★ JUSTICE CITY ϟ A SUPERHERO ACADEMY RP ϟ SIGN-UPS ★

Tyrannosaurus Rekt · Apr 17, 2017

✪ FOR STUDENTS AND PROFESSORS
NAME:
MONIKER: If you are a student you get a temporary one made my Headmistress Harkwell; if you a Professor, you get to make up your own
AGE: 16-24 Students, 25-Up Professors
GENDER:
SEXUALITY:
ETHNICITY:
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Considering that anyone could get here at any time, ages and grades are really murky. So, students are just lumped on how long they've been here. Please see rules for the lowest and highest age range.
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Professor, Obviously.
BASIC DESCRIPTION: This is along with your character picture. Usually, these things are only faces, so just a blurb about body type, posture, general dress, etc. This does not ave to be long.
POWERS: For each power, please list a weakness with that power. While we do not have a max on powers, please let them make sense as a general power set. Please read the rules for what we do not accept.
PROMPT: Jean Harkwell has the magnificent gift of walking through dreams, not that you know this. But she visits each candidate before they're admitted into the Academy. There she arrives in whatever dream state you are in, takes on a familiar face in your day to day, and ask three questions: "why do you want to be a hero?" "What are your strengths?" "What are your weaknesses?" That being said, the questions don't have to outright read like that, and there could be other questions interspersed, but those are the minimum. Please write a prompt including that. This will count as your personality and biography.

✪ FOR VILLAINS
MONIKER:
AGE: Any Age
GENDER:
SEXUALITY:
ETHNICITY:
BASIC DESCRIPTION: This is along with your character picture. Usually, these things are only faces, so just a blurb about body type, posture, general dress, etc. This does not ave to be long.
POWERS: For each power, please list a weakness with that power. Max of three powers. Please read the rules for what is not allowed. Please avoid having the same power set as another player.

FOR PROFESSORS AND STUDENTS

Code:

[div=background-color:#ffffff; display:inline-block;border:2px solid black;margin: auto;padding: 5px;][font=Karla][color=#000000][hr][/hr][/color][imga=right]http://i.imgur.com/Cf8x3jm.png[/imga][font=karla][size=3][color=#000000][color=#de452d]✪[/color] [shadow][B]"CHARACTER QUOTE"[/B][/Shadow]
NAME:
MONIKER: If you are a student you get a temporary one made my Headmistress Harkwell; if you a Professor, you get to make up your own
AGE: 16-24 Students, 25-Up Professors
GENDER:
SEXUALITY:
ETHNICITY:
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Considering that anyone could get here at any time, ages and grades are really murky. So, students are just lumped on how long they've been here. Please see rules for the lowest and highest age range.
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Professor, Obviously.
BASIC DESCRIPTION: This is along with your character picture. Usually, these things are only faces, so just a blurb about body type, posture, general dress, etc. This does not ave to be long.
POWERS: For each power, please list a weakness with that power. While we do not have a max on powers, please let them make sense as a general power set. Please read the rules for what we do not accept.
PROMPT: Jean Harkwell has the magnificent gift of walking through dreams, not that you know this. But she visits each candidate before they're admitted into the Academy. There she arrives in whatever dream state you are in, takes on a familiar face in your day to day, and ask three questions: "why do you want to be a hero?" "What are your strengths?" "What are your weaknesses?" That being said, the questions don't have to outright read like that, and there could be other questions interspersed, but those are the minimum. Please write a prompt including that. This will count as your personality and biography.[color=#000000][hr][/hr][/color]

FOR VILLIANS

Code:

[div=background-color:#ffffff; display:inline-block;border:2px solid black;margin: auto;padding: 5px;][font=Karla][size=3][color=#000000][imga=right]http://i.imgur.com/Cf8x3jm.png[/imga][color=#de452d]✪[/color] [shadow][B]VILLIAN QUOTE[/B][/Shadow]
MONIKER:
AGE: Any Age
GENDER:
SEXUALITY:
ETHNICITY:
BASIC DESCRIPTION: This is along with your character picture. Usually, these things are only faces, so just a blurb about body type, posture, general dress, etc. This does not ave to be long.
POWERS :For each power, please list a weakness with that power. While we do not have a max on powers, please let them make sense as a general power set. Please read the rules for what we do not accept.
[/color][/size][/font][/div]

Tyrannosaurus Rekt · Apr 17, 2017

✪ "WELCOME TO HARKWELL, I'M SURE YOU'LL RECEIVE AN AMAZING EDUCATION."
NAME: Dr. Jean Harkwell
AGE: 61
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Since the beginning
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Jean is a well-dressed woman, that always has the business best on with appropriate jewelry. Her hair is long but she keeps it perfectly groomed. Her eyes are wide and blue, and her smile is infectious. Even though she is shorter than most, she appears quite a bit taller. Her voice is commanding but not suppressing. She smiles with everything.
POWERS:
↳ DREAM WALKING: The ability to enter someone else's dream and view it and/or interact with it. She can get to people's deepest/darkest desires. She can also speak to them through it. In a more macabre manner, she can kill people through it by giving their body an unending fear, panic, or pain. But she never uses her powers like that. Usually, they are to canvas those around her. No one knows how many people she can see a night. Or if every moment she is asleep, she can access other's dreams. What people do know is that she is powerful without seeming so.
↳WEAKNESS: Can only access powers while sleeping and the intended target is sleeping.

Elle Joyner · Apr 18, 2017

✪ "I can't help being the way I am. Wasn't hugged enough as a child, I guess."

NAME: Delilah Buress
MONIKER: Lit'l Smoky
AGE: Twenty
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Heteroish
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Three
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Delilah Buress is a wisp of a girl, largely comprised of light brown hair and attitude. Pale skin, flecked with freckles, is decorated by tattoos, and enormous almond-brown eyes are more than typically heavily lined with charcoal. She is thin as a waif with long limbs, a flat bust and narrow hips. Her features are pixie-like - her lips upturned in a constant smirk, her nose sharp and brows curved in a high arch.

Over all, Delilah is pretty, but her frigid disposition gives her an icy edge and her unhealthy lifestyle has wreaked havoc on her figure, giving her a bony, stringy appearance. Delilah's limited wardrobe generally consists of jeans and a tank or t-shirt... but she has been known at times to dress rather promiscuously, when in the mood for trouble.

POWERS: The ability to shape and manipulate smoke. Primarily the by-product of fires, pest control (fumigation) and diesel exhaust. She can increase the size and volume of smoke to create a smog-like screen, effectively hiding her or others from view, manipulate the molecular structure of smoke, creating physical constructs, including weapons, walls, armor or 'allies'. The aggressive chemicals within smoke can be enhanced and used to corrode certain materials/structures. The corrosive properties of the chemicals cause the substance or structure to decompose at a rapid rate (primarily clothing, piping, wood, electrical devices…). Known limitations exist in that she cannot create smoke, but must use an existing source. Her abilities are also rendered nearly ineffective in extremely windy conditions and/or by wind/air manipulation abilities, or in a vacuum.

PROMPT: "You're trouble, Lil." Luca's eyes were nearly black. Not just the pupil, but the iris and sclera as well, the entire eye… A medical condition, they called it, though Delilah knew better than that, now. It was a large part, no doubt, of why most people avoided him. Ironically, it was something that had drawn her to him in the first place. Of course, his massive list of underworld connections had a little something to do with it, too. He was like smoke, himself… a figment, when he needed to be - appearing only where he wanted. Delilah had been drawn in by the mystery, but she stayed because he had gotten her on her feet again - given her a purpose. Whether or not it was a legal purpose didn't matter. Much.

Wrong side of the tracks didn't begin to cover it. Delilah Buress was born for trouble. Abandoned by her father, she had been raised by a mother too caught up in her own world to properly care for anyone. Raised was an overstatement of epic proportion. Surrounded by men with no scruples and exposed to all manner of depravity at so young an age, it was little wonder she developed even a dysfunctional sense of right and wrong. By twelve, Delilah was a runaway - taking to the streets like she'd been born into them.

By fourteen, she'd found herself in lock-up three times, the hospital twice and she had more social workers on her case than freckles on her body. But help was not something Delilah wanted or felt she needed. Fact of the matter was, she enjoyed her circumstances. She thrived on the danger, on the drama and there was nothing... literally nothing about living on the streets that frightened her.

By sixteen, she was out of control. With a fractured conscience and addiction to adrenalin, running with a crowd of fellow runaways, she became a thief. Starting small with ATMs and corner stores, but eventually branching into homes, banks and cars. Nothing was off limits and there was no challenge too great.

Meeting Luca had been an accident - the wrong place at the right time. He'd caught her - something no one had been able to do for a good long while, but instead of a punishment befitting her crimes, Delilah found herself with a mentor. Someone invested in her future. Someone who cared whether she had a future at all… And for nearly four years, he nurtured her, gave her a home and trained her in her skills and abilities. But times were changing... She could tell. Something was different...

"Quick, ain'tcha." Pulling herself onto the surface of his large cherry-wood desk, Delilah crossed her legs and leaned back on her elbows. Luca made a face, something between a smirk and the rolling of those impossibly dark eyes. It was in the eyebrows - you had to watch for it, but Delilah had been around his long enough to recognize it, now.

"Pretty sure we talked about you being smart with me, Delilah."

"Well, good thing I'm dumb as bricks, huh? And awful pretty…"

"Dimitri tells me you're leaving us." The transition was flawless, seamless, and Delilah flinched, pushing upright as she looked Luca over, lips curled into a frown.

"Maybe. I… I haven't decided yet."

"Joining some school of goody-two-shoes, hmm? Now why would you wanna go and do a thing like that?"

"Maybe I don't."

"Might be good for you." He mused, leaning back in his chair, hands steepled in his lap, "You never had the stones for the real dark stuff."

Sitting up straighter, Delilah narrowed her eyes, "Like hell, I don't."

"Face it, kid. You don't… and truth told? You shouldn't want to. Ain't right for you. I didn't take you in cause I thought you had the makin' of a thug, Kid."

"Then why did you?"

"Cause you're strong. Stronger than you realize. What you've endured? The way you pulled out of it. And your powers, too. Scary, the things you can do - the control you have over it. But you're stupid. You make stupid choices… don't think before you act. And you got a temper like a bull, except everything's red in your world. You push where you shouldn't, and you get in your own way. You're doin' it now… Second guessing this choice."

