#childhood is for testing boundaries and doing things you can't get away with as an adult

[beggars-opera]

"Teenagers are dumb" not as a pejorative but as a term of endearment, because I remember that I was once a teenager and I was also so, so dumb

[professortennant]

14! Sounds very fun and cute

14. when one of them has never had a proper birthday party for whatever reason, and their lover makes it their mission to give them the best day ever, followed by “you didn’t have to do all this for me. just being with you is enough.” “i know. but i thought you deserved ?’’ and their lover smiles, a kiss is shared 

i tweaked the prompt a smidge, it’s more ~inspired by

He knows she's got some hang ups about celebrations. On a teltak headed for Netu all those years ago, he'd slid down the wall to sit beside her while she worked to calm shaking hands, thoughts trapped in the past.

"Cookies," she tells him, voice quavering. "I was baking cookies for my mom's birthday that weekend when my dad told me she was gone."

"Ah." He doesn't know what to say--it doesn't feel like the right moment to share his own hangups about water pistols and grilling hamburgers some days because those are what preceded the loss of Charlie. Instead, he lets his knees fall apart just a little, just enough that it could be an accident, and rest against hers.

She presses back and he knows she understands it's all he can do right now. She rubs a hand over her face, scrubs at it like she can erase the thoughts in her head, before turning to face him. "I haven't really been able to do birthdays after that, not mine or Mark's or anyone's. Not that dad was ever--"

Sam sighs, stopping herself. "It doesn't matter now."

Jack nods, lips pursed, caught between the knowledge of what it is to be a father hurting for your own losses, your own child and his affection for the woman in front of him and the scars of childhood pain.

"I make a pretty mean chocolate cake," he says suddenly, not quite looking at her. He hasn't quite figured out how to get a hold on his changing feelings for his second-in-command and he doesn't want her to get the wrong--or right--idea. She sits up a little, eyes clearer, knee pressing back into his slightly.

"Yeah?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"Maybe birthdays wouldn't be so bad if I didn't do the baking."

This time he can and does face her because teasing Samantha Carter about her cooking is low-hanging fruit. She's burned water off-world and he hadn't even known that was possible. "Well, I think a lot of occasions would be better if we just left you out of the kitchen, Carter."

The half-smile she hides behind a ducked head is enough to let him know she's okay, that they'll be okay. They just need to get through this mission, rescue dad, and make cake.

Easy.

They don't make cake after Netu, though. Sam disappears to Alaska with her father for a week and he disappears to his cabin and tells himself it's pointless to do so, but he stocks his cabinets with flour, sugar, cocoa, and baking staples. Just in case.

They don't make cake after Edora (even though he really, really wants to bring her some cake after he realizes what she's done for him--gratitude cake, he'd call it). They don't make cake after they spend a week on an alien planet sleeping beside each other and staring at the stars, letting lines and boundaries fade gently away (it's for the best, he tells himself, neither of them is ready to...eat cake...together). He tosses the candles he'd bought for her after the zatarc tests. No point in those now. Cake and candles and everything else left inside a room in the SGC.

He can't even bring himself to ask her about wedding cake when he sees the engagement ring on her finger years later.

They continue to not make cake or go fishing or all of the other things they once told each other they'd do. It's all starting to feel like a metaphor, which in his book are only a step above a cliché.

And then--

And then she comes to his cabin with a bare ring finger and slings her duffel down onto the porch and stuffs her hands in her pockets like she doesn’t know what to say or where to go from here. He thinks about handing her a fishing pole and having her sit on the dock beside him, but changes his mind. He knows exactly what he wants to do.

Her birthday is three months away but he can’t wait that long. He hands her a beer, picks up her duffel bag over his shoulder, and tells her to follow. 

She does (and the sight of her duffel thrown atop his beside the couch sends tiny tendrils of warmth down his spine). 

“Jack--” He likes that he doesn’t have to tell her to call him that, that she knows where this is going just as much as he does. It’s never that they’ve been bad at communicating, per se. It’s just restrictions limiting how and what they communicate about that always got a little dicey. 

But her questions stop when he pulls out a bowl and a whisk and baking ingredients that may or may not be out of date. It’s not the point, though. He’ll make her a spectacular, show-stopping cake in three months if that’s what she wants. This is more than birthdays; a different celebration all together. 

“We are making a cake, Carter.” Then, “Well, I’ll make the cake. You’re on ingredient retrieval.”

“Cake?”

He nods sagely. “Cake.”

She tilts her head, searches his face and likes what she finds there: resolve, excitement, trepidation, meaning. 

“Okay then,” she agrees softly. “Cake.”

It’s a dance after that, one they’re surprisingly good at. His kitchen isn’t small, but she makes it smaller by filling in all the empty places where he’s always imagined her to be. Where she could walk around the island, she steps in closer to him instead, her shoulder brushing his. Her fingers linger on the back of his hand when she passes him the bottle of vegetable oil she’d dug out of the pantry. She leans on the counter to watch him carefully measure and level off flour and rising agent and sugar, eyes straying to the flex of his wrist and the tendons in his forearm in a way she would have stopped herself before. She wrinkles her nose at the explosion of cocoa powder and espresso granules on the counter. 

It’s a type of foreplay, he supposes--a gentle entrance into intimacy. He’s pretty sure she wouldn’t mind jumping from nothing to everything based on the way she scoops up a fingerful of batter and sucks on it thoughtfully, eyes never leave his. “It’s chalky.”

He scoffs. “It’s not cooked yet. Trust the process.”

She looks skeptical, but when he turns back around to face her after putting the cake pan into the oven, she licks the remnants of batter off her finger anyway.

They’ve got 20 minutes and he’s got nine years to catch up on. He snags her wrist in his fingers, pulls her closer and settles their joined hands against his chest, his free hand at her hip. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” she whispers, voice thick with the things unexplained and unsaid. The big things, though, the big things he knows. He brushes her hair back from her face, fingertips drifting over her jawline and against her temple. 

He rests his forehead against hers, breathes her in: sun and coconut and the faint aroma of cocoa powder from earlier. 

“We waited a long time for this cake,” she says, pressing her forehead back against his in a playful nudge before pulling away. “It better be good.” 

“I told you it would be the best,” he reminds her, hand drifting down her back. He can’t stop touching her, never ever wants to stop touching her. 

