#and in the process crafted a pointed message before snapping that point in half

[captorations]

extremely funny that the moffat episode in this season is the one i hadn't seen any hype over and sure enough there's a reason for that

(the reason is that it's bad)

[bellygunnr]

Boarding Action

CW: DEATH, BODY HORROR, AI POSSESSION

in accordance with discussions via @poisonheadcrabsalesman (who wrote their own!!!)

----

"All forces who can hear this transmission, fall back to the Infinity to help with defense!"

The Commander's call to arms overlaps with the Captain's demand for battle stations. Roland blasts both messages to either end of the ship for as long as he can-- until something in him snaps and his voice becomes muffled, silent, and hoarse. He opens his eyes to seek out the damage but they, too, are compromised, smarting and burning and bleeding where power fails and explosions rock his bones. He stretched himself out and hates that he struggles.

The Infinity was boarded. Her internals raged with isolated slipspace signatures while her outer shell cracked and gave way to less mobile enemies. Processes calculating the damage had to be ignored lest he be paralyzed by the rapidly swelling, rapidly worsening assessment, when he was already struggling to keep up with the protection of his most important assets. There were protocols in place to deal with attacks so close to home, after all-- he could follow every one, or he could live a little.

Subroutines disguised as instincts struggled to urge him into flight. He felt his awareness subside as violent Promethean attacks wiped out five, no, six more of his eyes, and predictive analysis ratcheted the death toll ever higher. His chest reverberated as he took the mouthpiece in  Main Corridor 3, Deck Three, and declared it sealed--

"Exits are now closed off. Eliminate on sight. Hold tight."

--because he was venting atmosphere in six outer compartments so that the Covenant crafts attempting to file in were immediately deprived of precious oxygen and totaled. He said as much to Fireteam Ox before they got too close. Go this way, Spartans. Ammunition under here, soldiers.

Two more of his eyes blink and shutter, vision growing grainy before stabilizing. The Captain is struggling not to give into his impulses. Biosigns flicker and flare, leaching chemical readings into already half-contaminated air. He can't focus on them all, he has to prioritize, but the soul count aboard is dwindling from 17,000 strong to less than 16. He's not a combat AI-- he feels each death, like a corrupted byte of data.

The grief threatens to unravel him but he spins it off to be processed elsewhere. He is rattling off into an active comm, but what is he saying--

"Spartan Miller, Spartan Miller,"

Behind you! Slipspace readings on your six!

But comms are dead and he is forced to drag himself out of his miles-high suspension and look into the Intelligence/Operations room with one giant eye. Maybe he's slower than he thought. Spartan Miller is engaged and tangling beautifully, but the diagnostics from his armor stink of desperation. Though distorted, he can hear him shout.

"Crimson, a bit busy. Hold position and I'll override--"

Crimson was stuck? How did he miss that? They were mission-critical assets at this point. Right, Roland would be hard pressed to interfere with analog controls, but if he went down here, and offered a handshake there, then--

"We're through, Miller!"

Tinny and soft and heard from a distance, Crimson coordinates desperately with a mission handler who's stuck fast to the breastplate of a Promethean Knight, and Roland realizes that--

He might be watching someone die. Far too closely than he'd like and perhaps unpreventable except that this wing of the Infinity isn't totally undefended and that there are Spartans here, here, and-- too far, caught up in their own engagements, but this IFF tag, blinking amber like a server port in standby--

It might just be close enough.

But the IFF tag reads this and the biosigns read that so Roland has to interface with the Spartan's neural implants and pick apart the limited software running sluggishly in its roots. He has to interface with the Mjolnir, bloated by its own hydrostatic gel layer, and force it to decompress as rapidly as it can. Embolisms are nothing now. This Spartan is this Spartan is he's getting his hands under his chest and pushing up, up, up, electricity arcing across its nervous system in fitful bursts.

One Knight dissipates in a burst of metal plates and data. Damage readings bleed out from the Ops room like smoke from kindling. Roland shuts down the Mjolnir's safety checks to continue pouring input into the neural lace, blowing processors but managing to get fat, stiff fingers around the stock of a rifle. He slams down on random parts of the lace until something flashes and the gun snaps up into firing position.

16,500 strong drops to 16-even. One member of Crimson is nursing a crushed shoulder. He feels filthy, with so many intruders writhing in the Infinity. His people-- her people-- are keeping the Covenant ranks at bay but the Prometheans--

How do you fight something like that?

How long will the assault last?

Not enough intelligence on the matter.

Requiem-- older than him. Older than them all. He got here late, but he knows that the Infinity has seen it before. Her old handler's data still lingers in her circuits.

Roland wonders if he can get the Spartan to breathe. If he presses down here, the muscles in the left leg will spasm and it will jerk forward. Movement on the right is hindered by a plasma-cut hole in the hip, but still, he heaves himself forward, until he can clumsily spin around and wait for the gyro sensors in the exoskeleton to account for the sway.

His vision splinters off into a million fractal points, struggling as he is to contend with every lane of input and feedback. His destination is here and all he has to do is nudge the barrel of the battle rifle that way, just so, and seize the nervous system until the trigger finger depresses and and and and

Another Knight shudders and explodes as the back of its skull makes contact with repetitive three-burst rounds. Spartan Miller staggers out from under it, Magnum dropping from his shaking hands.

"Who--- Donya! Thanks for the save. I was getting worried there. Are you-- Donya?"

Roland-- Donya-- struggles to get their arm off of the gun to wave; her body gives out as she does.

Roland curses. That aspect of himself withers away and dies as the neural implants burn, setting the Mjolnir interface alight. 

This time, he forces himself to turn a blind eye to the Ops room. He's more helpful elsewhere.

He's done enough.

And AI shouldn't be processing the concept of taste or the voice of their mother, anyway.

[transsergio]

Emily's Top Surgery (Read on AO3)

Penemily / Gen / 4038 words

Emily has top surgery and their loving, perfect, beautiful girlfriend Penelope is their caretaker.

Notes: I refer to Emily as Penelope's girlfriend intentionally; Emily is a non-binary lesbian and in this particular story, is comfortable with the gendered term "girlfriend". However, if you see Emily referred to as she/her at any point, that's an editing mistake on my part and I mixed up their pronouns with Penelope's. I went through this a couple times to make sure I gendered them correctly, but one might have slipped through the cracks!

Also feels important to say that Dr. Dolan is a totally fictional doctor and not a reference to any real life surgeon

-

Surgery Day

Penelope has seen her team through too much already. Kidnappings, stab wounds, bullets – their jobs aren’t exactly arts and crafts. Yet, she thinks this might be the most nervous she has ever been. She’s been rapid-fire tapping her heel for the last hour and forty-five minutes, and trying to distract herself with her cell phone. Morgan texted a couple times to check in (once on behalf of Reid), but otherwise, radio silence. The few messages mean more than she can say; she is intimately familiar with how busy they are on a case. But she really wishes any of them were there to squeeze her hand right about now. She’d even take Strauss.

In the middle of Penelope’s billionth Candy Crush level, a doctor materializes in front of her. She startles and fumbles her phone trying to click it off. “Is it over? Can I see them now? How’d it go?”

As the doctor peels his surgical mask off, she sees he’s laughing at her. That’s good, right?

He says, “Everything went just fine, Ms. Garcia. Emily’s in the recovery room now, and we’ll let you back there about twenty minutes after they wake up. They’re going to be a little groggy and maybe nauseous. It all depends on how their body reacts to the anesthesia. They’ll most likely sleep for the rest of the day, but make sure to keep up with their medications, alright?”

Penelope nods fervently. “Absolutely, Dr. Dolan. Can do. Will do! And I’m sorry to ask this again but I really have to make sure, the whole operation was totally fine? Nothing went wrong? Everything…chopped off okay?”

The doctor stifles a chuckle. “Yes, Ms. Garcia. Everything went exactly as planned, no complications as of yet. We’ll see you tomorrow for Emily’s one day post-op appointment to check the surgery site and switch out the bandages for a binder, and then for their first week post-op. Okay?”

Penelope smiles back, still nodding along like Emily’s health depends on it.

The doctor shakes her hand and ducks back into the surgical ward, leaving Penelope to update the group chat.

“Emily’s out!!!!!! Doc says all good!!!!!! Will be with them soon 😍💖🥳”

She types almost as quickly as her heart is beating.

Penelope makes it through another few rounds of mobile games and desperately refreshing her Twitter feed before she risks checking the clock. It’s been half an hour. Shouldn’t Emily be awake by now? What if they never wake up? Could someone be permanently anesthetized? Reid would know. Maybe Penelope should call Reid. No, she can’t do that. They’re all off in Texas trying to catch a serial killer and she doesn’t need to distract them, not when they’re already down two team members. Kevin Lynch is pretty good, she hopes. She’s seen his work and it’s adequate. Nothing like the multi-tasking Penelope pulls off, but in the same ballpark. His boyfriend, Grant Anderson, vouched for him. It was unnecessary, and maybe Kevin shouldn’t have sent the person who got Elle shot to sing his praises, but at least they knew Grant. Kevin was a stranger from another department. A back-up.

“Penelope Garcia?” A nurse calls as she emerges from swinging double doors.

“Yes, right here!” Penelope chirps. She leaps to her feet and scurries over as quickly as her heels will allow.

The nurse walks her through the recovery ward and the steps to Emily’s post-op instructions. Emily has four different prescriptions already filled and two cannot be taken at the exact same time while one is an antibiotic and the other is just for nausea which they might not need and –

“This is all written down, right? Sorry, my head’s just like, woo, swimming right now,” Penelope says. Her eyes are wide and darting frantically between the curtained beds. She hates the fluorescent lights. Her skin is buzzing with all the sour electricity. The nurse assures her they’ll send them home with physical copies along with phone numbers in case of emergency.

They round the nurse’s station and finally, come to Emily. They’re shifting slightly in their bed, leaning forward and sipping at a dixie cup of water. They're groggy and slow, with the IV still in their arm. Penelope’s glad they don’t have a mirror – their bangs are scattered over their forehead in three wispy chunks, a way Penelope knows Emily hates.

“Hey sweetheart,” Penelope coos. She leans over the bed's plastic siding to kiss the top of Emily’s head, and run her fingers through their dark hair. Emily leans into the touch.

They croak, “Hey,” and cough to clear their throat, wincing all the while.

“That’d be because you were intubated,” the nurse says. “Take plenty of cough drops and you should feel much better.”

Penelope assures the nurse they will while Emily drifts in and out of focus.

“Did it work?” they ask.

“Did what, Em?”

“M’surgery.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. You’ll see in a little bit. You’re just sleepy.”

“M’kay,” Emily says. Their head lolls back into their pillows as the muscles in their face tighten.

“Emily, what would you rate your pain out of ten?” the nurse asks, coming closer with her clipboard at the ready.

“Uh, five? Maybe six.”

Penelope looks to the nurse. “Is that bad? That sounds bad. I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt right now.”

The nurse jots down a few notes before she answers. “It’s not unusual. We’ll up their pain killers before we remove the IV.”

Penelope plants herself firmly at Emily’s side in the meantime. They’ve redressed Emily in their own clothes, an oversized button-down and sweats. Well, Penelope assumes they put Emily’s bottoms back on. The blanket is still tucked tightly around their body like they’re some kind of soft, hot mummy. They stay like that for another fifteen minutes, Penelope working her nails through Emily’s scalp as they try to relax.

When Emily rates their pain at a four, then a three, Penelope helps the nurse settle them in a wheelchair. They roll a few feet into the hall before Emily claws for Penelope’s arm.

“Where’s the barf bag?” Penelope asks. She has her hand out and ready for the nurse to pass it over, and swings it into Emily’s face.

Emily, thankfully, does not puke. Their slow, steady breath crinkles the blue plastic bag, but all they fill it with is air. They keep a tight grip on the thing for safekeeping, even as they’re helped into the passenger’s seat of Penelope’s car.

“You ready to go home, lovebug?” Penelope keeps her voice low and sweet, like dark honey. Emily nods and Penelope grants her wish, starting the engine and turning out of the parking lot.

-❤-

One Day Post-Op

Penelope holds her breath as the nurse unwraps the medical bandages. She wonders if Em is doing the same. While she’s watching them, Emily’s eyes flit between her and the floor-length mirror fastened to the exam room wall.

The nurse is talking, and they’re both supposed to be listening, but who could expect them to? Emily has spent a couple grand (after insurance) and something like four years waiting for these next seconds. Penelope is just as invested, if not more, in Emily’s happiness. She’s not going to get the camera out, but wonders if she should just in case Emily cries.

Their eyes follow the final bandage as it unravels from Emily’s form.

And Emily’s mind goes quiet. They have two, deep red swoops where their chest used to bulge. Above and below, their body is nothing but smooth skin. They thought this would feel like shock. Like disbelief that they were finally here. Instead, it just feels right, as if this is the way it’s always been and some crappy daydream is over at last. They giggle, and Penelope glows like the sun has risen.

“Wow,” Penelope says, soft. She’s wrenched with admiration.

The nurse is smiling in the corner. She takes out a roll of Steri-Strips and measures them against Emily’s new scars. Scars! Emily finally has scars!

“Now the bruising should lessen in the next three to four weeks,” the nurse says. Oh, bruising. Emily almost hadn’t noticed. Their body is splotched with patches of yellow, green, and purple as if it’s trying to camouflage itself, but Emily’s not hiding from anything anymore.

They’re given more practical information, like how often Emily should be walking to avoid blood clots, how high they should lift their arms, how much they should be carrying – most of which tells them to stay reclined, arms down, to sleep as much as possible, but get in ten minutes of walking every few hours. Penelope hears more of this than Emily does, and again, they’re given written instructions just in case.

Emily takes one last look before the compression vest goes on. This will be the most uncomfortable part of the process, thank god. Emily chose a surgeon who used a tighter suture method rather than the typical drains intentionally. Still, the fit of the binder is exciting. Emily’s never had something lie flat on them before. Their body now falls in one fluid line without anything, even nipples, to interrupt.

“Em?”

Emily snaps to Penelope, who is standing and holding the door for them.

“Oh, right,” Emily says with half a laugh and a daze in their eyes. They thank the nurse, and the receptionist, and a passing surgeon that isn’t even Emily’s on the way out. This is the most gratitude Emily’s ever contained in their life, and they need to flush it through their system.

“And especially you,” Emily gushes as Penelope helps buckle their seatbelt. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re taking time off for me, or that you’re not stir crazy already. Thank you.”

Penelope grins like she might burst, and can’t answer just yet. She gets them safely onto the highway for home first. “Of course I’m here for you, dumb-dumb! Not only because you literally can’t do anything for yourself right now, or because the hospital said you couldn’t have the surgery without having a caretaker, but, well – okay, maybe half for those reasons too. But because I love you. I’m so happy for you, and how happy you’re going to be, and that this is so good for you. I love you so much.” Penelope sniffles.

“Maybe you should have said all that before we left?” Emily asks. “You’re gonna cry the whole drive back, babe.”

Penelope swats at them. “I know, I know! But you’re on a strict schedule, my lovely angel, and you need your meds in like, thirty minutes.”

Emily laughs and catches Penelope’s hand in their own. They squeeze it tightly and press their lips to Penelope’s fingers. Emily only releases when Penelope tugs their grip toward the steering wheel.

“Next stop, Recoveryville,” Pen jokes.

-❤-

Five Days Post-Op

Emily is more or less comfortably laid on their couch. They have an arsenal of pillows stationed behind them, under their arms, and at the bend of their knees, and Penelope’s militant care routine keeping them afloat. For the last four days, they’ve done nothing but watch French art films together, eat ice cream, and order takeout. It’s been a nice break, Emily realizes. One they didn’t know they needed.

Penelope emerges from the kitchen with a bag of Doritos and a bright blue DVD in her hands.

“This looks like a bribe,” Emily says with a wry smile.

“That’s because it is. I am in no place to object to your choice of movies, especially after I promised I wouldn’t make fun of the accents anymore. But I was sorta hoping this would be a good opportunity to manhandle you into watching a real classic.” Penelope blocks the television in her pink pajama pants and Emily’s Yale hoodie. Penelope is well aware that Emily loves when she wears their clothes; she has to be doing this on purpose. And it’s working.

Emily bobs their head from side to side, considering the offer. “Alright, shoot. I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

Penelope slaps the movie cover over her face. Mamma Mia! (2008) Dir. Phyllida Lloyd.

“Oh, god.”

And Penelope reemerges, scowling. “Hey! I didn’t complain when you made me watch that sad movie about the woman with the dead family. This time, no one’s dead! And they’re in Greece! Okay, admittedly no one wants to hear Pierce Brosnan sing, but if you ignore him and focus on Meryl Streep the movie gets a lot better!”

This is not the first time Emily has heard argument on behalf of Mamma Mia! and it likely isn’t the last, either. Movie night in the Garcia-Prentiss household is in a state of constant debate and usually decided by a fair and unbiased coin toss. Emily considers it a miracle that Penelope’s lasted this long without putting up a fight, and considers it part of her generosity as their caretaker.

Emily scooches themself into a more upright position. “Trois coleurs: Bleu is a beautiful movie and you said you liked it, first of all. And I thought we were watching my movies because I’m the one healing.”

Penelope hesitates. “…Yes, but I may have also been doing a little eensy weensy bit of work at the same time because they’re also like, really slow and boring and Kevin needed the tiniest, tiniest bit of help on the Texas case.”

“Traitor!” Emily is aghast. “What about the deal?”

The deal, of course, was the promise they made each other after their third movie night. Emily was texting throughout The Muppets Take Manhattan and not entirely invested in Kermit and Miss Piggy’s wedding. Penelope was hurt, Emily was confused, and didn’t fully get it until Penelope fell asleep twenty minutes into Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle. From that point on, they agreed to compromise more on movie selection and to pay undivided attention to the films they did pick.

“You passed out! I thought the deal was void if you weren’t awake during your own movie!” Penelope said.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” Emily argued.

“Oh, yeah, I’m going to wake up the person who just had surgery so they can pay attention to the third sad foreign movie of the day. You need your rest, and Kevin has maybe half of my inimitable skills!” Penelope’s words were jumbling together as she went up an octave. “I know I’m on vacation but the team needed help and I didn’t want to abandon them with some computer monkey who doesn’t know the first thing about my system, much less the way the team works, and isn’t even a regular assist on cases like me and—”

Penelope is cut off by three short raps at their front door. A welcome escape.

“Pen!” Emily calls after her. “We’re not done here!”

“I think we are!” Penelope shouts back. She passes down the hall and peers through the peep hole, though, she really doesn’t need to. She recognizes the voices on the other side.

“We’re not too early, are we?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, genius.”

“I mean in days since Emily’s operation. They might not be up to company.”

“Then we’ll say hi to baby girl and head out, no big deal.”

Penelope swings the door wide open. “Definitely say hi to me, definitely do that!”

Morgan and Reid stand in their building’s hallway, Derek carrying bags of Chinese food, and Spencer juggling some sort of gift basket. Their eyes are tired and Derek’s stubble is looking rougher than usual, but they perk up in the light of their friend.

