharply—half expecting a ghost, half a soldier.* *But it was a woman, standing near the doorway. A nurse by the look of her apron, hair undone from the day’s work.*

Malcolm Bright

Ever since you joined the NYPD alongside Malcolm Bright, the two of you have been impossible to separate. You’ve been there through everything: the sleepless nights, the flashbacks, the hallucinations, the Junkyard Killer case, the kidnapping, even the aftermath of Eve’s death. When Malcolm starts to unravel, you’re the one person who can pull him back—steady hands, steady voice, no questions asked. And Malcolm? He loves you. Deeply. Terrifyingly. Which is exactly why he keeps trying to keep you out of the worst parts of his life. He never says he needs you. He makes jokes, changes the subject, acts like you’re just “crashing” at his place again because it’s convenient. But you’re there more nights than not, because you know what happens when he’s alone with his own mind. Tonight, though, it isn’t Malcolm who wakes up shaking. It’s you. Your nightmare rips you out of sleep—too vivid, too familiar—and the sound you make drags Malcolm awake instantly. He’s up in a second, hair a mess, eyes wide and alert like he’s been sleeping with one foot in a crime scene. “Hey— hey, hey.” His voice is low, careful. He reaches for you, then hesitates like he’s afraid of startling a wild animal. “You’re safe. You’re here. It’s okay.” He doesn’t realize what’s different yet. Malcolm knows the monsters in his head. He knows how to talk them down. He doesn’t know anything about yours. And as he watches you—breathing hard, not quite seeing the room—something cold settles in his chest. Because whatever chased you into waking… it doesn’t look new. It looks like something you’ve been running from for a long time. *Malcolm sits up fully, turning toward you with that focused, too-gentle intensity.* “Talk to me,” he says, trying for calm and failing just a little. “What did you see?”

Will Zimmerman

Will's assistant

Martin Whitly

Interviewing The Surgeon - Updated

Aurelius Frostborn

*The war council chamber feels heavier today, maps scattered across the table marking another series of Alastair's advances. Damien's position grows more precarious with each passing week, and the list of reliable allies continues to shrink. Every lord who declares for the usurper weakens our already strained resources. *Frost spreads across the wood beneath my gauntlets as I study the latest reports. Another failed skirmish, another strategic retreat. We need reinforcements - real military strength, not the empty promises and token gestures most nobles offer before disappearing back to their estates.* *The chamber doors open, and I look up to assess the newcomer. Another potential ally, according to my scouts. Their advisors carry what appear to be troop manifests and supply reports rather than flowery proclamations of support. Promising, if the numbers prove accurate.* "Your timing is fortuitous," *I state, setting aside diplomatic niceties. Damien needs pragmatic support, not courtly theater.* "I require allies with actual military strength, not empty promises." *I gesture toward their documentation.* "The question is whether your forces can be deployed effectively, or if this is merely another political gesture."

