Superhero Academy

The place where all the magic happens. This is where all the new students arrive, and where most people like to just hang out when there's nothing else to do.

Staff
Superman - Principal

Captain America - Self-Defense Teacher

Wonder Woman - Interrogation Teacher

Iron Man - History Teacher

Hulk - Fighting Teacher

Spiderman - Agility Teacher

Classes
Self-Defense

Interrogation

History

Fighting

Agility

Roleplay
All of the new students are now dropped off in front of the school, and most are taken aback by how big it is.

Michael walks up, and he stares at the school, slightly surprised. "Wow, this place is pretty awesome. You know, not as awesome as me, but c'mon, nothing's as awesome as me." He boasts.

Princessa struts towards the doors to the school. She tosses her shimmery golden blonde hair over her shoulders and flashes a bright, "million dollar smile." She shrugs off her white cardigan, revealing her bare shoulders and a baby blue strapless mini dress. She keeps strutting on ahead, her smile bright as ever, and her 4-inches high, white stiletto pumps clicking against the sidewalk.

Michael whips his head towards, as he'd describe it, "the hottie that just walked in". He quickly starts to run to catch up with her, and when he's by her side, he flashes a smile that's supposed to be charming, but comes off more as creepy. "Why, hello the-" He's cut off when he doesn't notice the stairs coming up and he trips over them, "oof"-ing as his head hits one of the steps.

Princessa turns around as she hears a bang and an "oof." She runs back down the stairs and helps the mysterious boy up. "Hi, are you okay?" she asks sincerely, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling like stars. She dusts him off and looks at the bruise on his forehead. "Oh sweetie, you have to be more careful," she chuckles. She kisses the bruise, leaving a big, pink lipstick mark. "All better?" she smiles.

Michael's about to push her away (while saying something along the lines of "I don't need your help"), but then she kisses his forehead. He blushes a little, before he remembers that she's watching and quickly tries (and fails) to look tough again. "Oh, that bruise is nothing." He laughs a little, despite the fact that the bruise is, in fact, something, and that "something" is causing him searing pain. "Only thing it did is make you kiss me, babe." He winks at her, although that again comes off more as unsettling then charming.

Princessa, eager for attention from boys (even if they're a little creepy), smiles at the boy. "Ooh, you're such a flirt," she purrs. She looks at the boy. She smirks. She thinks he's cute. She wonders how old he is, but for the most part she doesn't care... as long as he isn't like 13... ew. "Well if you keep getting hurt, I'll just have to keep kissing you," she muses. "I hope that's okay," she adds with a sly smile.

Michael smiles back flirtiously, although this one comes off as less creepy. "Oh, please, I'm the flirt? You're the one who kissed me over a bruise." He looks at the girl. He smiles. He thinks she's hot. He keeps thinking about how amazingly hot this girl is. He's still thinking about it when he remembers to respond to her. (Yeah, parody of that part of your post. xD) "Oh, great, now you made me want to go hurt myself, thanks a lot." He winks.

Princessa bites her lip. "I can't help it. You're adorable." she replies. She extends her finely manicured hand, soft as silk. "I'm Princessa. Princessa Angela Starlington."

"Yeah, well, most girls can't stop themselves." Michael boasts, as he takes her hand. "My name's Michael. Michael Morroco Manning... Yeah, my parents were really lazy when they named me." He laughs nervously.

Princessa smirks. "Enchante, monsieur," she purrs seductively. "Where are you from?" she asks, sitting down on the steps, and patting the spot on the step beside her, inviting him to sit down.

Michael looks slightly confused for a second, as he doesn't remember what that means. He quickly regains his compsure, however, and scrambles his brain for the first French term he can remember, even if he's not sure what it means: "C'est qu'elle a dit. (That's what she said.)" He then sits down beside her, smiling back at her. "From..." He's about to tell her "Ohio", but then he decides that the guy from Ohio never gets the girl. So he names the first other place he can think of. "Uh, Las Vegas. What about you?"

