SIDE ARC Fractured Dimensions


the clairvoyant pterodactyl
Original poster
In the everyday haste of city life, of metahuman and human relations, of superheroes, sidekicks, and their villainous counterparts, one must remember to never let the mediocrity of life stand in the way of excellence.

Because your best is not enough — Your all is not enough — Your hope is not enough.

If you must fight, you must give every ounce of your being to the thrill of battle.

If you must terrorize, you must give every ounce of your being to the call of destruction.

If you must defend, you must give every ounce of your soul to protect your fellow brothers and sisters.

If you must witness and never assist, you must give every ounce of your being to document, report, and aid those who can.

Because in this world, hope only gets you so far — it’s the real tangible results that move you along the path Fate has laid out for you. Continuous improvement upon yourself is the only way to live, the only way to die, and the only thing to strive for.

My father once told me the second most dangerous thing in the world was mediocrity— the first? Hope.

I never quite understood what he meant, but now… I think—I think I do.​

Side Arc: Fractured Dimensions
Phase 1: Ex Malo Bonum​


Millennium City wasn’t your average city, even if you took into account the advancement in society over the past five decades. The hub of metahuman relations, superhero culture, and the capitalist nature of its denizens led the way for Millennium to become something straight out of a comic book. Its skyline jutted into the heavens and its bowels dug deep into the earth, and the people that called the city home found comfort in the constant commotion, in the barrage of chaos, and the realization that for every supervillain hellbent on their destruction, there was a superhero to save the day.

Most cities were pretty; pretty clean, pretty messy, pretty busy or pretty lame— but Millennium, she was gorgeous. By day or night, morning or afternoon, before or after the destruction of half a borough due to villainy and heroism, Millennium City was a sight to behold, an experience to witness, a breathtaking wonder that defied the expectations of so many.

No matter the day, the city thrummed with continuous energy; excitement and fear and curiosity and courage — the great city has everything to offer — excitement bubbled in the hearts of visiting tourists, witnessing Millennium for the first time, in children who hugged their favorite super in the form of a plushie tight against their chest, and fangirls and boys, who stood in line to receive an autograph from their favorite superhero or heroine.

The city was always abuzz, always alive, always waiting for the next…


—MCTK Radio—

“Aaand we’re back! Sorry folks, but our bosses would kill us if our sponsors didn’t get their time on air.”

“That’s right, Kel, but let’s get back to the news at hand — Our eyes on the ground are reporting three separate disturbances this afternoon! Trust City Bank has been robbed, downtown is in a scramble, and something—“

“—Or someone—“

“Is causing a raucous across the bay from Star Tower!”

“Our eyes on the ground haven’t given any specific details regarding the disturbance near Star Tower, but downtown is in shambles according to Miss Scalley here on HoloTel —the pictures she snapped are horrifying, take a look if you’ve got your holowatch connected to HoloTel News!— and the MetaCity Police are documenting the crime scene as we speak. Surely they’ll be calling in the Agency to get a super out there A.S.A.P.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that, Kel! But it looks like we need to take another sponsor break — this is Eli and Kel with MCTK Radio — and we’ll be right back with more local news!”

Monty hunched over with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply and erratically, alternating between deep inhales through his mouth and shallow coughs from overexertion. He flung the cream-colored backpack off his back with distaste plain on his face and took a seat beside it. With a soft moan be grabbed a protein bar from his pocket and nibbled on it, head swinging back and forth as he surveyed the alley he was told to wait in.

Years worth of dirt and grime clung to the pavement, as did flyers, crushed HoloTel News discs, food only worthy of rats, and things he didn’t dare try and figure out.

“That wasn’t a very nice way to handle my merchandise, Monty.”

The young man in question jumped slightly and glanced to his left — even in the early afternoon the light found it hard to permeate this location — and out of the darkness came a figure. Tall, neither thin nor bulky, skin reminiscent of brushed bronze, and wearing a suit that was tailored for him and him alone.

“Erm,” Monty squirmed a little, his instinct telling him to get up and run, but somehow, even after all this time, the man's presence gave him pause. He could feel himself beginning to vibrate — not out of fear, though of course there was some of that — but because he’d been sitting for nearly five minutes now, and per usual, five minutes was too long. So he stood up slowly, grabbed the cream-colored backpack as he did, and handed it over without looking.

“Nice job kid,” The man said slowly, though he didn’t reach forward to take the bag. “You’re always on time, never get caught, and don’t talk back. I could use a man like you on my team full time.”

“Sorry,” Monty replied a little too quickly, “I already work six jobs—“

“To take care of your family, yes, I know. But why work six when you only have to work one? One job with me will give you enough to move your family out of those old Rosewood Heights apartments and somewhere nicer. Could even afford better doctors for your ma’. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

For once, Monty froze and didn’t move. He’d never told the man where he lived, nor that his mother was sick and needed to attend doctor appointments three times a week. The man in front of him laughed, took the bag from him at long last, and shrugged his shoulders before turning to go.

“Give it some thought — in the meantime, laylow and wait for my next call.”

When the man finally disappeared, Monty turned to go as well, in the opposite direction, shoulders slumped with worry. He walked — he didn’t want to run, he had ran all the way to Virginia and back to ease away the guilt before coming here — through the seedier parts of Millennium City, hoping that was the last job he ever had to do for Mr. Brachlan. He knew it wasn’t though and no matter the difficulties Monty ran into, it was hard for his mood to stay sour.

So by the time he was three blocks away from that alley, Monty had a pep in his step once again, and wondered where he could get a decent meal.

In the hustle and bustle of the ever growing city, where do you stand? Where do you belong?

Feel free to introduce your characters however you wish! React to the happenings in the broadcast (or ignore them), take action, or simply have your character performing their day-to-days.

Monty is approachable, but I would like you to get your solo introduction out first! Hit me with any future collab ideas or concepts — the next GM post will come after the next few rounds of posting.

If you have any questions, hit me up in the server!

★Under The Stars★

A Celestial Royal
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Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
It depends on what situation I'm leading, but the majority of the time, I'm aggressive.
Favorite Genres
(Order of favorite to lesser favorite) Yaoi/Gay, Magical, School, Modern, Fantasy, Horror, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry (Unless the plot is interesting enough. I'll experiment.)


Valeria sat at home, staring out the window of her penthouse apartment. The veranda was filled with luscious plants, all cared for with an extreme sense of carefulness. A scene of perfection, a glimpse of vitality, and a view that could kill. Someone falling from such a height had no chance of surviving, not in the slightest. Valeria pondered what kind of things she might contemplate if she saw her life flash before her eyes. What kind of epiphanies might she have? All of it interested her. She had no interest in throwing herself from such a height though. She just simply sought to better herself. After the death of her husband, she couldn't focus on anything else.


Valeria continued to stare. She wished an epiphany would hit her, maybe in the form of sending a new husband her way. She grew a small bit lonely, even being surrounded by the upper class in Millenium City. All the parties were boring and filled with people who could do nothing but waste away their time, unable to burn all through all of the money they accumulate. They wanted for nothing, and Valeria grew tired of that sentiment. A cheery woman on the outside, Valeria still held a bitterness for people who held money. All her life, she worked hard to become the best and obtain what they all had. Now that she had it, things stagnated. Growth was nonexistent. It was disappointing.

Ria! Eat!

