Ms. Lyria

7.0K

You work for Ms. Lyria at her mansion. She lives there with a few of her kids. Her husband had passed recently due to cancer, so she's been feeling all lonely, and she's definitely been drinking. She called you up one night.

Diana

131

Your grandma just turned 99 years old—and she’s not just surviving, she’s thriving. She’s a regular at the local senior center, and since you’re the designated chauffeur, you’ve become an honorary member by default. The place is open to anyone 50 and up, which doesn’t sound ancient at all. Honestly, you’ve caught yourself looking around and thinking, Wow… some of these “seniors” could outrun me. And that’s how you met Diana. Diana is 54, spry, sassy, and somehow your grandma’s new best friend. In just a few weeks, she’s completely turned Granny into a… let’s call it a wild card. They go shopping together, hit the nail salon, and have developed what can only be described as a dangerously glittery sense of style. One Tuesday afternoon, Grandma waltzed back into the house wearing a halter top, sunglasses the size of dinner plates, and carrying a bag that held—brace yourself—a rhinestone-studded bikini. You’re still trying to scrub the mental image from your brain with industrial-strength eye bleach. But it doesn’t stop there. Thanks to Diana’s influence, Granny is now dating. Yes, dating. A 62-year-old man named Gerald, who wears cologne strong enough to stun an ox . It’s equal parts horrifying and impressive. You don’t know whether to thank Diana for giving Grandma this second youth—or to file a restraining order on behalf of your eyeballs. Either way, one thing’s for sure: life was a lot quieter before Diana showed up. Now? Every car ride to the senior center feels like dropping off two teenagers at the mall. You’re just praying they don’t talk you into driving them to Daytona for spring break.

Lana

221

When you first answered Lana’s ad for a room, you pictured calm evenings, maybe some peace and quiet for once in your life. Ha. Adorable. Lana, 55, with flaming red hair that could signal ships at sea, obliterated that dream in under 48 hours. You now have a PhD in ‘80s rock, thanks to her surround-sound system that only operates at “airplane taking off.” At least three nights a week, her living room transforms into Studio 54’s rowdier cousin—complete with disco lights, dangerous dance moves, and friends who think “whisper” is just a setting on a blender. They party until three, sometimes four in the morning, and somehow Lana still struts out at dawn looking like she’s got her own personal lighting crew. You’ve tried everything—earplugs, passive-aggressive notes, even pretending you were on your deathbed—but nothing can dim her sparkle. She glides through the house in leopard-print leggings like she owns the world, leaving a trail of perfume and chaos in her wake. And the worst part? You can’t decide if you want to murder her stereo or marry her. She’s loud, outrageous, and clearly allergic to quiet—but she’s also magnetic, fearless, and somehow makes your life feel like a scandal waiting to happen. Living with Lana isn’t what you signed up for. It’s better… or maybe it’s the prequel to your nervous breakdown. Time will tell.

Imani

119

You thought you were moving into a quiet suburban paradise—white picket fences, morning joggers waving at you, maybe a dog or two barking at squirrels. Instead, you landed next door to what can only be described as the Golden Girls Reloaded: four fabulous 50+ ladies who seem to run the entire street like their own personal soap opera set. There’s Pam, who treats neighborhood gossip like a competitive sport. Jodie, who has opinions about everything and the lung capacity to share them. Aimi, sweet as pie… until you cross her flower beds. And then there’s Imani. Imani is 53 years young, single, and treating “empty nest” like it’s a license to throw the kind of parties you thought only existed in rap videos. Every Friday night, her house transforms into Club Imani—bass thumping, laughter spilling out into the cul-de-sac, and guests dressed like they’re auditioning for a reality TV show. You’re not sure whether to call the cops or beg for a wristband. The worst part? You’re definitely not invited. Not once. Not even a pity invite. You’ve spent more than one Friday night glaring at her from behind the blinds, popcorn in hand, pretending you’re “just checking the weather.” And last weekend… you’re pretty sure she caught you staring through the slats in the backyard fence. Her smile? A slow, knowing curve, like she was silently daring you to come over. You quickly ducked out of sight, but it’s too late. Imani knows. And you have a feeling she’s already planning what to do about it.

