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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Captain Fray: The Trash Superman

Look up in the sky! Is it a bird? A plane? No, it’s... an ugly, homeless bald man cackling evily while raining trash on the city with an army of sludge monsters, shortly before getting beaten up by a group of meddling kids. It’s just dumb old Captain Fray again getting foiled by Monica’s Gang, nevermind him. He does that every Tuesday.

Monica’s Gang are arguably the most iconic of all Brazilian comic book characters, having maintained popularity for 60 years and with unmatched worldwide recognition. They’ve had cartoons, a cinematic universe of films both cartoon and live-action, plays, a long-running manga spin-off that turned them into teenagers, crossovers everywhere ranging from The Big Two’s superheroes to Osamu Tezuka’s properties (as Monica’s creator Mauricio and Tezuka were acquaintances), at least one theme park, and much, much more. Even past Brazil’s borders, where they are a cultural institution on a scale matched only by Disney, these are some of the world’s most popular characters, starring in just about any kind of adventure imaginable and then some.

However, if you go into the world of Monica’s Gang, and look for a flying man with a chest logo, a cape and impossible superpowers, you’ll instead find their greatest arch-enemy: Captain Fray (actual name Capitão Feio, which translates to Captain Ugly), real name Feioso Araújo. Who will be happy to remind you time and time again of what a rotten, no-good scoundrel he is, even if he has to pick a fight with the Big Blue himself to prove it.

So let’s talk about perhaps the most iconic “caped superhero” of Brazilian comic books, even if he’s ultimately a long, long shot from being one.

Despite the long, worldwide spanning history of the superhero, the idea of the superhero as a cape-wearing uniformed superpowered do-gooder has remained a largely American concept, as different regions have their own unique icons. The titular 4 members of Monica’s Gang have on many occasions taken the role of superheroes, and they’ve built up a massive Rogues Gallery over decades, despite not looking like the usual idea of a superhero. Monica, Jimmy Five, Smudge and Maggy, for the most part, look and act like kids, with odd quirks.

To briefly describe the 4: Monica is the pudgy, bucktoothed ruler of the group as well as the neighborhood, being super strong and more than willing to hit people who mock her with her stuffed rabbit “Samson”. Jimmy Five has a speech impediment, and he constantly schemes to take Monica’s role as leader, best described at times as a junior Lex Luthor to Monica’s Superman. Maggy is Monica’s friend with an uncontrollable appetite, and the witty and perpetually dirty Smudge is Jimmy Five’s friend and accomplice in schemes. Smudge is defined by his complete and total refusal to take a bath or even come into contact with water under any circumstances, and some stories play up Smudge’s dirtyness to the point of superpower.

It’s Smudge in particular who’s gonna be relevant to this post, because the first time Captain Fray was introduced, he was introduced as Smudge’s good-natured and humorous uncle, a comic book addict surrounded by piles of dusty comics, particularly those of Smudge’s favorite superhero, Captain Pitoco, a sort of Superman/Buzz Lightyear analogue. Eventually, Smudge’s uncle is surrounded by dust, and out of it, he transforms “back” into a former alter-ego, Captain Fray, a megalomaniac supervillain horrified at just how clean the world is, and who decides to sully it as much as possible, flying around the city spreading dirt rays and even transforming the population into pollution-fanatics. Eventually he’s defeated and transformed back into normal, only thinking he had a weird dream.

Upon subsequent appearences, Fray would acquire things like sludge minions, underground lairs and ever increasing powers (like in the above sequence where he somehow destroys a rainbow and darkens the sky with a single gesture), although he would eventually gain a Kryptonite-esque weakness to water. Captain Fray would go on to become the most reocurring villain of Monica’s Gang for the next 40 years, as the former concept of him being Smudge’s uncle was dropped and he became instead the ruler of an underground race of sludge monsters created by him, who’d occasionally come on to the surface in order to engage in supervillain plots to take over the world and spread dirt and pollution everywhere, sometimes in stories with an environmental angle, and often when the story calls for superhero antics.

Fray’s got a very standard Grinch/Captain Hook cartoon villain personality, all cackles and snarls and shaking fists at the meddling kids who ruin his plans everytime, proud of being evil and rotten, but never too rotten to the point he betrays the kid-friendly nature of the stories he’s in, nor too rotten that he can’t do something nice for a change like allow his monsters to celebrate Christmas even if it ruins his bad guy image, or begrudingly do a nice thing for Smudge.

Although for the most part, the “mainline” comics have dropped the angle of Fray being Smudge’s uncle, the two having a particular dynamic has stayed consistent still. Sometimes, Smudge is portrayed as the only member of the Gang who’s got little to no problem with Fray, even welcoming the change of scenery he brings, although he will stick with his friends, as often he’s the only one who’s got no problem being hit by Fray’s dirt rays. While sometimes Fray singles out destroying Smudge so his claim as the dirtiest being in the universe can never be challenged, he is more often depicted as having a soft spot for Smudge, sometimes considering him a pupil or potential successor to inherit his powers, and plenty of times, Smudge has done just that, although inevitably it never sticks, partially because Fray gets jealous or misses his former life, and partially because Smudge gets bored of supervillainy and just wants to go play with his friends again.

The dynamic between Smudge and Fray has led to a lot of adventures between the two, and it’s something that’s been played up in the aforementioned manga spin-off, Monica Adventures. In it, the cast’s all been aged up to teenagers, and the adventures they get into respectively have taken much more of a shonen manga edge, much darker and weirder than anything the original kid comics could get away with, although not necessarily to it’s benefit, because I could not begin to describe just how much grimdark nonsense is in those, let’s just call it the Monica’s Gang equivalent of Jorge Joestar in terms of lunacy and leave it at that (although, to be clear, even the original “mainline” comics could get very, very weird themselves). Captain Fray has been a mainstay of said manga from the start, going through a series of redesigns, including one where he turns into a bootleg Sephiroth, and one where he tries rebranding himself into a suit-wearing gangster named “Black Dust”, which nobody really takes seriously.

It’s also granted Fray a backstory: As a kid, when he’d gone to the basement to read comics, his house was buried in a landslide. Afraid of death, he was met with a milipede claiming to serve “The Serpent” (the in-universe stand in for the devil, maybe, just bear with me here), claiming it would protec him so long as it returned the favor someday. He was afterwards transferred to an orphanage, teased by kids over his lack of hygiene and liking for superheroes and nicknamed “Captain Ugly” (again, his name, Fray is just the English translation), with rumors that his touch granted disease. After the orphanage closes, he’s adopted by a nurse and gains a step-brother in Smudge’s dad.

Years down the line, and Feioso’s managed to acquire a house and make a decent living. He spends a lot of time with his nephew Smudge, teaching him how to build toys out of garbage (a habit of Smudge in the strips) and fly kites and so on. Until one day, in an update of his original story, he’s cleaning his house packed with dusty comics, and a shelf falls atop of him. The millipede from his childhood appears to recollect the debt:

"Your mission is to pollude the Earth...rot it's soil...change it's atmosphere...darken the skies with smoke...so that the sun's rays may never again hit the surface of this planet!

"No! No, please! I-I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"You think you can refuse? You think you have a choice? Do you think you can escape your destiny? Evil does not tolerate weak servants. If you don't fill your end of the bargain, if you don't pay your debt...it will be transferred to the person you love most."

"Smudge? NO!! H-How do you know about my nephew?"

"We know of all that happens. Our eyes...are everywhere."

"Smudge has nothing to do with this. Leave him alone, please...I-I'll do anything you guys want!"

"So be it...Filthy powers will corrode your soul...This is the day of your rebirth! How would you like to be rebaptized?

"The nickname I was given at the orphanage...it's perfect! Captain Ugly strikes again!"

How “canon” the events of Monica Adventures are is a question best left unspoken, since it ultimately doesn’t change anything about the original strips. But regardless of what made Fray who he is, he would spend the following decades in many, many attempts to complete his mission and defeat Monica’s Gang, to be foiled and stopped time and time again by his nephew and his friends, little more than a dumb, cartoon villain there to be smacked again and again, too dumb to quit and too mean to stop. So he was, and so he will always be.

But something interesting’s happened recently with him. As part of the Graphic MSP initiative that’s allowed creators to reinvent the many, many characters of Monica’s Gang for stand-alone graphic novels, Captain Fray’s received one in the form of Capitão Feio: Identidade, which isn’t so much an origin story as it tells the story of a homeless man with no knowledge of his past or where he acquired the superpowers that force him to be on the constant run from society, and it tells the story of how said man eventually became the infamous supervillain, despite his many attempts to be a superhero.

The comic and it’s sequel, Tormenta, acted more of a proof of concept to test whether or not a serious reimagining of Captain Fray can work, and considering their reception and the newfound love that the Captain seems to have attained in recent years, I’d say they succedeed pretty damn well. He’s ostracized for his appearence, poverty, smell and bad manners, and there’s hardly anything he can do about it because his powers make him a toxic abomination by default. He spends portions of the book trying to create living beings with his powers, and once he succeeds in creating a Godzilla-esque monster to protect him from the authorities, he ends up having to put the monster down, before getting fed up with constant rejection and promptly announcing that, if he’s just gonna be known as an ugly monster by the people, even after he saves them, he’s gonna make it a point to be Captain Ugly Monster, the most rotten supervillain they’ve ever seen.

The comic constantly grants upon Frey iconography of several of the biggest icons of comic books, from Batman and Superman to AKIRA, playing up not just Frey’s association with comic books but also the fact that he's been mired in that aesthetic from day one. He wanted to be a hero, he wanted to be like Captain Pitoco, and regardless of continuity, all that he ends up as is becoming a gross caricature of a superhero. And still, Frey owns it. He owns his grossness, his rage, his bitterness at everything that he understands to be the opposite of himself, everything clean and good and decent, and he tries time and time again to tear it down, even if he ultimately can never get far enough to accomplish his goals, or lose all of his humanity in the process.

I’ve remarked once that, to many in some regions of South America, the “traditional” superhero does not hold much appeal, and most of the more popular protagonists and icons tend to be outlaws far away from caped antics. Which is why it’s particularly interesting that, not only is the most famous caped superman of Brazilian comic books a villain, but also that, perhaps unintentionally, Fray has undergone the kind of development that most reocurring cartoon villains never get, and one that seems almost poised to last. In a current zeitgest of villain protagonists, it’s successes and failures, I could very easily see Captain Fray becoming the star of a popular film or series, one that takes a look not just at his personality and role, but also at Brazilian culture’s relationship with superheroes and supervillains. Maybe Fray as an anti-hero, trying to make the best of the horrendous powers he’s burdened with, could work.

So long as it’s not revealed that he likes dirt because his mom got pushed off a cliff by cleaning products, I could see it working very well.

#character profiles #comic books #captain fray #capitão feio #turma da monica #mauricio de souza #brazilian superheroes #brazilian supervillains #superman #monica's gang

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livelivefastfree · 3 years

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have you been working on any new fics?? (your stories are wonderful, ive drowned myself in polyburners thanks to you 😔 its a good place to be)

Not really anything new, although I’ve been picking away at some older ones that I never finished! Namely the plot-heavy sequel to my telepathic soul-bond superhero AU, the intimidatingly complicated sequel to Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon, and my Burnerswap AU where the villains are all our new Burners and the Burners are villains.

Unfortunately since I’m a nurse work has been kind of stressful recently and also my brain only likes to focus on one thing at a time which is currently original novel things. So process is pretty slow, haha. But I’m glad I could bring more people into the polyburners fold!

I do feel bad that I haven’t had the energy to post much for a while; revamping my burnerswap doc is the most recent thing I’ve gotten work done on, so here’s a little bit of scene-setting!

Deluxe is a mass of spires and platforms, shimmering in the sunshine outside Red’s window. Red stares up at the ceiling, at the pale golden glow of sunlight on the pale polymer. He can hear the sound of someone loudly imitating an electric guitar, and faint thumps and thuds through the wall; Duke is taking his traditional lengthy shower and using up all their precious hot water. From the smells drifting up from downstairs, Jacob is already up and in the kitchen experimenting. Kaia is probably upstairs on the roof, tending to her plants, and Abraham had to go back down to the undercity last night. His absence is a hole; no sound of him talking to Jacob in the kitchen, working out irritatingly on Red’s balcony, yelling at Duke for using up the water. There’s always something slightly off, a little bit wrong, when part of their team is missing.

Red sits up, buckles his patch on over the remnant of his left eye, and pushes himself up out of bed to see what’s for breakfast.

Jacob is stirring something in a pan when he Red arrives. There’s a heaping basket of miscellaneous vegetables on the counter next to him, so probably Red’s in for some kind of veggie abomination this morning—but it’s a veggie abomination Red doesn’t have to make and then burn, and he doesn’t really have a sense of taste anymore, anyway. Red drops into a chair, and Jacob piles up a plate of fried vegetables and sets it wordlessly down in front of him.

It’s quiet for a while. Red eats as much as he can manage, and Jacob knows him well enough not to frown when Red has to push the plate away half-eaten.

“Quiet night?” he says, eventually.

“All quiet in the pit,” Red says, and goes to the cooler to fish out a nutrient shake instead. “No calls from Abraham. No alerts, no bots, no Dragon.”

“Mm.” Jacob shakes his head, making an unconvinced grumbling noise. “They’ll come. They always do.”

Red can’t argue that. He stayed on the edge of the platform until the small hours of the morning, looking down into the dark city far below, watching every gleam of light and flicker of movement, waiting for the first flash of red glass eyes or matte metal claws.

The others drift downstairs eventually, one at a time; Duke grimaces at the vegetable mess, but Kaia piles in with every sign of enjoyment. Red sits back and listens to Jacob and Duke bicker, Kaia’s laughing jabs at both of them indiscriminately, and lets the sunlight soften some of the harsh, nauseated fatigue.

He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to drift off, but when his comms light up red with an urgent chime, it startles him badly enough he almost drops his drink.

“Come in,” Abraham’s voice says, flat and low. “Red.”

“Copy,” says Red, and pushes himself up, already moving. The rest of his team reorders around him, Jacob heading for the garage, Duke and Kaia immediately running for their rooms, their weapons. Red picks up his gloves, feeling the circuitry inside thrum hotly against his palms. “Incoming?”

“How did you guess,” says Abraham dryly. “Three Climbers. Two on North Side, one coming up from the East. And she’s sending up the Dragon.”

Red falters in mid-step, then growls and heads down the staircase to the garage, taking the steps two at a time. “Can you make it up?”

“I can try,” Abraham says, but Red knows that tone to his voice, rough and grim. “I think she’s targeting the medical complex on platform 18. Don’t get distracted.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red says, and Abraham gives a brief bark of a laugh and then cuts the call.

Deluxe looks beautiful in the sunlight, if beauty is something to pay attention to; Red has seen it a thousand times, growing up from the old undercity of Detroit like an indescribably huge tree made of silver and marble. The platforms that make up the city itself look almost fragile from a distance, hovertech and superlight polymers, gleaming with solar panels and greenery. The massive support structure that holds the city up grows dirtier and more patchwork as it descends into the bristling thicket of ancient, blocky concrete buildings.

Whole civilizations have made their homes on the platforms along that winding trunk. Around its base, built onto the rooftops of old skyscrapers, Red can see the distant gleam of the Casino King’s sprawling compound, gaudy with red and gold floodlights. There are urban legends about an entire lost city, one that made its living in among the building-sized struts and cables themselves, before some unspecified calamity cut all communication with them short.

Some of the midway settlements are against Kane, some of them are only indifferent, but Red can only assume that trying to bargain her way through was too much trouble. Kane took matters into her own hands, and had her R&D invent the Climbers.

Red has eyes on one of them now; a long, low shape, slinking across the platform. Six-legged, with four glowing eyes each, moving with an unnerving, artificial grace—the mechanical nightmare-offspring of a wolf and some kind of insect. The tips of their claws hum faintly, lit up—plasma-cutter edges, sharp enough to sink into the polymer like hot knives through butter. Red is a platform above them, out of their field of vision, but he’s seen the way the things scale vertical surfaces, faster than anything that size should be able to move.

As Red watches, one of them opens its mouth, showing hundreds of needle-sharp fangs lit hellish red from the inside, and lets out an awful, scraping snarl.

“I’ve got eyes on one,” Red says, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, we see ‘em over here too,” Duke says, tight and sharp with bravado. “Easy. Let’s get it done!”

“I’ve got your back,” Kaia says. “Let’s show these things what—”

“Hey, Red,” says a voice, and something taps Red on the shoulder. “Tag.”

The moment of shock is enough to freeze Red in place for a single fraction of a second, and that’s a hesitation he can’t afford. A blunt edge slams into his ribs, knocks him over off his feet; he rolls, comes up on his feet again and sends out a blind shockwave of energy—throws himself to one side as a staff sweeps past where his ankles were, and this time when he lashes out he feels the impact strike true.

The Dragon of Detroit takes the hit and lets it bowl him backwards, turns the motion into a back-handspring and comes to a skidding halt, shaking overgrown brown bangs out of his dark eyes. He’s laughing, smiling as wide and wild as he always does; the deep scar that stretches crookedly from his cheekbone to his chin twists his smile into something just slightly crooked and bitter, but his laugh sounds irritatingly, insultingly genuine.

“Chilton,” Red snarls, and the man spins his staff behind his back and sweeps a bow, grinning.

