[Original] Better Than the Fall - part 2
Title: Better Than the Fall [Part 2]
Fandom: Original (superheroes)
Rating: PG
Summary: the continuing adventures of my teen team.
Notes: I already know some of these themes I’ll reuse because I know what happens else with them. Sorry about that. And also if you want to make comments/theories/whatever I am ALL EARS.
[Issue #4]
Truth or Dare is reluctantly voted out when Analogue points out how easily the concept of Dare could get out of hand when you were super-strong, had temperature control that could break stone, or you could make people hallucinate pink elephants. Then Stonecold points out how easily the concept of Truth could get skewed when one of your teammates could make it dance a languorous strip-tease while singing Barry White in front of everyone, and suddenly no-one is grumbling any more.
So they decide to play I Never, without alcohol as, again, super-strength and other powers, and Analogue obtains Ecstasy’s word that she won’t use her powers on them to mimic the effects anyway. As Promise’s only reaction is a thumbs-up, it’s assumed that she’s not planning on getting them all high as kites.
Coromell swings by the fridge to brink back more sodas and glasses for people who didn’t have them, and they get started. Analogue takes a look at her beaming smile and tells her she hopes she didn’t spike the sodas, to which Coromell only shakes her head.
“Never have I ever,” Shiner starts, “ran away from home.”
With various expressions - pensive in Coromell’s case, frosty in Stonecold’s, and with a glance Promise’s way in Analogue’s - everyone takes a sip. Except Shiner, who stares back with the traumatized look of a guy who’s just walked in a tavern and only realized after he started gambling that everyone is armed to the teeth, scarred, and wearing faces that adorn the Wanted posters all over the region. Ecstasy guffaws, and Promise smiles, a little wry, a little apologetic.
“We’re all delinquents,” Stonecold states. Analogue and Coromell give hir a look, and ze shrugs. “What?”
“That’s… a little what I was thinking,” Shiner admits. His smile looks a bit sickly, but Stonecold kicks him in the shin - obviously lightly or ze might hurt hirself more than ze’d hurt him - and it doesn’t vanish.
“You have no idea how to play,” Stonecold comments. “That’s tame.”
“My turn,” Analogue raises her glass. “Never have I ever revealed my identity to someone in a way I didn’t intend to.” She smirks.
This time, Stonecold and Shiner are the only ones drinking.
“You try hiding something from City Girl,” Stonecold just says when Promise looks at hir.
“Oh, right.” Promise bites his lip, embarrassed. “I’d… forgotten about that.” He raises his glass with a half-smile and chugs down a mouthful.
“That never happened to you, Coromell?”
Coromell looks startled, but shakes her head. “I-no, I can’t say it did. Must be the mask,” she says with a little laugh.
Sanji looks reassured that he’s not the only one who’s been unmasked - caught in the act - or however else you want to put it. A rookie’s insecurities are never soothed more efficiently than with a good get-to-know-you game.
“Guys,” Ecstasy calls. “Promise’s turn. We’re all about to get our butts kicked.”
Her eyes shine bright - brighter than they should for someone who isn’t under the influence; her powers are playing tricks on her again.
“I’d like to see that,” Analogue mutters.
“Never have I ever considered calling myself Climax,” he announces.
“PFFFT!” Stonecold spits out. As for Shiner, he’s shaking with silent laughter.
Open-mouthed, Analogue stares.
“If you want to know-” Ecstasy gets to her feet without stumbling or slurring or otherwise indicating that she’s anything other than simply enjoying herself, puts a hand on her heart, raises her glass as though for a toast, “I have!”
Analogue’s eyebrows could be used for a geometric schema.
“Climax would make sense for what I can do! So I put it on the list, because it sounded cool, and then I thought about it and I realized what it meant, and so I didn’t. But yes, for two hours I considered calling myself Climax.” She tosses her head, and concludes, “and it still would’ve been better than the Sky Stallion.”
“I hear you,” Shiner acquiesces.
“I almost called myself Swallow,” Coromell admits, and meets Ecstasy’s gaze.
As fast as he can, Promise slaps his hand in front of his mouth. A fascinated, half-gleeful half-disbelieving expression twists Analogue’s lips.
“I was thinking of birds, you know?” Coromell looks around, like she’s protesting. “Because I can fly? But there are so many that are taken - Ladyhawk, Golden Condor, Tanager, everyone else - I could’ve called myself the Swan, but there was already Black Swan and Screeching Swan, and Swan Song of course, and even someone called Swanlet, so I didn’t dare.”
