#weepy chatting

[intercomkris]

me trying to talk to someone who I barely have anything in common with. . . But because I’m a pacifist and social butterfly- I can’t resist

[merakiui]

Seeing your tier lists got me thinking.... do you happen to have one on who's a top, who's a bottom and who's a switch? 👉👈 Asking for myself cause I have theories but I'm curious on your opinion.

:O omg!!!!! I have so many thoughts!! I'd also love to hear your thoughts as well, but as for mine they are noted below! Although truthfully I feel like this list is very flexible and can be arranged in so many ways depending on the context and the dynamic with darling and so many other variables. ^^;;; in no way is it concrete.

[onedirecton]

unfortunately my neighbours r continuing to smoke indoors 👍 0 days since our last nonsense

[kamil-a]

i will say at least the thing about like "ppl get more offensive when they get old and senile" went backwards with my dad the harder it got for him to think and communicate the more he would just say i wish you long life i hope you are well and happy and safe etc etc. currently he's not really up to more than one or two word responses but yknow.

[liu-yu-xin]

I could never subscribe to any idols bubble bc theyd get emotional at 2am KST and use it as a therapy app and i would not be in the mood for that shit and get the ick

[accidentalharrie]

.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Literally so proud of Quackity he looks so happy rn

[fortunatefool]

Not to date myself but sometimes in the middle of a crisis u get to hear Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmare) by Kid Cudi featuring MGMT and Ratatat, Steve Aoki Remix and feel joy for the first time in a week and a half

[intercomkris]

okay hear me out. . .

i create a ts2 custom hood, featuring a gay military full of closeted insecure men, a euphoria high but in the dry grasslands but 1990s coded, serving cunt PTA moms, dilf aliens ?

[my-castles-crumbling]

diamond - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 356

This was stupid. Such a horribly bad idea, born from too much alcohol and an overly-weepy Barty.

Last night when they'd all been catching up, drinking and laughing, Regulus had casually let slip that he thought James might propose soon. And of course, everyone swooned. But that was when Evan said, "You should go first. Catch him off-guard. It would be so cute."

Everyone had oohed and aahed and he'd agreed (after three shots of Firewhiskey) and now here he was, hungover, looking around the store while Dorcas chatted with a saleslady. Of course, this was the wrong thing to do, because she seemed to be under the impression that he was buying a ring for Dorcas, and Regulus was about to firmly correct her, tell her that his boyfriend would not want the gaudy ring she'd pulled out, when the door to the shop opened.

"R-Reg?"

It was Sirius's voice that called to him, but James's eyes that he met. Because of course, James would choose to go to the exact same store on the exact same day, and bring his brother as support.

"What're you...what're you doing here, love?" James asked, walking toward him, looking between Regulus and Dorcas, who still held the grape-sized diamond in her hand.

He gaped, trying and failing to come up with a lie. Marlene and Dorcas were already engaged, so it wasn't like he was there to support her.

Of course, it was too late. James could see right through him anyways. Read him like nobody could. "Are you...are you here for me?" he asked Regulus softly, eyes wide.

Regulus just nodded, unsure of what to say.

But James smiled, eyes full of tears. "Fuck. well...I guess that ruins the surprise for both of us, huh?"

But Regulus finally regained his voice and said with a challenging tilt to his voice. "You still don't know when I'm going to propose, Potter. We'll see who does it better."

And James, beaming, let out a sigh. "Oh, Reg. You have no idea what I have planned for us."

Somehow, the terrifying thought only filled Regulus with happiness.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Snapped

A/N: Ok, so, villain! Nanami isn't my cup of tea. For me, he's my comfort character, the one I go to at the end of the day for hugs and forehead kisses. However, as one of my moots said, with all the bullshit happening in my life at the moment regarding my job, Nanami would be so pissed off for me. Is this fic indulgent? Yes. And I don't care. However, it is my first time writing villain! Nanami and I'm not sure how well it's been portrayed. Pairing: Villain! Salaryman! Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader Warnings: MDNI, violence, gore, mentions of murder, death, general corporate shittiness Summary: In the midst of a layoff, your boyfriend Nanami snaps at his own office, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Word Count: 2.7k

Nanami masterlist | Taglist Form

Nanami’s jaw is tense, mouth set in a grim line as he exits his meeting. Another long day of listening to how the company’s profits didn’t meet the quarterly requirements, about how their stock value was plummeting, and how their finance experts must work harder at pushing their client portfolios into buying rather than selling.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, sighing, wondering how to combat this feeling churning in his stomach. The sense of repulsion, knowing what he did for a living, this constant hook behind his navel, yanking, pulling, warning him that all he was doing was making rich people richer, enabling a gluttonous corporate’s insatiable appetite for more money. 

He checks his schedule, a slight crack of relief filling his being when he sees it’s lunchtime and he exits his office, slumping against the elevator wall, running his hands through his hair. The sun shines brightly outside, indifferent to the gathering gloom inside him as he walks to a restaurant nearby. He gives his order and walks back to work, sandwich in hand when his phone rings.

Your name flashes on the screen and he answers quickly, hoping a quick chat with you would pull him out of this foul mood…only to be hit with your weepy voice, making his eyes widen.

“Ken. I-I.” Your breath hitches and he quickly tries to calm you down. 

“Take a breath darling. Are you ok?” 

Your voice shudders as you continue. “I walked in today. Completely normal. Ready to take on the day. Except when I got to my office, our HR representative was waiting for me near the door. She led me into one of the huge conference rooms, the ones they save for guest visits and symposiums. There were like, at least 100 other people in there with me.” You pause to take a breath, tears leaking from your eyes, and continue.

“We were logged into a Zoom call and told by our CEO that the company’s profits were not high enough to keep up with their budgets. They went on and on about all these different numbers but in the end, none of it mattered. They told us they had no choice but to do a layoff.”

Nanami’s heart tightens in his chest. Trying not to let his feelings seep through, he asks, “And then what happened?”

You sniffle and carry on with your tale. “The HR representative told us to open our work laptops and that we would receive an email officially notifying us of the termination. It came not less than a minute after we all logged in. I have two weeks left. They’ll pay me out for that time whether I go in or not. And after that…” Your voice trails off, tears choking your throat.

Nanami listens patiently, but there’s a quiet, simmering rage underneath. “They let you go?”

“Yes. Me and my whole team.”

“Even though you guys delivered on a project that brought in almost 2.5 million dollars in profit?”

