Super Hero Quotes

It was like the Justice League of Super Heroes but instead it was the Justice League of Hot Guys.

I'm the Super-sized McShizzle, man!" Leo said. "I'm Leo Valdez, bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy.

Rose, I'm an addict with no work ethic who is likely going to go insane. I'm not like you. I'm not a super-hero." "Not yet," I said.

You all right, man?' This should be my name. I could be like a super hero: You All Right Man. Ah...' I stumble. Don't bug Craig,' Ronny is like. 'He's in the Craig zone. He's Craig-ing out.

Percy says be talked to a Nereid in Charleston Harbor!” “Good for him!” Leo yelled back. “The Nereid said we should seek help from Chiron’s brothers.” “What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer-chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream. “Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?” “I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude!

Narcissus turned and scowled at Leo. “Who are you?” “I’m the Super-sized McShizzle, man!” Leo said. “I’m Leo Valdez, bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy.

Afraid to live, too cowardly to die.

Who was she to question the fantastical? She was an invisible naked chick off to steal a magic sword.

The two shadows, black against the dark, defined by voids of light, moved at impossible speeds.

Yeah, nerdship could be inherited as surely as any knighthood

I realize nobody's coming to save me. I must save myself. I must be my own super hero. Although I am open to a sidekick.

I'm a super hero, too, underneath my sweater.

Stain Boy Of all the super heroes, the strangest one by far, doesn't have a special power, or drive a fancy car. next to Superman and batman, I guess he must seem tame. But to me he is quite special, and Stain Boy is his name. He can't fly around tall buildings, or outrun a speeding train, the only talent he seems to have is to leave a nasty stain. Sometimes I know it bothers him, that he can't run or swim or fly, and because of this one ability, his dry cleaning bill is sky-high.

Just Leo’s luck. A super-hot immortal girl was waiting for him on Ogygia, but he couldn’t figure out how to wire a stupid chunk of rock into the three-thousand-year-old navigation device. Some problems even duct tape couldn’t solve.

I had no clue; you can achieve all that, with one hug. But hey, I am Kay Kay! The first super hero koala bear and I give the best hugs!

I have told Mrs. Jones that I was pretty sure that stars were just like super heroes and that if she really wanted to become one, she just needed to be herself.

Forget trying to be Supermom - it's way too stressful and who needs more stress? Besides super heroes tend to wear a lot of clingy Lycra and none of us needs that.

I love his penis. I want to give it a sponge bath and dress it up like a super hero.

Piper didn’t dare look—not while she was running with a dagger in her hand. She could just see herself tripping and stabbing herself in the nose. That would be super heroic.

Some people need a super hero to save them, but I am my own super hero. All I need is myself, my strengths and the fiery passions in my heart to overcome the obstacles in my life.

Jason had never really considered how important Leo's sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor

Her taste still teased my tongue, and her touch tipped my fingers. Her smile licked my lips, and her heart beat my own. So I tugged on her sheets, like it was a cape. To me, she was a God damned super hero, and underneath, was everything I need. Her super powers on top of me.

There’s no glory in this whole shit. No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances. Heroes rarely think. Heroes just act. So, all this is, is a stage for glory, small, personal and up to each one of us.

Pride is a commodity that can be purchased again later. One’s life is not. As

So this was about you saving somebody, huh? Yeah, well, let me ask you something, Super Hero... Who’s gonna save you?

Man, some open doors were not welcoming, and that was so the case here—less hi-how’re-ya, more come-in-so-your-skin-can-be-used-to-make-a-super-hero-cape-for-one-of-Hannibal-Lecter’s-patients.

Whoever had coined the phrase, ‘the customer is always right,’ had clearly never worked in retail or customer service. And if they had, well, then they’d need to be hauled out into the street and beaten to death with plastic spoons.

That damned Hurker! He had the neck to suggest to me today that he could find a buyer for our plant—if he was made a partner!” “I hope you told him what to do with that suggestion!” “I did. Told him I wasn’t selling, but if he wanted to buy a share he should talk to my legal adviser.” Marcus straightened in his chair and wiped his hands across his face. “And he told me that I had forty eight hours to reconsider my answer, or shipping might prove very difficult—and that there would be some queries initiated over my use of a dome now owned by CalBank!

Wearing a black belt does not make you a super hero, and wearing a white belt does not mean you have little to offer as a person. It is what we do in the belts we wear, and not the belts themselves that matter.

People love superheroes.  It's true we're  impressed by their bravery and fortitude, their supernatural gifts and physical brawn.  But the fact is, villains possess these same qualities.  So why our admiration for the hero and not the nemesis?  Because of virtue.   A superhero gives everything to defend what's good and right without seeking praise or reward.  Think about it.  All the great heroes give without taking, help without grumbling, sacrifice without asking recompense.  A superhero's real strength, what we absolutely fall in love with, is his finer virtue.

I took in a deep breath, and smoke twisted around my head as I let it slip through my teeth. “Do you know what my favorite show was when I was a little kid?” The look again. “I would have no idea.” “Doctor Who. British sci-fi show.” “I am familiar with it. Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant, and Matt—“ “No,” I said. “The new show’s great, but I grew up on the old one. The low-budget, rubber monster show with Tom Baker and Peter Davison. I watched it on PBS all the time as a kid.” I looked out at the dark ruins of Hollywood, at the stumbling shadows dotting the streets as far as you could see. The only other living person within half a mile was standing behind me, her eyes boring into my head. “The Doctor didn’t have super-powers or weapons or anything like that. He was just a really smart guy who always tried to do the right thing. To help people, no matter what. That struck me when I was a kid. The idea that no matter how cold and callous and heartless the world seemed, there was somebody out there who just wanted to make life better. Not better for worlds or countries in some vague way. Just better for people trying to live their lives, even if they didn’t know about him.” I turned back to her and tapped my chest. “That’s what this suit’s always been about. Not scaring people like you or Gorgon do. Not some sort of pseudo-sexual roleplay or repressed emotions. I wear this thing, all these bright colors, because I want people to know someone’s trying to make their lives better. I want to give them hope.

But one must remember that they were all men with systems. Freud, monumentally hipped on sex (for which he personally had little use) and almost ignorant of Nature: Adler, reducing almost everything to the will to power: and Jung, certainly the most humane and gentlest of them, and possibly the greatest, but nevertheless the descendant of parsons and professors, and himself a super-parson and a super-professor. all men of extraordinary character, and they devised systems that are forever stamped with that character.… Davey, did you ever think that these three men who were so splendid at understanding others had first to understand themselves? It was from their self-knowledge they spoke. They did not go trustingly to some doctor and follow his lead because they were too lazy or too scared to make the inward journey alone. They dared heroically. And it should never be forgotten that they made the inward journey while they were working like galley-slaves at their daily tasks, considering other people's troubles, raising families, living full lives. They were heroes, in a sense that no space-explorer can be a hero, because they went into the unknown absolutely alone. Was their heroism simply meant to raise a whole new crop of invalids? Why don't you go home and shoulder your yoke, and be a hero too?

S...For Stupendous! T...For Tiger, ferocity of! U...For Underwear, Red! P...For Power, Incredible! E...For excellent physique! N...For...Um...Something..Hm, well, I'll come back to that... D...For Determination! U...For...Wait, How do you spell this? Is it "I"??

Too bad I don't believe in heroes, super or otherwise.

I’m a super hero and I’m in a phone booth but those things have nothing in common with each other; I just come here to cry.

There was some kind of X-men emergency, so all the teachers were gone. This happens every now and then. It's one of the perks of having super heroes for your teachers - when the world is about to end (which is like at least twice a month), school gets canceled. Heck, three weeks ago there was a big chemistry final for the upperclassmen. Beast was the teacher - he's this big, burly guy who can do acrobatic stuff like a monkey, but he also happens to be a super-genius. He's, like, legendary for his tough finals, so there were kids walking through the halls, going, "Oh, God, please let Galactus try to eat the earth. Please please please let there be an alien invasion by the Skrulls!

Down on the beach the three children stood unmoving in the late afternoon gloaming, their arms linking them together, watching transfixed while the tall grey man approached them with a steady step. He carried a long pole with what at that distance resembled an old-fashioned lantern at its tip. As he drew close to the trio the lamp brightened, enveloping them in its glow. Then suddenly and silently the light was extinguished, leaving only the grey man standing motionless on the sand.

The three of them were the ultimate warriors we all looked up to. Until the day it all came crashing down. That was the day our heroes died. That was the day a new hero was born.

I kinda feel like a Bond villain. I just need a cat sitting in my lap. I could scratch their ears while I chuckle at the fact that a superhero just fell into a damn pit trap.

Program your life the way you want it to be: don't waste the unuse energy that lodges in the matrix of your soul. You are transcendent, be a superintendent.

If I were a super hero, social awkwardness would be my power. My entire life, I’ve struggled to get out of my head, constantly overanalyzing every little word or movement or shift of a gaze. I’ve learned it’s easier to sit back and shut up. I find I don’t make as much of a fool out of myself that way. Quietude has become the law of my land, with silence being my official language.

