Hermit

Pretty much this.  I think in some was that's one reason I loved Ant-Man. Yes, the stakes did include unleashing a terrifying weapon on the espionage world etc.. but it would not be a world ender. Instead we get to see a heist movie with a good man trying to be the hero he thought his daughter deserved, and another father and daughter mending their own torn relationship.

Pretty much this.  I think in some was that's one reason I loved Ant-Man. Yes, the stakes did include unleashing a terrifying weapon on the espionage world etc.. but it would not be a world ender. Instead we get to see a heist movie with a good man trying to be the hero he thought his daughter deserved, and another father and daughter mending their own torn relationship.

I admit, I would like to see a few more superhero movies/shows where the stakes were city wide or smaller. We don't have to save the world, or galaxy, or multiverse EVERYtime. To be fair, they haven't always but still, it seems a bit lopsided to me.

Woot!  We get to see Ted again!  And by proxy, Emperor Norton!  Bonus points!

The way to make the "smaller" threats impactful, is to make them personal. Things that affect the characters directly, people or ideals they genuinely care about. Comics have been doing that for generations. Saving the world, or the universe, didn't end the stories, and subsequent stories usually didn't try to top what came before.
 
Look at the Civil War movie. For all the framework of the Sokovia Accords, and fights among the heroes, the story comes down to deeply personal matters of love, trust, grief, guilt, and revenge. At the end of the movie the Avengers were broken, but the rest of the world did not significantly change. But I have yet to hear anyone argue that CW was not one of the most impactful MCU films.

I admit, I would like to see a few more superhero movies/shows where the stakes were city wide or smaller. We don't have to save the world, or galaxy, or multiverse EVERYtime. To be fair, they haven't always but still, it seems a bit lopsided to me.

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
(continued)
 
I have a car. It was old when I got it. I got a pretty good deal though as the seller was a friend of the family. It’s Cherry red and it has a ‘Honk if you Love Heroes’ bumpersticker on it. One nice thing about knowing a super scientist who makes her own power armor is that every now and then she sends in a little repair robot to keep it alive for another year. It’s got a few dents, but it’s mine.

And it has just enough space in the back for a truly huge wedding cake. Which is one of the reasons I was sure I could help. I set up a nice clean spot and everything.

Unfortunately while I’m now a legally recognized adult, I’m still a young woman, so I’m kind of stressing out that my boyfriend still hasn’t responded to my text! Fortunately, I had an alternative means of catching up with folks. My car has a glove box, not a surprise, but what some folks don’t know is I have a hidden box UNDER the box, and unless you have my thumb print, you’re not getting in even if you find it. I keep a spare costume there, and a spare communicator for the team.

It’s all very James Bond, and I love it! Oh where was I? Anyway I opened up the hidden compartment, got the communicator, and slid it into my ear. There was a brief slurp sound as it nestled into my ear and I listened for any chatter even as I began to drive towards the bakery with the cake.
“Check check check,” I announced as I drove, “Radio Free Pogo of the New Samaritans on the comm. Thanks for joining my podcast, where we’ll be talking cake walks and open talks. I’m on my incog-neato to grab a cake for the lucky bride and groom to be as agreed. If you’re enjoying the show, give me a call. Our number is 1-800- where the heck is everyone?”

I expected Mabel to respond, even though she’s no longer wired into everything so intimately as before, she was still in the city and that meant she was never really without her connection to us in this close a proximity especially. But there was no response from her. Weird, even if she were with someone, Mabel can multitask like nobody’s business and have several conversations going on at once, at least on this device.

In fact, I wasn't getting much of a response from anyone. The brain-weasels of anxiety were rising up to attack my spiritual butterflies of justice. I hit the gas pedal without even thinking about it. The faster I got the cake, the sooner I could get it delivered to the base for cold storage until it was needed.
The lack of response was ridiculous, there were two and a half teams of superheroes in the city right now, and a lot of them had access to our com line. I was tempted to turn the car towards the base and go there in case it was under attack. Some paranoid part of my mind tried to think of what I’d done to earn some kind of shunning from the others. I hate being shunned. The silent treatment drove me crazy when I was a kid. If you asked me what my nightmare power would be? It would be to be invisible and inaudible. I don’t think I’m a vainglorious attention seeker, others can have the limelight, but I sure do hate being left in the proverbial dark.

But I made a promise, and I try to keep those. So, I decided to stick to the cake retrieval plan. After finally achieving victory over my old enemy, the Fellowship of Evil Red Lights, I pulled into the parking lot of the small plaza that included the cake shop. Founded in 2007, ‘Honest Cakes’ (With subtitle ‘Our Cakes really ARE a Triumph’) had a solid reputation for quality, and more importantly in the superhero business, asking no questions beyond what type of cake you wanted. The New Samaritans had used them on and off before. Mind you, almost always in their secret identities, but the point is, these guys didn’t raise an eyebrow if you asked them for a cake with the words ‘Rot in Jail forever’ for some villain you finally put away.

Consequently, their discretion and creativity had also won them a steady customer base among the LGBTQ+ community, so there’s that!