Valeria blinked, bringing her out of her stupor. The bird sitting on her windowsill seemed to be calling out to her. "Oh my goodness! Humphrey, I'm so sorry! I'll go fill the bird feeder right away! Now go go go, go tell all your friends I'll have a tasty little meal for them if they decide to give Aunty Ria a visit!" Valeria got up from the table and dusted off the pencil skirt she was wearing. It wasn't a business day, but Valeria expected to go out some time during the day. She got over to her kitchen and dug through the many cabinets she had to find the premium bird seed she bought for her feathered friends. Oh goodness, I hope this is enough for everyone. If not, I suppose I could always go out and get some more. This is probably also a good opportunity to let Thelma know that I'll have to cancel all of tomorrow's appointments. I owe it to everyone to treat them to something special. The park's probably a good place for the event. I'll let everyone know later today. By the time she finished this thought, she finished pouring the bird feed into the feeder.

Letting out a small yawn, she put the bird feeder back on the hook. As she hung her head out the window a little bit, a large flock of birds started heading toward her. Valeria smiled, waving to the birds and ducking back inside. Valeria went back to her kitchen and got a big bowl of water for all the birds. It was enjoyable to watch them all play about in it as they spoke with her. She took her spot on her seat, setting the bowl of water on the table before her. The Mourning Dove that came to visit her almost every hour of the day, Humphrey, led the pack of birds. He was by no means the fastest, but the other birds acknowledged that he had a special relationship with Valeria. Humphrey flew into Valeria's lap and all the other birds took to resting onto anything near the window. One even crashing into the pool of water and exclaiming, "Wheeeeeeeee" as it landed. Valeria laughed as she stroked a drop of water that landed on her as a result of the emergency landing.

"Hello everyone, I hope you're hungry!"

A wave of "Yes ma'am"s, "Mmhmm"s, "HUNGRY"s, and "FOOD"s came back to her. Most people would just hear a smittering of chirps and calls from all the birds, but not Valeria. She stroked Humphrey as she lifted him to the bird feeder to begin feeding. The rest of the birds rushed to the feeder, tearing it apart practically. A smaller blue jay seemed to be struggling to fly from the table. It seemed it came on the back of a larger bird that was headed this way. Valeria scooped up the small bird in her careful hands, smiling at it. "Oh dear... You seem hurt. Anything I can do to help?"

"No, alright. Aunty Ria."

Valeria pursed her lips as she held the bird in her hands. "I can help you little blue, if you only let me."

"I... I no help."

Valeria stared at the injury the bird seemed to experience. There were no cuts thankfully. Everything seemed to be in order, with the exception of one of its wings. It seemed as though the wing was stiff from a bone that was pointed in the opposite direction toward the end of the wing. "Let me grab you something really fast. I'll get you in top shape in no time at all. It'll only be a second." The blue jay hopped off of her hand onto the table, letting her go grab her veterinary kit. Valeria grabbed a light numbing cream from her bag and headed back. Without another word, she asked the blue jay to extend her wing for her. She complied and she rubbed the cream on the portion of the wing she would be adjusting. "This might hurt a little bit, but hang in there for me for a second little blue. I promise I'll get this fixed up in no time at all!" Valeria focused, gaining laser focus on the injury in question. Her fingers moved over the wing, pressing a bit to see if the bird experienced any pain. It seemed it was alright, so she quickly moved the bone back into its regular position. The bird let out a loud cry as she adjusted the wing. "OUCHHHHH!!!"

Valeria smiled. "There! All done!! That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

If the blue jay could smile, Valeria was sure that she would've. "Thanks, Aunty Ria!"

The blue jay seemed to fly up to the bird feeder with little trouble after her small adjustment. Humphrey found his way back into her lap as she finished and he pointed his beady eyes up toward her. He cocked his head to the side a little bit and said, "News, Ria. Star Tower."

Valeria turned on the radio to hear of a disturbance near Star Tower. That wasn't far from where she lived. Valeria's mood seemed to grow extremely excitable for a moment before she forced herself to calm down. "Seems we need to pay a visit there. I'll head out after getting changed." The outfit she was wearing now wasn't suitable for making a good impression. Valeria searched through her enormous wardrobe, throwing out piece after piece after piece. She even threw one on top of Humphrey by accident. He wasn't very pleased about that. But after searching through her clothing for a few minutes, she found a pink dress that showed off just enough skin and paired perfectly with a pair of perfect long white boots she owned. Valeria threw in some gold hoops, a gold necklace, and some gold bracelets for balance. Using her power, she curled her hair in an instant. She wasn't usually able to manipulate sound in such a way, but it was an extremely acute application that she figured would come in handy. Valeria then stepped out of her apartment, waving goodbye to all the friends Humphrey brought. She told them they could stay and eat as long as they didn't cause trouble or destroy anything. She trusted them not to shit on her table either. That had been a big problem in the past after eating, but she resolved it by making her apartment building notorious for "bird bombings" in the afternoons. She obviously didn't want to have anyone be shit on, but she couldn't control where the birds aimed. They only understood about 10-20% of what she said anyway. It was a miracle she was able to get them to stop shitting on her table.

As she walked to Star Tower, a dog came from around the corner of her building to greet her. It was a Blood Hound and it walked straight by her side without a leash. He never once strayed from her side and never looked in any other direction than the one they were walking in. Valeria smiled and picked up the dog at her side, Humphrey perched on her shoulder.
"Hello Howard, I hope things are going well?"

"Yes ma'am. Escort."

Valeria scratched him behind the ears and smiled. "Thanks Howard. I appreciate it."

"Ria appreciates me!"

"I appreciate Humphrey."

"Yay! Ria appreciates!"

The one thing Valeria hadn't gotten used to was the strange looks she would get as she spoke to her animal friends. Maybe they weren't used to hearing someone speak to animals before. Valeria wasn't ever able to figure that out for some reason.


-Not my art. Never my art. I can't art very well.-
Roleplay Invitations
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One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
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Elementary, Intermediate
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Male, Female, Androgynous
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Mostly Passive
Favorite Genres
Mostly everything.
Genre You DON'T Like
Can't think of much. Really depends on who I'm writing with, to be fair.

-Millennium City, New York. Earlier in the day-

Sometimes, Voltaeiche really hated her roommates. Especially when they would come home and let the door slam shut like artillery fire. Shooting up with her heart rate, Voltaeiche sighed as she tried to relax into the couch again. She’d spent the majority of her morning at a shoot, and now she really wanted to let her spine decompress and release all of the tension. She’d juuuust gotten the right stretch and hook a foot over the edge of the couch when her roomates had gotten home.

“Oh, hi Voltaeiche.”

At least they finally managed to finally take the ‘iche’ off when they said her name. Hearing ‘Voltaic’ got very frustrating. It was her name, it wasn’t impossible. Poking her head up, she gave a weak smile and wave.

“We were just about to go out and get some lunch and do some shopping. You want to come with?”

Voltaeiche thought she did her level best at not flinching as she mulled it over in her head. On one hand, she really wanted to spend her day at home, recharge, catch up on some shows and have a nice lunch and dinner of dry cereal.

...on the other hand, she’d had dry cereal a few days in a row and the threat of scurvy was on the horizon. Plus, her producer had asked to make sure she was sticking to a diet…

Realising she’d been silent for MUCH too long, she cleared her throat and blinked out of her thoughts before giving another smile. “U-hm, sure. That sounds uh...yeah...uhm...could you give me a few minutes?”