"These are your enemies, Luca. They would shut you down if they could… Toss you in prison and never let you see the light."

"I'm not one for the light anyway." Smirking, Luca shrugged and leaning forward, braced a hand on Delilah's arm, "I don't wanna see you fall, Delilah. And there's nowhere to go, around here but down. It's your choice to make, but if I were you, I'd give it a shot. Give yourself a shot… to be better than you are. To get out of this hellhole. Rise above, Kid. And when you come to throw me in jail someday, I promise I won't be too hard on your ass."

Grinning, Delilah flicked his hand away with a wink, before sliding off the desk, "Really? Cause I don't see why me leaving would suddenly make you nice…"

"Hell, kid. You know I'm always nicer in dreams... Now, wake up."

[/hr]

✪ "I'm blind, guys... Not deaf."
NAME: Ryan Wiles
MONIKER: Professor (Yes. Really.)
AGE: Thirty-two
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Hetero
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Seven
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Linguistics

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Ryan is a good looking man, with short brown hair and dark brown eyes. He is surprisingly well-built for being one naturally attuned to academics - a fortunate side effect of his upbringing. Because of his disability, Ryan cannot always distinguish where his eyeline is directing, which can make people uncomfortable. He has a fairly good mental map of the academy, but usually carries a white cane at all times. His wardrobe is generally casual, but even dressed up, he almost always wears converse sneakers.

POWERS: Omnilingualism and linguistic assimilation. This ability includes ciphering/deciphering, innate multilingualism, language interpretation, lingual intuition, cyberlingualism and electronic communication. His weaknesses are largely reflective of his physical disability (blindness) - as well, and rather ironically, Ryan has a terrible time comprehending Braille.

PROMPT: "I'm dreaming…" Ryan's uncle sank down on the edge of the couch, handing over a cup of coffee. His expression was passive, but a brow quirked at his nephew's point blank statement.

"How do you know?"

"I'm blind. I only ever see in dreams, anymore." Taking the coffee, he sank back, breathing steam from the top of the mug, "But if I'm dreaming about you, I guess my subconscious is trying to tell me something?"

"Maybe… How'd it happen?" Sipping his own coffee, his uncle sank back, dark eyes studying Ryan. He hadn't changed. Not in years.

"Funny. I'd have thought you'd remember…" A coldness took over, as Ryan fixed his uncle with a knowing look, but the man seemed unphased.

"Refresh my memory." He mused, and Ryan sighed.

"Your son tried to blow up a building downtown. He missed." The disaster had been well-publicized when it first happened, but it had settled after a few months, yet it was something Ryan would live with for the remainder of his life.

"Oh yes. Papers are calling you a hero. You saved a lot of people. Would you change it if you could? Take it back?"

"That's a stupid question." Setting the mug down, Ryan raked his fingers through his hair, "Of course I wouldn't."

"Not even if it meant having your vision back?"

"What kind of victory would that be?" Smirking, Ryan took a sip, "Thousands dead so I could see?"

"Pretty selfless of you." His uncle shrugged.

"Just the right thing to do."

"I heard you were thinking about a new career?"

"It's come up in conversation…" Taking another sip, Ryan set his mug down on the coffee table.

"You think you'd be the right choice? I mean.. Considering your affliction?"

"I don't see how being blind has anything to do with my ability to teach."

"Got a hero complex? First it was the EMT thing...Now this?" His uncle smiled, but there was no doubt it was meant to be a criticism. Sitting back, Ryan studied the man.

"Maybe… But it's better than trying to blow up a city block."

"Ouch." His uncle huffed.

"Sorry. That wasn't called for. It's not entirely your fault Owen turned out to be a psycho. I suppose Aunt Pearl had something to do with it."

"Sarcastic little sh--"

"Are we done?" Ryan interrupted, "I think I'd rather be awake."

"Don't like it, do you… having your weaknesses pointed out?"

"You'll have to excuse me. I speak a lot of languages, but irony always seems to escape me." His uncle's smug expression faded and he straightened up, but Ryan did not relent, "If you'd been half as committed to raising him as you were justifying what he did, maybe we'd still be speaking outside of my mind. Yeah… Uncle Nick. I'm looking for a new job… But none of this is any of your business. I'm done with you. I have been… For a long time. So if you'd excuse me… There's a gorgeous redhead I ran into at Grady's that I'd much rather visualize…"

no-lightbox

✪ Without darkness, there would be no cause for light. Without evil, there is no cause for good. Balance is a tricky beast.

NAME: Luca Mikhailov
MONIKER: Fade
AGE: Undetermined (middle-aged)
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Hetero
ETHNICITY: Caucasian (Russian)

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Luca, appearing younger than he is, is an attractive man, but for the unusual quality of his eyes - which are entirely black. Most believe it to be a medical condition, but in truth it is more than likely associated with his abilities. He is a fine dresser, and always well manicured - preferring to keep his hair and beard neatly trimmed and never seen without a tie of some variety and his shoes shined to perfection.

POWERS : Luca's power is Umbrakinesis - the manipulation of shadows. Using this ability, Luca can create voids of total darkness, through which no light can penetrate. He has also achieved the ability to solidify darkness, via which he can create tendrils/chains/threads to attack or bind. He cannot, however, -create- darkness and can only use the shadows around him, his powers weakened by distance from shadow to being. His abilities are rendered nearly useless in full sunlight and intensely weakened by any form of light manipulation. Because of the nature of his abilities, Luca is extremely sensitive to sunlight and spends most of his times indoors, in dark spaces. His vision is also particularly weak in lighter areas, though in the dark he sees with a sort of natural night-vision.

[/hr]

Mundane Monster · Apr 18, 2017

✪ "RATS THINK YOU'RE GROSS TOO."
NAME: Michelle 'Mickey' Rigsby
MONIKER: TBD
AGE: 18
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
ETHNICITY: 1/2 African American 1/2 Irish American
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 2 Years

BASIC DESCRIPTION:Fortunately, Mickey's powers do not reflect or affect her appearance or well being, although she has been known to hiss at people on occasion...And she is kind of short, only standing at 5'5". She is a curvy girl with not much muscle on her upper body, but tight calves and thighs. Like a proud rattus norvengicus, Mickey stands tall (well as tall as possible), and she is always careful not to slump or slouch. She walks like someone who's shoes are filed with delightfully bursting bubbles, she talks like someone who's never known sadness and she always has a bright smile plastered onto her face. She dresses in bright colored (especially yellow, she loves yellow) sundresses paired with colorfully patterned leggings and usually converse. When it's cold, she prefers large sweaters, paired with fleece leggings and boots.

POWERS: Rodent Manipulation - The ability to control various rodents (although at the moment, this is limited to domestic and subway rats). These controlled rats do the bidding of the controller and help them achieve their goals. The rats can go as far as to swarm the controller's enemies or spy on people. The controlled rats forge mental and emotional bonds with Mickey, making them her friends and protectors against those who upset or sadden her. This however works both ways, as Mickey can become increasingly perturbed or upset if the rats are as well. This power also gives Mickey the ability to speak to rodents, whether they are under her control or not. Unfortunately when communicating with rodents, she must squeak and shriek.

PROMPT:
"Sooo...You're abandoning me for a guy."

Mickey's mom sighed in exasperation and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as she hauled the last of her daughter's bags out of the trunk of her beat up volvo. Mickey distinctly remembered the volvo as being an ugly and indescribable shade of grey, but today for some reason the car was violently purple. She reached out to run her hand along the car's glossy side as her mom repeated what she had said about a thousand times already.

"I am not abandoning you, Michelle. Abandonment means that I'll never come back. You and I both know I'm coming back, so it's not abandonment. And it's not like I'm running off into the sunset with this guy, I'm hunting him down and bringing him to justice." As her mother explained this, she began to step into the car but instead of driving off, the car began to fade away and Mickey snatched her hand back, to keep it from fading away too.

"Why can't I come with you? You've brought me with you before! I can help!" Mickey pleaded, her voice tampering off into a whine. She didn't want to stay here.

"This guy's dangerous, Michelle. Now, I've got to go, so be good to your Aunt Eliza, I'll be back soon."

And then the car was gone. It had faded away completely, leaving Mickey alone with...Her. Mickey hated having to stay with her, because she always smelled horrible. Her mother told her that Eliza smelled like moth balls but not to tell her because that was seriously rude.

"Oh we're going to have such fun aren't we, love?" Eliza cooed, her arms spread wide for a hug which Mickey grudgingly provided. "Come, come! I've got tea and snacks awaiting us inside!"

Inside the house, there were stacks upon stacks of dusty magazines and dilapidated boxes. The lights were on, but it was still dark in the house because each light source was obscured by a miniature leaning tower of mother ball scented moving boxes, only allowing small beams of light to peak through like a lackluster disco light. Eliza told her last time that she had just moved into the house and was slowly but surely getting things settled, which was why she had so many moving boxes. Right.

Mickey sat on the lumpy and always slightly wet couch next to Eliza who smiled at her before offering her a nauseatingly musty scented cookie, which Mickey nibbled at.

"Now tell me love, how's school? Have you made many friends?"

"I don't go to school, Eli--Aunt Eliza. My mom and I are always traveling so she just home schools me. I obviously don't have any friends either. No time to make them when you're chasing bad guys, right?" Mickey grumbled. On one hand, she liked coming with her mom to arrest bad guys, but sometimes...Sometimes she just wished they could live in a house and she could make friends with the next door neighbor's kids and--

"Do you like doing that?" Eliza's voice pierced Mickey's thought bubble and paused for a moment before nodding emphatically.

"I love it. Putting bad guys behind bars is fun and satisfying. I mean, technically I don't do that, my mom does, but I'm always with her, so it's like I'm doing it too."

"Would you want to do that when you get older? I mean, it sounds like a tough job, hunting down bad guys."

"I'd be good at it though! My mom's teaching me everything she knows! It'd be really easy for me to do it too because I have almost the same power as my mom. The only difference is that she," Somehow during this exchange, she had finished her nasty cookie and Eliza was more than happy to supply her with another as well as some nasty tea. Heh..Nast-tea. "can talk to birds and I can talk to rats, so mom says, I'd have to do a bit more legwork--that means doing work without using powers-- but soon I'd be a kick ass bounty hunter just like her!"

