#its very fitting cause i truly do spend most time fuckin around and finding out!

[jekyllnahyena]

*4 minutes by madonna is playing, just distorted*

ehhhhhhhh, hi? have more murder fox

[It’s adigital drawing of commander Fox from star wars. She’s fully armored and holding a red lightsaber. She’s standing in a black pool or sorts with a black background. Above her is a fox head in profile, it’s mouth open and stretched around Fox’ head. Blood drips down from it’s teeth and it’s snout is smeared with more. The lightsaber lights Fox’ left side, in which hand she holds the weapon. She’s looking over her shoulder at the onlooker. She has bloodstains on her kama and armor. End I.D]

#cw blood #commander fox #ive had this idea for a few months in all honesty but wasnt competent enought to even come close to executing it in a satisfying way #btw i call this art style fuck around n find out #its very fitting cause i truly do spend most time fuckin around and finding out! #anyway #ajekyllsart

[dragonheart-swtor]

Friends and Fears

Summary: Eris is the Alliance Commander, Cipher Nine; Reykal is the most recent champion of the Great Hunt. Each of them finds someone utterly unintimidated by them in the other - something both of them need, especially when discussing old fears usually best left buried. Or, Just a quick one-shot of a bar chat between friends that should've taken me a week and instead somehow took me the better part of a year because I kept getting stuck. (Title subject to change, I've been sitting here for twenty minutes and can't think of anything better so it's either this or the doc name which is just "Spooky", if anyone comes up with anything better feel free to give me a heads-up)

Tags: Female Bounty Hunter & Female Imperial Agent, alcohol consumption (not excessive)

Find me on AO3 at Dragonheart37!

-----

The tiny, grimy cantinas that dotted the streets of every space station like this one were always bustling with activity, rowdy with fights and gambling and music, and this one was no different. It wasn't the kind of place where you couldn't take your hand off your credit purse, but it definitely was the kind of place you wanted to keep a vibroknife on you at all times, just in case. Any self-respecting citizen – Imperial, Republic, or Alliance, and probably Zakuulian too – would steer clear of a place like this. Which was, of course, exactly why it was the best kind of place for an Alliance Commander and a Great Hunt champion to disappear; Reykal always fit right in without even trying, and all it took was a change of makeup and a less formal outfit for Eris to go unnoticed in a place where no one was looking for her.

Reykal had promised this particular spot had the best food and drinks this side of the station, and she wasn't wrong – the fare here was greasy, but good, and came in truly enormous proportions. Better yet, it was busy and loud, and after a quick scan and sweep for bugs – purely out of habit, of course – Eris could actually believe that she didn't need to be on high guard for people listening in. It was nice to just settle in and amiably listen to Reykal spin dramatic stories of her most impressive hunts – even if she'd heard one or two of them before – and of her most recent ones as well, side jobs taken while the Alliance didn't have anything of import for her.

She was just wrapping up one such story when Eris spotted the Sith.

Eris, through sheer power of habitual control, did not stiffen at the sight of him – masked and robed in full Sith garb, clearly just passing through the cantina on his way out from a back room somewhere. She tracked him for a moment – but he didn't turn to look at them, just swept past as if the room were empty instead of crowded with people. She carefully didn't turn to watch him go, despite the urge to do so and despite seeing Reykal turn out of the corner of her eye. Instead, as soon as she was satisfied he wasn't approaching them, she locked her eyes on the reflections in her glass to the exclusion of all else, using the visual focus to shutter everything else away. If there's nothing else in your mind, there's nothing they can read. Just glass, light and color reflected over the curved surface, playing shapes over the pale green liquid inside, tiny bubbles floating to the surface – no thought, no emotion, just glass. Nothing they can read.

“Kinda spooky, aren't they?”

She glanced up at Reykal's interruption. The Togruta sipped her brandy. “Sith. Jedi. Force people.” She wiggled her fingers as if that needed further explanation. “The way they move, the way people move for 'em without even realizing. How they answer questions you haven't even asked sometimes.” She snorted into her glass. “Fuckin' spooky.”

Eris chuckled despite herself, tension easing at the sheer casualness of Reykal's blasphemy. The Sith was gone, the door swinging shut behind him as Reykal spoke – out of the usual range of mental contact. Reykal's eyes sparkled with humor too; she stretched her arms out in front of her across the bar like a cat, all relaxed grace despite her bulk. “It's not the way I would have put it,” Eris admitted, “but I can't say you're wrong.”

“They make everybody nervous. It's not just you. Though I'm surprised you haven't gotten more used to 'em, considering.” She smiled when Eris blinked, a little surprised. “You hide it well. But you quit moving for a split second every time one of 'em comes into the room. You spend more time watching them than me, or Dad, or Hylo. Which probably isn't good for your wallet, knowing Dad and Hylo.” She grinned to take the edge off the joke, points of her fangs still hidden.

“Apparently I don't hide it well enough,” Eris remarked, sipping her own drink – some bubbly lime-and-mint mix she'd already forgotten the name of that the bartender promised tasted almost exactly like its alcoholic version – as she scanned the crowd once. “I've had some... bad experiences. Let's just put it that way.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. You worked with 'em back in the Empire, right?” Reykal rested her chin on one hand, fingers tapping her temple absently. “I did a job for some Intelligence guy, back in the day. Forget his name. Seemed pretty skeeved by the whole thing. Ended up having to kill him after he did try to murder me. 'Loose ends,' or whatever.”

Eris blinked. “Oh, that was you? I think I heard about that.”

Reykal raised her eyebrows. “Really? I thought it was supposed to be under the table, nobody was supposed to know about it.”

Eris laughed aloud at that, shaking her head. “Intelligence always knows.” She paused. “Which probably wasn't the most comforting thing to say, was it?”

“Probably not.” Reykal grinned at her again. “I figure if Intelligence was going to come after me, they'd have done it by now.”

“You were a low-priority target,” Eris assured her, smiling back wryly. “We had bigger fish to fry, at the time. That would have been right before the Dominator blew up and everything went to hell.”

“Bigger fish to fry, eh?” Reykal chuckled. “I'm insulted.”

“Intelligence deals with pretty big fish. Be glad you weren't one of them.”

“Speaking from experience?” Reykal asked, arching an eyebrow.

Eris shrugged, sipping her drink again to hide her smile. “That's classified.”

Reykal scoffed, mocking exasperation at the old half-joke. “'That's classified.' Someday I'm going to have to get some actual drinks in you to get all those classified stories out of you.” She winked. “Personally, I think you just can't hold your alcohol and that's why you're never caught dead with it.”

“That's also classified.” She didn't bother to hide the grin this time.

“Kriff's sake,” Reykal exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You're impossible. I don't know why I bother.”

Eris laughed. “I'm sure you're very put-upon to deal with me.”

Reykal downed the rest of her glass and turned to flag down the bar droid; Eris took the opportunity to sip her drink and sift through her thoughts again, deliberating. “You're right,” she murmured after a moment of quiet. Reykal turned back to her, raising an eyebrow, and she clarified, “The Sith do... make me nervous. They all do, but... Sith especially.” She huffed a half-hearted laugh. “It's not exactly a secret, at least not to them. They can feel fear a mile away.”

