![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
malapropismSo, um, I have been working on something Isana suggested as a prompt on Runaway Tales over a year ago for almost exactly that amount of time. She requested superpowered Jaida (which, as that exists in canon, I took to mean superhero AU), and I'd planned to do one-shot stories for all of the main cast. It would have taken place at the beginning of that world's Dark Age (so basically think Watchmen, Hellblazer, anything Frank Miller, Youngbloods, ect. - things wherein "antihero" might be a generous term for the protagonists and everything is grimdark and poorly-drawn). Cliff's would have had to deal with his decision to be lawful good in a city where such a thing is getting rarer, Kristen's was about her life fighting crime in a court of law rather than the streets despite being quite powerful, and Cyprian's dealt with the aftermath of Jaida's story. I wanted it to have the optimism and hope of the Golden Age in a world where the Dark Age heroes were considered exactly that. I was going to finish them all and then release one story every Saturday morning for one month.
And then my computer died, and I had not backed anything up. 10000+ words, gone.
I've been trying to write it from scratch, but I'm not as passionate about it anymore. I just feel frustrated. I even tried to use music as a helping tool, but that failed me. So this is me, ragequitting.
But this is what I do have, if anyone's interested.
EDIT: Took out the song prompts. Sorry, posted while distracted.
Jaida first met Cyprian six years past on Lexington while they were both being harangued by a labcoat-wearing woman with overbright eyes and green skin. She'd walked out of the shambles of her apartment with the sole intention of haranguing right back, because her student loans were piling up, her insurance didn't cover demolition by indefinable science ray-bombing, and she had been sleeping, damn it.
"Keep it down! Better yet, work off your tension with unsatisfying personal relationships like normal people!" Jaida cried. "It's a Saturday morning! You do realize how much of a caricature you're making of yourselves, right?"
The green-skinned woman wasted no time in casually tossing a ray towards Jaida, and her vision went red and narrow. For years now, a strange, nameless wrath had been escalating inside of her, and it felt at times like she had become a cage for her own anger. The bars had all banged open at the green woman's dismissal of her, and Jaida burned and struck.
Six years past, and not once, not even in the aftermath of a new friendship and the discovery of a handy new mutation, did it seem like there was ever going to be a reason to drink to Nebulara's honor. But that had been six years ago, and time like that could do funny things to a person. Such as seeing them dead, apparently.
"I saw it happen," Cyprian said solemnly into his beer. "Psicho and Bloodvale held her down while Howler devoured her. We aren't supposed to kill each other - we aren't supposed to kill anyone, just give everyone else a fighting chance. And it was Nebulara, you know? Not Dr. Lovecraft. She never tried to sell out the world to unknowable elder creatures once. On purpose."
"Howler," Jaida said. It sounded, impossibly, even more gauche out loud. "He's not really much of a force for good at all, is he? In my sweetest dreams, I club him to death with baby seals. See how he howls then. I guess zookeepers frown on that sort of thing in real life, though. Shame."
"Yes, imagine that," Cyprian said, as he shot her a wary glance over the lip of his tankard. "There are times I wonder what we'd be without each other, and then I realize you'd be on the other side and winning."
"I'm winning now, though," Jaida said. "I'm not bored."
Cyprian allowed that as he did most things to do with Jaida - in stormy silence that probably meant he was calling her some truly heinous things in the anonymity of his head. He was her good friend with reason, but that reason wasn't necessarily good for his health.
---
It had always been the villains Jaida had adored growing up. The Queen of Hearts was embarrassingly silly and Escutcheon was almost too noble and square-jawed to be taken seriously, but the Barber and Cardinal Sin had fun, and Bonnie and Clyde were enduring favorites.
And yet that day she found her powers, when Cyprian said, "You won't kill us," the only response she could have ever had was, "Of course not."
Nobody got it. Friends old and new still watched her like she was a doomsday device, unknown seconds from raising a black cloud that would never settle. Villains tried to flip her more than even Howler. Even Cyprian seemed to be waiting for her to crack. Didn't matter; fists and knives and lightning, that was all she needed, not lives. Surely anyone could agree that breaking bones was just as fun as murder and much less legally complicated. Except now there were upstanding heroes like Howler and Bloodvale, praised equally high for every low they fell to.
