Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

[applesaucemod]

Welcome to another ordinary day in Manhattan. This barely even qualifies as a dream at all, it's so like waking life. The dreamers will find that they're their own perfectly normal selves going about their perfectly normal business and thwarting perfectly normal crimes in their perfectly normal spandex outfits.




What's that? No, of course it's normal to wear spandex (or leather, for the more chic among you) and go around beating up muggers and thwarting your villainous counterparts, don't be silly. What else would you do with your afternoon, not use your superpowers to better the world? That's grossly irresponsible of you; don't you know that with great power comes great responsibility?

So get out there and make the world a better place -- and be sure not to let that disguise slip if you do make it in to work today. Wouldn't want anyone to learn your secret identity, after all.


[OOC: Characters will find themselves thrust into the role of superhero...or at least, super-powered human. Whether they'd use those powers for good or evil (or use them at all), they'll think they've always been this way (or maybe just since that time they fell in toxic waste and developed cancer telekinesis). Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters welcome regardless of membership status. Characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at players' discretion.]

Comments

[postictal]

Truly, the tiny woman's advice is wise and reasonable. He offers the poor young man a reassuring pat on the cheek and a firm nod in farewell. And with the thoroughly uncoordinated rasp of rollerblades over cement, he scoots off with Beegirl in tow.

"Until our paths cross again, dear Troy!" he proclaims in earnest, ringing baritone, waving goodbye with an outflung hand.

[apidae]

Beegirl catches onto one of Timman's helmet straps, so she can speak closer to his ear.

"He seemed nice," she says pleasantly. "I hope you two see each other again soon, properly."

She doesn't tell Timman what the particulars, because frankly he doesn't seem equipped for that right now, not with all that junk in his head, blocking out his whole secret identity - let him be happy, even if it is a strange happiness plastered on top of his natural being. There will be time later for the explanation, that Jay is dead and dead again, lost and torn between running away and reaching out - he needs Tim, surely, not Timman, but all that isn't quite her business, so she tucks it away for later.

"Where to next?" she says instead.

[idk shall we open this to threadjacks or have a dumb adventure of our own design]

open to threadjacking??

[postictal]

"To wherever we may be needed!" Rollerblading into the midday is not quite so conventionally heroic as sailing into the sunset, but Timman imbues everything with his signature triumphant flair, along with a certain amount of brightly rambunctious music.