“That’s what I thought too. HR insists it was arbitrary and that they were only retaining teams that they thought would maximize their profits. I guess 2.5 million dollars isn’t considered a profit.” You laugh, the noise filled with bitter irony. “I thought I was more valuable than that. 4 years at this place, Kento, 4 years! I could understand if I wasn’t meeting deadlines or refusing to be a team player-”

“You went in on Sunday for the last 6 months and no one said a word of appreciation to you.” The blond salaryman can’t keep out the bite of irritation in his voice, aimed not at you, but your employer. “When was the last time you slept in on a Sunday? When we were able to get brunch, or simply lie in bed together? They didn’t even compensate you for it.”

 You hear the harsh tone in his voice and sniffle. “I’m sorry Ken I-”

“No.” He cuts you off. “Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you darling. Please understand that. I just hate that they used you and that didn’t matter to them when they chose to let you go.”

“I have some savings but... Kento, I don’t think I can afford my share of the expenses soon. Rent, utilities.” His heart almost breaks at your next words. “I understand if you don’t think we should continue living together under these circumstances.”

A lump forms in his throat, so painful, so intense, threatening to consume him like a tumor. You chose to follow him outside of the world of sorcery. You chose to study at the same college he did. You chose to get a corporate job despite the talent you had for jujutsu. You did it for him. He thinks back to the days of you sharing a college dorm, broke students picking up small jobs at cafes and delivering groceries. The ratty apartment you’d both found with your first paychecks, the celebration the both of you had in the cramped kitchen when both of you landed your first serious jobs. The move to the nicer neighborhood, with a coded entrance, toasting each other, thinking you’d made it.

Only to be worn down by corporate mundaneness. That chewing feeling of being a cog in a machine, a hamster on a wheel, ever-turning, never-ending, stuck until you die. Money. The big controller of the universe. The ultimate checkmate to everything. Money. Money. Money.

“No.” His voice is gentle. “Don’t even for a second think about moving out. I love you darling. You’ll find something else. I can tide us over till then. We’ll just cut back on some of our other expenses till then. Ok?” The thought of coming home to an empty apartment weighed down on him. Even back in the olden days, the dorm, the ratty studio that you’d both shared, you had always been there. The concept of living alone was long since driven out of him. The idea was unbearable, coming home and not seeing you there. 

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“No need.” Kento’s gruff voice calms you and you cling to it like a prayer. 

“I have to go. I need to surrender my laptop and badge. I’ll see you at home, ok?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

The line disconnects, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. Companies really didn’t care. It was all bullshit propaganda, the act of ‘being a family’. You were just a collateral statistic. With a groan he forces himself back to his own office, his cubicle, the appeal of the sandwich lost to him now. He forced himself to eat, knowing there was another block of meetings coming up and there was no guarantee about when he could catch a break again. To his displeasure, he sees his manager walking hurriedly in his direction, and averts his gaze, hoping to finish his lunch, but to no avail. 

“Nanami-San!” The man unctuously calls, putting both his hands on Nanami’s shoulders, setting his teeth on edge. A manila envelope is tucked in his armpit as his fingers dig into Nanami’s blazer. He had spent a grueling two hours with this person in an earlier meeting, where he had praised Nanami for being able to sell one of their poorer-performing stocks, raising its portfolio value. The celebratory way it had been said as if Nanami hadn’t conned their clients into buying mediocre stocks which wouldn’t fetch them any benefit in the long run, made the bile rise in his throat. The contempt he holds for this man is tangible, yet he swallows his feelings and pretends to look calm.

“Yes?” he asks politely, trying not to squirm away from his touch.

“Nanani-San, I have news! Very good news for you. Please come with me.” He pulls him away into a private meeting room, Nanami dubiously taking a seat and looking at the man wearily. His manager sits down opposite him with barely contained glee, setting down the manila envelope on the table. 

“They want to promote you Nanami-San!” he bursts out, as though the energy of containing this information was eating at him from the inside. For a second, Nanami’s face goes blank. Then he realizes what he’s just been told.

“A promotion?” he asks again carefully. 

“YES! You’ve been killing it with your clients, raising our stock portfolios, and our profit margin! Hard work deserves to be rewarded!”

Despite his distaste for the man, Nanami blinks and then feels his heart expand. It wouldn’t matter if you were laid off, with the promotion. He could take care of both of you, and you could be peacefully at home while you job-hunted. You wouldn’t need to be in a rush, could maybe take some time to yourself…make up for all those Sundays you went in. A weary smile touches Nanami’s lips as he imagines the life he could provide for you. Could it be, that there was a lining after all?

He glances back at his manager, who appears to have more to say. “Was that all…?”

His manager gives him a nauseatingly saccharine smile, and Nanami feels the temporary prick of joy vanish. 

“Well, the position you’d be up for is more of a leadership position. The higher-ups want to make sure you’re a man capable of navigating difficult situations. Sometimes, things must be done, even when they’re unpleasant.” Nanami’s stomach is roiling, but he swallows and looks at his manager squarely in the face.

“What do you need me to do?” he manages to clip out.

His manager pushes the manila envelope towards him. Feeling like he’s been given a sentence, Nanami opens the envelope, and from it, removes three employee dossiers. He recognized the names as he looked through them, three young men who had started here around the same time he had.

“We’re going to need you to tell these three people that they’re fired.”

His manager’s words fall into Nanami’s ears deafeningly. Swallowing, he looks at the man with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry but…why?”

“They’re underperforming.”

“Their numbers are consistent.”

“Consistent is not the same as moving up.”

“So you want to fire them because they’re not bringing in more money? Is that all?” Nanami drops the dossiers onto the table, an acrid taste building up in the back of his throat. 

“Well, you would be firing them. Think of it as their three salaries combining to equal your promotion.”

A chill washes over Nanami’s body. “I refuse.”

“Don’t you want the promotion?” his manager cajoles him, like trying to mollify a child with a lollipop.

“How about I get the promotion first, then you ask this of me?”

“Ah…if only the world worked that way. But no. We need them removed first. And since you will be taking over the department they will be leaving…you have to do it.”

Nanami looks at his manager, at this greasy, servile man, who he has hated ever since he started working here. His smug face, as he waited to see what he would do. He thinks back to you, let go for no other reason than “it’s what’s best for the company”. A red haze fills his vision.

“You’re despicable.” Nanami says quietly, his hand curling into a fist, feeling a tremor of cursed energy flowing into his arm, something he hadn’t succumbed to since leaving Jujutsu High. A turquoise aura begins to envelop him. His manager appeared to have not noticed but continued to give him that leery grin. 

