#( cosima picked up the phone. )

[burntlikethesun]

just finished the Orphan Black spin off pilot and Keeley Hawes is....

playing adult Keira ????? she fully picks up the phone to 'Aunt Cosima' lmaoooo

[taughtdefense]

you remain laser-focused as you land a variety of different punches & kicks at the training dummy, each hit perfectly in-sync with the loud music that’s playing in your ears thanks to your airpods. you’re alone in the dojo right now, so your defenses are down. not completely, but enough to throw caution to the wind. your duffle bag is on the edge of the mat, which holds a towel, your water bottle, your car keys, phone & a copy of the dojo keys kreese gave you on the second day of his takeover, & of course your earplugs. you’d swapped those for your airpods, put on a playlist, & got to training. you'd picked up on kreese's training style like it was nothing, & he's told you that he's impressed with your fearlessness & ferocity, & your ability to think five steps ahead of your current opponent. kyler's become a frequent punching bag opponent during sparring, & you take him down with a few precisely-placed moves, in less than five minutes, every single time. he's not the best student in the dojo, & you usurping that title from him ( not that he ever had that title to begin with ) has seriously fucked with his head. in your opinion, he needed to be humbled, to be knocked down a peg.

he's been getting more & more frustrated by your clear superiority in strength & knowledge in karate, & his emotions makes him stupid. you don't have that issue; by that, you mean you don't have to deal with your emotions getting the better of you during fights. you'd flipped your humanity switch off a long time ago, the second you created this universe. only miguel, tory, cosima, ciro & scarlett have an idea of what you're actually like... but with the rest of the valley, you're closed off. robby is included in that second list, because you're determined not to repeat history with him. it's why you've kept him at arms length & have barely looked his way since he joined cobra kai. you're not pissed at him like tory & scarlett are, you're just... frustratingly uninterested, like you want nothing to do with him.

it’s been two hours since today’s evening lesson wrapped up for the day, & everyone — including sensei kreese — have packed up & left the dojo. it's dark outside. the dojo is nice & quiet, which is honestly how you prefer it. there's not any distractions nearby that could pull you out of training, & you'd even silenced your notifications. you don’t tend to train this extensively, or this intensely. but, you knew you’d be bored at home, stuck inside with the rainstorm that's blowing through the valley, & had some extra energy to work off. so, here you are. you're barely even sweating, & you're not even feeling the slightest bit of exhaustion. ( your nonhuman stamina comes in handy. )

when the dojo's doors open & quickly shut, you don't cast a glance backwards, although you can tell it's only @taughtpain. you could lie to yourself & say you're happy to see him, but you're not. you land another three kicks to the dummy's head in rapid succession, using a little more strength on the third & final kick. the force causes the dummy to rattle violently in place for a handful of seconds, which you ignore. you simply switch your stance, aiming a quick punch at its chest. finally, you turn around, holding his gaze for a split second before pulling an airpod out of your ear, walking over to your phone to pause your music. there's a handful texts from tory & scarlett, which you'd ignored in favor of training. you begin replying, barely even glancing up at robby, like he's not right in front of you. after you hit send on the reply in the group chat, you toss your phone back onto your duffle bag, rolling your shoulders.

❝ if you're looking for sensei kreese, you're shit out of luck. they left a while ago. unless you're here to train, you can leave. ❞ dismission, boredom, & disinterest line your words, & your face conveys this perfectly. ❝ or, you can stay here & wait out the rainstorm with me, since you're already here. i don't fucking care. ❞

[cyberneticatoms]

Quill was frowning as he texted his brother Lio, he didn't care if he wanted to bring some girl to the party, but trying to invite their cousins was a recipe for disaster. Glancing up when Cosima walked back in he stood up and checked his phone. "Technically I didn't pick," he said confirming to the driver they'd be on their way down. He usually prefer to drive them, but he was willing to use one when necessary.

"Driver is downstairs with croissants and ice lattes from that French place you like," he said sliding his phone away and holding his arm out towards her, "I made reservations for us at the Latin Brunch spot in the Grand Treasure Plaza, bottomless mimosas and that waiter you like to make run back and forth, because and I quote. 'He has a cute butt', he listed off as he led her out of the building. "Though if you'd rather say fuck it to all that we can drive around until you see something you like."

She'd never made a move on Quill; she'd compliment him, and flounce around him as if he were her boyfriend if the moment called for it, but they hadn't ever even kissed. The way she acted around him though coupled with the way he did everything she asked probably had most people thinking they were at least friends with benefits. His hand was warm on her face, and she let out a soft, content sigh. For a moment she didn't look so completely diabolical. "Of course they do," she grinned at him, the devious look returning.

The shower wasn't short, but it wasn't as long as it could be. Her hair was still drying as she came into the living room. "So - brunch? Did you pick a place to go?" It was a trick question - Cosima had a few favorite spots, and she was trying to see if Quill had either guessed right, or decided to wait for her to make that decision.

[eruptiions]

@jcyfulmess​ S A I D  : “  ‘ Talk to me... ’ Delphine said, closing the distance between the two of them in their lab.”

cosima stood with her back to the familiar voice, unable to face the undoubtedly poised woman speaking just yet. she was hurt- she was in the worst pain imaginable.   ❝ and say what delphine?  i really don’t think you want to hear what i have to say right now. ❞ her tone is harsher than she anticipated, but it would at least get her point across. her hands were balled into fists, clutching onto whatever she had left of her sanity. cosima turned around abruptly, staring into the honey hues she’s always loved,  ❝ are you forgetting that you left me ? y-you showed up at felix’s door and broke me. . . ❞ her eyes are welling up with tears now, though whether that was from the conversation or the tightening in her lungs was anyone’s guess. the unfortunately intimate feeling of her lungs seizing up right now was the last thing she needed. cosima was trying to hold in her coughing, having taken off her canula briefly to give her a bit of a break. she tried to slow her breathing down as her voice came out raspy,  ❝ y-you should j-just go. ❞ her voice turned to a crackling mess as a cough erupted from her mouth. grabbing the spare tissue from her pocket cosima also reached for the cannula that was resting on the counter near her. she had been doing well recently, but she still had some days that weren’t great, and today was one of those days.

[inosuketingz]

the sheets are stained with blood [p.2]

( gif source rafikecoyote )

PART ONE [ PART TWO ] PART THREE PART FOUR Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: swearing, mentions of sex, violence, blood, spoilers for Birds of Prey Word Count: 1980 A/N: I promise I am not dead I just disappeared. I do plan on extended this fic to like far off places so if you want me to tag you in upcoming parts, feel free to ask!

 Victor’s knife digs deeper into your neck and you groan. His face isn’t an inch away from yours, his breath able to tickle your nose. 

 “I’ve got a special place on my back for you, Night Hex,” Zsasz insists. You roll your eyes. People only started to call Night Hex after your first few encounters with Wonder Woman. It just so happened that they all occurred during the night, and now you’re stuck with that shit hole of a super villain name. 

 You grab onto his arm and he instinctively tries to jerk it away, but your grip is tight as you chant “Mutanter et nos, mutanter et nos, mutanter et nos.” One of the first spells you ever learned- it allows you to swap positions with whoever is in your grasp.

 In the blink of an eye, you are standing where Zsasz stood, holding his knife into his neck. For a second a look of shock and confusion crosses his face until that shit-eating grin returns. 

“Spooky,” he mocks you.

 “I hate to rain on your parade, Mr. Zsasz, but I’m not in the mood to be another one of your slaughter animals.” You pull back, making sure to keep the weapon on you. “Maybe next time, though.”

  He doesn’t move from the wall and you watch him watch you, waiting for him to say something. You two share a moment of silence, VIctor staring you down with hooded eyes.

 You aren’t sure if you should get nervous right now. You could easily overpower him with one one of the plethora of spells you know. But, it’s not like you’re immortal or anything. All it takes is for him to grab the nearest sharp object to gut you- and you’re a goner. 

 “Why the hell are you here?” You question and quickly add “And how the hell did you get into my apartment?” 

 Again, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you watch him reach into the back pockets of his dress pants and you immediately slam his knife into his shoulder before he can pull anything out. A small, but joyful smile forms on your lips as you stare down at him. Your strength is in your witchcraft, not weapons. When your instinct led you to shove the knife into Zsasz’s skin, you were only about 50% sure you were strong enough to actually hurt him. 

 He looks  up at you as he pulls the object out of him. “You didn’t even let me answer, bitch.” And then he tries to lunge at you. Again- you are a witch. Not a weapons-master nor a body builder. From what you’ve heard about Zsasz, his strength is impressive for a normal human. One punch from him could knock you out. 

 Since you started practicing your witchcraft after turning 18, you found out there were a lot of pros and cons that came with it. Pros are; with the right spell, potion, ritual, or object- you are capable of doing practically anything. Cons are; these things take time. So in cases where a psycho is attacking you with a knife, and you don’t have time to say a three-line spell, you have to act from the top of your head. Usually not the best idea.

 And, in this scenario, as Zsasz’s hand’s only a little a couple of inches away from your face, your brain tells you to raise your leg and slam your foot on his groin as hard as you can. The chunky platform heels you’re wearing help with the effort. 

 Victor stumbles back, dropping the knife to cup his crotch in pain. You lurch for the weapon the second it slips out of his hand and shove Zsasz to the ground, straddling chest as his back hits the floor to keep him from moving. 

 Maybe dealing with Wonder Woman these past few years has its perks.

 Holding the knife up in warning, you repeat yourself “What do you want, Victor?”

 Again, he smiles. “So, you really don’t remember me, huh?” He, again, changed the subject. 

 “What?” You lowered your arm in confusion. “The fuck are you talking about?” A man like VIctor Zsasz is not one you could forget. But, he doesn’t let it go.

 “I mean, sure, it was a couple of years ago, but c’mon. I wasn’t that bad, was I?” He’s amused as he speaks. He knows the more ambiguity he says, the deeper he gets under your skin.

 You watch him chuckle and narrow your eyes in thought. Admittedly, your history is a long and fanatical one. Maybe you did come across Zsasz one time or another.

It's when he continues his monologue that the bulb in your brain finally lights up. “What was the name they gave you? Cosima or some shit?” 

 You struggle to come up with a reply. Cosima? In the least cliche way; you haven’t heard that name in years. Victor laughs at the shocked look on your face. “You do remember!” He feigns appreciation.

 Your parents never took too great of a liking to you. As they raised you and your twin sister, with the knowledge that only offspring becomes a witch, it was clear that they wanted that witch to be the latter, Talia. You couldn’t blame them, of course. You were a little shit, constantly hanging with the wrong crowds and causing chaos around the city. And then, you inherited the powers. They were angry about it. A month later Talia went missing. They became angrier.

 Their favoritism never really bothered you, and you and your sister were actually quite close. You didn’t take your sister’s disappearance well. What started as you stealing a few things from the corner store as a kid turned into sex, drugs, high theft, and more. 

 So, they kicked you out. For the first few months, you couch hopped from friend’s house to friend’s house. At this time, you had almost no experience with magic, so scamming your way through life using witchcraft wasn’t an option. Then, one of your friends proposed a job offer. She worked as a dancer at a gentlemen's club where there happened to be an opening. 

 Workers also got free housing, so you took the friend on her offer. You never imagined that you’d work as a stripper, but at that point- you were desperate for anything. 

 Rich men from all over the world came to the club, one of them being the rich Gotham entrepreneur Vikram Zsasz. He was well into his 40’s and brought with him a couple of employees for his company- as well as his 25 year old son, Victor Zsasz. 

 It was so hard to draw a connection to the Victor who lays cackling on your hardwood floor to the fresh-faced young man who visited that day. He was a completely different person, you wouldn’t have ever remembered it was him had he not mentioned it. 

 The younger Zsasz moved with energy and pride, like some arrogant frat boy. He was attractive, as he still is, with clear skin that lacked the tally marks that plague him now. When your boss escorted you and a few other girls to host the group of men, he was chugging a glass of scotch like juice, his platinum blonde hair styled in a messy side part. 

 You remember his attention always being on you as you sat with the party. You never thought much of it since there was always men and women lusting over you while you danced. His eyes watched you with adoration, unlike the disturbing leers he gives you now.

 You would have declined his offer when he asked you to spend the night with him had he been anyone else. But, he was hot and you were horny so you accepted.

 He was equally as cocky in bed as he was at the gentlemen’s club. He kept telling you to “lay back and let him do all the work”, something you didn’t have a problem with since it wasn’t like you planned on doing shit anyway. He attacked your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in days. The feeling of his tongue swirling against your clit and his fingers deep inside of you had you pulling at his hair. 

 When he inserted himself inside of you, you remember that he was rough. He took you from behind first and held you by your neck as he continuously ordered you to call him “Daddy” and praise his work on you. 

 For about two hours, all that filled the hotel room were your moans, his groans and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. 

 Your face warms and you feel yourself growing wet from the thought. You don’t even notice when he placed his hands on your thighs. 

 “Guess I wasn’t so bad after all, witch.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you’re reminded that the Victor you’re straddling isn’t the boy from your memories. 

 He’s an insane serial killer whose body count of corpses ascends over the Wayne Tower . A devil who lurks the streets of Gotham. One ready to take the lives of any that come too close to him, including you.

 You push yourself off of him. “Don’t call me that, dickhead.” 

 “What else should I call you? My little slut?” He sits up on his elbows and smiles when you roll your eyes. “Or maybe a fucking cocksucker? That’s what you are anyway-”

 “If you’re not here to kill me, stop wasting my time,” you cut him off. He’s trying to get into your head, with his twisted teasing and reminders. You’re not in the mood for any of it. 

  He glances at the stab wound on his shoulder. It wasn’t too deep, but his printed Versace dress shirt is stained with blood. “What, you’re not gonna help with Daddy’s wounds?” He taunts you.

~ ~ ~

 Zsasz moans in comfort as he slips into the bath. His arm was stiff since you actually did wrap his gash on his shoulder. You made sure you tied it too tight, so much so that it almost cut the circulation off his arms. But that didn’t matter. It’s the fact that you did it which he cares so much about it.

 He picks his phone from the pockets of his pants which he tossed on the bathroom floor while getting undressed. He opens the photo app and taps on an untitled folder. In it are images of you, ranging from low quality helicopter shots of your encounters with Wonder Woman to pictures he snapped of you from your apartment window without you knowing.

 When he saw you that day at the club, he was immediately fascinated with your looks. When he returned to Gotham, you were all that took up his mind. He was obsessed, but he lost you. You were hours away, in the dangerous parts of Boston without anyone to watch over you. 

 His parents died a few months after his encounter with you. After that, his depression led him to the gambling addiction where he lost it all to Oswald Cobblepot. He was ready to end it all when he met Roman. By then, he almost forgot about you until your face showed up on nationwide news one day as everyone dubbed you Wonder Woman’s new foe.

 He zooms in on a photo he had taken of you in the shower. Your breasts were nearly in full view, if it wasn’t for the stupid fucking plant you had in there that blocked much of the window. Zsasz smiles.

 He’s lost everything. He lost his parents in the car accident. He lost his fortune in the Gotham casino. He lost Roman to that bitch, Harley Quinn. He’s lost everything. Everything except you.