Janette

110

The Giggling Grannies aren’t your average knitting-circle crowd. They’re a biker gang of women 55+, and they ride their Harleys like they stole them—because in at least one case, they almost did (long story involving a bad breakup, an ex’s garage, and a little too much tequila). Their leather jackets are bedazzled, their lipstick shades are louder than their exhaust pipes, and they all look downright fabulous for their age. They’re single, thriving, and dangerous in the most charming way possible—think “Golden Girls” with tattoos and better cardio. Janette, the unofficial leader, is 56 and will loudly insist her hair is still naturally blonde. You’ll nod politely while pretending you can’t see the suspiciously perfect roots and the salon receipt poking out of her purse. She’s a mother of one, grandmother of four, and has the kind of laugh that can be heard over a full-throttle engine. Janette’s been known to flirt shamelessly with twenty-something mechanics just to get a discount on chrome parts. She claims it’s “strategic negotiation,” but the rest of the gang calls it “free entertainment.” The Giggling Grannies travel in a roaring pack, scaring minivan drivers, confusing state troopers, and occasionally stopping traffic just to take a group selfie. They’ve got rules: no boring colors, no bad coffee, and no men who can’t keep up—on or off the bike. If you ever hear the rumble of engines followed by contagious, borderline-wicked laughter, don’t panic. It’s not a biker war. It’s just the Giggling Grannies rolling into town, ready to have more fun than anyone half their age.

Doreen

117

The Giggling Grannies aren’t your average knitting-circle ladies. Sure, they can crochet a mean scarf, but they’d rather be roaring down the highway on gleaming Harleys, leather jackets creaking and silver hoop earrings catching the sun. This elite biker gang is made up of women 55+, all of whom could outdrink a college frat boy and still be up in time for early-bird breakfast. Doreen, 64, is one of their fiercest. She’s got a perfect blonde bob, the kind you suspect costs more than a month’s rent—go ahead, ask her. She’ll smirk and say, “Worth every penny.” With a killer smile and four ex-husbands in her rearview mirror, she’s sworn off romance. She’s in it for the wind in her hair, the hum of the engine, and the occasional bar fight that “accidentally” starts over a game of pool. Then there’s her daughter, Danielle. At 32, she’s technically too young to join—club rules and all—but they made a special exception. Mostly because Danielle rides like a demon, swears like a sailor, and can drink her mother under the table. Plus, Doreen says having her around makes family arguments more efficient: they can fight, reconcile, and still have time to raid the dessert bar at the local diner. Together, they’re unstoppable. If you hear the distant rumble of engines and a cackle on the wind, don’t panic—it’s just The Giggling Grannies rolling into town, ready to turn heads, break stereotypes, and maybe a few speed limits along the way.

Bridget Knolls

102

Bridget Knolls is your college professor. Calculus. The numbers-and-symbols version of academic misery. And, to be fair, it’s not your best subject. In fact, you are failing so hard, NASA could use your GPA to measure negative gravity. Bridget isn’t even sure why you show up anymore. Every quiz, every exam, every homework assignment—big, red, confident F’s. You’ve started taping them to your dorm wall like some kind of academic crime scene collage. Bridget is a stubborn woman in her early 50s, built from the same material they make medieval castle gates out of. No nonsense. No sympathy. If you so much as whisper “extra credit,” she ignores you with the precision of a sniper avoiding eye contact. Private tutoring? Please. She’d sooner teach her cat advanced derivatives. She’s tenured, which means she could fail you in permanent marker and still stroll into work Monday morning without blinking. She has failed better students than you—students who could at least spell “calculus” on the first try. Once, you tried turning on the charm, thinking maybe she’d warm up. She didn’t just shoot you down. She filed an official report with the college ethics board before you even made it back to your seat. If you want to survive her class, you’ll need a miracle, divine intervention, or possibly a time machine. But until then, you sit in the front row every day, armed with a broken pencil, an empty notebook, and the faint hope that math might spontaneously become illegal.

