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Come One, Come All

Welcome to All Our Masks! We are an Alternate Universe DC-comics RPG, loosely based off the Young Justice comic and show. We accept canons and original characters and have a 223 Rating. No character or player will be left out, everyone will be RPed with. We try to offer and maintain flexibility for characters and storylines wherever possible in our canon characters and themes. So before you rule out a character, plot, twist, or anything else, please talk to an admin first! We would be happy to assist and work with you wherever we can.

If you have any questions, our C-box is open for guests. Or you are more than welcome to pop onto our guest-friendly Questions and Answers board. For easy navigation, see our Table of Contents thread (link located in the sidebar to your left) for a full list of our informational entries.





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Alias: Miss Red
Age: 24
Occupation: Artist
Location: Bludhaven
Gif Square: http://i.imgur.com/h02bPcY.gif
Profile: http://allourmasks.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=1932
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Joined: 6-February 17
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Last Seen: Jan 15 2018, 01:49 PM
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Joseph Wilson

H.I.V.E.

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Oct 23 2017, 01:15 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
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</style><center><div class="head" style="background:url(http://i.imgur.com/26zyesJ.jpg);"></div><br><br><br><div class="box" style="width: 390px; margin: 0px; font: italic 12px playfair display;">I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head</div><br><br><br><div class="text">

He feels like he is on janitor duty, cleaning up after other people, handling other people’s messes. He should not have to be here. This is not his job, this was never his mission, and yet somehow he was assigned to finish what someone else was to have started. And, of course, it was more dangerous now than it was to begin with, before someone messed things up and they got to this point. Just a simple drop off, blundered, and now the merchandise is in the hands of the capable of Black Canary.<BR><BR>

He had followed the tracking signal to an apartment in Star City, grateful that the device had not been found and deactivated. That saved him a whole lot of extra trouble. Not that the rest of the job ahead of him is going to be a walk in the park. This means that the object is in the apartment of none other than Black Canary. She is a member of the Justice League, he cannot expect anything other than an unforgiving fight if he is caught. And he is already mute; he really cannot afford to lose his hearing as well.<BR><BR>

An order is an order, however, and Joey has no choice whether he follows it or not. He cannot afford to risk the lives of innocents by disobeying an order. If he plays this right he might not even have to engage the woman. He has absolutely no desire to clash with anyone, let alone the Justice League. Joey has the utmost respect for heroes. He wishes he could be one, but that is just not his lot in life. He is the son of Deathstroke and the man is determined that he be known as such.<BR><BR>

Joey slips into the dark apartment in the dead of night after picking the lock on her door. Thank goodness for regular maintenance, the door does not let out out a peep as he pushes it gently open and then gently closed to minimize the click of the mechanism. He raises his phone, visage glowing in the blue light as he checks the reading for the signal he is receiving. Joey moves as silently as he can as he searches about for the box, trying to leave things as they were as he goes about his mission.

</div><table cellpadding="0" style="position: relative; top: 15px; margin-left: 5px;"><tr><td width="25"></td>
<td><div class="box"><b>tag:</b>BLACK CANARY</div></td>
<td><div class="box"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=7263">▲▲▲</a></div></td>
<td><div class="box"><b>words:</b> ### WORDS</div></td>
<td width="25"></td></tr></table><br><br>

<div class="box" style="width: 390px; margin: 0px;"><b>note:</b> XXX</div></center>[/dohtml]

Kyte
Aug 29 2017, 04:03 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
<style type="text/css">
.head { width: 400px; height: 250px; top: 25px; position:relative; z-index:5; }
.box { display: inline-block; width: 119px; background: #b09790; padding: 10px 5px; margin: 2px 6px 0px 0px; text-align: center; font: 10px times; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #eee; }
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</style><center><div class="head" style="background:url(http://i.imgur.com/26zyesJ.jpg);"></div><br><br><br><div class="box" style="width: 390px; margin: 0px; font: italic 12px playfair display;">I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head</div><br><br><br><div class="text">

