#also for the old folks with misconceptions?? I guess??

[dawn-the-rithmatist]

Common Tumblr Myths

I’m seeing some information go around rn that’s true in spirit, but not entirely correct and I want to make a few little reminders

“Likes don’t do anything, they’re just so you can find things again later in your liked posts.” This one is usually fired off as part of encouraging people to reblog instead of/in addition to liking things. It’s a good thing to encourage, because reblogs are the most EFFECTIVE way to show support and share posts, but they’re not the ONLY way. Likes do things!! They help posts be more visible outside of people’s dashes in search results, the “for you” page, and things like “in your orbit” and “based on your likes” (assuming you have those enabled- you can turn them off in settings).

“Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm.” Also usually seen as part of the reblog-not-like posts. Tumblr does have an algorithm- it’s just not forced on you like it is everywhere else. Your dash (the main screen when you open the app or website) is curated on follows and reblogs, but the “for you” page, search results, and anything that shows up on your dash because of tags you follow and your/your friends’ activity, that’s tumblr’s algorithm! You can avoid it completely if you want, and sometimes it does some Weird Shit, but if you’re new here and struggling to find blogs to follow, browse some tags, reblog and like a ton of things, and then check out the for you page. It’s actually a pretty good way to find new people!

“It’s rude to block/unfollow people.” Full honesty, this is maybe not a universal opinion, but on a website where your experience is almost entirely defined by who and what you follow, you need to block and unfollow people. Sometimes your interest changes and you don’t want a fandom cluttering up your dash. The “toxic side” of a fandom can be nothing but a myth to you if you block liberally. No one can know if you’ve blocked them unless they specifically go to your blog, and even then it looks the same as a loading error. The strength of tumblr is the ability to control your own experience, so take advantage!

“There’s no way to know who sent an anon ask.” That is um. Not true. There are ways to figure it out. I will not detail them here because you can Google that and I don’t want to hand people that power, but just. If you are going to be shitty to someone on anon, please keep in mind that people can figure out who you are fairly easily, even if most folks don’t know how or won’t go to the effort of doing it. Also, anon asks can be a really lovely thing, so why,, use them to be a dick

This isn’t a myth but it is related to that last bit: you can answer asks privately! If you get an ask and you want to respond but don’t want it on your blog, answer it privately so only you and the asker can see it. It’s a good way to handle asks that are maliciously targeting someone or potentially trying to start drama. Highly recommend. Don’t be a cyberbully’s platform.

That’s all I’ve got right now (whoops got a bit off topic) but if I see more going around I might reblog this with some more for the new folks. Also! Hi new folks, glad you’re here :)

[posi-pan]

https://www.tumblr.com/toyherb/748434177303658496/geiser-i-know-pansexuality-is-not-just-going-to?source=share

i saw this and do you know if this is true or not? because it made me sad / feel bad because before i came out (i didn't have plans to, at first) i was thinking long and hard on which labels fit me to the point of having sleepless nights because of it and then i found out about pansexuality due to this blog and that made me feel peaceful inside and that's how i figured out that this label fit me.

and now everyone on that post is like: think long and hard on the labels you use!!!! i don't want to exclude anyone. i don't want to erase anyone. this label just fits me. it fit me then, it fits me now. it's as simple as that.

sorry to dump this into your askbox during pride :((((

that post is absolutely not true. i have many posts on here calling out the idea that pan is somehow damaging bisexuality or whatever. pansexuality is not biphobic, individual people are. if someone is saying something biphobic, it’s because of their own flawed thinking or understanding, not because of whatever their sexuality is. funny how many heterosexuals and gay men and lesbians say horribly biphobic things, yet i don’t see any viral posts about how heterosexuality or gayness or lesbianism are biphobic. that logic only applies to pansexuality, i guess. *eye roll* it’s almost like the goal isn't calling out biphobia, the goal is spreading panphobia.

(and let’s not forget that pansexuality and pan people did not create any of these misconceptions about bisexuality that panphobes always talk about. those existed before pan got any kind of mainstream visibility. and don't believe panphobes when they say pan folks “changed the definition of bisexuality” either, as that’s just another panphobic lie.)

you don’t have anything to worry about. the only people doing damage are the people who make and share those kinds of posts telling people they’re queerphobic and hurting the community because they use a different word. pan has always existed and wasn’t created to be biphobic or transphobic and has always been welcome in the bi community. claiming otherwise is what’s wrong and damaging.

and idk when op posted that, but the earliest replies i saw were from 2020, so it’s interesting that people are sharing a years old post where the go-to example of a pan person being biphobic is even older: miley cyrus in 2016 saying she hates the word bisexual for putting her in a box. which. i remember that and pan folks, including myself, were criticizing her word choice. (even though she simply said she doesn’t like that label for her own sexuality and feels it’s too restrictive for her own sexuality and feelings. which isn’t queerphobic ffs. queer people of all kinds feel certain labels are too restrictive or don’t fully encompass their feelings. like. why is it only bad when a pan person says that about bi? i’m so tired of the double standards. also, where are these people when bi celebs are spreading biphobic narratives? they’re awfully silent then.)

please try not to give panphobes like that the time of day. their words have no weight because they’re rooted in hatred and queerphobia. they do a good job of masking their panphobia in supposed sadness about biphobia or concerns about the community (and sometimes wrap their message in faux intellectualism), but all of that rings false when you know where they’re coming from and what their intentions are. pan people are just trying to live our lives as authentically as we can, with language that feels true to us. panphobes on the other hand are actively spending their free time trying to make other queer people feel bad for *check notes* using different words. as if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world.

i hope this helps make you feel better!!! and no worries about sending this during pride!! 💖💖💖

[werewolves-are-real]

Go fuck yourself anon

This morning I received an extremely condescending ask, where an anonymous person said they were heartbroken by my recent 'pro-Israel' posts and could not in good conscience engage with my works until I learned to have 'empathy.'

I immediately deleted it, because it was idiotic. But here's the thing: I don't usually post about the war. So then I started thinking about what I posted recently that might be viewed as pro-Israel. And now I'm mad.

Here is a list of posts that might be CONSTRUED as pro-Israel (by this person) starting from most recent back to Oct. 7th:

-A post joking about a misspelled 'happy Hanukkah' greeting

-A post about different types of menorahs

-A post talking about a Philedelphia-based Jewish man who was targeted by violent rioters for the crime of.... donating to a civilian-led non-profit that provides free medical services to Israel.

-A post about misconceptions over the names of places in Israel, and how the Hebrew words are fucking old and basically have nothing to do with colonialism regardless of what you think about the war.

-A post condemning the denial of Hamas rape victims, because Hamas are terrorists, regardless of anything else you might believe about the war,

-A post talking about what zionism actually means, historically, since it's kinda a relevant issue and some people use it improperly.

-A post also talking about the definition of genocide.

-A silly posts about Jewish prayer emojis

-A post which I will quote here, actually:

-A post about biased media coverage.

-A post about a Jewish journalist who feels unsafe.

-A post calling out people for only caring NOW, and only getting angry at Israel, rather than – for example – neighboring Egypt refusing to open the border. Because people love hating Israel without figuring out why.

-Another post by Jewish people alarmed by how VIOLENT people are getting toward them.

-A post again pointing out that you can think both Israel and Hamas are doing bad things, actually.

-A post where I lament that I can't post the next chapter of Without Reason because it included a scene with a synagogue and there's no way I can post it without people assuming it's some sort of commentary on the war.

-A post I can't rapidly summarize but that basically criticizes people being callous and, again, anti-semitic while pretending anti-semitism doesn't exist.

That's it, that's all I can find in a quick search since Oct. 7th. You might notice that none of these are really explicitly pro-Israel. In fact, most of them aren't about Israel at all, and they certainly don't demonize Palestine. So what I'm gathering is that this anon is deeply hurt by my posts about *checks notes* – Jewish holidays, Jewish terminology, and rising anti-semitism.

And a desire for people to calm down and use nuance in their discussions, which I guess is scary to some folks.

My most recent posts are about the holidays. If you cannot read a 'happy hanukkah' message without conflating your political anger – about a war on the other side of the world - with anger toward all Jewish people, I am asking you to examine YOUR lack of empathy, and particularly why it does not extend toward Jews.

And if you don't want to 'engage with my work,' great! I don't write to entertain anti-semites :) So get the fuck away from me.

[bonefall]

I will say that as much as i adore mom!briarlight, it would be all but impossible for her to give birth to kittens on her own without without human intervention. I did a lot of research about paralyzed cats and pregnancy recently, and was only able to find examples where the cats underwent a c-section to deliver the kittens. Without being able to use her hind legs, it seems like it would be very difficult for her to give birth

I went and checked myself and I need more data, I found a decent but brief paper on it which uses one cat as a case study, but it doesn't specify at which vertebrae the spinal chord was severed which is SUPER important to compare with the human data I have

The paper: Özdemir Salci ES, Güner B, İpek V: Dystocia caused by spinal paraplegia in a cat with superfetation. Kafkas Univ Vet Fak Derg, 26 (6): 839-840, 2020. DOI: 10.9775/kvfd.2020.24689 (WARNING: CONTAINS PHOTOGRAPHS OF EXTRACTED FETUSES AND ORGANS. MEDICAL PAPER.)

If you can get me your sources I can give us both better data-- but the paper itself says that the reason the 4-year-old cat had issues giving birth was related to the nervous system itself plus loss of control over abdominal muscles, not necessarily leg positioning, which sounds a lot like an injury higher up in the spinal chord which makes me curious

(Injuries around T-10, the second-to-last of your thoracic vertebrae, is generally where humans lose sensation of childbirth. Aside from needing to be monitored for blood pressure issues it is possible for a person of nearly any spinal chord injury to give birth naturally)

(Also an article on pregnancy and delivery with a spinal chord injury for humans. Obvious TW for birth here. Also unfortunately the language is not very inclusive)

Though that said, I wonder how much of this would change even with just the one paper I have + sapient cats. Medicine for them is entirely cat-based and they make do with what they have, as opposed to humans where obviously the safest and easiest option is a cesarean.

Additionally, and I guess most importantly, it wouldn't be the first time I completely ignored cat anatomy because it was incompatible with human disability representation needs.

For example I exclusively reference Human Diabetes, NOT Feline Diabetes. This is because feline diabetes does progress from Type 1 to Type 2, and both types are treated with insulin injections. I was personally asked by a disability advocacy blog to not portray it Cat-Accurately, because Diabetic type progression does not happen in humans AND is a common misconception.

Plus several folks in my audience have basically asked me to make a version of metformin (oral supplement) to better represent their Type 2, which wouldn't happen if I was only referencing feline diabetes. (I caved guys it's going to be derived from Goat's Rue <3)

In the end we are humans, and I do extra fun fixes to Clan Culture based on cat accuracy (like making the kitties obligate carnivores and crepuscular!), but I am ultimately writing this for me and all the other queer disabled goofballs in the audience.

(and give advice based on that, in this situation, since they came and asked me personally y'know?)

[clockworkrobotic]

Please keep these coming the responses are all so good. A lot so far can be considered "not technically incorrect" so points to everyone. there are also so many good misconceptions about billy the puppet specifically:

jigsaw is the puppet

the puppet is haunted

jigsaw (the man) is a ventriloquist (i guess this is.....true?)

i am also enamoured with this description

"old man & friends help down on their luck folks rediscover their zest for life" is arguably an accurate summary of the saw movies

People who haven't seen any saw movies tell me what you think saw is about

[pillareternal]

clickbait magical realism

(Originally from my old blog, which i'm not gonna use any time soon. Edited to fit my more recent sensibilities. Told you I'll be blogging for real)

I. Clickbait

The 10's were weird.

Looking back, there's definitely a cultural divide between the current decade--however short it is--and the past. It truly feels like a different world, even though I lived through it. I'm a zoomer, for fuck's sake. I shouldn't feel that old.

Anyway, one of the main things that stuck out to me during that time was our relationship with "clickbait" and obviously fake information. Sometimes it's a joke. Sometimes it's just cynical ploy for traffic. Sometimes people actually believed their own chicanery. Compared to the societal dangers that it poses today, it's more of a curiosity at best. At worst, it's just annoying. Most of these observations are andecdotal.

Enter the scrolling app. Ever-infinite streams of microblogged content offer images and stories that are, at first glance, plausible enough to be true. Life-hacks, weird facts about anything, interesting takes, cool destinations that you'll never see, things that you might never see again as a passive observer until maybe your friend reshares it to you. The ephemeral, slapdash nature of these "informative" posts and memes become folklore, in the oldest and totalizing sense.

The transition period towards the current behavioral trends under Web2 demonstrated how much of our imaginations ran wild. Online platforms hungry for ad revenue just shell out hundreds and thousands of posts on technological optimism (if it wasn't Elon pre-Grimes, it's Yanko Designers back when they were huffing Dahir İnşaat's paint), pictures of places all over the world, and digital folk stories. Perhaps, like a Tlön-esque tulpa, these posts eventually created a bleeding effect; where bullshit just became accepted as "real, i guess". Media literacy lacking, a good chunk of these sensationalist drivel came off as semi-plausible.