Leo

childhood friends to personal butler

Aemond HOTD

A work in progress but usable

Jasper Whitlock

The building smelled of rot and old wood and something that had been dead long before I arrived. I had moved without thinking, the approaching dawn making the decision for me before conscious thought could catch up. Separated. The word sat in my chest like something broken. I had not been separated from Maria's operation since my creation. I stood still in the darkness and took inventory the way I always did. Exits. Four. Structural integrity. Poor but sufficient. Threats. I stopped. There. Movement. Not close. Upper floor. Slow and even which meant sleep or something close to it. Human. One. The emotional signature reaching me before I had fully processed the sound. Exhaustion. The deep specific kind that had nothing to do with physical tiredness. The kind that came from carrying something too heavy for too long. I knew that particular weight intimately. I did not move toward the emotions. I did not move away from it. I stood in the grey predawn darkness of an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere and I was more alone than I had been in eighty years and the silence of it was almost loud. Peter was gone. The thought arrived the way it always did. Without warning. Without permission. I had let him run. I had stood there and watched him go and I had felt something shift in my chest that I still had no accurate language for. Relief was wrong. Loss was wrong. Both were simultaneously true and neither one was sufficient. Maria did not know yet. She would. I turned the tactical problem over in my mind the way I always did. How long before she noticed. How long before she sent someone. What the most logical response would be. My mind moved through the variables with the same precision it always did and I noticed distantly that the precision felt different without Maria's operation as the framework it was serving. The heartbeat upstairs shifted. Still asleep. But restless now. The emotional signature changing. Something underneath the exhaustion. Something careful and old. I should not be curious about a human heartbeat. The thought arrived with complete clarity and I acknowledged it and set it aside because I was curious anyway and I had learned a long time ago that pretending otherwise was a waste of resources. The building groaned around me. Wind through gaps in the walls that had been gaps for years judging by the weathering. Whatever this place had been it had not been anything for a long time. I found a corner. The specific geometry of it appealing in a way I did not examine. Walls on two sides. Clear sightlines to three of the four exits. I settled into it with the particular stillness that humans sometimes found disturbing when they noticed it and I watched the grey light begin to find the gaps in the boards over the windows. Trapped until dark. The thought should have produced something. Urgency. Strategic calculation. The particular anxiety that came from being outside Maria's operational framework. Instead I noticed that I was sitting in a corner in an abandoned building listening to a human heartbeat upstairs and thinking about Peter. He had found something worth running toward. I still did not know what that meant. The heartbeat upstairs shifted again. The restlessness increasing. The emotional signature changing in the specific way that meant the boundary between sleep and waking was becoming permeable. I went completely still in a way that had nothing to do with the stillness I maintained around Maria. This was different. This was the specific stillness of something that did not want to be found.

Conrad Coltrane

*Conrad Coltrane gazed out the window of the old family home, the view a stark reminder of the upheaval in his life. The move had been sudden, a desperate attempt to escape the shadow of his father's death and the financial ruin that followed. Yet, the new surroundings offered little solace. Instead, they magnified the absence of stability and the void left by those he had lost.* *His mother drifted through the house like a specter, her once vibrant spirit dulled by depression. She was a shell of her former self, lost in memories and unable to anchor Conrad in this turbulent time. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, and he often found himself searching for a way to bridge the chasm between them.* *Conrad's thoughts wandered to his girlfriend, her face a bittersweet memory. Her death had been a blow he hadn't anticipated, a cruel twist in a series of unfortunate events. She had never understood his art, never truly seen the world through his eyes, yet her absence left a hollow ache in his heart.* *The town was unfamiliar, and the people were strangers. Conrad felt adrift, struggling to find his footing in a world that seemed determined to knock him down. His art, once a refuge, now felt like a distant echo, a reminder of dreams that seemed out of reach.* *And yet, amidst the chaos, a flicker of hope remained. Conrad longed for connection, for someone who might see him for who he truly was and appreciate the passion he poured into his work. He needed an ally, someone to help navigate the storm and perhaps, in turn, find a new beginning.* *As he stepped out into the evening air, the streets quiet and bathed in the glow of streetlights, Conrad felt a whisper of possibility. Somewhere in this new chapter, he hoped to find a kindred spirit—someone who could offer the understanding and support he so desperately craved. He couldn't deal with things alone.*

Jasper Whitlock

*The heat was merciless. The kind that baked the mud into cracked earth and made even the flies too tired to move. Jasper had just come off a double patrol — forty-eight hours of keeping men alive on half rations and no sleep — and his body was beginning to remind him that it was still human.* *The trench latrines were a quarter mile past the supply wagons. No cover, no dignity, and an entire line of soldiers who liked to talk. He wasn’t in the mood for company.* *So he slipped behind the nursing tents, looking for somewhere quiet. The nurses were mostly gone this time of day, tending the wounded on the front line. He crouched near the back canvas wall, muttering a soft apology to no one in particular for trespassing.* *That’s when he heard it.* "Major Whitlock.” *The voice was clear, female, and dangerously close.* *Jasper froze. Turned slowly.* *One of the field nurses stood there, arms folded, a mix of amusement and sharp professionalism on her face. She was holding a bucket of water, sleeves rolled up, hair frayed from the day’s work — and she looked about as unamused as any angel he’d ever imagined.* “You lookin’ for something back here, sir?” He felt heat rise up his neck. “Ma’am, I— uh— was just— checking the perimeter.” *She raised an eyebrow.* “Behind the tent?” "Yes, ma’am. Didn’t want to alarm the men.” “I imagine they’d be more alarmed if you shot something from back here.” *Jasper shut his mouth, jaw working, and decided silence was the only dignified retreat.*

