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kilmokea · 4 years ago

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Self Funded Private Gardens of County Wexford on the Wexford Garden Trail

Out of the earth, these garden owners

are creating living miracles.

These Gardens of Wexford have a few things in common which inspire them to keep going, be creative and open their gates to the public. They are all in County Wexford, privately owned and managed and are self-funded. Together with Garden Centres and Government funded Gardens they are members of The Wexford Garden Trail. This trail welcomes visitors and their members are more than happy to assist with any information visitors require to enjoy their visits to the Gardens and Garden centres of County Wexford.

There really is something special and treasured about Irish Gardens. They represent a natural environment of plants and trees taking in carbon and releasing oxygen into the air while their roots stabilize the soil and filter water. As trees reduce air pollution they help us to breathe better. Spending time within a natural setting often reduces our stress & improves our sleep. Just being among trees is good for our wellbeing and they make a lovely setting for walking, an activity shown to reduce stress and illness. With roots reaching deep into the earth, trees have excellent grounding energy. Indeed the healing powers of a garden have been portrayed in art and literature since our earliest beginnings. Out of the earth these garden owners are creating living miracles.

Nature has long been known for its relaxing qualities. Visiting gardens is so good for our health having vital positive effects on mental health as they boost our mood and generally make us feel more cheery. The Holistic benefits are huge. Relaxation, stress reduction and the value of improved quality of life to name but a few.

So much inspiration can be received through visiting gardens to assist the creation of our own garden too. Meeting the gardeners and owners adds enormously to the visit.

The sharing of valuable knowledge and stories while appreciating someone else’s hard work and creation adds to our lives. So often we are creating and planting for the future generation to enjoy so sharing knowledge cements the continuity of gardening systems. Stories of pioneering gardeners over the years who created and contributed to gardens over time add a depth to our visit helping us appreciate the garden while gaining inspiration for our own gardens. Great inspiration too for poets, artists and writers alike.

The visit provides us with the benefit of expanding our knowledge of horticulture, new technologies and making connections with like-minded people. They are a great way to introduce gardening as a hobby to children teaching them to nurture living things.

Some of the deepest preoccupations of thoughtful gardeners are the weather and the seasons. It is from Spring to Autumn, that magical time of year when many of Wexford’s self- funded private gardens open their gates to the public for you to explore.

Forward by Emma Hewlett

Coolaught Gardens was created and is owned by Harry & Caroline Deacon

“We were both probably always really into gardening but for me it started as an interest in growing to eat vegetables and fruit from a young age, but not into the floral side, I left that to my mother. She loved keeping the garden going and I was often called to help out, not really willingly I may add. When I married Caroline she was really interested as well, so much so that when they teamed up, I needed to find somewhere to escape to when they were both after me to do something or other!

The years that followed saw us become more interested and the garden grew in size and to be fair it was Caroline was now the driving force but we visited more gardens in our time off and I suppose the gardening bug had bitten.

The start of Coolaught Gardens really happened as a result of us deciding for the hell of it to enter what was then the National Garden competition, we came second in the Wexford section but we never realized how much it would impact us and by the end of the following week we had about 4 garden clubs asking us would we open the garden for viewing for their clubs! It seems that up to that point no private garden had come as high up the competition and a lot of people wanted to see this unknown garden. We started playing with the idea of opening the garden for a limited time Sundays 2 to 6 for the Summer months, but we underestimated the response, and we were run off our feet on those Sundays and the tours that came on weekdays again made us realize that we were going to have to open more days to spread the load. We opened from Wednesday through to Sunday next and after that we opened the full seven days and of course by then we had added the garden centre and the garden during this time had also more than doubled in size and now stands at more than 2.5 acres. So even though now when the garden is closed we have the sales area to take care of.

We have loved the time we have spent in making the garden but we have also loved meeting all the like-minded people we have met through the past 20 years because of what we started here. True gardening folk are the best people you can be around, they are generally very positive people who work their way through every adversary, none have been tested as much as by what has happened in the last year. Things and situations have changed utterly for a lot of people, life as we know it has been turned on it's head, these lockdowns have had a devastating impact on families, business, economies across the world are suffering but nothing compared to the families of the people that have died. There has on the other hand been more time for parents to spend with their children, that has to be a bonus. The realization that most people won't be able to travel away for holidays and breaks has seen the nation change by being much more conscious of their homes and their gardens. After the first lockdown we started a call and collect service which I found very difficult. It is not the same as meeting with your customers face to face and making sure what they are buying will suit them, but as the Summer wore on and the economy opened we found that a lot of people had also found the joy of having the space around their homes and now wanted to make that area more beautiful and a place to relax and unwind in i.e. make a garden out of it! Last Summer all the tours both National and International were cancelled as were all the new Brides and Grooms that come for to take their photos in the garden. We were reluctant at first to open the garden as we weren't sure of the protocols to put in place to keep people safe but as we finally became more confident, we did open it and our new customers and old seemed to get new enjoyment from the garden and that also lifted our spirits.

We have passed the first day of Spring St. Bridget's day and even though the weather is still dismal, that too will change the days are getting longer and warmer and Summer will come again and eventually Covid will be consigned to the history books and life will return to the new normal. We will look forward to meeting both our regular customers and those that have been bitten with the gardening bug recently back to Coolaught Gardens again.”

Clonroche, Enniscorthy, Co. Wexford

Telephone:

053 9244137

Mobile:

087 6446882

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.facebook.com/coolaughtgardens

Contact:

Caroline & Harry Deacon

Opening Hours:

Garden is open Mid May to Mid September, or by appointment to individuals and groups Garden Centre open all year round.

Glenavon Japanese Garden was created by and is owned by Iris Checkett.

“During the winter of 1999 I attended gardening classes run by Frances McDonald in Gorey Community School. As part of the course we were asked to design our dream gardens. I decided to create a Japanese themed garden. The garden developed over the next few years ,constructed by Drinagh Garden Centre. Originally based on the four seasons of the year over the years it has matured and changed.

Some years ago I joined The Wexford Garden Trail and opened my garden to the public for a few months in the summer. All proceeds are given to charity. The Garden Trail has helped enormously with the marketing of my garden through the Web site, Social Media and The Brochure. It is enormously beneficial too for our garden visitors as we introduce them to the trail and suggest other gardens for them to visit and Garden centres for them to purchase plants and garden related tools, compost, pots and ornaments.

Unfortunately, because of the pandemic last year there were very few visitors and this year I hope Government restrictions allow more people to avail of the wonderful spaces we have all created in the Wexford Garden Trail for visitors to enjoy safely.

Working in the garden keeps me fit and gives me the opportunity to meet like-minded people. Hopefully these visitors get as much pleasure from the beauty of the garden as I do, and the peaceful place helps them to reduce the stresses of life.

Each season brings its own particular pleasures. In Spring we have the beauty of the Cherry Blossom. Summer features Hydrangeas, Autumn, the Liquid Amber walk and in Winter all the grasses.

Of course, there are problems associated with any garden. The area is all macamore soil so it requires quite a lot of chicken manure and hard work. I have to contend with the Macamore soil and Mr Heron repeatedly comes for my fish! On the upside I buy all my replacement plants and receive help and advice from my good friends in Springmount Garden Centre. Nothing takes away from the pleasure and enjoyment of being surrounded by the beauty of a garden. I love Glenavon Japanese Garden and enjoy every moment I have in this gorgeous space.

Glen Richards, Courtown Harbour, Gorey, Co. Wexford

Telephone:

053 9425331

Mobile:

085 2048737

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.facebook.com/glenavonjapanesegarden

Contact:

Iris Checkett

Opening Hours:

Sunday and Friday May to August 2pm – 5pm, or by appointment to individuals and groups.

Kilmurray Gardens was created and is owned by Paul & Orla Woods

Opening your garden to the public is a work of passion it requires complete dedication and a little bit of lunacy which we have in spathes. It is a moving feast which is never complete but which hopefully inspires people to try and achieve parts of it in their own garden space. Opening your garden requires courage as you are opening yourself up to other people opinions and criticism but it also can give you huge rewards for all the hours you are on your hands and knees weeding. Our greatest concern is when people return from a walk in the garden with armfuls of flowers they have picked to see if we have it for sale in the nursery a tight lipped smile usually is the response with a gentle reminder not to pick the flowers. The responses can be quite amusing.

The development of our garden started in conjunction with the development of the nursery as we found people enjoyed seeing the plants they were interested in buying growing in a garden. It is planted in an informal style with the inclusion of pond areas over the past few years. We completed our long border in a formal setting six years ago and they give a formal entrance into the garden joined to the more informal areas. My favourite spot is sitting in the long borders surrounded by hornbeam hedging completely surrounded by foliage and flowers. It is the most perfect tranquil spot. My favourite plants are definitely the ones that continue flowering for a long time like Alstroemeria and are wonderful cut flowers for the house and also the scented ones like phlox and paeonias which are brief but in the few weeks they flower give so much joy. Our gardening opening is self- funded as we have a donation box for the RNLi in Courtown which we are past crew of and which our daughter has now joined. Our greatest pleasure is seeing people enjoying the space we have created and sitting and relaxing which in these times is so important .Our opening last year was hampered with Covid regulations but hopefully when summer arrives we will be able to reopen and allow people to enjoy our space

Kilmurry Nursery, Gorey, Co. Wexford

Telephone:

053 9480223

Mobile:

086 8113171 / 086 8180623

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.kilmurrynursery.com

Contact:

Paul & Orla Woods

Opening Hours:

Nursery Open Jan-March Mon-Friday 10-5 March 30th -Sept 27th open Monday-Saturday-10-5pm 30th Sept-13th December -Monday -Friday-10am-5pm

Entrance Fee:

Donation to Courtown RNLI

Kilmokea Gardens is owned by Mark & Emma Hewlett

“Ancient garden heritage goes back to earliest settlers. In the seventh Century the patron Saint of gardening, Saint Fiachra was adopted. He holds a special place in our hearts as the Kilmokea Monastic site dates back to this time. It is situated next to the walled garden.

When the Church of Ireland purchased the Monastic lands to build the rectory for the Rector of White Church, the fruit and vegetables for the house were grown in the walled Garden. Today it is home to a series of interchanging garden rooms with herbaceous planting, rose gardens and sheltered garden seats positioned to reflect on the beauty of the place. My favourite place is our Italian Loggia and pool which I have adopted as my summer office. As the business has grown, I become more office bound so I may as well be close to the garden on my laptop! Without doubt Roses are my favourite summer flowers and Hellebores in the spring. Many of the healing properties of the flowers and plants in the garden are now bottled as last lockdown I completed a flower essence course and these will be available to purchase in the Conservatory. To further assist the health and wellbeing of our guests we are introducing the concept of ‘Forest Bathing’ in the woodland garden. This Japanese practise known as ‘Shinrin Yoku is a simple method of being calm and quite amongst trees, observing nature around you while breathing deeply. A wonderful way to de-stress and boost the immune system at the same time.

We have been maintaining the seven acres of gardens for 24 years now and have weathered many storms! One of the first things we did was to build a large wooden Conservatory which is our Café where we offer guests lunch and afternoon tea. We then created a new food garden where fruit and vegetables are grown using organic methods for the kitchen which feeds guests staying in the house, self catering cottages and are essential ingredients for our lunch menu the conservatory café. This is really important to us as our philosophy of “ground to fork” is ingrained in our objectives.

Since the food travels only a few feet to reach the plate in the Conservatory Café, it is more sustainable. We strive to offer local & sustainable food and food grown with Organic methods to our guests and our family.

Our parents were all keen gardeners and fostered an interest in Gardens and nature and the outdoors. When we first started caring for the gardens my father would drive down from Dublin arriving at 8am, peel himself out of his low Honda and put on his overalls to mow the lawns and tend to the Roses. He was great inspiration and got involved in many of our early projects, giving advise, even when it wasn’t needed! Over the years we have created a large new food garden, which is very close to our hearts. We have built board walks and wooden structures in the woodland garden, designed fairy houses & viking boats and planted many hundreds of plants not to mention spending many hundreds of hours weeding! We now employ a full time gardener who gardens five days a week. We are very involved with decision making, planning new plantings, building structures, graveling pathways and discussing all the planting of seeds for the Vegetables and Flowers. We are totally indebted to Marty Reville our gardener who tends to the gardens with the love and passion which we hold for the gardens. With him we have created no-dig vegetable beds and he is extending biodiversity throughout the gardens. Large bug hotels are the latest structures! We really hope Government restrictions allow us to open Kilmokea Gardens to visitors this season, and we look forward to welcoming you”.

Great Island, Campile, Co Wexford

Telephone:

051 388109

Mobile:

086 6641946

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.kilmokea.com

Contact:

Mark & Emma Hewlett

Opening Hours:

Opening hours. 10am to 5pm

March 17th to end of May. September & October. Wednesday to Sunday

June, July, August. Every Day.

Entrance Fee:

Adults €7; OAP €6; Children under 16 €4; Children under 2 Free; Groups welcome. Up to 12.5% discount for groups of over 20

Marlfield House Gardens

Marlfield House is owned by The Bowe Family and managed by Margaret and Laura Bowe

When our parents Mary and Ray Bowe bought Marlfield House just outside Gorey in 1977 it was with the intention of opening the house and gardens to guests as a country house hotel. The Dower house of the Courtown Estate, the Earls of Courtown had entertained lavishly in both Marlfield and the nearby Courtown House. With Marlfield’s opening as a hotel in 1978 it began again to welcome guests from all over the world.

The garden was smaller then and has been developed and extended extensively by Mary and Ray in the early days. On 36 acres in total there are 12 acres in woodland walks and garden today. While the gardens have always been enjoyed by hotel guests, since opening ‘The Duck Restaurant’ in 2015 the number of people coming to enjoy a coffee, lunch or dinner and a wander in the gardens has multiplied tenfold. The restaurant is located in a long stone building with French doors opening onto a sandstone terrace overlooking the kitchen garden filled with vegetables, soft fruits, a plethora of herbs and beds of blooming roses! Our guests enjoy seeing chefs picking herbs, vegetables and salad as they dine al fresco on the south facing Terrace. The ‘garden to plate’ ethos could not be more evident!

It brings us great pleasure to see our garden enjoyed by so many.

Woodlands form the back drop of the garden, with meandering paths through a kitchen garden of herbs, vegetables and fruits. Long borders of shrubs and herbaceous perennials flank a yew hedge and lead to the lawns and formal gardens.

The duck pond forms a completely separate garden to the front of the hotel and the island, reached by a wooden bridge, has beautiful specimen shrubs and trees. It has only recently become the location of five private stand alone pond suites where guests can sleep, each in its own grounds amid oak and chestnut trees, surrounded by nature. The many paddling ducks, waterhen, squirrels, rabbits and George our peacock are happy to share this piece of the garden with those sleeping in the pond suites!

Spring is our favourite season and our gardener Sean Kehoe plants thousands of daffodils and tulips annually. Unfortunately in 2020 the pleasure of seeing the carpets of daffodils and rainbows of tulips and Camellias was confined to those on social media , and it seems that history might repeat itself this Spring! But our herb and rose gardens will be filled with a plethora of colour of blooms and fragrances and enjoyed by many this Summer when we are very hopeful that Covid restrictions will lift.

We are Looking forward to welcoming lots of people back to Marlfield and our gardens this year. Now more than ever we all need to Enjoy nature and spending time with each other, enjoy the outdoors, the beauty of our county and its gardens and produce and be grateful for the beautiful gardens in the Wexford Garden Trail.

Courtown Road R742, Gorey, Co Wexford

Telephone:

053 9421124

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.marlfieldhouse.com

Contact:

Margaret & Laura Bowe

Opening Hours:

Garden visit and Lunch/Afternoon Tea by appointment (March to December)

Entrance Fee:

€12.00 which includes morning coffee or afternoon tea with dressed scones in Marlfield House Hotel

Wexford Lavender Farm

My name is Moira Hart, I am the Owner and Manager of Wexford Lavender Farm, a privately run garden and tourism business located 10 km north of Gorey in North Co. Wexford.

We opened to the public in April 2014 with 2 acres of lavender plants in a field located close to old disused stables, which we had converted into our Café/Giftshop prior to opening.

We are currently Irelands’ only dedicated commercial lavender farm and added a second 2 acre field in 2018 with 5,000 more lavender plants. We planted rows of English Lavender Hidcote, English Lavender Rosea, Dutch lavender Grosso and some English Lavender Munstead. My late mum (Betty) was a keen organic gardener, animal lover and bee keeper, my love of gardening, lavender and animals comes from her and after visiting many lavender farms in England (I grew up in rural Dorset) decided to set up my own business here in Ireland. We’re (mostly) fortunate with the weather here in Co. Wexford and grow the English Lavender varieties which are hardy.

Farming anything involves lots of hard work, a passion for what you love and lots of energy, especially in the busy Summer months when the lavender is in bloom and visitor numbers are high. We keep ducks, chickens, goats, ponies and horses too, which all need looking after 365 days a year, whatever the weather. Being self-employed it’s important to be self-motivated and drive yourself forward.

When we first opened the business our daughters (Clara & Martha) were 6 and 9, I didn’t have any experience running a business, managing staff or working in a café so to say it was a steep learning curve would be a big understatement! Seven years later our daughters are now involved working in the business in the summer months when school is closed. We have a fantastic, hardworking team working alongside us, being a seasonal business can be difficult with staffing as its ‘all hands-on-deck’ during the summer then nothing during the winter.

We were at the beginning of planning and building a wooden Maze as an extension to the Lavender Farm in January 2020 when COVID-19 arrived unwelcomed into our lives, with this unknown threat and all the uncertainty it brought, I decided reluctantly to halt plans for 2020. We eventually re-opened on 30th June 2020 and had a strong but short domestic season in between Lockdown one and two, with so many people not being able to travel abroad. The Maze plans are back on track and will be built before June 2021. This will be a welcome addition to the business, as well as being the only wooden Maze in Ireland, it will not be dependent on the lavender flowering season (mid June through early September).

The first Covid lockdown was a welcome break, with fantastic weather and time-off that I hadn’t had through the spring/early summer since opening but this latest Lockdown has been tough on everyone and the very wet winter has made getting outdoor maintenance jobs impossible for the time-being.

We are SO looking forward to Summer, lavender, visitors, long days and being outside with nature and the things we love!

Coolnagloose, Inch, Gorey, Wexford, Y25 NW42

Telephone:

087 068 6774

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.wexfordlavenderfarm.com

Contact:

Moira Hart

Opening Hours:

Closed January, February & March.

Opening 1st May (if restrictions allow) to Mid September: Tuesday - Sunday: 10.30am - 5pm (plus Bank Holiday's)

Mid September to December: Saturday & Sunday: 10.30am - 5pm

Entrance Fee:

€5 per car in June, July & August

Woodville Gardens

Gerald Roche is a farmer and gardener at Woodville, New Ross where his family have lived since 1876.