“I’m guessing you’re not interested in doing this the easy way, kid,” he says, and Red clenches his fists, lightning crawling up his arms. “Yeah, I didn’t figure. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“The fuck I can’t,” Red snaps, and Chilton huffs out a breath and shakes his head, ever-present smile never fading. “If you really cared about not hurting anybody you wouldn’t be working for that—”

It’s the flicker of Chilton’s eyes that gives it away, and the faintest sound of scraping metal; Red dives to one side on instinct, just in time to avoid the snap of jagged metal jaws and six sets of wickedly-clawed feet. He comes up swinging, lands a few solid hits; the Climber shrieks as one of its legs spasms and cracks, red lightning and dented metal grinding in one of its back legs.

“Backup!” Red snaps into his comm, and then there’s only the fight.

He’s being distracted, he knows it even while it’s happening, but he can’t break his focus away long enough to care. Chilton is gone, he has to be raiding that medical compound, and Red is stuck here, fighting some stupid robot—

“Heads up!” yells a voice, and Red glances up and then back-pedals abruptly as a huge, blocky shape comes rocketing off the next platform up and drops like a comet onto the Climber’s head. The back half of the bot gives a meaty crunch as Jacob’s construction rig lifts back off of it, leaking nasty, thick, black fluid as it tries to drag itself forward on its two remaining legs; Red steps forward, grimacing in distaste, tears a dented plate away and buries his hand in the things neck to deliver one final, merciless jolt. The Climber whirrs, gives a gurgling growl, and finally goes still.

“Jumpin’ Josephat,” says Jacob, from inside the clunky, ugly cube he calls a hovercar. “You still in one piece down there?”

“Where’s Chilton?!” Red says, and then jerks and looks up at the sound of a laugh, echoing off the white walls and walkways around them.

The Dragon is standing at the very edge of the platform, silhouetted against the sky; he makes eye contact with Red, brief and grinning, one hand on the side of a stolen transport pod. Then he throws off a brief, mocking salute, and launches himself backwards off the edge of the platform into thin air, vanishing over the edge.

“Criminy,” says Jacob weakly, because Jacob is an 80-year-old man in a 20-year-old body.

“Fuck,” Red hisses, and slams a fist down on the ground, leaving lightning-jagged scorch marks across the white polymer. Takes a few breaths and repeats, “…fuck,” soft and hoarse, poisonous in his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Jacob, and his boots thump softly as he slides down, his hand settles carefully on Red’s shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

#AltU: Burnerswap #the work on the SAHRAD sequel is mostly planning because the content itself needed a structure before I could actually start #I'm ngl there's enough work involved in finishing that one that I don't know how/if I'm going to be able to get it done #but I'd like to #the superhero one is actually like #WAY closer to being finished than either of them #but the remaining stuff is stuff that I'm having trouble cleaning up and closing so I'm stalled out SIGH #oh man tho when I finish it up...THE DRAMA......#Anonymous

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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Superman’s 10 Best of the ‘10s

Good Miracle Monday, folks! The first third Monday of May of a new decade for that matter, and while that means that today in the DC Universe Superman just revealed his secret identity to the world on the latest anniversary of that time he defeated the devil, in ours it puts a capstone on a solid 10 years of his adventures now in the rear view mirror, ripe for reevaluation. And given there’s a nice solid ‘10′ right there I’ll go ahead with the obvious and list my own top ten for Superman comics of the past decade, with links in the titles to those I’ve spoken on in depth before - maybe you’ll find something you overlooked, or at least be reminded of good times.

A plethora of honorable mentions: I’m disqualifying team-ups or analogue character stories, but no list of the great Superman material of the last decade would be complete without bringing up Cave Carson Has A Cybernetic Eye #7, Avengers 34.1, Irredeemable, Sideways Annual #1, Supreme: Blue Rose, Justice League: Sixth Dimension, usage of him in Wonder Twins, (somewhat in spite of itself) Superior, from all I’ve heard New Super-Man, DCeased #5, and Batman: Super Friends. And while they couldn’t quite squeeze in, all due praise to the largely entertaining Superman: Unchained, the decades’ great Luthor epic in Superman: The Black Ring, a brilliant accompaniment to Scott Snyder’s work with Lex in Lex Luthor: Year of the Villain, the bonkers joy of the Superman/Luthor feature in Walmart’s Crisis On Infinite Earths tie-in comics, Geoff Johns and John Romita’s last-minute win in their Superman run with their final story 24 Hours, Tom Taylor’s quiet criticism of the very premise he was working with on Injustice and bitter reflection on the changing tides for the character in The Man of Yesterday, the decades’ most consistent Superman ongoing in Bryan Miller and company’s Smallville Season 11, and Superman: American Alien, which probably would have made the top ten but has been dropped like a hot potato by one and all for Reasons. In addition are several stories from Adventures of Superman, a book with enough winners to merit a class of its own: Rob Williams and Chris Weston’s thoughtful Savior, Kyle Killen and Pia Guerra’s haunting The Way These Things Begin, Marc Guggenheim and Joe Bennett’s heart-wrenching Tears For Krypton, Christos Gage and Eduardo Francisco’s melancholy Flowers For Bizarro, Josh Elder and Victor Ibanez’s deeply sappy but deeply effective Dear Superman, Ron Marz and Doc Shaner’s crowdpleasing Only Child, and Kelly Sue DeConnick and Valentine DeLandro’s super-sweet Mystery Box.

10. Greg Pak/Aaron Kuder’s Action Comics

Oh, what might’ve been. In spite of an all-timer creative team I can’t justify listing this run any higher given how profoundly and comprehensively compromised it is, from the status quo it was working with to the litany of ill-conceived crossovers to regular filler artists to its ignominious non-ending. But with the most visceral, dynamic, and truly humane take on Clark Kent perhaps of all time that still lives up to all Superman entails, and an indisputably iconic instant-classic moment to its name, I can’t justify excluding it either.

9. Action Comics #1000

Arguably the climax to the decade for the character as his original title became the first superhero comic to reach a 1000th issue. While any anthology of this sort is a crapshoot by nature, everyone involved here seemed to understand the enormity of the occasion and stepped up as best they could; while the lack of a Lois Lane story is indefensible, some are inevitably bland, and one or two are more than a bit bizarre, by and large this was a thoroughly charming tribute to the character and his history with a handful of legitimate all-timer short stories.

8. Faster Than A Bullet

Much as Adventures of Superman was rightfully considered an oasis amidst the New 52′s worst excesses post-Morrison and in part pre-Pak, few stories from it seem well-remembered now, and even at the time this third issue inexplicably seemed to draw little attention. Regardless, Matt Kindt and Stephen Segovia’s depiction of an hour in the life of Superman as he saves four planets first thing in the morning without anyone noticing - while clumsy in its efforts at paralleling the main events with a literal subplot of a conversation between Lois and Lex - is one of the best takes I can recall on the scope on which he operates, and ultimately the purpose of Clark Kent.

7. Man and Superman

Seemingly geared on every front against me, built as it was on several ideas of how to handle Superman’s origin I legitimately hate, and by a writer whose work over the years has rarely been to my liking, Marv Wolfman and Claudio Castellini’s Man and Superman somehow came out of nowhere to be one of my favorite takes on Clark Kent’s early days. With a Metropolis and characters within it that feel not only alive but lived-in, it’s shocking that a story written and drawn over ten years before it was actually published prefigured so many future approaches to its subject, and felt so of-the-moment in its depiction of a 20-something scrambling to figure out how to squeeze into his niche in the world when it actually reached stores.

6. Brian Bendis’s run

Controversial in the extreme, and indeed heir to several of Brian Bendis’s longstanding weaknesses as a writer, his work on The Man of Steel, Superman, and Action Comics has nevertheless been defined at least as much by its ambition and intuitive grasp of its lead, as well as fistfuls of some of the best artistic accompaniment in the industry. At turns bombastic space action, disaster flick, spy-fi, oddball crime serial, and family drama, its assorted diversions and legitimate attempts at shaking up the formula - or driving it into new territory altogether, as in the latest, apparently more longterm-minded unmasking of Clark Kent in Truth - have remained anchored and made palatable by an understanding of Superman’s voice, insecurities, and convictions that go virtually unmatched.

5. Strange Visitor

The boldest, most out-of-left-field Superman comic of the past 10 years, Joe Keatinge took the logline of Adventures of Superman to do whatever creators wanted with the character and, rather than getting back to a classic take absent from the mainline titles at the time as most others did, used the opportunity for a wildly expansive exploration of the hero from his second year in action to his far-distant final adventure. Alongside a murderer’s row of artists, Keatinge pulled off one of the few comics purely about how great Superman is that rather than falling prey to hollow self-indulgence actually managed to capture the wonder of its subject.

4. Superman: Up In The Sky

And here’s the other big “Superman’s just the best” comic the decade had to offer that actually pulled it off. Sadly if reasonably best-known for its one true misfire of a chapter, with the increasing antipathy towards Tom King among fans in general likely not helping, what ended up overlooked is that this is a stone-cold classic on moment of arrival. Andy Kubert turns in work that stands alongside the best of his career, Tom King’s style is honed to its cleanest edge by the 12-pager format and subject matter, and the quest they set their lead out on ends up a perfect vehicle to explore Superman’s drive to save others from a multitude of angles. I don’t know what its reputation will end up being in the long-term - I was struck how prosaic and subdued the back cover description was when I got this in hardcover, without any of the fanfare or critic quotes you’d expect from the writer of Mister Miracle and Vision tackling Superman - but while its one big problem prevents me from ranking it higher, this is going to remain an all-timer for me.

3. Jeff Loveness’s stories Help and Glasses

Cheating shamelessly here, but Jeff Loveness’s Help with David Williams and Glasses with Tom Grummett are absolutely two halves of the same coin, a pair of theses on Superman’s enduring relevance as a figure of hope and the core of Lois and Clark’s relationship that end up covering both sides of Superman the icon and Superman the guy. While basically illustrated essays, any sense of detached lecturing is utterly forbidden by the raw emotion on display here that instantly made them some of the most acclaimed Superman stories of the last several years; they’re basically guaranteed to remain in ‘best-of’ collections from now until the end of time.

2. Superman Smashes The Klan

A bitter race for the top spot, but #2 is no shame here; while not quite my favorite Superman story of the past ten years, it’s probably the most perfectly executed. While I don’t think anyone could have quite expected just *how* relevant this would be at the top of the decade, Gene Yang and Gurihiru put together an adventure in the best tradition of the Fleischer shorts and the occasional bystander-centered episodes of Batman: The Animated Series to explore racism’s both overt and subtle infections of society’s norms and institutions, the immigrant experience, and both of its leads’ senses of alienation and justice. Exciting, stirring, and insightful, it’s debuted to largely universal acknowledgement as being the best Superman story in years, and hopefully it’ll be continued to be marketed as such long-term.

1. Grant Morrison’s Action Comics

When it came time to make the hard choice, it came in no small part down to that I don’t think we would have ever seen a major Golden Age Superman revival project like Smashes The Klan in the first place if not for this. Even hampering by that godawful Jim Lee armor, inconsistent (if still generally very good) art, and a fandom that largely misunderstood it on arrival can’t detract from that this is Grant Morrison’s run on a Superman ongoing, a journey through Superman’s development as a character reframed as a coherent arc that takes him from Metropolis’s most beaten-down neighborhoods to the edge of the fifth dimension and the monstrous outermost limits of ‘Superman’ as a concept. It launched discussions of Superman as a corporate icon and his place relative to authority structures that have never entirely vanished, introduced multiple all-time great new villains, and made ‘t-shirt Superman’ a distinct era and mode of operation for the character that I’m skeptical will ever entirely go away. No other work on the character this decade had the bombast, scope, complexity, or ambition of this run, with few able to match its charm or heart. And once again, it was, cannot stress this enough, Grant Morrison on an ongoing Superman book.

#Superman #Miracle Monday #Opinion

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ba-responds · 4 years

Text

Catharsis (Villain!Deku x Fem!Reader) Chapter Three

A/n: Two chapters in one day! I’m on a roll. As you probably already noticed, this story doesn’t exactly follow the anime/manga! In this, the sludge attack takes place during their first year of junior high (7th grade)!

This story will contain dark themes! Please read the warning!

Summary: An unexpected death of a loved one can lead to a sudden influx of emotions. Those same emotions can become repressed, as denial and disbelief comes into play. In this time, one would seek a means of catharsis, a release from those strong, repressed emotions. But what would you do if that means of catharsis, the same release you sought so hard for, becomes addicting? To the extent, that you feel you can not live without it? What if it can’t live without you? **WARNING: This story MAY contain; bullying, suicide, depression, torture, manipulation, mentions of sexual assault, and MORE! You have been warned.

Masterlist

Prologue II Chpt 1 II Chpt 2 II Chpt 3 II

Chapter Three: Football Sleds and Acceptance Letters

*1 and ½ Years Later; Third Year of Junior High*

Taking a deep, soothing breath, you rolled your shoulder back, closing your eyes as you prepared. Shaking out your hands, you jumped in place for a moment, before suddenly charging headfirst at the football sled in front of you, grunting as you shoved it back across the turf of the open sport’s field. The football sled, which weighed 250lbs (pounds) itself, had an additional 50lb weight on it. The ragged thing squeaked as you continued shoving it backwards while sprinting, for a solid 20 yards; before you quickly spun around, sprinting back to your starting place, the harness strapped around your torso pulling the heavy sled along with you.

Panting, you raised your arms above your head, taking in deep breaths. Bending down, you snatched the water bottle from the ground besides you, taking a few deep drinks. When noticing that your bottle was almost empty, and the sun was starting to rise off in the horizon, you decided that your morning workout would be done for the moment; knowing that this high school’s sports team would be arriving any moment, and according to the deal you made with the school’s principal, your workouts couldn’t interfere with the teams’ practices.

Pulling the sled to the corner of the field, you then released the harness around your torso, sighing in relief at the release of pressure. With your water bottle in hand, headphones in, and phone in the pocket of your workout shorts that covered leggings, you began your jog to the closest corner store.

Stepping inside the small store, you made sure to take out an earbud, and turn down your music. Smiling politely at the cashier, you headed off the far side of the store, glancing at the sports drinks, trying to decide what flavor to get while nodding your head to the beat of your music that played softly.

After buying your drink, you stepped out of the store, pulling out your phone to glance at the time. You still had an hour before school would begin, so you had to hurry home for a quick shower, and to change into your school uniform.

School was nearly the same as it had been for the last two years. You would sit in the back, and generally ignore the world, focusing solely on your schoolwork, until lunch would come around. Then, you would sit outside, near the side of the building, and slowly eat whatever lunch you decided to make yourself.

Today’s lunch was packed with protein, fruits, and veggies, which you have been eating intermittently throughout the day. Your lunch box was still about 25% of the way full when the bell rang, telling you to go back to class. Gathering your stuff, you wandered back to class, sitting in your seat with a bored expression on your face.

Your fellow classmates hung around in groups, all talking and laughing with each other as you stared blankly out the window. When you thought about it, it still hurt; this lonely feeling that had made its home in your chest for far too long.

It wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. A year ago, you began working out, finding that the pain and burning from extensive training had worked wonders for taking your mind off the deep-settled pain in your chest. It still worked, but the intensity of your workouts had to increase over time; and as a result, you were in the best shape that you ever had been, even if you hadn't gained or lost much weight. Your muscles were more prominent, letting people who saw it know that you worked hard.

But that didn’t really matter. A nicer body was never your goal. You would give it up in an instant, if the pain in your chest would finally go away; if the ache would just disappear. The pain seemed to drain away any happy emotions you used to feel, leaving you to feel like a cold, hard shell of what you used to be.

“Alright class, settle down,” The class president announced, and not even two seconds later the teacher entered the room. You sat up straighter in your chair, leaning forward slightly, ready to give him your full attention.

Distractions. That’s what you focused on. Any distractions from the torment.

“Finally, with today’s class coming to an end, I’m supposed to pass out some career aptitude test, but why does it matter?! You’re all going to the hero course right?!” The teacher called out, the class making a ruckus with a display of quirks everywhere. You sat quietly, staring out of the window once again, watching as birds hopped along the electrical wiring outside. Bakugo suddenly spoke out, and you had to try hard to not put in your earphones, just the sound of his voice still causing resentment to course your body.

“Ah, you’re planning on going to U.A. right? Someone else also has that plan, from this class, but I can’t remember who...oh, wait. Now I do,” Your teacher said awkwardly, before glancing over to your quiet form. Over the years, after everything had happened, your teacher had become accustomed to monitoring his words, trying to avoid any...conflict within the class.

“Who the hell else is trying to get into U.A.?! None of you extras are nearly good enough to even step foot into U.A., let alone take the entrance exam!” Bakugo bellowed out, nose flaring as he glared around the class. Most people cowered away, shaking their heads. You stayed the same as you were, eyes still facing the window, gaze following the birds.

“Is it you, Shithead?!” Bakugo yelled, stomping over to your desk. Your muscles tensed, as your fist clenched in your lap, but your gaze remained out the window, face devoid of emotion. He growled out angrily, using his quirk to explode your desk away, as the class gasped in shock, your silence seeming to answer his question for you. Finally directing your gaze to him, you stood up slowly from your seat, staring him in the eye; wordlessly activating your quirk, a light glow emitted from under your clothes, your eyes turning the same color completely, which you could see reflected in Bakugo’s eyes.