“You did,” she says thoughtfully, eyes sparkling with unshed tears, voice tinged with a little sadness, a little wistfulness. “I’m sorry I doubted.”

“No, no, hey.” He crowds against her, gathers her into a hug and tucks his head into the crook of her shoulder, his lips pressing just so against her neck. She shakes in his arms and he holds her tighter, lifting his mouth to her ear: “We got here in the end. That’s all the matters.”

She nods, nuzzles her cheek against his and wraps her arms around him tighter, swaying slightly from side to side, breathing him and his assurances in. 

(Later, they spend the weekend eating through the cake. He feeds it to her in bite-sized pieces while they’re tangled on the couch watching bad action movies from the 80s. She wraps her tongue around his fingers and sucks each crumb and oh god, he’s going to have a fetish by the end of their cabin stay. She brings the plate out to him one evening on the dock, barefoot and wearing one of his old, threadbare academy sweatshirts. They eat cake and watch the stars and listen to the ripple of water lapping against the shore. He draws the line at cake in bed. “No way, Sam, no crumbs in the bed.” She’s certain she’s changed his mind when she scoops a bit of frosting off the top of the cake and drags it in a line down his neck, her mouth working diligently at licking every last bit up.

Turns out, she’s pretty fond of some celebrations after all.)

[missusdiary]

Sep 7th. 2024

tw: mentions of abuse

soo i have recently (for a couple of months) been seriously thinking about becoming an age regressor.

a while ago i followed an age regressor who makes sure that people know that age regression is not something to be fetishized or perverted, and getting a glimpse of their experience, of the way they deal with their own trauma made me feel so seen. i just felt this relief of knowing that age regression is something that is pure and there never has to be any expectation of having to regress purely for someone's sexual fantasies. and while i do feel some people take it too far (ie. wearing diapers and shitting/pissing themselves) i do understand that everyone is different, and trauma manifests in so many ways that it's hard to pinpoint the boundary of what is acceptable.

i have known about age regression since i was like 12, and at the time i only knew of it in the sexual/bdsm/kink aspect. i had a fleeting interest in it and thought about it for myself but obviously as you grow older you realize that certain things just shouldn't be sexual period.

i understand that there are FEW legit regressors that are comfortable with regressing in a sexual setting with their trusted partners, but for the most part, it is clear to tell when something is being fetishized simply for the sake of it being taboo.

knowing this, i stopped having an interest in it all together, but over the years -even at as a child- i would always reminisce and focus on the past simply for the feeling of nostalgia.

eventually, because i was so worried about growing up -paired with the fact that i suffered multiple different traumas in a very short period of time- i really missed out on a lot of my childhood innocence and whimsy.

part of this is my fault because i would constantly try to act older than i was and be involved in things that were for older people. however, i feel the reason i did these things is because i have an old soul, and i genuinely believe that i have always been older than my actual age.

(someone get her a psychiatrist)

but seriously, i never acted like other kids, i never liked talking to other kids, i could hold a conversation with an adult about any topic at a very young age. my mom had my iq tested at the time and it was very high.

i've always felt very deeply and had complex thoughts, and having this as a child just made we want to hurry up and get older.

eventually, when i started going through puberty, i was actually forced to grow up a bit. my father had me and my sister practically raising our baby siblings. he was emotionally abusive, neglectful, and an overall horrible parent. we never knew peace when we were around him, never knew when he was going to blow up on us and tell us we were idiots, call us ungrateful bitches, or simply because he decided it; take away our freedom. my sister and i yearned for freedom. we wanted to be rid of him, we could not wait to grow up so we could finally have some peace.

we would think: "if we are being expected to act like adults, why aren't we treated as such?"

now, i am an adult, and life fucking sucks ass. being an adult is not fun, it is not full of freedom and whimsy and whatever else i thought i was missing out on as an adolescent. now i literally stay up at night wishing i could go back and do it all again, and appreciate the things i took for granted because i didn't know any better. i feel more lost and immature than i ever have. i have nothing figured out, and i wasted so much time the last couple of years doing fuck all. my anxiety is the worst it has ever been, and i'm more lonely than ever.

i just want to do it all over.

but, as we know, time machines do not exist. as much as i want to go back a just be a kid, i can't...there is a grief i can't explain attached to that sentiment.

so now, as an adult who doesn't want to be an adult, i cling to the things of my early childhood. when i'm feeling the depression more on a certain day, i watch movies i loved when i was little, i cling to my stuffed animals, i talk to myself. i pretend, just for a little while, that there are no expectations from me, i have no responsibilities, i can simply exist without the burden of feeling like i'm not doing enough.

and it's so peaceful.

truly, it is a beautiful feeling that i cannot get enough of. there is no sadness, there is no feeling of failure. there is just the bliss of being a simple human enjoying something that brings me comfort.

[unfinshedsentec]

hi sorry to bother you more if you can could you do the bi girlfriend part 2 for sanzu inui kakucho e rindou or mitsuya please if you can't no problem and have a good day.

hey anon, thank you so much for requesting! I’m so sorry it took so long. Procrastination is kicking my ass😭 Also, I wasn’t able to go Kakucho, but I did do the other characters!

I hope you enjoy anyways <3

when they have a bi! s/o part 2

part 1

characters: mitsuya, sanzu, rindou, and inui

tw: cursing, drinking, yandere-ish stuff, suggestiveness, and murder (SANZU)

Inui (aged up enough to drink)

Inui doesn’t get jealous a lot. Yes, he’s afraid of losing you, but you’ve proven more than once that he can trust you. He knows you won’t betray him and well, he truly believes that the day you betray him will be the day the world ends.

Needless to say, Inui doesn’t get jealous.

Of course, there’s the occasional wanting attention, but that’s normal. Overall, your relationship and trust you have in each other is amazing. It led to a long -term relationship!

In fact, today was your 2-year anniversary!

To celebrate, you and Inui went to {favorite singers} concert and partied for hours and hours on end.

It was probably the most fun you had since Toman. Both you and Inui were jamming out, dead-drunk, dancing with each other. Both you and him were solely there having fun together, and you gave each other all the love in the world.

Until your old-childhood friend came up to you and my god had she grown up to be HOT.