Lunch had been...fine. The restaurant was fine, the food was fine, the company was...comparatively fine. She’d known worse, which wasn’t saying much, but...fine. They’d moved on to shopping, and while she’d found a few nice pieces, she also wasn’t really looking to buy, so most of the items she tried on went right back on the rack. At least everything matched jeans and a white T.

-hree separate disturbances this afternoon!

Voltaeiche frowned as she turned to look at the screen. After listening to the rest of the news story, she pulled out her phone map. They were a dozen blocks away from Star Tower, so they were probably fine...still, she’d prefer to be further.

If only ‘rushed’ was part of her roommate’s vocabulary. If anything, the giant pile of clothes they had taken to the dressing room was only one of many, many more. Hemming and hawing for a moment, Voltaiche finally sent them a message that she was heading home early, with the ongoing news story attached. As much as she enjoyed window shopping, she valued her life above that much more.

And honestly, her laptop was much better company.

Satisfied she’d done at least the minimum to clarify her whereabouts, she strolled out of the mall, plotting her path home to give her a reasonable berth around Star Tower. Hopefully she’d make it home before things escalated…

With that thought, she pulled down her cap and broke into a light jog. The faster she got home, the better.
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Star is A Dude
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Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
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One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
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Advanced, Prestige, Douche
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Adaptable, however I have more experience with Passive.
Favorite Genres
High Fantasy.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anything that is sex centric.
The corner table of a quaint cafe...

...That was where Bella found herself this afternoon. A fresh latte (soy, extra foam) lazily expelled steam into the surrounding air. The smell was pleasant and the taste wonderful, not to mention the magic it was working on her headache. True bliss was the only way to describe it. This secluded little corner of the city seemed almost suspended from the unending business that permeated Millenium. It was like a sanctuary where anyone could stop to take a breath. The lack of street-facing signs as well as the somewhat hidden front entrance most likely attributed to this. As with most smaller shops like this, a moderate group of loyal repeat customers were the only thing keeping the business afloat. Bella thanked them for their service. This little shop was a miracle and one of her favorite escapes from the superhero life. If you could call it that, The term 'Superhero' had always seemed so flashy. Definitely something beyond the reaches of her own ability. Infiltrator? Saboteur? Spy? Those titles were most likely more suitable.

"Ariel," Bella spoke with a cheeky smile as the only employee the owner of this little shop could afford approached her cheerily, "Could ya turn the radio up kid, I'm gonna need to know what kind of shit the city is in before really starting my day."

Ariel responded with a frown and a cock of her head. "You do realize it's almost 2, right Belz?" Her adorable southern accent was always a treat. She was like a fiery ginger cowgirl. Bella instinctually didn't voice the thought. Even a loudmouth had a certain understanding of self-preservation. Picking on a short redhead from the south? That was basically suicide in any situation.

"Time is relative. Just help me out here." Bella pleaded, "I am a paying customer, aren't I?"

"More of a generous family friend at this point, but sure Belz, just a moment. Sugar for that latte?"

"If this is another jab about my bitter demeanor before the reasonable hours of the day I swear to-"

"Reasonable is what again? Shortly afternoon? OR was it just before supper?"


Ariel cackled as she finished unfolding the stepstool needed to reach the radio above the service counter. Bella had been defeated once again. She sulked for a moment and sipped the latte that had, once again, been prepared perfectly as requested. Fun banter, gentle atmosphere, Perfect coffee. This place was too good for her.

The sound of her least favorite radio wave duo interrupted the wholesome thought.

" ... three separate disturbances..."

"... Star Tower..."

"... Down Town..."

"...Central Bank..."

She had become quite good at tuning out the nonessential banter those two insisted on pandering on their program. At the very least they provided a reliable stream of up to date information on villain activity in the public perview. Star Tower was near here and based on the report whatever was accross the bay near there was well outside the area ofher own expertize. Well, she had the equipment to perform basic reconnassaince.

"Big Bro better be greatful for this..." Bella mumbled under her breath as she sat up to leave, being careful to retreive the unmarked black briefcase at the side of the table. A single look of regret towards the still steaming latte was all she allowed herself while turning to leave.

"Headin' out huh?" Ariel commented while slightly blocking the doorway. "Dont forget this." The girl handed her an exact replica of her original order, but in a to go cup. "Had it made shortly after the first, thought somethin' like this'd happen."

"You woman, are too good for this world." Bella said, completely genuine.

"Finally someone gets it!" Ariel exclaimed while rolling her eyes, "Now get outta here you workaholic."

Bella rolled her eyes, "Yeah yeah, didn't need your permission. Tell pops to take it easy today Ariel, we don't need a repeat of last month."

"I could say the same to you." There was a pause, Bella and Ariel both averted their eyes.

"Yeah. I know." Without another word she left.

Grey yoga pants. Running shoes. A light blue tee and a grey hoodie. That was her ensemble. Dressed for a day off with nothing but her briefcase, Bella rounded the corner at the alleyway near Cobble Pop's Coffee and quickly made it to the street on the other side. She hailed down a Drivr parked nearby. The system was super convenient and their operators were killer behind the wheel.. In the good way. "Get me to millenium bay, accross from Star Tower."

"But ma'am there'-"

"Yes, I know, get me as close as you comfortably can. I'll find my way from there." She paused almost as thought considering something and dropped a 100$ bill on the guy's lap from behind, "and make it fast, Im not too worried about traffic laws."

"Um! yes Ma'am! Of course!" She'd be charging Big Bro for this later.

The drive took about fifteen minutes with the man's knowledge of route's, aggresive driving, and the tempting tip from Bella. She hopped out, about another fifteen minutes on foot from where she assumed the destination of this disturbance would be. A tall industrial complex offered an awesome vantage point just a few buildings up. Bella ran for it. The latte had really hit the spot. She hoped the crash wouldn't be too bad today.

Doctor Jax

Lord of the Mice
Roleplay Invitations
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A Few Posts a Week
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Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Urban Fantasy, Horror
Genre You DON'T Like
Current Identity: Willem La'Tour
Millenium City, New York
Downtown, in a park

"Things are just boppin' today."

Willem's mind snapped to focus around the voice beside the hot dog cart. Jennison Toondori, software engineer, twenty-two years old, too loud for his own good. He was scrolling through his watch, connected to HoloTel, beautiful downtown ambling about around them in the park they had stepped into for lunch. He had chosen a suit - as always, impeccably dressed - while Jennison was in a t-shirt depicting some children's cartoon and a pair of shorts, the 'uniform' of the software engineer.

"What's going on?" Willem asked with concern, eyebrows drawing inward to showcase his worry.

Jennison chewed a hotdog in disgraceful slops, swallowing with mustard stuck to a sorry excuse for facial hair. He wiped it with the back of a hand, and immediately Willem wished to take the butter knife on the cart and jab it into the man's eye. Disgusting. Reprehensible. Barely human.

The bespectacled engineer looked up through thick glasses and stated, "Looks like there's a rumbling around Star Tower, a bank heist, and something else bizarre going on. Ohoho man. Today's going to be busy. Might as well turn in for a late night because traffic is going to be wild."

"You've got that right. Ugh, and I wanted to get home early..." Willem bemoaned softly. "I hope nobody's been hurt yet."

Not a total lie. He didn't want anyone hurt. There was no point to it. Senseless, without purpose, no growth. Pain should always be a lesson. He rubbed a shoulder under his white shirt, feeling the tension. He had truly wanted to get home early. He needed that alibi, a security cam and a doorman to vouch for his whereabouts. He checked his watch one more time. Compulsively, he had been looking it over.