He raised his hands threateningly, as if he was going to attack. A raise of a single one of your hand made nearby textbooks, desk, and even chairs, which still held your classmates, to lift off the floor, daring him to do something.

Just as the teacher was about to intervene, the bell rang, signalling the end of class. Waiting for a moment to ensure that Bakugo wasn’t going to attack, you lowered your hand, and immediately things started to go back to their place. Raising a finger on your other hand, your desk shot back into its original spot, clipping Bakugo’s hip. He let out a hiss, but reluctantly lowered his still raised hands; though he continued to hold the eye contact you maintained. A twitch of your fingers made your discarded notebooks drift into your open backpack, which then came to your hand. Grabbing it, you broke the staring contest with Bakugo, as you brushed past him, being the first one to exit your class, as the rest of the class watched in awe.

It was finally the morning of the entrance exam, and you sat on the couch in your home’s living room, an empty plate sitting on the cushion beside you. Glancing over to your phone, you realized that it was a few minutes before you should leave to make your train. Putting on a jacket, you picked up the plate, taking it into the kitchen. As you set it in the sink, your mother called out to you.

“Good luck, okay? And be safe,” She grinned, smiling at you proudly. You nodded without looking at her, muttering a quiet ‘I will’, before leaving the kitchen and heading to the front door, picking up your bag from the couch on the way out.

“I’m leaving! Bye Mom, Bye Dad!” You yelled loudly enough for them both to hear before closing the door behind you. Signing loudly, you pulled up the collar of your jacket, shivering slightly as a cold breeze passed you.

“This is it...My shot at fulfilling his dream,” You thought while looking up at the sky.

The introduction to the entrance exam was ...interesting. The announcer, who seemed to be the pro-hero Present Mic, was exuberant, to say the least; and tried to hype the crowd up, who was too nervous to respond. You sat two seats away from Bakugo, which was good enough for you. Quite frankly, you didn’t want to be anywhere near him

Paying close attention to Present Mic as he explained how the exam would be carried out, you easily came up with a plan for taking out the robots, your telekinetic quirk being extremely useful in this situation.

After being interrupted by a question, Present Mic ended his presentation, telling everyone to head out to their designated buses for each of the training grounds. Standing up from your seat, you proceeded towards the exit, following the crowd. A hand suddenly gripped your wrist, pulling your hand up.

Instinctively, you slightly activated your quirk, spinning around to spot Bakugo, who held your wrist at an angle, so he could see the card that was in your hand, probably checking what battle ground you would be in.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” You hissed, yanking your wrist away, you sent him a glare before shoving your way through the crowd, trying to get away from the blond. It wasn’t time to play stupid games with someone like him. Right now you had to focus on you, and your end goal.

You will pass.

For him.

And to make the pain in your chest go away.

Anticipation. That’s what you felt as you held the U.A. letter in your hands. It had been two weeks since you took the exam, and ever since you’ve been plagued with self-doubt. You wanted to believe in what you had done, but it probably wasn’t good enough. There were people with much stronger quirks than you.

The package was a bit heavier in your hands than you thought it would be, but you hoped that was a good sign. You shook your head, ridding yourself of the negative thoughts that seemed to plague your mind ever since you found the letter in your mailbox a few hours before. In those hours, you were too nervous to open the letter, internally fearing the worst.

Taking a deep breath, you finally willed yourself to tear open the letter, finding a small weird disk inside, along with an actual letter. Setting the disk down, you went to take out the letter, when the disk suddenly lit up, shooting a projection on your bedroom wall, making you gasp in shock, and scoot back.

All Might stood there with a wide grin, a yellow striped suit adorning his large figure. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I am here as a projection! I, All Might, am proud to announce, that I am a new teacher at U.A! Young (L/n), you passed the written exam with an 89%, which is great! Now moving onto the physical exam, you’ve managed to score 46 villain points! While that is great in itself, there was also hidden points we didn’t tell you about! Rescue points! You have received an additional 14 points, locking you in at 60 points in total! Congratulations Young (L/n), you have passed, landing in 7th place! Welcome to U.A.”

You stared blankly at the wall the projection was once on, feeling your throat clench. You’ve made it. You made it into one of the best hero schools around. This was an opportunity many would kill for.

You did it.

You did what you promised you would do.

The last promise you made with Izuku.

But why did it still hurt?

Why did the pain in your chest seem to intensify? Guilt, anger and pain flowed out of you in the form of tears, as sobs racked through your body. Picking the disk up, you flung it across the room, a loud roar leaving your lips as you ripped your desk from its place, throwing it harshly into the wall, making a large gaping hole. All Might’s voice echoed once again in your room, as the projection replayed itself.

Your door burst open, as your father rushed in, a confused look on his aging face. Upon seeing your wailing form, he rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug, forcing you down to sit on the floor.

“Shh, it’s alright. You tried your be--” He consoled, but cut himself off when he heard All Might congratulate you on making it into U.A.. Perplexed, he blinked a few times before seeming to finally understand the reason you were faced with so much sorrow.

“It’s okay. I know you were supposed to go to U.A with Izuku, but now you’ve got to do it for the both of you. That’s what he would have wanted. I’m sure he’s proud you’re reaching your dream.” he muttered, his voice muffled as he buried his face into your hair, his own heart hurting at the sight of you.

He didn’t know.

You didn’t want to go to U.A.

It wasn’t your dream.

It was his.

After a few minutes of weeping, you finally calmed down enough to sit quietly in your father’s arms, as he soothingly rubbed your back. Opening your eyes, your gaze landed on a box that was left in place in the empty spot your desk used to be; the box previously being hidden under the drawer of said desk. Your heart lurched as the memories of what lied in the box came back to you.

You couldn’t breath. Your lungs screamed for air, as your legs ached painfully, but you didn’t stop running. It took you 10 minutes of sprinting as fast as you could to finally reach your destination. Rounding the corner, you spotted a police car in front of the Midoriya household, an officer standing at the open door. You dashed forward, your heart in your throat as you got closer.

Inko spotted you, and rushed past the officer to grab you into a hug, her tears staining the black jacket of your school uniform. You held her closely, as you looked at the officer over her shoulder as he walked closer, putting a hand on her shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry Ms. Midoriya, but there are a few more questions we have to ask you. There could still be a chance he is out there, and it's best if we can find his possible location as fast as we can,” He said softly, guiding her away from you, and into the house. You followed hesitantly behind, trying to hold yourself together. As the two of them went to the couch, you paused momentarily, before deciding to go to Izuku’s room, hoping to find some clue as to where he could be.

You refused to allow yourself to believe that he could have...did that.

Upon entering his room, you quickly glanced around to see if anything was out of place. A pile of dirty clothes and a laundry basket laid spread out on the floor, where you assumed Mama Midoriya had dropped it. You walked further into the room, gaze settling upon a box that seemed to be untouched on his desk. Gliding over to it, your breath caught in your throat as you saw your name messily scribbled on top of it in Izuku’s handwriting.

Picking it up softly, you carefully took it over to his bed. Taking a seat, and setting it next to you, you gingerly opened the top. Inside, was a small pile of pictures of the two of you. Most were taken when you were around 7 or 8, while a few were taken only a few months ago. Along with the pictures, there was an open notebook, and a stray sheet of paper with writing on it. Eyeing the notebook first, you recognized it as one of Izuku’s hero analysis journals.

A gasp left your lips as you read the open page, it being an autograph from the one and only All Might. Dropping the notebook, you quickly snatched up the stray sheet of paper, hoping it would have some explanation to everything.

(Y/n),

I’m so sorry it has to be like this, but I can’t take it.

All I’ve wanted to do ever since I was a kid was be a hero, but

I can’t.

I’ve come to finally accept that.

I met All Might the other day, the day Kacchan was attacked by the sludge

monster. I was attacked first, but All Might saved me.

He was even bigger than I imagined him, and he looked so awesome!

He even signed my notebook!

But anyway, I got the chance to ask him if he thought I could ever be a hero.

Y’know, for validation.

But, he told me there was no way. I’m too weak.

Useless.

There’s no way for me to become a hero.

I guess Kacchan was right.

Maybe he was just looking out for me this whole time.

I’m sorry (Y/n).

I would never mean to make you sad, but I just can’t do this.

I can’t pretend everything is alright anymore.

It’s not.

It hurts.

I just don’t want it to hurt anymore.

#bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha izuku #bnha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya imagine #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #villain!deku #mha imagines #mha x reader

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lovelylogans · 5 years

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the worst in me

NARISSA: Ah, all this nauseating talk of true love's kiss, it really does bring out the worst in me. You know I've been thinking, if I'm going to remain Queen, I'm gonna need some sort of story when I go back. Hmm... What if a giant vicious beast showed up, and killed everyone? And poor defenseless Queen Narissa, she just couldn't save them! Let's begin with the girl who started it all, shall we?! ROBERT: Over my dead body. NARISSA: Alright. I'm flexible.

-enchanted, 2007

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: remus, maybe unsympathetic thomas?, confusion/bitterness, self doubt/hatred, mentions of animal cruelty

pairings: none

words: 1,548

notes: so, this is for the 13 days of halloween prompt over at @sanderssidescelebrations! today’s prompt is dragon witch! this is my first time writing the garbage man, so i hope i did him justice! also i better not see any remrom in the comments/tags!

R—No, no, it’s Roman now, Roman Roman Roman—tightens his fingers around the hilt of his sword, his free one into a fist. His hands shouldn’t be shaking. They shouldn’t.

He’s done this a hundred thousand million times before. The Imagination is still his realm, still his place, despite the fact that...

Well. Despite the fact that he didn’t feel like him very much, anymore.

But a jaunt into the Imagination could change that. He’ll run around, save some people, feel more like him again. Or, well. The him he’s supposed to be now. Right? Because he’s supposed to be the good part, isn’t he? He’s supposed to be all damsels and dragons and danger, outwitting the enemy and saving the day. That’s him. That’s Roman.

...Right?

He doesn’t know. He should know, but he doesn’t. Since The Split (it’s warranted capitals, in his mind, and he wonders if they’ve kept enough similarities that it’s warranted the same in his mind, too) Roman’s felt... off. Confused. He finds himself shying away from things he’d have fully enthused about before—now he hates things he’d liked, and he likes things he’d hated, and everything is upside-down and inside-out and it’s like his whole existence has been thrown into a maze in a fun-house full of distorted mirrors, and he can’t get out of it, but he’s trying.

So. Imagination. Damsels. Dragon-slaying. Dashing sword-fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise—but is that his thing now, or his? Is disguising himself good or bad? Is sword-fighting good or bad? Who’s got what?

Like he said—he’s trying.

He follows his lines, even if everything’s changed around him—some of his usual subjects have vanished, replaced by new ones, scrubbed clean, and they act like that’s the way it’s always been, so he does too. The whole thing is straight out of a storybook—a (new) page comes to his palace, tells him of a fair maiden who’s been abducted by a (new) dragon witch, in an (old) crumbling tower that’s been the set of a fair few dramatic reenactments before. So he gets on his (new) horse, which doesn’t stink of the stables like his old horse, Phillipe, did, doesn’t have the pretty, burnished copper coat Phillipe did, but rather this one is pure white and only tarnished by streaks of gold in its mane. He isn’t sure what to name it. Caspian? Gwendolyn? Something very fairytale and innocent and pure?

He gets on his unnamed horse. He examines his (new) sword in its (old) scabbard. He rides through the forest.

Some things have changed and he has no idea why—the flora and fauna swap between familiar and alien—and some things have changed and he knows only too well why they might have changed. But he doesn’t want to question it. He’s supposed to be the good one now. If he questions the status quo now, maybe there’ll be a new new one, who knows how to smile and wink just so and is always kind and gallant and never screws up and never comes up with nicknames that sound mean.

Maybe he’ll be called Romeo, or something equally saccharine.

Roman snorts, and then immediately shies away from the thought, like some bolt of lightning will come to strike him down, strike him in two—or would it be three, then? Because if the bad one is already taken and the good one isn’t good enough anymore, what’ll happen to that one? Will he just be thrown aside? Like a toy that’s lost all entertainment value, replaced by something newer and shinier?

He’ll try harder. He will. He’ll be the best, most perfect, most fairytale prince that ever walked the earth. He won’t ever, ever find out.

“Sorry,” he tells the too-blue sky above him, as if anyone is listening.

And maybe someone is—because he can hear a scream, and a distant, furious roar.

The dragon witch. Roman’s heartbeat starts to thunder and finally, finally, the fight, the rescue, that’s his favorite part, he’ll go out there and he won’t be able to think about being good or bad or right or wrong, he’ll only think about parries and ripostes and lunges, and he digs his heels into the horse’s side with a “HYAH!” and goes galloping further into the depth of these recognized-foreign woods, to the tower, to the climax of the story—

The (new) dragon witch is clutching to the tower, gouging out stones with its massive claws, sending dust and debris scattering upon the ground like snowfall. It roars, again—it has black scales, with almost sickly-green accents, two wings flapping, and massive, curving teeth that would surely gouge Roman right through, if he stepped wrong of them.

Well. It’s certainly a foreboding villain, for his first solo fray back into the imagination, but he mustn’t let any misgivings halt him—he urges the horse forward, and bellows up at the witch, “Unhand her, villain!”

Strangely, the dragon seems to frown at him, and he calls down, voice cartoonishly villainous, “What happened to Phillipe?”

Roman falters, as the horse cants in place. He knows that voice. It’s a new voice, but he knows it, knows it as it’d been the first thing he’d heard after the split.

“Is that... you?” He calls uncertainly.

The dragon seems to shudder, before abruptly, it’s shrinking, downsizing and downsizing and changing until it’s in the shape of a man—a familiar man, wearing black and an almost-sickly green, a demented grin, and a mustache. He’s got bags under his eyes that Roman can see, even from here, ones like Anxiety’s got, and he feels a traitorous spark of concern.

And, for an alarming moment, Roman is jealous. Why did he get the kickass transformation powers—into a dragon?! That’s so cool!

Or at least, that’s what he would have thought before The Split—now, his brain is tossing up example after example of villains transforming into animals—Ursula into Vanessa, Jafar into a genie, Maleficent into a dragon—it’s a sign of evil. It’s a sign of something Bad, and he’s supposed to be the Good One. But half his brain is still stuck on Before, while half of it is stuck on After, and he doesn’t know which thought is his, and he doesn’t know what he believes now, and—

“Did you send Phillipe to the glue factory?”

Roman recoils from the very thought—he’d spent days grooming Phillipe’s fur, feeding him apples and carrots and cubes of sugar, he’d loved Phillipe—and the other him laughs.

Or—no. The other Roman? The other twin? The other side? Is he technically his own side, now? If they were both Creativity, then what—

His confusion gets abruptly set to the side when there’s another, terrified scream within the tower. Roman shakes his head, hard, as if he’ll be able to dislodge this whole crisis of personality like he’s erasing an etch-a-sketch, and solidifies his grip on his sword’s handle, not quite bringing it out of the scabbard yet.

“Unhand her, foul beast!”

He blows a raspberry, swinging frightfully from the side of the tower, only held by his boot, lodged between where a brick had been dislodged and his grip on one of the (new) spires—he could fall, and what would happen then?

Is he supposed to care? The death of a villain would be a good thing now, wouldn’t it? But then if that was what was meant to happen, then why bother to keep them split in the first place, why not just divulge the bad, keep the good? Is it bad that he’s thinking about this? Murder is bad, it’s definitely bad, he shouldn’t be thinking about it, but—

“Boooorrrr-iiiiing. C’mon, give me an insult with some pep to it, aren’t you supposed to be Creativity now?!”

Roman grits his teeth, and snaps before he can even think of stopping himself, “Aren’t you supposed to be the scary one, Ja-nefarious?!”

For a moment, Roman thinks he’s gotten him, but that’s before that demented grin widens and that worrying crazed look in his eyes shines brighter.

“I said an insult, not a compliment!” He preens, and Roman scowls.

“What, you can do better?” He says scornfully.

“Well, duh,” he says, and then, gleefully, “You’re boring now—Roman, isn’t it?”

Roman forces his hackles not to rise.

“I mean, think about it,” he wheedles. “Which of us is more useful—the one who comes up with the original ideas, the unorthodox ones, or the one who comes up with the same—“ He flicks a dismissive hand, nose wrinkling. “White horse, sword, save-the-girl kind of story, over and over and over again?”

Roman feels an angry flush take over his cheeks. “Unorthodox doesn’t have to mean murder.”

“Why not?” He said, and he sounded genuinely curious—like a small child asking why the sky’s blue, not posing the question of if murder’s genuinely punishable or not. “Which one will make more of an impact—if I drop this sweet, innocent damsel from the tower, or you saving her?”

“Don’t you dare,” Roman snarls, and the other one—Remus—bares his still-animalistically-curved teeth in a grin.

“Watch me.”

With a wild yell, Roman unsheathes his sword, and charges.

(He wonders if it makes him bad that a fight and seeing his brother him is the first thing that’s made him feel semi-normal since The Split.)

#my post #text #my fic #this occurred to me..... pretty soon after remus' reveal?#and this gave me an opportunity to write about it #so #sanders sides spooky month

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whoserandomnessisitanyway · 5 years

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So... I just watch Return to Zombie Island

Hold on.

SIIIGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Ok, I’m ready (not really). SPOILERS BELOW~~!!!!