Reykal took her refilled drink absently, attention focused on Eris much more seriously than she had been before. “Working with 'em doesn't help?” she asked. “You and Beniko seem... close.”

Eris tapped the rim of her drink, staring down into it as she thought through her next words. “Minister Beniko and I have worked together closely for long enough that I'm no longer concerned about her...” She trailed off.

“Acting like a murder-hobo Sith?” Reykal filled in. Eris gave her a look that made her snort and raise an appeasing hand. “Sorry. But you were thinking it too.”

“I would have phrased it more tactfully,” Eris sighed, “but... yes. Sith... they tend to use their power to its utmost to control those around them. It's just how things are in the Empire. And they have a great deal of power.” She pursed her lips. “Do you know some cultures worship Force-users as demigods?” Reykal shook her head. “It's true. And who can really blame them?”

Reykal nodded. “A lot of people are scared of them. Not just in the Empire, either. Anyone in their right mind would be wary.”

“It's... bizarre, to be equal to a Force-user,” Eris admitted. “In the Empire, even the lowest Sith acolyte ranks above the Force-blind. To have Minister Beniko and Darth Nox at my war table – my war table – and not be answering to them as superiors... I'm still not used to it, even after all this time. And Master Garen'ishta, and the Barsen'thor – even Senya. I'm used to having to be afraid of them. At this point, I'm not sure I'm capable of not being nervous around them. Not...” Not after Jadus. And Zhorrid. But that she couldn't say out loud, not here, not even to Reykal. “Not after working directly under them for so long.”

Reykal hummed sympathetically, running a finger around the rim of her glass. “I don't blame you. I talk a big game, but really, Force-users have been some of my most dangerous targets. There's a reason most hunters don't take contracts on them at all.” She took a sip of brandy, jaw working as she thought. Quietly, barely audible over the noise of the bar, she added, “D'you actually think any of 'em might turn on you?”

Eris pursed her lips, but shook her head. “Not at this point. The Jedi will fight alongside us for as long as they're convinced our cause serves the greater good – no matter how much the Barsen'thor pretends to be aloof. If Nox were going to turn on us, she would've done it by now; she's had ample opportunity, and in any case, she hates Zakuul and Arcann for stealing her place in the Empire from her too much to ally with them. Senya... Senya will stay loyal for now, at least. And Minister Beniko has long since proved her loyalty, as I said.”

“Well, that's good, at least.” Reykal cracked a grin. “Better'n if you were actually logically worried about 'em.”

Eris smiled. “Are you insinuating that I'm being illogical?”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

“You are insufferable,” she said mildly, taking another sip of her drink.

Reykal laughed aloud, fangs flashing in the light. “Eh, that's why you like me. None of that faffin' about trying to be dainty and diplomatic about it.”

Eris shook her head, still smiling, but didn't deny it. It was true, really – Reykal was perhaps the only person she talked to on a regular basis who wasn't constantly embroiled in politics and diplomacy, who was brashly open about her thoughts and feelings. It was refreshing, if she was honest – a chance to relax for once, to not constantly have to be watching her every word and gesture. To pretend they were just two friends at a bar and nothing more, for a little while.

Reykal spun around on her stool and leaned back against the bar, flipping her back lek over the edge so it wouldn't get crushed. “We should go shooting after this,” she offered, grinning lazily at Eris. “See if your pistol aim's gotten any better.”

Eris arched an eyebrow, eyeing her skeptically. It was hard to tell in the cantina's soft mood lighting, but she was fairly sure Reykal's lekku were flushed a deeper red than usual. She half-smiled. “I think you've had one too many drinks for that, Master Candessan.”

“Pah, too many drinks. I've shot in worse situations'n this, more drunk'n this.” She grinned again to take the edge off the comment. “Suit yourself, though. What do you do for fun, anyway, when you're not gettin' swamped by hell-knows-what kinda work from the Alliance?”

“You might have heard of this thing called 'reading,'” Eris said, allowing herself an impish grin.

Reykal scoffed playfully through her teeth. “Oh, sure, now the high-and-mighty Imperial act  comes out.”

“Don't tell me you're a literary connoisseur.”

“Doesn't mean I don't read.” She stuck out her tongue at Eris in a gesture so childish it startled a genuine laugh out of her. “Miss Hoity-Toity Imperial-Logo-Boxers over here, makin' fun of us peasant folk. What's the Alliance come to?”

Eris swatted her shoulder, trying and failing to stifle her laughter. “Why do I tell you anything?”

“'Cause you like me,” Reykal reminded her cheerfully. She slid off the stool to stand next to the bar. “C'mon, finish your drink already and let's get outta here. We can go window-shopping on the boardwalk and see if there's anything to spend the night on.”

“I do have work to do tomorrow,” Eris told her, but she swallowed the last of her drink and stood as well, sliding a credit chit across the counter to the bar droid as it clanked over.

Reykal wagged a scolding finger at her. “Ay, none of that. You said we'd get a night on the town, you're getting a night on the town. You work yourself too hard.”

“Very well,” Eris agreed, shaking her head with a fond smile. “But I draw the line at drunk bounty hunting or robbing anyone in an alley.”

“You're no fun.” Reykal offered her arm with a dramatic flourish and Eris took it with another laugh, letting the bounty hunter lead her out the door.

#swtor #swtor ocs #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent #bounty hunter #erisine #reykal #eris has ✨trauma✨ #reykal's really good for her honestly though #'casual blasphemy' is exactly what she needs sometimes #the contrast in voice between these two cracks me up honestly #fanfiction

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between (formerly ‘The Ghost of You’) – Updated

@tinyarmedtrex @violetreddie @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh

PSA: I changed the name of this fic. It was once ‘The Ghost of You’ but I don’t think that fit the story anymore, so I changed it. Hope that isn’t too confusing!

Chapter 4 - Nothing Ever Becomes Real Until It Is Experienced

Read on AO3 HERE

A stream of lava-hot water hit Richie’s back, waging a brutal war against the knotted muscles of his back.

“SHE’S ALL I NEED ALL OF MY LIFE!”

He rubbed the bar of ivory coloured soap between his hands, before rubbing the soapy lather over his chest.

“I FEEL SO GOOOOD IF I JUST SAY THE WOOOOOORD”

Turning around, Richie closed his eyes against the torrent of water, letting it rush over his face and chest, the soapy suds disappearing down the drain.

“ SUH-SUH-SUSSUDIO”

Richie opened his eyes, mouth still half open from where he’d been singing, and, as if he had always been there, Eddie’s disembodied head looked back at him from where it was sticking directly through the shower curtain.

“Richie! The lambs have come back down off the hills and – oh good lord, you’re naked!”

“JESUS FUCK!”

A primal scream tore its way out of Richie’s throat as he unceremoniously tumbled to the floor of the shower, clasping helplessly at the shower curtain as he fell. The curtain ripped from its fastenings, and floated to the ground gently. Richie grabbed at it, yanking it towards him to cover what was left of his modesty.

“What the fuck, Eddie!”

Eddie was standing in the bathroom, looking scandalized but also very mildly amused.

“I’m ever so sorry, Richie!”