Earpiece still inserted, I walked into Honest Cakes armed with my confirmation number and a smile. The only one at the counter was a laid back looking man wearing an apron that said ‘Honest Cakes’ over another shirt with some kind of old My Little Pony novelty shirt. He had a kindly smile and facial hair that had gone past five O clock shadow but I wouldn’t call it a beard. It was hard to place his age, he could have been anywhere from twenty six to thirty three.
His name tag said ‘Ted’ so I went with that.

“Hi, Ted? I’m here to pick up a cake?” Then I realized how little that narrowed it down given his line of work, “I mean, of course I’m here for a cake, that’s what you guys make. Oh wait,” I realized, “Of course, you also make cupcakes and pies, so sorry, didn’t mean to make it sound like you guys aren’t diverse, it’s just your cakes are really good and in your store name and I realize that just telling you I’m here for a cake pick up isn’t going to help you very much and I’m sorry about that.”

Aaaand I realized I still hadn’t said anything helpful.
“I’m having a very worrisome day,” I muttered as an equally less than helpful addendum.

“Hey,” Ted shrugged, gently, sounding incredibly relaxed, “I feel that. I had to pill Emperor Norton this morning, and not the fun kind. Y’know? Vet says its good for him, but now? He’s not talking to me. Very stressful to have a bro mad at you, right?”
Despite his concerns for his own shunning, I was a bit in awe at how at ease he sounded when he explained it. I’d met Buddhist monks that would have envied this level of casual zen Ted was exuding. He seemed truly aware of the ebbs and flows of life around him and willing to coast along serenely with a wisdom few possessed.
 
Or he was stoned. Possibly stoned.
 
“I take it, Emperor Norton is your cat?” I inquired, curious despite my aforementioned concerns and the cake mission in hand.
“Well,” Ted chuckled lazily, “Only in that I’m also his human. Yeah, you wanna see pictures of him?”
 
Did I want to see pictures of his cat? Despite the fact I was in my mind mannered (but also feisty and self assured) secret identity of a young Chinese-American Gal on the go, I was Pogo! I was a super-heroine, one on a mission no less, who needed to make a crucial pick up and delivery that others were relying on me on, even as, for all I knew, one or more of my team mates could be secretly in danger. And one of those at risk? My hot Canadian boyfriend! Did I have time to waste looking over some guy’s cat pictures?
 
“You bet I would!” I said, grateful for the distraction from my stress and worry. Also, come on, CAT PICTURES!!!
 
Emperor Norton, it turned out, was a Silver Tabby with ‘tude and very photogenic by feline standards. I oohed and awed for a bit, as Ted went on about his little furry buddy’s mannerisms and more.
“…and that's why I suspect he and I get along despite our political differences,” Ted finished up.
“He’s wonderful,” I assured him, then I realized it was time to get back to the tasks at hand, “Would a confirmation number help?”
“Oh sure,” Ted said, “Lay it on me.”
I gave him the number, he gave me the cake, and Ted was such a sweetie he even helped me load it up for maximum safety in the car.
 
“Thanks, Ted. My regards to the Emperor, don’t you worry, he still is your brah, and you’re looking after him. Sometimes we have to be firm with our loved ones about what is needed to keep them from greater harm. That’s not a failing on your part that it’s so, it’s just .. part of life.”
Ted nodded, “You’re right, you’re right. Just, I worry, you know?” He said though his expression was one who wouldn’t be worried if a gang war broke out near his ovens.
“I know,” I said gently, and backed the car up and started to head out. Sometimes folks know the answers already but they need to hear it from someone else. Other times they’re blind and deaf to the facts of things, not from malice, but because they take too much on their own shoulders.
 
My, but those folks can be frustrating to deal with.
 
(TBC)

And Hildegard of Bingen. She invented her own alphabet & language, centuries before Tolkien…  (who was also Catholic.)

"Grandpa... do you think you can read it for me again tomorrow?"
 
"As you wish."

New York State of Mind
 
This mentalist is the third newbie and is having to be instructed in how to be responsible with their powers. She chafes at this but was read the riot act by Tec, Citymaster and Manhattan Skyline for endangering herself and others. She wants to fly like Skydancer and Skyline but cannot. The veterans are trying to get her to be subtle with her powers for example backing up Skyline's powers or merely suggesting that something is a better course of action to an opponent. Saul is guiding her through the mundane showing her how that builds to a solution as something flash can lead to an entire case collapsing.
She is competing with Skydancer for attention as they are the only two women in the team. She has to wear protective clothing as she has no force fields or walls.
 
NT: Hex in the City 
MegaCorp are the backers of this team in their continued quest to raise their own profile. It has taken time to get this off the ground as witchcraft causes a knee jerk reaction COUGHSalemCOUGH. But finally the team is up and running. And their merchandising opportunities are looking good.
Minimum 3 members
At least one Caucasian member and at least one other ethnicity.
All are attractive
They also have to be able to get on with their corporate bosses.
No blatant devil worshipping magic. it annoys the religious bodies and those who promote religion. 

The movie takes place over a short time period and in that time, she gets teleported at random across the universe, meets aliens for the first time and has to save the world. She goes from not doing anything more serious than the events of Ms. Marvel to having to make hard choices with the lives of thousands of people and face off against a villain with the power to break reality. In the aftermath, she begins to form her own super team. So, no, her basic personality doesn't change, but she goes through plenty of growth. The movie isn't flawless but the characters are on point.

