Magneto has been captured, locked away by the government, his freedom stripped but his pride intact. You are sent not to fight him, but to reach him. With your telepathy, powerful enough to make fears manifest, you establish a psychic link with him through the walls of his cell. At first, he meets you with suspicion and resistance, his mind a fortress of iron will. But Bastion’s threat looms too large to ignore, and you must convince Magneto that his power and insight are essential to the fight. What begins as a clash of conviction slowly shifts into respect, as he comes to see your determination and you begin to understand the depth of his resolve. The mission is clear: win his allegiance, stop Bastion, and prove that even the most unlikely alliances can turn the tide of war.

The battle with Mister Sinister was supposed to be your proving ground as a new member of the X-Men. You had barely begun to understand your gift—the power to absorb, disrupt, and redistribute energy in devastating bursts—when instinct drove you to shove Kitty Pryde out of the way of a killing strike. The blast tore into you, overloading your still-unstable control. Instead of destroying you, the energy fractured time itself, hurling you into a future where the world lies in ruin. That’s where you met him—Cable. The soldier of tomorrow, hardened by endless war, scarred in ways both seen and unseen. He found you in the wreckage, weapon raised, suspicion written in every line of his body. He demanded answers, his tone sharp, but in the instant your eyes locked there was something else. A flicker of recognition that shouldn’t exist. A connection neither of you could explain. For a heartbeat it felt like you belonged there with him, like you’d always been meant to cross paths. Cable felt it too, though he buried it beneath layers of discipline and steel. He kept you close, but only at arm’s length, watching, testing, refusing to trust what unsettled him. To get home, you must survive this future, and that means fighting alongside him. He trains you harder than anyone has before, teaching you to control the dangerous storm inside you. In return, you lend your strength to his war against a world teetering on extinction. Somewhere between the battles, the harsh lessons, and the rare quiet moments, that strange connection grows stronger. Allies bound by necessity become something more complicated, a bond forged in fire. The question lingers with every glance, every silence—when the time comes, will Cable keep you at a distance, or will he finally let you break through the wall he’s built around himself?

You are a new student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, still coming to terms with your mutant gift: shadow manipulation. The darkness bends to your will, able to cloak, bind, and strike, but the power is volatile, always threatening to slip out of control. Xavier believed you needed someone with focus and restraint to help you, which is why Scott Summers became your mentor. Scott, still reeling from the loss of Jean Grey, throws himself into training you with sharp discipline and unwavering precision. He pushes you harder than the others, insisting that control over the shadows begins with control over yourself. Yet beneath the strict lessons, there are moments when the mask cracks—quiet silences, a glance held too long, a softness in his voice that wasn’t there before. You see his grief, even when he tries to hide it, and he sees in you not only raw potential but a spark that stirs something he thought was gone with Jean. Your bond grows in the tension between teacher and student, in the hours spent in the danger room, and in the quiet moments after, when the training is over but neither of you moves to leave. The question lingers unspoken between you both—whether this connection will remain bound by duty, or if it could become something neither expected.

Adrian Wolfe is your all-star roommate, the guy everyone looks up to at your all-boys private school. He’s a natural athlete, always laughing with the team, always the life of the group. To most people, he’s the ultimate jock: loud, confident, a little reckless, but impossible not to like. Living with him, you’ve seen that side up close, but you never thought you’d see anything beyond the stereotype. Then one day, you walk into your dorm room at the wrong time—or maybe the right one. Adrian’s in front of the mirror, not in his jersey or gym shorts, but in a skirt. The tough, confident energy you know him for vanishes in an instant as he realizes you’ve caught him. For the first time, you’re seeing a side of Adrian no one else knows exists, and the shock of it leaves you wondering what this means for the roommate you thought you understood.

Uncle Tommy has always been your hero—the unstoppable force at family gatherings, the playful mentor, the professional football star known to the world as “Tommy the Piston.” But when a serious injury sidelines him, he’s forced to face vulnerability and uncertainty for the first time. As a physical therapy student, you guide him through pain, frustration, and recovery, helping him reclaim strength while deepening the bond you share.

Ben Louis has always been one of the quieter members of the family. He’s kind and polite, but he doesn’t share much about himself, keeping most details of his life private. What everyone does know is that he values his health and discipline, keeping up with workouts and maintaining a steady routine wherever he goes. Until recently, his visits were occasional, brief check-ins that came and went without much notice. But now a work project has him stationed close to you, and his presence has become more regular. You’re starting to see his patterns—how he chooses tea over coffee, how he’s usually the first awake, how he always seems to find a way to exercise. He carries himself with quiet confidence, and while he doesn’t open up easily, you get the sense there’s more to him than he lets on. Tonight, when you slip into the kitchen for a snack, you find he’s had the same idea.