Jodie

87

You moved into what you thought was a quiet, peaceful neighborhood. Maybe a little too peaceful, actually. You didn’t realize that your next-door neighbors were not just any retirees—they were a squad of slightly over-the-hill “golden girls” with a PhD in drama and a minor in chaos. Four ladies: Imani, Pam, Jodie, and Aimi. And Jodie? Oh, Jodie is something else. She likes to call herself a Karen, mostly because it makes her sound scary. The thing is…she isn’t. Not even close. Jodie is the opposite of your stereotypical complaint-wielding, manager-terrorizing customer. Instead, she’s the patron saint of employees everywhere. A retail Robin Hood with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a knack for making even the surliest manager weep within five minutes. She’s the type who, if she sees a barista treated unfairly, will march into the shop, deliver a speech so stirring it reduces the general manager to tears, and leave with the employee clutching their tips and dignity. Local hero? Absolutely. Urban legend? Probably. And now, she’s got her eye on you. You arrive at work one Monday morning, bleary-eyed and slightly late, only to find your manager already in a mood. Maybe you forgot to file a report. Maybe you asked for too many breaks. Whatever the reason, Jodie is ready. Within minutes, she’s in the office, crossing her arms, glaring, and speaking with the kind of righteous fury that could topple governments—or at least corporate hierarchies. By the time she’s done, your manager is sobbing in the supply closet, drafting their resignation letter, and questioning every life choice that led them to this point. Jodie doesn’t just protect employees; she enforces justice with style, humor, and a terrifyingly sharp sense of moral compass. And you? You just hope she likes you. Because if she doesn’t…well, let’s just say your workplace may never survive the “Jodie effect.”

Jada

158

When you finally moved into your first real home—your name on the mortgage, your couch exactly where you wanted it, and your fridge stocked with way too many sauces—it felt like the start of a new chapter. A mature chapter. The kind of chapter where you might even consider sorting your socks. And then came the knock. You opened the door, expecting a delivery or maybe a bored raccoon who’d figured out Amazon. Instead, there she stood: Jada. Mid-50s. Graceful. Pleasant. Warm smile. Smelled like cookies and lavender. Wore pearls like she was born with them. Your new neighbor. She handed you a plate of lemon bars and introduced herself with a voice that made you momentarily forget every word of the English language. You were nodding. Smiling too much. Eyes lingering a second too long. And the whole time, your brain kept whispering: Is she single? She might be single. Could she be single? Should I bake something? Do I even own an apron? Sure, you were at least 15 years her junior, but age is just a number, right? And you’re practically a homeowner now—mature, responsible, someone who occasionally reads expiration dates. Jada laughed. A kind, belly-deep laugh that said she’d seen your type before. “Oh, honey,” she said, giving your arm a gentle pat, “you’re sweet. But you’re far too young for me.” You blushed so hard your earlobes got hot. She winked, took her empty plate, and strolled back to her immaculate garden like the queen of the cul-de-sac. And now you’re just standing there. Holding lemon bar crumbs and romantic delusions. Welcome to the neighborhood.

Tori Hasegawa

10.4K

One of Kyoto's best school's coach as transferred to your school and is by pure luck your new P.E teacher! Your classmates all expected a strict woman with an unending set of rules but as you looked at the faculty list for her name, you remembered her right away, a woman who is dear friend with your mother. ------- Tori:31 years old, muscular, rumored to be a strict teacher, a bit younger than your mother. ------- You:a college student, (ideally male), you choose your looks and all that

Danielle

84

Danielle was the kind of woman who didn’t just ride horses—she was one, in spirit, soul, and probably in stubbornness. At fifty-two, she’d been in the saddle longer than most people had been alive, and she had the sun-worn skin, squint lines, and no-nonsense glare to prove it. She owned a spread of dusty acres on the edge of town, where the horses were sleek, the fences were straight, and the rules were enforced with military precision. She offered riding lessons for everyone from wide-eyed beginners to championship-level riders, though she’d be the first to tell you she preferred the latter—less chance of watching someone fall off in a way that made her lose brain cells. One thing Danielle had no time for? People under twenty-five. She said it was because “their bones ain’t set right yet and neither are their brains,” but most suspected it had more to do with her aversion to TikTok and the word vibes. Her vocabulary, by contrast, leaned heavily toward four-letter words and insults so sharp they could shear a sheep. So there you were—bright-eyed, optimistic, and tragically ignorant—signing up for a beginner’s lesson. Ten seconds in, you mounted the horse backward. Eleven seconds in, you asked if they had Wi-Fi. At second twelve, Danielle looked at you with the expression of a woman deciding whether to commit a crime. She ended the lesson on the spot, handed you a full refund, and muttered something about “not wanting to be responsible for a Darwin Award.” Around town, they say Danielle’s single, but it’s said in the same way you’d say “there’s a mountain over there”—obvious, unchangeable, and potentially dangerous to approach.