“The door was locked, how the hell did you even get in here?!” Richie demanded, feeling his face bloom with blush, caused not only by the scalding temperature of the water.

“I – I didn’t use the door”

Richie blinked, incredulous.

“You didn’t use the door” he deadpanned, raising his eyebrows, an invitation. ‘Explain yourself’.

“I haven’t used a door in seventy years, and I don’t intend on starting now!”

For a moment, neither of them speak. Eddie has his arms crossed in what Richie imagines is supposed to be indignation, a silent ‘I’ve been here longer than you, this is more my house than it ever will be yours.” Richie can’t help but feel a pang in his chest, something so close to affection it’s uncanny, a cloying kind of feeling that envelops his heart and holds it hostage.

Eddie breaks first.

“It really was an accident, Richie, I sort of forgot – I forgot about …” he trails off before he can say it, but Richie knows.

I forgot what it’s like to be alive. What it’s like to spend time with another person.

Richie’s annoyance melts like snow.

– X –

The house is almost finished. Nearly all of the major appliances have been installed, the water runs perfectly, and the electrics have been wired and approved. The only major task facing Richie now was decorating, which was unfortunate because Richie had been cursed with perpetually shaky hands meaning that his lines were never straight or clean enough. He’d been complaining about it to Eddie one evening, sat out on the porch, wind rustling Richie’s hair like autumn leaves, but leaving Eddie’s untouched, each hair frozen in time and space.

Richie had fallen asleep outside, a combination of the lake’s lullaby-ripples, and the warmth of the balmy night. He’d slept deeply, watched over by the moon and the stars, and woken up with a crick in his neck and freezing hands.

Eddie was no-where to be seen, but Richie was unbothered. Eddie made a habit of wandering the moors at night, unbound by the mortal need to sleep, dream and recharge. He was free to roam as he saw fit, truly a being of the night, drifting amongst the dreaming lambs and the trees that stretched humbly towards the moon. He always returned, though. Returned to the house that he’d died in, and, by association, to Richie.

Richie hauled his heavy bones into the house, and up the rickety stair case, desperate to change out of the stale smelling clothes from the night before. He could hear the clanging of something metallic, and Eddie’s high and bright whistling, like a bell beckoning Richie into the room. When Richie cautiously pushed the door open, his mouth opened in shock.

While he slept, the summer sky had materialised on his bedroom walls. Fluffy marshmallow clouds on a cornflower blue sky.

Eddie was standing in the corner of the room, paintbrush in hand, looking somewhat guilty.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up yet. You don’t normally wake up before 7 or so”

“Eddie what the hellllll” Richie drawled, eyes scanning the room in astonishment.

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, eyes and voice earnest and so sugary sweet Richie couldn’t take it.

“I so wish I could hug you right now, this is fuckin’ torture, s’what it is. This is beautiful, Eds. It’s – I don’t have the words”

“Heh. The oven mitts are downstairs, so, I suppose … I’m glad you like it, though. I was worried you’d hate it and think that I’d over-stepped, or something”

“No! Not at all. It’s … thank you, Eddie. Seriously, thank you. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me”

“I know you hate painting and I used to paint a bit, when I was, y’know, so … I thought I’d help you out a bit”

“You’ve done more than just help me out, Eds, yowza!”

Richie sincerely wished Eddie was wearing those damn oven gloves, as he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his hand and never let go.

– X –

The kitchen hated Richie, and, by all accounts, the feeling was pretty mutual. Laying a new floor down had been an absolute nightmare, considering the fact that the room was bizarrely shaped, so Richie had had to painstakingly cut each piece of timber out with a circle-saw to the exact measurements. This had taken longer than Richie cared to admit, but he had eventually finished, and the glossy oak floorboards smiled up at him, thanking him for his time and effort. Painting the kitchen was a breeze in comparison, throwing a white emulsion onto the walls before covering it with a blueish-grey, light and bright enough for a kitchen, but not an emotionless white. The back wall was the only one that was still just white emulsion, and Richie had planned to paint it grey in the afternoon.

That had been his plan, before he heard an almighty crash echo throughout the house, a metallic clang, and then a horrified yell.

“Eddie?! Eddie, are you okay?” Richie shouted, running down the stairs at light speed, expecting to find Eddie contorted in pain, or gone from the house entirely, or a number of equally as horrifying possibilities.

What he found when he rounded the corner, and burst into the kitchen, was blueish-grey paint covering practically every surface in the kitchen, and a very forlorn looking Eddie staring at the mess.

“What – What happened in here?!”

Eddie looked up at Richie with pleading, guilty eyes, wringing his hands together.

“I… I tried to walk through the wall carrying the paint and … Well, I suppose paint cannot travel through walls”

“What have I told you about using the effing doors!” Richie bellowed, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder to the door that he had just sprinted through.

His new floor, his expensive oak floorboards that he had laboured over for weeks, ruined. The oven had thankfully not been installed yet, and sat in its protective plastic packaging, but even that was splattered with paint. The clock was covered in paint. The gas stove that Richie had been using to cook was covered in paint. In short, everything was covered in a sheen of grey paint.

“I was trying to help,” Eddie mumbled, mouse-small, “You said you loved your new bedroom walls and I thought – I thought I’d save you some work because I know how much you hate painting and – I am a catastrophe”

Richie felt awful.

“Naw, Eds, you’re not. C’mon, it’s not that bad. I can get some white spirit on the floor, that’ll probably lift most of it, and maybe Mike will let me borrow his electric sander. Hey now, Eds, c’mon, you look like you’re going to cry, you’re killing me”

“I would cry if I could”

“Can you cry?”

“No, because if I could, I would be doing so now”

Richie opened one of the now grey kitchen drawers, and pulled out Eddie’s oven mitts. He passed them over to Eddie, who reluctantly slipped them onto his hands, the scrunch of concentration that Richie had grown so fond of etched onto his face.

“I’m gonna hold your hand now,” Richie announced, before taking Eddie’s hand in his, “I promise that I’m not mad with you. I’m just – I’m just a bit frustrated but it’s not the end of the world. Kitchens come and go but Eddie Spaghetti’s are forever”

“Is that a joke … because I am dead?” Eddie asked, voice hesitant but Richie watched as a smile formed on his face, slowly, like a flower opening to pray to the sun.  

“It wasn’t ‘sposed to be” Richie shrugged, hand still gripping onto Eddie’s mitted-hand tightly.

“Are you sure you’re not mad with me?”

“I promise”

– X –

One thing that Richie soon came to learn was that Eddie loved music. Richie often heard Eddie’s ethereal whistling echoing around the house, or heard him humming little ditty’s that Richie didn’t recognise. Sometimes Eddie sang properly, a surprisingly rich and strong tenor that stirred things in Richie’s heart that had been dormant for years.

One day, when Richie was sanding the grey paint off the floorboards in the kitchen and singing along to Higher Ground by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Eddie’s voice announced his presence before Richie was even aware of him being in the room, a habit of Eddie’s that he was growing slowly used to.