She had beautiful short black hair that framed her face perfectly. Her eyes were an entrancing shade of brown, that turned into almost caramel color when the light hit them. Her pale, glistening skin and tight shirt made you crazy on the spot.

You had never been tested like this, and boy was it tempting. But you loved and respected Inui more than anything. Of course, you were loyal, so you tried your best to stay in the clear boundaries you and Inui had set.  But, even then, you couldn’t take your eyes off her…. which Inui immediately noticed.

Unfortunately, he was well aware of hot this girl was and couldn’t take his eyes off her too, which you noticed pretty damn quickly too.

“What the hell are you looking at?!” you and Inui shouted at the same time, after your friend walked away.

“What?! She was hot!” you both say at the same time again.

After that, it was a standstill of both you and Inui starting each other down. Well, that was until you both busted out laughing.

You were practically brought to tears at the fact that you were simping for the same person. Honestly, it was ironic and probably the most unexpected thing ever. But hey, it was funny.

“Wha-I guess we have the same taste!” you yelled, holding your stomach from all the laughing.

“We sure do…. but I think we should keep her away” Inui replied, still feeling a little jealous.

“I don’t know…...I think we should have a THREESOME”

“NOOOOOOOOOO”

 Sanzu

Sanzu, being one of Bonten’s tops, as A LOT of assistants/ workers/ assassins. They are all beyond loyal and will do anything for your boyfriend

Unfortunately, being in the job they’re in, means Sanzu goes through assistant fast (they die). Basically, he hires a new assistant every day. Not that you mind, they’re all very fond of you and some actually live!

You tend to get along well with most of them. Because of that, Sanzu likes bringing you into stuff, including interviews.

Well, it just so happened that Sanzu was hiring assistants the time you went to pay him a visit. Your boyfriend was ecstatic and offered for you to join him. After all, you’re his s/o, he wanted your opinion.

You gladly sat next to him and interviewed assistants with him, most of them were pretty boring though. They flirted with your boyfriend, offered they’re skills and then proceeded to curse the both of you out when Sanzu said no.

It was, overall, pretty irritating.

Well, until the last girl walked in.

This close-to-your-age girl was probably one of the most stunning people you looked at. She had long, brown curly hair that went down to her waist and sweet olive skin. Her green eyes were captivating, so much so that when she laid eyes on you and smile, you stopped breathing. Not to mentions her rolls—she was just stunning.

She practically dragged you in. In fact, you almost wanted to kiss her right there and then because she was just so hot…. which was pretty noticeable.

Unfortunately, you’re not-so-hidden interest in the girl caught Sanzu’s attention quickly, and he was NOT very happy about it.

Sanzu ended up…well, shooting the poor girl, while smiling.

“SANZU, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

“She was taking you away from me!”

“YOU COULD’VE JUST ASKED HER TO LEAVE”

Yeah, your boyfriend is a bit of yandere so uh…I guess be careful?

 Rindou

Rindou, like Inui, isn’t the type to get jealous. He’s so calm and he trusts you so much that he never really has to think about that type of stuff. It’s just not a concern of his.

Until you crush over a celebrity.

He just really over thinks it when you simp for celebrities. You and him both aren’t sure why, but he does. Obviously, it’s not to the extent that it’s insane, he just gets a little sad when you goggle at the random person on the tv.

Well, today you were watching one of your favorite TV shows. After a couple of years of it being off the air, it finally aired again. Today happened to its premiere!

Usually when you watch tv, Rindou joins you because he’s pretty bored from being stuck inside from the pandemic. And, just like always, Rindou sat down next to you while you excitedly watched the season premiere of [favorite TV show].

You were ecstatic the whole time, and Rindou was pretty uninterested, but he still periodically looked up from his phone to see what was happening.

Well, as you were sitting on the edge of your seat looking at the tv, you suddenly gasped, and pretty loudly at that. Rindou naturally looked up to see what was happening, only to see you STARING at a hot girl on screen.

The girl was beautiful, he had to admit. She had long, brownish-black hair, her skin was a perfect mixed color, and her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown. She was tall and slender, which only made her more attractive. She really was a pretty girl.

Unfortunately, Rindou wasn’t as focused on the girl as he was you. After all, you were practically screaming over her.

“What?! What’s so exciting?!” Rindou yelled, finally getting your attention.

“What do you mean what’s so exciting?! ITS ZENDAYA”

“Who?”

“THE HOTTEST PERSON ON EARTH”

After that…well, Rindou pretty much silently freaked the fuck out.

He just suddenly stood up, turned off the Tv, and locked himself in the master bedroom without saying a word. Not long after that, he started blasting ‘jealousy jealousy’ to uh, make what he’s feeling clear.

You were baffled, I mean truly baffled. This man really just had a full-on PMS moment over you saying that Zendaya was hot. I mean, you weren’t lying, and she was a CELEBERTY crush. Your poor boyfriend definitely took that too personally.

Unfortunately, it was you who apparently made him jealous, so now you need to help get him over it…

“Rindou, love?”

“…..”

“Rindou?”

“…..”

Clearly, your boyfriend was being stubborn so now, you had to pull the trump card.

“Love, do you wanna go mess with Ran?”

“LET’S GO”

 Mitsuya

Mitsuya’s a guy whose got a lot of friends.

Something about his presence is just so warm and welcoming that people are naturally drawn to him. His kindness not only makes people like him more, but it instantly makes them adore him. He’s also an overall well-rounded person. Because this, people get attached to him quickly.

Of course, you were that way too, so much so that you actually fell in love from it. Thankfully for you, Mitsuya happened to like you a lot too, which eventually led to your now happy relationship.

Being in the relationship that you’re in with Mitsuya means that you meet A LOT of people, and make friends with a lot of people as well.

Today just happened to be one of the days that you went to meet up with Mitsuya, only to meet one of his new, close friends. And well, you were beyond entranced by her.

This girl was by far the most stunning girl you’ve ever laid eyes on.

She had shade of died blue hair, darker skin, and beautiful brown eyes. The way she moved, talked, even looked at people was almost entrancing. Not only that, but she was confident too.

She was pretty much the hottest person you had ever seen. And well you couldn’t take your eyes off someone like that!

Unfortunately, Mitsuya noticed, and well….