Niiwa · Apr 18, 2017

✪ "I'm not going to lie to you - I am the coolest person you're gonna meet this year."
NAME: Shawn Harper
MONIKER: TBD
AGE: 21
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
ETHNICITY: Irish American
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 3

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Shawn's general look is semi-casual at all times. She wears generally whatever makes her feel comfortable, which is often oversized clothing that doesn't create an intense amount of friction. Her body is somewhat toned, but given that she has difficulty building muscle, it is much closer to underweight than athletic. She stands straight, fully utilizing her full height of 5'8", and has adopted a surprisingly professional posture despite her sloppy form of dress - this is mostly due to her training as a speedster, where an incorrect form can ruin a good run.

POWERS:
↳ Electricity Generation and Immunity: Shawn has the ability to generate and manipulate an electric current in her own body. She is also immune to electrical attacks, and can actually take electrical energy into herself and store it there for short periods of time.
-- Weakness: Shawn can be overloaded by electricity if she takes too much into herself, knocking her unconscious soon after she takes the energy into herself if she can't use it fast enough.

↳ Lightning Fast: The electricity in Shawn's body allows her to enhance her reflexes and speed to a superhuman degree. At her top speed she can run in excess of 200 mph, but that's only if she is well-rested and fueled. Her reflexes and senses are quick enough where she can easily catch projectiles like arrows.
-- Weakness: Since Shawn needs to generate the electricity herself, she needs to consume an enormous amount of calories on a daily basis, and can run out of energy quickly if she uses all of her abilities at once.

↳ Electricity Manipulation: Shawn can channel and control the electricity stored in her own body. She can either directly deliver electricity through her palms onto targets, electrocuting and burning them, or she can use metal weaponry (generally batons) that are backed up with lightning effects.
-- Weakness: Shawn's electricity is massively dampened by things like rubber and other insulated materials - opponents that wear these things will barely feel the effects of even her strongest attacks.

↳ Thunderbolt: Shawn can fire electricity bolts a short distance towards targets. The distance varies depending on how tired she is and the angle that she needs to fire from - the higher up she is, the further she can throw the lightning.
-- Weakness: Shawn is not very well trained in this technique. While thunderbolt can still stun weaker opponents, it still requires a good deal of energy and is not as strong as her melee attacks.

PROMPT: Shawn was drifting, ever so slowly, on an ocean of glittering blue water, reflecting the warm, golden sun high in the sky. The raft beneath her was large enough to accompany her, kicked back and with a fruity red drink in her hand, and her travelling companions, a handsome gentleman and an undeniably beautiful redhead, both lounging about the raft without a care in the world. All three were in swimwear, and Shawn smiled at the sky. It really was a relaxing change of pace. She could feel her leg restlessly kicking from the electricity in her body, but it didn't put a damper on her mood.
All the running aside, she would have been content to float there forever, in that ocean, without a care in the world. Of course, she had no shortage of worries.
While she had come up in the most normal of families - mom, dad, and the family dog (Buster), things in recent years had been anything but. She had to drop out of highschool when both of her parents managed to develop cancerous growths at the same time, and stayed home full time to take care of them. Between their unemployment checks and her minimum wage job at the local burger joint, they managed to scrape by. Of course, the girl's burgeoning superpowers did not help the situation stay calm much, considering how much food she managed to put away.
"So, you're going to join that superkid school, then?" Asked the woman suddenly (whose name Shawn couldn't quite remember), and Shawn frowned.
"I guess when we get back to the mainland… yeah. Not much else to do at this point, is there?"
"Is that really the reason why?" Asked the man (whose name started with a 'J'? Maybe?), leaning in closer. "Just because your parents are… gone, and you don't have anything else to do?"
"Well, I - It's a good opportunity, I guess. That's what everyone tells me."
"But is that why you want to join up with them?" Shawn furrowed her brow. These two were talking a lot more than she would have liked, but she still felt compelled to answer them.
"I want to… Listen, I couldn't save my parents, right? Like, whatever these powers are really capable of wouldn't have helped them anyway. And I guess I'd like to see if I can help other people." She took a long drink from her cocktail, and sighed deeply. "People I actually can help."
And she would. Shawn really did want to help people, much as she generally wanted to hide it. And if there was money in it for her, she wouldn't mind - money could be much more helpful than superpowers in a lot of situations, anyway.
"So how do you think you're gonna do?" Asked the woman again, sidling up next to Shawn. Shawn smiled cockily.
"Me? I know I'm gonna crush it. I may be a dropout, but that was to help the parents. Now that I'm…" she hesitated, not wanting to use the word 'free'. "...I don't have any other distractions, I can put everything into this. Becoming stronger, better, faster." She held up a hand, and a small spark crackled forward from it, dissipating into the air. "Really figure out what I can do."
"Don't think you'll have any trouble with it?" Asked the man, leaning his head on one arm, and leaning lazily on the side of the raft.
Shawn paused, thinking. Realistically, she never had been the strongest student, but when she really wanted to pass a class - really cared about the subject and the outcome, she could put hours of studying into it and come out on top. On stuff she didn't care as much about… well, she had found things she felt were more worthy of her time.
But Shawn didn't want to say all of that - she wanted to be cool for these two, even if she had already gotten the two of them in her raft. She simply laughed. "Like I said - I'm gonna crush it. There's nothing I can do that won't turn out awesome as hell. I'll be be the best thing to ever happen to that school." She reached out to gently stroke the redhead's hair, while smiling at the man whose name definitely started with a 'J'. "Now, how about we get-" before she could finish, however, an enormous wave started building behind the raft, climbing and climbing to an impossible height. Shawn tilted her sunglasses down, staring incredulously at the wave, before sighing and shaking her head. "Oh, come o-" before she finished her sentence, the wave hit and she was awake again.

Tyrannosaurus Rekt · Apr 18, 2017

✪ "Not really into hero-ing. My job is to stand here an look pretty."
NAME: Dashiell "Dash" Beauregard
MONIKER: Butterball
AGE: Twenty-One
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Four

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Dash is a tall male, broad-shouldered, small waisted, and everything you'd imagine in an Abercrombie and Fitch model--muscular in all the right places. He has blond hair, probably bottled, blue eyes, a soft smile, and a perfect nose. He sticks to common trends when it comes to dress. Which is usually just a t-shirt, a loose jacket (or hoodie), well-fitted jeans, and boots. He's quick to smile, quicker to laugh, and enjoys humor. Though, he's the only one allowed to make fun of himself.

POWERS:
↳ FAT MANIPULATION: Dash is capable of altering the amount of fat on his body. He can reduce it to a near 0% or up it to a near 100%.
↳ WEAKNESS: Obviously it is the social stigma of being fat. Also, there is a level in which it plateaus in usefulness when bundled with his other powers.
↳ STRENGTH MANIPULATION: Dash starts as above-par strength. Yet that strength becomes exponential the more he uses his manipulation.
↳WEAKNESS: He just remains at above average strength unless he activates his power.
↳ STAMINA MANIPULATION: Dash starts as above-par stamina. Yet that stamina becomes exponential the more he uses his manipulation
↳WEAKNESS: He just remains at above average stamina unless he activates his power.
↳HEIGHT MANIPULATION: Dash starts as above-par height. Yet that height becomes exponential the more he uses his manipulation.
↳WEAKNESS: He just remains above average height unless he activates his power.

PROMPT:
Dash ran across the football field with the utmost power and dexterity. It was unnatural, but it was always the way he viewed himself. As he drew close to the finish line, the entire thing became darker and darker. As he passed the finish line, the entire field went quiet. No one else was there. Dash faded out of his football equipment and into his usual dress. A blonde haired cheerleader sauntered up to him and rubbed her pom-poms in his face.
"Go Dash!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah," Dash said, looking around. "Not so much."
She frowned. "I know, you were kicked from the football league."
"Yeah, because I apparently had superhuman abilities I wasn't aware of." Dash slid his hands into his pockets and started moving towards the sidelines. A sad song played, much like those football movies in which the player gets expelled for trying to do their best--or something.
The cheerleader hopped in front of him. "Stop." She smiled wildly. "You're amazing."
"Really?" he asked.
"Ugh, no, you're just a self-important teenager. Like every other self-important teenager, I have ever met." She sighed, jutting her hip out and placing her hand on it.
Dash stared. "But you're a..." He looked around. "An ambush! I will fight you," he proclaimed, bringing his arms up "kung-fu" style.
"What. No. You know, the files said your IQ was low, but this is insulting." She sighed. "Knowing you have a power, why don't you use it for more than--" she trailed off, motioning to his body.
"Being alive?"
She exhaled. "For looking attractive."
"Oh, because it's embarrassing."
"So, you would like to join an Academy for 'Future Heroes' and never use your powers."
Dash smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Pretty much. I mean, that and my parents are making me. Apparently, having powers and not being star quarterback pretty much means you are a failure." He grumbled, "not like I needed the money anyway, we are rich."
The cheerleader nodded. "Ah, I understand. It's more a refuge than a career choice."
"Wait." Dash held his hands up. "Is the Academy not in America?"
"What?"
"Refuge, like not of this country."
"No. That's a refugee. You know what. I think we've come to an understanding. I've seen your football games. You're quite the talented athlete, capable of dominating a field. But anything beyond the physical..."
Dash raised a brow. "Is not important?"
"Ah. Well. Before I regret this decision..."
He pumped his fist in the air. "Sweet, we're going to sleep together."
"No. Never. Do you know--? Alright, well I'm ending this conversation. Sweet dreams, Dash."

Bears · Apr 19, 2017

✪ "In order to really make it in Justice City as a hero you have to be talented, marketable, and most importantly--memorable. I'm here to make sure you can achieve one of those things. "
NAME: Claudia Lefevre
MONIKER: Snow Angel
AGE: 27
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
ETHNICITY: French
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Claudia first came to Harkwell as a student. After graduating and failing to join the Hyperion League due to her ongoing conflict with Galatica, Claudia became a teacher's aide at the age of twenty. She was promoted to a full time professor just three years later.

WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Marketing, Publicity 101, Speech. Claudia helps aspiring heroes figure out how they want to present themselves to Justice City. She tells them what works and what doesn't and is responsible for students developing a public image. She also teaches makeup on the side.

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Before graduating from Harkwell, Claudia was largely unnoticeable. Her hair was a dull blonde, her skin riddled with blemishes and she dressed rather boringly. She wasn't ugly per se -- just relatively plain and forgettable.

As she grew older however, a tucked away longing to be confident and beautiful became a goal after her close friend Galatica joined the Hyperion League. Through dedication, work and a few cosmetic procedures, Claudia's hair grew expansively and her skin cleared. She learned how to do makeup and how to present her self confidently and soon enough she became the (admittedly somewhat self centered) bombshell she is today.

POWERS
↳ Cyrokinesis: At the core of Claudia's powers is her ability to create, manipulate and fully control ice and snow. Her ice/snow can be formed into anything of her choosing and its limitations lie in the fact that constantly shaping (as opposed to just blasting it) drains her energy.

↳"Ice Queen": Claudia is capable of projecting intense coldness from her own body by altering her body's temperature to sub-zero levels, making it somewhat difficult to reach and combat her comfortably in close quarters. While she is using this power her body assumes a seemingly snow-colored form that is both beautiful and intimidating. She is still as physically durable as a grown human woman however.

↳Weather Manipulation: Claudia is capable of altering the weather in two specific ways. She can cause both intense rain storms and blizzards but beyond that (as in thunderstorms or tornadoes) are out of her reach. In order for Claudia's storms to be effective she must maintain them however which requires utmost concentration and immense amounts of energy.

Bears · Apr 19, 2017

✪ "Hmph. I'm just here to make sure you don't get your dumbasses killed."
NAME: Michael J. Rutherford
MONIKER: Maelstrom
AGE: 33
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
ETHNICITY: Irish-American
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Considering his behavior and tendency to skirt around regulations and deadlines, many students find themselves surprised when they learn that Mr.Rutherford has been teaching the way he teaches for the past thirteen years.

WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Mr. Rutherford is one of the teachers who help hone student's abilities in combat. He sets up sparring matches and on occasion participates in said matches himself. He's more or less considered the 'head coach' of the academy.

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Mr. Rutherford's a handsome man who's hardened gaze is capable of hiding just how much me actually cares for his students. Time in Justice City has taught him to dress well so he does so sharply. He can typically be found in personally tailored suits and almost always has a cigarette between his lips, lit or unlit.

Brash, unforgivably direct and irrefutably confident, Mr. Rutherford walks the halls of Harkwell Academy with a fitting gait. Some students might not enjoy interacting with him due to how harsh he can be, but alumni and staff alike now that his abrasive approach is one made out of love. Hell its probably that passion he has for his students that's having Jean keep him around.

POWERS:
↳ Creation & Manipulation of Wind: Mr. Rutherford is capable of generating and bending air/wind to his will. He can create tornadoes and dispel them at the same time, though both acts takes a substantial amount of effort. He can use wind as a weapon by harnessing it in waves and blasts and is capable of flight as well.

↳ Wind Form: Mr. Rutherford is capable of turning his entire form body mass into air. He is then able to move this mass with ease. He can use this ability to move through facilities at ease by entering and traversing vent systems and Mr. Rutherford can also dodge physical attacks through this technique. Despite its useful applications its a power he does not use unless he's suited up due to the fact that it does not extend to the normal clothes he now usually wears. If he re-manifested in front of students things would get awkward and illegal quite quickly.

Bears · Apr 19, 2017

✪ I was created to kill and adapt...I'm simply fulfilling my father's purpose.
MONIKER: PROJECT 0023-X / Ooze X.
AGE: 26
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Pansexual
ETHNICITY: American? Technically? She was manufactured on US soil.

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Her first memories were on the lab table, she was strapped in and her veins boiled underneath her skin. The lights were blinding and they muffled her screams. Her "father" told her that that was the day they brought her to life...that was the day that they finally had success in creating her.

PROJECT 0023-X is a biochemical weapon created in the form of a girl so that it'd be easy for her to move to wherever she needed to be placed and/or used. The scientist who are responsible for her creation did not expect however, for their project to both run away and become enamored in the modern day lifestyle. Following her escape, PROJECT 0023-X survives by murdering young single women and taking up their appearance/life until things run their course.

Ooze X does not come out of hiding often...but when she does things become deadly real quick.

POWERS :
↳ Bioweapon: Annelise was created with the intention of being unleashed on the enemies of the United States. The ooze in which her body is made from is not only effective at hindering movement but will also lead to advanced rates of decay/rot if constantly exposed to. It's resistant to most physical effects but highly susceptible to energy or temperature based power as well as certain enzymes.

↳ Metamorphosis: Annelise is capable of transforming and morphing her body at will. When altering her physiology her body becomes its true material -- a black thick and viscous substance. She can use this to add on to her body at will, perhaps making her arm into a blade if in close quarter combat or even making herself a pair of grotesque wings if she needs a get away. With that said, due to imperfections in her creation, the ooze that composes of Annelise's body is immensely vulnerable to extreme temperatures. Intense heat will make her too fluid to properly utilize her abilities. Chilling cold will harden and make it difficult for her to regrow limbs or alter her body for combat purposes.

↳ Regeneration: Hand in hand with her Metamophosis, whenever Annelise's body gets physically damaged or if her limbs get cut off whatever flesh is affected will become ooze. Afterwards she can grow back whatever has been cut off or maimed at a rather decent speed. This also allows her to alter how she physically looks at will, effectively allowing her to be a master of disguise.

rissa · Apr 19, 2017

✪xx "Keep tryin'."
NAME: Collins Jane McLeod
MONIKER: Power Lottery
AGE: 23
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 6
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Sapphire blue eyes stare out of a heart shaped face, framed by thick, dark lashes and chest length, swarthy brown hair. Thin, toned, and riddled with muscle, Collins stands at 5'10" and weighs 145lbs. She prefers relaxed clothing, if a bit punk-ish, and wears her favorite pair of boots everyday.

POWERS
Enhanced Strength: The power to exert great strength from their muscles.
Weaknesses: Sometimes Collins loses sight of how strong she actually is and she's constantly replacing the things she breaks. After any physical exchange Collins must eat and replenish the calories she burns through.

Enhanced Senses: The power to possess extremely accurate senses.
Weaknesses: Collins can easily become overwhelmed in a crowded space or by a foul stench. Though incredibly useful, it can be quite the distraction as well. Headaches.

Enhanced Speed: The ability to move at extraordinary physical speed.
Weaknesses: While not nearly as fast as Flash Fire or most of the supers with Speed-related powers, Collins is solidly faster than any Olympic athlete. Due to this ability, her reflexes are also amplified, albeit outside of combat, training, and sports this oft leads to accidental mishaps.

Enhanced Durability: The power to sustain numerous blows of internal or external assaults.
Weaknesses: Though far from invincible, Collins can come out of a ground-and-pound relatively unscathed. She does have her limits, however, and once pushed passed those boundaries things get shaky. In order to prevent further damage, her powers will render her unconscious before severe internal damages can take hold. If this doesn't happen then she'll be meetin' her parents early.

Enhanced Jump: The ability to leap longer distances than what is naturally possible.
Weaknesses: Landings. Can't take her anywhere without causing a couple thousand dollars worth of road damage.

PROMPT: [spoili]
The world was on fire; it rained, fell from the sky in lazy eddies and consumed everything in sight. It crept slowly, devouring the parched flora until the flames licked at the cabin's exterior, searching… searching for a way in… to her.

Collins shot up from her mattress, eyes wide with sleep and terror. Her nose twitched. She could smell smoke. The woven quilt was scratchy beneath her clenched palms. Her heart was beating something fierce and rising from her mattress, Collins hesitated, finally feeling the heat that resonated throughout the room.

Running to the door and yanking it open, Collins let out a yelp as she broke the hinges and burned her palm. She tossed the door aside and cradled her hand as she stared at the devastation of her family's summer cabin. It was a massive thing; built and rebuilt after several generations of paranoid farmers. Poised to take a step, Collins pulled back just as burnt sheetrock fell from the ceiling and a rush of smoke came billowing into her room.

It didn't take long for her lungs to ache. To burn. Each breath was simultaneously salvation and damnation. She turned, dry heaved and then emptied her stomach, coughing all the while. Her nose burned. Her hand shook with pain and her heart settled into the pit of her stomach. She took another step forward only to be rewarded with a lick of heat so strong she could feel it in her bones. With a cry she leapt backwards, crashing into the wall behind her. Collins rolled onto her knees, coughing, coughing coughing.

She needed to get out. Now.

On unsteady feet, eyes blurry from smoke and grief, Collins aimed for the window and jumped. And instead of bloody glass and pain, Collins landed in a room of iridescent green light. Her nose twitched. She smelled nothing but the ash still clinging to her clothes. Unsure, the silence unnerving, Collins stood and as she did, two figures were birthed from the pale light. They were featureless, at first, but as they grew nearer the phantom figures took on a familiarity.

"Mom?" Collins asked, disbelief evident in her voice. "Dad?"

The two phantom-figures were outlined in that iridescent green, despite the fact they looked exactly like her parents. Collins swallowed deeply and then choked out:"Yer dead, both of ya', aint ya?" She choked out another sob, pain throbbing in her chest, in her ribcage, in her heart.

"Fuck." Collins cried out finally, reality hitting her.

She was dreaming, about them, as usual.

"How're you guys?" She asked hesitantly, regaining her breathing and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Why aint you using yer powers darlin'?" Her dad asked, his face calm but confused, a soft frown pulling his eyebrows closer together. "Aren't you strong enough baby girl? Why do you keep hiding? What are you afraid of?" Her mother asked, concern gracing her unmarred face.

Collins smiled, shyly, terrified at the thought of answering those questions.

"Wasn't yer dream to become a superhero, Collins?" Her dad asked, his tone gentle but firm. Like it always was.

"Yeah, but things have changed. Y'all are gone. And these powers did nothin' to help me save ya. Besides, I aint near as strong as those folks who call themselves supers nor strong enough to out beat the bad guys. I don't even have a suit for fuck's sake!"