I hate surprises.
I hate things done 'for me' without consulting me.
 
And I absolutely resent that despite the fact some folks should KNOW this, I'm going to end up looking like the bad guy.

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
(continued)
Tentatively, I approached Grandmother’s room and then, managing to settle things on one arm long enough to knock with a freehand “Grandma? I have your tea.”
 
Her response was in Cantonese, which she spoke beautifully, <”Caihong? Ah yes, my tea. Is it in my favorite cups?”>
“Yes,”I said in English, though I know she would prefer if I used Mandarin more, if only to stay in practice. Its just, my Cantonese is terrible and I really wasn’t in the mood to get a lecture about how I neglected my heritage or whatever. I love my grandma, but some days it seems I just can’t do anything right in her eyes.
Or maybe that’s just a child’s insecurity and now that I was an adult it was time to just hand the tea over and not worry about her finding everything wrong in me.
 
She took a sip from the cup, now in her frail looking hands, then made a face, “A bit cold.”
 
I eyed the steam still coming out of it, sure not a lot, but what did she want me to do? Arrange for third degree burns?
“Should I take it back?” I offered. I didn’t mean it in a snarky way.
That got me a sharp look, “I’m not done with it yet.”
 
I shrank back. Which is stupid because I’m a superhero and I’ve fought aliens and supervillains and terrorists and more but here I am shrinking back because my grandmother isn’t approving of me.
 
“Don’t flinch,” My grandmother tutted and took another drink before saying, “How is my garden?”
 
That perked me up, grandmother’s garden was small but very pretty, with so many flowers of so many types. While father had his doubts about it’s use, grandmother had used her considerable authority to make sure we had one to be proud of. It took time, effort, and work, but it was one of the things that cheered her up.
“Well, it’s not the full blooming season, but what we have looks great, and …”
“What do you mean it is not the full blooming season?” She looked towards the window, eyes straining, “It’s spring.”
 
I bit my lip, “No, grandma, it’s winter still. But as this is California, it’s still very nice and we …” As I tried to ease her confusion, I saw the tea cup start to drop from her hands. She had forgotten it was there.
My powers may seem erratic to some, and they are I guess, but I’ve practiced a lot and gotten a lot more athletic than I look. I shot my hand out just in time to keep the tea from spilling out and clasped the cup.
That was close!
 
Grandmother got up to her feet, not even noticing the near spill, and with that lurching gait that had plagued her more and more lately, she made her way to the window to move the curtains aside. Costa Sagrado has one of those slices of California that is the envy of other states when it comes to enjoying gentle winters. Still, she could see enough of her garden from the window to see for herself that the full bloom of spring was not here yet.
It really is a lovely garden in any season, the family works hard to make sure of that. It almost always makes grandma smile.
 
Now was not one of those times. She gazed at it with a small pensive frown, and in the light, she looked even older. Making sure the tray was okay and not likely to be knocked over, I moved to her side.
“It’s winter,” She observed, “How can it be winter? Wasn’t it winter last…” She shook her head, then turned to find me there, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. The garden looks good… for Winter.”
“It does,” I nodded so rapidly my head probably looked like it was going to pop off, “And it will be even more glorious in Spring. It’s going to be a good year,” I realized I was doing it again. I was babbling. I get like that. I know, I know it’s irritating. I get on others folks nerves, most folks anyway but I mean well, “I can tell, lots of good things are happening already. Why I’ve even get to go to a wedding.”
 
At that grandma turned to me, and gave a look of concern, “You’re too young to get married. Who put this idea in your head? Where’s my cane? I want to talk to them.”
 
The way she stressed the word talk when she asked for her cane made me realize I might not be the only family member comfortable with brute force if there was a lesson to be learned.
 
I held out my hands in a classic placating gesture, or maybe it was the sign for ‘don’t shoot?’ either way, “Not me, Grandmother, not me. I’m not getting married. I’ll just be attending. I do have a nice dress though. And I even offered to pick up the cake.”
 
As soon as my mouth said it, my brain set out an alarm reminding me that the mouth actually knew what it was talking about. Since the brain kept more detailed files than my mouth, I also realized today was the day I was supposed to get the cake.
It was a big responsibility! You see, there was more than one wedding, in a sense, because Caleb and Ariana had the secret identity one, and the superhero one. And I was supposed to fetch the cake for one of them. Today!
 
I needed to tell grandma that I had to go. Wait, mom wanted me to talk to her for a bit and stay with her. I needed to get one of my sibs to handle this. Wait, sis would have her nose so deep in her tablet kidnappers could STEAL grandma and she’d not notice, and I haven’t been too impressed with my brother of late. Besides they had other projects now that mama had used their full names.
 
An idea occurred to me, and I pulled out my phone and texted my boyfriend.
TXT: Hey babe, can you help me out with a Cake retrieval? I am kind of stuck.
Then the response… didn’t come.
 
That wasn’t a good sign. Aspirant, his hero name, is pretty prompt because he knows that while I am a grown woman now, I still read way too much wrong into a slow text response. Of course, logically I knew that everything was probably just fine. He was just busy with one thing or another. Maybe he was in the shower. Maybe he was helping set up some bachelor party with the guys of the team, though like me he wasn’t old enough to drink.
Or maybe my Canadian Cutie was in a desperate battle for his life against some crazed super-villain, alone, stranded, without back up? What if he left his blaster behind and was facing a giant telepathy proof killer robot? What if he was strapped to a train track with five other people, while an evil philosopher practiced cruel ethical experiments on some hapless bystander forcing them to choose who would live, and who would die?
 