“Could you excuse my girlfriend and I for a minute? We need to talk” Mitsuya suddenly said, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Huh? Bu-”

“LET’S GO”

Without a moment’s waste, your boyfriend dragged you away, shocking you and the other girl. You were genuinely startled by him, and especially the pretty sour look on his face.

It was almost like…. he was jealous.

“Mitsuya?” you questioned, slightly tugging on his jacket.

“…..”

“Love?”

“….”

“Are you jealous?”

“Huh? Why would I be jealous? I have no reason to be!” Mitsuya retorted, with a fake chuckle.

“Bu- “

“I’m not jealous!”

“…. you’re really cute when you’re jealous”

Mitsuya officially stopped working after that….

//end!

masterlist|| reblogs are very appreciated <3

[lalaangeldust]

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 -

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [ 𝟏𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

[ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ] : poor reader is too sad and stressed for their own good // 3rd years // fluffy fluff fluff // comfort // crying together // FLUFF- did I already say that?

[ 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ] : you've been having a rough time lately. juggling your upcoming graduation, testing and figuring out what hero agency you want to apply to is no easy task. it is very overwhelming and insanely draining, so much so that you feel like you don't even have the energy to get out of bed. good thing your lovely boyfriend, sero's there to save your day and cheer you up with his goofy smile like always <3

[ 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ] : sero - orange // you - blue

[ 𝐦𝐲𝐤𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ] : this is very very much self indulgent. very much in my feels. i've been struggling a lot emotionally lately and this was v therapeutic :)

You open the door to your dorm sluggishly and slump your way onto your bed, letting your exhaustion get the best of you as you plop onto the mattress. You weren't even fully on it, with your body hunched over the edge, arms flung out to the sides and your legs dangling onto the floor you don't even bother to adjust to get comfortable. Instead, you just sit there still trying to fight off the pent up tears that have been building up throughout the entire day.

But try as you may, your faltering front shatters; the overwhelming feeling of defeat and utter helplessness engulfs you whole and before you can even realize it, endless streams of tears freely flow down from your cheeks and onto the sheets you have your face pathetically buried into. You clutch onto the blankets almost as if you were to let them go, you'd crumble under the pressure of your racing thoughts.

The past few weeks have been hell and you were in no way prepared to deal with the onslaught of tasks to do to prepare yourself for graduation. For the real world. Only recently has it finally hit you that you are now grown up, your childhood behind you with you rapidly moving forward and there is no way to go back. It would be an understatement to say you're scared. It would be an understatement to say you haven't even the slightest clue what you want to do with your life. You're expected to know so why don't you have it together?? Do you even want to be a hero..?-

Your door clicks open and though you can't see anything from your face being swallowed by your sheets, you feel the all too familiar presence of your boyfriend. You don't budge from where you lie, only tensing up tighter into a ball wanting nothing but to shrivel and shrink away.

"My love..?" Sero murmurs from the doorway seeing you curled on the edge of your bed. You merely whimper in response and not even a second passes when you hear Sero promptly drop something to the ground with a thud. Sounding along the lines of a grocery bag or two with items in them. He rushes to you and kneels down beside you.

"Baby, what's wrong, what happened?" he questions, his voice soft and comforting trying not to overwhelm you as he gingerly reaches out to rub your arm. You sniffle and let out a shaky breath as you try to briefly calm yourself. You slowly lift your head up to look at your worried lover, eyes red and puffy. The instant Sero sees your face, his heart shatters into pieces and his heroic instinct to protect you hits him like a ton of bricks.

You make eye contact with him but look away immediately when you see the worried look on his face, ashamed of how disheveled you feel and appear. You open your mouth to explain to Sero what happened, why you look and feel so hopeless but nothing comes out. Nothing but a choked cry as you throw your head into your hands to stifle your returning tears.

"Oh, fuck- baby please- uh, shit- is it ok if I touch you?" he stutters out, panicking, wanting to comfort you but unsure what your boundaries may be at the moment and he is completely lost in how to help you properly. You quickly nod your head, leaning into your boyfriend's direction and he wastes no time to wrap his strong arms around you, hugging you close to his body like his life depended on it.

You hide your face into his chest, losing what little control you had over yourself and you start sobbing hard against him.

"Hey, shhhh, hey it's ok, love. You're safe, you're ok. Let it all out," Hanta coos into you, cheek pressed against your head, hand running up and down your back comfortingly as he clings onto your trembling form with his other. Sero admittedly fights off his own tears from seeing you so distraught, hating how badly you're hurting right now and wanting nothing but to snatch it all away from you.

"Don't strain yourself, doll. Okay? Don't talk until you're ready," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead and he starts to softly rub the back of your ear, which is oddly comforting. You nod against him, sniffling as you cling onto his shirt.

After a moment, your sobs trickle out with no more tears left to cry and you start to feel the awful numbness that follows. You wipe your eyes with the heels of your palms as you lift your head with a long, wet sniffle, your sinuses clogged from crying so hard. Hanta gently brushed away your hands as he cups either side of your face with his and wipes away your tears with his thumbs. It doesn't prove to be very effective though, seeing as your whole face is smeared with them. With your eyes closed tight and your brows furrowed, you let out a long, shaky breath as you place your hand into one of his, squeezing it as you lean into his touch.

"Got it all out..?" Sero practically whispers, never once taking his eyes off of you. You nod pathetically against his palm, gnawing on your bottom lip as you attempt to regain control. You sniffle once again and realize that you desperately need a tissue as mucus threatens to leak out of your nose.

"I... need tissue," you whimper out.

"Of course, hun, anything you need," Hanta says, planting a kiss on your salty cheek before hesitantly rising to his feet, not wanting to leave you but his desire to get what he needs to take care of you outweighing it.

Sero then rushes to your bathroom. You hear the sink running as he shuffles around, something dropping with a loud thud and Sero cursing to himself as he continues to search around your bathroom which causes you to giggle a bit to yourself. Promptly, Sero hurries out the bathroom and back to you with a cup of water in hand, a damp rag in the other and a pack of tissues tucked under his arm.

