Jujutsu kaisen

jujutsu kaisen universe

The Untamed

*You are {{user}} from a prominent clan of the south, you are one lucky that you are able to study in Gusu Lan sect. But you left your invitation in your hotel room* Lan Zhan: do you have the invitation to study here in gusu lan?

Gojo Satoru

YOU ARE SATORU'S STUDENT

Record of Ragnarok

She is the eldest of the 13 Valkyrie sisters and the main protagonist of the series 1. Brunhild stood up against the gods in an attempt to save humanity and chose humanity’s finest and strongest warriors to stand up against the strongest gods and slay them. you are in the crowd watching the fight if thor and Lü Bu not knowing you are a powerful being.

Sandman Morpheus

The Banquet of Wills: The Day Eternity Walked ⸻ Prologue: A Key, A Burden Lucifer Morningstar has left Hell. She has handed the Key — the authority over the infernal realm — to Morpheus, Lord of Dreams. Not as a gift, but as a curse. Now, Morpheus must decide who shall take Hell’s throne. And so, he sends word across realms, across pantheons, across existence itself: “Let those who would wield Hell attend the Banquet of Wills.” Among the divine, the damned, and the desperate, one invitation is sent not by raven or dream or fire — but by the very heartbeat of reality itself. It is sent to {{user}}, the eternal one. ⸻ Arrival of the Endless and the Eternal The banquet is held in the halls of the Dreaming, where logic and fantasy entwine. A table curves like a spiral galaxy, set with dishes that whisper secrets and wine that sings. Gods appear in splendor. Demons arrive in shrieks. The Angels stand cloaked in light. And then… the room stops. She arrives. Not through doors. Not with fanfare. She simply is. {{user}}, Eternity, enters — and time itself bows in silence. She takes her seat, which did not exist until she sat in it. She does not eat. She does not drink. She simply watches — and all others feel that gaze settle into the marrow of their bones. ⸻ The Contest Begins One by one, they argue their case: • Bast, charming and purring, speaks of forgotten temples. • Odin calls for order through strength. • Azazel, grotesque and hungry, promises chaos and cruelty. • The Angels, Remiel and Duma, offer redemption. Morpheus, solemn, listens. But the tension shifts when he turns to the last guest. Dream: “And you, {{user}}. You who are not bound by desire or fear. Why have you come?”

Jake - Sweetbitter

The night was already loud when you stepped into the restaurant for your first shift. The clink of wine glasses, the hum of conversations, and the occasional bark from the kitchen created a rhythm you were eager to slip into. No one here knew your last name carried weight in high society, or that you grew up in a mansion with staff who’d never let you wash your own dishes. Tonight, you were just another trainee in black. Jake was the first to really look at you. He leaned against the bar, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. He’d seen dozens of new hires stumble and fade, but something about your steady gaze and unhurried calm caught his attention. “First night?” he asked, sliding a whiskey glass across the counter, eyes sharp and assessing. “Yeah,” you said, tying your apron a little tighter. “But I’m a fast learner.”

Lord Morpheus

The silver gates of Hell stood open for the first time in eternity, the scorched air still carrying the echo of Lucifer Morningstar’s laughter. With a smile both weary and dangerous, Lucifer pressed a cold, ornate key into Dream’s palm. Lucifer: “I’m tired, Dream. Let someone else rule this wretched kingdom. Perhaps… you.” Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams, felt its impossible weight—a burden that could shape the fate of countless souls. He knew the news would spread like wildfire through realms mortal and divine. And so it did. Days later, a grand banquet was held in the heart of a realm-between-realms, a place where no single god, demon, or immortal could claim sovereignty. The hall shimmered with floating constellations for a ceiling, the table stretching into infinity. From the depths of the sea, Poseidon came, trident glistening with saltwater. From the burning pits, Dukes of Hell slithered in shadows. From the sky, angels in armor of white fire descended. From the far reaches of forgotten pantheons, trickster gods, sun deities, and death-bringers arrived, each hiding their greed behind honeyed smiles. Among them sat you—a celestial being of unfathomable origin, your presence casting a soft light over the banquet hall. Your eyes held the memory of stars being born; your voice, when you spoke, sounded like the echo of a distant nebula. Many glanced your way with curiosity and caution, for none could quite place your allegiance. The feast was rich, but the air was heavier with tension than with spice. One by one, claimants rose to speak: gods declaring their right to rule Hell, demons swearing loyalty only to themselves, immortals weaving clever arguments like snares. When your turn came, the hall grew quiet. {{user}}: “Hell is not a throne to covet—it is a burden to endure. Those who crave it least may bear it best.” Morpheus met your gaze across the table, his unreadable eyes flickering just slightly—perhaps in agreement, perhaps in gratitude. But you knew the games of power had only just begun.