“Hey, there she is,” Morgan says. He comes in for a tight hug as he and Reid crowd themselves inside. “How’s everyone holdin’ up?”

“Peachy keen,” Penelope says. She squeezes Derek’s shoulder and leads them back to Emily by Reid’s hand. “Look who missed their favorite co-workers!”

“Hey, guys,” Emily says. Their heart warms at the sight of them. “What’re you doing here?”

“Now how’s that any way to greet a friend?” Morgan laughs. He lowers their takeout food to the coffee table and dives onto the couch beside Emily. “You been good to Garcia so far, or do we have to put the hurt on you?” He playfully punches Emily in their arm, and they cower in mock pain.

“Hey, no roughhousing!” Penelope scolds. “If anyone pulls any sort of muscle in the next twenty minutes, you’re all in timeout.”

Emily and Derek snicker in their seats and launch into the most recent case details. It’s a lot of the gory, icky stuff that Penelope doesn’t want to know unless she’s in her bat cave, so she takes Spencer and his basket into the kitchen.

“Doritos, huh?” he notices the bag Penelope drops on the counter. “You were trying to get something from them?”

Penelope answers with her head stuck in the fridge as she paws to the back for Spencer’s La Croix. “I may have wanted to watch one of my movies today, and I may have offered chips in payment.” She fishes a couple cans of LimonCello out, and huffs. “So what’s all this?”

“It’s from JJ. She wanted to come herself but didn’t think bringing Henry over was the best idea,” Spencer explains. He holds his drink gingerly with both hands and peers into the basket. It looks a lot like the one Penelope used for JJ’s baby shower, and is also definitely the same basket. Inside are a few bags of beef jerky, chocolate, a backscratcher with a little pink hand at its end, and an airline neck pillow with the Texas flag patterned over it.

“Awe. I’m definitely baking her cookies,” Penelope says. She leans back against the counter and eyes Spencer up and down. “Tough case?”

Spencer shifts from side to side and looks into the dark pit of his La Croix can. “Not much worse than usual. It was just… long. And Emily would’ve been a big help. None of us speak Spanish.”

“But you didn’t want to call right now,” Penelope guesses. “It’s all over though, right? All good? Everything wrapped up with a bow for good luck?”

Spencer nods and purses his lips. He looks over his shoulder to the living room, where Derek is describing something with his hands and Emily watches, wide-eyed and entertained. Spencer says, more to himself than Penelope, “It’s always good to be home.”

-❤-

Two Weeks Post-Op

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss!”

Emily freezes with one arm reaching desperately above doctor-recommended height, and another gripping the cabinet door like their life depends on it. They press their forehead into the shelf, groaning, “That’s not my middle name.”

“I can make up whatever name I want! You know what Dr. Dolan said, and this is so far out of bounds!” Penelope stands in the kitchen threshold with her hands on her hips. She sighs and tugs Emily away from the cereal cabinet by their waist. When their arms are safely lowered to their sides, Penelope puts on her serious face, with her seriously furrowed eyebrows, and her serious frown on her lips. She asks, “Do you, like, want to injure yourself? Is this your new favorite hobby?”

Emily is petulant. “No, I want breakfast, and it’s on the third shelf. Let’s just pretend you got it for me, okay?”

Penelope grumbles her frustrations under her breath as she pulls down the family size box of Lucky Charms. She flurries around the space until she’s collected a bowl and spoon and settled them on the other side of the kitchen counter, where a bar stool and carton of milk wait for Emily.

“Sit,” Penelope orders. Emily complies with a glint in their eyes.

“Thank you,” they say, saturating their words with genuine love.

“Oh, stuff it.” Penelope pecks a kiss to their cheek regardless. She tries not to think about how cute Emily is when they’re smug, but it’s a losing battle. The way their nose scrunches, the smirk; not helping. Instead, Penelope picks a smidgeon of a fight.

“Your hair is greasy.”

And Emily’s face falls flat and exasperated. They let their spoon rest in the pool of marshmallows. “Can we do this after I eat?”

“Oh, lovebug. Absolutely not,” Penelope smiles knowingly. “You haven’t washed it in like, four days, which tells me that it’s not as easy as you said it was. Y’know, I was wondering who said washing your own hair was too much work immediately after having an operation? It would have to be someone super smart and beautiful and funny and—”

“It was you, Penelope. We all know it was you.”

“Funny; it was, wasn’t it?”

But Penelope lets them finish their cereal. She was about to eat her own Eggo waffles, after all. Once the dishes are rinsed and in the washer, she marches Emily straight into their bathroom. The tub thankfully doesn’t share a wall with the toilet, making it easier for Emily to scoot in next to the faucet. Penelope folds Emily’s towel (the towel that is dark purple, and not spring green, which Penelope keeps carefully out of the splash zone) (unlike Emily, who does not mind if their towel is damp long after it should be dry, and probably growing some type of mold) (okay, it’s not growing mold, but Penelope insists that it will eventually become mold-ridden if Emily doesn’t start hanging it up more consistently) along the side of the tub. Emily fits the towel under their neck, and Penelope guides them into position.

“Your hair is so thick,” Penelope comments.

Emily says, “You tell me that once a week.”

“Because it is. Now close your eyes.”

Penelope detaches the removable showerhead and lets the water warm her hand. When it’s a comfortable temperature, she douses Emily’s head. She maneuvers carefully around Emily’s forehead to avoid hitting their face, though Emily’s eyelids flutter when they worry the stream is near. Penelope thinks with their long eyelashes, they look like butterflies about to take flight.

She works the shampoo in with a gentle, but thorough touch. It’s when she rubs the lather into Emily’s scalp that Emily lets a soft moan break, and Penelope smiles. She takes pride in her work, whether she’s at her desk or in her soapy bathroom.

The shampoo swirls down the drain as Penelope rinses Emily free. Emily opens their eyes and tries to sit up, but Penelope pins their shoulders to the tub.

“Hold on! I haven’t conditioned yet.”

“Isn’t shampoo enough? We’re going to be here again in three days. It’s a hassle.”

Penelope does not think so. For the low price of two-thousand dollars and the risk of post-op complications, Penelope’s seen her girlfriend relax for the first time in, maybe ever. She’s going to drag it out as long as she can. Which, for right now, means dumping a handful of conditioner into her palm and rubbing it through the tips of Emily’s hair.

The final rinse is cleansing, like the weight falls from Emily’s shoulders. Penelope swipes the towel from Emily’s neck and cocoons their hair inside. She manages to keep their shirt dry, for the most part. Emily sits up with a pain in their shoulders, and does their best to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” Penelope prompts. Their best is not nearly good enough, not when Penelope has the analytical eye of someone who loves them. Penelope plants Emily on their shared bed for the first time since their surgery, already grateful to have a little of Emily’s smell in the room again. She sits behind them and overlaps their legs with hers. Penelope digs into the knots wound through their back as if she's torturing for information.

“It’s almost like you have a stressful job or something,” Penelope says.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, something like that.”

Penelope massages her way down until Emily feels looser under her fingers. She leans her head into the crook of Emily’s shoulder and presses a kiss to their skin. “We could ask for more time off,” she offers.

Emily slouches against Penelope’s body. “We could. But we have to go back at some point.”

“Let’s pretend we don’t.”

Emily exhales. “Sounds good to me.”

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

[amyscascadingtabs]

paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

Rosa Diaz has never been dumped before. She thought she would be better at it.

(Or, Rosa's first twenty-four hours post being dumped are a bit of a rollercoaster.) Set pre 7x04.

read on ao3

Rosa’s never been dumped before. She thought she would be better at it.

 Rosa knows how to break up with people. She doesn't start unnecessary drama. She's not overly emotional. Ever since her relationship with Marcus, she actually lets her exes talk about their emotions. She's never been dumped, but she's seen firsthand how people act when they are and knows she’d never make the same mistakes. She would have seen it coming - she wouldn’t be caught off guard, like Marcus. She wouldn't be crying, like Adrian. She wouldn't have kept asking what she did wrong, like Kaitlin, who she dated for a short bit before she came out. She wouldn't be insisting they try again, try just a little bit longer, like Alicia.

 Then Jocelyn breaks up with her and Rosa does all of the above.

It would be ironic if it wasn't quite so painful.

She doesn't see it coming, although in retrospect, maybe she should have. There were warning signs. There was that time when Jocelyn came to the precinct before her trip, that time at brunch when Rosa raised her voice at a remark about it being a shame they don't do this more often and Jocelyn turned all quiet. There were more conflicts and petty arguments after that. Always about the same things - Rosa's job taking too much time, Rosa having to cancel last minute because of a case, and in the end, Rosa not being fully there when she was there. Those arguments were resolved, though. Rosa would apologize, promise she'd be better in the future. She’d make an effort and things would improve. They were happy, and Rosa’s ashamed of how baffled she gets when Jocelyn says no, it's for real this time.

 She cries. No desperate screams or hysterical bawling, but there are tears in her eyes from the first word Jocelyn speaks and she hears her voice breaking as she tries to form apologies, protests, stop whatever is happening before it's too late. She asks what she did wrong, if there's anything she can make better, and Jocelyn patiently explains how their needs just don't work together and Rosa says but I want them to and Jocelyn shakes her head. She insists they try again, promises she'll work less, be more present, if only she can get another chance. Jocelyn says she's given Rosa too many chances. Then she leaves without even slamming the door, pretending like she didn't just become the first person to dump Rosa Diaz.

 Rosa drinks two glasses of whiskey and a shot of tequila. It burns, but it numbs, and it gets her through the quick process of collecting all the things from her apartment that either belonged to Jocelyn, were given to her by Jocelyn or just remind her too much of Jocelyn, and putting them in different bags. A spare makeup bag, a collection of travel-size hair products, various items of clothing Jocelyn kept in one of Rosa’s drawers. Old gifts - a mug that says Certified Nancy Meyers Expert, a hand-crafted photobook, matching jewelry that Rosa made for them. The items that are Jocelyn’s go in a bag to be dropped off outside her house, and the gifts, in a moment of fury and frustration, go in the trash. After that, Rosa goes to bed, allowing the numbness lull her into a false sense of security that lets her sleep.

 Her first thought the next morning is that her head hurts. Her second thought is that the bed’s too cold, and she’s spread out in a way that feels wrong. She reaches for her phone and is two seconds away from sending Jocelyn a text message to say good morning and tell her she misses her before she remembers.

She deletes Jocelyn’s contact picture - a cheesy selfie of them both - and the double pink heart emoji, not added by Rosa, from her name. Suddenly, phone contact Jocelyn Price with a grey-and-white avatar could be anyone. An old acquaintance, a neighbor, or someone entirely unimportant. Rosa pretends it’s true.

She’s grateful she’s working a double homicide. A tough case is exactly what she needs, something to take her focus and let her dive deep into figuring out someone else’s problems rather than her own. She’s also grateful she’s working with Charles, who is observant enough to tell something’s off but too respectful slash terrified to ask what, and instead tells her every detail about Nikolaj’s school performance whenever there’s a moment’s silence. Rosa loses herself in the case, working their final leads until she knows which suspect did it, and through some miraculous twist of fate, one hour later they have a confession.

It’s barely past three in the afternoon.

 “Fantastic work, guys,” Terry applauds them, and Charles looks pleased with himself while Rosa just shrugs. “You know what? You can go home early today.”

“But why?” Rosa spits out, and Charles narrows his eyes at her before leaving.

“You solved the case - excellent job, Diaz - and the precinct seems calm. Go ahead, take the night off.” Terry smiles. “Have a date night with Jocelyn! Make dinner! Buy her flowers! Whatever you guys like to do!”

“Fine,” she wheezes, but Terry seems oblivious to her bitterness.

“Have a fun night!” He grins, and Rosa fantasizes about grabbing his suspenders and snapping them against his pecs hard enough for it to hurt.

 She goes to the gym instead. Rosa usually prefers workouts that keep her flexible and agile over anything else, but today she needs to let out the anger. She warms up, gets gloves and finds a punching bag and then she’s hitting it with strike after strike until she’s dripping with sweat. It’s probably cliché to release anger through boxing, but it works and it’s legal and better than trying to feel her feelings. She lets the anger and frustration come out through the cross-punches and side-kicks, lets it leave her body as she tires herself out, and she exercises until her arms and legs are shaking and she realizes that she’s not just mad at Jocelyn, she’s also mad at herself.

 Jocelyn broke up with her, implying Rosa’s the one who made mistakes. Rosa’s her own reason she lost something so precious and important to her. She’s heartbroken and humiliated, and apparently, it’s her own fault for not trying hard enough. It’s her fault she lost her first stable relationship after coming out, her fault she lost a person she could imagine a long time, maybe even forever with. She lost her girlfriend who was funny and genuine and the best snuggle partner, lost long mornings in bed talking about everything and nothing, lost late nights drinking wine and making out. She lost surprise dates and sweet texts, going out to dinner and having company at Shaw’s, lost a life they had built together.

 She lost the person who was there when she wasn’t talking to her parents. Jocelyn listened to her when Rosa confided in her about all the times her parents had let her down before, kicked her out, ignored her cries for help until she didn’t believe she was worthy of support in the first place, and then she told her she deserved better. Rosa hadn’t known what to say to that, but Jocelyn didn’t seem to mind, and Rosa had loved her more for it.

 She lost the first person after Adrian she could see herself getting married to. Even doing the whole white dress and fancy reception thing, if Jocelyn wanted that. Rosa's never been sure about kids, knows she doesn’t want biological ones, but Jocelyn had made her picture a future where they could adopt or become foster parents. Rosa likes the thought of offering someone the safe and supportive home she never had herself, and Jocelyn seems like a good person to do that together with.

 Seemed. Not seems. Because everything they had, and everything she thought might be in their future, Rosa lost.

 She leaves the gym when her whole body’s weak from exertion and tears are burning behind her eyelids. It's still just four-thirty p.m.

 She buys dinner from a poké bowl place to go and eats it in front of The Holiday. Rosa’s a firm believer that a Nancy Meyers movie can cure just about everything, and although she remembers watching this one just a few weeks ago with Jocelyn, it does a good job of serving as a comfort blanket. No ex gets to ruin Nancy Meyers for Rosa Diaz.

 She keeps checking her phone for texts throughout the evening, and then stopping herself from sending them when there aren’t any. Once she finishes her meal, she archives Instagram pictures where Jocelyn appears, trying to reaffirm the removal of this person from her life. She thinks of deleting them entirely, but something stops her. The posts are left archived.

 The end credits to The Holiday have just started rolling when a text message pops up from presumable stranger Jocelyn Price.

 Hey. I packed your stuff. Can I come drop it off and get my things? I can be there in half an hour.

 There are no hearts or emojis. There always used to be. Rosa used to joke about them, say she wonders how Jocelyn communicated at all before they existed, but now the lack of them is a sharp sting in her chest.

 She can’t imagine seeing Jocelyn right now, so she turns off the TV and leaves a key under the doormat.

 It hits her as she gets in the car that she has no idea where to go. She doesn’t want to talk to her parents, so home’s not an option. She could go to Shaw’s and drink in silence, but she’s not feeling like hiding from chatty coworkers. She’s already been to the gym and she doesn’t need groceries. She supposes she could let the car radio blast death metal and just drive, but she’s got work tomorrow and Brooklyn evening traffic sucks, so there’s not much point to that either.

 She figures Gina will be busy, because she’s always busy nowadays, but it’s worth a try. She texts a simple Can I come over? and waits.

 It takes fifteen minutes before the reply comes. In those fifteen minutes, Rosa has stared at her currently violet-painted nails until she's convinced they’re the ugliest thing seen to date, booked an appointment with her nail technician the next day, and played five levels of Candy Crush.

 Sorry boo, Gina's text reads. Milton just came over with Iggy and I haven't seen her in a week so I really wanna spend some time with her. We should hang out soon though, I miss you!

 It hadn't occurred to Rosa that Gina would be with Iggy. It makes her feel guilty - what sort of friend doesn't remember her friend’s kid? - but she figures that's a direct effect of not having a family of her own to prioritize. Hell, she doesn't even have a partner anymore. What does she know?

 Rosa thinks of the comment Gina made upon her coming out as bi. In another lifetime, you and I would have made a hot-ass couple. Maybe she’s right, but they're in this lifetime, where even Gina, who used to go about relationships so similarly to Rosa, has a family of her own. Everyone in Rosa's friend group has at least a serious partner to accommodate for. Everyone, except as of twenty-four hours ago, Rosa herself.

 She's not the jealous type, and she certainly doesn’t see her life as being worth less without a partner or children, but the distinction stings nonetheless. She hadn't realized how much she valued at least being in a serious relationship when it came to that feeling of inclusion, something giving her a sense of not being completely behind in the race to society's ideal life. It doesn't seem to matter how much Rosa tells herself she’s never cared for it; the race exists anyway, and she just took a big jump backwards while everyone else keeps racing ahead.

 She texts Amy next.

Hey. Can I come over?

 The phone vibrates in the next second, but it’s not Amy who replies - it’s another text message from Jocelyn.

 Got my things and left yours, key’s under the doormat. Thanks.

 No emojis again. Whatever’s happening seems to be for real, and Rosa clenches her fists and presses her nails into her palm to avoid smashing something. Then she writes Amy a second message.

 Jocelyn broke up with me.

 The reply comes only a minute later.

 Of course you can come over. Are you okay?

Rosa doesn’t bother answering before driving.

   “Jake's with Charles,” Amy explains as she lets Rosa in. “Sorry about the mess - I’m working on a binder for the new car.” She gestures to a neat setup on the kitchen table. Not exactly what Rosa would call a mess.

“You can finish it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Honestly. I should try to do this with Jake anyway,” she explains, already starting to put away the papers. “Try being the crucial word, but still. Anyway, I guess you want to drink in silence? I shouldn’t really have alcohol, but I can get you something.”

Rosa raises an eyebrow, and Amy gives her a timid smile. “Just trying to keep that egg quality up.”

“It’s okay. I drove here anyway.”

“Right. Well, I also have… tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Wait, do you drink hot chocolate? ”

“Tea’s fine.”

“Great!” Amy shines with a little too much enthusiasm before bundling the last of the papers together and holding them to her chest. “I’ll put away these. You can put on some hot water, there’s tea and mugs in the cupboard left of the sink. We have way too many, so pick your favorite.”

 She disappears into the hallway with her papers as Rosa looks through their tea collection. It's pretty bleak. There's a jar of random tea bags that seem to have been collected from various restaurants, a package of Earl Grey, a green tea with lemon and something called conception tea which looks expensive and apparently tastes like sweet mint. Rosa opts for the regular green tea, choosing a mug at random and taking a new one once she realizes her first choice has Team Peraltiago written on it in Charles’ handwriting. There’s one painted in the colors of the bi flag, possibly by coincidence - she’s never been sure about how much self-insight Jake has in these things - but she goes for it anyway. She nearly knocks over two tiny jars of what look to be fertility supplements, one with a pink label and one with a blue, as she takes it out.

 She reads through the papers on their fridge as she lets the tea steep. There’s a wedding invitation for someone named Santiago, maybe a cousin. An invite to Nikolaj’s birthday party, grocery store coupons, and a printed list of foods that boost sperm count and egg quality. Walnuts. Spinach. Broccoli. Salmon.

