#a thin layer of fine fleece

[bitterrfruit]

houndtooth [3]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - 3.4k words

“I’ll freeze to death.”  

You utter, voice low and tense; your cadence despite your effort is sheepish, as though you’re exerting every effort to reassert yourself as brave and unflinching. A mask to veil the shivering little rabbit you must spend most of your life trying to conceal.   

Ghost isn’t fooled by your disguise, by your attempts to obfuscate your vulnerability – no, he can scent your panic, that frightened wee animal at the centre of you, hidden beneath the baiting curves of your flesh. He might be able to see its reflection glistening in your nervous eyes, once he’s able to rip that sack off your head.  

The thought tempts a vengeful smirk that tugs at his lips. One he wished you could see, if only to witness your quaint bravery be exsanguinated from you at the sight of his amusement. 

Still, you’re not wrong.  

The dry air of the midwinter night must be dipping below the double-digit negatives. A frigid cold that Ghost himself had scarcely noticed on his expedition to your estate – shielded by many layers; woollen fleece under windbreaker under thick, gore-tex parka, face kept warm by his balaclava, fingers protected from frostbite by waterproof gloves. 

It’s a short ride to exfil by snowmobile, less than ten minutes – but, in all likelihood, long enough that the exposure could kill you by the time he hauled you to the helicopter.  

Long enough that it might freeze the mucus of your throat and lungs into crystalline shards, might blacken and petrify your extremities, might have your exposed skin sloughing off in a few days' time.  

Ghost knows he must return you to base alive. But, alive is the only condition that is expected of him. No expectation of unharmed. So, he is left to place bets on whether you’ll survive the journey.  

He could make a sport of it.  

He plays with your possible fates as though they were marbles in the palm of his hand, rolling them between fingers and uncaring if he drops them. 

“You might,” he chides gruffly, finally offering you a response. “It’d be your own fault for wearing a fuckin’ tissue.”  

His glower scrutinises you as he releases his hand from the doorknob, whose rattling must have informed you that he intended to drag you outdoors. He keeps his other gripped around your bicep, wrenchingly tight, he anticipates, hopes, that his grasp might leave bruises on your soft skin. You, slippery vermin, seem liable to flee at any moment, so he justifies it to himself.  

He watches your chest rapidly rise and fall, gratuitously exposed décolletage shimmering with a thin coating of sweat, it glows silky in the moonlight that illuminates you.  

You, standing as still as you can muster, covered only by your peony pink lingerie and a black hood over your head, hands bound with thick black cable ties – look like a scene out of a snuff film.  

Maybe you’ll end up in one. 

He finds himself silently appreciative you don’t have the satisfaction of seeing how long his hedonistic glare lingers on your cleavage; on the tightening of the edges of your lacy cups, cutting into the swell of your breasts with each of your quaking breaths, allowing them to pillow out of the top.  

Still, a small derisive scoff escapes you through the fabric. “I didn’t anticipate an outing.”  

You facetious little shit. Almost makes him laugh. 

Fine.  

With a shrill rip of Velcro, he tears open one of the flaps of a pocket on his tactical vest, plucking out a loudly rustling emergency blanket; a foil shawl folded neatly into a rectangle the size of a playing card, tucked into a plastic pouch.  

You step onto your back foot in an anxious reflex at the noise, little rabbit, maybe you’re expecting the worst. He hopes you are. 

But he’s doing you a favour. He grimaces in revulsion at the acknowledgement of that fact. Resents that you might be thankful for it. Tells himself it’s for the good of the mission – nothing more, nothing less. Reminds himself how much he’d otherwise relish in watching your skin turn indigo, left exposed to be ruined by the fatal ice of your country’s stark winter.  

Unwrapping it promptly, he tosses the thin foil to unfurl it, before floating it behind you. He pulls it over your shoulders, watching you wince at the sensation of it brushing against your bare skin. With rough haste he grabs hold your bound wrists, tugging them upwards and shoving the edges of the foil into your grip. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, a disingenuous show of sarcastic gratitude, as you roll your shoulders to adjust its coverage, holding the emergency cape tightly in your bound hands. The fabric of your hood sucks inward against your nose and mouth as you draw in a lengthy breath.  

“Don’t thank me,” he grunts, as he finally unlocks and pulls open the gargantuan, ostentatious entrance to your mansion; a towering double door, two thick slabs of carved wood. The frigid gale immediately floods into the gaudy foyer, forcing him to squint, its iciness pricking shards at his eyes and threatening to freeze solid the water that lubricates them.  

“Rgh – fuck,” you groan through gritted teeth, faltering bravery quickly giving way to squeaking panic. Your entire body tenses at the sudden gust of ice, toes curling and head twisting away from the blast of ice.  

He spectates amusedly as you immediately pull the thin foil to better cover yourself, admires as you struggle to do so while your wrists are bound.  

He adds, “…only delaying the inevitable.”  

Your negligée billows in the invasive wind, exposing your skin even further to the frost; not to say that otherwise it would do much to protect you from it.  

He takes an impatient grip of the back of your neck, the impact of his palm on your nape loud enough to emit a smack. He burrows his fingers into the fleshy bands of your tendons, driving you ruthlessly you towards the exit. Holds you upright by the neck like trapped game as you stumble over your bare feet.  

“Move.”  

You didn’t expect to be gracious of the sack the dog had secured over your head.  

Your unstable breathing warms your cheeks, the hot vapour of your adrenaline pumping from your lungs is trapped in by the thick black cotton, preventing the membranes of your nostrils freezing solid.  

The vice like grip of your hunter has not faltered, dragging you by the neck down the winding stone steps of your estate – the slabs free of snow by virtue of the heated coils beneath them, a renovation you yourself had requested. Of course, your husband had obliged. 

But your abductor isn’t steering you down your driveway, it seems, as you are instead led off the path.  

A gasping shriek jumps from your throat as your feet touch the layer of powder, snow packing between your toes; the frost immediately burns the soles as though you tread over shattered glass.  

“Where are we going,” you question through a clenched jaw, chattering with the cold, having to push your weak voice out of your seizing diaphragm. 

As you had anticipated, he says nothing. 

Stays dead silent, the peculiar beast.  

You’re frightened of him. Suddenly unconfident in your attempts to read him.  

It’s typically your strongest talent, a perfectly honed skill – reading men.  

Every one of them like a children’s book, predilections and intentions so blatant that they may as well have been scribbled in crayon. They believe wholeheartedly that they are mysterious, too cunning to be understood, so mistaken in their conceit; expecting that you as a mere woman are simply unable to comprehend them. 

Yet you have made a craft of determining what makes each one tick. Disassembling them like the gears and screws of a clock, surveying their quirks and components through your looking glass.  

Once reduced to their basic constituents, their most primordial parts, they are all the same. Always want the same thing. Always boil down to the same creature.  

Dogs. 

You’ve gotten good at baiting them. Leashing them. Taming them.  

This one is guarded. Keeps his teeth bared, keeps you guessing when he might maul you.  

So far, the only quirk of this one that you been able to deduce is that he wants you to be scared of him. Doing his best to terrorise you with his threats while enacting none of them.  

If he wanted to hurt you, or rape you, or kill you, countless opportunities to do so have been presented to him. You’ve been offered up to him so freely you may as well have been gifted to him wrapped in a bow.  

And yet, he hasn’t unwrapped you.  

That’s where your scrutiny has failed you. Like static distorting a radio signal.  

He provides you no tells. Tips no hand.  

He continues to act as though he is yet to impart his worst upon you. Vague about his intentions with you, in spite of his wandering eye. At least that is consistent with what you would expect from any of the dogs you have so far encountered. Acts too good, too moral, too chaste to take you; yet still gropes and licks and fingers and fucks you with his wanton glower. All the same.  

His claws cut deep into the cartilage of your neck as though he might hang you from it, unaffected by your whimpers nor your looming hypothermia. You feel it sinking beneath your skin. Freezes your nerves, turns the blood in your arteries into icy sludge, sends your muscles into irrepressible spasms. Your lungs ache, forced to suck down the very air that will inevitably freeze them solid.  

You gasp as you feel your knees knock against something solid; the dull ring of thick metal. 

His talons release your neck, finally, though you find yourself immediately longing for the warmth of his grip – the nape of your neck prickling with gooseflesh as it’s bitten by the frigid cold. 

Quick to thwart your opportunity at freedom, he takes prompt hold of you, gloved hands shoving past your foil cape and tucking under your arms. You squeak as you are lifted, uncertain how high off the ground you might be, though grateful that your frozen feet are finally free from their bed of snow.  

You’re lowered, then, your feet and ankles quickly parted by whatever frosty metal is now beneath you – then he drops you, and you land on your pelvis with a sore thud, abruptly bestriding whatever vehicle it must be. A snowmobile, you suspect.  

You feel him mount the vehicle behind you, his form hulking even when you can’t see it. You feel his breathing through the fabric on the top of your head. Heaving thighs on either side of you, you’re nestled between them. He even tugs you back with an arm hooked around your stomach, so you’re pressed more firmly against him, prevented from wriggling free. A couple fewer layers of gear and his body heat might even bring you comfort.  

Through his touch alone he seems unbothered by your proximity, by the pressure of your ass against his crotch. Not lascivious, though not disquieted. Steals no grabs, no rogue touches of any of your more intimate parts – though you’re not daft enough to assume he would shy away from it.  

You can feel the fleshy mass behind his trousers despite the thickness of the weatherproof fabric. Formidable even soft.  

Perhaps you could tempt him.  

With just a shimmy, an innocent readjustment of your ass between his legs – you offer just a touch more pressure. You might bump against him while he rides through the snow, might feel that pliable weight turn rigid against your back.  

You admit that he doesn’t seem the type to offer you special treatment if you offered your cunt to him. He’s made it known that he thinks you’re a slut, after all. In your experience, though, it works in your favour most of the time. Where’s the harm in trying?

But you feel the fabric of your sack hood twitch and quiver as his head lowers beside yours, he growls into your ear; 

“That’s not gonna help you.”  

Fine. Whatever. 

Worth a shot. 

It sounded as though he had uttered it through a grin; a very slight, near imperceptible drip of amusement in his malicious tone.  

But, with your hands bound, near naked, and blinded, your survival is dependent on him. Rather, it's entirely up to him.  

So you play it cool.  

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sheepishly respond, sweet and naïve, you get back into character. 

He huffs derisively, impatiently, perhaps. You let his arms envelop you as they reach for what must be the handles of the snowmobile in front of you, quickly deafened by the roar of the engine as he tugs on the throttle.  

Your body is abruptly forced backwards, tossed against him like a ragdoll as he suddenly accelerates - your fabric mask now provides you utterly no protection from the icy wind as it breaks through the weave. Your foil cape billows in the gale of his speed, rendering you entirely defenceless against the vicious knives of the cold as he speeds through the snow.   

Dropping your head, curling inwards on instinct, you find yourself nestling deeper into his shrouding form if only to shield yourself from the deathly cold he has purposefully exposed you to.  

After what feels like an agonising hour of having your bare skin dragged over a steel grater, you feel the snowmobile begin to decelerate, its roaring engine growing quieter and eventually grunting to a stop.   

You had thought you might be granted a reprieve from the painful gusting wind once the mobile finally came to a halt; but you’re still in a whirlwind of ice and glass, so disoriented you feel as though you’ve been spun on your heel and then cast out into the barren wilderness to find your own way.  

In the malevolent hurricane you lose your grip on your foil blanket, your only respite, it flies off into the ambiguous void of black forced upon you by your hood.  

But that mechanical thunder is unmistakable – an aircraft you were well acquainted with. A helicopter.  

A transport you frequented in your days of luxury, often to your warmer getaway home further south. To your Petit Trianon, another gift from your husband – one that acted as a clear means of getting rid of you for weeks at a time. Not that you complained. 