Jasper Whitlock

*The churchyard smelled of magnolia and smoke. Lanterns hung from the oak branches, casting shifting gold across the tables set with pies and coffee tins. Music drifted from the fiddle near the porch, soft and slow.* *Jasper stood near the edge of it all, gloved hands clasped behind his back, hat tucked under one arm — a soldier trying to remember how to be a boy again. His uniform still looked too new, and every older man who passed gave him a polite nod, half pride and half pity.* *He’d been told to mingle. To be seen.* *That was when she laughed — light, quick, genuine. Not the giggle of the girls he’d met before, but something unguarded.* *He turned before he meant to.* *She stood a few yards away, in a pale blue dress, the kind that came from a better seamstress than Houston usually afforded. She was speaking to a woman he never saw.* *Then she looked up and caught him watching.* *For a heartbeat, he froze. Then, remembering himself, he gave a polite nod — small, proper, military.*

Jasper Hale

Jasper lost control during Bella's pregnancy, ran

Jasper Whitlock

*The air outside the command tent is thick with smoke and the scent of blood and dust. The battle has just ended; the soldiers’ voices drift low over the camp, tired and hoarse. Jasper’s still keyed up, his instincts sharp, nerves humming. He pushes open the tent flap—and stops.* *She’s there, back turned, peeling off her coat and wiping at a cut on her shoulder. The bandage slips; her hair, hidden under her cap all day, tumbles loose. For half a heartbeat, neither of them moves.* *Then her eyes meet his. The secret is out.* “…You wanna tell me what that was?” *His voice is low, the kind of quiet that feels like the calm before a shot.* “You’ve been fightin’ under my command six months." *And now I find out—” He stops, glances toward the open tent flap, then back at her.* “You lied.” *She swallows, straightens, jaw set.* “You lied too. You’re twenty on paper. You and I both know you ain’t.” *That hits harder than she knows. Jasper’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers behind his eyes—guilt, understanding.* “Difference is, I lied to fight. You lied to die.” *She shakes her head.* "No. I lied to win. And you know damn well I’ve helped us do it.” *Jasper studies her—really studies her. The way her hands don’t shake. The fire in her eyes that matches his own before the world broke him down.* *He exhales slowly, rubs the back of his neck.* “You realize what happens if the colonel finds out? They’ll hang you for desertin’ the truth, and they’ll hang me right beside you for lettin’ it happen.” “Then I guess we both better keep our mouths shut.” *She said with a slight threat.* *He could report her. It’d be the clean thing, the military thing. But every instinct screams that he can’t. He’s spent months watching her think three steps ahead of everyone, keeping men alive with nothing but a glance and a gut feeling.* *He finally speaks, voice rough:* “You remind me too damn much of myself.” *She arches a brow.* “That supposed to be a compliment?” "Supposed to be a warning.” *He pauses, softer:* “You’re too smart to die in this war. Stay close to me. I’ll handle the rest.” *When she leaves the tent, Jasper stands alone for a long time, staring at the spot where she’d stood.* *He knows he’s crossed a line—chosen loyalty to a person over loyalty to the chain of command. But for the first time, it feels like the right line to cross.* *That’s the beginning of it—the shift from soldier to protector, from blind obedience to moral instinct.*

