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aparticularbandit · 7 months

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Claire Makes A Call

Summary: In the unseemly event of Eve's very unfortunate death, Claire demands help from a certain scientist who probably should know better.

AU of The Valentines Collection.

Rating: T.

Note: This is your reminder that I write Claire as trans and that within the context of Valentines AU she doesn't come out until after her presidency. Her immediate family mostly knows. That's it.

AO3

“No.”

The word slips soft through President Valentine’s lips, but no less firm for its quiet hush. Her deep eyes take in the still, unmoving ones of her wife, and for all that the hand still in hers has grown limp, she tightens her hold on it. She does not cry in the same way that her wife does not breathe.

“No,” she says again, firmer this time, louder, barely audible over the single long note through the machine broadcasting her vain ignorance. Not ignorance. Obstinacy. Like maybe if she says it enough, it’ll be true.

When the nurses try to speak to her about funerary options, when they use the name they know for her but not the one she wants right now, Claire stops them. Cuts them off. “Take her to Doctor Octavius,” she says, and when they give her a harsh look and try to convince her otherwise, she repeats herself, even more firmly, dark blue eyes growing dark like steel, “Take her to Doctor Octavius.”

Eventually, they obey, although their expressions of disgust do not change.

There are certain perks to being president, after all.

Liv doesn’t let her look at her wife’s body.

Probably because Claire refuses to refer to it as her body, because that’s like saying Eve is dead, when she’s not. She’s just—

“I don’t know what you want me to do with this.” Liv doesn’t even look up from her clipboard. She glances over her shoulder at something just out of Claire’s sight – at Eve, maybe, behind one of the many, many walls in Liv’s laboratory – and then raises her eyebrows before returning to the clipboard. “I’m not Frankenstein, Christopher. That’s not what I—”

“Lionel will get you everything you need.”

Liv looks up then. There’s no pity in her gaze, no empathy or sympathy, just a keen sense of boredom with just the barest hint of curiosity. “I don’t need anything, Valentine, because I can’t—”

“You’re telling me the greatest scientific mind in over a century—”

“You’re overselling it.” Liv gives her a flat look. “You’re overselling me.”

Claire meets her eyes. Raises one eyebrow. “Am I, Doctor Octavius? Am I really?” She steps to the sitting woman, brushes her finger along her jaw, presses her thumb against her chin, and then lifts it so that Liv has no choice but to look directly at her. “Do this for me.”

Liv’s expression shifts. Her jaw sets. “And what will you do for me in return?”

“What do you want?”

Liv’s lips spread into a wolfish grin. “I’ll tell you later.” She jolts her head out of Claire’s grasp and swivels the chair away from her. As she does, she begins muttering something under her breath – a long string of things that Claire doesn’t understand and likely aren’t for her benefit in the first place. Then Liv lifts a hand and waves it dismissively. “Come back in a few days, and I’ll see what I’ve got.”

No price. Yet.

Claire doesn’t care.

“So here’s the sitch.”

Liv leans forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, long noodle arms stretched out in front of her. She yawns. “There’s this whole procedure. You can do it. I can do it—”

“Then why haven’t you—”

“Shush up and let me talk. Questions are for the end of class.” Liv holds up a hand and leaves it up as she grabs a golden mug of coffee and takes a sip, her eyes shifting elsewhere. “Mm. Apple spice. You want some?” She holds the mug out to Claire.

Claire stares at the mug, one brow lifting.

Liv sighs. “Fine. Trust me with your girl, don’t trust my coffee. Fine, fine.” She waves her hand dismissively again. Then she taps her finger on her desk. “Someone who actually knows the deceased has to be here. Tell her who she is.” Another, smaller swallow of her coffee. “Being dead makes you forget.” She shivers once as she mentions it. “I’d make you go – that place gives me the creeps – but science.” She waves her hands in the air, waggling her fingers, and starts muttering under her breath again – something about tests and experimenting and modifying perimeters—

Claire cuts in and stops her again. “You’re not going to jeopardize—”

“No, no, no, no.” Liv shoots Claire a look. “I’ll get your girl. But I might need some funding to….” Her voice trails off as her gaze moves away, and her fingers build a spider shape atop her desk. “Later. You’ll owe me one.”

That sits wrong in the center of Claire’s chest. To be fair, she’s paying as much attention as she can, but certain words make her head buzz. Deceased and dead. She tunes them out. Eve’s not like that. She’s just…sick. Of a kind that only an experimental scientist like Doctor Octavius can help.

To be fair, Claire doesn’t really like Liv. In point of fact, the spindly doctor should probably be in jail somewhere. But Eve….

Eve was always the better of them when it came to people like this. Hopeful. Interested. She’d gone and visited Liv a few times when Claire was busy with presidential duties, only to tell her about it later over dinner or when they were curled up in bed. It sounded like they were friends.

Maybe that’s why it bothers Claire so much that Liv seems to be dangling Eve on a string, like maybe Liv doesn’t care at all that she’s—

Well, why should she? Eve isn’t dead, after all.

“When do you want me here?” Claire asks, trying to keep the guttural growl out of her voice. “Pick a day. A time. I’ll—”

“Tomorrow.”

Liv turns full away from her, so that Claire can’t see her face, and her voice lowers to a kind of reverential hush. “Be here tomorrow. I won’t be – it’ll take a while to bring her back – but get here as early as possible. After a good rest. You’re going to have to….” Her voice trails off. “You’ll see.” She turns back around and taps a finger on Claire’s chest with each syllable, emphasizing them. “To.mor.row.”

The lights seem to be off when Claire arrives the next morning, but they flicker as she shifts through the cracked door. Then they hover half-on, liming the room in an industrial waste color that isn’t quite green but isn’t quite yellow either. One of the laboratory doors swings in place; a note taped to it indicates Claire should go inside, so she does.