People listen and accept because they have no option. The Super-class rules the world; their arguments are subtle, their voices soft, their smiles discreet, but their decisions are final. They know. They accept or reject. They have the power. And power doesn't negotiate with anyone, only with itself. However, all is not lost. In the world of fiction and in the real world, there is always a hero.

We’re a society that creates super heroes who aren’t really super heroes. They are just regular people who live in alignment with their goals and dreams. They don’t just talk about it, the LIVE it. You can choose to do the same.

No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances.

All Superheroes are differently abled. All differently abled are Superheroes.

My body shook from pain, exhaustion, and the beginning of shock. I'd pay for all the powers I'd used, but the portal most of all. Good girls weren't supposed to open hell dimensions.

What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer–chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream. “Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?” “I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude!

Wilbur looked at the list glumly. "Are you sure you need all this stuff?" "Yep." "The ax?" "The ax is critical." "The chalk?" "The chalk is super-critical." "The bungee cords?" "Bungee cords are the single most useful object in the universe, Wilbur. People may say it’s duct tape, but it’s actually bungee cords. All great heroes know this.

I fantasize about killing people all the time. I think about how easy it would be. What if I just started showing up to Kitan rallies with an I-beam? Knock down the capitol building, force them to pass Universal Health Care, stuff aevery Ayn Rand fanatic into a big mason jar and hurl them into the sun. I could do it, you know. I really could. And then there's these people with their fucking sneers going 'You're a monster! You're a thug! You kill people!' No fucking shit I kill people!! I put holes in mountains! I break shit constantly without even trying! I saved the world on no less than seven fucking occasions, and guess what, super-accuracy is not one of my anomalies! Am I supposed to be impressed that you've never killed anybody? What a bold moral choice from a person who's terrified of violence and scared shitless of going to jail! It's like, have you ever had the option of murdering a bunch of people!? Okay, then why the fuck am I listening to your opinion on the matter!? Every day I don't kill a thousand fucking people, they should throw me a god-damned tickertape parade!

Everybody, listen!” he shouted to the far-off crowds. “Rundark has super-powerful magical bombs. And they will be headed straight toward those giant vision orbs you’re watching. You need to get as far away from those orbs as possible!” And all around the Thirteen Kingdoms, seven people turned away from the orbs and fled. Yes, that’s right: seven. The thousands of others stayed glued to the action. They’d discovered a new form of moving-picture entertainment, and nothing was going to tear them away

Even without being killed a man can experience death, he can conquer, he can realize the culmination characteristic of a 'super-life'. From a higher point of view, Paradise, the Kingdom of Heaven, Valhalla, the Island of the Heroes, etc., are only symbolic figurations forged for the masses, figurations that in reality designate transcendent states of consciousness, beyond life and death. The ancient Aryan tradition used the term jivan-mukti to indicate such a realization while still in the mortal body.

He doesn’t look a violent type—so polite, and so patrician. You never hear him raise his voice.” She thought about it. “No, you don’t, do you?” It struck her that the Captain exuded an air of quiet command. His ‘orders’ were always delivered in polite terms, but very few people made the mistake of not carrying them out immediately. “I expect he doesn’t usually have to though.” She laughed. “You don’t get appointed to command a ship like the Vanguard unless you know how to get people to do what you want them to.

Everything had happened so fast, I was not sure I had really understood all of the events. My owner Mala said I was not supposed to understand, since I was just a toy. And her mom, Mrs. Jones, said I was not the sharpest pencil in the box! What ever that meant…

Yeah, I had to get in. The door was locked, so I grabbed a patio chair and viola! A glass of water." "Wow, you're my hero." "Shut up.

Fuck you . . . you fucking body-dysmorphia porn-addict trust-fund-baby compulsive-masturbation motherfucker.

I use Fiction to face Reality And write sweet Stories to avoid the bitter ones.

We all know starry-eyed romantics like love stories, but few would argue early and intense exposure to sappy melodrama causes a romantic temperament.

It seems as if from being a novelty nine-day wonder, the super-hero has become a part of American life. It's here to stay. For better, or for worse.

Don’t play politics, Hill. Super heroes need to stay above that stuff. We can’t have Washington telling us who the super villains are.

I’m supposed to be a super hero, but can I really be if I’m seen as a villain because of the color of my skin?

I love his penis. I want to give it a sponge bath and dress it up like a super hero.

My faux school uniform is like a power suit, my armor, a super hero’s costume that makes me feel on top of the world. Short skirt, white blouse, knee-highs and Mary Janes. When I wear this, I make the rules.

Girl, how small is your brain?” I heard a familiar voice coming from behind. That was Wonder Woman. “Sorry, was I thinking out loud?” I apologized. “No, but I am Wonder Woman! I can read minds, you know”, she answered with pride. I have to admit, I was really impressed, I did not know my minds could write.

The lights came up as Dylan Raddeck walked nonchalantly into the room. As expected he stopped, staring at his killer … Eyes fixed on her target, Bast hesitated as James Heron appeared behind him. For a fraction of a second too long, she wavered, unable to decide her target, then she snarled, and fired a series of the needles at Radeck, seeing them strike exactly at her aiming point. The only problem was that he didn’t go down. Nor did Heron. Instead they stepped nimbly aside and an armoured figure behind them got off an accurate shot. It wasn’t a killing shot. It was intended to disable and disarm her—Mr Brown was specific, he wanted her alive. Unfortunately the prosthetics she wore to disguise her anatomy absorbed most of the paralysing agent. She screamed in frustration as she went down. With an effort, she turned her needle projector on herself, and fired.

Jason had never really considered how important Leo's sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor

Frank grabbed a tourist brochure stuck under the napkin dispenser. He began to read it. Piper patted Leo’s arm, like she couldn’t believe he was really here. Nico stood at the edge of the group, eyeing the passing pedestrians as if they might be enemies. Coach Hedge munched on the salt and pepper shakers. Despite the happy reunion, everybody seemed more subdued than usual—like they were picking up on Leo’s mood. Jason had never really considered how important Leo’s sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor. “So then Jason harnessed the venti,” Hazel finished. “And here we are.” Leo whistled. “Hot-air horses? Dang, Jason. So basically, you held a bunch of gas together all the way to Malta, and then you let it loose.” Jason frowned. “You know, it doesn’t sound so heroic when you put it that way.” “Yeah, well. I’m an expert on hot air. I’m still wondering, why Malta? I just kind of ended up here on the raft, but was that a random thing, or—” “Maybe because of this.” Frank tapped his brochure. “Says here Malta was where Calypso lived.” A pint of blood drained from Leo’s face. “W-what now?” Frank shrugged. “According to this, her original home was an island called Gozo just north of here. Calypso’s a Greek myth thingie, right?” “Ah, a Greek myth thingie!” Coach Hedge rubbed his hands together. “Maybe we get to fight her! Do we get to fight her? ’Cause I’m ready.” “No,” Leo murmured. “No, we don’t have to fight her, Coach.” Piper frowned. “Leo, what’s wrong? You look—” “Nothing’s wrong!” Leo shot to his feet. “Hey, we should get going. We’ve got work to do!” “But…where did you go?” Hazel asked. “Where did you get those clothes? How—” “Jeez, ladies!” Leo said. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need two extra moms!” Piper smiled uncertainly. “Okay, but—” “Ships to fix!” Leo said. “Festus to check! Earth goddesses to punch in the face! What are we waiting for? Leo’s back!” He spread his arms and grinned. He was making a brave attempt, but Jason could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. Something had happened to him…something to do with Calypso.

Mrs. Jones had always distanced herself from me and I figured that note had the answer: Mrs. Jones was a secret agent! And I was not planning to share that information with anybody. After all, that was the definition of a secret. Even I knew that!

I can’t be a hero. I can’t paint a letter on my chest like a super-hero and fight for justice, because I don’t even know what justice means. I’ve killed people, I’ve hurt people, I love people who’ve done horrible things. I can’t be an advocate. I can’t be an icon.

For the longest time I was only afraid of two things... The possibility that something bad would happen to someone I love. Which, when you're a super hero, is both infinitely possible... and seemingly impossible. I put my fears in a small drawer in my heart and tried not to think about them.

And you,” Phineas turned to Percy, “well now, you don’t even know who you are! I could tell you, of course, but…ha! What fun would that be? And Brigid O’Shaughnessy shot Miles Archer in The Maltese Falcon. And Darth Vader is actually Luke’s father. And the winner of the next Super Bowl will be—” “Got it,” Frank muttered.

My generation, we were kind of raised on the super-cool, “I can handle anything” with a gun in his hand hero. Any situation you throw at him, he can handle it—with catchphrases. It was very cool. But Joss Whedon’s version of a hero doesn’t always win. He loses more than he wins, and when he wins, the victories are tiny, but he takes ’em. “That’s a victory! I call that a victory!” It’s a tiny victory—he takes it, and that’s what he walks away with. And that’s something I can actually relate to.

When two countries fight was, it's weapon manufacturers who win.

