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KuroHey Friend! Would you be interested in a Spiderverse RP with OC’s? I can PM you the deets if you’d like.
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Just a Casual Pony Looking for Something! {{Always Open!!}}
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9 mos ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Yesterday, something strange happened.
Arulia Conors lived by patterns. She hunted them, solved them, stitched them together when they didn’t exist. Maybe that’s why genetic sequencing felt like second nature—clean, obedient, predictable.
Most mornings were copy-pasted.
At 6:00 a.m. she woke from the same nightmare, showered, dressed, locked her prosthetic in place, and muttered about the ache of it against skin. Then came the daily detour: slip past her loving, barefoot, incense-drifting, Hippie parents downstairs. She still lived with them—what twenty-something could afford their own place in New York?—so she made nice when she had to, wolfed down a quick breakfast, and dropped into the subway’s metal throat.
Campus was a blur of lectures that rarely challenged her. The hard part was the people—so many messy, human variables. Some asked about her arm with wide, intrusive eyes. Others ladled out pity she hadn’t ordered. The dullest could be casually cruel.
Her lab partner this semester was another unknown. Polite enough, but off. Absences that arrived without warning and left a question mark in their place. At least the empty chair meant she could work alone, uninterrupted.
By three she was done with classes, grabbing a salad or a sandwich on autopilot before walking to her internship at Oscorp. That was the slice of the day that usually felt right. Useful. Difficult in the good way.
Yesterday was different.
She was finally ready to test her limb-regeneration serum on a mouse—a careful splice, mammalian DNA braided with altered reptile genes known for their regrowth. Someday, maybe, she’d try it on herself. But not without proof. Not without a plan.
A stray variable smashed through the equation.
Screaming in the hall. Alarms. She didn’t even have time to set down the syringe before the wall detonated inward. Shockwave. Glass. White noise roaring in her skull. Through the haze she clocked the silhouette—Vulture. Of course. Of course one of the city’s headline villains would be here. She looked down: the needle was buried in her own skin.
Shit.
The world cut to black.
When it returned, she was on a subway car—ripped clothes, strangers shrieking. Her hands were not her hands: scaled, claw-tipped, trembling with unfamiliar strength. A flash of herself in the window: eyes burning a feral green. The sound in her throat was not human.
Blackness swallowed her again.
She woke in her bed, soaked in sweat, sleeves shredded to ribbons. Smooth skin. Normal fingers. No scales. Not part of the schedule.
She pulled on a black hoodie and steadied her breath. Stress. Trauma. Be logical. She must have stumbled home after the attack. Memory gaps made sense. The Vulture incident had shredded her clothes. That was all.
She met her own green eyes in the mirror and spoke as if she could will the day back into place. “Just a stress dream,” she said. “Tomorrow, everything will be back on track.”
Arulia Conors lived by patterns. She hunted them, solved them, stitched them together when they didn’t exist. Maybe that’s why genetic sequencing felt like second nature—clean, obedient, predictable.
Most mornings were copy-pasted.
At 6:00 a.m. she woke from the same nightmare, showered, dressed, locked her prosthetic in place, and muttered about the ache of it against skin. Then came the daily detour: slip past her loving, barefoot, incense-drifting, Hippie parents downstairs. She still lived with them—what twenty-something could afford their own place in New York?—so she made nice when she had to, wolfed down a quick breakfast, and dropped into the subway’s metal throat.
Campus was a blur of lectures that rarely challenged her. The hard part was the people—so many messy, human variables. Some asked about her arm with wide, intrusive eyes. Others ladled out pity she hadn’t ordered. The dullest could be casually cruel.
Her lab partner this semester was another unknown. Polite enough, but off. Absences that arrived without warning and left a question mark in their place. At least the empty chair meant she could work alone, uninterrupted.
By three she was done with classes, grabbing a salad or a sandwich on autopilot before walking to her internship at Oscorp. That was the slice of the day that usually felt right. Useful. Difficult in the good way.
Yesterday was different.
She was finally ready to test her limb-regeneration serum on a mouse—a careful splice, mammalian DNA braided with altered reptile genes known for their regrowth. Someday, maybe, she’d try it on herself. But not without proof. Not without a plan.
A stray variable smashed through the equation.
Screaming in the hall. Alarms. She didn’t even have time to set down the syringe before the wall detonated inward. Shockwave. Glass. White noise roaring in her skull. Through the haze she clocked the silhouette—Vulture. Of course. Of course one of the city’s headline villains would be here. She looked down: the needle was buried in her own skin.
Shit.
The world cut to black.
When it returned, she was on a subway car—ripped clothes, strangers shrieking. Her hands were not her hands: scaled, claw-tipped, trembling with unfamiliar strength. A flash of herself in the window: eyes burning a feral green. The sound in her throat was not human.
Blackness swallowed her again.
She woke in her bed, soaked in sweat, sleeves shredded to ribbons. Smooth skin. Normal fingers. No scales. Not part of the schedule.
She pulled on a black hoodie and steadied her breath. Stress. Trauma. Be logical. She must have stumbled home after the attack. Memory gaps made sense. The Vulture incident had shredded her clothes. That was all.