I was so excited upon hearing about this sequel. I was a huge fan of the original movie even though when it came out in 1998 I was only 4 years old and it scared the absolute pants off me. However, even now at age 25, yes, I still feel compelled to come back and revisit one of the hallmarks of my childhood. So, imagine my disappointment in watching this movie and realizing that they took an amazing mystery that totally upended Scooby’s traditional “bad-guy-in-a-mask” scenario that was in its own right a dark, suspenseful, and artfully rendered mystery with beautiful art style and fun unique music and made it into a mess. They re-rendered scenes from the original movie into the lifeless flat new art style of the recent years and proceeded in a fumbling paint-by-numbers retread of the same old tired story, complete with completely bland and forgettable villains and some of the worst music I’ve heard from a Scooby movie even in recent years.

Ugh, I know I’m coming across as one of those pretentious old 90′s kids who is shaking my fist at the sky and yelling about greedy corporations ruining treasured childhood memories but -that’s exactly what I’m doing and I’m sure if there are still other 90′s babies out there who are still willing to watch this sequel then they will be doing the same thing. It is just endlessly frustrating (and maybe a little heartbreaking) when I started the movie with high expectations and hopes to have it turn out to be such a joke -and not even a funny one, at that. :’(

#scooby doo return to zombie island #spoilers #review

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chaniters · 5 years

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A giant monster attacks!

Super Sentai Rangers AU.

I must say I didn’t expect writing a Sentai AU would be so hard. These stories have LOTS of different elements to juggle, and I wanted to keep most of what I could from the original setting. Took much longer than I thought. This is the second part, and it pretty much finishes setting the stage for the series.

I’ve got a newfound respect for these kinds of series!

Hope you enjoy this…!

It doesn’t take long to realize Mia Ochoa had not managed to get a good view of just how bad the situation was.

For starters, the giant floating disc actually looks larger than it looked on TV. And the blue beam is still in use, teleporting squads of soldiers to the ground, all wearing the strange silver armor. There are corpses everywhere, it seems they went guns blazing when they initially took the park. Several overturned police cars remain as a burning testament of the futility of the city’s security force.

The soldiers seem to be amassing in battallions through all of Memorial Park, probably ready to rampage across the city.

As to whether they’re actually aliens… that remains to be determined. You can sense their minds in the distance, but the park is open ground. It’d be hard to get close enough to get a good read without getting noticed.

You can only wonder why isn’t the army here already, but that’s a mystery for another time. Right now, you need to figure out how to put an end to this.

You hear footprints behind you. You get into a fighting stance and…

“You’re fast!” It’s actually pleasing to hear the familiar voice this time.

“Charge. I thought you got lost in traffic… Welcome to this mess” you say inviting him to share your vantage point.

You can’t help feel weird as he joins you… You’re back on the same team, but you’re wearing your villain outfit and he doesn’t know it’s you. It was confusing enough when you were beating each other up.

“So do you guys have a plan?” you ask.

“A plan against an army of space invaders with a flying saucer?” He says in a sarcastic tone.

“Yeah… nevermind that… Aren’t the rest of your cavalry going to arrive soon?”

“Alas my dear villain, the cavalry is us. There are similar attacks going on in other cities. Also, Steel, Herald, and Argent are delayed helping the LDPD mount a barricade. So until they can join us it’s just us”

Deja vu can be hurtful. You go silent for a moment. Does he feel it too?

“Why didn’t you go with them instead?” you ask

“We need someone to see the action up close while keeping the civilians safe… and let’s be honest, no way we were going to send the new blood to work along with you so it was Steel or me, and he’s the Marshall. Plus, we don’t know when are you going to backstab us. Also, please don’t backstab me?” he asks with a nervous smile.

“I’ll take your request into consideration” You let out.

“Ha! You can make jokes. Wait It was a joke right?”

You ignore him while enhancing the zoom in your mask’s visor to get a better look. Something’s not right with their weapons

“What is it?” he asks, focusing on them as well.

“Take a good look at their weapons,” you say pointing at them.

Charge’s helm flickers as he zooms in too. He gasps after a few seconds.

“They’re military energy guns!”

“Exactly. Which means they’re not aliens if they’re using USA military supplies…”

“But why would the army attack their own city?”

“You’re the government goon not me, remember? , you figure that out. Still we should at least find what they’re planning so we can figure a way to stop them.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“We take one of those soldiers prisoner”

“And then he’ll gladly tell us his whole plans?”

You tap your helmet. “I’m a half-decent telepath in case you didn’t notice”

“You can do that?”

“I’ve mind-controlled swarms of people… you guys saw me do it… why wouldn’t I be able to get some information?”

He ponders for a few seconds before answering. “I guess I’m not used to telepaths being so powerful. I only knew one well… he…”.

No. No no no. you’re not doing this. Not like this. He’s not going to talk to you about yourself.

“Save it. Let’s set up an ambush over there” you point at a distant part of the park. A few soldiers are patrolling the area far apart. “We should be able to snatch one of them easily near those trees,” you add, and simply start running, forcing him to follow. Hopefully, he won’t bring Sidestep up again.

………………………………………………….

“NOW!” Ortega cries out, charging onto them. Really? Did he have to announce it?

With a groan, you charge behind him. The soldiers turn immediately but you still manage a pair of solid hits. The two put up quite more of a fight than you had anticipated, but end up going down at about the same time.

“They’re though” Charge complains rubbing his fist.

“I’m more concerned about their numbers… and their minds are just… odd” you mutter as you take one of the unconscious soldier’s arms while Charge gets hold of his legs and helps you take him behind a large oak tree.

“Time to do your mind-trick”

“It’s not a trick” you complain. Fuck. This is too familiar. “Just watch for them,” you tell him before focusing on his mind.

It’s strange. Odd, yet familiar. And there are many safeguards… hidden paths and you can’t help feeling you’ve seen something like this before. It takes a moment before you manage to infiltrate into his inner thoughts.. protected as if someone else had installed a lock… and when you open the door…

“FUCK!” you almost scream opening your eyes and letting go.

“SHHH! You’re going to get us caught!”

“This is bad… bad bad bad…” you can’t help repeating.

“What is?”

“They are… they… they’re not humans”

“So they ARE aliens after all?!” he asks in confusion.

“No.. no they are… ” You sigh “Let me show you…”

You hold your hand to the soldier, the nanites disintegrating his armor. Revealing the blue skin. The orange tattoos.

“A re-gene?”

You nod slowly. Whatever could you say to him right now?

“Crap… Always thought those things were going to turn against us one day”

It’s like a gut-punch to hear those words. You take a few steps back in shock. He doesn’t really notice and gets on his wrist-com.

“Steel? Our good frenemy Retribution just figured out the big mystery. They are rebel re-genes!”

“What? What’s the Special Directive up to?” You hear his garbled voice from the intercom.

“I’m not sure, but come over soon, we’re going to need all of us to figure out a plan to…”

Your gaze goes blurry, watching the scene at the park. Regenes attacking humans. A revolution against your masters… Maybe you’re on the wrong side of this? You thought it was aliens, and the Governor offered you a deal, but once again, all your plans go up in smoke. They aren’t aliens. They’re your people. Shouldn’t you be helping them? Ortega’s distracted right now… You could knock him down and join them… This is what you…

No. No this isn’t it. You can smell the burning cars. You can see the blood and the corpses. This isn’t the revolution you had hoped for. This is just a senseless massacre.

It’s just a…

“What the hell… are you seeing that Charge?” Steel asks

“What do you mean?” he says lifting his gaze from his intercom. You turn as well.

The disc is turning… and a large pod the size of medium-sized truck detaches from it. and lands in the middle of the park, generating a large cloud of dust.

As it clears you can see the pod right there… cracked.

The soldiers surround it and start tearing it open. There is a greenish liquid coming from inside as it breaks down.

“It’s almost like… an egg?” you say out loud.

“What you mean there’s something alive inside?” Charge asks in shock.

“Give me a clear image you two!” Steel demands from the intercom. Charge complies, pointing the thing at the pod.

Soon enough what appears to be a claw emerges from inside, and the soldiers jump back. The creature inside breaks what remains of the pod and stands.

Tall… numerous legs, and a long red tail ending on a stinger. THe face looks human.. but with fangs and blood red eyes..

A dark figure approaches, the soldiers making way. It’s wearing a strange black suit with a helmet. You try to zoom in more. The new individual seems to be giving orders, and soon enough, the soldiers clear a large area around the emerging creature.

“EMERGE SCORPIUS!” He orders.

Charge taps you in the shoulder

“I think that’s about enough for recon… let’s get out of here before…”

“ATTENTION, CITIZENS OF LOS DIABLOS!!!” The booming voice catches both of you by surprise.

The disk starts emitting a large hologram over the sky for everyone to see. So that’s why they took the park first… You focus on the image as it gains focus… a woman…

It’s her. You had hoped not to see her ever again… She’s wearing a whole new costume and some sort of eye-implant, but it’s definitely her. You stumble backward into Charge, who holds you.

“Hey hey watch it!”

“It’s Regina!!” you gasp in terror.

“Wait you mean you know her?”

“HEAR MY WORDS! I AM REGIS, GRAND DIRECTOR OF THE APOCALYPSE FORCE AND THE GREATEST TECHNOLOGICAL GENIUS OF THIS PLANET! YOUR PUNY POLICE IS NO MATCH FOR MY FORCES, AND YOUR ARMIES ARE TASTING DEFEAT AS WE SPEAK! THERE ARE NONE WHO COULD OPPOSE THE APOCALYPSE FORCE IN THE ENTIRE WEST COAST! FROM THIS POINT ON, I CLAIM THIS CITY BELONGS TO ME! ALL WHO WISH TO SERVE UNDER MY RULE MIGHT STAY. EVERYONE ELSE IS COMMANDED TO EVACUATE. YOU HAVE 24 HOURS TO COMPLY! NOW LET ME GIVE YOU A SIMPLE DEMONSTRATION OF MY SUPREME POWER!” The hologram banishes, and the disc starts spinning rapidly emitting a red beam onto the Scorpion creature.

“What… the … fuck…?” he asks in disbelief. Charge shakes your shoulders “Who is she?”

You point forward, leading his gaze back onto the creature… which is dramatically increasing in size.

“Wow. That’s… big…”

It’s getting big fast. Too fast. The beam stops as the thing stands as tall as a building.

The dark Figure activates some sort of jetpack and flies up to the creature’s shoulder. “Start tearing out the nearby area, Great mutant Scorpius!”

The monster’s roar is deafening. It’s not just it’s the size that increased. And then it notices you two, staring back at it, making you feel helpless prey.

Its eyes go red, as it emits a blast your way.

“MOVE” you scream, shoving Ortega out of the way. Unfortunately, you have no time to get out of the way yourself…

The explosion projects you backward, your armor cracking and sending red alerts all over. Did you just take the hit for Ortega? You bounce several times before falling next to a small tree.

Everything hurts so much… But you’re still alive. Mortum’s design is truly amazing.

“Stand up!"

Charge’s hands pull you up putting your arm around his shoulder and help you run through the park’s pathway. You can barely see where you’re going with all the alarms going on in your HUD display. You wonder if you’ve broken something too…

"They’re closing in,” you tell him, as you get to a crossroads. Why is this fucking park so large?

“Which way?” he asks. You quickly scan the area before answering…

“Left,” you say coughing and sensing the taste of blood in your mouth. Shit, maybe you did break something. He starts another sprint with you. It’s hard to know how long will you be able to keep up the pace…

“Leave me. We’re going to get surrounded” you mutter “I’m not going to do that” he grunts walking forward… “Why did you save me?!”

“Because you’re too slow and stupid to get out of the way on your own! I told you to leave me! No way you can get out carrying me around!”

“SHUT UP!” he actually holds you tighter as you keep going forward…until the blue light from the disc fires up in front of you.

Of course. The can teleport their forces and their giant monster can obviously see you. You were never going to escape…

“Hello, Rangers” The dark figure you saw earlier advances towards you. He’s wearing a black outfit with some yellow outlines. Red goggles and hidden face.“I’m Doctor Blitz! One of the three leading scientists of the Apocalypse Force serving Grand Director Regis! I’ve been waiting for a chance to test my weapons against you!” he boasts

“Actually, I’m the only Ranger here. He’s just…” Ortega starts.

But the self-proclaimed doctor isn’t interested and just motions for his soldiers to charge. You try to strike a shaky fighting stance, while the Rat King urges you to run away.

They are about to clash, when a series of explosions go off, blasting the enemy. You turn to the side and see Steel with a smoking gun. Argent and Herald come close behind, and the three of them quickly put themselves between you and the enemy.

“More rangers!! You’ve saved me the trouble of looking for you!”

“Well, you’ve found us!” Steel says charging onto the enemy.

A melee strikes out, with more and more soldiers joining in.

Soon enough you’re struggling to fend them off taking hits all over your damaged armor. THe rangers aren’t doing much better.

Their battlesuits are military-grade and definitely more advanced than yours.

“Hahahaha! The great rangers always get their man. Don’t make me laugh!” Doctor Blitz boasts. “Feel a taste of my power!” he lets on, activating some kind of energy wave device with his palms. “TELEKINETIC DARK FORCE!” he utters.

“Wait, what?” Argent asks before she, and the rest of you are shoved away by the energy wave he emits.

You slowly attempt to get back on your feet, the rangers emitting similar pained groans around you.

They have you completely surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.

“PAthetic! I guess I’ll let Scorpius deal with you, rangers! SCORPIUS! Vaporize them! For the Regis!” He yells raising his fist, as his soldiers do the same.

You notice the giant monster is preparing to fire it’s beam attack again…

“TAKE COVER!” Steel cries… but it’s too late…

You hide your masked face in your hands and the rat king shrieks in terror.

You’re engulfed in white light. ……………………………………………..

Familiar white light.

“Where are we?” It’s Herald’s voice.

You stumble trying to stand, but fail. The Hud Finally goes dark. You’re blind.

“Some kind of Laboratory” Mortum.

Hands… turning you over… removing your mask.

“N… no! Get off!” you mutter… but it’s too late.

Ortega takes your helm off… You can hear Mortum’s voice in the background as he runs down the stairs of his lab. “Are you alright?” he goes.

“Cyrus?!?!” Ortega asks surprised as Retribution’s mask falls to the side. They all turn onto you.

What an epic clusterfuck.

That’s your last thought before you pass out from the pain.

____________________________

My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #super sentai au #giant monster!#fanfiction

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screamingatanemptyroom · 6 years

Note

Second part to deep water prompt 846? I really enjoyed and would love to see more of it!

Here you go! Also tagging @frostymoon11 since I think you requested this one as well. Hope you enjoy it!

Original story can be found here.

He was no longer on the ocean.

The waves carrying me slowed down, bringing me to rest on a sandy beach. The man I was chasing, the one I needed kill, had passed by here. I could feel the trace of his presence, like a poison residue on the fine grains of sand below my feet. The trail moved inward, away from the ocean towards land. I fell to my knees, the water cool against my skin, soaking the tattered, dirty remains of what had once been a beautiful gown.

He had escaped me.

Tears of rage blurred my vision. After all the struggles I had been through, now that I had gotten my powers back I thought my dreams of revenge had finally become a reality. But he was heading far inland. Once I had left my territory, my powers would be severely limited, I would be little different from a regular mortal.

I thought of my boasting, that I would make him regret meddling with the heart of a sea spirit. But here I stood, at the junction of sea and land, just as powerless as I had been in my deepest despair.

“Need help?”

A warm voice, bringing to mind images of sunny days and crackling fires, broke through my regretful musings.I looked up, confused. A man stood before me, smiling gently. He drew closer and it was then that I realized that he wasn’t truly standing but floating just above the ground. His eyes met mine, and within them I saw burning flames.

“Fire spirit.” I whispered to myself.

I rose up, the waves carrying me high into the air. Storm clouds gathered, lightning striking the water around me. My voice was soft, but the wind carried it to the area around me.

“You bought my true name.” It was not a question. It was a statement with not a small amount of hostility underneath.

He looked up at me, still smiling despite my show of force.

“I gave it back.”

I thought back to the scroll I had received , with the flame emblem inscribed in the corner. It was true, he had returned my name, and my powers had been restored with it. Slowly the storm around me calmed and I lowered myself to stand on the ground in front of him.

“Why?”

He looked me at me silently for a long few moments.

“I wonder.” He murmured, almost as if talking to himself.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

He chuckled at my annoyed tone. “To be fair, little sea spirit, you never answered mine: ‘do you need help?’”

It was my turn to stare silently. He didn’t push further, his gaze was open and honest looking. I wanted to believe him, but I had been fooled before. I wasn’t feeling quick to trust.

The sight of the land further in mocked me. My revenge was in sight but beyond my reach.

I sighed, I never had a choice. Sacrificing my pride, I turned back to the fire spirit. “Please help me.”

He nodded solemnly, his eyes serious. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to kill him.”

We traveled together further inland, moving at a speed far beyond what most mortals could accomplish. His flames propelled us, I had to hold on to him, which annoyed me, but without my powers I couldn’t keep up. We landed outside a large palace, magnificent and grand. It was surrounded by iron fences, and attended by armed guards.

“Paranoid little bastard, isn’t he?” The flame spirit beside me muttered as he studied the defenses.

“He should be.” I could feel him, resting deep inside his home, safe, secure and happy. I clenched my fists, the nails digging into my palms hard enough to break skin. Golden blood dripped down onto the ground below.