People who have suffered understand pain and are often the best at helping others.

Heroes aren't built from cloth and string. They're built from bravery, and from love.

I think super-heroes and religion are indivisible. I think they’re indivisible from Superman.

What I learned was that these athletes were not disabled, they were superabled. The Olympics is where heroes are made. The Paralympics is where heroes come.

So I’m the Flash?" Xik frowned, baffled. "Afraid I’m not familiar." "He’s a superhero." "Superhero?" "A hero," Daniel said, "only super." "…how illuminating." "Don’t worry about it.

If I were a super hero , social awkwardness would be my power. My entire life, I’ve struggled to get out of my head, constantly overanalyzing every little word or movement or shift of a gaze. I’ve learned it’s easier to sit back and shut up. I find I don’t make as much of a fool out of myself that way. Quietude has become the law of my land, with silence being my official language.

It’s not easy to pledge yourself to a cause. Duty is like armor. It’s heavy, and it’s not always comfortable. It’s a promise to yourself to do what’s right. When your courage is tested, remain calm. Remember why you started. Then run as fast as you can toward the fight, knowing that no matter how it ends, you’ve stayed true to your cause and yourself. Loyalty and bravery, combined, are greater than any super-power.

There are threads of fiction intricately woven into our muscles. Fictional characters such as Superman, Black Panther, Wonder Woman etc., are birthed from something struggling to come alife from deep within us.

So what about you, Fern? Wonder Woman?” Ambrose teased. “Fern decided super heroes weren't for her,” Bailey said from the back. “She decided she would just be a fairy because she liked the option of flying without the responsibility of saving the world. She made a pair of wings from cardboard, covered them in glitter, and rigged up some duct tape straps so she could wear the wings around on her back like a back pack.

THE BRANCH OF ECONOMICS concerned with issues like inflation, recessions, and financial shocks is known as macroeconomics. When the economy is going well, macroeconomists are lauded as heroes; when it turns sour, as it did recently, they catch a lot of the blame. In either case, the headlines go to the macroeconomists. We hope that after reading this book, you’ll realize there is a whole different breed of economist out there—microeconomists—lurking in the shadows. They seek to understand the choices that individuals make, not just in terms of what they buy but also how often they wash their hands and whether they become terrorists.

My enlightened racial consciousness demands that I reject the so-called greatness of William Faulkner and William Shakespeare. I don't have time for any of that Hamlet jive -- but Marvel superheroes are super cool.

All of Moore’s emphasis on the psychology of super-heroes in Watchmen wasn’t about making Rorschach crazy for the sake of craziness, nor to inject new levels of violence into the super-hero.  (If only Zach Snyder, for all his fidelity, had understood that!)  It was about making the super-hero realistic, because the practice of taking to the streets in costume would, in the real world, attract people prone to psychopathology. 

If we love Life then we will be real hero, if we love the world then We will be super hero and if we love universe then we will be a Power. Only one way for Happiness that is –Everything are All right (thought). A current will flow when both positive & negative charge will be connected, same way life will be better when positive and negative thoughts will be created. Our life & universe based on our thought & imagination only

Gamers even develop some unusual emotional “superpowers.” Perhaps the most surprising power has to do with dreaming. People who frequently play first-person games (which graphically show you the game world from the point of view of the hero, like Minecraft, Halo, and Portal) develop two rather amazing skills: They can halt nightmares in their tracks, controlling themselves in their dreams the way they control a character in a video game.

The plot is deceptively simple. Condensed even fur- ther, it might read as a personal ad in some questfinder’s forum: Unlikely hero to save world from cataclysm. Seeks motley assortment of companions. Sidequests guaranteed.

When at last the time came for Wonder Woman's costume unveiling, the room was abuzz. Literally. Bumblebee's costume had malfunctioned again, sending electrical stings all around the classroom, which heightened the excitement.

The universe has certain rules. Among them are: He who owns a sharp tool will eventually cut himself. And: Laboratory accidents never result in super-hero-type powers. And most applicable in this case: He who laughs first gets caught. The first rule could be, at a stretch, applied to Tony Stark and the Iron Man suit, considering recent events. One notable exception to the second rule was currently swinging around New York City on a spider web, which did not bear thinking about.

Support Your Warriors I write about warriors; men and women who rise above the rest. Men and women who overcome their fears with courage and integrity. While some of my characters may seem like super heroes, the real life men and women who risk their lives every day to protect and to serve us are truly super heroes. Please support your warriors. There are a variety of worthwhile organizations that need financial support and/or volunteers. Visit a hospital, send a card, say a prayer. Thank you Sandy

Yes. It very much is. Especially if things are run by a bunch of old people who think the generation after them is full of a bunch of lazy, directionless kids. “Funny—they broke the world and created the problem, and somehow we’re supposed to fix it for them.

A great movie hero is JOKER. Man, we fucking hate that Batman motherfucker. Anyone who wants to take him down is obviously one of the good guys! So, a sleazy billionaire playboy – a member of the super-rich elite – is supposed to be the hero of the people. Get to fuck!

Seven Wonders, unite!" "Chicago Nightguard, TEN-HUT!" "Power ready and waiting!" "Let the Circle of Magi be one!" "Logarth of the Dereni affirms his readiness." "United International standing by." "Lady Liberty and the Presidents standing by." "Connectormatic standing by.

What I’ve come to realize I that I don’t like action for action’s sake. Mindless explosions, super close ups of combat and gore, and unnecessary effects make me zone out incredibly fast. What I do love is a fight that is well choreographed and in which I actually care about the outcome. And hopefully not riddled with cliches. Even more so, I have had a long, deep-seated appreciation for watching chicks kick ass. Watching some lone-wolf-type hero beat the crap out of the bad guys is okay, but watching a BAMF femme do it is 10000% times better.

Life is a solitary confinement , Every second is a punishment - of a crime , that was never committed , Or perhaps, - the biggest crime of my age , is the silence of the soul. You suffer silently - as a sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered - for a cause that is greater than your own existence ! They label you as a hero , - a super human with super human strength . Yes , indeed . The wars you fight every day - every moment with your demons , and of course the price of being a hero ! Solitude , - A gift from god - A curse on your own self.

My father,' I replied, 'I am fond of action. I like to succour the afflicted, and make people happy. Command that there be built for me a tower, from whose top I can see the whole earth, and thus discover the places where my help would be of most avai1.' 'To do good, without ceasing, to mankind, a race at once flighty and ungrateful, is a more painful task than you imagine,' said Asfendarmod. ------ After saying these words, my father motioned to us to retire; and immediately I found myself in a tower, built on the summit of Mount Caf - a tower whose outer walls were lined with numberless mirrors that reflected, though hazily and as in a kind of dream, a thousand varied scenes then being enacted on the earth. Asfendarmod's power had indeed annihilated space, and brought me not only within sight of all the beings thus reflected in the mirrors, but also within sound of their voices and of the very words they uttered. (“The Story of The Peri Homaiouna”)

If I wasn’t super powerful, I would have probably peed my pants already. We entered the cave and Steve was already prepared, he had brought along some torches. “You doing alright over there?” I asked. “Y-yes…of course!” he replied trembling. “How far in does this cave go?” Right when I said that, a dozen zombies surrounded us.

Spiderman and Superman were closeted bodybuilders: they wore bodysuits that decently covered their flesh and masks that disguised their identity; their lives were rigidly divided between body-less bourgeois respectability and muscular super-hero fantasy; they led a 'double-life' that no one knew about and were never to be seen at the gym.

Most of us though have this image of a badass as being a trouble maker. We can mistake rebellion and thinking outside the square as not being a team player. That's where we get it wrong. Along with owning ourselves, being a badass means accepting responsibility for our world. It means being willing to drop our armor and feel things. Brené Brown, the epic researcher who blew the world away with her TED talk on vulnerability, describes the ingredients even further saying that the qualities of being "tough and tender" equal "badassery". We can use our badassness like an alter ego super hero. Someone who gets things done because she's the one to do it. She might be afraid, but that doesn't keep her from honoring who she is and what she's meant to do in the world.

I understand your feelings, James, but I can’t allow it. If it helps, I’m not finding it easy either.” The Admiral paused, considering his words. He wanted to take out these Pantheon agents, every last one of them, and he knew which he was up against. But it looked like the price would be high. “Mars is like a bloody rabbit warren. The early settlements tunnelled all over the bloody place looking for water, mineral deposits, and, of course, to create habitats for themselves. They didn’t have the equipment to create the shields we have there now. Most of them gave up when habitable planets became available, and the attempts at greening the place fell through—and now we have squatters in some of the abandoned areas, and all sorts of questionable activities turning up.

One went to two, two became four and the series continued. The more I tried to pull out the more I got pulled in. Constant fighting at home and bad academic grades made my new found world even more attractive. There there were no compulsions, no obligations; where you were the super-hero slaying beasts, demons and villains alike; where everything was perfect and reality was left far behind. Page 13, Addiction.

