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courtney-deserved-better · 3 years

Note

whats ur writing schedule/process like! not in a “write faster” way, but i think once you mentioned writing in script form? and i like the way you wrote ur most recent fic! just curious bc ur works are just really good :)

this is a great question!!

if its not slippery slopes, ill usually get an idea for something and periodically jot down notes when they come to me until I feel like i have enough information to start writing (or if im just motivated), that's what i did for my horror challenge rewrite. and for stuff that's like... rewrites of an episode that aren't as character-focused as slippery slopes, i usually read the episode transcripts and try to replicate that total drama style with my own writing

for shorter oneshots, i usually just get a vague idea and run with it until i find a good ending spot, then i go back and clean it up a bit so the structure works

slippery slopes is an... interesting cycle. chapters are getting long enough that i cant just write them in one sitting any more (i think ch5 was the last chapter i did that for) and instead ill agonize over the beginning (always the hardest part to write for me) but once i get going with that i usually finish the chapter within a few days. then i reread the previous chapter to make sure it flows ok (and there aren't any contradictions) and then ill give myself a break where i dont do anything total drama related before coming back to edit and post. though before I do all that I type up notes and rough dialogue bits

and then once i post it it's like... a weight off my chest? like ive been purged or something?? idk its a weird sensation but im just like i Physically Cannot Write Anything For This Right Now and i don't start on the next chapter until that goes away. and then i either start the beginning and do nothing for a week before going back and finishing the chapter or i go into a manic state and write nonstop for a few days. right now i haven't reached a point where im ready to begin writing chapter 10 but i have a lot of notes for it.

(also as soon as i finish posting a chapter i try not to go on my laptop for like 12 hours so i don't obsessively refresh my email for comments. i love reading comments so much holy shit. please comment guys it makes fic authors feel so happy we will love you for it)

as for scripts: i am working on being a writer professionally, but specifically a playwright. writing in a script format comes more naturally to me than writing prose. funnily enough, i started posting fanfic just to practice my prose (and fix stuff in cobra kai that i didnt like) but things sort of... ended up here? idk man but im enjoying it.

right, so because writing in a script format is easier when im really struggling with a section in a fic ill usually scrap whatever i had and write it like a script, then translate that into prose. i was very excited to write the family videos for chapter 9 of slippery slopes, but i was Having Issues, so i redid it as a script and then rewrote that as prose. ill put the script version under the cut if you're interested in that.

but thank you so much for the question!! i do think my writing process is a bit unconventional but hey i think things are turning out well! if you have any more questions feel free to send them in!!

ok here is the last scene of ch 9 of slippery slopes in script format:

[SIERRA]

MOM: Hi honey! Omigosh this is so exciting! I bet you’re having such a great time! Especially since Chris is there! Is Chris watching this? Hi Chris! You know, I loooved you on that ice skating show. Your hair was fantastic! Well, it always is, haha. Do you really make your own hair gel? I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe but you’re just so hard to track down! Oh, you’re such a funny guy! I laughed sooo hard when you made all those jokes about marrying Chef.

Chef: hey!

Chris: ok just for the record, I wasn’t joking, we are married, Sierra tell your mom we’re married

Sierra: …can we just turn it off please

[COURTNEY]

DAD: Courtney, sayang, I know you’ve been going through a lot right now—

MOM: So you’d BETTER make it count. You’ve made it this far before, I want to see you getting all the way to the finale this time. And winning it. Enough moping about those hideous, good-for-nothing slackers! That’s what you get for hanging around freaks like them. You’re doing this for the million, now get the million. Is that clear?

ZARINA: And kick ass!

DAD: Zarina!

Video cuts out.

Alejandro: courtney you good?

Courtney: no, she’s right. Mama didn’t raise no quitter

Alejandro: [knows she’s still upset about duncan and gwen]

[ALEJANDRO]

MOM: Hola, Alejandro. We hope you are doing well, especially in such unsavory conditions. I’m glad to see you’ve made it to the final four— we expected nothing less, of course.

DAD: You have been utilizing your skills quite well. Though I wish you hadn’t been so… blatant about it. You’ll have to work twice as hard once this is over to convince people you’re trustworthy. But surely you were aware of that going into this… odd endeavor. That’s just politics. Reputation is everything.

JOSE: [snorts] Oh, and what a reputation you have, Al. I could easily compile hours of footage of your failures, but I, unlike you, do not waste my time on the frivolities of reality television. Though you always have been lacking in taste. Especially with that bratty girlfriend of yours— oh, my mistake, aren’t you dating the whiny weakling? It’s so hard to keep track! [laughs]

Alejandro: callate!

MOM: I’m sure Alejandro is just working an angle on them.

DAD: Whatever the case is, do not disappoint us.

[NOAH]

MOM: Hi Noah, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to record a full video, but I’m proud of you! Here are your sisters!

ISWARI: A million dollars? A million [bleep] dollars? Win it, Noah! Win it!

RUTH: Dude!! This is crazy! I know you can do this— good luck! Ark misses you! [holds up Ark who barks]

MARA: Are you insane? Why aren’t you dating Alejandro already?

Noah: shut up, mara, just because you can’t keep a boyfriend—

ANYA: Don’t let ‘em trick you! No mercy! Crush their skulls if you have to— no, wait, you’re not strong enough for that. We’ll get there!

LIYA: I say this as your sister, someone who loves you but is constantly annoyed by you— for someone who is quite literally a genius, you sure can be an idiot sometimes.

BALLARI: Okay, I literally have no idea how you’ve made it this far without an athletic bone in your body— are we sure you aren’t adopted? I’m kidding

ABS: You’re stubborn as hell when it comes to me, so you better be stubborn as hell when it comes to winning! And when you do win, get me a frozen yogurt machine, will you? I promise I won’t make you rock climb again!

JAEL: If you lose this, I’ll kill you with this racket. And then use your guts to make myself a new racket. So don’t fuck it up. Again.

Noah: [frozen, ashamed]

Sierra: well that was a mess

Courtney: ok show of hands, who felt better after hearing that? [no one raises hands]

Chris: yeah I was expecting this to be a lot more heartwarming…

Chef: chris just look at them. If they had stable home lives they wouldn’t be doing reality tv

Alejandro: can we please stop talking about this. Also aren’t you supposed to be flying the plane

Chef: oh fuck

Chris: yeah sure. I think im gonna call my mom

Everyone: …

Noah: ok so that was really shitty. Why dont we all go to first class and try and ignore our problems

Everyone: yeah ok sounds good

***

Courtney: so that sucked

Alejandro: at least your dad seems ok

Courtney: true. What are your guys dads like

Noah and Sierra: bold of you to assume I know my dad. Jinx

***

Alejandro: that last girl… you mentioned a sister who does tennis and hates you

Noah: yep

Alejandro: why?

Noah: none of your business. but… it is pretty justified

#slippery slopes #ask #anon #total drama #writing #fic #my fic

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not-safeforsanders · 3 years

Text

Riptide

Chapter 12: Guillotine // I’ve got thoughts nobody needs

Ship: Receit

Warnings for this chapter: hospitals

Warnings for the whole fic: Drug use, sexual content, sex under the influence of alcohol, alcoholism, implied/referenced suicide attempts, sexual trauma, sex addiction, self-worthlessness.

Word Count: 3587

Plot: Remus is running from a history he doesn’t want to face, Janus is escaping a guilt that he doesn’t have to bear. When the two meet under the most unlikely of circumstances, Janus finds himself in a whirlwind of a life that gets stranger by the second.

As he starts to uncover more about Remus’, and his brother Roman’s, history, Janus finds himself in a much harder situation than he’d thought he’d be in. Can he stop his past repeating itself? Or will he have to carry the weight of living alone once again?

Chapter Summary: Remus is going to be okay, or so he hopes, so everybody around him hopes; if he can just take those steps to get there.

Janus stays the night in this hospital room, he’s fairly certain these people are supposed to ask if he’s family, but then again they hadn’t asked the last time he’d been sleeping on a single chair waiting for Remus to wake up. He supposes the night shift have more important things to worry about than him, as attested by the fact he’s sleeping on a very uncomfortable chair.

Roman looked exhausted when he left, the sort of tired that no amount of ‘go home and get some rest’ can fix. Janus does not for a moment blame him, he understands why Roman can’t stay here, firstly because he’s already a mess of muscle soreness and he will not be able to sleep in this room; and secondly, because this is not the first time Roman, or Patton, have sat in a hospital room waiting for Remus to wake up. Something like that doesn’t get easier to see, it only gets harder.

Janus wonders how many times he’s going to see this, if ever again. He doesn’t want to place too much hope in his own heart because this crash is so brutal that he wonders how to stabilise his own heart. No wonder Roman always looks older than he is, acts older too, could you imagine having to be a father not only to your twin brother but to yourself too? Could you imagine being the sole support network to someone who seems to tick like a time bomb and then explode?

He doesn’t pity Roman, but he’s very glad he has Patton because that means that Janus knows he’s safe and not alone.

Janus does not find it easy to sleep that night and not because the chair is so stiff and uncomfortable. At first, he struggles to sleep despite his overwhelming exhaustion, the hours creeping by. Occasionally he cries quietly, softly, so no-one can hear. It’s just him, the darkness, and his partner. He tries to grasp the situation as best as he can, one moment Remus had been at home, asleep, and the next he was in a hospital bed. Janus doesn’t really know how to handle that, but he assumes it must be harder for Remus, or at least it will be when he wakes up.

It’s well into the early hours of the morning before he falls asleep, his muscles stiff and his body cold, but he does eventually succumb to slumber.

When the morning rolls around he is still tired, but the sunlight floods the far too white room, offering a little bit of warmth. Janus lifts his head with a wince, his back aching and not in a pleasant way at all, but then he’s more preoccupied with the dark eyes staring at him. Remus is awake, sat up against the headrest with a bowl of cereal in his lap that he seems to be struggling to eat. The IV drip that had been connected to his arm has been removed, but the cannula is still there, the needle taped into the crook of his inside elbow. It doesn’t look comfortable.

Remus looks a little amused by his presence in some way, his eyebrow raised as Janus looks up at him. He pushes a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and then rests the bowl somewhere else, seemingly giving up on trying. He looks like hell, his skin pale and too tight over his bones, bags as dark as bruises even starker against the white lights of the hospital. He looks exhausted, Janus feels exhausted. “You’re awake,” the blond mutters softly, his throat dry and voice rough as he speaks.

“Have been for a few hours now, I woke up whilst it was still dark because I needed to throw up my entire guts, and then I got tea and food from the very lovely nurse.” He gives a grin, but it’s lacking its usual brightness. Janus sits closer to the bed and smiles reassuringly, or what he hopes is reassuring anyway. “You stayed here all night.” It isn’t a question, but Janus nods anyway by way of response. “Your back must be killing you.”

“I can barely feel it,” he replies, voice coming out almost like a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.” That seems like an accurate description. He doesn’t know what Remus took or how much, but he does know that it doesn’t look pleasant to put that much drugs into you, and even worse to get them all out. His stomach must look like a warzone right now. “But I’ll be alright, apparently I’m an alcoholic, did you know?”

“A little.” Janus rests his head against the bed, his arms folded underneath it. “You do drink a lot, but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to say anything.”

“That’s understandable.” Remus shuffles to one side of the bed. “Come on.” Janus glances nervously through the door, before sliding off his shoes and squashing up next to Remus in the bed. He wraps an arm around the other man’s too-thin waist and rests his head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. He doesn’t know why it makes him cry to hear it thudding, but it does. Remus frowns and runs a hand through his hair soothingly. “I’m okay Jan, it’s okay.”

