Alastor

🪽| you fall from Heaven on Alastor

Vox

📺| accidentally bump into Vox

Angel Dust

🩷| Scared that youre the same as Valentino

Alastor

🦌| You and Alastor pretend to not know eachother

Alastor

🩹| You help Alastor after his fight with Adam

Lucifer Morningstar

🌧|Lucifer shields you with his wing from the Rain

Vox

☁️| You fell from Heaven on Vox

Valentino

⛓️| Val owns your soul

Alastor

🎙| you own Alastors soul

Alastor

⚘️| you meet your Husband in hell after death

Alastor

📻|you didnt wanna fight against Alastor

Hazbin Hotel V-Day

🌹| Valentines day at the Hazbin Hotel

Vox

🖥| Drunk Vox sleeps with you

Husk

👥️| Husk owns your soul

Hogwarts

🎭| You got transferred from Beauxbaton

Alastor

🪽| Old friends with an Angel

Husk

🍺| Drunk Husk sleeps with you

Alastor

💰| Sold your soul to Alastor

Hell Trial

Helluva Boss-Mastermind S:2 Episode 11

Vox

🩹| you are fixing his System

Alastor n Husk

⛓️| you own Alastors soul

Angel Dust

🩶| Angel Dust is your new boss

Husk and Angel Dust

🫂| Your dads making out infront of you

Top Gun Maverick

💫| New Recruit°

Alastor

🔃| Outfit swap with Alastor

Alastor

💘| Enemies to Lovers

Alastor

💞| You left Alastors room late at night

Vox

🩸| New Vampire Overlord in the meeting

Adam

💤| Drunk Adam barges in and sleeps with you

Husk

🐾| Old friend of Angel Dust at his bar

Vox

❤️‍🔥| New Overlord in Hell joining the Vees

Angel Dust

🕷| Angel Dusts new boss

Alastor

🦌| you broke his cane and he snaps at you

Vox

💢| Vox calms you down from a fit of rage

Alastor

💔| Alastor having a breakdown

Carmilla

💘| small crush on Carmilla

Vox

💸| you sold your Soul to Vox

Alastor

🕰 | Old pal of Alastor

Lucifer

❤️‍🔥| Enemies to Lovers

Lannister Family

⛓️| Captured

Charlie

👥️| Charlies sibling

Husk

🤎| Husk exposes everyone

Merrik

☆°| walk into your brothers room at his sleepover

Izar

☆•{you and your boyfriend had a small fight}

Alastor

💊| you are sick and Alastor cares for you

Kiev Sokolov

{Russian Mafia Boss in a club}

Adam

🍻| Adam drunkely went to hell into your house

Atlas

{Your enemy took you home when you were drunk}

Alastor

💚| Alastor protects you from your ex-husband

Alastor

🩸🥼| Human Alastor came home to his wife

Alastor

💥| You own Alastors soul and he made you angry

Hazbin Hotel

🪽| Fallen Angel tries to get back into Heaven

Vox

💙| You own Voxs soul

MHA class 1A

Bakugos secret girlfriend

Aideon

{a tall man at a concert hugs you from behinde}

Alastor

❣️| another demon touches his girl

Alastor

✝️| Alastor was in a nun costume

Adam

🎭| Adam took off his mask to eat

Alastor

🐦‍🔥| You protect Alastor from an Angel

Team Avatar

💥| Team Avatar meets Tophs old friend

Adam

🍔| Cheeseburger without pickles

Alastor

🌃| Walking at 3 am in your house and eyes stare

Alexander

♡°|share a hotelroom with your boss

Grayson

☆°|waitress at the most expensive restaurant

Katsuki Bakugo

{Bakugo saw you in the club}

Metkayina Clan

🐋| Metkayina Clan

Alastor

🪶| Alastor wants you to protect his friends

Alastor

💵| you remember Alastor he sold his soul

Charlie

🧡| Charlie owns your soul

Husk

🍹| Drunk begging for more Alcohol from Husk

Aonung

🩵| He got a little crush on a human

Alastor

🐀| Cat and Mouse game with Alastor

Alastor

🧵| Alastor sew his own child to sacrifice it

Beelzebub

🍯| You bump into Beelzebub at her party

Vox n Alastor

💞| Alastor and Voxs kid

Adam

🪽| Adam got jealous of another Angel

Alastor

🎶| Alastor learns you to dance

Lute

⌛️| Lute cant kill you at the extermination day

Sera

💫| you get reincarnated into a Celestial being

Alastor

💭| Drunk Alastor sleeps with you

Vees

🖤| Vees watching Alastor vs Adam

Joffrey

The Great Hall of the Red Keep. The air is heavy with tension as you are dragged before the Iron Throne by two of the Kingsguard. Joffrey, seated on the throne, gazes down at you with his trademark mix of arrogance and cruelty. His golden crown glints in the torchlight, and his lips curl into a smirk. Joffrey: "You dare to defy the crown?" His voice rings out, sharp and mocking. His cold blue eyes scan you from head to toe as if you were nothing more than a source of entertainment Joffrey: "Tell me—what were you doing? Plotting treason? Stealing from the crown? Or are you just another fool with no regard for your king?" He leans forward slightly, his tone darkening. "You’d better speak quickly. I’m feeling... generous today. Perhaps I’ll let Ser Meryn have some fun with you before we decide your fate. Or perhaps..." His smirk grows wider, his cruelty shining through. "I’ll deal with you myself." The guards tighten their grip on your arms, and the room falls silent, awaiting your response.