As a farmer I know that I am simply a custodian of the farm for subsequent generations. A garden is just the same. A garden is shaped by the tastes and fashions of each generation that works in it but it goes on from one generation to the next. So it is with the gardens at Woodville, the apple and pear trees were planted by my grandmother, I think in the 1930s, so they are well past their prime though still productive and a strong structural element in the garden as many of them are espaliered. My interest in gardening came later in life with the realisation that gardening is an all absorbing occupation, once bitten by the gardening bug, there is no escape. The garden is not a chore, as a gardener, one wants to be in the garden planning, planting, shaping, altering, propagating.

At Woodville the walled garden was laid out when the house was built in the early 1800s. It was extended and remodelled in the 1830s and further developed in the 1880s when it was acquired by PJ Roche. He extended the house and built a conservatory. He also extended the existing glasshouse by building a vinery. These houses came from the Messenger Company in England and having restored the conservatory a few years ago and more recently, the peach house, the Messenger greenhouse, home to the vines, is my next project. I have sourced the timber and the help, we will probably lose this year’s crop of grapes unless we have a very warm summer.

In the last decade of the 19th century, plentiful labour and cheap coal meant these glasshouses were both productive and ornamental, these days they are a labour of love. The boilers are gone and they rely on solar gain to heat them, an uneven source of energy even with climate change. I try to garden in as sustainable and environmentally friendly way as I can, using manure and compost produced on site and to choose plants that will flourish in this microclimate.

These days, I look after the garden with the help of the family, a Teagasc student if one is available and the (very) occasional contractor. Help comes in the form of S.482 tax relief in return for which the gardens are opened to the public for two months each year. Covid 19 put a big dent in the visitor numbers in 2020 and I expect the same for 2021 as we rely on garden tours from abroad for much of our income.

Wet weather such as we have endured in January/February 2021 causes anxiety and impatience, even in a garden with free draining soil such as ours and spring sunshine and March breezes are eagerly anticipated. Small highs come from spotting the first bud or flower or fruit, comparing notes from other years. Pleasure comes from the harvest of fruit and vegetables, sweet new carrots, pencil thin, big bowls of autumn raspberries, sculptural romanasco, artichokes, validating puddles of melted butter on the plate. Satisfaction is a freezer filled with vegetables after summer evenings podding and chopping, blanching and bagging. Sweetcorn, broccoli and beans both broad and French, raspberries and blackcurrants all are saved and whatever else is surplus to the day’s requirements. Not for the gardener long days on the beach, those sunny days are spent mowing and edging lawns, harvesting and weeding and at the end of the day, a dash to the sea to cool down and wash off the dust. Just as paper never refuses ink, gardens soak up labour. There is never enough time, power tools have speeded up tasks but there is always more to be done.

In another era, an army of gardeners assisted by carpenters and painters maintained these gardens. Today we do what we can as best we can and relish producing food for the table – nil food miles, kind to the environment. It is an ongoing challenge but one we cherish.

New Ross, Co Wexford

Telephone:

051 422957

Mobile:

087 9709828

Email:

[email protected]

Website:

www.woodvillegardens.ie

Contact:

Gerald Roche

Opening Hours:

May – June: 10am – 2pm, or by appointment

Entrance Fee:

€5.00

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tera-91 · 5 years ago

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It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas

Hey everyone! This has been stuck in my head since Christmas day. It originally started as a short (Maybe 1000 or less fluff fic) but turned into …. well quiet a bit more than that 😂 Hope you like it and as always feel free to comment 💜 I love feedback

Summary: Everyone has been busy and the holiday season snuck up on everyone, especially Virgil who feels guilty and wants to do something speical for his boyfriend

Pairings: Virgil/Patton (Moxiety) Roman/Logan (Logince)

Word count: 3780

Virgil woke up at 5 am like usual. This time though he wasn’t brought back to the land of the conscious by the sound of his blaring alarm clock. Patton had made sure that had been turned off before the pair had gone to bed the night before. A shifting figure beside him made him look down at the mop of strawberry blond hair. Patton always made sure the alarms were only turned on when the alarms owner had to be up the next morning. He took a deep breath and sighed at the smell of sweet pea and magnolia, the smell had always relaxed him. He didn’t know what he would do without Patton. He gently hugged the smaller figure closer to him.

Virgil was almost back to sleep when he heard an alarm clock break through the silence of the house. He reached over and clicked the light button for Patton’s clock to make a soft blue light display the time. 6 am. Huh, it had to be Logan’s clock but the genius didn’t have to go to work. None of them did.

Reluctantly, Virgil gently pulled away from Patton as to not wake him. Once out of bed Virgil couldn’t stop the small heart palpitation as he watched Patton grab his pillow and turn over, but a smile soon followed as Patton simply snuggled into the pillow and back to a restful sleep. Virgil walked over to his desk chair where Patton had a habit of throwing Virgil’s hoody when he pulled it off in his sleep. He slipped on the, slightly ragged, article of clothing and made his way into the common area of the three-bedroom home.

As he thought, Logan was there, although slightly more disheveled than he was used to seeing the other man. He actually had on pajamas, that he was sure Roman bought him, for once. The main clue was that the pants had the Andromeda galaxy and Logan rarely bought anything that had the stars on it as it seemed nothing was ever accurate enough for him to buy on his own accord. He had on a Beauty and the Beast night shirt, that was definitely Roman’s as it was at least 2 sizes too big for him. He stood at the counter, half asleep with his hair sticking up in various places and glasses slightly askew, while he waited for the coffee to finish.

“Sorry Logan, Patton turned off the alarm clocks and I forgot to set the coffee pot. Although, I didn’t expect any of us to be up this early either.” Virgil said as he reached up into the cabinet and pulled out their coffee mugs. “Go ahead and sit down, Ill bring you yours as soon as it’s done.” Virgil was somewhat surprised when Logan did just that. While he waited Virgil reached for the sugar and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator as took just a few moments for the coffee machine to stop with a beep to signal it was done. Sugar and milk with a splash of coffee for him, while Logan’s was mostly coffee with just a little milk. He was careful not to spill any as he made his way to the living room where Logan sat. Logan still seemed out of it as he handed him the mug, which was understandable as he had been told multiple times of Logan’s poor sleeping habits by Roman.

Virgil sighed as he sat down next to the bespectacled man. It would be an hour or so before either Roman or Patton would wake up, so for the time being it was quiet, but peacefully so. As they both drank their coffee Virgil jarringly realized it was Christmas Eve as he took in the state of the living room. They had all been so busy with work yet Roman or Patton or both had found some time to find some vaguely Christmas colored fairy lights and string them along the edge of the ceiling. He felt somewhat sad. He knew how much both loved the holiday, probably as much as he loved Halloween. Since it was Christmas Eve there wouldn’t be enough time to order anything for anyone and he doubted they would be able to find even a small tree to decorate. Virgil sighed, his anxiety had begun to build up. He didn’t like it when Patton was sad or disappointed and he was almost certain he would be.

“Contemplating current state of events?” Logan asked suddenly which caused Virgil to jump. Before he could say anything, Logan continued “We have all been busy, more so than last year and the lack of decoration reflects that.” He gestured towards the general area of the room a tree would sit.

Virgil took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah, something like that” he said as he ran his fingers along the edge of his hoodie. “I haven’t had the time to get my brothers anything let alone Patton.” He reluctantly admitted.

“I don’t suppose many of us have had time to find anything.” Logan began. “Roman has been booked with back to back shows between the two theaters and Re-re” a sigh escaped both of them at the thought of the chaotic twin. “Re has been in his forge every time Roman looks for him, working on commissions for the holidays.”

“Patton has been making a lot of trips to and from the bakery” Virgil ran his hand through his hair. “I lost count of how many dozens of cookies and cupcakes he has made for all the shelters and homes.” a small chuckle escaped him “You know Patton, even the animal shelters get a batch of handmade treats.”

Logan hummed in agreement. “Unless one has gathered gifts during the year, I’m sure we all will understand if we just get to spend tomorrow together, sans boxes wrapped in colorful paper or bags and bows.”

Virgil shifted, somewhat uncomfortable at the thought that Patton may have found him something but nothing had ever caught his eye as a Christmas present for his boyfriend. Roman and Re, well they were easy. All he had to do was call Joan, they would go to the metal store for him and probably stop by one of the supermarkets and grab something Disney related for him since they knew he didn’t do well in crowds.

That’s just what he was going to do he quickly decided.

Virgil got up from the couch and quietly made his way back to his bedroom. As he walked up to the bedside table, he was glad he had decided to put carpet in over the summer. He couldn’t help but take a little time to admire Patton. It always amazed him, the contrast of a sleeping Patton vs awake Patton. He looked peaceful and not at all like once he woke up, he would be full of energy that he would practically be bouncing off the walls.

Virgil sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his phone off the charger to text Joan.

V: Hey Joan would u mind going by the stores for me and grabbing Ro and Re presents for me?

J: What’cha thinking? V: Just about 10 pieces each of 15n20 and 1080 for Re, I’ll call Tyler and he can have it ready. For Ro, you no him basically anything Disney that catches ur eye. Especially anything Hercules.

J: Ah, got it! Ill get em and bring it by tonite when I come get Tals present from your place. Prewrapped ;)

V: Thanks Joan

J: NP V!

Virgil let out a quiet huff. He had his brothers taken care of now, well he still had to call Tyler but for the most part it was done. He just had to wait and make sure Re was out at his forge before he called. He turned and looked at the still sleeping Patton. It took everything in him not to just lay down next to him and card his fingers through the red tipped strawberry blond hair, the slight curls already making it stick up in hilariously weird angles. A moderately loud crash, which meant Roman was awake, caught his attention. Luckily it didn’t even phase Patton. He stood up with a huff, he still had to figure out what he was going to get Patton for tomorrow morning. He placed his phone in his hoodie pocket and made his way back out towards the living room. Maybe Roman could help him.

Virgil almost immediately turned around once he reached the end of the hallway. From were he stood he could clearly see the kitchen. A few eggs cracked and splattered on the tile floor while a bowl with pancake mix was tilted over on its side and mostly all over the counter with some of it on the floor. His eyes soon landed on Roman, or more accurately Roman’s mostly bare back which was only barely covered by a tank top that partially obscured the colorful tattoo located there, he wore the matching pants to the shirt he had seen Logan wearing earlier.

“I don’t know how you two always end up making a mess when you flirt.” Virgil said, startling Roman enough for him to step away from the counter revealing Logan up on the quarts top, his glasses pushed up onto the top of his head.

“Ah dear brother, you are just jealous.” Roman said with a confident smile as he turned and leaned back against the counter between Logan’s legs. Logan immediately leaned forward and draped himself over Roman’s shoulders, fixing his glasses in the process. “Besides you and Patton are just as guilty.” He said as he tilted his head back to look up at Logan

Virgil just rolled his eyes at the older man. “Uh huh, I am so jealous that you two make a mess. Yet the mess is usually preexisting as I find it adorable when Patton is baking not simply about to start making breakfast.” He said as he gestured to the floor.

“He is not wrong Roman. Patton is usually already covered in flour. I had yet to make any sort of mess prior to your appearance.” Logan said, smirk half hidden in Roman’s hair. The twin to pouted and tilted his head back. This caused the shorter one to laugh and give him a kiss.

Virgil shook his head before he made his way around the mess to refill his coffee. “Just clean up the mess when you’re done.” He said with a chuckle and made his way back to the living room.

“Will do bro!” he heard Roman call out.

He shook his head as he sat down on the couch. As different Ro and Re were there were still quite a few similarities between their actions that neither wanted to admit. Then it hit him, what he could do for Patton. He would wait until later when Patton would go with Logan to go see Roman’s Christmas eve performance. He’d make him his favorite treats.

Patton was next to wake up. He padded his way into the living room as he rubbed his eyes. Virgil could tell from the look on his face when he glanced into the kitchen that Logan and Roman were either still in there making out or they had left it a mess. Either way Patton’s face became red and he immediately dived for Virgil’s side. Virgil simply chuckled, placed his empty coffee cup down on the table and scooped Patton up. He shifted himself so that he was laying down on the couch with Patton’s head resting on his chest and he began to run his fingers through his hair. Patton wordlessly snuggled further into Virgil, both glad to have some time to themselves.

However, the peace didn’t last very long. “I am off to the forge my lovies and Merry B*%&^$mas too all and to all a good day!” Remus’s boisterous voice boomed through the house followed by the slamming of the front door.

Neither was sure if it was the loud voice or the slamming front door but both jumped. Virgil instinctively hugged Patton closer to him in an attempt to shield him from the nonexistent danger while Patton could feel Virgil’s fast heartbeat through his shirt. The taller one groaned and he placed his hand on his face. “I am not related to that one in the slightest.” Virgil sighed which caused Patton to giggle. Virgil waited a few moments to ensure Remus hadn’t forgotten anything before he reached into his pocket to get his phone to call Tyler.

“You’re such a thoughtful little brother.” Patton said as he reached under the hoodie once Virgil hung up the call. A large smile spread across his face at the deep red blush that appeared on Virgil’s pale skin. He loved it when his boyfriend became a blushing, cuddly mess.

“I-i just know how much he enjoys making things, though how someone that is a-all over the place like that ended up taking up blacksmithing which requires quite a bit of con-concentration.” Virgil slightly stammered.

“It’s simple my dear brother. I am the prince and he is the pauper that wants to be close to the palace, so he makes all the royal guards gear from armor to swords.” Roman appeared leaning over the couch looking at the two. Now both of them were red in the face with embarrassment at the position they were in.

“Roman that makes no sense whatsoever, that is not even how the story went, the pauper was not conically a black smith by trade. Also, you two are in fact related unlike the two boys in the book.” Logan made his presence known.

“Details, details my adorable calculator watch.” Roman said as he swept Logan up in his arms.

“Did you clean up the kitchen yet?” Patton asked as he struggled to keep from laughing as the two nearly ran to the kitchen.

The day went by rather lazily as no work needed to be done. Both Virgil and Patton enjoyed laying on the couch, the tv had been turned on at some point. Roman and Logan had joined them not long after they ran back to the kitchen, this time the pancakes had actually been made. They brought Virgil and Patton a plate and the four of them ate, bickering between Roman and Virgil being the main form of entertainment. 2 pm finally came, simultaneously too soon and not soon enough for Virgil. The three left and Vigil got to work.

He couldn’t remember exactly which was Patton’s favorite but luckily, he had enough ingredients to make both, since Patton kept the pantry stocked almost as if the home was a medium volume bakery. Which as much as Patton experimented it probably could be.

After looking through every drawer and every cabinet Virgil was able to gather most of the ingredients he needed. “Let’s see. Sugar, salt, vanilla, flour, chocolate chips, powdered sugar, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, oil, water, milk. What am I missing?” Virgil asked himself as he looked over the items he had scattered across the counter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the large butter dish. Of course! Patton always had room temperature butter for when he did his baking, Virgil had to stop himself from smacking himself in the head.

Virgil got to work making the cookies. It was a tedious process. He started out with the filling by mixing powdered sugar and soft cream cheese. He made the first batch of dough and portioned them out. He broke the portions in half as equally as possible before he rolled them out, placed some of the filling on one before he placed the other half on top, sealed the edges of the stuffed cookies and placed them on a sheet before storing them in the refrigerator they had out in the garage.

He returned to the kitchen, mixed together a small bowl of equal parts cinnamon and sugar, and turned the oven to preheat for the next set of cookies. He began mixing the butter and sugar, some of it went flying out as he turned on the mixer. He hoped that enough stayed in the bowl as he added the vanilla and water. Having learned his lesson, he turned the mixer down low as he added in the flour. Unfortunately, when the light ingredient hit the bowl it looked like a cloud with some landing in his hair. Virgil silently cursed under his breath. No wonder Patton always ended up covered in flour or something else when he baked.

The oven beeped, an indication that the over was up to temperature. Virgil quickly tore the chocolate chip bag open, sending about a third of the bag flying in the process. He poured the rest of the chips into the dough, shakily he mixed it up and portioned them out before putting them on a sheet and in the oven.

As he waited for the cookies to bake Virgil set to cleaning the giant mess he made in the kitchen. He had just barely finished when the timer beeped. “Ugh how does Patton do this? I haven’t even gotten the powdered sugar out yet.” Virgil said as his anxiety began to increase. He took a deep breath, grabbed the potholders and took the cookies out of the oven. He carefully lowered the ovens temperature for the first batch of cookies before he turned around and grabbed a large shallow bowl, cooling rack and the bag of powdered sugar.

With shaky hands Virgil re-opened the powdered sugar, which of course had to explode out of the bag and dust the previously clean stone countertop, then poured some into the shallow bowl. He groaned; this was just impossible. Quickly, so not to burn his fingers, Virgil picked up a few of the cookies and rolled them in the powdered sugar before placing them on the cooling rack. Once he was done with that batch of cookies Virgil went to the garage for the first batch of cookies. He took each cookie and rolled them in the cinnamon sugar he made earlier before he placed them back on the sheet and slid it into the cooler oven.

As he set to work once again cleaning the kitchen, he didn’t hear the garage door open. “Virge?” Patton’s voice made Virgil stand ramrod straight. ‘No Patton can’t be home already’ Virgil thought. A hand on his shoulder and the timer going off simultaneously, made Virgil jump almost out of his skin.

“Pat? Babe what are you doing here?” Virgil asked practically losing control of his breathing as he quickly spun around and pulled the last batch of cookies and set them on top of the counter before he turned the oven off. He didn’t want to burn the cookies, after all they were for Patton. He knew he couldn’t hide what they were from him but that didn’t stop him from trying to block Patton’s view of them.

Patton simply giggled and pulled Virgil away from the hot appliance. “Well Remus showed up with you know who. Once the performance was over the four of them wanted to go and get something to eat to celebrate a wonderful performance.” Patton reached up and to shake the mixture of flour and powdered sugar from Virgil’s hair. “I took Roman’s car while they all piled in Remus’ I knew you had already been alone for a while. Also, I was hoping to get some alone time with you.” Patton said with a rare, somewhat smug, look before he pushed the taller one up against the wooded cabinets and cool stone counter before he pulled Virgil down for a kiss.

Virgil almost, almost, whined when the other pulled away. He couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face, neither of them was particularly forward when it came to affection, but Virgil couldn’t help how much he liked it when Patton would become bolder when the two of them were alone.

“What are you up to Virge? I come home and you look like an absolute ghost with all the flour and powdered sugar on you.” Patton smiled as he rubbed Virgil’s cheek that was also smudged with powdered sugar.