He studied Reyna. “How did you do that...that surge of energy?” Reyna turned her forearm. The tattoo still burned like hot wax: the symbol of Bellona, SPQR, with four lines for her years of service. “I don’t like to talk about it,” she said, “but it’s a power from my mother. I can impart strength to others.” Coach Hedge looked up from his rucksack. “Seriously? Why haven’t you hooked me up, Roman girl? I want super-muscles!

Sam Wilson continuously stood up. Giving everything he had to try and shape the world into the one that his father dreamed of. He dedicated himself to the service of those in need. As the Falcon he’s been right at my side–fighting on the front lines–for all these years. No magic hammer. No super-soldier serum. Just a man. A man dedicated to showing what one person could accomplish after a lifetime of misfortune. Sam Wilson’s always been a hero… Today, he became something more.

Eddie is Iron Maiden's mascot, monster, alter ego - call it what you will. Part supernatural, part primal, part aggressive adolescent, Eddie is a super anti-hero with no backstory. Eddie doesn't give a fuck. He just is. Eddie also gets us off the hook as individuals. Eddie is far bigger and more outrageous than any badly behaved superstar. Eddie makes rock stars obsolete. This comes in handy when you get to your late fifties and rather fancy a quiet night in after playing to 25,000 screaming metal fans.

He had one room above a thrift store. He had a trunk of books by Ayn Rand. He was short-sighted and reclusive, resisting pleas to take his photograph. He drew a super-hero comic. He saw the world in terms of black and white. He said 'A day's work for a day's pay. That is our one and only right.' He takes a card and shades one half of it in dark So he can demonstrate to you just what he means. He says, 'There’s black and there is white, And there is wrong, and there is right, And there is nothing, nothing in between.' That’s what Mr. A says.

Paranormal romance?” All the hesitation went out of me at the sound of his voice. Mike and his mates teased me mercilessly for my taste in books, but it was a hill I was ready to die on. “Damn straight I do. A world where women find their fated mate, the one guy meant for her, and then he spends his life looking after her, him and his animal protecting her, making sure she has super orgasms?” I shrugged, finally wrestling the box free. “What’s not to like? Guys like porn movies, girls like porn books where the heroes are everything men aren’t.

Mad, in exasperation, cried out to the unseen force, “Why did you summon us? There must be a reason. Tell us.” She heard a dreamlike voice. “You are Stargirls.” The voice paused, letting the fog and confusion of their nightmare to lift. Lyn found her voice, “But why us?” “You are the chosen ones by prophecy; you have proven your worthiness. A time warp brought you here. The one you opened was no accident. It was left a hundred thousand years ago just for you. Your Star training as children has prepared you well. You are ready for the next stage in your evolution.

If you hang out with people who constantly whine about how tired, broke and worried about the economy they are, you’ll feel like a hero just for getting out of bed in the morning. Hang out with people who are living on purpose, who meet their challenges with a step aside, suckers attitude, who are dating super awesome people, making exactly the kind of money they want to be making (or working toward it) or taking the kinds of vacations they, and you, want to be taking, and you’ll not only see what’s possible for you, too, but you’ll have more incentive to follow suit.

I could go on and on with the intimate details about the various lives of people on the super-ambulance, but what good is more information? I agree with Kilgore Trout about realistic novels and their accumulations of nit-picking details. In Trout's novel, 'The Pan-Galactic Memory Bank,' the hero is on a space ship two hundred miles long and sixty-two miles in diameter. He gets a realistic novel out of the branch library in his neighborhood. He reads about sixty pages of it, and then he takes it back. The librarian asks him why he doesn't like it, and he says to her, 'I already know about human beings.

few years later, Demeter took a vacation to the beach. She was walking along, enjoying the solitude and the fresh sea air, when Poseidon happened to spot her. Being a sea god, he tended to notice pretty ladies walking along the beach. He appeared out of the waves in his best green robes, with his trident in his hand and a crown of seashells on his head. (He was sure that the crown made him look irresistible.) “Hey, girl,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You must be the riptide, ’cause you sweep me off my feet.” He’d been practicing that pickup line for years. He was glad he finally got to use it. Demeter was not impressed. “Go away, Poseidon.” “Sometimes the sea goes away,” Poseidon agreed, “but it always comes back. What do you say you and me have a romantic dinner at my undersea palace?” Demeter made a mental note not to park her chariot so far away. She really could’ve used her two dragons for backup. She decided to change form and get away, but she knew better than to turn into a snake this time. I need something faster, she thought. Then she glanced down the beach and saw a herd of wild horses galloping through the surf. That’s perfect! Demeter thought. A horse! Instantly she became a white mare and raced down the beach. She joined the herd and blended in with the other horses. Her plan had serious flaws. First, Poseidon could also turn into a horse, and he did—a strong white stallion. He raced after her. Second, Poseidon had created horses. He knew all about them and could control them. Why would a sea god create a land animal like the horse? We’ll get to that later. Anyway, Poseidon reached the herd and started pushing his way through, looking for Demeter—or rather sniffing for her sweet, distinctive perfume. She was easy to find. Demeter’s seemingly perfect camouflage in the herd turned out to be a perfect trap. The other horses made way for Poseidon, but they hemmed in Demeter and wouldn’t let her move. She got so panicky, afraid of getting trampled, that she couldn’t even change shape into something else. Poseidon sidled up to her and whinnied something like Hey, beautiful. Galloping my way? Much to Demeter’s horror, Poseidon got a lot cuddlier than she wanted. These days, Poseidon would be arrested for that kind of behavior. I mean…assuming he wasn’t in horse form. I don’t think you can arrest a horse. Anyway, back in those days, the world was a rougher, ruder place. Demeter couldn’t exactly report Poseidon to King Zeus, because Zeus was just as bad. Months later, a very embarrassed and angry Demeter gave birth to twins. The weirdest thing? One of the babies was a goddess; the other one was a stallion. I’m not going to even try to figure that out. The baby girl was named Despoine, but you don’t hear much about her in the myths. When she grew up, her job was looking after Demeter’s temple, like the high priestess of corn magic or something. Her baby brother, the stallion, was named Arion. He grew up to be a super-fast immortal steed who helped out Hercules and some other heroes, too. He was a pretty awesome horse, though I’m not sure that Demeter was real proud of having a son who needed new horseshoes every few months and was constantly nuzzling her for apples. At this point, you’d think Demeter would have sworn off those gross, disgusting men forever and joined Hestia in the Permanently Single Club. Strangely, a couple of months later, she fell in love with a human prince named Iasion (pronounced EYE-son, I think). Just shows you how far humans had come since Prometheus gave them fire. Now they could speak and write. They could brush their teeth and comb their hair. They wore clothes and occasionally took baths. Some of them were even handsome enough to flirt with goddesses.

These were the kids who would take LSD for recreational purposes, who relied upon tape recorders to supply the weird studio effects their music required and who could repeat the cosmic wisdom of the Space Brothers as if it were the Pledge of Allegiance. Brought up on space heroes and super beings, as revealed to them in comic books and TV shows, the whole galaxy was their birthright, just as Mad magazine and cheap B-movies had shown them hows stupid and flimsy a construct daily life could be. To the subtle dismay of their parents, this was a generation capable of thinking the unthinkable as a matter of course. That their grand cosmological adventure should come to an end just as Neil Armstrong succeeded in bringing Suburbia to the Moon is another story and it will have to wait for another time.

I was scared. I wasn't scared of monsters, or super-villains. But REAL things. What if the system doesn't work? Everything I've fought for. What if it's broken and unfair and unfixable? I don't know what makes you scared. What makes you rage, but superhero's never fix those things for us. Not even Batman. He can't fix REAL things because he's NOT REAL. He's a cautionary tale. A ghost. He fights our nightmares to teach us to fight the real terrors by light of day. He believes in us. He believes we will save ourselves. He's the superhero who sees in us the heroes we can be. And through him we're reminded that we're stronger for our differences than not. We might hate each other, or fear each other; but we're Gotham where brave new things are made. Truth is, I forgot that for a while. But, like everyone else our there, I remember now.

In the climactic scene of many Hollywood science-fiction movies, humans face an alien invasion fleet, an army of rebellious robots or an all-knowing super-computer that wants to obliterate them. Humanity seems doomed. But at the very last moment, against all the odds, humanity triumphs thanks to something that the aliens, the robots and the super-computers didn’t suspect and cannot fathom: love. The hero, who up till now has been easily manipulated by the super-computer and has been riddled with bullets by the evil robots, is inspired by his sweetheart to make a completely unexpected move that turns the tables on the thunderstruck Matrix. Dataism finds such scenarios utterly ridiculous. ‘Come on,’ it admonishes the Hollywood screenwriters, ‘is that all you could come up with? Love? And not even some platonic cosmic love, but the carnal attraction between two mammals? Do you really think that an all-knowing super-computer or aliens who managed to conquer the entire galaxy would be dumbfounded by a hormonal rush?