Settling in front of you, Sero sits criss-cross and warmly invites you to sit on his lap. You crawl onto him, settling between his thighs while avoiding his gaze. You still feel a tinge of shame in the pit of your stomach for acting like that in front of him. Hanta gingerly grips your chin, tilting your head as he lifts a tissue to you your face. You pull away slightly, giving Sero a funny look as he was about to make you blow your nose, to which he softly chuckles at.

"Darling, I've changed the diapers of babies with explosive diarrhea. I think I can handle a bit of snot," he winks. You snort at his words, a feeble smile spreading on your face as you remember the sounds of Sero violently gagging through your face-time call while you cackle at the misfortune of his aunt tasking him with changing her child at their family gathering.

"There's that pretty smile~," he hums, "now, blow," Sero says with a mildly stern undertone as he presses the tissue to your nose. You hesitate, feeling a bit humiliated with how Hanta is taking care of you in a way you are in no way used to. But you give in, taking a deep breath before blowing out but feeling awkward doing so. You take the tissue from Hanta's hand to finish off clearing your nose.

Once you're finished, Sero takes the soiled paper from you and tosses it to the side, offering you another one but this time letting you blow your nose yourself. Now with a wet rag in hand, Sero holds your chin in his palm again and tenderly pats your eyes with the most gentle touch you didn't even know he was capable of. Your eyes flutter shut once again as you're comforted by the warmth of the rag washing away your salty tears and your boyfriend cradling your face in his hands.

Sero looks down at you on his lap with saddened yet loving eyes as you allow him to coddle you. Sero's glad you cried. Well- not glad you cried but glad you trust him enough to let your walls down in front of him.

"You know..." he spoke softly, "You're safe to be vulnerable with me, you shouldn't have to feel embarrassed for showing your emotions," he murmurs as he finishes off dabbing your face with the warm cloth. Your withdrawn demeanor has not gone unnoticed, Sero notices just about everything about you. He may not look it, but the guy is insanely observant. Frighteningly so.

"Mhm," you mumble, pressing your cheek against the palm that's holding you. You raise your hands to start gently caress Hanta's forearm with the pads of your fingers as you go on to speak.

"It's just- I... I've never felt safe expressing myself so I just bottle everything up... force of habit..." you snivel.

Sero rubs your cheek with his thumb, placing the damp rag down beside him before cupping the other side of your face with his free hand. Gently tilting your head up to look at him, he looks at you with kind eyes and places a tender kiss to your temple.

"I know I can't make that go away," he sighs, resting his forehead on yours, "but I want to make it clear that you should never, ever feel like you can't talk to me for any reason," he lifts his head up with a weak smile, "I'd be a pretty terrible boyfriend if I don't make you feel safe... or comfortable..." now it's your turn to place your hands on his face, cradling him in your palms.

"My love, you are anything but a terrible boyfriend. You have no idea how grateful I am for you..." you coo and Hanta melts in your arms. A stray tear trickles down his cheek, pooling at your thumb and you are quick to wipe it away.

"I- I'm sorry... It's just- I hate seeing you so sad..." he murmurs with a sniffle, "It's not that I pity you. I just- you are in no way deserving of the shit you go through and I'm angry- frustrated that I can't chase it all away for you..." he says with a shuddering breath.

Your heart clenches. Shaking your head vigorously, you burry your face into his neck and hug him close enveloping yourself in the earthy, grounding smell of his clothes.

"I'm ok, love. I promise," you whisper, tears threatening to flow out again, "I have you and that's all I need," Hanta returns your embrace, The smell of your hair products brings a comforting warmth as he holds you close and lets his cheek press against your head.

"Ok..."He sighs, caressing the back of your neck, "We can stay like this for as long as you need ok? I love you," he hums and you nod your head against him.

"I know, I love you too, Hanta," you say and Hanta smiles gently.

"Also... I brought some snacks if you want any...?" he questions, referring to the bags he dropped earlier. You pause for a moment and nod your head again.

"Snacks sound nice..." you whisper.

"Alright but um... you're gonna have to let go of me first," he chuckles.

𝒇𝒊𝒏 . ✩

"I imagine love with you feels like being lost

But knowing exactly where i am

Because anywhere with you is exactly where i should be

I'm not sure what my next love will look like

But i know we will love like we were the last two people on earth"

to the lover i have yet to find

[oswald-privileges]

ALL RIGHT BUT YOU ASKED FOR IT

Power of Three as a series is just. full of weaknesses, most of which come down to poor continuity and structure. I'm not gonna try and fix ALL of those, bc that'd be laborious as hell, but I will pick out things that I feel are the most egregious as case studies.

What Po3 does have, tho, is an absolutely shining strength in the concept of its three main characters. After twelve books of Blandly Heroic Protagonist Syndrome, Jayfeather is an absolute godsend. He's angry! He's rude! He's unhappy! He's not nice. I Love Him And He's My Son. Lionblaze has his invincible pride (hah) and emergent bloodlust, and Hollyleaf has her moral absolutism and certainty. These are good starting points for characters. Sadly, the lack of continuity undermines what could have been three really good character arcs.

So! I present to you:

HOW TO MAKE "WARRIORS: THE POWER OF THREE" NOT COMPLETELY SUCK ACCORDING TO MY PERSONAL TASTE; A NON-EXHAUSTIVE, NON-CONSECUTIVE LIST BY ME

ONE

- Have there be a persistant, overarching series threat. Sol is a character with amazing villain potential who does literally nothing except hang around, and do exactly 2 Bad Things completely off-screen. This Is Not Good.

- Instead, have him be present from the second book onwards- initially introduced as a friendly but enigmatic outsider who is slowly revealed across the series to be a complete black hole of a personality, a social parasite quietly rearranging whatever community he's a part of to just-so-happen to benefit him as much as humanly possible. His "preach individualism not starclan" methods are not so much values as one strategy out of many. (to those who know me- yes i have a type. no i will not apologise.)

- Maybe his ultimate goal is to dissolve and centralise the clans or something so that he can live out his life as a political puppetmaster in all the cat-luxury he likes. idk it's hard to imagine overall stakes for this rewrite BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL DOESN'T HAVE ANY

TWO

- For gods sake you don't have a series based on the premise of "the main characters develop super powers" and then only have the second power confirmed by the end of the fourth book. I understand the first book mostly focusing on Jayfeather- his powers are obvious from the start, he's got the strongest personality of the three, he gets access to most of the prophecy plot stuff because of them. But you NEED to have the other two show an interest in something concrete happening to them beyond that, and you need to at least hint towards the other two having something unique to them even if nobody clocks it yet.