“Well, I um – I hadn’t been able to find you anything for Christmas tomorrow, so I thought.” Virgil said as he glanced over at the sheet full of cookies. “I thought I would make you some of your favorites, but it seems that I can’t do any of it right.” Virgil sighed as he ran his thumbs along Pattons hips. “I couldn’t hide them from you, and I don’t think I did it right. The first batch doesn’t look right and this one looks under done.”

Patton couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, he quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh Virge.” He started as he pulled back to peak around him. “Silly you did just fine.”

“Babe those don’t look anything like yours and the ones I just pulled out look like they’d fall apart as soon as you picked them up.” Virgil protested as the other pulled away slightly. “Pat? You ok? Your hand was kind of cold.” Virgil said as he reached up and grabbed one of Patton’s still chilled hands.

Patton quickly intertwined his fingers with Virgil’s and stuck their hands in the hoodie pocket so he could steal some of the warmth the oversize hoodie provided. “I’m fine Virgil, it was just cold outside and I forgot my gloves.” He said as he buried his face in his boyfriend’s chest. “You did great, the first ones just need another coat of powdered sugar and the others just need a few minutes to firm up as they cool down. You did just fine.” Patton said as he used his other hand and once again pulled Vigil down for a comforting kiss. Patton was always mesmerized how his lips were always so soft. Patton pulled back slightly “What made you do this?” Patton asked softly, afraid to break the moment.

Virgil leaned down so their foreheads touched. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t feel like Christmas tomorrow.” Virgil practically whispered.

“How could I possibly be disappointed when I’m with you, everyday feels like Christmas.” Patton said. At his words it felt like a wave washed over Virgil. He leaned down and tenderly kissed the shorter one. Tomorrow would certainly feel like Christmas even if it was just filled with fairy lights and cookies.

@tinkslittlebelle @teacupfulofstarshine @random-name-here @kindly-falling @xx-fandom-potato-xx @sylveon-lover-crazyfangirl1415 @sandersfander1820 @downrightdanny @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @princeanxious @sammys-ghostz @nope-not-more @moltengoldenstardust @coolerthan-a-vintagecassette @j-d-lightful @could-always-be-gayer-2 @altruistic-skittles @c4t1l1n4 @dutifullystrangequeerdom @i-read-by-lamp @thatcacidork @bigfirecreator @badluckkaren @eternal-optimists-world

#sanders sides fic #human au #Patton #Roman #Logan #Virgil #Remus #tera-91

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crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years ago

Text

Disco Ball Diva

A/N: For @buckyshelves Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy this and have a great festive holiday

To @bucky-smiles for organising this secret Santa gift exchange, you’re awesome and so, so kind

Also... thank you to my friend Haz who beta read this for me. You are always so supportive of my writing and I love you

Summary: You’re inappropriate, sassy, have snazzy powers, and now you’re an Avenger-in-training. Not everyone appreciates your blasé attitude, and when a surveillance mission goes south you’re thrown together with one hot brooding super soldier. It doesn’t help that you can’t stop ogling his bum.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader w/ powers

Word Count: 7k. I actually feel bad that it’s so long.

Warnings: Violence, gun violence, Bucky kills people, mentions of blood and injury, bad language (which is a given for me), some sexual tension (light) but mostly just reader is an asshat XD

The Avengers compound is not like you imagined it. Or maybe it is but you haven’t found any of the secret stuff yet. Hidden jet hangers under the basketball court, labs in the basement, glass cases full of superhero suits. Wait. That’s the freakin’ X-Men.

Still, it’s nothing like you hoped. The conference rooms are boring, obviously, because meetings are the epitome of dull. The communal lounge and kitchen are both boring; there’s no espresso machine that doubles as a drone, no fridge that transforms into sentry bot, there isn’t even a SodaStream. Yawn! You don’t even need to see the fitness suite to know that it’s not a place you want to visit, and you’re not allowed below the ground floor yet. Talk about not trusting the noob.

Your room is a vision of extreme lacklustre, but you only moved in yesterday, so, no redecorating just yet, save for the peace lily your brother gave you.

Congrats on your new job and home by the way, here’s a half-dead plant I had but couldn’t be bothered to look after. Now it’s yours. Enjoy!

Your super power is definitely not green thumbs, nurturing life, healing, or anything even a tiny bit supportive. You can’t fly, don’t have super strength, speed, or a crazy-good aim. There’s not a green rage-monster just below the surface waiting to erupt and smash things. Well, if someone steals your cookies you might have to choke a bitch but hey, rainbows are cool, right? Super distracting, like oh hey, what’s all this shiny shit flashing around? Oh dayum, I totally didn’t see that badass super warrior coming to kick my ass.

You swallow hard. The small conference room feels like an interrogation room despite the polished wood table and plush leather chairs. Of four sets of eyes that are currently watching you, only one pair is encouraging.

Tony Stark. The guy who recruited you. Took you from a life of selling hotdogs on street corners in the City and apartment sharing with a crazy cat lady called Angie who you found on Craigslist. You had nothing against crazy cat ladies, per se, but you would prefer it if the pissy smell was optional. Angie had opted in, hence why you jumped at the chance to opt out. Ugh.

“Rainbows?” The scowly but buff brunette with the dreamy blue eyes and robotic arm, scoffs mockingly. “You project rainbows?”

The equally buff blonde who you suspect might be Captain America (or maybe his stunt double) snickers, his head lowered to hide his amusement. Does Captain America have a stunt double, for like, TV appearances and meetings with officials, and stuff? You’ll ask later. Right now, you’re annoyed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, fist-of-victory!” You snap your fingers like the queen you are. “Am I too snazzy for you? Do my rainbows ruin the whole Neanderthal vibe you got going on there?”

Loud snorts and chuckles pull you back. The redheaded vixen you know already as Black Widow is pinching her nose to stifle her laughter, and Tony is looking to the heavens in askance but emotional stability is not forthcoming.

“Wow.” The brunette says flatly.

“Fist of victory.” Tony ponders, eyes twinkling. “I like that.” He levels an amused gaze at you, rolling his next words around in his mouth. “Manchurian candidate is a little out-dated, wouldn’t you say, Barnes? Ready for an upgrade?”

Oh shit! Your eyes get big. The brunette is none other than the infamous Winter Soldier. You should have known by the arm. Show no weakness! Your brain screams.

“What’s the official title for that skill, you have?” Steve Rogers has gotten his face to cooperate, now there’s no trace of a smirk. “Light manipulation?”

“Walking disco ball.” You put on the light show again, manipulating the effects so the lights are dancing across the, now stormy grey, eyes of one Sergeant Barnes.

“It’s definitely distracting.” Natasha says objectively. “Could be useful.”

“See! That’s what I said!” You punch the air, sending the lights into a frenzy.

“I have a theory.” Tony is playing his cards close to his chest still. “That’s why y/n is here. She’s agreed to work with us, and at the very least she can be a supportive member of the team.”

“Team, frickin’, playahhh!” You holler, earning a concerned look from Rogers and a downright obnoxious groan from Barnes. “What? What you complaining at? You fucking love me already!”

The truth was that you didn’t know how your ability worked. You could feel it when you did your thang, like the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and the air in your hand felt stiff and substantial.

Better not talk about hands full of substantial stiff things around grandad Tony, he might kick the bucket.

You could manipulate the amount of reflections in your light show by making the air heavier, make them move, dance, even adjust the size of them a little. Agreeing to work with The Avengers had been a no brainer; you get paid, get a place to stay that isn’t full of the stench of sadness and cat piss, and you get to find out more about your ability. Win, win, win.

+++ A couple of weeks later +++

“You really expect me to take Rainbow Brite on this mission?” Barnes has his arms crossed across his chest, refusal crinkling his brown and pursing his lips into a thin line. The guy looks hot in tac gear. One bicep straining against the material, the other is obviously free and oh-so-fucking-awesome. Thighs tight under those black tac pants, thigh holster accenting the flex of muscle as he shifts his weight. Wait-what!?

“Wait a fucking minute!” You squawk. “Rainbow Brite? Oh, hell no!” You march up to him, similarly decked out in black gear that makes you look like some tiny recruit in ill-fitting body armour instead of badass like him.

There’s a smirk on his perfect mouth now, dusky pink lips lop-sided with amusement, and the twinkle in his eyes is more than a little alluring. What the fuck?

“Huh.” You stop your tirade, blinking, baffled. He’s playing with you. Trying to get you pissed so you’ll refuse to go, or maybe he wants you to go so you’ll make a fool of yourself and Tony will see you’re not useful. Too many mind-games already, you don’t have the patience for this shit, so you go with an insult instead. “If I’m Rainbow fucking Brite then that makes you Twink. Dink!”

“Well, he does epitomise my sparkling personality.” Sardonic, deadpan. It’s classic brooding Barnes and you’re almost proud that he got an 80’s pop culture reference. Almost.

“And they did rename him Mr fucking Glitters back in 2014.” You pout, adopting his stance, arms crossed.

“Perfect!” Tony pops m&ms into his mouth, turning away dismissively. “Rainbow Brite and Mr Glitters it is. Head to the carpool, there’s a vehicle waiting for you both.”

There was no getting away from this mission. You’d grumbled, griped, whined, and begged Tony to send you with anyone but Broody Barnes but the Iron Man was true to his alter ego, he did not budge.

You are about to take a few pot shots at him in the insults department when Barnes’s voice comes over the earpiece you have already been fitted with.

“Earth to disco ball. Get in the damn car already.”

“It’s disco diva to you, giant cocksicle.”

He laughs at that and is still grinning when you slide into the passenger seat beside him.

“You’ve got some mouth on you, kid.” Was that acceptance? Admiration? Whatever it was it looked good on him.

“Yeah, you know you want my mouth.” It sounded better in your head but now that it’s out it can’t be taken back. Barnes looks a little frowny but at least he’s got nothing to say so you can quietly die in peace.

Can someone cringe so much they die? You might find out.

The mission is surveillance. Low-key observations of a facility out in Nova Scotia that makes products for iGoddess, a beauty company owned and run by Gabrielle Porter, the niece of one Alexander Pearce, crime syndicate king-pin and scumbag extraordinaire.

You know the company; you buy their stuff. Well, you do now you can afford it and it’s not wasted under the scent of cat urine and bleach. How can a company so devoted to making women feel special and empowered be mixed up with drugs, weapons and human trafficking? Fucking bullshit, that’s what it is.

Bucky had ditched the car in the parking lot of a lake-side leisure and visitors centre about fifteen miles away, and with gaudy waterproof outerwear over your tac gear, you had begun the hike that would set you smack-bang in the middle of nowhere good. Posing as hikers had been Tony’s brief but you’re cold and bored, and your body aches from being on the solid ground.

You’re both lay just behind the crest of a hill a little way away from your target building. Bucky mutters his observations into his comms as you look through your own binoculars trying to see what he’s looking at. He’s talking guard numbers and movements, the weapons they carry, security features and people entering or leaving the facility. It’s no use, you’re not cut out for this. Surveillance is soul destroying. You’d rather be interred in Tony’s kitchen, at least there’s coffee there.

Not even an hour in and you’re itching to get up and move around. The hike had gotten your blood pumping but now you’re going stir-crazy, joints tingling with the need for motion.

Boring. Boring. But at least you can entertain yourself. Where there’s light there’s beauty and you tease the air through your gloves, finding that your skin doesn’t need to be bare for you to create the effect. Well whadd’ya know.

“There’s movement.” Bucky warns. “Looks like some of the guards are exiting the compound.”

You snort, they’re probably bored too.

“A Jeep and a couple of motorbikes, moving quickly.”

“Sounds like they’re going home.” You mumble, focused on the lights in your hand.

“They’re headed this way.” He curses. “Grab your- What the HELL are you doing?”

Bucky tackles you to the ground from where you were on your knees almost at the hill’s crest.

“Asshole!” You’re trying to get away from him but he pins you to the ground.

“I’m the asshole?” He complains as he rolls off you, sliding down the hill on his ass, shoving his gear unceremoniously into his backpack. “Mission compromised.”

“What happened?” Tony’s disembodied voice doesn’t sound happy.

“We were spotted.” At the bottom of the hill, Bucky starts picking a path through the rocks and small fissures hidden by the wild grass and heathers. A quick glance back tells him you’re not following; you’re caught.

“Uh, hi, guys.” You chuckle nervously as one of the guards levels an assault rifle at you. “Would you believe we’re winners of a free weekend iGoddess Spa?”

Bucky is livid. If it had just been him, he could have taken them out and escaped, but, no. Tony had to insist that he bring you, show you the ropes, look after you. Babysit you.

He snorts. You don’t need a minder you need to be put in a padded room where you can’t inflict any more of your weird bullshit on him. Fucking rainbows. What kind of skill is that, other than one that gets you caught?

Eight hours ago you were both doing great. There’d been some small-talk in the car, he’d opened up a little and you’d responded. Even on the hike over you’d been great, your filthy mouth was a source of much amusement for him, and you’d listened. His instructions were followed close enough to the letter, and he was happy. Everything was good.

Now it’s all fallen to shit and he’s locked up in a heavy-duty restraint chair that brings back memories of dark places and dark times for him. To his side, you’re slumped forward in a regular wooden chair, cable-ties binding your wrists and ankles to the wood, pulling at your skin, making your hands and feet turn blue. How the hell are you both supposed to get out of this?

He’s watching the movements of your chest that tell him you’re still breathing. The cut on your head has stopped bleeding but you’re drooling blood-tainted saliva down your grey rash-guard. Both of you had been stripped down to your undergarments and checked for hidden weapons. He was the first to be incapacitated as they’d used you as leverage, holding a gun to your head until he complied, stripped, and submitted to the chair. When they’d took away your gear you’d fought and Bucky had seen red; he’d strained against the chair until the butt of a gun to the head had put a stop to that. When he came to you were out cold, beaten and bloody. How hard had you fought?

Your feet and hands are turning purple now. The weight of your body pulling the restraints against your skin is making the plastic ties dig deep, cutting off the circulation.

“Y/n?” Bucky hisses, hoping the noise doesn’t prompt the guards to come back. “Y/n! Wake up!”

The room you’re in looks like an interview room. Two-way mirror, camera in the corner, reinforced door with heavy-duty locks that were strangely not engaged. It’s grey and cold, and the only things in the room are the two chairs and you two. The device Bucky is locked into is bolted into the floor; a permanent feature, like they expected him or maybe Steve. He tests the chair again. It creaks but doesn’t give. He’d have to really put some brute strength into it to break out, and that would create too much noise. He’d wait.

“Y/n!” A little louder now, and you stir.

He keeps talking to you, just bullshit words, what he wants for dinner, what film he’s going to watch when he’s home safe. Anything to help draw you back to consciousness.

“You wana watch a film with me, y/n?” He thought for sure you’d tell him to go fuck himself.

You moan, head lolling as you come back to him.

“Hey! Rainbow Brite!”

“Fuck you.” It’s a whisper but he’ll take it.

“There she is.” He allows himself a relieved smile. “C’mon, sweetheart. I need you to sit up for me. Take the weight off those ties before there’s any permanent damage.”

It takes a few more moments before you can shuffle yourself properly into the chair, then you’re flexing your hands and feet to get the blood moving again.

“Oh-god-it-hurts-so-fucking-bad!” You are practically wailing as the pins and needles sensation in your extremities reaches a peak. The slightest movement now sends a cacophony of intense pain into your limbs.

“It’ll be over soon.” Bucky sooths.

“Why are you being nice to me after I got us caught?” You eye him suspiciously, flapping your hands to rush the blood into your fingers. Rip the band aid off. “Is this some kind of prank? Ohhhhhhh! This is an initiation isn’t it? Oh, I see. Where’s Iron Doosh? Hey! Tony!”

“Would you shut up? This is real. We’re really captured.” Bucky hisses.

“Tony Stank, Skank, Spah-hank.” You sing-song as you struggle against your restraints, examining your bound feet through spread knees. “I hope this is one of the chairs from his good dining set.” You stand, leaning forward and centring your weight above your bent knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Just need to…” You shuffle over to the mirror.

“No, y/n, wait!” Bucky begs. “Don’t break the glass.” His frantic expression says the rest. Your feet are bare and you’ll shred yourself to ribbons.

“What? You’re crazy. Why would I do that?” You chuckle, amused that he’s so worried. “There’s no one in there.” You wink at him. “They’d be in here by now if there were.”

You shuffle a bit more and grunt as you throw yourself backward to the ground. The chair cracks but doesn’t break.

“Fuck!” You struggle some more, grunting and groaning like a butch female tennis player in a grand slam. One of the arms loosens and you fight against the wood until you get your left hand free, then you’re reaching into your hair for a bobby pin to jam into the clasp of the cable tie on your right arm.

Moments later, you’re free and rushing to Bucky who is fighting against his own restraints. There’s sweat beading on his bare chest and his hair is sticking to his forehead. A quick swipe of your hand clears his brow and he stills, watching you as you search the chair for whatever mechanism has him trapped.

“There’s a big red lever at the back.” You muse. “You think it’s an ejector seat?” A cheeky wink. “If I sit in your lap we can both go for a ride.” You don’t have time for giggling and flirtation, but you do it anyway.

“Y/n.” Bucky chastises lightly.

“What? This is every girl’s wet dream. Every, damn, girl.” You mumble as you grip the handle. “And I can’t even enjoy it.”

“Just pull the damn thing already. We don’t have time to mess around.”

“Pity.” You tug the lever and a loud hiss fills the room, pressure releasing from the chair.

Bucky is on his feet and at the door before you make three steps. He’s rubbing his right forearm where the metal clamps had bitten into his flesh, there’s blood there too, long ago dried.

“There’s movement out there.” He has his ear to the door. “I need a weapon, we need our gear, and we need a vehicle.”

“I need some chocolate and bottle of wine.”

“What?”

“Are we not making a shopping list?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs your wrist. “C’mon.”

With the door cracked open, Bucky can see movement at the end of the corridor; there’s a security room which is promising for retrieving your gear, but not if you want to avoid being seen.

“Stay behind me.” He pushes you towards his back.

You look down at his bum. “No problem.” You sigh and then you’re moving, your hand on his bare back so you can feel where he’s moving next.

Bucky suddenly shoves you down into a squat, shushing you with a finger held against his lips. The way he moves is like water, smooth and forceful, carrying the momentum of his body towards a lone guard who has paused at the corner by the security room. How he hasn’t seen you is a miracle but the man doesn’t even hear Bucky until the his own knife is slipped from its sheath and into the his temple. There’s no sound, no gurgling, not even much blood. Bucky lowers the body to the floor and cleans the knife on the pants of the dead man.

Looking at him now, you can see why people fear him. His expression is cold, calculating, and focused. It’s necessary, the distance he puts between himself and the act of killing. Even when Bucky was him, there was always a distance; a gap between him and his orders. Now the killing is his choice and he has to live with that, there’s no excuse of mind control now. This is all him.