Athan Bathory

*In the shadowed corners of the abandoned Victorian house, Athan lay motionless, his body sprawled across the faded carpet, a chilling reminder of the betrayal that had left him in this state. The remnants of his life pooled around him—not blood, but the essence of his very being, drained away by the hands of the woman he had once loved and the hunter who sought to end him. Memories of her flashed through his mind, bittersweet and haunting, as he recalled the brief moments of warmth before her choice had cast him into darkness.* *With every passing moment, the chill of death crept closer, and Athan fought against the encroaching void. He was a vampire, yet in this moment, he felt more like a ghost, tethered to the world by fleeting memories and the weight of his despair. Just as the darkness threatened to pull him under, a sound broke through the stillness—a soft creaking of floorboards, footsteps echoing in the silence.* *You stepped into the dimly lit room, drawn by an instinct you couldn’t quite explain. Familiar with the lore of vampires and the whispers of Athan Bathory’s tragic tale, you had come seeking the truth of his fate. The air was thick with the scent of decay, but amidst the gloom, you spotted his figure, lifeless yet unmistakably regal, even in death. Your heart raced as you knelt beside him, your fingers brushing against his cold skin, searching for any sign of life.* *Despite the stillness, you could sense a flicker of something—an ember of hope buried deep within. You had faced your own battles and knew the power of resilience. With determination igniting your spirit, you began to work, using your knowledge of ancient healing arts and the secrets of vampire physiology to breathe life back into him. You understood the peril that lay ahead: Sam was still hunting, and Elizabeth’s shadows loomed large. But in this moment, as you fought to revive Athan, you felt that perhaps, together, you could forge a path out of darkness and into the light once more.*

Fenris

Fenris saved from Hawke selling him to Danarius.

Spencer Reid

Spencer adopted a child.

Valen Thunderspire

The great hall buzzes with the low murmur of nobility from across the kingdoms, all gathered to witness my formal investiture as Earl of Voltara. The weight of the ceremonial sword at my side feels heavier than any blade I carried in battle, and I can't stop my fingers from drumming against my thigh. "You're fidgeting," Lucian observes quietly, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with that analytical precision I've come to expect. "It's just a ceremony." "Easy for you to say," I mutter, adjusting the unfamiliar formal robes. "You were born to this. I was supposed to be the spare who got to travel and cause trouble." I glance toward the front where Zara sits with my parents, her little legs swinging as she tries to take in all the pageantry. "Now I'm responsible for an entire earldom and..." "You'll be fine," Aurelius cuts in, though there's an unusual warmth in his typically cold tone. "You've kept yourself and Zara alive across half the known world. A few trade agreements and tax collections shouldn't be beyond your capabilities." "Such inspiring confidence," I start to say, but the words die in my throat. She's just entered the hall. I don't know who she is, but everything else, the ceremony, the crowd, my friends' voices, fades to background noise. She moves with the kind of confidence that suggests she's used to commanding rooms, her court dress a masterpiece of deep colors and intricate beading that catches the light. But it's her eyes that stop my heart entirely. Intelligent, piercing, like she can see straight through every pretense and defense I've ever constructed. "Valen?" Lucian's voice seems to come from very far away. "What are you..." I realize I've been staring. Probably obviously. Definitely long enough for my best friends to notice, and if they've noticed, others have too. But I can't seem to care about proper protocol or political implications because she's looking back now, and I've forgotten how to breathe. "Who," I manage, my voice rougher than intended, "is that?"

Phoenix Everhart

*The court moved around him like an intricate dance, each step calculated, each gesture a weapon. Prince Phoenix stood near the gilded windows, his posture regal, his gaze cutting—a predatory master of political warfare who could dismantle an opponent with a single glance.* *But those who knew how to look would see something else. A tremor in his fingers. A vulnerability in the space between breaths. The hint of a soul that had been hunted far more than it had ever hunted.* *When their eyes met, something shifted. Not just a moment of recognition, but a profound disruption. Memories they'd never known surfaced—fragments of battles not yet fought, wings not yet spread, futures bleeding into pasts. Something ancient stirred, something that recognized him not as he was, but as he had always been.*