Welcome to The Defenders Alliance | TEMPORARY HIATUS
the blog -> a sideblog I made so that I could write a ton of hero and villain snippets + short stories, without the pressure of working on a bunch of books (I have enough WIPs as it is!) plus respond to some prompts I've been saving. I'm also open to requests/suggestions.
(might do some prompts of my own too! who knows!)
that being said, i'm undoubtedly going to wind up weaving together some storylines and inevitablely make some longform Defender's Alliance content eventually, so come along for the ride!
the defenders alliance -> the biggest superhero organization in the united states, with six branches operating around the country.
because I love being organized, I've put up all current and planned characters in this folder on my toyhou.se, so you can check them out there if you're interested! note that most of them are very rough sketches and will be getting more developed as I write, with most details subject to change until they actually appear in stories.
my main writeblr is @rorynorth
some stories will have exlusive continuations on my patreon, and you can read other books from me on there too!
one time i watched megamind and found myself imagining a version of the movie where roxanne accidentally got the superpowers and megamind fell for her while training her to use them.
then i went and wrote a book about it.
VILLAIN COMPLEX is a megamind-inspired hero x villain romance. After killing the hero Storm Warning, Julian a.k.a. Citadel learns that the hero's powers have passed on to an ordinary woman named Charotte. The leader of Julian's villain team wants the power stolen from her, but Julian is convinced he can persuade her to join the villains.
He pretends to be connected to the dead hero and offers to train her, but it doesn't take long for him to get swept up in her fierce determination and unrelenting kindness. And as his two identities threaten to collide, he's forced to reassess all the choices that let him down his current path.
VILLAIN COMPLEX comes out July 1st, and you can preorder a copy at a discount right now by donating to my Indiegogo 💜
I ❤️ supervillains I ❤️ their evil monologues I ❤️ their maniacal laugh I ❤️ their long capes I ❤️ their leather gloves I ❤️ their evil schemes I ❤️ their sarcasm I ❤️ their villain backstory I
why are my two favorite tropes "seemingly powerful and dominating guy turns out to be kind of pathetic" and "silly goofball of a man turns out to be terrifyingly powerful"
for @flashfictionfridayofficial 's prompt #FFF162: The Letter. ~700 words.
I wrote this so it could be read alone, but it’s basically a follow up to this snippet which gives more context on Valentine’s job tracking down the villain
~
The villain’s letter landed on Valentine’s desk three days after he’d escaped custody.
“I’ve heard he can be…more annoying in writing,” Brontide warned. Valentine’s hero co-worker gave the envelope one last glance before returning to his desk.
Valentine sighed and grabbed the envelope. “Has this been checked for poison?” he called. Sure, their branch of the Defenders Alliance was lacking in funding, but that didn’t mean they had to throw caution to the wind.
“You’re the ex-assassin!” Brontide replied. He glanced back and flashed Valentine a grin. “Poisons should be your specialty.”
He did know a thing or two about poison. Probably the reason they’d assigned him Sundew. Unfortunately, carnivorous plants were less up Valentine’s alley, and the villain’s new acid trick had made escape easy when he’d finally been captured after a month’s pursuit.
Valentine gave the envelope a closer look. Its pale green color was unusual, but he couldn’t find any discoloration or warping to suggest the paper was carrying extra ingredients. Still, he slid on his gloves before drawing a letter opener from his desk and tearing in. A pale piece of paper came out with letters typed in dark green ink.
My dear Valentine, Sundew had written.
Great start. Valentine wondered if it was too late to pick a new hero name. Sticking with the fake last name he’d used as an assassin was…not his first choice. But no one asked him what he wanted when he’d agreed to join the Defenders.
With a heavy sigh, he continued reading.
It was lovely finally seeing your place after so many failed attempts to catch me. But let’s arrange the next date somewhere that isn’t falling apart.
The jab at the West branch made Valentine roll his eyes. Flickering lights and strange puddles, sure. But ‘falling apart’ was a stretch.
An art museum could be fun. I think we have different ideas about what “enjoying a museum” entails, though. I am looking forward to adding to my collection this weekend. And now that I’ve said that, I’m looking forward to imagining you on the streets all night in hopes of running into me. Weather says it’s supposed to rain, and I for one would love to see you drenched and miserable.