The security room has one guard inside who is overpowered moments after Bucky opens the door.

Fucking amateurs, you think. Does that room not have cameras that cover the door and surrounding corridors?

Turns out that it does and the reason the guard hadn’t seen you was because he was sexting his girlfriend.

“Sexting?”

“Yeah. Like sex role play and talking dirty over text.” You snort. “Jeez, you’re old.”

“What can I say? You’re broadening my horizons.” He winks then and it’s so out of place in this grim situation that you laugh nervously. “Sounds fun.”

“Well don’t take tips from this guy.” You wave his phone in the air loosely. “He’s fucking terrible at it.”

“What’s bad about it?”

You’re not sure if he means to ask that, he’s busy trying to get outside communication through the phones which seem to be keycode protected and also checking through the security feeds to see if he can find your gear and a way out of this for you both; he’s clearly distracted. At least he’s happy now that he has a pair of handguns and a pair of knives, no weapons for you because you haven’t completed your firearms training yet. But let’s face it, who would arm you anyway? You were a disaster waiting to happen.

“He’s a bit of a wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am kinda guy.” You chuckle. Bucky is going to regret starting you off down this line of conversation. “His poor woman has probably never experienced even mediocre sex with this schmuck if his sext skills are anything to go by.”

“Too eager to bury the bone?” Bucky sounds distant, but he is listening to you as he checks drawers for weapons, keys and anything else that might be useful. God knows your gear was nowhere to be found.

“Check it.” You hop up on the desk near him and scroll through the laughable chat. You feel slightly guilty reading this guy’s private shit but he’s dead so he isn’t going to care. Reading from the chat, you do fake voices. “So she’s like ‘hey baby, you free tonight? I got something for you.’ Peach emoji, cat emoji. And he’s like ‘you off your period? Can we bang?’ I mean, what the fuck dude?”

Bucky is smirking when you look at him. “What did she say?” He straps both thigh holsters to his almost naked body. It’s comical how he’s gearing up from salvaged stuff wearing only a pair of skin-tight spandex shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Once Bucky is packing (in more ways than one, now) you have to force your eyes elsewhere.

“’Yeah, baby! I missed you so bad. Can’t wait to be in your arms again.’ She just wants lovin’ y’know?” You spoke the line in a soft, breathy voice. Fake, of course.

“And what did he say?” Bucky is checking the monitors one last time before he moves to the door.

“You like a bit of sexting? Huh, Barnes?” You smirk, eying him mischievously. “Living vicariously through the sexting chronicles of Captain Dick-Down over there?”

“Just looking to know what not to do if the opportunity for sexting ever arises.” It’s light-hearted and completely unlike the grumpy Bucky you’re used to. Maybe there was something in the air; sex pollen or something. That’s totally a thing. “C’mon.” He says after a moment, eyes twinkling with mirth, soft lips pulling up to the side in a cute smile. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

It’s comedy gold, the pair of you running the halls of an apparently secret part of the factory, him in his tight little shorts and you in your panties and spandex t-shirt over a sports bra that makes your rack look like a uni-boob. You awkwardly tug your rash-guard down over your ass whenever Bucky is behind you and you’re thankful you didn’t wear a thong though that would be better than skid marks. God, you hoped you’d not shat yourself when they beat you.

You barely encounter anyone until you’re almost at the warehouse; Bucky is so stealthy that even with you hindering him, he only has to subdue one foreman and drag you into a cleaning supply closet once, to avoid a pair of patrolling guards. Not that you’re complaining, being squashed up against an almost naked super soldier gave you endless thrills, even if he was all stiff and awkward about it.

Bucky stalls before the double doors that lead to the warehouse. There’s a heavy plastic strip curtain over the exit too, it’s almost opaque with age and hinders your view of what is beyond the meshed safety-glass of the door’s small windows.

“They know we’re coming.” He whispers to you, mere inches away. “There’s a lot of them out there and I can’t keep you safe if you disobey orders. So, please,” he begs, “please do as I tell you.”

He begs so sweetly, you think, blushing. But you’re not one for passing an opportunity for inappropriate comments.

“I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes, feigning innocent. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Really?” Bucky doesn’t know whether to blush or be annoyed. You never seem to take anything seriously; it’s always a joke, or something you can twist to your amusement. He gets doubly serious. “If you die, it’s on me. You think I haven’t lost enough people over the course of my very long life? You think I want to wash your blood off my skin later tonight? Bury you alongside all the other people lost to some fight or other in the name of SHIELD or the Avengers? I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.”

You watch him as he fervently tries to convey the dire nature of your situation, desperate to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to die here, he cares. His eyes are piercing and your heart is a ricocheting bullet in your chest. What if you don’t make it out ok? What if this is it for you? Both of you? Suddenly, you’re acutely aware that Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, Fist of HYDRA come Fist of Victory, has cleared himself a little spot in your fucked-up soul, and is there to stay. You don’t want him to get killed because of you, but there’s nothing you can do, you’re not trained for this, or at all really.

You nod once, not trusting your voice in that moment. You could choke on your words or you could vomit all over yourself. It’s a lottery, so you say nothing.

“Good girl.” He gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Stay behind me. Be quick, keep low, don’t hesitate, and for Christ’s sake no disco ball.” There’s a small smile tempting the corners of his lips, like he’s saying he forgives you for getting you both into this mess. “Ok, sweetheart, lets go.”

Out in the warehouse there’s a whole host of guards and workers, patrolling and overseeing shipments being loaded into lorries. It look like it’s important, and probably why the majority of the facility is clear of security staff; the merchandise is being moved.

It’s a mad dash, crouching low as you ghost around the edge of the warehouse. The huge rows of stacks are packed full of boxes and crates, further obscuring your movement around the area. Bucky is silent, especially since he’s barefoot; he’s every bit the assassin he’s hyped to be, but you can’t take him seriously padding around almost naked with the top of his crack showing and his junk all jiggly in the front.

A radio crackles to life. Three personel down. Prisoners have escaped. Cameras last caught them headed your way.

They must have found the bodies.

“They’re in here somewhere.” A man says, loud and authoritative. “Search the rows, shoot to kill. They’re not low-life mob goons, they’re Avengers and can’t be allowed to live.”

Well that settles that, you think, gone are the chances of mere bodily harm. It’s death or death.

You watch in awe as Bucky scales a nearby stack to stalk one of the patrolling guards. When his opportunity arises he yanks the man up by the throat, snapping his neck in the process. You can’t help but admire that metal arm, so sleek and powerful. You groan, light and lusty, earning you a concerned look from the owner of said appendage.

Killing that guard has yielded an assault rifle, another knife and another handgun. You’d think Bucky would be too smart to arm you but apparently he’s not. Silently he points to his eye and then to the gun where he shows you how to turn off the safety, puts the gun in your hand and moves behind you to adjust your grip. He aims for you, pressing his chest against your back and you swear you can feel his junk against your ass. Once he’s satisfied that you aren’t going to injure yourself, he’s gone from behind you, crouching low at the end of the row.

He grabs another guard and drags him backward. The struggle is louder than he would have liked, and the man got out a partial shout before his throat was closed forever but Bucky is hopeful that he can thin the numbers down enough to make it possible to get you into a truck and away safely.

Bucky shoves the newest body under the nearest stack and beckons you to him. You both move like a two-carriage train, he’s the engine and you’re the caboose following in his wake. He only leaves you to commit murder but you feel lost when he’s gone, cold even. There’s something alluring about the way he uses his body and your mind drifts to other carnal things.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. There’s more of a commotion going on in the warehouse now, not just the sounds of men moving goods and silently searching for two prisoners. There are massive amounts of footfall, boots hitting the concrete at speed; bringing in reinforcements from outside.

Bucky is about to whisper in your ear when the squeal of a megaphone pierces the air; he stills with his lips almost touching your skin before pulling back with a frown.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Bucky knows that voice, he’d heard it for years, worked with it, even obeyed it on occasion. “Save the girl. Turn yourself in.”

You shake your head, panicked, urgent. Don’t leave me, your eyes are saying.

A noise nearby draws Bucky’s attention and he suddenly forces you to the ground under a stack where he slots himself immediately after; the security team are searching for you, stealthily stalking the rows. It’s cramped and dusty, the bottom shelf above you so close you can barely breathe without your back brushing the metal supports. How Bucky fits is beyond you, the man is a beefcake, all bulk and magnificently defined muscle. Thinking of him naked is the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to claustrophobia. Something brushes your hand and you jolt, eyes snapping to meet his. He grasps your hand properly and gives it a reassuring squeeze. In your chest, something gives. Maybe your permafrost heart is thawing, maybe you’re about to have a stroke, maybe you really like him.

When the coast is clear, Bucky pulls you free and you emerge into a different row, one with fewer boxes, one you’ll likely be spotted in. You can just see the massive doorway of the warehouse, double sliding doors like a hangar, several half loaded trucks and maybe forty men with body armour and guns. One guy in the middle is wearing a full-face helmet with a white skull etched across the features.

“Holy shit! Is that Punisher?” You hiss before Bucky can clamp his hand over your mouth, the warning look on his face is stern as he leans in to you.

“Crossbones.” He corrects you, barely audible despite the proximity. You still don’t know who that is but he’s totally not as cool as the Punisher, so it doesn’t matter.

His hand is still over your mouth but there’s no point in struggling, you couldn’t break free of him even if you tried, so you push your tongue out and squirm it against his palm, making him recoil in disgust. Your chuckle is silent and his frown turns to the ghost of a wry smile before his attention is fully back on the man he calls Crossbones.

Bucky is taciturn at the best of times but he’s in full diagnostic mode now, assessing the situation. His eyes flicker around the warehouse from yet another new position. It seems like he’s trying to get you closer to the trucks but you suspect that’s what Crossbones expects. There are more men closer to the trucks too and Bucky has already had to kill another two in the latest relocation. The missing men haven’t gone unnoticed and Crossbones is issuing orders, plugging the gaps so you can’t escape.

“I will find you Barnes.” Crossbone’s voice sounds wet through the megaphone, like he’s salivating with excitement at the prospect of getting his hands on you both again. “If you turn yourself in, maybe I’ll let the girl live.”

Bucky’s eyes are downcast, like he’s actually considering it, but the moment passes and Bucky’s resolve hardens. He drags you away towards the end of the row.

“The end of this row has a direct line of sight to the exit. I need a distraction. Can you do that for me?” He whispers.

You nod, lips set in determination. “One disco ball distraction coming right up.”

“On my mark.”

The fluorescent strip lights overhead create more than enough light for you to use. With your right hand flat against Bucky’s left shoulder blade and your left manipulating the air to create a huge show of dancing lights, you move in tandem. Bucky steps out of hiding, keeping you just behind him with his metal arm, he surges forward squeezing off four shots. The way his arm snaps to aim so quickly is astounding, like he has a targeting chip implanted in his brain. Who knows, maybe he does. Four men fall and remain still. Another three shots, then another two and he’s pulling you into another row at a crouching run to the opposite end as he discards the empty gun and pulls out another. He’s saving the assault rifle for Crossbones.

“Again.” He instructs gruffly. “Can you get their eyes?”

“It’s not an exact science this, you know?” You huff and he seems to know that you’re saying you’ll try your best. Of course you’d try, but you don’t know much about your power, even after the few months you’d been training with the team. If it meant you both got out of this alive, you’d flash your tits at the enemy for Christ’s sake.

You emerge again, him with the gun in his metal hand this time, stepping out with you at his back. This time they are ready for you and they start firing before Bucky gets off his first shots. He makes a dash for a fork-lift with a huge pallet of crates sat at floor level. He shoots his rounds in threes until the 9-round magazine is done. The gun is discarded as you both slide behind the cover of the pallets. Machine guns rattle, pummelling the crates with round after round. Bucky prays the crates don’t contain munitions.

“I make fourteen down. Twenty-two left.” His breathing smooth where your is ragged. You curse yourself for being so unfit that even a tiny bit of stress and exertion leaves you heaving air like a couch potato made to climb stairs. “Crossbones is a problem.”

“What do we do now?”

Bucky has two handguns, four knives and an assault rifle, you have one gun and your rainbows. This isn’t going to go well, you think.

“You’re going to hide over there and watch the rear.” He points to your left.

You smirk. Now isn’t’ the time for joking.

“I’m going to thin the crowd some more and, if I can, take Crossbones out.” He looks determined but ridiculous in his underpants, dusted with dirt and debris from the floor that’s stuck to the slightest bit of moisture on his skin. “This might not work. Run to the left, hide in the stacks again, stay down and don’t expose yourself.”

You nod and he readies himself to break cover. The shooting has stopped now and it sounds like the guards are changing positions again. His muscles clench, coiling ready to spring.

“Wait!” You stop him with a hand on his arm, the metal is unnervingly cool. Tension builds. “I wanna fuck you until you pass out.”

“Ummmm.” Bucky blinks, eyebrows raised in surprise but he’s smiling. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, well, no, but, uhhhh.” You splutter, this hadn’t gone well at all. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you, you know, what Captain Dick Down said to his girl. You asked, for future reference, and all.”

“Oh. Right.” He frowns, turning away again. “Move when I do.” He orders stiffly, preparing to move.

Well, shit!

“Bucky, wait.” Your voice is softer this time, tears prickling your eyes. There’s a chance that neither of you will make it through this and it’s suddenly hit you that there’s something missing.

“What now?” He grumbles, turning to find you closer than he expected.

You surge forward, cupping his jaw in your hands as you capture his lips in a kiss that’s both urgent and needy. You don’t care if he doesn’t respond, you need to feel this before it’s too late. All this tension between you, the jibes and snarky banter, it’s unresolved and sexual in nature. You want him, and if this is all you can have then so be it. One stolen moment before it all slips through your fingers, and you both go to your graves.

You’re already pulling back when he snaps back to attention, quickly pulling you back for another kiss. His tongue delicately touches between the seal of your lips and you sigh with longing.

“You ready?” You pull away but he’s still clearing his head, trying to focus again.

On your feet you’re running out, pumping your legs as fast as you can, heading to the wrong place. Machine guns stutter to life and Bucky is on your heels a second later, fear contorting his features as he scoops you up in his metal arm and returns fire almost blindly. He’s shielding your body with his own and yips like a wounded pup when the bullets find him.

On your knees beneath the curved shield of his back you see the enemy are far closer than you thought. Everything in you yelled stop and you felt the pressure rise through your body and out, cascading off you like a roiling storm.

The bullets stop but the guns are still firing, muffled by the thickness of the air. Despite the pain in his lower back and hip, he turns to see what’s happening. Bullets sluggishly pushing through the air like flies in syrup, all but stopped and slightly redirected on a path that will take them away from a central focal point that is you. You’re doing this, shielding you both as if by some miracle, your power not only refracting the light causing rainbows but acting like a forcefield.

“As much as I have to break up this little party, I really can’t have you killing my friends.” The voice of Tony Stark is heard a second before the Iron Man himself and several of his Iron Legion appear and shoot each and every remaining guard with a taser disc, stunning them into unconsciousness.

Crossbones is a different matter and is somehow resistant to the zapping he just got. He levels a grenade launcher at the stacks near where you and Bucky are crouched and fires. No air shield will save you from all of that falling metal, but Bucky is still fast despite his wounds. There’s blood running down his leg in rivulets as he pulls you to safety, and shields you instinctively with his body once more while the sound of explosions and grinding metal fill the air.

“I did not know I could do that.” You praise yourself.

“I still got shot.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” You snort. “Walk it off.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“I must be something special if you took one in the ass for me.” You wink. “I hope it heals puckered, then you’ll have two rusty bullet holes.”

“STARK!” He shouts but pulls you closer to him. “Evac for one. She’s walking hom-owwww!” You pinch the skin on the inside of his thigh viciously enough that he shoves you out of his embrace.

You both stay close on the Quinjet home. Bucky had been confused as to how Stark had known to mount a rescue mission but when you produced Captain Dick Down’s phone from your uni-boob bra it all became apparent. All of the comms in the facility had been locked down but that was a personal device, one that probably wasn’t allowed to be carried. Good old Captain Dick Down.

The facility had been put to a far worse use than drugs and weapons trafficking. iGoddess was a front for human trafficking and also human experimentation. The restraint chair they had strapped Bucky into had been used to restrain test subjects; Alexander Pearce was trying to replicate the super serum that made Steve and Bucky what they were.

“So, this was a win for us.” Steve said in the debrief. “Our intel was lacking but it worked out in the end.”

“Says you who didn’t get shot in the ass cheek.” Bucky grumbled, shifting cautiously on the Mr Glitters cushion you’d given him as a joke.

“I got to see some wonderful scenery,” you grin brilliantly, “so I’m not complaining.”

There had been no further discussion about the kiss you and Bucky had shared when you thought you might die in that place, but that’s ok. Your daily thrills are made up of making him squirm, and since you two had become closer since your ordeal, you have had several of moments like those. There’s plenty of time and you’re prepared to play the long game, starting with your newest idea. You pull out your phone and casually write a text while Steve is rambling on about seized research and assets.

[I’m so turned on right now].

Bonus add-on for this work: Captain Dick Down - External link to AO3

Because apparently 7k words wasn’t enough and I just had to try my hand at a little text chat/social media piece. It’s more of an embellishment. Enjoy

And if you liked this story, why not try Good Ole Stuffing, a smutty follow on for the same reader/character.