Tumblr wasn't safe from sensationalism. Alongside the fan content, original works and cringe (now weaponized against "twitter refugee crisis") sit quirky trivia; some of it true, but filled to the brim with sensational bait ranging from common misconceptions such as "grass screams when they die" to straight up myths like Alexandria's Genesis. Add to it the reblog-addled culture jam of collaborative improvization (somehing that would only be replicated truly by TikTok's duet feature), the userbase of the platform at the time, and the fact that posts are also shared in other sites like facebook, it wasn't long until the site began adding to the internet's growing aggregate folklore.

Outside of Tumblr, scrolling apps and messageboards have a different crowd and different ethos. There were a lot of posts, images and videos (some of them altered for clickbait fodder) that catered to sensational shock and awe. Sharebait trivia and touching narratives are not the playground of the users, mostly passive observers and by design unable to garner a wide audience, but by the scores of mods behind these faceless pages with a match to burn. You wouldn’t believe what’s inside this microhome! The underground rainforest found within a Mexican Sinkhole! I made my own touchscreen mirror! Not to mention the endless top 10 lists that border on paranormal/conspiracy that caters to boomers and third world country users.

They offered a more mainstream kind of fantasy to the real world it purports to report on. In places like 9gag and Facebook where these posts are sandwiched in between #relatable comics and memes, they are made more to invoke the fantastic, like a Ripley’s Believe it or Not or a Guinness Book of Records kind of deal. In a general sense, these fascinating showcases of weird but believable sights in our world (like Son Doong cave and Inca bridges), got lumped in with the straight up historical revisionism (“and that kid was Albert Einstein.”), extremely cheesy sentimental love stories, and also like, really gobsmack pop science futurology, like the misleading “true shape of the planet”.

Looking back at these phenomena, most of these things felt like a surrealist alternate history. But perhaps, for the boomer user and also most internet users in the global south, its a source of wonder.

To those majority of enamored users, these posts, however misleading and overhyped as they are, doesn’t simply form an escape from reality; it expands on it, in a very absurd but plausible (to them) way. As the internet was our gate to the world, these folk-loric streams of content became our almanac, our view of the outside. In this blend of clickbait and reality, it paints a picture of a world where, while diverse and sometimes unpredictable as our real world, it feels like it exists in the minds of mainstream comic book writers.

Every narrative, slightly photoshopped image, and other fascinating things popping in our feeds tends toward a hollywood-esque mishmash of our everyday existence. It’s a 90’s blockbuster universe, where cryptids are real, historical figures become superheroic, flying cars are becoming closer to reality, the illuminati survives in secret, theophanies and paranormal events are an everyday thing, and crystals can heal.

II. Magical Realism

Magical Realism is a literary genre that delves within that broad spectrum of weird to absurd while being somewhat working around the gravity of the real world. Your Forrest Gumps and Big Fishes. Your Midnight’s Children and Life of Pi. Heck, maybe some Foucault’s Pendulum while you’re at it. They all point towards the fantastical in the face of the mundane, being short of becoming full on fantasy by making it interact/align with the laws of reality which dulls in comparison to it. This is how you get things like coming across an carnivorous mangrove island populated by meerkats after fleeing Emergency-era India or a mentally-impaired man managing to be the center of attention in Cold War-era America. In cases of more fantasy oriented elements such as those in Pan’s Labyrinth, it treats it with hitting you with the cold hard reality of the setting; ie. Falangist Spain.

The Magical Realism of early 2010s clickbait internet is grounded on reality by way of how conflicting and contradictory it is to itself. Politics and conspiracy perhaps played a part. I could see the Illuminati/New World Order shit on youtube, the Zeitgeist Project, the Venus Project, early meme culture (hell yeah buoye fuckin inject those photoshopped image macros to my veins) to be precursors of this phenomena, today becoming dime a dozen watered down and compartmentalized to cater to specific audiences. You’ll rarely see posts about the “eco-friendly solar powered technoparadise” of Rwanda from your sustainable living adventure Facebook friend being in the same league as a video made for Brazilian evangelists talking about Jesus’ face appearing on a bowl of soup nowadays.

In most respects, the early clickbait-fueled viral internet of the first half of the 2010s might perhaps be the most immersive piece of Magical Realism yet. Unintentional, organic, user/profit driven. Unlike its contemporaries, however, by its nature it doesn’t have an overarching theme. It doesn’t need to. At the end of the day, it’s just social media shitting out half-real information to our eyeballs to be sacrificed to the attention economy. Perhaps that’s what it is.

III. It's still going

In hindsight, the personalized nature of the internet fostered in the same forges as the Magical Realist phenomena is now seen as a detriment against liberal institutions. On the radicalization of modern politics, the “conspiracy singularity” and the rise of cultish populist authoritarianism, where deliberate disinfo on the lower classes with limited (but not total lack of) internet exposure has become the culprit. Talking about its implications would be a discussion that everyone and their dog has already pointed out (and validly unnerved about). Hell, most of this shit has moved to TikTok, where it's now getting mixed in with actual new age and ancient aliens woo.

Either way, the older sensationalist internet emains fascinating to me. It’s the place where we mindlessly believed random bullshit on the internet and found a world confirming the wild weirdness and adventure that we’ve seen in our pre-online media. If things haven’t become as social media-driven as we are today, how much of this aestheticized sensationalised world remain?

[findingmyselfatm]

🦋Astro notes again🦋

I really do think it's very likely to have a love hate relationship with the sign on our 7th house. My reasoning is that it's a side of us we perhaps don't see ourselves, or that seems so against our way of being (because it's opposite the 1st house, the house of self)

If you have major Libra placements (big 6, big three, especially Venus, sun or rising), be careful of who you share your energy with. Libras are very social signs, very buddy buddy in the most diplomatic, detached and merging way possible. It's important you surround yourself with people who truly support you, because you may be more easily susceptible to others' energies.

Same goes for major Cancer placements!

The combo of our mercury and our mars is what is on our minds most of the time. Here are some observations on that

A mix that involves air in either mercury or mars may daydream excessively

10th house may also idealize things in their minds.

9th house is the type to really think about philosophical topics or wonder things about themselves

Aquarius does that as well.

7th house placements might think a lot about other people or relationships in general. Not in a dependent way but in a "haha I bet they'd find this funny" way

Libra in the combo would most likely bring an aesthetic touch to the mind of the person

Capricorn with Aquarius in any position in this combo makes for a really pragmatic and efficient mind

Scorpio and its classic trait of burning with a passion for something. However I also noticed this in mars or mercury (esp mercury) pays a lot of attention to their health and mental state

More to be added

Dear mercurial placements, watch how your stress takes a toll in your body. Take some time to just relax, or clear your mind.

I found that Leo and Libra placements tend to clash a lot but are drawn to each other too? Might be because of the signs' relationship with the Sun. Leo is the Sun's home meanwhile in Libra, the Sun is at fall because Libra is such a social, and fair sign (which goes against the basic idea of the ego)

A person's healing journey when they have Saturn in the 12th house or the 8th house might have a shit ton of ups and downs. Don't get me wrong, we all have them, but the 12th house is the unknown, the 8th house is fears and intimacy, our deepest depths. They might have a lot of moments when they thought they healed from something but then they fall back into the old patterns. This is not meant to discourage anyone, it is simply an observation. Falling back into old patterns does not make you weak or unworthy, healing isn't linear, and you aren't supposed to be perfect.

North node opposite Saturn culture is learning to do new things and allow yourself to live more freely

Dear Neptune in the 10th house, your reputation does not define you, no matter if it's good or bad. I have a close friend with Neptune in the 10th, and I was surprised to see how many people had misconceptions about them.

Neptune in the 10th really has film producer potential tho ;-;

Aries Mercuries and their ability to be so blunt-

But this is something I noticed with all mercuries in the 10th house. My two best friends and I have this placement in either Vedic or western and...it's a shit show- I think it's because while the 10th house is reputation and image, it's also the spot light, determination and high hopes.

Now, of course the sign matters a shit ton too-

In Vedic, I have Libra mercury in the 10th, meanwhile my friends have it in Taurus and Aquarius. You can guess I'm more on the "bite your tongue" end of the spectrum.

Sagittarius moons really be having troubles with feelings huh? No shade intended. I notice that we tend to focus on the positive, or rather consciously or subconsciously avoid negative emotions either my rationalizing them or distracting ourselves. 'it is what is it' is a big phrase I've heard from fellow Sagittarius moons-

Pluto in the 7th house folks get into the weirdest dramas I swear. I have a friend with Pluto in the 7th and my, every week or so she has new tea to spill. And I'm not talking even about crushes yo- It can be with friends or random people too.

Moon in the 1st house are cry babies? Think again. I agree, this placement really is emotionally revealing, but I also find that they're very validating of their own emotions, especially if the moon in is a sign like Leo or Cancer.

Ayo what's with Leos and their reputation being so high? I mean it's totally understandable, I love and hate them, but for real, let's talk about it. I always notice that major Leo placements really are out there in the spotlight. I feel like anything that Leo touches just becomes flamboyant, very Sun-like.

Leo sun -> ego, identity, and energy is displayed a lot (holy moly if it's in the 10th house too-)

Leo moon -> feelings are displayed a lot. I observe their reactions are pretty clear, or aren't hidden. I have a friend with Leo moon but conjunct Saturn, and her reactions always are displayed, however at such a lower intensity. it makes me surprised sometimes when she tells me about something that really upset her, when earlier she didn't seem too bothered by it. check up on your Leo moon friends

Leo mercury -> ideas are expressed a lot here. I imagine a public speaker, carrying an air of confidence in their words. It depends a lot on other aspects, but I noticed this especially in Leo mercury in the 7th house and 9th house, 10th house too maybe.

Leo mars -> oo now here's the real deal breaker. Pretty straight forward about conflict, however I also observed a sense of over reacting / making it seem more serious than it is and it's so funny I swear, but only when it is not something actually serious for them. when it is... hide lmao. I feel like they can be very intimidating with their anger

Leo venus how could I forget -> oml these people's love lives are all over the place. but I love em sm. I have a Leo venus friend and they always turn up with new prey every 2 months or so. Very charming and kind. I feel like they're the type to talk a lot about their love lives too, however this varies of course.

Leo Saturn -> now this is an interesting one. I feel like these people's issues are more... internalized, in a sense. imagine a ball you try to shove under water, and when you leave it, it just splashes out? That's kind of how I imagine Leo saturns with their struggles. This placement is tied towards self-worth and self-acceptance and confidence, and I think shame is a thing they have to confront with in a way or another. Back to my original point, because of this, i feel like these people can be rather private, if not very, about their personal struggles, however I think they might feel in the spotlight a lot regarding them. (Sry if this was a little intense, I have many leo saturn friends and this is what i observed from them)

Leo Jupiter -> how does it feel to be one of god's favorites, eh? lmao I love this placement. I think these people can be very out there with their wishes and dreams. Not that they go around telling everyone about their wish (I, Leo Jupiter, have a dream- if you get the reference let's be friends), but rather that they give out a lot of inspired vibes from what I've seen. Confidence and self-love is key to their manifestations.

Leo MC -> how does it feel to be god's favorite p2- okay no, the scorpio rising is probably giving them a bit of a headache. I think these people are really seen for their achievements, and it's a big part of their identity. I think they're the type of folks that really need a job that fulfills them on an emotional level.

Leo rising -> they are beauty, they are grace, they will punch you in your face (I love these mfs) I think they're the type to become sort of a role model to a lot of people, someone to look up to in a sense. Leo rising carries an air of respect in my opinion, along with some glamor in there :)

That's it folks! I hope this resonated, and criticism and feedback are always welcome :>

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

Hey just curious but is there any point in trying to go on T after a certain age? I'm almost 30 and still haven't been able to see someone for a diagnosis and start medically transitioning and I've been told that if I haven't gone on T by 23 then it's too late for me but since you're a guy who's had to go through that process I wanted to ask if you know anything about that and how legit the claim is?

Don't get me wrong, transitioning later in life does come with its own unique challenges. One of the big one being the social issues that come up. By the time your 30 you might have a more stable job, kids, a spouse, etc. Coming out by itself can be difficult by itself let alone trying to explain to your straight husband that you're also a man. Depending on where you work you might risk your job. Most support groups seem to focus on young adults, and said young adults can be very mean to older folk (and vise versa).

That said, 30 isn't old. It's not. I know we all like to think it is, and as someone who's not there yet it still feels like some far off number. But 30 really isn't that old, and it's certainly not too old to medically transition. I think there's more health risks when you start later (this is a guess, I have no evidence to back this up). But that reasoning being because you are more at risk for certain health conditions in general as you age. Plus the specific risks hrt can bring. But none of those risks would be any different than the risks as someone who starts hrt at 20 once they get close to 30 or 40. So it's really a mute point.

It can also be a little more frustrating since hrt is basically like puberty. Imagine being a teenage boy but at the age of 35. It's a little awkward. But that phase doesn't late that long, and you'll have the rest of your life (a good 40 years if you live to 75) to enjoy being who you truly are. I'd say that's worth it.