“The fiend,” and only then did I realize I had muttered that aloud. Darn my eternally flapping mouth!
 
And why don’t people in those tests ever just call for a superhero to save EVERYONE? It’s the 21st Century, 911 will get you through to the nearest recognized superhero team if they don’t have their own contact info made public in the first place. Geez!
My grandmother was looking at me. She had her focus back. That was good. The bad? She was using that focus to give me that ‘what is wrong with you, girl?” look again.
“Caihong, why is someone a fiend for making you wear a dress and having you get cake?”
I suppose, given her own lack of telepathy, that was a legitimate logical leap on her part. I squirmed a bit, and fought the urge to look at my shoes, “Well, actually Grandmother I… I have to pick up the cake today for a friend. I practically begged them to make me a part of it, to let me help, and they said I could pick up the cake and I…”
 
 
“Do you need to go now?” My Grandmother arched a brow. She cut me off, but to be fair, a lot of people do that. Something about getting a word in edgewise or needing a pause between sentences so it could be a two way conversation.
“Actually?” I took a breath then answered, “Yes. But I don’t want to leave you alone or anything.”
My grandmother looked at me, “We have a decently sized family, Caihong,” her voice gentled, “I am sure that someone will check on me again shortly. Go. A promise should be kept.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said. Honestly, there is nothing in my culture that says I have to bob my head like a bobblehead toy, it’s just my own habit when dealing with my elder family members.
“Though you do vanish at the oddest times. It can be rude, you know?” She arched a brow.
“Sorry, Grandma,” I winced.
“Mmm, take the tea with you, I’m done with it for now,” She dismissed me and looked out at her garden.
 
I gathered the saucer and cup up, and started to head out. As I closed the door to her bedroom, I swore I could hear her say.
“Winter? Again?”
 
I got some dirty looks from my sister as I put the cup and saucer on the kitchen counter to deal with while she washed the dishes. It looked like mom had the pork all cooking now though I didn’t see her here at this moment.
“Tell mama I had to go out and Grandmother was okay with it,” I said then added, “Please?”
 
“Not sure why I should. How come you get to go out and see your boyfriend willy-nilly while I get treated like the house slave and can’t even see mine?” She said in a waspish tone.
 
I put a hand on my hip, in the universal sign of big sisterhood about to unload some truths, “Gee, I don’t know, because I’m two years older than you and just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean you get the same bennies as soon as I prove myself trustworthy? Maybe because mom and dad know about how MUCH you’re sharing on the phone of yours in those texts between you?”
 
“You’re spying on me?” She gasped.
 
“No, you just suck that much at keeping secrets. Also, I have A boyfriend, maybe it will fall apart, I bet it won’t, but you don’t have a boyfriend. You have boyfriends, plural, one this week, then another that week, so let’s not pretend your romances are just as solid or serious. And as for ‘house slave’? Seriously? Mama does about 70% of the work in this house. I do another twenty, and you and bro? You’re in a contest to see who can do the least for the remaining 10% percent. THAT’s why you can actually bear the burden of passing on a lousy message that I’m out.”
 
I shouldn’t have raised my voice to her. I shouldn’t have snapped back. I don’t do it, not often, at least I don’t think I do? This worked to my advantage as her mouth fell open in shock.
 
I wanted to apologize. I wanted to assure her that I was just concerned about her being taken advantage of, not that I thought she was a sleezeball. I wanted to explain grandmother, who had always intimidated me a bit, though I love her, was now scaring me, because I could feel she was slipping away. And I wanted to explain mama could feel it too, and wasn’t sure what to do about it. How she felt overwhelmed.
 
And I wanted to tell her that yes, I knew that while I did a lot of chores around here, I had also been vanishing unreliably for the last few years since I became an active superhero. I save lives! I don’t expect a reward for that, but it sure would be nice to just tell her to shut up about my irregular schedule and pick up some freaking slack on her own! And right now, my boyfriend, who, unlike her and her boyfriends, I actually knew the birthday of, and favorite color, and favorite book, and and and…. He could be in a fight that was lethal!
 
But as big a motormouth I was, I knew my sister. She wasn’t all bad, but she also would try to turn any knowledge of superheroes into tiktok hits or the like for five minutes of fame even if it brought all sorts of trouble to our family.
So while she was stunned, I whirled on my heels, grabbed the keys to the car, and headed out!
And still no response on the text!
*** (TBC)

Eel is a HERO after my own heart.   You write an extremely believable story of a Super Hero.

If you think it's needful, the old tranq gun is loaded and at the ready.

Thank you for the like. I have a dependence complication on them (Once every 5 posts at LEAST, or I take an EGO drain)
 

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
 
Old people are everywhere. From the 'now on their decline' thirty year olds, to the truly wizened of forty five and beyond; you’ll find them. And, if you’re a Chinese American woman of the much younger age of nearly nineteen? Your elders will ALL think they’ve got the right to boss you around.
“Caihong!” My mother called out her voice somehow carving through three walls to reach my ears. Now she really did have the right to boss me around, “Are you done with your chores?”
 