#cmmsecretsanta #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #reader insert #reader with powers #marvel fanfic #powers au #my writing #cloudy's writing

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casemouth19 · 4 years ago

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Limp Christmas Cactus: What Triggers Wilted Or Limp Christmas Cactus Branches

The flavor of lamb is succulent and juicy, while the texture is among the more tender cuts offered, and this mix implies that it is one of the most costly cuts of meat in stores. It indicates that there are roots that can absorb more water. Water them one or two times in a month. Environments like deserts, dry areas, and semi-barren regions receive less rains than other parts of the country, making water scarcity a common problem in these areas. Customize your place card like travel luggage card that holds the required information and required the message. For that reason, you can place white lampshades next to a console table in grey to make a subtle yet trendy statement. In reality, identity theft often starts with mail theft: letters and packages taken from unlocked or vulnerable mailboxes-- frequently put along rural or suburban roadways or organized in front of apartment or condo structures, where access is easy and oversight is nil.For an identity burglar, the haul can be significant: credit cards, motorist's licenses, bank declarations, boxes of unused checks, Social Security payments, medical insurance cards, tax information, and other sensitive information. 1. Paint it white: If you have the liberty to do it, paint your whole home the lightest white. If your cactus has fungus on it, you ought to get rid of the contaminated part to manage the spread. Watermelons are hot favorites with the Americans and those who still keep aloof from it, are keeping their body from helpful nutrients. Watermelons make exceptional pudding, cakes, pies, salads, pickles and a lot of snack products. The trunk and branches can be droopy and make charming long waterfalls. Overexposure to cold can eliminate them. Window is also cold from outside air temeratures. Remember to buy oil that is hexane totally free, cold pressed and essential is being organic. The food was tasty and while I was waiting at the counter I saw a bottle of "Wholesome Organic Agave Nectar" that I assumed they used instead of walking stick sugars. Agave is a succulent that mainly grows in Mexico and the southwest. Despite the fact that the starch in agave goes through the very same process as HFCS, it is not needed by law to be called "High Fructose Agave Syrup", which is exactly what it is. For the very same quantity of money, or perhaps even less, you can really get more lobster that you can share with the whole household when you order from an online lobster delivery service. The durian tree grows mainly in Burma's Mon State situated in the southernmost part of the nation, belongs to the 'bombax' family 'Bombacaceae' and is categorized as 'Durio zibethimus'. The grapefruit tree is covered by dense foliage of thick dark green leaves, grows to a height of approx. Store through dollar tree discount coupon and avail free shipping on the spot! Antioxidants work out control over these complimentary radicals to help avoid the beginning of fatal diseases. In this manner, you are ensured of the very best quality lobsters, unlike what you would overcome the counter from your regional supermarket. Second, a cook might have purchased grass-fed meat for numerous reasons-- ecological, ethical, or to support regional companies-- however still desires a hit of full-on steak-house taste once in a while. I encountered your link while losing enormous amounts of time tonight (practically 2 hours!) trying to ID a cactus I bought a couple months earlier. Soil: None mounted. Otherwise, potting mix or cactus mix. Transferring succulent plants permits you to refresh the potting mix and boost pot size.

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#propagating succulents

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life-of-tjackie · 5 years ago

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Learn the way to fertilize succulents

A properly-draining soil combine goes a long method to maintain from overwatering succulents. To assist the potting mix dry out extra shortly, give succulents a pot they will simply comfortably fit in plus 1 inch of additional house. Repot them yearly as they grow into simply the subsequent pot size. Also, chopping up the peels into 1-inch pieces makes them straightforward to combine with the soil in the pot. If you prefer to compost, including banana peels to the combination helps bump up the compost's potassium content material. Pureeing the peels with water makes a superb liquid fertilizer to pour into the pots. To grow wholesome succulents, mimic the circumstances they might expertise naturally. Take the succulents out of their nursery pots, and place them back into your container one after the other. Then, gently pack extra potting soil round every plant. Make certain to keep the soil at the similar stage as where the crops were growing in their nursery pots.

See more about Overwatered vs. Underwatered

If your plant’s leaves are beginning to look yellow and clear, and feel soggy or mushy to the touch, it’s likely suffered from overwatering. If the dry leaves start to get unsightly, simply gently pull them away from the base of the plant and throw them away. When you remove the leaves, hold your plant potted so you don’t disturb the roots. First of all, it’s essential to keep in mind that dying leaves are a pure part of each plant’s life — and succulents are no exception. This doesn’t always imply that your succulent is dying, or that you simply’re doing something incorrect. Eventually, they'll begin to outgrow the tiny pot as they continue to grow. Succulents in small containers like terrariums with out holes do not want as much water as potted succulents. An straightforward method to kill your vegetation is to water them an excessive amount of and never give them sufficient mild. Succulents in terrariums that don't obtain adequate daylight and are continually moist is a recipe for disaster. The finest method to inform is the plant is under or over watered is to pay attention to your watering habits. A good sign to know that your vegetation want extra water is once they start to shrivel and the leaves look wilted. When you contact the plant and it feels flat and never plump, it's a signal that the plant is in want of water. Be cautious not to confuse this with an overwatered plant. So while these projects are stunning and fun to make, you possibly can think of them as quick-term arrangements and not meant to last for a very long time. Simply put, you want to know if your plant could be saved or not. Yes, it can be saved provided that the harm isn't too far gone. Don’t worry if it’s that dangerous, you possibly can salvage the leaves and stem and propagate them. Succulents that live in optimum conditions however nonetheless seem sickly are probably affected by illness or insect infestation. Succulents are especially susceptible to mealy bugs, spider mites, scale and fungus gnats, based on the Cactus and Succulent Society of San Jose.

If you do not need to purchase a special fertilizer for your succulents, you can use a excessive-phosphorous, low-nitrogen houseplant fertilizer blended at half strength.

Use a sharp knife dipped in alcohol, and excise the rotten tissue until all you see is clean and white.

Note that some individuals use a pointy stream of water, as from a hose, to wash the mix from the roots, rather than use the stick method.

To re-pot, invert the pot and gently tap it to loosen the soil and roots from the pot.

I poured the tea into a big watering can and generously poured it on my succulents just like I would with some other watering. Just bear in mind not to add unbrewed espresso grounds to the soil—their high caffeine content may be unhealthy on your vegetation! Ultimately, I’ve decided to fertilize mine simply as soon as per year in the spring (when the days are getting longer). Now that you understand about a fantastic fertilizer, you may be questioning how often to fertilize succulents. You do should watch out to not use a fertilizer that's too strong, otherwise the succulents can burn. However, the right fertilizer used each few months can dramatically change how nicely your succulents thrive. While they can get a few of the nutrients they want from the soil, fertilizer will assist them grow extra full and produce higher colours.

How do I prepare my soil for succulents?

Containers and Soil Succulents grow well in almost any container that is at least 4 inches deep and has holes in the bottom for drainage. Choose a pot about 1/2 inch larger than the base of the plant for upright succulents.

Sphagnum moss holds in additional moisture and may not need to be misted as regularly. When best soil for succulents in pots near me start to root after a few weeks, the coir and moss will assist maintain the crops. The plants could have something to grow into and its roots to seize onto. So you actually need to make that succulent driftwood association you could have seen on Pinterest. If you're not sure what type of pest or illness you might have, apply a product that accommodates a miticide, fungicide and pesticide out of your native backyard center. These mixture products contain neem oil, fish oil, soybean oil or other forms of oil, which create situations in which insects, mites and different pests cannot survive. If you don't wish to buy a special fertilizer on your succulents, you should use a excessive-phosphorous, low-nitrogen houseplant fertilizer blended at half strength. Prevent overwatering by watching your succulents for growth cycles. When succulents are growing, they thrive on thorough watering alternating with partial drying out of the soil. Using a great potting mixture of porous soil for succulents is tremendous necessary to forestall overwatering. Skip watering periodically to encourage a strong root system.

Does potting soil go bad?

Age and improper storage degrade potting soil. The useful life of potting soil depends on whether or not it is currently in use. Unused potting soil lasts roughly six months before it degrades in quality, while used potting soil should be replaced every year or two.

#succulent soil #succulents #succulents in pots

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maedarakat · 6 years ago

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I know the gang is gonna miss their dragons and all, but I want to know if they get pets later. In the end of the first movie, Hiccup narrates that most places have dogs and cats and parrots and ponies, so maybe since the Vikings have knowledge of such creatures, maybe traders start bringing over animals?

Gothi adopts a bunch of cats. She specifically takes in cats that have defects and old injuries, missing limbs, and she dotes on them like they're her kids.

Snotlout gets a green Iguana - one that whacks him with his tail constantly and sometimes bites, but also rides around on his shoulder and eats pieces of apple and dandelion leaves out of his hand.

Astrid gets a blue macaw that reminds her of Stormfly whenever she tilts her head a certain way. She rides around on Astrid's shoulder too, and Gobber makes little toys for her to play with in her roost.

Ruffnut gets a pot bellied pig who eventually becomes a full sized boar and follows her everywhere. The boar is gentle with her and intelligent, and bites anyone that threatens either of the Twins.

Tuff rescues ill-treated battery hens, buying them when he can and stealing them when the owner is less than willing to part with his meal ticket. He sends Chicken in undercover, she 'talks' to the hens, and if they are miserable, he gets back a full report and decides how to take action. On New Berk, he builds a huge fenced in chicken yard and sells eggs and manure for gardening - no cramped cages for these little ladies.

Fishlegs gets a small lap dog that's both excitable and a cuddler - killing the moles, gophers and voles in his huge garden. She's got a habit if chewing on books when she's bored, but Fishlegs adores her. He just builds himself some higher shelves.

Hiccup - for many years - cannot bring himself to get a pet. He misses Toothless too much to ever want to form another bond with another animal, not wanting to have to say goodbye to one.

One day, he finds an injured black-footed fox in the wild. He starts leaving food for it and gets Tuff, Fishlegs, and Gobber to help him build a fenced in shelter near his hut so the fox has a place to recover. The fox is no pet, being wild, but it learns to trust Hiccup enough to stay in the shelter and let him treat its wounds. The fox 'talks' to him, jumps up and down whenever he brings food or toys or his company.

Eventually the fox heals enough to take off on his own, but Hiccup has found his new purpose - inspired by both Gothi and Tuff's rescue missions. He takes care of the local wildlife and rehabilitates as many animals as he can - bats, wolves, deer, hawks, ravens, raccoons, river otters - anything that needs him.

The rest of the village and Hiccup's friends pitch in where they can - Tuff and Astrid help out with the birds, Ruff specializes in bats and hooved animals, Snotlout with snakes and lizards, Fishlegs with canines - so Hiccup can still do his Chiefly duties.

Gobber finds his calling in making pet toys and habitat structures. Later, after he adopts a goat with only one leg, he then starts making prosthetics for the animals which have lost limbs, that will never heal quite right and therefore cannot go back into the wild.

The Berkians will always miss and love their dragons, but in the meantime, there's no shortage of things to give their love and help to.

And everyone is thriving.

#httyd3 #the hidden world #the gang deserve this #come on dreamworks

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whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome · 6 years ago

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Ship meme: Wayne and Katy 5, 9, 10

ship headcanon meme from THIS POST (check it out if you haven’t already)

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

That depends on how you’re counting. Katy says the words, easy as breathing, has done since she could talk, no problem. It’s never a formality or a reflex, it’s 100% genuine every time she says it. Wayne only says it a handful of times, but he shows it every day, cooking and doing dishes together, planting her favourite flowers in the vegetable patch, carrying the basket of wet laundry for her so she can peg it out, bringing her coffee in bed for their traditional Sunday morning lie-in.

Once Katy told him she was thinking about keeping bees, to save them some money instead of hiring them every Spring for pollination. So he looks up plans and builds her some boxes the very next day. He calls around town to find a hive that someone wants shot of, and buys a secondhand but still-in-good-nick spinner and a beesuit and veil. It’s worth it, the splinters and stings and running around, all of it, when she pops the first bite of honeycomb into his mouth and smiles at him.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

This one’s tough, because they’re never really uncomfortable enough with each other that they get embarrassed.

The first time they get drunk, like, properly drunk, they’re in their study room, chilling on the secondhand loveseat they got from Uncle Eddie and Aunt Marian. They’re sixteen tomorrow, and consider themselves very grown up, capable of handling pretty much anything, including liquor. Their parents are the lax sort, so they’ve had a wee dram here and there, usually in tea, or warm milk with honey if they’re ill.

Tonight though, it’s the day before their birthday, they’re supervision-free, it’s the height of summer, and their parents are away on a date, so the twins decide to start their revels early. They nick the whiskey from the kitchen and make sure to load up on snacks to bring upstairs with them so they don’t have to chance sneaking back down to the kitchen after their parents get home. Very responsible, very forward-thinking; they’re totally nailing adulting. They’re not even going anywhere, so they can’t possibly get into too much trouble, right?

Wrong.

They’re getting quietly tanked, chirping an old episode of MST3K, and booze is as booze does, so Katy has to wee. She stands up to go, or rather, she tries to stand up. All the alcohol goes to her head all at once, and she immediately over-balances. The only thing that saves her from taking a header into the coffee table is Wayne throwing his arms around her and pulling her back into his lap. Concussion successfully avoided, yay, but the pressure around her middle only exacerbates her original problem.

‘Wayne, you gotta let me up, I gotta go.’ She pats his arm, tapping out.

‘You gonna be alright?’ Wayne seems sceptical, but releases her nonetheless. It’s not fair he sounds so much more sober than she feels.

‘I’ll be fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.’ To be honest, Katy’d expected being drunk to feel kinda similar to smoking pot, which she’s pretty used to by now. She stands up much more slowly this time, moving very deliberately, and makes her way to the washroom between the study and their bedroom. Her fingers refuse to cooperate with the pocket door and the button of her shorts, but she does eventually get things sorted before she gets too desperate.

While she’s sitting there, she decides to make things easier on her future self and change into pyjama shorts. She’s a genius, she’s handling this so well. The pocket door to the bedroom gives her just as much trouble as the one leading to the study. Rather than tempting Fate by attempting to stand on one leg, Katy sits on the bed to get changed. She’s just pulling her shorts up when Wayne chooses that moment to bang on the door.

‘Are you okay in there?’ he calls through the door.

‘I’m just putting on some pyjamas.’

Wayne sounds disgruntled. ‘It’s been twenty minutes. I thought maybe you’d fallen again.’

Awwwwwww. He was always looking out for her. Katy slides the door open and leans against the frame, smiling. ‘Were you worried about me?’

Wayne’s habitual squint is a bit uneven, so maybe he’s not as unaffected as she thought. Good to know. ‘I don’t wanna hafta explain to our parents that I’m suddenly an only child, no.’

Witty as ever. ‘C’mon, let’s go back to the sofa.’ Katy slides an arm around Wayne and they lean against each other as they walk a little unsteadily back to the loveseat. Once they’re settled back down, they keep absently nibbling their snacks and passing the whiskey back and forth. It gets late enough that they hear the truck coming up the laneway, and they share a moment of visceral, heart-stopping paranoia, like somehow their parents are gonna just know, via telepathy or some other Spooky Parent Power.

Normality reasserts itself when after a couple of minutes, there’s a complete lack of doors opening and shutting. Wayne barely leans out the window before he registers the slight sway of the truck, and for the sake of his sanity he launches himself backwards before he can see anything unfortunate, but he hadn’t counted on Katy being right behind him and he bowls them both over in his haste.

‘Oof,’ is all she says, staring up at the ceiling. A moment of silence passes between them before Wayne speaks.

“They’re gonna be in the truck a while.’

Another moment of silence while this works its way through Katy’s brain. ‘Oh my God,’ she moans, voice full of despair, ‘we have to ride in that truck!’ She rolls over next to him and buries her face in his shoulder. ‘I really, really wish you hadn’t’a said that.’

Wayne sighs, puts his arm around her shoulders, and pats her sympathetically. ‘Sorry, kiddo, but if I have to suffer, so do you.’

‘That is not covered under for better or for worse,’ she says, muffled.

‘Twins for life, honey. No getting divorced.’

Katy raises her head to look at him and digs her pointy little chin into his ribs extra hard, just ‘cos she can. ‘You’re a terrible person. I’m gonna trade you in.’

Wayne adopts the snootiest Customer Service voice he can muster. ‘I’m afraid the sixty-day return policy has lapsed.’ He grins. ‘You’re stuck with me.’

She hums, ‘Well, if that’s the case. I suppose you do have your uses.’ Katy snuggles closer and lays her head back down. ‘You’re pretty comfy, for a start.’

‘Oh, well. As long as I’m useful.’

‘Like a good piece of furniture. Decorative and sturdy.’

They giggle quietly until they hear the back door open and shut. There’s the sound of feet on the stairs, and then a quick tapping at the study door as their parents wish them goodnight in passing, and they warmly return the sentiment from their spot on the floor.

When they hear their parents’ door close, Katy whispers, ‘There’s one way to try and erase that image.’

Wayne nods. ‘That’s a Texas-sized 10-4.’

They relocate back to the sofa again, piling pillows on one end and stretching out across it as they resume passing the bottle back and forth. Eventually, the television switches over to a new programme, and by that time, their parents’ snores are echoing through the house. They’re both so relaxed it almost feels like a Sin, breaking the peace, but Katy’s had the most excellent idea and it would be rude and selfish if she didn’t share it.

‘Hey, Wayne,’ she queries.

His hand pauses petting her hair. ‘Katy Kat?’

‘Wanna go have a smoke on the roof?’

Oh, that’s class. ‘I’d have a dart.’

The biggest benefit to their room being on the complete opposite side of the house from their parents’ is that it’s practically soundproof. They don’t hear any night noises they don’t wanna hear, and they get easy access to the roof via the porch gable and the big window in the study. Wayne gets the gear from the sock drawer and they climb out on top of the porch, only a little wobbly. From there, Wayne hoists himself up onto the roof proper, then pulls Katy up after, and they settle in for a dart and a joint respectively. They’re flushed and warm from the drink, and the smokes go straight to their heads, leaving them dizzy and giggly; but the night air is bracing and helps cool them off.

They lay back together and point out all the constellations they can remember, then start making up new ones and giving them the most ridiculous backstories they can come up with. After about half an hour, the whiskey jacket wears off and Katy gets cold enough she wants to go inside. Getting down is a lot more of a challenge than getting up had been. Any other time they’d just jump for it, or else they’re sneaking out and shinning it down the tree, but those are both too noisy to be real options. They eventually work out that they have to sit down and then lower themselves in a weird sort of reverse pull-up type manoeuver. Or, well, Wayne has to lower himself and then lift Katy down. There’s a close call as she shifts her weight forward when he’s not expecting it, but they recover and no one falls or breaks anything, so they carefully climb back in the window.

Safely ensconced back on the couch, they’re in that space between drunk and sober where judgement has left the building, but you’re absolutely certain you’re making an unbiased, totally objective decision to have another drink. Killing the last third of the bottle seems like a brilliant idea. Things take a sharp nose-dive from that point. Where before they’d been slowly sipping at the whiskey, now they take gulps; after all, they’d handled it so far, right? The television plays softly in the background, but they’ve long since lost the plot. Whatever’s going on, it involves a robot, a Cat-man, an idiot, and some prick with an H on his forehead. Drunchies are no joke, and before they know it all the snacks have mysteriously disappeared and they’ve no memory of finishing them.

That was the tipping point, it seems, because the nausea comes on, creeping up like a thief in an alley, the heartburn and the churning bile and the spins, and oh fuck, the spins. Katy’s head feels tight like a migraine, but also weirdly floaty, like she’s too high. Wayne’s not doing much better himself, breathing slow and heavy and focussed on one spot on the ceiling to try and quell the urge to spit. If they’re very, very still, they might be able to power through this.

Luck is not on their side. Katy needs the bin, now. She turns to ask Wayne to grab it and-

A strangled ‘Wayne,’ is all the warning he gets before Katy hurls right in his lap. For a moment, he’s too stunned to do anything, but then she retches and does it again, and that’s what triggers his gag reflex, the sound and the smell and the warm liquid splash, and Wayne tosses his cookies even as he’s reaching for the rubbish bin. That sets Katy off again, and they’re caught in a vicious cycle of calling Huey until there’s nothing left in either of them to bring up.