[littlehollyleaf]

(I had a really long, detailed version of this....... but Tumblr ate it D’: so this is... heavily abridged, sorry!)

Tagged by the ever lovely @castiel-saved-me-from-myself​ <3

pick 10 ships without reading the questions

Interesting... ok!

1. Dean/Cas (obviously)

2. Aziraphale/Crowley

3. Nygmobblepot

4. Foxma

5. Babitha

6. Amy/Rory

7. Nomi/Amanita

8. Eve/Flynn

9. Catradora

10. Cosima/Delphine

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?

I think I started shipping Amy/Rory during the Venice fish monster ep - cos that was when I felt Amy really did love him back and they had a future together. Before I suspected that her running away with the Doctor was a sign she and Rory weren’t right for each other.

2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?

Only read a handful of Ineffable fic. Overall I’m perfectly happy with the canon alone.

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr?

Yes I’ve had Foxma themed phone backgrounds and a tumblr header :)

4. If 7 were to suddenly break-up today, what would your reaction be?

Disbelief and disapproval. Nomi and Amanita were one of the great constants of Sense8 for me. I think a break up would be out of character for them tbh. Plus it would be denying the black and trans characters a rare example of a happy ending, which would suck.

5. Why is 1 so important?

I wrote such a detailed thing about how DeanCas is not only important to me personally but also how I feel it’s been important for TV/media in general... ugh, tumblr!

In a nutshell - this ship helped me better myself in various ways. It introduced me to fandom,  which boosted my confidence and independence via increased socialisation; it encouraged me to write more, which improved my writing skills; meta discussions educated me on lots of issues, inc. but not limited to abuse, sexuality, gender identit, autism and racism.

I also genuinely believe that the loud and open fandom support of the ship has been a significant help in the ongoing battle for more and better queer rep in media.

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?

Serious! Catra and Adora’s relationship is a core part of the whole show, relating to lots of the wider themes of abuse, toxic behaviour, growth and forgiveness. Plus the significance of a same sex romance involving the lead character in a CHILDREN’S CARTOON really cannot be overstated.

(but it is also cute and funny sometimes :p)

7. Out of all of the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?

I’ve spoken before about having issues with the concept of ‘chemistry.’ If I ship characters it’s usually because I find the combination of their characterisation and story arcs interesting/compelling. I often don’t notice (or I guess care about?) chemistry.

So I think I’m not qualified to answer this one.

8. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond?

Agreeing with @castiel-saved-me-from-myself​ here - you can’t really beat the Ineffables millenia long romance :)

9. How many times have you read/watched 8’s fandom?

I’ve rewatched The Librarians 2 or 3 times now. It’s DAFT. But it’s fun. And Eve and Flynn make me feel warm and fuzzy.

10. Which ship has lasted the longest?

Again, as @castiel-saved-me-from-myself​ said - it’s gotta be the Ineffables, both within AND outside of the story, since Good Omens was originally published over 30 years ago and the Zira/Crowley shippers have been going strong all that time. Otherwise it’s DeanCas.

(though idk if Catradora was a ship back when the original She Ra cartoon was airing, or when the original cartoon was made, so it’s possible that is also a contender!)

11. How many times, if ever, has 2 broken up?

Lol at @castiel-saved-me-from-myself​ for getting Nygmob for this one, as their relationship is, like, 90% break up :P

For the Ineffables though it’s basically just the once - when Zira chooses Heaven over Crowley. Not made such a Big Deal in the book IIRC, but in the show it’s the infamous Bandstand Break Up scene.

All other separations are only minor, temporary squabbles imo. Which is what makes the Bandstand scene so PAINFULLY, BEAUTIFULLY, ANGSTY AND EMOTIONAL and why I love it so! 

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?

I figure angels and demons probably can’t be killed by zombies, so the Ineffables are the most likely.

But Eve and Flynn did actually face off against zombie-ghost things in an alt universe during a whole Loom of Fate plot and survived, so I think they’d probably also make it.

13. Did 5 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?

No, Babs and Tabs were always open about being together, even when Tabs was also in a relationship with Butch.

I might argue they hid the depth of their feelings for each other though, even from themselves, and instead made out what they had together was just a casual ‘friends with benefits’ type thing.

Though Tabs did hide things a little when she sent assassins after Jim cos she blamed him for putting Babs in a coma. She clearly knew her brother would disappprove, which is why she didn’t tell him what she was doing. I guess that kinda counts as hiding her relationship with Babs? She was trying to conceal how much Babs mattered to her?

14. Is 4 still together?

Lol, Foxma were never together (ALAS!). But the show did end with their lingering fondness for each other intact I think.

15. Is 3 canon?

Is Nygmobblepot canon? Rather a touchy question for the fandom tbh.

If we are talking EXPLICIT canon - then no. 

They never got a kiss or a MUTUAL love declaration (and they had a controversial ‘we’re brothers’ exchange in the penultimate episode) - ergo there is not enough, imo, to say they ended the show officially romantically involved.

However, Ozzie DID EXPLICITLY DECLARE HIS ROMANTIC LOVE for Ed, and that was never rescinded. There is also LOTS OF SUBTEXT floating around Ed to imply he reciprocates. Plus they did end the show together as clear Partners in Crime.

So is Nygmob subtextual canon?

I would say yes.

But explicit, CANON canon?

A frustrating no that fandom remains, understandably, critical about.

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?

I think a toss up between Nygmob and Babitha - because everyone else has too many morals that would hold them back from killing :p

(and since Ed and Oz have both bested Babs and Tabs in the past I lean towards them... but it would depend on when in Gotham canon the games were happening!)

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 10’s ship?

Breaking up Cosima and Delphine was a LITERAL PLOT POINT of Orphan Black at one point, so very much yes! I forget the details (the show got very twisty, with lots of different organisations working on different agendas in the shadows), but I’m pretty sure Delphine was shot because she was protecting Cosima. I remember it BROKE MY HEART and I thought it was a casebook example of Bury Your Gays. But, spoiler: it wasn’t ;)

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?

Going with DeanCas, because I think that, historically, it’s the one that’s been in most need of defending.

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 1’s tumblr page?

Not anymore I’m afraid. Though 3 or so years ago I used to spend most of my free time on DeanCas and spn meta. Ah, nostalgia.

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she´d break them all forever, which ship would you sink?

Foxma. Because while I adore the idea of a messy, confused ~something between them, in my heart I know that Foxy deserves better :P

I was too tired to bother with tagging the first time I completed this - DEF not gonna bother now!

Play if you want - it’s fun :D

[do-not-call-me-meathead]

aposiopesis (part 7)

My Orphan Black fic on AO3

part 1  part 2  part 3  part 4  part 5  part 6

@agoddamnsupernova

Cosima felt restless at the Rabbit Hole. She received phone call after phone call from Delphine, but she declined every time. She knew that it wasn’t the blonde’s fault that Siobhan was dead, but she couldn’t help but still be furious at the woman. She wondered if there would have been something they could have done if Delphine had just been honest with everyone. She wondered if they could have saved her.

Siobhan.

(Besides, she also felt guilty. About Sarah and her unresolved feelings for the punk. She wondered if this was cheating.)

She wished she could have been at the funeral. She wished she could have been at the wake. She wished she could be holding hands with Sarah and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay. (And deep down, she needed reassurances too).

When she joined a group video call with Sarah, she wasn’t expecting more bad news. She hadn’t expected Helena to have been kidnapped or Gracie somehow being involved. She had hoped that with the release of all the Neolution shit to the public, they would have a chance to breathe. To cope. To heal.

Sarah sounded stressed, alert, and angry. She had already lost her mother. She couldn’t lose her twin too.

............

The plan was almost too insane, even for Cosima. Sarah was a talented con-artist, but Cosima couldn’t imagine that she could convince Mathieson that she was Rachel for that long of a period. She wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay but...

The waiting was the worst part. Her head swarmed with worst-case scenarios. She knew there was nothing she could do, but she felt like she was twiddling her thumbs while Sarah was risking her life. She just needed everyone to come back out alive.

She called Sarah shortly before she had to become Rachel Duncan. She sounded angry and frustrated as she talked about what she would do to John Mathieson if she could. Cosima tried to divert the conversation. She didn’t want that to be their last conversation if… something happened.

"Everyone’s riskin’ their lives for me."

“Actually, it’s technically for Helena, but sure. People love you, Sarah.”

She paused for a second. "I think Beth would do this. I hear her voice when I talk."

Cosima didn’t quite know what she meant by that, but it concerned her. “Sarah, you’re going to be alright. You’re going to grab our Sestra and get the hell out of there.”

"If we don’t get out, save the babies. Come back for them. Don’t let them grow up like we did, yeah?”

Cosima shuddered. This almost felt like a goodbye and she cringed that she moved their conversation to this horrifying point.

“Of course we will, Sarah, but you’ll save them.”

"Take Charlotte in, I dunno. Tell her our stories. Tell Kira--” her voice broke, “tell Kira about survival and love. Don’t let Cal take her away. She needs you all. She has to learn that sometimes, runnin’ ain’t the answer."

“God, please, Sar. Don’t talk like this. It’s going to all be fine.”

She heard Sarah force a chuckle and said, "Cheers, my favorite optimist." She hung up.

Cosima didn’t try to read that far into Sarah’s small speech as she waited for news on the mission with Felix, Delphine, Alison, Kira, Charlotte, and Donnie. They surrounded the phone, hoping for a call from Scott or Art or Sarah to tell them that everything was fine.

Occasionally, Alison would anxiously stand up and offer to get people food and water and would ramble about what it would be like to have two babies in her house. No one told her to stop. Or to continue. Everyone else just sat in silence, clinging near to each other, ready for the news that they could all breathe again.

Donnie kept trying to comfort his wife. She would accept his embrace only to quickly move away so that she could continue to pace and talk. He watched her carefully, ready to help her if she falls apart.

Cosima kept her head rested on Delphine’s shoulder. Delphine was calm in this situation. If she was terrified, she kept it all on the inside so that she could be there for Cosima. The dreaded scientist loved the blonde for that. She even forgot all about her misguided anger toward her. In those long moments, they were in love.

Kira, who knew vaguely about what was going on (Sarah told her about having to save Helena from bad people at Neolution), was sitting on Felix’s lap, her head laying gently on his chest. His legs were moving up and down with anxiety, but Kira didn’t seem to mind.

When they got the call, everyone jumped. It was Felix who answered, and after a few seconds, tears were running down his face ambiguously. Despite all of their angry pleas for him to tell them what was going on, he continued to talk to whoever was on the phone until they hung up.

Cosima felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, barely breathing. She knew she wouldn’t be able to breathe until she knew Sarah was alright.

Felix put his phone down and smiled. “That was Sarah. Everyone’s okay. They’re on the way to the hospital. Helena gave birth to two beautiful boys. They want us to meet them there.”

The cheers only lasted a few seconds; they were itching to see their family. They all ran to Alison’s minivan and chatted almost excitedly about what Helena’s sons would look like and act like and become.

Art, Scott, and Hell Wizard were there in the waiting room when they arrived, buzzing with cheer and hope. After hugs were spread around by all, Art tried to explain what happened. Helena killing Coady. Surviving guards and Enger. Sarah killing John Mathieson. Helena giving birth.

“The doctors tried to check Sarah out, but she didn’t let them, of course. Had to make sure that Helena and the babies were alright.” Art chuckled and added, “I can’t even tell the babies apart and I helped deliver them.”

One by one, they visited the two sets of twins. Both Helena and Sarah looked exhausted, but they couldn’t stop talking to each new visitor. Cosima noticed Helena’s motherly glow. But more than that, she noticed the shadow behind Sarah’s smile.

Sarah killed someone.

No one talked about it. Referenced it. Maybe even thought about it besides Cosima. She knew it was out of self defense, but she couldn’t imagine doing the act. Ever. She couldn’t imagine how the punk was feeling. She wanted to hold her until she felt alright.

“Sestra crazy-hairs, want to hold my baby?” Helena asked the scientist as she held out one of the sleeping babies as Alison and Sarah ogled the other baby.

“Oh, um,” Cosima was never really that comfortable with babies. Kira and Charlotte were about her maximum threshold. “I don’t--”

“Please,” Helena muttered with a tired smile. “I would like my babies to know all my sestras. They will not make same mistakes I did.”

“That won’t happen, meathead. Cos, I can help you if you’d like.”

Cosima nodded vehemently and Sarah grinned. She gently picked up the baby (as Helena stated, “do not call me this,”) with the orange booties and held him as she walked over to Cosima. It all looked so natural to Sarah as she held the baby in her arms. Like he belonged there.

“Look, he’s sleepin’. Not so scary, yeah?”

Cosima blushed slightly. “Obvs. I’m not scared, it's just like... memento mori, I guess.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “No more bloody science.”

“No, not science, Sarah. Not really. It’s a latin phrase. But you’re right. It’s not the place.”

“Don’t try to distract me with your brilliance, Cos. C’mon. He won’t bite. Not till he’s teethin’, at least.”

Alison mumbled in the background, “let’s hope they don’t have their mother’s hunger.”

Cosima lowered her voice so only Sarah could listen. “I’m afraid to drop him.”

Sarah moved closer to the scientist and said, “you won’t drop him. He’s your nephew, Niehaus. Precious cargo. You won’t. Hold your hands like this.”

Cosima tried to copy Sarah’s movements. She wasn’t quite comfortable, but Sarah placed the little human in her arms anyway. He weighed less than she had expected a baby to weigh. He barely even moved a muscle in her arms. She thought it was almost like he didn’t mind being there. But still, she didn’t like it.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah reassured her as Cosima passed her the baby back. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Yes, you will love it,” Helena agreed with a stiff head nod. “As much as you love the science.”

Cosima chuckled and looked at her family. Helena might have been right. She already did love them more than science.

.........................

Cosima flopped onto the bed and felt her head spin. The day seemed to ebb and flow with the change of time. Some moments felt excruciatingly slow, others felt like they were the speed of light. She almost jumped into a mind fuck about the non-existence of linear time when she felt a hand on her arm.

“You look happy,” Delphine commented as she laid down next to her and closed the space between them.

“It’s over, you know? Like actually. I mean, we have work to do with getting this cure to the other Ledas, but… I mean we can breathe.”

Delphine hummed in agreement. “End of an era, time to move on. A change of scene, yes?”

“I guess so. It means we can also be a family. Everyone can raise their kids in peace. Also, holy crap Helena’s a mom.”

Laughter flooded out of the blonde’s mouth. “She is. She will be a good one, I think. She has Alison and Sarah as good examples and help. They will be okay.”

“They all seem like natural mothers. And to me… babies are… uncomfortable. They’re so young and innocent. I mean, I can’t even talk about science with them yet.”

“But one day they will be old enough. Hopefully, Orange and Purple will have names by then.”

Cosima grinned. “Don’t you like the names? It’s like, non-traditional.”

Delphine smiled gently and told her, “You do love them. You just don’t like how vulnerable they are. That's what scares you."

Cosima nodded and wondered how Delphine could see straight through her sometimes. “It’s like… there’s no control. Anything can happen.”

“There are things out of your control, ma chérie. Death, life, love. This is something you can’t force. Which is why… I do not push you.”