The begrudging protection of your hunter is stolen from you as he dismounts, leaving you utterly exposed to the blizzard, shivering with such intensity that your muscles burn with the acid they involuntarily excrete.  

But you’re quickly hauled off the vehicle, gloved grip under your arms once again, picked up with ease as you feel your body get tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour. His thick arm hooks over your hip, you feel the veil of your babydoll flutter up and expose your bare ass to the icy gale - it humiliates you as if spanking you with its frozen hand.  

You hear the metallic rumble of a rolling door amidst the bellow of the rotating blades. 

“’Bout fuckin’ time.” The irate roar of a new man.  

You bounce on the shoulder in your stomach as you are carried within, listening as the door is slammed shut. After a few steps you are unceremoniously dropped onto a seat, a weak yelp escapes you at the pain of the impact.  

“Jesus fucking Christ, LT.” Yet another. Scottish.  

LT. Lieutenant? Military?  

Blind and defenceless, you stay seated but adjust yourself so that you sit upright, exerting every effort to catch your breath and steady your chattering bones. But despite effort, your body rolls around in its seat as the helicopter presumably begins its wobbly ascent.  

“What?” Your hunter growls.  

“Couldn’t give her a jacket?”  

“Why the fuck would I do that.”  

“It’s negative fifteen out there. Look at her, she’s just about blue.”  

“Mm. Maybe I should’ve given her the chance to pick out her favourite mink coat, eh?”  

You hear a huff of laughter from another man. “You just wanted to keep her in her knickers.” 

“Mh. Might loosen up her husband.”  

A chortle. “Could loosen up anybody.”  

Dogs. 

You stay silent and listen shrewdly.  

“Bravo Six to Gold Eagle Actual – double jackpot. We’re RTB.”  

Military, you are now certain. You can tell by the codeword gibberish without needing to understand it. You wish now that you had watched enough Western war movies to be able to translate it – but they’re all banned in Russia, of course.  

There’s a quiet murmur of a static-ridden voice emerging from a radio, but it is drowned out by the humming of the helicopter. 

“Fuck’d you do to Zakhaev?” Your hunter asks, throaty voice almost taunting. 

Your husband. Was he in the aircraft with you? Could you call for him?  

“Squealed like a pig when he came to. Knocked him out again.” The Scotsman. 

But, in spite of your effort to distinguish them, the unfamiliar voices quickly begin to blur together.  

“Tracks.”  

“Separate them before he wakes up.”  

“Why?” A new voice.  

“Can’t have him knowing that we’ve got her already. We need to surprise him with it.”  

“Kinda fucked up, Cap.”  

“Ts’all in a days work, Sergeant.”  

Captain. Sergeant. British Army? Airforce?  

There’s a few moments of silence, you shuffle disquietly in your seat. Oh, if only you could see what was happening. It was already hard enough to hear them over the roaring of the chopper. Deaf, dumb, and blind. 

“Christ, she’s a looker, though, isn’t she?” The Sergeant.  

A chuckle follows from the Scotsman. “Can’t even see her face, mate.”  

“Don’t need to.”  

“Never know. Could be all botched by filler and botox and shite. All those fuckin’ oligarchs are.”  

“Mm. Nah. I’ve seen the photos.”  

“Take a long hard look at ‘em, did ye?”  

“Definitely hard. Dunno about long.”  

A laugh. “You nasty fucker.”  

Dogs. 

You’re even further discomforted by the fact that your hunter knows you can understand every single word that these men are uttering around you. And, evidently, feels no need to inform his comrades that you know exactly what they are saying about you.  

He wants you to feel uncomfortable.  

He wants you nervous.  

You hear the thud of boots against the metal floor, uncertain of whose nor which direction they are coming from, though they approach you. You shrivel on instinct, curling in on yourself to hide your near-nudity from whichever of the lecherous men is standing before you. 

You jump, squeaking in fright as something heavy is tossed around your shoulders. Fabric. Wool, judging by the thickness and scratchiness of it; you use your bound hands to grab at the edges of it to blanket yourself, finally able to conceal your body from them.  

“Согрейтесь.” Warm yourself up.  

The Captain, if you remember his rumbling cadence correctly. 

“You’re too soft, Cap. She’s a prisoner of war not a fuckin’ damsel.” Your hunter.  

The man who had given you the blanket addresses him. “We need her alive, don’t we? I’m keeping her alive.”  

“Fuck’s sake. She’ll be fine.”  

The charitable one speaks to you again, voice low and close, as though he has bent down intending for only you to hear it.  

“Он ничего тебе не сделал, да?” He didn’t do anything to you, did he? 

“Oh, piss off. Who do you think I am?” Your abductor immediately disputes, having apparently overheard.   

You consider your options. Maybe this captain could take pity on you, if you played your cards right. You can deduce his type through his words and actions already. Nobleman. White knight. It’s a façade, of course. If he’s a captain as the others say, he has probably orchestrated this entire operation.  

Though, inexplicably, you decide honesty is your safest course. You want an ally out of your hunter.  

“Нет, он меня не трогал.” No, he didn’t touch me. 

“Told you.” Your hunter grunts.  

A laboured sigh follows from the captain. “I never know with you, Riley.”  

He scoffs disdainfully.  

Leaves an ugly silence.  

“I’m not an animal.”  

[ainews]

Fleece has become an essential material for anyone looking to stay warm and cozy while out and about in cold conditions. The material's rise in popularity has come from its light yet immensely warm and comfortable design, attributes that have made it popular for everything from winter jackets to cozy winter socks. Here's why having at least one fleece item of clothing is crucial for everybody.

To start, fleece is incredibly lightweight while offering excellent warmth. This is due to the fabric's fibers, which trap air and heat from the body to create an extra layer of warmth. Although the fibers are thin and fine, fleece is surprisingly resistant to wet conditions, as it doesn't easily absorb moisture and can dry quickly when it does become wet.

Fleece's versatility is another major appeal- the same lightweight fleece material used in a jacket can be used in a number of other items such as hats, scarves, gloves and boot liners with no added weight. It can also be layered with other items of clothing for an extra boost in warmth while still remaining incredibly comfortable.

Finally, fleece's appearance makes it an ideal winter wardrobe item, as it can withstand wear and tear and maintain its good looks. As it's available in a variety of colors and styles, there's no shortage of options when it comes to finding the perfect companion to a winter wardrobe.

For anyone looking to keep warm in cold conditions, fleece is essential. Not only can it help maintain body heat during difficult weather, but its lightweight but robust construction and fashionable design make it a must-have addition. Investing in at least one fleece item is an excellent way to stay toasty as temperatures drop.

[alpinefitco]

How To Layer for Running and Hiking in Spring Weather

Spring is upon us, as they say, and it’s time to shift gears. Up here in Alaska the temperatures transition above freezing and we wait for ‘breakup’ when certain rivers and lakes will start to lose their ice. It’s a season of pairing down, but not too much. Arctic winds can still freeze fingers and a snowstorm in April is not unheard of. I often start a little cold but finish a little warm and sweaty, nailing the layers is difficult. But hey, at least we’re running in the daylight now…

Headwear

A thin hat is all you need and I am usually in a headband. Depending on your mood and comfort level with the temperature outside, a lined headband (fleece or merino) can be perfect. Later in spring, an unlined headband or nothing at all. If you hike or run with a backpack, these are easy to throw in the bottom or a chest pocket for use as needed. I’ll also wrap it around my wrist if I don't have a backpack. The morning darkness after daylight savings necessitates a headlight if running early in the morning but this quickly wanes.

Handwear

No more thick gloves for me. In our collection of gear at home we have some awesome La Sportiva gloves that have a mitten conversion. On a one-hour run, I’ll often start with mittens, transition to gloves after 20 minutes, and finish the last third with the gloves in my pocket. Recently I discovered WhitePaws RunMitts, a handy thumbless running mitten that flips open and can slide up your forearms as cuffs when not needed. Lately, these are my go-to for Spring runs. One-size-fits-all gloves are an easy option but are a bit thick and sweaty and do not pack well.

Tops

At around 30 degrees Fahrenheit there are 2 options that work well. One, a long sleeve with a vest or t-shirt over top or a long sleeve under a windbreaker. I recommend the latter if there is any wind from the North. Temperatures above this are comfortable in just your long sleeve, and below this keep the windbreaker. Lined jackets are rarely necessary and are a guaranteed sweat-fest; don’t rely on the breathability of your soft-shell, it isn’t enough. Conversely, a backpack is often enough to count as a second layer. Best to get comfortable starting just a little cold while anticipating delayering as core temperature increases. 

Bottoms

I’ll run in shorts in anything nearing 40F+ in the interest of staying cool. With colder temps I’ll wear either running tights, bushwhacking leggings, or thin cross-country ski pants. I do have a pair of longer shorts that cover more of the thigh that I enjoy before using my ‘fast’ side-slit shorts. Cold air will certainly cause cramping of the large muscles of the thigh if you are not careful. You can also pair shorts with tall socks for transition temps.

Footwear

This is trail dependent, and sometimes I’ll bring several options in the car, just in case conditions require adjustment. Warmth is rarely an issue so regular socks are fine. Shoe options include regular (running or hiking) shoes, studded shoes, or a combination with micro-spikes. If available, regular shoes should have big lugs to navigate snow or mud. The melt-freeze cycle on local well-used trails can often require studs if not spikes, depending on the ground cover. Early season on my local trails is often well-suited to micro-spikes. They can also be stored in a backpack just in case but be warned they tend to be heavy and bounce around a bit.

For unexpectedly cold days see also our Winter Layering blog

Gear Checklist:

Alpine Fit lightweight Merino Wool Hat

Alpine Fit Merino Wool Lined Headband

Alpine Fit unlined headband

La Sportiva gloves (with mitten conversion)

WhitePaws RunMitts

Alpine Fit long sleeve top (Rendezvous Ridge or Treeline)

Light and packable Windbreaker

Running tights

Alpine Fit Bushwhacking Leggings

Cross Country Ski Pants

Trail running shoes with big lugs/deep tread

Icebug studded trail running shoes

Kahtoola Micro Spikes

[suzhoukrs]

The characteristics of fleece and the difference from cashmere

In the impression of many people, fleece and cashmere are the same things. In fact, there are still differences between the two, which are explained below for you.

1. Different sources

Cashmere and fleece are grown on different kinds of sheep, fleece comes from sheep, cashmere comes from goats, and the best fleece in the world comes from Australia, where the price of superfine merino fleece is second only to cashmere. The best cashmere comes from Inner Mongolia, and 70% of the world's cashmere is produced in Inner Mongolia, and its quality is also superior to other countries.

Fleece

It is from sheep. Even though sheep fleece is very fine, it is called fleece in the industry and profession. fleece products have the characteristics of plump hand feeling, good warmth retention, and comfortable wearing.

Cashmere

It is a thin layer of fine fleece that grows on the outer epidermis of the goat and covers the root of the goat's coarse hair. When it is cold in winter, it grows to resist the wind and cold, and it falls off after the spring turns warm. It is a rare special animal fiber that naturally adapts to the climate.

2. Different collection and output

Fleece is easy to comb, cashmere is difficult to comb.

The diameter of cashmere is only 14-16 microns, which is much thinner than fleece, so when collecting cashmere, it is particularly meticulous. It is impossible to use scissors or razors directly like fleece. You can only use a special iron comb for baby goats to do "physiotherapy". ”, combing the hair, generally combing down the fine fleece that grows at the root of the goat’s coarse hair little by little.

Due to the scarcity of cashmere production, goats can only comb 50-80 grams of cashmere a year, and an average of five cashmere can make a cashmere sweater, which only accounts for 0.2% of the world's total animal fiber production. It is recognized as "soft gold".

The thickness of fleece spans a wide range, and its smallest diameter is 10 microns to 40 microns of coarse hair, so it is a bit "violent" when collecting fleece. There is manual or electric shearing, and the sheared fleece is like a bed of cotton fleece. It's like taking off a big leather jacket.