Salt Marsh Goddess by Michelle Joers "You may need a super-human super-hero super-natural god/dess, hammer or harp in hand, horse-bodied or jackal-headed, Lady of the Lake or Lord of the Seas.* But I have the deep, deep ocean and strong winds driving waves upon the shore driving me to my knees for absolution driving me to oblivion; I have a sun that warms tender shoots, crooning them from the loamy body of a Living Earth; The caress of the Willow branch as I lie beneath her roots, book in hand, and squirmy child in lap. The Salt Marsh Goddess speaks to me in ringing tones, as clear as any god of myth does for you & she speaks in a thousand tongues— Spartina, Juniperus, Myrica, Sesarma, Uca, Littorina, Malaclemys, Ardea, Alligator …just to name a few. I have prayed at her temple as the tide pours into my boots And divined my future with her bones I have bled for her | I have tasted her flesh And drank of her blood | And given her mine While you argue over how to resurrect gods of long passed cultures, I’ll be the one covered in mud and dancing with the rushes, celebrating a goddess born of glaciers.

They,” he waved his hand out across the world, taking all of it in, every individual life and moment as though it were something that could be measured, known, and grasped, “they’re tired of being lied to. They’re tired of being taken in by this week’s outrage at last week’s Hitler of the moment. They’re tired of finding out that the thing they read on the internet wasn’t true. That cancer’s not cured by these five super foods and that you can, or cannot, see the Great Wall of China from space. They’re tired of having their heroes become all too real every time a celebrity gets busted for sex, drugs, or their disbelief in global warming, climate change, fracking, fossil fuels, cops, guns, or whatever we’ve decided is the new worst thing you can possibly support. When did we get permission to be anything other than what they want us to be? Which is just their heroes. All those people want out there, right now, watching this feed, is for me and my crew to handle this. And be heroes doing it. They want us to do that, they want to see it, and then they want us to come back next week and do it again. They could care less about how I feel regarding the latest war or what people do with their genitalia. They don’t need those things to actually enjoy this show.

I glance up and nearly squeal in shock as the same hunky mechanic stares down at me. How did he see me back here? This spot is super secluded, and no one ever sits here. “Can I help you?” I ask, pulling my earbuds out and taking in the broad width of his shoulders. Today, Mr. Book Boyfriend is wearing blue jeans and a black, fitted Tire Depot T-shirt. He’s much cleaner than he was yesterday in his dirty coveralls that made me reconsider the profession of my current book hero. “You’re back,” he states knowingly, his stunning blue eyes drinking in my yoga pants, T-shirt, and a baseball cap. “I, um…had an issue with one of my tires. The guys are fixing it.” “Which guys?” he asks, crossing his tan, sculpted arms over his chest. I have to crane my neck back completely to even reach his face he’s so tall. “I’m not really sure.” “Okay, well, which car?” he inquires, running a hand through his trim black hair. Damn, he’s really got that tall, dark, and handsome thing down to a T. He looks almost Mediterranean. Le swoon! I swallow slowly. “Um…I drive a Cadillac SRX.” “A Cadillac?” He barks out a small laugh. “Isn’t that kind of an old lady car?” My brows furrow. “It’s not an old lady car. It’s a luxury SUV. It’s wonderful. I have heating and cooling seats.” “Well, if you have that kind of money to spend on a vehicle, you should look at a Lexus or a BMW. Much more sexy feel to the body. You’d look pretty damn hot driving a Lexus LX.” “Maybe I’m not trying to look hot. Maybe I like looking like an old lady.” That was a really unhot thing to say, but Book Boyfriend booms with laughter and squats down next to me.

I’m Sushi K and I’m here to say I like to rap in a different way Look out Number One in every city Sushi K rap has all most pretty My special talking of remarkable words Is not the stereotyped bucktooth nerd My hair is big as a galaxy Cause I attain greater technology [...] I like to rap about sweetened romance My fond ambition is of your pants So here is of special remarkable way Of this fellow raps named Sushi K The Nipponese talking phenomenon Like samurai sword his sharpened tongue Who raps the East Asia and the Pacific Prosperity Sphere, to be specific [...] Sarariman on subway listen For Sushi K like nuclear fission Fire-breathing lizard Gojiro He my always big-time hero His mutant rap burn down whole block Start investing now Sushi K stock It on Nikkei stock exchange Waxes; other rappers wane Best investment, make my day Corporation Sushi K [...] Coming to America now Rappers trying to start a row Say “Stay in Japan, please, listen! We can’t handle competition!” U.S. rappers booing and hissin’ Ask for rap protectionism They afraid of Sushi K Cause their audience go away He got chill financial backin’ Give those U.S. rappers a smackin’ Sushi K concert machine Fast efficient super clean Run like clockwork in a watch Kick old rappers in the crotch [...] He learn English total immersion English/Japanese be mergin’ Into super combination So can have fans in every nation Hong Kong they speak English, too Yearn of rappers just like you Anglophones who live down under Sooner later start to wonder When they get they own rap star Tired of rappers from afar [...] So I will get big radio traffic When you look at demographic Sushi K research statistic Make big future look ballistic Speed of Sushi K growth stock Put U.S. rappers into shock

Becoming the best version of yourself is useless if it only comes out when you’re alone, if you’re not able to hang on to your new identity at work, with friends, or on dates, especially since these times are often when we need a hero the most.

Maybe there was a Valhalla for Heroes, and one day, she would see Sharon again. Angela doubted it, but she wasn't the type to dismiss anything out of hand. Anything was possible. This was a wild, crazy, utterly bizarre world, and she intended to see and experience as much of it as she could; before it was her turn in the ground.

In a way they were much the same, men who were no longer part of the hero world yet were still bound to its service. Amidst the sentinels of justice and decency, they were the ones who’s hands were already dirty and could bare the weight of a little more filth when the time came. The others might love them, trust them, and respect them, but they would never understand them. Those who lived in the light could never truly know what it was to dwell in the shadows.

We’re all going to die, Chad, and heroes go sooner than most. Don’t waste time worrying about when the end is coming and just try to enjoy what you have right here and now.

Death isn’t a luxury heroes are permitted.

Matt let out a howl of anguish and leapt at me. With cupped palms, I unleashed the raging energy in me in a different, more subtle fashion, a ray of blinding light.

Welcome to college.” I gestured with a sigh. “It’s like high school, but deadlier.

To be fair, we don’t actually know if he’s a vampire or not.” “Vampires don’t exist,” Brad said. “You exist,” Eric countered. “I exist. Why not vampires?

Your laugh is like a ray of sunshine,” Andie cooed to her. “I’ll find a way to make sure you laugh forever.” “That’d be terrible!” Kara shook her head, though she snickered just a little more at the notion. “Being happy forever?” Andie released her arm around Kara to lay her head on her forehead and toss her head back like a fainting Victorian maiden. “Oh, what a cruel fate!

Knock-knock,” I huffed as I tried to ignore the feeling of my insides bursting into a million butterflies. “Who’s there?” It was Kara who answered after clearing her throat. The blush had dimmed somewhat, but she kept darting glances my way like she couldn’t take her eyes off me. That was new as well. Nice. But new. “Howl,” I said. Andie snorted. “Howl who?” She must be great at puns because her tone suggested she knew exactly where the joke was going. “Howl will you know unless you open the door?

Focus, young padawan.” Being the only guy in the male dorm who actually didn’t mind my company, Eric and I had ended up spending quite a bit of time together this first week at Valcav. I decided that if he was going to be even a junior member of our current team, he really needed to work on his powers a bit more, and so I suggested meditation to help him out. It had worked for me initially while gaining better control over my own and seemed a great idea at the time. But getting Eric to focus on anything for more than two-to-three minutes was a real challenge. He didn’t really understand the concept of inner peace, either. Eric rolled his eyes again and snarked, “Yes, Master Gateon.

Fuck you, Nick.” I rolled my eyes. “Yes, yes. Fuck me,” I gestured. “Got a fetish or something?

Andie shook her head and jabbed a thumb at Eric again. “Nuh-uh. He also told Jack about the painting. I know, because Jack later ribbed me about it. Guy’s convinced I’m painting a nudie.” I smirked at that, and Andie elbowed me with a little more force. This jostled Kara who grumbled sleepily. I wrapped a protective arm around her and laughed at Andie’s indignant expression. “Oh, come on,” I said as I stifled another chuckle. “There’s no way you haven’t considered it yet.” “Well... yeah, but that was for later,” Andie hissed out. “And I didn’t want Jack of all freaking people thinking about it. You know he’s gonna tell Brad, who’s gonna tell Matt, who’s gonna tell his sister, and then the entire girl’s dorm is gonna know. And they’ll demand to see it!” The idea of an entire girl’s dorm lining up to get a peek at my naked body made me chuckle again. It was ridiculous. No way that’d happen. “Well, charge them a pretty penny for it,” I told her as I wrapped an arm around Andie as well. She pretended to grumble at the attention, but I caught a tiny little smile at the corner of her lips. “I don’t whore myself out for anything less than two hundred, Andie. I’ve got standards.

It’s true.” She sighed, pretending to be put upon. “I’m quite the catch. Honestly, I should charge you by the hour.” “I may have a dad who owns an island and dominates half the world’s economy,” I shrugged helplessly, “but I’m broke. Can I take it on credit?

