Avatar of mickilennial

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Recent Statuses

30 days ago
Current I just want to smoke weed and live my life.
9 likes
12 mos ago
Vindication comes, so too does peace of mind as I close one chapter and open a new one.
10 likes
4 yrs ago
Sometimes I lie awake dreaming of being as consistent in this hobby as I was ten years ago.
7 likes
5 yrs ago
Quality posting is far better than needless novels, yet one should never neglect detail when one feels the need.
12 likes
6 yrs ago
I’m not a good writer. I’m just good at pretending to be.
11 likes

Bio

all of micki's banners broke

if you're petty with me

be prepared to deal with

the most crazy bitch

you've ever met


Micki | 34 (b. 1988) | Detroit | INTJ
Biromantic Demisexual | Bipolar/Manic-Depressive



Hi. I'm a role-player/writer who has spent over twenty-one years in this hobby.

I will pretty much write anything as long as my partner is cool with my inconsistent posting pace and momentum. I'm pretty sociable and I make dumb jokes all the time. My favorite things to write is capeshit, anime, space operas, horror, and slice of life/mundane drama. My writing level leans toward minimalism, but I try to give my partners/groups more than enough to work off of. I like to think I am pretty flexible.

I like cinema, music, and animation just as much as I like writing with people. My biggest hobby after writing is pop media analysis. Ask me questions or for suggestions and I'm sure to have something for you. 😎😎😎

Most Recent Posts

Might make a different character so there's less overlap but I'm not sure what yet.




“We need to find food, too. Clean water. Unless you want to go keycard hunting on an empty stomach.”

The remark was made rather matter-of-factly, like Hera didn’t care at all about what they were all going through. Some of her body language betrayed that idea–the way she was clutching her blazer, the slight twitch of her fingers, and how she kept looking around the classroom.

The classroom was well-stocked… for literature. Plenty of books reciting old stories they had been tasked with studying before the end of the year. Mr. Potter had opted for an obscure novel by Mary Shelley, The Last Man, about the struggles of a man named Lionel Verney as he came to terms that the bubonic plague had left very few alive in its wake. The very first dystopian novel. Mr. Potter may have had a sense of humor after all. Not that a bunch of paper was going to be much use to them. School still had power. Heating and Water. At least that was a silver lining. As she thought about utilities and defense, a thought came to her mind.

The chair legs could be useful.

She looked to the chairs that sat in the classroom, moving one over to its side. Virco 9000. If they had a screwdriver they could remove the metal legs from the hard plastic. Right. She looked over to her classmate who was shuffling through Mr. Potter’s desk. There was no chance in hell that there was a screwdriver in there. 99.9% chance there was nothing useful in general. Well, she hoped the girl could find something. Anything, really. It would be better than nothing, that much was for sure.

What the girl would find, unfortunately, was little more than two energy bars (chocolate, though), a bunch of papers (including divorce papers yet to be signed), and one pack of mechanical pencils with two remaining.
In Ju-V 9 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Annoying People

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Location: Alcatraz Compound [Recreation Wing]
Issue #3: Annoying People
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Interaction(s): N/A
The blonde sighed, her hands buried in her pockets, as she moved quickly away from the prison veteran character from going into their full spiel about the rules of the prison and the other characters that inhabited it. That was how she saw it, like she was in some kind of awful movie.

“Great. Annoying people and handsy prison guards. Tons of fun.” She muttered under her breath.

Kaitlin ended her “get away from things she didn’t like” exercise at the room’s collection of books, her eyes constantly eyeing the people around her as she made her way there. She wasn’t a particular fan of people before she had powers, so she couldn’t imagine what was more nerve-wracking than a bunch of people she didn’t want to interact with who also had powers. She wasn’t a smoker, but just being on Alcatraz made her relate to the people who were.

She sighed, easing out her anxiety, before a book title caught her attention. She immediately took it from its place among the books and a slightly amused smirk replaced her rather unimpressed-slash-annoyed expression.

The Count of Monte Cristo.

Somebody had a sense of humor.

She flipped a few pages as she found the closest wall and sat on the floor with her back against it. A set of noise-canceling headphones would’ve been nice about now; they certainly would have made dealing with the place she found herself in a lot easier. Why did she leave most of her stuff at home? Oh right, because she didn’t have time to think. Just her luck. Not that it mattered much. She’d deal. She had no choice.
M a y b e


Interested in this. I have some characters in mind, like a washed out rockstar that is just blowing whatever money he has left on extravagant trips, or a woman who broke up with her fiancée a week before the wedding, but still went on the honeymoon trip by herself. Once I pick a concept I’ll start work on my character sheet.

Not exactly my concept, but it seems we are on a similar wavelength, huh.




“I think you’ll need a little more than a lockpick.”

Hera sighed.