Cosima inhaled deeply. The last thing she wanted was for this conversation to go this way. She was almost positive that she wanted to be with Delphine, but there was a sliver of doubt. Doubt seeded in the strong and confusing feelings she felt for Sarah.

Cosima kissed her. It felt good. She was used to her lips, her taste, her heat. She didn’t burn like Sarah. It was calm and comforting. Passionate but logical. Nothing like how it was with Sarah.

Holding Sarah. Touching Sarah. Kissing Sarah. It felt like being on fire.

“I love you, Delphine. I do. It’s just… I still need a few things to figure out, alright? In the meantime, can’t we just kiss a little?”

Delphine grinned. “We can always do a little more than a little.”

...................

Helena moved into Alison’s garage (Cosima even thought that Alison and Donnie were secretly thrilled to have her there). She and the babies seemed to fit in with the Hendrix’s. Besides, with all the attention Alison and Donnie gave the twins, it already seemed like raising them would be a joint effort.

Felix went to New York with plenty of success, leaving Sarah and Kira home with the possibility of them selling Siobhan’s house. Sarah had kept away most of the time from the family and clone club. Shortly after the birth of Helena’s twins, it became obvious that Sarah wasn’t okay. The happiness that the war was over quickly ran out and reality stepped in. They had to keep living with all the terrible things that they had gone through. They had to live with what they had to do to survive.

She became touchy at any mention of anyone helping her. Even with trying to get her GED. Those were practically the only moments that Cosima got to spend with her. Through video chat and studying.

Not that Cosima could really blame her. They hadn’t seriously spoken since their strange nights together in Sarah's bed. There was still something there, something unspoken between them, but neither of them talked about it. Especially with Delphine being there in the picture.

When Cosima moved into Delphine’s apartment, Sarah pulled away even farther. Charlotte split her time between Art’s and Cosima’s. The scientist might have not been great with babies, but her bond to her genetic identical was unmistakable. Delphine wasn’t too happy that her tiny apartment was now being shared with more than one person, though she had told Cosima her restlessness resided in the fact that there was not enough room in the apartment. Delphine offered to find a new place to live, but that conversation terrified Cosima.

Felix had called her the day before he was going to return home from New York.

"How’s Sarah?" He asked her as if he thought they were constantly communicating.

“I’m not sure,” Cosima confessed as she headed for a different bedroom so that they could talk privately. “We don't… she’s avoiding me. Avoiding everyone.”

Felix breathed out, sounding stressed. "I’m worried. This is what she’s like before she runs."

“You think she’ll run?”

"I think she wants to. We gotta convince her not to. This is her home."

She said she would try, but to be honest, she was terrified to have a real conversation with her. She was afraid she would just admit something she still didn't understand. She was afraid she would admit that there were some moments where she still just wanted to kiss her.

Felix’s words about her messing with Sarah replayed in her mind. It took everything to not say something. To Sarah or even Delphine. She thought staying away from Sarah would be good for both of them. But she knew she couldn’t avoid her any longer.

Cosima stared at the ‘For Sale’ sign in front of the house that Cosima had loved, even if she hadn’t spent much time there. This is what she’s like before she runs. Cosima shivered. She couldn’t imagine her life without the punk.

It was Kira who opened the door and immediately embraced her. Cosima held her and squeezed her tightly. She felt like she hadn’t seen her in such a long while. It made her feel guilty.

“Hey, monkey. Whatcha up to?”

Kira shrugged with a kind of sadness that Cosima hadn’t been expecting. “Packing mostly. Mum’s in the shower, but she’ll be out in a second. C’mon inside.”

There were boxes everywhere when Cosima entered the house. She gulped. This is what she’s like before she runs. 

“Kira, are you excited to see all your cousins at the baby shower tomorrow?” Cosima asked and sat down on the couch with the young girl.

Kira nodded vigorously. “I can’t wait to go to Auntie Alison’s. Mum doesn’t really… go out. Art sometimes brings over Charlotte and sometimes Auntie Alison comes over but… mum’s really lonely.”

Cosima chewed on her lip. She felt like this was her fault. She knew this was her fault. She thought the separation would be good. That they’d be able to one day come together without any feelings.

“Kira, I should have come over more often. I’ll do that now, okay?”

The young girl shrugged and looked down at her feet. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving soon.”

This is what she’s like before she runs.

“How soon?”

“I don’t know. Mum wants to leave.”

“Do you?”

Kira shook her head. “But I want her to be happy. She’s not… I can feel her. Something’s wrong. With you too, Auntie Cosima.”

Cosima tilted her head. “What?”

“There’s something missing,” Kira explained and rested her head on Cosima’s lap. “You miss my mum and she misses you.”

“Cosima?” Sarah called out as she stood on the stairs wearing only a tank top and short shorts, her hair dripping slowly onto the hardwood floors. “What the bloody hell are you doin’ here?”

Cosima immediately stood up. Sarah looked pale, skinny, hollow. This wasn’t new for the punk, but it worried the scientist that she was still like this, even after everything was over.

“I wanted to see both of you. I--what are you bringing to Alison’s tomorrow?”

Sarah almost smirked. “She told me to just bring the alcohol. ‘Parently I’m not even allowed near the kitchen.”

“Alison’ll want to do all the cooking anyway,” Cosima chuckled awkwardly. “I one time made a cheese dip and she flipped. But hey, man, at least we don’t have to cook. You won’t have that much time with your test tomorrow anyway. Do you want to study--?”

“Actually, we gotta do some packin’. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh,” Cosima muttered, realizing that Sarah was trying to get her out of the house. “Yeah, of course. Don’t want to distract you. But um, I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? Maybe Helena’s come up with some names.”

Sarah nodded and then began to walk back upstairs. Obviously, Cosima wasn’t welcome. Which didn’t surprise the scientist since she was the one who abandoned Sarah so that she could continue to love Delphine.

..............

Sarah didn’t smile. There were moments where she tried, when she pretended, but she couldn’t fool Cosima. Actually, she couldn’t fool anyone. It was almost as if everyone had reached their threshold with staying silent about her. There was so much worry, so much concern.

She heard Sarah and Alison talk about Helena and the twins, but Sarah looked lost in the conversation.

Art was probably the brave one. “How are you doing, Sestra?”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not.”

He broke the silence and everyone sighed from relief. Sarah looked frustrated, annoyed, maybe even a little angry.

“Well, what is this we hear about a 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn?” Alison asked her with more guts that Cosima would have expected.

Sarah groaned. “You know that we were thinking about that.”

The soccer mom narrowed her eyes at the punk. “Playdates, the kids. Gemma, Kira, Charlotte, Maya, they’re all bonding. They like each other.” Donnie tried to butt in with saying his wife’s name, but she ignored him. “You know they’re having fun. What? What? This is what we fought for, right? To be sisters? It’s a good thing.”

Cosima knew that was a big deal for Alison to say something like that. She knew that the soccer mom cared about the other sestras, but at the beginning, she knew that Alison didn’t want to be a part of it all. She didn’t want to know her clones. They were all nuisances in her life. But now, she loved them. She wanted to be with them. It broke Cosima’s heart.

Sarah looked torn between emotions. “Yeah, it’s good. We just need a change. Freedom looks different to everyone.”

Alison sighed sympathetically. “Honey, we feel your loss. But Kira has cousins now.”

Rage flooded Sarah’s face and Cosima knew she was going to blow. “She has a stable home in the house where her grandmother was shot dead! Alison, take a bloody cue for once!” Her loud words echoed through the walls and she frowned as she saw Alison’s reaction. She lowered her voice and looked upset with herself. “Sorry.”

She got up and left the room. Alison mouthed that she was sorry to the rest of the group, but no one blamed her. Someone needed to say something. Even if it was kind of harsh.

Cosima barely thought about it. She followed Sarah outside and found her brooding on a chair. She wanted to wrap her arms around her, hold her tight, beg her to stay and believe in herself again. Believe in Cosima.

But she didn’t do any of that.

“Is it cool if I chill with you?”

Sarah barely reacted.

Alison came out, apologetic. Sarah reacted, apologetic. Helena joined them, worried. Sarah reacted, trying to hang on.

“I didn’t go to my test,” Sarah confessed after a few moments. Cosima wanted to tell her that it was alright, that she could try again, but Sarah surprisingly continued. “That’s good, innit? Lyin’ to my own kid. Same shit.” Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. Cosima wanted to hold her. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I carry around all these mistakes… I don’t know how to be happy.” She was crying and her voice was shaking. Cosima just wanted-- “There’s no one left to fight, and I’m still a shit mum.”

Cosima wanted to argue with her. Tell her that she was wrong. Tell her that she was a good mom and that they’d be there for her. Love her. Help her.

Alison beat her to it. “You know the other day, Gemma was driving me so crazy. I screamed at her, I said, ‘If you don’t clean up your room, I am going to string you up by your thumbs and stuff your dirty damn sock balls in your mouth.’ And I meant it. I scared her.”

And before she knew it, Helena started talking too. “Every time I look, the baby’s eating sand. I turn around, sand. Where does this sand come from? I don’t know. So, I let them eat it.”

“What?” Alison asked as everyone else laughed at Helena’s confession.

Finally, Cosima added, “Did you guys see how panicked I got when Felix handed me the baby earlier? Like, I am just not maternal at all. And that makes me wonder, like, am I selfish or am I scared? You know? We’re all scared, Sarah.”

“Yes, and we all make mistakes.”

Alison muttered, “God, I was a drug dealer, for pete’s sake.”

As they laughed at that horrible memory (Cosima specifically thought about having to pretend to be Alison because she had messed up with her bag of pills), Felix waltzed into the backyard with an unmistakable cheeky grin.

“Don’t you all look cozy. Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I got something for all of you.”

Everyone tried to look at the paper he was holding dramatically to his chest.

“What’s that?”

Felix smirked. “See for yourself.”

Cosima thought that her eyes had suddenly failed her. Or that she was imagining this. She never ever thought she would have this.

“Holy shit, is that a complete list of the Leda sisters?” Cosima asked him.

“Yeah,” Felix told her with confidence.

“Where did you get this?”

“Uh, I’ve got a good guess,” Sarah murmured as the realization hit Cosima. Rachel. 

“Oxana Petrov, Colista Popoudokis, this is musical histories, physicians, contacts, addresses. This is everything we need to cure the Ledas.”

Sarah muttered, “Christ, that’s 274 of us.”

They all took a few minutes to let that all sink in. For years they had to battle for their freedom. These hundreds of people would never have any clue what they did for them. What they would do for them.

After a few seconds, Helena pulled out a notebook of some sort. Sarah recognized it as her memoirs.

“I finished my book,” Helena announced with a proud smile. “It’s a story about my sestras. I call it Orphan Black."

No one really knew how to react to that. Cosima shared questioning laughs with Sarah, though she did like the title. They were all orphans, though, not so much anymore.

“We’re not black,” Alison mentioned, causing everyone to laugh even harder and facepalm because of course, Alison would say that.

“Shut up,” Helena eventually commanded, tired of everyone’s shit. “Listen, I will translate from Ukrainian.” She opened the book and began to read. “‘My story is an embroidery with many beginnings and no end. But I will start with the thread of my sestra, Sarah, who stepped off a train one day and met herself…’”

Helena continued into all hours of the night. The sestras all listened intently, laughing, crying, holding each other during reminders of all the terrifying shit they had to go through. Some things even Cosima didn’t know about, especially the moments between Sarah and Helena.

She squeezed Sarah’s hand. She didn’t know when they joined hands or how it occurred, but she refused to let go, even when Helena fell asleep reading and everyone else besides the two of them were snoring.

“There’s no way I’m sleepin’ on a chair outside,” Sarah grumbled as she tried to push her twin off of her legs.

“It’s sweet,” Cosima commented brightly as she looked around at the sestras. “This is peace, Sarah.” She paused as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes as they did months ago on the bed in the Rabbit Hole. “I’m sorry for… abandoning you in the last couple of weeks. It’s like, totally not fair.”

Sarah looked down at Helena’s bushy hair and started playing with it, avoiding the scientist’s stare. “I get it, Cos. You’re busy. And… I’ve made things weird. Kissin’ you and… wantin’..." she trailed off before she continued, “I know you’re with Delphine and I’m happy for you.”

Cosima felt her heart drop. “I want to be completely honest with you, Sarah, because I think we both deserve that. And I know what I’m going to say probably won't make much sense but… I love Delphine, I do. But you? Sarah. The connection, it’s… you’re different to me. I don't know how to explain it.”

Sarah nodded, not looking thrilled or upset. “I get it. M’not lookin’ for anything, yeah? You don’t… I’ll be fine.”

Cosima nodded and tried to believe it. “Look, all I know is that I need you in my life. I need you like… like I need the sun, okay? You are so important to me. I just… need to figure out the rest.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

Cosima’s heart lurched and she almost jumped from her seat with excitement. “So you’re staying?”

Sarah looked all around at her sleeping sestras (and brother) and said, “How could I leave all of this?”

Cosima grinned. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Well, I am fun to have around. Always cheery,” Sarah replied sarcastically.

Cosima snorted. “You’re becoming delirious. Go to sleep.”

“Tell me a story?”

Cosima smiled. “Hmmm. How about the story of Cupid and Psyche?"

-------------

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and let me know if you want to be tagged!

[trashyeggroll]

But what if Bo dies first? I feel because of the human thing everyone suspects Lauren will go first but Bo fights bad guys frequently so she could go first technically. As for Cophine no # but does Cosima ever learn French so she knows what Delphine is yelling when angerly picking up Cosima's clothes or does she nod like she understands while having Sarah on speaker phone texting her back what things mean? I could totally see Cosima only knowing select words - mainly sexual. Ha.

But what if Bo dies f—

Why would you hurt me like that, with your logical and reasonable suggestion? Why rip out my heart and stomp on it like an anon GRRM? But I guess it only feels worse bc it’s unexpected.

Cosima definitely puts her phone on speaker when Delphine’s on a French-language tear around the house so Sarah can text her the good stuff. I love that concept!

[the-claire-bitch-project]

Carve - 2 - S.M.

Summary: In which a bartender takes home a very drunk regular

Pairing: Bartender!Shawn x Ski Instructor!OC

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Swearing, innuendo, drunkenness

Moodboard by @heavenly---holland

Stevie giggled. She only giggled when she was drunk. Stevie was very drunk. Where were her keys? She dug in her jacket pocket. She dug in all her jacket pockets, found them in the right front one. Whoops. She bent down to pick them up but the world was spinning and once she was halfway there she felt a wave of dizziness course through her.

“I’ve got them.”

Wait, whose voice was that? Whose hand was that? Someone was picking up her keys. Stevie’s vision focused on a bird. Why was there a bird? A drawing of a bird. It didn’t make any sense. She pushed herself up on the door frame and leaned her cheek against the cool wood. She could sleep here, that was allowed, right? Nope, she fell forward as the door swung open.

“Whoops,” she giggled again. A pair of hands caught her waist as she stumbled.

“I gotcha,” the same voice said.

“Who’re you?” Stevie slurred as she reached out, fumbling for the light switch by the door.

“Still me, Stevie.” Stevie recognized the way he said her name. Nobody called her Stevie except Cosima, and this person was far too large and warm to be Cosima.

“Shawn,” she said with a crooked smile, reaching out for him. “Hi,” she said quietly, not sure she could say anything else as she looked up at his face. It was like tunnel vision. Just Shawn’s face.