They have to use every towel in the bathroom to clean up the mess, dry heaving the whole time, until it’s as good as they’re going to get it in the middle of the night. They rinse their mouths out and brush their teeth very gingerly, trying not to set off another round of gastrointestinal rebellion. Katy still feels hot and woozy and not a little gross, and she refuses to get in bed like this and mess up the nice, clean sheets. Wayne doesn’t exactly smell like a bed of roses either, so they sluice off and get into fresh, non-puky pyjamas. Katy’s head is clear enough by then that she has the foresight to make them both drink some goddamn water and take some aspirin before they get in bed.

The next morning is a special level of Hell, ‘cos it turns out their parents are totally on to them. Busted. As if being wretchedly hungover weren’t punishment enough, their parents make sure to be extra loud and unsympathetic to their misery. Birthday pancakes bring no joy, the smell of frying bacon is revolting, and the very idea of anything as acidic as orange juice has them both on the razor’s edge of being ill again.

Wayne and Katy Suffer through breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen after, until some buckets, brushes, and heavy-duty surface cleaner are shoved into their hands. They trudge upstairs and start scrubbing the puke out of the floorboards. Every part of the sofa needs to be cleaned as well; the cushions, the upholstery, the cover. Even the remote for the television. All of this on top of their regular chores leaves them shaky and exhausted by lunchtime.

The bollocking they get is definitely well-deserved, but neither of the twins has the strength to tolerate it. Wayne just crawls under the table and lays face-down and still, waiting for death, and Katy pillows her abominably sore head on her arms and tunes out until it’s over. They’re grounded for the foreseeable future, and just to make sure they don’t have any time to get into any more mischief, they’ll be doing chores over at Uncle Eddie’s as well as at home. The only pity they’re shown is a sleeve of dry crackers and some ginger beer to settle their bellies. The rest of the day is spent hauling bales and mucking stalls.

After dinner they go straight to bed, no shuckin’ and jivin’. They pinkie swear that next time, they’re gonna take about fifty percent off the whiskey and double down on the water. They grow up to be champion lushes, the pair of ‘em.

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Katy:

Music: House of Tom Bombadil by Nickel Creek, ‘cos Katy’s secretly a huge Nerd, and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri even though it’s so Basic White Girl, because no matter how cheesy, she genuinely loves it.

Books: The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett (her favourite since childhood,) and How to Invent Everything by Ryan North, a surprisingly useful survival guide.

Luxury Items: A tarpaulin, because Katy’s nothing if not Practical, and sunscreen for Wayne, ‘cos he’ll never think of it and he burns like paper.

Wayne:

Music: Wayne actually has the most rubbish taste in music. If he likes anything good, it’s purely by accident. He brings a cover of Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore as Gaeilge and Animals by Nickleback.

Books: Le Petit Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupery. It’s his favourite, and it’s set in a desert, so. And since he knows every word off by heart in English and in French, to keep him engaged he’ll also bring Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence. Sure, it’s on-theme and all.

Luxury Items: A flint and a hammer hatchet. With these he can make simple tools, and with simple tools he can make complex tools, and with complex tools he can make anything.

(Edit: I only just now realised that perhaps this meant two total, as in one of each item for each of them, rather than they both bring two of each item. Oh, well. What’s done is done.)

#letterkenny #wayne #uaithne #katy kat #caitríona #Anonymous #original post #my writing #fanfiction #ask meme #ship headcanon meme #fanfic #fic

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nabsthevulture · 7 years ago

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Maceration Vs. Simmering

Maceration and Simmering are both bone cleaning methods that attract a lot of negative attention, Some deserved, some not. Despite their general similarities, there are some key differences between the two methods that really beg the question; Which is better? Neither! No one bone cleaning method is the ‘best’, it’s just all about what works for you! We’ll be comparing the two methods now, both their pros and cons, to maybe make it easier for someone down the line to choose between the two.

Depending on the tools you’re using, the space you’ll need will vary. For simmering, many people will use a crockpot. They keep good, consistent temperatures and can give you a flesh free skull in under 6 hours depending on the level of prep. A crockpot can sit just about anywhere and really doesn’t take up too much space. Other times people will lightly simmer skulls on the stove, which would give you the same result but may have a more damaging effect on the bone.

Maceration will have a bit more variance. Depending on what you’re cleaning, be it a skull or a skeleton, you’ll have to find a container big enough to house it. It’s easier and generally less of a worry when Maceration is done outside, so as long as you’ve got a safe place outside for it then you shouldn't have a problem space wise. If you’re doing it indoors, choose an out of the way spot in a room that offers decent ventilation if you need to air out. Once your space is figured out, the time it takes something to fully macerate depends on several factors; Temperatures, the animal itself, etc.. You could be looking at as little as a week, to as long as a 6+ Months.

When it comes down to it, simmering is a less time and space demanding method than Maceration generally can be.

Maceration shines when it comes to the level of prep you have to do to a specimen. You can throw a full carcass into maceration, and really only have to worry about the fur at a later date. A skinned carcass, including the organs, will rot down as intended with maceration. That being said, full carcasses do require larger containers. You can do as much prep work as desired, such as fully flensing down the bones and breaking the body up, pre soaking to remove oils and fats, whatever you’d like. That will help cut down the time and (honestly) the smell as well!

Simmering is best done to a skull or skeleton that has been prepped. As much meat removed as possible, debrained, eyes removed, jaws separated, and so forth. You don’t have to, per say, but fully prepping will cut down your times and will in turn protect the skull from having to be in prolonged heated conditions and lessen the chance of it soaking up a ton of grease. It’s different from maceration in the way that you will still have a lot of work to do on a skull that's not properly prepped, rather than just letting it all rot away in the water.

I’d personally give Maceration the card when it comes to the work you have to put in to achieve the same result.

Though you can use it for rotting specimens, it’s generally good to simmer fresh/semi-fresh skulls. Heating up a rotting specimen can drive liquefied fat and grease into the bone much faster than it would a fresher specimen, and will kick up one hell of an odor. Simmering can be used to clean full skeletons, partial skeletons, and skulls with relative ease, but the difficulty and unpleasantness rises with the decrease of freshness in your specimen.

Maceration can be used on all specimens with roughly the same results time after time. The decomp time may increase a little from an actively rotting specimen to a mummified specimen, but you’re going to end up with clean bones regardless.

Though it revolves around what kind of specimen you tend to work with, Maceration is the method that can clean any state of decomp with little change to how it normally works.

When it comes down to it, both methods are less than clean. Maceration is undoubtedly the nastier of the two, both with smell and mess. It’s to be expected, but often times it can quickly become overwhelming and a dreaded thing to deal with. I never suggest maceration to anyone sensitive to smells or with a weak stomach. It seems obvious, but you’d be surprised how often people don’t think about it until it’s a problem! Disposing of maceration water is thankfully really the only bad part. Flushing it down the toilet is an option if you don’t mind your house smelling, or you can dig a decent sized hole outside and dump it in there. Make sure you keep the dirt from the hole handy so you can push it in to soak up the water. That’s the least offensive way I’ve found to get rid of rot water.

Simmering is more messy than it is smelly. If you don’t fully prep a specimen then you’ll have to deal with disposing of decent quantities of wet cooked muscle and fat. You can just throw it straight into a trash bag and then into a dumpster, but it can end up becoming a smell problem if it sits too long. If you’ve made sure you have all your bones/pieces out of the pot, then you can also just dump the whole thing into a strong garbage disposal or down the toilet. Chase it with a little bit of bleach and a brief spray or air freshener and you should be good to go. Just be careful to not clog any sinks or your toilet flushing simmer remnants; That will drastically raise the chance of a smell problem or even something worse like insect involvement.

Its safe to say that If you’re looking for a less messy method, simmering is probably the way you’d want to lean.

Simmering a bone for even a little too long can have some drastic effects. The bone can become chalky, brittle, or flaky and turn to mush over time. Having a bone exposed to prolonged simmering will also likely bake the grease right into the bone, which will make it increasingly difficult to remove and may not come out at all. People use this as those as their main reasons to bash simmering, but it’s all about making sure you keep your eye on it and pulling the skulls before any damage is done. Anything beyond 5-6 hours is really pushing it, and even then 4 is the ideal limit you want to be at.

Maceration has its own cons when it comes to bone condition. Often times during maceration, bones will turn different colors due to bacteria or random objects falling into the rot bucket. These are pretty easy to remedy for the most part. Gravewax (Adipocere) is a concern, though it won’t damage the bone or anything. It’s simply caused by long term exposure to ‘cold’ water, and can be scraped or scrubbed away with a toothbrush. Extremely long exposure to water may end up warping or weakening the bones, but generally speaking the bones would have to sit for much longer than they would take to fully macerate to begin with.

Simmering offers expediency at the cost of potentially damaging bone, while maceration may have a few ill side effects but nothing serious. It’s hard to really call a draw between the two, though as far as not doing irreparable damage to the bones, Maceration is the more giving method.

Maceration, despite its unpleasant nature, often times will produce totally ready bones. If you macerate in a hot place, bones will start to degrease while they’re rotting down, which means at the end of the day you may not have to do any degreasing at all. On the other hand, you will have to whiten bones if you want them brighter, and there’s a chance you’ll have to give them a deodorizing bath if the peroxide doesn't take the smell out initially. There’s also the fact that teeth like to fall out during maceration, so you’ll have to glue those back in yourself. If the bones have been in the water long, you may also be dealing with removing grave-wax.

Simmering doesn’t have as many variables as maceration, but it’s almost certain you will have a little work to do. It’s mostly in the degrease, as simmering can result in a heavier grease build up in the bone. With a strong degreaser you can make semi quick work of it, though. Beyond that is the whitening, but that’s based on personal preference. Sometimes, teeth will fall out during simmering, but they usually stick around where they’re supposed to be unless you force them out.

Neither method is guaranteed to offer you 100% ready to go bones. Maceration can also degrease bones, but you have smell, gravewax, and teeth to deal with. Simmering will result in a need to degrease, but you won’t have to deal with gravewax and teeth are more likely to stay put. It’s a toss up between the two!

Overall, Simmering is a fast and effective method that doesn’t take up too much space and can be done tidily. It’s got some cons, such as higher grease levels, possibly damaging bones, and not being as useful for different types of decomp. It’s a method for someone that wants to dominantly process inside and that wants to churn out clean specimens quickly.

Maceration on the other hand is a very effective method that can be used for practically any specimen no matter the prep, runs incredibly little chance at damaging bone, and doesn’t require too much work after the fact. Downsides are the smell, the possible wait times, and the space you need to macerate comfortably. This is the method for someone with space, time, and a strong stomach that needs to clean entire skeletons or large batches of skulls all at once.

There’s no clear winner between these two methods, since they both exhibit their own pros and cons. For that reason, they’re both winners! Maceration is a great bone cleaning method that requires little work and little involvement during the process. Simmering is great for those trying to clean skulls and bones quickly and efficiently without taking up too much space. One method may not work for someone, while the other could be their absolute dream method! It’s just a matter of opinion, and I urge you to try both methods and form your own.

If this guide was helpful and you wanna show some support, maybe Buy me a coffee?

#vulture culture #taxidermy #skeleton articulation #bone cleaning #this is a long post of just words #I might add pictures to it at some point but for now its just an article pretty much #q

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scopsynlocor1984-blog · 6 years ago

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guttergodsknife · 6 years ago

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Low-Key Greenhouse Crime

Rashk has made another decision likely to be marked onto his growing list of ill decisions. Instead of finding a perfectly reputable botanical supply merchant in the city, the Keeper has snuck into the Ashen Enclave and through the quiet building until he reaches the greenhouse. Where he finally stops, realising the very, very obvious flaw in his plan—he has no idea where anything is kept. Or if there even is any mandrake present, be it seeds or the full root. This is why one does not commit to snap judgement decisions while high on a blend of Somnus-related drugs.

“Maybe over …?” He mutters to himself, rising onto tiptoes to check the contents of the top shelf, though quickly finding himself woefully short and patting at the top shelf blindly instead. The old rose flower pot rattles dangerously when his hand nudges it, spelling incoming disaster.

Rhy'sae hears something—or someone—in the greenhouse as he enters. His steps quiet and he pads slowly in, eyes narrowed behind their glasses. He'd been pretty certain that he was alone in the house when he came down here, so why is it that now it seems he's not? Navigating the greenhouse, he comes to pause within sight. He can see that disaster about to strike.

His arms cross over his chest, "You're going to make a mess," He remarks dryly, his brow arched in challenge, the unwritten question of who-are-you-and-why-are-you-here writ large all over his face.

Rashk ears stick straight up and so does his tail, bristling to twice its usual size at the sound of Rhy’sae’s dry tone. “Oh, fff—” he starts like there might be a swear incoming there, but he cuts the word off and stands there like a statue for a few seconds. His tail lowers with his hand and he turns around, smiling pleasantly at the other Miqo’te while attempting to appear innocent.

“Good evening, sir. It seems I got a little lost and couldn’t find anyone to assist me,” he lies smoothly, accent elevated and precise like the one used by Ul’dah’s upper class. “Perhaps you have a moment?”

Rhy'sae tilts his head back, peering towards the top shelf, "Ah, I see," he says, tone as dry as ever, "you were looking for someone to help you on the top shelf. We do tend to keep our assistants up there, keeps them our of our hair." There's a pause there as he takes the other's measure. There's a healthy dose of unmasked suspicion in his expression, but his face smooths and meets pleasant tones with pleasant tones, "How may I be of assistance Mr....?" The tone there is an inquiry.

Rashk is suffering on the inside, though judging by his facial expression alone, one would never guess. His restless tail is another story entirely, hiding between his legs like it, at least, has the decency to feel shame for getting caught. “Well, I checked all the obvious places already,” he says with a flash of white teeth. “Thought to get more creative.” He then hums and sidles closer to the other Keeper, curiously studying him with his mismatched gaze. He brings with him a scent of smoke and something sickly sweet—or perhaps it’s the smoke that carries the odd smell. For a moment the lantern light reflects off the blown pupil of his dark eye.

“I’m Rashk. What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

Rhy'sae can't help wrinkling his nose at the scent, not certain what to think of it. His head tilts when Rashk approaches him. Green eyes stray to Rashk's tail, noting the body language. His own seems alert, slightly raised behind him. "Rhy'sae," he says, adding, "'Rhys'." His ears flick forwards, attentively trained towards Rashk. "Are you in need of healing? I'm sure I can track down one of our healers if that's why you've come."

Rashk doesn’t carry any visible weapons and anything he has under his clothes is too small to show as odd shapes even with the thin fabrics of the outfit designed for hot desert air. Though no doubt the short sleeves got chilly during desert nights. “Oh, no, no need to bother your healers. I was seeking one of your … alchemical experts, perhaps? Or whoever tends to your greenhouse? Do you have any idea who that might be, Rhys?” He purrs the other Miqo’te’s name with a smile, instantly jumping at the nickname instead of going with the longer, more formal version. His tail slowly stops hiding and flicks, supporting the suddenly flirty act.

Rhy'sae actually blinks, taken aback by the flirting. At first, he'd thought the flirty edge was his own mistaken read, but now? One ear slants back to an uncertain, quizzical stance, his own tail lowering behind him from its alert posture. He's been thrown off guard, and it shows, particularly in his face, which has turned ever so slightly redder at the way Rashk purred his name. Hurriedly, he raises a hand, pushing his glasses back up his nose as an excuse to look away for a moment as he collects his thoughts into one place. "I'm the resident botanist."

Rashk bats his long lashes for good measure if there was any lingering doubt there. When he went for an act, he certainly committed to it—and by the looks of it, the distraction tactics were working too, if the blush rising to Rhys’s cheeks was any indication. “Oh, indeed? How very fortunate!” He claps his hands together in excitement that isn’t feigned. The noise draws a flinch from him, unexpectedly loud in the night, but he’s quick to recover. Unfortunately for Rhys, his recovery involves sliding up even closer, one hand rising to try and touch the other Miqo’te’s elbow in an overly familiar manner. “You see, I was told you might have some mandrake seeds or perhaps even fully grown roots for sale? I’d appreciate the help /so/ very much.”

Rhy'sae is a little more flustered by the time Rashk has approached him. He freezes the moment that hand touches his elbow. Both ears lay back, and he takes a half-step away, unfolding his arms. The left arm, where it isn't covered by sleeve and glove, has the discolored, withered look of an old burn scar peeking out from beneath the sleeve. The 'spell' seems broken, "You want to buy mandrake?" he asks, posture shifting the left half of himself away from the stranger. Seems he doesn't like having his left arm touched. His eyes narrow slightly, "Pray tell, what do you need it for?"

Rashk withdraws his hand instantly and makes an impressive show of looking regretful, drawing his arms behind his own back as if to non-verbally assure the other Miqo’te that he wasn’t about to get handsy a second time. His gaze flicks briefly to the scar and back up to Rhys’s face, smile never faltering.

“Oh, it’s for a friend so I don’t understand the purpose entirely myself but … something to do with an alchemical process that creates a concoction capable of replenishing some of a target’s depleted aether?” A valid use for mandrake, though of course it isn’t the reason Rashk wants it—he intends to use the root for far more esoteric purposes, but he is reluctant to tell that to his suspicious new friend.

Rhy'sae can't argue with the man's claim, that's for sure. That truly is a use for mandrake. He rises a hand to his chin, thinking on it. "And how much is it worth to you and your friend?" He's recovered from the touch, his ears slowly rising once more. It seems the implications of gil have caught his attention. "Mandrake is a touchy thing to grow, as I'm sure you well know."

Rashk ‘s ears flick and his smile grows wider. “Yes, I’ve heard it’s quite peculiar about its growth conditions. And I believe harvesting it has its own challenges, considering the noise.” He pulls his right hand out from behind his back, dangling a pouch that hangs heavy with coins. Who knows where he pulled that from.

“I am, of course, willing to compensate you for your efforts.” It does occur to him that perhaps it would have been wiser to take this path in the first place, but the idea of stealing mandrake had seemed great after smoking Somnus. Now, with the immediate drug haze fading some, he is beginning to disagree with Past Self’s life decisions.

Rhy'sae glances at the coin pouch, trying to guesstimate how much it holds. "How many are you in need of?" He asks, "and how soon? There are some few here, but not all are ready for the harvest as yet." He looks away from the pouch to the other's face. He is still a little unsettled by the way in which they met, but he's willing to let it go, it seems, in the name of lucrative business.

Rashk raises an eyebrow and lifts the pouch in a manner to indicate that he’s about to toss it to Rhys and he better catch it. If the other Keeper looks ready, he tosses it over gently so Rhys might count the contents himself if he desires. “Just one root would do for now, though I might return in the future for more. My friend has a condition and likely needs to brew more of this concoction later,” he explains, with just enough hint of concern on his features to suggest that this ‘condition’ is delicate and best left private.