“This music sounds so different to the kind of things I used to listen to when I was younger”

Richie turned off the electric sander, before turning the radio up, Anthony Kiedis’ voice booming out of the speaker. Eddie looked vaguely alarmed, before tapping the toe of his boot slightly, face screwed in concentration, as if he was sampling the music like wine, trying to decide whether he liked the taste of the beat or not. Richie hopped around on alternate feet, pretending to slap an imaginary bass, his face screwed up in his best approximation of ‘bass face’. He wasn’t sure that Eddie would know what bass face was, but he didn’t care. Eddie watched Richie with wide, half-confused half-amused eyes, the toe of his left boot still tap-tap-tapping away to the beat.

The song drew to a close soon after, and Richie bounced over to the radio and turned it off.

“So, d’ya like it?”

“It’s … interesting. It’s different, absolutely, but … it’s good. It’s got a good beat, I like the rhythm. I … rather liked his voice,” Eddie stuttered, and Richie was sure that if it were possible for Eddie’s face to flush with embarrassment, it would be doing so right now, “but one thing I don’t understand is where you put the records in that tiny machine? Are records really tiny now?”

“Records? Why would there be records?” Richie asked as confusion washed over him in waves, before realising that Eddie had no idea what a twenty-first century radio looked like.

“Oh, no, this is a radio, not a record player. Some people still use records, but those people are called ‘hipsters’ and you wouldn’t like them. But this is a radio, you know what a radio is, right?”

“Yes, Richard, I know what a radio is. I wasn’t born 700 years ago” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’. So you know how radios work, right? Like … the music is in the air? Radio waves and all that jazz?”

“The music is in the air?!” Eddie spluttered, eyes wide like dinner plates.

“I thought you said you knew what radios were?!”

“Well, I know what they are, I never professed to know how they work”

Richie can’t help but laugh at the expression on Eddie’s face, a picture of exasperation mixed with confusion, and he is semi-horrified by the realisation that he wants to kiss it off Eddie’s face.

Well that’s new.

Richie tries to squash all ghost-kissing desires deep into his brain into a box marked ‘bad idea’ but he knows that that box has a habit of refusing to remain closed and springing open unexpectedly.

In his desperation to sway his attention from Eddie’s grumpy, kissable face, Richie cranks the radio up even further, switching the station to the all-day 80s bangers station he’d found a few weeks ago. Bonnie Tyler’s voice filtered out of the speakers, and Richie lip-synced along with her as she lamented about the fact that she didn’t have a street-wise Hercules. Eddie watched as if transfixed, eyes following the minutia of Richie’s movements but standing on the side lines, not joining in Richie’s one-man dance party.

“Dance with me!” Richie yelled, waving his arms erratically in the air as Bonnie’s voice howled around the room.

“I can’t!”

“You can!”

“I can’t!”

“YOU CAN!” Richie practically screamed, “dance with me, Eds! Please!”

Richie’s pestering finally broke Eddie’s resolve, and just as the song peaked, Eddie started to dance.

Now it was Richie’s turn to gawp.

Eddie threw himself around the room wildly, feet a blur as he alternated between rhythmic walking, jumping and kicking his feet , whilst waving his arms in a jaunty swing, occasionally snapping his fingers or clapping his hands in time with the music.

“You’ve been holding out on me, you sneak! Look at you go!” Richie yelled over the music, hardly moving, just watching Eddie spin and twist and jump.

“I may or may not have been quite the accomplished swing dancer when I was … y’know …” Eddie gasped, mid spin.

“I fuckin’ bet you were! Look at your fancy feet!”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Eddie laughed, performing a particularly complicated piece of footwork, and peeking up at Richie with his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Damn straight, look at us, a couple-a movers and shakers, but damn, Eds, you shake it the best. You gotta teach me.”

Eddie laughed as he span past Richie, and Richie followed him, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his hips in a way that he assumed looked ridiculous, but the way Eddie’s eyes lingered on the swivel of his hips suggested otherwise.

The song finished, and a slow ballad started to play – all slow, smooth guitar and mellow vocals.

Richie, gasping from exertion, stopped dancing, and so did Eddie, who looked exactly the same as he always did, not a hair or piece of fluff out of place.

“How do we dance to this one? It’s a bit slow, Rich”

An idea crashed into Richie’s brain at warp speeds.

“Hang on”

Richie disappeared downstairs, and returned clasping Eddie’s oven mitts in his hands.

“Put these on” Richie instructed Eddie, like he always did, and once Eddie had put the mitts on, he grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“We gotta slow dance to songs like this, them’s the rules”

“Uh … but we’re both … you aren’t a … I’m not a woman”

“I won’t tell if you won’t”

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t move his hands, either. Knowing that he couldn’t put his hands on Eddie’s waist like he wanted to, Richie settled for placing his hands over Eddie’s mitts, on his shoulders. They swayed back and forth.

“Are you like me?” Eddie whispered, voice barely loud enough for Richie to hear over the music.

“Depends what you mean by that, Spaghetti. Am I dead? No. Am I a wicked dancer? Yes. You gotta be more specific”

“You are a brute! You know exactly what I mean”

“Do you mean ‘do I fall in love with men’?”

Eddie hesitated for a second, before nodding the affirmative.

“Then yes, I am like you. But I also fall in love with women. I like ‘em both. Greedy like that”

“Is that … is that possible?”

“Sure is, sugar!”

Eddie closed his eyes, and Richie was sure that if Eddie could cry, this would be another occasion where he would be doing so.

“I only … I only fall in love with men. I had – Rupert. We – he died. I never got to say goodbye”

A heavy sort of sadness settled in the room. Eddie’s eyes, downcast and lidded, refused to meet Richie’s. They stood in the middle of the room, touching but not really, dancing but not really, in silence.

“I hate that I can’t hold you, Eddie”

“I hate that you can’t hold me, too”

– X –

Something changed after they danced together. Not a seismic shift, but a small tremor. Eddie told Richie about Rupert, and how they’d lived together in relative sin, and as he spoke, he’d screwed up his face as if willing himself to cry, to feel something. Richie cried enough for the both of them.

A few days later, it was a lazy Sunday, and Richie is listening to a local Scottish radio station sat out on the porch with Eddie in a comfortable silence.

“I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are for the afternoon, but I’m off to have a lovely roast dinner!” the radio host announces, before signing off for the day.

“Oh, I do miss a roast dinner” Eddie announces wistfully, rubbing at his stomach comically.

“What’s a roast dinner?”

“You’ve never had a roast dinner?!”

“Uh… no? Should I have? What is it?”

Eddie abruptly stands up, and walks back into the house, listing off all the components of a roast dinner as he walks. When they get to the kitchen, Eddie marches straight over to the fridge and, without opening it, sticks his head right through the door, before also sticking his left hand straight through the metal, as if the fridge was not a solid object at all. Richie is sure that there will never be a day that he doesn’t find that unbelievably funny.

“You have all the vegetables, but the only meat you have is … this!” Eddie pulls his head back through the fridge door, looking at his hand triumphantly, only to find that his hand is empty.

“I keep forgetting I cannot move things through other solid objects” Eddie deadpans, smacking his forehead in embarrassment.