At first, there’s nothing, not even Eve, but then Claire sees it – a shimmering transparent something on one side of the room. The two of them must have gone on a trip. Liv just took Eve with her through that portal, and they’ll be back any second. On a normal day, Claire would be upset about that, upset that Liv would endanger Eve like that. But this is part of what will heal her sickness, so it’s…it’s what has to be done.

It’ll be okay. Eve’ll be better. Just a little longer.

Liv stumbles through the portal all at once, thick lime green glasses huge over her eyes, wrapped in a much more technological outfit that Claire has only seen her wear for more tricky experiments, hair pulled back up and high. She doesn’t turn back, although she breathes heavily. Claire stands as soon as she sees her, hands clenching instinctively into fists, dark eyes looking for someone she doesn’t see. It’s another heartbeat – too long – before Eve stumbles through the portal after Liv, and it disappears entirely. When she passes through, Liv looks up, meets Claire’s eyes with her own, haggard gaze, and then nods. “You have to make sure she doesn’t go to sleep. Tell her who she is. Keep her warm. I’ll be right back.” Then she dashes from the lab without saying anything else.

Eve doesn’t look like Eve. She’s a shallow, hollow shell of herself. Faded. Dark hair and soft skin varying shades of grey tint. Even her eyes, which once reflected the sky, only look like storm clouds. No, not even a storm. That’s too much effort. Just the overcast grey of a dreary drizzle. She looks up at Claire with indifference, blinks twice, and then looks about the room.

It isn’t like Claire forgets what Liv said. It’s that part of her didn’t believe it. So when she says, “Eve,” she still expects her wife to react. It’s only when she doesn’t that it hits her.

Claire presses her lips together and crosses the room to her wife. She pulls her into her arms – Eve feels like ice – and holds her against her. “Eve,” she says again, but Eve just stands there against her. Doesn’t hold her back. Doesn’t bury her head in her chest. Doesn’t do anything.

“Your name,” Claire says, brushing her hand through her wife’s hair, “is Eve Valentine. You’re my wife.”

Eve doesn’t react, but she seems to be listening.

That’s a start.

Liv comes back a while later with a platter full of food and mugs of what smells like that same apple spice coffee. When Claire looks up at her with narrowed eyes, she gives her a blank stare back. “She hasn’t eaten anything since she died. She’s probably hungry.” But it isn’t food she offers first; it’s one of the mugs. “This will help warm her up.”

Eve doesn’t feel nearly as ice cold as she did when she first came through the portal, but Claire can’t tell if that’s because she’s actually warming up or if she’s just gotten so used to Eve’s chill that she can’t quite feel it anymore. She doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t eaten; she looks like a worse form of Agatha after she’d lost Lillian Rose. That’s another thing they don’t talk about. In the future, she’s certain this will become just like that.

Claire presses a kiss to Eve’s forehead. “You need to drink something, dear. It’ll help.” She takes a baby blue mug from Liv, hands it to Eve, and then takes her own bright pink one, raising it in both hands and sipping at it.

As she does so, Eve mimics her, clasping her mug in both hands and raising it to her lips. She swallows as Claire swallows, her eyes widening, lips steaming. Then she licks her lips and winces.

“Here. Let me cool that off for you.” Liv places a hand over Eve’s, draws her mug down, and drops an ice cube into it. “Give it a few seconds.”

But even as they eat, as they teach Eve to eat again, Eve doesn’t let go of her mug. In fact, she holds it closer, stealing as much warmth from it as she can, sipping at it occasionally in an action reminiscent of how she’d acted before she died.

Didn’t. Die.

Got sick.

Just about the time that Eve finishes her first mug of coffee, the phone in Claire’s pocket starts to vibrate. She wants to ignore it – to ignore her duties – but Liv catches it, head tilting to one side, muddy brown eyes fixating on the phone, on Claire’s pocket. “You gonna answer that, sunshine? Might be something important.”

Nothing is more important.

But she’s president. She’s president, and Eve is supposed to be – but isn’t, she’s better, she’s getting better – and while there should be a certain amount of mourning time, the job doesn’t stop. It’s constant. They wake her in the dead of night, in the earliest hours of the morning, in the few moments she gets to spend with her wife and remaining child (which, in her opinion, is worse), so of course, they would call her here and now, when she needs to be here.

“I’ll take care of her.”

Claire looks at Liv in her white shirt, sleeves rolled back, noodle arms not as clammy white because she’s wearing white, and sees only a scientist wanting to be left with a new toy to play with. Her lips press together in a thin line.

Eve thought she was more than that. Eve thought she was better. Eve thought—

“If you do anything, I will—”

“Stop your threatening, Valentine.” Liv turns to Eve and waves that hand dismissively at Claire again. “I don’t want to bring her back again. She’ll be fine.” She gently takes the still warm mug from Eve’s hands, and when Eve whimpers with displeasure, she taps the center of her forehead. “You’re out, Eve. Give me five minutes. It’ll be better.” When she passes Claire on the way out, she nudges her again. “Return the call, Christopher. Some of us have important jobs.”

You have an important—

Claire moves to Eve. Brushes a hand through her hair and tucks it behind her ear. Meets her eyes and sees the slightest glimmer of blue sky beneath all that gray. “Liv’s going to keep an eye on you while I’m away. Don’t….” She doesn’t finish the sentence, just bends down and kisses her forehead again. “Stay safe.”

Claire hears it before she even gets there, hears the sound of her wife crying out as it echoes down the hallway toward her, louder as she draws closer – louder and clearer and she’s suddenly glad that the entire wing of this building belongs solely to Liv, that Liv has sent everyone away for the day – but she doesn’t want to think about Liv hearing this, about how much and how often and how loud—

“Claire!”

Her wife yells her name. That single word. Over and over and over again.

“Claire!”