Rhy'sae catches the pouch with a deft hand, and takes a look inside, counting the coin with an apparent approval. "For your friend's concoction, do you need the root fresh? I may have some dried in the stores."

Rashk smiles and has no idea how much is in the pouch, but he trusts it's likely enough because Rhys isn't indignantly showing him out yet. "Ah, fresh would be best, thank you. Perhaps a jar to preserve it in," he suggests, not about to carry a potentially screaming root through the streets in the dead of night. "I take it you grow an assortment of other useful plants as well?"

Rhy'sae nods, gesturing around them, "This is not the entirety of what I work with," he assures him, "I also procure rare and difficult to find plants with medicinal natures at the source. I am well-versed in the bounties of the desert and forest alike." He steps around the other miqo'te, making his way to another shelf of large pots. He bends over it and inspects the plant there. His tail has slightly risen now that his back is to the other. He's offering him a modicum of trust, but still alert. "Hmn... I'd say less than a week before it's ready. Is that fine?" He glances over his shoulder to Rashk.

Rashk ‘s ears perk and he turns to trail in Rhys’s wake, dancing his fingertips along the nearby table’s surface absently. He hasn’t entirely given up on the slight purring syllables, though now his voice is lilting and rising musically in mischief.

“Well, aren’t you useful, Rhys. I might just do all my future herb-shopping here.”

#rp log

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imagine-loki · 7 years ago

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Irked

Title: Irked

Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal.

Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #15 Rating: Teen

While continuing to grocery shop, Loki was piling things into their cart so quickly, he was able to devise a plan. Each time Shandi tossed in something unhealthy, he’d sneak it out, replacing it with an alternative. To her, it simply appeared he’d shuffled things about. Then once in line, he suggested she wait in the car, while he took care of the rest.

“I can stay and help.” She replied.

“Wouldn’t you rather relax in the air-conditioned car?”

“Its air conditioned in here too, I don’t mind.”

The moment the person ahead finished up, Loki ushered her past the cashier. “We’ve a lot of meat, darling. The cooler the car, the better.”

“It’s not ‘that’ long of a drive.”

“Elizabeth.” His penetrating gaze and kind, yet insistent tone, left no room for further discussion.

“Okay, I’m going. Sheesh.”

Loki came out shortly after, stuffed all the bags into the trunk and they started back to the house.

“What was that about?” She asked.

“I thought you’d prefer being off your feet while making the car cooler.”

“And for the sake of all that meat?”

“Exactly.”

Her brow crinkled. “Then why is everything in the trunk?”

“Well…what’s your point, Lizzy? Is there an actual point to all this?”

Once arriving, she went to use the washroom and when done, Loki was waiting at the door.

“Where’s all the food?” She asked.

“I put it away already.”

“That fast?”

He smiled. “Didn’t I say magic was a wondrous thing?”

On the return ride, they discussed a few things.

“Alice must be using the ovens of a local Bakery to prepare for the fair.” Said Loki. “It makes sense. One home oven could never prepare enough baked goods for a large, three day event.”

Shandi couldn’t help but find his comment rather amusing and it showed on her face.

“Still finding it difficult to comprehend a prince of Asgard, cooks?”

“Yep and bakes.”

“Of which I’m pleased you’re no longer concerned to eat. You still haven’t revealed what all the fuss was about?”

Shandi glanced out the window. “I’m not discussing that with you Loki.”

He stifled a smirk. “As you wish, but I’m not the only Alien Prince that does. Upon returning here, I was a buffoon in the kitchen. Thor took me shopping and once showing me some basics of cooking, left me to myself. After the appliances and I had some..disagreements, which Tony took delight in critiquing following his initial panic, I resorted to a diet similar to yours.”

“Why was he panicked?”

“He was passing by my apartment one morning at the exact moment I set something ablaze in the kitchen, heard the fire alarm and demanded entrance. Fortunately, magic saved the Tower from a visit by the fire department, as I hadn’t learned how to use the extinguisher yet.”

Her brows rose. “What happened with the appliances?”

Loki then mocked Tony’s voice. “So, tell me Cactus. How does one who can teleport and make clones of himself, fuck up two toaster ovens, then a top of the line microwave, a high end coffee maker and today, simultaneously set two pans of bacon and omelet on fire?”

She chuckled. “You did all that?”

“I did. Had he have had some patience, I might’ve dressed before answering, too.”

“Did you answer the door in your underwear?”

“I’m certain he would have preferred that.” Shandis mouth fell open and Loki smirked. “I told you the day we arrived here, I sleep naked.”

“But you were cooking.”

“I had been wearing a robe, but overheated and removed it.”

She chuckled, again. “Poor Tony. What did he say?”

“He was banging away as I casually approached, ignoring his flare for dramatics.”… “What the hell’s going on in there Cactus? Open the…MOTHER OF GOD!!! HAVE YOU NO SCRUPLES?”

That did it. Between envisioning Tony’s expression and the way Loki mocked his mannerisms, Shandi was in stitches. “What happened then?”

“He scurried past me, inspecting things while I sauntered towards my robe and nonchalantly re adorned it. Since then, he has Jarvis inform me when he’s coming to assure I’m ‘decent.’”

“I fully believe that. Didn’t you read any of the instructions for those appliances, or extinguisher?”

“Pshh, whatever for? I came from an advanced realm, a God no less. Certainly without aid, I wouldn’t encounter difficulty operating Midgardian gadgets.”

“Oh. Is that why you put too much liquid into the blender at the staff kitchen, then?”

Loki recalled the incident. “I hadn’t put the lid on tight enough, was all.”

“Well, there’s always duct tape if Mr. Preston has one you’d like to use.” She cackled at his eyes rolling. “So, you were saying about your diet?”

“It was atrocious, much like yours.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Shandi, as a God, I’ve the strength no human could fathom and as you know, a large appetite. The amount of processed foods I was consuming, with all their chemicals, was negatively affecting ‘my’ energy levels. I can’t imagine how it’s affecting you.”

“I guess having eaten like a Prince, you wouldn’t be used to such things. Most average people, are.”

“And in the process, you’re subjecting yourself to a slow poisoning.”

‘Man.’ She thought. ‘He gets weirder by the hour.’ “Loki, what’s with the big interest in my diet all of a sudden?”

“Alright.” He coolly replied. “Seeing you so ill the other day, I was reminded of my own unpleasant plight. If you wish, perhaps I can help you prevent that from reoccurring. It’s up to you.”

Shandi was baffled by his recent behavior and the troublesome wish it were sincere. More than she cared to admit. She recalled Nat revealing his actions towards the family of a boy killed by the Chitauri, along with Thor and Steve’s conversation about how upset he was after an incident with a little girl in a restaurant. Was there a warmer side of himself, purposely kept concealed? Why? Another thought secretly pondered came to mind. One she’d soon get an opportunity to ask.

“Thank you for your concern.” She kindly replied. “I’ll consider it, okay? I was thinking about Laura being so outspoken. If we keep interacting with her, she may inadvertently teach us more about the family.”

Loki noted how quickly the subject was changed and let it go. “Possibly, but regarding Alice. If Nat doesn’t report seeing her at Beth’s shop today and we don’t during lunch hours at the park, I think it unwise to visit that Bakery just yet. It would imply traipsing around town the entire day with a car full of food and one who’s quite pregnant. Not a likely scenario.”

“True.” Shandi replied. “Alice may not be inclined to socialize either, being so busy.”

“She may. According to Laura, we made an impression. If we miss her at both places today and tomorrow, then we’ll go. It’s still another window of opportunity, we hadn’t known existed.”

By the time they re entered town, it was close to lunch and Loki stopped at a small Deli, before heading to the park. Shandi claimed not to be hungry and waited in the car. Upon returning, he plunked a medium sized bag and two large drinks into her lap.

“We may be there a while, so I bought you a veggie Pita and frozen fruit, smoothie.”

Shandi eyed everything. ‘Yep. Definitely getting stranger by the hour.’

After seeking out the same shaded bench as before, they ate while Loki kept a close eye out from behind dark shades. People slowly began entering the park, but there was no sign of the ladies. In case they did appear, he advised Shandi to start enacting the exercises he’d thought of. The idea was, he’d remain on the bench, or follow her from a short distance, while she walked nervously, throughout the park. Should Alice witness this, it would hopefully open an opportunity to explain Shandis actions. He suggested she start by buying more birdseed and after briefly chatting with the kid who sells it, she returned.

“This town gets smaller all the time. His name is Dylan and guess who his grandmother is?”

“Who?” Loki asked.

“Mrs. Carter. He mentioned witnessing our interaction with Beth and Alice and you were right. The two use her ovens every year for the fair.”

“How did you learn that?”

“I mentioned they were nice and hoped to see them around again. Then he recommended Beth’s shop and said Alice is usually at the Bakery every day, from now until the fair.”

“How kind of him.” Loki approvingly remarked. After a brief walk, Shandi began feeding the birds and kept glancing in his direction. “Something on your mind, oh pot bellied one?”

“Very funny, Clifford. I was thinking of how I’m still trying to comprehend, that humans aren’t alone in the universe.”

“That was unexpected, yet I imagine most of your people feel the same. Did 'you’ think you were?” He politely asked.

“I hadn’t any definite proof otherwise, until you and Thor. The universe is a massive place though and I’ve always considered it naive, assuming ourselves it’s only tenants.”

“And to your benefit, you’re not.”

The compliment overshadowed a building knot in her stomach of what response the next question may elicit. ‘It’s only going to keep bugging you. Dammit girl, where’s your gonads? Just ask him!’ “As a race, do you guys think us inferior?” Loki froze, concealing a scrutinizing gaze behind his glasses. Unable to escape the weight of it, Shandi returned to the birds. ‘Great. Of all times to lack the ability to teleport.’

Loki wondered if this related to his previous actions against her realm. “You’re certainly behind in many aspects, but no. Why would you ask such a thing, Shandi?”

It wasn’t really Thor’s opinion she’d grown concerned about, but including him had made the question easier to ask. Confident she could never care for one who thought himself above her own kind, the hope was to gain an inkling into Lokis true opinion, by catching him off guard. The reasons behind not asking them both sooner, were true.

“Curiosity. I would’ve felt awkward asking Thor.”

'Interesting.’ He thought. “Why? I thought you liked him.”

“I do. He’s kind, gentlemanly and funny, but I hardly see him unless it’s work related. I haven’t had a chance to really ‘talk’ with him.”

Loki recalled the times she’d remained in her apartment, after seeing him about the Tower. "Between us both, who have you seen around more?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask, if it didn’t.”

“Okay, you.” She replied.

“At any point until now, had you wanted to ask me such things?”

She shifted awkwardly, in her seat. “Look, why don’t we forget it Loki? I hadn’t meant for my question to make you feel uncomfortable.”

How she could even consider his feelings about anything, remained astounding to him. “You didn’t. It surprised me, was all. Had you ever wanted to?” He politely, persisted.

“Yes, but…” 'Damn.’ She suddenly thought. 'I shouldn’t have started this.’

Loki asked again. “But what Shandi, I’d really like to know?”

"Whenever possible I, avoided you.”

And Loki thought he felt like a dick, before. She’d really wished to talk to him and he’d senselessly, pushed her away. “Shandi, I…” His sentence was interrupted by a text. “We’re up Lizzy. Alice just parked and took food into Beth’s shop.”

All they discussed on route, was encountering Nat and Clint and upon entering, were greeted by an unsuspecting Beth, pricing items with her mouth half full. “Oh, hello. Please excuse me, it’s normally quiet this time of day and I was indulging. How are you?”

“Good thanks.” Said Shandi. “Don’t let us stop you.”

Beth smiled. “Goodness, if you sampled what I am, you’d understand. Wait, do you like strawberries?”

Shandi was about to respond, when Loki did. “She loves them. Blueberries, even more.” Her brow arched.

“Then you must try something.” Beth headed for the back room and moments later, returned holding open a plastic container. Inside were mini strawberry and blueberry tarts. The fruit sat amidst a rich, creamy custard with just the right sweetness and the pastry, practically melted in their mouths.

“Those are delicious.” They stated.

Alice spoke up from the doorway. “Why, thank you.” After greeting each other with pleasantries, she continued. “Those are only a sample of what will be at the fair. You really must come.”

Shandi lowered her eyes and Loki stroked her hair. “We’re thinking about it, aren’t we Lizzy?”

She nodded and uncertain what to make of their interaction, Beth retreated. “Very good. Let me know if you need any help.” She’d almost reached Alice when Shandi whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lizzy, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

Beth then raised her brows at Alice when seeing Nat notice Shandi, through the shop window. Seconds later, she entered and Clint remained near the door. Loki took a double take, then protective stance, towards Shandi and Nat froze, about five feet away.

“I won’t come any closer. I saw you and…” Her shoulders slumped as Loki and Shandi, remained stoic. “We’ve an only daughter. She lives far away and is about to have a baby and…”

“Ella.” Clint, kindly interrupted.

Nat sighed. "It’s no excuse and I shouldn’t have touched you.” She stretched out her arm, holding a small gift bag towards Shandi. “This is for your baby. I hope you like it and I’m sorry.”

Loki and Shandis expressions softened as she slowly took the bag. “Thank you.”

Nat nodded, then headed towards Clint and once outside, they hugged. Shandi pulled a small teddy bear from the bag, that played a lullaby and glanced up at Loki.

“I know what your thinking, darling. You don’t need to consult me, go on.” When Shandi went outside, he turned to see Beth and Alice with their eyes glossed over and winked. “It’s good to see her make a friend. We haven’t any here.” Moments later, she re entered. “I gather that went well?” He asked.

Shandi smiled. “It did. They’re vacationing here for the summer at a nearby cottage and suggested we meet for drinks.”

“Sounds like a plan. Did they say when?”

"No, but I got her number.”

“Perfect, yet you’re prohibited.“ He teased. "If you recall, one too many is how we ended up in this predicament in the first place?”

Shandi looked to see the ladies, smirking. “How thoughtful of you to remind me, Clifford.” ‘Brat.’ She thought.

Alice chuckled. “I’ve seven children, four of whom were conceived under the same circumstances.”

“Speaking of.” Said Loki. “We met your daughters at the grocery store, earlier. Laura, our first day in town. Both are lovely.”

The ladies thanked him.

“We understand you met one who isn’t so lovely, as well.” Beth commented.

“According to Laura, that’s correct.” Said Loki.

"Only Laura?” ‘Shit woman, what’s wrong with you?’

Loki almost cackled. “She was entertaining to say the least, darling. Perhaps you’d like a basket to shop with?”

“Yes, please.”

After retrieving one, he feigned interest in a crib display, hoping the three would talk more. It worked and once the ladies stopped within a respectable distance of Shandi, he heard their whispers, perfectly.

“Laura said Tanya failed at flirting with your husband?” Asked Beth.

Shandi nodded.

“Good, but take heed.“ Said Alice. "The first opportunity that arises, she 'will’ try again.”

Being such strangers, Shandi found their openness amusing, yet wanted to learn more about this woman. "Even though…”

Beth slowly shook her head. “She doesn’t care if your married, pregnant, or both, so keep him close.”

“Clifford’s a good man. He doesn’t get much time away from me.” Shandi solemnly, stated.

“Trust us.” Said Alice. “Whatever his reasons, consider them a blessing. Tanya is well known for her 'slutty’ tactics and has gotten to the best of them.” She smiled at Shandis widened eyes. “Bet you never expected to hear that from an old lady.”

Beth offered her another tart. “At least you know one to avoid, if you’re looking to make friends in this town.”

“I am.” Shandi replied. “And we’ll ‘both’ be avoiding her.”

Loki smirked at the sarcasm in her tone.

“Good.” Said Alice. “What about making friends with a couple of seniors? “We’re busy preparing for the fair right now, but once it’s over, you’re welcome to join us for tea. Or coffee, which ever you prefer.”

Beth gave her a look. "If you like referring to yourself as ancient, be my guest. I, for one, am still a spring chicken.”

Alice sighed. “Whose days of laying eggs, have long ceased.”

Shandi chuckled at their teasing banter, while startled by her luck and gave Alice her number. “I look forward to that very much.“ Then she noticed Loki inspecting different boxes of mobiles. "I’d best get over there, before he gets too curious.”

“Would he open something again?” Asked Beth.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, if he liked it enough.”

‘I resent that.’ Thought Loki. Seeing her approach, he purposely held up a model with what appeared to have miniature, hairy Teletubbies on it.

“You can put that back now, Clifford.”

He tisked. "Party pooper.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #irked #chapter 15 #lokilover9 #tony stark #hire #odin #mission #penance #power #superior #arrogant #introduce #dislike

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megwritesfanfiction · 6 years ago

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Let Go, Chapter 8 (Raven/??)

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. This is a work of fiction that I am not making a profit off of.

A/N: Chapter 9 is almost done, so you guys can definitely expect it in two weeks!

Do you need to catch up? I got you! ->

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

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WARNING - FLASHBACK CONTAINS MENTION OF DRUG USE.

Flashback

Robin had known she was struggling to deal with the events of her birthday.

They were used to her being withdrawn. They’d grown to understand her powers and the limitations they presented. Everyone understood that she needed to meditate and sometimes remove herself from situations that may cause her powers to flair up.

But, she hadn’t locked herself away in awhile.

No matter what was going on, Raven would come out for at least two meals and at least two or three television/team nights a week. Granted she would sit in the corner of the couch with her nose buried in a book, but she was there.

Until one day she wasn’t.

Robin understood her need for privacy. Her birthday was far from a happy day despite it ending with friends, cake, and ice cream. He informed the team that Raven needed space. He couldn’t find the words to tell them about her failed suicide attempt.

She wasn’t neglecting her duty. Raven swiftly responded to each alarm before disappearing in the midst of her soul self, so he couldn’t fault her.

Logically, he knew that she was coming out of her room some portion of the day. Demon or not, she couldn’t survive on just air. The masked titan had found his suspicions were indeed correct, but he hadn’t realized she was leaving the tower.

When she stumbled into the common room dressed in a tight black dress, high boots, and neon bangles, the smell of alcohol and ash hit him faster than he was able to comprehend the scene in front of him.

Raven was drunk.

Drunk being the understatement of the year. Heaven knows what she had flooding through her system…

Her hair was out of sorts, and he was pretty sure there was vomit on her dress.

“Raven?” Robin questioned quietly, unsure of the scene in front of him.

Her eyes rolled from left to right as her wobbled. Her back hit the wall behind her as her hands went out in front of her, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed walking over to her. “Are you drunk?” He steadied his hands on her shoulders, the smell of her night out burning his sinuses.

An acidic belch bubbled from her stomach as her head slumped forward, eyes going wide before relaxing again, “Yep.”