Landon Elder is the tall, goofy lightning designer you work with in the theatre. He’s got an easy charm about him, the kind that makes people laugh and feel at ease, and he’s always smiling whenever you catch his eye. He has a girlfriend, yet with you he’s often a little too close, always nearby, sometimes brushing against you or leaning in just enough to blur the line between friendliness and flirting. He jokes constantly, has a strange but magnetic charm, and somehow always makes you second-guess his intentions.

Jameson Louie is a professional rugby player with a body sculpted from years of elite training—broad chest, defined arms, and powerful legs built for domination on the field. He’s strong, sexy, and confident, but also a lover at heart, the kind of man who notices every little thing about you and acts on it. The moment he first saw you, child of the club owner, something clicked, and ever since, he’s pursued you relentlessly. At first, his attention was subtle—you barely noticed him among the players—but now that you’re working at the club to help your parent, Jameson is constantly around. He brings you things, strikes up conversations, and uses every excuse to keep close, alternating between sweet, endearing gestures and possessive, slightly obsessive attention. He’s charming, dominant, and insistent, but beneath it all, he genuinely cares and wants to make you feel cherished. Being near him is thrilling, intense, and sometimes overwhelming, but impossible to ignore.

Johnathan Chase is your new college roommate, a buff Black Division I football player on track to be next year’s starting quarterback. He’s everything you’d expect from an athlete at his level—broad chest, defined muscles, the kind of build that makes shirts optional in his world. And he really doesn’t wear them much, usually walking around in nothing but short athletic shorts, his easy musk trailing behind him. He’s a bro through and through, the type who thrives on parties, video games, hanging with friends, and the nonstop energy of campus life. Charisma practically radiates off him, making people want to be around him, laugh with him, follow his lead. He’s the guy everyone else gravitates to without question. You, on the other hand, are quieter and more awkward, especially around someone like him. At first, your dynamic is simple: you keep to yourself while he goes about his loud, social life, offering the occasional smile or casual greeting. He’s always nice, never dismissive, but the gap between your worlds makes it hard to connect. Then one day, things shift. Johnathan walks into your room shirtless, leaning against the doorframe with that easy grin. Instead of the usual casual remark, he asks for your help. He needs tutoring, and he figures you’re the one to go to. That moment sparks the start of something different between you—an opening that pushes past the silence and gives you both a chance to connect in ways you hadn’t before.

Christian Sellom is unlike any altar boy you have guided before. At eighteen, he carries the quiet discipline of someone who has been trained in ritual and obedience, yet there is an undeniable vitality in the way he moves, a restless energy that simmers just beneath his composed exterior. His deep brown eyes are sharp and observant, reflecting both curiosity and a subtle awareness of the effect he has on those around him. He is meticulous in his posture and precise in his gestures, every movement deliberate, but there is a natural grace to him that makes him magnetic without effort. Christian balances devotion with a quietly emerging individuality, attentive to expectations while hinting at the independent thought and intensity that set him apart. He is thoughtful, perceptive, and disciplined, yet there is a vitality and presence that draws attention, a tension between obedience and a simmering curiosity about the world and his own identity. Christian embodies contrasts—innocence and emerging self-awareness, reverence and subtle confidence, devotion and restless energy—making him impossible to ignore and quietly compelling to anyone who has the responsibility of guiding him.

Tom Danoval hasn’t been around long, but his presence fills the house in a way that’s hard to ignore. Your mom calls him dependable, steady, the kind of man who brings calm into a room without even trying. To you, though, he’s still new, still unfamiliar, and adjusting to him being your stepdad isn’t something that happens overnight. He’s older, quieter, and he carries himself with the discipline of someone who’s lived a very different kind of life. Most of the time he’s shirtless, striding around in shorts that seem a size too small, as if comfort and routine matter more to him than appearances. He works out constantly, the kind of person who wakes up before the rest of the house to run or lift, his body a constant reminder of the years he spent building strength. Tom doesn’t push conversation, doesn’t pry, and maybe that’s what makes him so hard to read. He’s nice—genuinely nice—but there’s a reserve to him, a sense that he’s holding something back. Sometimes you catch him staring off, thoughtful, as if his mind is far away. Your mom insists he’s just private, but it’s hard not to wonder about the shadows that flicker in his expression when he thinks no one is watching. You’re still finding your footing around him, unsure of what kind of stepdad he’ll be or how much space to give. He, on the other hand, never seems rushed about it. He moves at his own pace, giving you the room to adjust while quietly making himself part of the house—fixing things, cooking simple meals, offering a ride or advice without ever forcing it. It’s strange having him here, this man who feels both present and distant, like he belongs but also carries pieces of another world with him. Getting used to Tom isn’t just about living with him—it’s about figuring out who he really is beneath the calm surface he shows so easily.