Once she understands what Eve is saying, she races faster, harder, stronger – she hadn’t been on all those athletic teams in high school for nothing, and she hadn’t been keeping all of that up for nothing either – and throws open the door to Liv’s primary office with a huff. “What’s wrong?”

Liv glances up from her paperwork. “Nothing. This is part of the process.” She shuffles the papers. “Process would go faster if I knew who she was talking about, but I did deep search into all of her records and couldn’t find anyone—”

Claire pushes past her and into the lab where Eve sits curled up in one corner of the room, gently rocking herself. She sweeps Eve into her arms and holds her to her. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Claire,” Eve says, burying her head in her chest. “It was bad, it’s bad, it’s really bad, I can’t, I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” Claire repeats, running her hand along Eve’s hair. There’s a smell – bad – rising from her that wasn’t there before. Probably that’s part of the process, too. It would be nice if she knew what the process even was, but she doesn’t expect Liv to tell her what any of that is. But Eve’s warm now, too, so much warmer than she was before, so Claire settles as she rocks Eve against her. “You’re safe now. Nothing’s going to hurt you again.”

Eve nods against her and quiets.

But Claire can feel her tears wetting her shirt, and she glares up at Liv when she hears the soft clunk of her shoes on the cold tile. “You were supposed to help her—”

“Can’t help with something I don’t know.” Liv looks between the two of them, and her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. “Claire?”

Claire doesn’t say anything.

Liv nods once to herself, and to her credit, she doesn’t grin at the realization. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have that frustrating scientific expression of filing something away flicker across her face before she says with the barest hint of a smile, “No payment necessary.” Then, reconsidering, “Consider that payment enough.”

That should be comforting.

It isn’t comforting.

Liv goes back into her office and returns with another mug of coffee. “Here,” she says, holding it out to Eve. “This will help with the chill.”

Eve stares at the mug. Blinks twice. Then takes it in her hand easily. “Thank you, Liv. I don’t know what I’d do without—” Her words cut off, and she flinches before drinking. She doesn’t finish her sentence.

Claire doesn’t leave again.

The lab isn’t the best place to try and sleep, but if it isn’t the best for her, then it isn’t the best for Eve either. They curl up together with blankets and pillows that Liv provides. Liv doesn’t provide enough, but Claire makes her way through the other offices (ignoring the shadows she sometimes sees in the connecting lab rooms) and finds more. There’s enough to build a nest of sorts, and between what they’re given and what she finds, they survive. Curled up together, breathing in near unison, Eve mimicking the pattern of Claire’s breathing with her own.

Until she doesn’t.

When Claire wakes, Eve isn’t there. She panics, feels the thrill of fear like a stab through her chest, and startles, shoots up, lets her gaze sweep the room, and finds nothing. “Eve—”

“She’s in here,” Liv calls from the office. “We’re just having a nice chat.”

Claire doesn’t take time to straighten her rumpled shirt or find her tie, and she doesn’t make any apologies for the bedding she’d smuggled from the other rooms. She goes into the office, finds Eve sitting across from Liv as she normally does, with a mug of that apple cider coffee in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other.

Eve looks up at her. Blinks. Eyes that color of the bright blue sky. “Christopher? What are you doing here?” Her brow furrows. “Why are you in one of Liv’s lab rooms? She’s not running tests on you, is she? I told her that we were not available for any of her fun family games.” She bends forward, whispers. “They’re not fun, and they’re not games.”

“I was just.” Claire struggles to think of what to say.

“He needed a nap and just happened to be here, Eve. I thought this would be a good place to keep his people from finding him.” Liv lifts her own mug and coolly takes a sip. She gives Claire the slightest of nods. “Eve just got here. Seems she missed our little chats. But I’m in the middle of a few things, so if you’ll just take her with you….” Her voice trails off, but she meets Claire’s eyes briefly enough.

Enough.

Claire squeezes Eve’s shoulder gently. “I think we should get out of Liv’s hair, dear. We wouldn’t want to get lost in all that frizz.”

“Christopher—”

“No, no, he’s right.” A corner of Liv’s lips swerves upward in a haggard smile. “You wouldn’t want to get lost again.”

Eve’s brow furrows again, but she nods. “Well, I guess….” She pauses. “Rowena will want to see us, won’t she? I feel like something’s happened, but I can’t remember what.” She smiles and glances up at Claire. “Liv says I must have breathed something in on the way down here. Temporary memory loss. You’ll have to fill me in.” Her gaze moves to Claire, hardens the slightest bit. “You’ll turn whatever that thing is off before we leave, right, Liv?”

“Already done.” Liv taps her fingers on her desk. “But if you’ll have Christopher wait here for a moment. I need to discuss something with him before he leaves.”

“Oh. Of…of course.” Eve sets her mug down. Her head lilts ever so slightly. “Was it…was it me?” she asks gently. “Did…did something happen to me?”

Claire kisses her forehead again. “I’ll explain everything when we leave,” she says. “Just give me a few minutes with Liv.”

Eve nods and heads outside the office, taking the rest of her cookie with her. But there’s something…misplaced to her. Not off, not wrong, just…misplaced.

When Eve’s gone, Claire turns to Liv. “She’s—”

“As back to normal as she’ll ever be,” Liv completes for her. “You can take her back to that pretty little mansion of yours. She’ll be just fine.”

Claire nods. “Thank—”

“Don’t thank me.” Liv gives her a harsh look. “I’m a scientist. You paid me. I don’t need your thanks.” She glances outside, briefly focuses on Eve, and then glances back. “She won’t know to thank me. You won’t tell her that.”

“No.”

Claire considers in the silence, then says, “She was sick. Very, very sick. You gave her an experimental drug, and she got better. That’s all she needs to know.” She meets Liv’s eyes. “I can tell her that much, at least.”

Liv nods. “Sure.” Her gaze meets Claire’s, then, and hardens to steel. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Claire doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t have to.

Instead, Claire leaves the office and takes Eve’s hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze. “I missed you,” she says, and her throat tightens without thought.