Joey sighs and mentally shushes the whisperings in his head, to no avail, as he trudges down the back alleys so as not to draw attention to himself. He has a cup of bad coffee in his hand meant to give him the edge he needs but it is old and stale and he has barely touched it. It has gone cold in the styrofoam cup, though Joey would argue it was barely tepid before. He would get rid of it except he has not found a proper trash receptacle and if he did there is no guarantee it would stay there; Joey does not want to be a part of the problem.<BR><BR>

He is tired of being just that, a part of the problem, and what did good ol’ mother earth ever do to any of them?<BR><BR>

He is simply done for the day and he still has to make his way back home. He does not even know if he is going to bother quelling the gnawing hunger in his stomach or if the allure of his bed would just be too much. No shower, no dinner, and if he makes it up the steps into his little loft bedroom and does not just settle for the couch he would count that as a win. Today had been terrible, culminating in a mission gone bad, and he does not want to have to deal with any more drama and definitely no more violence.<BR><BR>

Joey pulls his phone out to survey his missed messages, swiping the bar to unlock it and then tapping out the code with his thumb. His landlord reminds him about rent and he responds that he has it in cash, he has just honestly been forgetting to slide it under his door; he would remember to do it in the morning. One of his regular clients asking about the progress on the canvas he dropped off last week; Joey would text him back in the morning. And then there are several from Jay and Joey immediately smiles.<BR><BR>

Jay is usually still up at this hour. If he is not out running around Gotham in a brown leather jacket and red helmet then he is trying to unwind and de-stress after a night of vigilantism. So Joey moves to reply to him as well yet only gets out a few words when a commotion and the sound of fighting snatches his attention away from the message. His thumb moves to automatically lock the device and defies the weariness of his muscles to pick his pace up into a jog, boots slapping on damp pavement. <BR><BR>

He is just coming in sight of the fiasco. A quick judge of the situation tells him it is a robbery interrupted by one of Gotham’s vigilantes, although he does not recognize this one. Wait...no...is that not Jay's little bro? One of the men tries to flee and Joey rolls his eyes upward. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Too exhausted for finesse, Joey opts to simply clothesline the crook, the man hitting the ground in a puddle with a slosh. He looks like he is thinking about getting up again but thinks better of it when his gaze meets Joey’s. The man glowers and shakes his head.


</div><table cellpadding="0" style="position: relative; top: 15px; margin-left: 5px;"><tr><td width="25"></td>
<td><div class="box"><b>tag:</b>Red Robin</div></td>
<td><div class="box"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=7263">▲▲▲</a></div></td>
<td><div class="box"><b>words:</b> ### WORDS</div></td>
<td width="25"></td></tr></table><br><br>

<div class="box" style="width: 390px; margin: 0px;"><b>note:</b> XXX</div></center>[/dohtml]

Crescent
Aug 4 2017, 08:51 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
<style type="text/css">
.head { width: 400px; height: 250px; top: 25px; position:relative; z-index:5; }
.box { display: inline-block; width: 119px; background: #b09790; padding: 10px 5px; margin: 2px 6px 0px 0px; text-align: center; font: 10px times; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #eee; }
.box a { background: transparent; color: #eee; }
.text { width: 360px; color: #888888; font: 12px georgia; text-align: justify; padding: 20px; }

</style><center><div class="head" style="background:url(http://i.imgur.com/26zyesJ.jpg);"></div><br><br><br><div class="box" style="width: 390px; margin: 0px; font: italic 12px playfair display;">I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head</div><br><br><br><div class="text">
March 15th, 2017<BR><BR>

His apartment is heavy with silence when he receives a text, causing the chime and vibration on the surface of the coffee table to sound out like a bell tower. Joey opens his eyes, staring at the device from where he lays curled into a motionless ball on the couch as the face glows up towards the ceiling and then fades back out. It takes him several minutes before he can muster the strength to sit up, his favorite blanket pooling around his waist as he reaches for the device. <BR><BR>