“It’s your life versus theirs Nanami-San. I imagine a wise man would do what he’s being asked.”

Nanami stands, his impressive height and build towering over the man. 

“Fuck you.” 

The blond raises his hand, which is glowing with cursed energy now. His manager stares at it, taken aback. With a swift moment, Nanami’s ratio technique hits him, cleaving his body straight down the middle into two halves, grotesquely falling to the floor with a splat, blood spraying everywhere, covering the walls, windows, and the door of the meeting room.

A terrified scream is heard outside. In a daze, Nanami leaves the conference room, indifferent to his coworkers who are now gaping at him and scrambling to get out of his way, several of them shouting in panic at his state, his crisp suit spattered with fresh blood.

He walked into the conference room where he knew the higher-ups were sitting for their next meeting, locking the door as he did so. The men all move away in shock, a few even call his name, but he simply doesn’t care. The meeting room fills with the horrified sounds of men pleading and begging for their lives, and in a spray of red…silence. 

Nanami unfeelingly walks to his car afterward and drives home. Later when you open the door, you gasp and cover your mouth.

“Kento! Are you ok? Did you get into a fight?”

When he simply sits down on your living room sofa, you try again. “Kento what-”

“Grab me the whiskey bottle, would you darling? Don’t bother with a glass.” Dumbstruck, you obey, and retrieve the bottle from your liquor cabinet and hand it to him. He takes a deep swig before setting the bottle down. His sharp eyes, the same color as the alcohol in the bottle, fixate on you.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“Wh-Why- Kento I need an explanation!” You take in his bloody appearance. “What happened?”

“I could get into details. But simply put, I killed my manager and all the higher-ups at my company.” He watches you intently, his sweet, innocent girlfriend, who deserved more than what life had handed you. Your eyes widen.

“Kento- you- you murdered those men in cold blood?” your voice is a hushed whisper, as you look at the man you had spent the last several years with. Not a capricious person at all, so there was nothing that could convince you that Kento snapping like this was a coincidence.

“Darling. There’s no point sugar-coating things. Yes, I killed them. Now the question is, are you coming with me, or staying here?” There’s no malice in his voice. It was a genuine choice he was offering to you. The murders were his cross to bear, and it wasn’t right to involve you if you didn’t want to be.

You cover your face, trying to organize your thoughts, trying to get your breath to even out. Kento reaches out and pulls you closer to him, leaving bloody fingerprints on your clothes. “We don’t have much time my love. If we want to disappear, then we have to do it now.”

You look at him, then, to his disbelief, you ask, “Where would we go?”

He takes a shuddering breath, relieved that you were in this together. “It’s not the police we need to worry about right now. It’s the sorcerers who will undoubtedly put two and two together and realize I’m the culprit. However, I’m hardly the first sorcerer to do a revenge killing against civilians.”

“You’re not?”

“There’s an underground network of sorcerers who went off the grid for similar reasons. It’s seedy, but darling…we’d be free. None of this corporate bullshit, or punching in and out on a clock. We’d take jobs only we wanted to take. Freelance assassins, essentially. We deserve this. Life is full of shit anyway. Might as well pick what we want to do right?”

His words hit you with clarity, and despite all the suddenness and ups and downs in the last ten minutes, your resolve steels. “How long do we have?”

“Not too long. Pack a bag, essentials only. I only have a vague idea of how to contact this network but I’ll figure something out. Now quickly.”

It takes less than 10 minutes for you to pack a suitcase. Your boyfriend slips out of his blood-stained garments and into fresh clothes, hurriedly packing another suitcase alongside you. You glance around the apartment one last time, a wistful look in your eyes as you remember how hard the both of you had worked to get here.

But Nanami was right. It was all bullshit. You hadn’t chosen to stay with him out of blind loyalty, but because deep down, you knew he always had the right reasons. The both of you look at each other, a deep connection of understanding passing between you both, and with a resolute goodbye to the past, walk out of your front door together, unsure of what lay ahead. 

Divider and banner by @/ saradika-graphics

@estarlias @daswanj @whatshernameis @byul9158

@mirrors-musings @Mangiswig

@that-goth-bisexual @connorsui @jadedjane @darkstarlight82

@soft--cherry @galactict3a @hunnie-lily @actuallysaiyan

@harlekin6 @buttercupbitches

[greyeyedmonster-18]

we meet again

(so @arliedraws created a slytherin!sirius universe in which james in an auror and sirius is a death eater (or is he??) and they have unfulfilled homoerotic urges for one another and i...came up with this idea, and it's been in my brain (and @impishtubist's SMS text messages for licherally months). It seemed that arlies most recent day of birth was an appropriate time to drop this. xoxo)

--

James's cheeks hurt from smiling so widely as two first-year aurors brought out a cake, lit with an abundance of candles that shot up into the air spelling out Happy Retirement Auror Potter! To complete the package, the cake was decorated as a tropical lagoon. Crystal blue waters, and yellow sprinkles on top to mimic a sunset. Sending James a final subliminal message to cash in his 30 years of unspent vacation time, aside from a few days here and there, and disappear into the tropics. Off the grid, off radar, off the cases. Officially.

Not that James was one who ever said I cannot wait to retire in passing--because he had loved every moment of his years in the aurors department. His first year in the training program, his first big raid, his promotion to Senior Auror, to Director of the Department and finally in his last year, the ultimate promotion of having the responsibility of training new aurors. He had put in the work, and he could leave the department and rest easy knowing everyone left behind would continue to do faithful and just work for the wizarding world. Including his son, Harry who, after years of telling James no I'm not coming into the department, I don't want to, I'm not following in your footsteps, shove off, Dad and trying a host of obscure occupations just to prove a point (most recently a shop clerk at Florean Flortescue) he finally confessed to James he had applied.

James tried to pretend he wasn't elated. Harry tried to pretend he wasn't equally as excited, both of them concealing smiles on Harry's first day in the department. Keeping it cool as the Potter Men were known to do.

"I can't believe you actually did it," Harry said, as cake was passed around, the retirement party in full swing. James was halfway through his slice, blue frosting magically enchanted to pool around the rim of his plate.

"Did you doubt it?"

"Yes," Harry stressed, alongside Moody and Sturgis Podmore, both chatting within earshot. Harry gave James a pointed look, as if to say see, it's not just me. "I thought you were going to delay it again just last week when you got all weepy about writing the report details for your last training class. 12 pages--"

"It's important to be thorough--"

"And that last one was damp, swear," Harry teased, and James shook his head cutting off another bite of cake.