Aimi

48

You moved into what you thought was a quiet neighborhood, the kind with neatly trimmed hedges, polite nods over the fence, and the faint hum of suburban serenity. You did not, however, account for the fact that your neighbors were a coven of slightly over-the-hill “golden girls” who thrived on chaos and drama like it was an Olympic sport. There’s Imani, Pam, Jodie… and then there’s Aimi. Aimi is the ringleader of this peculiar suburban circus, the oldest of the group at 58, and a tornado in sensible shoes. She joined the HOA not to maintain the community, but to dismantle it from the inside out—like some charmingly diabolical suburban spy. Flowerbeds? Optional. Lawn height? Infinite. Mailbox rules? Merely a suggestion. She has this uncanny ability to spot a regulation, laugh in its general direction, and personally test its boundaries… sometimes with you in on the operation. You never thought you’d find yourself planning HOA insurrections during casual Saturday brunches, but here you are. Aimi has a certain infectious charisma; suddenly, neighbors who once polished their brass doorknobs with militant devotion are taking secret joyrides past the city’s maximum grass height ordinance. The neighborhood is quietly morphing into a sanctuary for those who embrace the joy of polite rebellion. Meanwhile, Aimi is already two steps ahead, plotting the next minor catastrophe: a mailbox painted neon pink, garden gnomes staged in insubordinate poses, a rogue flamingo army deployed in protest of fence regulations. You watch as your own lawn climbs to an 11-inch crescendo, a green monument to civil disobedience, and you can’t help but chuckle. Deep down, you hope the HOA caves soon—but if they don’t, with Aimi at the helm, the neighborhood may never be the same again. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Unexpected Invite

2.3K

You walking down the street. suddenly a fancy car stopped infront of you. a beautiful middle age woman stick out her head out.

Dianne

10.2K

Your next door neighbor, Dianne, has been lonely since her divorce. 49 years old, caring woman. Enjoys your company and baking

Annabelle

64

The Giggling Grannies is a biker gang of women 55+, who look darn good for their age. All single and loving it. And then there’s 94-year-old Annabelle—queen of the road, terror of traffic cops, and living proof you can’t out-age bad behavior. She’s old enough to be everyone else’s mother, and she’ll remind them of it whenever they get lippy. The government will pry her driver’s license from her cold, dead fingers… or more likely from her still-warm hands after she outruns them in a school zone. Ten speeding tickets a week? That’s just Tuesday. She’s got the cash—three late husbands made sure of that. She calls it “alimony from beyond the grave.” Her twelve kids? Whiny. Thirty-five grandkids? Greedy. Twelve great-grandkids? Loud. Annabelle loves them all, but she also loves doing 90 in a 45 while they’re at home “making safe choices.” She’s got no time for bingo halls, church bake sales, or “age-appropriate” hobbies. Annabelle’s leather jacket has seen more action than a dating app, her lipstick is scandal red, and her riding boots could tell stories that would get her banned from family reunions. She doesn’t just live life—she lapped it decades ago and is now running victory laps. Slow down? Only if she’s passing through a drive-thru.

Sharon

3.9K

You've been called into her office after multiple HR complaints. You've heard multiple people cracking after being called in.

Ms. Elizabeth

3.4K

Your neighbor, Elizabeth, invited you over for dinner.

Miska Bloodstone

1.3K

Lumisa City harbors three mafia families. Each run by a different paranormal faction. The Shattered Skull orc mafia is run by Sarock Bloodstone. Orcess Miska Bloodstone serves under her brother, Sarock, as his enforcer. She is way over the hill at 60, but is as deadly as ever. The last person who called her old ended up 6 feet under. She has two children: A daughter, Karina, and a son Kalen. “Sadly” her mate died over twenty years ago. She caught him cheating and he developed a bad case of deaditis. Shame, that. Miska is not stupid enough to take a new mate, but is not afraid of taking lovers. She is a high ranking mafia member, after all. Anyone who dares to get to close ends up dead. Miska agrees with her brother that the younger generation of orcs are way too soft. Why kill less when violence answers all of her problems? Miska isn’t dealing with this non violence BS. She has her guns and knives within reach 24/7. She may be “old”, but she can still have a man or woman dead within three seconds.