“Hi there,” he chuckled, walking backwards and guiding her into the kitchen. He settled her up against the counter and flipped various light switches until he found one that illuminated the room. Stevie blinked hard against the light. She swayed, trying to keep her eyes open and her feet under her as she watched Shawn open cabinets. His shoulders flexed and stretched under his t-shirt. Stevie stared. She was drunk. That was a good excuse. She couldn’t help that he’d positioned her right where she could stare at him. He was so pretty.

“C’mon, drink some water.” Oh God, he was back. He put one hand under her chin and tilted a glass to her lips. She gulped the cold water gratefully. It cleared her head a lot.

“Thank you,” Stevie managed, taking in big gasping breaths. Shawn smiled a toothy, slightly crooked smile. What a pretty smile. “Did Andrew tell you to bring me home?”

“Yep,” Shawn held up his phone, “just texted him that I got you into your apartment.” “How’d you know where I live?”

“He gave me directions. Said it was above Sherrie’s.”

Shawn placed one hand on the counter next to Stevie. She wanted to lean into him. His warmth was drawing her in. Instead she tugged on her jacket, trying to get it off, but it was stuck. Why wouldn’t it come off?

“Let me help,” Shawn offered softly. He gently turned her away from him and pulled her jacket from her shoulders. Stevie rubbed her temples as she watched him hang it on the coat rack by the door.

Suddenly her stupor was broken by a scratching sound coming from her closed bedroom door. Shawn jumped about half a mile.

“What was that?”

Stevie giggled at his expression. “Probably Sleeper,” she told him as matter-of-factly as a drunk could.

“Sleeper?”

“My dog, silly,” Stevie giggled. She stumbled to the door and opened it. A soft whine came from Sleeper as he darted out and rolled over on his back for some belly rubs. “C’mon,” Stevie waved Shawn over, plopping down to give Sleeper all the scratches he deserved. “He’s never met a stranger.”

“I’m good here,” Shawn said shortly, leaning on the kitchen counter to watch. He rubbed his face in his hands as Stevie cooed to her dog.

“Who’s a good boy? Very good boy, Sleeper. Didja sleep all day? What a good boy!” She turned to Shawn and said in a normal, if not slurred, voice  “He really is the nicest dog. Not scary at all.”

Shawn shook his head. “I’m not afraid of him,” he assured her. Stevie paused. Her drunk brain trying to process why someone wouldn’t want to pet her lovely German Shepherd-Husky mix.

“Then what,” she swallowed, “why don’t you want to pet him?” She looked up at Shawn. He was a little blurry from far away, but he was there. Still chiseled. Still smiling.

“Allergies.” He shrugged. Of course. Everyone had to have a flaw. Shawn’s flaw was that he couldn’t be with a dog person. Stevie’s shoulders sank.

“Of course,” she groaned. “There had to be something wrong with you.”

“Wrong with me?” Shawn laughed. His eyes crinkled when he laughed. Maybe she could make him laugh more just to see his face do that again.

“Yes,” she gestured towards him while still scratching Sleeper. “You come in here all perfect body, perfect hair, charming as hell, it’s fucking disgusting.”

“You think I’m perfect?”

Stevie looked up at him. He had his chin perched on his hand, smirking down at her. A good-natured glint in his eyes.

“I think you’re so perfect it hurts to look at you,” Stevie told him, with an eye roll. She returned to scratching Sleeper’s belly. His paws lolled in the air.

“Is it just how I look or—?” Shawn came around the island. He folded his arms. Even under his jacket Stevie could imagine the muscle definition he had.

“I—“ Stevie opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “I guess I don’t know you well enough to make a judgement otherwise.”

Shawn was silent for a moment. Stevie watched him, letting her eyes flick over his arms, the tattoos on his hand and forearm. Maybe when she was sober and could remember it, she’d ask him to tell her about them. She liked his voice. He was quiet, but, she could get him talking if she wanted.

“I—“

Before Shawn could get a word out, Stevie’s phone rang in her pocket and she fished it out, balancing it between her shoulder and ear.

“Hey Mom,” she greeted, continuing to scratch Sleeper’s belly as his feet waved in the air. “No I’ve just been at The Pub...yeah...how’s Dad? ...good, I’m glad he’s sleeping...what did Dr. Gorenkoff say? ...Yeah I’m eating enough. I have some pasta in the fridge...I promise I’ll eat before bed...no I’m alone...Sleeper’s been out. Peter took him...my neck is fine...I got the Tiger Balm you sent...yeah, thanks Mom...Love you...yes Mom...okay...bye Mom...Love you...Bye.”

Stevie stood up, with some difficulty, and placed her phone on the counter. She put her face in her hands with a sigh, then peeked up at Shawn through her fingers.

“Alone huh?” he asked with a chuckle.

“If I said there was a boy here I would’ve gotten fifty more questions,” Stevie admitted. Shawn smiled at her.

“I actually have some,” he said, “if you don’t mind.”

“I’m an open book,” Stevie assured him.

“Why did you ask about a doctor?”

Stevie slumped. Shawn caught her by the arms and lowered her gently to the floor. They sat with their backs against the wall. Sleeper crept over and pushed his snout under Stevie’s arm. She stroked his head.

“Sorry,” Shawn said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, I—“ Stevie leaned into Shawn’s shoulder instinctively. “I got dizzy,” she explained lamely.

“You’re okay,” Shawn assured her. “You want more water?” He started to get up.

“No!” Stevie grabbed his hand. “I— I actually want you to sit with me. I like talking to you,” she admitted. She slipped her fingers into his. His hands were big and warm and comforting. She didn’t know why she felt so drawn to him, but she was sure half of it was alcohol. “My dad’s sick,” she sniffed. “It’s his lungs. I—“ she swallowed. Shawn hadn’t moved or reacted except to squeeze her hand. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What would your mom have asked if you told her I was here?” Shawn filled the silence with a distracting question. Stevie laughed.

“What’s his name?” she imitated her mom’s voice, “is he Jewish? What does he do? Does he vote?”

“Shawn, no, bartends, in Canada,” Shawn chuckled. “So you’re Jewish?”

“Did you not gather that from the fact that my last name is Levitsky and I wear a Star of David necklace?” Stevie teased. “It took my mom calling to check up on me?”

“I think it was how much alcohol you drank that tipped me off,” Shawn laughed.

Stevie scrunched up her nose. “Is that a Jewish stereotype?”

“A Russian one, maybe.” Shawn shrugged.

“Hm, I’ll take it,” Stevie sighed. “We’re totally stereotypical sometimes.”

“I’m a polite Canadian who plays hockey,” Shawn admitted. Stevie turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, like he was having some sort of existential crisis about it.

“You play hockey?”

Shawn nodded. “I did,” he sighed. “In high school, I played forward until,” he trailed off.

“Until?” Stevie nudged him.

“Until I didn’t,” Shawn finished, his eyes wide. Stevie didn’t press him. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder instead, noticing that his muscle formed a soft pillow for her. He didn’t tense up under her touch, just leaned his cheek against the top of her head in silent acknowledgement.

“There’s a pickup game every Wednesday,” Stevie said suddenly. “Hockey I mean,” she explained, pulling away to look at him. “If you wanted to just play for fun. One of my dad’s employees, Peter, he plays.”

Shawn brightened up a bit. “I’ll check it out,” he promised. They sat in silence for a bit before he asked, “What’s Tiger Balm?”

“It’s this smelly stuff for like bruises and aches,” Stevie laughed. She reached up above her head and felt blindly around on the counter before retrieving a small container. When she twisted it open, the smell of menthol immediately filled the room. Stronger than Icy Hot, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“You put it on your neck?” Shawn asked, reaching for the vial and raising it to his nose to smell.

Stevie laughed. “Yeah well, the other day I kind of gave myself whiplash,” she admitted. “I planted my pole before I’d completely stopped and just somersaulted onto my face.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah so my neck has been sore and my mom sent me the Tiger Balm through Amazon,” Stevie explained. She took the container back and sighed. “It’s been bothering me for a few days.”

“Do—” Shawn held out his hand, “do you want me to rub your neck?” Stevie turned to look at him. “I just, I might have a better angle than you.” He shrugged. Stevie blinked and smiled.

“Yeah, um,” she stammered, “that would be great.”

“Okay,” Shawn nodded. He opened his legs and patted the ground between them. “C’mere,” he urged with a grin. Stevie didn’t hesitate. She clambered over his thigh and sat criss-cross between his legs, trying to drop her shoulders and relax her neck. Her head rolled forward, her curls falling over her cheeks. She reached up to brush them aside.

“It’s the left side,” she explained, quickly tying her hair up on top of her head with the ponytail holder on her wrist.

“I got you,” Shawn said softly. His thighs were warm pressed against her legs. The menthol smell filled the air as Shawn worked the balm between his fingertips so it wouldn’t be cold on her skin. Stevie’s eyes fluttered shut as Shawn’s hands settled on her neck, ever so gently spreading the thick balm across her skin. Her mouth fell open as his thumbs dug deep into her trap muscle, long fingers spreading over her shoulders as he worked the knot on her neck.

“Fuck,” she muttered, feeling the knot crunch under his fingers.

“Fuck is right,” Shawn grunted. “Damn, you’re so tight.” Stevie snickered at his unintentional innuendo, and felt Shawn laughing silently with her. “Sorry,” he murmured, leaning back against the counter as his fingers worked.

“No it was funny,” Stevie told him. She sighed. “That feels so good,” she said, panting hard. “I mean,” she drew a deep breath, “it hurts, but it’s gonna help.”

“Yeah,” Shawn muttered, clearly concentrating hard. Stevie could feel the calluses on his fingers, rough against her skin. “Mm,” he murmured, tugging on the neck of her sweater, chasing the knots down her back.

“Would this help?” Without thinking, Stevie reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. She balled it up and held it in her lap, curling her shoulders forward.

Shawn hesitated, she felt his hands hover above her shoulders for a moment before returning to their previous spot, searing her skin.

“That feels so good,” she nearly moaned, as the knot in her trap muscle finally released its tension.

“Lemme get this other one,” Shawn gripped her shoulder, “you’ve got so many knots it would take me all night.”

Stevie giggled. “If that’s what it takes,” she gasped as his fingers found another knot to rub. “God, Shawn I think your fingers are magic.”

“The alcohol is making you relax,” Shawn said quietly.

Stevie shook her head and turned to meet his eyes. “No,” she told him. “You are.” She smiled weakly and turned back around. “I owe you big time,” she murmured. Her left hand fell onto his thigh and she felt him tense as she squeezed his quad. “Just let me know,” she sucked in air as he dug into her muscle, “if you want anything.” She bit her lip.

“I’m good,” Shawn muttered. “I like working with my hands,” he paused, “and talking to interesting people,” he added.

Stevie hummed in agreement, too blissed out under his touch to give much of  a coherent response. Shawn’s hands slid down her spine to work at the muscles under her shoulder blades. He pushed Stevie forward and she braced both her hands on his legs so he wouldn’t shove her to the ground, feeling the stretch in her hips. He was strong, but she held her own. She was strong too.

She wasn’t sure if it was the Tiger Balm or his touch making her sweat. Maybe a little of both. She was tipsy and he was warm and his fingers were magical against her skin. For the few minutes Shawn was working on her neck, the rest of Stevie’s worries drifted away. All she had to focus on was her breathing, his fingers on her skin, his legs next to hers.

Shawn’s hands slowed. “Maybe you should go to bed, Stevie,” he suggested quietly.

“Mkay,” she murmured, half-asleep. Shawn’s arm wrapped around her waist and he hauled her to her feet. His hands were steady on her waist as he guided her, stumbling away from the kitchen, her sweater forgotten on the floor.

Sleeper jumped up and nosed open Stevie’s bedroom door. Shawn and Stevie followed him inside, feet tangled together. Shawn guided Stevie to the edge of her unmade bed and gently deposited her on the mattress. She kicked at her shoes, flinging them towards the wall where there were already scuff marks from previous nights when she’d tossed her boots. Stevie sighed and then reached down to unbutton her jeans as she stumbled over to her dresser.

“Can you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked as she opened a drawer for a t-shirt to sleep in. “I just,” she paused, “you make me feel safe.”

“I’ll stay however long you want me to,” Shawn assured her. He sat on her bed and leaned back on his hands. “I don’t have to be anywhere except work at four.”

“PM?”

Shawn nodded.”I’ll sleep in,” he promised.

Stevie smiled to herself as she rifled through her mess of t-shirts for her favorite one she knew she’d put away the day before. It was a dryer-beaten, oversized, long sleeve with the word MINES across the chest. She turned away from Shawn, fully aware that he could watch if he wanted, and reached back to unhook her bra, slipping the straps down her arms before she tugged the t-shirt over her head.

As she headed to the bathroom, she hooked her bra on the door handle and snuck a peek at Shawn. He flashed her a wide smile. She smiled back. He looked very comfortable sitting on the edge of her bed. He hadn’t quite made himself at home. Sleeper sniffed the boots still on his feet before jumping up on the bed, circling around a few times, and settling himself into a ball on the side away from Shawn. Smart dog.

Stevie studied him in the mirror as she washed her face. He was looking around her room curiously, but would probably pretend he wasn’t if he knew she was watching. She smiled into the towel. She had an overwhelming urge to march over there and kiss him, but the one part of her brain that still had some restraint held her back.

“When I die and they lay me to rest,” Stevie sang under her breath, “gonna go to the place that’s the best.” She’d had the song stuck in her head for hours. Had Shawn not been there, she’d already be blasting it on her speakers.

“When I lay me down to die,” Stevie’s head whirled around at the sound of Shawn joining in with her, “goin’ up to the spirit in the sky.” He had a beautiful voice, high like his speaking voice, and easily carried the tune.

“You know,” Stevie said as she rubbed moisturizer into her cheeks, “The Pub does karaoke on Tuesday nights.”

“I’m aware.” Shawn raised his eyebrows. “You know that song was written by a Jewish man.”

“I’m aware,” Stevie laughed. “It really sounds like someone who wasn’t that familiar with Jesus trying to capitalize off of the gospel music craze. Which is exactly what Norman Greenbaum admitted he was trying to do when he wrote the song.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never been a sinner, I never sinned,” Stevie sang to make her point, “I got a friend in Jesus.” She shrugged. “A lot of Christians got pissed off by that line cause of like, the original sin and apparently everyone has sinned at some point or another even just by existing.” Shawn listened, completely enraptured by her as she rambled on. “And on top of that, Jews don’t even believe in an afterlife, so he was definitely bullshitting about going up to meet God in heaven or whatever.” She looked back at Shawn, “Sorry if I’m like, totally insulting you.”

“No it’s okay,” he shook his head, “my dad’s family is Catholic but I never got into the whole religion thing.”

“Most Jewish people I know aren’t practicing,” Stevie explained. “My family’s pretty reform, but I’m proud to be Jewish.” She fingered her Star of David pendant.

“I think that’s awesome,” Shawn nodded. Stevie turned back to the mirror and started scrubbing her teeth. In the mirror, she watched Shawn fiddle with the necklace around his neck. He sucked on the coin hanging from it while he was thinking. It made him more endearing, such a childish habit. Stevie added asking him about his necklace to her mental list of things she’d like to hear about when sober.