Fortunately, I had an answer, “Yes, mama,” one thing I’ve got is energy, energy to burn, ask anyone and they’ll tell you I keep going and going and just don’t tire out though maybe that’s just in comparison to others because sometimes, just sometimes mind, I find out if I talk to older people for a mere twenty minutes or so and they start to look very tired indeed, “I got my list done!” I had a list, my own creation so I could keep ahead of my share of the various small unimportant to get them out of the way so I could focus on my true calling: Fighting crime!
 
I’m Pogo, bouncing bringer of justice and member of the New Samaritans! I inspire dread in the criminal scum, the villainous rogues, the slimeballs of… oh I can’t say that. Slime is a friend and ally, sure he smells terrible and he’s gross to watch but he’s a hero! Oh my god I’m so insensitive at times. Just because he’s a liquid-american, I shouldn’t discount him like that and it’s just rude. Wait, did Slime ever become a citizen? He’s an alien after all, not like the racist way of saying alien, I mean he’s actually from outer space. Maybe I should call him an extra-terrestrial expat? A Galactic citizen? I never asked Slime’s preferred identification. Wow, that is really insensitive of me!! I needed to find him and get this sorted, but of course, he wasn’t always easy to find. I would do it! I would comb the streets of the city! I would not rest, I would not stop, until I had made sure that…
 
“Caihong!” Oh right, I was talking to my mom, had she said something while I went down that train of thought? Oops.
 
“Yes, Mama, I finished my list,” I repeated, hoping she just hadn’t heard, and I hadn’t missed something else she said.
 
No such luck.
 
“I KNOW that, Caihong,” Mother tutted. How the heck do old people tut all the way across the house like that? At least moms. Now THAT is a crazy weird super power. Kind of like her immense guilt attack where she just looks at me and shakes her head slowly with disappointment. Gah, that just cuts right through every defense I’ve got: so annoying!
 
She went on, “Bring this tea to your grandmother before it gets cold. My hands are full.”
 
“Yes, mama,” And I moved through the halls of our house, the often crowded halls.
 
Nothing like siblings to make you think maybe a One Child Policy in the old motherland wasn’t a bad idea. One of my sisters was glued to her phone, as usual, probably flirting with her latest boyfriend. Not that I had room to judge, I was in a pretty serious relationship myself, well, serious by my standards, probably pretty tame by other girls my age. Still, I didn’t know if I liked her latest crush who had been kind of pushy from the look of the few texts I peeked. She was too young for that if anyone asked me, of course no one did.
“One side, please,” I said moving by. She didn’t budge. Why did this ‘respect your elders’ stuff only work one way? I squeezed through.
 
I nearly tripped over my brother’s socks that he left in the hallway.. again! I kicked them into his room, the door of which was open enough to do so.
“Hey!” His voice came out annoyed.
“Stop leaving them in the hallway,” I huffed.
“if it bothers you, why don’t you do my laundry and help me out?” His voice was smug.
 
I peeked in to shoot him a look, “We’re all victims of the Patriarchy to some degree, but you’re more like a collaborator, and collaborators get shot when the revolution comes. Just saying.” My voice was sing song as I went on down the hall towards the kitchen.
Obviously I would never shoot my family. But he actually thought I might do HIS laundry, so who was the one deeper in the land of make believe? Not this girl, that’s for sure. My brother was trying to make some snide retort, but I tuned him out. I love the jerk, but his banter sucked. That was yet another reason why he’d never be a superhero! That plus his pro-patriarchy behavior, and lack of costume fashion sense, and, of course, the whole ‘no powers’ thing.
 
Finally I got to the kitchen. My family kitchen is a magical place. My grandmother thinks I’m not traditional enough and I guess I’m not. My Cantonese is terrible, for example. But even I was a bit in awe at all the cool old stuff decorating the kitchen or utensils waiting to be used. A lot of these had been in my family for generations! There were doodads to bring good luck, and pots for practical cooking. But among the most precious things was the tea cups reserved for my grandmother. They went all the way back to the expansion of the old west. That’s right, some folks in my family line had helped connect the eastern and western halves of a still very young United States by rail.
 
Related to that, I have a grand uncle who acts like the only English he knows is “You’re welcome” which is what he says to every white person he meets for the first time. He knows more English than that, of course, but he gets a kick out of it. Grandmother finds it childish. He just sticks his tongue out.
 
I guess siblings driving you crazy happens to every generation.
 
Oh, where was I? Oh right, the tea set. They were beautiful. Patterns had been gracefully crafted into the elegant material. There were symbols for both home and travel in there, a sign of the long journeys taken by many of my family to find a new home where we could prosper. Grandmother had been very fussy about anyone else getting to drink from this tea set.
 
She’s very superstitious and was afraid if someone drank from them while too young, they would be driven to travel and try crazy things before finally settling down like our ancestors did when they came to America. She absolutely forbade anyone from drinking from it until they were 18 years old.
I stole a sip from one when she wasn’t looking when I was seven and never told her.
If I were as superstitious as she, I’d think that’s how I got my bouncing field and my life as a superhero. But frankly, I never was as into the study of ancestral mysticism as she hoped I’d be. It was a silly girlish act of rebellion, nothing more. It was the forbidden, and thus the best tea I’d ever tasted.
 