She pauses. “I could’ve called myself Lark, but it would be even worse.”
“Because you’re serious about this,” Stonecold interjects.
“Yes!” Coromell nods, decisive. “I am.”
And we can’t give people excuses to think we’re not. They all nod, because they all get it. Analogue has lengthened her hair so she can twist a lock at shoulder-level, changing it so she can hide behind a curtain of dark curls that look just like Ecstasy’s.
“’Shiner’ is a bit on the nose, though,” Stonecold tells Sanji.
“But Stonecold isn’t?” Sanji retorts.
Ecstasy snorts.
They spend the rest of the evening bickering and talking over each other between questions. It’s nice. At the end of the night, no-one is awake enough to get to their own bed, so they all sleep in a pile, slumped over the sofas and the floor, his head on her shoulder against hir side feet in her lap.
*
[Issue #14]
After Damsel In Armor puts on a good enough front that she fools Count Sinister long enough for Analogue to break the others out, it’s a given that they’re going to ask her to join the team.
She rubbed them the wrong way at first - the tough girl, I-work-alone routine that Coromell bristles at so much because she used to do exactly the same - but when the chips came down she cut right through the bullshit.
The blade of her sword flashed, steady and quick, as she slashed the robots to bits, and she joined Shiner and Stonecold’s usual competition over who gets the most enemies out of combat the fastest.
Shiner was primed to win when one of his solar blasts hit the wrong console, and the lair exploded in acrid fire, bursts of air blowing through Coromell’s hair. She paused in her attack, risking a glance down to measure the damage. Count Sinister cackled at her, and Coromell had to give up fighting him to swoop down and rescue Analogue and Promise, while Shiner caught Damsel in his arms and Stonecold wrapped hir arms around him, the visible part of hir face sour like ze’d bitten into lime.
Coromell couldn’t hear what Damsel was screaming over the noise of the building crumbling and the explosions booming around them, but she had to have said something, judging by Stonecold’s roaring laughter and Shiner’s grimace of embarrassment. She couldn’t even ask Promise or Analogue to read Damsel’s lips; her faceplate did more to protect Damsel’s expressions and identity than any costume Coromell had previously seen.
So they ask her, when they’re back at HQ, and after Damsel’s taken her headgear off for orange juice and industrial cookies - they’re all starving - and wiped the sweat off her forehead, like she’s not worried about her ID. She splutters on her juice and Analogue hands her napkins, and she says yes. She’s got dimples when she grins and rejoicing makes Coromell feel awful in the pit of her stomach.
“You can take my room until we figure it out,” she offers.
No-one points out Ecstasy’s room is empty. No-one says anything about the sofa beyond far past needing replacing. Coromell doesn’t know if she’s grateful or not, and she doesn’t look her teammates in the eye.
Later that night, Promise comes find her, when she’s sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands. She knows it’s him because he doesn’t knock anything over, doesn’t start talking the moment he sees her, and puts his hand on her shoulder.
“I feel horrible,” she says.
Wordlessly, he rubs her shoulder, soothing.
“I feel like we’re replacing her, Nathan, like we’re betraying her and I-” she presses the heel of her hands on her eyes to keep herself from crying, until she sees static instead of black behind her pupils. “I don’t want to think that’s what we’re doing - god, tell me it’s not. Damsel’s good and I want her on our side, so why do I feel like-- like we’re spitting on Ecstasy’s memory?”
“You’re still taking everything on your shoulders,” Promise says, quiet and soft and she feels her eyes filling with water.
She barks out a laugh. “That’s so not the issue right now.” At least she’s not sniffling. “We’re all thinking it.”
Because Promise isn’t a shrink, despite Analogue’s accusations, he doesn’t need to ask to know that she means everyone feels guilty over wanting Damsel on the team.
She still waits, suspended. It’s like that sometimes, she waits for Promise to tell her she’s right, she’s okay. She feels better sometimes when her instincts get outside validation.
“Yeah,” he concedes.
Maybe he’s gone to see the others too. Knocked on their doors and sat on their beds and-had hearts to hearts with them? Would they hunt him out to talk? How does that work, making people feel better?
“We all miss her,” he whispers. It sounds like a promise.
Coromell clenches her eyes shut and pretends she can suck the tears back. “Just tell me we’re not stabbing her in the back.”
“We’re not.”
There’s not the shadow of a hesitation in his voice. There is no doubt to him that painful and confusing though it is, it’s not wrong.
Coromell breathes through her nose. Damsel’s sleeping in her room, one of the team, and she still feels like a villain.
