An idea

[curgoth]

I've an idea for an experiment.

You see, I love superhero comics. And yet, most of them are terrible. I gave up on ever being able to make good comics myself a long time ago, but I still get Ideas.

Inspired by Project Rooftop, my idea is this - give me an idea for a superhero, and I'll try to come up with a costume design. Anyone who wants to is welcome to join in and upstage me with their own design, too, of course.

My rough idea is that I want superhero outfits that are heroic, and, well, superhero outfits, and yet, are practical and realistic to an extent. No gravity women fighting crime in high heels and spandex without so much as a sports bra (especially with the inevitable comic book large breasts). Real bodies - Cyclops is often referred to as "Slim Summers", but most artists have him drawn nearly as muscley as Colossus. Don't get me started on how Magneto keeps those pulsating pectorals in his 70s.

So, give me ideas for a hero. Let's start with a woman, since women tend to end up badly in comics, and don't always get the most reasonable outfits, even if the writer tries.

Name? Powers? Origin story? There's no reason to put the character in the DC or Marvel universe. Throw me ideas!

And hey, if this works out, maybe I'll have more ammunition for my November microfics.

Comments

Blue Streak

[redsash.livejournal.com]

"McPhail, James J."

"Yes, sir!"

The recruitment officer slowly looked JJ up and down, but didn't bother meeting his eyes. His expression said that he didn't like what he saw. JJ was used to that – in his short life, nearly everyone he met thought that his skin was too dark. And most everyone else thought it wasn't dark enough. But for once he let himself hope. Something about the set of the man's jaw suggested that he rarely liked anything he saw. Maybe he wouldn't discriminate particularly.

"Do you know why you're here? Mister McPhail." He made the 'mister' sound like a cuss word.

"Yes, sir! Ah want to join the army."

"Do you." That up-and-down look again.

"Yes, sir!"

The officer opened a plain folder on the otherwise immaculate desk. He paged slowly through the all-too familiar forms within as he spoke, "Looks like you also wanted to join the Navy, the Marine Corps and the National Guard."

"Not really, sir. But the army wouldn't take me the first time."

He flipped back through the short pile, comparing the forms, and spoke without looking up. "Nobody's going to take you. You can lie about your age all you want. So why are you back here?"

"I want to serve my country to the best of my abilities, sir!"

"Uh huh." He picked up a piece of lined paper that JJ didn't remember filling out, and rapped it with a fingernail. "You're talking about these 'super-powers' aren't you? You must have made some sort of impression on the desk sergeant to get this far," he closed the folder with a precise snap and finally met his eyes. "I am not so easily impressed."

JJ couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he didn't say anything.

"So what exactly can you do with these so-called 'super-powers'?"

"Ah turn blue, and ah run really fast."

"You turn blue."

"Yessir."

There came a long pause.

"Well, then, go ahead."

"You want ah should turn blue?"

"That's right." Another look. "It can only help."

Well, that's what he was here for after all. "Yes, sir."

JJ sped himself up, watching with largely unfaded wonder as the color drained out of everything. The bare bulb in the ceiling began to let out a shrill whine that dropped quickly in pitch before settling down to a barely audible throb every few heartbeats. He remembered Pa's basement lectures about alternating current and electrical frequencies.

JJ stood there for a long time, thinking. He would probably have to stay in once place for quite a while, subjectively, in order to be clearly visible. No reason not to get comfortable.

Moving as carefully as he could, he hopped gently off the floor and drifted upwards, stopping himself on an exposed ceiling support. He stretched out in mid-air, enjoying the light-headed feeling that he had found so frightening only a few weeks before. He was still pretty keyed up, but the air formed a perfect cushion as he very, very slowly fell towards the ground. The throbbing light was actually kind of peaceful. It didn't take him all that long to sack out.

Sometime later, he woke up and stretched. Some slightly awkward flailing got him to a point where he could see the floor, still a few inches below him. The recruiting officer's expression had just begun to change; his eyes were a little wider, his mouth opening on what was probably the beginning of a curse. He had already risen slightly off his seat – good reflexes.

JJ carefully put his feet underneath him, exerting the barest pressure on the floorboards. He bent his knees slightly in preparation, then slowed himself back down. The floor vibrated and creaked in protest, like he'd punched a dismount, but he hardly felt any pressure at all in his legs. Looked like he was beginning to get the hang of it.

...

~r