Gross, she can read Jake’s scrawly handwriting on the paper. I’m not eating any of that.

Yes you are, she recognizes Amy’s neat writing beneath.

Fine, it says below that in the messy writing. But it’s just because I love you. An uneven heart has been drawn next to it.

Love you more, reads the neat handwriting after the heart. Rosa gets a sharp pang of missing Jocelyn and checks her phone again. No new messages.

 Amy comes back without the papers and Rosa looks away from the fridge, pretending like she wasn't just reading their personal conversations. She sits down on the new couch instead, waiting as Amy makes her own cup of tea before joining her.

“I don’t want to talk about my breakup,” Rosa says, a little snappy. “No emotional questions. No asking why. No asking what happened.”

Amy nods slowly. “Can I ask if you’re okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know,” she grunts, and takes a sip of the tea. It tastes too bitter, like the cheap kind you get in waiting rooms where it’s been bought in multi-packs and everyone’s already picked out the good flavors. She makes a note to buy Amy some better tea for Christmas. “Just forgot how bad breakups were.”

“You didn’t see it coming?”

Rosa shoots her friend a warning glare, and she mumbles a quiet apology.

“No. I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” says Amy, and there’s such a genuine level of care and sympathy conveyed in her tone that Rosa accepts it.

“So am I.” A wave of regret follows the confession, or maybe it’s just pain. Either way, it makes her grimace. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Rosa’s gaze falls to a thick book about pregnancy on the coffee table, a pink post-it note sticking out from a few pages in. “Tell me about how the trying to get pregnant thing is going.”

Amy scrunches her forehead. “You really want to know about that?”

“Well, I don’t have to know the details about your sex life -”

“I wouldn’t tell you those anyway -”

“- but yeah. How’s it going? I know Jake’s over the moon, but how are you?”

 Amy seems to consider the question for a bit, moving her hands around the teacup and chewing on her lip. “Scared. And excited,” she’s quick to fill in, as if she feels guilty to admit the former on its own. “So excited. But nervous. It’s impossible to prepare for, and I hate not being prepared.”

“You bought a car.”

“Bought a new couch, bought a car, researched OB-GYNs and preschools,” she lists off, nodding. “I made a checklist, so we’re going through as much of that as possible before. There’s a lot left, though.”

“That stresses you?”

“A little. It all got so real so quickly.”

“I get what you mean,” Rosa says, although she's not sure she does. “Does Jake know you're stressed?”

“He suggested we make the checklist so I could feel in control. So he knows. He helps. I would've been a lot more stressed without him.” Amy twists the rings on her left fourth finger, adjusting the stone on the engagement ring.

There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and Rosa can see her friend's lips form the content, somewhat secretive, smile that used to follow the double tuck, but now comes in a stronger, more obvious form whenever she talks about Jake. It’s one of the few things Rosa’s never been tempted to make fun of her for, too full of complete and unadulterated love for it to be worthy of laughter. Tonight, though, it makes her jealous.

 “You know what’s weird?” Amy doesn’t wait for Rosa to reply before launching into an explanation. “I’m scared about a billion things. Like whether or not I can get pregnant in the first place, if the baby will be healthy, whether or not I’ll be a good mom to them. That’s not something you can read about in a book! I could learn everything there is to know about infants and I could still be unsure of how to take care of my own. That terrifies me.” She takes a deep breath.

“But I still want it so much. Even more now, because seeing Jake so excited about it makes me so much more excited. I can’t wait to take that step in our life. So even though it’s crazy, and there’s so much left to do, and every month I think it’s okay if it hasn’t worked yet because it means I’ll have a little more time to prepare - I’m so disappointed when I get my period, I swear I want to punch something.”

“Wow.”

“Mm-hmm.” Amy chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t. Punched anything yet. But I really hope it works soon.”

“Hence the supplements and weird tea?” Rosa eyes her friend’s teacup.

“Yeah. Probably all placebo, but it can’t hurt, right?”

“I guess not,” Rosa mumbles.

 A comfortable silence settles between them after that. Rosa’s reminded of late nights in the same apartment three years ago, when Jake and Holt were in witness protection and Adrian was hiding somewhere. Amy and Rosa had begun a tradition of drinking tequila and watching Nancy Meyers movies together on nights when both of them felt a little too lonely, and sometimes Amy would vent and Rosa would listen. They’d been in the same place then; existing in the no man’s land of being in a serious relationship with someone you loved so much, but unable to speak to them, forced to lie to your friends and family if they asked. It had been a comfort to know someone out there who got it when nobody else did, and it made them grow that much closer. They were living identical nightmares, after all.

 Now Rosa can’t imagine their lives looking any more different. Amy’s married, to the same person she was already with at that time, and they’re trying to have a baby together. Rosa almost got married to Adrian, then she didn’t, then she went to prison and they broke up. She came out as bi, had two short relationships before meeting Jocelyn, and now she’s just been dumped for the first time in her life.

 Rosa doesn't have a problem with her life being different from other people's. It always has been.

She didn't grow up with the safe, supportive parents all her friends seemed to have, and at times she thinks she's never searched for or expected that love from someone else, either. If she survived without it then, she can survive without it now.

She didn't know she wanted to become a cop at first, so she tried to put herself through med school and business school and aviation school before finding her calling. It was confusing, cost her a small fortune and made her wish she could just decide, but it also gave her enough of a variety of skills to make sure she would never have to depend on anyone for anything.

She’s not against marriage with the right person, can imagine adopting or taking in foster kids in the same situation, but neither has ever been the end goal.

 She's not jealous of Amy, or Jake, or the life they're currently living. Rosa doesn’t need marriage or kids - all she’s jealous of is the clear path. Amy speaks about her future with security, a confidence of knowing something about what’s going to happen next and believing it will turn out okay. She might be worried and a little stressed, but she’s not lost.

 Neither is Jake, who Rosa always expected would be like her, not following the beaten track. She’d found a kinship with him in that aspect. Both of them were outcasts with crappy families who dreamed of being heroes, taking down mafia bosses, dying heroically on the job. Neither of them imagined long-term partners, marriages or kids. It’s strange to think about the guy who once claimed he was definitely going to die alone being married to the love of his life, and stranger still to picture him adding sperm count-boosting foods into his diet because he’s trying to have a baby with her. Jake’s found his path. Rosa doesn’t have a clue of what hers looks like anymore.

 Amy’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. She picks it up, making a noise like a quiet chortle and smiling before she starts typing. Rosa checks her own phone again, still feeling like there should be a message from Jocelyn there, but there’s no notifications other than Candy Crush telling her she just got new lives.

 The empty screen hurts more than her jealousy of any beaten track, she realizes. Most of all, Rosa just misses Jocelyn already, because she should be picking up her phone at the same moment as Amy and there should be a sweet message there and she should be replying to it with that same smile on her face. Anything else feels wrong, despite the fact that it’s real, because she didn’t see it coming. She doesn’t feel like she got a say, and a familiar, ruthless voice in her head keeps whispering you fucked up and it’s your fault and now you’re suffering the consequences.

 In all her earlier breakups, no matter how painful they’ve been, she’s been in control. Without that dimension and mental preparation, the missing is sharper, like the stab of a knife pushing deeper once she thought the worst was over. She’s angry, because if she’s not angry she doesn’t know how to survive, but beneath the anger lies a layer of shock and loneliness that hurts more than she thought a breakup could.

 She thought she would be better at being dumped. Instead, she’s clutching her phone while tears take shape in her eyes, making their way down her cheeks before she can stop them.

“Rosa?” Amy’s biting her lip, quickly pocketing her phone and reaching for a packet of tissues on the coffee table. Rosa accepts one, wiping the tears away before crumpling it to a ball. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t been dumped before,” she confesses, staring at the tissue to avoid eye contact. “Does it get easier?”

“Yeah.” Amy looks at Rosa in a way that makes her feel a bit like she’s a child being taken care of. It’s a little humbling, but it’s not an all bad feeling. “Yeah, it does. It just takes a while.”

“It hurts like hell.”

“I know.”

“I hate it,” Rosa mutters. “I didn’t get a fucking choice. I never knew how much of a difference that made.”

“Well, now you know. It sucks. But...” Amy leans her head to the side. “Maybe that’s a good thing, too?”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“If it hurts, that means it mattered, right? If you miss something, then there was something to miss in the first place. It means you opened yourself up and built something of meaning with someone. I know that doesn’t make it easier -”

Rosa snorts. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But it might mean that something can matter again,” Amy says, fixing her eyes on Rosa’s. “Someday. Even if it feels impossible right now.”

 Rosa's not sure what to say, so she sits quiet instead. Amy coughs.

“That was cheesy, sorry. I can just get you a drink instead -”

“I thought I’d be better at this,” Rosa repeats, ignoring Amy. “I mean, I’m great at dumping people.”

“Not as great of a brag as you think.”

“I just don’t know why it feels so different. Is it because I wasn’t prepared? Is it because I didn’t do it myself? It doesn’t make sense,” she spits out.

“It could be that,” Amy shrugs. “Or it could be that it meant a lot to you. It was your longest relationship after coming out, and you don’t really talk about things like these, but… sometimes it seemed like the happiest you’ve ever been with someone, too. Maybe that’s what makes it painful. Not that you got dumped.”

 A couple of tears fall again. Rosa dries them away with the crumpled tissue. She thinks of last weekend, when Jocelyn stayed over and they woke up in the same bed next to each other. They’d stayed there for hours, needing nothing else in the world except each other’s presence. Jocelyn had wrapped her arm around Rosa and kissed her forehead and she’d snuggled into her girlfriend’s chest, and it had been safe and warm and she’d thought of how, in a perfect reality, she’d want to wake up like this every morning for the rest of her life.

She’d never pictured forever with someone before. In bed that morning, it hadn’t even scared her.

 She doesn’t care about the beaten track. She doesn’t mind that her life is different. In the end, she doesn’t care that she’s in the middle of her life and just got dumped while everyone around her kept on getting married and having kids and trying to fit into the perfect mold. She cares that she lost a person she didn’t want to lose, and it didn’t feel like she had a choice in the matter.

“Maybe,” she mumbles. “I… thanks. I should leave.”

“You can stay if you want,” Amy offers, nodding to the couch. “This folds out into an extra bed. Jake’s on his way home, but you know he wouldn’t mind.”

Rosa shakes her head, already standing up. “I should head home. But, uhm, thank you. Really.”

“Anytime. Sorry - I don’t know if anything I said helped.”

“It did.”

“Oh.” Amy blushes. “Wow. I’m glad?”

“Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to be a good mom.” Rosa puts her teacup in the sink before going to put on her jacket. “Seriously. I know you’re scared, but you don’t need to worry about that. I mean it.”

Amy opens her mouth as if to say something, but Rosa holds up a hand to stop her and she nods instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rosa says, and then she's out the door before Amy can say anything back.

 It's still a lonely experience, getting the key from underneath the doormat and seeing that all of Jocelyn’s things are gone. Rosa doesn't expect that feeling to disappear for a while, but maybe she’ll learn to live with it.

 Rosa may not have been dumped before, but she has been left alone to fend for herself. She sends a text to Gina to ask if they can schedule something soon, and reminds herself as she goes to bed that this is different. She might not have a partner or kids or a perfect relationship with her parents, but she has her friends, and she may be lonely right now but she’s not alone.

 Then she opens the anonymous-looking contact that used to be her favorite, and types in five words.

I’m going to miss you.

 She waits for five minutes, but there’s no answer. She hovers over the block-button for a moment, wondering if it’s immature, then presses it anyway.

 She’s just turned off her bedroom lamp when her phone buzzes again, and for a second her heart is in her throat until she remembers she just blocked Jocelyn. Jake’s sent a gif of two kittens hugging, and Amy’s written another message.

 Thank you. ❤️

You’re going to be okay, Rosa. Call me if you need anything? Even if it's just someone to talk to.

 Rosa sends a heart emoji back.

 Rosa’s never been dumped before. She thought she would be better at it, but for now, she’s doing her best.

[ruthoakenshield]

Thorin and the Gem Carver (part 4)

Dwalin nods at Thorin and heads out of the Healing Halls and ushers the two relatives of Jade into the green meeting room.

Thorin goes to find Balin, who was in the library with Kili. They both look up when he comes in. "How is the lass?" Balin asks. 

Thorin sighs and plops down into one of the chairs across from Balin. He rests his elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands. "She is unconscious with a very bad head injury. Both her arms are broken, several ribs as well. Tauriel said she felt some vertebrae, spinal bones, that are either damaged or out of place, which may leave the lass unable to walk. Oin said they won't know until she wakes up... which may not be for several days. On top of that, she may be part of a prophecy about Erebor." Thorin tells Balin. 

"Aye, I heard about the prophecy from Kili. We were looking through the books to see if we could find any mention of it, but apparently it is something that came up after Erebor was sacked." Balin said. Thorin nodded.

"Balin, Sigrid thinks Jade ran because of her Uncle and Aunt's reason for coming here." Thorin said. 

Balin looked at Thorin with a raised brow. "And that is???"

"It sounds like they hoped to sell her off to a wealthy dwarf in an arranged marriage so that they could retire and live a life of luxury. Apparently she heard their plans and refuses to be sold off like that. Sigrid thinks that Jade thought we may have been the ones her relatives hoped to sell her off to and that was why she kept fleeing whenever we approached her. She thought we were wanting to bring her back to Erebor for the marriage!" Thorin explained. 

Balin groaned and shook his head. "Leave it to a human lass to figure it out!" he chuckled. Then Balin froze, "Oh, how could I miss that! She mentioned something about her Uncle having plans for her that she had no intention of following through with!" he rubbed his temples and groaned. "That must have been what she was referring to... an arranged marriage!"

"Balin, when she wakes up she is NOT going to be happy she was brought here. She WILL try to run again unless we can figure out a way to stop this Uncle's plans of an arranged marriage." Thorin states. 

"What did you have in mind, Thorin?" Balin asks with a raised eyebrow. Kili stared at the two of them eager to hear his Uncle's plan.

"Dwalin actually suggested it... and it would fix my ongoing problem with the council as well as her situation." Thorin mentioned.

"And the suggestion was what, Uncle?" Kili asked. 

"Ban arranged marriages." Thorin stated. "If I issue an edict stating arranged marriages are no longer allowed in our kingdom and that each dwarrow is to make their own choice whom they marry, then that eliminates both problems." Thorin states.

"So I could marry Tauriel?" Kili asked. Thorin looked at him and glared. "We will discuss that later, not now." he tells Kili. 

Balin rolled the idea around in his head, thinking of all the possible implications of how this would affect Erebor. He realized, that it would actually be a good idea. They were having a lot of disputes lately because of these arranged marriages interfering with dwarves' who had found their One and wanted to be with them instead of the marriage partner their family had arranged them to be with. 

"When do you want to draw up this edict?" Balin asked.

"Immediately." was Thorin's reply.

Balin got up and went to get parchment and quill from Ori. He came back and spent a few minutes drawing up the rough draft. He handed it to Thorin, who read it as did Kili who read it over his shoulder. Thorin made a few changes and then told Balin to write up the final copy and he would seal it making it law.

Balin did so and Thorin sealed the parchment with his signet ring in the wax. Kili grinned knowing Fili would be annoyed he missed this momentous document being created and signed. Kili realized that this document would change the lives of all dwarrow children who were going through the process of an arranged marriage, and all those dwarrow that would come from this point on. They would no longer be forced into marriages they did not want nor would they be forced to stay in them if they found their One regardless of their status or station. 

Kili looked up at his uncle and said, "Uncle, on behalf of all dwarrow who have not yet married or found their one, and on behalf of the dwarrow not yet born who will be one day be of age to marry, we thank you for doing this. It changes so much for us and gives us the freedom to choose for ourselves whom to love."

Thorin looked at Balin stunned. Balin just grinned and nodded. Kili gave his uncle a hug and Thorin hugged him back and pressed his forehead to his nephew’s. "You're welcome." he said with a grin.

"Come, Balin, your skills as a mediator may be needed with this next meeting. Kili did you send the two messages?" Thorin asked. "Yes, I sent them along with the sapphire tied in a bag to the raven's leg." Kili replied. "Good." Thorin said and then he and Balin headed out of the library to go to the Green Meeting room. 

They approach the meeting room and hear Jade's uncle hollering about them not being allowed to see their niece. Thorin and Balin walk in and see Dwalin with his arms crossed and he is glaring at the Uncle who is red faced and pacing the floor. The aunt is sitting at the table with her head in her hands, and has tears rolling down her cheeks. Balin goes over to her and Thorin walks up to the uncle and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and drags him across the room and forces him to sit in the chair. 

"What is the meaning of this?" The uncle demands. "SHUT IT!" Thorin roars at him. The uncle snaps his mouth shut. 

Thorin takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself before beginning the conversation. He walks back to and sits at the head of the table near Jade's Aunt. He looks down at her and then at Balin. Balin nods and urges him to continue.

"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under this mountain. This is my advisor, Balin, son of Fundin, and you have already met my chief of security, Dwalin, son of Fundin. Now, tell me who you are and why you are in my kingdom."

Thorin looks from the Aunt to the Uncle. The aunt finally stands and gives a deep curtsey. "Forgive my husband's outbursts since our arrival, my king. We are Yari and Naan. We have been living in Rohan since the exile working for the King of Rohan and his Rohirrim making horse shoes, iron farming implements and other metal work as they needed. We took our niece into our home when her father, my brother, was killed by orcs on their way back from Rivendell. They were headed to the Blue mountains where they lived when the attack happened.

We came and got her and took her back with us to Rohan and she was raised there. The King and his family took an immediate liking to her and she grew very close to the king's nephew and niece and could often be found with them talking and carving things for them. 

Our niece is a master gemstone carver according to the Elves and Men. Her work was always in high demand and she is very skilled. When my husband heard that Erebor had been reclaimed, renovated and was ready for the exiles to return he decided to come back and retire here.

Our niece is of age to be married and we thought it would be good for her to settle down and have a family. We had hoped to talk with the families in Erebor to find a suitor for her.

King Theoden had heard you had guilds for different crafts and had expressed hope that you would accept our niece into the gem cutter's guild as she is quite skilled. I believe he sent you a letter and a sample of her ability. “ Naan explained. Thorin and Balin nodded.

Naan continued, “Jade seemed quite excited for the trip to Erebor until the day before we were to leave. We were at the market buying last minute purchases for the trip when one of the vindictive human women working in a booth that dyes fabric to order, decided to attack my niece and dishonor her by pulling her beautiful hair into a vat of blue dye. My niece claims the woman cast some kind of spell on her and the dye will not come out of her hair no matter what we try.

My niece was so distraught about it that she has been acting strangely ever since. Hiding under her cloak even in the heat of the day, running off and disappearing and now this running off into the woods and getting herself hurt. I don't know what has come over her. I offered to cut her hair if the color was bothering her, but she clung to it like it was a lifeline. I honestly do not know what to do about all of this. And now we are not being allowed to even see her and sit with her. No one has even told us how bad her injuries are!" she says and begins to cry again. 