Fandom: Original (superheroes)
Rating: PG
Summary: the continuing adventures of my teen team.
Notes: I already know some of these themes I’ll reuse because I know what happens else with them. Sorry about that. And also if you want to make comments/theories/whatever I am ALL EARS.
[Issue #4]
Truth or Dare is reluctantly voted out when Analogue points out how easily the concept of Dare could get out of hand when you were super-strong, had temperature control that could break stone, or you could make people hallucinate pink elephants. Then Stonecold points out how easily the concept of Truth could get skewed when one of your teammates could make it dance a languorous strip-tease while singing Barry White in front of everyone, and suddenly no-one is grumbling any more.
So they decide to play I Never, without alcohol as, again, super-strength and other powers, and Analogue obtains Ecstasy’s word that she won’t use her powers on them to mimic the effects anyway. As Promise’s only reaction is a thumbs-up, it’s assumed that she’s not planning on getting them all high as kites.
Coromell swings by the fridge to brink back more sodas and glasses for people who didn’t have them, and they get started. Analogue takes a look at her beaming smile and tells her she hopes she didn’t spike the sodas, to which Coromell only shakes her head.
“Never have I ever,” Shiner starts, “ran away from home.”
With various expressions - pensive in Coromell’s case, frosty in Stonecold’s, and with a glance Promise’s way in Analogue’s - everyone takes a sip. Except Shiner, who stares back with the traumatized look of a guy who’s just walked in a tavern and only realized after he started gambling that everyone is armed to the teeth, scarred, and wearing faces that adorn the Wanted posters all over the region. Ecstasy guffaws, and Promise smiles, a little wry, a little apologetic.
“We’re all delinquents,” Stonecold states. Analogue and Coromell give hir a look, and ze shrugs. “What?”
“That’s… a little what I was thinking,” Shiner admits. His smile looks a bit sickly, but Stonecold kicks him in the shin - obviously lightly or ze might hurt hirself more than ze’d hurt him - and it doesn’t vanish.
“You have no idea how to play,” Stonecold comments. “That’s tame.”
“My turn,” Analogue raises her glass. “Never have I ever revealed my identity to someone in a way I didn’t intend to.” She smirks.
This time, Stonecold and Shiner are the only ones drinking.
“You try hiding something from City Girl,” Stonecold just says when Promise looks at hir.
“Oh, right.” Promise bites his lip, embarrassed. “I’d… forgotten about that.” He raises his glass with a half-smile and chugs down a mouthful.
“That never happened to you, Coromell?”
Coromell looks startled, but shakes her head. “I-no, I can’t say it did. Must be the mask,” she says with a little laugh.
Sanji looks reassured that he’s not the only one who’s been unmasked - caught in the act - or however else you want to put it. A rookie’s insecurities are never soothed more efficiently than with a good get-to-know-you game.
“Guys,” Ecstasy calls. “Promise’s turn. We’re all about to get our butts kicked.”
Her eyes shine bright - brighter than they should for someone who isn’t under the influence; her powers are playing tricks on her again.
“I’d like to see that,” Analogue mutters.
“Never have I ever considered calling myself Climax,” he announces.
“PFFFT!” Stonecold spits out. As for Shiner, he’s shaking with silent laughter.
Open-mouthed, Analogue stares.
“If you want to know-” Ecstasy gets to her feet without stumbling or slurring or otherwise indicating that she’s anything other than simply enjoying herself, puts a hand on her heart, raises her glass as though for a toast, “I have!”
Analogue’s eyebrows could be used for a geometric schema.
“Climax would make sense for what I can do! So I put it on the list, because it sounded cool, and then I thought about it and I realized what it meant, and so I didn’t. But yes, for two hours I considered calling myself Climax.” She tosses her head, and concludes, “and it still would’ve been better than the Sky Stallion.”
“I hear you,” Shiner acquiesces.
“I almost called myself Swallow,” Coromell admits, and meets Ecstasy’s gaze.
As fast as he can, Promise slaps his hand in front of his mouth. A fascinated, half-gleeful half-disbelieving expression twists Analogue’s lips.
“I was thinking of birds, you know?” Coromell looks around, like she’s protesting. “Because I can fly? But there are so many that are taken - Ladyhawk, Golden Condor, Tanager, everyone else - I could’ve called myself the Swan, but there was already Black Swan and Screeching Swan, and Swan Song of course, and even someone called Swanlet, so I didn’t dare.”