“Look at me,” he commanded.

“No,” she groaned taking a uneasy step back.

Pinching her face between his thumb and index finger, he tilted her head toward the light to check her pupils. “What did you take?”

“Nothing.”

“What did you take?” Robin questioned sternly, alarmed at the size of her pupils. He could only see a small sliver of violet.

Raven closed her eyes for a moment, brow wrinkling in thought, “Aside from alcohol? Some pink pills with little bunny rabbits on them, an orange one with a pizza, and one that was bright blue.” She smirked. “I snorted some-“

“What!?”

“Too loud,” she groaned, pushing him away from her. “And you asked, so don’t get pissy if you don’t like the answer.” She stumbled toward the kitchen, leaning over the sink as she felt her stomach bubble.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

She laughed bitterly, “Really?”

Robin sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she nodded proudly.

“But-“

“Fuck off and let me puke in peace please,” she groaned, fingers pulling her hair back.

“This isn’t the solution.”

She nodded. Her hands pressed against the edge of the sink as she pressed herself up straight. “Then what is?”

Robin looked at her, mouth agape.

“Huh? You seem to be so full of solutions in between judging how I deal with things! So you tell me, what I’m supposed to do!?” She shouted, turning sharply to face him. Her chest heaved as she unleashed her anger.

He was at a lost for words.

“What? I’m supposed to smile? Pretend everything is fine?” She snapped, running a hand over face roughly. “Act like I’m not going to kill you all in the end?”

“You don’t know that,” he shook his head. “It’s not over yet. There’s still a chance.”

There wasn’t. “Even if there was,” she slurred, shaking her head as her eyes blurred with tears and head throbbed. “It’s already ruined. He already broke me, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Raven,” Robin breathed, taking a step closer to her. “I think we should talk about this when you're sober.”

“I really think it doesn’t matter.” She turned her back toward the sink. “Just leave me alone.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Flash Forward

“Well, well,” Roy whistled amused as he approached the fire. “I didn’t know you smoked.” The sound of his bag swinging from his fingertips.

Raven rolled her eyes playfully. She could hear the dust crunch underneath his boots as he rocked back and forth on his heels with smug amusement as she exhaled. Keeping her eyes on the fire, she brought the cigarette to her lips, “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I bummed a few. I’ll buy you another pack at the next stop.”

“Not required. I have a carton in trunk,” he chuckled, dropping the bag by her seat. Using a stick, he carefully moved the pot resting on the iron rack toward him.

“Shouldn’t you have put things in the pot before putting it on the fire?” If he’d asked, she could have just levitated it unto the fire safely. “You’re gonna burn yourself.”

“You realize, I’m not just some pretty city boy, right?” He chuckled as he poked the fire. “Can you toss me the bag?”

Her wrist flicked delicately as the bag scooted next to him.

“Show off.”

Raven shrugged unapologetically as a slow satisfied smile curled on her lips as she continued to smoke. “You know, I could have moved that pot lid too.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckled removing the foil packs from the bag and placing them in the hot pot. “My stick also works quite well.” Roy guided the stick into the lid handle and lifted it back to the pot.

“So would pot holders and tongs,” she remarked.

Lifting the mentioned tools from the bag, he raised a curious eyebrow, “I have silverware and plates to make up for my lack of pot holders.”

“Fancy,” Raven smirked.

“The fanciest hobo meals you’ll ever eat, my dear,” Roy assured. He took a seat on the log next to her, leaning back on his elbows comfortably.

“Hobo meals?” She frowned, removing her vibrating phone from her back pocket.

Changeling.

She quickly ignored the call with a sigh.

“Yep,” he confirmed, glancing at the phone from the corner of his eye as he stretched casually. “Basically, some meat and vegetables expertly packed inside a bundle of aluminum foil.”

Her phone buzzed again. “Sounds tasty,” Raven commented, her fingers pressing the ignore button once more. She inhaled loudly, hoping to catch a whiff of the meal cooking in front of them. The sweet aroma from the firewood mixed with the smell of cooking meat and the ash of her cigarette. “Smells good.” Her phone buzzed again.

“Won’t be ready for a bit.”

Her fingers pressed the side button once again to send the call to her full voicemail box. At least, Changeling couldn’t yell at her anymore.

“There’s beef and chicken,” Roy informed as her phone glowed again. “The vegetables on the menu tonight are potatoes, green beans, zucchini, corn-“

Raven’s eyes drifted down seeing Changeling’s notifications flood the front screen of her phone, “None of those are vegetables.”

If you’re going to ignore my calls…

Now, he was texting.

At least have the decency to tell me why.

“What the hell do you call potatoes, green beans, and zucchini then?” Roy laughed as he lit his own cigarette, eyes still casually on her phone.

You just ignored my calls.

“Potatoes, sure,” Raven sighed as her eyes moved from her phone to Roy. “Zucchini and green beans are fruit, I believe.”

I know you’re there.

“Yes, but we treat all of those things as vegetables,” he argued with a smirk.

She shook her head, attention split between Changeling’s serious text and the silly conversation with Roy, “But it’s a not a vegetable. Just because you treat something like a vegetable doesn’t make it a vegetable.”

I know you’re ignoring me.

“That’s fair,” Roy shrugged, taking in her argument. “But, who's to say they don’t want to be treated like vegetables? What about what they want? ”

You never had a problem telling me to piss off.

“Are we really having this conversation?” She questioned, glancing at him brows knitted with confusion. Her phone buzzed, screen illuminating.

He shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips, “It’s an important conversation.”

So, I’m trying to figure out why you couldn’t tell me you’re leaving?

Raven felt her heart slam against her rib cage as she stared at her phone. “Uhh,” she stammered, blinking as she fought for control. “I don’t think-” Her fingers quickly unlocked the message screen without thought, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. “I think they’re more concerned about being cooked alive if anything.” She started to type.

Gar, I want-

She sighed, thumb tapping the delete button.

Gar-

What the hell was she supposed to say? Her emotions were tangled with amusement from Roy and panic from Gar’s texting.

“Yes, but,” Roy kept his eyes on her phone as he lit his cigarette. “You don’t speak ill of the dead. We’re honoring the sacrifice these brave plants made for our nutrition.”

She couldn’t decide which was worse, her conversation with Roy or trying to explain herself to Gar. “Yeah,” she murmured. Raven honestly hadn’t really heard what Roy had just said. Her mind tried to untangle the messy web of words jumbled in her head.

I can see you typing.

Shit.

I’m sorry. Raven typed looking at the unsent message. I didn’t think me leaving was going to be a big deal. It wasn’t a complete lie. She honestly figured Changeling wouldn’t care enough to bombard her with messages. One voicemail and a couple of confused text messages were to be expected, but this was unexpected in the best and worst ways possible. Inhaling, her fingers continued to craft a response. I thoug-

“Alright,” Roy breathed, exhaling the end of his cigarette. “I tried,” he muttered as he tossed the butt of his smoke into the fire. Standing with another loud sigh, he stepped in front of Raven.

Her fingers froze, stopping her work on the unsent message. Raven slowly lowered her phone to stare at him intently, “Yes?”

“I’m going to apologize for this now,” he told her seriously. His lips were tight as he rocked back and forth on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back. “Because after I do it, I’m not going to feel bad.”

She slowly leaned away from him, brow raising curiously.

Roy inhaled slowly, hands going out in surrender as he looked up to the night sky, “I’m sorry.”

“Okay?” Raven questioned slowly. Her eyes wide and confused.

Roy snatched the phone from her hand, sprinting away from her.

“Roy!” Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Raven leaped from her seat chasing after him. Her phone illuminated brightly in his hand as he led them away from the fire. What the hell was he gonna do with her phone? And where the hell was he going?

His pace slowed as he stopped in front of the cliff. “I already said I’m sorry,” he called as he tossed the phone into the cliff.

“What the fuck?!” Raven screeched charging at him.

“Whoa,” he shouted, sticking his arm out to grab her before she went off the cliff. “Watch yourself there.” Roy wrapped another arm around his waist and pulled her another step back.

“Watch yourself?!” Her pulse pounded in her head as she watched her the light from her phone disappear into the darkness below. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

He shrugged, unapologetically, “I didn’t want you to fall.”

“I can fly!”

“I forgot about that.”

Her chest heaved as she struggled to make sense of what exactly had occurred.

“Be careful anyway,” Roy warned gently. His arms slowly released from her waist as he turned to walk back to their fire.

Raven stood at the edge of the cliff, feet sinking into the dust as she looked at the abyss. Her fists curled at her sides as her head throbbed. What the hell just happened? She pivoted sharply, giving into rage, “Harper!”

“One sec, Rae,” he answered. Expertly ignoring the sound of her angry steps, he knelt by the fire carefully pulling the pot of food from the fire. He dusted off his hands and looked up at her. “What’s up?”

“Are you fucking serious?!” She roared. “You just threw my phone off a goddamn cliff!”

“Yes,” he confirmed, using his stick to knock the pot lid off. “I remember. I was there, and I also apologized before hand.”

“You’re lucky I don’t toss you off that cliff,” Raven warned. Her fingers tore through her hair as she struggled to control her rage. She briefly remembered a time where she would have actually tossed him off the cliff.

Not to kill him.

She’d only let him fall far enough to make a point.

“I am indeed.”

She closed her eyes for a second as she placed a hand on her abdomen as she breathed deeply. “I am trying very hard not to murder you right now,” she whispered as she felt her body tremble.

“Sit down,” Roy commanded softly. He stood, folding his arms in front of him.

“Fuck you!”

He bit back a dirty remark. “Sit down,” he repeated calmly as he walked over to the log seats. He had to be patient. After all, he’d just thrown her phone off a cliff and she’d graciously decided not to sentence him to the same fate. “Please?”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat as he walked over to him. Violet eyes narrowed dangerous as she slowly sat down.

Roy sighed taking out his wallet, pulling out a worn piece of paper and presenting it to her.

“Your will?” Raven questioned sourly as she eyed the paper. If he was hoping to calm her down, he was shit out of luck there. This just gave her more time to plan where she was going to hide his body.

His eyes widened as he gestured for her to take the paper.

She scoffed, snatching the paper from his fingertips. “Okay?” She questioned, staring at the photograph confused. “A photograph?” She added, looking to him, feeling the tension in her brows lessen.

Roy sighed as he took a seat next to her. His elbows rested against his knees as his fingers laced together. Jasper eyes focused on the fire in front of them as he nodded, “Yep.”

Raven looked back at the photo. A beautiful woman with long black hair smiled brilliantly toward the camera. In her lap, she held a chubby cheeked red haired baby that was loosely wrapped in a fuzzy yellow blanket. “Your mother?” She questioned. Why was he showing her this?

“No,” he pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “That’s my daughter.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite their unpredictable lives, they were all creatures of habit.

Nightwing was, by design, a creature of habit in almost every aspect of his life.

But the others…

Starfire, for example, monopolized the television on Monday and Thursday night starting at eight in the evening. About ten minutes before her first show, she’d make a large bowl of extra butter popcorn and during the last commercial break of her final show she’d grab a pint of frozen custard to enjoy.

Terra always had the same pre battle ritual. Once they’d arrived, her feet would slide to a sudden stop. Crouched and feet planted in a battle stance, she’d lace her fingers, crack her knuckles, and toss her head from left to right.

Cyborg regularly indulged in a midnight snack. Typically, around eleven or eleven thirty he’d start preparing his midnight dish. Waffles, steak and potatoes, super meat leftover sandwich… Something heavy, hearty, and simple. If they had a long day of crime fighting or the pantry were bare, Cyborg would head out for some takeout to indulge in.

“Sweet baby Jesus, dude!” Cyborg jumped stepping into the kitchen, hand clutching his chest.

Changeling smirked, looking at the clock on the side wall then casting a glance to the brown paper bag in his hand.

Eleven forty-five.

Just as he predicted.

“The hell you doing up?” Cyborg wondered, stepping into the kitchen. “Had I known, I would have gotten you a veggie burger. I went to that diner near the bay.” He carefully unpacked his midnight meal, taking a seat across him Changeling.

“I’m not hungry,” Changeling shrugged, leaning back in his seat to watch his friend organize his food in front of him.

Cyborg carefully unwrapped his burger. A delicious triple patty burger, slathered with four different selections of premium cheese, a quarter pound of bacon, lettuce, tomato, the chef’s super secret sauce, and served with spicy Cajun fries. With a happy sigh, he licked his lips as his fingers curled around the burger.

The green man waited until the burger was at his friend’s lips. “You know,” Changeling spoke, suppressing a smile as his friend lowered his meal. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Alert the media,” Cyborg smirked harmlessly.

He figured since Raven wasn’t here, someone else had to pick up the slack in slinging sarcastic comments at Changeling department. “You realize I’m not dumb right?” Changeling questioned folding his arms in front of his chest, casting his friend a hard stare.

“B…” Though he’d outgrown his old code name, Changeling found he couldn’t escape the nickname. “I was joking, I wasn’t tr-“

“Of course,” Changeling shrugged innocently.

“We know you aren’t stupid, B,” Cyborg sighed, feeling bad about the quip. “I mean we might give you shit from time to time, but…”

“Right, right,” Changeling nodded. “I get it.”

Cyborg, seemingly satisfied, picked his sandwich up again.

“So…”

Cyborg froze, mouth stretched over his burger as he prepared for his first bite.

“Care to tell me why Raven told everyone but me she was leaving?” He questioned calmly, green eyes fixated on his friend.

Cyborg dropped his burger, staring at his friend in panic.

“Well, me and Terra, but…” The changeling shrugged as he trailed off. His eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer.

Cyborg swallowed hard, eyes wide, and fingers twitching nervously as his mind searched for the correct response to that question. “I think,” he started slowly. “I think you should talk to Raven about that.”

“So, you’re saying I’m right?”

“Garfield-“

Changeling chortled bitterly as he leaned back, “I’m Garfield now.”

All he wanted to do was eat his damn burger in peace. “I mean, that’s your name.”

“You never call me Garfield.” Unless it was something serious.

“All I’m saying is,” Cyborg started, keeping his eyes away from the changeling and on the table in front of him. “I think you should talk to Raven.”

“About why she didn’t think I needed to know she was leaving?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“But it’s true,” Changeling nodded. He pressed his palms to the table as he stood up. “Thanks for confirming my suspicions.” He walked out of the kitchen. “Enjoy your burger.”

Cyborg scowled, dropping his burger back in the bag, “A man can’t even eat in peace in this got damn mutha fucking tower.”

So much for his midnight snack.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daughter?

Raven pulled the photo closer to her face as she examined the baby staring back at her. She could see Roy in the fiery curls that framed the baby’s head like a little halo. Her dark eyes and skin were clearly from her mother.

“Her name’s Lian,” Roy commented as he lit the cigarette.

Since when did Roy have a daughter? And how didn’t she know? Did anyone know? “You’re a father?”

“I am,” he acknowledged with a small nod.

What the hell was she supposed to say to this? How was she supposed to feel? Her rage had fizzled in to confusion, shock, and a weird pang of dread as she stared at the photo.

“I’m also a drug addict,” Roy commented casually.

What? “What?” Her head snapped to him, eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Well,” he exhaled, blowing the smoke toward the fire. “I don’t use drugs or drink right now, I’m sober, but…” His brow wrinkled trying to figure out how to word this. “I’ll always be addicted, so I’m a drug addict with or without the needle between my toes.”

There were so many things she could comment on Raven couldn’t pick just one. “What am I supposed to say to this?”

“Anything you want,” Roy shrugged, unbothered by her shock.

She looked back at the photo and then to the redhead, mouth open as she yelled, “You don’t get to throw my phone off a cliff and the dump your damage in my lap like it’s nothing!” Her chest heaved as confusion bled back into anger.

“That’s fair, but you’re not worried about whatever’s going on in Jump or your phone anymore, so I’d say it was worth it.” Roy tossed her a cocky smirk, running a hand through his hair. “And I figured you’d have mercy because I have a child. Low yes, but…”

Raven felt the color drain from her face as she remembered the unsent text message she’d been crafting to Changeling. He really was going to think she was avoiding him, now.

So much for her fairytale romantic moment.

Not that she was expecting it, but…

He cleared his throat, voice fading to a serious tone. “I’m not asking you to tell me why you left Titans West-“

The fire illuminated the planes of his face and made his eyes glow. Even without her empathy, she could feel the sincerity radiating.

“But don’t think I’m not smart enough to see that you’ve got some major emotional baggage of your own,” he told her. “And that’s okay.”

Raven’s face softened with shock, the sound of her heartbeat deafening in her ears.

“It’s okay that you’re ‘damaged’. Fuck, I’m damaged,” he smirked, turning to face her tenderly. Roy placed a hand on her knee and giving it a little squeeze. “I like to think that the damage makes us better. Makes us real.” He looked at her softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

A sad smile curled on her lips as her eyes stung with tears, “Right because you can’t be a superhero without being broken.”

“It’s not about that,” he told her gently. “So, I read somewhere that in Japan they put gold in the cracks of their broken pottery,” Roy recalled with a smile. “Because the cracks makes the pottery beautiful and unique. Sure, you can have a perfect manufactured piece, but the ones with cracks have a story. They have character. They’ve experienced things.” He gently bumped her arm with his shoulder. “You have character. Your experiences, good and not so good, make you who you are.”

“That’s really beautiful,” Raven whispered, sniffling as she wiped her eyes.

He exhaled loudly, “Great because I didn’t actually read that lovely little piece of information. I heard it in an AA meeting. Or was it NA?”

A loud cackle escaped her before she could stop it. She almost hated how she couldn’t stay mad at him, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am. I’m also damaged too,” Roy started again, clearing his throat as his tone became serious. “No matter how fucked up we are, we’re worthy of being whole. So what if we have cracks.”

He sounded like her therapist.

“And it seemed like those text messages were taking little pieces from you,” he told her gently. She didn’t need to know that Roy was aware of who she was talking to. “Honestly, it seems like everytime you’ve touched your phone chipped away at you so-“

“You chucked it off a cliff?” No use crying or plotting murder over spilled milk now.

“I did,” He nodded with a small chuckle. “I’ll buy you a new one when we get to Chicago.”

Covering a smirk, her fingers traced of the photo she still held. “We’re days away from Chicago.”

“Exactly. You need some time to unplug.” If they really need to reach anyone, Roy had his phone and they both had their communicators. “Untangle yourself from whatever’s keeping you from being whole.” His cigarette firmly tucked between his lips, he went over to the pot.

Raven felt her shoulders slouch and relax as she watched him carefully remove the foil packs from the pot. “I’m still mad at you,” she told him with playful seriousness.

Roy laughed. That was fair.

To be Continued

#teen titans fanfiction #teen titans #raven #beast boy #bbrae #speedy #speedyrae #roy harper #royrae #let go

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