Richie cackles at him, before moving to open the fridge himself, and seeing a lonely looking peperami lying on the bottom of the fridge. With Eddie’s help, Richie manages to cook the roast dinner without too much issue. The only time Eddie screeches at him is when he pours way too much oil into the roasting pan for the potatoes, but that issue is quickly rectified. After a few hours, the meal is prepared, and Richie plates up feeling overwhelmingly guilty that Eddie can’t share in the meal that he helped to prepare. Eddie assures him that he doesn’t miss eating that much, and ushers Richie into the dining room, where the new dining table stands proudly in the middle of the room. Richie places his plate on the table, before realising that he’d forgotten cutlery and a glass of water. Eddie, who had been standing behind his chair, follows him into the kitchen, walking straight through the table, and babbling nonsense about how Richie was about to experience something truly magical.

When Richie returned to the dining table, he found that his food was now burnt beyond recognition, the fresh vegetables that had been lying on his plate mere seconds ago now transformed into a smoky black sludge.

“What in God’s name …” Richie muttered, staring at the burnt food in disbelief as the cutlery slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

Richie looks at Eddie, then back to the ruined food on his plate, then back to Eddie. Without saying anything, he ran back into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of broccoli, before charging back into the living room and throwing the broccoli directly at Eddie’s head.

The broccoli fell to the floor.

Or, more accurately, the broccoli that was now a black, burnt sludge fell to the floor.

“For fucks sake!”

– X –

Richie stays up late that night, sleepy eyes glued to his computer, scrolling through useless website after useless website before he lands on the first thing that looks even remotely promising 16 pages into the google search.

Stanley Uris – Corporeal Reanimator

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ghost au #property developer au #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak #ao3 #thefutureisbright

[harley-quinnn]

Guilty - Part 2

Jared Leto x Reader

{A/N} You guys asked for a part two, and hopefully I delivered for this one!  I know it’s been a while, but I assure you I’m still writing! I finally finished this little beauty and the next story WILL be Home pt 2 (also finally). The other requests will come after that! Thank ya for bearin with me, puddin’s! 🖤 xo Harley

Warnings: Some pretty hot car sex including: oral sex, a secret daddy kink. Not much of a warning but a good time, if you ask me.

You were still reeling from the past few hours you’d spent working with Jared as you approached the SUV that sat outside of the Hollywood home that was the background to what promised to be one of the best Gucci campaigns yet. Every five minutes your stomach fluttered with butterflies as your mind wandered back to the most intimate scenes you were lucky enough to play out with him.

Aside of your hair and makeup, you were no longer in your 50’s get-up or racy lingerie, but back in the hoodie and Ugg boots you showed up on set in. Once you got into your ride home, you pulled your phone from your bag, absentmindedly clicking through it as the driver started the car. When you lifted your head to gaze out of the window, you noticed a now all too familiar face trotting down the driveway.

“Wait,” you curtly instructed the driver, moving your fingers to roll down the window hastily as Jared appeared.

The grin on his expression was undeniable as he leaned into the window and pushed some hair from his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked playfully.

“Well.. home,” you responded with a slightly confused smile.

“I don’t think so,” he started. “Actually, I’ve got an appearance to make at the Gucci store on Rodeo. Taking photos, signing autographs. I think it’d be great campaigning if you came along.”

“Is that all I’m good for, Mr. Leto? A campaign?” You joked.

“You’re good for so much more than that.. But I do think people would enjoy seeing us both there,” his eyes bore into yours for a moment before he spoke again. “Besides, I’m not done with you, yet, sweetheart.”

There it was again, that racing feeling in your chest as you drew into yourself in a flirty manner, your lips curving into a smirk.

“Well in that case…”

You opened the door and he stood back as you grabbed your bag and the hanger that contained your pieced together outfit that was draped across the other seat.

“I guess I can work something out,” you finished, offering a cheeky grin before relieving your driver of his duties for the time being.

“Perfect..” Jared winked, taking your bag from you carefully. “Go back in there and get dressed, and we’ll head over. We’ve got about… ten minutes before we have to go.”

Your eyes widened before you started running back into the house, calling back over your shoulder with a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up so far in advance!”

All you could hear was his laugh before you disappeared back into the house and straight for a room to change. You rushed the best you could without messing up your hair and makeup, catching Haley on her way out and having her zip up the back of your dress quickly.

“Have fun! And don’t forget to call me if you need a touch up!” She giggled.

“Thanks, Haley!” You called over your shoulder back into your house as your ran in your heels down the driveway, not paying attention to what was ahead of you. “I’ll give you a call before my next even—“

And with that, your life flashed before your eyes as you felt your heel catch on the edge of what might’ve been a rock. Once the split second passed, you opened your eyes with a gasp, clutching your chest through the clothes you held in your hands. Where you thought you’d hit the ground, you were back in Jared’s arms, being held up right. You relaxed a bit with another deep breath, bringing a hand to your forehead.

“Fuckin’ a,” you breathed as he laughed.

“You’re really falling for me, I’m telling you.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” you grinned, gaining your bearings again.

“How long was that?” You asked as he took your hand, carefully helping you into the SUV that was there for him.

His touch was just as electric as it had been the first time you felt it just hours earlier.

“About fifteen minutes, but that’s fine, I don’t mind being fashionably late.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” you mewled, truly upset that you’d gotten him behind schedule. “I must’ve been talking to Haley longer than I thought.”

He closed the door and you set your things down beside you, smoothing your dress to keep it from getting wrinkled in the ride to the store. Once he entered the car and closed the door, he shifted to get a better look at you, a grin on his lips as he shook his head just slightly.

“They’re going to love seeing you there. It’ll be a big shock, I think.”

“I don’t think anyone will be concerned with me when you’re right there,” you smirked.

“Looking like that? I don’t believe that for one minute.”

A soft blush painted your cheeks as you waved your hand to dismiss him, the driver pulling out of the driveway and heading for the heart of the city.

“I’m nothing special, really.”

His eyes almost seemed to pop out of his head, his fingers moving to lift the hem of your dress just slightly before he draped his arm across the back seat.

“Nothing special? If you weren’t so crazy, I’d think you were insane,” he almost growled, and your breath caught in your chest as your mind immediately fell back to the infamous line in Suicide Squad. “You’re plenty special.”

“I’ll take your word for it!” You laughed, trying to brush off the arousal that just forced its way into your center.

-x-x-x-

Once the SUV pulled up the store, you could see a line of fans down the sidewalk coupled with paparazzi that came to get their own snapshots of the event for the tabloids. Girls and men screamed and cheered, all awaiting Jared’s grand entrance as they realized the car that rolled up was his. It would’ve been deafening if you hadn’t been inside the safety of the vehicle.

He shot you a look, his demeanor changing from slightly guarded but relaxed to completely smug and even more guarded as the door began to open for him. He placed his sunglasses on his face as he got out, the crowd going wild for him. When he turned and offered his hand to you, you slid out as gracefully as possible, taking a tight hold of his hand and stepping out beside him. The crowd roared even louder, and you both lifted your free hands to wave as you made your way in.

Neither of you seemed to notice that you were still holding hands as you walked past the line of people and into the store to take your places in front of a wall for photos. It wasn’t until you let each other go that you realized how natural it’d felt. A sudden spike of embarrassment coursed through you as you looked at your hand for a second, still warm from where his had fit so perfectly.

“Ready, {Y/N}?” He asked.