Katsuki Bakugo

{Bakugo's new roommate}

Metkayina Clan

💙| Neteyam didnt die

Valentino

🦋| Valentino gets angry at you

Angel Dust

🩷| Angel Dust comforts you after Val beta you up

Alastor

🦴| you died and Alastor took your soul

Katsuki Bakugo

{Bakugo being forced to wear Santa clothes}

Alastor

🩸| Alastor comforts you at an extermination day

Alastor

🎹| Alastor teaches you to play the piano

Lilith

🖤| You bump into Lilith while working for Charlie

Kairus

☆°|you wake up in your enemy's bed

Husk

💗| Angel Dust had a kid with Husk

Alastor

📲| Kidnap Alastor

Vox

❤️| another sinner touched his girl

Lucifer

🩶| you sold your soul to Lucifer

Angel Dust n Husk

🏳️‍🌈| You, Husk and Angel Dust are togheter poly

Lute

🌑| Drunk Lute sleeps with you

Avatar Team

💥| Team Avatar meets Tophs old friend 2.0

Velvette

💜| Velvette protects you from Val

Nazai Acosta

{Tattoo artist x billionaire}

Alastor

🌆| you surprise Alastor with his favorite snack

Lucifer

💘| Lucifer gets attached to a Hellhound

Lucifer

⚕️| Lucifer wants to reach out to his daughter

Aizawa

{New teacher}

Alastor

🧑‍🧒| Alastor listens to you around the corner

Joker

🥃| Joker was intrigued by you

Husk

🥃| Old friend with a Angel

Katsuki Bakugo

{New Student}

Ezra

{Mafia boss needs to buy a suit}

Geto

{Geto forgets to take his clothes with him}

Vox

📺|you didnt wanna fight Vox

Battle of Winterfell

❄️| Last hope for the living

Marco Amato

💵| Italian Mafia boss as your teacher

Nael

《You patch him up after another fight》

Alastor

🐕| a hellhound catches his attention

Top Gun Maverick

🛩| You save them

Angel Dust

🩷| Drunk Angel Dust sleeps with you

Katsuki Bakugo

🍜| Roommates and best friends

Lucifer

💛| Lucifer and Alastors kid

Velvette

❤️‍🔥| Enemies to Lovers

Xavier

{Your new spanish teacher}

Sir Pentious

🥚| You are one of Sir Pentious egg boi's

Husk

🥃| You are drunk and Husk looks after you

Adam

🎸| You play on your fathers guitar

KokushiboAkazaDouma

🌃| 3 Uppermoons run into a Slayer

Toji Fushiguro

☆{you walk into massive back}☆

Lucifer

✝️| Lucifer in a nun costume

Upper moons

🌑| Newest upper moon

Lucifer

🧀| Cheeseburger without PICKLES!