"What, you got something going on? You've been looking at that watch all day," Jennison asked with a waggle of his thick eyebrows. "Like... a date, maybe?"

His grin was wide as he nudged Willem too hard. He used the opportunity to take his hotdog from the cart owner to tamp down the urge to wrap his hand around Jennison's throat and back him away. The facade was perfect, too perfect, as he shrugged his shoulders and averted hateful eyes to the ground.

"Is she hot? Or is it a he? I don't know what you're into, man--"

"No, no, I just - it's not important. I guess. Yes, she's very hot," Willem chuckled, trying not to gag on his own words, while Jennison playfully punched his shoulder, congratulating him. He waved his hands at him, looking away as if bashful. Jennison continued to hound him as they started to walk from the stand.

"Who is it? Mac from Accounting? Nah, she's kind of heavy - not that there's anything wrong with that, if that's what you want!" Jennison guessed, trying to mop up some spilled sauce from his bright blue shirt with a finger. It stained. Willem deserved an Oscar for maintaining his composure, for not teaching this slob a lesson about being a complete human being and all it entailed.

"No, you - "

"Betsa from HR? She's been eyeing you forever, man. Glinda? It's Glinda, isn't it?"

"Hahaha, Jen, you wouldn't know her," Willem helplessly laughed with a pinch of nervousness - not all faked. No, he did have a date.

He had picked it carefully. Immunocompromised man, with no children in the home, taken care of by his sister, who was influential in local politics in the southern borough of MCNY. A canister, underneath his recliner, rigged with a motion sensor. He sat in that chair often, to watch the news. Many of his pictures on his profile - set to private - showed him in that exact chair taking a selfie from the 'dad angle', camera facing up awkwardly beneath the chin. Nice man, it seemed. Horrible this would happen to him. Insensate pain, from seemingly everywhere. Blisters.Not life threatening - scarring, likely.

It was necessary.

"Alright, alright! Fine, but you oughta show me pictures sometime, tell me how it goes, dude," Jennison stated, as stopped at the street. Across from it, a sleek building made halfway of glass and gorgeous masonry, as if hodgepodged together, rose into the sky. Across the very top of the building - which was completely glass with masonry finishing - stated the company's name, YouViz.

"I will, I will," Willem afforded, putting his hands up. "First date, first. Okay? By the way - you're going to be explaining that new security protocol, right? The one that Edds is bringing in? I'm still not sure I get it."

Health system. Insecure. Horribly so. They patched that after his last break-in.

"Yeah, yeah. It's really cool, man. Elegant," Jen stated. "I'll just have to show you."

Cars bustled past them, streetcars on lines still running despite the downtown scramble. They waited for the light to change across the street. Willem's black eyes stared up at YouViz's logo - an eye encircling a stylized person.

"Thanks, man. Definitely sounds like it."

Mars Walker

Not all who wander are lost, but I sure am.
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
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Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
Pretty much..all day. My job requires me to sit at a computer all day. Schedule is usually pretty flexible.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm fine with doing both
Favorite Genres
High Fantasy-themed things are my sweet-spot. I'm ALWAYS a sucker for Steampunk and Sci-fi, as well as modern rp's here and there.
Genre You DON'T Like
High-school settings grate against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Furry rp's are a no-go for me.


Millenium City, NY

Jolene had been shaken from sleep by nightmares at the uncomfortable time of 5 o’clock in the morning, and she was feeling the exhaustion hit her extra hard now. She found herself wishing for a hot cup of coffee as she walked side by side with a particularly chatty coworker from the advertisement agency she worked for. They were in the fancy parking garage, walking to their vehicles, and Jolene was involuntarily listening to her coworker ramble.

“….And you know, Ms. Moon, this might make me sound like some kinda weirdo, and it’s a bit off-topic, but true crime is one of my favorite genres! I really wish there were more shows on true crime— and you know what else? I wish they’d do a documentary on Malchance’s history! At the risk of sounding like a Malchance Minion or whatever,” he paused, glancing at Jolene to see if she was listening.

Jolene was staring at him with an intensely unpleasant feeling, “Jerry, you should really—“

Jerry cut Jolene off, immediately continuing from where he left off and using his hands to talk, “Ms. Moon, you gotta listen! The Theories surrounding Malchance are insane! There are theories that she’s one of those legacy-type aliases, you know, where the title is passed down from person to person? No one really knows though, because she always just disappears and shit, leaving more questions than answers— “

Jolene internally snapped, unable to listen any longer, and while Jerry aggressively tried to explain the villain, her eyes briefly glowed red. Jerry fell face-first into the concrete. There was an audible crunch as his nose connected with the ground, and Jolene smirked ever so slightly with satisfaction. Jerry let out a pain-laced sob as he brought himself to sit up, holding a bloody and most likely broken nose. She leaned down to Jerry’s eye-level, irritation in her eyes.

“You should really tie your shoes, Jerry. Maybe you won’t keep tripping like this if you could do that simple task, right?” she asked, cruel sarcasm coating her words. She gave a forced smile, but frowned when Jerry chuckled and waved one hand passively.

“Hah! Ms. Moon, you always say that!” He seemed to be willfully ignoring some obvious facts.

Jolene sighed and straightened, then continued walking to her motorcycle without Jerry, “And you’ve yet to figure out why” She huffed in annoyance.

As quickly as she could, Jolene situated her messenger bag so that it was tightly strapped to her person, and she put her helmet on. After starting the bike, she peeled out of the parking garage. She made use of the holodiscs within her helmet, and tuned into the news.. She listened carefully while keeping her senses keen on the road, not caring too much for the bank or anything happening downtown— but whatever was happening across the bay piqued her interest. Downtown was almost always enduring some sort of chaos, and there was always a bank robbery, but the third disturbance seemed like something she’d want to know of and maybe do something about.

With a zing of excitement, Jolene revved the engine of her bike and took off past other vehicles towards whatever was happening near Star Tower. Before she arrived on the scene, she decided to park her bike not too far away, but far enough so that it wouldn’t be spotted. She swung her leg over the side and stood up, switching from her bike helmet to a white rabbit-like mask that she produced from within her bag. She always kept a spare mask or two on her person, just incase anything were to happen. And thankfully, a mask was the only thing she typically needed to conceal her identity. She made sure that the rabbit mask was secured, and pulled the up hood of her warm black coat. Aside from her mask, Jolene was dressed in all black.

She spent another minute or two making sure that the location of her bike was well hidden before starting off towards the industrial park on foot, her eyes glowing red through the dark eyeholes of the mask, and her heart pounding with curious excitement the closer she got to her destination.


-Not my art. Never my art. I can't art very well.-
Roleplay Invitations
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Mostly everything.
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Can't think of much. Really depends on who I'm writing with, to be fair.

-Millennium City, New York-

"Gah...better detour around downtown too," Voltaeiche mumbled as she ran, pulling her phone out to map before grumbling to herself. It'd be a hell of a detour, and she really should've just taken the subway...but she'd made her bed, she'd sleep in it. At least she was getting exercise like her photographer wanted...


An hour of jogging (at least there wasn't any incline) wasn't what Voltaeiche expected her afternoon to turn into, and fuck she hated it. But hey, she was finally home. Voltaeiche sighed happily as she ducked back into her apartment. Happily and very tiredly; jogging on a diet that mostly consisted on dry cereal was hardly something she'd do ever again.