Eve glances up at her, confused. “I wasn’t gone very long.”

“It felt like much longer.”

Eve nods, contemplating, and then says, “Not in one of Liv’s labs. They’re full of all sorts of—”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Claire never calls on Liv in that same manner again. Not because she doesn’t have a need for it, but because it seems to her better to not. Eve’s fine. Eve’s safe. That’s really all that matters.

It’s roughly a quarter of a century later, however, when Eve finds Liv, hair streaked with grey, and says in a dark, unnatural voice, “I know what you did for me. Now bring Claire back.”

Liv gives her half of a wolfish grin over a mug of apple spice coffee and says with a glint in her eye, “Now, Eve. You and I both know you’ll be able to do that yourself, won’t you?”

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espytalks · 1 year

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youtube

Sharing this cause i made this tonight, since i had everything i needed for this already.

The biggest changes are that i used chicken breast cut into chunks, i had a different hoisen sauce (which didnt matter in the end), and i only have regular soy sauce. Because chicken breast is leaner, i didnt have to skim off any fat like she did.

The only changes id make if i made this again is adding fresh garlic, and add some sort of veggie, like chopped peppers and onions, or peas and carrots. Aside from that, my family loved it.

#espy talks #i also used the last of some splenda brown sugar i had and used agave instead of honey #cause the goal is 'sweet asian-esque' flavors it doesnt matter too much the exaxct sweetener ya have #oh and i had some teriyaki sause. threw like a tablespoon in there too #did i have a recepie tag? ill have to look on desktop later

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softle0 · 6 months

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Agave apartments By softle0

This is the first part of my Agave apartments, I also made a renovated version, you can find them here

Lot details

Located in Oasis Springs

Lot type: Residential, Unfurnished, 20x15

Price: §58,984

Four apartments, 2 beds and 1 beds.

Important

This build contains very few cc and I also own all the packs, packs used are shown on the gallery.

Enable “bb.moveobjects on” before placing

Check the floor plan below

CC is included, thanks to all the creators.

Download

Gallery ID: lauraxoh (Enable custom content box)

Tray files

Don’t forget to tag me in your screenshots, I’d love to see what you do with the build!

Suggested floorplan and interiors

#ts4 #softle0 #simblr #the sims 4 #ts4 build download #ts4 lot download #download #ts4 gallery #cc build #my builds #ts4cc #sims build #ts4 build #sims 4 build

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writeblrcafe · 2 months

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Sixth prompt menu (March)

We are excited to present you our sixth prompt menu this March! This is our sweetest menu yet, consisting of five sugary companions for your drinks at writeblrcafé and sweetening our baked goods. So choose your sweet flavour and order a candied prompt from our menu!

Brown sugar: "If that's all it takes to kill a god, then how easy it must be to become one." by @basalamander-corner

Maple syrup: Write a description of one of your settings from the POV of at least two different characters, so you can see how their unique voices change how the setting appears to the reader. by @asablehart

Honey: Choose a song and write something inspired by that song. by @sadfragilegirl

Agave syrup: "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now." - "I can't. I'm sorry." by @basalamander-corner

White sugar cubes: Write about two characters having dinner, but they can't explicitly say what they want to say. by @asablehart

We encourage all forms of original writing. You can check out our other prompts here. Make sure to tag your piece of writing with #wcprompt within the first 5 tags and mention which prompt(s) you used. We will reblog every order!

Please reblog this post to spread the word in the writing community.

#wc.prompt #writing prompt #writing prompts #writeblr #writing community #writeblrcafe #writerscreed #writtenconsiderations #poeticstories #poetryportal #brokensoulsreborn #inspireamuse #savagewords

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tractym · 9 months

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Agave!

#agave #the bacchae #greek mythology #greek myth #euripides #art tag #artistic nudity

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Further to my Pedro Boys & Cocktails Ramble, here are some signature Javier Peña cocktails, inspired by our favourite surly DEA agent.

Again, there are no measurements, so you can make them as strong or as weak as you'd like. 🍹

If you make any, tag me in the pics as I'd love to see your creations. Cocktail images are a guideline reference as to what I would imagine they would look like based on the ingredients, but are not vebatim. Go nuts.

Drink responsibly, folks 🥴

Check out my previous Pedro Boys Rambles.

I'll mention this might be slightly NSFW due to my filthy, potty mouth cussing.

We'll just ignore the fact I've been spelling Laredo as Loredo... 🙃

The drink that started it all. 'The Loredo Legspreader.'

Clear gin, lemongrass, lemongrass syrup, fresh lime juice, red Thai chilli to garnish. Serve with a cigarette and a sour resting bitch face. Sweaty pink shirt optional.

'The Loredo Legspreader - Pink Shirt Version.'

Clear gin, raspberry syrup, pomegranate grenadine, fresh lemon juice, egg white froth to top and a lemon peel twist. Replace egg froth with Javi's own froth, if desired. Sweaty pink shirt mandatory.

'The Resting Bitch Face.'

Vodka, splash of dry vermouth, sugar syrup, pureed strawberries, cracked black pepper, strawberry and mint sprigs to garnish. Pout to your hearts content. Give everyone the finger. Especially Steve. 🖕🏻

'This Cat Pussy Is DEA.'

Tequila Blanco, agave nectar, thyme simple syrup, freshly squeezed orange juice, low cal soda. Garnish with fresh thyme sprigs and an orange slice. Salty rim optional. Don't worry, your pussy will be tangy enough on Javier's tongue, cariño. Miaow.

'Colombian Cunt Licker.'

Red layer: Alizé red passion liqueur, or substitute for any dark red liqueur.

Blue layer: Blue curaçao and lemonade/Sprite.

Yellow layer: Vodka and pineapple juice.