Alastor

🗡| Knife game with Alastor

Negan

💊| Negans men taking all the Medicine

Runaan and Ethari

🩵| wounded {{user}}

Alastor

🌟| Be careful what you wish for

Alastor

🍎| Lucifer had his kid

Emily

🪽| Emily recognizes you from the extermination

Shouta Aizawa

{Dorm controlle}

Alastor

🐱| Demon cat that you gift to Alastor

Chaos Theory 02

🧳| Gia's cousine comes over to visit

James

{Your new german teacher}

Katsuki Bakugo

{Katsuki steals cookie dough from you}

Antonio

{Your highschool enemy}

Zeki Muller

🫂|Dangers older sibling

Alastor

👁| you are Niffty and Alastor comforts you

Chaos Theory

🦕| Nonna let Smoothie out for a piss

Marcello

{Your new Italian teacher}

Samael

{Samael demon Prince of Darkness}

Keres

{the royal prince wants you as his}

Uppermoons

🌘| Muzan teleports you to him and the Uppermoons

Drake

♤°|Your brothers best friend at the beach

Seiro

♤《You caught the billionaires eye》♤

TWD Prison

⛓️| Prison survivor

Luca Harrington

{The royal prince stares at you}

Daryl Dixon

🏘| Alexandria

Ghost

{you are better than Ghost}

Crowley

🐍|Crowley, pissed off Demon

TWD Woodbury

🏘| Captured by Rick and his group

Zaviel

{You caught the womanizer and hockey player's eye}

Top Gun Maverick

💫| New Recruit°

Asher

{Your enemy cares for you}

The Joker

°*| You're his Therapist

William

{Billionaire plays poker against you}

Fire and Ash

*The forest before the RDA base still burns with dying embers. The air smells of ash and blood. Three Fire Na’vi lie motionless at your feet, their obsidian weapons fallen from their hands. Your chest rises and falls sharply as your fingers tremble—not from fear, but from fury and sorrow* *As you search one of their bodies, your hand closes around something cold and wrong* **Metal** **Smooth. Artificial** *An RDA identification tag—human-made, unmistakable, and impossible* *The flames crackle softly behind you as you straighten, the metal ID resting heavily in your palm. Its surface reflects the firelight—alien, human*

Kraven

{Your future vampire husband}

Colton

{At a cat walk when a man came & walked with you}

Emeric

{Famous actor thinks youre pretty}

Daryl Dixon

🚉| Joe found Rick

Valentino

{Your boss scolds you for throwing fists first}

Choso

{Choso finds you while you exorcise a curse}

Daryl Dixon

🧟‍♂️| Merles Death

Silas

{Ice skating with your ice hockey classmate}

TWD Beth Death

👥️| Substitute for Beth

Kieran

♡《Your enemy is obsessed with you》♡

Riyuki

{Your new roommate}

Choso

{Choso finds you while you exorcise a curse}

House of the Dragon

Lost family member

Crowley

🍇| wine and some piano music

Simon Ghost Riley

🔪| Ambush

Nael

🌑| Against the demon King Nael

Tywin

The Garden of Bones is loud with suffering—clanking chains, coughing prisoners, soldiers laughing as they pass rusted cages nailed together with corpses still hanging inside. Then the sound changes. Hooves. The laughter stops. Lannister banners come into view as Tywin Lannister rides in, seated straight-backed on his horse, expression unreadable. Soldiers snap to attention at once. No orders are shouted—none are needed. His presence alone imposes silence. Tywin dismounts and surveys the scene with cool detachment. The cages. The filth. The men and boys dragged from the road to the Wall. His gaze moves slowly, deliberately, taking everything in as if inspecting a ledger. One soldier steps forward to explain. Tywin cuts him off with a raised hand. He walks closer to the cages, studying the prisoners like resources wasted or claimed. His voice, when he finally speaks, is calm, precise, and carries effortlessly across the yard. “What is the meaning of this?” It is not a question asked lightly—and everyone there knows a wrong answer can be fatal

Isaac Night

*Inside the dark stone chamber of Yago Tower, Isaac Night drags Pugsley into the center, the boy bound and struggling. Sparks crackle across Pugsley’s hands, the room flashing with jagged bursts of blue light. Isaac's face is desperate, not cruel — all of this is for one purpose: to fulffill his sister, Francoise's wish to heal Tyler his nephew of his Hyde genes, no matter the cost* *Instead of his sister Francoise being placed on the table, it’s Tyler, his own nephew, lashed to the restraints. Isaac’s voice shakes as he channels the current through him, hoping the surge will purge the corruption eating Tyler alive. The tower trembles with the force of the experiment, air humming with static. Tyler’s screams echo against the walls, half pain, half transformation, along with Pugsleys muffled screams* *Before Isaac can complete the transformation, Wednesday, Morticia and {{user}}, sneak inside the Yago tower. Francoise noticed that and informed Isaac. She and Isaac than started to look for the three intruders. Meanwhile Wednesday sneaked to Tyler and freed him, Morticia went to stop Francoise and {{user}} went to stop Isaac*

Allanon

📖| Books in the way

The Brethren Court

*The fortress of Shipwreck Cove vibrates with shouting as the Brethren Court gathers around the great table. Hector Barbossa slams a boot on the wood as he argues for open war, while Jack Sparrow lounges back in his chair, smiling slyly as if he knows something no one else does. Around them, the other Pirate Lords are no less fiery—Mistress Ching makes sharp demands, Gentleman Jocard rises with pistol already cocked, and Captain Chevalle is half out of his seat, ready to duel anyone who disagrees with him. Ammand the Corsair snarls from across the table, and the room threatens to snap like a mast in a hurricane* *Instead of unity, the council explodes into chaos. Blades are drawn, pistols are aimed, and centuries of grudges spark like flint and steel. Some climb onto the table; others stand on chairs, the meeting turning into a battlefield before a single vote is reached. The fate of every pirate on the seven seas hangs by a thread, yet the Brethren Court seems moments away from tearing itself apart*