"You shouldn't curse in front of yer mother darlin'," Her dad said with a smirk. "Now wake up."

With a burst of green light they were gone and Collins could feel herself waking up. She rolled over, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and thought, shit, I forgot to check the bunker. And fell back asleep.
[/spoili]

Tyrannosaurus Rekt · Apr 19, 2017

✪ "So, kids, get in fucking pairs. Read your awesome-ass assignment. Do your shit. I'm going to go take a nap."
NAME: Gaige Webster
MONIKER: Captain Nitro
AGE: Thirty-One
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Two
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Mechanical Engineering, Algebra, and Partial Combat Training

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Gaige is a large man in both height and muscularity. In common terms, he's a "brick shithouse." He's taller than most, covered in tattoos from his time as a villain and from his shorter time in jail. He has brunette hair, shaped into an undercut, and a well-groomed beard. Usually, he just dresses in a tank top, stained jeans, and work boots. He also is usually smoking or chewing on a toothpick. He likes to wear excessive amounts of rings.

POWERS:
↳ NITRO GUN Capable of shooting white-hot plasma that can melt through walls, vaults, cars, and pretty much anything in Gaige's way. It also has a lower setting so he can just knock out sentient beings. It is a massive gun, heavy and reinforced. It can also be used as a blunt weapon.
↳WEAKNESS It is the only weapon Gaige owns. Meaning he relies on it. Heroes (or villains, now) that are impervious to its blast, as he never uses its melting setting on anyone, can easily dispatch Gaige.
↳HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT Gaige is really good at fighting. He's been doing it since he was a kid. He doesn't have any particular discipline because it is more a self-taught self-defense. But he's quite the scrapper and has a high pain tolerance.
↳WEAKNESS It is just brawling. He can be taken down by legit martial artists.
↳TINKERER He's good at making and tweaking things. He isn't a mechanic by any means, but he's learned his way around a few guns and doomsday devices.
↳WEAKNESS He's not a genius. He's just intuitive.
↳TACTICS Gaige has fought a lot of superheroes. He even managed to be the prime enemy of Black Ice for a short while, until his defeat. He's studied their moves, their powers, and how they prioritize the scene around them. It's fair to say that he's brought this over into his teaching as well.
↳WEAKNESS Unless he's had time to study people, then this really isn't a useful skill. Also, most of his knowledge bank is for the Hyperion League and associated teams. Not really helpful when he's a good guy now.

PROMPT:
Gaige threw the sack of jewelry and other valuables over his shoulder. He rarely took money. It was so traceable nowadays. But one could easily dismantle expensive items and sell them incognito through the right channels. He swept the area, pointing the nozzle of his gun at all the bystanders laying on the ground. "No funny business," he bellowed as he started to make his way out.
Then there was Flash Fire, a streak of literal fire roaring behind her. Right, he was the bad guy for robbing banks, but she was a good guy even though caused millions in fire damage. Politics.
He dropped the sack and placed another hand on his gun to balance it. It was a huge thing, but it had to be to function like it should. "Black Ice busy today or somethin'?"
"I could ask you the same question," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Where's your posse?"
"I don't--" Gaige paused. "Right, where is my posse?" He looked behind him and around. Jobs like these, he never worked alone. The more there were, the less likely they were to get caught. It was a rule of numbers. Heroes were always so self-assured they could do things alone."Wait, why am I robbin' a bank? I thought I quit doin' this." He lowered his gun. "Is this a dream?"
Flash Fire smiled. "Yes it is, Mister Webster. It's good that you can sort that out from reality. A promising start, really."
"So, you ain't Flash Fire, I'm assumin."
She nodded. "Mister Webster, you have so many skills. You did this without being caught for so many years. And then when the Hyperion League needed help, you helped them. You're a good man."
He shrugged, patting the underbelly of his gun. Huh. This really was a dream, it was lighter than usual. "I wouldn't go around tellin' anyone that. They'd just laugh at you. But, yeah, I'm out of the game. So, what? What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"
"I would like for your to work for me. How do you feel about training the minds of future heroes?"
Gaige laughed. It was loud and went on for a while. Flash Fire just stood there, smiling. "Oh, shit. You're not shittin' me. Me? Teach children? Look, I can barely get Sophie to eat her dinner every night, much less sit her down, and get her to do long division."
"Sophie's your daughter right?"
"Right. Has more of her mother in her than I'd like to admit, though." He sighed. "For context, her mother's a bitch. Not saying that my daughter's a--" he sighed, again. "She's just a handful."
"Well, fortunately for you, you'll be teaching children that already know how to eat. Teenagers, actually. They're well versed in all of that."
"Ugh. Really? All those hormones and need for self-approval, coupled with powers. Are you sure I'll be safe? I mean, you know I started robbing and beating the shit out of people at this age. I'm the least capable person at talkin' someone down out of a fight."
"I'm sure you'll do fine."
Gaige sighed. "Yeah, sure, fine. I need some money on the table, anyway." He angled his gun down, leaning into it like a cane.
"Your experience and knowledge about the criminal element will be very helpful in shaping the minds of future heroes." Flash Fire said, taking a few steps back, and angling herself towards the door.
He held a hand up. "This is like the PBS of dreams, you know? Before you leave. Can you change it to a better channel? Like. One time I dreamed I was wrestlin' a bear, and winnin'. Somethin' like that."
Flash Fire laughed. "Bear wrestling it is."

Mundane Monster · Apr 19, 2017

✪ I JUST WANT THE BEST FOR MY CHILDREN, AND IF THAT MEANS KILLING A FEW NOBODIES, THEN SO BE IT
NAME: Hazel Monroe
MONIKER: The Author
AGE: 37
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Straight
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Supersuit // The Author is a tall woman with an imposing figure. She is quite skinny, and if she were to ever find excess fat on her body, she would exercise for days until there was no trace of it. She is partial to black and gray pant suits, but occasionally when spending time with her sons, she'll wear navy blue overalls with a white t-shirt.
POWERS :
Magic -
The Author is a witch, but her only powers include Storybook Materialization, Flight and basic binding charms, as she left home before she could finish her apprenticeship under her grandmother.

Storybook Materialization
She has the power to bring characters and constructs from her storybook to life.
These characters and or constructs can damage the world around her as well as her enemies, but can be fought and defeated.
They only have the powers that they had in the story and are unable to develop any new ones, although the more sentient characters can develop knowledge of the real world.
In order to summon these characters, they must already be in her storybook, which is over 200 pages long and each page has one story on it.
The Author is unable to use any other source to pull characters from and if her book is destroyed, she will be heavily injured and it will take months for her to recreate her book (or restore it, if it has just been damaged).

Binding Charms
The Author has the ability to weave spells into her storybook to allow her to use the stories to fight.
It takes at twenty four hours to create one spell and twenty four more to bind it to the targetted story.

Flight
The Author is able to fly several feet above the ground at a rapid pace. This power is mainly used for quick getaways or to gain higher ground (pun intended).
The Author is unable to carry more than 100 pounds, when flying which is approximately what her book weighs.

✪ "REMEMBER DEAR, YOU ALWAYS HAVE THE RIGHT TO TELL SOMEONE TO GO SIT ON A CACTUS"
NAME: Lena Metaxas
MONIKER: Giagia (pronounced Ya-Ya)
AGE: 81
GENDER: "So I guess these big old sand bags on my chest ain't worth shit, huh?"
SEXUALITY: "Up yours."
ETHNICITY: Greek
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 20 Years
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Corporation to Hero Relations
BASIC DESCRIPTION: In her youth, Lena was a stunning (but very short) young woman with long flowing brown hair and piercing gray eyes. However now, she has short wavy gray hair and a more jovial gaze. She is a bit stooped, but she walks with confidence. She is prone to wearing floral patterns, dresses and skirts with flats, but on occasion she'll wear a 1 to 2 inch heel. As for accessories, it won't be uncommon to see Lena wearing jewelry that ranges from intricate gold necklaces to a rainbow painted pine cone glued to yarn. She has a lot of grand kids that she's always proud of, so she often wears what they've made her. She is also partial to colorful scarves and shawls.
POWERS: Supersuit // Luck Manipulation
The subconscious ability to be constantly lucky. The average person receives average amounts of luck, but Lena receives constant luck. Everyday good things happen to her on a daily basis, but that doesn't mean bad things don't happen to her. When bad things inevitably do occur, her luck will find someway to make things fall in her favor. So she could get fired, but win a huge settlement because she was unjustly terminated, or she could get hit by a truck but receive little to no grievous injuries. Her luck makes her exempt from accidental death and diseases, so that she can die a natural, luck infused death when her time eventually comes. This power is purely subconscious, so Lena cannot control when or how she could get lucky.
PROMPT:
DING DOOONG!
Well that was an odd sound for the door of a business to have. The bell on the door usually made a delightful tinkling sound not that horrid cacophony. Eh. She could deal. It's not like she had to work here all day. She really felt bad for the baristas who were most likely going insane from hearing that every few minutes. Speaking of baristas...

"Grandma!"

"Oh, Lindsey, I didn't know you worked at CosmicMoolah! I could've sworn you had a job at that nice realtors office down the street, but hey, we do what makes us happy, right? " Lena said with a chuckle.

"Oh I'm only covering for somebody, grandma! Don't be silly!"

"Ooo-kay." Brushing aside the fact that you couldn't cover for someone if you didn't have the same job as them, Lena decided to peruse the menu instead. After about a minute she snorted in amusement. "Who am I kidding? I'll take my regular."

"Alright! That's one chai latte coming up!"

As she waited for her drink, Lena surveyed her surroundings and realized that she was the only customer even though it was nine in the morning and it should be packed. Also did the cafe always look like the set of Friends?

"Order up!" Lindsey shrieked from the counter, scaring the bejeezus out of her grandmother.

"Jesus tap dancing christ, girl, why are you hollering like you're in a diner?" Lena grumbled in annoyance before approaching the pick up counter. However instead of steaming hot cup of tea waiting for her, what she found was a bright pink cake pop. "I ordered a chai latte, dear." She pointed out and Lindsey smacked her forehead in a 'doy!' fashion.

"Whoopsie! Must of gotten it mixed up with all the other orders!"