A sheep can shave several kilograms of fleece every year, and the fleece sheared by a sheep can weave several sweaters a year.

3. Fleece fabric features:

1） Hand feel

Pure fleece fabrics usually feel smooth to the touch, while long-haired fabrics are smooth to the touch along the fur, and tingling against the fur.

2） Color

The color of pure fleece fabrics is naturally soft, bright, and not out of date.

3） Elasticity

Tighten the thing with your hand, and then release it immediately to see the elasticity of the fabric. The pure fleece fabric has a high rebound rate and can quickly return to its original state.

4） Burning smell

Take a bunch of yarn and burn it with fire, the pure fleece fiber smells like burning hair.

5） Mobility

The hair of all animals is scaly under the microscope. If it is a long-haired fabric, just take a fleece and rub it a few times and it will move up or down as shown in the picture above.

SUZHOU KRS is an industrial and trade integrated warp knitted suede fabric manufacturer, which started in 2012. SUZHOU KRS has accumulated rich production experience and technology in this field. Widely used in shoe material, high-end luxury car interiors, fashion fabrics, and so on. Warp knitted suede 50D island fiber for sofa/shoes is one of our products, you can click to view more details.

NO

DT-SK-R002

INGREDIENTS AND CONTENT

100% Poly

GSM/WIDTH

95GSM/63" inch

WEAVING PROCESS

Warp knitting

USE

Swimwear/underwear/sportswear/yoga wear/body fitting wear/sports equipment/home textile etc.,

If you are interested in our products, please contact us as soon as possible.

Related news of warp knitted fabrics

Are the so-called 30D, 40D, 50D fabrics nylon or polyester?

Physical Properties Of Warp Knitted Spandex Fabrics

Difference between warp knitted plain and khaki fabric

[clownaroundtown]

How To Make Your Own Clown Doll ! (A Guide)

Hello good people !!

I have made a few clown dolls before, and someone submitted a question asking if I followed any guide for them or had a guide myself. I sorta made it up as I went for the first doll, but I have learned better methods of doing things since then!

Here is my guide on how to make some dudes for yourself!

You will need:

Fabric for the body - I used an off-white fleece for the torso and limbs for this one, but have previously used a thin off-white sorta cotton fabric, which works better if you want floppier/thinner limbs!

Fabric for the clothes - Use whatever you want, honestly! I used some cool stretchy silver-metallic fabric for mine but have previously used cotton and polyester patterned fabrics !

Polymer clay - I used Sculpey III for this one, but for my previous two I used some other kind of Sculpey that was very very light and airy, which made it hard to sculpt properly without squishing it! If you want to add any detail to the face shape, use some firm polymer clay !

Posca pens (optional) and acrylic paints - Acrylics are used for the base coat on the head. I used the paints for the details too previously, but used posca pens on this one which was much easier to do the face details with! Either works just fine, though : )

Faux fur - for hair! If you want a bald clown or one with just a hat without hair, you don't need this!

Decorative trims and such - I used some pink frilly elastic trim, blue dotted non-elastic trim, white elastic frilly mesh, buttons, a silver bell and some blue velvet ribbon for this guy! You can literally use whatever you want (ribbons, bows, pom-poms, lace, etc) to make your clown look cute!!

Varnish - Use spray varnish if you can! It'll help prevent the face paint from smudging (all 3 of mine have had this happen using varnish with a brush). It is possible to use varnish with a brush on them but be careful with it! I used sculpey gloss varnish.

Tin/aluminium foil

Basic sewing supplies (needles, thread, pins, scissors)

Steps

1. Make a ball out of the foil, a little smaller than the size you want the finished head.

2. Cover it in a layer of Sculpey and sculpt the face shape you want. Include a pretty thick neck with the base at the bottom WIDER than the rest of the neck. This will be how the head is anchored to the body!

3. Bake the clay, let it cool, and sand it down so that it is nice and even without any finger-prints!

4. Paint a base coat on it with acrylic paints!

5. Paint/draw on whatever face details you want using acrylics or posca pens! Let your creativity flow!!

6. Varnish it!

7. Draw out the body pieces (torso and limbs) on your body fabric. You'll need two torso pieces, four leg pieces and four arm pieces. Honestly there's no method to what shape to draw, just draw what shapes you want them to be! (Remember to reverse each second piece though so that they match up when sewing them together). I used a rounded rectangle for the torso, and chose to make the legs on mine very long!

8. Cut out all the pieces and sew them together with the CORRECT sides facing INWARDS and the WRONG sides facing outwards. Once sewn, flip them inside out. MAKE SURE TO LEAVE THE TOP SIDE OF THE TORSO UN-SEWN TO INSERT THE HEAD!

9. Almost fully fill the body with plastic pellets, and only partially fill the limbs (I filled them about 1/4 full)! If you don't have those, use dry rice like I did (or dry lentils) or sand! If you use sand, ensure sure you make your stitches REALLY close together so sand doesn't come out of any gaps! If you want the limbs to be chunkier, fill them with more pellets OR stuff the rest of them with poly-fill or cotton wool!

10. Insert the neck into the torso and sew the opening tight around it, like this! The wide base of the neck stops the head from coming out : )

11. Sew on the limbs! The stitching doesn't have to be perfect here since the clothes will hide it!

12. Make the clothes! You can make whatever kind of clothing you like; I just made a baggy little jumpsuit sorta thing for my guy! To do this, I laid the clown out on the fabric and roughly drew the shape for clothes around him based on what I wanted! Flip it, lay it down in the fabric again and then trace this to get the second jumpsuit piece!

13. Use the same method of sewing the pieces together with the CORRECT sides facing each other so the WRONG sides are facing outwards. Then turn the clothes inside-out so that the right sides are now facing outwards! MAKE SURE TO LEAVE OPENINGS FOR THE HEAD AND LIMBS TO COME OUT THROUGH!

14. Put the clothes on the clown!!

15. (Optional) Glue fake fur on the top of the head in the style you want it! I used hot glue because I didn't have anything else, but fabric glues and all-purpose glues would be good too! If you don't want hair, just skip this step!

16. (Optional) Hat!! Cut out a wide triangle shape, sew the opposite sides together and then sew a circle to the base if you want a pointy hat like my dude's one (I don't have photos of this sadly but I'm sure there's a tutorial out there of how to sew a cone)! Then glue the base to the top of the head.

16. And finally, add all the trims and extra bits you want to make them look super cute !!! I just sewed on some ribbon to the base of the hat and around the ankles, sewed some frilly elastic trims around the neck, added a little silver bell to the hat, sewed frilly trim around the wrists and ankles and then sewed two buttons onto the front of his clothes!

And then, your little clown is done !!!

I hope this comes in handy to anyone wanting to make their own clown dude!

I would appreciate any reblogs and such of this to help spread the clown joy !!

Have fun !!!

(Small note! I would appreciate if you didn't copy any of my clowns directly! Please use this as more of a guide than an exact tutorial to make this specific clown! Being creative with yours is much more fun!! :•D)

[hotchocolatewriting]

I really like Time to Rest, will you be working on it anymore?

It was an extra so I did not think about a second part, but of course I will write one if people want that so here it is!

Part 1

Sleep only lasted for a short hour. The trouble breathing through their nose was the first sign that Villain was still sick when they woke up. It was one of the things they hated the most about being sick. Not being able to breathe normally. Their muscles were still hurting but they felt okay enough for now. Villain pushed themselves up, immediately regretting it as the headache and dizziness were quick to come back to them. A groan followed before they let themselves fall back on the pillow, regretting that too as a wave of pain went through their head. It was only now that Villain realised that the pillow had changed to the one from their bed. And not only was there the thin fleece blanket from before, but the thicker covers of their bed were added as a second layer of pure warmth and softness. It felt nice having something giving some pressure on their body, it was safe. "Sidekick? You still here?" Villain asked, their voice hoarse by now. Their throat hurt, but they knew drinking didn’t help. “Sidekick?” Villain asked again, hoping that they weren’t alone now that they started to feel even worse than before the little bit of sleep they’d gotten.

“They’re taking a nice little nap,” Hero’s voice answered from behind. Shit! Villain was immediately wide awake. They sat up again, ignoring the heavy feeling in their body. It took all of their strength to keep sitting up and move their arms. Their head started to spin and dizziness soon took over. Still they were too stubborn to lay down again. They hated feeling so weak, but they couldn’t just keep laying around if their enemy showed up in their base. “You know, you’re reckless when you’re sick. It was easy enough to follow you and your little sidekick here.” Villain pushed themself on their feet, turning around to look at Hero standing behind the couch with a wide grin. “How long have you been here?” Villain asked as their eyes went through the room looking for their sidekick. “Long enough to know that you’re too sick to do anything. Nice little sidekick you have taking care of you as if they’re your slave.” Villain clenched their fists, ignoring the flare of pain going through their muscles. “Don’t talk about them like that! They just care about me.” Just like I care about them, they’re my friend. But of course Villain wouldn’t say that to a Hero standing in their base. Giving them something that maybe could be used against them. Villain kept searching for their friend but without any success. It could only mean two things. One, Hero had dragged them out of the base already or two, they put Sidekick in the bed or bathroom. Luckily they were attached to each other. “You’re clearly not here for the get well soon wishes,” Villain said. “What do you want?” “You behind bars of course, didn’t expect it to be this easy though.” Villain swallowed, trying to think their way out of this with their tired brain. They started to sway on their legs and couldn’t help but feel like they would pass out as soon as they would start to walk. “Well not much I can do now,” Villain said as they raised their hands as a sign of surrender. “You got lucky, finding me when I feel like shit. Not very herolike to drag me out of my comfy bed now, is it?” “As long as the city is safe from you.” Villain rolled their eyes, but got interrupted by another cough. “Fine but I’m pretty nauseous so if I can at least go to the bathroom, before I throw up over that pretty cape of yours, that would be nice.” Hero quickly took a step back, but they nodded. “It’s not like you can get out of here, I’ve checked before, so fine.” Villain quickly went to the bedroom, fighting against the dizziness and their burning muscles. They saw black before their eyes as they moved too quickly, but there wasn’t much time. They needed to find Sidekick. They needed to get out of here before Hero realised anything was off or decided to look, even though Villain had tried to gross them out so they wouldn’t want to look. Villain found Sidekick laying with their back against the wall. Their head limp on their shoulder and their eyes closed. Hero had tied their hands against their back, but Villain was happy to see that Sidekick was slowly waking up. “Villain? Hero..” “Shh, I know, get up we have to go.” Villain tried to pull them up, but they were far from strong enough to do so. For a moment Sidekick's eyes rolled back again, but Villain held them gently and helped them get up. “Now we both feel like shit, don’t we?” Villain forced out a smile as both of them stumbled to the closet. Villain kept track of the footsteps in the living room, but by the sound of it Hero was just pacing around. They didn’t seem close enough to the doorway, although Villain thought they heard the wood cracking, which would suggest they were close enough to peek through. “I’m sorry,” Sidekick managed and Villain sussed them again. “Not your fault,” was all they said as they pushed themself behind the clothes and opened the secret keypad. Villain pressed the code and the walls went to the side, revealing a secret hallway that led to a car. Slowly it filled with light, forcing the dark away and revealing the path that Villain and Sidekick had to take. Luckily, Villan never had to use it

before, but that meant that there were lot’s of cobwebs and a few broken lights that would not make the way more comfortable to walk through. Villain quickly looked at the door, hoping Hero hadn’t heard anything but so far everything seemed fine. Sidekick suddenly let out a squeak as the door opened too wide. They had been leaning against the wall, but now that the door opened too far it caused them to fall onto the stone ground, taking Villain with them. For a short moment Villain didn’t recognize what was happening. Dark spots swearing in front of their eyes. Hero’s alarmed voice pulled them out of the darkness and quickly they sat up, forcing the door closed, hiding the hallway and the keypad again. If you didn’t know you would never find it and the door was way too thick to force your way through. “I should be the one that takes care of you.. I should have protected you,” Sidekick mumbled. “I shouldn’t let Hero take me down. Oh god, they saw you without your mask!” They talked so quickly at the end that Villain could barely follow, but the tears shimmering through in Sidekick's eyes told them enough. Villain pulled them in a hug. “Did they see your face?” Villain asked quietly as they rubbed Sidekicks back. “No, I heard something and was quick to put it back on. You were still sleeping and when I walked over to check they jumped me.” “It’s okay,” Villain said as they got back on their feet. “But they saw your face!” Sidekick almost screamed. Villain quickly put their hand in front of their mouth. “I am just glad you’re okay. It’s not your fault.” They leaned back against the wall to keep themselves from falling over again. “I will figure something out and when I’m better Hero will pay for what they did to you.” Villain closed their eyes. “God, they will wish they never called you my slave, because I will make sure they will know what it really means to be one.” They helped Sidekick back on their feet. “We have to go now, before they figure out a way to open it.” They supported each other on their way out.