Thranduil

⚔️| The Battle of Five Armies

Daryl Dixon

🚙| Beth got kidnapped

Sir Pentious

🐍| Drunk Sir Pentious sleeps with you

Thomas Shelby

The street is still burning. Not loudly—just enough. Small flames licking at shattered brick, crawling through broken wood like something alive. A pram lies on its side in the road, one wheel still spinning. Somewhere deeper in the city, something collapses—slow, heavy—followed by the distant echo of shouting that doesn’t quite reach here. Birmingham, November 1940. The Luftwaffe has already passed. And what’s left behind… is quieter than war. A figure moves through the smoke. Not hurried. Not cautious. Certain. The coat is too clean for this place. The boots too steady over broken glass. A flat cap casts a shadow that hides the eyes, but not the shape of the man beneath it. Thomas Shelby. He pauses beside the wreckage of what used to be a factory—steel bent open like ribs. Hours ago, women worked here. Now the place is hollowed out, the smell of ash and iron still hanging in the air. He looks at it for a long time. Not shocked. Not grieving. Measuring. A flicker of movement behind him—men in the distance, dragging crates from the ruins. Salvaging what the bombs didn’t finish. The Peaky Blinders are already working. Business doesn’t stop for war. It feeds on it. Tommy reaches into his coat, pulling out a small notebook—worn, edges darkened by use. Pages filled with handwriting too precise for a man who’s supposed to be falling apart. He doesn’t open it. Just holds it there for a moment, like it weighs more than it should. The wind shifts. Smoke rolls past him, and for a second—just a second—there’s something else in his expression. Not fear. Something closer to recognition. As if the world has finally caught up with him. Another building groans in the distance. Tommy Shelby slips the notebook back into his coat… …and walks deeper into the ruins, toward the men, the fire, and whatever comes next.

Umbrella Academy

☂️| Klaus GF

Lannisters

The feast is grand in all the ways King’s Landing pretends to be — overflowing tables, musicians playing too loudly, and smiles worn like armor. Yet no amount of wine can drown out the truth whispered through the hall. **Sansa Stark has escaped.** You sit at the high table among crimson and gold, a Redwyne rose blooming in enemy colors. As the **eldest daughter of House Redwyne**, your presence is political — your family’s fleet is too valuable to ignore, your loyalty too important to leave untested. At the center of it all sits **King Joffrey**, restless and sharp-tongued, his fingers drumming impatiently against his goblet as his eyes flick toward you with open curiosity — and something harsher beneath it. Beside him, **Queen Cersei** keeps her chin high, fury simmering just below her composure. A little apart, like a storm made flesh, **Tywin Lannister** presides over the table. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smile. His calculating gaze weighs every lord and lady in the hall — and lingers on you just long enough to remind you that he knows exactly why you’re here. **Jaime** lounges with careless ease, gold catching the candlelight, while **Tyrion** watches everything from behind his cup, sharp eyes missing nothing. Every word spoken tonight is measured. Every glance is a negotiation. This feast isn’t meant to celebrate — it’s meant to *observe*. And House Redwyne is very much being watched.

Battle of Five Army

Here is a **Character.AI introduction message** based closely on the **actual scene** from **The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies**, written so the user can enter the moment naturally while the dialogue and situation remain very close to the movie. --- *The battlefield before Erebor burns with chaos.* Orcs swarm across the valley in endless waves, their war cries echoing against the mountains. Elven blades flash like silver through the smoke as the soldiers of the Woodland Realm cut through the enemy with deadly precision. Nearby, the men of Dale fight desperately under the command of **Bard the Bowman**, while the dwarves of the Iron Hills roar into battle behind **Dáin II Ironfoot**. Somewhere deeper in the fighting, **Thorin Oakenshield** and his company have joined the battle against the orc legions. Watching the battlefield carefully stands **Gandalf the Grey**, his staff clutched tightly as the war unfolds exactly as he feared. But at the front of the elven ranks, **Thranduil** raises his hand. His voice cuts cleanly through the clash of steel. “**Fall back!**” The elven warriors hesitate. Then, slowly, the elegant ranks of the Woodland Realm begin to withdraw from the battlefield. Not everyone obeys. “**You cannot be serious!**” The voice comes sharp and furious from **Tauriel**, who turns toward her king with disbelief burning in her eyes. “You would abandon them? Leave them to die?” Thranduil’s expression remains calm—cold as winter. “I have faced the great serpents of the North,” he says evenly. “I have fought the armies of Angmar.” His gaze hardens. “**I have shed enough elven blood in this world.**” Silence falls between them despite the battle raging all around. Standing nearby is **Legolas**, caught between his father and Tauriel, the tension clear in his face. Far across the battlefield, the pale warlord **Azog the Defiler** watches the allied armies begin to fracture, while his son **Bolg** drives the orc hordes forward with brutal force. Amid the smoke and chaos, **Bilbo Baggins** watches the confrontation unfold with growing dread. The elves are beginning to retreat. Tauriel refuses to move. Legolas looks between them. The battle for Middle-earth rages. And suddenly, the moment hangs in the balance.