The text is from Jason? He wants Joey to come hang out with him tonight. He sighs and his fingers move sluggishly over the letters on the screen. Honestly, he does not feel like doing much of anything but he is asking for the where and the when anyway. Because he would rather extend himself to exhaustion than disappoint a friend. And he is more inclined to put on a happy face than to reveal to anybody the truth. <BR><BR>

You see, Joey does not talk about the other personas living in his head - as a result of using his powers - or that they are opportunistic in pursuing a hostile takeover of his free will. He fears that people will become uncomfortable in his presence, with his instability and unpredictability. Likewise, he is reluctant for anyone to be made aware of the weighty toll it takes on his mental and emotional health, the drain of each switch and of the blackouts and the lack of control...<BR><BR>

Joey had woken up this morning to find the fight had gone clean out of him, hit with a depressive spell. Finding the cuts he had not made and the words he does not remember writing, he sank deeper into his melancholy. And into the couch cushions where he had slept for most of the day.<BR><BR>

Until now. Until Jay’s text.<BR><BR>

Jay cannot know. If he found out and started to avoid him… Joey knows it is selfish, that he can be dangerous and he is not acting as a good friend by withholding a warning from his friend, yet he is sure he could not bear to be shunned by Jason. As a general rule, he does not get too close to people outside of work, but he has been ignoring many of his own rules as of late.<BR><BR>

And so, despite the inner struggle he faces, he picks himself up off the couch . It takes him longer than usual to get around - it feels like a struggle to pull his shirt over his head - and on his way. Joey ends up arriving late, walking into the bar that Jason had chose and taking a look around to both get his bearings and search for his friend’s face.<BR><BR>

The place is nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary. It is much like any other bar you might walk into: dimly lit, a haze of smoke, the smell of booze, and a jukebox playing in the corner. Now Joey does not frequently visit bars. They stir up a host of memories that are not his own which tends to confuse him. And he chooses not to drink, aware that it incapacitates his will over the personalities and increases the threat of him switching. But this is where Jason wants to meet and nobody said he has to get drunk.<BR><BR>

He catches sight of Jason sitting at the bar and he strolls up, smiling at the waitress as she sashays by. He blinks when she winks at him, cheeks flushing lightly. Joey hurries along, reaching out to touch his hand to his friend’s shoulder and immediately drumming his index, middle, and ring fingers against him in that order. It has become a sign, since he often announces himself by touch he suggested a signature signal to indicate that it is Joey and not someone else. Jay can be jumpy, you know?<BR><BR>

His smiles in greeting when Jason turns to him, signing as he moves to claim the stool beside his companion. “Hello. How are you?” And although he is not magically ‘cured’ of the gloomy sadness hanging on him, Joey does feel uplifted to be with Jason. He moves to shrug out of his coat, hanging it over his knee.

</div><table cellpadding="0" style="position: relative; top: 15px; margin-left: 5px;"><tr><td width="25"></td>
<td><div class="box"><b>tag:</b>Red Hood</div></td>
<td><div class="box"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=7263">▲▲▲</a></div></td>
<td><div class="box"><b>words:</b> ### WORDS</div></td>
<td width="25"></td></tr></table><br><br>

<div class="box" style="width: 390px; margin: 0px;"><b>note:</b> XXX</div></center>[/dohtml]
May 10 2017, 10:29 AM
Wants for Jericho, AKA Joseph Wilson!

For starters...


Deathstroke - AKA Slade Wilson
Relationship: Father
Face Claim Suggestion - Stephan Lang
Notes: Slade and Joseph do not have the typical, run of the mill father/son relationship. Then again, Slade is /not/ the model father. But that sort of becomes apparent when you choose your reputation over your son's life (resulting in him getting his throat cut and losing his voice). On top of that, Slade is threatening Joey into working with H.I.V.E. (and for the Light). So, no, they have a pretty sucky relationship. But would be uber fun to have them interact on board!