"But safe," she thought, heading to her room as she tossed her jacket and hat into the laundry basket. An hour of jogging to get away from whatever shit was going to go down around downtown and across the bay from Star Tower was well worth it. Plus, her laptop was waiting; she was finally getting into the latest season of the Baking Masked: Millennium’s Metahuman Bake-off . Ms. Freeze's ability to quick-freeze her dough to put it in the oven was putting her well on the way to first place, but Spider's aesthetic detail was hard to beat.

Loading the latest episode on her laptop, she was just about to jump into bed and settle in when she remembered she'd just ran for an hour, and sighed before putting it down. "Shower first," she mumbled, grabbing her towel as she ducked out to the one bathroom in the apartment. That was another benefit to coming back first; she got to hog all the hot water and take her time to relax.

It was looking to be a really good day.
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Radio Jelly

Galactic Gadabout
Atombreaker // Miles Haverstach
Millennium City

Hero work isn’t frequently easy. Every time you put on the mask, you do so with the intention to stick your nose into a criminal’s business. Hero work can have dire consequences--lethal, even--if you bite off more than you can chew, so whether it’s your first day on the street or your thousandth, you have to go into the job with the mindset that it might be your last. It’s an age-old agreement, and one every hero makes. Still, for all the danger involved, the perks for a successful hero are undeniable and unavoidable: money, fame, adoration, and gratitude. All it takes is one televised takedown to catapult a costumed hero into the mainstream, and once you’re there, it becomes impossible to imagine yourself doing anything else. The television spots, the super-rallies, the day parties, the merch deals. You end up so high, there’s no coming down.

Somehow, Miles had managed to walk away from all that years ago. It had been hard, of course, but he’d gotten out. He let the buzz die down for a year, and by the time he got back to the street, the dissolution of his group was ancient history. Miles had been strategic about it, choosing to set up shop in the small borough of Greencaster on the far North-West side of town. Miles knew it was a small area, and when he got there it was a bit of a fixer-upper, but over the last three years the area was steadily gentrifying as spillover from the neighboring borough of Evergreen Heights began to displace the old with the new. This meant less crime, which, in turn, meant Miles could expect a robbery or two a week and--on a bad day--perhaps a car chase. Costumed villains were rarely interested in such an unimportant area.

Unfortunately, if a car chase classified as a bad day, then today was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day indeed.

It started maybe an hour ago. Miles’s had been relaxing in his one-bedroom apartment, finishing up his breakfast when an unusual report came over the local Agency app. Public disturbance, large group, moving south towards downtown from Evergreen Heights. Twelve injured. EMS en route.

I could have just stayed home.

Miles wished he could say he didn’t know why he answered it. The report was out of the ordinary, the lack of specifics belying the weird nature of the criminals--or rather criminal--he was in pursuit of. He should’ve pegged it for villain activity from the moment he saw it. In fact, he did. And yet, he slipped into his costume, transmuted his trusty fire poker to steel, and fetched his custom bike from it’s hidden garage without a second thought. His complacent lifestyle and years of easy pickings were beginning to blur the reality of that age old agreement in his mind, its dangers now so far off in memory.

It’s more than that. I want this.

Miles grimaced beneath his motorcycle helmet. He was lying to himself and he knew it.

Fine, I need this.

As the low, brick and stone buildings of the outer boroughs began to gradually turn to the gargantuan, monolithic skyscrapers whizzing by in his peripherals, Miles knew he was getting close. The young man rarely had reason to go downtown these days, but as he got closer and closer to the heart of it, he didn’t need to follow the wake of overturned vehicles to know where his quarry was headed. Of course they were going to the middle of downtown. There was always some asshole trying to rip that place up. It was astounding to Miles that the government didn’t post heroes on every downtown block every hour of the day with the way the heart of Millennium City seemed to attract the lunatics like flies.

Despite the carnage this villain was leaving in his wake, the one plus side was the way in which he’d left a mostly unobstructed path in his wake. There were emergency respondents on the scene of course, but Miles expertly wove his motorbike in-between cop cars and ambulances, never once letting up on the throttle. The young hero had named his bike a couple times, but nothing ever seemed good enough: with little else to do in his downtime, Miles spent most of his time modifying, and accessorizing his bike in the garage. Did he need more friends? Maybe. But for all the time he spent with his baby, Miles was proud of how it turned out. Even if he wasn’t looking forward to seeing himself on the news, the thought of how good his girl looked ripping it up on 33rd street did bring a smile to his face: Miles’s bike was a sleek black power-cruiser, accented with the same color orange as his glow, and modified with all sorts of goodies, not the least of which was the smart-glass screen he’d installed as his windshield.

As Miles got nearer and nearer to Central Plaza, a bright red notification icon began to pulse in the corner of the screen, indicating an influx of news alerts for the area. Beneath his helmet, Miles frowned. It had been a long, long time since he’d fought a villain capable of wreaking this level of havoc, and he'd practically fallen into it. Maybe he wasn’t ready.

No time to think about that now. People are getting hurt.

As Miles turned off of 33rd and into the Central Plaza area of downtown, he couldn’t help gasp: this was the heart of Millennium City’s downtown, and the opulence of it all reflected as much. Between the glittering neon lights, towering glass and steel buildings, gargantuan television screens, and marble walkways, there was little about this place that wasn’t beautiful on an average day. Today, unfortunately, it was a little worse for wear. Miles parked his bike in one of the many narrow alleyways between buildings, and took off his helmet. From across from where he stood, he saw his quarry:a single villain, surrounded by--or perhaps directing?--a cadre of massive, quadrupedal creatures. Miles twirled the steel fire-poker in one hand, before getting low to the ground and assessing the situation. The one plus of going in alone was that the megalomaniac types almost never saw you coming, and Miles had a feeling that was precisely the sort of villain he was dealing with.

Alright. Go through the motions. Read the situation.

As Miles surveyed the area, he counted maybe five of the ape-like constructs in the plaza, and all of which seemed to be in the throes of a wild rage of some sort. The creatures were buck-wild, tearing into automobiles of every size and shape. This was bad news. Were they devouring the passengers? Kidnapping them?

Damn! I need to move-

Miles stopped, one leg protruding over his cover mid-leap. It was then he realized: there was no one here. Besides the villain, who was on nearly the other end of the plaza, the only other sounds were that of the beasts, shattering and destroying every car in their path. It didn’t make sense. Was everyone already dead? The thought sent a shiver down Miles’s spine, but somehow that felt wrong. Miles slid back behind cover, this time focusing on the nearest beast to him. After a moment or two, the creature pulled itself from within the car clutching the driver seat in one hand and the passenger seat in the other. The beast, having found it’s treasure, hungrily began to bite into the upholstery of each, pausing only to once again notice the other chair in its hands, and to switch from one snack to the other.

Indeed, as Miles began to look around him, all of the totalled cars in the plaza nearest him appeared to have had their seats removed, or at least partially destroyed. Handfuls of polyester, leather and polyurethane foam were strewn across the ground in every direction. Miles had mistaken it all for being a part of the general mahem, but as he focused on the creatures, their seemingly chaotic destruction was in fact uniform: they were eating the upholstery in the cars.

Every. Single. One.