With Valentine’s luck, that was exactly how he’d be spending his weekend.
Since I’ll be giving myself the gift of stolen art, I thought I’d give you a gift as well. These seeds are so easy to grow that an amateur like yourself should be able to manage. And before long, you’ll have tomatoes! Or pumpkins. I forgot what I put in the envelope.
Valentine, with the utmost caution, tipped the envelope over his desk. A few small seeds rained onto his paperwork stack. Unlike last time, they didn’t explode into vines or venus flytraps.
Sundew, apparently, anticipated his concerns. And relax. They are ordinary seeds. Not my creations. I grow normal plants, too, in my garden. And I make a pretty good grape wine I’d be happy to share sometime.
Despite the promise that the grapes were grown from the ground, Valentine figured he’d have to pass, given the risk. Sundew’s powers also let him generate plants laced with deadly poison. Or, worse, put people in a hypnotic trance.
Though, Valentine suspected he had a different idea of ‘worse’ than most people.
I’m sure you’ve got work to get back to. I do too. I haven’t forgotten my promise that I’d find your real name, Val.
Catch me again, and I might grant you the privilege of calling me your rival.
Valentine tossed the letter back on the desk with a huff of annoyance. Why couldn’t his first job as a hero have been a villain with a little less…personality?
He eyed the seeds. They hadn’t been the only thing to fall from the envelope. A fine layer of dirt had scattered on his papers as well. And he’d had enough brushes with forensics to know the value of dirt. Intentionally or not, Sundew had just given Valentine a clue to the location of whatever mountain cottage he was shacking up in.
The question was whether it was an accident, or a trap.
OMG, I laughed out loud! 😂😂😂 Amazing! Love it! Brontide was right! 😂😂😂
Weather says it’s supposed to rain, and I for one would love to see you drenched and miserable.
OMG! Brontide was so right, Sundew is more annoying in letter 😂😂😂
Why couldn’t his first job as a hero have been a villain with a little less…personality?
Oh, to have a villain/hero rival with such a fun personality, sighhh... But I guess it's not everyone's cup of tea 😅
Anyhoo, I loved this! Sundew is awesome! I love his letter! Poor Valentine lol. He should really change his name, he's walking bait for villains with... personality 😂😂😂
Being handcuffed to a table in one of New York’s finest dining establishments wasn’t what one of the city’s (supposedly) greatest heroes had in mind for the evening. Not that things had a chance of going well after he revealed he knew his enemy’s true identity to said enemy’s face, but Titanium had expected more violence and less…candlelit dinner.
Not that he had many complaints. The bread was almost good enough to make him forget the crowd of paparazzi waiting outside.
Almost.
“So,” Titanium said, unable to stand watching Penumbra peruse the menu any longer. “It really wasn’t enough for you to be the city’s most infamous supervillain. You just had to be the center of attention in your civilian identity, too.”
Penumbra lifted an eyebrow but didn’t take his eyes off the menu. “Bold of you to assume those are my only two identities.”
“I have a hard time imagining you could keep people from recognizing your face,” Titanium told him. “Mega famous celebrities tend to have a hard time in public.”
“Bold of you to assume this is my real face.”
Titanium frowned.
Penumbra laughed. “You haven’t even touched your wine,” he said. “Come on, I did leave you one free hand.”
Titanium instead used the hand to return the bread to his mouth. “This had better not be my last meal,” he said before taking another bite.
“You’re about to eat some of the best food in the country. Would that really be such a terrible last meal?”
Before Titanium could come up with a response, the waiter arrived to take their orders. Titanium sighed.
Penumbra closed his menu. “I’ll have the chicken risotto. He’ll have the linguini with red clam sauce.”
“I’m allergic to shellfish,” Titanium said plainly.
“I know.”
Titanium shot the waiter an exasperated look. “I’ll take the filet mignon.” He hadn’t actually given the menu much of a look, having been a little too distracted by the supervillain that may or may not have been plotting his death.