“Here, Mama,” I announced myself dutifully and grabbed the tea set, “Sorry I was late. Had to run the gauntlet.”
 
“Thank you, Caihong,” Mother replied with relief at the aid. Her hands were indeed full, and a bit bloody! It was kind of odd. My mom’s rather pretty, at least I think so. She has bright eyes and a gentle smile. The bloody hands contrasted with that in a way that most would find creepy.
 
“That’s a lot of pork,” I observed. Stating the obvious is one of my many talents, “You should get one of us to help you with the cooking, mama.”
 
“I take it your siblings are NOT tending to their studies like they said they were?” She arched a brow. She didn’t seem that upset, or surprised.
 
I winced, “Mama, you know how when I was younger they thought I was a tattletale, a squealer, a snitch, a blabbermouth…”
 
Mom tutted, “I’ll take that as a yes. Go to your grandmother now, and indulge her humors,” More gently, “She’s having trouble lately, Caihong. She would never admit to her pain or confusion, but it shows. I know you don’t like her lectures, but I want you to know she does them out of love. Her discomfort may make them a bit worse. And I am sorry.”
 
“Mama, you don’t need to apologize,” I started to say, but she shook her head and made a zip motion with a bloody finger. Mama is one of the few folks who seems to be able to cut me off while I start up. Ask anyone, I’m a babbler, I can’t help it. Thoughts enter my head and then they have little thought babies and soon my brain has a whole nation of thoughts and they’re all very loud. Then to quiet them I just have to rattle them out through my mouth and that’s how I lose friends.
 
But my mother had a gift for helping me reign it in.
 
“But I do,” She said, “You are a good daughter. A good grand daughter. Yes, you vanish at odd hours, yes you are often late for events. And I confess, I had my doubts about your boyfriend, but I’ve been placated, mostly. But you give your everything to everyone and everything you love, and you love your family very much. You are a helper, and I am proud of you. But I am the daughter in law with a daughter’s duties, not you, and it is unfair of me to lean on you so much when it comes to her.”
 
If mother’s skull had split open and four great white cranes had stepped out, I’m not sure I would have been more surprised. Wait, was she saying I was the responsible one? I guess I was, but I never felt like it. I mean, how much did my siblings suck that I got saddled with that one? I thought of all the times I’d ducked out to go fighting crime. I remembered every moment I lied to their faces to make a cover story. It was to save lives, but it was still a lie.
 
I should be overjoyed at the praise but instead my belly knotted a little. I didn’t feel like the good daughter. I felt like I was, at best, the one who put on a good show. Heck, I hoped to go to Canada in a few years. Who would help mom then? Who would..
“The tea’s getting cold,” My mother motioned.
 
If mama hoped to shoo me off before I could protest, she had severely neglected my ability to move and talk at the same time. Taking the tea set up carefully I turned but also talked, “You’re a great mother, and a good daughter in law. You’re always there for us, and the fact you might need help now and then doesn’t mean you failed, it means you’re human. Even superheroes need a team, mama, and they have like superpowers, though some have amazing kinetic powers and others are stuck with water-breathing, they all chip in. That’s how they win! And that’s how families win too. I have a wedding to be at this week, but after that we’re going to talk about how you work too hard when you’ve got THREE healthy grown up children to assist you.”
 
Rather than looking guilty or sad, or even mad I was lipping off and telling her how wrong she as, mom looked amused. Like she just thought I was the cutest most delightful thing in the world. So annoying “I mean it!” I said a bit less calm about it than I meant to.
She reigned in that expression, but the gentleness remained, “I know you do. Go on, my CaiCai. I’ll put your siblings to work. Even it is hard to picture any of us in capes.”
 
I could feel the blush rudely disobeying my mental orders to stay off my cheeks. Mother hadn’t called me Cai Cai in quite a long time. Bobbing my head, I turned and took the tea set in my hands on my way to my grandmother.
Once again, my mother’s voice pierced the barriers of the walls summoning my sister and brother to get into the kitchen NOW and stop goofing off!
I could hear them scramble to attend. Good thing. If they brushed mama off, I’d have made their lives hell. Such is the danger of arousing a dark vigilante’s furious wrathful..err wrath!
 
 
(TBC)

Bravo! Encore! Suggoi! Hen How! Whoot!

Hermit have hit 25,000! The half way mark! PUNY NANOWRIMO! YOU SEEK TO CHALLENGE HERMIT?
Rarh! Hermit care nothing for Plot! Hermit no need grammar! Hermit no kare spellin!
No, Hermit make WORD THINGS! HE MAKE WORD THINGS GO!
 
*storms off to desert mesa amid the wreckage and debris of the English language*
 
 

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
 
Old people are everywhere. From the 'now on their decline' thirty year olds, to the truly wizened of forty five and beyond; you’ll find them. And, if you’re a Chinese American woman of the much younger age of nearly nineteen? Your elders will ALL think they’ve got the right to boss you around.
“Caihong!” My mother called out her voice somehow carving through three walls to reach my ears. Now she really did have the right to boss me around, “Are you done with your chores?”
 