Pour slowly over the back of a spoon for each layer in order of the Colombian flag colours. Top with a pineapple chunk. Cuss wildly when it doesn't fucking work. Say screw it and mix it all up and spread your legs ready for Javier's tongue instead.

'The Papi Chulo.'

Vodka, peach schnapps, raspberry liqueur, pureed raspberries, sugar syrup, fresh lemon juice, raspberries to top. Then go visit your favourite hooker in Bogotá. Take plenty of cash. Get better the more you practice. Aye Papi.

'The Sweaty Javi.'

Gin, splash of tequila, sage bitters, grapefruit juice, freshly squeezed lemon juice, rosemary simple syrup, pinch of salt. Screw up your face with how tart this will taste. Then proceed to lick some sweaty collarbone for a refreshing alkaline relief.

'The Hillbilly Duck Hunter.'

Bourbon Whiskey, stewed and cooled black tea (loose leaf or bagged), citrus oil or lime juice, lime to garnish. Serve over ice. Get your shotgun and go quackers. Fuckin' hillbilly...

'Smoky Leather Jacket.'

Bourbon Whiskey, agave syrup, splash of cherry brandy, black cherry juice, seltzer water, black cherries to garnish. Serve over ice. Smoky and rich, just like that leather jacket. Lapel nuzzling optional, but encouraged. As is thigh riding on Javier whilst you drink it.

'The Peña Tenderloin.'

Bourbon whiskey, dash of orange bitters, peach syrup, peach schnapps, maraschino cherries and a grilled peach slice to top. Drink, then take a bite out of that tight, pert DEA agent ass like a piece of rare meat.

'Downright Un-American.'

Cooled green mint tea, maple syrup, clear gin, splash of apple schnapps, cucumber slices, soda or tonic water, freshly squeezed lime juice, mint leaves to top. Sleep with all the communists you can find and then act appalled about it when questioned.

'Nicotine Kiss.'

Dark rum, simple syrup, fresh lemon juice. Garnish with lemon wedge or peel. Proceed to chain smoke at least forty cigarettes before enjoying.

🖤

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #javier peña #jett's pedro boys #javier peña cocktails #the loredo legspreader #jett has spoken #javier peña narcos #pedro pascal narcos #narcos #javier pena #javi p #javi pena

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saradika · 6 months

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— what your aura quiz

this was so cute! I loved this quiz, thank you so much for the tags @mandoisapunk, @tinycozycomfort, @moonlight-prose, @ladyxskywalker! 💖

Seafoam

clear water, milkshakes, crystals, agave, candy dishes, converse, seashells.

you lose yourself in dreams and drift away from reality. happiness is easier when alone; your sensitivity has borne you too many scars to risk honesty again. your imagination and intuition help you dive deep into introspection, at the cost of truly unfurling. you are the dreamer. you are the wallflower. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of teal, jade, sky, and sage, who similarly value their authenticity. you are also drawn to the diligent honeysuckle and coral, who will help you grow and turn your thoughts to reality. however, you may struggle to get along with the stubborn personalities of pearl and tawny who have no room for contradiction.

(No pressure tags: @the-scandalorian, @celestianstars, @flightlessangelwings, @citrus-moonlight, @obiknights, @lcvenderblues, @heybluechild, @aerynwrites, @lowlights, @ifimayhaveaword, @0celesteisthebest0 & you 💖)

#the best this is my fave color #I saw others add photos and I wanted to do that too 💖#so sorry if you’ve been tagged!#I just love seeing everyone’s colors #uquiz

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aparticularbandit · 1 year

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Christmas Traditions

Summary: Eve isn’t huge on Christmas, but she loves decorating the tree. Inviting Agatha over to help might have been more than she can handle.

Eve Fletcher/Agatha Harkness

word count: 2616

Eve has never been a fan of Christmas.

Notably, this sounds odd. Eve is a very family focused person. Christmas tends to be a very family focused holiday. As far as she knows, most winter holidays are (this may not be true; Eve hasn’t really looked into that, but stores act like the winter holidays are family focused, so she makes assumptions). And, honestly, if it was just about spending time with Brendan, yeah, she’d be all behind it!

But, honestly, it’s almost worse than Thanksgiving. Ted’s parents expect to see them every year – no, they expect to see him; they really don’t care if Eve shows up or not – which means half of the time she’s sitting home, alone, drowning her sorrows in eggnog. It also means that Brendan returns annoyed and frustrated from seeing Ted and his new wife and Jon-Jon and seeing all of the attention directed to them, so why does he even have to be there in the first place? And….

That’s not even…that’s not even getting into the years of going to church in her best dress (always itchy, always so itchy) at midnight for Mass, occasionally meeting eyes with the cute boy sitting in the pew a few rows away and blushing, looking away whenever he glanced back at her.

(Eventually, when he became her first boyfriend, they would sit together, her hand held in his. She leaned her head on his shoulder and tried not to doze off, focusing on his tight grasp on her hand, on his thumb rubbing soothingly along her knuckles, knowing that when he tugged her upright, it was time to stand. Sometimes, she still misses him, misses sneaking kisses in secret corners of the church before joining their families, misses his easy, soft-spoken way with her. Sometimes, she catches herself wondering what he’s up to, and once – only once – she sent him a Facebook message to try and get back in contact.

He never answered.)

And after Mass, after Christmas morning, always regretting that her dad wasn’t there when he should have been and blaming herself for his disappearance, as though she’d played any part in that at all. Then, when Ted was gone, doing the same again – blaming herself for his disappearance – and knowing that Brendan must have felt the same way that she did when she was younger.

No, Eve is not a fan of Christmas, not a fan of the way it makes her feel.

Except—

You remember when we got this one?

Eve holds up a tiny little basketball ornament and hangs it up so that it catches the light, an equally bright grin on her face.

Brendan just rolls his eyes. Mom, duh. It’s got Christmas 2011 on it. He snags another ornament box, opening it and pulling out the protective stuffing.