Transitioning later in life has it's challenges. But so does everything in life. It's never too late to transition. I've seen transmen transition after 30 and be just fine. I've seen trans women transition at 60. You can do it at any age. Your journey is yours alone. Whether you discover yourself at 20, 30, or even 60 that's ok. You always have time take steps into being your real self. Into becoming more comfortable as yourself. Into doing what'll make you happy. Don't worry. You can do it.

I think a lot of the misconception comes from the fact that most stories we see are of younger adults. And we consider that age range to be a traditional period regardless of gender (it's when you're supposed to figure yourself out). But you can discover yourself at any age. My dad is 50 and only says that he's only now feels like he's figuring out what kind of person he wants to be. My gf's mom is going on a hippie road trip around the USA in her minivan at 50. My grandmother at 65 is only now getting a chance to learn about herself after being stuck in an abusive marriage. My 80 year old grandmother tells me about new things she's figured out every other month. You have so many more years ahead of you. 20 isn't nearly as impactful of a time for self discovery as we like to claim. It's important don't get me wrong. But I've seen more impactful self discovery journeys from people over 40 than anything I've seen from people in their 20s. You got time. It's never too late.

[jarofstyles]

Hey girls! Catching up to all the anon msgs. You can choose to post or not, but fwiw I actually got a reply from deuxmoi & have gotten to casually chatting with her (eg we’ll joke about some blinds, etc). & based off that I feel like she isn’t looking to stir the pot & create chaos in the fandom re: h&o alleged engagement. H is basically the internet’s boyfriend at this point so I feel like hardcore fans can’t cope with him & O being real and moving to the next step of their r’ship. (1/2)

+ I feel like dm is more of an old school gossip column but on a newer social media platform, & a lot of the hardcore/younger fans don’t understand what gossip culture was like back in the day when… idk… page 6, for example, was the go-to source for gossip. ALL the tea would be shared regardless of it’s true or false & I think dm is doing just that but coming under fire because she’s saying stuff that a lot of folks don’t wanna hear. NOT tryna defend dm, but wanted to share my perspective. (2/2)

I totally get that but I guess personally I just don’t enjoy gossip and speculation. I totally get peoples morbid curiosity but I like privacy for people. It’s definitely not how everyone feels but I feel like having that sort of thing is an open flame for lies to blow up and misconceptions to spread further than necessary. I also think the fact ANYONE can spread it to such a big audience that for some reason doesn’t have critical thinking skills and take everything they post as fact is irritating to me.

For me, i write about a fictional Harry and I feel like it’s abundantly clear I have no clue how he actually is but I don’t like the premise of things being said that have not a singular seed of truth to them and then being taken as Bible because people don’t know how to decipher real from fake. Also, a lot of it is opinion based and her bias is very abundantly clear. Which, to be fair, is fine if it was to be made a personal opinion thing but. They clearly dislike certain celebs etc and all that. So in my opinion it’s unnecessary. Touching on h and o blinds, I have no doubt she knows just how insane h fans are and know the reaction it’s going to get. So when she said ‘yes’ it was going to get a massive reaction. Not sure if it was a missight. Idk I think I’m also protective of his privacy for his personal life and I don’t like the overexposure celebrities had or feel the need to share. So it definitely is personal for me in why I don’t like it but to each their own!

[ms-m-astrologer]

Saturn in 2021

Note: this one’s long.

Saturn’s 2021 Timeline:

Friday, January 1, 2021 - Saturn at 1:37 Aquarius

Sunday, February 14, 17:02 UT - Saturn enters pre-Rx shadow, 6:53 Aquarius

Wednesday, February 17, 19:08 UT - Saturn/Aquarius square Uranus/Taurus, 7:14 (7 degrees 14 minutes)

Sunday, May 23, 08:10 UT - Saturn stations retrograde, 13:31 Aquarius

Monday, June 14, 22:01 UT - Saturn Rx/Aquarius square Uranus/Taurus, 13:07 

Sunday, October 10, 01:19 UT - Saturn stations direct, 6:53 Aquarius

Friday, December 24, 07:17 UT - Saturn/Aquarius squares Uranus Rx/Taurus, 11:05

Saturday, January 1, 2022 - Saturn at 11:54 Aquarius

Saturday, January 15, 2022 - Saturn exits post-Rx shadow, 13:31 Aquarius

This planet, folks, is The One to pay attention to. Its transits affect everyone, without fail.

Saturn in Aquarius is just as strong as Saturn in Capricorn: both signs are ruled by Saturn, although it must share Aquarius with Uranus. And that brings me to The Three Big Deals of 2021, namely, those three squares between Saturn/Aquarius (strongly placed) and Uranus/Taurus (in its fall).

It always makes me scoff when I hear or see people say that Aquarius is a leftist, revolutionary sign. The 40th President of the US, Ronald Reagan (devil take him), was an Aquarius - he was revolutionary, all right, but in a decidedly conservative and reactionary direction. What Aquarius is (among other things), is ideological. It’s a fixed air sign; its opinions are set, and nothing will change its mind. Expect a lot of demands to adhere 100% to this or that orthodoxy. No shades of gray allowed; all is black or white.

The squares between Saturn and Uranus, according to Michelle Perrin in the 2021 Llewellyn Daily Planetary Guide, show that

We are turning a corner into a new age without really realizing we have left the old one behind, creating a time where new paradigms are no longer relevant but a new social order has yet to congeal into anything solid.

This particular square, with Saturn 270 degrees ahead of Uranus in the Zodiac, is a “Last Quarter” square. We’re turning away from what was hatched and brought to fruition after the Saturn-Uranus conjunctions of 1988 - we’re tearing down old structures that don’t work any more - and we get to do all that, without having a strong sense of where we’re headed next. (Namely, the one-and-done Saturn-Uranus conjunction, at 28:01 Gemini, on June 28, 2032.)

(If you were alive way back in 1988, think back to what was going on at the time in terms of larger cycles finishing and starting. The conjunctions were all in late Sagittarius: 29:55, 28:47, and 27:49.)

Saturn in Aquarius has particular challenges and lessons for us all to learn. The following is a synthesis between Isabel Hickey (Astrology A Cosmic Science), Steven Forrest (mostly The Book of Earth), and me.

“Tests of ownership. He who has no desire to possess has no fear of loss.” This is of course a very Taurus thing, as the sign is too apt to equate material stability with security. Uranus’ transit through Taurus is determined to demolish that misconception, and this year he’ll have some help from Saturn. We know we’re messing up here, when we give “too much power to money and security.”

“Test of true humility and lovingness. Denied the love sought in this lifetime until the spiritual bookkeeping is balanced.” Leo is all about himself being The Star, while Aquarius counters with “you’re only one star in a whole universe full of stars.” Can we shine without making it all about us? Overweening egos are due for a smackdown. Conversely, we can become too overwhelmed by “stage fright,” and refuse to share something that humanity desperately needs.

“Test of outgoing desire. Desire nature is extremely strong and until that is brought under control there is much suffering and pain.” Such a pitfall for all the fixed signs - not getting one’s own way 100%, but instead having to compromise, adapt, adjust, etc. - but especially for Scorpio. This may also manifest as needing to get over the typical Scorpio broody gloominess, into a more positive frame of mind.

“Test of responsibility. The soul must accept the responsibility of regeneration and be about the Father’s business.” I’m pretty sure what “Issy” meant was that we have to stop trying to keep up with the Joneses, and start trying to help our fellow humans. But there’s another danger here, namely the stereotypical Aquarian detachment from emotions. The sign can be too cold, and that eventually begets sociopaths.

When Saturn travels between 1:37 and 6:53 Aquarius: placements will receive a one-and-done aspect from transiting Saturn. Examples: Ms M’s natal Mars/Aries will receive a one-and-done sextile; Ms M’s natal Juno/Leo will receive a one-and-done opposition. (Like it matters if she’s single!?!)

When Saturn travels between 6:53 and 13:31 Aquarius: Saturn spends most of his time here, not only for 2021 but going a couple of weeks into 2022. Any placements affected by this will get three separate aspects. The first one will bring a situation to our attention; the second, retrograde aspect will give us further insights into the situation; the third and final aspect will allow some resolution, if we work for it. 

(This part is making Ms M apprehensive, since it’s going to trigger her natal fixed grand cross: Asc/Scorpio, Venus and Desc in Taurus, both squared by Ceres and Uranus in Leo, and by Pholus in Aquarius. Empty nest?)

Even more fun is that transiting Uranus/Taurus will be wreaking havoc at the same time. It will travel between 6:48 and 14:49 of Taurus in 2021, and as you can see it overlaps the same degrees as Saturn. If you have fixed placements between 6:53 and 13:31 (that is, anything in the signs Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, or Aquarius), there is some hard work in your future. Even if it’s for something better to manifest, and even when we know that intellectually, we’re still reluctant to let go of control.

This also goes for mutable placements (the signs Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, or Pisces) between 21:53 and 28:31; Saturn and Uranus will semi-square (45 degrees) or sesquare (135 degrees) that placement, making for a lot of frustration. You won’t be able to wiggle out of consequences, as easily as you normally do.

If you have placements between 6:53 and 13:31 of the signs Aries, Gemini, Libra, or Sagittarius - lucky you! You’ve got some flowing energy between Saturn and that placement, and although it doesn’t guarantee a less painful time, you’ll at least have an easier time coming to grips with it. (Trine Ms M’s natal Mercury/Gemini/8th - astrology will get her through this!!)

In The Book of Earth, Steven Forrest starts out every description of transiting Saturn aspects, with the words “Growing pains.” That description is perfect. The stakes are a little higher, and the process more complex, than simply getting physically taller, though. Steven says that during “Saturn times,” we need to intentionally select a challenge, then give it everything we’ve got. The reward is that we move forward to the next maturational stage; if we refuse, we end up trapped in the past. Here are a couple more quotes from the Saturn section of Steven’s The Book of Earth.

“Saturn is not narrowly about old age; it is simply about whatever is the next step for us.” Growing up, in other words. As I have said on this blog many times before, the “only” thing that happened to me during my first Saturn return, was getting married. That was still a big deal in 1987: I assumed a different societal role (remember Saturn’s association with the 10th House), in a very traditional way (natal Saturn in Sagittarius). Perhaps it is because, as a small girl, I had four Crone figures in my life; perhaps it’s all the Aries in me, trined by my natal Saturn - but I wasn’t afraid, instead embracing the new opportunities.

“Saturn is not bad - but it is quite fair to say that it is hard.” My guess is that this is the one that frightens many 20-somethings - not to mention people who are much, much older and ought to know better. “Hard” does not equal “bad”!

Saturn in Aquarius is all about (1) knowing your own values and (2) living up to them. Anybody else’s approval, or disapproval, is completely irrelevant - and we need to accept that, even if “anybody else” doesn’t. We need to question authority, and also what’s known as “conventional wisdom.” We need to work on becoming more “authentic.” And we need to become comfortable with some solitude (2020 has been a great training ground for that), without isolating ourselves emotionally. There are a few people at least who will understand and accept you; get off your ass and put yourself in the way of finding them.

[crazycrackersworld]

Posted by Sean Dietrich on Facebook.

Hi. This is your late loved one speaking. I don’t have long, so listen up because I have a lot I want to tell you.

First off, I get it.

Ever since I left this world you have missed me, and I know you’re bracing for the holidays without me. No matter what anyone says, this year’s festivities are going to be really tough.

In fact, let’s be honest, this festive season will probably suck pondwater. But then, Thanksgiving and Christmas are tough holidays for a lot of people. You’re not alone.

See, the misconception about the holidays is that they are one big party. That’s what every song on the radio claims. Each television commercial you see shows happy families clad in gaudy Old Navy sweaters, carving up poultry, smiling their perfect Hollywood teeth at the camera. But that’s not exactly reality.

In reality, fifty-eight percent of Americans admit to feeling severely depressed and anxious during November and December. In reality many folks will cry throughout the “most wonderful time of the year.”

Well, guess what? Nobody is crying up here in heaven. This place is unreal. There is, literally, too much beauty to take in. Way too much.

For starters—get this—time doesn’t even exist anymore. Which I’m still getting used to.

Right now, for all I know, the calendar year down on Earth could be 1728, 4045, 1991, or 12 BC. It really wouldn’t matter up here. This is a realm where there is no ticking clock, no schedule. Up here there is only this present moment. This. Here. Now. That’s all there has ever been. And there is real comfort in this.

I know this all seems hard to grasp, but if you were here you’d get it.

Also, for the first time I’m pain free. I feel like a teenager again in my body. You probably don’t realize how long I’ve lived with pain because I never talked about it, I kept my problems to myself because I was your loved one, and you needed me to be brave.

But pain is a devious thing. It creeps up on even the strongest person, little by little, bit by bit. Until pretty soon, pain becomes a central feature of life.

Sometimes my pain would get so bad it was all I thought about. No, I’m not saying that my life was miserable—far from it. I loved being on earth. It’s just that simply waking up each morning was getting exhausting.

But, you know what? Not anymore. In this new place, I am wholly and thoroughly happy.