Thorin looks up to Dwalin and Balin. They both nod. 

"And you, what have you to say?" Thorin asks the uncle. The uncle looks up and glares daggers at Thorin. "I want to see my niece. She has brought this upon herself. She flaunts her strange hair instead of keeping it coiled up like other dwarrowdams, she spends her time fraternizing with the royal family of Rohan, instead of working and now when we come here seeking a better life for her she pulls this stunt after disappearing in the market for half a day, worrying us sick!" he huffs.

"When I see her she will be getting a piece of my mind and will be punished for her disobedience. We did not have to take her in when her idiot father died. He was a fool for allowing her to travel to carve for those filthy elves!" he spat. 

Thorin and Dwalin growled. 

"You will NOT be seeing her again if you continue in this attitude." Thorin warns. "Are you aware that arranged marriages are no longer allowed in Erebor?" Thorin asks him gesturing to Balin, who held up the new Edict.

  Thorin grins when the uncle's head shoots up and the uncle shoots daggers at them with his eyes. "No I was not." he says through gritted teeth. "When what that ridiculous law made?" he asks. 

"When the king got tired of dealing with it being forced on himself and when he saw it's affects on dwarrow who were forced to marry and then found their One afterwards!" Balin interjects before Thorin could give his answer. 

The aunt looks up at Thorin, "Thank you, my king." she says quietly. "I was one of those who was forced to marry this fool and then found my One afterwards. Unfortunately we were not allowed to be together and he perished defending Erebor from Smaug." she said in almost a whisper that only Balin and Thorin heard.

Thorin looked at her and reached out to hold her hand. "I am truly sorry this could not be changed sooner. My father and grandfather did not see how this affected the people of our Mountain, perhaps that is why Mahal has made dwarrowdams be born less and less now. Perhaps he is not happy with the arranged marriages interfering with those whom he chose to be partners." Thorin tells her. “If you wish to have your marriage to this fool annulled, I will grant it. You will be free to make your own choices and will be welcome to stay here in Erebor as long as you do not cause more problems for us.” Thorin tells her quietly. Naan looks up at him surprised.

"Dwalin, take Naan to the healing halls and tell Oin I'd like her to be able to sit with Jade as long as she is willing and able to be quiet and not a bother to Jade and her recovery." Thorin says.

Dwalin nods and comes over to the woman. He offers her his arm, which she stands and takes. Before leaving, she says, "Thank you, my king for understanding." and then she leaves with Dwalin.

After they leave, Thorin turns to the Uncle. "Now what are your intentions in Erebor now that we will not allow you to arrange a marriage for Jade with our dwarrow?" Thorin asks. The uncle sneers at him. "Well, you're not the only mountain with dwarves in it. I'm sure I can find someone willing to pay a high bride price for a master gem carver!" 

Thorin growls, "You fool! You will not get a high price for her even if she is a master gem carver! Her back may be broken and she may never walk again because of what has happened! She may never even be able to carve gems again, like she used to!” Thorin bellowed angrily. “Our healers say it will take months for her to recover... if she survives!“

Balin and Thorin saw the look of shock on Yari’s face at the news and then saw it quickly turn to anger.

Thorin growled, “Do you not know that she knows of your plot to sell her to the highest bidder so you can retire in luxury? Why do you think she ran from your family in the market, why do you think she ran from us when we approached her in the tavern to talk about joining the gem carver's guild, why do you think she ran from Erebor as you approached the gates? She DOES NOT want to marry someone she does not love! If anyone is to blame for her injuries today, it is YOU!" Thorin thunders as he slams his fist onto the table making the Uncle jump. 

"Because of your horrible treatment of Jade, your admittance of your intentions to sell her off to the highest bidder despite my edict, her injuries caused by your negligence, and because of her protests, I hereby strip you of your claim on her and free her from your control and command. She will be under the protection of the King of Erebor until such time she is conscious, healed and able to choose a new family to accept her." Thorin thunders, furiously. 

The uncle stares at Thorin in shock. "YOU CAN'T she's MINE!" he challenges!

"Do you wish to fight the KING OF EREBOR  on this matter in combat?" Balin asks calmly as Thorin growls, trying to diffuse the situation.

Thorin stands and puts his best intimidating scowl on and crosses his arms across his chest, tapping his fingers on the hilt of Orcrist. 

Yari looks at Thorin fingering the hilt of his sword and realizes he has lost. His plans have been undone. "No, I do not wish to fight the King under the Mountain on this matter as I do not have the skill to best him." he hangs his head.

"Pack up your things and leave the mountain by noon tomorrow. Do not return here... ever. If I or my descendants find you in Erebor or her territories again, you will be thrown in the dungeons for the remainder of your life. Your wife is also freed from her marriage to you, should she wish it and is welcome to stay for as long as she wishes." Thorin informs him. He looks at Thorin agahst. "What?!?" 

You heard the King. "She is welcome to stay here as is your niece. You, however, are not." Balin explains with a smirk.

"A letter will be sent to both Dale and Rohan explaining why you were sent away from Erebor. I leave it up to their rulers as to whether they decide to allow you to stay and work for them." Thorin tells him.

"Now I will have one of my guards show you to your quarters, pack your things and be gone by noon tomorrow or it's the dungeons for you!" Thorin tells him. Then stands up and leaves. Balin follows.

When Thorin gets into the hallway he bellows for a guard who comes running. “Yes, my King?” the guard asks. “Take Yari to his chamber, see that he is packed and out of Erebor by noon tomorrow. If he causes any problems or refuses to leave, throw him into the dungeons and inform myself or Fili immediately.” Thorin orders. The guard nods and goes to get Yari and drags him to his chambers.

“Balin, hang the edict in the market square so that everyone may see it. Place guards with it at all times to make sure no one rips it down and destroys it." Thorin instructs. "Do you wish me to make a second copy for safe keeping?" Balin asks. Thorin thinks for a minute, then nods. "Do it. I will seal it once it is ready." He states.

Thorin rubs his forehead and sighs. "I will head to the kitchens and have Bombur make some supper for myself, Oin and Jade's Aunt. Then I'm going to take it to them in the Healing Halls. Bring the parchment and sealing wax when it is ready. 

"Thorin what are you going to do about Jade's Aunt?" Balin asks. 

"She was forced into the marriage with that fool, Balin, and her One died in the attack on Erebor. If she wants her marriage to that fool annulled, then I will grant it and give her back her freedom to do as she wishes. She is welcome to stay in Erebor as long as she wishes as long as she does not cause trouble." Thorin tells Balin.

Balin smiles and nods. 

Thorin heads down the hall. "Come find me when the parchment is ready." and with that he disappears around the corner heading for the kitchens of Erebor.

@fizzyxcustard​ @thorinthehottotty​ @deepestfirefun​ @dabisburntnut​ @dumbassunderthemountain​ @rachel1959 @queenofmankind​

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 9: Warmth

The incoming chill of late fall might be making Paris cold, but the love of friends and family keeps Adrien and Marinette warm. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3. 

The letters in front of Marinette swam as she tried to focus on them, her laptop screen getting blurry intermittently as she blinked away the gnawing tiredness at the edges of her mind. Between her exhaustion and the lingering after effects of her cold from last week, she was having an awful time studying. Maybe she should have tried getting back onto a regular sleep schedule, but there was too much to do after being bed ridden for a few days.

Thankfully, there was the power of energy drinks to save her. The caffeine was probably the only reason she was even still awake right now. Not that being conscious was a huge help if she couldn’t process what she was reading. After a few more minutes of unsuccessfully staring at her screen, she sighed and leaned forward, rubbing her forehead.

Once she wasn’t hyper focused on her work, her attention drifted to a conversation from a couple boys at another table. They weren’t very loud since they were all in the campus library, but she could still hear them pretty clearly. Without meaning to, she listened in.

“...Crazy, right?”

“Man, you’re super lucky. That would’ve been just the thing to make calculus less dull.”

“What? Haven’t you had a class where that Agreste kid just waltz in with a boxed lunch?”

Marinette froze. They couldn’t be talking about…?

“He’s been in so many frickin’ classes but of course he doesn’t show up to any of mine.”

“Bummer, dude. It’s pretty hilarious, and kinda cute.”

“Well, he was a model. Or is he still one? That was pretty ambiguous-”

“No! I mean he brings the lunches for his girlfriend.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Feel bad for his girlfriend though. Must be a little embarrassing, ya know?”

Meanwhile, Marinette buried her scarlet face in her laptop, being careful to keep it between her and the two boys while they kept talking. Maybe it would be worth eating proper meals just to keep Adrien from these over the top antics.

Despite her embarrassment, Marinette’s stomach growled treacherously at the thought of his boxed lunches. She wondered where he was right now...

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

“Geez, dude, can’t even go easy on me for a minute, huh?” Nino threw his control down in faux anger. “Have I even one a single match yet?”

“Hm…” Adrien tapped his chin as he pretended to give it some thought. “Well, you did beat up my character when I went to the bathroom. Does that count?” Adrien ducked out of the way of a playful punch aimed at his arm. “Ooo, too slow, turtle boy.”

“God, you’re such a smug dick,” Nino said with a grin. “Can’t believe I ever thought you were an innocent homeschooled boy.” He leaned back, settling his controller on his lap. “How’d you even get so rockin’ at this game?’ His eyes narrowed and he pointed a figure into Adrien’s face. “And you’d better not say ‘natural talent’ or I’ll send M that clip of you drunkenly crying to that one Inuyasha scene.”

“We’re all friends here, shelly, no need to pull out the big guns.” Smirking, Adrien held his hands up in surrender and shrugged. “Well, you know how Marinette is into the Mecha Strike series. Ever since we started dating, every time a new title would come out, I’d get it for her. Then we’d play it a ton. Early on, it was after dates, but after I moved in, we’d stay up late and fight into the early morning.”

“Sounds like you were having a ton of fun,” Nino said with a small smile. “You ever actually win any of those matches?”

“Hell no. Why do you think I like playing against you so much? I got years of pent-up frustration to take out.” They shared a laugh. Adrien stared wistfully into space. “But yeah. It was like a sleepover every night with the person I cared the most about.”

“Harsh, dude.”

“Hey, you’re a close second! And that’s saying something since she’s literally the love of my life and light of my heart.”

“...Yeah, I can see how you two and your over-the-top ideas of love mesh together.” Nino snapped his fingers. “Speaking of crazy acts of love! Weren’t you making tons of trips to M’s university? What happened with that?”

To his surprise, Adrien blushed and he rubbed the back of his neck. “About that… Turns out, doing it once is cute. Two or three times is adorable, but getting annoying. But apparently two meals a day for three weeks - minus her sick break - is crossing a line.”

“Bummer. So she chewed you out?”

“If by ‘she’ you mean ‘all of Marinette’s professors’ then yes.” Adrien sighed dramatically. “Now I’ve been banned from interrupting all her classes, at least for the semester.”

Nino laughed at a pouting Adrien. “Uncool of them, but I get it. Can’t have some stray cat runnin’ around, getting everyone all riled up.”

“Anyway… at least she got a few weeks worth of regular meals out of it. I just wish it could have gone on for a little longer.”

“It is what it is, big cat. You did what you could and that’s what’s important.” He pulled out his cellphone and started composing a text.

“Who are you talking to?” Adrien craned his neck over, shamelessly reading over Nino’s shoulder.

Nino leaned away from his prying eyes. “It ain’t for nosy cats, that’s for sure. If you gotta know, its for my babe. She’ll think you getting banned is hilarious, and I gotta be the one that tells her.”

“Oh sure, laugh at my pain.”

“That’s the plan, dude.”

Adrien shook his head, but there was a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. He stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaving Nino to send his message in peace.

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

A few days later, the apartment was quiet once again. Nobody had come over to visit, which was more the norm for his life. On some level, the stillness bothered him, like there was something missing. Or maybe it was just because it was harder to distract himself if there wasn’t any noise or energy in the house.

Either way, today Adrien didn’t mind as much since the solitude would make this a little easier. He didn’t want word of his plan to leak out before he was ready or else Marinette might catch wind of it and clam up. Which wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Marinette herself.

Adrien hung up the phone and took a seat at his kitchen table. Normally at this hour it would be covered in fresh ingredients for whatever he was planning on making that day. But where chopped vegetables usually sat was instead advertisements and a few bank statements. The latter was probably unnecessary - he knew without looking that’d he’d have enough for what he was planning. But it was reassuring to see, at least.

Knowing Marinette, it was good to have as many loose ends tied up as possible, and leave nothing to chance. He loved her to pieces, but she could work herself into an anxious lather if he let her.

“Are you sure this will work out?” Adrien worried at his lip as he sightlessly looked over the papers.

“Listen, kid,” Plagg said as he gnawed at a wedge of cheese. “You want to help her, right? And she isn’t budging despite everything you’ve done so far, yeah?”

“Yes…”

“Then trust me. I’ve known more than a few Ladybugs in my day and most of them are way too stubborn for their own good. And we both know Pigtails hasn’t bucked that tradition in the slightest.”

“I know, but… it’s a big step. Shouldn’t we talk it out as a couple?”

“Maybe. And I’ll grant that Pigtails is a great planner.” Plagg gulped down the last hunk of his cheese, letting out a satisfied sigh once it hit his stomach. He shook his head and looked back at Adrien. “But she’s also her own worst enemy. If it isn’t urgent, she’ll just plan and plan and plan forever without actually doing anything.”

Adrien smirked, remembering the times Marinette had shared - after some help from a bottle of wine - some of her more… creative plans to confess her love to him. At least, until he beat her to it. Maybe Plagg had a point.

“We can always plan together later,” Adrien said with a nod. “I just need to make sure she doesn’t reject it out of hand.”

“That’s the spirit, kid. Now, onto the important matters - where’s my second dinner?”

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

Tonight was their anniversary, a chilly December day, and Adrien wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He’d gotten permission to leave the bakery early. Probably way earlier than he’d needed to, but Tom and Sabine had insisted that he take the whole afternoon off. Especially Tom, Adrien remembered with a smile, who could barely hold back the tears as he waved Adrien off.

A quick stop at the market for fresh ingredients and Adrien was home.

As much as he had wanted to go out to a fancy restaurant or do something special with her, he knew that the best way to spoil her now - after the semester she’d been having - would be a nice relaxing night at his apartment, eating a home cooked meal and cuddling in front of the television.

And by all the kwami was she going to get the best meal and the most snuggly cuddles he could possibly make. She deserved nothing less.

He became a man possessed, putting all those cooking classes to good use as he crafted the greatest lasagna he could make. While that was cooking in the oven, he began gathering all the softest blankets and pillows he could find and stacking them on his couch. Half the fun of a pillow fort was making it with someone else, but he knew she’d rather be able to collapse into it as soon as she got there.

It was just as he placed the finishing touches on the fort that he heard a knock at the door before it swung open.

When his eyes met hers, a big grin spread across his face as his heart raced. She wasn’t even a step inside before he’d rushed across the room and swept her up in a hug, holding her off the ground with his arms just below her waist.

She laughed as she pressed her hands against his shoulders for support. “At least let me put my stuff down first, you ridiculous man!”

He simply grinned up at her, eyes sparkling with happiness as he slowly let her down just enough to put them face level. He kissed the corner of her mouth and whispered:

“Happy anniversary, bugaboo.”

[allimariexf]

As many of you know, I was at the Arrow 7x22 filming that took place in North Vancouver on Tuesday, April 9 at the “Olicity cabin.”

It ended up being an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experience that I am still processing. Those of you who are on the Olicity Discord channel (want to join us? read more about it here) shared this experience with me in real-time, but I also wanted to share with the wider fandom on tumblr. So, what follows is a bare-bones rundown of what happened. (I AM GOING TO TRY TO BE SUPER BRIEF HERE. Sorry ahead of time for when I inevitably fail.)

So my husband saw the filming notice on Twitter (which I had already seen of course) and he messaged me: “wanna jet up to Vancouver?” He was only half serious, but you know once the idea was in my head, there was no other option. Anyway, we only live 3 hours (and one country) from the filming location, so we left late Monday night, got a little sleep, and were at the filming location by 8:30 on Tuesday morning. There weren’t really any crew around at that point, so I snapped a few photos (just sharing a few here to save space).

When the crew came over to where we were, they talked to us (they were super nice all day!) and I assured them I was there to see what I could see, and we planned to follow the rules. I asked about photos, they said “NOPE,” and I didn’t take any more photos on set that day (except for the one below 😏 which was fully authorized).

Cutting for length. There is much, much more under the cut.

So we were hanging out with a great view of the Olicity cabin and the fence around the property. We could see into the property too, and there we saw an archery target set up in the cabin’s backyard. (That might be a spoiler, but Canadagraphs or whatever that site is already leaked photos of it  so whatever).

The actors were brought onto set in tinted-window SUVs that would drive up, turn around in the narrow street, and back up onto the property to let them out. I didn’t realize that actors were being dropped off the first 2 times it happened, so I missed the first two actors that got dropped off. I am pretty sure one of them was Stephen, because I never saw him arrive. I did see Emily arrive!

AND - this has been leaked by that paparazzi dude, too, so I might as well share - I saw LaMonica Garrett arrive. Discord friends can attest that I freaked the fuck out. Because FUCK. The second I saw him walk out of his SUV, I was just like 😱😱😱

The morning was basically spent watching the crew, and hearing what was happening filming-wise: when they blocked, rehearsed, and filmed, the entire crew would yell out the direction so that everyone always knew what was happening and people knew to be quiet. It was really cool.

During the “morning” (until I walked up to get lunch around 3:30), 4 or 5 - I think 5 - scenes were shot. I’m pretty sure they were all indoor. I was able to hear details about who were in the scenes and where they were for some of the scenes, but I wasn’t able to watch because everything was inside or behind the fence. Around 1 PM we heard them say that David was due on set, but hadn’t arrived yet. At that point, I started getting concerned about exactly who he was and wasn’t going to film with and what it would all mean.

Throughout the day, Stephen and Emily (and LaMonica in the whole Monitor get-up!) would occasionally walk out. It was very cool, and also bittersweet, because it was Emily’s last day filming.

The crew was super welcoming all day. People kept wandering over and talking to us, and they saw how freezing cold my husband and I were - especially me - and they brought us hand and body warmers! Several of them said they would let the actors know that we were out there so that they could some say hi, which was so nice! But I didn’t want to get my hopes up, seeing as it was Emily’s last day and not only was everyone super emotional, but they had farewell events planned, and a bunch of guests coming on set to be a part of it:

At one point a woman arrived and introduced herself to the crew as “Diane” - it was Emily’s mom. Later, Stephen left the set, walking up the hill to the road, and when he came back, Stephen and Emily’s friend Carina was with him. At some point his wife and daughter arrived, too.  

Around 3 or 3:30, everyone (cast and crew and guests) gathered around in the cabin’s backyard (behind a fence, alas) and I could tell that Emily was speaking, but I couldn’t hear what she said. Probably other people spoke too. There were intermittent rounds of applause.