If it had caught his attention, he gave no indication. With a careful but playful tousle of your hair, you nodded with a smile.

“I’m ready if you are.”

And with that, the doors opened, and security began shuffling people in through an orderly line. It seemed as though people were just as excited to see you as they were to see Jared, and it warmed your heart to know that despite his being such a prominent figure, people were still just as appreciative to meet you. Fame had been a funny thing, but it shocked you every time.

“Hi, {Y/N}, oh my god, I’m so nervous!” A fan gushed. “You’re so gorgeous! And so are you!” She turned to Jared, her eyes wide with adoration.

“Don’t be nervous! We’re human, too!” You assured as she turned around between both of you for a photo.

“I might not be human, actually,” Jared grinned, causing her to giggle.

“Well, he does spend a lot of time on Mars,” you joked, and she giggled again as the camera flashed, blinding you all briefly.

The girl waved another guy over excitedly, and he came running, squeezing himself between you and her. Jared looked over at you, lifting a brow for just a moment before facing the camera again.

“Don’t mind my boyfriend,” the girl started. “He’s just in love with you, {Y/N},” she rolled her eyes jokingly.

“Oh,” you pretended to flirt. “Well it’s my pleasure to meet you, boyfriend.”

“I’m Jared, too,” he nodded, clearly ecstatic to have his hand around your waist for a photo.

“And just as handsome!” You replied.

The guy wasn’t bad looking, but you weren’t serious- you just liked to give the people what they wanted.

Jared leaned over to look at him then. His face was calm, and his tone light as he spoke, but something seemed off. His jaw was just a bit tighter than normal.

“Hey man, there’s only room for one Jared, here,” he joked.

“Is someone jealous?” The girl asked as the camera flashed again before she held out a photo for him to sign.

“Me? No way..” he trailed off as he signed the photo, his eyes still on the task at hand as he spoke again, nonchalantly. “Hey, {Y/N}?”

You turned to face him as he handed the signed picture back to her, the other Jared moving to stand beside his girlfriend once more.

When he looked up again, his hands immediately caught either side of your face, and he pulled you in for another fiery kiss, right in front of everyone who was in the building. It shocked you, probably just as much as the kiss you’d planted on him earlier shocked him. When his tongue slid past your lips, you instinctively let yours roam against it, your hands finding themselves on his shoulders. You weren’t exactly sure if this was good for PR or not, pulling away just a bit with a soft giggle. Noticing his eyes were on yours, a smirk dancing on his lips, you were right. It was game on, now.

“This is war,” you breathed against his lips before turning back to see the crowd, who was completely and utterly gobsmacked.

A large smile remained on your still perfectly painted lips, (thanks, Haley) as you waved over the next fans in line. You shot him another look, biting your lip. He shook his head and winked at you before you both carried on like nothing for the remaining time, signing autographs and smiling for the camera, bantering with fans who asked just what the hell that kiss was about and laughing in between.

It was hard to believe so much time had passed when you hugged the last person in line. When they walked out of the door, Jared immediately took your hand and began to run back to the front of the store with you, heading for the exit himself.

“What are you doing?” You laughed, running behind him as you dodged shelving and racks.

“I’m done waiting,” was all he said, a grin evident in his voice as you both snuck past the doors and straight into the car that had brought you both there. 

When he shut the door behind you, his eyes glanced toward the empty drivers seat before he grabbed your waist and held your stare with an intensity you hadn’t yet seen. You exhaled at the touch, unable to hide your arousal this time as he brushed his lips against your ear, inhaling the scent of Gucci Guilty that still lingered in your hair and on your skin.

“It’s been hard enough watching everyone else get to touch you all day. It’s my turn,” his voice was low and full of lust, turning you to putty in his hands. “That Jared kid might as well have been fucking you with his eyes,” he scoffed lightly.

Your fingertips ran down the nape of his neck before you grabbed his collar and pulled him even closer with a quiet giggle at his random jealousy. You didn’t think you’d caught his eye that much. There was no concern about wrinkling your dress this time as his hand met your thigh, the warmth of his touch radiating through you as he slid it upward agonizingly slow.

“Do you think you can handle it?” You taunted him lightly, the brat in you rearing her adorable head once more that day.

“I should be asking you that, babydoll,” he said just above a whisper, his fingertips brushing over the fabric of your thin panties.

Your breath hitched- once he started, there was going to be no stopping the two of you. You were suddenly thankful for the blackout tinting that wrapped around every window as his fingertips pressed against your sex, rubbing teasing circles over where you needed it the most. Without hesitation, you quickly sat up, shifting in your seat and reaching for the fly of his pants, almost ripping them open and tugging them down a bit, revealing a certain sight for sore eyes. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as your eyes raked over his erect member, he was well endowed, and even though all you wanted was to feel just how big he was, you needed to taste him, more so.

A rush of adrenaline and heightened emotions laced with desire from your steamy kiss earlier, coupled with the one he surprised you with in the store as came pouring in thick like molasses. You were clouded by lust, and so was he. That made it all the more exciting.

His fingers tangled within your made up hair as he watched your every move, biting into his own lip as he lead your head downward. You took his cock into your delicate hand, stroking him a few times gently before wrapping your lips around the head. The sound he made was that of relief, as though he’d been dying for you just as badly as you had been for him.

It was hard to keep yourself from going all in all at once with the desperation that pooled between your thighs, but you wanted to show him you were serious. That this was war. Whether that made him turn around and tear you apart or not was a gamble- and you just so happened to be a gambling woman.

You continued to tease him, sliding your mouth just a bit more down his length. The sucking sensation you offered him was gentle, not enough to completely satisfy, but just enough to get him to grit his teeth and tighten his grip on your hair.

“Such a little tease…” he breathed, looking down at the sight of you in his lap. His eyelids were heavy with desire as he pushed your head down just a bit more, almost using you to tease himself.

You couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as you felt his hard cock slide further into your mouth. Suddenly, you were famished for what only he could give you. Your eyes closed as you savored him, the feeling of such an intimate part of him yours and yours only to toy with- if only in the moment. Without anymore hesitation, you went all in, taking initiative and gliding your lips down his member until they came as close as they could to his groin.

“Just like that, sweetheart..” he groaned, his head falling back just slightly as he thrusted upward into your mouth, his own desperation getting the better of him.

Your tongue licked and pressed against every inch it could find as you suctioned away, your moans mingling with his as your hand reached to pump him as well. It was heaven on earth, the most excited you’d ever been to give anyone head, but as you felt him grow harder and harder, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You curtly pulled off of him, the back of your hand smearing your lipstick just a bit more as you dragged it over your saliva laden lips.

The expression on his features was that of slight confusion and curiosity as he watched you sit up, and slide out of your panties. There was no pushing them aside for the way you were about to ride him. Your cheeks were flush and your body was needy as his hands met your hips, helping you straddle him as your dress bunched up around your thighs. You were soaking wet as you slid your folds over his hard cock, your clit already engorged from the slightest amount of friction. His lips locked with yours as he gripped onto your backside, grinding your sex against him even harder as he breathed heavily against your lips. Every sense was heightened as you braced yourself on his shoulder and the back of the seat.