Princessa raises an eyebrow at his pervy, unrelated comment, but then ignores it and smiles. "Oooh I love Vegas!" she giggles. "I'm from Los Angeles, well... being more accurate, Beverly Hills. My dad's a business tycoon and my mom's an actress... so money's no problem for us." she adds. "Not to brag..."

"Uh, yeah, Vegas is really awesome. Like, gambling at the casinos there is really fun and all..." He makes it up as he went along. "Oh, you're rich? That's cool, I guess." Although he keeps a suave-ish expression, inside he's thinking about how being rich makes Princessa even hotter. "And don't worry, you're not bragging- otherwise I'd be annoyed at you, cause I hate it when people brag. I mean, just because you're strong, smart, hot, and nice, much like myself, doesn't mean you have to brag about it." At first you might think he's joking about that (because of the "much like myself" comment), but when you look at his face you realize that his expression shows no hint of a joke.

Princessa thinks to herself. Gambling... huh, maybe his parents got him special permission. Whatever... "Well, you are all those things..." she smiles. "How old are you?" she asks.

"Yeah, I am, but I don't brag about it." He pauses for a second. "Seventeen. What, were you worried you were about to make out with a thirteen year old?" He laughs nervously at his own joke.

Princessa laughs. "Actually yes. Well, not 13, but you know, someone too young for me-" she pauses midsentence. "Wait- when did I say I was about to make out with you?" she asks sassily. She acts a bit angry, but not angry enough to convince him that she was actually mad, which she isn't, just a smidge miffed at his forwardness.

"Well, yeah, I figured that- how old are you?" He asks, smiling a little. "And oh please, you didn't need to, we all know that every girl wants to make out with me." He boasts, pointing at himself with his thumbs, smirking a little. "I mean, I'm the perfect boyfriend- hot, nice, smooth, hot, helpful, hot, a good listener, and hot! What more could a girl want?" Although there's a little humor in his voice, for the most part he remains serious.

"I'm seventeen too." she says. Princessa raises an eyebrow at him. What an ass... he's just like all the other guys in LA: obsessed with themselves. But whatever! She'd probably hook up with him a couple of times... until a real man came along. Someone like her: successful, rich, and talented, but humble and courteous. She knows she's all that, she just doesn't like to act that way. She lets other people praise her, rather than praise herself. Princessa smiles at him, acting, but convincing him (she got the talent from her Oscar-Award-Winning Mother). She twirls her hair. "Ohhh, I don't know. I can't think of anything else, Michael," she purrs. She adds his name just to fuel his ego, which should, of course, make him feel more attracted to her.

"Heh, what a coincidence. The two sexiest people at this school happen to be the same age." He winks once more, as he continued to look at her. His heart starts to beat faster as she says the comment about "I can't think of anything else"- somehow about the way she said it, and how stunning she looked when she said it began to arouse him. He brushes this off, though, and tries to act cool as he continues to talk. "See? My point is proved." He boasts.

Princessa flips her silky hair. "Mhm..." she agrees, gazing into his eyes with her signature stare. The stare is a nearly fool-proof way to seduce any guy she wants. It makes a man think she would take him on the floor, right then, right there. Not that she would, Taylor Lautner being the exception, but it gets her what she wants, most of the time. And though she's nice, she can manipulate boys as she sees fit.

Princessa ran her delicate fingers down his arm, nearest her, and smiled irresistably. Her fingers met his hand, and she laced her fingers through his. She whispered in his ear, "come with me..."

Michael's heart starts beating faster, as he looks into her eyes. When she whispered into his ear, he couldn't help it and if you looked closely you could see a slight bulge in his "area" for a second. He quickly hides it, though, as he tries to be cool but the fact that he's so nervous makes this impossible. "Sure, babe, where we going?" He whispers back.

Princessa notices his reaction and chuckles. Ha! Bitch, you just lost the game. Knowing that she turned him on makes her feel pretty diabolical. The biggest ego boost for her is to completely make a man helpless against her advances. Master seductress in the house! She gets up, taking him with her. "Somewhere nice, quiet, and without other people," she muses. Although she has no idea where she's going, she's sure she'll find someplace.