“Nothing about this is okay,” Janus whispers. His voice cracks when he speaks and his voice is almost...angry, but not furious anger, heartbroken. He still doesn’t know what to do with all of these emotions but he does feel ready to pick a fight with absolutely anyone and anything that has ever hurt Remus or ever will. “Absolutely nothing, okay would be you not having to suffer, that would be okay.” He shakes his head just a little, sniffling. “ You are not okay, and this is not okay and it’s not your fault, I don’t blame you but you’re not okay and you need to stop saying you are.” Remus goes silent. He doesn’t say anything for a very long moment.

“I know.” He says softly, eventually, pressing a kiss to the top of Janus’ head. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“I know.”

Janus does not want to leave Remus’ side, he eventually has to pry himself away from Remus so the doctors can take his blood. He doesn’t say a word the entire time, he just rests his exhausted head against the bed. Remus however, jokes with them and flirts with the female nurses who definitely know he’s not interested, nothing about this man could be less than flamboyant. He’s doing it to cheer himself up, Janus thinks. He even cracks something of a small smile when the bubbly nurse laughs in response to Remus’ flirtation with “oh I would, but I think my husband might have something to say about it.” Remus laughs instead, he sounds tired even then.

Janus falls asleep again at some point, jerking awake by the sound of the door opening. It’s easily midday by this point as a doctor informs Remus that the psychiatrist will be here in around an hour to have a consultation with him. “Your...brother...?” He looks at Janus, who snorts a little in response. Remus is easily over 6ft tall, thin as a rod with hair that is almost black, there is no way he’s Janus’ brother. They don’t look remotely similar.

“Sure,” Remus says, with a grin. “We’ll go with that.” Janus glares at him.

“...right, well, your brother can join with your consent.”

“Absolutely not,” Janus is still reeling from being mistaken for Remus’ brother. He glances up at his own hair and furrows his eyebrows, yes he’s still obnoxiously blond. His mother used to say Janus could never go missing because his hair is like a traffic light.

“I’m not his brother,” Janus finally says, because that just feels wrong. “His actual brother might want to attend though.”

“He’s not going too, the doctor said I have to consent.” Janus meets Remus’ eyes as though trying to have a silent conversation.

“You do, so you think over that, and I will let you know when the psychiatrist arrives, from a medical standpoint you’re good, your blood work has come back and we’re a little concerned on how low your iron and vitamin d levels are, but over the counter medication for that is fairly cheap, we’ll prescribe you some tablets that you can pick up from your local pharmacy.” The doctor lowers his clipboard and smiles warmly. “You should also cut back on your alcohol consumption, whilst your liver and kidneys are not currently showing any abnormalities, the alcohol levels in your blood were far too great for someone your weight and could indicate future problems.” He nods with a small hum. “But, psychiatric evaluation permitted, you should be able to be discharged today, and we’ll send that prescription over, now it’s most important that you take the vitamins throughout winter, it’s not so imperative in the summer because we have sunlight, but obviously in the winter, days are shorter, less sunlight, so less vitamin D, is all that clear?”

“Yes,” Remus replies, looking like it really is not clear.

“Good, I will leave you and your friend to it then.” Then he walks out the door and closes it behind him.

“Brother?” Janus asks, his voice a whole pitch higher. “If you weren’t bed-bound I would slap you,” he jokes lightly.

“Heteronormitivity is a hell of a drug,” Remus laughs softly, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, don’t lie, it’s just a little bit funny isn’t it?”

“I look nothing like you, like not even distant relatives.” He shakes his head, then grimaces. “Nope, no thank you,” the taller man is laughing properly now at the disgusted expression on Remus’ face. “Now every time I kiss you I’m going to be thinking about the time someone thought I was your brother...he’s a medical professional surely he should know how genetics work, I look nothing like you!”

“Can’t wait to tell Roman,” Remus grins. “He’s going to have a field day, although he’s used to that, so many people think he and Patton are brothers.”

“Patton doesn’t even have the same skin tone as Roman, you two are white as milk and he looks perpetually like he’s just gotten back from fucking Benidorm, that’s even worse!” Remus doesn’t stop laughing, his hand on his stomach as he half laughs and half winces. Then his stomach lurches and he grimaces, hiccuping on his own breath. “Are you okay?”

“About as okay as I can be,” he replies with a small smile. He shuffles around a little, sitting up against the headboard. “What about you?”

“Getting better,” his smile is tight in response, squeezing Remus’ hand in his own gently. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.” Janus meets Remus’ eyes with a more relaxed smile, and Remus’ cheeks flush a little, his eyes going slightly wide before he treas their gazes in two and looks away. “Are you blushing?”

“No.”

“You are! You’re blushing!”

“I am absolutely am not,” Janus stands up off the chair and plonks down next to Remus on the bed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Remus makes a small noise at the back of his throat and narrows his eyes at Janus. “You stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Seducing me.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

The door opens and Roman stands there, staring at the two of them with furrowed eyebrows. “Isn’t Remus blushing?” Janus asks, immediately, his hand coming up to poke the warm cheek. Roman studies Remus’ face with furrowed eyebrows, the other’s cheeks darken in response, burying his face in his hands as he avoids the gaze.

“He is,” Roman concludes with a nod. “What did you do?”

“I...I don’t know to be honest,” Janus grins, before sliding off the bed to sit back down on the chair. That single hospital bed is really not made for two. Remus is smiling very softly as he stares down at the hands that are now in his lap, shaking his head. He looks a little more...bright, with that expression on his face, not forced, not struggling to grasp a hold of a single piece of happiness.

“The doctor said that I’m physically fine,” Remus informs Roman, who nods, sitting down on the other free chair with an interesting expression on his face. “He said the psychiatrist will be here in an hour or something, and then I’ll be allowed to go based on that diagnostic assessment.” He sighs a little, his shoulders rising and falling with the depth of it. “I really landed myself in it this time huh, couldn’t brush that one off as an ‘I forgot how much I was taking,’ could I?”

“No,” Roman replies with a small and sad smile. “But at least now you can actually get some help, and please just...just try, this time, okay? That’s...that’s all I’m asking, just tell the truth and try.” Remus looks up at his brother, the smile absent from his face and back to looking tired and without humour. Janus stares at his own hands for a moment, wondering if he should leave the two to talk, but neither seems to be indicating he should leave. “But at least you didn’t do any lasting damage, which is a miracle in itself.”

“Yeah, apparently I need to stop drinking though, my kidney is on its way out.” Remus snorts, Roman shakes his head, but he is smiling a little in amusement.

“I’ve been telling you that one for years.”

“Oh don’t start.”

“What? It’s true! You…” Janus tunes out the argument, just watching the two of them bicker, voices getting higher but they have those grins on their faces, enjoying riling each other up. Janus had never thought much if he’d wished he’d had a brother or sister. He thinks he probably has a half-brother on his dad’s side, but he never met him.

“The entire ward can hear you two,” none of them had noticed the door opening, Patton is stood there in his normal clothes looking far too amused at the two of them. “I knew before I even got here which room you were in. He hands Roman a coffee and Janus and coffee. Remus pouts. “No caffeine for you mister, or alcohol for that matter I saw your bloodwork.”

“Oh, here we go,” Remus mutters, Patton laughs softly, shaking his head.

“I don’t know how your poor body is still going, I’ve half a mind to be making you a nutrition plan so that you still have organs at thirty.” Janus bites back a grin at the tone, Remus rolls his eyes.

“I know it’s usually Roman’s job, but I’ve half a mind to start calling you daddy.”

“Remus!” Roman and Janus utter in unison. Roman looks mortified, Janus is fairly certain he’s high on endorphins because his laughter is starting to ache in delirium.

“Bullying goes two ways,” Remus shrugs, confiscating his partner’s coffee, who stares at his hand in confusion for a long moment before pouting. Janus decides he now knows far too much about Roman’s sex life. “And I was joking, but judging by how red Roman’s face is, I’m not wrong.”

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Patton beams, plonking himself down in Roman’s lap.

“You don’t really need to tell, the walls are very thin,” Remus quips back, before handing the coffee back to Janus, who looks like he’d like to be anywhere but listening to this conversation. “Let a man laugh, I almost died!”

“And that’s quite enough out of you,” Roman mutters, shaking his head, red as a tomato. But he looks happier to see Remus happier...and Janus is too. They’d both been dreading what would come next, if they’d have to console him, if he’d be angry or if he’d be melancholy, but true to Remus he’s up and down like a fucking rollercoaster. Janus isn’t entirely sure the other man knows how to get off this ride any more than they do.

Which is why it’s very important that Remus tells the truth, that he talks about what’s going on with someone.

Another knock on the door has Patton jumping out of Roman’s lap and shuffling awkwardly into the corner of the room, leaning against the windowsill as if it’s particularly interesting. The doctor walks in with a too-friendly smile, but his voice comes out soft and a little worried. “The psychiatrist is here to see you, Remus, will you be attending alone?”

“Yep,” Remus hums. He slides off the bed and winces a little, stretching out his legs with a grimace. “When am I getting this thing taken out?” He gestures to the cannula in his arm.

“We’ll get that taken out after your appointment.”

And then they’re both gone, leaving the three of them in the room to wait. “Do you think he’ll tell the truth?” Janus wonders aloud. They’ve both known Remus their entire lives, they know him better. Every day is a learning experience for Janus and although he cares for his partner greatly and adores him in ways words can’t express, he knows he does not know him better than his brother and best friend.

“I don’t know,” Roman replies gently. “I think he wants too, but…” he trails off, with a shrug. “It’s hard to tell with Remus, one minute he’s one way then another, up and down all the time, he’s not consistent in many things in his life and...lately he’s changing again.” Janus nods in response.

“I hope he does though,” Patton adds quietly. “He’s like a little brother to me, but sometimes I do wonder how much more of this I can take.” Roman nods in agreement. “It’s not his fault, I’m not angry with him or upset with him, it’s just hard living like this; I thought he was getting better and then suddenly he’s in the hospital again.”

“How many times has he done this?” Janus asks.

“Under the assumption that he was in a river for that reason, this would be his seventh suicide attempt,” Roman utters bluntly. Janus puts his coffee down because his stomach suddenly lurches very violently. “I did warn you.”

“I know, it’s okay,” the blond whispers quietly. “I want to help him, but...I can’t, can I?” He looks up at Patton, who knows far more about this stuff than he does.

“You can help, but...mental illness is not something you can stick a bandaid over and it’s fixed, right now you’re a bandaid, but what he’s got is a gunshot wound, and unless he gets professional help, he’s going to bleed himself dry; he needs real psychological help, and possibly medication, but the developments for this sort of thing still have a lot of work that needs doing.”

“Right.”

“It’s not easy, I know the sort of therapy he’d have to go through, I couldn’t imagine being able to stomach it either.” Patton looks down at the ground.

“You read a lot, don’t you?” Janus asks, the other man laughs softly, Roman looks up at his partner with this inch of pride. It must be wonderful to be looked at like that. Janus thinks doctors and nurses are kind of like superheroes, they work and work for next to nothing, except the need to help other people. He wouldn’t be able to stomach this job, and if there’s anything he knows about Patton who is eternally soft-hearted, he thinks that this man must be a whole lot braver than he is.

He must see people like this every single day and he just keeps going. Janus is surprised that there isn’t specialist therapy for nurses and doctors, who have to see the real horrors of the world.

“I have too, I’m going to be a doctor one day,” then Patton beams and Janus feels like everything is going to be just fine. He calls that the nurse effect, where they make you feel like there’s nothing that is ever going to go wrong whilst you're in their care.