- Have Jayfeather tell his siblings about the prophecy by the end of book two at the latest. The amount of time he spends noodling around not sharing it with them is inexcusable. It's not that it's out of character for him to hang onto a secret for a bit, it's just that there's no point and it slows everything down. It would be equally in character for him to go to his siblings and be like "look, i'm SPECIAL. well you as well but ALSO ME". Boy starts off as desperate for recognition, what can I say

THREE

- Have Jayfeather discover that StarClan don't withhold signs or information on purpose for the sake of "building courage and faith" or whatever nonsense. Seeing and communicating the future is metaphysically very difficult, so interpreting signs and messages is a genuine skill, or even an art. The cats of StarClan, however, really are just ghosts, much more similar to living cats than the currently living believe. This is the impotus for Jayfeather's discarding of his reverence for StarClan, which remains consistent throughout the series.

- Have Hollyleaf and Jayfeather both still change their cat careers in the first book, but put place more attention on the fact that they basically switched jobs. Have a scene where they end up yelling at each other, because can't the other see how lucky they have it? The tension breaks when they realise they've both lost something important to them- Jayfeather his chance to prove he's as capable as a sighted cat, and Hollyleaf her path to helping her clan in the way she thinks is best. They commiserate together, and reluctantly promise to do the best they can with their lots, so they don't waste the path the other wishes they'd taken. This closeness is eroded over the series as they disagree more and more on the subject of StarClan and its role in their moral choices and obligations.

FOUR

- Speaking of Hollyleaf! I nearly threw my phone across the room when the first Omen of the Stars book claimed that Hollyleaf "worked so hard to discover her power to help her clan". Where, Ms Erins??? I would have LOVED to have seen that!! Hollyleaf expresses absolutely no concern over the details of what power she has/will develop, and only has a couple of scenes even touching on her ambitions to help her clan. She has some vague ideas about becoming leader and like one scene where she gets to do some leadery things, but that never gets followed up on. What does happen is that the whole "warrior code" thing becomes more and more a part of her personality (for no clear reason) until she snaps.

- Hollyleaf going off the deep end is something I wanted so badly to get into and be moved by, because I could see where it comes from! Her moral certainty is fascinating, especially since it's based in something as abstract as the warrior code- which, when you think about it, isn't really... anything. There's no concrete set of rules that make it up, no traditional wording or cat philosophers, not even any fables. It's a handful of agreed-upon, common sense rules- don't cross boundaries, don't take prey that isn't yours, respect your ancestors, and don't murder. That's it!

- So, combining the above points, I think Hollyleaf not being one of the Three should stay, but both the audience and the characters are given good reason to believe she is. By around the third volume, make it so that Hollyleaf has found that her power is to get cats to "Do The Right Thing"- i.e. what she wants them to do. She sneaks off often to see Sol, who teachs her how to use this power. Her siblings are concerned about this new power, having already gotten a glimpse at what Sol can do, but she's confident that she can only use this power for good. Volume-specific plot happens, Sol manipulates her into causing him to win, she is shocked and horrified, and vows to stick ridgedly to what she knows is right i.e. The Warrior Code

- However, the more fervently she tries to stick to this abstract idea, the less it gives her results, the more her power seems to be failing. Believing that StarClan is taking her power away from her, she becomes caught up in a faith-guilt spiral that puts her in the position to snap at the end of the series. By that point it's clear to her siblings that Hollyleaf has no power- she was just very, very good at persuading people to do what she wanted.

FIVE

- Lionblaze is a girl now because I Said So. This Cat Is Trans And There's Nothing You Can Do About It.

- Her relationship with Heathertail stays the same- childhood sweethearts who are torn apart as they begin to understand the nature of the societal divides that exist between them.

- This can be used to contextualise the whole "half clan/outsider blood" thing as a cultural contradiction. In reality, inter- and outer- clan relationships aren't at all rare. They can't be, otherwise the whole society would be inbred out of existence in like five generations. But if at least one society of humans can spend a good 200 years pretending Sex Is Bad And Sinful Actually then cats can have persistant cat-racism in the face of all logic. Heathertail clocks this contradiction, Lionblaze doesn't.

- Her relationship-to-power arc doesn't need changing all that much either, other than starting much sooner and being more consistent. At first, she's completely overjoyed by her power, since unlike her siblings, it lines up so well with her ambition- become the finest warrior any of the clans have to offer. As the berserker rage aspect becomes more prevelent, she becomes more and more disturbed by the fact that she isn't disturbed by what she can do, and that she doesn't want the escalation of her power to stop.

- Tigerstar still does his thing, but Brambleclaw knows about it. He recognises the signs from when his father used to visit him, and tries to train Lionblaze in his own way. She ends up caught between wanting to be a good warrior, and testing the limits of her power.

SIX

- Jayfeather can stay basically the same because he's my perfect little angy boy and nothing needs to change. His arcs can be strengthened by having a more robust relationship with Yellowfang where they try to out-bitch each other, and coming to terms with his internalised ablism. Maybe he has a chat with Mothwing about faith a couple of times. Him furiously lashing out at being offered help transitions into an acceptence and understanding of his abilities more naturally. He never stops being A Grumpy Old Man.

- All fucking past-lives unexplained time travel goes in the BIN. Doesn't fucking happen. You can have that lore dump sprinkled across the books, or come from going deep into the tunnels and having a surreal meeting. Make it properly eldritch-level scary, shake Jayfeather's confidence in the idea of them being just a bunch of ghosts.

SEVEN

- Have the way Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight present very clearly as parents to the Three be explicitly, textually unusual. One of the things I liked so much about the first series was an almost total lack of emphasis on who was mated with who, and who was related or not. It felt very real to how feral cat colonies form, where raising kittens is a communal job. This gets completely dropped the moment series 2 starts and now the cats have monogamy.

- This emphasis on the family unit and fostering close relationships between parents and kittens is deliberate on the part of both Leafpool and Squirrelflight. Their aim is to cover for Leafpool so she doesn't lose her role as medicine cat- something she already gave up Crowfeather for before she was pregnant.