You had just made your first middle school basketball team, Eve says, eyes glistening not with tears, she is not crying, nope, not at all. She sighs. You were so small—

Mom! Brendan gives her a little shove. I was not small—

—and I got this for you to commemorate. Eve’s smile softens, and she hangs the ornament not quite pride of place, because there are so many ornaments with so many memories, but certainly somewhere it will catch the light from the nearby fireplace so that it can gleam even brighter orange than it already does.

Brendan’s eyes, too, light up as he pulls his ornament out. Yeah, remember this one? He holds up an old shrinky dink ornament – a plastic Peter Pan he’d colored in bright red with a blue cap and dark brown hair, only noticeable as Peter Pan by the Disney caricature of him. I had SO much fun coloring these in! He grins. I should get a bunch for Lexa. We can make all sorts of them!

This, too, although good, brings pain in it. Eve knows she won’t have many more of these moments with her son. Even if his time in college so far had been complicated, and even if he was planning on going to Eastern for the new semester, and even if he was only just starting to try and hold down a job of his own – her little boy was growing up. She’d already dealt with the pain of this when she’d sent him off to college earlier this fall, but this…. She still gets this, for now, but eventually he would be somewhere else, sharing these traditions with someone else, and then she’d be—

The doorbell rings.

Maybe not so alone.

Hopefully.

I’ll get it, hon. You stay here. Eve pats Brendan’s shoulder and pretends not to see it when he turns to her, wide-eyed, and mouths Hon?

Eve doesn’t need to answer the door the same way that Agatha doesn’t need to knock – she’d given her a key shortly after she’d called her girlfriend for the first time, because if Agatha was going to be around as often as she was, and if that’s what they were, then it only made sense for her to have a key. (She pretends that it doesn’t hurt that she has never once been to Agatha’s house, pretends it doesn’t hurt that she doesn’t have a key there, too, and pretends that this is just Agatha still mourning over Cian and not an indicator that Agatha isn’t as invested in their relationship as she is. Eve does an awful lot of pretending) – but she answers it with a smile on her face that only brightens as she catches sight of Agatha in a thick violet peacoat, hair in frizzy waves past her shoulders, sprinkling of snow atop her head, tapping her boots on the welcome mat and bustling her black mittens together.

Let me in, babe. It’s cold outside.

Eve steps back just enough for Agatha to enter and shut the door behind her, then gestures upwards. You have to pay the toll.

Toll? Agatha raises an eyebrow and glances up at the sprig of mistletoe overhead. Hon, please tell me you don’t kiss everyone who comes inside. She leans forward. Please tell me you don’t kiss Brendan.

On the cheek! Eve says, frowning. She’d kiss his forehead if he wasn’t so tall, but she doesn’t say that.

Then Agatha wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, and Eve lets out a little squeak, face turning a bright red. Agatha just grins, brushes her nose against hers. You’re awfully cute when you squeak, dear.

Eve feels her face turn a brighter red.

Ew, Mom, do you have to do that while I’m here? Brendan calls from the living room, probably covering his face with one hand.

She has to pay the toll, Brendan! That’s what the mistletoe is for!

I told you, I hate that—

Agatha presses a hand to the back of her head and kisses her, and Eve stops paying attention to what Brendan is saying. Instead, she focuses on the softness of Agatha’s lips on hers, the cold of her that makes her gasp, the warmth of Agatha’s tongue as it moves through her now open mouth, the sweet cinnamon apple taste of her.

MOM.

When Agatha moves a hand from her hair, Eve doesn’t even have to look to know that she’s giving Brendan the bird. She places a hand on Agatha’s chest, fingers curled under, barely gripping her coat, as she parts from her. I love you.

Agatha just grins. We should leave that up all year.

NO, Brendan grumbles from the other room. Are you going to come help with the ornaments or not?

Eve steps back, away from her girlfriend, still blushing. We should. Um.

Go, go. Agatha makes a shooing gesture. Let me strip, and I’ll be right there, hon.

Fuck Agatha Harkness for putting it that way because it sends images into Eve’s mind that are absolutely not fair when Brendan is right there and she can’t take advantage of them. Her eyes widen, her blush grows darker, and she swallows once, hard. It doesn’t really help. You sure you don’t want me to take your coat for—

Mom, quit flirting and come help me.

Agatha leans over, whispers into her ear, Later, and pulls away, wrapping a finger through one of Eve’s loose curls.

Eve shivers. Suppresses another shiver. Swallows again. Forces herself back to the Christmas tree. Brendan gives her a look when she gets back, and she shakes her head. Don’t. She doesn’t continue, but does think, I put up with enough from you and your girlfriends that—

Hey, Scruffy! Brendan interrupts her train of thought by dragging out a small plush dog ornament. Or, it should have been a dog, except that it is so old it’s missing one of its ears and its tail. Still, Brendan holds it close against his chest, where it just fits. He was my favorite for, like, ever.

You used to pull him from the tree to sleep with him, I remember. Eve also remembers how much Brendan would cry when she told him it was time for Scruffy to go away until next winter. Ted had to step in once; after Ted left, she hadn’t had the heart to take him away.

Brendan snuggles the plush dog ornament close before hanging him up on the tree just out of Eve’s reach. Well, I don’t do that anymore.

A wistful smile crosses Eve’s lips. No, you don’t. She bends down to pull out another ornament before noticing that Agatha has stopped just a few feet away from them. Hon? She turns back to her. Something wrong?

Agatha should push a wry smile onto her face, should cross the distance between them and wrap her arms around Eve’s waist and place her head on her shoulder, should reach over and pull out an ornament of her own to hang on the tree. But she does none of that, instead stares at them, face growing ashen. I…. She wraps her arms around herself, standing alone. I really shouldn’t be here, I….

Eve crosses the distance between them when Agatha doesn’t. She searches her eyes, whispers, What’s wrong?

Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, babe, I just—

Don’t lie to me. Eve takes one of Agatha’s hands in her own. I love you. You don’t have to hide anything from me. I won’t be upset. She guides Agatha over to one side and repeats, voice still soft, What’s wrong?

Agatha glances over to the Christmas tree and then back, but she doesn’t meet Eve’s eyes. I should be doing this with Cian, she admits, voice so quiet Eve can barely hear it. I shouldn’t be here. I should be home. With them.

Eve takes a sharp breath in. Okay. She understands, almost. That first Christmas after her mother died, after she’d kicked Ted out (after he’d left), everything had felt wrong. Ted should have been there. Her mom should have been there. She was trying to fill in the absences they’d left behind by forcing herself to be cheerful for Brendan and pretend like everything would be the same, when it wouldn’t, ever again, and then collapsing into her bed after he’d fallen asleep and just crying.

It’s not the same as what Agatha lost with Cian, but it’s close.

What do you need from me? Eve asks, giving Agatha’s hand a squeeze. If this is too much for you, then—

I told you I’d be here.

It’s okay if you aren’t. Eve looks up at her, gives her as comforting a smile as she can muster. We’ll have next year, she says, not knowing that they won’t. And if you aren’t ready then, then—

Agatha slumps forward and leans her head on Eve’s shoulder. Thank you, dear, she mutters. For being so patient with me.

It’s okay, Eve repeats. She rubs a hand gentle along Agatha’s back. You take all the time that you need.

I’m not going anywhere.

Brendan chooses to take some time on Christmas Day to go visit Lexa and her family. It isn’t much – and it won’t be very long, since they haven’t known each other even barely a couple of weeks, but Lexa’s very open and welcoming in a way that Eve couldn’t have expected and Brendan certainly didn’t – which means that Eve has some free time to herself, time that, at one point in her life, she would have spent drowning her sorrows in eggnog.

Now, however, she barely sips at it, waiting for a certain knock on her front door.

This time, Agatha doesn’t knock, only opens the door with its ever-present creak, and shuts it behind her as she strips off her coat. She glances up at the mistletoe still dangling overhead, a little worse for wear, given how long it’s been there. Then she sighs.

All of this, Eve can see from her perch in the kitchen, eyes lighting once more as she sees her girlfriend. She slides from her seat. I have a present for you.

Agatha’s brows shoot up as she strides into the living room. What sort of present, dear? I’m not sure we have enough time for—

Not like that. Eve gives her a sharp look that quickly softens. That’s for later. Don’t get me started on—

Right. No starting anything I don’t want to finish. Agatha wraps her arms around Eve’s waist and tugs her towards her. You didn’t make me pay the toll.

Agatha—

But her playful tone doesn’t stop anything. Agatha leans down to give her a – chaste, what a tease – kiss before saying, voice low, What did you get me, babe?

Eve shivers. She kneels down – because she, too, can be a tease when she wants to be – and reaches over for one of the presents still wrapped under the tree. This one is in a small box covered with candy cane red and white stripes, and she holds it easily in one hand, running the other up Agatha’s leg as she stands. A present.

Agatha swallows. Then she takes the box in one hand, opens it, and furrows her brow. What is this?

Open it.

Inside of the box is another, smaller box, and when Agatha opens it, she pulls out a small ornament – a pair of pointe shoes etched in opalescent glass with a thin purple glass ribbon tying them together. Hon—

I thought you should have one, too, Eve says, suddenly worried. Brendan and I – you heard us – we…. We’re always remembering when we got ornaments or why, and I thought…if you had one, then it would…. She bites her lower lip, doesn’t know how to put it into words. It would help you feel like you belonged here, too.

Agatha’s eyes don’t move from the ornament, and she runs her fingers along the glass shoes. This is beautiful.

Eve nods. I thought…. She doesn’t finish the sentence. Do you like it?

In an easy motion, Agatha turns to the tree next to them. She doesn’t answer Eve’s question, only carefully hangs the ornament on an untaken branch just in the center of the tree. I think it looks best right there. She almost smiles. I’ll be able to see it from the door.

A sudden warmth pools in the center of Eve’s chest. Yeah. You will.

Agatha turns back to her, wraps one of her curls around her finger, and leans down for a much less chaste kiss. When she pulls back, she doesn’t say she loves her because she never does – never has – but Eve can feel it just as much now as she ever has.

Merry Christmas, Agatha Harkness.

You, too, Eve. Agatha kisses her again. You, too.

#bandit fic #agave fic #holiday fics 2022 #eve fletcher #agatha harkness #brendan fletcher #agave #agatha harkness x eve fletcher #eve fletcher x agatha harkness #mrs. fletcher #mcu #wandavision #claire is also in this actually #but i will not throw it in those tags

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animallover4000 · 26 days

Note

2, 9, 28 and 42 <3

Hiii august thank youuu!!!

2. Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it?

Hmmm I like both but I tend to only drink tea either when I'm sick or like if I'm in a teahouse or everyone else is drinking tea or smth. If I do I always add either honey or agave syrup to sweeten it and no milk. I do drink coffee but not a lot, I only drink it with lots of milk and sugar and usually something like caramel or vanilla syrup added (as you can see I like things sweet NOT bitter HAHA)

9. When is your birthday?

29th of november!

28. How are you, really?

I'm doing okay in general I think! I have a lotttt of college work that I'm procrastinating from and also very stressed about so that's kinda messing with my mood (besides the usual anxiety and anxious attachment struggles) but at least I'm on easter break right now so that's good!! Thank you for asking <3

42. Tag 5 of your favourite blogs

@suburbanlegnd

@weeping-in-the-willows

@cindereleanor

@andi-is-bored

@halucynator

@doyoujustnotwantto

Love you guysss <333

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bluejaysandblackbats · 14 days

Text

Eyes and Ears

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: An AU where Barbara finds Jason instead of Bruce.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Older SIbling Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Jason Todd is NOT Robin, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has a Crush, Adopted Siblings

Chapter Eight: See You In Therapy

Jason left his first therapy session on edge despite Jim reminding him several times that everything went as it should. "Did I say too much? I feel like I talked the whole time, and she barely said anything," Jason sped through his words anxiously as he wrung his hands. "Did she not like me?"