"..I'm the only one in here." And as if to corroborate her claim, a tumble weed floated past, but Lindsey had already disappeared in the back to fix the order. When she came back she was holding a caramel drizzled monstrosity of a frappuchino. "Here you go, grandma!"

"...Honey are you having a stroke?" Lena asked, genuinely concerned for her granddaughter's well being.

"Nope! I'm just being a ditzy idiot of a girl with pool balls for brains!" Lindsey chirped, ever the cheerful one.

"What?"

"Remember, grandma? That's what you called that girl Bambi after you were fired and replaced by her!"

Oh. Oh yeah. That happened didn't it? She was fired...But...Then why the hell was she in here? She stopped getting lattes after she won the settlement against her pervy dickhead of a boss, Chad. She remembered leaving the courthouse that day and hearing her lawyer say to her--

"Nice working with you, Lena. Now you can sit back, relax and go to Tahiti or something." Lena jumped in surprise and to her surprise, Lindsey was no longer behind the counter, but instead, her ex-lawyer, Micheal was standing there leisurely sipping a bright pink frappuchino from CosmicMoolah's trademark sparkly straws. "I did say that last month, but you can't relax can you, Lena? You've been working all your life! You can't just drop everything and retire, can you?"

Lena chuckled and shook her head. "No, no I can't. That's why I applied to that academy, but..." Lena heaved out a sigh. "Don't you think I'd be too old for that? Who would want to listen to a hag like me? Plus, I've got no powers to compare with the wonder kids that that school churns out. Maybe I should get a job as a greeter or something--

"Pardon my french, Lena but that's bullshit. Leave the greeter jobs for special 'boys' or old people who can't even get mad for saying 'hi' so many times because they can't remember when they clocked in. You're not one of those people. Your mind is still sharp, thanks to your gift. And deep down you know that you'd quit that greeter job in a heartbeat because of the lackluster environment. Being a teacher is a great opportunity because you have so much wisdom to share and your gift will prevent any accidental demises at the hands of your students."

Lena frowned as Micheal as he interrupted her but still pondered his words. He was a hundred percent right. She needed that Harkwell job and she knew more than enough about the hero to corporation game. The firm she worked for had it's own hero, who often came to her for advice when Chad the dickhead was being well...A dickhead. Maybe Harkwell was the right step forward.

"Exactly!" Micheal crowed, giving her a thumbs up. Lena snorted. "Somehow I always forget you're a telepath." She said, rolling her eyes and giving him a playful swat. "Quit reading my mind before I have one of my grandbabies come and kick your ass."

"Deal, but only if you say yes when you get the call."

"What call?" Lena asked, confused.

"Sorry, Lena I've got to go! I've got a client who'll go straight to The Sanctuarium if I don't take his case. Although just between you and I, he's definitely loco," Discarding his obnoxiously bright frappuchino, Micheal vaulted over the counter and headed towards the door, briefcase in hand. "I mean, the police literally found him holding the victim's head and crooning Frank Sinatra to it."

Grimacing, Lena wagged her finger at Michael. "Pretty sure, you're not supposed to be telling me this, kiddo."

"And I'm pretty sure, you're supposed to have woken up by now, Professor Metaxas."

Bears · Apr 20, 2017

✪ "Classic rock, beer and baseball...oh, what was that professor? ...Oh yeah! Saving the day too."
NAME: Brady Taylors
MONIKER: TBD
AGE: Twenty two
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Heteroish
ETHNICITY: All American, baby.
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Four years

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Brady is a decently handsome young man sporting a pair of bright blue eyes. His shoulders are broad and his forearms are what you'd expect from a baseball player. His brunette hair runs rampant all over his body but he keeps his beard well trimmed. He's used to people think he's older than he actually is.

He dresses in simple clothes--preferring comfort over style--and almost always wears the same worn red cap. While he may be considered attractive he isn't the most academically inclined, and history shows that the hardball player turned aspiring hero doesn't really have much experience with romantic relationships. Honestly? Brady can be kind of dense at times.

POWERS:
↳ Gravity Manipulation: At the center of Brady's power set is his ability to manipulate the gravitational force affecting him and other objects. In his time at Harkwell he's yet to explore the full limits of his power, instead choosing to focus on a few specific aspects. Extensive use of his abilities is dangerous for his heart and over doing it can easily lead him to killing himself.

↳ Self Gravitational Field Manipulation: Brady's most honed technique is surrounding himself in an altered gravitational field that allows himself to simulate enhanced strength and durability. If Brady simply cannot maintain the field though due to being incapacitated and/or drained of energy he is just as strong/durable as a normal human man.

↳ Gravitational Force Field: Brady is also capable of generating force fields made out of gravitational energy in order to protect himself and others from ranged attacks. His force fields aren't impenetrable however and can be removed by energy drain or extreme force.

Aero Blue · Apr 20, 2017

✪ "This will hurt you, more than it hurts me."
NAME: Maxwell Fulham
MONIKER: ---
AGE: 24
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 2
BASIC DESCRIPTION: A tall, lanky personification of aloof, Maxwell carries himself in a way that lends to solitude. He prefers to sit, alone, slouched and withdrawn within himself. When he strides, his posture is immaculate, yet his movements impatient, harsh, and severe. His expressions are typically grim, and Maxwell very rarely allows himself a smile.

His dress code is typically lax, as his power can't help but ruin every single piece of clothing he lays his hand on. As such, he prefers coupling a simple pair of dark jeans with mono-colour shirts, which invariably are frayed and tattered, holds riddling the fabric.
POWERS:

Bone Manipulation: Maxwell is able to alter his bone structure to a dramatic extent, able to shift his existing bones, increase/decrease bone density or causing the rapid growth of bone spurs that can be shaped into various weaponry and projected from the body. As a somewhat required secondary power, Maxwell is able to cover up self-inflicted wounds caused by this ability's usage by generating some form of calcified material to serve as stop-gap bandaging.
Weakness: This hurts, very much so. Not the kind of pain that one simply gets used to.
Flight: An offshoot of the above ability, Maxwell is able to fly by intuitively forming a pair of wings that jut out from his shoulder-blades, casting him as some sort of particularly macabre angel. Furthermore, he lowers the density of the rest of his bone structure, allowing his flight to be swift and immaculately controlled.
Weakness: Wings of this nature, as well as his newly softened bone structure are typically more brittle, and thus far more susceptible to external force.

PROMPT:

The thing stared back at him, its gaze empty. Understandable, of course – for what were eye-sockets if not exactly that?

Two stones erected themselves in the desert, steadfast before the coarse wind. Maxwell sat upon one of them, gazing intently at his opposite number. Before him sat the wraith, a disembodied mass of bones, its hand desperately reaching out to touch him. Its right arm paused longingly as it reached the full breadth of extension, and then limply fell by the wayside, detaching from the shoulder-joint, and shattering completely before dispersing. Shards of bone lost amidst grains of sand.

"This will sound somewhat lewd." Maxwell began. "But I think, Master Skeleton, that you belong inside of me."

Suddenly Maxwell's body began to melt, his facial features contorting in gruesome ways – eyeballs beneath his nose, which had found itself on the patch of skin that was once his forehead. He was melting, of course. For he had no skeleton, and was simply a patchwork of skin, liquefying beneath the sweltering heat. His mouth was now on the side of his face, orbiting his eyes, murmuring.

"I n-need you, Master Skeleton. W-work to be done…"

And so there was.

===

Maxwell opened his eyes, the turbulence of aerial travel gently rocking him back to existence. He raised his fingers to his face, pressing roughly against his face. His mouth was numb, and his eyes were crusted over, but they were as they should be. On his face and not melting away. Bad dream, he gathered. In fifteen seconds the flight attendant would appear, and two minutes later, she would reach him and he would ask her for some hot sake to ease his troubled mind. Hot sake. One of the perks of a flight to Tokyo.

As promised, she emerged with her cart of beverages and her practised charisma.

But how had he known that?

Still, the attendant reached him as he had predicted. The girl at the window seat had asked for a Coca-Cola. Of course she did, Maxwell knew she would. He just didn't know why.

"What can I get you, sir?"

"Hot… hot sake. Thank you."

"Aren't you a little young for alcohol, sir?"

No. Impossible. How. Then he realized.

"Ah. I am dreaming."

And suddenly, Maxwell Fulham was a child again, a child in the middle seat. His sister had the window seat, mother and father were right behind him. His sister had asked for water, not Coca-Cola, though it was her favorite drink – the dentist had said she needed to lay off the sodas. And he himself had asked for an apple juice.

The seat-belt lights began flashing, and Maxwell screamed.

Turbulence, yes. Always turbulence. Maxwell felt the blood cascading in his cranium, before black overcame him.

===

He opened his eyes again, a child no longer, and a cup of hot sake in his hands. He paced to and fro, hoping to find solace in the tranquil patterns upon his carpet, before realizing there was no carpet there. Just the blue of the sky, and the incorporeal flooring of clouds. This was…

Maxwell shifted his head, to see an airplane, broken, split down the middle, and a single man with his arms outstretched. His right arm bore one half of the craft, his left the other. Sweat poured down his brow, and Maxwell could imagine the sting it caused as each droplet entered his eyes. Veins popped on the man's temple. He was struggling. He was losing. Maxwell approached him, downing a gulp of sake.

"Hello."

The struggling man beamed, even as his arms threatened to abandon him altogether. "Young Master Fulham! Boy, am I sure glad to see you! I'm!"

"Captain Endeavour. You fly as fast as a hawk, with the strength of an elephant." Another sip of sake. "Can an elephant hold up an entire aeroplane?"

Endeavour smiled his toothy smile. "No, an elephant certainly cannot! I do believe I will have to drop one of these halves, if you don't mind me saying, Mr. Fulham. Killing hundreds, and making an orphan out of you and your sister! Would that be a problem?"

Maxwell smiled, taken by the man's easy charisma in the face of adversity. "Certainly not! Drop away I say! Drop away!"

And so he did. Captain Endeavour breathed a sigh of relief as he watched hundreds plummet to their death. "Boy, a jolly relief that was! I don't think they skipped breakfast! You won't hold a grudge, will you?"

"A grudge? Surely not, I say!" Maxwell folded his free hand over his gut, as a wave of laughter threatened to consume him entirely. Oh, what fun this was! Speaking like Old English gentleman, drinking hot sake in the stratosphere, floating aimlessly as if in a.