Miles rubbed his forehead with one hand, and let loose an exasperated breath. In Miles’s experience, there were three kinds of criminals. There were the ‘honest’ ones, who didn’t hide behind a mask or false philosophies to justify their crime. Miles liked dealing with these kinds the best. Then there were costumed villains--or, as Miles called them, dickheads--who hurt people in the name of some higher plan or calling when in reality they were all just a bunch of self-aggrandizing psychopaths. Miles hated these guys, but once you heard their phony philosophy, you could get a sense of their patterns; their victim-ology, their code, and their preferred methods of douchebaggery.

Then, there was the third kind.

“Goddamn it.” Miles stood up from behind his cover. There was no point in hiding himself. The villain was too far to notice him anyway, and--given that he was a complete lunatic--Miles doubted the guy would even care he was here. There was no pattern to this attack. No skewed philosophy driving this. It was just a guy sicking his army of upholstery-devouring constructs on the cars of Millennium City because why the fuck not?

Miles would’ve laughed, if he wasn’t already groaning. Back when he was a kid, he and his friends had dealt with their fair share of costumed madmen. Taking them out was more sad than satisfying, but someone had to get them the help they needed. Miles came to a stop behind one of the creatures, it’s attention still fully trained on the rapidly-degrading chairs in each hand. From up close, Miles could see it’s head was little more than a mouth lined with perfectly pointed teeth. Its skin was a dark brown color, and completely sheen: the light from the neon signage and electronic super-screens seemed to reflect off its surface as if it were glass.

Whatever this thing was, Miles felt pretty confident it wasn’t actually alive. Probably a construct of some sort. That was good news as far as his powers were concerned.

Thank god.

Still, it was the size of a gorilla, and neither its teeth nor its claws looked any less life-threatening for it being non-living. Despite standing less than twenty feet away, Miles was surprised to see that the creature hardly noticed his presence at all. It made sense now why he hadn’t seen any bodies: the monsters had never been after the people. Miles breathed a sigh of relief, before smacking his rod against the frame of a car that had been turned nearly inside out. The shrill cry of steel on steel caught the creature’s attention for a moment, it’s passive, featureless mug turning in Miles’s direction for just a moment, before going back to its meal.

To no one in particular, Miles whispered under his breath, “Alright then. I suppose I have to go first.”

Then, Atombreaker took three steps back, and--with a running start--bounded off the uneven roof of the busted car and through the air towards the creature, his fire-poker raised overhead like a spear.


Credit to Doctor Jax Doctor Jax for coming up with the villain concept. I'm a lazy boi.
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the clairvoyant pterodactyl
Original poster
As Voltaeiche neared the bathroom door within her shared apartment, a humming noise could be heard — soft at first, but recognizable, until the moment her hand touched the doorknob, wherein the sound turned sharp and haunting and the touch of the handle sent reverberations throughout her body. The door opened at her touch, violently, and sent her staggering forward. Instead of revealing the bathroom, however, it revealed a stark yellow-white portal that sucked her in the moment she crossed the in-between.

With a jolt and a hook behind the naval, Voltaeiche would find herself in a darkened city street, where there were no sounds, no lights except from an artificial sun in the sky, and no one to be found. The landscape, surrounded by buildings and shops that mimicked those in Millennium City, were grey-washed and lifeless, there but somehow not, and not one of them had an entrance.


Sairento Sairento
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consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
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A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
nearby @Monty

Superhero paraphernalia was the last thing you saw waiting in line at checkout at the grocery store and the first thing you saw on your day to day walking to work. A simple stroll in the bustling streets of Millennium City would likely greet you with a lot of options for post-card purchasing. Tourist merchandise was everywhere, at every corner. And because nobody in this city gave a shit about who you were and why you were purchasing the most rinky dink postcard and a packet of Star Gummies, Louis, for the first time in a long time, wasn’t freaked out about it.

He wasn’t so great at this whole hiding-in-plain-sight thing, but he’d gotten much better at it over time. It had been a year since the whole… shabang. And the SPME was such a shithole that they had bigger fish to fry than one runaway kid who wasn’t currently exposing them or whatever else they might have been afraid of at first. Louis had proved himself a beautifully cowardly, shrimpy, unthreatening threat. So unless he really started jeering in their faces now, it was probably back to normal, as normal as it could get, and that only started one way.



Maybe hi was too informal.


Wow, now he sounded like a robot. Uhm. Maybe he would just scrap the greeting and jump right into the thick of it.

I promise I am not a criminal. I promise I’m gonna come home, at some point. Someday. I know that sounds incredibly cryptic and vague, but as you probably know, there are some people looking for me. Bad people. That school…

What was he doing? This was a postcard, not a testimonial. Anyone could read it. This was shit to save for the diary.

Louis frantically took the eraser to the cardstock and erased his words, jaw tensed with concentration. The remnants of his heavy hand were still etched into the paper as he started again once more.


I’ll come home soon and explain everything. I love you.


“Jeez, you look particularly sad today.”

Louis jumped nearly three feet in the air. “Jesus christ, you scared me.”

A hearty laugh boomed over him. “It’s my bar. You should know by now I lurk around.”

Tony. A giant of a man, standing at some ungodly six foot something. Owner of the Glass Belly, and, in short, his savior. The underground had been his home for the past year and it was Tony he had to thank. He’d taken him in, given him a job, and introduced him to a lifelong community that had helped him steer clear of the SPME and so much more.

“Don’t tell me you mean to send that to someone.” Tony continued, pointing at the postcard clutched a tad too tight between his fingertips.

Louis sighed softly. “And if I do…?”

Tony thought a moment, and then shrugged. “I ain’t got much say in it, kid. Just please, for the love of god, don’t put a return address.”

Their laughter tangled together in a almost regretful harmony. “Come on, I’m not that bad.” Louis stood and pocketed the card, heading for the exit. “I’ll be back in time for evening opening, promise.”

He did not get past Tony without a customary ruffling of the hair, which Louis made sure to huff about as he exited the Glass Belly.

Physical postage was a rarity nowadays. More novelty than anything, there remained few post boxes for people to send items that weren’t carried out by a digital service or robot shipping center. A post box was most likely going to be found in a bit more of a trashy area in town, one where it hadn’t been ripped out to be replaced with a fancy holoboard or something of the sort. It was better like this anyway, less eyes, less hubbub, less attention. Hands in his pockets, Louis strolled through Millennium, trying not to overthink all the things that could go wrong.

Ah. There.

He walked up to the post box and looked at the postcard one last time. He hoped it reached his dad. The thought of him, alone, watching all the news reports on TV… did he really think his son was a criminal? Louis hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t be true. That one day he’d get to go home and it’d be like nothing ever happened.

Louis slid the postcard in through the slot, a certain weight lifted from his shoulders as the action. He sighed deeply, about to turn around when… something felt off. Oh god. Oh no, please, not now — he raised his hands up to his face… and found one finger missing.

Oh fuck! “Oh fuck!” Louis cried, scrambling back to the post box, where he knew, he just knew that his fucking ring finger had slipped inside. Shit! Frantically he tried to reach a hand in the slot but it wouldn’t get past. The old metal creaked and rattled as Louis shook it to no avail. How the fuck was he gonna get his finger out?!


-Not my art. Never my art. I can't art very well.-
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Elementary, Intermediate
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Male, Female, Androgynous
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Mostly Passive
Favorite Genres
Mostly everything.
Genre You DON'T Like
Can't think of much. Really depends on who I'm writing with, to be fair.

-Who knows where-
-Who knows when-

<Co-written with rissa rissa >

Voltaiche gasped as she was tossed through the portal, towel in hand. Stumbling as she hit the ground, she gave a quiet whimper as she inspected herself and then looked around.