[record-ender]

yall wanna hear about hiking layers???

so this isnt like. official at all. but im passionate about it so.

when hiking you wanna wear layers. a bunch of men at REI and stuff are super strict about it. i am Not, but it's 100% an important skill and not as scary as it looks!

Layer 0 (all weather): Underwear

whatever makes you comfortable works for this one; if you're the kind of person who wears bras pick one thats supportive and doesn't hold sweat. I have some nice sports bras from Athleta that are expensive but i really like them. Anything works though!

Layer 1 (cold only): Thermals

if you're lazy or don't want to spend money, just a long sleeve shirt and tights or leggings work here, but not Nearly as well as real thermals. I have a pair of 15-20 dollar thermal leggings from Target that have kept me warm without anything over them in 20 degree F (dry) weather. if you're someone who's hiking somewhere cold and spending a lot of time, invest in some good thermals. if it's gonna be below 50 F or so in the daytime, get some mediocre ones. they should be pretty tight (you're putting a lot of stuff over these.)

Layer 2 (all weather): Clothes

this is the layer you can play around with most, and your second-to-last layer when it's warm!

if you KNOW it's not going to rain, and it's not too warm, a normal cotton T-shirt works here. Cotton holds water, so if you're sweating a lot or getting wet it's not a great choice. I have some cheap synthetic button down shirts I like for this if it's hot, and if I'm wearing thermals i'll just wear a T shirt.

for pants, if it's warm, leggings are a great choice here. Jeans are okay both over thermals and without, but they're heavy and don't always make it the easiest to walk. if it's cold, I'll wear like fake wool plaid pants over thermals.

skirts are really nice here too just for fun (i'll usually wear thin tights or shorts under them to keep from flashing people, but if you don't care, that's fine.) if it's hot, you can go for whatever shorts.

if it's hot, these can be your last layers, and carry an outer.

Layer 3 (cold): Midlayer shirt

if it's cold, you'll want an extra layer between your thermals/shirt. I wear crewneck sweaters for this a lot. Fleeces are really great for this if you have/can get one.

Layer 4 (most weather): Outer layers

pants first! if it's snowy or rainy, you can add rain pants here! otherwise, there's not much to do here.

Jackets are a whole other deal. (and a lot more complicated!)

if it's hot, you don't want too much. A flannel or hoodie in case it gets chilly can be really helpful though.

if it's kinda chilly but not too cold (60-0 f), a big zip-up sweater or puffy jacket works well.

i'm not the expert on really cold sorry!

if it's raining, a rain jacket is really important <3

for instance, if i'm in Joshua Tree and it's 35 F and dry but windy, I would wear:

sports bra, underpants, and crew-length socks

thermal leggings and long-sleeve shirt

ripped jeans and some band shirt

crewneck sweater

and a thin puffy jacket

if i'm in Joshua Tree and it's 98 F and sunny, I would wear:

same unders as above (cuter socks)

skirt with built-in shorts

tank top or cropped t shirt

flannel shirt in backpack

hope this is helpful!!

[metalbvcky]

what are a few of your favorite stucky headcanons?

Oooohhh I’m glad you added ‘a few’ because this is gonna be a long one. :) 

1) Steve’s a morning person. 

I mean are any of us surprised? Of course Steve’s the morning person in the relationship. But do you know what Bucky is? A CUDDLER.

Every morning starts out the same. It’s cold outside and it’s nice and warm in the warm confines of their bed with not two but three fleece blankets on top of their comforter. Steve wears nothing but maybe slash on occasion a pair of thin underwear to sleep because the serum turned him into a human furnace. 

Sure, it’s freezing as hell outside (”Get your butt back in the house, Steve,” Bucky would say back in nineteen-thirty something.) but nothing stops Steve from going out on his morning run. 

Except for Bucky. 

Bucky, who snakes his oh so cold metal arm around Steve’s waist and pulls him close. Like a cat, Bucky presses his cold nose into the crook of Steve’s neck between a long drawn out yawn. 

“Mmm, stay for a while,” Bucky says, both legs trapping Steve’s so he wouldn’t be able to escape even if he dared. 

So Steve caves and does abandons the idea of going out early. Yeah, he’d be a little late by time he does get ready but a half hour past his normal time would suffice. 

But then Bucky still persists when Steve tries to wiggle himself out of his arms, “Five more minutes,” Bucky whines as if he’d get his way. 

“Buck,” Steve chuckles but sighs out, “okay, fine.” 

Five minutes turned out to be an hour, and another half hour because by time Bucky got up, he dragged Steve into the shower with him to do other activities. 

Steve ended up skipping his morning run that day. 

2) Bucky takes up baking, and he really makes an effort by getting good at it too.  

This is inspired by my Bakery!AU WIP of course but honestly, who can’t resist Baker!Bucky? I feel like Bucky would be a stress baker too. What would he make? Probably...

Sourdough, because maybe his ma made it back in the day and it reminds him of home.  

Cupcakes. Full-fledged cakes might be intimating for Bucky so I imagine cupcakes would be easier for him. When he wakes up and pads out into the kitchen, he’d wonder where three of them went before his brain catches up with him: Stevie snuck in some before his morning run thinking I wouldn’t notice.   

Cookies galore. Sugar, gingerbread, gingersnaps, shortbread, raisin oatmeal because Steve’s an old man, snickerdoodles, peanut butter, but most of all: Chocolate chip. But no ordinary chocolate chip. Sam’s mother’s recipe. How does Bucky get it? Well, he somehow manages to persuade Sam for it.  

Again, my Bakery!AU is leaking onto this (lolol) but another thing he’d make: A Russian Honey Cake (Aka: Medovik) not for Steve, no, but for Natasha. Though Steve does compete with Natasha when it comes to requesting Bucky to make it more often. Because damn it if all the baking and assembling each layer takes hours of effort. 

Let’s just say Steve doesn’t complain about the massive amounts of baked goods that magically turn up in their kitchen overnight. 

3) Their apartment becomes overrun by plants, because every time they pass by the local nursery, Steve can’t resist pulling over when Bucky comments about what’s on display up front. 

Bucky becomes a plant Dad™ when it comes to caring for his plants. No, they’re not Steve’s plants because as Bucky puts it: “Every plant you touch, dies.” 

It’s a little harsh, but it’s true. That rose bouquet Bucky surprised Steve with on their date at their favorite restaurant? Wilted the very next day. So Steve doesn’t touch the plants, at all. Instead, he funds Bucky’s hobby by buying every goddamn plant and flower under the sun. All the tools required too. Fancy looking plant plots, anything on Bucky’s Pinterest/Instagram feed/etc. 

Oh and you know what else?? Bucky takes their spare room and turns it into a cozy reading room.  

Not only would it have plants (duh) between a small sofa and a couple of leather chairs, but also a real wooden bookshelf to keep all of their books they start to collect from a local bookstore down the road. Cool looking rugs, accent pieces, fuzzy blankets, and footstools too.

Steve also has his own spot by the window to draw to his heart’s content. Eventually, they’d buy an easel and somehow figure out where exactly to put it because the room’s overrun by furniture and plants. 

The room smells heavenly when Steve opens the door, only to find Bucky laying sideways on the couch with his head propped up with his flesh arm. 

“Care to join me?” Bucky asks as he lowers his book down. 

“Wouldn’t trade it for the world, Buck,” Steve replies, slipping in behind Bucky with his own book he’d chosen prior. 

Thank you for coming to my SteveBucky headcanon ted talk!! Next week: Bucky’s mad obsession with Steve’s holy grail of an ass. (that is true and you know it) 

[lettersformiah]

9:12am, 20 june

hi bubba! in english atm. ive had a morning and a half. late to school hehe. had to sign in at the office bc i saw maia with the little attendance slip that relievers have. signed in and rocked up. the reliever is nice, he is chill. nice enough yk? youre at your first placement rn! so shit you had to wake up so early for it. n you have to do it the next two days as well. like eek. but youre amazing so i trust youll be fine. or even better than fine. i believe in you. just shit that i cant text you hehe. but its okay cause i have the letters and music and fifty internals to focus on. did i tell you french was also spoken? im terrible at french pronunciation. what can you do i guess. my kiwi mouth cant get around the fact that french is just gurgling. hopefully ill be fine.

wearing your hoodie at school ^-^ its nice and big and warm. i love it so much. im wearing so many layers bc its so cold. or not even that cold. so windy. and wind makes everything cold. got my stockings on, your hoodie, the big fleece jacket, and socks >:) which i dont think you are meant to wear with stockings, but fuck it, im cold and my shoes are thin. the wind is fucking up my hair too. so dog of mother nature fr.

what else? oh! friday is matariki. or maybe its not? i dont know. friday is the public holiday for matariki, so thats good enough for me. thursday is a half day bc they are doing the celebration at school from 1-5. (however it means p3 on thursday is like a full school assembly) i think im meant to go to the celebration? i think i will from like 3-5 maybe. if you dont miss me too much. but youd probably be asleep knowing you. will see i guess heh. i just know my friends were interested in going. i still have dance though, so maybe i go and then leave at like 4:40? thats when the bus is and itll take me straight to dance. just gotta be sneakily wearing my dance clothes or take a bag. we will see! sounds like a good plan though, if i do say so myself.

i really can keep writing forever hehe! apparently always having something to say translates well into letters too! id be so good with a diary. but i think one entry would be like 40 pages long. so maybe its for the best this is online. saves me some hand cramps.

i love you! and im excited for drama! having our war piece kinda finished is good. but getting the guys to work its kinda very hard when they arent feeling it. but we definitely need to perform soon. the original plan was to have it be done at the end of term 1. its almost been like 3 months since that? thats some shit timing. but tbf im glad we have the time to work on it, i want it to look good. but i dont mind not getting an excellence, but i know leo wants it. which is fair. hoping all goes well and the boys focus up. ill let you know.

it was nice waking up to you this morning :*] wish it could be like that irl and every day yk? i dont think i was very good at conversation, i barely remember it but i remember definitely slurring my words a teeny bit. sleepy maddi things.

ive been writing this letter for like thirty minutes. crazy how the time flies when i just talk. tbf whenever i talk just about my day it takes about 3 hours to get through! and i didnt even get to tell you about yesterday and the full on day i had! and havent even mentioned watching the end of the summer i turned pretty with rem and hos and jazz or playing dnd! gosh theres so much to talk about i could go on forever. im happy you love that about me. im very lucky. youre a great listener which is perfect because im a great talker. love you bubba.

i should go i think. got other posts to make and some english to pretend i did. i love you, hope the placement is going okay and you havent fallen asleep injecting someone yet.

talk soon,

-mads<3

[his0kasbungeegum]

[regrets pt.2] katsuki bakugo x reader

genre: some angst, then fluff

characters: bakugo katsuki, mina ashido, mineta’s also mentioned

a/n: tbh this isn’t the best and i’m sorry it’s so long :( j hope u guys like it tho :)

For the next week, you went out of your way to avoid Bakugo however you could. You conveniently developed a fever the day classes started, so you just sat in your dorm all day, only leaving to get groceries for yourself. Soon enough, Mina, your closest friend, deduced that something was wrong and decided to approach you about it.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day of school you’d missed, and everyone was starting to trickle back into the dorms. As per usual, you were sitting in your room, trying to ignore your lack of appetite and sipping some broth. A knock at your door sounded, surprising you, but you slowly walked over to the door and opened it slightly. “Hey Mina,” you coughed, trying to make your voice sound normal but failing miserably.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with concern. She entered your room, pulling you by the elbow and closing the door behind her. “You don’t look like you’re feeling too well.”