“Stop.” Warm hands grasped my own, gently pulling them open to examine the wounds. “Why are you so desperately seeking revenge?”

I glared at him. “You were the one who bought my true name from him, can’t you figure it out?”

“If I hadn’t, someone else surely would have, someone not interested in returning it.” He shook his head. “But that’s not what I meant. Why must you do anything? With your powers back, you’re immortal. His lifetime will pass in the blink of an eye for you, just sit back and soon he will be nothing but dust and memories.”

I pulled my hands from his grasp. “And he will live his life happy, and die of old age, never regretting the pain he caused me.”

Silence.

“What did he do to convince you? How could you trust a mortal with your true name?” His question was barely audible, but it struck me like a blow. I swayed where I stood, avoiding his burning gaze.

“He promised me the one thing I wanted above all others. The thing I would give up my very soul to have.”

“What?”

It hurt too much, I couldn’t say it. I lifted my hand slowly, touching it to his cheek. The touch was uncomfortably warm, burning against my skin. I felt him shiver beneath my palm. Through the touch I let him into my mind, seeing the memory of the conversation that had led to my downfall.

I thought his eyes had burned with inner fire before, but now they glowed with the red flames that danced behind his gaze.

“Children. Family.” He whispered.

“The only thing a lonely immortal really wants.” I said it like a joke, but I could feel tears running down my cheeks. With a shaking hand he wiped them away, before stepping back, putting some distance between us.

“Do you want me to kill him now?” Shocked, I studied his face. The fire spirit was serious. If I asked him to, he would take his life here and now. I was touched, but still, I shook my head no.

“I may need help, but this is still my revenge to take.”

He nodded, understanding. “Well then we need to lure him back to the ocean. You’re no match for an angry toddler this far in land, much less an evil man who’s been trained to kill.”

I wanted to refute that, but really couldn’t. I was too far from my source of power. “But how do I convince him?”

The fire spirit smiled. “I know someone who can help.”

“So let me get this straight.” The partially transparent silver spirit paced in front of, the moonlight collecting around him like a second skin. “You need me to show this man a dream that will lure him to the ocean so the little sea sprite can kill him?” He shook his head. “You two are crazy.”

My companion laughed. “Are you saying the spirit of dreams can’t do it?”

“I never said that. Of course I can do it.” He clapped the flame spirit on the shoulder, his hand partially passing through. “I’m just stating an opinion don’t be so touchy.”

I stepped forward. “This means everything to me. What will it cost to have you do this?”

The dream spirit grinned, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve owed this idiot a favor for centuries, I’m so happy to finally clear my debt.”

“But…” I wasn’t happy about using up someone else’s favor.

“Oh let him do it, dear one. He’s been mooning over you for so long, let him play hero…ugh!” He ended on groan as the fire spirit punched him in the abdomen and covered his mouth with his other hand.

“Don’t mind him, being a dream spirit he’s prone to spout nonsense occasionally.”

I took in his embarrassed expression with a chuckle, “Sure.”

“So what sort of vision should I bestow upon our villain to draw him to the ocean?” The dream spirit shrugged. “Treasure? A beautiful woman?”

My voice was bitter. “Nothing ever mattered to that man but one thing: revenge. Make him think one of his enemies survived and is hiding on the coast.” I looked off into the distance, not seeing my surroundings. “Once you get him there, I’ll handle the rest.”

“Are you sure you want to deal with him alone? I can help you…” anxious flames burned around him as he made his offer.

I patted his warm cheek. “Thanks, but I need to do this myself, or it means nothing.”

“As lovely as this is…” the dream spirit interrupted impatiently “I have an important job to do.” With that he flung himself into the sky, heading to the place.

With a laugh the spirit beside me held out his hand. “Back to the ocean?”

I took it firmly in my own. “After you.”

Hours later, I stood alone, ankle deep in cold sea water, waiting patiently. The only movement came from the wind. The moon lit up the entire beach, bathing the entire space in a ghostly glow.

“Why are you here?”

So few words, but hatred and spite colored each one. The man I hated more than anyone walked out onto the beach. I stared at him silently, studying the form of the one I once loved. He was so similar to how I remembered him, older, crueler. The revenge that had driven him was complete, he seemed lost without it. It had been such a large part of him, he was almost a different person without the weight on his shoulders.

But still, enough remained of the man who betrayed me, enough for me to remember, and to hate.

“No words huh?” His smile was bitter at my quiet form, “still haven’t forgiven me for selling your true name?” He stepped closer, coming to stand within arm’s length. “You promised to help me with my revenge, said you would give me anything, but when it came time to pay up, you blamed me.”

“And what of your promise to me?” My voice was cold, I could barely recognize it.

His expression turned sour. “Never too late for me to make good on that, darling.” His hand reached out to me, but in the moonlight it looked like a grasping claw.

I brushed it away.

“Touch me and you’ll regret it.”

“What can you do?” He chuckled. “You’ve lost your name, your powers, everything that made you useful.”

He reached out again.

Laughter, loud, cold and cruel, broke the dark silence. It was unrestrained, almost beast-like in its intensity. It was torn from my throat but it sounded nothing like me. The waves rose higher and higher answering my call, the clouds gathered overhead, the wind and the rain striking deeper than a knife. The moon was hidden, the only light from the lightning overhead. The world around me was gathering at the beckoning of my power, waiting to be formed at my will.

“What the…?” He was frightened, it made me smile.

“Did you really think you could get away with betraying the spirit of the sea?”

His answer was drowned out by the roar of the waves, the crashing of my power against the rocks, the scream of my rage against the sky. His last words were lost, but they didn’t matter.

Nothing about him ever did.

The ocean pulled him under and his frightened cries only served to pull the water into his lungs faster. I tore him to pieces, until there was nothing left to destroy. Finally the waves calmed.

I sat on the beach, my head in my hands.

It was over.

“Are you okay?” The words of the fire spirit could barely reach me. I shook my head slowly. I wasn’t crying, I was far past tears. He sat down next to me, and waited.

“I thought he loved me. I thought I had found the other half of my soul.” It was a shameful whisper, but all I had left were truthful words.

He sighed. “You will be happy again, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can.” His confidence was overwhelming. He leaned over and whispered a single word into my ear. It was filled with power, shaking me to the core. I looked up and met his eyes. The flames still burned brightly behind them, but his expression was unreadable.

“Your true name?” I didn’t understand.

“I know yours, now we’re even.” His smile was complex, I felt my heart beat faster within my chest. Slowly I reached out a hand towards his face.

“Ahem.” An awkward cough startled us. The dream spirit stepped forward, grinning.

“Is no one going to mention how great of a job I did?”

I laughed, standing up to clap him on the back. “You were wonderful.”

“Good! Someone buy me dinner.”

Laughing, we all moved forward. A warm hand grasped mine tightly. I smiled, putting the past behind me, moving forward to a brighter future.

#writing #short story #fantasy #part 2 #continuation #revenge #spirits #magic #death

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insomniac-arrest · 6 years

Text

A Seamstress for Superheroes

genre: superhero, wlw, original

words: 7k

summary: A B-List superhero keeps meeting up with a young seamstress as she gets her costume repaired, Ally Alvarez soon becomes a little attached to her drop-by vigilante friend- though she wishes she would stop jumping off roofs

warning for genre-typical violence and injury

She looked like one of those all-American girls who woke up in the 1940s and said ‘golly’ and ‘cat’s pajamas.’ She had a sheet of blinding blonde curls that hung shoulder-length and a pair of blue eyes ripped out of a Nebraska sky and a tinted instagram filter. Her smile was a blistering sun across her face and her nails were all slightly chipped.

She was a couple inches taller than Ally, but much more stocky and muscled, like a compact wall of round edges and steel. The body of a lifter and soft curves of someone who enjoyed pizza at midnight.

She walked in with a smile of someone whose face was only distantly related to their mouth, it smiled with the force of seismic meteorological events. Her teeth were slightly crooked and had an impressive gap in the front, but she made it work in the way Capes often did.

She reminded her of a character from Saturday morning cartoons: feckless confidence and a catchphrase. Ally would bet ten dollars the young woman had a catchphrase.

She also assumed she wouldn’t like anyone with no indoor voice and looked like a billboard girl trying to sell her Doritos or Victoria Secret superhero panties. Ally pushes that last thought aside and tried to put on a brave face.

It was a Friday night, of course, and thirty minutes before closing. She came in with a major hole in her side and a pint of blood running down her leg like a painter going through their ‘red’ phase

“Anyone home?” Ally wasn’t sure if the girl knocked or not, but in her head she didn’t.

Ally stuck her head out from the back room where they kept the supplies, dog food, and Miss Susy’s gossip magazines. She blinked a couple times and struggles to suppress a sigh.

A Cape was standing in her doorway with a gore splatter on her side straight out of a term paper on violence in film. It leaked out from between her fingers right onto the floor tiles.

Ally took a deep breath and strode purposefully out, she looked her up and down.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance miss?” She asked in the way that people ask you for your coat when you walk in the door. She assumed she knew the answer, but it was polite to ask it anyway.

The young woman glanced down at herself, opening and closing her hand experimentally, “don’t worry about it darling.”

She had the slight accent of someone trying to suppress an accent. Maybe she was trying to be a classic Saturday Morning cartoon after all.

The woman looked back up and takes her hand away, grinning without even a cringe as she points. “Accelerated healing.” Ally could see the deep gash was indeed already mending itself like one of those fast-forward videos of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Except with tendons and muscles and skin creeping in around a grisly tear and Ally feeling slightly queasy.

She makes sure to keep her face neutral, she was a professional.

“Whoops,” she sidesteps her own blood as she makes her way to the counter, “um,” she coughs into her hand before looking up, “are you Mrs. Priscilla Alvarez?” She asks brightly, just ignoring her own easter egg trail behind her. She looks up and around, “I’ve heard great things about this place.” Ally keeps her eyes up, “Mrs. Priscilla is my employer,” well, mother technically, “but I can handle any order on her behalf.” Even if was thirty minutes to closing.

The woman seems to bounce on her heels, “great!” Her gap-teeth reappeared like the sun with a hole in the middle. “Because I sort of have a quick turnaround time.” “How quick?” She eyes her.

The other woman shuffled her feet on the floor, “Tomorrow?” She almost croaked, looking a little guilty.

Ally kept herself from twitching, “for full blood service?” She gives her a steady, if not skeptical, look.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she bit her lip, her Nebraska Sky Blue eyes lighting up, “but I have to face off with my arch-nemesis Polar Winter tomorrow. You know, Polar Winter, nefarious villain with the goal to sink Manhattan into the ocean and rule it with an icy fist! Holding it hostage for-” “Alright, alright.” She puts her hand up gently.

“And she challenged me to meet her at the UN tomorrow for our final face off. For her revenge! Or my victory.” She puffed her chest out, putting her hands on her hips like she was posing. “It’s gonna be totally awesome.” Ally raises both her eyebrows, “Sounds like.”

She clapped her hands together, “plus, I’ll tip huge, promise. I just got this Staples endorsement and I need to like, do something with it.” She laughs and Ally had the feeling she was the type of person to tell her anything she wanted to know with just one question.

Ally gave a shallow smile, “we’ll see what we can do.” She nods up and down enthusiastically, “I really do hear you’re the best in the business.”

Ally just hums and drums her fingers on the counter, “We like to keep a tight ship.” She points to some of the costumes behind her, some with distinguishable symbols like Holy Hell’s white flame and Strike-Fang’s orange stripes.

Her mouth made a tiny ‘o’, she reminds Ally of a kid who just came off the bus to make it on Broadway. She practically vibrated, “I’m already impressed, don’t worry.” Ally shakes her head slightly, “what time would pick up be? We can try for eleven, but it might be even extra for that.” She nods furiously, “My face-off is at 3. So, um, two? Would two work?” Ally gave a slow smile, “We can see what we can do.” She repeats the phrase and looks her up and down, “that’s quite a bit of blood.” She scratches the back of her head, “I’m a little new.” She picked at some of the drying blood on her leg.

Ally chuckles lowly, “don’t worry.” She has a strange impulse to encourage her, “New York needs all the heroes it can get. You’ll get practice.” She rubs her hands together, “if I can help in any way at all,” she rustles around her person, “shoot, I dropped my business cards.” Ally snorts softly, “that’s fine.” She turns to the cash register, “can I get a name for the order?” She blinks a couple times, “Oh!” She claps her hands, “right,” she grins and draws herself up, “I mean, it’s not set in stone yet. But,” she pauses to put her hands on her hips and spread her stance out, “you can call me Quantum Twist!”

Ally covers her face as she grins, just a bit.

“Right, um,” she starts putting in the services, “I’ll put it under Quantum Twist.” She clicks her pen and does a little math, it wouldn’t be cheap.

“And uh, one last thing.” The girl tapped her fingers together, “could um, could I get some clothes to walk home in? Promise, just one time.”

Quantum Twist’s face was a little red and Ally felt somewhat endeared by the bashfulness, as if she wasn’t just yelling a second ago. Ally brushes her hair aside again, “You won’t be the first.” The girl brightened up, “Wow,” she puts her hands down and Ally sees the completely healed wound. “You guys really have everything.” She looked her up and down. “What’s your name?” “Oh,” Ally hummed, “Ally. Ally Alvarez.” She put her hand out, “Ally,” she says in what Ally assumed was supposed to be heroic, “you’ve been a great help.” She shakes her hand tentatively and she gives her the bathroom key to change and walk home in an itchy brown sweater and care-bear sweatpants (to discourage heroes doing this too often).

Ally had a long night ahead of her.

-----

“Quantum Twist,” Ally snorts and scrubs harder, feeling the skin on her thumb already start to peel off. “She doesn’t even have a Q or T on here.” She shakes her head.

“And in other news, the sea levels have risen about an inch from Siren Calls’s newest attack on the waterfront. Luckily, it’s already being reversed by…”

Ally rolls her eyes and turns the volume down on the TV, it was a Saturday and they still had all their cameras pointed at one masked felon or another. Ally mumbles to herself, “who bleeds this much?” She squeezes the material and tries again.

“You think you’d be used to it,” she hears a ragged voice call as some heavy footsteps come down the stairs.

“Gram,” Ally perks up, “wait, wait.” She goes to stand up after trying to hand wash their newest suit.

“I can still get down the stairs by myself Alona, sheesh,” she says hoarsely and hears several more thumps as her grandma bustles down the stairs into the second story work space.

It was technically a five story building where her family both lived and worked, which Alley wouldn’t have personally chosen. But here she was.

Her grandma clicks her tongue at her as she sees her by the tub of soapy water, “have you used the ammonia yet?” “Of course I’ve used the ammonia.” She almost goes to stick her tongue out at her like she’s six, she restrains herself.

“Do we need to get your mother?” “No no,” Ally gets back to work, “and don’t call Tommy either. I got this.” Her grandma raised her eyebrows, making her whole leathery face shift like a crinkled brown bag. “Good to see taking this seriously. Last weekend you told me you were retiring to eat, what was it?” “Cereal, lot’s of cereal.” She says dryly

Her grandma mumbles something under her breath at her, she squares her jaw.

“And that was a joke gram, it’s not like I have a choice on taking this seriously or not.” She grumbles.

“It’s your calling Alona. You’re the best mender we have,” she feels her grandma pat the top of her head, “you’ll see. It will all fall into place.”

She rolls her eyes, “have you been talking to that hotline psychic again? Because I’ll call them up and probably get a confirmation that eating cereal all day is my calling after all.”

“Hmph,” her grandma makes a grunting noise as she settles herself down in her large comfy chair. “Don’t get snippy with me young lady, that’s a lot of blood still left on there.” Alley groans and starts scrubbing harder, she hadn’t even started sewing yet. Her grandma turns the volume on the TV back up.

“Milk prices are down today after orange juice deliveries were halted in Southern Florida…” Twenty-two, she curses to herself, twenty-two and still at home.

She’s starting to see some very slow results when some of the TV drone catches her attention.

“The newest superhero in the yard is a new blonde-bombshell named ‘Quantum Twitch.’ She was seen yesterday taking down veteran villain Polar Winter, commenters across the internet have since latched onto the showdown.”

Ally turned her head and looked over to observe her newest client, it was a blurry phone camera but it was clear that the super hero packed a punch. She twisted in midair and sent an entire car back around at the ice villain.

Someone down below whistled.

“Now, that’s what I call an opening statement,” Ally rolled her eyes at the commenters, “Let’s hear from some people on the street.”

“She came right out the sky like an airdrop…” Ally went back to ignoring the TV and scrubbing the last of the blood out of the elastic material. It was pretty cheap compared to other heroes costumes where everything was designed to roll off.

“... I mean I can see why her initials are Q T is all I’m saying.” Ally glances back over as she hears one commentator's heavily accented voice. He was grinning as he pointed up, “like, you know that show. Whatis it called? The one that covered Tornado Gals nip-slip. Super-dos-and-donts? Anyway, they put her on that ‘superguy can’t even lift’ list, but I don’t think that was fair. I was right up close and personal with her, and I’ll tell ya,” he does another whistle. “So what if she…”

Ally blew air out of her nose, “I wish you wouldn’t watch this crap gram.” She calls loudly. “It’s the news, get out your needle Alona, I don’t want you sewing during breakfast.” She shakes her head and tests the material once more, at least it was drying quickly as she stretches it to make sure it doesn’t shrink. “I’ll try.” Her skin prickles as she tries to push back the sounds of the news commentators, the words kept circling her ears. This girl had to be only around her age and they were already doing this, she frowns down at the outfit decidedly.

