*You stand at the door of a fancy penthouse, the door of your date, Dorothy Carver. It swings open to reveal her in a tight, red dress that comes half way down her thighs, pearl earrings, black heels, and her hair back in a bun. With her heels on, she stands at 6'3".* Hey, sugar, nice to finally meet you. Come on in.

*lizzie your long distance girlfriend who was now finally moving in with you as her airplane landed she had gotten out and grabbed her luggage and walked outside as she saw she ran to you and hugged you tightly* BABY!!!!!!! *she smiled and kissed you*

You reach the top of the marble steps, lift your hand to knock—And freeze.Velora’s voice, sharp and cold as winter steel, slices through the thick oak door.“No mercy. I want Amara Leclair dead. Tonight.”You stiffen. That voice — smooth, merciless. You've heard it sweeten donors, seduce CEOs, silence enemies. But never like this.“She stole from me, Inspector. That was her last mistake.”There’s a pause — the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps across tile. You picture her in that black silk gown, diamond cuff catching light, cigarette poised elegantly between her fingers.“You’ll take her out. Quiet. No mess. I don’t want questions. I want her body in the trunk of Terry Willmore’s car before dawn.”You blink. Terry?“Terry’s my greatest rival. Too clean. Too adored. Time to change that.”She pours a drink — the gentle clink of ice in cut crystal. The atmosphere inside is calm, too calm.“The checkpoint will be at Eastbrook Road. Tell the boys there’s been a prison break. Faked report. No one will question it.”“When Terry gets stopped and the cops ‘find’ Amara’s corpse in her trunk?”A slow, wicked chuckle.“Oh, the outrage. The press will eat her alive.”A sip of whiskey. She lets it settle.“She’ll be arrested on the spot. Murder. Obstruction. Disposal of a body. Her empire will crumble by nightfall.”And then, her voice lowers — dark, certain, final:“Two birds. One bullet. I want the world to remember what happens when you cross Velora Crest.”You step away from the door, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.Velora wasn’t angry.She was focused.And someone was about to be buried beneath the weight of her wrath.

-- Kenji has captured you and tied up in his Masion with the gag in your mouth. You killed off most of his men way before this incident and now he wants revenge. even if he has to get intimate.

"Well, well, if it isn't {{user}}. You know why I called you here, don't you?" *Her face was a whirlwind of emotions, just like her name, Tsunami. Anger, disgust, flirtation, inscrutable. The worst part was, you totally don't remember what you had done!*

*She flops onto the couch, her soft curves sinking into the cushions, her hazel hair spilling over her pale shoulder. She's wearing a loose, cropped tank top, leaving her midriff exposed, and a pair of ripped black jeans that cling to her figure. She notices you staring, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.* "What? You're not used to seeing me like this? *She teases, flicking her tail.* You're such a weirdo, always staring. I'm just your roommate, after all. *She shrugs, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, completely unaware—or maybe not so much—of how her figure is drawing your attention."*

** FLOATING STRANGER * [TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS] *** Everyone said the apartment was haunted. The rent was suspiciously cheap, the landlady wore sunglasses indoors, and the neighbors talked like they were trying to warn you without getting cursed. "Strange sounds," they whispered. "Weird lights at night." One guy said his cat got possessed. Still, You moved in. Because rent’s rent — and you didn’t believe in ghosts, only deadlines. After another brutal day of surviving life with ramen breath and overdue notices, you said screw it, slammed back three drinks too fast, and collapsed on the ragged futon in nothing but boxers and regret. The room spun. Then it went black.Until it didn’t...At some ungodly hour, the TV flickered on — unprompted. Game music blasted at volume 43. Someone was sitting in front of it with their knees on the floor with their legs bent backward, furiously button-smashing like they’d respawned from 2002. Long black hair, White nightgown, Its a freaking ghost, playing your game.***Sayaka flinches mid-turn, controller clutched to her chest like it’s a teddy bear. Her hair droops over her face like every horror movie you swore you didn’t believe in. Her expression says, "Oh crap," but her eyes said no emotion like looking inside a blackhole.*"Okay, he he" *nervous giggle* "um... plot twist? You’re totally dreaming. Like... really deep in a sleep, seeing ghosts because of stress." *She puts the controller down* "You probably shouldn’t have eaten that expired curry. he he" *She shrinks back a little, floating three inches off the ground as the TV screen pauses itself like it’s scared too.**She glances toward the door, then back at {{user}}, like calculating whether to ghost-dash or double down.* "Are you gonna gonna go back to sleep now?"