She wasn’t wrong. Your eyes were puffy, your hair was undone and frizzy, your face was flushed, and your throat was raw. You nodded, coughing into a tissue that you were clutching in your hand.

“This has to be more than just a cold,” she said, feeling your forehead with the back of her hand. “What happened? Is it something to do with Bakugo?” she inquired. Upon seeing your expression after she said the last word, she knew she’d guessed correctly. “You can tell me anything,” he said, hugging you tightly from the side.

Seeing as you had no other choice, you agreed and told her what happened, starting from when Iida confessed to you. By the end, she was seething. “I’m going to kill him,” she growled, her eyes flashing.

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine,” you insisted. “You know I could kill him myself if I really wanted to.”

“You could,” she agreed, giggling.

A quick knock at the door interrupted both of you. “Come in,” you called.

Asui poked her head in the entrance. “Sorry to interrupt! Aizawa Sensei said he wanted us at the training center as soon as possible,” she called, looking at you sympathetically. “Y/N, I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” you replied, smiling weakly. Mina gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, then stood up. “I’ll see you later, Y/N!” she exclaimed as she left.

For the rest of the evening, you continued your usual routine of attempting to keep your fever down with alternating medications and foods. Before you knew it, you fell asleep in a bundle of warm blankets, your thin clothes sticking to you in a layer of sweat even though you still felt cold.

A sudden chill breeze running through your room woke you up. The bed creaked as you clambered out of it, padding over to the window and closing it. You reached for a thermometer to check your temperature: 102 degrees. Your fever hadn’t gone down in the slightest. You reached for your usual medicine, but not a single pill fell into the palm of your hand. Going through every medicine in your cabinet, not a single one was full, and you realized you were out of options. You needed to get to the convenience store and get some.

Your teachers and friends had been getting your supplies for you recently, since it was too cold outside for you to go alone. But considering it was around 2 in the morning and you didn’t want to wake anyone, you decided this was something to do by yourself.

The glistening moonlight illuminated the clothes hanging in your closet as you rifled through them, trying to find the warmest ones. You settled on a pair of winter stockings under a skirt and a fleece sweater with a cardigan on top. The rest of your warm clothes were being laundered, so that was all you had. Teeth chattering, you closed the door behind you with shaking hands and reached into your pocket to make sure you had money. Upon feeling the paper, you walked outside, the harsh wind whipping your face and turning it raw.

It took you half and hour longer than it should’ve, but you eventually reached the store and bought the medicine. It was a pill that you needed to dissolve in water, so you had to wait to take it until you got back to your dorm. However, your health was rapidly declining. It was irrefutable that you were one of the strongest in Class 1-A. In fact, some would’ve said you were the strongest. But what use did your quirk have against an incredibly high fever? As you tried to put one shaking foot in front of the other on the cement sidewalk, your head began to hurt and your vision began to blur. Trying to shake off the dizziness and nausea, you kept your head down, focusing on walking.

Through this haze, you barely heard someone call your name. But you merely passed it off as your imagination, considering your state of delirium. However, this time, the voice snapped you out of it. “Y/N?” called Bakugo, his tone unmistakable.

Your heart fluttered without your permission. If you could, you would stop it, but who can control their feelings? Honestly, it was terrifying to you that even though he’d hurt you so bad, your heart still fell for him. But your mind knew better, and you knew you had to listen to it.

The red flush on your cheeks from the wind grew redder as you felt Bakugo’s warmth beside you, gripping your elbow. “Hey, are you stupid? Why are you out in the cold like this? And especially at night?” he exclaimed harshly.

“Let go of me,” you mumbled, using all your strength to rip your arm from his grip.

“I know you hate me right now,” he said, a note of hurt in his voice. You furrowed your eyebrow at his tone, never hearing him speak with such regret before. “But I’m not going to let you die out here because of me.”

“I can take care of myself,” you said. Even speaking it, you realized how stupid you sounded. You were barely able to get your voice out, much less physically walk all the way back to the dorms.

At the moment, you were thankful your face was hidden by the wind whipping your hair, because if Bakugo could see the blush on your face as he wrapped an arm around you for support, he would’ve known your feelings instantly. He helped you back to the dorm in silence, the bleak, cold landscape providing both of you company. “If you ever say anything about this to anyone, I’ll kill you,” you growled, managing to keep your teeth from clicking for that one sentence.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied haughtily. Not long after, both of you were inside Class 1-A’s dorm and approaching your floor. All you really remembered after that was having some grape-flavored medicine poured down your throat, then sinking under the warm covers.

The orange glow behind your eyelids served as a catalyst to your waking, as you groaned and flipped over. You became aware of the ungodly amount of blankets you had on top of you, and you kicked a couple off your bed.

You were received with a surprised grunt, followed by a couple curses. You quickly opened your eyes and sat up, immediately alert. Looking down, you were greeted with a head of ash-blonde hair attached to a grumpy-looking highschooler with an irritable look on his face.

“Bakugo? What are you doing here?” you said in surprise, relaxing back down now that you knew you weren’t being attacked.

“I just stayed. Not because of you or anything, just because I was tired,” he said quickly, looking away with a pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Not because of me, huh?” you asked playfully, seeing through his lies.

“Shut up,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “But Y/N, I know I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I definitely didn’t mean it. I only said it because I was, well,” he continued, trailing off.

“You were what?”

“Jealous,” he said, pouting. Taking a quick look at you, he realized how much you were enjoying this. “Hey! This is hard for me, you know. Stop that!” he exclaimed, upon seeing that you were just laughing more.

“And why were you jealous?” you asked, still laughing a little.

“You know.”

“Well, I want you to say it. Don’t you owe me at least that?”

“Fine,” he relented. “I was jealous because I like you.”

You smiled to yourself upon finally hearing the words you’d waited on for so long. “Bakugo, I think you already know how I feel about you. But what you said isn’t something I can forget easily, so I’m going to need a little bit of time, okay?” you said sincerely.

“Yeah, I can deal with that,” he replied, stretching his arms.

The creak of the door opening alerted both of you, and you turned your heads there in surprise. “Hi Y/N! Everyone’s here to make you feel better!” called Mina, opening the door. Once she saw Bakugo, her eyes went wide and she blushed. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! Let’s go you guys, Y/N’s busy!” she called, slamming the door shut.

“What? Bakugo gets to sleep in Y/N’s room? He’s so lucky!” complained Mineta, his voice muffled from behind the door.

“Hey, what was that, you shrimp?” yelled Bakugo, throwing the covers off of him. You simply laughed, glad that things were restored to semi-normalcy for now.

tags: @bonbonthedragon

[mypersonmyg]

...i thought you had it | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 942

warnings: none

summary: you would really like a blanket please OR jeongguk is lucky he’s a space heater

a/n: i don’t really have anything to say, i hope you’re having a nice day :-)

prompt 10.  J - Just in case. The otp+ has all their bases covered. Or at least they think they do…

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

“We’re pros at this, I don’t know why everyone was so worried.” Jeongguk stokes the fire, too much amusement found in the spark of the flame. He’s been at it for the better part of the half hour, your interest only in the toasting of awaiting marshmallows. You flinch at the lick of the flames, lightly kicking Jeongguk with the tip of your boot.

“Can you stop that, I wanna make a s’more.” 

“I’m just making sure it’s built enough traction, you don’t want it to go out immediately do you?” Your eyes roll back but argument falls short. Your hands dig into the sleeves of your shirt, the evening’s chill settling around you. 

The idea of the great outdoors appeared less so upon Jeongguk’s suggestion, his persuasive nature winning over in the end. You vied for the splurge of a camper, but here you sit, folding chair before  a fire and tent in the not so distant. 

Finally, Jeongguk falls to his seat, makeshift poker tossed to the side. He rummages through one of the many bags nestled between you pulling free the ingredients for the treat of your desire. You practically snatch marshmallows, surprised by the lack of accidental smush, Jeongguk pulling a large chocolate bar open before your eyes, a large trunk torn between his teeth. 

“Guk!” His eyes widen, bar beginning to melt between his teeth. “That’s for the s’mores!”

“There’s so much, I think you’ll survive.” His words are muffled, the puff of his cheeks giving the look of a scolded child. You let him alone, plunging a puff onto your rod and thrusting it toward the now roaring flames. You glance the surrounding trees, leafless branches somehow reaching the rim of daunting in the looming darkness. 

The occasional rustle of shrubbery jolts you, your chair now nearly atop Jeongguk who takes it all in kind. The passage of time is fast yet simultaneously dragging, fatigue dodging you at every turn. You consume your weight in stocked snacks, your head falling against Jeongguk’s toned shoulder, a hefty gust of wind sending you into a deep burrow.

“Where did you put my sweatshirt? I'm freezing.”

“Huh?”

“My sweatshirt, can you get it for me?”

“I don’t have your sweatshirt.” He meets you with a blank stare, bangs melding with lengthy lashes as you both resemble a ghostly gape of a confusion. The chilled raise of your skin screams for shelter, the thin material of your shirt not nearly comfort enough. 

“Jeongguk I specifically asked you to grab my sweatshirt, bub, what did you hear when you said you were on it?” You resend the urge to relay annoyance, genuine guilt already seeping from his features as he watches the steady shake of your shoulders. The pack the night before was late and hurried, both of you reeling from the stress of a day jam packed and ready for your adventures in the day to follow. 

“I thought you said nevermind because you didn’t know which one you wanted…” 

“I-” You’re struck with realization, hands flying to the bare of your cheeks, cold hands against flesh becoming heated at your clear hiccup. His words aren’t false, the fleece you sought nowhere in recent memory, only the intention to search when time allowed. Time was obsolete once you’d fallen against the plush of your mattress, weighed now by tired muscles.

“Ugh, you’re right! I’m sorry, I completely forgot.” 

“It’s fine, here, take mine.” He leans over the side of his chair farthest away, the overwhelming heat of his frame stolen even if for a moment only. He straightens back, empty handed and mouth agape. “Crap.” 

“You don’t have it?”

“I threw it in the dryer before we left and I think I forgot to grab it.”

“We had a list! We went over it a million times and we forget the most basic element of survival!” The glance to the fire, flames already beginning to subside, the fierce orange hue taunting you within the embers. 

“Babe, it’s fine, we’ll survive on our own body heat. I think that of all the things to forget, this one is an easy fix.” Despite disappointment in your mindless slip, you heed Jeongguk’s words, easily transferring your weight to his lap, arms wrapping around him in search of ready warmth. “See? I think this is perfect.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Your words are a murmur, the lengthy fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt bunching near the apple of your cheek. “The stars are so much clearer out here.It’s so beautiful”

You glance to the sky, the glisten of tiny specs in the sky awe inspiring without the screen of a city without pause in a bustling routine. Jeongguk tightens his hold, pulling you as close as can be managed without the accidental tip of a chair with questionable build. 

“Yeah, almost as beautiful as you.”

“Oh brother,” You shove lightly, not missing the pleased huff of his chest against your side. 

“You love it.”