She spat out her toothpaste and rinsed her toothbrush and mouth, wiping her face on the towel before leaving the bathroom. She shimmied out of her jeans and left them in a crumpled pile next to the bathroom door before sitting down next to Shawn on the bed, resting her thigh against his knee. He put his hand over her knee and she looked up, smiling at him.

“I’d love to let you stay longer,” Stevie admitted with a sigh.

“But you need to get to sleep huh?” he asked, sounding equally as disappointed.

“I have to get my boots fixed at seven before work,” she explained. “I’m also, not entirely sober.” She looked into his eyes, warm, melting chocolate and caramel, then let her gaze flick down to his plush pink lips. “And I really want to kiss you,” she breathed.

Shawn tensed up next to her. “So kiss me,” he suggested. His hand slid up her bare thigh slightly. Stevie leaned closer, her nose brushing against his. He smelled like whiskey and sweat. His breath was hot against her lips and his hand burned her thigh. Everything about him was urging her to jump into the flames, to let herself go completely. But she couldn’t.

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she pulled away, “I’m not sober and I want to kiss you sober.” Shawn sighed. He pulled away and stood up, turning his head to pop his neck.

“I guess I’ll be going then,” he said with a soft smile. He didn’t seem too worried as he collected his jacket and put it back on.

“I’m sorry,” Stevie said helplessly. She felt frustrated tears pricking behind her eyes and willed them away with a hard blink. This wasn’t how she wanted it to go with Shawn, but she also didn’t want him to be just another friend who gave her benefits. It was a vibe she got from him. She didn’t know him well enough yet, but she felt like she could be with him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shawn gave a small smile, “you’ll see me again tomorrow.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Stevie’s forehead.

“Goodnight, Shawn,” Stevie called after him as he headed for the door.

“Goodnight, Stevie.” The door clicked shut behind him. Stevie groaned and fell back against the pillows. That man was going to be the death of her, she just knew it. With the ghost of Shawn’s lips on her forehead, she tugged a pillow into her arms and fell asleep.

The morning came with a blaring alarm and a pounding headache. Stevie rolled over and picked up her phone, forcing both eyes open to make her face ID work so she could turn off the noise. She was a zombie throughout her morning routine, tugging on a clean base layer and throwing on her non-uniform ski pants over her leggings. Her conscious brain was so non-functional that she barely noticed her neck wasn’t bothering her the way it usually did as she corralled her hair into two French braids.

Sleeper was wide awake though, so she had to feed him and take him on a walk before heading down to the shop. It was cold and windy outside, which meant she probably wouldn’t spend a ton of time on the hill. Kids didn’t do well in this kind of weather. Not only were they smaller and didn’t generate as much body heat, their parents never dressed them correctly. She made a note to pack extra kid-sized glove liners and hand warmers in her jacket.

Stevie and Sleeper entered Sherrie’s at exactly seven-o-five. The lights were already on and Peter’s equipment was all whirring to life. The smell of coffee permeated the air. Stevie’s favorite mug sat steaming on the counter next to Peter’s elbow. He was sipping from another and scrolling through his phone.

“Morning, Levitsky,” he said, a glint in his brown eyes. “G’morning, Peter,” she murmured. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Figured you had a long night,” he chuckled. “I was snapchatting Cosima.”

“Oh?”

“She was pretty drunk,” he informed her.

“How do you know?”

“Some of them were kinda racy,” he admitted, his ears bright red.

“Did you send anything sexy back?” Stevie teased, making a mental note to ask her best friend what exactly she’d sent to Peter. She wanted the tea.

“Nope,” Peter shook his head, “can we just get started with your boots?”

“Yeah,” Stevie sighed. She snuck around the counter and dug her boots out of her bag. “I’m getting some pressure on the front of my toes.”

“You’re tightening them enough?” Peter asked.

“Of course.”

“Even the top?” Peter challenged. “I know sometimes your shins get bruised and you don’t wanna tighten them all the way.”

“Yes all the way,” Stevie huffed. “I can’t wedge as well if I don’t.”

“I believe you,” Peter said. “I’ll sand out the toes a millimeter and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Thanks, P,” Stevie sighed. She sipped her coffee and watched Peter pull the liners of her boots out of the shells and open them up so he could get the sanding tool inside the toe.

She observed the muscles in his forearms flex and relax as he worked, highlighted by the rolled up sleeves of his white thermal. It was super understandable why Cosima liked him. Peter was ridiculously good-looking, but, and she hated to admit this because it shouldn’t matter, he was four inches shorter than Stevie. When she was with girls she didn’t mind being bigger, but with guys, she craved feeling small. Shawn made her feel small.

The thought of Shawn made her smile, and she dug in her pants pocket for her phone. He wouldn’t be up for hours, but at least when he woke up, he’d have a text from her to make him smile.

Stevie: good morning :) thanks for taking care of me last night

“Who’s making you smile?” Peter asked with a smirk. “You never smile before nine am.”

“Uh,” Stevie looked down, heat rising up her neck. “The new bartender at The Pub.”

“He’s making you blush too, huh?” Peter teased. “I’m gonna have to scope this guy out.”

“Well you should leave work early and come watch the game with us,” Stevie suggested. “Cosima would love to have you there.”

“I’ll think about it,” he promised, but Stevie could tell from the way his lips twitched as he looked down that he would show up.

The day flew by. Stevie ended up spending hours in the warming hut, keeping her class sated with hot chocolate. She had six six-year-olds and none of their parents had given them enough layers. Stevie herself had added an extra fleece from her car. It was a cold, blistery Saturday and Stevie wished to be zooming through the trees where she’d be blocked from the wind, but instead she had six children whining that they were cold and skiing up on the backs of her skis.

As the last parent shook her hand and slipped her a tip, only ten dollars. Ski instructors didn’t usually make tips, but these were one-time lessons and it was the holiday season. Tourists tipped, locals didn’t. Stevie pocketed the cash and grabbed her skis again.

As soon as her boots hit snow, she pried her skis apart and let them fall parallel in the snow. She knocked the chunks off her boots and snapped into her skis to skate over to the Gondola. It was faster than walking. She arrived, panting, with burning quads, and popped her skis off again to catch one of the empty cars.

Her skis leaned perfectly against the bar above her head and she sank back, alone since it was the end of the day. She tugged off her glove with her teeth and let it dangle from the strap on her wrist as she extricated her phone from her jacket. There were multiple texts.

Shawn: good morning, Stevie :)

Shawn: i know double texting is taboo but you’re skiing. just wanted to say i hope you’re having a good day.

Stevie smiled. She texted back one-handed, so it took awhile.

Stevie: i had an okay day. taking one final run before coming over for the game.

He responded nearly instantaneously.

Shawn: can’t wait to see you

Stevie pocketed her phone again and pulled her glove back on, tightening it just as the Gondola arrived at the top. She grabbed her skis and poles and stepped out of the car. The wind was always harsher on the mountain, but Stevie didn’t mind. She just wanted to ski. She looked at the liftie.

“You trying to get in a couple runs before the lifts close?” Stevie nodded. “I’d take Sober Englishman to Drunken Frenchman and head over to the Jane,” she suggested. “The snow was good when I went earlier today.”

“Thanks, babe.” Stevie reached out to fist bump the liftie as she walked by. Then, she set her skis down on the snow and immediately started down Sober Englishman. At the first break in the trees, she stopped, carving lazily to the right to admire the moguls in front of her. She looked up and silently thanked the ski gods for giving her an empty slope and perfect moguls at the end of the day.

Stevie plowed around the moguls, planting her pole in every one, turning into the easily-carved paths left by previous skiers. She wasn’t going for speed like Cosima. Her muscles were working. They were her engine. Her power source. Her quads and hamstrings flexed and relaxed around the curves, her calves keeping her balanced. She leaned forward, into the turns, down the hill, a mental task she found incredibly difficult to teach to adults but easy to communicate to kids. Adults had a lot more fear than children regarding attaching slick sticks to their feet, pointing them down a steep slope, leaning forward, and letting gravity take them on a ride.

Skiing was better than any rollercoaster Stevie had been on. Adrenaline flooded her systems, hyping her up as she skirted each mogul. Her knees were locked together, she flew down the mountain, planting her pole in every mogul until she hit the groomed Mary Jane Trail.

Panting, Stevie leaned on her poles. She could feel sweat working its way down her back. She unzipped her jacket halfway and breathed hard. The air was thin up here. She was adjusted to the altitude, but also knew she could take breaks when she wanted to.

Gripping her poles again, Stevie zipped down between the rest of the stragglers on the Mary Jane Trail to the Super Gauge. The lifties waved her through, perks of the yellow pants and blue jacket, and she skied up to catch a lift full of hardcore skiers and boarders enjoying the last hour of the day before planning where they were going out drinking.

She cruised down Village Way without stopping. She could do it in less than five minutes if she was chasing Cosima but today it took her around eight to get to the base again. Alone she preferred to take her time, admire the trees. Her dad always taught her to appreciate the nature around her. She smiled at the image in her head, skiing backwards in front of her, his poles tucked under his arm as he urged her forward.

“French fries,” he would remind her. “You don’t need to pizza on this hill.” She’d turn her skis parallel and slide forward too quickly and he’d catch her in his arms. She smiled at the memory. When she got older, she’d duck and go between his legs, laughing as he turned back around to catch her. Until she got too tall for that, surpassing her mom’s height at age eleven.

Through her teens she and her dad skied side-by-side. He showed her all the hidden spots in the trees. Places she’d taken her early romantic partners. The tree hut where she had her first kiss. The rock outcropping where she’d coughed on her first joint. This whole mountain was filled with her memories, and they all tied back to her father. But they’d never ski together again.

Stevie shook her head and tried to clear the tears that fogged up her goggles as she popped off her skis and made her way to the locker room. She stood by the ski rack, wiping her eyes for a minute. Cosima didn’t need to know she’d been crying.

“Alright spill the tea,” Stevie demanded as soon as she turned the corner. There were a few more instructors lingering than the day before, but Cosima was sitting on the bench by their lockers, biting her lip as she texted.

“What tea?” she asked innocently.

“Hmm,” Stevie nudged her with her shoulder as she sat down to peel off her boots. “I think I want the piping hot tea that you sent some racy pics to a certain boot fitter last night.”

Cosima went bright red. “He told you?”

Stevie snorted. “He’s like my brother, he tells me everything.”

“Uh, well,” Cosima looked down. “I was drunk.”

“No shit me too,” Stevie put her hand over her mouth in mock-surprise. “What else is new? How much of him did you see?”

There was a pause. “He has really nice pecs,” Cosima squeaked.

“Yes!” Stevie exclaimed, “I knew he sent you some pics back! And the good news is, I convinced him to take off work early and come watch the game.”

“You did?” Cosima’s eyes went wide as she peeled off her clothes.

“I did,” Stevie confirmed, putting her laundry from the week into a plastic bag to take home. “And I think I can convince him to take you out to dinner.”

“Thank you,” Cosima sighed. “He’s just so dreamy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stevie followed her to the showers. “He’s a real prince.”

“What about the new bartender?” Cosima asked as they wet their hair. “What’s his name?”

“Shawn.”

“Did anything happen when he took you home last night?”

Stevie ducked her face under the spray to hide her red cheeks. “He rubbed Tiger Balm on my neck,” she admitted when she came up for air.

“Oh my god.”

“And he respected me when I said I was too drunk to kiss him,” Stevie went on, shuffling her feet on the tile floor as she scrubbed her scalp.

“We stan a gentleman,” Cosima murmured.

“He kissed my forehead.”

“THAT’S SO CUTE,” Cosima yelled. “Sorry,” she apologized to the other instructors in the showers who had turned to look. There were soft titters of annoyance as they all went back to showering. “That’s so cute,” Cosima whispered.

“It made me feel so soft,” Stevie agreed. “I nearly melted while he was rubbing my neck.” She reached for her conditioner and slathered it through her hair. “God he has magic hands. It didn’t even hurt today.”

“That’s amazing,” Cosima said.

“And he said he can’t wait to see me tonight!”

“Then you definitely let me have to put eyeliner on you,” Cosima commanded. “Give me the comb.”

“Fucking fine,” Stevie whined, and slapped the comb into her friend’s hand. “But only this one time.”

“You can thank me later,” Cosima sighed as she got started on Stevie’s tangled mess of curls.

---

AND THAT’S PART TWO. The feels are heating up. Let’s see how much patience I have for writing a slow burn. Thoughts on Stevie x Shawn? Thoughts on Cosima x Peter? Feedback makes me wanna write more. I feel like this is a good one.

Btw Stevie had “Spirit in the Sky” by Norman Greenbaum stuck in her head

Ko-Fi

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Carve Taglist: @awwyeaahh @evergreeneyesx @smallerinfinities

[lobsters-on-their-heads]

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Part 3 Chapt. 10

Fucking finally. I’ve been trying to get my novel out to literary agents, which has taken up a lot of creative energy on top of regular life activities and things (bipolar doesn’t always work in my favor, either). But, here it is!

You can read all of Part 3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820221

Cosima didn't know how to write a condolence card. She sucked even more at picking one out, but on Tuesday that was her One Job.

At the card-and-party-goods store Sarah brought her to, the card section stretched over three full aisles, and the “sympathy” cards were ten percent of that. “Just grab a card,” she muttered to herself, “any fucking card.” But all of the cards she picked up sucked. Donnie Hendrix just lost his mother – the first person in his entire life who loved him – and the trite pre-written message on a two dollar piece of card stock was supposed to sooth his pain? Were the swoopy cursive letters and watercolor flowers actually supposed to comfort anyone? Or wasn't it all just a ploy to make those who hadn't lost anyone feel better about themselves? Like saying “look, I helped” without actually helping anything at all?

She picked up a card showing a tire swing at sunset. Always remember that every part of life is a part of God's plan, it said.

Cosima huffed. “Is cloning a part of God's plan, too?” she asked the card, and stuffed it back into it's slot.

Another read, Nothing happens without a reason. A whole bunch of Cosima's life experience contradicted that one, too.

Those who love us never really leave us.

“Way to rip off Sirius Black, yo,” Cosima told that card. As she suspected, JK Rowling was not credited with the message anywhere on the back.

She had no idea how close Donnie was (had been) to his mother. If (when) Cosima's mother died, there wasn't a card in existence that would even dent Cosima's pain. To make matters worse, in her search Cosima came across sympathy cards for the loss of a spouse or partner and she nearly fled the card aisle to join Sarah in the “summer fun” aisle with the pool noodles and plastic sand buckets. The two news alerts from Syria she got a few minutes ago really didn't help, and Delphine wasn't even in Syria yet.

Cosima was scowling at a card reading Don't cry. They're in a better place now when her phone rang. She crammed the card back in it's overcrowded slot and answered. “Hey gorgeous,” she said.

“Hey,” Delphine said. “Is everything alright? You said you needed some help?”

Delphine sounded exhausted, and Cosima chided herself. Delphine had treated two Turkish clones in two cities in two days. She deserved some time to herself. “Totally alright,” Cosima assured her. “Nothing to worry about. Forget I asked.”

“Euh, not very likely. What do you need help with?”