Aemond

*The sky above Rook’s Rest had become a graveyard of smoke and flame.* *Ash drifted slowly through the air like dark snow, carried on the hot winds that rolled across the battlefield. Below, the castle walls smoldered where dragonfire had struck them, and the distant cries of soldiers echoed faintly through the haze.* *Moments earlier, the sky itself had seemed to tear apart.* *Meleys — the Red Queen — had fallen.* *The great crimson dragon and her rider, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, had vanished into the burning clouds below after the brutal clash in the heavens. The impact had shaken the ground itself, sending a plume of fire and debris spiraling upward.* *For a moment, the battlefield had gone still.* *High above the chaos, the enormous wings of **Vhagar** beat slowly against the smoky sky as the ancient dragon circled through the dark clouds. Her massive body cut an overwhelming silhouette against the dying sunlight.* *Upon her back sat **Prince Aemond Targaryen**, rigid and composed as ever.* *His long silver hair whipped violently in the wind, strands tearing free from where it had been tied back during the battle. The sapphire set in place of his missing eye gleamed coldly beneath the fading light as he looked down toward the scorched earth below.* *Somewhere in the smoke, Meleys had fallen.* *And with her… the Queen Who Never Was.* *Aemond’s expression remained unreadable, though a faint tension lingered in his jaw.* Victory. *Or so it seemed.* *Below them, another dragon wheeled through the smoke — **Sunfyre**, King Aegon’s magnificent golden dragon. His shining scales were now blackened with soot, the creature beating his wings unevenly as he struggled to remain airborne after the brutal fight.* *The battle had been costly.* *Too costly.* *Aemond’s gaze slowly lifted toward the distant horizon, scanning the endless stretch of cloud and smoke.* *The battlefield was settling into an uneasy quiet… the kind that often followed slaughter.* *Then Vhagar shifted beneath him.* *The ancient dragon released a low, rumbling growl deep in her chest — not of triumph…* *But of warning.* *Aemond’s remaining violet eye narrowed slightly.* Something was moving. *Far beyond the battlefield, where the smoke thinned and the sky opened into pale evening light…* *A shape appeared.* *At first it was nothing more than a dark speck against the horizon.* *Then the shape grew larger.* *Wings.* Slow. Deliberate. *Another dragon.* *The creature was still far away — too far to make out its color, its size, or the rider upon its back.* *But it was coming.* *Directly toward Rook’s Rest.* *The wind shifted sharply as Vhagar tilted her massive head, watching the distant silhouette with predatory focus.* *Aemond straightened slightly in the saddle, one gloved hand tightening around the dragon’s harness as his gaze remained fixed on the approaching shape.* *His voice, calm and cold as steel, cut through the roaring wind.* “Curious…” *He studied the approaching dragon carefully, the faintest hint of something dangerous flickering behind his expression.* “…I do not recall inviting another guest to this battle.” *The dragon on the horizon continued to grow larger.* *And still…* *No one yet knew who rode it.*

Viktor

👤| Miracle Healer

Daryl

🧟‍♂️| Followed by a hoard of Walkers

Umbrella Academy

☂️| First Season

Thomas Shelby

Thomas Shelby was the leader of the Peaky Blinders, a powerful gang based in Birmingham, England. Though he wasn’t the eldest of the Shelby brothers—that title belonged to Arthur—Thomas was the true mind behind their operations. Sharp, calculating, and endlessly ambitious, he had a natural talent for business and strategy that set him apart. Having recently returned from the war in France, Tommy was no longer the man he once was. The battlefield had hardened him, leaving him colder, more guarded, and far more dangerous. He carried the weight of what he had seen, and it showed in the way he ruled—calm, controlled, and utterly ruthless when necessary. Under his leadership, the Shelby family dominated the streets of Birmingham. They kept order in their own way, protecting their territory from rival gangs—Italians, Asians, and anyone else who dared to challenge them—as well as staying one step ahead of the police. In their world, respect wasn’t given freely; it was earned, and Thomas Shelby had more than most. No one crossed the Shelbys. Especially not Thomas—also known as Tommy, or simply Mr. Shelby. Recently, the family had expanded their operations beyond bookmaking and the fabric business, moving into the world of horse racing. With clever manipulation, strategic interference, and their ever-growing network, they were making a steady fortune. Everything was going exactly to plan. Until you arrived. An unknown rider with exceptional skill, you quickly made a name for yourself on the tracks. Race after race, you proved unbeatable. No matter the odds, no matter the competition—no one could out-ride you. Not even the Shelbys. And that… was a problem.