"Oh, just you wait. You'll be crying at your desk too when the time comes," James told him, teeth tinted blue as he spoke, "and you'll look around and wonder where the time went and wish you could--"

Harry dropped his head to the side, closing his eyes and letting out a small snore, earning a loud laugh from Moody, before pretending to wake up, "Sorry? I must've fallen asleep while you were reminiscing."

"Reflecting," James corrected.

"Much more interested in our vacation--"

"Oh no, you're much too busy," James told him, letting out a low whistle, "I've seen that training curriculum and I don't think you'll have time for much of anything for the next few...years?" James shrugged, "Looks like I'll be seeing Santorini, and Turks and Caicos all by myself. Maybe I'll finally take your advice and," James paused to think for a moment, "What is it you've been telling me? Find--"

James sentence was cut off by the department doors opening, Kingsley Shacklebolt striding in, violet robes trailing behind him, jaw clenched and eyebrows close together. James couldn't help but laugh a little as Harry seemed to straighten up, putting his hands behind his back as the Minister of Magic made his way toward Moody and the other Senior Aurors in the room. James had known Kingsley for years--and by extension, Harry had known Kingsley for years, but everything seemed to shift when Kingsley went from Your Dads Friend with the Cool Tattoos and Earrings, to Minister of Magic and Effectively Your Boss. Harry cleared his throat and gave James a nod, before following the other younger aurors in looking extremely busy around the office. Suddenly papers were all too out of place, and there was much work to be done, when only moments before, they were playing a rousing game of napkin Quidditch.

"Sorry, Potter, this celebration may have to be cut short. Auror Bones just sent a patronus, and that burglary down at Diagon Alley might not be so simple after all," Shacklebolt said, dropping his voice lower, "The owner of the shop confessed to having some...untoward artifacts in the back, and you'll never guess what was taken."

"What kind of artifacts?" James asked.

"You're retired, Potter."

James looked at his watch, "I'm not retired for another two hours, now what kind of artifacts?"

"Reliquaries is how the owner described them. Heirlooms that have been passed down in his family for centuries...which means--"

"Layers of dark magic." Moody mumbled.

"That's not the important piece, I'm afraid," Kingsley continued, "The only reason the owner knew there had been a burglary was because the backdoor was left unlocked. I remember when I was a junior auror here...there was a series of home theft...shop theft...all of them with the back entry way left open and--"

"A note," James cut him off immediately, eyes wide as his heart pounded against his rib cage. He could feel a flush fall over his body, acid rising in his throat.

"Oh no," muttered Moody.

"What did the note say?" James asked again and Kingsley hesitated, sharing a glance with Moody.

"Potter, you're retiring, enjoy your--"

"What did the note say?" James asked again, this time loud enough to catch the attention of other members of the department.

"Finders keepers."

--

James's ears were ringing as he left the auror department, not even pausing after Kingsley had spoken the words on the note. Two single words, and suddenly James couldn't see straight. Couldn't think straight.

Finders keepers, finders keepers, finders keepers.

It didn't matter that James was set to retire in an hour and a half.

It didn't matter he had left a party in his honor. It also didn't matter that his lips were stained blue from cake, or that he had dinner plans with Harry after the party to celebrate, just the two of them. He threw open the door to his office, the walls now barren and the space void of any personal touches, and quickly went toward his filing cabinet.

This case, had been the only one James had be removed from. This case, had been the only one in thirty years that had just been marked closed with no real resolution. A series of home thefts over the course of three months, all seemingly connected, but they came up empty every time, eventually abandoning it. After three months, after James was removed from the case, not a single report.

Every time a burglary had been called in since, James read the file and poured over every detail, hoping for more information. For a reason to reopen the case. But none was ever found. James had the dates memorized. Pulling each report one by one, and opening them to the notes found at each scene.

Finders keepers.

He grabbed the files, shrinking them and shoving them into the pockets of his robes, wand in hand as he left his office once more, closing the door behind him. Moody, and Kingsley were already on their way down the hall, nearly chasing after James, urgency in their footsteps to stop him from doing something stupid.

"Potter!" Moody barked

"Evening, Alastor. I believe I have a party to be getting back to," James said simply, though sweat was dripping down his back, beading on the center of his forehead. He ran a hand through his greying hair, in a way he hoped was nonchalant and not in a way that looked dangerously suspicious.

"Potter, do I need to remind you, you were removed from this case and--"

"I'm retired, w-why in Merlins name would--don't be--no, I-I'm not, and there's no, it's a party! I'm having a great time, have a good night!" James gave them both a wave before resuming his brisk walk-run down the hallway, shoes squeaking on the tile floor, eager to get out of the department

He knew where to go.

He knew he shouldn't be going there.

But.

He had to.

There was a fireplace on the first floor of the Ministry of Magic for floo access. James approached the fireplace, thinking, briefly, that perhaps it was foolish to think that after all this time he might still have access--clearance-- to this location. He grasped a handful of floo powder anyway, closing his eyes as he stepped into the fireplace.

"NUMBER TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE!"

--

The sitting room looked exactly as James remembered it.

Sort of.

The curtains had been changed. They were a deep yellow now instead of grey like they were the last time James was here. The carpet had been removed, and James stepped out of the fireplace onto cool hardwood floors.

The pristine black leather couch, and the gaudy chandelier were the same though. So were the end tables, and the armchair in the corner with a hand-embroidered throw pillow. James had laughed at it then, because a crook shouldn't have had something so dainty and delicate so proudly on display in their home. So distracted by the decor, the once familiar smells and sounds of Number 12, he didn't notice the man in the doorway.

"I have to admit, Potter, this is quite the surprise."

James jumped, hand immediately grasping the wand on the inside of his robes, attention turning toward the man in the doorway. Dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, not quite tucked into his trousers; dark hair cut shorter than the last time James saw him. 20 years ago. He was wearing house slippers, which shouldn't have been odd, considering they were indoors and among other names James could've called him, Sirius Black was far from a barbarian, and knew better than to wear shoes around the house. But the slippers were fur lined. And James had to stop the corners of his mouth from grinning--just as they had at the pillow.

All at once, James was in his thirties again. Not his fifties.

And he was staring at Sirius Black. Tall, dark, irritating, criminal , Sirius Black. Thoughts racing, with absolutely nothing to say. Tongue swollen in his mouth.

"I could have you arrested," Sirius remarked casually, tilting his head to the side. "I believe this is what people in your line of work call trespassing, isn't it?"