Fortunately, I had an answer, “Yes, mama,” one thing I’ve got is energy, energy to burn, ask anyone and they’ll tell you I keep going and going and just don’t tire out though maybe that’s just in comparison to others because sometimes, just sometimes mind, I find out if I talk to older people for a mere twenty minutes or so and they start to look very tired indeed, “I got my list done!” I had a list, my own creation so I could keep ahead of my share of the various small unimportant to get them out of the way so I could focus on my true calling: Fighting crime!
 
I’m Pogo, bouncing bringer of justice and member of the New Samaritans! I inspire dread in the criminal scum, the villainous rogues, the slimeballs of… oh I can’t say that. Slime is a friend and ally, sure he smells terrible and he’s gross to watch but he’s a hero! Oh my god I’m so insensitive at times. Just because he’s a liquid-american, I shouldn’t discount him like that and it’s just rude. Wait, did Slime ever become a citizen? He’s an alien after all, not like the racist way of saying alien, I mean he’s actually from outer space. Maybe I should call him an extra-terrestrial expat? A Galactic citizen? I never asked Slime’s preferred identification. Wow, that is really insensitive of me!! I needed to find him and get this sorted, but of course, he wasn’t always easy to find. I would do it! I would comb the streets of the city! I would not rest, I would not stop, until I had made sure that…
 
“Caihong!” Oh right, I was talking to my mom, had she said something while I went down that train of thought? Oops.
 
“Yes, Mama, I finished my list,” I repeated, hoping she just hadn’t heard, and I hadn’t missed something else she said.
 
No such luck.
 
“I KNOW that, Caihong,” Mother tutted. How the heck do old people tut all the way across the house like that? At least moms. Now THAT is a crazy weird super power. Kind of like her immense guilt attack where she just looks at me and shakes her head slowly with disappointment. Gah, that just cuts right through every defense I’ve got: so annoying!
 
She went on, “Bring this tea to your grandmother before it gets cold. My hands are full.”
 
“Yes, mama,” And I moved through the halls of our house, the often crowded halls.
 
Nothing like siblings to make you think maybe a One Child Policy in the old motherland wasn’t a bad idea. One of my sisters was glued to her phone, as usual, probably flirting with her latest boyfriend. Not that I had room to judge, I was in a pretty serious relationship myself, well, serious by my standards, probably pretty tame by other girls my age. Still, I didn’t know if I liked her latest crush who had been kind of pushy from the look of the few texts I peeked. She was too young for that if anyone asked me, of course no one did.
“One side, please,” I said moving by. She didn’t budge. Why did this ‘respect your elders’ stuff only work one way? I squeezed through.
 
I nearly tripped over my brother’s socks that he left in the hallway.. again! I kicked them into his room, the door of which was open enough to do so.
“Hey!” His voice came out annoyed.
“Stop leaving them in the hallway,” I huffed.
“if it bothers you, why don’t you do my laundry and help me out?” His voice was smug.
 
I peeked in to shoot him a look, “We’re all victims of the Patriarchy to some degree, but you’re more like a collaborator, and collaborators get shot when the revolution comes. Just saying.” My voice was sing song as I went on down the hall towards the kitchen.
Obviously I would never shoot my family. But he actually thought I might do HIS laundry, so who was the one deeper in the land of make believe? Not this girl, that’s for sure. My brother was trying to make some snide retort, but I tuned him out. I love the jerk, but his banter sucked. That was yet another reason why he’d never be a superhero! That plus his pro-patriarchy behavior, and lack of costume fashion sense, and, of course, the whole ‘no powers’ thing.
 
Finally I got to the kitchen. My family kitchen is a magical place. My grandmother thinks I’m not traditional enough and I guess I’m not. My Cantonese is terrible, for example. But even I was a bit in awe at all the cool old stuff decorating the kitchen or utensils waiting to be used. A lot of these had been in my family for generations! There were doodads to bring good luck, and pots for practical cooking. But among the most precious things was the tea cups reserved for my grandmother. They went all the way back to the expansion of the old west. That’s right, some folks in my family line had helped connect the eastern and western halves of a still very young United States by rail.
 
Related to that, I have a grand uncle who acts like the only English he knows is “You’re welcome” which is what he says to every white person he meets for the first time. He knows more English than that, of course, but he gets a kick out of it. Grandmother finds it childish. He just sticks his tongue out.
 
I guess siblings driving you crazy happens to every generation.
 
Oh, where was I? Oh right, the tea set. They were beautiful. Patterns had been gracefully crafted into the elegant material. There were symbols for both home and travel in there, a sign of the long journeys taken by many of my family to find a new home where we could prosper. Grandmother had been very fussy about anyone else getting to drink from this tea set.
 
She’s very superstitious and was afraid if someone drank from them while too young, they would be driven to travel and try crazy things before finally settling down like our ancestors did when they came to America. She absolutely forbade anyone from drinking from it until they were 18 years old.
I stole a sip from one when she wasn’t looking when I was seven and never told her.
If I were as superstitious as she, I’d think that’s how I got my bouncing field and my life as a superhero. But frankly, I never was as into the study of ancestral mysticism as she hoped I’d be. It was a silly girlish act of rebellion, nothing more. It was the forbidden, and thus the best tea I’d ever tasted.
 
“Here, Mama,” I announced myself dutifully and grabbed the tea set, “Sorry I was late. Had to run the gauntlet.”
 