She pauses. “I could’ve called myself Lark, but it would be even worse.”
“Because you’re serious about this,” Stonecold interjects.
“Yes!” Coromell nods, decisive. “I am.”
And we can’t give people excuses to think we’re not. They all nod, because they all get it. Analogue has lengthened her hair so she can twist a lock at shoulder-level, changing it so she can hide behind a curtain of dark curls that look just like Ecstasy’s.
“’Shiner’ is a bit on the nose, though,” Stonecold tells Sanji.
“But Stonecold isn’t?” Sanji retorts.
Ecstasy snorts.
They spend the rest of the evening bickering and talking over each other between questions. It’s nice. At the end of the night, no-one is awake enough to get to their own bed, so they all sleep in a pile, slumped over the sofas and the floor, his head on her shoulder against hir side feet in her lap.
*
[Issue #14]
After Damsel In Armor puts on a good enough front that she fools Count Sinister long enough for Analogue to break the others out, it’s a given that they’re going to ask her to join the team.
She rubbed them the wrong way at first - the tough girl, I-work-alone routine that Coromell bristles at so much because she used to do exactly the same - but when the chips came down she cut right through the bullshit.
The blade of her sword flashed, steady and quick, as she slashed the robots to bits, and she joined Shiner and Stonecold’s usual competition over who gets the most enemies out of combat the fastest.
Shiner was primed to win when one of his solar blasts hit the wrong console, and the lair exploded in acrid fire, bursts of air blowing through Coromell’s hair. She paused in her attack, risking a glance down to measure the damage. Count Sinister cackled at her, and Coromell had to give up fighting him to swoop down and rescue Analogue and Promise, while Shiner caught Damsel in his arms and Stonecold wrapped hir arms around him, the visible part of hir face sour like ze’d bitten into lime.
Coromell couldn’t hear what Damsel was screaming over the noise of the building crumbling and the explosions booming around them, but she had to have said something, judging by Stonecold’s roaring laughter and Shiner’s grimace of embarrassment. She couldn’t even ask Promise or Analogue to read Damsel’s lips; her faceplate did more to protect Damsel’s expressions and identity than any costume Coromell had previously seen.
So they ask her, when they’re back at HQ, and after Damsel’s taken her headgear off for orange juice and industrial cookies - they’re all starving - and wiped the sweat off her forehead, like she’s not worried about her ID. She splutters on her juice and Analogue hands her napkins, and she says yes. She’s got dimples when she grins and rejoicing makes Coromell feel awful in the pit of her stomach.
“You can take my room until we figure it out,” she offers.
No-one points out Ecstasy’s room is empty. No-one says anything about the sofa beyond far past needing replacing. Coromell doesn’t know if she’s grateful or not, and she doesn’t look her teammates in the eye.
Later that night, Promise comes find her, when she’s sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands. She knows it’s him because he doesn’t knock anything over, doesn’t start talking the moment he sees her, and puts his hand on her shoulder.
“I feel horrible,” she says.
Wordlessly, he rubs her shoulder, soothing.
“I feel like we’re replacing her, Nathan, like we’re betraying her and I-” she presses the heel of her hands on her eyes to keep herself from crying, until she sees static instead of black behind her pupils. “I don’t want to think that’s what we’re doing - god, tell me it’s not. Damsel’s good and I want her on our side, so why do I feel like-- like we’re spitting on Ecstasy’s memory?”
“You’re still taking everything on your shoulders,” Promise says, quiet and soft and she feels her eyes filling with water.
She barks out a laugh. “That’s so not the issue right now.” At least she’s not sniffling. “We’re all thinking it.”
Because Promise isn’t a shrink, despite Analogue’s accusations, he doesn’t need to ask to know that she means everyone feels guilty over wanting Damsel on the team.
She still waits, suspended. It’s like that sometimes, she waits for Promise to tell her she’s right, she’s okay. She feels better sometimes when her instincts get outside validation.
“Yeah,” he concedes.
Maybe he’s gone to see the others too. Knocked on their doors and sat on their beds and-had hearts to hearts with them? Would they hunt him out to talk? How does that work, making people feel better?
“We all miss her,” he whispers. It sounds like a promise.
Coromell clenches her eyes shut and pretends she can suck the tears back. “Just tell me we’re not stabbing her in the back.”
“We’re not.”
There’s not the shadow of a hesitation in his voice. There is no doubt to him that painful and confusing though it is, it’s not wrong.
Coromell breathes through her nose. Damsel’s sleeping in her room, one of the team, and she still feels like a villain.