"I'm winning now, though," Jaida told Cyprian, "I'm not bored."
And by her own logic, it must have been true. She broke more bones every night.
---
After Jaida's powers had manifested, her grandmother had insisted that she redouble her efforts in college and focus all her energy on getting employed at a respectable job. And that had been that, because one did not argue with Ling Bai.
So Jaida didn't argue.
"Have you turned from us, Ironspy?" said Seven. As long as it was she sneering at Jaida across a stretch of darkness, the night was Jaida's enemy. One misread, and morning would never come.
Ling kept asking when she'd be taking on a real job. Jaida looked forward to finding out how many ways of saying "take your real job and stuff it" there were in English.
---
Jaida had met more agreeable gutters than Jackson Kitching, so she wasn't actually surprised when she found he seemed to have a sticky shrine in his house dedicated to Howler articles written by Kristen Morrow.
Jackson edged forward, and for all his crass violence, he did not move as much as flow. Jaida's vision fogged over, and suddenly he was Howler. He smiled slowly, as if bidding her to inspect every fine-sharpened tooth. Jaida remained unmoved.
"You know, it's hard to be intimidated by a man when you're standing in his spank factory," Jaida said, cracking her neck. "And you're almost good enough to be called shoe scum."
Howler crashed towards her, an inexorable tide of muscle, teeth, and fur.
---
When Cyprian asked to meet her outside of the Crow's Nest six weeks after no contact, she came quietly and with a jacket stocked like a small arsenal. She paid enough attention in physics to know that when shit was thrown, sooner or later it went down.
"You asked me here because I killed Howler," she drawled. He cringed, then said, "Well, when you say it like that, I...feel stupid for needing confirmation."
"Well, you're stupid," Jaida said, grinning. "So you now know. What are you gonna do about it?"
"Why?" Cyprian said. "Of all the people in the world, why murder him?"
"Because he ate Nebulara alive. Because even though he called himself a hero, he never was. Because everyone was right about me. Because I didn't like his face. What does it matter?" Jaida said. "Oh, do you want me to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't take my time."
Cyprian's face was like a novel, if you knew how to read him, and Jaida could read every letter and interrogation point of his inner monologue. She saw the exact line he cast her in the same light as Nebulara, and the paragraph he recast her, at least temporarily, in the dark, lonely space of non-existence with Howler. When his vines made to constrict around her, she was already moving. No time for tears when there was something more pressing in front of him, that was Cyprian. They'd been good friends with reason. Jaida sighed, but it didn't stop her from mapping out her escape. Life would be dull without him, but that was what arch-enemies were for.
And then my computer died, and I had not backed anything up. 10000+ words, gone.
I've been trying to write it from scratch, but I'm not as passionate about it anymore. I just feel frustrated. I even tried to use music as a helping tool, but that failed me. So this is me, ragequitting.
But this is what I do have, if anyone's interested.
EDIT: Took out the song prompts. Sorry, posted while distracted.
Jaida first met Cyprian six years past on Lexington while they were both being harangued by a labcoat-wearing woman with overbright eyes and green skin. She'd walked out of the shambles of her apartment with the sole intention of haranguing right back, because her student loans were piling up, her insurance didn't cover demolition by indefinable science ray-bombing, and she had been sleeping, damn it.
"Keep it down! Better yet, work off your tension with unsatisfying personal relationships like normal people!" Jaida cried. "It's a Saturday morning! You do realize how much of a caricature you're making of yourselves, right?"
The green-skinned woman wasted no time in casually tossing a ray towards Jaida, and her vision went red and narrow. For years now, a strange, nameless wrath had been escalating inside of her, and it felt at times like she had become a cage for her own anger. The bars had all banged open at the green woman's dismissal of her, and Jaida burned and struck.
Six years past, and not once, not even in the aftermath of a new friendship and the discovery of a handy new mutation, did it seem like there was ever going to be a reason to drink to Nebulara's honor. But that had been six years ago, and time like that could do funny things to a person. Such as seeing them dead, apparently.
"I saw it happen," Cyprian said solemnly into his beer. "Psicho and Bloodvale held her down while Howler devoured her. We aren't supposed to kill each other - we aren't supposed to kill anyone, just give everyone else a fighting chance. And it was Nebulara, you know? Not Dr. Lovecraft. She never tried to sell out the world to unknowable elder creatures once. On purpose."