“Thank you, Caihong,” Mother replied with relief at the aid. Her hands were indeed full, and a bit bloody! It was kind of odd. My mom’s rather pretty, at least I think so. She has bright eyes and a gentle smile. The bloody hands contrasted with that in a way that most would find creepy.
 
“That’s a lot of pork,” I observed. Stating the obvious is one of my many talents, “You should get one of us to help you with the cooking, mama.”
 
“I take it your siblings are NOT tending to their studies like they said they were?” She arched a brow. She didn’t seem that upset, or surprised.
 
I winced, “Mama, you know how when I was younger they thought I was a tattletale, a squealer, a snitch, a blabbermouth…”
 
Mom tutted, “I’ll take that as a yes. Go to your grandmother now, and indulge her humors,” More gently, “She’s having trouble lately, Caihong. She would never admit to her pain or confusion, but it shows. I know you don’t like her lectures, but I want you to know she does them out of love. Her discomfort may make them a bit worse. And I am sorry.”
 
“Mama, you don’t need to apologize,” I started to say, but she shook her head and made a zip motion with a bloody finger. Mama is one of the few folks who seems to be able to cut me off while I start up. Ask anyone, I’m a babbler, I can’t help it. Thoughts enter my head and then they have little thought babies and soon my brain has a whole nation of thoughts and they’re all very loud. Then to quiet them I just have to rattle them out through my mouth and that’s how I lose friends.
 
But my mother had a gift for helping me reign it in.
 
“But I do,” She said, “You are a good daughter. A good grand daughter. Yes, you vanish at odd hours, yes you are often late for events. And I confess, I had my doubts about your boyfriend, but I’ve been placated, mostly. But you give your everything to everyone and everything you love, and you love your family very much. You are a helper, and I am proud of you. But I am the daughter in law with a daughter’s duties, not you, and it is unfair of me to lean on you so much when it comes to her.”
 
If mother’s skull had split open and four great white cranes had stepped out, I’m not sure I would have been more surprised. Wait, was she saying I was the responsible one? I guess I was, but I never felt like it. I mean, how much did my siblings suck that I got saddled with that one? I thought of all the times I’d ducked out to go fighting crime. I remembered every moment I lied to their faces to make a cover story. It was to save lives, but it was still a lie.
 
I should be overjoyed at the praise but instead my belly knotted a little. I didn’t feel like the good daughter. I felt like I was, at best, the one who put on a good show. Heck, I hoped to go to Canada in a few years. Who would help mom then? Who would..
“The tea’s getting cold,” My mother motioned.
 
If mama hoped to shoo me off before I could protest, she had severely neglected my ability to move and talk at the same time. Taking the tea set up carefully I turned but also talked, “You’re a great mother, and a good daughter in law. You’re always there for us, and the fact you might need help now and then doesn’t mean you failed, it means you’re human. Even superheroes need a team, mama, and they have like superpowers, though some have amazing kinetic powers and others are stuck with water-breathing, they all chip in. That’s how they win! And that’s how families win too. I have a wedding to be at this week, but after that we’re going to talk about how you work too hard when you’ve got THREE healthy grown up children to assist you.”
 
Rather than looking guilty or sad, or even mad I was lipping off and telling her how wrong she as, mom looked amused. Like she just thought I was the cutest most delightful thing in the world. So annoying “I mean it!” I said a bit less calm about it than I meant to.
She reigned in that expression, but the gentleness remained, “I know you do. Go on, my CaiCai. I’ll put your siblings to work. Even it is hard to picture any of us in capes.”
 
I could feel the blush rudely disobeying my mental orders to stay off my cheeks. Mother hadn’t called me Cai Cai in quite a long time. Bobbing my head, I turned and took the tea set in my hands on my way to my grandmother.
Once again, my mother’s voice pierced the barriers of the walls summoning my sister and brother to get into the kitchen NOW and stop goofing off!
I could hear them scramble to attend. Good thing. If they brushed mama off, I’d have made their lives hell. Such is the danger of arousing a dark vigilante’s furious wrathful..err wrath!
 
 
(TBC)

Hermit have hit 25,000! The half way mark! PUNY NANOWRIMO! YOU SEEK TO CHALLENGE HERMIT?
Rarh! Hermit care nothing for Plot! Hermit no need grammar! Hermit no kare spellin!
No, Hermit make WORD THINGS! HE MAKE WORD THINGS GO!
 
*storms off to desert mesa amid the wreckage and debris of the English language*
 
 

Next time create your own language and write in that.  Hey, it worked for JRRT.

Hermit have hit 25,000! The half way mark! PUNY NANOWRIMO! YOU SEEK TO CHALLENGE HERMIT?
Rarh! Hermit care nothing for Plot! Hermit no need grammar! Hermit no kare spellin!
No, Hermit make WORD THINGS! HE MAKE WORD THINGS GO!
 
*storms off to desert mesa amid the wreckage and debris of the English language*
 
 

I have finished one of my 'short stories' more or less (obviously a rough draft, so I'm not sure how readable it is). I'm currently weaving between two more, back and forth. This is where a plot would really come in handy. One I meant for a bit of overdramatic superhero action has turned into a bit more personal than I expected. The other is a challenge in a truly alien POV.
 
All total, I have about 14,500