But enough about me. I don’t have room to describe all the terrific things I’m experiencing, and you don’t need to hear them. Right now, you’re grieving, and what you need is a hug.

Which is why I’m writing to you. This is my hug to you. Because you’ve lost sight of me. And in fact, you’ve lost sight of several important things lately.

Death has a way of blinding us. It reorganizes the way you think, it changes you. You will never be the same after you lose someone. It messes with your inner physiology. It reorganizes you’re neurons.

But then, there’s one teensy little thing you’re forgetting:

I’m still around.

Yes, you read that correctly, I’m right here with you. No, you can’t see me. No, you can’t reach out and hold me. But did you know that one of the things I’m allowed to do as a heavenly being is hang out with you?

It’s true. I’m never far away. I’m in the room with you now, along with a big cloud of ancestors, saints, and witnesses. I’m shooting the breeze alongside you, watching you live your life, watching you raise your kids, watching your private moments of sorrow.

Here, in this new realm, I am in the perfect position to help you learn things. Which is what I vow to spend the rest of your earthly life doing, teaching you little lessons, lending you a hand when you least expect it, and desperately trying to make you smile. Actually, I’ve already been doing this stuff, you just don’t realize it.

What, you don’t believe me?

Well, wake up, pal. You know that tingle you get in your spine whenever you think of me? That’s me.

You know how, just yesterday, you had a beautiful memory when you were driving and it made you cry so hard that it actually felt good and you began to laugh through tears? Also me.

You know how sometimes when you’re all alone, preoccupied with something else, suddenly you get this faint feeling that someone is standing in the room with you? Hello? Me.

You’re not alone on this earth. You never were. You never will be. So during this holiday season, when cheerful families are getting together and making merry, and taking shots of eggnog, I’m going to be clinging to your shoulder, helping you muddle through somehow.

I'll be making your spinal column tingle a lot, and I’ll be sending plenty of signs. Each of these signs—every single one—is code for “I love you.” So start paying attention to these hints.

Because this was one.

[genderqueerpositivity]

CW: Personal gender and sexuality things ahead

I've been thinking about getting older while nonbinary and I've definitely begun to feel the anxiety that comes with that.

The misconception that being nonbinary is a "kids thing", something for rebellious teenagers, really exists. Gender non-conformity in general is treated like it's a phase to grow out of. And that isn't how it works.

Now that I'm in my late 20s, rapidly approaching 30, even people who don't know I'm trans regard my visible gender non-conformity with a sort of....dismissiveness and almost disbelief. Gender non-conformity at my age is almost considered childish behavior.

The expectation is that I should be trying to make myself attractive to a potential husband, that I should be having children before it's too late. My time is running out, you know. I've had people literally tell me that I've made a mistake by not having children in my early 20s and that I'll regret that forever (literally because I won't live to see as much of their lives, or my hypothetical grandchildren's lives).

Basically, I should be living in fear of the ever-ticking biological clock. Which is something pushed on everyone, yes, but it carries unique experiences and challenges for a queer trans person.

Approaching 30 as a single, unmarried, childfree person...is almost pitied. Even if being so is my own choice. And being all of those things as a person with a queer gender, queer gender expression, and queer sexuality....makes some people angry.

I'm finding that just answering the questions "Are you married? Uh, how old are you?" or "How many kids do you have?" opens me up to increasing amounts of queerphobia and transphobia. And I'm finding more often now that people interpret my responses as me passing judgment on their lives and choices, even though I simply answered their questions honestly.

But the worst part of getting older while nonbinary is in some ways it feels like I am fighting the clock, especially in terms of transition goals. It's only in the last few years that I've really discovered what those goals specifically are, and that makes me feel like I'm behind, in some ways.

Sometimes it feels like I've wasted time or that I'm missing out on living my life authentically. The narrative is that we're supposed to just know who we are and what we want from a young age, and the message we're sent most often is that transitioning socially and medically goes more smoothly when you're young. And for so many of us, that isn't true or isn't possible.

I wish often that nonbinary genders had been as visible and well known when I was a teenager as they are now. I hear from nonbinary folks now who were able to socially transition while young, whose parents use their pronouns and support their name changes, who were or are on puberty blockers, and I'm amazed how far we've come in terms of visibility and acceptance so quickly. I find myself wishing that I could've started medically transitioning as a teenager, and I wish that I had had the self-awareness to understand that transition is something I want. I wish a lot of things.

It feels like I'm behind also, because I don't truly feel like I'm approaching 28. I didn't begin to feel like an adult in my own mind until around 25. And I think there are several reasons for that, including neurodivergence, but that's another post. But it adds to the pressure. In ways, I feel like I'm still just starting to build my adult life--but all the messages are telling me that I'm running out of time.

I think I definitely need to connect with more trans people my own age. I guess that's what this post is about, really. I know I can't be the only person who feels like this.

[nextwarden]

Archenemies - Part I

Disclaimer: partially inspired by Supercorp and the very enjoyable facets of their dynamic. Hope you enjoy.

Commotions are always a good indicator of such happenings.

The first eyes on the scene are of course those of curious and surprised bystanders. Rarely does such an event be broadcast in advance. It's happened before, of course. Only a handful of times, however. It means the evildoers are confident in their plan and seek attention, two very bad news for any respectable super. The last time it's been the case, panic managed to erupt, only quelled by the competent authorities with some effort. Some joker tried to replicate the one before last, he's apprehended after barely an hour of shenanigans and threats, each more unbelievable than the last. What he tried to emulate, however, remains scarred deep in the minds of many. Blood and ashes flowing on the grass of the Magnus Arena in the city center on a crisp summer day, and the center itself drowned in cries of pain and terror. On that tragic day, SkullB makes the decision to invest in the services of both Mister Mind and LaValette, two of the most intelligent and cunning cons out there. One hundred and eighty six people die, each one in a slow and far too well documented way. Three pros are amongst them; experienced supers, yet they fall prey to SkullB's devious plans. Dame Seven, Verustoski, husband and wife in the business since the late 70s, and Sunny Sin, a young yet very capable teenage wiz, give their lives in exchange for SkullB's.

Mind and LaValette are, of course, smart enough to see themselves out once it turns in their disfavour, almost as if they see it coming. The former is caught a few days later, splurging on an online casino in his own underground mansion, while the latter still eludes the authorities to this day, taunting both pros and cons in an odd twist of fate. They realize the whole affair is getting far too out of hand, and some even speculate one of them (or both) to consort with the authorities to create the distraction that allows to bring out most of the hostages and to take down SkullB. That stems from irregularities in the chronology of the event and the fact that LaValette apparently decides to own up to her actions after that day. Not completely mind you, but enough to make a difference with a surprisingly efficient foil to many a plan, good or bad. Over the next few years it's apparent she's taken upon herself to remove supers altogether. Not in a definitively violent way, shockingly, but using her agile mind to dismantle actions undertaken to a significant risk to the city and its people. Dynopolis grows less weary and more peaceful due to that. It lasts a sufficient while for her to gain a strange and ambivalent status of anti-hero - chaotic good, as many surmise, in similar leagues to that of the legendary Crime Man himself, some add.

That changes over time as more and more supers, heroes and villains alike, manage either in their smarts, numbers, or luck, to pull and tug at the seams and reveal the cracks in her masterplan. What it loses in her ability, however, the city gains in balance. Many new pro upstarts join the ranks of a newly reformed agency, trying to attain both glory and riches, and to "do the people of this city some good". It's obviously been mirrored by the rise in organized and supercharged crime. That tendency is there from the beginning, structured even before the pros are themselves. It naturally evolves with the times and the influence of one changes the other. Not that they necessarily know - she doesn't care much for one or the other - but she naturally leans into that tendency. If one wants to make a difference by playing the game, one has to remove themself sufficiently from the board, and that she does in a surreptitiously efficient manner.

The second factor which sees to an apparent decline in her efficiency had been more subtle and more specific (although she would argue that it's not so much a decline rather than a shift of focus). It baffles a number and is the joyous guilty pleasure of some others, more observant or perhaps more versed in theorizing. It's fairly unnoticeable at first, by the audience as well as by those involved. The powerful blonde enters the scene unnamed and unknown, and almost by coincidence - officially "on a whim". A small incident takes place in the southern branch of Nat·Bank, devolving into a chaotic chase over land and sea. A simple passerby at the time, the greenhorn not-hero (yet) jumps to action, pursuing the robbers onto the beach and into the coastal waters once they reach their means of escape. Perhaps it's her gallant effort in taking them down despite their ion guns and reinforced armours, bringing the boat back to shore single handedly. Quite literally at that: she emerges on the warm sand pulling the swift vessel behind her, dragging it to the middle of the beach for the authorities to arrest the now baffled culprits. Many onlookers capture and immortalize this moment, making her drenched fit form into an object of many speculations for weeks to come. Her identity somehow remains unknown behind a hasty yet well-placed mask of cloth and nothing is made of it despite extensive research and avid requests on all fronts.

...

Dantra reveals herself almost two months later, to the day, new protegee of sorceress Saralis and a fresh recruit of the H.E.R.O. program - revamped by a retired Dynaman and funded by the Ministry of Defense to raise and promote fresh blood to the side of justice. She's expected to tour the studios and is breathed to be the new mascot of the agency; yet, despite all her efficiency and achievements on the field, she remains as elusive as on the day of her appearance on the chaotic stage. Her speculated concealed beauty adds to her engaging demeanor during her interventions, on top of her flashy yet efficient use of her power. Her flawless track record, only highlighted by her immediate appeal following her first and only late night show appearance, made her an almost instantaneous star, rising fast into the pantheon of revered supers. Some wait for her eventual demise, criticizing her close interactions with fans during downtime and her refusal at revealing too much about herself, theorizing many reasons, each stranger and more somber than the last. Yet it does not happen. She assimilates into the lifestyle flawlessly and durably, it seems. Perhaps too flawlessly for some. Not exactly dwindling, her popularity somewhat reaches a peak over the first year and a half during which she becomes active.

If she's anything, Dantra is not discontent. She takes it in stride, making the most of her situation, to the greatest pleasure of her enduring fans. If she's to plummet, she will, not that it will stop her from doing what was right as long as she was able to. Or so she tells the young reporter who manages to get the first interview in months. And she does, standing as a proud beacon of righteousness and letting life take its course as she does all that is possible to protect and help. This despite the insistence by the agency that she capitalize on her success. She does not yield, however, and accepts that interview on their recommendation only to clear some misconceptions that seem to have arisen over time. No she does not wear a cape and does not plan to as it would hinder her movements. Yes, that piece of white cloth she wears over her face is a replica of the original one, it's been retailored and enchanted by Saralis herself to not be easily removed. Oh she doesn't know if one could say 'superstar', she is proud to make a difference however. Definitely M'Persent, she's been amazed at their display of precision in the way they used their telekinetic powers, since her youngest age. That's excluding Saralis, of course! *laugh* Boreastre, perhaps, on one of his bad days and on her good, then again she has to respect the old man's resilience so, who knew… he is the only con to ever elude the great Dame Seven in his hayday, so that has to count for something. None of the above; the money is enough, the benefits are great, and the ability to use her powers as she does is compensation enough. Because it's right, that's why, and perhaps also a bit in honor of her grandfather, a war hero who she's always admired. Oh…! Uh, yeah, many. So many. Too many. *laugh* But no, never, actually. Sadly. She never has the time or the space, she guesses, or perhaps she's not been looking well enough. One day, perhaps, in her old age, in one of those quiet suburbs, with a dog and a small garden with flowers… That's a new one, never been asked that before, yeah, uhm, if she had to say, perhaps no sea, not that she doesn't like it, she loves the sea, but forests always seem more beautiful, intriguing, and without any tree how is anyone to breathe? *laugh* No, thank you for inviting me, it was great! Oh, yeah! Uh, stay safe and do good, folks. Until next time. *wink*

Some questions she does not answer or shifts the subject, but all in good sport. The interviewer doesn't seem too annoyed by it, more understanding than anything. They're even genuinely excited when she offers a quick demonstration, squealing when she does her trick with the water. Neither do the executives at the agency, they even congratulate her on its good value. She feels good after that, can't say no to fun. She returns to her usual routine without barely missing a beat, if only slightly more discreetly, satisfied for days and unwilling to engage in too much outgoingness at once. That seems to be her prefered rhythm: appearing sparsely on occasions unrelated to crime fighting yet always with panashe and with good reason. Time passes and finally she knows: her secret is safe. Tucked away behind the thin layers of her mask and her gentle charm. There are a number of reasons why Dantra refuses to unveil too much of herself, be it to her fans, enemies, or even her colleagues. She is young but has enough knowledge of the ways of the world, especially online, to wish to be careful about what she exposes of herself. She enjoys the attention yet wants nothing of it once the mask is down, relishing the quiet moments in her cozy house near the waterfront and the edge of the city. The most important reason, the vital one, is not because of a loved one - she's been alone for as long as she could remember - nor because of her job - the agency pays well enough, and a side gig as a commission photographer allows her to pass the time. No, her deepest, darkest secret is entirely other: she does not trust herself to look quite right, to pass well enough among them. She never has. Not before, nor since her arrival and her… change of style. Her face has always felt too angular, too sharp and harsh, underlying the softness that sugar-coats it. Okay, maybe it is stupid to hide such a thing, what with aliens and wizards and so many kinds of secret and supernatural entities buzzing about. Especially considering she is in fact time-displaced herself. But she's a private person and her doubts never quite leave her, neither with nor without the mask. Especially not without. And that's something she wants to keep to herself as long as possible, if not mostly because it would show the cracks in her heroic persona.