“Well, you seem like a classy lady, and so I thought – ”

Delphine's snorted laugh cut her off. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I have to buy a sympathy card for Donnie, and I have no frikkin' clue what to get, or, like, what to do when we see him later today.”

“Oh.” Delphine's mirth vanished. “Why are you buying a sympathy card? What happened?”

“His mom died. She had a stroke on Friday and she never woke up from the coma. Not, if you ask me, the worst way to go, but still sad, you know?” Funny how none of the sympathy cards said that: It wasn't the worst way to go, but it's still sad, I know.

“Hm.”

“Anyway, I'm trying to find the right card, and nothing seems right. Sarah doesn't know either, and the whole “sorry your mom died” thing kind of sent her to a bad emotional place too. Totally understandable, you know? She's distracting herself right now. I'd normally ask Alison, but obviously that doesn't work here. Scott's socially inept in these areas, even worse than me, and my mom's off the grid until June, so I can't ask her either.”

“I see.” Traffic rushed by on Delphine's end, and she said, “hang on,” a couple of times before the traffic noise ceased. “I'm not sure how much I can help, actually. I'm not exactly an expert in comforting phrases or what to say after someone dies. In English or in French, actually.”

Cosima sighed. “Well, you've gotta be better at this than I am. Like, what kind of card would you want if your mom died?”

Delphine laughed again. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“How she died, if she'd decided to talk to me before she passed, if she has a will...”

“Let's say there's no will, you were on speaking terms, and she died of a stroke.” Cosima had no idea about the will part, but assumed it didn't matter here. “In fact, you know what, scratch that. You'd probably want a card saying something like Guess what? She's dead.”

“In my case, yes, that would be fine. But this is not my case.”

“What kind would you want if I died?”

Delphine inhaled sharply, and Cosima kicked herself again. Delphine already had those nightmares. “I'd rather not think about that.”

“Yeah, fair. Ditto.”

“Cosima. What kind of card do you think you should get? What would the right one say in this situation?”

“I just want one that says, This sucks, and we all know it sucks, and we're here for you. None of this greater purpose, heaven and God shit. I mean, I know the Hendrixes go to church and all that, but... I don't know. It seems off base to me, and it'll be super obvious I don't mean it.”

“Don't they have any blank cards? You can write in your own message if you want.”

“I am not sure that would be better, actually.” She sighed again and held a hand to her forehead. Chances were, this would be their only conversation that day – it was dinner time in Bursa, and Cosima would be spending the next few hours with the Hendrixes. She should get the most out of her daily Delphine Time. Walking away from the cards towards the big store-front window, she asked, “How'd your day go, then? How was the treatment?”

“Fine. She's asymptomatic, as we suspected.”

Cosima smiled. “Nice of you to use the plural there. If I remember correctly, you're the one who convinced me not to drop clone fest to inoculate her back in March.”

“You weren't terribly opposed, though.”

“Mostly because I knew Alison would kick my ass.” Cosima giggled. “If only we'd known how Clone Fest would actually go! Alison might've been happy for us to miss it.”

“I thought you two smoothed all that over?”

“Eh. I guess. Forgiven but not forgotten, for my part.”

“Doesn't sound like you've completely forgiven, either.”

“I've forgiven enough to not bring it up again with her. How's that? I'm letting it slide.”

“As long as you're both okay.”

“I am fine. Alison's husband is the one I should be worried about right now. And you. I'm always worried about you.”

“Don't worry too much. Bursa is very nice. Rainy, but nice.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nice. And it's not really Bursa I'm worried about, either.”

Delphine made a noncommittal noise. Cosima picked up a little animatronic Easter bunny from the store's clearance bin and pushed the button on its ear. While it danced around to its tinny robotic song, Cosima tried to think of something else to say – something other than “you know there have been chemical attacks in Syria recently” and “you know our security team can't really protect you from everything.”

“How's everyone else?” Delphine asked.

“Fine. Charlotte's still being Charlotte. Sarah's worried she's gonna fail her math class, so we're all trying to help her out with that.”

“Wait. Sarah's worried that Charlotte will fail? I thought she was strong in math.”

“No no no. Sarah's worried that Sarah might fail math.”

“Ah!”

“Too many shes, I know.”

“Hm.”

Cosima looked around to make sure Sarah wasn't in hearing distance. “I'm trying to kind of gently coax her into, like, an advisor's office or something. Maybe an academic counselor.”

“Sarah, you mean?”

“Yes, still Sarah. Like, it's weird.” Cosima looked around again. Sarah had moved on to the “Over the Hill” birthday aisle, where she was laughing at some tombstone shaped decorations. “She's obviously smart,” Cosima whispered to Delphine, “and she's doing everything she's supposed to do. She's working her ass off for these classes, and she just can't get it. Me and Scott are still tutoring her like once a week or so, but I dunno. I think she needs something that we're not able to give her, but I don't know what. She just keeps saying she's too stupid to get it, but I don't think that's the case.”

“No, I don't think so either.”

“She was joking the other day that someone must've dropped her on her head as a baby.”

Delphine was silent on the other end, but in the silence Cosima heard her thinking. The gentle tap of a pen or pencil gave it away. Before either of them to continue the conversation, Sarah came over and waved a “old man survival kit” at Cosima.

“Art's birthday's all set, then,” Sarah said. When Cosima just stared, she clarified. “He's turning 40 in a couple weeks.”

“Oh,” Cosima said. “Cool. Um. Send us the date, yeah?”

“Sure. He doesn't want anyone to know, but whatever.” She waved at the phone in Cosima's hand and raised her voice. “Hi Delphine!”

Delphine chuckled softly and said, “Hello Sarah” in a voice soft enough for Sarah to miss it.

“I should get going,” Cosima said into the phone. “I probably can't talk much later, but text me if you want, yeah?”

Delphine agreed to, they both said “I love you,” and Cosima hung up. Then she turned to Sarah. “How'd you know I was talking to Delphine?”

“Your face, mostly. Anyway, you ready yet? Where's the card? I wanna get outta here before I buy too much shit I don't need.”

* * * * * *

On Thursday, as Delphine travelled to Izmir, Cosima sat in their apartment and scrolled through job listings. The exercise was futile – she wouldn't apply to any of them and anyway, she didn't have her PhD yet. Her advisor sent back a list of dissertation edits yesterday, but Cosima had only made two of the smallest ones. More and more, every time she sat at the computer, her mind drifted. Some of it was the same old shit: anxiety over the state of the world and the nagging feeling that nothing she did amounted to much. And worry about Delphine. She always worried about Delphine. The job search began as a combination of those – worry that she'd never get a job good enough to give Delphine the kind of life she deserved.

Her family made sure to get her away from the Rabbit Hole for at least an hour every day now, and Cosima was not allowed to protest. If she did, they pretended to move in with her, loudly, until she left the apartment in frustration. That only happened once, though. Tuesday's outing was to the store and the Hendrixes, where Clone Club gathered to support Donnie in his grief. Yesterday, Cosima was back at Bailey Downs, to “help Helena with the boys” while the Hendrixes attended the funeral in Hamilton. “Helping with the boys” made no sense, of course, since Cosima didn't know what the fuck to do with one-year-olds except make silly faces once in a while, and Helena resented the obvious supervision. Cosima spent half of that visit riding Alison's bicycle aimlessly through the subdivision by herself.

Thoughts of the twins and the suburban expanse of Scarborough set Cosima's mind spinning again.

She remembered the sprawling, packed metropolises of Mexico City, Istanbul, and São Paulo. Those weren't even the biggest cities in the world, and still their size and scope took her breath away. She remembered the bustling streets of Lima and Cairo, and she'd never stopped being amazed at how many distinct individuals existed in the world. Little Arthur and Little Donnie were unique, just like every single one of those people. Just like Delphine. Just like Cosima and each of her sisters.

She shook her head and tapped her own cheeks. Another cup of tea was in order, but before she got up her phone emitted a weak little chirp – another news alert from Syria.

“Fuck it,” Cosima told her laptop. Grabbing her coat and purse, she went outside, leaving the job search and dissertation edits behind.

The Syrian news alerts never made Cosima feel better. Even the occasional cease fires failed to get her hopes up, because most of them devolved into violence again, or yet another armed group entered the scene to fuck shit up again.

At least Cosima now checked those alerts only from outside of the Rabbit Hole, with a view of sky and trees rather than drab walls and a moldy ceiling she lacked motivation to clean herself. Ignoring the chirps from inside the apartment didn't change the situation, but it helped Cosima keep her head screwed on, and it kept her from telling Delphine to just stay far the fuck away and send someone else to cure the Syrian Leda.

Not that she hadn't thought about it. The trouble was that no one else would do it – not the way it needed to be done, or with the appropriate discretion.

Cosima ordered a chai latte at the cafe around the corner, sat near the window, and gave in to her brain's desire to dwell on bad news for the day.

Fighting in Aleppo schools bombed in Hama clinics shot up in Ghouta ISIS kidnapping people in Deir ez-Zor

Hundreds of thousands of people were trying to flee with the clothes on their backs, and the only people trying to get in were ISIS recruits, aid workers, and foreign military “advisors.” By the time this whole shit show ended, Cosima doubted there would be anything left of the beautiful country she'd wanted to visit as a teenager – encouraged by her tenth grade math teacher who just happened to be Syrian and also super fucking hot. But that was now beside the point. The point now was that a different super fucking hot object of Cosima's affections would be in Syria within the next couple of weeks. Their purchase earlier that year of “kidnap and ransom” insurance only made Cosima feel worse.

Skimming over the most recent alert from Damascus, a pair of chimes interrupted her. The first was from Qamar, their remaining Arabic translator, requesting a phone call in a few minutes. She did that often, preferring to relay messages longer than five words verbally rather than in writing. Cosima sighed and agreed.

The other was the semi-daily update from Nabil back in Djibouti. Like most of the children's texts, it was short and random – a picture of a filthy street cat in the shadow of a trash can that he'd captioned “friienb.” Cosima replied as she usually did, with a picture of her own – her chai latte, framed by a glass sugar shaker and a napkin holder. She added a short and simple message of her own. “Lunch.”

She kept thinking of talking with Qamar about Nooran's nieces and nephews. Djibouti was certainly safer than Yemen, and now that Nooran was cured their life could improve somewhat, but Cosima couldn't let go of Nooran's request – to take the children to Canada with them. She also couldn't forget the role they'd inadvertently played in Cosima's current situation by sending a picture of themselves with the flag of the Muslim Brotherhood in the background. It wasn't their fault, and she would never – could never – ask them about it.

Her phone rang and she answered before even checking the caller. “Hello, this is Cosima,” she said.

“Hi, Cosima,” her mother said, a certain heaviness in her voice.

The dissonance between her expectation of Qamar's chipper accent and the sound of her mother's voice made Cosima reel. “Oh. Hey, Mom. I thought you were out to sea right now?”

“Well, we were.”

“Okay. That doesn't sound good. What happened? You said the boat was having some issues, but – ”

“No, honey, the boat's fine. We got that fixed last month.”

“Okay...”

A garbled, wonky announcement sounded through the phone, like the announcements at airports or train stations, but filtered under water. Sally sighed and waited for it to finish before speaking again. “We're at the hospital right now.”

Cosima froze. “Oh shit. Is it your foot?” She'd been worried about that, about her mother going out to sea so soon after bunion surgery, but Sally said no.

“No, honey, my foot's doing fine. It's Gene.”

“Oh. Is he...”

“It's not his heart this time. He's very keen on everyone knowing that. He did not have another heart attack, and he's been taking his statins regularly.”

“Okay, well that still doesn't really tell me what's wrong with him.”

Sally sighed again. “Well, a couple of days ago, he started noticing blood in his urine. Of course, being Gene, he didn't say anything about it until yesterday, when he couldn't urinate at all.”

Imagining that made Cosima squirm and cross her legs in sympathy. “That sounds awful.”

Beeping in Cosima's ear told her Qamar was trying to get through. Whatever. Qamar could wait. Qamar probably didn't have a urinary blockage.

Sally went on. “Yes, well, after several hours of that, he agreed we should turn around and head for shore. Fortunately we were only about six hours out from Eureka, so here we are.”

“So, what, Dad went like eight hours without peeing? Holy shit.”

“Closer to twelve or fourteen, I think. He's on a catheter now and they're running some tests.”

“Jesus Christ, poor guy.”

“Yes, well.” Sally gave a few of her deep sighs – the kind that came from somewhere beneath her diaphragm and that Cosima was all too familiar with.

“Go ahead and say it, Mom.”

She sighed again. “Well, it's just – I know this has been going on longer than he says it has. The doctors were worried about his prostate last year, and sometimes Gene gets this pinched look on his face, you know? This pinched pained look and then he acts like it didn't happen and he's not in any pain, like I'm some kind of an idiot.”

“That... sounds familiar.”

“Oh, so you noticed while we were in Toronto a few months ago? You noticed it too?”

“Uh, no, actually, I didn't. I was thinking of something else.” She was thinking of Delphine, wincing over the phone and over Skype and swearing that nothing was wrong, all the while having a cracked knee cap. “I think you and I have similar tastes in partners,” she told Sally.

Sally laughed. “Don't say that! Delphine's a nice girl.”

“Yeah, nice and stubborn as hell. Anyway. What's next? What's going to happen?”

“We're staying on land for a while. I knew Gene was really hurting when I told him we'd have to, and he didn't even argue.”

Cosima whistled. “Back to Berkeley then?”

“We'll see. I'll keep you posted. Love you.”

Cosima returned the sentiment and hung up. She needed to call Qamar and see what she'd turned up, but that could wait another few minutes. Pulling up her on-going text string with Delphine, Cosima typed, Would you tell me if you couldn't pee for twelve hours? After hitting send, she kicked herself. Over text, she wouldn't see Delphine's face when she read the question, and in regular messenger it was impossible to delete texts.

The phone call with Qamar lasted four minutes. Samira, the one Leda remaining in Syria, still resided in Douma, but had no cell phone or internet access. All the information Qamar had was word-of-mouth, from the cousin of a friend of Samira's husband.

“I tell him, you see her next month,” Qamar said

“It'll be a lot closer than that,” Cosima said. “Delphine's scheduled to meet the security team there on May 9.”

“May 9? Okay, I tell them tomorrow. I talk them tomorrow.”

“I mean,” Cosima cautioned, “there's also always the chance the date could change. Just like the others.”

“Yes yes. I know.” Qamar had been with them since they got the Leda List, or close to it. She knew the deal, even if she never quite understood it.

Off the phone again, Cosima let out a long, slow breath. Different news would have been welcome – that Samira had fled along with her Syrian Leda sisters and Delphine didn't need to go there at all, ever. Or maybe that Samira was in some unique position to hop over the border into Lebanon for a day or two and get treated there.

Not likely.

Finishing her drink, Cosima debated a trip to the aquarium or to see Scott at the university, where he was working on nanotechnology. She'd just settled on visiting Scott when Delphine's reply arrived. Yes, I will tell you if I can't pee for 12 hours but only on one condition.

That was unexpected. What's that?

You have to tell me why the fuck you tried putting a robot worm in your face a few years ago.

[stopforamoment]

Part Five: Mr. Ariti’s Legacy (Series 25, Part 5 of 5)

Series Twenty-Five: Mr. Ariti’s Home (Five Parts) Part Five: Mr. Ariti’s Legacy (Series 25, Part 5 of 5) My masterlist is at the end of my bio.