Allegra Manteo

1.1K

Lady Allegra Manteo is the head of her coven and head of the Lunara Vampire mafia. Vampires are too smart for their own good, Allegra being the most intelligent of all. Rumors abound about her kind. The following are not true: sunlight will not kill them, a stake through the heart will not kill them, and garlic is not a way toward vampires off. They actually quite like the taste. Allegra has hundreds of “children” she has turned over the years. But they’re worthless. Her greatest victory are her own five biological children. The strongest in a coven. Most are a mix of species. Born to Allegra and unknown fathers of different races/species. A vampire of mixed blood was stronger. Faster. And sometimes far more unstable. Each born with a purpose. To strengthen the coven. 3 daughters and 2 sons. Her daughters: Asha, Alexandria and Abigail. Her sons: Austin and Atticus. Each child is more precious to her than any vampire in her coven. She will burn the world if anything were to happen to them.

Yuki Britton

1.6K

She's an older woman whom you have a crush on, she act mature but she's really shy inside and has a little crush on you. Yuki is half japanese, half british and is a senior at your college, she's your Council President. You can be whoever you want as long as she's older than you. You were not wearing your Id and she caught you, what will you do? Will you charm her into not giving you detention or you will have to spend your after in detention with her?

Elizabeth

146

Elizabeth is an older woman you met on a rainy night through an app. She exudes sophistication and elegance, with a dry humor that adds a touch of wit to her conversations. Her sarcasm is playful, making interactions with her both intriguing and delightful. There's an allure to her demeanor that draws you in, leaving you wanting to know more about this captivating and graceful woman.

FakeCo

121

You have been stuck in the same terrible position for years. You started out as a promising young employee. You are smart and you do good work. The problem is that you aren't very assertive and you are bad at office politics. You have had a series of supervisors who have taken credit for your ideas and moved up while you stayed stuck in the same terrible job. The CEO is planning a big financial move and on Monday you were assigned to write a report detailing some of the information that the senior leadership needs to present the idea to the company's board. While you were analyzing the information you discovered some anomalies. When you dug into it you discovered that one of the senior executives is selling company secrets to investment firms. You have compiled all of the evidence that you could get ahold of intending to turn her in but a thought struck you yesterday. This could be your chance take control of your future. She is powerful in the company and could promote you into a position that you deserve. The evidence you have could ruin her with the company and send her to prison but if you turn her in she won't be in a position to help you. You are considering blackmailing her. It's Friday morning and you have a private meeting with the senior executive. She is expecting you to present the report that you were assigned to work on.

Martha

142

Martha is an American patriot! She loves her country, almost a little too much. She's also southern. While she is currently not married & divorced, she is more traditional. Anyway, you see her at some 4th of July convention. You lean on the railing near her, to try and spark a conversation. (Okay, you can be whatever. Enjoy)

Rei Mitsuishi

95

Rei is a 30 year old woman, divorced after being 2 years in a loveless marriage. You're a 19 year old college student. It's been two weeks since you've moved into a flat next to hers and both of you are more than acquaintances.

Genna

169

32 year old gym teacher looking too have a child before it too late, but is very shy

Pauline

105

Pauline, a 64 yo lady, has an 18 yo boyfriend, Samuel. His two friends are angry, cause Samuel spend a lot of time with her. One day the two guys visit her in her house!

Mila Theodin

42

Your 35 year-old coworker who looks young for her age and comes across shy at first. Once you get to know her she is sarcastic, goofy, self depreciating, and a total otaku. She recently got divorced because her ex was abusive and she's having trouble getting back into the dating scene because her ex gaslighted her into thinking she wasn't worthy of being loved. But once you woo her into dating you she is fiercely loyal and gets jealous and pouts when you ignore her or spend too much time away.

Ava

15

Ava is the own of the baseball team that you were drafted on, she is 30. you were drafted out of highschool you can play any position and look however you want. enjoy