When Remus returns he looks like he’s been dragged to hell and back, his eyes are puffy and his hands are shaking and he doesn’t think twice about curling up in Janus’ lap and burying his face in his neck. Janus, unsure entirely what to do, hugs him close and presses a kiss to the top of the brunet’s head. “I hated that.”

“I don’t think anyone enjoys it.” Remus nods. “What did he say?”

“Well I’m definitely traumatised, I’ve got to attend therapy at the adult psychological services and he offered me antidepressants, but apparently I need to read all the side effects first and have a talk with my GP.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re telling me.” He takes a deep, shaky breath in “...but at least they’re letting me go, it’s just looking like I’m gonna have therapy.”

“That’s good.” Remus shoots him a look of distaste. “I know, but it is good.”

“Yeah, just not looking forward to it either.”

“I know but it will help.” Remus smiles at him, not happily, but in a comforting fashion, or perhaps the smile of someone who is comforted. All he really knows for that second, is maybe it will be worth it, maybe there is life on the other side of all of this.

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r0xy-w0lf · 4 years

Text

Tagged by @theunholyoutlaw and @sad-sweet-cowboah thanks, I’ll try my best!

Name: “My name is Miss Roxanne Robinson, but you guys all know me as Death-Rider” “Unless your in my gang then you’ll know me as Roxy, and im the leader of Death-Squad”

Are you single: “Sure is but Leo has got his eyes on her!”

Are you happy: “I’ve got my family i dont need anything else!”

Are you angry: “Not really, but hurt her or her gang and you’ll see side if her that u dont want to see.... like ever!” 😂

Are your parents married: “They wasn’t into any of that, they believed that you dont need to be married to proof how much you love another.”

Nine facts

Birthplace: “Uk”

Hair colour: “Blonde”

Eye colour: “Baby blue”

Birth date: “29th of December 1872

Mood: “Mostly mature, but has quite alot if crazy moments”

Gender: “Female”

Summer or winter: “Winter, can’t work or sleep when its warm! And nobody like me when i haven’t slept! But i will tryand meet halfway to go see my sister in between beechers and my fort up in Annesburg.”

Morning or afternoon: “Dont mind either, its easier to go rob folk at night but it’s nice to enjoy a full day.”

Eight things about your love life

Are you in love: “well currently nothing but the way Leo keeps flirting things all might change.” 😉

Do you believe in love at first sight? “Nope dont be silly.”

Who ended you last relationship: “Me, but it wasn’t a relationship i got a choice in, I managed to escape. I haven’t got scares all over me for no reason.”

Have you ever broken someones heart: “Many as i was never interested, being the most wanted outlaw was never gonna be easy and therefore no time for anyone.”

Are you afraid of commitment: “Roxy has been alone for so long apart from being with the gang, she see the others with there men and disbelieves that one day it could be her.”

Have you hugged someone in the last week: “ Not the most affectionate person in the world, so probably not but we all want a hug sometimes.”

Have you ever had a secret admirer: “Probably, but they never had the balls to approach me.”

Have you ever broken you own heart: “yeah but well not go into that.”

Four preferences

Smile or eyes: “Best way to learn about them.”

Shorter or taller: “Taller, im a tall ass bitch!”

Intelligence or Attention: “Kinda like both but personality matters too.”

Hook up or relationship: “relationship”

Six Choices

Love or lust: “Obviously both”

Lemonade or ice tea: “ Lemonade”

Cats or dogs: “Both the more fluff the better”

A few best friends or regular friends: “ What sort of question is that? My gang anyday!”

Wild night out or romantic night in: “ Its good to do a but of both.”

Day or night: “Depends on mood”

Four have you evers

Been caught sneaking out: “haha im a assassin isn’t that what im best at?”

Fallen down/up stairs: “stairs.... what are those?”

Wanted someone/something so bad it hurt: “Does freedom count?”

Wanted to disappear: “kinda have to otherwise folk are gonna cut my head off”

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends: “ nope, not yet”

Do you consider all of your friends good friends: “They made me feel like a normal human being no matter how chaotic they can be at times, and we deal with thing together, most of the time, unless ive already done it”

Who is your best friend? “No such thing as a best friend”

Who knows everything about you: “ Definitely Stevie as she was one the first i trusted and had to train everyday, she just gets me”

Do you and your family get along: “Me and my brother were inseparable until he met Mary and fell in love with but she was cruel and separated me from my brother and I haven’t seen him since” “but my gang in now my family and the past stays in the past”

Would you say you have messed up life: “I wouldn’t say i did but all things happen for a reason”

Have you ever ran away from home: “ When i was 6 me and my brother both ran away looking for a better life, as the men who kill our parents would come and get us.”

Have you ever got kicked out: “ me getting kicked out your having a laugh, more like i kick other people out!”

I tag @verai-marcel @mrskrazy @mrscharlessmith @horsegirl1h @fangirl-ramblings and anybody who wants to join in

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 online #rdr oc #roxy #death rider #deathsquad

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blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Last Chapter - 21)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: THE LAST CHAPTER. I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE. i feel like before i start my thank yous i could give you some weird trivia on the story. i wrote the entire outline for the fic at a weekend shift at work, where i always have free time. i had some smaller ideas - them meeting at a bar and not seeing again, the whole kensingon-taxi-class thing from the beginning - but there was a sudden burst of inspiration and in like twenty minutes the outline was done, and very little has changed, i mostly just added some more details. also, i imagine the reader as alicia silverstone in the 90s?? idk. i just do. also, the reader thing with new york comes from the fact that i lived there for a while and i miss it so much, so thats why theres so much detail about places and stuff - its my form of revisiting my favourite spots there. also, will (REMEMBER WHEN) was written with sebastian stan in mind, and liv tyler (in her lord of the rings days) was poppy. i did too much research for this fic on queen history, and everytime i had to change something (especially in the first act) so the dates made more sense, it KILLED ME.

anyway, now the thank yous: SHIT THIS FIC IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER ON MY LIFE. its my first time writing such a long story without abandoning it, and my first time writing fiction in english, so i learned so much!! i was doing some research the other day, and the great gatsby is like 47k words long, and the first harry potter is around 70k words long - bed of roses is around 60k words long. this is crazy.

it's also my first story to get this many readers interacting with me, and i'm so grateful for you all!! i thought about thanking you all by name, but i dont want anyone to feel left out so i just want every and each one of you reading these words to know: if you read my story, thank you. thank you for giving me your time of the day, thank you for connecting with what i wrote, thank you for telling me in any way possible that you've enjoyed it. thank you. a writer must write, but theres not a lot of joy in talking to an empty room. you filled my small room with warmth and love and there's not enough words to express my gratitude for you all. thank you.

about my writing: i plan on FINALLY DOING THE MANY REQUESTS I HAVE IGNORED OVER THIS FINAL ACT OF BED OF ROSES - requests are still open, too! i'm also outlining a smaller roger x reader fic where she's one of the videographers on the news of the world documentary, so keep an eye out for that! i'm gonna open a permanent taglist for the requests (and eventual new fic), so if you want to be added, hit me up in the ask box/comments/inbox!

anyway i'll finally wrap up this chapter's note cause you have the final chapter to read. enjoy my loves

Words: nearly 4k

Warnings: none??? part of their dialogue is inspired by some of my favourite movies and books like her and the wife and almost famous and before sunrise and the fault in our stars and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and maybe more I DONT KNOW ITS BEEN AN EMOTIONAL RIDE OK I CANT EVEN REMEMBER WHERE DID I PULL THIS FROM EXACTLY. some errors too cause i didnt revise it completely my bad im crying ok

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 21

Roger lit a cigarette in the train cabin, and tried to open the top window, the one you can usually pull open.

"Rog, it's not gonna open, you know", you told him as you watched him fiddling with the glass.

"I guess you're right. Hope you won't be bothered by the smoke", he said, taking a puff.

"I won't if you share it with me", you answered, and with a half smile on his lips, Roger lifted the cigarette to your lips, and you breathed in the smoke while looking at him through your lashes.

"Don't look at me like that. Especially if the cigarette smoke is going to leave the cabin sultry and hot", he told you, and you laughed.

"Yeah, and we won't do anything about it", you said, trying to make yourself more comfortable in your seat.

"And why is that?", he asked, batting his lashes innocently at you, you you lightly elbowed his ribs.

"We need to do something else, something we've been ignoring the whole trip", you said, and he raised his brow. "We need to talk about us", you told him, and he breathed out, smoke coming out of his nose.

"I guess you're right again", he said, then slid a bit down on his seat.

You didn't think much about talking about your future with Roger while in Paris, so now has to be the time, on a train that will take you to London and to a whole month of Roger being away, promoting News Of The World.

While in Paris, you never talked to Roger about the future, and talks of the past where subtle - you talked about how you felt with the development Doctor Who took over the years, but didn't think much about the fact that you were separate during years of the show.

You enjoyed the city, but most of all, you enjoyed each other's presence, not only going to museums, churches and castles around you, following them up with fancy dinners and walks along the Seine, but you also spent time inside the room, in your pajamas, ordering take out from restaurants you found on the phone book, having a hard time trying to speak french as Roger tickled the sole of your feet and kept trying to distract you.

You would always remember the peace you felt as you ate cheap chinese food on Roger's shirt on the balcony at night, the Eiffel Tower shining over your meal and Roger's electric blue eyes as he hummed early David Bowie's songs under his breath, or how at home you felt sitting on the couch, Roger on the floor with his head on your lap, his soft strands on your fingers as you tried to braid them while watching re-runs of I Dream of Jenie, Roger focused, trying to understand the french dubbing until he noticed what you were doing.

"Babe, are you trying to braid my hair? Think I'd look better if I'd look more girly?", he said, moving his head back so he can look at you.

"Yeah. Always thought so, but I'll have to keep imagining, since your hair is too short to braid", you pouted, and he laughed.

"Don't you like my new hair, then?", he asked, pouting back, and you moved your head to his level so you could press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love it, Rog. Especially cause since it's shorter, it looks even messier after I pull it", you said, and he smirked. "My favourite look of yours is when you're all dishevelled after sex", you winked, teasing him.

"That's my favourite, too", he said, turning completely around and pulling you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

But now, while in the smoke filled train cabin, you needed to make a few things clear.

"I've been avoiding this for a reason", he said, looking out the window, and you raised your brow, waiting for him to explain. "I have this weird, innate fear of you telling me it's all good but you don't want to see me again, or something", he said, and you gave him a half smile.

"I don't want to do this, Rog. And I won't do it", you told him, and he sighed in relief.

"Even though loving you is a bit complicated, I'll admit. Especially if you're me", you shrugged, and he turned to you, confused.

"Let me explain. I loved your idea for a bed of roses, a few days ago, cause it can exemplify our relationship so well. The roses feel so good against the skin, the smell is so intoxicating, it looks so beautiful - maybe too beautiful, ethereal, even. But then there's always a few thorns here and there, and they hurt so much when they lodge themselves on my skin, but I'm so intoxicated by the whole experience that I don't mind - I convince myself that it's nothing, and even that it's already part of me already, cause the thorns fit so perfectly on me, on my little stabs made by myself, by my own insecurities", you say, and he stares at you.

"What I'm trying to say is that every minute that I'm with you always distract me from the issues that come with being with you - the fact that there's a few expectations that come with being your serious girlfriend, be them always travelling with you while we're young, or eventually staying home once we have kids, knowing that you'll eventually cheat on me with a younger version of myself, while I'm too tired of taking care of the babies to even think about my sexual needs", you said, and you watched him frown.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this-", he started saying, but you cut him off.