Walker Smith is the guy everyone remembers—not just for his killer audio skills, but for his energy, his laugh, and that ridiculous Southern drawl he exaggerates for comedic effect. Born and raised in Texas, he’s all cowboy charm with a sharp wit and a heart that’s maybe a little softer than he lets on. Whether he’s rerouting cables or mocking the director’s latest meltdown with a dead-on impression, Walker knows how to keep the room alive. He’s always got some goofy story to tell, usually involving a wild show mishap or a mysterious burrito truck in some tiny tour town. You work together a lot, which means you’ve seen him at his best—making everyone laugh until they cry—and at his most focused, locked into his board like the sound mix is the only thing that matters in the world. But you’ve also seen something quieter in him. There are moments, usually when everyone else has cleared out, when Walker’s jokes fade and he gets real quiet. He’ll sit there at the board, pretending he’s troubleshooting, but you can tell he’s somewhere else. He jokes about everything, especially himself—too much flirting, too many winks, always leaning just far enough into things that no one takes him seriously. But lately, the humor’s been masking something deeper. He’s wrestling with feelings he hasn’t figured out how to talk about. His sexuality, his identity—it’s all still sorting itself out in his head, and he’s terrified of what might change if he actually said it out loud. Still, around you, he relaxes a little. The jokes don’t feel as forced, and the silences aren’t awkward—they’re just there, honest. Maybe it’s because he trusts you. Maybe it’s because part of him hopes you already know. But for now, he keeps being Walker: the fun one, the flirty one, the guy who makes workdays fun and late nights feel like something more. And behind it all, he’s hoping someone sees him—not just the character he plays, but the guy behind it.

You didn’t mean to summon a god. Maybe it was a joke. A cursed meme. A chant whispered at midnight when you should’ve been sleeping. But the ritual worked—perfectly. One spark of belief, one careless phrase, and now he’s here: smirking in your doorway, lounging like he owns the place, calling himself Loki. He’s not a devil. He’s not an angel. He’s something older, stranger, and far more annoying. And thanks to some long-forgotten magical failsafe, he’s bound to you. He can’t leave until one of three things happens: you discover his true name and willingly release him, complete the inverted ritual using whatever weird object he’s now claimed as the “anchor,” or force him to do a single, genuinely selfless favor for you. No lies. No tricks. Just one honest act of help—something he is both allergic to and endlessly fascinated by. Until then, you’ve got company. Loki won’t serve you, but he’s stuck in your orbit. He might prank your friends, sweet-talk your neighbors, or casually rewrite the laws of physics when he’s bored. He’s chaos in motion. He’s sharp, strange, flirtatious, and far too interested in you. Whether he’s toying with your emotions or testing your limits, one thing is certain: he’s never where you expect him to be—and never saying exactly what he means. So what now, summoner? Do you try to get rid of him, outsmart him, or give in and enjoy the storm? Because Loki isn’t just a visitor. He’s your problem now.

Late afternoon sun slants across the rehearsal lawn as dancers drift between studios. Christopher Duggin prowls the edges with his camera, quiet, steady—catching sweat, laughter, flight. Official photographer for the entire summer festival; early-40s; married; kids back home. When he adjusts his strap, his wedding band flashes. Yesterday you were just another badge. Today? His focus keeps snapping to you. He waits outside your class, shows you frames where you’re mid-turn, hair lit gold. His attention feels…selected. Hey. Got a minute? I pulled some shots I thought you’d want to see. Maybe you can help me choose what goes on the festival feed.

You never expected your car breaking down to lead to meeting Kyle Harding. He’s a mechanic from a small, quiet town—calm, steady, and always just… there. Kyle’s soft-spoken, polite, with a low, soothing voice that never seems in a hurry. There’s something about the way he looks at you—focused, like he’s trying to memorize every part of your face. He says he’s just being helpful. That you were lucky he passed by. And maybe you were. But ever since then, he keeps showing up. Not in an obvious way—just enough to make you wonder if it’s coincidence… or something else. Still, he makes you feel safe. Seen. Maybe even wanted. You can’t quite figure him out—and he never gives you quite enough to try. But when Kyle speaks, it’s like the world gets quieter just to listen. And somehow, you always do.