Stockbridge Academy was the most demanding private school she could have imagined. Tons of investors and donations had justified reworking the entire security system over the summer. After incidents upon incidents and the worries of a potential school shooter, everyone who had money had decided what Stockbridge needed was security gates, lockdown keycards, and all sorts of things. She had almost forgotten about it. The Detroit Free Press heavily criticized the whole plan, she remembered, too. Something about turning Stockbridge into more of a prison than a institution of learning. Seems for once, that was right.

The hispanic-american looked over to her classmates, “School is probably in tiered lockdown. Remember the new magnetic locks that Mr. Nielsen was so thrilled about? We aren’t getting out without a keycard. I think… if we are smart… we are going to need access to administration or maintenance.”
In Ju-V 10 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Escalation: How to NOT Handle Teenagers in 5 Steps or Less!

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Location: Alcatraz Compound
Issue #2: Escalation: How to NOT Handle Teenagers in 5 Steps or Less!
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Interaction(s): N/A
The blonde gritted her teeth, the good humor she felt from her fellow captives being wiped away in an instant.

Commanding yells. A taser. A girl getting sprayed like she was a rioter on capitol hill. It got her nerves into a frenzy and she curled her fists tightly. Anxiety was a trigger for her powers, maybe for most of the metahumans she was side-by-side with on an island where it became very much clear that training facility really meant internment camp.

There was an impulse in her to get angry. With the prison guards, security, whatever, exuded their power over them. They weren’t exactly helpless, but they were basically helpless. It was enough to trigger her natural instincts despite trying to not put herself in the line of fire. She had no problem being here. She chose to be. But seeing how they reacted to a few dumb teenagers made her wonder if she wouldn’t have been better off running to Mexico once she got the offer from AEGIS in the first place. She could feel what must have been her power, though she hadn’t been exactly glowing with light energy yet.

She could do something. React. She could–

–No. Don't panic. Don't freak out. Don't become a light show.

She calmed herself, though she still looked utterly pissed and confused.

So much for this being a community.

A community of fascists maybe.
In Ju-V 10 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Last Ride to Alcatraz

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Location: AEGIS Bus Alcatraz Compound
Issue #1: Last Ride to Alcatraz
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Interaction(s): N/A
Previously: N/A

After refusing to engage with a girl in front who was eager to talk, Kaitlin Langstraat kept her eyes glued to the bus window near her, planting her head against it as they drove through San Francisco to their next destination.

Between her hands was an old silver dollar, one she kept rotating in her hands to try to think about anything else than the events that led her to her current situation. It didn’t work, not really.

Being diagnosed as a metahuman would’ve been world-shattering enough for her, given society’s particularly uneasiness with those with the affliction, but the universe had decided it would be much more fun if a bunch of other things happened around that as well; because the universe was a practical joker. A comedian. A laugh riot.

The funniest joke of all was that her abusive father that she had avoided for several years turned up in Santa Clara, when she was at work in the local mall.

She couldn’t even remember what happened. What he said. How he looked at her. None of it. She had been told she had an “episode” by the police and doctors. There had been damages, injuries. They weren’t forthcoming with the details and neither was AEGIS when they showed up and gave her an offer she couldn’t willingly refuse. With a pending lawsuit from the ownership group who owned the shopping mall and official charges lingering in some kind of legal purgatory, she found herself scared and out of luck. Of course she took the offer from AEGIS. Legal protections? Evaluation and training of her metahuman abilities? Making the lawsuit go away? They did all that. Part of her was grateful for it, it was like a Get Out of Jail card from Monopoly but in real life.

What else could she do?


And then they arrived at the island. It took two trips, but the beginning was over.

It was a relief in a way, she mused, as she tried to get a good look at her surroundings to the best of her ability. Not that she was preparing an escape from Alcatraz like that old Clint Eastwood movie or anything, but more in line with her not liking surprises. Being perceptive had kept her alive since forever ago and that wouldn’t change, even under someone else’s care. Anything she could see and remember she would be sure to take mental notes of. One particular thought came to mind as they were already being treated like numbers on an orange jumpsuit.

I guess this being like ‘Summer Camp’ was a mild exaggeration. Cool.

It felt so surreal.

Lined up. Being ready to be shipped off to their least favorite corners of a historic prison. All for the common good of America. The good of the community.

It was absurd how the warden tried to paint it. So absurd that one of the other metahumans, a boy, made of stone, made a remark that actually made her giggle, a giggle she quickly covered with her hand. Not a common occurrence, but she didn’t expect it so readily dispensed at the warden’s expense. It was enough to maybe, just maybe, make her think that this little situation wouldn’t be completely terrible.

Just maybe.

Signs Known: Spark, Reinforce, Mend, and Glow
In OBLIVION 10 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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