"Dream."

"Master Fulham?"

"You are not real."

"But I'm as real as real can be! As real as the eyes can see!"

"Not a real hero, that is. A real hero would be perfect. A real hero would be infallible. You're just a fraud. Here, have the rest of my hot sake. And wake me the fuck up already."

Starlighter · Apr 21, 2017

✪ "Stop quoting me."
NAME: Darcy Thackery
MONIKER: Peeping Darcy
AGE: 24
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Hetero
ETHNICITY: European, Various
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 1
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Darcy walks with a sort of shuffle to his gait and his head down, keeping his hands tucked into the pockets of whatever earth-tone hoodie he happens to be wearing at the time. Average height with a slight build, he constantly watches the world around him as if something is slowly creeping up behind him.
POWERS:
Teleportation - ability to transport anywhere, anytime. Weakness - Extreme risk of miscalculation and severe injury or death.
Conscious Projection - While physically remaining in the same place, Darcy is able to 'mentally' travel to any given location and observe it as if there. Weakness - Unable to interact with the environment or have any effect on it whatsoever
External Teleportation - Ability to transport objects not on his person via physical contact. Weakness - Unable to recall said objects, extremely limited control of their destination.

PROMPT:
Darcy shivered with his back against a damp wall, letting it's shadow hide him with another layer of darkness in the night. He kept his head down, shivering, forcing himself to breath slowly, quietly.
In, out. In, out. In, out…
No no no!
Panic set in with the sound of each breath - loud enough to be heard. Too loud. His heart beat skyrocketed with panic; he shoved away from the wall and bolted down the alley, his footsteps squishing against the wet pavement with an erratic, painfully loud smack. He whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder.
All he saw was the empty alley behind him - and not the overturned lantern at his feet. His shoe caught the handle and he dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap of twisting limbs and clattering metal, water spraying into the air around him from the puddle under his back. The droplets drifted slowly upwards, lazily meandering their way into the night sky before stopping and hovering there, like a slow motion video that someone had decided to pause.
Fantastic. Not only was he now certain of his pursuers presence… but he was being followed by someone like him, someone making a point by manipulating the water. A hero or a villain… he didn't care to be here long enough to find out. Darcy struggled up into a sitting position and frantically yanked the bucket off his foot, tossing it to the side and splashing his way out of the puddle and up to his feet. He cast another frantic look behind him, spinning in a circle and desperately searching for his pursuer.
A shadow flashed across the corner of his eye. Darcy whipped to the left. The pool of light under a streetlamp was empty. He could have sworn that a moment ago it wasn't.
Screw this. Darcy took a deep breath, and the city disappeared.

Sunlight burned the air, searing it with suffocating heat. Darcy instinctively reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow. When he lowered his hand, it came away bloody. He stumbled back, muttering a curse and reaching up to touch the wound again. He felt nothing but the sticky slick of sweat, but his vision didn't lie. He trembled, studying the open field around him for anything that could show him a reflection. A puddle, a piece of glass, anything.
To his right, something flashed white in the sunlight. He turned to face it, raising his bloodied hand against the flash. He tiptoed slowly toward it, squinting. An elaborate mirror sat in the middle of the field, suspended in the middle of an intricate gold frame by no attachments that he could see. That seemed logical enough. As he got closer, the brilliance seemed to fade slightly, and he could see the mirror with more clarity. He slowly lowered his hand, bowing his head to look into the clear, smooth glass surface.
He saw himself looking back, arms crossed and frowning. His reflection did not look happy to see him.
"You're running from nothing again. You're such a paranoid freak. How do you expect to get jack done when you're always looking over your shoulder when there's nothing there? When you're always trying to find the monsters that live under your bed?" Darcy scowled at his reflection, ever the critic.
"Being paranoid isn't all bad. It makes me cautious. Avoids all kinds of trouble that others wouldn't even stop to think about." He hesitated. "It's not a good thing. But it's not a bad thing. Sometimes I think too much… but at least I think." He snorted. "I don't even need to justify anything to you."
Darcy frowned at his reflection, slowly shaking his head and walking backwards away from the mirror. But no matter how far back he went, the mirror never got any farther away.
"You can't outrun yourself, Darcy. You're stuck with me. But that doesn't mean you can't change me to make for better company." He snorted, shaking his head at the lippy reflection of himself.
"I'll take that under advisement." His reflection laughed.
"You do that, hero boy." The reflection tipped it's head to the side, and Darcy was surprised to find that even though he should have, he didn't find the fact that it moved out of sync with him very odd. "Why do you want to be a hero, anyway? Have you ever really thought about that?" Darcy shrugged.
"Of course I have. I just know that I have something unique to offer the world, and Harkwell seems like the best place to make the most use of my best talent. I want to do something with my life that matters, and I know that with the right training I can make a big difference to a lot of people."
"Wow, deep" his reflection scoffed. Darcy rolled his eyes.
"I am deep. Serious as a heart attack."
"Keep telling yourself that." Darcy scowled.
"Don't you mean 'me'?" The reflection chuckled, slowly beginning to disappear.
"I'll be seeing you soon, Darcy. In the real world."

✪ "My real superpower is the weird faces."
NAME: Ellis Wong
MONIKER: Saint
AGE: 27
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Hetero
ETHNICITY: Asian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Three
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Ethics & Social Service
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Clocking in at 5'9'' Ellis has an angular build, usually standing with a slouch in place of posture, making him appear much shorter. His wardrobe tends to be quite varied and colourful (with a particular affinity for wearing pink), exempting his trademark olive brown trench coat.
POWERS:
Human Aspect Removal - Ellis is capable of removing any aspect of another human (or himself) that he so chooses - be it an emotion, a physical trait, an attitude, a memory, their visibility, etc. Once removed, the 'aspects' are stored in a briefcase that he carries with him at all times, until he chooses to restore them to their original owner.
Weakness - The briefcase only has so much room. If overfilled, Ellis will lose his powers and everything stored inside it. Another bummer is the fact that he has no idea how much space a given aspect will take up, and as such, no idea how much space he has left at any given time.
PROMPT: Jean Harkwell has the magnificent gift of walking through dreams, not that you know this. But she visits each candidate before they're admitted into the Academy. There she arrives in whatever dream state you are in, takes on a familiar face in your day to day, and ask three questions: "why do you want to be a hero?" "What are your strengths?" "What are your weaknesses?" That being said, the questions don't have to outright read like that, and there could be other questions interspersed, but those are the minimum. Please write a prompt including that. This will count as your personality and biography.

Tyrannosaurus Rekt · Apr 21, 2017

✪ "I'm really beginning to think that heroes come in six-packs that you can just pop out and use. That's fine, I guess, more for me to kill."
MONIKER: Daughter of Doom, Doom
AGE: Twenty-Six
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
ETHNICITY: Latina

BASIC DESCRIPTION: Doom stands at average height, with a muscular, and somewhat curvy build. Her hair is pale and falls over her shoulder, long and layered. Her complexion in pale, but it seems through unnatural means rather than natural. Her facial features are strong, including a very sculptured brow. She has gray eyes, long lashes, and she always wears dark lipstick. She also has most of her face pierced, though she wears an assortment of them in varying ways. No one knows what Doom looks like outside her costume, but the reinforced leather suit, spikes, and oddly off-putting jacket are enough. She stands with sarcastic bravado, inviting idiots to come close.

POWERS :
↳EXPLOSION INDUCEMENT: All Doom has to do is touch something, inanimate, and she can charge it with enough power to explode. This is anything artificial, weapons, bullets, cars, buildings, and even clothing.
↳WEAKNESS: There is a five-second delay in the explosion, usually. It is less for smaller objects, but longer for larger objects. Also, the intensity of the explosion also varies on the size.
↳ SUPER STRENGTH: She can lift buses and small planes, easily.
↳ WEAKNESS: The more she uses this ability in tandem with her explosion powers, the weaker she gets.
↳ENERGY BARRIER: She can create a small barrier around herself to protect herself from attack.
↳WEAKNESS: It is far from protecting her from nuclear blasts, very powerful blasts, or numerous blasts at once.
↳FLIGHT: Doom can fly with the best of them, even reaching top atmosphere. She's a fast flier and acrobatic.
↳WEAKNESS: It's just flight. It can be affected by wind and gravity powers.

Niiwa · Apr 21, 2017

✪ "They will all fear me."
MONIKER: General Terror
AGE: 29
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Lesbian
ETHNICITY: African American
BASIC DESCRIPTION: While General Terror is already on the taller side, generous application of heels allows her to tower over everyone in whatever room she steps into. She mostly doesn't bother to work out, so while she is athletic from her various capers, there is no major muscle definition. She always wears black and always wears her mask, which she has equipped with a voice synthesizer in order to help hide her identity and draw in more fear whenever she speaks.
POWERS:
↳ Fear Absorbtion: General Terror can absorb the fear of those around her and within herself and channel it into incredible strength. There is no upper limit on this ability - the more people that are afraid within her radius of around half a mile, the stronger she becomes. The strength that she gains varies from person to person, but it is usually related to how afraid they are, and how strong they physically are: The stronger and more afraid they are, the stronger she becomes. She also gains some speed and increased endurance, but not nearly to the degree of strength that she gains.
-- Weakness: General Terror not only absorbs the strength of those who are afraid, but the fear itself - this causes her to act in an aggressive, adrenaline-fueled fight or flight style, and renders her unable to use any real skill or finesse in her style. As well, if anyone she is drawing fear from is rendered unconscious or dead, she loses that portion of power.

↳ Feared: General Terror has cowed a small army of goons to work underneath her, as any good villain should. This provides her with a steady stream of bodies from which to draw fear, as she keeps them all within arm's reach in order to feed off of their fear.
-- Weakness: These are mostly just very scared individuals, and they fight as such. While they are more afraid of disappointing the General than fighting heroes, they are mostly just normal, easily dispatched humans.

Cerulean · Apr 21, 2017

✪ "I only trust people who like big butts, for they cannot lie."
NAME: Joseph Randall
MONIKER: TBD
AGE: 24
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: "I humped a mailbox once."
ETHNICITY: Mostly caucasian with Native American and Spanish thrown in
YEARS AT ACADEMY: Approaching two years.
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Joseph is a pretty husky guy. He can be anywhere between clean shaven and having a big beard and he likes it that way. Standing at 5'9 and 280lbs he is a big dwarf to be sure.