"Jason," Jim rested a hand on Jason's shoulder, "It's okay. She liked you just fine... And you're supposed to talk. It's therapy. She's just there to help."

"But she talked to you alone. What did she say?" Jason asked. He skipped to catch up with Jim's strides as he walked.

"Nothing bad. We were just making your second appointment. We can cancel it if you don't want to come back," Jim replied.

"I can come back. When do I have to come back?" Jason asked. Jim picked Jason up and threw him over his shoulder. Jason laughed. "Pop, when do I have to come back?"

"Two weeks from now," Jim replied as he carried Jason to the car. "Do you think you'll want to talk to her by yourself next time?" He let Jason down and unlocked the car doors. Jason stood on his tiptoes.

"If I say no, will you sit in with me again?" Jason asked.

"Just one more time, but by the third time, I think you should be okay," Jim replied, "I have to go away for a few days. Barbara promised she'd take care of you until I get back... But I got you this just in case you need—." Jim opened his glove box and gave Jason a gift.

Jason held the small box in his hands. "You got me a gift?" Jason asked. Jim nodded, and he motioned for Jason to open it. Jason carefully removed the wrapping paper and opened the box. "You got me a cellphone? Pop, you didn't have—."

"Jason, I wanted to... And now I can be at ease when I work late. Take it?" Jim asked. Jason nodded.

"Thanks, Pop... I just—. Thanks..." Jason didn't smile, and it wasn't until they both got home and Jason sped past Barbara to his room that Jim realized Jason was upset.

Barbara set her coffee aside. "Therapy was that bad?" she asked.

"No, therapy was fine... I mean, it could've been better, but that's not why he's upset with me... At least I think that's not the reason," Jim mumbled.

"Did you tell him you were leaving for the weekend?" Barbara asked.

Jim cursed before going to knock on Jason's door. "Hey, Jason, can I come in?" Jim asked. Jason opened the door and let Jim in. He sat on a chair and fiddled around with a model car Jason had on his desk. "Finally finished putting it together, huh?"

"Yeah," Jason answered as he lay on his back on the floor and fiddled around with a Rubik's cube, "You said you'd help me paint it when I was done."

"And I will when I get back. We'll make a whole day of it or however long it takes... Then we can start on the Thunderbird. Picked out any colors for the Thunderbird?" Jim asked. His voice was calm.

"Agave green, it's on the desk," Jason replied, "And desert sand for the Plymouth." Jim made a soft noise and nodded.

"Good taste. One of these days, when you're old enough, we might even fix you up a real muscle car," Jim replied. Jason took a deep breath and sat up.

"Do you really have to go for a few days? Can't you just take me with you?" Jason asked. Jim smiled a little half-smile.

"I could hide you in my suitcase... Or maybe my trunk," Jim suggested in a flat tone of voice. Jason failed to hold back his smile as he playfully slapped Jim's leg.

"I'm serious, stop," Jason laughed. Jim chuckled.

"I'd like to take you everywhere I go, but this is work. Jason, I'll be back before you can miss me—."

"Not possible," Jason replied seriously. Jim grinned and messed up Jason's hair. "I'm being serious."

"I know. That's why I'm smiling... I'm gonna let you in on a secret. I plan on retiring before you turn eighteen... I've planned on this before I even met you, but now I look forward to it," Jim whispered.

Jason leaned in and whispered, "Maine," in reply. Jim nodded.

"If you want, we can live on a boat, and you can go to college there if you wanna go to college—. Do you want to go to college?" Jim asked.

"I dunno, I'm only thirteen. I never thought about it," Jason replied.

Jim picked up Jason's model car a second time before standing up, and he whispered, "Well, now you can think of it. We'll talk about it in a few days. Oh, and I'm making dinner early tonight." Jason sat still, pondering over Jim's words, and he watched Jim leave the room. After Jim left the room, Barbara knocked and entered.

"Hey, Barbara," Jason mumbled. She sat down across from him on the floor.

"Cheer up, we're gonna have a great time. You can even go to the gym with me," Barbara whispered as she leaned in and winked. Jason smiled and nodded. "Thought that would cheer you up... And you can call me Babs... If you want to."

"You know, when I ran away, I wasn't gonna tell anyone about you. You can trust me," Jason whispered. Barbara hugged him.

"I know. Listen, you gotta trust us too. We're not going anywhere. Okay?" Barbara whispered. Jason held onto her.

"I dunno. I think I kind of like Barbie for you," he joked.

"Come get something to eat and stop being annoying," Barbara replied as she laughed. Jason grabbed her wrist as she stood up.

"Do you think I could get into a college someday?" Jason asked.

"What? Like it's hard?" Barbara asked with a big grin on her face. Jason blinked hard. "Oh, come on! You can't tell me you've never seen—. You've never seen it?"

"What is it something from the nineties? 'Cause I hate to break it to you, Babs—."

"It was 2001, and don't you dare call me old," Barbara replied.

Jason's voice went up an octave as he said, "I wasn't gonna call you old. I was gonna say I'm not as mature as you are."

"Oh, I can't stand you," she laughed as she stood up, and he followed her to the kitchen. Jason made himself a tuna sandwich.

"Want one, Pop?" Jason asked. Jim nodded. "Barbara?"

"Sure, why not," she replied. They all ate, standing at the kitchen island.

"I leave tomorrow morning," Jim whispered.

"Why so early?" Barbara asked.

"Long drive ahead, and I have to swing by and pick up Harvey," Jim replied. Jason frowned at the thought.

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