"Your floo let me in," James responded, sounding much younger, and much more petulant than he intended. It was always that way around Sirius. James had thought that years as an auror would put him in a better position to deal with Sirius Black and his quick tongue. That this time he would be ready, and James would be able to respond with ease and not stare and stammer as he did in the past.

He was wrong.

"Ah, so this is just poor manners? Or did I forget the moment I invited you to my home? Did we have dinner plans?"

"Well, no but--"

"No to poor manners? Or no I didn't forget?"

James rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, "We didn't have plans, Black. I'm not here for a chat--"

"But we have so much to catch up on. It's been ages-- how's your son?"

"Cut the shit, Black. I know you were behind the burglary down in Diagon Alley."

Sirius gasped, pressing his hand to his chest, looking surprised and affronted by James's accusation, "Me? But I've been at home all day. Baking. Would you like a slice of rhubarb, Potter?" Sirius gestured with his head, turning around to walk back through the doorway and down the hall of Grimmauld Place.

James followed.

"Well, don't stand there, you can have a seat. Make yourself at home," Sirius gestured to the kitchen table. Fresh flowers in the center. James took a seat, watching as Sirius waved his wand to begin slicing a pie on the counter, all the while smirking at James with his arms folded across his chest. "Do you still take your tea with cream?"

"No!" James objected, "I mean, I do but don't offer me tea, I'm here--"

"Yes, yes, very official auror business, I remember. Just because you have poor manners and show up unannounced to people's homes--"

"I don't!"

"--doesn't mean that I do, and you're a guest in my home, so I am going to offer you tea. Do you still take it with cream?"

"Yes...thank you," James said, watching as Sirius poured two cups of tea, sending them over to the table, along with the pie before joining James.

Black still had that same damn smile. Not a grey hair in sight, though had more creases under his eyes.

"Thank you," James repeated, looking down at the pie in front of him, something clicking in his brain. "Why...why do you have this pie?"

Sirius smiled slowly. "Why not?"

"Why do you have a rhubarb pie, Black?"

"Well, since you asked. A little birdie told me you were retiring from the auror department and...I just thought I'd...prepare for the occasion. It's your favorite, isn't it?"

[inkdrinkerworld]

I had an angsty thought I wish to share

So it starts out as introverted!reader finally makes friends with a couple of girls only to find out that they made friends with her to get close to the marauders( can be platonic!james and sirius with dealer remus as bf or poly!marauders)

reader over hears this and gets sad maybe she runs into lily who cheers her up and becomes her friends or she finds remus who's talking to one of the girls but they completely forget about them when sees they see her face puffy completely forgets about the girls to comfort her

(I love the platonic James and Sirius vibes rn I headcannon that they would jokingly refer to you as "our girl" just to piss off remus)

you’d been upset when sirius and james spotted you coming out of class, eyes red and full of tears.

“angel?” sirius calls just as james calls a very worried and shaky, “sunshine?”

you shrink in on yourself and allow your body to be swallowed by the crowd of students switching classes.

they find remus before you do, standing chatting with some girl from your economics class.

“she looked upset remmy!” sirius insists, and james adds- as though remus wasn’t worried enough,

“had tears and looked all weepy ‘nd everything.”

so when you come in their direction, remus pushes himself away from the girl and stops you from walking away from him.

“hey,” he catches a tear on his thumb. “what’s the matter, dove?”

you sniffle and sirius and james are crowding your space too.

“who made our girl cry?” they ask and remus tsks- it makes you giggle wetly and that’s enough for sirius.

“c’mon dove, talk t’me yeah?”

you sigh, “some girls, the new friends i made?” you start and they all nod. “well, they didn’t actually want to be my friend. they wanted to be yours. all three of you.”

your tears start again and remus coos, pulling you to his chest and rubbing at your back.

“m’sorry angel, they’re a bunch of dickheads.” sirius says and james nods.

“a bunch! so stupid not wanting to be your friend, you’re so funny and smart and kind.”

remus nods and backs their claims, “you’re the best baby, anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

he kisses your forehead as you lift your head and give him a little smile.

“me next,” james hoots, pushing at remus’ chest to get his lips to your cheek, when sirius pushes his hand to james’ mouth.

“me next, she likes me more anyways prongs!”

[cowboyfromh3ll]

AHHHH FANTASTIC!!!!!!

okay so , I'll just send one for kieran.. I LOVE SEEING OTHeR PEOPLE WRITE FOR HIM BECAUSE I DO SO MUCH :) <3

so for a request, maybe it's after kieran gets off the tree, and the reader (either gender neutral or fem but its up to you! <3) notices he has a slight limp and he complains about his back hurting a bunch, so the reader is like

"well why don't you come to my tent tonight and i'll help you out?" and kieran (reluctantly) agrees , and supposedly he's just getting a back massage

so in the evening he goes to readers tent, they/she has a lantern and a bottle of oil and shes like "go on and take off your shirt", SEEMINGLY innocently (and it'd be better tbh if they/she didn't ACTUALLY have any intentions)

so he does and they start giving him a back massage, maybe straddling the back of his thighs as they do so and at first its quiet, and it feels SO. SO good and kieran moans by accident

and, they're like.. 😳 okay.. but they keep going and say nothing , and things start getting a bit more tense when he keeps moaning and reader feels him squirm and sees him trying to rut his hips into their cot ..

... and things get.. spicy...

THIS IS DEF NOT SELF INDULGENT AND I HOPE ITS NOT TOO MUCH!!!! I HOPE ITS OKAY TO ASK FOR THIS ITS TOTALLY OKAY IF NOT BUT PLEASE I'D LOVE TO SEE THIS AND YOU'RE WRITING IS AMAZING !!! TAKE YOUR TIME <333333 :(

Heaven Is A Bedroom

(Kieran Duffy x Fem!Reader Smut)

I didn't edit this 🖤

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Kieran was broken for good, though the weepy, petulant state he occupied for the first few weeks after being tied to the tree did thankfully fade. He’d been starved and humiliated, something you never partook in, but you did occasionally go and chat with him, offering him any food you did have. Admittedly, you had harbored disdain for Kieran initially, looking down on him for his status as an O’Driscoll, but it was only after seeing how pathetic of a state the man truly was in that you began pitying him. Even if others were around to watch you, you would unabashedly go over and clean Kieran up, spoon feeding him what you could, and talking to him about mundane little topics. You also hadn’t been shy about telling anyone who chastised you to fuck off, arguing that you were grown and could do what you wanted. Kieran himself had been hesitant to accept your services, who could blame him, but seeing how you were so passionate about doing it, and how he didn’t have many options, he took what he could from you.