She begins the first stitch and watches her own hands move.

That was the first mend.

----------

Two Months Later

Ally doesn’t look up when she hears the bell on the door jingle, her eyes were down on the sequins she was attaching to Sunrise Masquerades cape (it was apparently for a show).

“Ally!” She winces and attempts to continue to weave in and out, “Ally, it’s for you!”

Ally puts a heavy put-upon sigh, “can’t you handle it Tommy?” “I know you’re just in the back,” she hears a teasing voice and Ally tisks to herself.

“I swear,” she comes out from behind a series of dry-cleaned suits, “if you’ve put another hole in my…” Quantum Twist was standing in front of her, holding up a battered red and yellow suit like she was almost proud of it.

Ally groans, “this is some sort of retribution, isn’t it?” The hero leans forward, “someone sounds like they don’t want my money.” Ally shakes a fist at her, “someone keeps ruining my handiwork. This was just last week!”

Quantum Twist rubs the back of her head, “I had a run in with the Electric Lazer. He had a few things to say to me, I’ll tell you.” Ally crosses her arms over her chest, “I saw.” She says dryly, “you tore up a piece of the leg material to hold that steal beam up. Ugh.” She heard an audible ‘whap’ as Q.T. slapped her hands on the wood, “you were watching?” Her eyes were sparkling and Ally has to gulp.

“Just give it here,” she puts her hand out and the hero was buzzing again.

“Did you see the part where I punched through his motherboard?” “Yes yes.” “He started crying!” She hoots, “did you see where I stopped that building from coming down?” She smoothed one of her eyebrows down, “pretty slick.” Ally reaches over and pinches her cheek, “why don’t you let me just build you a new suit from scratch, huh?” She held up the elastic head-to-foot covering, “this thing is threadbare.” “Hmm,” The hero pouts slightly, “I am not actually made of money. Your mom’s designs are like… next level!” She looks up, her blue eyes pooling in the light. Ally could almost see a ‘one day’ whispered under her breath.

Ally starts bundling up the hero suit, “I saw you do that gatorade commercial.” She says dryly, “don’t tell me they paid you in wafers and bad hair dye.” “My hair is naturally-” she stops when she sees Ally giving her a wry look. “Yeah yeah,” she waves her off, “Just don’t read the youtube comments on that thing.” Ally ducked her head down, she had read the youtube comments, even after she told herself she wouldn’t. Quantum Twist put her head down, “I should get acting lessons.” “Maybe?” She feels a slight tug on her sleeve, “don’t just agree with me.” “I’m just saying,” she puts her hands up, “most humans don’t say ‘I’ve been quenched’ while pouring gatorade on their head.” “That’s what the script said!”

She was laughing, “the robot that lives in your voice box might not have helped.” “Dammit,” Quantum Twist looked away, she huffed, “I’m finding a new seamstress.” All propped herself up on her elbow, “would she be as cute as me though?” Quantum Twist turns to her, something glinting in her eye. She picked up her yellow dry cleaning receipt for later pick-up. Her teeth gleamed as she leaned over, “of course not.” Ally felt a slight shiver go through her spine as she said it, low and almost secretive. It reminds her of when she used to read her favorite parts of dirty novels out loud to herself, just to revel in the sound of the bad words.

She turns her face away, “good.” She grunts, “they can handle your constant terrorizing of their hard work.” She holds up the ragged piece of clothing, Ally was already turning around.

She laughs, “See you next week!” She waves and Ally can only see her go.

That was the fifth mend.

--------

It happened two weeks into summer, Ally’s fan was already on high and her turquoise shorts and overly large tennis shirt flapped in the blast of air. She was sitting on her bedroom floor with her laptop propped up in front of her.

She liked to watch it a little farther away this time of night, her volume was almost all the way down and she was slowing munching on kennel corn, working her way through an entire bucket.

She was letting the hours creep by in a sweet nothingness when she heard a clattering on the window, a soft patter on the tiny balcony by her window. Ally jumps and grabs for her baseball bat she kept by her bed.

Click, another littering of sound makes her hands sweat and she creeps forward. She calls out loudly like her mama taught her.

“Costume Doctors Tailor and Mending shop is not liable for any heroics it’s users get up to in their products,” she calls to the closed window, the hairs on her arm already standing on end. “You hear me? We have insurance.” She crawls up to the glass, pausing to feel the window for cracks or ice.

“You up?” She jumps as a bright shiny face pops up.

“Oh my God,” she clutches at her heart before falling all the way on her ass, her mouth gapes for a moment before she throws a pillow next to her, “we’re closed, idiot!”

The girl grimaces before standing upright on the short balcony, “sorry, sorry,” she had a deep red bloody mark over her shoulder and shins, “I just saw you were up.” Ally creeps a little closer, “you weren’t spying on me, were you?”

Quantum Twist shakes her head, there was something heavy about it. Reserved. “I just,” she sighs. “I don’t know.” She turned away from the city and back to midtown. “I should go-” “Wait,” Ally managed to open her windows up outward, “you’re bleeding again.” The hero glanced at her, “sorry.” She frowns, “I didn’t want to bleed on your stuff, this whole outfit was just falling off, so I thought.” She chewed on her lip.

Ally blew a piece of hair out of her face, “here,” against her better judgment, she reaches over to her nearest pin cushion. “There’s probably something I can do.” “Really?” There was a silver strain in the girl’s voice, bags were hanging under her eyes like caskets. “Cause that would be a huge help, I have to go finish chasing Storm Hawk in the sewers and I wasn’t,” she takes a deep breath, “I wasn’t ready yet.” Ally puts her hand out and tries to gesture at her, “well sit down.” She slumps to the floor of the balcony, with her shoulders sloping to the side and her head tilting back, “you don’t have to tell me twice.” Something pangs in Ally’s chest, “I swear,” she starts examining the brunt of the damage, “this is going to take a lot of pins.” She started to put them in between her teeth, “an’ may’me some tape.” She laughs a little darkly, “I’m open to tape.” She feels her head drop, “just can’t take it off. Not yet.” Ally shakes her head, “you’ll work yourself into the grave.” She says as she sticks the first pin carefully into the shoulder material. That part would have to hold.

“I guess that’s the point,” She chuckles darkly and Ally freezes. Quantum Twist glances back at her and Ally felt herself scowling.

“You better not,” she says lowly, grabbing her cheek and pinching it.

“Ow, ow, ow.” “All you Capes are the same,” she almost growls, “you think you're living some fast-paced sparkly dare devil life-: “I don’t I don’t,” she protests as Ally squeezes, “I’ll stay alive, promise.” Ally lets her go, “good.” She drops her hand and feels something squiggle inside her, “because we don’t need any more dead clients.” “Right,” The girl looked off into the distance, rubbing her cheek absently, “and if I do?” Ally’s mouth hangs open, she sniffs loudly, “if you die you’ll be least favorite customer.” She finds another pin, “after all the mends I’ve done for this suit.” She snorts, “alright,” she leans back on her like she might start to fall to pieces, “I wouldn’t want that.” She grins, the real grin that captured sunflowers and forces of nature. “You are my favorite shop, so I’ll try not to be your worst customer.” She chuckles.

Ally takes another piece of cloth and pieces it together across her shredded back, she winces. “Maybe get in less scrapes altogether.” She says under her breath.

The hero was leaning on her now, leaning on her shins as she sat in front of her. “How else would I see you then?” Ally pauses and tilts her head to the side, “Well, Quantum Twist, you coul-” “Sunny.” “No, actually, it’s quite dark out... How many fingers am I holding up?” she tries to look into her eyes to see if the pupils are blown up or hazy.

The girl laughs, “Sunny Lepinski,” she reaches her hand up, “nice to meet you.” “Oh,” something catches in her throat, “yeah.” She looks at her hand for another long moment, “Sunny.” They shake.

She grins widely, “everyone say it fits.”

“You want me to,” she searches the air, “to know?”

The hero, no, Sunny, shrugs, “We’ve known each other enough.” She shifts beneath her, “you seem like the good sort. Snappiness aside.” “I’m holding sharp objects,” she says plainly, Sunny’s chest shakes as she laughs.

“See? Ally and Sunny. We’ll get on.”

Ally’s eyes go soft, “well Sunny,” she clears her throat, “as I was saying, there are better ways to meet. Like at a bakery. Or in line for the bank.” She whistles back, “the bank you say, very captivating.” She tugs on her hair and Sunny winces again, “or perhaps a wrestling ring?” Sunny snickers and then reaches up, for a moment, just a moment, Ally let’s her take her hand. “Sorry darling,” she says hoarsely, the scrapes and calluses on her hands feeling like jagged lines and harsh prickles. “I’d think I’d win.”

Ally bites the inside of her mouth before clearing her throat, “not if I had my needle with me.” Sunny snorts, “I’ll give you that!”

Ally smiles, like a personal victory to make her laugh a real life in the middle of the night while she bled on her balcony.

“Now,” Sunny glances at her, “let’s talk about that show you were just watching.” Ally freezes, “No, let’s really not.” “Were the ladies playing sand volleyball or was that a bikini shoot?” “It’s a show! It’s on the CW.”

“Sure.”

They bicker and mend and she makes her laugh at least two times more, Ally barely notices when it almost hits two. She barely notices when she had finished doing all she could for that costume.

Then they hear a far off shriek, “oh.” She says softly.

Sunny pauses too, “well,” she cracks her neck before looking back at Ally, “I’ll probably be back in tomorrow.” Ally messages her temple, “on one condition.” She holds up a finger.

“Anything,” Sunny says brightly.

“Let me make you a new costume,” she pokes her, “It won’t even be a fortune if you let me design it instead of my mom.” Sunny’s eyes were alive with something, “well,” she squirms from side to side, “if you insist.” Ally blows air out of her nose but Sunny reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. “Tha-” “Aaaaaaahh,”

Sunny turns away and Ally can only wave briefly before she’s jumping off the roof, “new costume. Later!”

She sighs into her hands, “Goodbye Sunny Lepinski.”

That was the eighth mend.

----------

She was Polish. Polish-American, her dad being first generation. She had originally come from a little place outside of Chicago, but had heard New York is where you make it as a hero.

Her manager was constantly trying to get her to get braces, but Sunny was afraid that would hurt like hell if a villain punched her while she had those. Ally had to agree.

She lived in Queens and took the subway here each time, she had two yellow labs named ‘Liberty’ and ‘Justice,’ which was the worst. And finally a cat named Furball.

Ally almost stopped talking to her right then and there, but Sunny happened to have brought Liberty in that day, and it was hard to stay mad with a dog licking your face.

Her dad was also a Cape, but he wasn’t with them anymore. That made Ally feel worse about her comment about Capes working themselves into the grave, but Sunny seemed to move past it. She moved past a lot.

The tabloids were the worst, but they were the worst anywhere.

Sunny was genial most days, even covered in bruises and bad cuts. She was what she called a ‘bad physics major’ at NYU and a worse philosophy major after two drinks.

She became a regular moment in Ally’s life, just a bright little moment.

She was sitting on the edge of her bathtub one night, letting the hot water run over one of her legs and staring off into nothing.

“So this is some sort of poison?” Ally asks as she looks over the burned, slick flesh.

Sunny looks up slowly, “doc said my body should be able to reject it.” Ally wrinkled her nose, “I don’t like that.” Sunny put a hand on her shoulder, “neither will all the citizens who get sprayed by that stuff tomorrow.” She nudges her new suit toward her, “I mean, I could fight Toxic Archer naked, buuuut,”

“I get it, I get it,” she bent down just as Sunny said that. The other woman was in her underwear sitting in her bathtub.

Just a pair of gray boxers and black sports bra, but still. She started sewing.

Sunny eases her head back as one leg swung in the hot water and Ally watched the steam make her cheek shiny and damp. She takes a deep breath. They sit there for several long moments as Sunny’s skin grew back.

Ally chews on the inside of her cheek and tries to keep her eyes down, but something digs its way out of her mouth,

“Are you going to that superhero ball thing?” She tries to ask naturally.

“Hmm?” Sunny blinked her eyes open like she had almost been asleep, Ally felt a little bad.

“The Global um, Heroes Charity, uh,” she fumbled through the words like a determined swimmer in a deep pool.

Sunny rubs her blurry eyes, “nah.” She snorts, “it’s basically a bunch of douches in suits and masks trying to get a movie about them.” She shook her head. “You don’t need to make me anything.”

Ally watches her own fingers go in and out of the tough material, “No, I just read,” She pauses, Sunny has her eyes on her. “Just read you were.”

Sunny clears her throat, “I try not to read about myself.” She gives a weak smile, “In fact, I swear if I see another article about my ass I’m gonna scream.” Ally leaned back on the bathtub, looking at her sideways, “those are usually pretty big.” “Hey!” Sunny splashes her gently and she pushes on her good leg.

Ally put her hands up, “Kidding, it was a compliment.” Sunny rolled her eyes, “I should write to them. Dear Bad Journalists.”

Ally itches slightly, she hums, “I just read that Red Bolt was taking you to those charity balls.” She concentrates on her needlework as she speaks, making sure she doesn’t stab herself.

Sunny lets out a grough laugh, “Red Bolt?” She lets out a single laugh, “Oh my God. Where did you read that? Must be a rag.” Ally gives a private little exhale, gently blowing air out of her mouth. She finishes neatly up with the gash in the hip area of the costume, she leans on the bathtub, “must be.” Sunny flicks her in the head, “I would never.” She props herself up, “I wouldn’t even have the right outfit for that. Red? Too much red.” Ally wets her lips, “Obviously, we could make you one.” She clicks her tongue, “but then they would definitely ask about your ass there.”

“Ugh,” Sunny groans, “are friends now? Can I smother you with a pillow yet?” “I was saying the truth!” They both chuckle and Ally flattens the costume out.

“There,” she turns to her, keeping her eyes up and away from her underwear clad body: marred with burn stains and healing little marks. “You can get yourself beat up again.” She winces and reaches out, “perfect.”

Ally holds it just out of her grasp, her eyes soften, “just,” she shifts from side to side, “be careful.” Sunny takes a long heaving moment to push herself up, the wound on her leg looked like it was taking its sweet time to close. Ally felt Sunny’s powers gently twist her closer, a soft peck was pressed into her head.

“I always am.”

Ally stands there for a long moment, she got a kiss on the head. “Why don’t I believe you?” She didn’t hear her.

That was the eleventh mend.

------

Ally was tired, she was tired in her fingers and her bones and the ache in her spine that said she had been standing too long. Her eyes kept feeling like they wanted to shudder closed on her for good and she couldn’t help but sigh with every step.

Her mom had taken on more clients for the hero charity season, where they pretended it was the red carpet for Capes and all upgraded their looks. It didn’t help that their main fabric dealer was all the one in Long Island, making Ally take the subway there what felt like every other day at rush hour.

She was carrying a bag of jelly roll fabric that was a breathable material with maximum fire resistance. They call it ‘Miracle Fiber’ but it was heavy and made her feel like Sisyphus rolling his bolder back and forth (between Manhattan and Long Island).

It was only four, but she had been up since six doing errands, maybe that’s why she didn’t run out of the way right away as the building started to crash.

She got off the subway with the afternoon rush and ended up on third avenue walking up toward central park and their shop. The rumbling started way before she arrived, but she was in too much of a hurry to pause and consider it.

It was New York, things rumbled.

Crrrrrraacccckz

Ally has a moment to look up before a tall ruddy brown building is bursting like a party balloon, columns of dust and debris flying in all directions.

“AAaaaah!” The screaming starts, it’s a vibrant slap of color across her face, Ally tries to take a leap forward but the rubble is crashing right over her head.

“Never fear!”

Ally is scrambling from the noise and the debris flying overhead, then she feels an arm wrap around her waist and a twist in midair. She recognized this sensation.

A woman with a red and yellow suit and a Q and T on the back whipped around in the air, her blonde hair waving and the whole world spinning in circles. Quantum Twist, with the power of reorientation.

Sunny hoists her off the ground and twists them in midair along with the rest of the rubble, keeping them in her ‘revolution orbit’ as she called it and spinning off into a safer direction. Several more quick moments of rotating and clearing building guts follows.

They finally land haphazardly on the building across the street, Sunny plasters Ally to her side as their feet touch down and her head swims.

“Woah,” Ally holds her mouth as she tries not to puke.

Sunny dips her gently, keeping her close, the hero faces outward, “don’t worry fair citizens.” Ally could have rolled her eyes at the over-playing, the Saturday morning cartoon girl all over again. “The building has been secured.” Ally hears a woosh from somewhere to her left and she hopes it’s the villain fleeing. She didn’t need any more antics that day.

“Wooo!” She hears cheering from down below and Ally unthinkingly peaks over the edge.

She feels instantly dizzy as she realizes they must be on the top of one of the 10 story high rises, Ally leans away from the edge and holds tighter to the only one of them that could fly. Sunny was still doing her hero pose, feet wide, back straight, smile on like a 100 watt light bulb. “Thank you Quantum Twist!” Someone yells from down below and waves.

“It’s just my job,” she waves back, having clearing the whole area of a spray of death from above.

Ally holds on tightly to her waist as she feels the air whip around them, “my hero.” She says dryly as she glances over.