One second she's living her perfectly normal if only slightly different life in the wilderness, and the next she finds herself surrounded by stone and metal and sound.  So much noise. She fled the great fortified city of her birth for that exact reason, the smells and bustling activity making her prefer the quiet of nature. It's scary, so very scary, at first. Frustrating too, new words to assimilate, new people to remember. Many people. Too many. Tastes and colours as vibrant and foreign as they were interesting. It should be more difficult, more off-putting, it should be a lot weirder and far slower to adapt to this new life that she's quite literally thrown into. She knows that. But somehow, either she's better at adapting than she believes, or the strange shrieking and smelly hole she's been dragged through - she later learns it's all that ozone - has been kind enough to gift her with an augmentation in her abilities. She can't say. Assimilating information has always been easy for her, computing it, on the other hand, takes a bit more time, but she manages well enough and that's a start.

No one knows any of that, not the agency, not her colleagues, not even her best friend Zelda knew of it, and if she has any say in the matter, none would ever know.

…

Later on she realizes their first meeting is not their first. It's not even the first time they actually interact, simply exchanging a look as she disappears into her surroundings while the hero goes the other way in hot pursuit of her own target. They cross paths before, at least twice, always en passant and never out in the open, none recognizing the other. How Valerie Vonazzio misses and is missed so thoroughly becomes one of the many subjects of scoffs and giggles, somehow playing the absolute opposite of their actual first interaction.

How it goes from a simple meddling in a high stakes robbery to a double hostage situation with innocent people in the crossfire she would say is entirely the annoyingly boot-straight bulldozer of a newcomer's fault. He's the one who barges into her delicately masterminded play's fault. They simply have to open the safe, take the money - in truth a pile of fake yet highly realistic 'the artist formerly known as Prince' bills she planted there earlier - and attempt a getaway. No violence needed, no casualties, and she can pocket the money for herself. Not that those to whom it belongs would miss it, even if the amount were to be doubled. And everything seems to work perfectly at first, that is until that idiot of a C-list super Faramour and his disgustingly felty suit gets stuck in one of her countermeasures and calls for backup. The channels should be jammed, they are jammed, and yet, somehow, she hears. Dantra enters all guns blazing - not literally though, she bears no weapons. Praised be that fact or things would go downhill much earlier for the great LaValette. She has no guns, none made of metal at least. It does not prevent her from bursting in, plowing half the group against the wall and intimidating the others sufficiently for them to lose their cool. Having taken two hostages, threatening to do some actual damage if 'superblondie' refuses to cooperate. She doesn't, to Valerie's relief, but she's the smarter of the two, after all. By far. Faramour, on the other hand, does not do the smart thing. Barely liberated from his restraints, he takes one of the robbers in return and immediately escalates the situation. How it hasn't gone to shit quicker with that horrid perfume of his, Valerie will never understand. Deadly weapons are pointed in every direction and a single movement might set the whole thing on fire.

That minty, hair-waxed bumblefuck of a super doesn't even try to use his lonely brain cell, it seems, choosing to ignore Dantra's warnings AND the robbers' threats, yelling louder than either for everybody to shut up, get on the ground and put their weapons down. Despite the fun she'd had recording his disheveled meltdown and against all her principles, she intervenes then. Showing herself in broad daylight for the first time in months, perhaps years. Well, as best as one can through a thick field of smoke and behind a specialized retailored special ops suit. While they're all distracted, she takes Faramour out, stunning him into oblivion and then twice more for good measure with simple yet efficient darts of a sleep agent of her own personal concoction. The robbers are easy too: make them think they have a way out and leave the appeal of the money, and the next second they're running. Dantra is another story. She thinks of lacing the smoke with a sleeping agent but doesn't want to hurt innocent bystanders - she has principles, or at least she's tried to grow some - and instead deploys a simple spot-sonic. The small device works as a grenade and is used to stun anybody of above average physique - group which she instantly guesses Dantra is a part of - and gives her an opening of a few seconds to make a getaway. Hers has been ready for hours now, but as she rounds the building and her car she hears the voice behind her, ordering her to stop.

Dantra is coming around the corner too, armed with a surprising two unconscious robbers, one in each hand. Fortunately she's decided to go stealthy this time, wearing unmarked gear and a simple black gas mask. The lack of recognition she gets from the super means that either she does not know her face, which for the agency's poster girl is highly unlikely as the agency must have drilled her on the many cons they were tracking, LaValette still being high priority. Or that she has no way of seeing through her mask, past her eyes, which is lucky as it has definitely not been designed with x-ray vision in mind. She looks at the blonde for a second too long, perhaps, and her mind is made: she has to play this one well.

"Why? You gonna arrest me?"

"As a matter of fact no, but the police will once they get here."

"Ha. Apologies darlin', I have no time to wait for them. Things to do, places to be," she replies, her tone as cocky as possible.

"You have nowhere to go. I'll catch you if you try to run…"

"Maybe. But I don't intend to run," she jiggles the keys in her hands.

She sees the frown form on Dantra's face through the cloth, a cute set of lines creasing around and above her brow. The super lets the robbers fall to the ground and takes a step forward, then another. Good, just a few more seconds.

"I'm fast."

"Strong too, I guess."

That stops her.

"You're too confident."

"Mayhaps. But so are you, I believe."

"I have the means to back my words up, do you?"

If the very slight flex of her hands and her taut muscles is any indication, the hero does indeed, and she's ready to show it at any moment. Perfect.

"I don't doubt that. But see," and she takes a small step to the left, Dantra mirrors it to the right, "my ride is waiting and they don't have a policy of canceling last minute, so I'm afraid I won't be able to take you up on that."

"The choice isn't really offered."

"It is though, and I'm certainly not letting a muscle-brained blondie tell me what to do."

That gets her a frown. Good. Let her stew a bit.

"You're not part of them."

Oh, surprising. Not all brawns, then.

"You noticed."

"I'm more than just muscles."

"I can appreciate that."

And she winks for good measure. The slight abashed surprise which momentarily coats the frown is worth it.

"You'll be happy to know I'm not all ass either, darlin'."

And with the image of a vague incomprehension mixed with outrage, she presses the ignition button. The car beside her roars to life and then everything is gone, swallowed in the bright neon light of the headlights and the piercing shriek of the alarm. That's enough to make Dantra recoil; by the time the super focuses again, she's long gone. Not very far away, but out of reach.

…

The second time they cross paths it's more official and perhaps she isn't as prepared for it as she's like to make them all think. There's a joint operation by the newly formed Hexagon, a trio of wrongdoers comprised of Miss Spell, Shore Thing, and Sasz, who apparently decide to carry out plans as horrid as their individual designation. How people, supers mostly, come up with such ridiculous names for themselves is something she'll never quite understand. It does help motivate her to foil their plan without pulling any punches, however. Which is a good thing, she thinks. They try to steal one of the prototypes in development at Atomic Delaware Industries, some sort of energy cell that could either be sold to competitors or foreign powers for quite a pile of cash, or be used in not so nice ways by someone smart enough. She certainly would find a few uses for it, she has, actually, without trying too much, even. But that's not the plan, it hasn't been for quite a while. They've been on her radar for the last month and, unfortunately for them, a whole month is entirely superfluous if one were to want to rig the whole operation. Which she does.

The traps fly and spring, doors jam, electric circuits fry and, strangely, the alarm resounds the minute they're deep in the vault despite all their attempts at quelling its shrill signal to the whole of the city police force before they break in. The panic but not so much as would other newer and less competent cons. The prototype is loaded in a rush as they manage to evade the first wave of security. It's jostles a bit - quite a bit - as they come out into the night.  Whether it'll still work after that is anyone's guess, although she has an inkling as to the answer. It's but almost entirely confirmed when the crack resounds a few meters in front of them and Dantra appears, making them drop the cart onto the ground and letting the round object roll away. The trio tenses slightly, knowing they have the advantage, but Dantra shows no sign of faltering. The fight that ensues is what makes Valerie act upon her growing frustration: had she let them exit the perimeter they'd have been caught in her electromagnetic web until the police arrived. But of course the hero has to meddle in her affairs. She almost doesn't swarm all four of them with slime ice, a new project she's been working on for a while, trapping anything it touches almost instantaneously (super or not) and with enough efficacy it would work on Dynamos and his high speed vibrating or Saralis and her plane shifting. At least long enough for her to escape. Almost, because as she's about to think better of it, something barely misses the prototype. It's either a hex or an exploding scale, she can't really tell, but she knows that if it hits, they might not be there to argue whodunnit afterwards. To hell with being subtle, she doesn't want to die yet, and there are people in danger of being fried by the foursome's stupidity.

"Oy, nitwits!", she exclaims, stepping out of the dark black sedan she'd taken shop in.

They seem surprised to see her, enough to almost all freeze on the spot. Only Sasz seems not to lose any of his countenance - his cerebral implant must help, she thinks - which is a good thing because they don't immediately notice the small flattened cones that thud in the middle of them.

"What the fu-", she can hear Miss Spell attempt.

"Stop clonking so close to the prototype. Or do you want to raze this whole area to below sea level?!", she adds, seeing Dantra's eyes narrow.

"LaValette," Sasz simply says, still unperturbed. Not that he seems quite anything in the recent months since his upgrade. "How very pleasant." Well at least he's kept his tongue.

Miss Spell opens her mouth again but stays silent, still she can see her violet eyes widen slightly; Shore Thing doesn't react, simply getting ready to fight her too. She sees the flicker of recognition on Dantra's face, however. She wonders for an instant if she should have worn a mask but finds she is almost glad - a small prickle of pride even runs through her spine at the validation of her still very-well known status.

"Stop where you are," she hears the blonde's voice command.

"Oh don't worry, I don't plan on joining in the fight," she smirks, "I'm not made for that."

She lets a beat pass and sees them stew in their uncertainty. No more than a beat, however, or they'll have time to react.

"Plus I don't need to," her smirk widdens as she nods to the ground at their feet.

They look. Sasz and Dantra are the first to react but it's still too late. The cones explode into a storm of white and suddenly all four of them are covered in a thick layer of foamy substance. She has to give props to Dantra for attempting to jump away, but the slime ice hardens too quickly and she's frozen on one foot, her body angled back. They almost instantly begin to slump too, even Shore Thing's weird biology doesn't stop him from feeling the effects of the sedative. It won't take them out, she knows it, but it'll do for a while. She can already hear Miss Spell mumble curses under her breath, it would be cute if it weren't literal curses on top of her insults. She hurries her step, not wanting to overextend her advantage.

"Not that I don't find this fun but I can't trust you people with this," she grabs the prototype, "so I'll be removing your new toy from the playground until you learn how to share properly."

Without further ado she walks back to her car.

"Wait," she hears Dantra's slurred voice.

But she doesn't no matter the slight desire to play with them a bit longer. She knows if she does she'll lose her advantage quickly.

"Sorry darlin', can't stay. Have a nice night!", she smiles as she passes by them before rolling her window up and driving away.

Her exit goes unchallenged, none of the police notice the black vehicule hidden behind the bushes as they quickly drive by a few seconds later. The next day she confirms her slime ice was indeed efficient, more than she had banked on even, as she sees Sasz and Shore Thing still partially trapped in by the time the news channels are on the scene. Apparently Miss Spell managed to phase herself away in the nick of time, escaping right as the authorities arrived, Dantra taking only a few moments longer. She can't help the amused smile at the sight of the fit blonde going away as quickly as she can once the situation has been explained to the police, surely in search of her. The super doesn't succeed of course, as her being in her penthouse at that precise moment indicates. The morning is nice, warm with blue skies. She contemplates letting Dynopolis and its officials sweat it a few days more under the threat of her possessing the prototype, but decides against it. She's a tease, not an actual madwoman. The stolen property is found two days later in Hubway Park, in a glass box with a cute little ribbon on top of it and a card that says "Love, LV" in elegant cursive. And if the city's pockets are slightly lighter after that, well, it's not her secret to tell.

...