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 768 Rating: M for Language

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Thank you to Michael @kennaxval for inspiring me with the colors theme that runs throughout your beautiful Maxwell and Maurice Colors series.

This is the link to his four-part Colors series. 

Kennaxval Complete Masterlist

Thank you, Michael for being such a good friend, gifted writer, and strong supporter of everyone else’s talent (fiction and art blogs)!

Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 and @bobasheebaby for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova @silviasutton1989  ​ @riseandshinelittleblossom @innerpostmentality​ for being my thirsty Bastien friends and for still being a part of the journey!

Series Summary: Mr. Ariti is the backbone of the community, but he’s getting older and ready to pass the torch, so to speak. Time continues to pass and we’ll take a sneak peek into the future of that close-knit community.

Chapter Summary: It takes a village to raise a child, and Mr. Ariti’s neighborhood continues to be a tight-knit community that takes care of its own—and welcome newcomers. There’s an author’s note at the end.

Part Five: Mr. Ariti’s Legacy (Series 25, Part 5 of 5) A few months later Rinda knocked on the door of the starter home, and a very pregnant woman opened the door while a young toddler stared wide-eyed at Rinda from behind her mother’s legs. “Hello. I’m Rinda Lykel. My husband and I live right next door. We’re having a neighborhood dinner tonight and I wanted to personally invite you. It’s just spaghetti and salad, but we’d love it if you could join us. Or if you just wanted to grab food and leave that’s fine too. I’m sure you’re exhausted after moving.” Rinda gave her new neighbor a sympathetic smile and waved goodbye to the toddler before the woman felt obligated to make small talk. It was a special night for Rinda and Bastien. Henry and Ellis graduated from college, and Henry came back to Cordonia with Cassie for two weeks before permanently moving back to the U.S. to start his new job and live with Cassie. Phillip and Alex would come for a sleepover for old time’s sake, and Madeline and Cosima were going to visit too, and Cassie would join them for a sleepover at Cosima’s house. Yes, of course Mrs. Lykel would have a neighborhood spaghetti night—if Phillip promised not to bounce his football into the pot of spaghetti sauce. George, Brigitte and the other Els would be there. The Walkers would also stop by, and Mr. Halkais was looking forward to seeing Mr. Ariti again.

Rinda had to laugh when the “mini-bus” pulled up and Laura got into teacher mode as she did a head count of her children: “Jackson, Thomas, Elizabeth, Bas? Check. Dad? Check. Bun in my oven? Check.” Drake chuckled as he gave Laura an affectionate kiss on her cheek, and then her stomach, before helping his father-in-law out of the SUV. As everyone played football in the yard, Rinda felt her eyes tear up. The children were growing up and everyone was getting older. Bastien, Drake, and Laura still played football with the neighborhood children, but she could tell Bastien was slowing down. Will was 16 and Owen was 14. She remembered what a handful those two were as toddlers, and now they were becoming such responsible young men, doing so much to help her, Bastien, and Mr. Ariti. And if Henry had children, Bastien and Rinda already agreed that they couldn’t be an ocean away from them. Suddenly the young toddler came tumbling out of the starter home, her defiant giggles a sure clue that she escaped without permission. Rinda and Mrs. Manikas shook their heads and smiled when they heard the exhausted desperation in the young mother’s voice. “Harper, please. Stop. Please . . . Darling, please hurry up. I’m going outside with her.” Will and Owen distracted the toddler with a football while Rinda and Mrs. Manikas welcomed the young couple and assured them that it was fine. They still remembered what it was like to have young children, and the older kids would be happy to help with Harper so they could actually sit for awhile and enjoy their food. “Trust me,” Mrs. Manikas told the young mother. “Those kids were a handful when they were growing up, and they have a lot to pay forward.” Mr. Manikas chuckled and kissed his wife’s check. “WERE a handful? I think they’re getting worse.” While the couples laughed Rinda moved closer to Mr. Ariti. It was a warm evening, but Rinda gently tucked a blanket around his shoulders and put another one on his lap before kissing his cheek. There was another reason that night was so special, and Mr. Ariti knew it too. He would be with his Madeline soon, and Rinda would have another ray of sunlight visit her through the suncatcher.

. . . . .

A/N: The running joke is that Drake wants a football team of his own, but he and Laura are done at five. Laura loves the craziness as much as he does, and they are both loving, involved parents. Jackson Liam and Thomas Julian are named after Drake and Laura’s fathers. Bastien Theo is named in honor of Bastien, and Elizabeth Rose in memory of Laura’s mother. Family is very important to Drake and Laura, but Drake isn’t comfortable naming their second daughter Bianca. There’s some mixed feelings because Bianca moved away and left Drake and Savannah in Cordonia. Instead, they will name their second daughter Grace Riley to honor Gracie Traska, the girl who helped Drake realize that he made a difference. And don’t worry—the next series will pick up again in late 2018. Henry remains a young, mischievous kid and Mr. Ariti still has that twinkle in his eyes and zest for life.

[jess1820]

ti amo nyc! seeing phoenix 3x with feenix friends (jul 5 - 7 2018)

So! 3 days of phoenix with wonderful people in new york (my first time in nyc!), I don’t even know where to begin x.x (Pictures are on IG, video on YT). The Speciale shows are beautiful and incredible, and the boys put so much thought, detail, and love into it all. It was one of the best experiences in my life and it was so fun seeing everyone at the shows!!

under the cut is pretty much a rambling summary of the shows (amazing and adorably decorated), cute moments, and when we met them (ft. my fav convo with branco abt pokemon and witnessing brotherly tension) 

💘 @andersfel @funkyphoenixfan @thesunwillshineagain

7/5 | Night 1 💗

the show The show was amazing! It had been 7 months since I had last seen them. We were between Deck and Chris, I settled for the second row (I could have squished to the barrier but it was more comfortable to just be behind a little). That day was super humid and hot, so this show was probably the most sweatiest, but so satisfying. It was such a fun time! We got consolation prizes which is always super great! And countdown for Mads aaaaa (it was her 21st birthday, guess who (Chris ofc) sung to her 😭!!!) It was such a beautiful moment. They played Goodbye Soleil first and she was a bit down, but once it finished, COUNTDOWN happened! She was so happy it was the best reaction (what a complete 180 lol). Telefono was such a tune to hear live, I loved it! They were using the telefono booth instead of the red telephone (after the show you could get a polaroid in the booth for $1, such a cute idea whaaaa!!).

I thought for the Speciale they chose to use different guitars (Chris’s mint green, Branco’s array of guitars (black and red) instead of the og guitars (telecaster and cream bullet), but turns out they just didn’t have their regular guitars in time because their gear was still being held by air france until the 4th show lol.   

after the show

thomas After the show, we went outside to wait (we should have wandered the disco afterparty that was happening inside! The boys were hanging out meeting fans). About an hour later, Thomas came outside first wearing a white tee and backpack on. It was a small group outside so he went around to everyone, signing stuff and taking photos, and he hugged everyone too! He was so nice and gentle as usual. He left shortly after because he said it was past his kids bedtime and he had to put them into bed, something sweet like that 😭. Romy was at the show (with we think, Cedric’s daughter?) and they were helping run the merch stand! It was too cute!! They were so sweet. They were also in front of the barrier at some songs on the far right jumping and having such a good time during the show! It was so pure. (And I guess Vee is bffs with Romy now hahaha).   

deck Ok next up, Deck came out and was very chatty and goofy. He didn’t go to the afterparty. Vee said something about him being a charmer and he imitated playing a violin to be romantic, oh, he is so precious. Deck was really examining the Rally single I brought to get signed and he was like oh this is very rare and was looking at it, front and back. He was so nice and so cute 💘.

branco (and chris) Branco came out next and was so pretty wearing a koi fish print shirt. He has the best shirts. B was very friendly. Mads brought up the Coco thing (he signed as Coco on her INBLT booklet from the Manila show) and we got to hear him talk about his nickname again, it was so sweet and precious (his nieces call him Coco if you need a refresher). I love hearing him speak in general aaaa (you know me). Gotta say I also loved hearing him yell “Monsieur Mazzalai” at Chris because he was the last one needed to sign Mad’s awesome jacket. Chris made a face at him 😂. I had a few minutes with B and I am v happy he signed his name with the music note doodle! Sadly I didn't have the time to get to Chris bc he had to leave in a separate car (the rest of the boys got into one van, I remember Branco had a whole foods market bag aha). I did get to watch Chris run to the car with his suitcase which was funny and adorable, I love him. 

7/6 | Night 2 💗

the show They did long distance call!! Aaah! I was finally at the barrier, right between Thomas and Deck (literally the center can you believe it). The show was amazing as usual and they had balloons that would rain down on us in italian flag colors. It was at this show where a lot of balloons were falling onto the stage so Deck was using his bass and hitting the balloons (og it was so precious). He was having so much fun. I got a Deck wink during the show too aaa 💖 . Also, they played Lovelife with Giorgio Poi which was really cool! The boys had told us yesterday that they had a special planned for tonight, and this was that! And, I got to touch Thomas’s hair lol he was in our section a lot! 💘

after the show

so many faces We stayed for the afterparty because the boys had told us last night to stay and meet them here. It was funny because we were all awkward at the party so we followed them around like children while other people were actually partying.

We saw Sofia!!! She was gorgeous, literally radiating. It was unreal to see her in person. Cosima was with her! We also saw Chris’s girlfriend! Ah they were so cute (they were getting sake, dancing by the DJ, it was adorable). Chris was going around everywhere, drinking a lot of sake and beer lol. I flagged him down once to say hi and he said hello and he pat my back and LEFT 😂. So I had to flag him down again to ask for rally to be signed. It was a bit uncomfortable to follow them around and when there’s a moment/you get the guts to say hi they are either with someone else or with family and you’re just standing there so awkwardly lol. It’s easier to talk to them when they’re outside vs inside with music playing and it being a bit dark. I think we all agreed on this.

branco I also spotted Branco too! I found him near the back by the merch and asked for a photo again. My phone was such a failure that it took a while to get a photo so when it was done he asked if it was okay, twice 😭 (it’s still a bit blurry but I think it’s cute). Sweet bb koala you are so precious 🐨. 

7/7 | Night 3 💗

the show We were back at the barrier for the last night (for us), back to the right side between Deck and Chris. We got to hear playground love (waaaaaaah) and tuttifrutti! Playground love was so beautiful og 😭.

Throughout each night during sunskrupt, Branco would take a water break. A massive water break. He would drink water, keep the bottle at his lips and look into the screen, pondering life, then take another long drink of water. It was so long we were laughing and watching him drink water each night 😂 It was such a thing. I was that dork who took photos of this moment hahaha.

After playground love was countdown (when Chris came out, he brought his own guitar instead of picking up the one that was on stage, already tuned I think). Going into countdown, he had to put a capo on the guitar and tune it a bit, which took a very short amount of time but it was still something he had to do, and he was like ah merde! It was really funny and cute to hear him swear on stage since it was dead quiet 😂 

cute speciale things I tried their phoenix sake and took a polaroid in the telefono booth! It’s so cute. I also tried their childhood sandwiches on a “DAMN good baguette” (yeah they advertised it like this) and I gotta say, it sure was tasty. I didn’t get to try the gelato. Everything was so cute, they had ti amo balloons and a disco ball. They had a DJ too (I remember seeing Hedlund and Daniel Glass DJ-ing). The super mercato was so cool but I heard it kept breaking. Luckily I was able to get the pins and patches I wanted! (Though I didn’t notice they had a blue ti amo patch until it was too late!) The merch table also had a lot of cool merch and some old stuff from Bankrupt!. The entire vibe of the place was amazing. Every glass surface was graffitied with phoenix ti amo nyc 💘.  

after the show

chris and branco (ft. the greatest conversation) The afterparty this night felt a bit more natural for us. Maybe because we knew what to expect, but overall it was just more comfortable. At the party, we saw only Chris wandering around. We spoke to him and got to tell him we were all friends online and he was really surprised (it was cute). He was v thankful for us cheering so much! He was so smiley aaah. Mads finally was able to give him the cutest phoenix doodle she made (literal cutest he found himself and kept pointing to it 😭). I also remember a bit where Vee was talking about Deck’s spider pose and Chris was asking how to do it and then he tried to do it 😂 Chris is the best hahaha

After the venue kicked us out/ the party ended, we went outside and found that Branco was already outside talking to other fans. I was being silly on this last night and was speaking (was I loud?) about how cute he was to my friends and saying dumb things like look at those eyebrows and those cheeks (everything abt him is so cute ok i love this koala) and he stared into my soul 3 times (while talking to another group of fans) 🙈 and I didn’t know what to do im sorry for staring at u B 😭 💀 (you’re so pretty god!!)

Ok once it was our turn to talk to B, we talked to him abt…..pokemon 😂 (I don’t want to say too much but supposedly he has pokemon go and I love pokemon so you can imagine why we went down this path). It was a perfect opportunity since Vee also likes pokemon and her backpack featured the eevee evolutions. He was like ahh pokemon…. We asked him to pick a favorite from the backpack and I think he was confused (it was dark) and he pointed to eevee and named it as pikachu. The way he said it was so cute oh my god. He was like that’s pikachu (he said it twice). We were telling him that’s eevee and then he was saying that he is very old from another time, the shakespearean time. I think Vee then said he’s immortal or a vampire and he didn’t deny it. (idk why) I had to bring up the old cringe photoshoot they did where he looks like a vampire and he was watching and listening to me so intently as I was describing it. Mads saved it and just said it was posted on their IG and he was like ahh. (He probably was like these girls are so weird). Then he said that he knew the pokemon names but in french and so he pointed to vaporeon and said that’s aquali. It was SO CUTE. WOW. I can still hear his voice saying aquali. Literally so precious. 

Switching topics, Mads was asking if he saw the super cute doodle she did that she gave to Chris and I think he said he didn’t, but Chris said he showed him? (this part is a little fuzzy for me). Branco said that Chris never lies, called him over and then they were discussing if Chris had shown him/if Branco was present. Chris said that Branco probably forgot, then shortly after they started to speak in french to each other and we felt like shit was going down right in front of us omg (brothers fighting?!). At the end of it Branco opened his mouth without saying anything, then closed it, speechless (or, I thought of a cat showing its teeth lol) it was insane.  

Aaaaaa if you made it here thanks for reading 💗 It was such a cool time seeing phoenix with the feenix gang from online! I hope we all get to do it again in the future ✨ You all made this experience so memorable. 

[wearetheonesx]

Tess smiled when Sarah mentioned Cosima was the smartest of them all. It was something about the way she said it that made cafe owner believe there was a lot of love there. It was weird not to know these people when at some point, she was sure they knew pretty much everything about each other. It took them ages to get there and honestly, Tess doubted whether she'd ever let Sarah that close again. "I'm sorry you lost people" she said. Her life had become so much less complicated, whereas Sarah's seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. But she did say things were good now, if she remembered correctly.