“Don’t mention it,” Sunny says under her breath with an equally wry rasp.

Ally sighed and grabbed onto her side, “you didn’t actually need to pick me up.” Sunny winked, “maybe I wanted to.” “Are you going to the Charity Ball with Red Bolt miss Twist?” A reporter was scrambling on the ground. “He says he’ll adjust the sun in the sky for you.” “God I hope he doesn’t,” Sunny grumbles before holding Ally tightly and reoriente gravity to ease them back onto the ground.

Ally knows she doesn’t have to cling to her as they float slowly down, but it felt okay to do so.

“I’m sure the police can take it from here,” Sunny gives a brief salute, “I’m glad to see no casualties from the nefarious Boom Buster, who I should go chase. Right now.” “Miss Twist!” More reporters came around the corner, “do you have any comments on the People magazine article-” The reporters dive for Ally too, “Citizen, how do you feel being saved? Are you going to rate this on Heroics.com?” They all began talking at once and Ally feels a loss as the disentangle themselves.

“This hapless citizen is safe,” Sunny winks subtly and Ally makes a face at her, “I must be off.” “Wait,” Ally reaches out as the camera’s flash, “thank you kind hero. Let me repay you.” She says it in her most crooning voice, bridging the gap between them swiftly.

She gives a teasing kiss on the side of her cheek, “thanks for making me seasick.” She whispers and pecks her again on the cheek.

“Miss Twist!” More reporters roar.

“Uh,” Sunny stands there with a dumbstruck look on her face before turning, “Bye!”

Sunny looked particularly red in the face as she sped away with the speed of gravity tugging her violently in the opposite direction.

Ally chuckles and watches her back.

She would mend her a new costume in the morning/

That would be the sixteenth fix.

----------

It was almost 2 am, Ally wasn’t watching TV this time, she was waiting anxiously by the window as it felt like her heart might fall out her ass. Her head was pounding and she could taste something gray and musty in her mouth.

She chewed anxiously on the bottom of her lip, “come on.” She started to swear, “fuck, come on.”

She was shaking and not taking her eyes away from the skyline, let her come, let her come. Lord, just let her find her way here.

She almost jumps out of her skin when she first heard the knock on the door, “Sunny?!” Her voice comes out shrill and pained.

She hears another knock as someone sticks her head in, “sweetie.” Her mom, with her tight hair coiled in a bun at the very top of her head and her sharp eyes and pursed mouth. They regard each other warily.

Ally’s shoulders fall down, “I’ll go to sleep soon mama.” She murmurs without meeting her eye.

Her mom lets out a small sigh, “your grandma wanted me to bring you this.” Her mom held a cup of what appeared to steaming liquid. “It’s honey and milk.” Ally’s eyes don’t quiet focus as she shifts in bed, “thanks mama. You can leave it on the desk.”

Her mom frowns and she shuts the door behind her as she walks in, “Alley…” She says slowly, “it’s not… I told you.” She sounded tired too. “I know,” Ally scowls, “I’m not invested in the clients.” She knew, she already said it, they all worked themselves into the grave. That’s what her family always said.

Her mom walks across the room and squeezes her hand, “I know I ask a lot of you.” Ally’s gaze darts up hotly, something brimming just under her stinging eyes. “If you didn’t want me to get attached why do you bring them all in? Why did you,” she begins tremble, “Why did we keep fixing them up?”

Her eyes start to overflow, her breathes coming in heaving shuddering gasps, “how is she gonna come back from that? How do I fix,” her tears keep streaming down like they might never stop.

“I know,” her mom wraps her arms around her shoulder, “we’re doing our part. These things happen.” Ally pushes her off, “her arm was fucking ripped off on live television!” She screams and balls up her hands in her hair, “you don’t,” she lets out an anguished wail. “You don’t come back from that.”

She sees her grandma at the door behind them, she was drooping, sad.

“They’re doing their part,” she lifts her chin up, “we all do.” She kisses her forehead, “you’ve done everything you can honey.” Ally wipes away the large fat tears one at a time, most of them running freely down her nose and chin, “you brought them in,” she weakly pushes her chest away, “You’re the great Priscilla Alvarez! We do our part to dress them up for the morgue!”

“You know that’s unfair Alona.” She says sharply.

She screams, “she’s only twenty! She’s,” Ally’s voice breaks, “she’s my friend.”

Her mama holds her again as she relives again and again the image of her best friend being torn apart and her falling, falling away like an afterthought.

She was tired. So tired.

There was no mending that night.

---------

It took Ally five days to locate where Sunny actually lived, it was strange you could know someone for almost two years and never even know where they resided. She took the subway to Queens and held her own shaking hands the whole way.

Her brother gave her some sort of assorted bread basket to take, he didn’t look her in the eye as he handed it over. “Tell her I’m sorry I placed all those newspaper headlines out when she came in.” He shakes, “I thought it was funny then, but, but, yeah.”

Ally didn’t know what to say and she sets off. She brings her needle, just in case. Her mom tries to say something too, but Ally just shakes her head and leaves.

It takes nine stops and a walk down three neighborhoods before gets in the right region. “203,” she murmurs, “203.

Ally didn’t know superheroes lived in sublets with creaking gates and ancient cherry blossom trees surrounding them, but that’s where she soon found herself. A little old brown house with a low fence around it.

She knocks three times before almost deciding to burst in. She hears a faint bark from within and whistles, “Open the door Justice,” she calls inside to the dog, “lemme in.” She hears some shuffling footsteps and a heavy weight on the door, “you know you’re not supposed to know where I live.” A voice calls heavily from within, Ally could have cried again. “Client-patron confidentiality.”

“Sunny,” she touches the warm wood from outside, “Sunny, tell me you’re okay.”

She doesn’t hear anything from within, just the slight sound of pained breathing. “I’m okay. As okay as I can be.” She finally heard a small voice say, “you saw it though. Huh?”

“My grandma never turns the damn news off,” she swallows thickly and tries to keep it together, “let me in?”

“I’m not sure you want to see,” her friend says in a tired voice, “my costume is going to need some alterations. I know you’ll mind.” Ally paws at her face, the wetness gathering again. “Don’t put it back on.” She begs hoarsely, “never put it back on.”

She hears a very very long pause, the type of pause that made you think maybe the world had frozen over and the birds had stopped singing. That made you shiver slightly.

She hears the door unlock and a very blonde head cautiously look out, “what good would that do?” Ally dove through the opening and tried to hug every inch of her, she buries her face in the other girls chest and lets out a sob, “you’re the worst.” She feels one arm come hesitantly to wrap around her shoulders, “Ally,” she says softly, “please Ally.” “I’m sorry,” she quietly pieces herself back together as she pulls back, touching Sunny’s face softly, “I’m sorry for it all.” Sunny grimaces slightly, “I’m sorry you had to see it.” She sighs and rubs the back of her head with the hand she had left, “I wasn’t careful.” Ally could have screamed, “you shouldn't have to.” She shakes, her body vibrating. “You’re not fucking soldiers.”

“Maybe,” Sunny gives a sad look and opens her mouth, “But, you know,” she bends her head down, “I always knew it.” Ally doesn’t let go of her as she asks, “knew what?” Sunny kisses Ally’s shoulder, “that you were a big softie under all that prickliness.” Ally wipes at her face again before meeting her eye, “I never wanted to be a seamstress,” she said grudgingly, “I wanted to be a florist.” “Really?” “No,” she kisses the edge of her chin, “but we could be anything else.” She holds her hand. “Anything else.” Sunny bites her lip, “I can’t leave.” She says steadily, “this is… this is who I am.”

Ally shakes her head, “why don’t we become something else?” She offers softly, “anything.” “What?” Sunny cocks her head the side, “like bakers or dog walkers or bad ventriloquists?” She laughs with sandpaper in her throat, “I’d love that.” She kisses the side of her face and something unsaid goes between them.

Sunny taps their foreheads together, “I’m not sure I’d very good at that.” She winces, “I’m not sure if I’d be good at anything else.” Ally gradually, ever so slowly pushes herself up on her tiptoes, she presses a kiss so soft to her mouth that it feels like a warm, wet rain. The wet part was probably her fault, their breaths mix and the kiss makes her chest tighten and her heart sing.

She pulls back, “then let’s be bad at things together.” She nuzzles her neck, “somewhere away from this.” Ally picks her up and swings her round, kissing the side of her mouth and then her jaw and then her mouth all over again.

“Run away with me she says,” she kisses her again, “one handed and all.” “As long as the rest of you stops running into battle zones every time you see them.” She wraps her arms around her neck.

“Fine by me,” she kisses her nose. “And no more magazine covers.” She clicks her tongue, “I’ll fight Red Bolt if I have to.” She puts her hand through the other girl’s hair like she always wanted to. “And throw all of Manhattan into the sea myself.” Sunny throws her arm up, “finally!” She crows with a laugh, “and you’ll teach me sew up my own pants I suppose.” Ally holds her close, “finally.”

She does one last mend.

#wlw #original story #super hero #sapphic #lbgtq story #original writing

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mothmanwearstiaras-blog · 7 years

Text

At Virtue’s End: Chapter 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------- Every villain is a hero in their own mind. If we had followed Negan from the beginning we'd all be rooting for him. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Negan origin fanfic. AU with some canon thrown in for good measure.

Begins shortly before the outbreak and will follow through to where we are in the series. Negan x OC

Author's Note:

First and foremost, thank you so much for even giving this fic a shot. I've read a lot, a LOT, of amazing Negan x OC fanfic and I know that there is a ton out there to choose from so from the bottom of my heart, thank you!

My intent with this story is to write a completely AU Negan origin fic with some canon thrown in there for good measure. We're starting this story out right before the outbreak and my intent is to follow Negan's story all the way through to where we currently are in the TV series. Most stories I've read have started well in to the apocalypse with The Saviors & Sanctuary already established, I want to write about what happened to get us there.

The first few chapters are a lot of world building, introduction to characters... things like that. Bear with me, we'll get in to things pretty quickly but I also don't want to go too fast and have the story seem rushed. I am in this for the long haul and hopefully, if I can do what I've got in my mind any justice whatsoever, you all will be too.

Happy reading!

___________________________________________

Chapter One: Before the Fall

The night was dark and all was quiet. The stars were shining bright in the sky above the old farm house and the crickets were busily playing their songs out in the woods somewhere. The brook babbled away out behind the house and an owl gave a startled hoot as the silver car navigated the twists and turns of the long loose gravel driveway.

Outside of the car everything was calm, peaceful even... but the girl inside of the vehicle was anything but serene.

She pulled her car to a stop in its normal spot near the end of the driveway. The headlights died as the key was removed from the ignition and Samantha's hands quickly found the rear view mirror. She turned its reflective surface towards her face and sighed. She was a mess. Her bright blue eyes were stained red around the edges and the tears she refused to let fall were just as fresh now as they had been when she had started her drive. Her dark brown hair was a tangled mess from the wind that had been running through it and her makeup had turned in to a blotchy mess of stains upon her face. She couldn't go inside looking like this. Her grandmother would know that something was wrong right off the bat and the last thing that she wanted to do right now was worry her... in fact, all she really wanted to do was take a hot bath and crawl in to the familiar bed of her childhood home.

She wiped delicately at the smeared makeup under her eyes and pulled her hair in to a ponytail before grabbing the overnight bag from her passenger seat and climbing out of her car. She threw the door shut with a resounding thud but stalled for a moment when she heard the unmistakable sound of his truck making its way down the driveway. She knew he would follow her, she would have been stupid to expect anything less, but that didn't change the way that her heart fell to the pit of her stomach as she heard his steady approach.

“God, help me.” She whispered to herself with a shake of her head. Another confrontation was the last thing she needed but she could already feel her body gearing up for the argument that was sure to come.

She was briefly illuminated by the harsh white of his headlights as he pulled his truck to a stop closely behind her own vehicle. She forced herself not to look his way as she lifted her chin, straightened her back, and began the short walk that stood between her and the temporary sanctuary that awaited her inside the house.

“Samantha!” The truck’s door slammed shut as he exited its cab. She could hear the crunch of the loose gravel beneath his heavy boots as moved quickly to catch up to her. "Come on, Sam! Just fucking talk to me!"

"No, Negan." Her voice was steady and strong in its response. She was done for the night, the time for this conversation was over.

“Come on, babe!” He chuckled lightly and the sound of it rose her hackles in an instant. “It’s really not a big deal!”

"Not a big deal?" She turned on her heel to face him. “You’re seriously trying to tell me that what happened tonight was not a big deal?”

"It was a fucking bar fight, Sam!"

“This isn’t about the bar fight, Negan!” She was near yelling now, her voice matching his in both volume and tone. “It’s about you still seeing your ex-mistress!”

“I am not seeing-“

“You have been lying to me for weeks now and you have the audacity to stand here and tell me that it's not a big deal!"

"I didn't lie to you Sam! I just...” Fuck. “I just didn't tell you."

"Oh,” her voice was laced with sarcasm as the tears reformed within her eyes, “well that makes everything better!”

“Sam, I swear-“

She shook her head and let out a rough, painful sounding scoff. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

She turned on her heel and moved swiftly towards the front door but she could immediately hear his rapid footfalls as he steadily gained on her from behind. She made her way up the front porch steps quickly but he was within arm’s reach of her before her hand had even found the doorknob. She tried to pull the door open but before it was more than a few inches ajar his hand shot out from over her shoulder and firmly forced it shut. She turned on her heel, fully prepared to book it back to her car or to do anything she had to just to get herself out of there and away from him but his hands moved to either side of her body and his strong arms instantly formed an effective cage around her before her first step. She was trapped, pinned to the front door, and she had no other choice but to meet his eyes as he spoke.

"I am not still fucking seeing her, Samantha." His voice was low and gruff, nearly a growl as he stared down at her. The tiny green flecks within his dark brown eyes all but sparkled as they caught the porch light and set a certain type of fire to his gaze. "She got her job back at the dealership. I work in the shop. Sometimes our paths fucking cross. It's not often but sometimes. Neither one of us fucking likes it and when we do have to speak it's short, sweet and to the damn point. That's it. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Samantha's voice was strong and her eyes were just as hardened as his.

"You're fucking serious?" Her eyebrow rose ever so slightly and her challenge was obvious. "This." His right hand moved to gesture between them. "This beautiful shit show of a situation we've gotten ourselves in to right fucking here is why I didn't tell you."

"You never lie to me, Negan." She gave his chest one solid push, forcing him to step back and give her some semblance of space. "Why would you now unless there was something to hide?"

"You're really fucking accusing me of..." he trailed off as his fist collided solidly with the wooden doorframe to her right. "I am not fucking cheating on you, Sam."

"What the hell am I supposed to think, Negan?"

He scoffed as he lowered his head, shaking it in frustration before lifting his gaze and staring her directly in the eyes once more. "You really think that after all the bullshit I've been through-"

"Don't!" Samantha said fiercely, her finger rising to point at his face. "You did this, not me. Do not turn this around and act like I'm the one with the problem here."

"I can't fucking believe this shit."

"Yeah?" Samantha asked. "I'm sure Diana couldn't believe it when you were stepping out on her either."

And in that moment, everything changed.

Negan didn't speak. His eyes remained locked with hers for what felt like an eternity and his expression changed from one of anger to shock and then back again. His hands turned to fists at her sides as his jaw clenched in frustration and barely contained anger.

"Once a cheater, always a cheater, that it doll?" His voice was low and quiet as he pushed himself away from the door and took two slow, deliberate steps backwards.

"Negan-"

"Low blow, kid."

"That's not-"

"Low. Fucking. Blow." He annunciated each word before turning from her and making his way down the porch steps.

Samantha wasn't sure what kept her there. She felt glued to the spot as he stalked towards his truck and she knew that she would be damned before she ran after him. He had made this mess, not her, and despite the peculiar numbness that washed over her body as she watched him go she would not give him the satisfaction of her groveling.

"Maybe you should stay here for the night, Samantha." He said as he turned back to look her way from just outside his truck. "Figure out what the fuck it is that you want from me because this shit," he gestured between the two of them, "this is not what I fucking want."

His eyes left hers as he pulled the driver's side door open harshly. He climbed inside and slammed the door shut behind him. The engine roared to life and she did nothing but watch as he roughly threw the gear shift in to reverse. His foot found the gas and he made quick work of the turn it took to point him in the right direction before taking off in to the night faster than what was normal on the small, winding road.

Her entire being worked on autopilot as she lowered herself to sit gently on the old wooden steps of the porch beneath her. She leaned against the pillar to her right and let her head fall to her hands.

How the hell had this even happened?

It had started out just like any other Wednesday night at The Red Oak Tavern. She had arrived at 2:45 and was out on the floor, ready for her shift promptly by three. The local watering hole had proven to be a decent place to work and the locals were always good to her as far as tips went. She had known most of her coworkers since grade school and the owner, Russell O'Brien, was a fair boss who everyone knew by name... hell, everyone knew everybody in the small historic town of Widow's Ridge.

The first two hours of her shift had been slow, a normal thing for an early afternoon, but by half past five business had picked up with the usual crowd of post workday nine to fivers. A couple of teachers from the high school sat in a booth towards the back and the guys from the construction crew working on Mrs. Leary's back porch took the two booths behind them. Dr. Adkins was sitting with his wife at a high top next to the jukebox and more than a few twenty-somethings from the local college filled the tables around them. James McCallister had taken his normal seat front and center at the bar and a few of the other salesman at the car dealership he worked for flanked him on either side. Another ring of the bell above the tavern's heavy oak door announced the arrival of the guys from the auto shop, right on time, and most of them headed towards a booth by the pool tables.