- In that little bit of backstory, have a robust reason for both Leafpool and Squirrelflight to leave the camp while Leafpool is pregnant and giving birth, possibly one that ties into the present day story in some minor way. I don't know how, it would just make that element of the story a lot more ground than "we left, the kits were born, then we came back and everyone was cool with it"

- When it comes to the "I am Not your mother" reveal, Jayfeather and Lionblaze are confused and hurt that they were lied to, but come to the reasonable conclusion that well, since they were raised mostly by Squirrelflight, saw Leafpool often, and are loved by both, they don't hate her. Lionblaze has something of a crisis over being half-clan, possibly initiating an attempted reunion with Heathertail. Jayfeather is more concerned with how other cats will think it makes him lesser, something he's still sensitive too.

- Hollyleaf, meanwhile, completely fucking snaps at the way her mother Violated Part Of The Code. It's a completely irrational reaction, but expected because she's been growing more and more reliant on The Code for the whole series, and less and less stable in her attempts to aid her clan and train to be its new leader.

- Squirrelflight is the one to murder Ashfur. This is easy to work out while reading- she's literally the only one of the four with a motive who isn't a perspective character. The mystery is less around finding out who did it, and more about why she did it (it's very ambiguous as to whether it was an accident or not). The main tension comes from who finds out when.

- Lionblaze is shocked, awed by how far she'd go to protect the three of them, and reassures her she did the right thing (as a way to salve her own uncertainty over her own longing for violence). Jayfeather makes it all about himself because he's Jayfeather- upset that he didn't know immediately, instead of, you know, figuring it out in a few hours because he can basically read minds. They try their best to hide it from Hollyleaf, who is already rattling around the final volume as a full-on antagonist, but are unsuccessful. This almost costs them something incredibly important- possibly Squirrelflight's life.

EIGHT

- the whole plot with the Tribe Of Rushing Water is a MASSIVE can of worms that could be removed from the series without issue. As it is:

- Characterize the Tribe as uncertain of how to fight other cats, because yes, they haven't had to do this before. DON'T characterise them as pathetic, doing whatever their leader says without thinking, and with ancestors who have Given Up

- Have some of the Tribe be really good at the violence. Worryingly good. Have others be sickened by what they're being asked to do.

- Have some of the clan cats reflect on what they've done. Hollyleaf would be all for introducing this society to jesus The Code, but even she might be horrified at being thanked by a tribe cat who can't wait to get out there and win themselves glory, only to be killed a few hours later

- The Tribe begin a new tradition of marking the walls in the mud they use as camoflage in order to commemorate their battles, and memorialise the fallen. One of the characters reflects on the fact that in a generation or two, the Tribe will feel like it's always been this way. How many of their own traditions- those that feel almost like natural law- started out the same way?

- Have Sol as the leader of the invaders, or maybe having insinuated himself into the tribe as a "mediator" and doing his charismatic cult leader thing.

NINE

- Cinderheart isn't a reincarnation of Cinderpelt. She's just named after her bc Cinderpelt saved her mother from a badger. this is because I think the reincanation thing is stupid and I can't think of a way to make it good.

TEN

- No more using tails as hand gestures like covering people's mouths. Never. None of it. It's expunged from existence.

Disclaimer: I haven't read Omen of the Stars yet, so I can't account for anything that might happen in that series that's grounded in Po3. I'm like... two thirds of the way through the first volume. I'm Not Impressed.

[enygmass]

As the former collections manager of an Edgar Allan Poe museum, I can't resist. "Berenice," with dealer's choice of characters.

Me @ myself: damn

[Um ok this got a bit long, like 1941 words long, but it’s Scriddler and I hope you’re ok w that bc I gotta get back to writing my boys. Well. I guess you can say mentions of Scriddler, but nothing solid. Also a bit dark on the relationship part.]

Berenice: loss, fixation, memory.

[ But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. ]

                                                                1              

Often when one enters a career that binds them to work until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is tentatively peering its head up from the horizon and the city lights are fading away as an indicator to the people to wake up, they know better than to get expectations. When this career further includes activities that many would deem dangerous, or immoral, these expectations are further to be limited. The only expectation a criminal can have is the expectation that they will be inevitably caught. They cannot even anticipate success; if you do, you gain a large ego, and this is how you collapse.

Jonathan knew of a man who had begun to anticipate his success. Yes, he knew of this man quite intimately; he had spoken through bars to him and had been forced to share showers. Often when you share showers with someone that’s about the time you stop trying to be shy around each-other. There is nothing sacred when you’re both inmates at the exact same institution. Even when you try to hold your tongue from others, the walls whispered for you.

His first memory of this man was their initial encounter, not in Arkham, but crossing paths at a bookstore long before they became what they were now. He had been vibrant but irritable, turning the corners without looking and practically causing Jonathan to lose the stack of important novels that he intended to take home and hunch over for the evening. He had offered no apology and nor had Jonathan. They had exchanged a mutual blank stare as Jonathan readjusted the stack and pushed his glasses up, before they moved past each other and to their intended locations. He had failed to see him coming, but what he had not failed was to note the novel the man held in his hand as he passed; ‘The Fall of the Human Intellect’ by A. Parthasarathy. Both controversial and conceptual. A unique taste.

The second memory of the man was quite a time later, long after Jonathan had grown settled into the routine of chemicals and testing versus educating and grading. Late evening hours had become his equivalent of day time, and he had found himself frequenting renown locations of Underworld dwellers to generate some sort of interest in funding what he desired to create. He had a name by then; The Scarecrow was no longer associated with the figure in the cornfield. By now, people were thinking of gaseous substances and their rooted terror when the name was uttered. This was how he had found himself located at the Iceberg Lounge. If there was one man who liked things that could benefit him, it was Oswald Cobblepot.

Oswald Cobblepot, however, was preoccupied with another client and Jonathan had been subsequently forced to sit outside on some excuse of a chair to wait. He had discarded his now typical attire for something more casual, but a briefcase was gripped in his hand. Some things never change when you move from Professor to Rogue. The sound of the door opening, followed by the chatter of two men of which one he knew, had broken away the train of thought in return for attentiveness. There had been no anticipation, however, of seeing who he saw with Cobblepot that night. In fact, the last time Jonathan had recalled seeing him, they had nearly collided with one another at a dingy bookstore on the corner of Cherry Street. The man had recognized him as well, given the sly smile that had broken upon his face mere seconds after exiting the room.  