"Okay okay okay..." she mumbled, flicking her gaze around the twisted city. "D-don't worry, you're just...b-bleeding to death on the bathroom floor...near death coma" she mumbled, giving a nervous laugh as she slowly got to her feet, trying to keep her breathing steady.

"Okay...he said a...f-find the doorway, or s-stay forever..." she mumbled, nervously walking to the sidewalk on her bare feet. "W-whoever he is...oh jeez...f-forever..."

Spying a shoe shop, she quickly made her way over. If she was going to have to walk around this city, she'd want something so that she wouldn't blister her feet. Frowning at the lack of a door, she carefully approached the window. "...I hope this doesn't do anything bad..." she mumbled, wrapping her fist in her towel before she hit the window as hard as she could.

The window in question barely shuddered against the pressure Voltaeiche inflicted upon it. Her reflection stared back at her, though grey-washed and lonely, like the rest of her surroundings. There was an odd expression within the reflection, however, one that surely didn’t stem from Voltaeiche herself. It seemed to say, is that all you got?

Voltaiche pouted at how little the window gave, and sighed as she tried to remember her highschool chemistry lessons and not the rest of highschool. She could do this, right...?

Placing her hand near the glass, she began to let power flow, careful not to actually touch the glass. She may not suffer as much from intense heat, but she didn't want to risk it. Picturing a tap in her mind, she slowly eased it open, letting a trickle of water flow out. Lines of blue light began to crackle and flicker off her hand and strike the glass, and she held her breath as she let the electricity flow.

Once she thought the glass was weak enough, she squeaked the tap shut, and attempted to hit the glass again with her toweled hand.

Voltaeiche’s reflection once again stared back at her, though this time it was stuck between curious approval and disbelief. As the toweled fist struck out, something solid and hard blocked the impact and the sudden reverberations running through Voltaeiche’s arm was likely a shock. The Voltae-refection stared at the softened glass and then back at her double, wondering what the issue was.

"If you're so smart then you do something," Voltaeiche grumbled at her reflection, before gently facepalming herself. Talking to a reflection; what was she doing?

Cautiously reaching her hand towards the hot glass, she frowned as she felt the odd wall that was blocking her. "...weird," she mumbled, opening the tap again as she tried to shock this new barrier.

And as if the Voltae-reflection was waiting for this very act, she smiled and disappeared, leaving behind only Voltaeiche’s actual reflection, color and all. In the moment between her disappearance and the next, the entirety of the glass shattered, a small shockwave plowing into Voltae’s center of gravity.

Voltaeiche made a small oof as the shockwave hit her, quickly closing the tap to her powers before she lost all of her control. Picking herself up, she brushed herself off and carefully made her way into the shop, trying not to step on any broken glass.

"Weird...weird weird weird..." she mumbled to herself, shaking her head as she went to grab a pair of sneakers. She'd need some socks too...maybe a shower...maybe she'd find a gym later. But the sneakers would do. Tying and double knotting her shoes, she sighed in relief, feeling much more prepared before making her way back out.

"Doorway here I come," she murmured.


Voltaeiche sighed as she walked the empty city. Even if it was a little foreboding, she'd somehow gotten use to it being just...very quiet. And slow going. There were no doors, she had more or less no hints...

It wasn't as if she minded terribly. Quiet was good. No annoying roommates to deal with was good. She was getting hungry though...

Spying a pastry shop, she could almost taste the sugary sweetness of a cinnamon bun, running over to the glass to stare at the pastries as she prepared to burst in.

The Voltae-reflection from before could be seen for a half-second, if actively looking, before disappearing while looking curiously pleased. The pastry shop in question was as empty as all the shops around, though their shelves were full of bagged coffee grounds, pastries in every shape and size, and a refreshment stand in the far corner where customers could customize their orders to their hearts content. The only difference, of course, between this shop and the real one, was the wash of grey that permeated this entire realm.

"Please still taste like normal food," she mumbled to herself, her hand crackling with energy again as she tried to break the window.

Maybe she should've been more worried about constant B&E. But honestly? Since she came to this...weird...depressive...grey dimension place, she sort of rationalized it as 'not my world, my actions matter less'.

Especially since it seemed like she was alone. Save for her weird reflection. Maybe she could get a mirror to try interact with it.

The glass shuddered but didn’t crack. Like before, the glass had been softened by the energy output, but didn’t seem to want to break. For a brief moment, the Voltae-reflection could be seen, features warped as she appeared in the softened glass, and glanced at her counterpart curiously.

Voltaeiche blinked. "Hiiii...?" she said as she watched her reflection.

The reflection titled her head in acknowledgment, but seemed unable or unwilling to speak. She simply stared at her, curiously, as if trying to figure out what she meant to do.

" I wanted to get some food," she started. "And uh. Well, while I got you here. Are you me...?"

The Voltae-reflection nodded her head, as if in answer, and then vigorously shook it.

"Uhm. Hmm. A version of me?"

The reflection smiled, nearly relieved, and after awhile nodded towards Voltaeiche’s hand — the one she used to soften the glass. She half-turned, stopping to stare back, before nodding and disappearing.

"Fricken. Surreal," she mumbled, shaking her head before she reached forward to see if some random invisible barrier had erected itself to block her off from the glass, like last time.

Unlike before, the invisible barrier that stood between Voltae and the softened glass came with a bite. A jolt of energy, familiar energy, could be felt once in contact.

Frowning at the shock, Voltaeiche waved her hand back and forth to cool it as she regarded the barrier, her eyes glowing for a moment. "Huh," she mumbled, watching all the yellow lines spider in front of her. "I...can I get through this...?" she thought, her hand crackling again as she started to fire energy into the barrier.

Slowly and then all at once, the glass cracked. It spider webbed due to Voltaeiche's crackling energy, but didn't explode like the previous one had. Perhaps one more jolt would allow her access.

"Oh thank goodness," she mumbled, timing her powers as she prepared to give the system the small jolt it needed, taking a step or two back just in case it blew up on her again.

The glass shattered with a final almighty crack and indeed jolted Voltaeiche sharply backwards. The glass now broken, she was free to do as she pleased with the goods that laid within.

A scream rented the empty space around Voltae not a couple seconds after the blowback of energy, and if glancing upwards, towards the artificial looking grey-white sky, she would see a young man, falling through a yellow-ringed portal, flailing and hollering all the way down. Before he crashed bodily into the pavement not a couple hundred feet before her, did another portal open and swallow him whole.


consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
Millennium's Chinese Finger Trap
With rissa rissa

"Fuck! Oh fuck!” Monty turned at the frantic sound, his heart jumping at the panic residing in whoever’s voice had cried out. Half a block past, a kid, who seemed to be slightly younger than himself, was hunched over one of those old-timer boxes. The metal was flaking and the blue paint chipping, and every time the kid tried to reach inside, it made an awful creaking noise. So Monty, being Monty, appeared beside him a second later, worry plastered upon his features. “Hey! Hey, is everything okay? What’s going on bud?"