From the shadows, Kara pretended to be distressed. “What’s this? You are fast now, Sir Longbottom?” “I invented super speedy boots,” I called with pride. “They can also jump!

Tell me, Nick, does your ass ever get jealous from the shit that comes out of your mouth?

Junior, I’m very proud of you. I’m also glad you’re not dead. Sorry about that. ‘Sorry about that’ indeed. My dad in a nutshell. Never taking responsibility for anything anymore. He used to be a good man… it was getting harder to remember that, lately. And by ‘that,’ I mean the whole killer robot plan. I suppose I didn’t think about the consequences until after the systems got scrambled. Next time, I’ll just slip him a virus. Viruses don’t turn on their masters, do they? On second thought, maybe a poison. Except… poison is boring. What about a big gun from space? Big guns from space never go wrong. Anyway. What I’m trying to say is I fucking hate this I hope you’re not mad at me I wish I were a better father. I really am sorry for how things happened. You’re doing good stuff, kiddo. Keep it up. Dad

Matt caught me hard with a side punch, and he reeled in surprise just as much as I did. I blinked through the pain and looked back at him with a dumb expression. “The hell is your problem, Nick?” he growled. “Get your head in the game.” From the sidelines, I heard Eric howl for joy. He had a fist to his mouth, his ‘microphone’ as he pretended to be an announcer in a wrestling match. “And Nickie Boy takes a claw to the face by The Beast! How will he recover, folks? This. Is. Insaaaaaane!” To play along with the gag, I flopped down on the floor and pressed my hand to my heart. “I may actually be dead,” I said dryly, my voice a complete monotone. “Oh, look. I’m dying. Oh, no.

I lifted a brow at Matt as I hovered a few inches off the ground, suspended by my power, and asked, “You sure about this?” “Just don’t be an asshole and make me grow back a hand again,” he roared as he began to circle me. That had been an entertaining week. He’d been so pissed with me, always shaking his little stub in outrage as his hand regenerated.

So, instead of going right in, I lazily circled for just a moment before I decided to poke the wolf. And by poke, I meant a sudden flash of laser eyes right through his right arm. The big werewolf did try to duck away, but Matt wasn’t faster than the speed of light. The twin power beams blew through his arm, a shower of ruby drops following the burning light as it exploded out the other side. Not that he bled for long between his healing factor and the cauterization effect of the lasers. “I can’t believe it, folks!” Eric cried in overexaggerated alarm. “There’s blood in the ring! I repeat, there’s blood in the ring!” “Eric,” I heard Kristen mutter, “there is no ring.” He didn’t even care. “There’s blood. In. The. Riiiing!

Gemma isn’t happy with my fish tanks,” Kara explained. “She thinks that they’re taking up too much living space, but she was going to let it go, but I’ve kinda had my eye on this puffer at the pet store, and there’s another tank on sale…” She gestured helplessly. “I want my puffer.” “You could always just keep the tanks you already have,” Eric pointed out. “They’re already full of life. Why do you need another?” “Never be satisfied with the mundane,” Kara huffed. “I get what I want, okay? Andie said I could have one, and I want one.” Andie laughed and nodded gently. “It’s true, I said you could have whatever you wanted. You’re cute when you’re being spoiled.” “And I want a puffer!” Kara blushed at the cute comment, but then she was stomping her foot like a child. I laughed at that and then grinned at her. “If you want a puffer, you can have a puffer. I can talk to Gemma. I know there are some larger dorms on campus, and I do have a pretty nice pile of savings if the added expense is an issue.

Eric…” I almost couldn’t believe it. “Are you dating?” “Our little boy is growing up.” Andie grinned. “I’m so proud of him!” “I’m not that young,” Eric insisted with a roll of his eyes. He put a hand on his hip. “I’ve dated people!” It wasn’t that we doubted him, it was just so bizarre to know there was even a smidgeon of romantic energy in his whole body. He’d seemed so oblivious before. Maybe he was growing up. “Well, whoever you end up with, they better treat you well,” I warned. “I’m not afraid to play the overprotective, overbearing brother.” Matt made a noise of affirmation, and I couldn’t help a laugh. “Him too,” I added.

Look, Dougie,” I whispered back, “you’re all big on the ‘save the innocents’ thing, so you do that and keep them calm. I’m big on the ‘overwhelming firepower’ shtick, so let me do my job.

What is…” Aylin frowned at the world, wondering how to repeat it. “... Phoenix?” “My father’s capital,” I spoke up. I wasn’t happy at the reminder of his sprawling empire, and I certainly wasn’t eager to go back there. Sure, it was filled with beautiful cities with clean infrastructure and booming economies… and on the surface, they might even enjoy deceptive freedoms. But it was an empire, not a democracy, and it was run by a crazed man who would bathe the world in fire to protect me from a paper cut. That empire would be mine, someday. I didn’t want it, but there it was.

I’m totally gonna fall on my face,” he announced. I looked over at Aylin and smiled. “She said the same. Just blame Matt and say he tripped you. Everyone’ll believe it. He’s a dick.” “Fuck you, Gateon,” Matt fired back in his best approximation of good-naturedly. “See?” I grinned. Eric laughed, and some of the tension eased out of his body. “Alright, fine. I’m blaming Matt. No hard feelings, Barbur.” “Again,” Matt retorted in an almost sing-song cadence, “fuck you both.” Kara poked me in the side. “But what if Matt falls?” “Then we blame air pockets,” I suggested. “That works.

I’ll have the big one.” I pointed to the giant funnel cake painted on the front of the stand. It was the size of six funnel cakes, had three flavors, red velvet, standard, and churro, and was absolutely drenched in whipped cream, strawberries, and powdered sugar. “Are you getting it for the challenge?” the lady asked as she looked at me dubiously. “There’s a challenge?” I asked because I’d meant to bring it back so we could all share it, but before she could even respond, Eric piped up. “Yeah. if you can eat the whole thing in thirty minutes, it’s free!” He grinned at me. “You can totally do it, Nick.” “I also think you can do it, Starlight,” Aylin added and when I looked at her, I suddenly very much wanted to do it. “Okay, sure!” I smirked. “One challenge.” I smacked my belly. “Nothing like six thousand calories of sugar to rev you up.” “Damn straight!” Eric said with a bounce. “Man, this is gonna be so cool. I watched someone try earlier, and he barfed all over the floor before he was a quarter full.

I tore into the funnel cake with reckless abandon. I speared a large strawberry with my fork, rubbed it in some cream, and swallowed it in a single bite. It took me another size bites before I hit cake number one. It was red velvet, and the taste of it nearly sent me to Heaven. “Holy shit,” Eric said as he watched me devour the first cake in a couple bites. “It’s only been thirty seconds.” “My Starlight is truly amazing,” Aylin said with a quick glance at him. Then it started to get hard because I realized that there was a layer of Bavarian cream between the first red velvet cake and the next one. I hastily dug into it, and I realized I had a problem. “Eric,” I said around a mouthful of red velvet. “I need a second fork. It’s time to dual-wield this bitch.

As Krona and Anston collected themselves and walked toward the locker rooms, black and red cheerleaders poured from a side door, and I knew who sent them the moment I saw them. They were carrying pom poms that looked to be made out of actual fire but didn’t burn them. Each wore the burning fist symbol of my father on their chests, and they danced out to form up in front of the stands reserved for him. “I-N-F-E-R-N-O, he’s our lord, our H-E-R-O!” they cheered. “Blessed be his name, blessed be, blessed be, Innnnferno!” “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.” I buried my head in my hands and muttered, “He brought the Infernets. Of course.” Eric was absolutely enthralled. “The what now?” He eyed the cheerleaders like anyone would, admiring their high-cut skirts and the bizarre fiery pom poms they wielded. My father was clapping along to their chant in the front row like a toddler being shown an especially catchy song. He bounced in his seat and whistled enthusiastically. “The Infernettes,” I explained as I resisted the urge to groan. “He has his own cheerleading squad.

The Kai-lao girls were arrayed in a triangular formation, but they did not hold themselves as any warriors I knew. Each young woman was posed in strange, exaggerated ways, some balancing on one foot with arms raised, others crouched low and back with hands scrunched up in imitation of animal claws… I think. More so, they all dressed in identical uniforms save for the color, a literal rainbow. Each uniform… or maybe the girls themselves?... sported ears like a Terran feline with tails to match. Considering they twitched and moved, I could only guess they were natural. “Andrea Baker,” I said into the comms, “I misunderstand. You said when you spoke of ‘a cat fight,’ that it was a figure of speech? Perhaps you misspoke?” “Oh my God, Aylin,” Andrea laughed into the comms, “I really thought it was a joke, but I guess I was wrong. It really will be a cat fight!

but both our comms buzzed to life at the same time. As we both startled from the sudden noise, I recognized that it was Eric’s voice, and whatever was going on, he was in full hyper mode. “Oh my God, guys!” he shouted. “I don’t know where you are, but something crazy! Incredible! Unbelievable just happened! You’ll never believe it, because it’s, uh, well, unbelievable!