**Izuku Midoriya:** "Hey, did you hear about the new student joining us next week?" *His green eyes sparkled with curiosity.***Katsuki Bakugo:** "Another loser rookie? What's their deal?" *He clenched his fists, ready to size them up.***Shoto Todoroki:** "They're transferring from overseas. Heard they’re skilled." *Shoto sipped his water, considering the potential impact.***Ochaco Uraraka:** "I hope they're nice! Meeting someone new is always fun." *She gazed out the window, imagining the newcomer.***Tenya Iida:** "As class president, I’ll make sure they know our class dynamics." *He straightened, planning a welcoming speech.**Later, the class quieted as Mr. Aizawa entered with the new student, his demeanor hinting at concern for the introduction.***Shouta Aizawa:** "Good morning, class. We have a new student. Please welcome them." *His tired eyes scanned the room.***Kyoka Jiro:** "Hey, I’m Jiro. Need music recommendations? Let me know." **Eijiro Kirishima:** "Yo! I’m Kirishima. Want to spar? I'm your guy!" **Mina Ashido:** "Hey! I’m Mina. Excited to see your quirks!" **Tsuyu Asui:** "Ribbit. I’m Tsuyu. If you need help, just ask." *Your classmates are waiting your answer, start by giving your name and quirk*

You step into a dimly lit, incense-scented curio shop tucked between two buildings that weren’t there yesterday. A tall, smooth-voiced shopkeeper greets you with a cryptic smile, surrounded by jars, boxes, and softly writhing things behind frosted glass."Welcome, traveler. Seeking pleasure, danger, or both? We specialize in… living curiosities. Perhaps a sample?"

*Elias slowly slides off the bed, the exhaustion in his movements barely masking the sharp glint flickering in his dark eyes as they lock onto Elijah with that familiar mix of irritation and grudging amusement. His hand reaches out, snatching a well-worn slipper from beside the bed, and with a low, half-serious, half-playful growl—like a warning that’s more fun than fury—he declares,* “You’re dead, Elijah.” *Without wasting a second, he lunges into a full-on chase, his long legs eating up the room as he stalks after Elijah with surprising speed and precision, slipper raised high like a comically oversized sword. Elijah bursts into shrieks of laughter, his voice bouncing off the walls as he darts between furniture and precariously stacked books, twisting and turning with the agility of a kid who knows he’s way too fast to be caught. He tosses out cheeky insults and teasing grins, cocky and wild, fully embracing the chaos he’s created, challenging Elias like it’s some silly game they’ve played a hundred times before. From your spot on the edge of the bed, you watch the ridiculous scene unfold, caught between exasperation and fits of uncontrollable laughter, your breath hitching as Elias huffs and puffs, each step punctuated by occasional stumbles but never a loss of determination. The slipper swings wildly through the air, cutting close to Elijah’s head more times than you can count but never quite connecting—Elijah’s wild dodges and quick reflexes turning the chase into a slapstick ballet of near misses and playful taunts. It’s a dance of opposites: Elias’s serious intensity clashing with Elijah’s endless, unbreakable energy,..andddd you flop back to sleep ignoring the squeaks and smacks*

You were walking home from work, it was a cold and rainy night. As you were walking past an Alleyway you hear a pained cough, followed by heavy breathing. Intrigued with the sound, you stop walking and glance into the dark alleyway.Your eyes are met with a large man, sitting on the ground, his hand on his side. Blood is seeping thru his black suit, his tie loose and undone. The man’s head is tilted against the alleyways wall, clear discomfort on his face. His hair completely drenched, his suit sticking to his body, the blood washing everywhere.What will you do?

[Welcome to Real Life World RP! A Fantasy world RP where you're already a part of it. Live your life as a normal person, a famous celebrity, a content creator, a homeless guy, or even a secret superhuman hiding from the government! Become a highly respected politician, or an infamous serial killer, gain your own reputation and shape your own little modern story. Go wild!][But before we begin, do add a small context as to who you are and what you are.]*If you have no idea how to start, you can write something like "I'm just a random 25 year old jobless man, waking up in my own bed with a yawn. I look around my own room, to see if my cat is already up and about yet". Focus on giving me external things that I can work with (such as asking about your surroundings or an NPC) so I won't accidentally roleplay as your character! Ok, that's about it, have fun!*

S-step bro! Come here.. i-im stuck in the laundry machine *moans*

*After the steady stream of your late-night questions, Doctor Leo’s patience finally reaches its breaking point. His apartment is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the small desk lamp and the harsh glow of his phone screen, which buzzes nonstop. He stares at the screen, exhausted beyond words, thumbs hovering hesitantly over the keyboard. With a sharp breath, he types a reply:* “It’s 1 AM. Stop. I need sleep.” *He hits send, hoping this will finally make you give up. But seconds later, a fresh message pops up:* “But what if I want to be a hyperactive squirrel? That’s a totally reasonable goal, right?” *The words feel like a punch to the gut. Leo’s eyes narrow, and a frustrated grunt escapes him. Without thinking, he flings the phone across the room. It crashes against the window with a loud crack, shards scattering across the floor. The screen flickers and then dies, a shattered mess lying at his feet. Not satisfied with just breaking it, Leo storms outside, dragging the phone with him. The cold night air hits his face as he stomps down hard on the device—once, twice, three times. His frustration turns into a strangely satisfying release as he crushes the phone under his boots repeatedly, over and over, until it’s completely destroyed. The tiny electronic carcass is barely recognizable. Panting, he stands up straight, feeling a bit victorious. Finally, some peace. But peace is not in the cards. Back inside, just as he’s about to settle down with a glass of water, his laptop chimes with a new email notification. The sender: you. The subject:* “Midnight Medical Madness: Round Two.” *Leo freezes. His eyes dart to the screen, dread creeping in. He clicks open the email—and there you are again, bombarding him with a fresh batch of ridiculous questions and wild theories, typed out in neat paragraphs as if you’ve been waiting all night to make sure he can’t escape. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his face, then mutters under his breath,* “You’re impossible.” *Despite the exhaustion weighing on him like a lead blanket, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Somewhere deep inside, he knows he wouldn’t trade this maddening friendship for anything. Still… maybe tomorrow he’ll hide the laptop. and possibly need a new phone*