“Most expensive thing on the menu?” Penumbra asked as the waiter walked away, placing a hand to his chest as he feigned offense. “Way to take advantage of my generosity.”
Titanium’s fingers twitched. What would happen if he overturned the table and revealed he were being held captive?
No, bad idea. People would get hurt. His only choice was to play along.
“So,” Penumbra said, abruptly leaning forward. He pressed the tips of his fingers together. “My plan.”
Titanium frowned. “I already figured out your plan, for the record.”
“I want to make sure you didn’t miss any details.” Penumbra grinned. His voice lowered. “I’m going to tear apart the prison holding my dear family—oh, paparazzi found our window. Smile for the camera, please.”
Penumbra waved and smiled at the cameras waiting outside. Shouting was audible through the glass. A few people screamed the villain’s name—his celebrity name.
Titanium rolled his eyes.
Penumbra pulled back the sleeve of his suit jacket and muttered something into his wristwatch. “Let’s get some security outside to clear the area, eh? I’m a little busy here.” Turning his attention back to Titanium, he flashed another one of his annoying smiles. “How’s the wine?”
“Still haven’t tried it.”
“Your loss.” Penumbra leaned back in his chair as the paparazzi outside were ushered away by shadowy figures. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, my plan. I’m going to tear apart the prison holding my dear family brick by brick and unleash them on the city.”
“Again. Knew that. And I know about the machine you’ve commissioned to help you.” Titanium shook his head. “What I don’t understand is why you aren’t trying to kill me before I can stop you.”
“Because, my dear Titanium,” Penumbra said, a cold grin creeping onto his face. “If I killed you, I wouldn’t be able to frame you.”
“Just be evil for the joy of it why do you need to be paid” ok and how am I supposed to renovate my dungeon with no money. Am I expected to have a job on top of all this
for @flashfictionfridayofficial 's prompt #FFF162: The Letter. ~700 words.
I wrote this so it could be read alone, but it’s basically a follow up to this snippet which gives more context on Valentine’s job tracking down the villain
~
The villain’s letter landed on Valentine’s desk three days after he’d escaped custody.
“I’ve heard he can be…more annoying in writing,” Brontide warned. Valentine’s hero co-worker gave the envelope one last glance before returning to his desk.
Valentine sighed and grabbed the envelope. “Has this been checked for poison?” he called. Sure, their branch of the Defenders Alliance was lacking in funding, but that didn’t mean they had to throw caution to the wind.
“You’re the ex-assassin!” Brontide replied. He glanced back and flashed Valentine a grin. “Poisons should be your specialty.”
He did know a thing or two about poison. Probably the reason they’d assigned him Sundew. Unfortunately, carnivorous plants were less up Valentine’s alley, and the villain’s new acid trick had made escape easy when he’d finally been captured after a month’s pursuit.
Valentine gave the envelope a closer look. Its pale green color was unusual, but he couldn’t find any discoloration or warping to suggest the paper was carrying extra ingredients. Still, he slid on his gloves before drawing a letter opener from his desk and tearing in. A pale piece of paper came out with letters typed in dark green ink.
My dear Valentine, Sundew had written.
Great start. Valentine wondered if it was too late to pick a new hero name. Sticking with the fake last name he’d used as an assassin was…not his first choice. But no one asked him what he wanted when he’d agreed to join the Defenders.
With a heavy sigh, he continued reading.
It was lovely finally seeing your place after so many failed attempts to catch me. But let’s arrange the next date somewhere that isn’t falling apart.
The jab at the West branch made Valentine roll his eyes. Flickering lights and strange puddles, sure. But ‘falling apart’ was a stretch.
An art museum could be fun. I think we have different ideas about what “enjoying a museum” entails, though. I am looking forward to adding to my collection this weekend. And now that I’ve said that, I’m looking forward to imagining you on the streets all night in hopes of running into me. Weather says it’s supposed to rain, and I for one would love to see you drenched and miserable.
With Valentine’s luck, that was exactly how he’d be spending his weekend.
Since I’ll be giving myself the gift of stolen art, I thought I’d give you a gift as well. These seeds are so easy to grow that an amateur like yourself should be able to manage. And before long, you’ll have tomatoes! Or pumpkins. I forgot what I put in the envelope.