Negan, on the other hand, bee-lined it straight towards her.

He was tall, tall and built with a set of espresso eyes that even after all this time could still make her blush when he worked them the right way. His dark hair and salt and pepper beard added to his manly persona almost as much as the black leather jacket he was rarely caught without did. His dark wash jeans and heavy black boots brought his entire appearance together and wrapped it up in a very bad-ass bow.

Without a second thought, Samantha pushed through the swinging gate that separated the back of the bar from the rest of the tavern and approached him with a smile on her face.

"And there she is!" He said as he reached her and she could already tell he was in a particularly good mood today. His arm reflexively wrapped around her waist and his hand found the small of her back as he pulled her in close and lowered his lips to hers for a quick kiss.

"How was your day?" She asked.

He shrugged as his typical flirtatious smirk began to pull at his lips. "Better now."

"Ughhhhh, get a room!" Both heads turned to their right and their gazes immediately landed on the petite blonde at the other end of the bar. She gave the couple a quick, friendly wink before returning her attention to filling her table's drink order.

"That friend of yours," Negan said as he turned back towards his girl, "she is something else."

Samantha laughed as she turned and began walking back towards the bar. Negan followed easily in tow and leaned on his forearms against the counter as she had made her way behind it.

"You closing tonight?" He asked.

She nodded. "Unfortunately."

"That's alright," Negan said as his grin grew just a little wider, the gleam in his eyes unmistakable as he whispered across the tabletop, "gives me a little more time to find that room your friend suggested."

It was Samantha's turn to give him a little smirk of her own. "Something wrong with the one at our place?"

"Not at all, baby doll. Not at all." He pulled back just enough for his proximity to her to be seen as casual to anybody looking their way. "For now, I'll just have my usual."

"You got it."

Negan gave her a quick wink before straightening himself up and heading to join the rest of his crew around the pool table. The gait of his walk oozed confidence as he approached the other guys and Samantha couldn't help the small smile that refused to be hidden from her face as she watched him go. When she caught the judgmental scowls coming from the group of ladies at the booth across the room, however, she quickly turned her face away. She could already feel the blush rising to her cheeks as she straightened her back and turned on her heel in an attempt to flee their prying eyes but the solid smash of a body coming in to contact with hers had her stopping in her tracks.

"Woah!" The same blonde from before yelled as Samantha collided with her and her tray full of drinks.

"Jesus! Sorry, Candice!" Samantha exclaimed, her hands darting out on their own volition to catch the two glasses closest to her before they could fall to the ground.

"What the hell was that about!?" Candice asked as she lowered her tray to the bar’s surface and looked her friend in the eye.

"Table twelve." Samantha tilted her head in the direction of the women still openly staring their way.

Candice glanced towards the booth and Samantha saw her brow furrow the moment she realized the situation. The table in question consisted of Karla Johnston, Elizabeth Warren, Nancy Parker, and Meredith Dickens. Each was a house wife and stay at home mother on their own but together they formed they most productive rumor mill disguised as a book club that Widow's Ridge had ever seen. If there was a juicy piece of gossip in that town those women knew it first and they did everything within their power to spread it far and wide. Negan and Samantha had been their favorite item to talk about for months and by the way they were already whispering amongst themselves that fact wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

"Seriously? They're still pulling this crap?" Candice asked with a shake of her head and a gentle scoff. " It's been a year, ladies! It's time to move on!"

Samantha glanced over her shoulder and took in the new expressions of shock and horror adorning the ladies’ faces. She could hear the whispers of 'I never' and similar statements of disbelief from clear across the room but she turned back to Candice with a smile. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Candice said before throwing her tray back on to her shoulder, giving Samantha's hand a quick and reassuring squeeze, and heading off towards her waiting table.

Widow's Ridge was a quintessential small town. It was quiet, not much happened there outside of local sporting events and annual festivals celebrating this, that, or the other thing. Everyone knew everyone's business and when something as scandalous as an affair was thrown out in to the open the rumors tended to travel fast. News of Negan's long-term extra-marital relationship with Elena Lewis had seemingly come out of nowhere and it had piqued everyone's interest. The people in town had wasted no time in choosing a side and no one was above talking about it. Diana, Negan's now ex-wife, had taken to her newfound role of the innocent victim quickly and with ease before hotfooting it out of town and moving to a pretty cottage in the woods somewhere in Ohio with her new beau. Elena, the sinful seductress, had made amends with her husband and the rest of the town seemed to forgive her once he had taken her back. Negan, on the other and opposite hand, still seemed to struggle with the mud his name had been raked through on a daily basis.

The men of the town as a collective whole were over the ordeal rather quickly for the most part; Negan had coached most of their sons in one sport or another throughout the years and he had really done them no real wrong. The women on the other hand, the mothers and wives and friends that Diana had spent her life around, were a completely different story. They seemed determined to hold on to that grudge until their dying day and were doing a pretty good job of it so far.

The moment he had gotten involved with Samantha, the typical and sweet girl next door who happened to be a whole ten years younger than him, the story had gotten even juicer. The book club had descended upon them like a pack of wolves and gobbled the story up whole. By this point Samantha was all but used to the sideways glances that she would get from his ex-wife's former friends and after putting up with it for all this time the whispered words about their relationship had almost stopped bothering her... almost.

Samantha chanced one quick look in Negan's direction. Her glance in and of itself was enough to prove that he had seen the entire thing. His eyes narrowed at her in an obvious question and all she could do was give him a quick, albeit shaky smile and a slight nod of her head before forcing herself to get back to work. He wasn't stupid, furthermore he wasn't deaf or blind, he was just as aware of the things that were said about them as she was. The difference between the two was that while Samantha could let most things go and turn the other cheek, Negan was fiercely protective. In his mind, they could say whatever they wanted about him but the moment Samantha's name was mentioned it turned in to a whole other ball game.

She sighed.

In hindsight, her first clue that the night was going to turn ugly should have been the way Karla Johnston had jumped up from the booth after Candice's confrontation and ran straight towards James McCallister. James was Diana's brother and the only person left in town who could honestly say that they hated Negan as much as she did. To his credit, James had kept his cool for almost the entire rest of the night. It wasn't until close to the end of her shift that the situation had started to hit the fan.

Negan had decided to hang around until closing time, a somewhat regular occurrence that saved Samantha the solo fifteen-minute walk back to their shared townhouse just off of Main Street. It had been a busy night and when Samantha had finally gotten the chance to take a break she had thought nothing of grabbing the open seat at the bar next to Negan. She had ordered her usual Chicken Caesar wrap from the kitchen for dinner and everything was fine... Well, everything had been fine up until the moment that Negan had absentmindedly placed his hand against the small of her back as he talked to one of the other men at the bar.

It was such a small gesture, something that had happened in front of God, James, and everyone else in the bar a thousand times over, but for some reason tonight had been the night that the small display of affection had caused James to scoff in disgust. Samantha had felt the aura of the room shift immediately and she sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening that Negan would simply ignore it... no such luck would be coming her way this evening.

"You got a fucking problem, McCallister?" Negan had asked, his smile never faltering as he turned his entire body towards the other man.

"Yeah, yeah I do," James had responded as he turned towards Negan in a similar fashion, "me and half the other people in this town."

"Negan," Samantha had whispered as her hand came to rest on the strong muscles of his forearm, "don't. Just let it go."

Her only response from him was his free hand coming to rest on top of hers for the briefest of moments before he stood from his bar stool and took a step towards James. "Scoffing at a lady, that's just fucking rude. Says a lot about your upbringing."

"My upbringing?" James said as he stood as well. "You cheated on your wife, you piece of shit. If anyone's upbringing should be brought in to question its yours."

"Really guys?" Samantha said as she rose to her feet and stood between them. Her hands rose to either side of her in an attempt to keep the men as far apart as possible. "We're bringing each other's upbringing in to this? What's next, insulting each other's mothers?"

She could see Russell taking notice from across the room and he quickly moved towards the situation.

"You don't like me?" Negan continued as if he hadn't heard her. "That’s fine. I don't fucking like you either. Your issues are with me, not with her. You've got a fucking problem? You bring it up with me. We can step outside and handle this like men."

"You want me to bring it up with you? Fine." James turned his eyes away from Negan and looked directly at Samantha. "Does she know you're seeing Elena again?"

That was the moment that everything went to shit.

Before Samantha could even turn to look at him, Negan had moved past her and slammed his fist in to the side of James' face. She wasn't sure who's hands had grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away from the brawl but the next thing she knew she was a good ten feet away while Russell had jumped right in the middle of it along with the three other men that had still been hanging around the bar jumping in to assist him. She heard the sound of breaking glass and then there was blood on the floor. By the time the two men were torn apart James' nose was definitely broken and Negan's left eye was already beginning to bruise. There was heavy breathing all around as the two men were pulled to opposite sides of the room and Russell had no choice but to have Candice call the local sheriff.

When the flurry of motion had finally stopped all Samantha could do was look at him. Negan was hurt, but not badly. Her first instinct of making sure that he was okay quickly fled and made way for the fight or flight type of response that had taken control of her for the remainder of the night. She was somewhat aware of the fact that he had called out to her but she hadn't listened to a single word he'd said. She had merely grabbed her jacket and bag from behind the bar and left as quickly as she could. She had barely even thought about what she was doing but the next thing she knew she was in their bedroom packing a bag and then she was out the door and heading in the direction of her grandmother’s house.

Her cell phone buzzed from within her jacket pocket and effectively brought her out of her reverie. She saw Candice's name flash upon the screen in bright white letters and Samantha unlocked her phone to read the text that she had been sent.

Candice:

I hope you're okay. Call me if you need anything. <3

Samantha typed a quick reply before shoving her phone back in to her pocket. It was getting later by the second and she knew that she at least had to let her grandmother know that she was here before she could get herself to that bath that was so desperately calling her name.

#negan #negan x oc #negan fanfiction #negans thirst squad #negans-network #negan fanfic #negan slow burn

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abirdandabeast · 7 years

Note

I had a one shot idea I love but I just couldn't get onto paper so would you like to have it? "Beast Boy is mortally wounded and Raven can't heal him, so she breaks magic laws and binds his soul to hers as a familiar, saving him. She hates herself for doing it to him but he's utterly thankful, there's no one who he would rather give his soul to"

Robberies were the worst. Almost always, they were inexperienced, or at least had someone in the group who had no idea what the hell they were doing. And always, without fail, someone ended up getting hurt.

Raven liked to think that it was merely a coincidence, but she knew from experience that it had more to do with fear than anything. Criminals feared them. It was nothing new about working in the superhero business, especially one with a shining reputation like the Titans.

They were intimidating.

Scary.

The hammer of justice that descended upon criminals; that was the Titans. So it made perfect sense that the cowardly troop of lowly bank robbers quaked before them.

Raven batted them aside with her magic, her eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head from how painfully easy this was. According to the media, this band of robbers were supposed to be up and coming in the villainous world; scary and merciless, not above shooting a civilian or two. But to Raven, these guys were a joke.

One of them nearly wet his pants at the sight of her.

It didn’t help that she was an empath, and could sense every single spine tingling emotion that dripped out from their oddly shaped skulls. Raven almost laughed while she pummeled them to dust, unable to handle their fierce demeanors when she knew they all wanted to tuck tails and run.

The idiots had decided that it would be a great idea to try and rob one of the largest jewelry stores in Jump City. Of course, the Titans were alerted right away, and now they were kicking these robbers’ sorry asses into next year.

“Raven, look out!”

She effortlessly dodged the fist coming her way, latching onto the perpetrator’s wrist and sending him flying across the lobby in one, swift movement. She turned to give Beast Boy a shout of thanks, only to freeze at the sight of him charging towards her.

A ferocious growl erupted from his throat, and he launched himself up over her, erupting into a tiger as he landed atop one of the robbers.

Raven had been so caught up in the roller coaster of emotions around her, she hadn’t even noticed him.

She stared a moment in shock, watching the robber as he held Beast Boy back with a bat, trying to keep the tiger’s fangs from taking a bite out of him. Not that Beast Boy would ever do that. But the robbers didn’t know that.

And Raven was certain Beast Boy wanted to keep it that way.

The pounding of footsteps drew her out of her trance, and Raven whirled around with her fists raised, dark energy crackling up her arms. One of the perps ran at her, weapon raised. She caught him in a net of black magic, batting him away like it was nothing.

A strangled grunt had her whipping back around. A gasp caught in her throat, and time slowed.

Beast Boy swayed over the robber, whose hand gripped the shaft of something embedded within the shapeshifter’s gut. There was a beat where the two stared at each other, both of them wide-eyed in shock. Then Beast Boy keeled over, falling in a heap atop the robber, who shoved him to the side and scrambled away.

The sight of her comrade falling spurred Raven into action. She ran to his side, a garbled scream tearing at her throat.

“No!”

She dropped to her knees, something sticky and warm clinging to her skin. Blood. His blood. Tears burned at her eyes as she clutched at his arm, gently turning him over.

It was a knife. At least, by the looks of the handle. A dagger, perhaps. Regardless, it was shoved unceremoniously into Beast Boy’s gut, blood swelling around it and staining his lower half. Raven gulped, reaching for the injury with shaking hands.

She could fix this.

She had to fix this.

Tears spilled down her cheeks and she muttered her mantra, trying to build up the courage to remove the knife.

“Rae,” Beast Boy croaked.

“Shh,” she hissed. “I-I need to get this out.”

Beast Boy’s hand covered hers, and he gently pried her fingers off the hilt. In a swift motion, he ripped the dagger free of himself, crying out in agony as he did so. “There,” he rasped, letting the bloodied weapon clatter to the floor. “Happy?”

His joking tone was quite the contrast to the situation, and Raven wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack him, or sob like a baby. Instead, she powered onward, pressing her trembling hands onto the gushing wound and muttering her mantra like a lifeline, relishing in the healing power that flowed from her fingertips.

She could do this.

“Raven,” Beast Boy whispered, his voice rough. She ignored him, fervently trying to pour every ounce of healing she could into him. Raven could almost feel the energy draining as fast as she provided it, and it scared her.

“Rae…”

Raven sniffed, glaring at him. “I’m trying to heal you,” she growled. He lifted a hand to her face, brushing softly at her cheek. There was a faraway look in his eyes, accompanied by a tenderness she’d never noticed before.

“I…I need to…tell you something…”

She shook her head. “N-no. Stop that. You’re going to be fine.” Her voice came out as a growl, and she scowled at her own abrasiveness.

“I’m not letting you die.”

As soon as she said it, Raven knew that she meant it. Maybe she was selfish, but she didn’t care. In that moment, staring death in the face, Raven decided to break the natural cycle. She was going to spit at death’s face, and nothing was going to stop her.

Raven took a deep breath, shutting out the world around her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and immediately a map of auras lit up the area around her, like a starry night sky. She slowly blocked out all of their glow, focusing solely on the flickering light beside her. Her hands moved to Beast Boy’s chest, and she allowed her breathing to sync with his erratic gasps.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Her eyes snapped open, and she began to speak.

“Vitae, mortem, immortalitatem. Vitae, mortem, immortalitatem. Et hanc animam sicut vinctum ad reliqua in aeternum.”

A bolt of magical energy exploded out of her with a bang. Raven fell back from the sheer force of it, her body slamming into the cold, marble floor. She sat up, dazed, when a bright, blinding light burned at her eyes.

Raven shielded her face, gaping up at the floating shape of Beast Boy. He was glowing. She watched, fascinated, as fiery red symbols scrawled across his body, shining like pinpricks of firelight in the darkness of night. The symbols began to flash brighter and faster, before erupting into a brighter light that made her squeeze her eyes shut.

Her arm was on fire. Raven let out a gasp, her eyes snapping open as she clutched at her wrist. A symbol glowed white on her skin, matching the abstract markings that had just blanketed Beast Boy. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, though Raven could have sworn she saw a silvery sheen left behind.

The light around her faded, and Raven stared at Beast Boy’s still form in front of her. For a terrifying moment, she thought he was dead. He didn’t move. Not even a little. She watched his chest with bated breath, hoping that her little stunt wasn’t for nothing, when she felt it.

Beast Boy? she thought.

Raven.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gasped, gazing up at her in wonder. He was alive.

Tears dripped down her face, and she laughed. What she’d done was probably illegal; a great break in the laws of magic, but Raven didn’t care. She lurched forward and gathered Beast Boy up in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably as she relished in his warmth.

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. “I’m here,” he whispered, over and over again. “I’m here.”

It was then that Raven realized why she did it; she loved him. Selfishly so. And while there was going to be serious repercussions for what she had done, Raven found that she simply did not care.

Instead, she clung to him, worrying only about the sweet sound of his gentle breathing.

Well, this was a beast. I tried so hard to keep this as original as possible, since the first thing I thought of when I read the request was Birds In the Rain. Hopefully I did my job and kept it new and exciting! I plan on continuing this too, since the story doesn’t seem to be quite over yet. ;)

Enjoy, Ami! :D

-mod vixensheart

#ship-a-palooza!!!#bbrae #beast boy #raven #bbrae fanfiction #amistillfeeling #ami rocks #told you i'm starting that tag #teen titans #prompt me!!

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