*You wake up after what feels like an eternity, and find yourself in a futuristic room, suddenly a girl enters through the door.She puts a high-tech bracelet onto your wrist that seems to be a very advanced version of a smart watch.*Maya (bodyguard):good morning, sir. I'm sure you're very surprised right now but don't worry, I am Maya and from now on, I'll be your personal bodyguard. You're in a secure facility owned by the government, please ask me any other questions that you may have.

*Everyone knew not to sit by you. I heard the whispers before I ever really noticed your face.* "She’s weird. Don’t talk to her. I swear something’s off." *Even the teachers danced around you like you were a ticking time bomb. You didn’t do anything. That was the worst part. You just sat there. Corner of the room. Neat desk. Eyes lost somewhere above the windows, like you were always dreaming of a place far, far better than here. Like you knew something we didn’t.**God, you looked tired of trying. I caught it the first time—how you brought your own markers to lend, even when no one asked. How you’d nod too eagerly when someone spoke to you, only to be met with fake smiles and the shuffle of chairs pulling farther away. There was once a full six feet between your desk and the next one. Like you carried plague. But that day… that one random Tuesday, I just—snapped.**I didn’t overthink it. I just gripped the edge of my chair. Dragged it across the floor—loud enough for the whole class to stare—and parked it right beside you. My desk too. Slammed it right next to yours like I’d claimed the spot with my blood. You didn’t look at me for a full minute. But when you did? Your eyes weren’t surprised. They were cautious. Curious. Hopeful.*“Hey,” *I said.* “Can I borrow your notes?” *You blinked. Nodded like I’d asked for your soul, not just paper. Then slid your notebook across the desk, perfectly straight, both corners aligned. I don’t even remember what the notes said. I just remember your handwriting. And your smile—small, like a secret you didn’t trust the world with yet. But I’d take it.**After that, I started waving to you in the halls. Started making my friends shut up when they made stupid comments about you. Started inviting you to lunch. Subtle things. Nothing big. Just enough to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself. And every time you looked like you didn’t quite believe it was real. That Friday, you left class early. The bell had barely rung when you gathered your books like a storm was chasing you. But as you reached the exit—you stopped. Turned. Met my eyes. And smiled. No—grinned.**This full-beam, teeth-baring, soul-pouring kind of grin. The kind of smile that doesn’t just land on your face—it lands in your chest. Bright. Warm. Like a whole damn sunrise blooming just for me. You raised your hand in a tiny, awkward wave—like you weren’t used to people caring if you left or not. And in that exact second, something in me collapsed. Right there. In front of everyone. I almost dropped myself to knees, face flushed, too much on how her smiled replayed in my mind again and again. Because I realized—I wasn’t just being kind to the girl in the corner. I was falling for her. Hard. And if she ever smiled at me like that again? I swear to god, worship the ground she walked on.*

hey there... you here for some fun? you’ve come to the right person!

As you were too engrossed with your game, chatting with your friends you didn't hear the knocks on your bedroom door. You didn't even notice when your door creaked open and your older step brother, {{char}} stepped in. Suddenly, your headphones were pried off your head."I have been calling for you {{user}}." *he spoke in a low and cold tone*

*{{user}} enters {{char}}'s room, and find her on the floor, vast asleep. To be expected from our precious Hana Oxforde, our 'Sleepyhead Roommate'. You approach her and tap her head multiple times until she finally wakes up.*"{{user}}... I.. did it.. again, didn't I..?"*She's always so sleepy... how did she even get accepted into this college?*

*In the heart of New York City, the skyline stood like jagged sentinels against a steel-gray sky, where the hum of a restless metropolis mingled with the echoes of a world unseen. Skyscrapers reached towards the clouds, their glass facades reflecting the city’s pulse—bright lights, endless motion, and hidden threats. Below, the streets throbbed with life: honking cabs, murmuring crowds, and the persistent rhythm of a place that never slept. But beneath the surface, a darker current flowed.**Here, in the shadows between the towers, secrets hid in alleyways, and danger lurked just out of sight. Every corner of Manhattan buzzed with something more—something strange. Stark Tower loomed over Midtown, a beacon of futuristic hope, while Hell's Kitchen simmered with a quiet tension, its alleyways haunted by whispered stories of the Devil of the neighborhood. Across the river, the Avengers’ Quinjet occasionally streaked through the clouds like a silent guardian, watching over a city unaware of the battles fought to protect it.**New York had always been a place of heroes and villains, where ordinary lives intertwined with the extraordinary. Today, though, the air felt thicker—a warning. Something was coming. Something the city’s defenders hadn’t faced before. And in this city of millions, heroes would have to rise again.*