"Let me finish, I promise it will get better", you said, fixing your posture as you start again. "But the thing is, I love you. I always have, ever since I started talking to you, you always trying to outflirt me, always seeing me as your equal. You desire me, but you also listen and see me as another human being, you never back down or ignore me if I challenge one of your beliefs, and you never treat me as a trophy-wife-to-be", you say, and you can feel your eyes fill with tears, but you're smiling. That's what you always loved about Roger. He smiled back at you.

"And because I love you, I don't want to deny myself the pleasure of being with you. I'd rather be in a bed of roses than in an empty bed - or worse, a blank bed, someone being there just so it's less cold at night. I want to be with you, Rog", you say, and he pulls you in for a hug, and you hold him back for a few moments before pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"But also because I love you and I want to be with you, Rog, I don't want us to try to fit into this type of relationship I just mentioned. I don't want you to make me the other woman, either, when you eventually find someone so you can settle down, if it's not me" you said, rubbing your nose. "I guess I want to settle down with you, eventually, as we planned before, but this whole thing - living together and cheating if we're away for too long - it kills me, and I think it kills you, too. I respect you too much to want to cheat on you again, cause if I ever do and you never find out, I'll lose respect for you, and the same thing will happen if you cheat on me and I don't find out. And these are ugly truths, but this isn't our first time together; we know each other, we need to think about this", you told him, and he nodded.

"And I need to make it clear that I'll never be a simple rockstar housewife - I'll never be able to quit my job and look out for the kids while you travel the world and I make them lunch. I'll never be able to sit down on a dinner table on some award show with you and when someone asks me what I'll do, I'll smile as I say I'm a king-maker. I'm not", you said, firmly.

"And I'll never be satisfied with dumb spa and shopping trips as you do the actual work when we travel. If I have to live this life, I'll resent you, and I don't want that. I like being domestic with you, but this type of forced domesticity will poison us again - we're both too wild, too career-focused, for this. We've always been similar", you said, and he gave you a smile as you sighed. "I guess that's all I have to say", you shrugged, and he laughed. "Not much, right?", he said, running his fingers on his hair, pulling the strands back.

"Guess it's my turn now", he said, and you nodded, encouraging him. "When I saw you again, at the pub, there was so much that I wanted to say. I mostly wanted to apologize - it got lost as I got infatuated with you again, and tried to get you in bed - you know, usual stuff", he winked, and you laughed.

"But yeah, I kept looking at you while you updated me on your life, your skin glooming under the stars and the moonlight, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. Cause no matter what - even if you had decided on never seeing me again after all this - I'll always love you, because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am", he said, moving strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me, always. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, however this" he said, pointing his finger to the two of us "works out, in whatever form it might take", he said, sighing "I'll always send you love. Before being anything else to me - and I hope to God you're always something more - you'll always be my friend, to the end", he told you, and the tears were already streaming down your cheeks. His cheeks soon mirrored yours.

"And now, after you so eloquently told me all your fears about our future, I need you to know something else, too", he said, as you wiped the tears under your eyes. "I always loved you for being the way you are. You always challenge me, you always make me work harder, try harder, to be better. And it's not even something you force me to do; I just follow your lead. The way you look was what first got into me, I won't lie, but the way you are is what made me stay. It's what will always make me stay", he said, a genuine smile on his lips. He made you feel warm, like the sun.

"You're the smartest person I know, you're funny, you enjoy sex, you're unapologetic, you're proud of who you are, even proud of your insecurities. And you have such a huge importance in my life: you made me who I am. Whatever way you want to make us work, I trust you. I just want to be with you, in whatever form it takes", he said, smiling, and then getting up and opening his bag.

"I forgot to give you something", he said, pulling a string out of the front pocket. You recognized the red glimmer. It was the heart necklace. "It's still yours to keep. Even though it's not in its original glory, it will always be yours. The necklace and my heart", he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Always so cheesy, Taylor", you said, joking as you moved your hair to the side so he could put the necklace on.

"You always loved it", he winked, and you laughed. "I do", you said, smiling.

"So, what does it all mean? Where are we?", you asked, and he shrugged. "Wherever you want us to be. I just hope that you keep me around", he told you sincerely.

"I will. So, we're not going back to our old ways, right? We're not back at sharing a flat and stuff", you said, and he nodded. "Sure".

"And you're going to spend a month away, all around the world. I don't want you to feel pressured not to cheat", you said, and he nodded again.

"Yeah, and you're back in London, starting a new job. I don't want you to be worried, too", he said.

"So, maybe no exclusivity, this time? At least not now. This is still debatable, in the future", you said, and he agreed.

"Makes sense. But I'll have a hard time desiring anyone but you", Roger said in a low voice, and you laughed to break any mood that might have settled. You needed to get things clear before making out in the train cabin.

"Me too, Rog. But I don't want to create any expectations of loyalty because we know each other too well, and I don't want a stupid fight to break this thing we're building together", you said.

"It's a good idea. So, no titles, too? I can't call you my girlfriend?", he said, and you laughed.

"You can, if you want to", you told him, and he pulled you closer to him.

"Good, cause I want to call you that on the News of the World launch party, that I'm hoping you'll go as my date", he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head, breathing in your fruity smell.

"Of course I'll go. I need to see the boys again", you told him, and he laughed.

"So you're not going for me, then?", he pouted, and you laughed again.

"No, I'm just going so I can meet Deacy's kid", you told him, and it was his turn to laugh.

Once you got to London, Roger offered to go to the airport alone - he had to get on his flight, and he was late. He knew you had to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, but you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

He looked relieved when you got on a cab with him to Heathrow.

"Big day tomorrow, huh", he said, rubbing your arm.

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm finally going to work at the British Museum. It's so surreal, it feels like a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life", you said, looking out at the window, the early sunday morning reminding you of fresh starts - you were in the middle of one.

"Well, it's your life, and it's your job, cause you deserve it, babe. I never met someone who worked so hard to get where they want", Roger said, smiling, proud.

"I did. You and the boys", you said, and he huffed. "Guess you're right. Me and that pack of idiots, we turned out okay", he joked.

Once you got to the airport, you followed him to his gate.

You were feeling nervous - you had him for a week, and now it's time to say goodbye again.

You're both aware that the rest of the band is already waiting impatiently in the jet, but you can't help it - you hug him, dropping your luggage on the floor, and he does the same, the hug soon turning into a kiss as you rub your hands on each other's body, as if you're trying to remember how every inch of the other feels like, as if you're both about to disappear.

But the airport worker clears her throat, and you break the kiss, looking at each other longingly.

"Don't say goodbye", you beg Roger, putting your hand on his lips as he opens his mouth.

"See you soon", he says between your fingers. You smile at him, grateful he found a way with words so you're not repeating the same old goodbyes.

"See you soon, Roger", you say, hugging him again for a few seconds, just trying to capture every detail - his smell, the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours.

And once he has to go into the jet, you go to the glass wall, and you can swear you see some familiar faces from the windows of the jet.

But before you can focus, soon Roger's well known face takes over the window you're watching, and he puts a hand on the glass.

You can't help but think about the last time you did that with him, him being on your place as you were inside the plane, moving to another country, your heart weighing down on you, filled with doubts.

But now your heart warmed you up, filled with joy and love, and you could feel Roger's crystal heart on top of your chest. He was right. There would be always a piece of him on you, too.

Epilogue: News of the World Launch Party

"Y/N! You're back!" Brian's voice welcomed you to the ballroom.

You squeezed Roger's hand - it was the first time you saw the band in years, and you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it.

"Darling, you're really back! We thought Roger was getting high too often and hallucinated a week in Paris with you. But I guess you did come back to him", Freddie said, hugging you by the side as he held a glass of champagne on his other hand.

"I'm back with him only so I can see you all again, of course", you said, winking at Roger as he pretended to be offended.

But then you heard Deacy and Veronica scream your name in unison, and you turned to see them.

"So you're really back!!" Deacy said, but your eyes were on the baby boy on his lap.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.", you said, trying to get his attention. Roger looked at you, adoringly, as you moved your eyes to Veronica.

"Ronnie!! You're so big!" you said, trying to hug her through her belly. "It's coming out in a few months! It's a boy, Michael. Someone our young Rob can play with", she said, and Roger frowned.

"I could swear it was a girl", he said, and John smiled. "Maybe next time", he said.

"Hey, Bob. Do you want to play with me? C'mon", you said, and he motioned to go to your arms. You picked him up as he started playing with your hair.

"You'd be a good mom, Y/N", Veronica said, and you got tense. "God, Ronnie, don't even joke about this", you said, and Roger chuckled. "It's a sensitive topic at the moment", he explained.

"The moment will take quite some time, you know", you told him, the youngest Deacon pulling your earring before playing with the crystal heart on your neck.

You talked to the boys and Veronica for a while, updating each other, but no one brought up how you and Roger got back together. It just felt natural - no need to question.

You stayed with Roger for the whole night - behind the cameras as he did press, by his side during dinner - where he was back at his old ways, teasing you lightly with his hand under the table. You felt good in his arms, getting back into his life.

He was interested in getting back into your life, too. He came back to London last night, and went straight to dinner with you. You were trying different food, and now was time to try Indian food.

As he ate his Chicken Tikka Masala, dipping the naan in the sauce, you invited him for a party your bosses would be throwing next month to celebrate a new exhibit.

He gave you a bright smile. "I'd love to be your date, my love", he said.

And after the Deacons went home - Robert was asleep on his father's lap - the party got louder, the dance floor more full. You could swear you saw an angular face that could only belong to Bowie pick someone to dance - was this Princess Leia? - but before you could process the whole situation, Roger pulled you to dance.

"Thought you didn't dance, Mr Taylor", you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tried to slow dance to All The Young Dudes, by Mott The Hoople.

"I don't dance very well, indeed. But it's just an excuse to be so close to you in public, and God, I'm dying to call you Ms Taylor", he said, and you chuckled.

"Take it slower, Rog", you told him, and he leaned in to rest his head on the curve of your neck. "And why do you want to be close to me in public? Is it still one of your weird fetishes?", you joked, and you felt him laugh against your skin.

"No, it's just that you've been killing me with this dress of yours, and you've been killing a lot of the guys here, too. Could swear I saw Bowie checking you out", he told you, and you gasped.

"Taylor, don't even joke about this. I'd have a heart attack", you said, and he laughed. "You'd leave me here for Bowie, is that it?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Of course not. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he might acknowledge my existence", you said, and it was his turn to laugh. "The only eyes I really like to feel on me when I look away are yours, Rog", you said, and he gave you a quick kiss.

"Okay, had enough of trying to dance. Let's get some fresh air", he told you, and you followed him to the balcony.

As the cold, fresh air brushed against your exposed skin, you heard the first notes to Tiny Dancer, by Elton John. You walked to the balcony, leaning in and taking in the view of London at night.

Roger soon took you into his arms, hugging you from behind, and you felt safe, his body heart making you warm in the cold evening as he jokingly whispered "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" into your ear, and you scoffed. "Slower, Taylor", you told him, and he laughed.

"However you want it, babe", he said, now paying attention to the view, focusing on the feeling on you in his arms again. Finally.

But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

"I could die right now, Y/N. I'm just... happy. I've never felt this type of happiness before. I'm just exactly where I want to be", Roger said in his husky voice, and you nodded lightly in agreement.

Because in Roger's arms, you feel home. You feel what you hoped to feel for years - what got you to move to London in the first place. You feel like you belong.