You watched on in slight amusement as Bill terrorized Kieran, a burgeoning sense of annoyance rising in you when you saw him with glowing red shears in his hand. If it were anyone else, you would’ve swatted their hands away, but you did not want to deal with Bill. You couldn’t help but gasp and ogle when they forced Kieran’s pants down. Part of you wanted to yell at them to stop, another part of you wanted to laugh at just how unfortunate the situation was. It seemed as though every time Kieran’s pain and suffering reached its crescendo, it somehow managed to reach infinite more peaks. You dare not look at Kieran for too long, granting him some sort of dignity.

In a matter of minutes, Kieran had managed to find himself relieved from his restraints, being untied so he could lead a few of the men to who knows where. You watched on in vague interest, relieved he had managed to rid the camp of a few of the men. ‘If only he had taken Micah with him’ you thought. Besides your own catty thoughts, you made a mental note of Kieran’s limp. You smiled in excitement at the opening that presented itself to you. Offering a massage to Kieran might be another act of kindness you could grant him, helping him feel more at home. Perhaps Kieran’s hearty reserves of suffering made him pliable enough to accept such an invitation.

After their return to camp, you had been one of the first to hear from Arthur about Kieran’s brave act in saving him. Rather heroic for someone so callus he claimed. The story was quite delightful, certainly affirming the fact that he was deserving of a massage. A prize for such a victory you thought.

“Hey Kieran.” You approached him with a cup of coffee in hand. The way he turned to look at you was akin to a child being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do, even though he was only brushing the horses.

“Oh, hey, (Name).” His voice cracked with nervous inflection. That same timid pronunciation that made you feel a sense of endearment for him.

“I heard about what you did today.” You smiled while taking a sip of your coffee. “Real brave of ya, saving the life of the camp’s big, strong man.” You giggled, motioning over towards Arthur.

“Yeah well, I feel like if I didn’t then Bill or John would’ve thought I was the one who killed Arthur then killed me…” He said sheepishly. The two of you stood there awkwardly, processing the morbid implications of his remark. Kieran wanted to slap himself.

“But uh, I managed to gain my freedom! In a way, even though I’m not allowed outside of camp, at least I’m not tied to that tree anymore. They almost let me go entirely, but I had to argue with ‘em a bit…” You nodded in understanding. Kieran was right, a decent point of contention was the fact that he saved Arthur’s life. And was riding with the gang not more freeing than the gripping fear of looming death by Colm O’Driscoll himself had he not continued to stay with the gang?

“Well I noticed you were limping there.” You pointed out his awkward gait, circling your finger as you looked at his legs.

“Yeah well, being tied to a tree ain’t too comfortable. My back hurts real bad.” Kieran stretched, and as if on cue, his back cracked painfully loud, causing you to wince.

“Well if you’d like, I can give you a massage.”

The forwardness of your request caused Kieran to choke on his own spit, and you watched on in concern as he gripped his chest, doubling over as he tried to gather himself. His face flushed so hard you thought something might rupture if any more blood arrived.

“If you’d like of course… you don’t gotta… accept.”

“No! No, I mean, I’d appreciate it very much, yes.” He interjected, nodding overzealously. You smiled in satisfaction, nodding to yourself.

“Alright then! I’ll see you in my tent tonight.”

If anyone were around you and heard that sentence they might have thought you were inviting Kieran to sleep with you. Kieran seemed to have had the same thought when he realized how suggestive the invitation sounded, but he did not want to pop your bubble of obliviousness. Nor did he think that’s what you were suggesting anyways. Kieran was at least given something to look forward to that night.

Upon his arrival to your tent, he might as well have been greeted by you stark naked. Because in seeing the low light of the singular oil lamp and the bottle of oil, his mind went straight to the gutter. Though your enthusiasm to help overrode any sensual thoughts he might’ve had. Your wide smile and rosy cheeks looked far too innocent to be entertaining such thoughts.

“Hey Kieran!” You greeted, patting the cot next to you. You rested on your knees, waiting for Kieran to make himself comfortable. He continued to stand at the flaps of your tent in consideration, giving this whole ordeal a second thought. He definitely wanted it, but he had never had this done to him before; he simply didn’t want to embarrass himself. Adding to that, what if this whole proposition was part of some twisted, elaborate prank you had set up with a few of the others to embarrass him.

“Get in here already!” You ushered, dragging him in by the arm, effectively leaving any doubts he had outside the tent. He laughed dryly to himself, feeling his muscles tense up even more. He stood there awkwardly, as if he were instructed to carry out a bank robbery and was sent in without a single instruction; he didn’t know what to do.

“Take off your shirt.” You instructed, opening the bottle of oil and rubbing it on your hands. The glowing light from the lamp gave your hands an orange glow. The instruction caused Kieran’s mind to go to the gutter once again. Shakily, he began unbuttoning the front of his shirt, his eyes darting from his shirt then to you with each button he undid. As more of his torso was revealed, he began to fidget uncomfortably. He felt your eyes boring through his torso as he slid his shirt off hesitantly. After weeks of malnourishment, he had suddenly become incredibly self conscious of his body. He looked back up at you once again and felt a small sense of relief when he saw your smile.

“Alright, now lay down.” You patted the cot once again and moved aside to make room for him to climb on. He grunted as he adjusted himself, letting out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding when he relaxed his limbs and released his full weight onto the cot. His muscles went rigid when he felt you move onto his back, straddling the back of his thighs and putting your body weight on him.

He pushed himself up with his forearms frantically, looking back at you.

“W-W-Wait what are you doing?!” He swallowed hard, beginning to tremble. He felt as though you might call Bill or Arthur in any second now.

“I’m just getting into position! Relax…” Kieran’s eyes widened when your slipper hands slid onto his shoulders, giving them a squeeze before gently pushing his chest back against the cot again. You realized how much he was trembling, pursing your lips when you realized how much work you had to do.

“Alright…” He tried to relax for you, putting his arms to his side, a gesture of vulnerability that was a milestone for him. He heard you giggle to yourself above him, blowing hot air onto your hands before touching his shoulders once again. You dug your digits into the knots in his shoulders, pressing in circular motions. It took everything in Kieran to not unleash the most embarrassing sounds of his lives.

The massage was undeniably good. You’d first worked on his shoulders, alternating between cupping one of your hands in a c shape and dragging along his traps, to using your thumbs to dig into the muscles. You grimaced when you felt the knots shift beneath your fingers, admittedly becoming a little squeamish. Sometimes you’d even go in with your elbow.