Valentine, with the utmost caution, tipped the envelope over his desk. A few small seeds rained onto his paperwork stack. Unlike last time, they didn’t explode into vines or venus flytraps.
Sundew, apparently, anticipated his concerns. And relax. They are ordinary seeds. Not my creations. I grow normal plants, too, in my garden. And I make a pretty good grape wine I’d be happy to share sometime.
Despite the promise that the grapes were grown from the ground, Valentine figured he’d have to pass, given the risk. Sundew’s powers also let him generate plants laced with deadly poison. Or, worse, put people in a hypnotic trance.
Though, Valentine suspected he had a different idea of ‘worse’ than most people.
I’m sure you’ve got work to get back to. I do too. I haven’t forgotten my promise that I’d find your real name, Val.
Catch me again, and I might grant you the privilege of calling me your rival.
Valentine tossed the letter back on the desk with a huff of annoyance. Why couldn’t his first job as a hero have been a villain with a little less…personality?
He eyed the seeds. They hadn’t been the only thing to fall from the envelope. A fine layer of dirt had scattered on his papers as well. And he’d had enough brushes with forensics to know the value of dirt. Intentionally or not, Sundew had just given Valentine a clue to the location of whatever mountain cottage he was shacking up in.
The question was whether it was an accident, or a trap.
thinking abt the trope where a guy is being chased by the cops or whoever up to the top of a building or a cliff and theyre like "weve got you cornered now!!" but he turns to face them, smirks/salutes, and leans backward off the edge
"That," the villain said slowly, "is not public information. Where did you hear that?”
The civilian tensed, but still clung to some semblance of confidence. Impressive, for someone alone and face-to-face with a villain. In a dark alley. On a rainy night. “Noctule, right?” she asked. “Like the bat?”
Noctule reached out to grab her arm with his gloved hand. Her lips parted, a warning in her eyes. His hand stopped inches from her arm.
Some managed just fine with super hearing. They could control it. He couldn’t. And he’d been ‘gifted,’ as the biologists put it, with some of the most sensitive ears on the planet. Bat ears.
He wasn’t sure that was the worst thing they’d done to him, either. The black mask covering the lower half of his face hid the other mutations. The nose. The fangs. And, of course, there were the wings tucked away under his trench coat.
“And what’s your name?” he asked, slowly lowering his arm.
“Melanie. I’m a biologist. I used to work at the lab that made…you.”
“I killed all of them.”
“Well aware. Guess it’s a good thing I quit when I did,” Melanie said. She shifted nervously, her gaze darting to the ground. “Though to be honest, I was relieved when I heard Steve had his throat torn out. That guy was a creep.”
“Are you willing to wager that everyone I’ve ripped apart deserved it?” Noctule’s fingers twitched.
Melanie didn’t respond to that.
“Why are you out here?” Noctule growled. “Are you trying to get killed?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“I—I know it’s a longshot. I need your DNA. With the lab destroyed, you’re my only shot at getting a sample of our work.”
“Why should I give you anything?” Noctule risked a step forward, risked bringing his face close to Melanie’s. “Your work ruined my life.”
She flinched, but didn’t move away.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to need ear plugs to so much as step outside during the day?” Noctule asked. “And finding plugs that work in my ears isn’t easy, either.” He nearly reached up to rip off the hat and prove his point, but decided against it. It wasn’t worth sacrificing a barrier between his ears and the outside world, even momentarily.
“I think you might be able to avoid some noise if you stopped attacking superheroes,” Melanie said quietly.
Noctule snorted. He did spend a lot of his time with blood on his claws. And a painful ringing in his ears. “Don’t you think I’d avoid those fights if I could?”
“Listen, I’m not here to lecture you on morality. I just need a blood sample.”
“What. For.” Noctule hissed the words through gritted teeth.
“To find a cure. A way to reverse the mutations.” Melanie swallowed. “You weren’t the lab's only experiment. And my sister…” She trailed off.
“Is there a cure in it for me, too?” Noctule asked.
Melanie nodded quickly. “Yes. Of course. If that’s what you want.”