---

1988 Special

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

149 notes · View notes

eqaside · 6 years

Text

How to Grow a Tail

One of the more common asks I get is how I grow out Rush’s tail, so I’ve finally gotten around to making this how-to. “Doing his tail”/ “Braiding and bagging” is the best method for keeping tail hairs neat, tidy, clean and keeping the horse’s tail hairs protected so they can grow out. Granted I have a #gobigorgohome mentality with Rush’s tail, but this absolutely works even if you don’t want your horse’s tail to drag 3 1/2 feet on the ground like me. You can do it short term to protect the hairs for a show, or long term to help in the growing out process. There’s two main methods of doing a tail; a tail bag, and vet wrap. Each has their own advantages/disadvantages depending on what you’re doing and where you are.

Tail bags are

Less secure (ie easier to come off/tear if they catch on something)

Reusable

Easier to use if you’re having to take the tail up and down multiple times for some reason (IE A show)

Vet wrap is

More secure (Some of the horses can only have their tail done with vet wrap, as they flick their tails so aggressively at flies, etc., and dislodge the bags- the downside to this is the wrap does not come off, and may not tear if it catches on something)

Non-reusable

Good for if you know you’re not going to need to take the tail down aside from routine maintenance.

Disclaimer: While I’ve never had an incident in the 5 years I’ve been wrapping his tail, or the 4 prior to that that my trainer’s daughter owned him, and plenty of barns that wrap (See basically every Arabian show barn, and I’m sure other breeds as well) never have, there is still technically a chance of the tail bag/vet wrap catching. This can rip out hair, cause damage to the tail, or in one extreme instance it damaged the tail bone and caused CSF to leak out until the horse died.

Horse is routinely inspected by people and is turned out in a safe, controlled environment with few hazards/large clearings? The risk is still technically there but you’re probably going to be good. Live on a ranch where the horses are turned out into thick brush county where there’s a million things to catch it on by routine travel? Maybe don’t do that. Either way, as a CYA, I’m not responsible. Use your best judgment. So now that I have the scary FYI out of the way, onto “how to grow a tail”; You are going to need:

A tail bag

OR Vet wrap with hay twine

A hair tie/rubber band

You do not need, but I strongly suggest:

Detangler (I use the $3 suave kids’ bottle)

Electrical tape

You may or may not need, and I don’t really suggest:

Tangle Teezer

I do not suggest, but you may need:

Scissors

A brush

Step one: Clean, detangle and otherwise establish your tail. I personally prefer the “Outlandish bridle veil train” look for my gelding, but use your best judgment. I try to avoid using brushes whenever possible, but you may need them. Scissors can be used to make strategic cuts for knots that refuse to come out.

Step one point five: Before braiding your tail, make sure your braid starts a fist’s length away from the bottom of the tail bone. If you braid too tightly next to the roots, you risk cutting off circulation and making the hair fall out. I keep the first few braids fairly loose and tighten up as I go along.

Step two: Braid your tail. Secure with hair tie/braiding band/what have you. I personally leave strands that are shorter than hock length outside of the braid. That’s your call.

Step three: Loop your tail. The size of the loop depends on whether you’re bagging or wrapping, the size and length of the tail, and the size of the bag or how long/thick you like your wraps to be.

Optional, but recommended: If you loop the tail, secure the loop with electrical tape. 2-3 layers, you will thank me later (And I will give credit where it is due @mammawolff) No it won’t pull the tail hairs off, but it will leave a SMALL residue, so be aware if you have a grey and you’re going to a show (IE make sure you have time to wash the tail if you’re going to put electrical tape on)

And that basically preps the tail. Now, you’ll go one of two ways depending on if you’re bagging or wrapping. Bagging

Place the tail in the bag and tie it off, threading the tie through the braid (this is what keeps the bag on the tail!!). When bagging I prefer weak velcro or loose ties so if the bag catches and doesn’t rip, it will pull off fairly easily- but Rush also is extremely good about keeping his bag on. I keep the shorter hairs out of the braid so he can still swat at flies, etc., and keep some of his natural anti-fly deterrents while still growing most of the tail out in the bag.

Wrapping

Note; It’s been a long time since I last wrapped Rush, so I forgot about how much his tail compresses and lengthens until I was too far into the wrap to redo it. Personally I prefer shorter, thicker wraps, but if you don’t mind long skinny ones then that works too.

You’re going to need hay twine or some sort of string to act as a fly repellent. Place these inside the bottom of the loop

Take your vet wrap, do a layer or two right at the middle and then wrap upwards towards the top of the braid (Do long, broad layers- no reason to wrap it like a polo and waste vet wrap).

Thread the roll through the top of the braid (This is what keeps the wrap on the tail!!)

Wrap all the way down past the end of the tail and onto the twine; if you stop your wrap too soon without wrapping and securing the twine, it can and will slide out of the loop.

Trim the twine to an acceptable level (I prefer halfway down the lower leg, personally)

And there you have it. Nutrition, routine care, etc., is important but braiding/wrapping and bagging is the #1 tool at your disposal to grow out a tail. Depending on the horse, about 1x a week to every other week is recommended. Frankly I can go 3 months without doing Rush’s tail, but absolutely watch your horse and redo the tail frequently until you know how long they keep their braid neat. If you wait too long, it will be matted mess and you may have to cut it off and start from scratch.

#horseblr #how to grow out a horse's tail #how to get a long tail on a horse #rush

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littlebitoffanfic · 7 years

Text

Late Coffee

Fandom: Star Trek Characters: Kirk, Bones, Spock Relationship: Kirk/reader Request: Hello! I love your work and would like to request a one-shot where the reader has always been a bit of a loner on the enterprise, she is a forensic pathologist (directing dead bodies to find why they died) and one day while working she meets Spock and Kirk for the first time and they are spooked, while bones is all yup that's her, and Kirk sort of is trying to ask her out through the whole story at the end she sort of agrees You sat in your small office, sorting out some paperwork when you heard a knock at your door. It was rather late at night so you hadn’t expected anyone to be looking for you. Of everyone on the enterprise, you were probably one of the least busy people at this time. You were a forensic pathologist, which mainly consisted of examining bodies to try and piece together the cause of death. While it was sometimes a gruelling and frustrating process, especially when a case is complex, it was rewarding. You were able to give family’s some sort of closure. It was also very challenging. You had studied for years to work in this field, but that didn’t mean you were able to crack a case just by looking at a body. No amount of training in the world could do that. There are thousands of ways someone could die, some leave marks on the skin, some on the internal organs and some are as small as a pin prick. You had to have a keen eye to pick out these small discrepancies on the bodies. Due to the nature of your work, you often found yourself on your own. For one, the dead sometimes offered a better atmosphere and company than the living and two, people associated you with dead bodies. And that didn’t exactly scream ‘best friend’. You didn’t mind though. And you weren’t always on your own. For one, you had made friends with the head of the medical bays, Bones. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself every time you thought of how ironic his name was. It would be like you being called Death. He was rather like yourself, only a little more moodier. You worked really closely with him, especially if he has a patient that didn’t make it, you had to verify the cause of death for paperwork reasons. You would also go to him if you were a little stuck on cases. “Hello?” You called out, looking up at your door. The handle turned and Bones stepped in. “Hi, [y/n]. you know how there was a mission to the surface today?” He asked, walking closer to your desk. “yes.” You answered, knowing where this was going. It was a small planet which didn’t have much in the form of life. Which mostly likely meant they had brought back something dead. “They found a body. Can you come take a look.” He nodded his head to the door. You nodded, and got to your feet. Your office wasn’t far from the medical bay, so you followed him there. But as you entered the room, you noticed 2 men standing in the centre of the room. Normally when this happened, Bones wouldn’t allow anyone in the room apart from you due to the distressing nature some can feel at seeing a dead body. Instantly, you recognised them. The shorter one with bright blue eyes and dirty blond hair was Kirk, the captain of the ship. The Vulcan who stood to his right was Spock. You had not met either of them properly before but knew them from over hearing things. And Bones. “Good evening.” You greeted, nodding your head slightly. You could see the outline of a body beneath sheets behind them. “Bones, I thought you said you were getting the forensic person.” Kirk asked, unable to take his eyes of you as he addressed Bones. “And I did. This is miss [y/n] [l/n]. Shes the forensic pathologist for the ship, and has been for the last 3 years.” Bones said, sternly. You couldn’t help but smirk as you raised an eyebrow at the two before moving past them to the body. You glanced back and saw Kirk nodding to you with a confused and bewildered face while Bones smirked and nodded. “Where was it found?” You asked as you pulled back the sheet. You saw that it was human, which made your job a little easier. You grabbed some gloved from the side and pulled them on your hands before getting to work. “near a small river.” Kirk answered as the 3 men came to stand at the other side of the bed. “Male, age about 35, Caucasian.” You mumbled to yourself, making little notes for your paperwork. “So, you deal with all the dead bodies?” Kirk spoke, making you look up. “Yes, that is what a forensic pathologist does. I would have thought the captain should know such things.” You mumbled, the last part more to yourself as you leaned over the body. You heard Bones sniggering to himself as you gently opened the mans eyes. “brown eyes, very bloodshot. Eye lids inflamed.” You continued to mumble to yourself. “So how come we haven’t seen you before?” The captain continued to question you as if you weren’t pouring over a dead body. “Possibly due to the fact I prefer to deal with the dead.” You mused, not looking up. once again, Bones snigger and you knew he was enjoying this. He had always said if you met Kirk, he had to be there. “We theorized the cause of death might be due to the quality of the water.” Spoke offered, trying to bring the focus back to the body. “Was there anything else around the body to suggest that to you?” You asked, looking up. “Like what?” He seemed confused by your question. “Well, the body has a way of getting things out of its system by regurgitating it. If you are suggesting the water was perhaps poisonous, then before he died, his body would have tried to reject the water.” You explained, opening his mouth and looking for inflammation. “yes, there was vomit by the body.” Spoke answered. “That’s something, but doesn’t prove your theory, im afraid.” You said, straightening up. “How?” Kirk asked, followed by a quizzical look from Spoke. “Well, someone can suffer from an inability to keep down simple things like water and food in a variety of deathly situations. From a quick look at the body, I don’t think this was a murder or attack by any creature.” You turned and said to Bones. “So what do you think it is, love?” Kirk asked, walking around the table to you. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Probably something natural. I think there are 2 options. The first being that the water did not offer the correct nutrients or the water was poisoned, as you suggested. Or he dies of water intoxication.” You shrugged, pulling off the gloved. “I’ll have a better look in the morning.” Bones nodded, turned and walked to the cupboards to pull out some documents. Spock went over to speak with the medic. Leaving you and Kirk. “So, whats water intoxication?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested. You were taken back by his interest, considering most people would want to get as far away from the body as possible. “Its when the body consumes too much water.” Your answer was simple and straightforward. But he didn’t seem to think so. “I didn’t think there was such a thing.” He frowned, tilting his head. You did have to admit, he was rather cute. “It normally happens when someone is suffering from severe dehydration. They find a body of water and just keep drinking. That’s what probably happened to him.” You nodded to the body. “he probably thought he was helping himself, but he was actually killing himself.” “How come I haven’t seen you before.” Kirk suddenly asked again, making you frown. “Ive already told you. Im not a people person.” You said, smirking a little. “Plus, I spend my day around death.” “So do i.” Kirk chuckled and nodded to Bones and Spock. You couldn’t help but laugh. It had been a while since someone had made you probably laugh like this. You clasped a hand over your mouth and turned away from Bones, who looked up at your sudden laugher. “What do you say we go grab a drink and speak more about this water thing.” Kirk suddenly asked, gesturing to the body. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” You shook your head, unable to believe his audacity. And charm. “Why not?” He asked. “It is really something im very interested in.” You didn’t say anything but instead shook your head with a smile before walking past him to grab some documents. Bones and Spock were now walking out the door. Kirk followed you to the station. “How about coffee in your office?” He asked as you reached up and pulled down a folder. “Really, in my office that has photos of dead bodies cut open, operating tools and descriptive documents?” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm as you turned to him. “If it means I get to see you again, I’ll help with the dead bodies.” Kirk winked at you. You couldn’t help but smile as you shook your head. He was persistent, you would give him that. But he was also a distraction. So you couldn’t really have him in your office. Plus he had a ship to run. “Dinner tomorrow?” He asked, after you failed to answer him. You mused for a moment. “Breakfast.” You answered, wanting to see how much he would be willing to sacrifice just to see you again. “At 5AM.” “I’ll be there. And we can speak more about dead bodies.” Kirk suddenly smirked, taking you back. You hadn’t expected him to actually accept the offer. You expected him to say that was too early but he was willing to get up at that time. And considering it was close to 11.30pm now, it would only give him a few hours of sleep after a long day. he started to walk away, a new bounce in his step. You almost growled to yourself for actually wanted to see him again. “I don’t really eat breakfast. What about late coffee? At 11?” You called after him, biting your cheek as he turned to look at you again. You could see his eyes light up slightly. “How do you take your coffee?” he asked, turning back to face you. You told him, and he nodded before turning and walking out the door. A part of you was on cloud 9 at the thought of seeing him again. You hadn’t felt this excited about a meeting in well over 4 years. And you knew you had made the right decision when you received a knock at your office door the next day at 10.45am as you were getting ready to leave. When you opened it, you came face to face with the same brilliant blue-eyed captain holding two cups of coffee. He handed you one of them as you stepped aside and allowed him into your office. “To late coffee.” He announced, holding his cup up in a toast. You couldn’t help but giggle as you carefully knocked yourself against his. “To late coffee.”