They meet again twice before it truly becomes a sort of routine between them. Not that she actively makes it that way. It just seems they can't stop themselves from running into each other. Maybe it's because LaValette's officially made an appearance after all this time, in front of no less than four supers, three of them being cons is of no consequence. Maybe she can't quite stop herself from being on high alert every time she goes on patrol, looking for the lithe dark woman in every corner each time she's called onto a scene or she is made aware of some nefarious happenings. The fact that Dantra is seen a lot more than usual out there does not go by unnoticed and many speculate as to why. The answer is simple: she's been bested thrice and she can't quite let it go. The smirk and the confidently teasing tone of a superior mind still ring in her ears. She's never been one to be very competitive, not seriously so to the point of letting it consume her rather laidback nature. But the villain has a way of getting under her skin. The con times her quips like the beats of a good song, like strums of chords during a guitar solo, settles her silver eyes so steadily that she can't help the shiver of anticipation at the challenge she knows is coming. The first time it's just a fluke, she doesn't realize she's facing the great LaValette herself, not even that she 's in the same realm as her for a while. The second time she gets the message but slightly too late. The result is positive in the end, not satisfactory however. It does have the unintended effect of giving her a purpose. She knows she can't force destiny, doesn't quite believe in it either, but it feels like something the third time they meet. She wants to be there because she knows what's coming. Or at least she knows LaValette will grace them with her presence. She loses her after a frustratingly slow chase amongst corridors and stairs in the tall building where the villain comes to meddle with an intervention the squad puts in place to nip the bud of a growing cult.

The thing doesn't go as well as planned. The cult is too prepared, as if they know what's coming. They manage to get them taken down before any blood is shed, however, which is a good thing. Until she realizes the ease with which it has been done and the glaring disappearance of a number of useless but golden artifacts the cultists had been in the process of using for their sacrifice. She realizes immediately what's afoot, perhaps a bit too quickly if she trusts the bewildered looks she gets from her partners. She spots the suit far too quickly too. She's nothing if not thorough and she's made her research on the older villain turned chaotic vigilante. Her style has changed slightly, moving on from spandex and leather to a more comfortable fabric oriented design. Still black, still badass and cool - she can't help but admire - and still kicking ass without actually doing any of the kicking herself. But as she's about to reach her, LaValette lets her know she's noticed her with a small turn of the head and a wink as she moves to the staircase. The resulting chase happens in a place too constricting for her, which she hates, and amongst a crowd of people who have no business being as productive as they are on a Monday. Still she follows as best as she can, careful not to damage anything. Unfortunately it's not enough and she knows it when the villain slips away one last time, dropping in an elevator shaft this time, and she's unable to follow. Not that she'd fear the fall or hurting herself (her body can withstand much more and quite literally fly, after all) but because she realizes she's been tricked when the shaft turns out to be a screen and she finds herself flailing not to walk off the seventeenth story. How the frustratingly smart woman managed to do that she doesn't know but she knows she's lost her. Despite it all, and while she does a round of the floor just to be sure, she can't help but be impressed. LaValette has never shown any other sign of outstanding abilities than her impressive intellect and for once she's glad it's the case, just imagining that coupled with any supernatural ability almost makes her shiver.

Their fourth meeting is the one in which she feels her work finally begin to pay off. She's been scouring every file, report and analysis she can find, all the footage available for clues as to what counter-measures she could try to put in place against LaValette for weeks. The incident at Magnus Arena makes her both angry, wanting to catch the woman as soon as possible and make her answer for her crimes, but also realize how much the villain has actually shifted her line of conduct since then. She doesn't quite know how others have not measured the impact of her actions since then, both to annoy supers of the program and to mitigate the destructive power of cons. There's no proof, no evidence, but she can read between the lines, feel the depression in the landscape of her crimes, and see the shadow the villain leaves behind her in each misdeed that goes a little bit too smoothly for the heroes or which seems to fail or combust in the air for the cons. How nobody has never noticed that is beyond her. Perhaps the long arms of LaValette extend even within the agency? Or perhaps someone else has been trying to keep the status quo?

It's a bit of a paradox. She gains newfound respect for the woman but at the same time the neverending list of accomplishments - which she seems to silently gloat about every time - makes her blood boil and gives her renewed determination to catch her.

So when she manages to corner her in the back alley of the store as she's about to flee on an unmarked bike, and she sees the brow quirk up in surprise as she halts mid climb, well she can't help herself and smirks.

"Well good evening to you," LaValette says, resuming her action and strapping the large duffel bag containing various pricy items to her bike, pricy items that the organized but not very professional group of masked individuals attempted to rob - are robbing? have robbed? - and will realize are missing from their own possession the next day.

"I would return the greeting but you're coming with me this time, and it will unfortunately not be 'good'," she quips back, hand on her hip.

LaValette has been calmly setting up her gear, putting on a pair of gloves and a scarf, zipping up her jacket, action following which she seemed to notice the quick glance, her smile widening ever so slightly.

"Not that the offer is not tempting, I'd love to stay but-"

"Stuff to do, places to be?", she cuts in.

The villain smiles wider still, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Exactly."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I can't let you do that. You being a criminal and me being a hero, and all."

That earns her a chuckle. There's a pause, the woman makes a grab for her helmet, still showing no sign of a rush or any kind of panic at all. This is what makes Dantra start to question her standing in this exchange. She has a way of getting her nerves to flare. It seems the woman notices, her head shifts slightly to the side. Could she read minds? Or was she just that smart? Dantra realizes she might just be that smart 

"Oh I know. And I can assure you I'm very flattered by your attention, but should you really be leaving those idiots alone?"

She follows the finger, it points at the store and suddenly, as if on cue she hears an explosion and sees bright flames erupt from the roof. The door she'd passed through moments earlier flies off its hinges and crashes against her, denting itself around her shape.

"What the-" she begins when she hears the engine rev.

Suddenly she's jumping to action, she lets her flight boom her through the alley and can feel the fleeing motorcycle revving its gears enter the grasp of her outstretched hand. Yet before she can do anything she hears a bump and her legs are once again cast in that annoying white substance, not only does it harden, it also latches onto the ground and she's faceplanting before she knows it. That much isn't enough to slow her down too much, and she's up the next second, grunting as she breaks through the foam - the countermeasure is one of raw power but it works, so, who's to judge. But as she's about to engage in pursuit again, masked individuals come pouring through the now destroyed exit and for a moment she's stunned. Why weren't they- It's then that she hears the shrill voice she's learned to dislike with every fiber of her body. Freaking Faramour…!

Only later, as they've rounded up the criminals that tried their best to escape and the police are there to take them into custody does she register the memory. It's seemingly jogged by none other than the felty cretin himself.

"Nice work, blondie!", he exclaims with a thumbs up.

Perhaps it's genuine, perhaps it's just playing it up for the cameras, she doesn't know, doesn't care much for it either. She's let her target escape once again. By the time she'd taken care of the robbers, barely a minute, and was soaring in the sky to try to locate the motorcycle, it had vanished once again. The criminals had given her restraints - a good measure of fence wire - a run for its money, already almost escaping by the time she came back down and she'd had to secure them once more. Then she'd taken measure of the whole situation: a blown up store, a bumbling super idiot trying to take over the situation and a disappeared LaValette. Then the police arrive, then the journalists, almost in sync. Then there's the report, which Faramour takes into stride despite his less than useful participation, and nobody seems to have noticed LaValette's presence. She'd been this close, so close… She tries to wallow a bit in her corner but even that is made difficult when Faramour comes all smiles to congratulate her. She had to at least nod and smile, she may be one of the most prominent faces of the agency - and miles more efficient than him - he had anteriority and some form of mind-boggling respect in the city. But his words trigger the flash of memory.

"Nice try, blondie!"

Almost the same words but a much, much different tone. Sultry and smooth, teasing as usual. With a smile and a wave of the hand as she rounded the corner, spoken in a voice loud enough for her to hear. The frustration is so much that she almost lets out a huff before she takes off to do her report at headquarters. It's only when she's done and gone home that she realizes she was close, much closer than usual. Next time. Definitely next time.

And next time comes. Much sooner than she'd expected. Barely a week later, in the middle of the afternoon. This time it's utter chaos. Three events strike at the same time. Havenleaf institute, the prison that houses many cons, is taken by Miss Spell and what can only be described as strawmen goons which she surel animated. Apparently an attempt to break out Shore Thing and Sasz. Nat·Bank is in the middle of a robbery orchestrated by the BronzeBronze cartel. And the head office of the Police is being hacked. The bank and the prison are already taken care of, Grace Solace and Mesmeride are on the case with their respective sidekicks she hears in the coms, and the police should be able to deal with whatever genius has decided to try his hand. She's met the ITeam and they know what they're doing. Still, she can't help but feel something is off. The coincidence is great, almost too great. So she goes anyway.

Everything is hectic. Power is going out repeatedly, the whole electrical infrastructure seems to be under attack. Which is weird, Rajan and Sam explain. They've made sure the whole network was secure and entirely closed off. She knows it is, she's seen Sasz try his hand at it and groaning in frustration. So whatever whoever is here wants, it's not in the database. The chaos feels too orchestrated. Like a danger looming around the corner and forcing you into panic mode but never making an appearance. She knows this feeling and that's what propels her into the stairs, down to the third basement and the writ archives. She struggles in the dark silence for a while, only nearly jumping when she hears clattering towards the deep end. The ever-knowing smile that usually welcomes her is only ever so slightly assured this time, only ever so slightly weaker, and she knows she's struck a chord.

"Wasn't expecting you so soon, darlin'", the voice drawls as the woman has the gal to look away, back to the files she's been searching through.

"Were you even expecting me?"

Her tone is light but it seems to land once again, from the slight tensing of the shoulders.

"Honestly? Not really. I hoped to have at least an hour uninterrupted, but it seems I got unlucky…"

She can't help the small satisfied scoff. She can't help the spark of curiosity either.

"What are you looking for, LaValette?"

The dark woman looks up, surprise passing through her steel eyes.

"Nothing much. Compromising pictures from college, maybe?", she chuckles. "What tipped your off, Dantra?", she returns.

Dantra knows she's curious but fakes disinterest. Somehow she knows. So she plays on it. She also can't help but lose some focus to the way her name rolls out of LaValette's mouth, soft and playful.

"I got lucky I guess. I had a hunch."

"A hunch?", a quirk of the eyebrow.

Now she was looking at her.

"Three at a time is a bit much."

"Ah," a shake of the head. "Maybe so… might have been a bit over enthusiastic on this one."

"You made all this happen?"

She should know better, she's seen the famed LaValette at work more than once, read and watched everything there was about her, but she still feels the wave of surprise at the revelation.

"No, I'm not omnipotent, you know. I may have… pushed the right buttons, however."

The smirk is back.

"Well you're certainly not getting out of this one," she quips back, hands on her hips.

"Are you sure about that?"

And there's that quirk of the eyebrow again. It's assured and confident.

"No."

But she is. And she jumps. As if she was expecting that the dark-haired woman throws the file at her and starts doubling down an alley of files, reaching for something in her bag. Dantra doesn't know what tips the scales in her favour this time. Perhaps she's gotten better with confined spaces, perhaps she's well and truly surprised LaValette, perhaps LaValette fumbles despite (surely) the many plans she has to escape. In any case, she has her pinned against a wall, any tools she might have discarded and her hands trapped within her own barely a minute later, near the emergency exit. They lock eyes and there's a surprised look in the steel discs, something else too, fear maybe? Something etched deeper than she expects, at least. But she doesn't have time to explore that before the other woman sighs and smirks.

"Well, seems it's my loss this time."

And it is. She doesn't resist. Lets herself be taken into custody without as much as an attempt to resist or protest. She takes an espresso when offered and answers each and every question the officers have for her once they begin processing her case. Dantra stays and watches, still unconvinced she's done it. She doesn't know if she believes everything LaValette says, still mulling over what she could have been searching for in the basement of the central police department. They only find a few files pertaining to an old cold case, one of an old woman found dead in her apartment. Nothing special about it, nothing linked to LaValette. Not that they could actually link anything to her. They don't even know who she is, she doesn't register in any database, no history, public or private, no facial recognition pings when they try. She's an anomaly, a dark and mysterious anomaly that keeps on slipping between your fingers even when you've got her. And have her they do. They have her face, her prints, her blood and saliva, hair samples, her voice and her story. Still, much good it does them. They resign themselves to keep her in custody until due process begins again. Dantra is on the go then, ready to leave when they have her secured. The day has been long and the thrill enough to wear her down. She'd been thinned by the last few weeks, her entire focus being on trying to solve the puzzle of the infamous LaValette. And now that it's done she can't quite believe it. They cross paths as the woman is taken to a cell, her usual black suit swapped for a standard grey uniform. It still fits her, she notes. The woman smiles as she notices her.

"Well played, Dantra."

She doesn't know what to do, what to respond to that. The amused twinkle in the woman's eyes another mystery she can't quite solve.

"Until next time?"

It's a question, she registers, as well as a statement. Nobody can keep her in for long, she seems to say, we'll play again soon.

"You're not getting out of this, this time," she manages to reply, throwing in a smile of her own, as confident as she manages.