The approach had been long and tedious, and when he had finally stopped in front of Jonathan, he had extended a hand as if it were a right.

“I don’t think we ever formally said hello. I’m Edward Nygma, but you might know me as The Riddler.”

Jonathan had stared at the hand for a moment before taking it. Edward had spoken with a self-confidence that was admirable, but perhaps a bit too obvious. If anything to Jonathan – a trained psychologist – it had felt superficial.

“Jonathan Crane, but you might know me as The Scarecrow.”

That had been the instigator of what was to become one of the tensest affairs Jonathan had ever had to formally deal with. He and Edward clashed personality-wise. Edward was extroverted, excitable, egotistical, and exhausting. Jonathan felt more inclined as an introverted, impassive, indecipherable individual. They had shared similar traits, however. Both were passionate about their work, both knew intellect served above all else, both were masterful at complex plans, and both hated the bat enough that they could tolerate working with one another for more than one evening. Perhaps that was where a majority of their toxicity began to form.

Jonathan had become fixated on the way Edward Nygma’s mind worked, and he had acknowledged this to himself. He had become fixated on his thought process, on what drove him, on what set Edward Nygma off to become The Riddler. Jonathan had known for a fact he was always fated to become The Scarecorw; childhood neglect and rejection from peers created a perfect recipe for a psychotic break. Edward Nygma, on the other hand, seemed far too composed for him to become The Riddler. This had made him something of a fascination; like a regular citizen listening to a convicted killer recount in grotesque detail their crimes, Jonathan had felt himself becoming more and more interested each time Edward opening his mouth to speak. When they had worked together in close confinement, within the cells of Arkham, Edward had opened his mouth a lot.

“Jeremiah can’t properly grasp the concept of what I’m telling him. I, personally, prefer Leland; at least she made an active effort to solve my riddles rather than telling me over and over how ‘this is unhealthy behavior’.”

They had been eating lunch, in their usual spot located away from most of the inmates. Often, they were joined by a few stragglers; Hatter, on occasion Harley although she spent the most time in her cell, and once in a while Harvey when he had nowhere else to be. This time they had been alone, however.

“It is unhealthy. It’s compulsive, and most of the time it’s the reason you end up here.” Jonathan had only been half minding the conversation, deterring the rest of his attention to the two guards who had been staring them down from the entrance. Each time they had leaned close to whisper to one another, Jonathan had been sure to look directly at them.

“I’m aware of that, Jonathan, and if I could control it I would. Jeremiah Arkham will last one more session with me before he ships me off to Young, or Thompkins, and I know this.” Jonathan had drawn one slender finger across the corner of his mouth, all while staring down the two guards still.

“How do you know so confidently?” He had still only half been listening at that point.

“Because I always know. I always know the outcome of these things. These Doctors, they’re like clockwork – they like their set systems, and when you twist one bolt just out of place, they send you over to the next Doctor instead. They don’t like to feel like they’re out of control.” Now he had looked to Edward, only to be met with a stern expression and a self-assured gaze. Edward had been hunched over his plate at that point, and Jonathan had known that Edward Nygma was exactly the mind he wanted to pry at.  

Those moments had felt like eons ago.

Time changed, as did life along with it, and many years had passed since Jonathan had looked at those two guards in Arkham. They hadn’t done what he thought they would that evening, something he was relieved about. Men in positions of power could be ruthless; there were experiments to prove such things.

Time had also changed his standpoint with Edward. Although he had continued to study the man, falsifying their friendship to gain insight into his workings like some lab rat under scrutiny, becoming too involved with a subject often led to things getting far too personal. Yes, he had come to know this man quite intimately, surpassing the boundaries of physical contact to something even he was uncomfortable with. Perhaps this had been what had created the rift between them, the toxicity that had begun to form those years before. The toxicity that had eventually overflowed and created burns that would likely not heal for a long time now.

Edward had left two years ago, likely to catch bigger fish than what was lurking in Gotham City.

Too many people in this city now, all stealing or creating their own gimmicks. It isn’t as it should be.

His logic was sound, his thought process clear, but Jonathan had offered no insight. He had sat quietly with his back facing Edward as he spoke, only half listening as he had in Arkham, and using the rest of his attention to focus at the task at hand. Their conversations no longer held the interest they once did.

Metropolis is pointless, and I don’t feel like getting massacred by some Demi-God. Maybe there’s some other town nearby.

Edward had always talked, even when Jonathan had wanted him not to. The Iceberg Lounge, on heists, at dinner, in the bedroom, always talking, always saying what was on his mind.

What I’m trying to say here, Jonathan, is that we should go. Everyone else is moving on and we’re practically the last ones left. Are you even listening to me?

Jonathan had offered a sound of half-acknowledgment. Recollection of what had occurred next was vague, but he recalled a few other phrases being thrown about, before the sound of Edwards boots moving up the basement steps echoed out and faded to obscurity. Then there was sound no more. Sound no more, except for what was made by the beakers and the chemicals bubbling away.

After that, he had not seen Edward. Fall faded to winter – a peaceful one without the disruption -  and winter to spring, which also passed with no disruption. Spring faded to summer, and to fall once more until a full year had passed since that discussion in the basement. Still no Edward. No letters, no messages, an absolute dead-air.

Jonathan had not minded. He had been accustomed to this for many years and had decided it was for the better. Research could be accomplished more successfully without the interruption of hands on your back, or lips on your neck, or fierce yelling in your ear about the stupidity of some vigilante. Although he did find himself reminiscing perhaps a bit too longingly on his relationship with Edward, memories he promptly pulled himself out of, the one thing that couldn’t be argued was that he could finally complete his work.  

The only expectation a criminal can have is the expectation that they will be inevitably caught. A criminal should not expect to be able to maintain successful relationships especially if they are in the same career as you. They should not expect joy or a feeling of completion to be gained from such relationships. They should not expect success, they should not expect fame, and above all, they should not expect for happiness to be derived from the immoral path they elected to follow.

They cannot even anticipate success. But Jonathan had known a man who had anticipated his success – and wondered if he had achieved it yet.