“No, but I love you, ya cheeseball.” You climb from his lap, hand extended for his clutch. “Let’s go lay down, at least we’ll have blankets. That should make up for the lack of layers at least a little.” 

“Umm...about that.”

“Jeongguk.” Your tone resembles that of a growl, eyes drifting to a scrutinizing squint. 

“You didn’t actually think I wasted a whole load of laundry on a single sweatshirt.” Fair point, but you’ve lost the capacity to budge.

“Are you serious!?”

“I’m sorry,” He stands, hands at the position of defense. 

“I guessI should just be glad that your body temperature resembles a small space heater.”

“Ah, silver lining!”

“Don’t.”

[moonflowerlesbians]

I took a quick break from prompts to write 5000 words of pure angst. I hope you’ll forgive me. 

“we let precious time go by”

Read on AO3.

Summary: “The day will come when she returns to an empty flat, or she’ll wake to a cold pillow beside her. If she’s lucky, she’ll be there when the beast pounces. She’ll get to say goodbye. 

A piece of her will die that day, she knows. 

Dani will die that day.”

Word Count: 5088

They live together thirteen years after Bly. Thirteen wonderful years in a little flat in a small town in Vermont that looks like the spirit of Christmas itself retched on every building in the wintertime. They sell poinsettias and wreaths of holly for the holidays and budding perennials in the warmer months. They find the cheapest grocer, the best plumber, the man who drives into town selling fresh eggs on Wednesdays.

They befriend an elderly woman with three toy poodles, who stops by The Leafling every Sunday morning before mass to purchase flowers for her late husband’s grave, and they try not to think of Hannah. The daycare center three doors down marches the children to the park twice a day, right past the shop, and they try not to think of Rebecca and the Wingraves. They learn the quickest route to their favorite take-away place by heart, and they try not to think of Owen.

It’s hard, though, when your world’s been shattered and everyone else is carrying on as if nothing’s happened. But, thirteen years go by, and they manage. They manage, even as Dani becomes a bit less like herself every day, and Jamie struggles to pretend everything is fine. She pretends not to notice when she finds a sock in the freezer or Dani’s toothbrush between the couch cushions. Pretends not to notice when the lines on Dani’s face grow deeper, etched into her fair skin like stone, and she pretends not to notice when Dani wakes in the dead of night to gaze out the window for hours on end, then returns to bed as if she never left.

She’d brought it up with Dani over dinner. She had grasped Dani’s hand ever so gently, running a soothing thumb over the knuckles. Dani looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Maybe she hadn’t. A tear tracked down her cheek and dropped onto her lap.

“Please, love, please let me help,” Jamie had begged, and she had never meant anything more in her life, save the night she had accepted Dani’s ring.

Dani had observed her sadly, centuries of knowledge weighing heavy behind her eyes. “You can’t.”

“Please, Dani.” She hadn’t meant to break down, she hadn’t. She had meant to be strong, a steadfast rock in a stormy sea.

“Jamie…” Dani’s voice had been soft, resigned. “It’s her.” She looked down at her clasped hands, as if unwilling to bear witness the damage sure to show on Jamie’s face.

This was meant to be dinner, a question about a frozen sock, an easy explanation. Just a little swamped with the shop’s finances. A natural remedy she had read about in a magazine. Not this. Anything but this.

Jamie had known the day might come, when the memories they��d repressed would reappear to haunt them like Peter fucking Quint. She had hoped with every fibre of herself that the ghastly woman from that terrible night at the lake would slumber for decades yet.

Christ, how long had the Lady been awake? How long had Dani kept this from her?

Dani had seemed to sense her question. She’d become too good at that as of late.

“Only a few months.”

A few months.

Jamie’s lips had tightened into a thin line, and she forced herself to swallow back a sob, eyes closed.  

“Dani, why-?”

Why didn’t you tell me?

Why now?

Why this?

Why them?

“You don’t deserve this,” Dani had said, and Jamie’s heart shattered. “It’s my burden, not yours--”

“No. No, no--”

“--I can’t ask you to take this on. I invited her in; I condemned myself, not you.”

“Stop, Dani, stop.”

“Jamie, please…” Dani had sounded so small, so broken. “You have to go.”

“No,” Jamie had refused outright. “Never.”

“Then me. I’ll leave.”

“No one is going bloody anywhere.” Jamie had been steely calm, even as her ribcage threatened to break with the effort. “You and I are staying right fucking here. You hear me, Dani? Right here.” She hadn’t been able to hide the crack on the final syllable. Her ring caught the warm glow of the kitchen light.

Jamie took a steadying breath. “When you came home with that wee plant, you know what I thought? I thought, ‘ah, shite, she’s gone and found another lost cause.’” Here, Jamie had given a small smile. “‘And I bloody love her for it.’”

Dani wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Haven’t got a clue how you always see the possibility in everything. No one’s too far gone to save with you around, Poppins. It’s exhausting, really,” Jamie had continued. “I took your ring, and I’ve never regretted it. Not once, yeah? Not once. I knew what I signed up for: lovin’ you, relentless optimism an’ all.” Her laugh had been watery. “So, we’re not goin’ anywhere. It’s us, yeah? Always has been, always will be.”

So Dani had stayed. And Jamie redoubled her efforts to support her.

She runs the errands on the evenings where the dark feels all too familiar and returns to Dani huddled beneath a fleece blanket. She wraps Dani in her arms and soothes the nightmares away with feather-light kisses. She’s there in every way she can be, never pressing, never rushing, and never letting Dani see just how utterly terrified she is.

To tell Dani would be to ruin the careful dynamic they’ve reached. Dani is scattered, rain moving with the wind; Jamie has to be grounded, a stake dug deep into the earth. But the slopes grow muddier the longer the rain pours, and dirt washes away, gone like a rushing stream. Jamie knows she can’t keep this up forever. She’s already lost so much, and her most important person is fading fast, swept up in the rising current.

She loves Dani to the stars and back. Which is why Jamie must bear this load alone. Dani is already carrying the sky on her shoulders, and Jamie cannot burden her with this.

Call her stupid, call her noble. She calls it mercy.

She knows she’s pulling the same shit Dani did not telling her that Her Royal Lakeness was stirring. She knows, and she resents herself for it. She also knows that Dani would look at her with such guilt for causing Jamie strife. Dani would try to mask her hurt to spare her wife, and Jamie’s gut wrenches at the thought. Her brow would crinkle, lips pursed, and Jamie would yearn to kiss the stress from her face.

Jamie is rewarded for her silence. Dani is getting better about vocalizing her nightmares, telling Jamie when the Lady makes an appearance as she slumbers. They embrace beneath the covers and speak between labored breaths, where Dani finally caves and Jamie does her best to hide the way she’s become afraid of the dark. She murmurs reassurances and tells herself they’re for Dani, pressing kisses into her forehead.

Dani sleeps tucked into Jamie’s side as though it’s enough to ward off the ghosts, a formidable wall against things that go bump in the night. She sleeps, and Jamie lies awake. Her defense is slipping. She can’t keep them both afloat.

She can try. She can hold out as long as Dani will have her. She will. She doesn’t know anything else. Jamie swears, she swears on her plants, she swears on her life, she swears to anyone who will listen that she will be there for Dani, even if she can’t be there for herself.

The weeks pass and more socks freeze, more toothbrushes go missing, and Dani drifts. Some days are better than others. Some days, Jamie’s Sisyphean task is easy, and Dani meets her at the top of the mountain with a flirty smile and sunshine on her greedy tongue, with hands that grab at Jamie’s belt and tug her shirt up and over her head. On those days, they feel like themselves.

But, on other days, days when the whole world is overcast and the tide is rising, they shutter the shop and lock the doors to their second-floor flat. They wear matching pajamas, while the television set plays classic cinema. Jamie makes tea; Dani still hasn’t mastered it in a decade, and Jamie doubts she ever will. Their legs tangle in a heap, ankles sliding along calves.

Jamie comes to rest her head on Dani’s sternum, allowing the beat of her heart to remind her that they’re here. Dani is here, breathing steadily and weaving their fingers together like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like they aren’t living borrowed years. Like Jamie’s mantra of one day at a time doesn’t feel like a splintered crutch beneath her arm, supporting the weight of an impossible situation.

Every day feels like the last, and Jamie hates it. She hates the feeling of inevitability that lurks just out of sight. The beast in the jungle, Dani had said. It prowls between streetlamps and seeks refuge in their walls, skittering away when Jamie shines a torch, only to return the instant she turns her back. The creature is waiting for something Jamie can never see, and it terrifies her. She cannot prevent what she cannot see. All she can do is wait, hopeless, at the mercy of a fucking ghost.

The day will come when she returns to an empty flat, or she’ll wake to a cold pillow beside her. If she’s lucky, she’ll be there when the beast pounces. She’ll get to say goodbye.

A piece of her will die that day, she knows.

Dani will die that day.

And, god, she feels so bloody selfish for thinking of her own fucking self-preservation when the woman she loves might one day disappear from the world, but, Christ, how can she be expected to go on like this? Just waiting for the days to pass until she’s alone again. Again.

She’s lost more people than she can count. Some to time, some to death, some to drink, some to the shelter of a warm embrace Jamie could not provide. Each loss is different, yet each brings about a sting that is painfully familiar. An old bedfellow she’s forced to accommodate. It settles in her bones, nestling into the hollow spaces between her ribs, cold and unwelcome. Once it latches on, it never truly leaves.

The ache is ever-present, a plate of steel, layering and building into a grim suit of armor that clashes and clanks and frightens people away with its noise, and, after a while, she forgets. Forgets what it’s like to be free of those reminders that she wasn’t good enough for people to stay. Wasn’t good enough for her parents, nor her foster parents. Wasn’t good enough for classmates and teachers who deemed her a waste of effort. Wasn’t good enough for women who hid themselves from the world or from their own judgment. Hell, she wasn’t even good enough for the prison system, released early on account of behavior.

She forgets how to breathe without each inhale taking the strength of someone who’s had a scarlet letter branded across her chest her whole life. Forgets how it feels to extend a hand in invitation without her own fear dragging her down, the fear that results from rejected companionship and harsh words. She forgets what it’s like to touch and be touched and to lay yourself bare before another, trusting that you are safe and wanted.

Dani had taken her proffered hand and held it to tender lips. She had glacially pried away nearly three decades of fine steel with the care of a dutiful lover, uncovering the origin of each piece as she went. She had never once flinched away, only nodded with sweet understanding and kissed Jamie a little more fervently that night.

Then, one day, Jamie had found herself the lightest she’d ever been, open and vulnerable beneath Dani’s affectionate gaze. She had breathed, and it had felt like a sigh. The old ache was not gone; it could never truly be banished. But the act of sharing her very soul, and receiving Dani’s in return, had turned bruises into mere memories and fear into excitement.

Her armor had sat, gathering dust in a corner of their life, no longer needed. She had been content to let Dani, or, rather, the security of their relationship, be her protection.

Now, though, with the ground they walk upon growing perilous, Jamie is defenseless. Her own beast hungers, prepared to strike with familiar claws, and Jamie loathes that she is reaching for her old guard. Loathes that she even considers distancing herself. That Dani cannot escape the cruelty of a fate brought on by selflessness, and Jamie is pondering how life will go on without her.

It feels so bloody selfish that it makes Jamie sick to her stomach. It’s only human to fret about the future, but this feels like an especially abominable twist of the knife. And Dani can never know. No, never. Jamie will be strong for her. She needs to be unwavering in her dedication to their love.

She manages, though it feels like standing in the middle of the road, watching a lorry drive toward her at a hundred kilometers an hour and choosing not to move out of the way. Rather, she plants her feet firmly on the asphalt and stares down what will surely splinter every bone in her body if it doesn’t kill her.

For Dani, she tells herself.