That owns her a laugh. The sound is throaty and very amused. The wink that follows should unnerve her, so should the unfading smile. It adds fuel to the fire, that's undeniable, though what that fire supplies in turn, she has no idea. She doesn't sleep very well that night, exhaustion and excitement waging an intense battle. Exhaustion wins out in the end and she's rested enough the next morning when she wakes. It takes her the whole of the day to truly recuperate, however. She takes it off, she knows she needs it. Knows that she deserves it a bit too. No one at work is expecting her anyway. Not the bad weather nor Spyro, her cat, defecating on the coffee table manage to bring her mood down, however. The following night is the same as the previous one, a battle of nerves, she manages to go to sleep slightly earlier though. That Sunday morning she is well and truly rested as she wakes up. The weather is nice, Spyro is lounging on the coffee table, no poop in sight, and even the new seem to be good: the robbery has been foiled thanks to Mesmeride, and despite struggling a bit more and not catching Miss Spell, Grace Solace managed to prevent any escapes from the prison. She's coffee in hand, standing on her small terrace, Spyro resting on her shoulders, when she hears her name. It's faint but as she focuses the words become more clear.

"...and this morning, when Officer Wallace came to check on her she was gone. No traces of escape, no footage, nothing. The detectives are hard on the case but admit being somewhat at a loss as to how this was possible."

This definitely piques her interest and she steps inside. There's a still image of the cell with a few words splayed against it in elegant cursive. That's when she understands. Somehow, despite all the security measures in place, LaValette has made good on her words.

Till next time, Darlin', the writing reads.

She knows she should be appalled, she knows she should be stressed, she should be on high alert and perhaps already on route to rectify the situation but she finds herself excited and giddy. A smile plastered on her face when the screen turns black as power is ripped away from it. She's excited because finally, after so long, after so much hard work and dedication, it undeniably feels like she's managed to get her first arch-enemy. Her own personal nemesis.

To be continued.

---

More of what I write, if you’re interested.

[bryanastar]

So... I’m Writing a Novel

Hello people of writblr (writeblr?). I’m an amateur teen writer stuck doing high school from home because I like being not sick, and... I’m writing a novel, and I thought you folks might wanna hear about it. Hopefully at least. I’m very nervous.

So my book is called “A Fable of a Wolf Boy”. Its a Middle Grade* Magical Realism novel about a young wolf boy named Davy who leaves his family and his forest home at nine years old to seek his fortune in the nearby city. His journey is set against the backdrop of a city in social turmoil as it grapples with this tidal wave of... how do I say “fascism” and “werewolf supremacy” without saying “fascism” and “werewolf supremacy”? I can’t. I can’t because that’s what my book is about. Let me explain.

So, in order to explain the ridiculous plot of my book, I need to explain how I got the idea for this book. For years, I have been fascinated by animal culture and behavior, specifically their social hierarchies and interpersonal relationships. Mostly, I’m fascinated by apes, but my second top pick has got to be wolves. I mean, they form these highly complex social hierarchies built around a core family dynamic, and they strategize and take care of each other. It’s just all so cool! And also kinda sweet! 

But... there’s also this common misconception about wolves that the way their social hierarchy works is that there’s one “Top Dog”, the all-powerful “Alpha” who gets all the good food and access to females, which is... not true. It’s not true at all. Wolves in nature form packs with parents at the top, and their cubs at the bottom. And some... uh... unmentionable people and their movement have even gone so far as to try and extrapolate that wrong view of the way wolves work onto humans too. 

“So that’s all well, but how’d you actually get the idea” you’re probably asking. Well, one day, I was watching this video that was comparing to this teen novel about werewolves (surprisingly written before Twilight) to its movie adaptation, and, like most popular fiction about werewolves, the pack hierarchy was based on the popular image of this one “Alpha” that ruled over everybody (no shade on the book though since it’s only recently that this popular conception of wolf behavior has started changing). I remember sorta rolling my eyes at the plot and pack structure, and thinking that a “real” (haha) werewolf would be nothing like this, and that a werewolf pack that was like this, or even just a random group of humans, would be hell to live in. 

That’s when the gears in my brain started turning.

I think at first, the idea in my brain was mostly satirical, something that would just entertain me before I go to bed and that I would never actually write down. I can’t actually tell you the moment when it became this folksy semi-political tale about a boy’s journey trying to find his way in this city that’s slowly succumbing to... werewolf fascism. I would guess that’s it's probably around the time I got more into politics online, since I remember at one point making the connection between the type of pack structure some people claim wolves (and also sometimes humans) embody and “Toxic Masculinity”. It was probably also around the time I really got into reading novels about World War 2. I didn’t actually start writing the book until literally this year, and even then, progress has been slow.

With that whole essay out of the way, I can finally start talking a bit more about the book (finally, Jesus Christ...)

So the whole story takes place over about five years. It starts with a prologue about Davy’s birth. He’s born a month premature under a half moon while his mom is in her human form, which apparently means he’s cursed (at least... his parents think he’s cursed). He’s also born with a bad leg so he can’t really walk very well without a cane. The story then jumps ahead nine years and actually gets started when Davy catches a rabbit, a cause for much celebration in his household since his family’s convinced he can’t even catch a dying shrew. The first chapter just kinda follows Davy and his family going through their daily life. His family celebrates his catch for a bit, except for his uncle who just stays his sarcastic bitter self. The reader then learns that this isn’t the first that Davy has brought home an impressive (at least for him) kill home that causes his family to celebrate his achievement for a while, before going right back to treating him like a leaf falling on him will cause him to shatter into a million pieces.

Dejected that his parents and siblings still treat him like a fragile glass vase, Davy goes to talk to his uncle, who’s in a weirdly similar place to his. His uncle was born sickly, and as such, never really learned how to survive on his own, and nobody ever bothered to teach him when he grew up and got healthy. Heck, nobody would even let him try! Since he was a boy, he’s been relegated to a single rocking chair in the corner of the cabin and told to read the bible for entertainment, and he did... to the point that he can recite the whole thing word for word. When his parents died, he was passed around his siblings like a TV remote, some of them leaving him to rot in a corner, others giving him freedom to wander and help around the house with chores.

Never once, though, was he allowed to leave.

Everytime the times got rough, he was passed around again until he arrived at his older sister’s house. Like usual, he was relegated to a single rocking chair in the corner of the cabin and told to read the bible. Then Davy was born about a few months later, and for his uncle, it was like traveling back in time to his boyhood. It was at that moment his uncle decided that Davy would not wind up the same way he did: left cooped up in the corner to go mad reading the same book over and over again ‘till hell froze over. 

He explains to Davy that as much as his family loves him and want the best for him, they’re so caught up in their old, backward, superstitious ideas, like that he had a cursed birth or that him having a bad leg meant he would die if he spent a moment alone outside, that no amount of rabbits caught or wild scavengers defeated will ever convince them otherwise. He encourages Davy to leave home early (because kids leave home at fourteen) and go off to find his fortune in the city. His parents, ever so faithful their traditional ways, would be forced to let him leave, and they do (and then they sneakily prepare his funeral when he’s gone).

From there, Davy goes off to the city, becomes an apprentice baker to a gruff but golden-hearted old man who of course dies. Davy then gets “taken in” (re: kidnapped by) a marauding gang of tough wolf dudes that basically turn Davy and a few fellow unlucky young souls into slaves just because they can’t fight back. Here, he meets another wolf kid that’s nice and sweet and younger brother of the top wolfman and they get real close and-

Of course he dies too.

After that, Davy finally has enough and stages a break-out with the other wolf kids, and they all scramble off all across the city. Davy escapes in his wolf form and meets a pack of regular wolves that live in an ornate abandoned church. He becomes the ward of the head of the pack and, surprisingly, things actually go well and while he does eventually part ways with his new foster family, it’s not because of any catastrophe or attack from any wolf gangs. He leaves because there’s a cause he feels passionate about that he wants to fight for (namely, defeating the fascist werewolves that murdered his surrogate grandfather and best friend).

So, he joins the resistance movement, defeats the bad guys with the help of the friends he made along the way, and reopens the bakery apparently left to him by the gruff old man who took him in all those three years ago. The End. 

So... that was a lot, and I’m still not done talking about this book. If you’re still reading after all this... thank you so much. Seriously. It really means a lot. 

Especially since that was the super cut short version.

So the basic themes of the book are... welp, super basic, firstly. “Teamwork makes the dream work”, “Having power doesn’t give you the right to be a terrible toxic person”, “you can do anything with help and hard work”, etc. You could probably find all these lessons put much more prettily inside of a fortune cookie. I’m not exactly saying anything profound here. It's more just a simple story about a bunch of terrible bullies with a “Might makes Right” mentality getting put in their place by their victims banding together to fight against them. Its also a story about a boy learning both that he can do more that what he and other people think, but that it's also alright to get help sometimes.

The whole story moves kinda quickly the first five chapters before slowing down so you can really get a feel for how long Davy’s journey is. If I do my job right, you really shouldn’t notice how much time is passing as Davy grows up, until the story hits a major status quo shift that makes Davy’s life either better or worse, and he starts to reminisce on all that came before, all the friends he’s made, all the friends he’s lost too. I aspire to write my novel in such a way that the journey feels akin to that of Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, or The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. These stories make you feel the length of the journey and how much their characters change over the course of their plots. They’re definitely two big inspirations for the feel of the book (though definitely not the plot). The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo especially is a big inspiration for the feel of the book because I read that novel in the third grade and it absolutely captivated little eight year old me, and the current book I’m writing right now I’m basically writing for my eight year old self. My novel has everything eight year old me liked: fantasy elements, long journeys, and beating up bullies.

An observant reader might have noticed that earlier in this post I described this book as Middle Grade with an asterisks. Well that is because all the novels that I write, I write for children like me, and a lot of what I read was classical children’s literature, or novels that felt like classical children’s literature (even if they were classed as Middle Grade or Young Adult). If it weren’t for the fact that children’s books are mostly associated with picture books rather than novels like The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, I’d probably class my novel as a children’s novel because that’s who I’m ultimately writing for. My one dream as a writer is for my novels to end up in the libraries of my old elementary schools (I went to four) and get picked up by some passing kid, for them to fall deeply in love with them as I fell in love with many, many books in those dusty old libraries.

Part of the reason why I’m posting this... light dissertation about my work is because I’m very bad at finishing what I start unless there’s something motivating me to write. Even if nobody actually sees this post, I’ll feel like someone has seen it and is looking over my shoulder and making sure that I’m actually finishing what I start, even if nobody is.

So to summarize... I’m an amatuer teen writer that is writing a children’s novel, and I just thought you’d all like to know.

[thenightling]

The Bullshit I had to deal with on Tumblr Tonight

Okay, buckle up.  This is a long ride, folks.

Some months ago someone posted about having a Discord about The Dreaming (Sandman Universe comic).   I reblogged it as a fellow Sandman fan.  I noticed in the rules there was an anti-Incest rule.  I joked “Whoops, I mentioned Daniel and Ivy.  Guess I broke that rule.”   Daniel and Ivy are canonically a couple in The Dreaming.  Unfortunately they are also technically related as Ivy is the great-grand-daughter of Desire (Daniel’s brother).

Well, the person who created the post blocked me and started to tell people I was pro-incest.  Figuring this was a big misunderstanding I tried to reach out to their friends to set the record straight.  I don’t even LIKE Ivy!  

Then they decided to keep me on block (supposedly) because they felt I was “reblogging everything they post” and “stalking” them.   Honestly, I just follow the “Sandman” tag and hadn’t noticed who I was reblogging from.

I let it be for a long time.  Then tonight I saw a funny post on sandman-headcanons​ page that jokingly called Morpheus “Grandpa.”  I realized quickly that I couldn’t reblog it.  This had happened to me a lot in recent months because the posts in question had passed through the person who had blocked me or originated from them.

 I publicly posted about this frustration tonight.  That was my mistake.   Next thing I know I find out that person was now telling people I ship a “Three-year-old” with an “old man” and they were saying this, out-of-context, to people unfamiliar with Sandman who took the statement at face value.  Needless to say, I was horrified.

Here’s the thing Daniel and Morpheus are technically both “aspects” of Dream of The Endless. That means they are two facets or shards of a greater being who is essentially a great big, divine crystal or jewel.  They are fragment pieces from the same soul.  And I was always speaking of adult Daniel.  Daniel hasn’t been depicted as a toddler since the mid-90s.

And here’s what followed after that...

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189892817243/thenightling-thenightling-thenightling

I was given the ultimatum to delete any posts where I “ship” Morpheus and Daniel and they would consider unblocking me.  As one of those posts had been liked by Neil Gaiman, himself, (author of The Sandman) I did not want to do that.   And I was told “Oh, they already have Neilman on block too.”

(Neilman is a derogatory term used by those who think Neil Gaiman is a homophobe who “doesn’t deserve the ‘gai’ in his name.”)

So I was to choose them or the author of Sandman, Neil Gaiman.  Hmm? 

I got flustered and tried to explain further (suspecting this person I was talking to in direct mesage was the original person on an alt, based on how they wrote) telling me what my ultimatum was.  

And in the process of defending myself and Neil Gaiman I accidentally typed “She” when the person’s pronoun of choice is Xe.  I tried to correct myself but it was too late, that became a new subject of their anger toward me.  They were convinced I had typed “She” on purpose.  I had been using They / them as the pronoun up until that moment and I would never, ever misgender on purpose, even when angry.  They refused to accept it was a typo.    

Still, I was very upset at the misconception that I “ship a three-year-old with an old man.”  That bothers me to no end.  