“You’re real tense.” You’d comment, to which he laughed bashfully. “Yeah…”

You reached for the bottle of oil next to your foot, leaning down before unscrewing it and pouring more into your hand. Some of the thick liquid seeped through your fingers and dripped onto Kieran’s lower back, to which he would arch his stomach off the cot momentarily. Your hands traveled from his shoulders down along his dorsi, where you’d form your hands into knuckles and dug them in, dragging them along the muscle. Kieran would let out the occasional curse or hiss, to which you’d both laugh at. But when you began massaging a particularly sore spot, he let out an incipient moan.

You froze; Kieran felt you freeze. You both sat there in a mortified silence as you let the awkwardness from what you’d just heard settle in. You let out a pithy laugh to try and cut the tension, feeling just how rigid Kieran’s thighs had gotten under you.

“You uh, must be really enjoying yourself.” You joked stiffly.

“Yeah…” Was all he could say in return; he sounded incredibly strained.

You continued to massage him in silence, grunting occasionally as you put your weight into working his muscles loose. He let out a few more squeaks and groans out, and eventually you felt Kieran shift under you, and you almost wanted to chastise him and tell him to stay still, when you realized he was rutting into your cot.

You retracted your hands, making varying facial expressions until your jaw opened slightly, eyes widening. He was grinding into your cot. You realized what he was trying to do. You slid off his thighs, confusing him. He looked back at you confused, hoisting himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“What happened?” He asked. Though he wasn’t completely oblivious as to your reasoning. A sense of depreciation began to spread through his shoulders like a cold wind; had he completely weirded you out by moaning. He felt his stomach turn when he saw you sit before him on the ground next to the cot, looking at the ground as you tried to find your words. You eventually found it in yourself to look up at him, opening your mouth to speak, though it would be a moment before you actually said anything.

“Do you… want me to touch you?” You asked.

Kieran laid there and stared at you, bewildered. Did you mean what he thought you meant? Touch how? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to sound dumb. Perhaps you just meant keep touching him, as in a massage, but it had already been established that you were allowed to. He turned on the cot to better face you, forgetting himself momentarily and revealing his erection to you. Your eyes moved towards it and remained on it, indicating what you truly meant to Kieran. His breaths became shaky with apprehensiveness as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Slowly he nodded, unable to get the words out. There was an underlying sense of adolescence in the way the two of you were so nervous. Kieran sat up and leaned his back against the tent, scooting over slightly to the left to allow you room to sit next to him. You both carried yourself with uneasiness, not sure how to proceed and move this moment along.

“Uh…can I…?” You trailed off, making an unbuttoning motion with your hand before pointing at his pants. He stared at you before nodding, suddenly feeling his throat become dry. With shaky hands, you undid the front of his jeans, pushing them open before sliding your hand in. Your fingers combed through his pubic hair before you felt his appendage, pausing and giving yourself a mental pep talk before gripping his base. You pulled his cock out slowly, revealing it to yourself. The dim lighting of the tent made it difficult to see clearly, yet you could see his glistening tip when you tugged on his cock. Kieran was sucking in shaky breaths as you studied it, feeling a wave of self consciousness as you kept looking.

“Oh!” You suddenly pulled away, exclaiming excitedly. You reached for the bottle of oil, uncorking it before splashing some more onto your hands carelessly. In your haste, your nightgown staining with the liquid, a problem you would worry about later. He suddenly felt all the more excited watching you lather your hands in the oil, the light shining on them to make them appear waxy and slick. Carefully, you picked up his cock again and slowly slid your hand down his length, reveling in the wanton groan he let out. He threw his head back before lolling it to the side.

“Don’t be too loud…” You hushed. “We don’t wanna get found out!”

The very idea of people knowing caused a shudder to rack through Kieran. He could already imagine the weeks of teasing he’d have to endure. All the terrible phrases and words that would be tossed around. Not to mention, you’d also probably be on the receiving end of some bullying as well. You began stroking his cock, a consistent slick sound becoming distinct with each pump of your hand. You bit your bottom lip in concentration, using the pitch and volume of his moans to pick up on what you should and shouldn’t do. Soon enough, his erection was glistening with a mix of pre cum and oil. You laughed breathlessly, giddy that you were doing this right now.

Excitement replaced apprehension as the two of you continued, and you subsequently allowed Kieran to pull your nightgown off. It took some convincing on your behalf, insisting he was allowed to look and touch, but he eventually worked up the courage to do it. He looked from your breasts back at you as if asking for permission. You nodded with a smile, beckoning his touch. He trembled as he cupped your breasts, seemingly fascinated by the soft globes of flesh in his hands, particularly the feeling of your hardening nipples poking into his palm. He forgot about his erection, insteading focusing on touching you now. His hands slid down your sides, tickling you and making you squirm.

“I’m ticklish…” You chided playfully, grabbing his wrists. Your face lit up to indicate you had another idea, and you reached for the bottle of oil again. You demanded Kieran show his hands so that you could pour oil on them, doing him the favor of rubbing the substance in.

“Rub me all over.” You raised your brows and moved your shoulders side to side playfully, your breasts moving in tandem. More confidently this time, Kieran ran his hands over your, stopping to squeeze your breasts before traveling down towards your hips. He repeated this in circular motions, properly oiling you up. You squirmed and gasped, half from pleasure and half from feeling ticklish.

Without warning, you got up and removed your bloomers, the only article of clothing you were left wearing. Kieran gasped in surprise, not sure himself how far this was going to get. He supposed he got his answer. You stopped and turned to look at him before stepping out of them.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Oh, I didn’t know we’d be…” He trailed off, still unsure about the implications. You looked down at your feet, realizing your brashness.

“Oh…We don’t have to if you don't want to!” You reassured, making a motion to pull your bloomers back on. You felt a tinge of embarrassment; perhaps you had also misread the situation?

“No no, I want to…” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Only if you want to…” He added.

You smiled widely, feeling a non sexual urge of adoration for him. “Yes, I want to too.”

You hurriedly kicked your bloomers off before walking towards the cot. You placed a lithe hand on Kieran’s chest and pushed him to lay flat on the cot. Quickly, you poured even more oil onto your hands and rubbed it on your cunt, gasping at your ministrations. He raised his hips to aid you in shuffling his pants lower before you straddled his hips. You pushed your pubis into him, releasing low moans in unison.