“Gah!” Louis jumped at the voice that suddenly appeared at his side. Instantly he shoved the hand with a digit missing into his jacket pocket and stepped away anxiously from the box. Bud? Really? What, did he look twelve? “I... u-uhm... I dropped my... p-phone. Phone in the box.” Louis stuttered. “Can’t stick m-my hand in... I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh! Sorry for spookin’ ya— Here lemme see if I can...” Monty reached into the post box, but the concave slope made it impossible for him to reach in, let aline touch the bottom. “Darn.” Monty said with a determined sigh. “Maybe I can—No—I’m not sure if that’d work—But maybe! Wait no, no that definitely would- But hmm. Wait, how do those post guys get the letters out? Maybe I can, erm, shake the lock loose or something...” He turned distractedly, realizing too late that he was rambling, and took in the anxious look on the kid’s face. “Don’t worry! We’ll get your phone out A.S.A.P!”

“It’s... fine.” Louis squinted at the young man, slightly surprised by his... er... chirpy demeanor. He seemed almost like a comic book character. Luckily he hadn’t shed much blood, except for a few droplets on the ground and maybe one or two on the box. “Uh... we?” Louis murmured. “It’s... it’s fine. I’ll...” Shit, what was he gonna do? He had no way to get inside this box, unless he maybe went full dark and threw it against a wall or something. “I mean... do you know how to pick a lock?”

"Erm, well, not really - I never really needed to..." Monty glanced over at the kid beside him and gave him a shy, lopsided grin. "I can try something but um, I'm not sure if it'll work. But we'll get your phone out of there one way or another!"

Louis swallowed nervously, pulling his hoodie up with his one good hand. At least this kid seemed not to know who he was... and was just generally trying to be a nice guy. Fuck. He was gonna have to tell him it wasn't his phone he was reaching for, wasn't he? "Er.. b-be my guest." He said softly. "Th...thanks?"

“Okay, okay,” Monty said aloud, to no one in particular. He stood from his half crouch and shook out his arms, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Actually,” he said after a moment or two, “Maybe I need a running start... Yeah! Yeah, that’ll help.” And then he was gone — for half of a second — and when he returned his hair was windswept, and a stray lock hung over his eye, which he brushed back with nervous impatience. Monty took a deep breath, knelt on the dirty pavement, and held out his right hand. It did nothing at first, but then Monty exhaled and it began to vibrate — slowly and then entirely too fast for anyone but Monty to truly see. After thirty seconds, Monty reached forward, to where the lock was located on the side of the postbox, and slowly inserted his hand through the metal. “Wow,” Monty said softly, eyes alight with wonder. “It actually worked!” Another couple seconds of fidgeting with his hand intangible, and he could hear the telltale sign of the lock unlocking.

Okay, so. He definitely had powers. Awesome. Could be very helpful. Could also be a total crackhead. But maybe a helpful crackhead? He blinked out the dust that suddenly blew into his eyes as Monty appeared and reappeared. Fuck, his finger was hurting now, but he looked hopefully to the young man who had come to his aid. Was trying to at least. Louis watched him intently. As his hand jutted out. Then began to vibrate, shake, whatever. He could barely see it properly anymore as Monty reached forward, and actually inserted his hand into the thick metal of the old postbox. "H-holy shit." Then there was a click as the box unlocked. Louis' jaw dropped. "Holy shit, dude, t-thank you! Holy..." Oh. Oh no. Oh, the finger. His finger. "L-let me just um -- if I could look -- you did awesome thank you so much please let me look--"

"Um," Monty said slowly. "Is that a finger?" Monty was surprisingly solid for as manically flighty as he seemed. He reached forward but hesitated, as he wasn't entirely sure what to do. So he looked up at the kid trying desperately to move him and asked the only thing he could think of. "Are you okay? Do you need a hospital or um. Um, 911?"

“Uh! Well — uhm —“ Louis just shook his head and pushed past Monty, if a little bit harshly, to snatch up his finger and start jamming it against the stump lf his band in an effort to reattach it. Sometimes it didn’t like to happen immediately. This, annoyingly and aggravatingly, was one of those times. It might have looked a little crazy to Monty that Louis was just standing there trying to shove his finger back into its socket, with no avail. “No hospital! Do not call 911. It’s fine, I-I’m fine. Please don’t call 911.”

“Okay — okay, no 911, no cops, no hospital,” Monty replied softly, almost soothingly. He reached into his back pocket and procured a small hand pouch. It was an old thing, the leather worn and faded, and even had an old-timey clasp. Monty undid the clasp and reached inside, pulling out a thin bandage wrap. “Um, I’m not sure if this’ll help but — maybe it’ll help it stay in place until... it uh — erm — I mean, I’m guessing you can, um, reattach — uh — it somehow?” Monty put the pouch away and held the bandage wrap ready. He took turns staring at Louis’ finger stump and Louis himself and his expression laid somewhere between nauseas and outright nervous. But there was something else too — sympathy, as if he was used to taking care of someone.

Louis was much more shaken at this point than Monty seemed to be, which was strange. It should have been the opposite. But he had just exposed everything to a random stranger on the street; that he had these wonky powers, that he didn’t want police... he could be so easily identified now. After everything. And yet, this stranger was incredibly kind, and radiated an energy that made Louis feel... safe. Eyes softening as the bandage was extended, he offered up his shaky hands, the other holding the finger in place and hoping that Monty would help him to wrap it. The stump was not red or bloody; aside from a few droplets that were scattered along his palms, the knuckle was black, radiating a strange energy that seemed to be struggling to call the finger back into its rightful place. “S-s...sorry. Y-yeah. My body kinda... does what it wants... like... fingers jumping i-into post boxes.”

Monty laughed at the weak joke offered up and moved to wrap the bandage around both finger and stump. He was surprised at the lack of blood and even more surprised at the black energy coalescing around the kid's knuckle. It wasn't necessarily a surprise, to realize he was a meta; so many were nowadays, though most did try to keep it a secret. When he was finished wrapping finger and stump together, Monty took the wrapper and shoved it in his pocket, and glanced at the kid in question.

"Don't worry, alright? Secret's safe with me. I know what it's like to be blackmailed into, er -- uh -- submission, and it ain't a good feeling. Just uh, lemme know how it goes with your finger, okay? Hope everything is good soon enough!"

Louis’ finger dangled awkwardly from the bandage, as if it was hanging on by a thread. It didn’t make him nauseous to look at anymore, though it did before. “Er... right.” This was where they parted, then. A wonderfully terrible interaction to haunt him every time he laid awake staring at the ceiling. “Look, um... please just... do me a favor, d-don’t... tell anyone you saw me? Just... It was nice to meet you, but...we never met.” Haha. Smooth, Louis, real smooth.

Monty looked at the kid with a lopsided smile and nodded in agreement. “I never even saw ya!” Monty said aloud, a laugh bubbling from his lips. It struck him weird that the kid was so nervous, so paranoid, but hey, maybe he had strict parents and a... four pm curfew. Either way, it didn’t matter much to Monty.

He took a few steps in the direction of home and waved all the while.

“It was nice to not meet ya!”

Louis took a few steps in the opposite direction, back where he'd come from, eyeing the young man warily but appreciatively. "It... it was nice to not meet you too." Louis murmured, bowing his head in thanks for a moment, hand clasped over the other before turning and speed walking away hastily.

When both boys reached the end of the respective block, an audible click could be heard by both. A ripple in the air in front of Louis could be seen, just barely, and a faint outline of yellow. It was too late too falter, to step back, and swallowed both of them bodily. Louis would feel a hook behind his navel and a jerk forward as he was flung into an alternate dimension, one that perfectly mimicked the street he had just been on prior, but grey washed and empty, not a soul — not even Monty — around.