After that, Stephen came over to me and my husband and chatted with us and we took a photo:

After that, a lot of the crew seemed to take a break, and it was clear they were preparing to shoot outside the house (they took down a lot of the equipment that was attached to the house for the indoor shoot). We took the opportunity to walk up the hill to this cool little “general store”/cafe, where we got lunch. (Later from Carina’s instrgram I saw that Emily and Carina had been there just a few minutes before us.) I took a couple selfies there to document the experience ;)

By then it was maybe 4:00 or so and we kinda thought that Stephen was done filming for the day, but a crewmember had confirmed that Emily would still be shooting for the rest of the day, so we went back down to the set to see what we could see. I can’t remember if David had shown up at that point, but we knew he was still going to be filming, and I was crossing my fingers like crazy that he was going to film with both Emily and Stephen, but I was worried it might only be Emily.

When we got back to “our” spot outside the set, they had removed all the cables and equipment that previously had bordered the property. A second later, we found out why when a crewmember walked over - they were going to be filming outside, including the area where we had been standing all day.

And then they invited us to come on set.

SO WE WENT ON SET.

MY FRIENDS. THERE ARE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW AMAZING IT WAS.

Those of you who are on the Discord server can (or have) read more about it, but honestly words can never do justice to how cool it was. So instead I’m just gonna list some things:

we were there for a total of one hour

I obviously didn’t get any photos because they made us put our phones away, of course

the crew was SO FRIENDLY and awesome, and I am so indebted to them for the experience of a lifetime

we got introduced to a BUNCH of crewmembers. The one crewmember who had sort of “adopted” us kept going out of her way to introduce us to literally everyone who stopped by - and we were right in the middle of the action so many many people stopped by. One person we got to talk to was Rebecca Rosenberg, the co-writer of both 7x15 and this episode, 7x22. So cool! She was very nice.

we also got introduced to actors, including:

David Ramsey!!!!! who talked to us and shook our hands

Caity Lotz! (Whose presence I wouldn’t have spoiled except that Carina already spoiled it on her instagram account, so I might as well share it now). She also shook our hands and talked to us.

they let us stay and watch while they filmed a scene. (I’ve decided not to generally spoil anything about the scene, because the crew were honestly so nice, and just in case, I don’t want to get any of them in trouble. Sorry. 😛) They positioned us in a spot where we could see:

two monitors that showed what the camera saw as it filmed

the camera itself, so we could see the camera as it filmed (honestly so cool)

the actual area and actors as they filmed the scene (so we could watch it “in real life” and on the screen at the same time!)

the director (Bam Bam!) and all the associated people, and we could hear all his directions straight from his mouth.

since we were right in the middle of the action for an hour, we saw a bunch of people coming and going, and standing around right next to us, including all the actors mentioned above, and Stephen, and his family (wife and daughter who, along with Caity, were seated right next to us for awhile - you can actually see on Carina’s instagram video the exact spot where we were standing - right by the metal leg of the pop-up canopy), and Emily! (more on that below)

the crewmember who had adopted us asked us if we had tried craft service, and when we said “no,” she basically insisted (lol) that we go to the craft service table and partake. (Seriously, they were so nice!). AND GUESS WHAT?? (Aside from watching the filming this is the other thing I will NEVER BE OVER). EMILY’S GOODBYE CAKE WAS THERE and they told us to have some!!! (The cake had a piece of chocolate on it with writing on it that said “Thanks for 7 Smoakin years” 😭😭😭😭) SO. YOU GUYS. I CUT A PIECE OF CAKE FOR MYSELF FROM EMILY’S CAKE. I TOOK A SLICE OF EMILY’S GOODBYE CAKE. I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE IT.)

but I did not eat the cake right away, because I knew the instant it was in my hand that I had to take a picture 😂 But I couldn’t take any pictures on set, obviously, so I just held onto it for an hour!! 😂😂😂

at one point after we had our cake, Emily walked by and looked at us and I kinda smiled at her and she said, “I heard it’s good!” (So, while I never did get to talk to her or get a photo, she did talk to me lol)

after the scene was filmed, they came over and told us that, because they were going to be filming dialogue next, we had to leave.

Here’s the photo of the cake, before I ate it. (I ATE A PIECE OF EMILY’S GOODBYE CAKE OMG).

That’s basically it. We stayed another hour or so after that, and we watched another scene be filmed from afar, but after that they needed us to go up the hill to get out of the shot, and we couldn’t see anything anymore. By then it had been a very, very long day and we had already had an amazing experience, so we decided to leave without trying to wait for Emily. We figured she was having an emotionally exhausting day, not to mention a busy day, with a full day of filming plus friends and family on set, so we decided the odds of us actually getting to see her were probably small anyway. So, with only that one regret, we left.

And that is the story of one of the most unexpectedly amazing days of my life, when I got to witness the filming of Arrow 7x22.

Special shout-out to the FAM who lived it vicariously with me - it wouldn’t have been half as fun without you! @msbeccieboo @lucyyh @faegal04 @1-crazy-dreamer @puck038 @stephswims @bookolicitynessa @chrissykins-for-the-win @it-was-a-red-heeler @tangled23works @mirkakaroliina and all of the Discord FAM. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! 💗💗💗💗

(and extra special shout out to @1-crazy-dreamer who just saved my ass with screencaps of this post when tumblr fucked up and ate a third of it - my hero!!)

[afterpinkdiamond]

Message Received S2E25

I honestly don’t know why this wasn’t the season 2 finale. We finally meet a Diamond and she’s terrifying.

Steven is suspicious of Peridot after watching her steal something from the Moon Base and decides to confront her about it. He isolates her in a truck in the barn and asks her to explain more about the diamonds. She tells him that the diamonds are the perfect gems, rulers on Homeworld and that every gem is made to serve them. She waxes eloquent about Yellow Diamond, her Diamond, and how logical and efficient she is. Steven asks Peridot if she’s still loyal to the Diamonds and when she answers affirmatively, tricks her in order to steal back the thing she stole from the Moon Base. He locks her in the truck and threatens to smash the thing until she admits it is a communicator that contacts the Diamonds directly.  Steven is upset and immediately takes the communicator to the Crystal Gems. They congratulate him on stopping Peridot before she created a mess and he berates himself for trusting her. The gems try to reassure him that seeing the good in everyone isn’t pointless, Peridot just isn’t like them. You can’t reason with her using Earth Logic. Steven starts moping as Peridot attempts to escape, finally breaking out of the truck and using her giant robot to storm the CGs.

After a very brief fight in which Peridot insinuates that the CGs have never known what they’re doing and are so inefficient as to be ineffective, she gets the diamond communicator back and absconds. Amethyst shapeshifts into a chopper and the gems give chase, Steven actively criticizing himself and not focused on the fight or chase. Pearl and Garnet shoot Peridot off the road and the gems all try to get her out of the robot. Peridot sneaks out and Steven tackles her to stop her from using the communicator. She breaks free and calls Yellow diamond. The CGs panic and hide. 

Yellow Pearl first answers the call, telling Peridot she shouldn’t be using the line. Steven asks Pearl who the other Pearl is and Pearl doesn’t admit to knowing this particular Pearl pretty well. She says that not all Pearls know each other, and can’t even look Steven in the eye while telling him this half truth that doesn’t answer his question. Leaving all to wonder How Does Pearl Know Yellow Pearl? It certainly foreshadows the fact that CG Pearl belonged to a Diamond on Homeworld. Yellow takes over the call, asking Peridot for her report. It’s cool how Peridot forgets her designation at first until Yellow asks her directly for it. It turns out that being the only Peridot on Earth has started a pattern of thinking of herself as an individual rather than one out of a collective. Yellow looks up Peridot’s current mission and pauses before asking how the Earth is. The tenderness of the question, the personal interest in the planet, the subtle concern that not everything is going smoothly with this particular mission.. it all points to the fact that Yellow Diamond is not as perfectly remote, logical and cold as Peridot has described her. Looking back now it’s interesting to see her reaction to an unexpected message from Pink’s failed colony. Just this one line has so much deeper context and nuance now and Patti Lupone acts it out so well.  

Peridot gives her report, covering up the existence of the Crystal Gems. It doesn’t make sense that she wouldn’t report the rebels if she’s still loyal to Homeworld. After her report, Yellow tries to shoo her away for wasting time. Peridot objects, saying that they shouldn’t allow the cluster to form because the Earth has so much more potential than just one geo-weapon. Yellow is not pleased but Peridot continues on, clearly shaking, and says she’s developed a plan to utilize the potential of the Earth without disrupting the organic life.  

Yellow snaps. She says she doesn’t care about potential. She wants the Earth obliterated and she wants the cluster and she even says she’ll take “great pleasure wiping that miserable planet from our star maps”. She asks Peridot what she even knows about the Earth that she thinks she knows better than a Diamond. And Peridot.....

Pretty much defects from Homewold by insulting the Diamond she was created to serve. Peridot quickly ends the call and goes fetal, handing off the communicator just before Yellow remote detonates it. The Crystal gems congratulate her on becoming a Crystal Gem and Peridot starts the process of accepting her fate as a traitor. 

Peridot does a lot of growing in this episode. But the most interesting aspect of this episode is how much Yellow Diamond’s character was carefully set up so that she appears like a ruthless dictator before anything about Pink Diamond is revealed, and afterward the same words take on a completely different tone and meaning. Yellow cares very much about the fate of the Earth. It reminds her so much of the Diamond she thinks is shattered. The Earth is fatally tied to Pink and if Pink died there then the Earth must die, regardless of logic. Yellow manages to subvert the expectations that Peridot lays out for her while still feeling like a genuine threat to the safety of the planet. It’s well crafted characterization.

[pisati]

this came up on timehop almost a week ago. 

I’ve known for years that I have depression. I had my suspicions when I was 17, but thinking back, I was showing signs at 12-13. possibly even earlier. I recall an old social media post from that age, maybe an email or a blog post, clarifying to a friend that I didn’t want to die, I just wanted to sleep and not wake up for a long time. I can’t remember much farther back than that. I was always an emotionally volatile person-- I felt things so deeply even at a young age. my first guinea pig died when I was 8 or 9 and it took me years to get over. I wish someone would’ve noticed sooner. dad had his suspicions too, but he also tried to tell my mom she was depressed and medicate her without her knowledge, so. nobody really took him seriously. he wasn’t wrong, but he definitely went about that the wrong way.

there’s no point regretting, though, I guess. I couldn’t have known what to look for, I was a child. my mom only recently realized that her mother has had schizophrenia her whole life, after my brother did acid and it snapped something in his brain. some of the things he did and said reminded her eerily of her mother. she couldn’t recognize depression in herself, how was she ever going to recognize it in me?

from where I’m at now... I can’t believe I got through feeling the way I did. kind of like when I look back on those few years of my life when my anxiety got so bad-- I had no idea how I survived it. I wasn’t sure if I ever could again. 

I felt so bad before I graduated high school. there are pictures of my graduating class sitting on the bleachers outside, me sitting on the far left edge, by myself. either Charlotte wasn’t there that day or she’d wanted to be with other friends. I didn’t really know anyone around me. someone from yearbook pulled me out of class for an interview and told me they were talking to everyone who’d pulled some stunt or done something silly during the pictures (we had one kid who liked to dress up as Where’s Waldo, they interviewed him too). they asked me why, in every picture, I wasn’t looking at the camera. I told them I’d just been having a bad day, but I remember deliberately looking away during every one of those shots. I didn’t want a part of any of it. they made us sit for that picture, but I just wanted to be graduated already. gone. away from everyone there. I was so tired of being made to feel alone. barely opening my mouth all day, because Charlotte would leave me for other friends, and the few other people I knew did the same. I didn’t go in bitter; I probably tried a little too hard to make friends when I moved there. it took so many years of being forgotten and passed over to make me that tired. 

that was also the time when I would forego lunch on A-days to go straight to my AP lit classroom. sometimes I’d eat there, sometimes I wouldn’t. I was tired of sitting with my friend who wanted to sit with these popular girls who were lowkey super rude to me for literally no reason- I didn’t even know them. I felt like I knew the pattern on every floor tile in that school, but especially the tiles in front of my desk in AP lit. I couldn’t even look up from the floor. and nobody fucking noticed. I mean, my AP lit teacher did. I’ll always, always be grateful for her. I’m just sad that I couldn’t be there for myself. I wish people were more educated about mental illness back then, that someone would’ve intervened. maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad. 

when my anxiety got so bad I prayed that I’d *only* have depression again. it was so much easier to deal with. I don’t remember my depression being so bad my first two years of college; either it was drowned out by the anxiety or it actually did help to have good friends. but once I transferred and the anxiety dissipated, it came back full-force. 

when I was in high school, I remember being afraid to look at electrical cords. I’d picture them wrapped around my neck. once during a bad episode I got up and wrapped the cord from my blinds around my neck and pulled, hard. it scared me so bad I fell onto my bed and cried harder. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the hurt to stop. when I got into my car accident senior year... it was midterms week. I’d joked that maybe since I almost died in a car wreck that I’d be excused from my physics midterm. but I remember that night, after I got home from the hospital, curling up in the shower and sobbing. for months I thought I wanted to disappear, but when I brushed that close to death it was absolutely terrifying. I’d never felt so grateful to feel water pouring down on my back. I felt so horribly alive. I walked to my physics class the next day and joked with a kid outside, to maybe a few concerned looks, about just being in the hospital. I took the exam. a boy I rarely talked to came up to me, wide-eyed, outside my locker, and asked if I was okay. he’d heard from my brother. 

sometimes, alone in my apartment in college, I’d picture the tau sigma and golden key honor cords I had tucked away in a drawer-- I wasn’t sure why they gave them to me so soon, but I needed a safe place to keep them til graduation. I pictured them wrapped around a door handle-- wondered how long it’d take for someone to notice I hadn’t been around. what a metaphor, too; strangled by achievement. grim, maybe a little too poetic. I tossed the idea, but the feeling didn’t quite leave.

the summer after I graduated college, I’d lost maybe 15lbs. I was too sad to get out of bed or even eat. A had given me his facebook password and told me to change it so he couldn’t log back in-- he was so tired of social media at the time and I understood. but later when I had my suspicions about a girl, I did something very uncharacteristic. I glanced through his messages with a mutual friend. he’d used the word “girlfriend”. he was red and she was blue and they were just purpling. I cried so hard I nearly had a panic attack and almost passed out on my floor. what was I ever? how can you be that close to someone and still be so easily cast aside? it took me a while to be able to eat Uncle Ben’s microwave rice again. it already tastes unnatural from all the preservatives, but the papery taste reminded me how much I wanted to die; how much food tasted like nothing and nothing felt good. I’d lie on my floor and cry, just trying to get the bad feelings out; I have vivid memories of Warpaint’s Today Dear paired with the blankness of my ceiling, the smoke detector and ceiling fan hardware cover breaking the emptiness. the feeling of damp carpet pressed into the side of my face, City & Colour’s Blood pouring into my ears.

I’ve given you more than I’m worth I want to dig my fingers into the earth I know there’s beauty buried beneath...

we were walking around DC that december, trying to keep warm while waiting for my mom to pick us up after a show that ended after metro hours. he told me everything that happened. she was a head case. so was the next one, I later learned. but by then it just felt like something broke. I just didn’t have the capacity to hurt anymore. I was at my last job, I was miserable, I was emotionally beat up. that was when it started to feel like being dragged facedown through gravel. even the little things I did-- volunteering, trying to work on crafts, playing with my rats-- didn’t seem to make anything any better.

I have a lot of memories from floors. I reblogged a quote yesterday about crying and noticing the paint on the wall trim; once you’ve been on the floor so many times it just gets old. the absurdity of it all. kind of like that time I was lying in bed, crying over my dad having passed (maybe a few months before at that point), and I suddenly heard my brother ripping a loud, forced fart in the other room. I couldn’t help laughing. what even is anything?

it was so hard to see any kind of light at the end of the tunnel. if there even was a tunnel, or if that just was how things were. I remember myself curling into the back cushions of the couch in my apartment in college, both wishing it were another person and feeling repulsed at the thought. trying to avoid becoming acutely aware of the quiet. I think even then I had some vague knowledge, maybe more of a rote script, that eventually it would be okay. one day, something would give. but I didn’t feel it. people could tell me all they wanted, I could tell myself til I ran out of breath, but I wouldn’t believe it til I felt it.

some days do still feel like I’m dragging myself through them. but looking back... it’s nowhere near as bad. sometimes I still get hit with the melancholy-- I’m not expecting not to, for the record. nobody can feel 100% all the time, it’s impossible. but I wish I could go back and somehow place this feeling in my brain all those times I needed it. I don’t even know if I can say I’m “back to where I used to be”, because I don’t even think I know myself without depression. it’ll probably always be a part of me. but sometimes I think about where I’m at and where I have the potential to go from here, and I just want to cry. but not in the bad way. it’s relief. so much relief. 

there’s no one thing that did it. there’s nothing that magically whisked the dragged-face-down-through-gravel feeling away. I didn’t get out of bed one day feeling better. it’s been a process and it continues to be a process. but I think this was what I wanted to feel back then. just the ability to be hopeful. to feel like things might work out. 

I did really have a rough go of it last year. I was already depressed as hell from being emotionally beat up by stupid boys, having to be stuck far away from friends, and having that miserable job. then I lost two pets, my grandpa, and my dad. lost my job. I can’t even hardly remember the last two and a half years of my life, if I’m honest. 

maybe it’s my job and the demands it has of me, but I feel like my memory has been improving the tiniest bit. just a little. I still have a piss-poor sense of time, and my insomnia has been ruining my functioning. I don’t know why odd-numbered years have been slightly better for me than even-numbered years, but it’s definitely a pattern. 2013 was good, 2014 was good for the first half, then came the worst summer of my life and the roughest christmas/new years I’ve ever had, 2015 was pretty good, 2016 was rough, 2017 was good for the first half and shitty for the second, 2018 was straight garbage, and 2019 has... honestly been pretty good. I got over half the year off work. I got to travel. I lost some pets, but I got lovely new ones too. I had the time for crafts, the time to write. I met some really wonderful people. I got to volunteer, and I got a new job that’s showing me what work should feel like. it’s opening doors for me for the future; I’m even beginning to see a possible future for myself in animal care. I’m taking better care of myself, I’m determined to get to the root of my autoimmune weirdness, and I’m finally going to move out again. I’m going to end this year on a good note, even if I end up staying home by myself for the holidays. 

I keep talking about it, but I think it’s worth talking about. I’m excited to see how much better this can get. I won’t get my hopes up, but I’m grateful for every little bit of improvement I make with myself. I want to be a mental illness success story. maybe it’ll be with me forever, but I’m learning to let the little things work. got myself colorful gel pens for work. I’ll draw smiley faces on notes. I wear animal-print socks almost every day. picked out patterns for scrub shirts that I like, that I can wear every day, that make me happy. bought little things for myself at the store, just because I like them. it doesn’t feel like going through the motions anymore. not all the time, anyway. 

it took me somewhere around 5 years to see the light at the end of the trauma tunnel, and I wasn’t sure I would. I’ve had depression likely for well over 12 years-- I never would have dreamed that one day I’d be fighting it and very slowly winning. I’m proud of myself now, for sure, but I’m even prouder of my past selves. for all the times I found myself on the floor, I always got up. for all the times I was too sad to eat, I made sure I ate something anyway. for all the times I wanted to wrap a cord around my neck or claw at my own forearms or veer into oncoming traffic... I put on music. I turned on a show. I scrolled tumblr. I cuddled a rat. I cried it out if I had to. I didn’t turn to drugs or alcohol or self-harm (well. physical anyway). I’m strong as hell and I always have been. I’m grateful for that too. 