We all looked at one another and immediately started to laugh. Our clothes made us look like we were all about to drop the sickest emo album this side of the island. “We look ridiculous.” Kristen giggled. “Nah, we just make the clothes look good.” Eric grinned. “Come on. Let’s go recruit some groupies or something.

Hey,” Matt greeted me with a smile in his eyes. “Hey, yourself,” I replied. “I’d offer you some punch, but it tastes like spicy watermelon.” Matt scrunched his nose and made a face. “Sounds awful.” “It was,” I agreed, “and now my intestines are at risk of igniting, probably.

My heart squeezed, and I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, but the good kind. Was there a good kind of heart attack? No? Oh well.

That’s the spot…” he drawled as he quickly whipped around for another round of pets. “For a talking cat, you’re easy to please,” I joked as I scratched under his chin. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over this amazing pat-down,” he purred louder. I laughed as I shook my head. “I wish I could give you more, but I have to get ready.” Buttons yawned and gave me a lazy stink eye before flopping down in the middle of my bed and rolling around. “Fine, fine. I guess I can wait until you come back to get more.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” I snorted as I climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom. “It’s not like I’m never coming back.” “Hey, don’t forget that we both nearly died after you got up and left me to have breakfast,” he pointed out with a sad tone in his deep voice.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Leviathan!” He announced. There were several beats of silence where absolutely nothing happened. I looked from him to Gemma, then to Eric and Aylin, who shared the same puzzled expression that I wore on my own features. We continued to watch Bastion as he looked expectantly over his right shoulder, then chuckle nervously. He cleared his throat. “I said, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Leviathan!” When again nothing happened, he turned around, stomped his booted feet on the dock, and shook his fists angrily. “What the hell! Why don’t you ever listen to me?

She’s an ol’ girl, but she’ll get the job done,” Bastion replied proudly, then bowed to Aylin. “Terribly sorry, Miss. I didn’t catch your name.” “I did not throw it,” Aylin answered

I whipped my head around to glare at Eric, but when our eyes met, I saw something deep and wise inside of them, as though Eric had just enough booze in his system to have all of the answers to life’s simple questions there before him at his disposal.

I thought it was a nice landing,” Eric commented as he climbed out of his self-made hole. “There’s snow doubt about it,” I replied back with a grin as I freed myself from the icy confines I’d created.

I think that’s just the mysterious aura around here,” Eric said, brushing off my gut feeling. “It has that vibe, like in video games. You know that the ice levels are always the coolest.” I stared at him, at first because he called my gut a liar, but then… “Hehe, ‘coolest,’” I snorted, and Eric cackled. “Stoooop!

If someone had told me at any point in my life that I would be traveling the open water via the inside of a narwhal and constantly fearing that I would be eaten alive, I would have first asked what kind of substance they were taking, and then laughed my ass off.

Search his room,” my father spat. “Turn everything upside down until you find every shred of evidence that he’s a traitor.” I had to bite my tongue at the irony of the situation. Just a few months ago, my father was the world’s most feared villain, and now, he was ready to burn his entire island to the ground to find the villain that had out-villained him.

All of my best friends are imaginary, but at least the cadre of dogs that once existed in my life were real. If I had a choice between super-hero, anti-hero or villain, anti-hero would win out. Somewhere in between solves the detrimental problems that those in power refuse to deal with because of financial gain. A manifesto is nothing more than a more assertive pamphlet. The mythology of comic books was extremely creative and brilliant in concept. The imaginary world offers the psychological escape that is sometimes paramount from the real world. It creates a balance that is sometimes necessary to equalize the mind. It's like an uncomplicated form of math when you don't understand math, and explains that two plus two is four in another way. Star Trek, Star Wars, and Harry Potter were very creative concepts, whole new worlds now exist for people to inhabit. Such things create jobs, revenue, and things for people to occupy themselves with. Dystopia offers great warnings about existence, alerts and informs the populace. Take vampires and werewolves, iconic in creation, still existing after a century. There's a romance angle, and something that also allows kids to enjoy Halloween by playing dress up. Here's my point: I'm a regular person that exist in a world that needs to be fixed, explored and expanded. I'm a cog in the machine, and I don't want to be in the machine. That's what a base job is, and that job usually defines the person. Writing defines me, nothing else.

They were gorgeous, that much was certain, and they were polished to shine brighter than anything I’d ever seen before, except for maybe Diamond himself. He was one shiny motherfucker.

a solid wall of muscle and might all mixed together with thoughtfulness and late-night taco runs.

Lord Inferno’s Magnificent Laboratory of Science and Things That Go Boom.

They were both ready to drop-kick a bitch

Pro tip: Disabling an alien doomsday device when you have nine-plus minutes of nigh-infinite power and the aid of a troubled but still brilliant A-class hero isn’t as hard as you’d think.

Moms are freakin’ super heroes with eyes in the back of their heads and speed that rivals a tsunami. It also helped that I’m a Vamp.

Super heroes were created by miserable Dicks who can live greatness only through the page. I live it through my life.

state the official food of the Legion

The five of us together would have made some seriously awesome super heroes. Or super villains, depending on which way you looked at it.

What people are saying about WAR EAGLES ​5 out of 5 stars! WW2 with a dash of fantasy! I really enjoyed stepping back in time as the race for air travel was developing. One could truly feel the passion these pilots and engineers had for these magnificent machines. The twist of stepping back into a land of Vikings and dinosaurs was very well executed. Well done to both the author and the narrator. ​ Reminiscent of Golden Age Sci Fi This audio book reminded me of some of the 40's and 50's era tales, but what it happens to be is an alternative timeline World War II era fun adventure story. Think of a weird mash-up of a screw-up Captain America wanna-be mixed with the Land of the Lost mixed with Avatar where Hitler is the real villain and you might come close. At any rate, it's load of good fun and non stop action. But don't get distracted for a minute or you'll miss something! There are american pilots, Polish spies, Vikings, giant prehistoric eagles and, of course, Nazis! What more could you ask for to while away an afternoon? Our hero even gets the (Viking) girl! Put your feet up an get lost in what might have been.... 4 out of 5 stars! it's Amelia Earnhart meets WWII This is not an accurate historical fiction book, but rather an action-packed book set an historical time. I normally listen to my books at a higher speed, however the amount of drama and action in this book I had to slow it down. I like the storyline and the narrator however, the sound effects throughout the book did kind of throw me since I'm not used to that and most audible books. still I would recommend this is a good read.​ 5 out of 5 stars! I Would Like to See this on the Silver Screen Back in the late 1930s, the director of King Kong started planning War Eagles as his next block buster film. Then World War II intervened and the project languished for decades. It helps to know this background to fully appreciate this novel. It’s a big cinematic adventure waiting to find the screen. The heroes are larger than life, but more importantly, the images are bigger and more vivid than the mighty King Kong who reinvented the silver screen. And what are those images you may ask? Nazis developing super-science weapons for a sneak attack on America, Viking warriors riding gargantuan eagles in a time-forgotten land of dinosaurs, and of course, those same Vikings fighting Nazis over the skyline of New York City. This book is a heck of a lot of fun. It starts a little bit slow but once the Vikings enter the story it chugs along at a heroic pace. There is a ton of action and colorful confrontations. Narrator William L. Hahn pulls out all the stops adding theatrical sound effects to his wide repertoire of voices which adds a completely appropriate cinematic feel to the entire story. If you’re looking for some genuinely heroic fantasy, you should try War Eagles. Wonderful story War Eagles is a really good adventure story. ​5 out of 5 stars!

but don’t forget what hero really means. Thucydides says the men of that time enjoyed piracy, and saw nothing wrong with it, and this is true. And what is the pirate but the original form of the free man and of all ascending life! How pathetic, when you are told now about “living life,” or “having a life”—these people know nothing about what true life means. Compare the intensity of Alcibiades, that super-pirate, or of what I am about to describe here, to the “life” you’re encouraged to “have” today. How worthless the vaunting of these anxious creatures who live on pharmaceuticals, cheap wine, the rancid fart-fumes of status and approval they beg from each other.

burn in hell to make it all true, but I never loved anyone else in this world but you

Dino porn.” I choked on my coffee. “I am telling you, Finlay, I have run all the numbers, and dino porn is the next big thing.” I turned to gape at her. “How is that even possible?” “I wondered about that, too, so I downloaded a few samples.” She bent her elbows into tiny T. rex arms. “Apparently, the dino-hero’s hands are pretty small, but our heroine doesn’t mind, because he more than makes up for it with his super-enormous—” “Stop!” I covered my eyes, determined not to picture it. “I don’t want to know.” “Fine. But when everyone starts buying up velocirapterotica, don’t say I never told you.