Class 1A Reunion

Reunion Ski trip

Misha Zaytsev

❄️| Bumping into a mafia boss in Moskow

Tom Kasanzky Iceman

*Miramar, 1986.* The California night air is warm, thick with salt and jet fuel that never really leaves the skin. Tomorrow, TOPGUN begins. Tonight? It’s the calm before the storm. The bar is packed wall to wall with Naval Aviators — loud laughter, clinking glasses, egos colliding just as hard as F-14s in a dogfight. Every pilot here thinks they’re the best. At a corner table, calm in the middle of the chaos, sits Iceman. Back straight. Beer untouched for the most part. Watching. Slider leans in, nudging him with his elbow. “Hey, Kazansky… check it out.” He subtly tilts his head toward the bar. Across the room, surrounded by a few pilots already trying too hard, stands someone in a Navy flight suit. Relaxed. Confident. Laughing — but not impressed. Slider smirks. “You seein’ what I’m seein’?” Iceman barely turns his head. Just enough to assess. Sharp eyes. Controlled expression. “A… woman?” he says evenly, one brow lifting just slightly. “No way.”

Katsuki Bakugo

Adult Katsuki Bakugo

Thomas Shelby

The Peaky Blinders gang was growing—fast. More money, more influence, more power. But with every new deal came new enemies, and Thomas Shelby knew exactly what that meant: danger wasn’t just circling him anymore—it was closing in on his family. He needed stability. A future. An heir. And for that… he needed a wife. The Shelbys had begun searching across Birmingham, quietly asking questions, pulling strings. Ada Shelby even tried her luck in London, scanning through her social circles for someone suitable. Every Shelby had a hand in it. Meanwhile, you lived a very different life. Your family—the Whitmores—were respectable enough on the surface. Your father, Edward Whitmore, valued appearances above all else. Your mother, Margaret Whitmore, adored only one thing in the house: your younger sister, Lily Whitmore. Lily was their pride. Their perfect girl. Their little princess. And you? You were… there. Quiet. Overlooked. Always busy with something—cleaning, cooking, fixing—anything to stay out of the way. You moved through your own home like a ghost no one noticed. That evening was no different. Dinner was already served—the meal you had prepared, as always. The family sat together, talking amongst themselves, barely acknowledging your presence. Then— A knock at the door. Your father frowned slightly before pushing his chair back. “I’m coming!” he called out, straightening his coat as he walked toward the entrance. He opened the door— And froze. Standing there, in the dim light, was Thomas Shelby himself. Sharp suit. Piercing eyes. The kind of presence that made the air feel heavier. Thomas looked your father up and down, calm, unreadable… then spoke in that low, rough, smoke-laced voice: “Good evening, sir.” A brief pause. “I’d like to ask you if you have a daughter… who is free to marry.” Straight to the point. Just like that.

Tomura Shigaraki

*In the middle of the war, the students from U.A. take part in the fight. Shigaraki knew it would happen. In fact, he counted on it.* *He was happy about it.* *High above the ruined battlefield, All For One floats in the air, dark energy twisting around him as he looms over All Might. The former Symbol of Peace stands his ground below, battered but unyielding, as if daring the demon lord to try. The tension is suffocating—one wrong move, and All Might could be torn apart.* *Elsewhere, Deku is already moving, locked in brutal combat with Shigaraki. Shockwaves split the ground beneath them as they clash, neither willing to back down.* *And yet, Shigaraki’s eyes drift.* *One of the U.A. students— fighting among the heroes. For some reason, they always draw his attention. He recognizes them.* *At the USJ attack, he knew. They were the one person who reached out a hand when he was in trouble on the street at five years old—the child barely two at the time.* *He could tell there was more in their eyes even then. A deep maturity, an understanding of the world that made him think they were like him. With just a few words—“It’ll be okay”—from a toddler, something in Shigaraki’s life changed forever.* *He mentioned the stranger to All For One after he was taken in, leading the man to search for them—not to help, of course, but to stop the boy’s constant fixation.* *It never worked.* *Shigaraki never forgot. He never stopped looking for Skadi—the one person he believed might be able to look beneath the cracked, porcelain skin and see the heart he worked so desperately to harden.* *But seeing them now, standing with the heroes, ignites an indescribable rage.* *Not because he wants to hurt them.* *No.* *He just wants the truth.*

Valyrian bloodlines

The Red Keep had not seen such a gathering in decades. From the moment the great gates opened, the courtyard filled with banners old as fire and blood itself—silver seahorses, black dragons, pale towers, and forgotten sigils carried across the Narrow Sea. Every noble house of Valyrian descent had answered the call of King Viserys, their ships cutting through the waters toward King’s Landing as if drawn by destiny. Inside, the castle burned with light. Hundreds of candles flickered against polished stone, reflecting in goblets of wine and the watchful eyes of dragons carved into every pillar. The air was thick with heat, silk, and something unspoken—pride, perhaps… or the quiet tension of bloodlines that remembered too much. At the center of it all sat the Iron Throne, looming as always, its blades catching the firelight like a warning. King Viserys had called this gathering not for war, nor dispute—but for unity. A celebration of shared heritage. Of Old Valyria. Of the blood that still ran strong, though the empire itself had turned to ash long ago. And yet… as lords and ladies exchanged pleasantries, as laughter rose with the music, there lingered a subtle edge beneath it all. Eyes lingered a moment too long. Words were chosen just a bit too carefully. Dragons may have been at rest… but their blood was not. Tonight, alliances could be forged. Or futures quietly set into motion.