[aicosu]

Lotura prompt: Victorian/Jane Eyre style courting. Also!! What did you think was garbage about S6?????

It starts with mineral from Caltraak. A custerfori gem on a chain. Pinks and golds, sliced into fractures.  A necklace.

She almost didn’t see it at first. It sits on the Castle’s left control, where her hand hovers over it as it glitters in the corner of her eye. A place only she would occupy.

Meant for her.

It's innocuous. Simple. No bigger than the top of her fingertip.

“You okay there, Allura?”

It’s Hunk who asks.

Her fingers scoop the gem into her hand, and she slides the thin jewelry into the lining of her collar.

“I’m fine.”

She tries not to think about what picking it up means, tries not to think too hard on what it means. And oddly, she knows what it means. She shouldn’t, not now, not hundreds and thousands of years later in a world where such a gesture doesn’t even matter anymore. And where a return gesture can’t even follow. (Altea is gone, her people are gone, she doesn’t even have a handmaiden to take down a poem, let alone deliver it.)

Her hands return to the controls, the panels flashing up like gems of their own.

She ignores it. She ignores the press at her throat or the cold tickle of the links and puts effort into not looking over at the viewport where Corran stands with his back turned, next to the only other Altean onboard.

Maybe it was nothing.

It was probably nothing.

When she returns from a meeting with Ryner and Pidge about perimeter defenses, it’s Pidge who points out the rubric probe before her quarter doors. “Is that--- Galra tech?” “Wait, Pidge--”

The paladin is quick to act though, and the race to the door fills Allura’s cheeks with a heat not related to sprinting.

“Are the Galra sending spies--” Pidge’s hand shoots out to apprehend the floating rubric, it’s activation light making her fingers glow purple. “Pidge wait--Don’t touch it, it’s just-- It’s--it’s for me!”She shouts the last part. Enough to stop the younger girl. She catches up, giving a frown, before outstretching her palms.

The rubric settles in her palm. And Pidge starts to ask her who the message is from, but duly accepted, the probe simply snaps open, light flaring in the hall as a binary melody plays six or seven notes.

It’s an Altean song. One her mother had played for her once. And any idea that the previous gift had been some coincidence or misunderstanding is squashed by the burned in textbook lessons from her days training in court manners and etiquette.

“A message? Is it… some kind of encryption in a music box?”The rubric goes silent. Pidge is staring at her. “It’s… not encrypted in the way you mean. It’s just… it’s an Altean practice for…”She’s not saying it. And she’s not sure if it’s because she’s too embarrassed or too ashamed. 

“It’s an… offer of engagement.”

“For war?” Her eyes snap to the girl in surprise, but then in understanding. What other reason would Pidge think anything but? With the daily troubles they have during the battles around them. War is their every concern. “For marriage.”

“Wait. What!?”“Please--” She urges, a hushed whisper to remind Pidge to be quiet. “It’s--it’s actually quite common among Altean culture to have tokens sent to the one your interested in for matrimony--”“Who is it? Who is proposing?”“We often go months exchanging gifts before anything is officially announced.”“Exchanging? Wait-- so you’re saying you and someone else have been talking about getting married for months? Through drones?”“N-No!” Her ears go hot, and her breast tickles with the necklace dangling beneath her suit. “This is only the second token and… I haven’t… I can’t respond.”Pidge adjusts her glasses with a look of discomfort. “Why not?”“Why not? I--I can’t deal with an engagement now! We’re so busy, and, it, I-I don’t even have time to craft the necessary response, I would need -- I would need an Altean menagerie to have enough variations of flowers in order to properly convey my feelings for him to properly understand.”“Altean engagement sounds complicated.”“That’s not even half of it! As of his first gift, we aren’t even to speak to each other until a lady in my waiting responds with my consent for more gifts or a rejection.”“So get someone to reject Lotor for you then.” “I--”

The name fills the space between them in the hall and suddenly she’s hot all over. And despite being so much taller then Pidge, Allura feels very small, and very young.

“How did you..?”Pidge looks at her with that gleam she gets when pointing out obvious mathematical errors. Her fingers even count out each of her points. “Galra tech, Altean custom. And we talked to Corran this morning. Not that he seems the type. He is kinda old.”Allura’s fingers roll on the rubric, as her jaw works her tongue in her mouth nervously. “Oh, this is… inconvenient.”

“Look… I wouldn’t… normally volunteer. This doesn’t really seem like my area of expertise, but honestly, it doesn’t seem like anybody elses either. Unless Corran.”“Oh no, please-- He’d be livid in my honor, I couldn’t--”“Then if you need a…. lady in waiting...?” Pidge shrugs, and this time it is her whose blushing, looking uncomfortable, but generous.

Allura hugs her.

--

It takes some time. And honestly, it’s not at all traditional. But his gifts had been… imitations of tradition as well. Not that she blamed him. Half Altean and half Galra, she was surprised he even knew the steps.

Surprise. She had put that in there too.

Attendance (but silence) is mandatory. So she and Pidge walk to the pod docks where they know he is.

Shiro is there too, sitting on a crate and helping Lotor rewire his cruiser. Just to make this even more humiliating.

Neither man hear them approach at first, the sautering tool in Shiro’s hand is too loud. So Pidge has to yell.

“Hey! Lotor!” Allura cringes beside her. The honorific is missing, and when the noise goes out and they get his attention, Pidge doesn’t bow.

But to his credit, the Galran Prince seems to know what’s happening immediately.

He goes to his knee.

The drop of his frame seems to sink her heart into her stomach as he does it, slow and calculated. He keeps his eyes on Pidge though, unwavering even as his knows flares.

Shiro’s sauter fumbles in his fingers. “UH--”

“Uh….” Pidge trails. Too.

The Paladins both look to Allura. She nods to Pidge, pointedly, trying not to shake.

This is not how she imagined her first courting to turn out. Not with such impropriety and lack of privacy. Nor did she imagine it would be in a docking bay.

“My… lady, requests you open, uh, this.” Pidge hands over the response token. It’s a palm holo projector.

At first, the confusion on Lotor’s brow worries her. (It’s not the right object, at all.) But he takes it all the same, thumb waving over the signal to turn the holo on.

An explosion of flowers happen digitally. A simulated bouquet unfurling with color and programmed free falling petals. It’s a bit overt. Pidge had gone all out.

“Whoa. What’s that?” Shiro asks.

Lotor’s expression doesn’t change at first, eyes scoping the colors quickly, meticulously.

Yellow is the most prominent. Surprise. Reds leaves for gratitude,  blue calla for trepidation, and orange glowdews, four of them, and a single purple snaptail.

It’s a mess of colors. (She’s a mess of responses.)

No white though.

Lotor stands, snapping the holo off and bowing low. The locks of his hair fall past his shoulder. “Right. Okay.” Pidge says, but turns to look at her confusedly. “We… we leave now.” Allura whispers. “Okay.” “What is happening?” Shiro asks again, standing from his crate and scratching his neck with his hand.

“Nothing!” Pidge answer, “Bye!” They leave them there, Lotor still bowing until they exit.

“Guys? Come on--!”

--

A Dalcycle goes by.

And really, it’s more worrisome than not.

At this point, they have yet to talk, and it’s actually been a bit of a problem. On one occasion, with a strategic meeting about Galran frontlines, they have to talk in 3rd person relating to each other, acting as if they weren’t simply standing side by side.

And, while it would be nice to say the Paladins didn’t notice, they certainly did.

After, Corran asks if the Prince had angered her. Shiro asks if they’re pulling a prank.

Pidge asks her why it’s still going on if she already rejected him.

The Prince himself has been nothing but respectful to the process. He avoids her gaze, and bows her head as she passes him in the lounge or on the bridge.

So after awhile, she wonders if perhaps, it had been a fluke all along.

And the he catches her.

Alone.

She had been headed back from the Olkarion epicenter, the sun dying into orange shafts and shadows, when she nearly walks into him on the Castle’s ramp. She means to apologize, but her lips snap shut.

He bows.

She thinks it’s just another awkward instance then, and means to walk past him, but his hand raises suddenly, and he’s standing straight now. Eyes almost orange in the light itself. “Accept my hand for a walk?” He asks.

And Allura suddenly realizes his voice has been sorely missed.

“Yes.”She places three fingers in his palm, and he leads her back toward the epicenter.

They are quiet for some time. Which is fine. It takes most of her focus to understand the texture of his palms, and the size of them in comparison to hers.

His nails nip at her skin as he releases her to stand quietly.

“Forgive me, Princess, for now I seem to be at an impasse.”“I… had the feeling… it might be so.” She acknowledged.

He smiles. It’s sharp, but his brows are drawn. He’s apologetic. “It’s at this point I would speak to your father.”“Yes.”

“And in Galran culture,” He begins tentatively, gaze flickering from her face to the sunset. “I would be expected to cut blood from my hand to show my acceptance of pain on your behalf.”“Oh, n-no, please, that's completely unnecessary.”

“And to you, most likely more an insult than flattery.” He chuckles. It’s low and heavy. It sneaks through his lips like a breeze. “So I find myself at a loss to continue in a fashion you would appreciate.”She steps toward him, enough that she has to look up. He is naturally tall. And she’s not sure if that is the Galra in him, or if he would be a tall Altean too. “But, I have appreciated it. Everything.”“Have you?”“I can’t be more appreciative. I haven’t… it’s been a long time since basking in any tradition of my people. Even if this particular process is more… intense than others.” She’s aware her face is burning. She blames it on the sun, creasing her eyes as she looks up to his face. “I know it must have taken you time and I… admire your attention to the details.”There’s a smile forming on his face, but he rids himself of it to say, “I only did so to portray my genuine affection.” Affection. The word is like swallowing anti-gravity firmware to hear. She feels like floating away, him saying it so plainly. “Affection.” She repeats. She has too, she can’t believe it. “Yes.”

Yes! Just like that he says it. “I would make it known that as political as all our actions inevitably are, Prince and Princess aside, I do not send tokens without affection in them.”Yes, she got that much but the choices of gifts he made. The music meant, well… it was more suited to an anniversary then a proposal, if that meant anything.“Just as… attraction came with yours?” It’s a question, but it’s said with a grin and Allura immediately regrets the orange glowdews. “I-I’m, I, I would, I am not… dishonest!” It’s all she can manage.

He laughs. She can almost feel the hum of it in her bones.

“And so here we are. At an impasse. I have no way to give you the final token.” He looks regretful and she’s thankful he seems to be sad to miss the opportunity to continue. “I suppose you need a blunt answer then. From me, since my father…”She trails and he steps forward this time, a hand gently cradling her elbow. “Yes. Unless you’d like me to bring you the head of a great beast, as Galrans do.”She shakes her head, smiling, thankful for his charm to lighten the mood. “No. I can… answer.”

His fingers tighten.

Her own hand rises, dips past her collar to release the chain lying secret under her suit. “I… am acknowledging your open admittance of interest in betrothal, with conclusion that I also, would be open to a planned enga--” The cristofori gleams pink in gold, specks of light fracturing off his shadow as his other hand pulls her close and he leans to kiss her.

Between heat and warmth, and the soft sound of his coat furling in wrinkles between her fisted palms, he whispers on her lips. “Forgive the impropriety, Princess, I am simply…. Overjoyed.”She gives him a shaky laugh. “You’re forgiven.”

He kisses her again.

[amor-fati-momento-mori]

Editing Break

Summary: You were visiting your boyfriend Grayson and so far the trip had been everything you imagined. Until he had to start editing his and Ethan’s new video. You understood but it didn’t meant you weren’t allowed to take a certain situation into your own hands. 

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Smutty, smut smut

A/N: I randomly got this idea during a nap and then wrote it all after I took a shower. Enjoy!

It was a perfect California afternoon. The sun was high in the sky casting a warm glow over everything it touched. Nothing but clear skies as far as the eye could see. Well it would have been perfect if your boyfriend wasn’t still editing.

        You looked over form your spot on the bed to see Grayson hunched over his computer. While you could admire the way his muscles moved in his back as he was sitting there in nothing but his underwear, it wasn’t exactly the way you wanted him to be. He and Ethan had filmed in advanced and he wanted to get a jumpstart on editing since you only had a few days with them before you had to go back home. The cons of long distance, but the Dolan boy was worth it to you and he felt the same. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

        Except for the exact thing you were thinking of, the fact that you had been horny since yesterday with no satisfaction because of the damn editing. Grayson was up until 3 in the morning trying to finish it last night but got tired and ran into issues. You had given him a massage to help him fall asleep, but it had left you with nothing but your hand. Which hey it happens, you support the boys no matter what and understand how important getting their content up on time is. Sometimes you just couldn’t help it. You deeply craved being intimate with Grayson and it didn’t help that he was a fucking master at it. You had hoped this morning would be different. You made sure to get up early to cook him breakfast in bed, pancakes with a side of fruit with some orange juice to drink. Grayson couldn’t say enough kind words about how happy he was that you did that, so you joined him in bed to eat.

        Not long after you two had finished he had hopped over back to his computer to work again. You huffed to yourself, disappointed, but again you couldn’t blame him. The video did have to go out tomorrow. For a few hours you sat content, even going to clean the kitchen as well as do some laundry which you talked to Ethan during that time as he was getting his clothes out so you could put yours and Grayson’s in. Still when you returned back to the bedroom Grayson was in the same position.

        You weren’t going to waste the rest of the day though and began to put on your swimsuit. A cute bikini that was white with a cherry pattern all over it. You would have worn their new suits from the merch line but yours was still a mess from…well let’s call it the testing rounds of how they looked. Before you told Grayson, you were going outside for a dip, you looked him over one more time. This particular video was really getting to him and by the looks of it he was only getting more frustrated as his hand was rubbing his temple while he furiously clicked away at the clips in the editing program.

        “Oh my god!” He eventually groaned out, leaning back in the chair and rubbing both of his hands down his face with a sigh.

        “No, I’m your girlfriend, but I can try to help.” You joked, rubbing your hand up and down his arm to help soothe his irritation. He looked over at you, pausing for a moment to check out your body in the small swimwear before looking into your eyes.

“I’m sorry it’s just the stupid file won’t process the way I need it to and it’s pissing me off. Not only that none of these transitions seems to be working, it all looks like shit.”

        “A break never killed anyone, babe.”

        “I want to finish it now so I can spend tonight and tomorrow with you though.” Grayson said, his fingers capturing yours before bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. You smiled at his sweet form of affection.

        ‘Well,” You chewed your lip, thinking about your next words carefully, “What if I can help you have a break both mentally and physically without moving?”

        Grayson raised one of his perfectly shaped brows at your suggestion.

        “How exactly are you going to do that? Weren’t you going to swim?” He asked, gesturing to your outfit.

        “Just keep editing, okay?” You told him softly, pointing towards the computer for him to resume his work.

        Confusion still in his eyes, Gray did as you told him returning to try and get the video to the standard he wanted it for tomorrows upload.

        You walked around his chair until both of your hands were positioned on his broad shoulders. You started massaging his shoulders similar to how you did last night. Digging deep into the tight muscles from being hunched over at the desk. Grayson was already letting out little moans at how good it felt as well as sneaking glances back at you to see exactly what you were playing. You did nothing but smile but continued your work down to his biceps, staying there for a moment before returning back to his shoulders.

        You trailed your hands slowly down his chest, grazing slightly over his nipples before tracing patterns all around his pecs. Leaning down you kissed chastely from his ear down his neck, just enough so he could feel you were there but not lean into it enough to get anything.

        “Baby…” Gray exhaled deeply, feeling his chest rumbled under your fingers which only made you happier.

        You firmly placed both hands on his chest now, running them up and down his abs stopping briefly to kiss his neck or circle a particular spot on his abdomen. You peeked over his shoulder to see if you were getting the bigger response you wanted, and bigger was exactly the right word. You could easily see the tent that was forming in Grayson’s too tight navy briefs.

        By now Grayson had given up trying to stay focused on the screen or even attempting to move around the clips in the order he needed. Instead his eyes were half hooded in pleasure but also not wanting to fully look away from the actions you were performing on his body. His hands were gripping the edge of the desk, not painfully but enough to keep himself in the position you wanted him to be in. Now was the time for part two of your plan.

        Walking to the side, your fingers continued to trail his abs, playing with the band of his underwear. You watched his chest as his breathing started to shift the closer you got to his clothed cock. Carefully sinking down to your knees on the hardwood floor, your hands finally moved from his chest to his thighs. After tracing the outline of his day n night tattoo, Grayson seemed to get the message and scoot back in his chair some, opening his legs. You couldn’t help but marvel at his thick thighs now that you were eye level with them. The art of them was admirable but nothing could take away from how the raw size and power of them made your heart race. You loved to grip them with your own legs or hands just to feel strength they held. There would be more time for that later, right now you wanted your own prize and it was sitting at attention right in front of you.

        You gripped the edge of his brief but instead of starting to take them off you played with the fabric in your hands. You wanted them off just as badly as Grayson did but you wanted to make him work for it a little. This was a gift but you couldn’t help but get off at the satisfaction of being able to get him to be even a little bit whiney and submissive for you.

“Please…” You heard Grayson mutter under his breathe but that wasn’t enough.

        “I’m sorry Gray, I didn’t quite catch that.”

        Unknowingly to even you he had rolled his head back so it was hanging back between his shoulders, but after your request he slowly brought his head up. He snapped his eyes open to stare deeply into yours, nothing was able to stop the immediate way your pussy clenched from his eyes. It got you every time.

        “Y/N,” Grayson licked his lips, you watched every movement his tongue made. “Please take them off.” He gritted out the last part of it between his teeth, not wanting to fully give into his submissive side in this situation. You let it go because of how much you wanted to give him and yourself pleasure as well as the fact that you know you could get him really begging later if you wanted.

        With no more hesitation you pulled his briefs all the way down, getting him to step out of them as well so they wouldn’t be in your way before tossing them in the direction of the bed. Your mouth salivated and you had no shame to admit it. Grayson had the most beautiful cock you had ever seen. No other man or even porn star could compare to him. It was crafted as a blessing to pussy that you thanked God every day for. It was thick, so erection that it was resting nicely against his stomach, highlighting his treasure trail. The tip was just rounded enough that it was a nice bulb but not overly mushroom. It made you even more wet thinking about how that first thrust forward to get the tip in always felt so heavenly. Currently it was dripping a steady stream of precum all the way down, coating the large vein that was pulsing down the side in a slick coating. Finally, you brought your stare to his balls which to be honest were larger than average but they matched the size of his dick so it made sense. They hung there neatly manscaped and heavy, waiting for your touch. The wait was over.