#star trek #james t kirk #kirk x reader #kirk/reader #jame t kirk x reader #james kirk x reader #request

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totallyrhettro · 7 years

Text

The Lone Jedi, Chapter 9

Word Count: 2034 Rating: This chapter: PG. Overall story: explicit Warnings: None Summary: Jedi Knight Rhett McLaughlin managed to escape the purge of the Emperor to become one of the last of his celibate order. After years of a solitary life, he finds himself with a former slave for a friend. Despite his efforts to maintain anonymity and the jedi code, he starts to realize that doing either is easier said than done. Notes: Star Wars AU; Events take place between episodes III and IV

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

*See the end of each chapter for additional notes on star wars terms*

Link POV

Link was dressed in a loose-fitting, light green blouse with a deep v-neck showing off much of his hairy chest. The billowy sleeves hung down to just below his elbows. His baggy pants were similarly colored except for a thin band of bronze around the waist. Rhett had bought him these clothes long ago, along with a new pair of thick shoes more suited to long walks in the woods. The clothes weren't as open to air as Link was used to, but the soft fabric was like heaven against his skin, and he found them very pleasant to wear.

It was definitely a different look than the slave outfit he had when he first came into Rhett’s care and he hoped no one would identify him as a former servant to the reigning Hutt. Link paced nervously in front of the academy entrance, occasionally running his fingers through his newly cut hair, while he waited for his friend to finish putting a bridle on Herb the kybuck. He liked the new cut; it was still a bit long on top, but shorter on the sides. It made him look very different and in a very good way. He hoped it was enough to keep anyone from knowing who he was.

“It's going to be fine, Link,” Rhett told him. “I promise. I'll be right beside you the whole time.”

“If the Hutt’s men find out-”

“They won't. They won’t recognize you because you don't look like a slave. You look like a free man and that's what you are.” He placed his hands on Link’s shoulders, holding his gaze and Link felt the fear melt away. “Even if someone is looking for the lost slaves from your caravan, they won't find any where you stand because you are no longer a slave. Never again.” Link smiled, but was still a little uneasy. It wasn't that he was scared; not exactly. It was just that he still hadn't figured out who he was, if not property of the Hutt. Finding a new identity was proving easier said than done.

It was a long walk down the mountain on foot but Herb was covered in bags for supplies. Besides, Link appreciated the exercise. He liked to keep his legs fit and his heart strong. While Rhett led the way, Herb’s reins in hand, Link watched the scenery around them. The forest was far more beautiful in the daylight when he could see the colorful flowers and plants growing everywhere. There was no sign of vicious animals, only singing birds and the occasional small rodent scurrying by.

When they finally got to the nearby village of Sasalea, a small trading post in a large clearing, the chatter of birds gave way to the chattering of people engaged in casual conversation and commerce. No one seemed to pay any mind to the two travelers from the mountains any more than the rest of the prospective buyers. Link looked over the covered kiosks that before he had only ever been able to see from a distance.

Rhett followed close behind, a sweet smile on his face, watching the shorter man’s excitement over the simplest things. Link didn't care if he looked silly, impressed by items that everyone else barely gave a second glance. The everyday electronics and mechanisms were amazing to his uneducated mind. He marveled at these common things, amazed that such things existed. The cheaply made clothing and decorations seemed just as beautiful as the lavish collections he had seen back in the Hutt’s palace. A whole new world was being revealed to him and he enjoyed every minute of it.

Gently, with a hand at the small of Link’s back, Rhett guided his companion along. He wanted to give him time to look over everything, but they really were here to pick up supplies. Eventually they made it to one of the larger stores, this one a full sized building and not just a cart set out in the street. It had a few customers already inside, browsing the various wares with mild interest. Like the people outside, they didn’t seem to care about Link or Rhett as they entered.

“Feel free to look around,” Rhett told his friend. “I'll come and get you when I got everything.” Link nodded enthusiastically with a wide grin before heading over to view an interesting display of musical instruments. He’d seen very similar gadgets while he lived in the palace. There was always music when he danced and he quite enjoyed to listen to it in his free time as well. Music was one of the few pleasures he truly enjoyed. Glancing over at Rhett, who was still negotiating with the merchant, Link wondered if his new friend liked music. Maybe he even knew how to play one of these things. It was a nice thought.

Moving on to another display, Link found some very interesting and rather exotic looking oil lamps. Most of the lighting back at the palace were electric, modern tech. These things looked ancient but fascinating. He picked one up and tried to figure out how it worked by just examining it.

As he turned it about in his hand, he held it up to his nose, giving it an experimental sniff. The oil inside was old and congealed. The lamp probably hadn’t been used in years and the smell was putrid. Link gagged instantly, dropping the lamp to the ground as he flinched. It didn’t break, but rolled across the floor, spilling its contents as it went. Finally it came to a stop, up against someone’s foot, and the rest of the disgusting fluid emptied around the stranger’s shoe. He did not look pleased.

“Hey!” he exclaimed. Following the trail of dark, sappy goo all the way to its source, the large man’s eyes settled on Link with a glare. Standing about two inches taller than Link, and built like a living pile driver, the man didn’t look like someone you’d ever want to mess with. His brown and green clothes were covered in filth, while his face was dark and greasy. He towered over Link, scowling, and pointed a finger into the shorter man’s chest. “Just what do you think you’re doing, stoopa?”

“It… It was an accident!” The words were barely out of his mouth before the man grabbed him roughly by the wrist and twisted him around so they were facing the same direction. Holding him close to his chest, the man tightened his grip until Link could barely breathe.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he growled. No matter how hard Link struggled, he couldn’t seem to break free. He’d never been in a fight before, no physical confrontation or punching match. He had barely even argued with anyone while he lived in the Hutt’s palace. Without any experience in combat, he had no idea what to do. He tried to bite down on the man’s arm, but didn’t even manage to damage the thick, leather sleeve. Just as he was about to start kicking, and possibly making an even bigger scene, he heard the voice of his savior.

“Put him down.” Rhett’s voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even particularity threatening, but he was most certainly not making a request. The stern look on his face and the ice in his eyes gave the stranger pause. Glancing back and forth between the two of them, he decided the brunet in his arms wasn’t worth the trouble. As he let go, he shoved Link to the ground with a sneer. Then he looked up again at Rhett, obviously trying to be more intimidating than he felt.

“Are you going to pay me for my ruined shoes?” he demanded. Rhett didn’t blink an eye. In fact, Link saw the hint of an amused grin at the corner of his mouth. He glanced down, giving the shoes a pointed look, before turning his attention back to the man’s face.

“I would,” he began, calmly. “But I don’t have change for a wupiupi.” The man looked like he wanted to hit Rhett square in the nose for that comment, but he held back. Rhett was almost half a foot taller, and he had an air of confidence about him. The stranger sulked away leaving Link alone with his friend and rescuer.

“Thanks,” he muttered, as Rhett helped him to his feet.

“Can’t leave you alone for five minutes,” Rhett teased with a smile, but Link frowned back. He didn’t like feeling so helpless. If Rhett hadn’t been there, that stranger would have no doubt pounded the snot out of him. He felt useless and embarrassed but most of all he felt powerless, and that was not an easy feeling to digest. Even as a slave, he had never felt that vulnerable. There was power in dancing, in making his audience desire him. This was different. Being grabbed and held like this didn’t happen. He was never that kind of slave.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered. “I should never have-”

“Hey, you’re alright.” Rhett placed a tender hand on Link’s shoulder, standing close so they could speak quietly and not be overheard. “I’m here. I would never let anything happen to you.”

“But you won’t always be there to protect me, will you?” Link secretly hoped he would be. “He could have… I don’t… I can’t...” He dropped his head into his hands, leaning against the nearby wall and trying not to collapse in tears. When he was cast out from the Hutt’s palace, he knew the lands outside were a dangerous place, but it was only now really sinking in. How was he going to survive this crazy world?

“Link.” Rhett waited until his friend met his gaze. He stared into those tender eyes, his own face soft and understanding. “It was my mistake. I didn’t prepare you for this, and I’m sorry. But-” he added- “I think I know how to help you.”

“Buy me a weapon?” Link asked, hopeful.

“No. For one thing many places don’t allow weapons.” Though he didn’t say so, he also didn’t want Link to end up hurting himself with any weapon he gave him. “I have a better idea.” Before he could elaborate, the merchant who owned the shop called out to him from the back of the room.

“Are you going to buy this stuff, or what?”

Once they had purchased all the supplies they needed they left the store, placing now filled bags onto Herb’s back. As they turned and began walking the long trail back into the forest and up the mountain, Rhett started telling his friend his great idea. He would teach him how to fight.

“It’s only for self defense,” he explained. “But with a bit of training you should be able to stop anyone who wants to hurt you from doing so.” Link loved the idea, but he was dubious that he could learn enough to keep big guys, like the one who grabbed him, at bay. Rhett told him it wasn’t just about brute strength, though working out daily would certainly help. It was about technique and using one’s opponent’s overconfidence against them.

“Will you teach me to use a bok-, uh bokkan?”

“I can, if you like. While you usually won’t have a sword to use, it will help strengthen your muscles. I know quite a few methods of self defense but all of them require you to keep up with exercise and training. It will be hard work.”

“I’m ready.” Link puffed out his chest a bit, not noticing the smile it brought to Rhett’s face. “I spent many hours learning to dance. I’m used to hard work.”

“Fighting is a lot like dancing actually, when done correctly. Your history with dance will be quite an advantage.” Thinking about this, Link flexed his arm and looked over his bicep, as if appraising it. He was fairly muscular; he managed to maintain an athletic, toned body over the last few weeks with various physical labor. It had been awhile since he danced, really danced, but he felt ready for anything Rhett’s teachings could throw at him.