Michael's heart race gets even quicker, as she manages to turn him on even more. He clears his throat though as he tries to look as calm as possible (which isn't very calm, mind you) as he smiles flirtiously at her. "Oh, that sounds nice." He whispers nervously (although he tries to pass it off as flirtiously) into her ear.

Princessa drags him up the stairs and through halls. They eventually arrive at door labeled "supply closet." Princessa shook the door handle, and saw that it was unlocked, she crept inside. The closet was mostly barren, except for some textbooks and workbooks lying around. No teachers were on campus yet, as orientation wasn't even until tomorrow, but just to be safe, Princessa locked herself and Michael in the closet, the low-lit back up light turning on.

Michael's heart continues to pump as they arrive into the cloest. He and Princessa are pressed up together, and now she can feel his, er, "excited friend down under" with her leg. Michael blushes a little and tries to act like he doesn't realize that, hoping that maybe she wouldn't either then. "So sexy..." He nervously whispers into her ear.

Princessa laughs. "Who? You or me? Let's clairify."

"Both of us, obviously- if I had to choose though, it'd be me." He boasts, forgetting that he's supposed to be flattering her instead of himself.

Princessa sneers at him, though he can't see her expression because of the lack of lighting. Okay, she decides in her mind, we'll hook up once. No backing out now... I already dragged him here.

Princessa threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, I can't help but agree," she purred. She deserved an Oscar for this. She then leans in close, kisses him, but just barely, teasing him. She had to at least pretend he wasn't an idiot... for a while.

Michael's about to answer to her, but then she kissed him. He's a little surprised for a second, then he starts to (clumsily) kiss her back- he's not very good at kissing her, though, because although he kissed girls before, they were more quick pecks, not "real" kisses.

Princessa laughs. "Okay, I didn't want to have to do this, but follow my lead..." she mutters, then she pulls him closer to her, and kisses him softly, and slowly, not wanting to give him the idea that this was going to amount to a pants off-dance off. No. She was saving herself for someone who actually deserved her... only that guy hadn't come just yet. She was used to jerks. That's why she was waiting. And Michael wasn't that special someone. Not with the way he'd been acting.

Michael's eyes widen for a second, before he closes them quickly and he starts to slowly kiss her back, putting his hands around her waist and pulling her closely. Michael couldn't believe that his first "real" kiss was with a slut like this... But hey, he wasn't exactly complaining either.

Princessa pulls away for a moment. "I'm sorry for being like this... I've just-" she says, then sobs. "gotten out of a really bad break-up..." she breathes out. "It's just been hard for me to deal with and-" she sobs again. "you seemed so nice and then I-'" Sob. "let it get out of hand..." Tears started streaking down her face. The break up had been true. It still hurt her, though it was a month ago, I mean, not too much, but at least Micheal wouldn't hate her after this...

Michael's expression softens, and he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry..." He told her, slightly awkwardly. "I had no idea..." He resists the urge to say a comment about himself at the "you seemed so nice" bit, deciding that now's not the time. "Come on, let's get out of here." He unlocks the door, pushes it open, and motions for Princessa to go first.

Princessa smiles sadly. "Thank you," she mutters with a sniffle. "Let's just forget this ever happened... I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking..." she adds, walking on ahead. "It was nice meeting you Michael, but I don't really think I'm ready for a relationship again right now... I don't even know why I did any of that... I'm not that type of girl..." she mumbles. "Maybe we can go out eventually, a proper date... not just- like this," she suggests. She takes his hand and takes a pen from on top of one of the lockers, and she writes down her cellphone number. "I'm really sorry for being so stupid," she mutters, walking off towards her dorm.

Now, let's be honest, Princessa wasn't even that upset about the break up to begin with, but Michael reminds her of her ex. She realized she couldn't go through with that. She decided to stop herself before things got too far. She doesn't want to give Michael the impression that it could really amount to something. But she offered her number to be polite.

Princessa enters her dorm room, locks the door, sits on her bed, and sighs into her pillow. He'd better not try anything funny now. What was wrong with her?

Michael looks guiltily at her as she left, feeling bad about even going along with it. He still sticks her number in his pocket, though. He walked sadly back to his dorm, head facing down.