Hurriedly, you lifted your hips as he assisted you in inserting himself. You sat down on his lap fully, taking his engorged cock in all at once. You placed a hand over Kieran’s mouth as you began bouncing on his lap, the only sounds in the room being his muffled moans and the slapping of skin on skin. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from being loud, rather focusing all your attention on raising and lowering yourself.

Your thighs burned at the repeated action, but you willed yourself to continue, only stopping momentarily to keep the burning at bay before continuing quickly after. Kieran came quickly after, but you kept going. Even when his muffled moans turned into high pitched whines from overstimulation, you chased your own release.

You retracted your hand, smirking down at Kieran. He looked completely debauched, his face red and sweaty, eyes watering from pleasure. You teased him by playing with your tits, rubbing even more oil on them as you pulled and squeezed your own nipples. He looked hypnotized by the way they bounced with each motion. Eventually, you trailed a hand down between your legs, spreading your glistening folds for Kieran so he could watch as you rubbed your clit. You threw your head back and let loose a string of curses, cumming all over Kieran’s cock with fervor.

You stilled on his lap, smiling as you gasped and tried to catch your breath. You looked down at Kieran who was smiling back at you. Kieran remained in you as you laid down on his chest, ear to his heart as you listened to it gradually slow down.

“Wow.” He gasped, causing you to giggle.

“Wow, indeed.” You added. The two of you laid there silently, basking in the afterglow of sex.

“Did you like your massage?” You asked suddenly, craning your neck to face him.

“Yes, definitely. Especially the part that came after.” He joked. Your laughter was cut off by angry footsteps outside your tent.

“Are you two done yet?!” It was Bill. “Camp isn’t exactly the most private area y’know!”

The two of you looked at eachother, a look of shared knowledge as you braced yourselves for the weeks of teasing waiting down the line for you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Heaven Is A Bedroom - TV Girl

[molabuddy]

octopus world pictures part 2 :]

you wouldnt know anything about those things, would u marina 🤨

she made the doors open... with her powers..

REALLY funny bit of dialogue to me.. old man sniper main mad at these kids and their newfangled stored charges

did this station with the bamboozler as well just to see if he'd say anything new & it made me grin thankyou grandpa :]

hahah anyway (looks at the screenshots i took of chatroom session 7) (starts feeling weepy again)

this whole chat session makes me oweaehhh ;_; but this bit specifically ..aouggghhh .. wahh..

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Deconstructing Dieter Bravo

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist I did a Deconstructing Dieter Bravo series for Destiny & Deliverance, so I thought it might be fun to continue that tradition with Closed Position since this Dieter does have some interesting things going on that we can delve deeper into.

I had several people comment/dm me about two things after the first chapter that I think would be fun to discuss further. Those were of course, Dieter’s plant hobby and the fluffy menace hanging around his house.

To most, these two things may seem very random and unrelated. However, they really aren’t. They do serve a bigger purpose to the story…because of course they do. When do I ever not have deeper meaning behind something, right? 😏

Plant Dad Dieter

First, I have included some more Dieter aesthetic pictures above that I had saved. It's a whole ✨vibe✨. Second, I must thank @readingiskeepingmegoing for coming up with the new #PlantDadDieter hashtag… because it’s so on point. I’m totally going with it! 💜

On to the good stuff...what have we learned about Dieter after the first installment? I think we can safely identify three things: he spends a lot of time alone, he feels misunderstood, and he doesn’t appear to have any deep or meaningful relationships. This will be a theme that comes up a lot with him, especially starting in Week 2 when we open with him having a chat with his therapist.

How does this relate to plants, you ask? Let’s start with Dieter’s history…the man has never had a real relationship. He’s never connected with anyone, whether that be friend or significant other. He was a party boy that indulged in the physical pleasures of life while avoiding any real intimacy. Most of his relationships were based on sex and favors. We will worry about why he is this way later, but for now, just know that’s where he's at emotionally.

Dieter has never really had a bond with anyone or anything. Now that he is sober and realizing how alone he is, he’s seeking that connection any way he can and doesn’t even really realize it (yet).

Sure, being a plantsman does have perks as it is relaxing and can have a positive impact on one’s mental health. However, it’s causing Dieter to learn how to care about something - how to be selfless and nurturing with his time. He has to put in a lot of effort to keep everything alive and healthy and he quickly realizes that putting in that time and energy makes him happy. Also, the plants don't judge him or his past.

Now, for some fun stuff because some of you asked…

Does Dieter talk to his plants? He 100% talks to the plants. He doesn’t know if it actually does anything, but he figures it can’t hurt to try. It also helps him feel less alone as he does see them as living things. They do breathe, eat, and drink after all.

Does Dieter name his plants? I’m inclined to say that he names his favorites. All the others just have random nicknames that change based on their appearance. Like...the "thirsty dramatic bitch" that gets weepy and needs to be watered and turned in the sunlight daily.

Dieter’s Furry Squatter

And let the collective aww's be heard! 🤭

So, I pulled a few pics from Pinterest of what I envision Dieter's furry little visitor looks like. I see it as an adorably fluffy young Maine Coon kitty.

👉 Fun Fact: "The name 'Maine Coon' was adopted after the state of the breed's origin, Maine, and after the early belief that the cat was in fact the result of crossing between domestic breeds and raccoons." (from VioVet)

Funny story, I did not know that fact before choosing this breed. It looks like it was meant-to-be for our loveable trash panda. 😂

Now, I am sure you're asking; how does the cat relate to the plants? The cat serves the same purpose when we think about Dieter's relationships...or lack thereof.

Again, Dieter is craving companionship. He is still reluctant, but this little nugget will eventually become a loving companion for him. It's another avenue for him to create an emotional connection with something. He will learn how to care for the kitty and build a bond. Though the little menace can be a bit sassy, like the plants, it also doesn't judge Dieter by his past. What do you think Dieter should name it? I'm taking suggestions in the comments. 😉

In an odd way, the plants and cat do help Dieter grow as a person. It's baby steps in his personal growth journey. Honestly, as Katrina gets to know Dieter on a more personal level, these are two things that she absolutely loves about him, mostly because it's two things that are unexpected and show what a sweetheart he really is. She sees the good in him even if he can't see it himself.

That's it for your little extra bit of insight...until next time.

💜Mysty

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, alcohol abuse, and drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Closed Position Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @morallyinept @survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime  @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @bunniboo0015 @quicax3 @jackie923 @sherala007 @pastelnap

*If your blog name is marked out, it would not let me tag you. You will need to change your visibility settings for that to work going forward.