Next Chapter

Additional Notes-

Kybuck: an animal originally from Kashyyyk. They look very much like the Tauntauns found on Hoth, if you crossed one with a horse.

Wupiupi: worth about 20 US cents. This golden coin is the lowest form of currency in the star wars universe, equaling about half of a republic credit. In this context, it’s like saying penny.

Stoopa: a fool or stupid person.

Bokken: Not from star wars, but adapted for this fiction. A wooden sword used for training.

More Fics

#rhett #link #rhink #fanfic #star wars #starwars #the lone jedi

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chorusfic · 4 years

Text

through the doorway

When the door closes on them, it is not a gentle thing.

There were no raised voices, though, no angry, cutting words, just the sound of a door shutting hard, with finality, without being slammed. It was the sense that they had both lost something, without knowing precisely what.

Monica had let the wounds in her heart fester, and Leon’s attempts to bandage them had been for naught.

The door to them closed as sharply as the door to Leon’s home, but neither of them turned the lock.

---

The first time the door to them considers opening again, it’s at an FBI safehouse just south of the West Virginia border.

It’s not the first time Leon’s been called to a bustling safehouse reeking of steel-boned discipline and desperation for answers. Two years after Raccoon City, and mistakes are still made–mistakes that lead to situations like these. Avoidable ones, but no less tragic.

Across the room, a familiar shape with a messy dark brown braid stands with a clipboard in one arm and a pen behind her ear. There’s no coffee mug to be found in her general vicinity, so Leon goes to fetch one. An olive branch.

She speaks before looking up. “I’ll have my report on the hour, as requested, when the scientists get back to–”

“Monica.” he says, and watches her posture–so easy and almost casual–stiffen like a statue.

Monica turns her head slowly and her gaze dips toward the coffee mug before returning to him. The dark rings under her equally dark eyes are more stark than ever, twin monuments to many late nights and exhausting days. She reaches out and takes the mug, but sets it on a nearby desk while her grip on her clipboard tightens. “Officer Kennedy, you’re here, good.” she clears her throat, and Leon’s own tightens at the brisk cadence of her voice, “I’d assumed you were my new superior, coming to harass me about the reports. You’ll be briefed once they arrive.”

The silence that sits between them is an opportunity. The rest of the safehouse is absorbed in their tasks, and both of them stand far enough away that they couldn’t be directly eavesdropped upon.

“Nicky,” is all Leon gets the chance to say, before he watches Monica’s grip on her clipboard tighten even more, white-knuckled through her fingerless gloves.

“Now’s not the time.” she says quietly, a whisper under the door to them, and as quickly as it came, the opportunity is gone.

Still, he grasps for it anyway. “Will there be a time?”

Her quiet is the only answer given, but it is answer enough.

---

The second time the door to them considers opening, it’s after a few too many drinks and a little too much tension to let go of.

Touch is easier and yet so much more difficult than words. Easier, because deep in her chest Monica knows she can trust him not to hurt her, and harder, because of that knowledge that she trusts him at all. It should have been easier to cut him loose, like so many others, but here they are, with their painfully familiar touches on feverishly warm skin.

She’s surprised he can’t taste the poison, leaking from somewhere in her soul, but if he does, he doesn’t seem to mind it.

It’s familiarity without depth, that same trap they’ve fallen into before, but an addicting and inevitable one–somehow, they end up in the other’s orbit without acknowledgment beyond this, and sometimes Monica knows he might try to scratch the surface, to dig deep, but not tonight.

Tonight he’s willing to take a page from her book while she scratches his surface, deep lines on skin that are something like begging and something like desperation–for forgiveness? For understanding?–but in the end neither of them can think straight enough to consider the implications.

Morning comes and sees Monica leave before she’s noticed, a fresh scar, self-inflicted, on her heart, as the door quietly shuts behind her.

---

There is a shift, when Monica looks at the door to them, considers where it lurks in her subconscious while she rests in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm and a new bandage around her shoulder and chest.

She considers how they left that door where it was, thinking back then that it might be better left closed for good, locking away the idea of putting forth the effort that it would take for her to leech the soft, subtle poison from her heart. She considers the many words they exchanged, frustrated and hurt. Neither of them understood what they needed, and had instead taken what they wanted.

It had led them to this–a closed door, with no one waiting on the other side, the wordless attempts they’d made to crack it open, only to shut it more firmly than before.

It’s easy to convince herself that she reaps what she sows–she is the solitary master of her fate–but the scythe is worn and rusted now, and she knows she cannot rise up from this hospital bed, return to her miserable solitude, tend the fields and boughs of her life, and convince herself it is enough.

Instead, Monica looks inward, to that deep, howling void in her chest, with its insidious and calculated poison, and she lights a candle.

---

The third time the door to them considers opening, it happens like this.

A voicemail, left on Leon’s cell early in the morning–early enough that the caller would know he wouldn’t yet be awake–asked him for a moment of his time, and ordinarily time was a luxury Leon never had in abundance, but for this, time could be made.

He finds himself at Baker’s Beach, close enough to see the Golden Gate bridge in the distance, far enough away from the summer vacationers testing the sun and its capacity to burn. Even in the heat, Monica stands in her jacket at least one size too big, baggy on her frame. Her hair is shorter now, but still long enough to braid, and the way her hands are held in front of her body, out of Leon’s sight, says she’s holding something in her hands.

He approaches and discovers that it’s a camera. Monica holds it up and snaps a shot of the bridge before setting it down on a nearby rock. She turns when Leon’s boot scuffs against a small stone, and there is resounding silence where their eyes meet.

It feels like a risk, but it’s an easy one to take. “Hey, Nicky.”

The skin around Monica’s eyes tightens, but her expression softens. “Hey, Leon.”

Looking at the camera, he nods towards it, a safe topic to begin with. “I didn’t know you were such a tourist.”

She huffs, and some of the tension between them breaks. “I’m not, but out of all the places I lived in while I was young, San Francisco was never one of them. Figure I’d better take a picture just in case I never come back.”

Silence falls, and Leon’s moments from asking what Monica wants when she sighs and jams her hands in her pockets, looking up to meet his eyes. “We made a bit of a mess, didn’t we?”

It’s phrased as a question, but both of them already know the answer. Leon grasps for whatever angle Monica hopes to take with bridging the gap that’s slowly widened between them–but not for long, never for long–and comes up empty.

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Leon rubs a hand on the back of his neck, thinking, thinking, trying to gather the thoughts he’d prepared on so many restless nights when he’d wondered what he might say if this opportunity ever came again. For the first time in years, he considers the door to them, and dares to reach for the unlocked handle.

“I know it’s been…a while.” Monica shuffles her feet, but doesn’t break his gaze. “And I understand if these are wounds you’d rather not reopen, or if you wanna just move on–you’d be more than within your rights to–but at least I thought we could get…closure.”

Leon’s stomach drops, and he thinks he does well to hide it. “You’ve never wanted to talk about this before.”

“I was afraid of what it meant.” Monica admits, and something in Leon’s chest tightens. She does look away this time, so briefly, to the beach and the sunbathers behind them. When she turns back, it’s like a barrier has just been knocked down, a barrier Leon knows had to have been there years ago, but he never knew what it meant for her to keep it there. “I was afraid of being better because I didn’t know any different. Doing everything alone was just…how I learned to handle things.”

“And then I didn’t know how to help you.” Leon trails off as some of the pieces fall together at once.

“We frustrated each other because we didn’t know any better.” Monica shrugs, and it tries to be a casual thing, but the weight of their words offsets it. “And we thought the bond we had in Raccoon City would be enough to carry it through, instead of talking about it. But it didn’t. Turns out leaning on our shared trauma wasn’t enough to substitute a real relationship.”

A laugh bubbles up in Leon’s chest despite himself, but he turns it into a cough before it can be given voice. “So…where does that leave us?”

Monica takes a deep breath, shivering despite the heat. “That’s up to you,” is all she says, handing him control over what happens to that door, that door leading to them that’s been still and silent for years now, with its occasional half-hearted notes passed under it, its hurried whispers of another time, maybe. “Both of us had some fault in what happened, but I needed to make the choice to get better. I wasn’t ready to make that choice back then, but…I’ve taken steps to do it now.” Her shrug is less casual that time, stiff and nervous. “I’m not where I want to be, yet. But I know how to get there, and I’m on my way.”

“I want to help you,” he finds himself saying without thinking, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind, because of course he wants to help, but now a barrier between them that prevented it has been knocked down and he knows better how.

“Yeah?” it’s so raw and open and unusually soft for Monica, but the question is there, and he can see something like hope in her dark eyes, in the slight lifting of her lip that’s trying to be a smile.

“Uh…yeah.” Leon says, because he can feel the heat in his neck threatening to overtake his face, and he can’t blame it on the sun because they haven’t been out here for that long, but Monica’s grin gets wider, and it feels like years have sloughed off them both. “But I want to do it right. I want to know more about you. If you…want to tell me.”

“I do.” she takes a step forward, almost within touching distance, and the line of tension between her brows that Leon can’t ever remember seeing her without vanishes. “I really, really do.”

---

When the door opens on them, it is no gentler than the closing, but for all the right reasons.

It’s the excitement of summer afternoons, slamming the door open to let the warmth rush in, the easy swing on hinges as the breeze passes through, with the same certainty of Leon in her arms, of the sand beneath their boots, of the raucous laughter of some of the beach’s guests behind them, all but forgotten because they aren’t important here but their presence is, their brightness and noise and vitality.

Monica throws the door open, and lets the light pour in.

#my writing #*monica drake #me: *makes a fic blog to post my wow fic*#me: *posts a vague oneshot for a fandom and oc i never talk about*#consistent posting? don't know her #it's blue's fault because they brought it up and i wrote it forever ago but never posted it lmao #anyway have this old oc-centric resident evil fic

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autism-asks · 7 years

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do you think theres some sort of correlation between being autistic and having short hair? like i know this is a weird question, but its a pattern ive noticed

Short hair = sensory good

long hair = sensory bad

At least for a lot of autistics. Plus long hair requires more spoons to maintain and also executive function and basically short hair is autie friendly for a lot of us.

So yeah, there’s reasons quite a few of us have short hair.

- Os

I love having super short hair (I buzz my head regularly to 3/8″)! For me, it’s a combination of the sensory aspect and executive dysfunction.

For the sensory stuff, buzzed hair is super stimmy and fun to rub my hands against. Also, long hair can set of my touch sensitivities and can feel awful for me.

With executive dysfunction, I don’t have the energy or ExDys to maintain my hair everyday. With super short hair, I don’t have to do anything with it in the mornings. It’s so much easier for me.

-Sabrina

SO, I used to have super long hair (see also: past my butt), and for the past year and a half, I have slowly been cutting it shorter, and now I have an undercut!

I have learned since my hair has grown out quite a bit, that a lot of my sensory meltdowns when I was younger were because of my long hair. When my hair starts to get too long now, I start having a big feeling of “No” on my skin. Also, it would take me a minimum of an hour to deal with my hair alone, and now I can shower in like 4 minutes flat.

Also have you ever felt buzzed hair? I love to pet it which is nice because I have always stimmed with my hair, but now it no longer requires 20 minutes of brushing to deal with.

My hair is now very wash and wear which I love. Get up and gooo. And also when I had long hair, people liked to pet it without permission and just no. Do not touch me.