"Howler," Jaida said. It sounded, impossibly, even more gauche out loud. "He's not really much of a force for good at all, is he? In my sweetest dreams, I club him to death with baby seals. See how he howls then. I guess zookeepers frown on that sort of thing in real life, though. Shame."
"Yes, imagine that," Cyprian said, as he shot her a wary glance over the lip of his tankard. "There are times I wonder what we'd be without each other, and then I realize you'd be on the other side and winning."
"I'm winning now, though," Jaida said. "I'm not bored."
Cyprian allowed that as he did most things to do with Jaida - in stormy silence that probably meant he was calling her some truly heinous things in the anonymity of his head. He was her good friend with reason, but that reason wasn't necessarily good for his health.
---
It had always been the villains Jaida had adored growing up. The Queen of Hearts was embarrassingly silly and Escutcheon was almost too noble and square-jawed to be taken seriously, but the Barber and Cardinal Sin had fun, and Bonnie and Clyde were enduring favorites.
And yet that day she found her powers, when Cyprian said, "You won't kill us," the only response she could have ever had was, "Of course not."
Nobody got it. Friends old and new still watched her like she was a doomsday device, unknown seconds from raising a black cloud that would never settle. Villains tried to flip her more than even Howler. Even Cyprian seemed to be waiting for her to crack. Didn't matter; fists and knives and lightning, that was all she needed, not lives. Surely anyone could agree that breaking bones was just as fun as murder and much less legally complicated. Except now there were upstanding heroes like Howler and Bloodvale, praised equally high for every low they fell to.
"I'm winning now, though," Jaida told Cyprian, "I'm not bored."
And by her own logic, it must have been true. She broke more bones every night.
---
After Jaida's powers had manifested, her grandmother had insisted that she redouble her efforts in college and focus all her energy on getting employed at a respectable job. And that had been that, because one did not argue with Ling Bai.
So Jaida didn't argue.
"Have you turned from us, Ironspy?" said Seven. As long as it was she sneering at Jaida across a stretch of darkness, the night was Jaida's enemy. One misread, and morning would never come.
Ling kept asking when she'd be taking on a real job. Jaida looked forward to finding out how many ways of saying "take your real job and stuff it" there were in English.
---
Jaida had met more agreeable gutters than Jackson Kitching, so she wasn't actually surprised when she found he seemed to have a sticky shrine in his house dedicated to Howler articles written by Kristen Morrow.
Jackson edged forward, and for all his crass violence, he did not move as much as flow. Jaida's vision fogged over, and suddenly he was Howler. He smiled slowly, as if bidding her to inspect every fine-sharpened tooth. Jaida remained unmoved.
"You know, it's hard to be intimidated by a man when you're standing in his spank factory," Jaida said, cracking her neck. "And you're almost good enough to be called shoe scum."
Howler crashed towards her, an inexorable tide of muscle, teeth, and fur.
---
When Cyprian asked to meet her outside of the Crow's Nest six weeks after no contact, she came quietly and with a jacket stocked like a small arsenal. She paid enough attention in physics to know that when shit was thrown, sooner or later it went down.
"You asked me here because I killed Howler," she drawled. He cringed, then said, "Well, when you say it like that, I...feel stupid for needing confirmation."
"Well, you're stupid," Jaida said, grinning. "So you now know. What are you gonna do about it?"
"Why?" Cyprian said. "Of all the people in the world, why murder him?"
"Because he ate Nebulara alive. Because even though he called himself a hero, he never was. Because everyone was right about me. Because I didn't like his face. What does it matter?" Jaida said. "Oh, do you want me to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't take my time."
Cyprian's face was like a novel, if you knew how to read him, and Jaida could read every letter and interrogation point of his inner monologue. She saw the exact line he cast her in the same light as Nebulara, and the paragraph he recast her, at least temporarily, in the dark, lonely space of non-existence with Howler. When his vines made to constrict around her, she was already moving. No time for tears when there was something more pressing in front of him, that was Cyprian. They'd been good friends with reason. Jaida sighed, but it didn't stop her from mapping out her escape. Life would be dull without him, but that was what arch-enemies were for.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 02:13 am (UTC)<333
no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 02:23 am (UTC)