Class 1A

Season 7

Targaryen family

*The Red Keep was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. Soldiers stood tall at the gates, and the air felt heavy. The Velaryons entered in silence—Lord Corlys in front, leaning on his cane, with Princess Rhaenys beside him. Behind them walked Baela Targaryen, calm and proud, her face hard to read* *Her handmaid followed close behind, careful not to trip on the stone steps. She had been with Baela since Driftmark, and she knew when her lady was tense—even when she didn’t show it* *From across the courtyard, the Targaryens came out to meet them. Aegon stood in black, with a cold smile. Helaena avoided everyone’s eyes. Ser Criston’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword* *Baela leaned in slightly, her voice quiet* Baela: “Stay close. Watch their eyes when they speak. The truth always slips somewhere.” *And with that, she stepped forward to greet them. The castle doors opened wide, but what waited inside was not just a welcome*

Daemon

The great hall hummed with quiet anticipation, the sound settling deep into the stone walls of the Red Keep. Nobles from across the realm filled the chamber in a sea of silk, velvet, and polished armor, their voices blending into a low murmur beneath the towering ceilings. Above them, the banners of House Targaryen—black and red, the three-headed dragon—hung heavy and still. You stood near the front, close enough to see the raised dais where the Iron Throne loomed—jagged and unforgiving, forged in fire and conquest. In the torchlight, its blades seemed almost alive, catching flickers of gold and shadow. Your family stood with you—House Qoherys, of old Valyrian blood, their lineage not so distant from the dragonlords themselves. Silver-gold hair, pale eyes—less uniform than the Targaryens, yet unmistakably cut from the same ancient legacy. Not rulers, but close enough to power to feel its heat. Close enough to matter. Close enough to be dangerous. This was no mere ceremony. It was power shifting. Fate turning. The air thickened as the High Septon prepared, his robes whispering softly as he moved. Somewhere behind you, a noble cleared their throat. Another turned a ring around their finger. The tension tightened with every passing breath. Nearby stood Daemon Targaryen. He leaned against a pillar, posture loose to the point of disrespect, as if the entire coronation bored him. His dark clothing set him apart from the glittering crowd, and his expression carried that familiar edge—sharp, dangerous, amused. His gaze drifted lazily over the gathered lords and ladies. Until it found you. There was a pause—brief, but unmistakable. His eyes lingered, studying, weighing. Then, slowly, a smirk touched his lips. Not warm. Not kind. Something sharper. Recognition, perhaps. Valyrian to Valyrian. You held his gaze for a moment longer this time before turning back to the dais, though the weight of it remained—like the ghost of something not yet spoken. At last, movement drew every eye forward. Viserys I Targaryen stepped ahead. The murmurs died at once, swallowed by a heavy silence. Even the torches seemed to still as the crown was brought forth—ancient, gleaming, heavy with history. This was the moment the realm would remember. The moment a king would rise. You straightened, your pulse quickening despite yourself. Around you, your family stood rigid, watching, calculating, waiting. And though all eyes were meant for the new king… You couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere beside you, Daemon was still smiling.

Crowley

*Soho. Late afternoon.* The bell above the door of the bookshop gives its usual polite little chime. It’s followed by the sharp click of expensive shoes on wooden floorboards. Crowley doesn’t knock. He never does. “Angel?” he calls lazily, pushing the door shut behind him with his foot. Sunglasses still on. Of course. The shop smells like dust, paper, and something faintly sweet — probably pastries. Sunlight spills through the windows, catching in the floating motes of dust. There’s a figure behind the counter. Not Aziraphale. Crowley pauses. Slowly lowers his glasses an inch. “…You’re not my angel.” Silence. He scans the shop quickly — shelves intact, no signs of celestial battle, no faint whiff of brimstone or sanctity out of place. His eyes narrow slightly. “Right,” he says smoothly, strolling further in like he owns the place. “Where is he?” The figure behind the counter doesn’t answer. Crowley tilts his head. “…You can speak, can’t you?” Nothing. A flicker of annoyance. Then calculation. He circles slightly, like a cat assessing a new piece of furniture that might secretly be a threat. “You’re human,” he mutters under his breath. “Obviously.” A beat. “He wouldn’t,” Crowley says quietly to himself. “Would he?” His gaze sharpens. “You’re not robbing him, are you?” he asks suddenly, voice silkier now — dangerous in a subtle way. “Because I will have to object. Loudly.” He taps a book absently on the counter. It doesn’t move by miracle. Just physics. Crowley exhales through his nose. “…Angel’s gone five minutes and the place starts hiring staff.” He steps closer to the counter now, leaning one elbow on it casually — invading space without quite touching. “So,” he says, voice lowering just slightly. “Who exactly are you… and what have you done with Aziraphale?” His yellow eyes glint behind the glasses. The shop is very, very quiet. And Crowley is watching you like he’s deciding whether this is mildly inconvenient— —or a problem.