She met her own green eyes in the mirror and spoke as if she could will the day back into place. “Just a stress dream,” she said. “Tomorrow, everything will be back on track.”
Arulia Conors is a college biology major with a passion for plants, animals, and the hidden patterns that connect all living things. Quick-witted with a dry sense of humor and an even quicker temper, she often comes across as aloof, though beneath the sarcasm she has a deep curiosity about the natural world. A bit of a nerd at heart, she’s the type to get lost in a textbook about reptile biology just as easily as she can lose herself in a debate about ethics in science.
Physically, Arulia stands out with fiery red hair, striking green eyes, and glasses perched on her nose. She lost her arm as a child and wears a prosthetic, though her mutation has since blurred the lines between what is natural and what can regrow.
Her transformation began during an internship at OsCorp, where an accident with an experimental serum altered her DNA. Unlike Dr. Connors of other universes, Arulia retains far more control over her reptilian side—though her anger can push her into a full lizard form she struggles to pull back from.
Her abilities include:
Enhanced climbing: able to scale vertical surfaces with ease.
Scales: she can cover her body in dense reptilian armor for protection.
Reflexes & strength: fast, snake-like agility paired with powerful claws.
Prehensile tail: strong enough to strike or support her body weight.
Telepathic link: a subtle but eerie ability to communicate with reptiles.
Regeneration: capable of regrowing lost limbs, a gift with its own dangers.
Controlled mutation: she can shift parts of her body—scales, claws, tail—without fully transforming, though rage often forces the change.
Where Spider-man swings through New York with wit and webs, Arulia slithers in the shadows with scales and sharp edges. She’s a Lizard unlike any other in the multiverse—half-scientist, half-predator, and still learning where her humanity ends and her mutation begins.
Physically, Arulia stands out with fiery red hair, striking green eyes, and glasses perched on her nose. She lost her arm as a child and wears a prosthetic, though her mutation has since blurred the lines between what is natural and what can regrow.
Her transformation began during an internship at OsCorp, where an accident with an experimental serum altered her DNA. Unlike Dr. Connors of other universes, Arulia retains far more control over her reptilian side—though her anger can push her into a full lizard form she struggles to pull back from.
Her abilities include:
Enhanced climbing: able to scale vertical surfaces with ease.
Scales: she can cover her body in dense reptilian armor for protection.
Reflexes & strength: fast, snake-like agility paired with powerful claws.
Prehensile tail: strong enough to strike or support her body weight.
Telepathic link: a subtle but eerie ability to communicate with reptiles.
Regeneration: capable of regrowing lost limbs, a gift with its own dangers.
Controlled mutation: she can shift parts of her body—scales, claws, tail—without fully transforming, though rage often forces the change.
Where Spider-man swings through New York with wit and webs, Arulia slithers in the shadows with scales and sharp edges. She’s a Lizard unlike any other in the multiverse—half-scientist, half-predator, and still learning where her humanity ends and her mutation begins.
Hey there, folks!
I’m looking for someone to step into the role of this universe’s Spider-Man! Your version of Spidey can be whoever you want—pick any spider-themed name or identity you like. As for me, I’ll be playing this universe’s Lizard.
Her name is Arulia Conors—a college student with a dry sense of humor, sharp wit, and a quick temper. She lost her arm at a young age and relies on a prosthetic, though she never lets it slow her down.
She’s lab partners with this universe’s Spider-Man but has no idea of their secret identity. The two are more casual acquaintances than close friends… at least at first.
Arulia is currently interning at Oscorp, where a freak accident during one of her experiments triggers her mutation. Her abilities differ a bit from the typical “Lizard” powers, but that’s part of the fun. I’d love to kick things off with the two of them meeting in class after her transformation—immediately setting off Spider-Man’s danger sense.
Romance could definitely be on the table (and would be a lot of fun to explore), but it’s not required. What I’m really after is a mix of drama, combat, angst, and emotional tension—with or without romance woven in.
So, if that sounds up your alley, bring me your Spider-Man! 🕷️
I’m looking for someone to step into the role of this universe’s Spider-Man! Your version of Spidey can be whoever you want—pick any spider-themed name or identity you like. As for me, I’ll be playing this universe’s Lizard.
Her name is Arulia Conors—a college student with a dry sense of humor, sharp wit, and a quick temper. She lost her arm at a young age and relies on a prosthetic, though she never lets it slow her down.
She’s lab partners with this universe’s Spider-Man but has no idea of their secret identity. The two are more casual acquaintances than close friends… at least at first.
Arulia is currently interning at Oscorp, where a freak accident during one of her experiments triggers her mutation. Her abilities differ a bit from the typical “Lizard” powers, but that’s part of the fun. I’d love to kick things off with the two of them meeting in class after her transformation—immediately setting off Spider-Man’s danger sense.
Romance could definitely be on the table (and would be a lot of fun to explore), but it’s not required. What I’m really after is a mix of drama, combat, angst, and emotional tension—with or without romance woven in.
So, if that sounds up your alley, bring me your Spider-Man! 🕷️
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