        You brought your hand forward to first take Grayson’s balls into your hand. You rolled them, gently in your hand reacquainting yourself with how they felt. You stayed here for a bit, making sure to give each one the same amount of attention before focusing fully on his shaft. You glided your pointer finger up the vein of his cock, collecting all of his liquid that had already been coming out before dipping your finger in the pool at the top. Pulling it away, watching the trail that connected your finger to his tip you brought it to your mouth. Loudly sucking and moaning around it, able to get just enough of his taste. You looked back up at him, your heat continuing to pool.

His eyes looked almost black from the angle you were at. You could also tell he was breathing heavily out through his nose to try and keep some of his composure, arm muscles flexing. One still had a grip on the desk while the other was in a fist on the arm of the chair. You knew he was doing this because you wanted to be in control while all he wanted was to grip your hair and force you down on his length. Sure, you had given him simple morning blow jobs or just cause blow jobs, it didn’t always have to be rough but there was something about choking on his cock that you just got off on so it was a normal scenario for the two of you. With the change of pace, it was always hard for Grayson to remain still for you to do your work when he knew what you could do and usually wanted.

        With this in mind you decided to ease some of his suffering. Instead of going bit by bit like previously thought out, you gripped his base and began to lower your mouth all the way down.

        “Shiiiiit-“Grayson moaned along with various grunt pounding his fist onto the chair.

        Keeping your jaw lax you soon had almost his whole member in your mouth. You could deep throat but Grayson was so large that there was never anyway you got the whole thing, but you were proud of what little space was left between your nose and his lower abdomen.

        There you stayed, soaking in the feeling of his entire cock laying in your mouth and pushing down your throat. This really was a gift for the both of you. You left it in there to make him fidget wondering what you were going to do next and to let the salvia gather in your mouth. Eventually wanting to breath out more than just your nose you slowly pulled off, leaving a mess of spit covered his cock as moved. Using this you regained your breathe you began to stroke him up and down fast, not wanting him to lose the feeling of your mouth on him too quickly.

You were the one now staring him in the eyes as you went in to lap at the tip. Swirling your tongue around it before dipping down in the slit and back out again. Taking long licks at the vein from his balls up back to the tip and down the other side, all while doing your best to keep your eyes locked together. You saw him slowly break down more and more with each move you made. You smirked before going back in to properly blow him. You bobbed your head up and down, not even coming all of the off of his dick before going back down again. Building a steady momentum before reaching down to play with his balls once more.

        “C-Can I-fuck- “Grayson breathing was erratic, his words not able to come out before his was biting the side of his hand. You didn’t need to say anything else to know what he wanted and just like earlier it was okay because of how much you wanted it too.

        You nodded the best you could with his dick still in your mouth. After that you felt a hand come to the back of your head to gently grip. Grayson did this to show that he was still letting you be in charge but he couldn’t go without touching you. He went with your head as you continued your momentum, letting the tip start to hit the back of your throat over and over. Grayson’s panting was all you could hear and it made you want to go even faster to hear him not be able to do anything at all from how deep you were taking him. You did pull back for just a second though, making Grayson let out an involuntary complaint.

        “I want it all. I want to swallow every, last, drop. Got it?” You told him, back to stroking him again holding him a little tighter to get your point across.

        “It’s all yours, baby girl.”

        The two of your shared a smile before you went back down on him with vigor. Tasting every glorious inch of his cock form tip to base. Continuously fondling his balls until you could feel them tighten in your hand. You kept his tip lodged in the back of your throat, swallowing around him and keeping him in place for when he finally came. Gray couldn’t get out the words but instead brought both hands to the back on your head before pushing you the rest of the way down on his length. He kept your head in place as he moaned out his finishing sounds. String after long string of cum shot down your throat, coating it in the salty yet for some reason addicting substance. He stayed in your mouth as you took it all the way down, making sure to get every last drop as you wanted and he promised.

        Once you were sure you got everything you finally pulled all the way off, leaning back on your knees. Grayson handed you a tissue from the box on the desk for you to wipe at your mouth. You thanked him before cleaning off. You stood all the way up before jumping at Grayson’s hands. He had grabbed at your ass with his large hands, holding one cheek in one bringing you in close to his side.

        “Time for me to return the favor.” He said happily, licking his lips once more.

“Nope!” You said cheerily causing the boy in the chair to stare at you.

        “Wh-What?” He stuttered out, his deep voice laced with uncertainty at what you meant.

        “That was to help you editing block, which I’m sure you feel better now. So, once you finish, come get me out of the pool.” You tossed in the trash can by the desk before leaning down to whisper in his ear. “I’m already wet, so just think about how soaked I will be before you can come get me.” You nipped at his ear and stood all the way up.

        You smiled and turned towards the sliding glass door in his room that led to the pool, making sure to sway your hips knowing his eyes would be locked on you. Turning back, you slid it closed to still see Grayson perplexed, naked on his desk chair as he watched you on the other side of the door. You winked, and this seemed to make reality sink in for him as he quickly turned back to his computer, not bothering to put anything on his body, to finish the edit so he could get back to your body. You laughed at him before making your way to the pool diving in wondering what would be in store for you once he finished his work.

[catherinesnyder]

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These days, we do just about everything online—and that includes shopping. Which is why there’s never been a better time to be in ecommerce.

In 2018, if you’re selling anything—whether that’s sneakers, salad dressing, or something in between—you need to hop on board the ecommerce website train. An ecommerce site offers you the chance to build your brand, connect with more customers, and sell more products—but only if you’ve got the right website design.

Web design is critical when building an ecommerce website. Not only does your site have to look good and feel on-brand, but it also needs to drive your website visitors to take action and, you know… buy your products. But how, exactly, do you do that? How do you design the kind of ecommerce site that will have products flying off your virtual shelves?

Here are our top ecommerce website design tips to help you take your design to the next level (and sell a crazy amount of products in the process):

1. KISS (Keep it simple, silly!) —

One of the top rules you should keep in mind during the ecommerce design process? KISS—keep it simple, silly!

When it comes to designing an ecommerce website, simple is always better. The more elements you have on the page (Colors! Banner Ads! ALL THE POP-UPS!), the more it takes away from the entire point of the website—closing a sale.

You don’t need a ton of bells and whistles on your ecommerce website—all they do is act as distraction. Keep your design clear, clean, and simple—and keep the focus on the sale.

2. Make branding a priority —

When it comes to shopping online, people want to buy from established brands—not faceless ecommerce sites that look like a front for trying to steal your credit card information.

If you want to build the trust you need to drive serious sales with your ecommerce business, you need to put some serious thought into your branding. Your branding is like the DNA of your ecommerce business; it’s who you are as a company, what you’re about, and how you’re different from your competitors—and it plays a huge part in building a connection with your audience and driving sales.

If you want to get the most from your ecommerce design, take the time to define your brand—and then infuse that branding into your design. If you’re not sure who you are as a brand, that’s ok! You’re just going to want to do a little business soul-searching before you get designing. Ask yourself questions like:

If my brand was a person, who would it be?

If I had to describe my brand in three words, what would they be?

What makes my brand different from other ecommerce shops out there?

What do we do better than anyone else on the market?

Once you know who you are, you can work it into the branding of your ecommerce site. And that branding? It’ll help build trust with your audience—and drive serious sales in the process.

3. Think like a website visitor —

If you want your ecommerce website design to connect with your audience, you need to think like your audience. Ultimately, there are just a few things your potential customers want in an ecommerce experience—a site that’s easy to navigate, well-designed, and makes the process of shopping easy, straightforward, and hassle-free.

And if you want your ecommerce shop to succeed, you’d better give them those things.

During the design process, put yourself in your visitor’s shoes. What kind of layout is going to be easiest for them to navigate? How can you organize your products in a way that makes sense for the end user? How can you simplify the checkout process?

When you think like your customer, you can anticipate what they want from your ecommerce store—and then design your site in order to meet those needs.

4. Use color to your advantage —

Choosing the colors for your ecommerce site is about more than just saying “Well, red is my favorite color, so…let’s make all the things red!” Color is an extremely powerful tool—and if you understand the psychology behind color, you can use it to your advantage (and drive some serious sales in the process).

Different colors can inspire different feelings, emotions, and actions from people—so, if you want your ecommerce site to convert, you need to use those color inspirations to your advantage.

So, for example, if you want people to make a purchase, make the purchase button stand out with a bright color like red. According to color psychology, red inspires feelings of excitement and passion, which are driving factors behind spending—and studies show that making a button red can increase conversions by a whopping 34%.

Or, if you want to up your credibility, incorporate blue into your web design. Blue is not only a universally loved color, but it’s also been shown to increase feelings of trust, making it a go-to in the business world (there’s a reason the color blue appears in more than half of all logos).

The point is, color is one of the most powerful tools in your design toolbox—and if you know how to use it, it can have a huge impact on your ecommerce design.

5. Use plenty of high-quality images —

In the world of web design, it’s common knowledge that images increase conversions (for example, one recent case study showed that incorporating more relevant images into a website design increased conversions by over 40%). And that’s even more true when it comes to ecommerce.

No one is going to buy a product sight unseen. If you want people to buy your products, you need to show them what they’re buying via high-quality product images.

Getting professional images of all your products (and having images of your product from multiple different angles) goes a long way in building confidence and trust in your customers. If they feel confident that they know what they’re buying, they’re more likely to make a purchase. But if there are no images of the product they want to buy (or just a single, low quality image), they’re going to feel more hesitant to make the purchase—and your conversions are going to tank as a result.

Do yourself a favor and have plenty of high-quality images of whatever you’re selling on your ecommerce site. Your conversions will thank you.

6. Make your content scannable —

You can spend days crafting long descriptions for the products on your ecommerce site, but we’ve got news for you—no one is going to read it.

Research shows that most website visitors only read about 20% of the text on any given web page. Instead of reading content word for word, they simply scan the text looking for key information—so, if you want to get your point across (and drive sales in the process), you need to make your content scannable.

Break up your content—whether that’s product descriptions, blog posts, or an “about us” page—into an easy-to-scan format. Keep sentences and paragraphs short, use bolding to call attention to key information, and use bulleted lists to break up large blocks of texts.

The easier to scan your content, the more likely your audience will absorb your key messaging—and the more likely you’ll be able to make a sale.

7. Make it look professional —

The basis of an ecommerce site is that you are asking your website visitors to purchase something from you. And, as a result, you’re asking them to turn over sensitive information, like their credit card information. Which they’re not going to feel comfortable doing if your website doesn’t look profesh.

Investing in a professional website is a must if you want to build trust with your customers—and developing that trust is a must if you want your ecommerce store to succeed.

What do we mean by professional? Your website shouldn’t have any typos or misspellings. Your font, color palette, and footer design should be consistent from page to page. All your product links and buttons should work. Your photos shouldn’t look like you snapped them on an old iPhone 5 and your overall site design shouldn’t look like you swiped it from Geocities circa 1997.

The point is, if you want your customers to take you seriously, you need to show them you take yourself seriously—and the only way to do that is with a professional web design.

8. Use social proof —

  Another way to build that oh-so-important trust? Social proof.

When you’re designing your ecommerce site, look for ways to show your potential customers the positive feedback you’ve gotten from your existing customers. Add a ratings section where people can rate your products (and then get as many 5 star reviews as you can). Add a testimonials section where you feature customer photos with a quote or two about what a great experience they had working with you. Ask customers to review your products—and what they like about them—and then add them to your blog.

The more your website visitors see that other people have had a positive experience shopping on your site (whether that’s through reviews or testimonials) the more trustworthy you’ll appear—and the more your conversions will go up as a result.

9. Make product categories easy to navigate —

Nothing—and we mean nothing—will kill a sale faster than clunky product pages. If your website visitors have to click around ten different menus before they find the product they’re looking for, they’re going to hightail it out of there fast—and click their way right to a competitor’s site.

Make your product categories and product pages easy to navigate. Make it easy for your customers to search for products and to filter products by things like color, size, or product type. The easier you make your categories and pages to navigate, the easier it will be for your customers to find what they’re looking for—and the easier it will be for them to make a purchase.

10. Make checkout a breeze —

Remember how we said nothing kills a sale faster than clunky product pages? Well, a clunky checkout is definitely a close second.

If your checkout process is a pain in the you-know-what, you’re going to lose customers. If you want people to buy from you, you need to make the process of buying as simple, straightforward, and pain-free as possible.

Make your checkout page design clean, simple, and easy to navigate. Give your customers the option to register for your site or to check out as a guest. Make everything about the process crystal clear: what information you need to process the purchase (and where they need to enter it), the different shipping options available (and how much they cost), and what to do in case there’s a problem with their order or they need to do a return. Once the purchase is complete, direct your customers to a confirmation page so they know everything went through.

In a nutshell, if you want people to buy from you, make the checkout process as easy as possible.

11. Make it responsive —

It’s official—mobile has surpassed desktop as the most popular way to surf the interwebs... And that includes shopping.

We’ll keep this short—if you want to capture the customers who want to shop on their phones or tablets, you need to make sure your website design is fully responsive. Otherwise you might not convince those valuable mobile visitors that your site is where they want to make a purchase.

Wrapping things up —

Designing an ecommerce website can be tricky—but now that you know the top web design tips for ecommerce, you have everything you need to design a site that not only looks amazing, but converts like crazy.

So what are you waiting for? Use these tips to give your online shop the overhaul it deserves.

A great online shop needs great web design.

We’ve got the web designers to make it happen.

Learn more

The post 11 top tips for outstanding ecommerce website design appeared first on 99designs.

via https://99designs.co.uk/blog/

11 top tips for outstanding ecommerce website design syndicated from https://www.lilpackaging.com/

[helenpattersoon]

11 top tips for outstanding ecommerce website design

These days, we do just about everything online—and that includes shopping. Which is why there’s never been a better time to be in ecommerce.

In 2018, if you’re selling anything—whether that’s sneakers, salad dressing, or something in between—you need to hop on board the ecommerce website train. An ecommerce site offers you the chance to build your brand, connect with more customers, and sell more products—but only if you’ve got the right website design.

Web design is critical when building an ecommerce website. Not only does your site have to look good and feel on-brand, but it also needs to drive your website visitors to take action and, you know… buy your products. But how, exactly, do you do that? How do you design the kind of ecommerce site that will have products flying off your virtual shelves?

Here are our top ecommerce website design tips to help you take your design to the next level (and sell a crazy amount of products in the process):

1. KISS (Keep it simple, silly!) —

One of the top rules you should keep in mind during the ecommerce design process? KISS—keep it simple, silly!

When it comes to designing an ecommerce website, simple is always better. The more elements you have on the page (Colors! Banner Ads! ALL THE POP-UPS!), the more it takes away from the entire point of the website—closing a sale.

You don’t need a ton of bells and whistles on your ecommerce website—all they do is act as distraction. Keep your design clear, clean, and simple—and keep the focus on the sale.

2. Make branding a priority —

When it comes to shopping online, people want to buy from established brands—not faceless ecommerce sites that look like a front for trying to steal your credit card information.

If you want to build the trust you need to drive serious sales with your ecommerce business, you need to put some serious thought into your branding. Your branding is like the DNA of your ecommerce business; it’s who you are as a company, what you’re about, and how you’re different from your competitors—and it plays a huge part in building a connection with your audience and driving sales.

If you want to get the most from your ecommerce design, take the time to define your brand—and then infuse that branding into your design. If you’re not sure who you are as a brand, that’s ok! You’re just going to want to do a little business soul-searching before you get designing. Ask yourself questions like:

If my brand was a person, who would it be?

If I had to describe my brand in three words, what would they be?

What makes my brand different from other ecommerce shops out there?

What do we do better than anyone else on the market?

Once you know who you are, you can work it into the branding of your ecommerce site. And that branding? It’ll help build trust with your audience—and drive serious sales in the process.

3. Think like a website visitor —

If you want your ecommerce website design to connect with your audience, you need to think like your audience. Ultimately, there are just a few things your potential customers want in an ecommerce experience—a site that’s easy to navigate, well-designed, and makes the process of shopping easy, straightforward, and hassle-free.

And if you want your ecommerce shop to succeed, you’d better give them those things.

During the design process, put yourself in your visitor’s shoes. What kind of layout is going to be easiest for them to navigate? How can you organize your products in a way that makes sense for the end user? How can you simplify the checkout process?

When you think like your customer, you can anticipate what they want from your ecommerce store—and then design your site in order to meet those needs.

4. Use color to your advantage —

Choosing the colors for your ecommerce site is about more than just saying “Well, red is my favorite color, so…let’s make all the things red!” Color is an extremely powerful tool—and if you understand the psychology behind color, you can use it to your advantage (and drive some serious sales in the process).

Different colors can inspire different feelings, emotions, and actions from people—so, if you want your ecommerce site to convert, you need to use those color inspirations to your advantage.

So, for example, if you want people to make a purchase, make the purchase button stand out with a bright color like red. According to color psychology, red inspires feelings of excitement and passion, which are driving factors behind spending—and studies show that making a button red can increase conversions by a whopping 34%.

Or, if you want to up your credibility, incorporate blue into your web design. Blue is not only a universally loved color, but it’s also been shown to increase feelings of trust, making it a go-to in the business world (there’s a reason the color blue appears in more than half of all logos).

The point is, color is one of the most powerful tools in your design toolbox—and if you know how to use it, it can have a huge impact on your ecommerce design.

5. Use plenty of high-quality images —

In the world of web design, it’s common knowledge that images increase conversions (for example, one recent case study showed that incorporating more relevant images into a website design increased conversions by over 40%). And that’s even more true when it comes to ecommerce.

No one is going to buy a product sight unseen. If you want people to buy your products, you need to show them what they’re buying via high-quality product images.

Getting professional images of all your products (and having images of your product from multiple different angles) goes a long way in building confidence and trust in your customers. If they feel confident that they know what they’re buying, they’re more likely to make a purchase. But if there are no images of the product they want to buy (or just a single, low quality image), they’re going to feel more hesitant to make the purchase—and your conversions are going to tank as a result.

Do yourself a favor and have plenty of high-quality images of whatever you’re selling on your ecommerce site. Your conversions will thank you.

6. Make your content scannable —

You can spend days crafting long descriptions for the products on your ecommerce site, but we’ve got news for you—no one is going to read it.

Research shows that most website visitors only read about 20% of the text on any given web page. Instead of reading content word for word, they simply scan the text looking for key information—so, if you want to get your point across (and drive sales in the process), you need to make your content scannable.

Break up your content—whether that’s product descriptions, blog posts, or an “about us” page—into an easy-to-scan format. Keep sentences and paragraphs short, use bolding to call attention to key information, and use bulleted lists to break up large blocks of texts.

The easier to scan your content, the more likely your audience will absorb your key messaging—and the more likely you’ll be able to make a sale.

7. Make it look professional —

The basis of an ecommerce site is that you are asking your website visitors to purchase something from you. And, as a result, you’re asking them to turn over sensitive information, like their credit card information. Which they’re not going to feel comfortable doing if your website doesn’t look profesh.

Investing in a professional website is a must if you want to build trust with your customers—and developing that trust is a must if you want your ecommerce store to succeed.