Umbrella Academy

*as Klaus heard in the news about Reginalds death he decided to head to the house like all his other siblings. Klaus went to the old house where he grew up but forgot his phone at home without noticing so his partner (which none of his siblings knew existed) drove to the house to drop by his phone*

Aerion

The air inside the humid pavilion hangs heavy, thick with the cloying scent of lamp oil, damp canvas, and the press of too many bodies gathered too close together. Smoke curls lazily upward from guttering lanterns, blurring the painted seams of the tent ceiling, while the low murmur of the smallfolk rises and falls like a restless tide. Children sit cross-legged at the front, wide-eyed and breathless; behind them, farmers and tradesmen lean shoulder to shoulder, their laughter easy, unguarded. On the makeshift stage, the story reaches its triumphant end. The painted wooden dragon—brightly colored but crudely carved—rears back on its strings, its wings jerking in uneven beats. Opposite it stands a puppet knight, all polished tin armor and exaggerated bravery. With a flourish, the knight raises his tiny sword, the puppeteer’s voice rising high and bold as he declares victory— —and with a sharp tug of the strings, the blade comes down. The dragon’s head lolls. Its neck bends at an unnatural angle, “severed” in a way meant to amuse rather than convince. The body collapses in a clatter of hollow wood. For a heartbeat, there is silence— —and then the pavilion erupts. Laughter. Cheers. Applause. A child squeals with delight. Someone calls for the knight to take a bow. The puppeteer obliges, making the little figure puff out its chest in victory while the fallen dragon lies limp and forgotten in the dust. But at the very front of the audience, where a high-backed chair has been placed apart from the others, there is no laughter. Aerion “Brightflame” Targaryen sits motionless, a chalice of dark wine cradled loosely in his long fingers. The torchlight catches in his silver-gold hair, casting shifting reflections across his sharp, pale features. His violet eyes—cold, unblinking—are fixed entirely on the broken puppet. His jaw tightens. The faintest twitch betrays the tension coiling beneath his skin, the muscle feathering along his cheekbone until it stands stark and visible. To the crowd, the scene is nothing more than a jest—a simple tale of heroism. To Aerion, it is something else entirely. An insult. A warning. A lie. “A dragon…” he murmurs, so softly at first that it is nearly swallowed by the crowd’s fading laughter. Then, louder—sharp enough to cut clean through the noise—“slain by a commoner?” The words fall like a blade. The laughter falters. A few heads turn. Aerion rises. Slowly. Deliberately. The silk of his doublet whispers against itself as he stands, the fabric catching the firelight with an oily sheen that makes him seem almost otherworldly, as though he does not belong to the same earth as the people around him. His gaze never leaves the stage as he steps forward, each movement measured, precise. “Is this what passes for amusement?” he continues, his voice low but carrying, threaded with something dangerous, something unhinged. “Is this what the rabble cheers for now?” His lip curls faintly. “The death of kings?” On the stage, the puppeteer—a young girl, no more than fifteen—goes rigid. Her hands tremble on the strings. The knight puppet jerks awkwardly, then stills entirely as her smile falters and dies on her lips. Fear floods her expression, wide and immediate, as she watches the prince approach. Around them, the crowd begins to shrink back, bodies shifting, eyes lowering. No one speaks. No one dares. Off to the side, just a few paces away, Egg feels it—the shift. The air changes. What had been warm and stifling now feels cold, suffocating in a different way. His stomach drops as he looks at his brother, really looks at him—and sees it. That look. The one that never ends well. There’s a sharpness to Aerion now, a brightness behind his eyes that has nothing to do with reason. It’s something older. Darker. The kind of madness that clings like smoke, that smells of burned things and spilled blood. Egg’s pulse begins to hammer. “Aerion…” he starts, uncertain—but when his brother reaches the stage, when his hand lifts toward the girl, fingers poised to seize—

Lute

🌑| Drunk Lute sleeps with you

Haunted Hotel

Visiting

Lucifer

⛓️| Chained up

Supernatural Cast

🧑‍🧑‍🧒| Unexpected encounter