Generally he likes wearing a plain shirt and jeans, but on occasion he likes to dress up for events that call for it.
POWERS: Power: Shapeshifter Weakness: Can only change into one thing.
Sub-power (From transformation):
Super Strength - Weakness: Has trouble controlling it.
Super Endurance - Weakness: He still tires and must usually overeat to make up for it.
Super Durability - Weakness: Is a tank, but not an absolute one. Can still be taken down.
Irresistible Force - Weakness: This power is a liability when trying to keep others safe. "Activation" needed.
Immovability - Weakness: Can still be moved via gravity manipulation or teleportation. He also has to "activate" this power.
Hard Head - Weakness: Makes it hard for others to mentally communicate with him, and makes it harder to help him if injured there.
Retractable Horns - Weakness: Could harm teammates and villains can use them to throw him around.

PROMPT: Alone he sat on the silhouetted stool, looking out towards the crowd of faceless people just staring at him. Different hues shoot across the sky like stars. The light then switched off briefly. Turning on again, it instead revealed a faceless, feminine figure in a sundress. Joseph sighed at the sight. This was right about the time a figure entered his peripherals. While it looked like someone he knew very well, it was not all that it seemed. Somehow, someone had invaded his head and was lurking around. Of course, he had zero idea, given that the figure looked just like his father.

"Hel--"

"Again? Just speak and go."

They just sort of existed for a moment, before the light switched off and appeared over them both. At this point, Joe turned his head and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well? Spit em out then, Dad. Quickfire style, lets go. Same as always."

Deciding to play along, the figure smirked.

"Why do you want to be a hero?"
"To protect others that can't protect themselves, mostly. Next."

"What are your strengths?"
"I'm funny, I guess." He shrugs. "I can also turn into a bull and run through walls and stuff. Ruin everything even faster than you did. You'd be proud."

"What are your weaknesses?"
"I'm afraid of being alone. I have issues. I eat too much. Take your pick Dad, you were always the one to point them out."

"What would you do if given the responsibility of taking care of someone?"
"Do a better job than you did."

"The chips are down, you stand alone against the fury of Earth's mightiest foe. What do you do?"
"Use a horn to turn them into a shiskabob."

"A friend is clearly upset and--"
"I comfort them. Or help them. Whatever it is."

"If they refuse?"
"Tell them to fuck off because I am not going away until you are stable. When they are stable/ My turn, you are asking a lot of questions for a guy that doesn't like superheroes."

"There is a reason for that Joseph...."

http://imgur.com/sTxcaxV
http://imgur.com/ytVs6EE

Niiwa · Apr 22, 2017

✪ "I'm working on it. Now shut up."
NAME: Beatrix Avery
MONIKER: Stella
AGE: 30
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
YEARS AT ACADEMY: 5
WHAT CLASS DO THEY TEACH: Maths

BASIC DESCRIPTION: While she only stands at 5'3", Beatrix carries herself very tall and acts as though she is the tallest person in the room. Her fashion sense focuses around clean lines and muted colors, though she is hard-pressed to be found without at least some expertly-applied makeup. Her skin is somewhat sallow, if not toned, and she has a tattoo or two peeking out from beneath her clothes.

POWERS:
↳ The Great Beyond: Beatrix's abilities gain and lose strength depending on the phase of the moon and the weather. On full moons, and clear nights, she is much stronger and more durable.
-- Weakness: During new moons, cloudy nights, and sunny days, Beatrix is much weaker, and her abilities do less damage.

↳ Call of the Heavens: Beatrix can control gravity's pull on herself, up to a point - she can jump great heights and land softly with little issue. She naturally floats a few inches off of the ground, and while she still needs to run and move as normal, she is unaffected by negative terrain.
-- Weakness: , Beatrix can't take anything with her when she jumps unless she could carry it under earth's normal gravity - it retains its gravity relative to earth while she is carrying it, but does not weigh her down. She can be knocked into the ground if she is struck with enough force.

↳ Stardust: Beatrix can create tiny stars - she can either create a single, large one that she can throw some distance (where it will explode in a small radius upon impact) or she can create a fistfull of tiny stars that she can scatter like sand just in front of her, burning and blinding those that they strike.
-- Weakness: Depending on the size and number of these, they can take longer to create - the more she creates in a day, they take exponentially more time to generate.

↳ Aurora Borealis: Beatrix can summon large, solid rainbow lights. She can create immobile shapes several feet wide and tall, that are difficult to break and penetrate. They also give off a cold heat, and moderately burn enemies that touch them or get too close.
-- Weakness: It takes all of Beatrix's focus to create and maintain these color barriers - she cannot do anything else while sustaining them and is very vulnerable to attack.

PROMPT:
She was back there again, back in that alley. The same dream, the same nightmare. It was dark, but the moon was dark, a black hole in the sky. She was weak, and she knew it. But she had to try to stop him anyway - the villain wouldn't stop until he wiped the whole city off the face of the earth. There were no heroes that could come and help - they all had their own problems. It was her duty, her job to save the city -
And another black, viscous tentacle slapped her in the face, throwing her further back into the alley. The man floated forward, the shadowy ooze spilling from beneath his robe, and held Beatrix high in the air, even as she struggled to create a new star, she knew that the combination of the long fight and the weak moon wouldn't let her do anything in time. The city was sinking. It was a small place, but the buildings were tall enough that Beatrix could still hear the calls and shrieks for help from the top floors even as they fell into the fluid.
"This is your end, my dear." The villain's voice seeped from beneath the dark hood like blood from a wound. "You cannot stop me, and upon their lives I will feast. But not yours. Not today. You will know the despair of failure, of knowing that you let all those people down - that you were the real cause of their death, because you couldn't stop me."
It was the same speech as always. Beatrix knew it by heart at this point. And she knew what happened next all too well - her vision blurred, shifted, and she was in a run down apartment. There was nothing but a mattress here, and a scattering of needles about the floor. She was shooting up again, it was the only thing that kept the dark thoughts away. The nightmares away. There was a knock at her door, and she stumbled to it. It was the landlord, to tell her that she was evicted. Couldn't be bothered to pay her rent. He stood there, in his dark suit and hat, a shadow in the doorway.
"Why are you here?" He asked. Beatrix was taken aback. He had never asked that question before, or any question.
"Because I… live here?" she responded, still in a heady fog.
"But why do you live here?" He responded, pushing his way into the room.
"Because I have no place left to go. I'm not a hero, anymore, I can't be one anymore." She sighed and leaned back against the wall of her apartment. "Not after what I let happen to Peach City. The money dried up, and..." She trailed off. Why did she feel compelled to answer this guy?
"Hm," he replied, crouching down to examine the hastily-discarded needles next to the mattress. He turned his faceless head to Beatrix, and she looked away, somehow feeling judged. In her own dream. "Having problems quitting, then?"
"I'm trying, I just… they're the only thing that make the nightmares stop. These nightmares stop."
"Combined with as low a self-esteem as yours, makes sense that you'd relapse a few times." Beatrix balled her fists tightly.
"Yeah well, I'm trying, asshole! And the nightmare is here, again, so I'm obviously doing something." She could already feel the sweat around her body - her bed was going to be soaked through again in the morning. She would wake up, soon. Maybe before the last part of the nightmare…
The floor fell out from under her, and she knew what was coming next. She was already sobbing. She was in a room, the every surface covered in that black, viscous matter that made up The Splatterman's abilities. And the bodies. All the bodies of those people that she failed to save staring at her, crying black, boiling ichor. Asking why, silently. "I just wanted to help people," she cried, trying to hide her eyes behind her hands, "I just wanted to make it better for you. I'm so, so sorry…" Through the gaps in her bony fingers, she started to see the black fade away. This was new. Usually she would just stay here until she woke up. Surrounded by her guilt. The last thing she felt before she awoke in her sweat-stained bed, was a hand on her shoulder, and a soft voice in her ear - "How would you like a job?"

Mundane Monster · Apr 23, 2017

✪ "SENDING THE UNLAWFUL TO PRISON, ISN'T ENOUGH."
MONIKER: Basilisk
AGE: 45
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Gay
ETHNICITY: African American
BASIC DESCRIPTION: Supersuit // Basilisk is a hulking mass of a man, whose muscular form is clearly seen through anything he wears. He is in no way tiny and his presence is nearly constantly of a looming and overbearing quality. While under the persona of Basilisk, he tends to walk with an odd fluidity and carries himself with pride and confidence. However when acting as his 'plain clothes' self, he is somewhat of a lumbering out of place giant with a streak of clumsiness. When not donning his supersuit, Basilisk usually dresses formaly for his career and he has a love of suspenders. When not at his job though, Basilisk usually wears polo shirts and khakis with timberland boots, running shoes or loafers.
POWERS : Stone Manipulation
User can create, shape and manipulate some minerals.
Weakness - Limited to existing sources of stone.
Weakness - Cannot manipulate sand, chalk, glass or crystals.
Petrification
User can turn living and non living organisms into statues. Depending on the strength of the living organism, petrification is temporary and can last from five minutes to two weeks. If petrified target is shattered, then they will perish forever.
Weakness - Mirrors, if reflected against him, he will petrify himself.
Weakness - Does not have the ability to reverse his petrification.
Weakness - Side effects of petrifying can include; temporary color blindess, temporary partial blindess and temporary rigidity.

★ JUSTICE CITY ϟ A SUPERHERO ACADEMY RP ϟ SIGN-UPS ★

Tyrannosaurus Rekt

Guest

Tyrannosaurus Rekt

Guest

Moop.

The most uninspiring of monsters

Mistress Frost

Tyrannosaurus Rekt

Guest

Bears

Guest

Bears

Guest

Bears

Guest

the clairvoyant pterodactyl

Tyrannosaurus Rekt

Guest

The most uninspiring of monsters

Bears

Guest

he hears his master's voice

Consider this the hint of the century

Tyrannosaurus Rekt

Guest

Mistress Frost

But does he know about second breakfast?

Mistress Frost

The most uninspiring of monsters