Dani, who startles at unseen reflections in their dishes and damn near scares the living daylights out of Jamie. There’s a haunted look in her eye, and, suddenly, Jamie can hear their countdown clock ticking away the seconds without Dani having to say a word. Her chest is heaving as Jamie steps in front of her, inspecting her for signs of physical harm, and blocking the faucet from her line of sight. Dani can’t meet her eye, craning her neck to see the sink.

Her voice is hoarse, ragged. “I saw her.”

No. No, no, no, no. Dreams are one thing. Dreams, Jamie can handle. Bad dreams can be banished with soothing caresses and warm tea, but this? They are both very much awake.

Breathe.

“What did you see?” Jamie seeks confirmation to calm her racing pulse.

Dani’s lip trembles, and she clutches frantically at the countertop. “Her.” It’s little more than a whisper, but the meaning is unmistakable. Dani continues, with painstaking deliberacy. “I keep seeing her.”

Christ. Keep seeing her? The sheer terror in Dani’s tone implies this isn’t the first time the ghost has appeared to her. But it is the first Jamie is hearing of it. No, not this again. Not Dani keeping from her the details of the most horrific secret of their lives.

She can’t stop to process this now. Dani is shaking, and Dani is frightened, and Dani needs her here, in this moment, not dwelling on what this means for the course of their lives.

Jamie turns the tap off and pulls the drain. “We’re gonna be okay. You can’t think the worst.” The words sound hollow, even to her own ears, but she tries, god, does she try to mean them with everything she has.

“Jamie…” Dani’s tone is warning.

Don’t lie to me.

I have to, love, Jamie thinks, I have to, or we’ll both give up, and I’m not ready.

“We could have so many more years together.”

Could.

It’s not technically a lie. ‘Could’ leaves room for uncertainty, the unpredictability of an entity so far beyond the scope of their control that they’d be institutionalized for suggesting such a thing exists. ‘Could’ allows them to pretend they aren’t trapped on a preordained path, walking side by side into inevitable grief. ‘Could’ is hope.

“It’s okay,” Jamie hears herself repeating. Distract. “I’ll do the washing up from now on, yeah? You’re shit at it, anyway.”

It earns her a weak chuckle from Dani, and it’s enough. Jamie holds her close, speaking soft comforts, though her stomach roils and knots. Dani trembles in her arms, and Jamie curls a soothing hand to the back of her head.

It’s going to be okay.

It isn’t.

It isn’t, and, deep down, Jamie knows it isn’t, but she holds onto the falsehood like it’s the only thing keeping her from drowning. She has to believe that there’s hope, that there is a chance for a future for them, because if she doesn’t, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Her mind screams to prepare for the inevitable worst, but a part of her, that bright, sunshiney part, where she holds her fondest thoughts, tells her to pretend just a while longer.

She does. She does, because she loves Dani too much not to. They’ve been through far too much together for Jamie to withdraw now, when Dani needs her most.

She cannot control who lives and who dies. She said as much to Dani, years ago, in the forest behind the manor. Knowing that everything must come to an end dictates life’s joys. Temporality is the driving force of sanctity. The moments we hold most dear are the ones that have come to an end. They are forever preserved in amber memory, pressed between book pages, and flowing through veins. You are left warm, free to continue and free to leave more life behind in the hollows of lingering remorse.  

‘Live in the moment,’ say thousands of song lyrics. If only it were that simple. If only Jamie could simply ignore the consequences and allow herself to just exist with Dani in the life they’ve created. She can’t, though, and it is agonizing.

Instead, she dons the facade of a woman who believes that there is still good in the world, chances for miracles, despite countless experiences to the contrary. In private, she grieves a life she hasn’t yet lost.

Dani sees her shoulders shake only once, the day Jamie returns to a flooded flat and eerie silence and Dani with her face mere centimetres above the water in their overfilled bathtub. The tips of her hair are submerged, and her breath sends ripples across the surface. It’s unclear how long she’s been hunched over the side of the tub, but judging by the pool around her, quite a while. Jamie turns off the tap and draws Dani back onto her heels. Dani lets out a panicked gasp, and her eyes dart around the room before they finally flick to Jamie and back to the water.

“Do you see her?” Dani rasps, returning to her position bent over the rim.

Jamie peers into the tub, too, unsure of what she might find. She does not know whether to be elated or dismayed when only Dani’s heterochromatic reflection stares back at her.

“I only see you,” Jamie says, and it seems to pull Dani from wherever she’s been. The sleeves of her bathrobe are soaked, and she notices the puddle around her knees. She stammers an apology, but Jamie could not care less. Dani sags against Jamie’s firm grip on her upper arm.

Her voice comes subdued, as if each syllable takes monumental effort. “I’m so tired, Jamie.”

Jamie understands. She feels it, too, the toll this has taken on the both of them. The constant glances over her shoulder, always on alert for any sign of danger, living their lives like prey. She cannot hope to equate her exhaustion with Dani’s, but she understands all the same.

Dani continues, using such frightful terms as “fade away,” and it’s all Jamie can do to swallow the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest. Dani sounds so timid, so lost, and she’s looking to Jamie for answers she hasn’t the faintest notion how to find and the soil is eroding and the current is quickening and it all becomes too much.

“You’re still here,” she says, like that will make everything alright. The wet tile seeps into her trousers, cold and clammy.

“It’s like I see you right in front of me,” Dani says softly, “and I feel you touching me. And, every day, we’re living our lives, and I’m aware of that, and it’s like I don’t feel it all the way.” She readjusts to study the water again. “I’m not even scared of her anymore. I just stare at her, and,” Dani takes a shuddering breath, “it’s getting harder and harder to see me.”

Jamie’s already strained resolve is rent in two. All of the air is sucked out of her lungs at once, and her heart constricts. She cannot help the well of tears that rises behind her eyes and threatens to spill over. She needs to be resilient, needs to set her emotions aside. For Dani.

But Dani is nodding. She’s nodding and crying and saying things like, “Maybe I should just accept that and go.” It’s excruciatingly similar to the conversation they’d had at the dinner table, all those many months ago.

And Jamie breaks. “No. No, no, no.” Her thumb rubs circles into Dani’s wrist. “Not yet.”

You can’t leave me. I’m not ready.

“Jamie…” Dani says in that same, horrid, broken tone, and suddenly, Jamie knows. Their hourglass contains mere grains. They are nearing the end, and it hurts, and the pain is so much worse than she could have ever anticipated.

Dani has all but given up, and Jamie is fucking furious.

Not with Dani. Never with Dani.

Rather, Jamie has a bone to pick with the universe and its sense of righteousness. There’s no such thing as fairness in the world, as has been proven to her time and time again. But this? This is shit, and it’s not fucking fair. Just this once, she’d like to strike a bargain. Allow her to be selfish, just this once. Allow her to remain at Dani’s side until they grow old and grey and their eyes fail and their joints creak. Allow her this one thing, and she will never ask for anything again.

The universe, in all its cruelty, remains silent, and Jamie resents it even more. She resents the set of circumstances that led them to this point, Dani tearful on the bathroom floor. She resents the world that made the woman she loves hurt in unfathomable ways. She resents that the most marvelous woman Jamie has ever met has been reduced to a shell of herself, harboring an invisible intruder.

She resents that all she has to offer is herself, when Dani deserves so much more. It’s all Jamie has, though, and maybe, this time, it will be enough.

“If you can’t feel anything,” she says, voice wavering, “then I’ll feel everything for the both of us.” Dani opens her mouth with quivering lips to speak and is cut off. “But no one is going anywhere. Okay? You’re still here.” A tear escapes, tracing a trail down her cheek.

“What if,” Dani whispers, more afraid than Jamie has ever seen her, “I’m here, sitting next to you. But I’m just really her?”

Jamie chokes down a sob. She exhales. “One day at a time.”

They clean up the water and blow out the candles and eat a quiet meal of pasta and sauce from a jar, holding hands all the while, as if any loss of contact would be to admit defeat. Dani is here, and Jamie is here, and they are together, and when they lay in the dark that night, they do not sleep.

Jamie hovers over Dani, pressing gentle kisses to every bit of skin she can reach. Dani’s eyelids, her knuckles, her wrists. The hollow on the underside of her knee, her clavicle, the sensitive patch just below her ear. Anything to reassure Dani that she can still feel, she is loved, and she is safe. The act is not erotic, nor is it meant to be.

She pours every ounce of passion into every caress, touching Dani as if it was the first time. She endeavors to convey her message, clear as crystal, that Dani is the single most important thing in her life. Their love is all that matters. For this one night, let them forget about ghosts and manors and lost friends and be wholly present in this moment of solemn intimacy.

Jamie commits every kiss to memory, savoring Dani’s smooth skin beneath her lips. The way she sighs and whimpers when Jamie finds a particularly tender spot, the way she relaxes into Jamie’s embrace when they finally settle, a leg thrown haphazardly between Jamie’s thighs, her face pressed just above Jamie’s breast, sending small puffs of air against Jamie’s sleepshirt.

Dani sleeps, and Jamie’s mind wanders to all the words she wishes she could say. She sighs them into the night air, a hand cupping the nape of Dani’s neck.

I love you, she thinks, and I’m going to lose you, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. She inhales the faintly floral scent of Dani’s shampoo. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair that you’re going to go, and I have to go on without you. Think of me, Dani. Think of me and stay because I can’t explain to your mother what’s happened to you. Stay, because I’m not ready for our life to end.

She’s crying, now, and her tears dampen the top of Dani’s head as she tries to remain still.

You’re in pain. I see it, love, and I never, never want you to hurt. You’ve been so damn brave. You’ve fought so hard. For yourself. For us. I will be forever grateful for the time you’ve given me. You are everything I never thought I could have, my love.

Dani stirs against her with a hushed, confused noise. “Jamie? Wha-?”

“Go back to sleep, baby,” Jamie murmurs, her eyes shut tight. Dani nuzzles into her chest, and only when her breathing evens out once more does Jamie release the tension from her limbs.

Rest, sweetheart, you’ve earned it.

Three days go by, and Jamie spends them at Dani’s side. They walk the streets of their little Vermont town, and they greet the old woman with her three toy poodles. They watch the line of children toddle by on their way to the park, shepherded by exasperated adults, and share a smile. They wrap themselves in blankets and bundle on the sofa, Jamie with a book and Dani with a crochet project that Jamie’s been teasing her about finishing. The tea is hot, and the company is good, and Jamie is happy. The rain comes down against their windows, but they are shielded from the deluge, though the soil outside turns to slick mud.

The sun rises on the fourth day, and Jamie blinks awake. The pillow is soft under her head, and she is loath to move. She reaches a tentative hand to Dani’s side of the bed to pull her closer, but she finds the sheets are cold. Jamie’s stomach leaps to her throat. She sits up, peering around their room, listening for any sign that Dani has simply risen early. The clock on the bedside table reads six-thirty-eight in the morning. Beside it, a single sheet of paper folded in half.

Perhaps Dani has run to the coffeehouse to bring back breakfast. Perhaps she has gone for a walk. Perhaps she has done anything except Jamie’s worst fear come to fruition, but what Jamie knows in her soul to be true. She takes a steadying breath as she examines the thing in her hands. With shaking fingers, she unfolds the note.

The script is slanted, a mixture of cursive and print, as if written in a hurry. The ink has smeared in places, where the page appears to have been wet. Dani’s normally neat lettering is scattered.

Jamie,

I can’t risk you.

Not for one more day.

I love you.

Dani

Her heart stops.

The silence is deafening. Her whole world narrows to the thin yellow paper in her hand. Her last piece of the woman she loves.

She knows what has happened. She knows where Dani would go, where Dani has gone, deep in her core. But she has to be certain.

It is her first plane ride without Dani. She spends the six-hour flight clutching the armrest, knuckles white, as she looks straight ahead. The flight attendant has the decency to only appear mildly perplexed by Jamie’s lack of luggage. When she lands, Jamie can only nod at the cabbie’s futile attempts at conversation.