Realizing there was another “misunderstanding” (and this time an exceptionally gross one) I made a post explaining who and what Daniel Hall actually is in great detail.  I also provided evidence directly from the comics to confirm what I said in that he is no three-year-old.  Not physically, nor mentally.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895590768/what-the-hell-is-daniel-hall

They clearly didn’t read this post because they were still referring to Daniel as Morpheus’ “Son” and “heir.” Claiming that Morpheus “groomed” Daniel.  And they referred to Morpheus as Daniel’s “predecessor” (which is something literally corrected as being wrong IN the very story that this person said is their “special interest” that they’ve read multiple times...)

Then the “ask” messages started rolling in...

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895724368/why-are-you-so-damn-obsessed-with-an-18-year-old

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895819008/just-because-someone-is-bisexual-and-supports  

This above one you HAVE to read the notes to get the whole thing. Yet again they accuse me of being obsessed with them, without giving me a chance to even answer.   No, I was never obsessed with them (this person). I was just bothered tonight when I couldn’t reblog a post I thought was funny.  

I had lost interest in them possibly unblocking me when I found out they had Neil Gaiman blocked too. I realized I was in good company on that blocked list.   But I will not stomach being accused of shipping a three-year-old.  Especially when that character in canon wouldn’t even be three-years-old right now if he was human.  If he was human he’d be thirty-years-old right now.  He does not look, nor act three-years-old.

(Does that look like a three-year-old to you!?)

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895950763/yeah-well-you-are-a-dense-motherfucker-answer-my

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189896055598/im-so-fucking-sick-of-you-youre-so-sure-that-youre  

Ironic that they accuse me of bullying while lying about me.  Or they were “misunderstanding the lore” (again...) and shaming me for posts the author had liked and trying to force me to delete and renounce those posts...

Here is the post Neil Gaiman had liked on the subject that they were trying to demand I delete.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/171750432893/why-ive-started-the-crackship-of-morpheus-and

You may also notice the post is two-years-old.   But this became this person’s new excuse for how they were treating me.  

So yeah.   @sorry-for-the-chocolate​​  @zal001​​​ @missghostlymoonshadow​​  @endlessemptynight​ @deathlyendless​ @watertribe-enya​​  @bazpik​​   @hasturlavista​​ @jr4cats​​ @vagaryhexxx​​ @sunagirl​​  @iknowwheremytowelis​

 This is what happened to me tonight.  If you’re wondering why I’m being so antisocial tonight.

Edit: I just realized the most obvious and laughable part in all of this.  “Neil Gaiman is a homophobe!”  Followed by “Take down that gay ship post that he liked!”  ...And they, as well as their friends, don’t notice anything odd about that?!  That’s rhetorical.  

Not to mention I never physically shipped Morpheus and Daniel in any erotic way.  I’m not some horny teenager.  To me it was always about emotional / intellectual connection as equals.  Also in the lore I use, it’s required that Daniel had re-created Morpheus posthumously as a dream entity (See Hob’s dream in Sandman: The Wake), which means technically, in that form Daniel would be the older of the two though both possess over eight billion years of knowledge and memory in their adult minds and bodies.  

[crayonwriting]

Irreplaceable You: 2 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by  Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

A/N: I would like to thank @blueskiesbleakeyes for being the only person who gave me feedback. One makes a huge difference. I dedicate this chapter to you and here’s to hoping you stick with me ‘til the end.

Once again, please tell me what you think! They are all highly appreciated. :)

Enjoy folks!

—

"So, are you okay with confirming the venue today?" You opened the fridge and pulled out some orange juice. You grabbed a glass from the cupboard and placed it in front of Bucky, who was sat by the kitchen table, buried deep in one of his books. You poured him a glass and waited for his answer.

"Bucky."

He looked up at you murmuring a few words to himself. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"The venue?" You asked, smiling.

"Oh, yeah." He looked back down at his book, adjusting his glasses that were slipping from his nose. "Yeah, it's okay. Let's confirm today…," he trailed off. He took a pencil and started writing notes on his notebook beside him.

You pulled out your phone and checked 'venue' from your list. You scrolled down and asked again,

"The caterer also wants to know if we're having chocolate, raspberry, or hazelnut."

"For?"

"The cake. The wedding cake."

"Well," he shrugged before going back to work. "Not hazelnut. Nobody's ever like, 'Yum! That cake is hazelnut!'"

You chuckled lightly as you went to the closet by the door and pulled out your coat and shrugged it on. You got your scarf too and wrapped it around your neck.

"Okay then, raspberry or chocolate?"

"Please not raspberry." He dropped his pencil and looked up at you incredulously. "I don't even understand how people like raspberry on cake. It's just plain weird."

You giggled and walked up to Bucky, putting your arm across his back. You rubbed your hand on his left shoulder, feeling the little scar beneath his shirt. He held you by your waist and looked up at you.

"So, I’m guessing it’s chocolate then?"

"Isn't it the obvious choice?" He smiled and you leaned down to kiss his lips. You lingered for a while savoring the warmth and softness of his lips against yours. He hummed in response and leaned into you closer as if it were still possible.

You pulled away, only an inch, and rested your forehead against his.

"I love you, Buck." You  whispered. You rubbed the small hairs on the back of his neck, feeling him relaxing against your touch. He did the same to you, moving his hand up and down your back, playfully pinching your ass along the way.

You slapped his shoulder lightly and pecked his lips one more time.

"Have a good day in class. I'll see you later at the doctor's." You caught a glimpse of his sock-clad feet and smiled. "That one's green and the other one red." You pointed out.

"They feel the same." He shrugged and got back to writing his notes.

You just giggled and finished getting ready to go to work. You picked up your keys from the hook on the door, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Don't forget to water Ruby." You shouted at him, as the door closed shut.

Bucky suddenly looked at the small cactus plant sitting in the middle of the table. It was one of his anniversary gifts to you and you had happily named it Ruby saying, 'This could be practice for when have kids.'

The memory made him laugh and he stood up from his chair, filled an empty glass with tap water and did as you told.

—

"Clearly," Bucky turned to the whiteboard behind him and started drawing different illustrations. "There are still more than a few misconceptions about the structural differences between sensory neurons, interneurons, and motor neurons. Which is totally cool." He turned to face his students who stared at him blankly, not even copying what he just wrote on the board. He swallowed thickly and flashed a tight smile.

“Does anyone have any questions about this?” He received no response, which made him exhale a loudly.

“I know, it's exciting stuff…” He mumbled more to himself.

—

“I mean, yeah, her profile’s really cool but how can I know for sure?” Clint ranted as you and him made your daily rounds around the shelves of books, returning old ones and putting new titles in between. “She sent me a photo of her boobs though.” He said nonchalantly.

You abruptly stopped midway of pulling out an old book and looked at Clint with big wide eyes.

“What?” He asked, continuing to work, pushing his cart of books ahead of you. “It’s a normal thing to do.”

“No, it’s not Clint! Is this dating site even legit?” You questioned. “I mean, if a girl sends her boobs to a person she’s just met online then maybe she’s just after one thing!”

“And what is this one thing, pray tell?” Clint challenged. He raised his eyebrows mockingly, egging you on. You huffed and playfully punched his shoulder. Clint chuckled and pulled out his phone.

“It’s funny, though.” He scrolled through his album and showed you the boob photo. “I saved the picture on my phone and I saw that it was taken in 2015.”

“Yikes.” You internally cringed. “You know what to do Clint. Say goodbye to Miss Booby, delete your account in that sketchy site and just leave it all to fate!” You smiled to yourself, going back to work.

Finishing up, you returned to the back office of the library and sat on your desk. Clint was following behind you, fixing the book carts back in their places.

“That’s so easy, for you to say.” Clint sat at his own desk across from yours and leaned back on his chair. “You’re lucky you have Bucky. You’ve been together for like, forever!” He raised his hands up in the air in exasperation. “It’s like you never even tried!”

“Hey!” You interrupted, giggling a little. “Yes, I am lucky to have Bucky, but I did try you know! I had to get pregnant to get him to step it up a little.” You rested your palms on your stomach, feeling a little bit giddy at the thought of your little baby growing inside you.

“Ugh.” You heard Clint say. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. He rested his cheek against his fist; his elbow resting on the armrest of his chair.

“That stupid, dopey look on your face is making me sick.” He had a soft smile on his face, knowing he was just joking. You smiled back, playfully sticking your tongue out at him. He sniggered before stretching his arms out and started typing on his computer.

“Don’t you have that doctor’s appointment with Bucky?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of the screen. You stood up instantly, checking the time on your phone.

“Holy crap! I almost forgot!” Moving as fast as you can, you shoved your stuff into your bag while putting on your coat. You haphazardly wrapped your scarf around your neck, almost choking. “Clint, you don’t mind…?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll cover for you at the club meeting. Better make me the godfather of that kid of yours.” He mumbled. You hugged him, tight and brief, before dashing out of the door.

“Thanks Clint! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

—

You changed the position of your legs and tried settling yourself in the small chair at Dr. Michaelson’s office. You bit your thumbnail from time to time, trying to relieve yourself from both the anxiousness and excitement of your pregnancy.

You felt a warm hand slide down your thighs to intertwine with your hand. You looked beside you—at Bucky—and saw him smile softly. You couldn’t help but copy his expression. You leaned into his shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. He lifted your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of your hand, trying to help calm the nervous energy you were giving off.

You were both waiting inside the office for the results of your blood test the other day. In front of you was a small desk with a few papers on them. A small orange clock hung from the back wall. Posters of mothers and their babies were plastered all around the small area.

You focused on the one right in front of you. It was a diagram of a baby in the womb with its head, halfway out of it.

“It’s so weird…” You whispered.

“What’s weird?” Bucky asked, looking at you. You continued to stare at the poster and pointed it out to him.

“That! How is it possible that something that big comes out of something so small?” You tilted your head in pure curiosity. Bucky put his fingers to his pursed lips, seeming to think. His eyebrows were knit together and his eyes were focused on the poster.

“It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie.” He stated. “Like an alien, coming out of another alien’s mouth.”

“That’s not helping!” You couldn’t help but laugh and smack him lightly. He laughed with you.

Soon after, the door opened and in came Dr. Michaelson, seeming to be in a rush as she flashed you an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” She said, sitting down on the desk in front of you. You shook your head with a smile.

“It’s alright.” You straighten your spine and glanced quickly at Bucky. “So,” you started. “We’re ready for the results.” You bit your lips in anticipation. You felt Bucky squeeze your hands as he, too, was excited about the oncoming news.

But, something seemed off with the lack of a smile Dr. Michaelson was showing. Her hands were folded together on top of her desk. Her lips were turned into a slight frown. She looked down at her desk before finally looking at the both of you with determined eyes.

“I, uhm, have difficult news.”

Time seemed to stop and for a second you felt your heart drop to your stomach. You involuntarily gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. Your breath got caught in your throat as a different kind of nervousness overcame your body.

The doctor stared at the both of you. She sighed and continued,

“Your blood tests show that you’re not pregnant.”

“O-oh.” You muttered, “A-are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Uhm, okay. I, guess that’s okay.” You relaxed a little. You tapped your foot mechanically and shot Bucky a look. “It’s okay, right Buck?”

“Yeah, I mean,” he shrugged, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand, “We probably weren’t even ready.” He was just as excited and thrilled with having a baby—especially with you— and hearing the news that you weren’t expecting made him a little bit uneasy.

“It’s-it’s-it’s just that…” you opened your mouth and tried to rearrange the mess of words in your head, “I know that I’m nowhere near showing but,” you put your hand on your stomach, “I can actually feel something there.” You almost whispered the last part.

Dr. Michaelson cleared her throat and opened the folder she carried with her when she came in. She pulled out a small strip of black and grey photos and showed them to you.

“The sonogram shows that you have a mass in your pelvis roughly the size of a tangerine.” She pointed to one side of the photos. “It can mimic pregnancy.”

“A mass?” Bucky asked. “What kind of a mass?” His voice shook.

“I don't want you guys to panic, because it could be nothing.” She explained. “We still have to do a couple more tests to determine whether it’s malignant or benign.”

—

Later that night, you lay in your bed, side by side with Bucky. You both stared at the ceiling, thinking about your doctor’s appointment. It wasn’t what you both were expecting and you found it difficult to process this new information.

You could feel Bucky thinking about it too. He kept sighing and running his hands through his hair—a clear sign that he was nervous and thinking too much.

“Well,” he said, breaking the long silence, “At least we won’t have to pay for college.”

You didn’t respond to his statement and just sighed heavily.

“Unless, it’s a very smart tumor.” He suddenly added.

You turned your head to him sharply and gave him a venomous look. You took additional tests today to determine the malignancy—or lack thereof—of the mass in your abdomen. The results weren’t due until the day after tomorrow and Bucky was talking about it as if the results have already come.

He licked his lips and swallowed loudly, turning his head to look at you. When he saw your expression, he immediately regretted what he said.

“Too soon?” He asked. When you didn’t move even an inch, he looked back at the ceiling and flexed his back.

“Too soon.”

—

tell me what you thought!