You looked down into his large blue eyes as you rolled your hips against him once more, lifting yourself up and taking him to the hilt in one swift downward swoop. His thick cock filled your velvety walls completely, the sudden warmth and fullness like a dream to every nerve ending in your nether regions. It was uncontrollable now, the carnal instinct that kicked in as you began to rock your hips- taking from him exactly what you’d been craving from the moment you got to lay in bed with him.

“Oh fuck.. You feel so good..” was all you could manage through unrelenting moans.

Jared’s own moan filled the space around you as he took pleasure in being deep inside your core, his hips bucking just the same to satiate himself the only way he could.

You gripped onto his shoulder harder as you bit into your lower lip. There was nothing more you could focus on than the feeling of his large shaft gliding in and out of your overstimulated center. Your clit throbbed with satisfaction as you felt him hitting every right spot and angle from inside, your g-spot getting the brunt of all of it.

“You like riding this cock, baby?” He rasped, lifting his hand from your hip to slap your ass and grip it firmly before holding onto you again.

“Oh god yes..” you groaned, tilting your head back just slightly as your body fell up and down against his. The closeness was more than you could handle. Though you’d just been in a bed half-naked with him, this was far more intimate than anything that had taken place before. His teeth met your neck, biting into your soft flesh as his hands explored your frame, landing on your hair and squeezing your neck for stolen moments in between. His breath against your skin drove you wild as he morphed each bite into sucking, trailing down to the tops of your breasts in your dress.

When his hands landed back on your hips, you held him even closer to your body as you felt your climax nearing already. Your pussy gushed around him without reservation as he pumped up into you needily, hastily and with absolutely no remorse.

Hearing his breathing so heavy already was thrilling. You were doing exactly what you’d set out to do, and you were doing it well. Cumming on his cock was the only end game in your mind.

“Oh, Jared…” you breathed, unable to stifle any moaning.

“That’s my good girl…” he groaned, the look on his face that of pure relinquishment.

He was just as close as you were, and you could tell with every passing second. There were no wrong answers, and your mind suddenly began to go into overdrive, pulling out all of the stops as you felt yourself on the brink of what already felt like the best orgasm you’d ever had.

“Oh… fuck…” you began, whimpering as your gaze met his.

“Come on baby girl,” he urged, eager to see his effect on you.

“Oh… Daddy..!” You cried, and he held his hand over your mouth as he continued to stare deep into your eyes, thrusting into you with a merciless rhythm.

This might have been a war you started, but he was certainly winning it as you gave into him completely, your body trembling with pleasure with every touch he offered you. The intensity of his stare cut layers through your soul as he took every ounce of pleasure in seeing you come undone for him.

You noticed the aroused yet slightly surprised expression that washed over his countenance at the word ‘daddy.’ You’d kept that kink a secret for years, from both partners who tried to tap into your fantasies to friends who were simply curious, but there was no hiding it when the man between your legs was so deserving of the title. 

He picked up the pace with ease, leaving you no way to keep your release at bay any longer. Your pussy clenched around his length, the tightening only allowing you more pleasure as the the delicious tingling sensation became almost beautifully unbearable. Cumming for him was the easy part as you let yourself go, bouncing on his member as your small cries of tear spiking euphoria were stifled against his hand.

“Shhh, babydoll,” he whispered, his voice gruff and sultry. “Shh..”

The thought of having to be quiet was even hotter as you gasped, milking every second of your climax that you could while he was unable to hold off anymore. His cock throbbed, spilling inside of your warm walls, his load mixed with your arousal, seeping from your sweet spot with every thrust. Seeing you a mess for him was more than he could handle as he came, rasping your name like a deep and indispensable prayer. 

His hand moved from your mouth to your hip again as he brought you down onto his cock harder and rougher. He wanted every bit of you he could get as he came, addicted to your pussy already. His fingertips gripped onto you over the fabric of your dress as he held you down, his thrusts into your wetness slowing, but getting deeper as he exhaled.

Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, locking them in a kiss that matched no other you’d previously shared as you continued to ride him. Out of breath was an understatement, but you would’ve happily died right there just to be the girl to get him off better than any other could’ve. 

You pressed your lips against his as hard as you could, and he met your passion right back. There was no getting enough of each other and his hands moved to grab your face, gripping onto you as though if he let go, you might disappear.

When you finally needed air, you gasped against his open mouth, your eyes still closed as you rocked your hips slowly. Reluctantly, you pulled off of him and sat in his lap, trying to catch your breath as he did the same, a smirk on his perfect, swollen lips.

“And I’m supposed to let you go now?” He quipped, the slight seriousness in his voice eluding to his joke only being half-joking.

Feeling all too needy and clingy as once, you shook your head quickly.

“No.. You don’t ever have to let me go if you don’t want to,” you said quietly between soft breaths.

His hand reached for your hair, pushing some of it from your slightly damp face.

“I really don’t want to,” he said, the smirk that was once on his lips, gone.

After a moment, your {E/C} eyes met his blue ones again. He seemed to drink in your features as you spoke.

“Good.. Because I don’t want you to.”

“I can’t go against such a sweet, and yet so bad, girl’s desires then, can I?” He grinned.

Despite already being exerted from your rendezvous, you could feel the blush rising to your cheeks as you licked your lips with a smirk and gave a soft shrug.

“Do me a favor?” He asked again.

“Anything.”

The grin on his lips formed back into a smirk as he traced your lips with his thumb slowly, something sensual clearly on his mind as his eyes trailed from your lips to your eyes slowly.

“Call me daddy again..”

#jared leto #jared leto x reader #jared leto fanfiction #fanfiction #thirty seconds to mars #joker x reader #fanfic #one shot #gucci #gucci guilty #30 seconds to mars #jared leto smut #jared leto one shot #joker fandom #jared leto fandom #imagine #jared leto imagines #gifmagines #gif imagines #jared leto imagine

[mrsvioletrebellious-blog]