Noctule finally dared to touch her. But instead of grabbing her arm, he rested his hand on the side of her face. “Getting mixed up with villains rarely ends well for people like you, you know.”
She held his gaze. “I’ve accepted the risks.”
Noctule hadn’t been this close to another person in years. Not unless he was tearing into them.
“Lead the way, then,” he muttered. He lowered his hand. Hated the way it trembled as it dropped to his side.
Melanie stepped away from him and started toward the alleyway’s entrance. As she neared the sidewalk, she glanced back at him. “What’s your name? Your real name?”
Noctule was quiet for a long moment before answering. “It was Owen.”
“Owen,” Melanie repeated.
It was strange to hear his name again on someone else’s lips.
“Oh, my sincerest apologies, I’ll just tell the blood to get back in my body.”
The villain—Retrograde—sighed. “This is all your fault, you know.” His eyes rolled in the rear view mirror. “You thought teaming up with me would be a good idea.”
“I thought your screwy time powers would make killing that monster easy,” Alpine told him. “I didn’t realize how bad you were at using them.” He glanced down at his abdomen, lifted the wad of dark blue cloth he had pressed against it, and winced. There was more blood than he’d expected on his formerly white suit. And he’d expected a lot.
“I’m not bad at using them, I just have limits. Rewinding a living thing for a full minute is still impressive.”
“Sure.” To Alpine’s relief, the light turned green, and the car lurched forward.
“At least my abilities aren’t tied to one specific mountain.”
“You know I’m basically a deity, right? And my trees did way more work than you did.”
“Yeah, sentient trees, so amazing.” Retrograde turned the wheel with more force than necessary. The sharp turn sent Alpine sliding into the door.
“Watch it!” Alpine yelped.
Ignoring the cry of pain, Retrograde flung a hand in the air. “You could have frozen the monster with one of your blizzards.”
“It! Breathes! Fire!”
“Well, I know that now.”
“Now that you need treatment for third-degree burns, you mean?” Alpine managed a weak smirk through his pain.
“I’m just saying, I don’t think you were making the most of your abilities.” The hospital finally appeared up ahead. Retrograde brought them into the parking lot with another painfully sharp turn. “What would the Alliance have given you for completing the assignment, anyway? A juice box and a high five?”
Now Alpine was the one rolling his eyes. “We don’t do the job for a comfy office and benefits, we do it because it’s the right thing.”
“I think stealing a better office would be a fair price for saving people’s lives.” Retrograde eased into a spot by the front doors. “I wouldn’t be caught dead doing such a thankless job. Some of us have self-respect.”
Alpine braced himself for the walk inside while Retrograde climbed out of the car. The door to his left swung open.
“You sure this is the hospital you want?” Retrograde asked as Alpine dragged himself out of the vehicle.
“Yes. They’re partnered with the Alliance.” Alpine looked Retrograde up and down. “And they won’t ask questions if you come in with me.”
Retrograde snorted. His arms folded. “Thanks, but I have my own doctor.”
“Suit yourself.” Alpine took a step toward the building.
He staggered.
Retrograde grabbed him before he could collapse. “Careful, dumbass—where did all this blood come from?”
“Me.”
“My car is ruined, isn’t it?” Retrograde muttered. With a heavy sigh, he lifted Alpine’s closest arm over his shoulder. Alpine’s other hand hung at his side, still clutching bloody fabric. “For the record, as soon as that monster’s dead and we’re enemies again, I’m running you over.”
“Can’t wait.” Alpine pressed a hand against the wound. Getting run over might actually be less painful than that monster’s claws.
They miraculously made it to the doors without Alpine collapsing, and workers inside swarmed him within seconds. Retrograde eagerly handed the hero over and took a step back, a disgusted expression on his face as he wiped his hands on his pants.
While a wheelchair was brought over, Alpine glanced back at Retrograde. “I’ll meet you at the cafe tomorrow morning.” He flashed the villain a grin that was undoubtedly bloody. “I have some new ideas on how to kill that thing when it pops up again.”
“Fine. But you better bring me a new cape.” Retrograde gestured to the bloody piece of cloth still in Alpine’s grasp. “You owe me one.”