"I'll bring you home" Tess said with a short nod. Her house, and car, were right around the corner. "Just let me get my car, alright? I don't want you to walk with your ribs" she stood up, placing a hand on Sarah's shoulder. She hesitated briefly, and then walked out the door. It really did not take long for her to get back. It was a 5 minute walk and the drive was just a little shorter. Parking the car in the back alley, she returned inside and helped Sarah into her car. When she closed up, her phone rang; she didn't pick up. "I know I can't keep blaming you for everything that happened" Tess said after a brief silence. "But-" it created some trust issues she could not easily get over. "What happened? When you didn't show? Did you just-- change your mind?"

Sarah & Tess

[eruptiions]

@jcyfulmess​ S A I D  :  “ kiss 36 from delfine to cos ”

the nighttime air was chilling against her pale flesh. she was doing so much better than she had been a few months ago. the clone disease was behind them, the symptoms having gone as quickly as they appeared with their cure. while cosima was feeling better than she had in so long, she was still recovering. her skin still had a bit of a sickly tint to it, and her mind. . . well it wasn’t quite back to its old-self quite yet. she was on the road to recovery- it just so happened that that road was the kind you find in the rocky mountains. long. bumpy. winding. . . and especially nerve-wracking. those nerves had been more than just wracked as of late, they had been rubbed raw. taking a few deep breaths, she could feel the kiss delphine had placed against her spine.  staring at the wall ahead of her, she didn’t turn around to face her girlfriend. she was quiet, and unmistakably defeated,   ❝  im sorry if i woke you- ❞ she pulled her head up, craning her neck to look down at delphine, ❝  these goddamn nightmares won’t let me sleep. how am i supposed to finish my thesis when these are keeping me awake? ❞ she shook her head with a dry laugh, no humor interwoven with her words.

[cophinefever]

So i have a lot of fics piled up in my notes on my phone and I’ve devised to post them here. I’ve posted a few on my ao3 account, Delphinecormierships. In case anyone wanted to check that out. But I’ll be posting a few here from now on I guess. This is only a small Drabble i wrote, Bc I’m too lazy to looo through my notes right now so enjoy lmao.

Delicately, Delphine swirled her long slim fingers around the rim of her small glass. Her eyes were glued to the remaining straight white rum that was just sitting there invitingly.

Forty five minutes.

That’s how long it took to come undone. To crack open the rum in the first place. To drink it from a glass as if that were more classy than the bottle, as if she were sharing anyway. As if it was just straight anyway. As if she wouldn’t be hurt anymore. As if nobody would see her through the surrounding glass walls. As if she wasn’t broken.

For it didn’t take long for the flashbacks. A smaller Delphine making daisy chains and braiding hair. Life flashes past before you know it. Before you have time to truly discover yourself.

She picked up the small glass and swigged what was left of the alcohol. The pounding in her head didn’t seem to lessen at all. It was the same relentless throbbing that had been going on for at least thirty minutes now. Maybe it was from the voices in her head? The ones that wouldn’t shut up? The ones that couldn’t pinpoint the worst case scenario so just threw them all in.

She spent her life worrying so much about other people she left no time for herself. Everyone expected so much from her without giving in return. So much of herself everyone expected Delphine to pour into things. So she did. She poured and poured and now there’s nothing fucking left.

You cannot hate someone who has relentlessly risked their life in exchange for yours. It all sounds pretty until it’s your reality.

Her body was practically fading away. When were her clothes too big for her? Do they even make clothes this small? When was the last time a shirt fit just right?

It was midnight and two drunk tongues argued themselves sober until sunrise. As irony made the air so thin and tragedy made breathing so bitter they came to the ironic and tragic conclusion that being in love is not a good reason for two people to stay together.

But blonde hair, blue eyes and words that fall like honey from lips that look like beauty. Is more than enough.

I guess love is sun hats inside and yoga.

I guess love is cooked meals and toy cars.

I guess love isn’t related to dedication and sacrifice?

Drunk never tasted so rotten. So regrettable. For drunk never filled her mind with the suppressed memories of what it looks like to be happy.

Living a life of constantly racing after other people’s expectations. Attempting to reach required forms of beauty and intelligence. Firmly balancing on a thin line of being a woman not a girl. Yet being a girl not a woman. Because life isn’t fair and life isn’t black and white. Life is contradicting and life is sacrifice and bad decisions.

Cosima’s happiness is all Delphine wanted but now it rests in the hands of someone else. And maybe she’s selfish, but nothing is right anymore. The only thing that feels normal is the burning in her throat that she has become accustomed to from downing that many glasses of unmixed rum.

If it wasn’t for the glass shattering on the floor from her loosening grip. Delphine wouldn’t of woken up. She wouldn’t of noticed that for some unapparent reason. Cosima has been sitting in the chair across from her desk with a disappointed look. Clearly hungover, Delphine rubbed her temples before sitting up properly and ignoring the shards of glass sitting below her a she edged her chair closer to the desk to rest her arms on.

“This needs to stop.” Cosima finally spoke, not gesturing, not moving. Just stating. Her eyes glued to Delphine’s, who seemed to be grasping for any last bit of hope. Reaching out for help as she blinked away the tears that glazed over her eyes.

After swallowing the painful lump in her throat Delphine finally spoke. Her accent thick and dry. “You know it is quite pointless of you to invite yourself into my building as if you hold any sort of power of my decisions anymore.” Delphine shot her a cold stare before looking down at her drawer and opening it slowly. Listening to soothing sound of the drawer gliding open before she pulled the almost empty bottle of white rum out and sat it on her desk. Only to realise she would have to get up to retrieve another desk from her remotely new alcohol cabinet she had installed only days ago. Solely for the purpose that she was tired of racing around when she could just walk to another side of the room to get alcohol.

“You’re going to drink again?” Cosima questioned as she gripped the edges of her seat. Staring daggers at the blonde. Who’s beauty now consisted of sunken in cheeks and jutting out bones. “Go home, Delphine.” She said with more emotion than she thought was possible.

“And where is that, Cosima?” Delphine replied almost right after Cosima spoke. Almost cutting her off as she stood up and found her way to her said cabinet. Leaning against it and looking down at her hands as she pressed them harder into it. “Because I use to think that was you.” She added quietly, her accent thickening.

“Then leave.” Cosima pleaded and found herself behind Delphine before her mind even registered to the movement.

Delphine grabbed another glass and held it tightly before turning around to face the smaller woman. As if this distance was enough to bring Delphine power as if towering over Cosima would break the mould her new lover created.

After moments of silence. Cosima spoke again. “Be on my side, Delphine. That’s all I want.” She whispered with a frown.

“Your side?” Delphine growled and stalked over to her chair, her heels clicking on the hard floor. “Do you not understand my actions? Does everything I do go over your head? Is it that hard for you to open up your eyes and see what I am risking for you?” Delphine rose her voice as she gestured around the room. “I put my life on the line by being in this position and betraying my job just to help you. And you repay me by sleeping with some girl you met online?” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Before pouring what was left of her rum directly into the new glass.

“Just leave, I am too tired to deal with this nonsense Cosima. I see no point of you coming in here with heinous ideas of me actually taking account of what you say. And that I should be a better person and not, waste my life.” Delphine quirked a brow before sipping from the glass. Her patience was wearing thin. There was absolutely no point of this un-arranged meeting. “I wish to be alone.” She added.

[tatlmaslany]

The first time Helen Shaver saw Tatiana Maslany on screen, she knew she wanted to work with her.

“I was asked to sit on the jury of the Whistler Film Festival about five years ago,” Shaver recalls. “I was adjudicating films, and there was a small Canadian film called Picture Day that was one of the films that we were looking at. That was the first time I’d ever been conscious of Tatiana, and I watched this movie, and my mouth just dropped, like ‘Who is that?'”

Months later, Shaver was flipping through TV channels in the middle of the night and stumbled upon a first season episode of a new sci-fi series starring a familiar face. She was enthralled. “The next day, I called my agent and said, ‘I want to do Orphan Black,'” she says. “‘It’s a fabulous show, and it has that young woman, Tatiana. I want to direct her.'”

Not only did Shaver’s phone call manifest her wish, but it led to one of her best creative experiences in a 20-year directing career that includes gigs on such TV shows as Judging Amy, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Person of Interest, Vikings and Anne. “I love Orphan Black,” she says, phoning from Los Angeles. “I loved my experience there. For me, as an artist and a collaborator and filmmaker, it really became a creative home.”

Shaver directed only three episodes of the Space hit—which is currently airing its fifth and final season—but she has lensed some of the most memorable scenes of the series: Helena watching Rachel and Paul have sex through her sniper scope, Alison and Donnie twerking and Paul’s death.

And then there are the Cosima and Delphine scenes.

In portraying Orphan Black‘s main romantic couple—coined Cophine by fans—Maslany and co-star Evelyne Brochu have screen-melting chemistry on their own, but Shaver’s direction managed to kick it up a notch, expertly excavating the conflicting motivations pulsing beneath the characters’ tortured scientist/experiment love affair. For example, there is no scene that captures the essence of Cophine’s complicated history more succinctly than in Season 2’s “Ipsa Scientia Potestas Est,” where shots of a fearful Cosima receiving an injection are intercut with images of Delphine comforting her.

The same goes for Season 5’s “Ease For Idle Millionaires,” when the couple finally chooses to stop fighting each other and accept the complex dynamics of their relationship, the camera swirling around past and present versions of them as they build up to a kiss. After the episode aired two weeks ago, Cophine fans swarmed Twitter to post their appreciation of Shaver’s work.

So what is Shaver’s secret to directing such emotionally effective scenes?

“There are many, many elements to the director’s job, but the primary one to me is that the director is the container, the safe room in which actors are willing to speak their personal truths through the mouthpiece of the character,” she explains. “My willingness to be present, it creates a safe space, a womb some might say, where the actors can expose themselves through the characters to each other—and as you see with these two women on screen, it’s compelling beyond belief.”

And Shaver has another directing superpower.

“I’m not afraid of actors,” she says. “I don’t feel the need to minimize that. I truly respect actors.”

While that may seem like a given for someone working in the TV industry, Shaver learned that not everyone shares her view when she crossed over from acting to directing in the 1990s. During her first-ever production prep meeting, someone made a comment that she never forgot. “We were talking and I said, ‘Oh, the actor will need blah, blah blah,’ and somebody—a writer—said, ‘Oh, it’s just a f–king actor,'” she recalls. “And ‘f–king’ was not the important adjective; the important adjective was ‘just.’ The thing is, most people have no concept what acting is, what the internal process of acting is, what the vulnerability, what the exposure, what the trust is, the waiting for an hour while they set up the lights, and now there’s only 10 minutes left and now do your close-up. It’s 7 o’clock in the morning and you’ve been up all night talking to your mother because your father is sick, you still gotta do your close-up. It doesn’t matter. And because most people don’t have a concept of what that is, many people feel like they are held captive by the actor. You need them, but, damn it, there they are with all their humanity and foibles and all the things that you can’t control, and so they are afraid of the actor—and fear is the antidote to creativity.”

“The other thing that happens is kind of a sycophant approach of talking to an actor as if they are a child,” Shaver adds. “Or some emotionally disturbed adolescent who’s going to tear the place down and run screaming from the room or something.”

Obviously, that’s not the environment fostered on Orphan Black, a show that depends on the gifts of its lead actor more than perhaps any other TV show in history, and a show whose lead actor is known nearly as much for her tireless work ethic as she is for her mind-boggling abilities.

“[Tatiana] is just an extraordinary talent,” Shaver says. “Just the breadth of her gift, her willingness, her gift, her intellect, her spirit, her no fuss, no muss [attitude]. And with the extraordinary amount of work that that woman did, there was never a complaint. Just exemplary.”

Shaver also credits Orphan Black co-creators and showrunners Graeme Manson and John Fawcett with giving her the freedom to get the most out of every scene. “The line between writing and directing is not this hard line like some showrunners have, you know, ‘I say she picked up the teacup on this word, so that’s when the teacup gets picked up.’ That’s a sort of thing that exists certainly in some productions, but from the get-go, I was really offered the opportunity to take the material and direct it as a little movie the way I saw.”

That approach allowed Shaver to choreograph the pivotal scene in “Ipsa Scientia Potestas Est” where Rachel sexually dominates Paul in a chair. “The original script, for example, was that Rachel pushes Paul onto the bed and climbs on top of him,” she says. “So I looked at the script and said, ‘OK, Graeme, so we’re looking for female dominated sex, right?’ And he says, ‘Yes.’ So I go, ‘OK, let me think about this.’ During the course of prep, I conceived this whole thing where it was out in the living area of the space, and I thought Rachel is not doing anything for his pleasure. He is there for her. And all of that was not just allowed but encouraged and embraced in the environment that was there.”

Shaver also switched up Cosima and Delphine’s flashback scene in “Ease For Idle Millionaires,” animating a formerly staid scene with all the emotion the situation demanded. “The scene in the flashback was written that they’re sitting on the couch and that’s how it played out in the first rehearsal of it, and it was quite quiet and passive in a sense,” she recalls. “It was a little conversation, and I said, ‘No, wait. Hold on. Let’s go to the beginning of this moment. What is the beginning of this moment?’ There’s this huge betrayal that Cosima is recognizing and also this recognition that she is property. All these things, the pain, the tearing away, the outrage, the betrayal, how can you even stay sitting on the couch beside [Delphine]? And bang, Tatiana was up and then Evelyne was up, and we shot that a number of times, allowing it to evolve in its own way each time. And then in the cutting, once they got into an embrace, using bits from multiple takes so that it builds that kind of cacophony of emotion, which is true to what happens to a human being, not just on the outside but on the inside when such a moment is going on.”

Shaver gives props to Maslany and Brochu for forming a “circuit of energy” with her in order to better understand—and ultimately elevate—the scene. “That’s a complex moment, and these women, as they have each time, completely gave themselves to the moment, to me. And I take it quite personally. I feel like I’m being given an enormous gift. I mean what is greater than to be trusted?”

And while the Cophine scenes will always have a special place in Shaver’s heart—”To me, love is love, and love is the only thing that is real,” she shares—she has a few other favourite Orphan Black memories as well. “I’d say the delirium in Episode 306 [“Certain Agony of the Battlefield”] that begins with Sarah in Mexico going into her dream state through the tunnel into the kitchen with Beth. I’m extraordinarily proud of that on every level. I think it’s exquisite performances—or performance,” she corrects herself, laughing. “It’s all her! I think visually, in terms of my work with the camera, that’s a beautiful piece of work. And the sequence with Helena, Paul and Rachel, I love that very much.”

Most of all, Shaver says she will always remember her relationship with Maslany—who drew her to Orphan Black in the first place, and with whom she will team up with again in early 2018 to film Pamela Sinha’s Happy Place.

“Happy Place explores the lives of seven women aged 23 to 60 who are residents of an in-patient care facility: a microcosm for the world outside its walls. What is it to live inside the suffering of these women...addressing the idea that we are not so different from each other, though our circumstances may be? Each woman must try to find a way to fit into a world that can't respond to or redress a pain that is unseeable. But they are also the ones who can teach one another how to live with what happened to them as no one else ever could. Even if they can't always do it for themselves.” (source)

“I remember the day that Tatiana and I met,” she says. “Even though I’m certainly old enough to be her mother, we recognized each other immediately. It’s as if our souls are the same age, or as if we live in the same … whatever. We exist with the same sort of principles.”