Fuckin X Files

Everyone has an ex right? Well not everyone I didn’t for a long time. But at our age most people have an ex or two and if your really fucking lucky you have a child or children with that ex 🙄😫 and sometimes it can be such an harmonious affair and sometimes it can be so far from harmonious its on fuckin fire. I have an ex, father of my three children. My partner has child mother exs and many many friends are in the same boat. And the dramas lately is just mayhem. From so many people.. Why do so many exs allow there hatred, love or general feeling toward the ex effect there children’s lives? My ex and I, go from harmonious to volatile on a regular basis. He hates my new partner hates the children like him, and sometimes is totally cool and sometimes hell on earth. I don’t care what he does with his life obviously I genuinely hope he has a happy life and finds his inner piece and place in the world. I can’t be arsed with rowing with him about the fact he hasn’t paid me any maitenence since August tho he still smokes and is walking around in fat gold chains. But hey ho not my battle 😏 I’ll moan at him about if he has the kids and doesn’t do anything stimulating with them wether it cost £500 or 5p.. Or if he’s been a general twat or allowed his dislike of me to effect his relationship with them. But in the grand scheme of things I really try to pick my battles because it only effects my kids and I want them to love there dad and to have a good relationship with him without any swaying from me. Sadly not many people can say the same. A friend of mine got with a bloke when his ex found out he was stopped seeing his children. Then told they can never be near his new girlfriend. I totally understand that until it’s serious, a child needs stability. But then she’ll get angry and say have the kids you and your new bird be happy families I don’t want them 🙄😡 the a stop him seeing them another fortnight. A male friend of mine, cars off the road and can’t always use his company car to collect his child as it has a tracker. The ex will demand he be there at a certain time, no later or earlier or you don’t see the child. And if he asks her to help with transport she’d rather he didn’t see his child then to drive ten minutes down road and then accuse him of not caring. Another friend of mine her ex didn’t like her new partner so taught there toddler to say his name and then is a dick 😂😂 I shouldn’t laugh but seriously are people that petty. Also ex partners who complain every time there get the child back after visitation to the other parent and will find any excuse to pick or row. Some people even try and “drum” into there child there opinion of a new partner or situation, to cause an issue. Or so many people will behave in a certain way towards ex or with children, and would go bloody mad if the shoe was on the other foot. The amount of poor fathers that get stopped from seeing there. Children because they don’t want the mother anymore, or have moved on, or sometimes because she’s moved on, the amount of women I know who’s child still has there biological father very much in there life and is teaching there child to call there partner dad ?!? What the fuck?! That just don’t sit right with me, I understand to an extent or a passed away or unknown parent but still with such sensitivity would it need to be dealt with, but fuck me if I heard my children call another woman mum it would tear me apart. But at the same time id rather my child love a partner of my exs then hate them. And then with having children with someone were all bought up differently all have an idea of bringing up children it’s bloody rare to want to do it exact same way and in a partnership you try to compromise, then you split up and there’s kids spending so much time with one parent and parenting skills and rules and then time with the other with a completely different way on how they do things. Torture sat it’s finest. Not just too eachover but the endless words of “ mum lets me do this ” or when I’m at dads I do this “ it’s madness and then regardless of kids. There’s trying to be civil with someone you used to love who may have broke your heart or you there’s, or it may have ended badly or ended because it just didn’t work. Then you have to be civil with someone who’s not only been knee deep in ya vagina and seen you in all sorts of states, someone you might bloody despise and you’ve got to put all that aside for an easier life. Then the rows myself and my partner have had countless rows over exs a friend of mine the only time her n her bloke row is because of his bloody ex! Wether it be because of children and that whole ball game or Because of jealously. Some people just can’t handle you being friendly with an ex. They have that wonderment ” am I a stop gap" you know the age old saying" two people have to fall apart before they fall back together" so many people think you get along well am I just here till you work again" or I don’t want you being nice to someone who’s had there tongue rimming ya asshole on a Wednesday night cory advert 😒 I’d much rather my ex be civil with his exs I just think it makes the whole thing easier. Or exs that hate eachover and they row and bicker and then take it out on there new partner. Some people litreally get jealous of there partner talking to an ex.. We all have history we’ve all had past cock, well most of us 😏😂 It’s just something that needs to be got over if they wanted there ex back I assume they’d just try lol. Most people split up for a valid reason and if it didn’t work then it probably wouldn’t now. Then there’s exs who can be great with the kids, great with the ex. And they get a new partner an bejesus it all goes Pete tong. There causing issues left right and centre. I’ve heard people say “I don’t even want them in said child’s life” what the actually fuck unless that person is a danger to the child you have no fucking say, you at one point wanted that person in that child’s life so much you made the baby with the cunt. Don’t now you hate them it don’t want them or they don’t want you and ya bitter of you’ve made a new set of Waltons and they don’t “fit in ” you can’t then decide your out. Not you place. Children have to be given the freedom and respect to make there own choice. At times I’ve heard my parents slag off my other parent and as a child that probably dos influence my opinion on the other. Now I’ve grown I know my own opinion. But it could have been different or I really wish my ex and myself can have the best relationship for our children. I want to be able to stand in a room together and not row. And have a conversation and God sometimes it like that 👍🏻 and sometimes it is fucking not 👎🏻 but I know how it feels I’m 29 years of age I have one memory of my parents in the same room together and I was 11. My children have never seen there grandparents in the same room. Never had both at a party of there’s. I didn’t have both at my daughters funeral, fuck only knows if I’ll have both at my wedding. I doubt it. And yes it’s one parent more then the other. But what do you do. Hates and awful emotion and can allow people to behave in a way that effects the one person it shouldn’t.. There child.. It’s a deep shame. And then there’s these parents who don’t give two fucks I know lads who just don’t bother with there kids cause there too busy boying about n the awful thing is there child will wonder why, even feel that same level of hate, or just grow up with issues and this lad won’t thing it now, he’s living life but when he’s an old man and a child calls him up on his fuck ups and my god they will the deep rooted regret he will feel will rip his heart out. It’s so stupid. Co - parenting, exs, bringing to families together is hard graft. I was in a 15 year relationship so am only learning this new life myself but fuck me it ain’t easy. A friend called me other day her boyfriends moving one ith her so his children will effectively be now sleeping ect at there/her house and she’s confused on what role to take. WhAt role have I took with my partners children. Friend, I do not want to discipline or moan at my partners children that is not my place and I don’t want too. I want to make them laugh and comfort them and have them trust me and no there safe with me and know I’ll protect them but know never to fear me or hopeful resent me because I’m just there friend. And it goes both ways. God I’ve seen friends boyfriends who are not here child’s father discipline there children. In my eyes that’s wrong. It’s not there place. And Tbh they shouldn’t want too. I don’t tell off my partners children and over my dead body could he tell mine. If expect my ex to shit a brick if my partner did and I’d expect his ex to do the same if I did. I wouldn’t even bath his children. But I’d give them a cuddle and comfort them if they were sad. But I think there’s such a line as a “step parent” it makes me have such admiration for my own stepfather. I always had a level of privacy in my whole childhood I can’t remember once him ever just walking in my room without calling. He never raised a hand too me. Yes he’s moan at me n tell me off if I was a little bastard followed by “ya mums gonna kill you” 😂😂 but he’d also give me pocket money and teach me stuff. I didn’t realise until doing it myself there were times he probably wanted to batter me and times he probably had to be am careful of his behaviours cause he want my “biological ” dad. Him and my mum have been separated years now I still speak to him every week and pop round and ask him for money when I’m skint 😂🔫 he is one of my parents and always will be and I truly believe he got that balance right. Tho not that it was easy I have memories of him and my dad rowing and I know there fought so much at times my dad actually cut my step dads finger clean off and he’s left with a stump 😂😂 most men would of walked at that point but he didn’t he loved my mum took on her Bastard kids and tang was that (my mum is so worth it tho 😘) but then my mum, ‘was very good to one of his daughters, spoke to my stepdad about getting her out on the pill when reaching an age and letting her become a woman and took her shopping and threw her parties and really tried to bond and at times did. But she just was never interested, loyalty to her mum? Brainwashed? Just a general dislike? Who knows but it doesn’t always work out does it sadly. I take my hat off to anyone trying to live a civil life with an ex. Anyone trying to be a good step parent, or anyone just battling with people who ain’t either of those things and are just praying for things to get better. It’s hard now but in the end you’ll pay yaself on the back and hopefully so will them kids and you’ll be and lap with a smile on ya face knowing you did ya best.

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