What do we mean by professional? Your website shouldn’t have any typos or misspellings. Your font, color palette, and footer design should be consistent from page to page. All your product links and buttons should work. Your photos shouldn’t look like you snapped them on an old iPhone 5 and your overall site design shouldn’t look like you swiped it from Geocities circa 1997.

The point is, if you want your customers to take you seriously, you need to show them you take yourself seriously—and the only way to do that is with a professional web design.

8. Use social proof —

  Another way to build that oh-so-important trust? Social proof.

When you’re designing your ecommerce site, look for ways to show your potential customers the positive feedback you’ve gotten from your existing customers. Add a ratings section where people can rate your products (and then get as many 5 star reviews as you can). Add a testimonials section where you feature customer photos with a quote or two about what a great experience they had working with you. Ask customers to review your products—and what they like about them—and then add them to your blog.

The more your website visitors see that other people have had a positive experience shopping on your site (whether that’s through reviews or testimonials) the more trustworthy you’ll appear—and the more your conversions will go up as a result.

9. Make product categories easy to navigate —

Nothing—and we mean nothing—will kill a sale faster than clunky product pages. If your website visitors have to click around ten different menus before they find the product they’re looking for, they’re going to hightail it out of there fast—and click their way right to a competitor’s site.

Make your product categories and product pages easy to navigate. Make it easy for your customers to search for products and to filter products by things like color, size, or product type. The easier you make your categories and pages to navigate, the easier it will be for your customers to find what they’re looking for—and the easier it will be for them to make a purchase.

10. Make checkout a breeze —

Remember how we said nothing kills a sale faster than clunky product pages? Well, a clunky checkout is definitely a close second.

If your checkout process is a pain in the you-know-what, you’re going to lose customers. If you want people to buy from you, you need to make the process of buying as simple, straightforward, and pain-free as possible.

Make your checkout page design clean, simple, and easy to navigate. Give your customers the option to register for your site or to check out as a guest. Make everything about the process crystal clear: what information you need to process the purchase (and where they need to enter it), the different shipping options available (and how much they cost), and what to do in case there’s a problem with their order or they need to do a return. Once the purchase is complete, direct your customers to a confirmation page so they know everything went through.

In a nutshell, if you want people to buy from you, make the checkout process as easy as possible.

11. Make it responsive —

It’s official—mobile has surpassed desktop as the most popular way to surf the interwebs... And that includes shopping.

We’ll keep this short—if you want to capture the customers who want to shop on their phones or tablets, you need to make sure your website design is fully responsive. Otherwise you might not convince those valuable mobile visitors that your site is where they want to make a purchase.

Wrapping things up —

Designing an ecommerce website can be tricky—but now that you know the top web design tips for ecommerce, you have everything you need to design a site that not only looks amazing, but converts like crazy.

So what are you waiting for? Use these tips to give your online shop the overhaul it deserves.

A great online shop needs great web design.

We’ve got the web designers to make it happen.

Learn more

The post 11 top tips for outstanding ecommerce website design appeared first on 99designs.

via https://99designs.co.uk/blog/

[pamelahetrick]

11 top tips for outstanding ecommerce website design

These days, we do just about everything online—and that includes shopping. Which is why there’s never been a better time to be in ecommerce.

In 2018, if you’re selling anything—whether that’s sneakers, salad dressing, or something in between—you need to hop on board the ecommerce website train. An ecommerce site offers you the chance to build your brand, connect with more customers, and sell more products—but only if you’ve got the right website design.

Web design is critical when building an ecommerce website. Not only does your site have to look good and feel on-brand, but it also needs to drive your website visitors to take action and, you know… buy your products. But how, exactly, do you do that? How do you design the kind of ecommerce site that will have products flying off your virtual shelves?

Here are our top ecommerce website design tips to help you take your design to the next level (and sell a crazy amount of products in the process):

1. KISS (Keep it simple, silly!) —

One of the top rules you should keep in mind during the ecommerce design process? KISS—keep it simple, silly!

When it comes to designing an ecommerce website, simple is always better. The more elements you have on the page (Colors! Banner Ads! ALL THE POP-UPS!), the more it takes away from the entire point of the website—closing a sale.

You don’t need a ton of bells and whistles on your ecommerce website—all they do is act as distraction. Keep your design clear, clean, and simple—and keep the focus on the sale.

2. Make branding a priority —

When it comes to shopping online, people want to buy from established brands—not faceless ecommerce sites that look like a front for trying to steal your credit card information.

If you want to build the trust you need to drive serious sales with your ecommerce business, you need to put some serious thought into your branding. Your branding is like the DNA of your ecommerce business; it’s who you are as a company, what you’re about, and how you’re different from your competitors—and it plays a huge part in building a connection with your audience and driving sales.

If you want to get the most from your ecommerce design, take the time to define your brand—and then infuse that branding into your design. If you’re not sure who you are as a brand, that’s ok! You’re just going to want to do a little business soul-searching before you get designing. Ask yourself questions like:

If my brand was a person, who would it be?

If I had to describe my brand in three words, what would they be?

What makes my brand different from other ecommerce shops out there?

What do we do better than anyone else on the market?

Once you know who you are, you can work it into the branding of your ecommerce site. And that branding? It’ll help build trust with your audience—and drive serious sales in the process.

3. Think like a website visitor —

If you want your ecommerce website design to connect with your audience, you need to think like your audience. Ultimately, there are just a few things your potential customers want in an ecommerce experience—a site that’s easy to navigate, well-designed, and makes the process of shopping easy, straightforward, and hassle-free.

And if you want your ecommerce shop to succeed, you’d better give them those things.

During the design process, put yourself in your visitor’s shoes. What kind of layout is going to be easiest for them to navigate? How can you organize your products in a way that makes sense for the end user? How can you simplify the checkout process?

When you think like your customer, you can anticipate what they want from your ecommerce store—and then design your site in order to meet those needs.

4. Use color to your advantage —

Choosing the colors for your ecommerce site is about more than just saying “Well, red is my favorite color, so…let’s make all the things red!” Color is an extremely powerful tool—and if you understand the psychology behind color, you can use it to your advantage (and drive some serious sales in the process).

Different colors can inspire different feelings, emotions, and actions from people—so, if you want your ecommerce site to convert, you need to use those color inspirations to your advantage.

So, for example, if you want people to make a purchase, make the purchase button stand out with a bright color like red. According to color psychology, red inspires feelings of excitement and passion, which are driving factors behind spending—andstudies show that making a button red can increase conversions by a whopping 34%.

Or, if you want to up your credibility, incorporate blue into your web design. Blue is not only a universally loved color, but it’s also been shown to increase feelings of trust, making it a go-to in the business world (there’s a reason the color blue appears in more than half of all logos).

The point is, color is one of the most powerful tools in your design toolbox—and if you know how to use it, it can have a huge impact on your ecommerce design.

5. Use plenty of high-quality images —

In the world of web design, it’s common knowledge that images increase conversions (for example, one recent case study showed that incorporating more relevant images into a website design increased conversions by over 40%). And that’s even more true when it comes to ecommerce.

No one is going to buy a product sight unseen. If you want people to buy your products, you need to show them what they’re buying via high-quality product images.

Getting professional images of all your products (and having images of your product from multiple different angles) goes a long way in building confidence and trust in your customers. If they feel confident that they know what they’re buying, they’re more likely to make a purchase. But if there are no images of the product they want to buy (or just a single, low quality image), they’re going to feel more hesitant to make the purchase—and your conversions are going to tank as a result.

Do yourself a favor and have plenty of high-quality images of whatever you’re selling on your ecommerce site. Your conversions will thank you.

6. Make your content scannable —

You can spend days crafting long descriptions for the products on your ecommerce site, but we’ve got news for you—no one is going to read it.

Research shows that most website visitors only read about 20% of the text on any given web page. Instead of reading content word for word, they simply scan the text looking for key information—so, if you want to get your point across (and drive sales in the process), you need to make your content scannable.

Break up your content—whether that’s product descriptions, blog posts, or an “about us” page—into an easy-to-scan format. Keep sentences and paragraphs short, use bolding to call attention to key information, and use bulleted lists to break up large blocks of texts.

The easier to scan your content, the more likely your audience will absorb your key messaging—and the more likely you’ll be able to make a sale.

7. Make it look professional —

The basis of an ecommerce site is that you are asking your website visitors to purchase something from you. And, as a result, you’re asking them to turn over sensitive information, like their credit card information. Which they’re not going to feel comfortable doing if your website doesn’t look profesh.

Investing in a professional website is a must if you want to build trust with your customers—and developing that trust is a must if you want your ecommerce store to succeed.

What do we mean by professional? Your website shouldn’t have any typos or misspellings. Your font, color palette, and footer design should be consistent from page to page. All your product links and buttons should work. Your photos shouldn’t look like you snapped them on an old iPhone 5 and your overall site design shouldn’t look like you swiped it from Geocities circa 1997.

The point is, if you want your customers to take you seriously, you need to show them you take yourself seriously—and the only way to do that is with a professional web design.

8. Use social proof —

 Another way to build that oh-so-important trust? Social proof.

When you’re designing your ecommerce site, look for ways to show your potential customers the positive feedback you’ve gotten from your existing customers. Add a ratings section where people can rate your products (and then get as many 5 star reviews as you can). Add a testimonials section where you feature customer photos with a quote or two about what a great experience they had working with you. Ask customers to review your products—and what they like about them—and then add them to your blog.

The more your website visitors see that other people have had a positive experience shopping on your site (whether that’s through reviews or testimonials) the more trustworthy you’ll appear—and the more your conversions will go up as a result.

9. Make product categories easy to navigate —

Nothing—and we mean nothing—will kill a sale faster than clunky product pages. If your website visitors have to click around ten different menus before they find the product they’re looking for, they’re going to hightail it out of there fast—and click their way right to a competitor’s site.

Make your product categories and product pages easy to navigate. Make it easy for your customers to search for products and to filter products by things like color, size, or product type. The easier you make your categories and pages to navigate, the easier it will be for your customers to find what they’re looking for—and the easier it will be for them to make a purchase.

10. Make checkout a breeze —

Remember how we said nothing kills a sale faster than clunky product pages? Well, a clunky checkout is definitely a close second.

If your checkout process is a pain in the you-know-what, you’re going to lose customers. If you want people to buy from you, you need to make the process of buying as simple, straightforward, and pain-free as possible.

Make your checkout page design clean, simple, and easy to navigate. Give your customers the option to register for your site or to check out as a guest. Make everything about the process crystal clear: what information you need to process the purchase (and where they need to enter it), the different shipping options available (and how much they cost), and what to do in case there’s a problem with their order or they need to do a return. Once the purchase is complete, direct your customers to a confirmation page so they know everything went through.

In a nutshell, if you want people to buy from you, make the checkout process as easy as possible.

11. Make it responsive —

It’s official—mobile has surpassed desktop as the most popular way to surf the interwebs... And that includes shopping.

We’ll keep this short—if you want to capture the customers who want to shop on their phones or tablets, you need to make sure your website design is fully responsive. Otherwise you might not convince those valuable mobile visitors that your site is where they want to make a purchase.

Wrapping things up —

Designing an ecommerce website can be tricky—but now that you know the top web design tips for ecommerce, you have everything you need to design a site that not only looks amazing, but converts like crazy.

So what are you waiting for? Use these tips to give your online shop the overhaul it deserves.

A great online shop needs great web design.

We've got the web designers to make it happen.

Learn more

The post 11 top tips for outstanding ecommerce website design appeared first on 99designs.

via 99designs https://99designs.co.uk/blog/web-digital-en-gb/ecommerce-website-design-tips/

[briarwaters]

Love For Sale

Boring; that would be one word Deirdre would use to describe the flea market she was dragged to. Nothing but old, stinky stuff ever managed to come to the Nimbasa Flea Market; made Deirdre wonder why anyone came to begin with. She picked up an aged Beatles record sitting on the table beside her. It was filthy; the case was worn out, covered with dust, scribbles adorning John Lennon’s face. She made a face and put it back, obviously from a household with children, who knows what it’s been though.

“Can we go yet?" Deirdre asked as her blue eyes darted away from the dead, stuffed squirrel on the table before her. She shuddered internally just thinking about it. Why would you want a dead squirrel with its beady eyes staring straight at you? She just didn’t understand.

Athanasia eyes traveled from the antique music box she was holding and toward the brunette, unamused. “We just got here,” she replied, closing the lid and cutting off the slow melody in the process.

Deirdre rolled her eyes, “What’s your point, Anna?” she asked as she crossed her arms across her chest, earning her a look of disbelief. Deirdre didn’t know what Athanasia expected from her, she already expressed her dislike for the annual market last year.

Athanasia shook her head, sighing, and pulled out her phone from her purse. She looked through her messages before turning her attention back to Deirdre. “Seth and some guys are at the back of the market. Why don’t you go there and I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

Deirdre pursed her lips; that wasn’t the answer she was hoping for. “Fine,” she sighed, looking around quickly before walking towards the back of Nimbasa Convention Center. “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t do anything bad,” Athanasia called after her, turning her attention back to the music box in her hands.

Deirdre walked through the rows of booths slowly, looking at all of the things that were on display. Most of the things were dull and worn out in earthly tones. She passed by dozens of chairs, tables, dressers, racks of old tattered clothes – things she wonders how people pawned onto one another.  

“Dei!” Deirdre’s head turns in the direction of the sound and meets a familiar set of brown eyes. She walks over to her friend Seth who is currently standing in the middle of a crowded pathway. “Fancy meeting you here,” Seth greeted once she is closer to him.

Deirdre replied with an eye roll, “Uh-huh, yeah sure. I thought you were with the other guys.”

Seth shrugged. “I got bored so I started to look around.”

“For what?”

“The diamond in the rough,” Seth replied suavely in his fake, heavy British accent.

“The diamond in the rough?” Deirdre repeats slowly, internally wondering if she would regret her decision to question it.

Seth nods his head as if it were obvious. “There has to be one good thing among all this junk. I mean there has to be one reason why these people keep coming here.”

“Why are you here?” Deirdre asked. The only reason why she was at the market was because Athanasia begged her, profusely, to accompany her. Why would Seth and the other guys be here? Deirdre thought to herself. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion when he didn’t reply immediately.

“Well,” Seth replied, clearing his throat in between his sentence, “Anna might have suggested that we all come.”

Deirdre shot him a look of suspicion. “So then all of you guys just came. Who came anyway?” she asked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Charlie and Joel,” Seth replied, walking down the path. “But Joel probably has to leave soon ‘cause he has to go and watch his little sister.”

Deirdre fell into step with him and continued her interrogation. “So the three gamers decided to talk some time off their game addicting ways to come to stupid little market?”

“Yes,” Seth replied, a little irritated. “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I don’t know,” Deirdre sarcastically remarked. “Do I?”

Seth paused for a moment to shoot Deirdre an unamused look. “You seriously have to stop talking like that. It’s really annoying.”

“You love it,” Deirdre scoffed.

Seth stumbled for his cell phone, his Owl City ringtone blaring from the speakers. “Hello?” Seth said into the device. There was a pause, “Uh-huh.” Deirdre looked around as Seth continued his conversation. Deirdre looked over to her right and saw a booth filled with bright spring colors. “Yeah okay.” She cocked her head to the side, and unusual color theme for a flea market booth. “Half an hour? Okay.” Seth hung up and stuck the iPhone back into his pocket as he informed Deirdre of his prior conversation, “Charlie and Anna are going to meet us at the exit in half an hour.”

Seth turned to walk again but was quickly stopped by Deirdre. “Hey, wait,” she said, grabbing onto his arm. “Look at that.”

Seth’s blue eyes followed Deirdre’s finger to a table a row over. “What do you think is over there?” His only reply was a shrug. “Let’s go check it out.” Seth led the way toward the unusual booth, weaving his way through the crowd. Once in front of the booth, the two look at it in curiosity and wonder. There were no signs or tags in sight, just an array of bottles spread out on the table.

Before them is an arrangement of various vials of different colors. Broad, curved, narrow, round – each vial looked hand crafted, not one of them appeared to be identical. Many of the bottles were filled with a translucent lightly tinted liquid. Among the pastel colors were a few rich hues of dark blues and royal purples. Nevertheless, each bottle seemed to gleam under the dim lights of the convention center.

“Spiffy,” Deirdre noted, taking in all the different shade and hues. The bottles reminded her of a flower project she did in the fifth grade, or the dyes her mother would buy around easter. 

Seth let out a low whistle, “It’s like a rainbow came and like…” His sentence trailed, his hands gesturing in an attempt to make up for his lack of words. 

“What do you think it is?” Deirdre asked, leaning over to take a closer look at the translucent blue vial before her.

“That is time you’re looking at.” Deirdre looked up to see a lady rising from her chair a few feet behind the table..

“Time?” Seth asked in bewilderment.

The women before the two nodded her head, her sapphire ringlets moving with her gentle motion. “Inside of that bottle is time.”

Deirdre looked back at the bottle before standing up straight. “You can’t put time into a bottle, that’s impossible.”

“Not impossible, just improbable,” the lady replied. On her shirt is a name card and that reads ‘Evie’ in a perfect script.

“And what’s in this one?” Seth asked pointing to a translucent orange vial a few bottles away from the blue one Deirdre was looking at.

“Courage,” the Evie replies instantly.

Deirdre rolled her eyes, thinking that this lady was obviously mental. “And I suppose this one is luck,” she remarked sarcastically, pointing at a transparent celadon vial.

“It is.” The seriousness in her voice startled the two; her tone left no room for questions.

“Okay listen, lady,” Seth replied critically. “You can’t go around telling people you have luck in a bottle and think they’re going to believe you.”

“Whether they believe me is up to them,” Evie replied. “I think what we should be focusing on is: if you two are so quick to believe what I am telling you is a lie, why haven’t the two of you left?” Evie looked between the two teens. “That is unless a part of you does actually believe in what I am saying and there is nothing wrong with that.”

“So you’re telling me that if I like drink this bottle of ‘courage’,” Seth said, using his fingers to make air quotes. “I will suddenly have courage?”

“It only works if you believe it will,” Evie replied.   

Deirdre elbowed her friend, “This could be your diamond in the rough.” Seth looked down at her in a glower and Deirdre let out a sigh, “It’s not like you’re gonna find anything remotely better than a person trying to sell you abstract ideas.”

Seth stared at her for a little while longer before caving into his child like ways, “I’ll get one if you get one.” Deirdre let out a laugh but agreed anyway. “What do you have?”

Evie gave the young pair a smile, “I think I might have something to your interest.” Evie picked up a round vial containing an oblique, dark emerald substance and handed it to Seth. “A bottle of excitement for a rainy day,” Evie said.

Seth looked at the bottle in his hand. “It fits the child in you,” Deirdre commented, with a small smirk.

Evie handed Deirdre a thin, curved bottle with a transparent rose tinted liquid, “Perhaps a bottle of true love for the little lady.”

Deirdre’s eyes snapped to meet Evie’s, seeing that she was giving her a knowing look. With her fingers wrapped around the vial, a single person came to mind. Did she want to believe she held true love in her hands or was that too hopeful for her?