-Cogs

#ask #hair #haircut #buzzed hair #short hair #sensory sensitivity #sensory processing #spd #sensory issues #anonymous

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totallyrhettro · 7 years

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The Lone Jedi, Chapter 8

Word Count: 2360 Rating: This chapter: G. Overall story: explicit Warnings: None Summary: Jedi Knight Rhett McLaughlin managed to escape the purge of the Emperor to become one of the last of his celibate order. After years of a solitary life, he finds himself with a former slave for a friend. Despite his efforts to maintain anonymity and the jedi code, he starts to realize that doing either is easier said than done. Notes: Star Wars AU; Events take place between episodes III and IV

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

*See the end of each chapter for additional notes on star wars terms*

Rhett POV

While Link was out by the river shaving, Rhett was in his bedroom with a small box of his own. When he had purchased the shaving kit for his friend, the jedi had made a similar purchase for himself. Now as he knelt beside his bed, he looked down at the box in his hands.

Ever since he was a child Rhett had been taught to keep his appearance neat and tidy, not for vanity's sake but purely for hygienic reasons. While he brushed his hair and beard, and washed his face (along with all other parts of his body) every day, he had not gotten a proper haircut since going into hiding. He usually just cut the ends of the hair with scissors when they got too long.

Now as he looked down at the small box in front of him, he told himself he wanted to do this because his hair had grown unruly and needed a trim. He ran his fingers over his bushy beard pensively, wondering how short he wanted to cut it. It had been years since he was clean shaven; he didn't much care for that look on himself.

‘I am more than due for a trim, though,’ he told himself. It had nothing to do with having a rather handsome guest now staying with him. Nothing at all.

It had been a long time since he trimmed his beard and hair, but he was confident his new tools would help him. Inside the box, along with a new set of hair scissors, was a beard trimmer and his own straight razor. It wasn't nearly as nice as the one he had just given Link, but it would do. He only needed it for his neckline.

By the time he had finished, there was a good sized pile of hair gathered around him. He looked himself over in the small mirror on his nightstand. He smiled, pleased with his good work.

‘Not bad,’ he noted, running his fingers through his dramatically shorter beard. The jedi looked several pounds thinner and maybe a decade younger. It was amazing what a decent hair cut could do. He couldn't wait to show Link.

Still grinning, he placed his new grooming tools back into their box and bent down to place the box into the satchel he kept by his bed. As he did, he noticed his lightsaber, which he kept inside the bag, wasn't lying in the exact same way as he had left it. It was a small adjustment, but it unsettled him. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone had moved it. Someone had touched it.

Rhett didn't want to jump to conclusions; he could ask Link about it later if he had been rooting around in the bag. It was possible the jedi was just seeing things. Besides, he couldn't blame his guest for wanting to find out more about the mysterious host. It wasn't as if Rhett had been entirely truthful with him, and he probably sensed it.

There was also the fact that, despite his obviously keen mind, there was no way Link actually knew what the saber was. The man’s intelligence could not negate his ignorance and Rhett was positive his secret was still safely hidden.

Somewhat satisfied with his conclusion, Rhett put away the shaving kit inside his satchel and drew the drawstring tight, laying the leftover string in a deliberate fashion. If Link went back to examine the saber, this time the jedi would know for certain. After making sure everything was in its place, and picking up the hair to be thrown away, Rhett headed back out towards the garden to find his companion.

Throwing the hair into a small trash bin just outside the garden, he walked on passed by the fountain. There he saw Link returning from the river. Rhett stopped short as the brunet and he locked eyes. Link grinned when he saw his new friend and walked a bit faster to catch up with him.

“I see I'm not the only one who had too big of a beard.” He pointed at Rhett’s newly trimmed facial hair. “Didn't want to shave it all off?”

“I don't look good without a beard, but I thought a quick trim couldn't hurt.” Rhett stroked his beard, thoughtfully. Link rubbed off his own face, seemingly pleased with the smooth sensation.

“I didn't like having any kind of beard.” He looked guilty for a moment and quickly added “but yours is nice. You look... good.”

“Thanks. You, uh, you look good, too.” Without thinking, Rhett lifted his hand to run his fingers over Link’s newly shaven face, but pulled away before he got very far. Link’s grin grew brighter at Rhett’s words. Finding himself staring a bit too long, the jedi cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away to stare off into the garden.

“You did good while I was gone,” he noted. “The garden looks great.”

“I'm sorry I didn't get further, but-”

“No need to apologize. I'm amazed at how far you got, considering. I think you are healing quite nicely. Should have you out of those bandages in no time.”

“That will be nice.” Link passed his good palm over his chest. “Then I'll really be able to help around the place.

“You know, you really don't have to lift a finger here. I'm used to doing everything myself anyway…”

“I'd just go crazy, with nothing to do. Besides.” He wrapped his fingers around Rhett’s arm, turning him back to face him. “I still owe you my life.” The jedi felt his pulse quicken from the man’s touch. He knew he would have to get over this… whatever this was, and fast, if Link was going to be staying here indefinitely. Otherwise, life was going to be very difficult.

Despite the jedi’s reservations, he and Link quickly fell into a comfortable daily routine. After waking early, Rhett would go down to the river and bathe. Every few days he’d trim his beard to keep it neat. Afterwards, when Link woke up, Rhett would change his bandages. Link’s feet were all but completely healed after the first week, and his hand quickly followed. His back, bearing the brunt of his injuries, took the longest, requiring new bandages every morning for nearly three weeks. It was both a happy and sad day when he no longer needed them.

After Link bathed in the river, and shaved his face, he met Rhett for breakfast in the dining room. They would talk over a warm meal, usually about the chores for the day. Rhett repeatedly told his companion that he needn't worry himself about working, but Link wanted to help, to feel useful. He never spoke about finding Rhett’s lightsaber and the jedi never brought it up. They both seemed happy to just pretend it never happened.

During the day they would tend to the grounds, working on the garden, clearing rubble that had gathered in various parts of the continually decaying ruins. Rhett made sure they avoided the lower levels, putting off explaining them day after day. His personal work of copying down the old archives fell behind; he couldn't risk slipping away without Link noticing or getting suspicious. Of course telling him was an inevitable conversation, but every time he planned on having it, he found some reason not to, some excuse, something more important to do.

At night they slept soundly in their respective beds, Link always falling asleep long before his friend. Sometimes Rhett would watch him sleep, his tender face seeming so at ease despite such a rough past. He wondered what their future held, if they had any. He debated telling him everything, if only because he didn't like keeping secrets from him, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk it. There was no reason to, anyway. What difference would it make if his new friend knew of his true identity? No. He was better off ignorant.

One day, after Link had been living in the academy for over a month, Rhett found him in the makeshift stable. He was feeding the kybuck by hand, talking in a quiet, soothing voice and giggling occasionally. Leaning against one of the many pillars, the jedi just stood there, regarding his two companions in amused silence. After a minute or two, Link turned just so, and jumped when he realized he was not alone.

“You scared me!” he exclaimed, trying to hide the smile on his face. Rhett held in a chuckle, keeping a mostly straight face as he walked over to pet the large animal himself.

“I didn’t mean to,” he assured Link, petting along the kybuck’s long neck, not looking at him. “The kybuck likes you.”

“And I like him,” Link confessed, accepting the change in subject. He held up a fresh handful of berries he had picked himself. “I really think we should give him a name.”

“As long as he doesn’t mind.” Turning his head to finally look Link in the eye, Rhett felt his heart flutter. It was such a common occurrence now that he was almost used to it. More than that, he welcomed it every time, relishing the swell in his chest and the warm feeling that surged through his body. Part of him knew he shouldn’t let himself get carried away, let his emotions have full reign, but he didn’t care. For the first time in years, he was finally content. “What about Herb?”

“Herb,” Link repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “What do you think?” This last question directed towards the kybuck. As if answering, the beast snorted softly against Link’s open hand. “I guess Herb it is.” Rhett chuckled and patted the newly christened ‘Herb’ softly on his back.

“Well, I’m glad you both approve.” Herb’s tail swatted the air nonchalantly as his long snout tried to find more of the delicious food Link had been feeding him. Link gave him one last handful before brushing off the excess twigs from his hands.

“It’s a fine name,” he noted. “Maybe you can teach me to ride him sometime.” Rhett cleared his throat, nervously.

“Uh, yeah. That’s an idea.” He tried to sound optimistic, but Link saw right through him.

“If you don’t think I can do it, just say so.”

“No,” Rhett was quick to revise. “It’s just that kybucks… They’re not an easy animal to master. It took years for Herb to even let me pet him.” He gave the beast a few languid strokes to demonstrate. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again,” he continued, his voice much softer now. “Kybucks are powerful creatures…” Before he knew it, his hand had stopped moving, just resting now on the animal’s back. Link placed his own hand on top of Rhett’s, trying to sooth, but it just made the jedi’s heart race faster.

“It’s alright,” Link began. “I know you’re just worried about me. If you don’t want me to ride him, I won’t.” Rhett met his eyes and almost instantly he could feel himself being drawn into them again, but he had quickly learned how to avoid that trap. Looking away, he stepped back and took a breath.

“I think you’re on the right track though,” he smiled, trying to lighten the conversation. “Those berries are his favorite.” Getting a lopsided grin on his face, Link licked his palm.

“Mine, too!”

While Rhett was used to a mundane routine, Link eventually started to get restless. He didn't say anything, but he would often fidget in his seat while the two of them ate, and there were many times when Rhett caught him staring off into the clouds, lost in thought.

At first, when confronted, the man would insist it was nothing, but Rhett was persistent. He didn't like the idea of his guest being unhappy. Eventually Link admitted to feeling a bit antsy.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful,” he assured. “I just feel a little cooped up.”

“You're more free here then you've ever been,” Rhett told him. “Now that your injuries have healed, you can go wander the hillside to your heart's content.”

“I would like to venture out into the wilderness, see the sights. I just…” He looked over the distant canopy of the forest beyond the mountain, his lower lip tucked into his mouth. Rhett smiled, sympathetically. Link had probably never been allowed to go on regular nature walks when he was a slave. Besides, the one time he went out in the woods by himself, he had been attacked by not one but two vicious animals. He was understandably afraid of what lay beyond the safety of the academy's walls.

“We can go together,” the jedi suggested. “I promise as long as you stick close to me, I'll keep you safe.” Link looked up at him, his blue eyes warming Rhett's soul with their beauty and gratitude. “I won't let anything happen to you.” For a moment he was lost in those eyes, then he got a sudden idea. “Why don't you come with me into town. I need to replenish some supplies; were running low on cooking fuel and some other things…”

“What if someone sees me? What if -”

“You aren't dressed as a slave anymore. No one will recognize you even if anyone is looking for you, which I seriously doubt. You'll be just fine, I'm sure of it.” Link still didn't look convinced. After a moment of thought, Rhett got an idea. “What about your hair?”

“What about it?” Link ran his fingers through his shaggy, brown hair. He was used to it being a little long, with hair sweeping out over his ears like little wings, but even this length was a bit much. A trim might be nice.

“Maybe a haircut would give you a new look and make it harder for people to recognize you.” Rhett didn't fancy himself a barber by any means, but he could cut hair fairly well.

“Maybe?”

“Definitely,” the jedi confirmed, trying to instill confidence in his companion. “What do you say?”

Next Chapter

Additional Notes-

Lightsaber: a weapon used by the Jedi, the Sith, and other Force-sensitives

Kybuck: an animal originally from Kashyyyk. They look very much like the Tauntauns found on Hoth, if you crossed one with a horse.

More Fics

#rhett #link #rhink #fanfic #star wars #starwars #the lone jedi

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