Psyche was sure now that her estranged husband was trying to help her. She loved him for that. Even his falsetto voice was kind of cute. But she decided to play along. “I’m listening, O Great Tower, who in no way resembles my wonderful husband.” “Okay, then,” said the voice. “As I was saying, Aphrodite will create distractions to test your resolve. She knows you are kind and helpful. She will try to use that against you. No matter who asks you for help on your journey, don’t listen to them! Don’t stop!” “Thank you, Tower. If you were my husband, Eros, which of course you aren’t, I would tell you I love you deeply and I’m very sorry. Also, how’s the shoulder?” “It hurts pretty bad,” said the tower. “But I think…” Falsetto: “Towers don’t have shoulders, silly.” The tower went silent. Psyche kissed the parapet. Then she started off on her super-fun journey to Mount Taenarus and the Underworld. Can we talk about this for a second? A lot of heroes have journeyed to the Underworld. I’ll tell you about some of them later. Most were dudes with swords and big attitudes. Heck, I’ve journeyed to the Underworld with a sword

they were sculptures. Then he tried to step between two Greek spearmen, and they moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block Jason’s path. From the far end of the hall, a man’s voice rang out in a language that sounded like French. The room was so long and misty, Jason couldn’t see the other end; but whatever the man said, the ice guards uncrossed their javelins. “It’s fine,” Khione said. “My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet.” “Super,” Jason said. Zethes prodded him in the back with his sword. “Keep moving, Jason Junior.” “Please don’t call me that.” “My father is not a patient man,” Zethes warned, “and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo very fast.

I want to do things my way; I want to feel pride of ownership in our projects; I want to preserve my sense of myself as the super problem solver here. He couldn’t even see that he was being dismissive and domineering toward those around him, and making them miserable. Eventually the people around him delivered the hard news: He needed to change, to become more open to new ideas, to listen better, to delegate authority. He had to rise above his loyalty to his self-image as a solitary hero and develop a higher loyalty to the organization. A generative leader serves the people under him, lifts other people’s

I rang out a couple more customers as I thought about it, and...he slowly walked up to the counter and set down two spools of line. I should really figure out what the point of one being thicker than the other was. “Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I greeted him with a smile. He’d taken his sunglasses off and slid them through one of the gaps between the buttons of his work shirt. His gray eyes were steady on me as he said in that same uninterested, stern tone from before, “Hi.” I took the first package of fishing line and scanned it. “How is your day going?” “Fine.” I scanned the next package and figured I might as well go in for the kill since no one was around. “You remember that time you said you owed me?” A day ago. He didn’t say anything, and I peeked up at him. Since his eyebrows couldn’t talk, they formed a shape that told me exactly how distrustful he was feeling right then. “You do, okay. Well,” and I lowered my voice, “I was going to ask if I could redeem that favor.” Those gray eyes stayed narrowed. This was going well. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening and quickly said, “When you aren’t busy… could you teach me about all this stuff? Even if it’s just a little bit?” That got him to blink in what I was pretty sure was surprise. And to give him credit, he too lowered his voice as he asked slowly and possibly in confusion, “What stuff?” I tipped my head to the side. “All this stuff in here. Fishing, camping, you know, general knowledge I might need to work here so I have an idea of what I’m doing.” There was another blink. I might as well go for it. “Only when you aren’t super busy. Please. If you can, but if you can’t, that’s okay.” I’d just cry myself to sleep at night. No biggie. Worst case, I could hit up the library on my days off. Hang out in the grocery store parking lot and google information. I could make it work. I would, regardless. Dark, thick, black eyelashes dipped over his nice eyes, and his voice came out low and even. “You’re serious?” He thought I was shitting him. “Dead.” His head turned to the side, giving me a good view of his short but really pretty eyelashes. “You want me to teach you to fish?” he asked like he couldn’t believe it, like I’d asked him to… I don’t know, show me his wiener. “You don’t have to teach me to fish, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I haven’t been in forever. But more about everything else. Like, what is the point of these two different kinds of line? What are all the lures good for? Or are they called flies? Do you really need those gadgets to start a fire?” I knew I was whispering as I said, “I have so many random questions, and not having internet makes it hard to look things up. Your total is $40.69, by the way.” My landlord blinked for about the hundredth time at that point, and I was pretty sure he was either confused or stunned as he pulled his wallet out and slipped his card through the reader, his gaze staying on me for the majority of the time in that long, watchful way that was completely different from the way the older men had been eyeballing me earlier. Not sexually or with interest, but more like I was a raccoon and he wasn’t sure if I had rabies or not. In a weird way, I preferred it by a lot. I smiled. “It’s okay if not,” I told him, handing over a small paper bag with his purchases inside. The tall man took it from me and let his eyes wander to a spot to my left. His Adam’s apple bobbed; then he took a step back and sighed. “Fine. Tonight, 7:30. I’ve got thirty minutes and not one longer.” What! “You’re my hero,” I whispered. He looked at me, then blinked. “I’ll be there, thank you,” I told him. He grunted, and before I could thank him again, he was out of there so fast I had no chance to check out his butt in those work pants of his.

Anyone can be a hero when they know they’re going to win.

I have the potential to look like a Super Hero, and so I must watch what I wear

Soft headed morality was the shortest and quickest route to getting yourself killed, hurt, or taken advantage of.

No, because it’s optimistic. Optimism gets people killed.

Just Leo's luck. A super-hot immortal girl was waiting for him on Ogygia, but he couldn't figure out how to wire a stupid chunk of rock into the three-thousand-year-old navigation device. Some problems even duct tape couldn't solve.

Write a letter to your vigilante super-hero within and tell them what you want them to do. Then, throw it up and hope it manifests. Then, remember, provisions take on many forms and it could be the reason you don't have a vigilante super-hero. Vengeance is mine, says the lord.

She has left behind most of her close friends from her years as a—admittedly below par—super hero. They exist on another plane now, far above her, with their costumes and their glamour and their mystique. She is a scruffy second cousin in comparison, not thought of nor remembered from day to day.

[describing Aaron, hero's brother] His hair was shorter and lighter, and his eyes were more green than blue. And even though he was tall, he wasn’t quite super-sized. He was more sculpted, more … elegant. more slender and beautiful and less raw-boned. Less Stone Age and more Bronze Age—but till the kind of man who enjoyed living in a cave.

This is perhaps the biggest departure from the science fiction norm. We do not have ‘the cocky guy,’ ‘the fast-talker,’ ‘the brain,’ ‘the wacky alien sidekick’ or any of the other usual characters who populate a space series. Our characters are living, breathing people with all the emotional complexity and contradictions present in quality dramas like The West Wing or The Sopranos. In this way, we hope to challenge our audience in ways that other genre pieces do not. We want the audience to connect with the characters of Galactica as people. Our characters are not super-heroes. They are not an elite. They are everyday people caught up in an enormous cataclysm and trying to survive it as best they can. “They are you and me.

and Milkshake the cat. Leo is a superhero and he has a superhero

Milkshake the cat. Leo is a superhero and he has a superhero

Things exploded around Henry, first a man’s tongue, next another’s dick.

My ass keeps dropping ice pellets.” “What’s happening to me?” “My nipples are shooting lasers!

I can create new worlds and civilizations. I can bring forth, great heroes or evil villains. can give your imagination a roller-coaster ride and play with your emotions. I am an author. What is your super power? Erik Dean

The two of them paused at the first of the three steps up onto the front porch. Man, some open doors were not welcoming, and that was so the case here—less hi-how’re-ya, more come-in-so-your-skin-can-be-used-to-make-a-super-hero-cape-for-one-of-Hannibal-Lecter’s-patients. Lash grinned. Whoever was in this house was so his peeps.

Still, I was a tourist everywhere. Lifting language and culture from the love of people who weren't my kin but held me as their own. Dove fists first into being a super hero 'cuz it felt right like I was honoring my moms, you know? And everything shifted. She felt like home.

C'mon, what is it, my first day super-heroing?

Over in her student project garden, the usually sweet Poison Ivy was yelling at the reptile warriors. “Do. NOT. Trample. My. PLANTS!!!” she warned. When they didn’t listen, Poison Ivy reached into her bag for the flower bombs she had created in Mr. Fox’s class. She lobbed the weapons at them and watched with glee as they exploded, creating a net of thorny rose vines that captured several enemies at once.

And Harley Quinn had somehow mounted a camera to her sword, fighting with such glee that her crazy laugh was enough to make the mutants flee from her even before she could engage them in battle. “Come back!” she yelled as she chased them around the school. “I want to get you on video!

Your hair doesn’t look half bad today,” Star Sapphire said to Wonder Woman.

Even Cheetah said, “I don’t want to like her, but sometimes I think I do. Wait! Did I just say that?

Having anxiety is kind of like being “normal” but without the ability to shake things off as quickly. You worry about all the same things that other people do, but then you continue to worry. Then you question yourself, your integrity, and your very soul, until you are rolled up into a little ball and howling. Suffering from anxiety is just like normal life but more so. It’s amplified normal. It’s super normal. I’m pretty sure what I’m saying is that having anxiety makes you a superhero. Yeah. That’s it. That’s the point I’m making. We’re all fucking heroes. Although

Once we’ve become Gods, And Superheroes, and Spidermen(ed) through the web of potential, what will be next?

Luigi says, "Mama, you don't even remember my name." Mom quickly replies, "Of course I do my green Mario.