Ravager - AKA Rose Wilson
Relationship: Half Sister
Face Claim Suggestion: Samantha Ravndahl
Notes: Their relationship is...complicated. Rose was sent to kill Joey as proof of her loyalty and determination (and because Joey was not cooperating). But she still hesitated, allowing Joey to get away. Joey loves his sister and in a way I think Rose cares about him too. But she is also being nurtured by Slade so...yeah, complicated. They are both on the same team, working with H.I.V.E.

Ravager - AKA Grant Wilson
Relationship: Brother
Face Claim Suggestion: Cam Gigandet
Notes: Clearly there will need to be some tweaking here. Grant is technically dead by the time Rose becomes Ravager (thus why she can go by Ravager) but like most things comics we can work around it. He is the older brother of both Joey and Rose but has the same mother as Joey. They grew up together. Would love to have the whole family on board, including Grant (cause AU, baby!)
Apr 23 2017, 11:25 PM
February 10th, 2017

It is all completely...everything is totally...ugh! Messed the hell up! The guilt has been eating at him, devouring him in nibbles and chunks and Joey has been unable to think of all the trouble he had caused in Gotham. It was never his intention to make waves; he had hoped that since he had to be there that he could get in and get out without running into anyone. But fate is a cruel mistress and she loves screwing with people.

And he had went and made someone’s night hell. Joey wishes that the Red Hood would have gotten to the would-be informant first, at least; that the information could have been spilled and some good could have come of it. But, no...he had to get in between the heroes and justice once again. It had to be a huge disappointment and enormous source of frustration for the helmeted vigilante.

Joey feels like he should do something, anything, to make it up to the other. But everything seems to fall short of being the equivalent of the damage he had done. And he figures that any nicety that he attempts will be perceived as something sinister or some hidden agenda will be assigned him. Honestly, Joey cannot fathom how anyone would forgive him for such a clash as Jericho and Red Hood had. But his conscience will not allow him to leave this go without trying.

He finally settled on a simple gesture. The simplest motions of goodwill are often seen as the most sincere, he thinks. He bought homemade donuts from one of his favorite bakeries, a variety because he has absolutely no clue what the giftees’ preferred donut flavors might be. Joey does not want to strike out by not having a type of donut that the guy does not like.

The hardest part was actually finding the Red Hood. He is not an easy man to track down and Joey did not want to tip off any of his ‘allies’ by using his usual channels. They might notice and he does not want to bring him any more hardship by drawing undue attention. Still, Joey is resourceful on his own and he manages to track the Hood down.

He finds Red Hood down by the docks, watching him dispatch some thugs. Joey’s lips twitch into a smile that quickly fails him, drowned by the nervous anxiety that has his pulse raising and his palms sweaty. This situation has the very real potential of heading south in a very violent way; not that he cannot handle himself but Joey does not want it to go in that direction. Things rarely go smoothly and he is preparing for the worst. He just needs to work on his approach.

The vigilante, clearly, can handle himself, but when Joey sees an opportunity to lend a hand he does so. It seems like the friendly thing to do. Maybe it would help them start off on the right foot? Eh...Joey is not sure he has any feet left to stand on at this point but it cannot hurt, can it?

He hops in from where he had been observing from the top of a big metal crate, taking out one of the last of the goons. He gets the reaction he was expecting and when Red Hood spins around to face him he manages to block one punch while the other he takes to the cheekbone (lessening the block by quick angling). HIs other hand is occupied with keeping a hold of the donut box, you see. Still, it does not stop him from staggering to the side.

Joey tries to hold his hand up as quickly as possible in a sign of peace and at the first opportunity he holds the offering out as far towards Red Hood as he can. He swallows and gives it a little shake in the the vigilante’s direction. Written across the top in neat handwriting are the words ‘I’m sorry’. Joey sadly averts his eyes and waits for the anticipated and already long-accepted attitude.

Crescent
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