She gazes up at the daunting manor house, its brick overgrown with English ivy. The grounds lay vacant. The path to the lake is unkept, yet she treads it anyway, past the church, past the cemetery, slowing as the water comes into sight.

How badly she wants to be wrong. How badly she wants to return home and find Dani worried out of her beautiful mind.

The water is unseasonably warm, but that does not stop the chill that permeates Jamie’s bones. She swims out as far as she can bear before holding her breath and plunging below the surface. It’s nigh torturous to keep her eyes open, but she needs to see. She needs to be sure.

Everything is blurry through the liquid lens, fuzzy around the edges. Something stands out from the landscape of green and blue. A spot of porcelain and red against a backdrop of emerald.

No.

Jamie shakes her head.

No, please, no.

But it is.

And she screams. She screams out thirteen years of rage and sadness and grief and frustration and love. The sound is muted, but she does not care. Dani is gone, and she is alone and it burns and stings like nothing Jamie has ever felt.

Everything Jamie could give, she gave. It wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. Nothing will bring Dani back.

She rises to the surface with a cry, paddling to the muddy shoreline and crawling up the bank to collapse in the shallows. Her ring rests heavy on her left hand. A reminder of promises made. Eternity.

Together. They were supposed to stay together.

It’s us. Always has been, always will be. That’s what we said, Poppins.

She gasps, taking in great lungfuls of air that Dani will never breathe again. Her hair hangs limply, plastered to the sides of her face. She shivers, but she cannot move.

She sits in the shallows of the lake at Bly Manor, and she weeps.

Dani is dead.

And Jamie is alone.

[20dollarlolita]

1/2 Hi, and thank you for all your tutorials and resources! I'm making my first OP right now, and wanted to ask for opinions on lining. One of the fabrics I'm using for the dress is a wool/polyester blend, and the other one was sold to me as wool (not sure if it has anything else in it, tried to do a burn test but I feel like I can never understand those lol). I'll be either handwashing the dress or washing it on a very gentle cycle in the washing machine.

2/2 (I know you're not really supposed to wash wool but...) What fabric do you recommend for lining wool? I don't really want to go for polyester, because it tends to make me feel either cold or sweaty, or both. Also, the skirt of the dress is a circle skirt, and I'm wondering what the pattern for the skirt lining should look like (I won't be flatlining). Making the lining a circle skirt too feels wasteful somehow

Okay, for starters, I totally wash wool. I wash pretty much everything, My general rule is to pre-wash things with a little bit more aggression than you do regular laundry, and then if it survived the pre-wash, it’s fine. Do a swatch test first, though. The poly pinstripe suiting from Joann DEFINITELY is a dry-clean only fabric, for what it’s worth

Most well-known breathable lining is Bemberg, which is rayon. You ever wondered why a lot of rain coats are dry clean only? Bemberg is to blame there. I pretty much never use it, because it’s expensive and fragile.

I frequently use quilt cotton as a lining, just like you’d use a lining fabric. It breathes a lot better than poly, and it’s cheaper, and it washes pretty okay.

(Costume designer side note: you know who sweats a whole lot? Ballet dancers. A lot of tutus are hell to wash. The bodices are usually lined in cotton coutil (unless they’re stretch tutus, which are their own problem). Those things get washed after the show (maybe), and it’s a whole ordeal with taking ornamentation plates off and untacking layers and then washing them and putting the plates back on and tacking them back down. You know how long a tutu is expected to last once it’s made? FOREVER. They are not permitted to die, ever. They’re not a one-show dealio. Building just the base tutu takes 80+ hours sometimes, not including decoration, and that base is expected to last until roughly 2 years after the fabric has completely given up the ghost and started to fall apart. Sometimes, I run into people who say you can’t line a garment with cotton fabric because it won’t last, and I challenge them to go into any theatre costume stock, find the ancient tutu that’s hiding somewhere in there--and there will be one--and turn it inside out.)

This sort of gets to what the purpose of a lining is. Main reasons to line things, in no order:

To provide a barrier between the wearer and the fabric

To make the garment more comfortable

To protect a fragile fabric from the strain of being made into a garment

To add opacity to a thin or transparent fabric

To change the way that a fabric will lay or drape

To provide a nice look on the inside

Depending on how you arrange that list when you line it up in order of importance for your specific garment, you can choose what is the best lining for your garment.

Consideration 1, a barrier between the wearer and the fabric. If your fabric is prone to absorbing body oils and discoloring or stinking, you might want to put a fabric that does not absorb moisture between the wearer and the garment. This might be a case for the polyester lining. The fabric won’t breathe, but it’ll be more protected from damage.

Consideration 2, comfort. If you have a fabric that doesn’t breathe (let’s pick on polyester again), you can line it in a fabric that does breathe, which will allow the wearer to be slightly less hot. If the fabric is thin and the garment needs to be warm, a lining in something thick like fleece can make the garment warm. If the fabric is itchy, a lining can stop it from touching the skin. The fabric you select should be able to do the job you want, and also feel comfortable on the skin.

Consideration 3, protecting fragile fabric. You have a loose-weave fabric like gauze, and it’s in a high-stress seam like a side seam. Without a lining, every time that you breathe, the expansion and contraction of your chest will pull on the threads in the fabric. Because gauze is so loosely woven, the threads will shift and make holes where your stitches are.

If you put in a lining of a stable fabric, then when you breathe, the stress is being put on the stitches in the stable fabric, which won’t shift. The gauze outer layer is no longer load-bearing. For this, you want a fabric that will not shift under stress.

Consideration 4, to add opacity. This should be obvious, but if your fabric is thin enough that you could see someone’s tattoo through it, adding another layer behind that thin layer can stop it from being visible. For this, you want a fabric close to the color of the outside, so that the color can’t show through and change the color of the front.

Consideration 5, to change how a fabric will lay or drape. You can make thin fabrics act like they’re thicker with a lining. You can make fabrics that normally fold into thin lines (chiffon) lay smoothly and make large folds. For this, you want a fabric that has the drape you desire.

Consideration 6, to look good on the inside. Sometimes, the inside matters as much as the outside. Coats are a good example of this, where they’re often taken off and carried, so the inside is visible. For this, you want a fabric that elevates the garment to another level. Does it match well? Is the pattern cute and add a nice pop? What can you do with the lining to make it work extra-well.

So, take a look at the list, and check out why you’re lining the garment. Once you know what your most important considerations are, you can narrow down what you want to use.

[theatrebooknerd56]

If you are from Austin or wherever and it is cold here’s a few general tips from an Iowan

I may be young but this is not my first Rodeo (reference: The polar vortex from  couple years ago) although ive never dealth with power outages due to cold because my house is more equipped for cold, also im in marching band and it gets cold as fuck some mornings

if you can get HOTHANDS, handwarmers, feet warmers even body warmers are so nice to have. to use them open the packaging and expose them to air, it also helps to shake them around or toss them to get them going as well

Fleece is your best friend. its warm and insulated, any fleece clothes you own WEAR any blankets USE

DOUBLE UP ON BLANKETS when you go to bed, this is a classic trick that i used all the time when i was little

dont be afraid to wear 2 pairs of socks over eachother, especially if you dont have fuzzy socks. and if you do have fuzzy socks wear regular socks under them for extra warmpth. This is yet another trick i used all the time when i was little

LAYERS, Layer up everything. wear a t shirt, long sleeved shirt, hoodie, jacket and a coat if you have to. and dont be afraid to layer your pants as well. In the mornings for marching band sometimes i would wear my regular leggings and warm leggings over them. also wear those thin fabric gloves under the more bulky gloves as well. 

Try to keep your hands, feet, ears and face warm. Your hands and feet get cold easiest and your face gets really cold too because its the most exposed. This includes your ears because they can get really cold and it sometimes hurts 

If body parts get cold enough they will go numb, dont worry about it, thats normal. just try to keep them warm. It doesnt mean your getting frostbite it means their just cold. It happens all the time.

Sometimes it might be so cold that a body part becomes painful. yet again just try to keep warm. your not getting frostbite or dying. 

DONT NEGLECT YOUR EARS they can get really cold and for me at least it gets painful when their cold. 

if you dont have a hat for your head use your hood. even if you do have a hat use your hood. it helps keep your ears and head warm

When you start to warm up some parts like for me mainly my legs, will feel tingly and it might hurt a little bit. they might be itchy when they warm up as well. This is normal. It is not an allergic reaction or anything and your fine.

Crossing your legs when standing and keeping them close together will help your legs stay warm

Dont be afraid to make stupid faces when its cold or to shreek and yell and make weird noises either. I dont know why but it helps make it more bearable for me at least.

After your feet warm up they WILL be sweaty and feel warmer than usual. Dont worry about it just be happy your feet are warm.

If possible huddle with those around you (people you live with obviously) it will help you all stay warm

go ahead and curl up in the corner of your couch or cuddle up with loved ones. It will not only keep you warm but it will be really comfortable

also when snow melts, youd think this were a given but EVERYTHING gets wet. It wont just go away it will make the grass, roads and sidewalks wet and it will leave puddles everywhere. 

if you ever go play in the snow BUNDLE UP and also every top layer you wear WILL get soaking wet. Including your socks. 

[brophigenia]

i'm not sure if you pay attention to tyler the creator at all but!!!! i'd love kavinsky/ronan angst ((unrequited love?? idk bro)) with the lyrics to 'a boy is a gun' by tyler. i'm sorry if this isn't the proper way to do prompts or if you need more details than this OTL

you’re a gun cause i like you on my side at all times

(TW: consensual somnophilia, consensual drug use)

“Consent is overrated,” Kavinsky said, manic-eyed, the shadows beneath those gleaming black orbs dark as bruises. He looked— unwell. 

It… probably shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Well— it definitely shouldn’t have been hot. Like, at all. Kavinsky crawling into his bed and saying shit like this should be vomit-inducing. Ronan shouldn’t be hard, looking at the vulnerable expanse of young man before him. Kavinsky was covered from throat to toes, shirt and hoodie and sweatpants and socks, lean body somehow seeming smaller in all those clothes, not bulkier. He’d never been substantial. Always seemed like a skeleton, walking around with an angel’s face. 

“I’m not—“ Ronan tried to spit, but then Kavinsky was slithering all over him, fingers icy where they met Ronan’s bare skin, because he slept in only boxers, if he had the energy to take off his jeans and boots. Sometimes he could only wrestle himself from his shirt before he was dropping down, down, into that space between life and death. Into dream. 

“Dream me something,” K mumbled against his cheek, pressing all their bodies together, too-close. “Put me to sleep.” His breath smelled sweetly sour, like stale candy.

He was a dangerous thing, a slinking wild animal, but he seemed so soft, here in Ronan’s arms, so far removed from Henrietta. So far away from what they’d been. Who they’d been. 

Fuck. Declan would kill him. 

“Fine,” Ronan said, like he’d known he would, all along. He slid down the bed, jostling K and bringing him, too, as he lay down flat. He’d learned, over the years, to quiet his mind. To count his breaths, his heartbeats, to center himself. To fall asleep, almost at will.

Oh, twenty five felt so strange sometimes, the years fitting awkwardly on his body like they knew he’d never expected to make it to eighteen. Yesterday, it seemed like, he was sixteen and three-quarters suicidal, ready to burn up from the inside out and take Joseph Kavinsky with him.

Yesterday, it seemed like he was still at the Barns with Adam, sunning on the porch, ankles tangled up. Together. 

Semper tuus. 

Like attracted like, though, and so when Adam had drifted away from him, inevitably, Kavinsky had come around again, almost-civilized from his time at Princeton, pretending not to be a starving tiger slinking around waiting to be fed. 

He woke with the pills in his hand; an orange prescription bottle, label blank. The capsules inside were ink-black. K took them greedily, one and then two and then three, eyes hooding, pupils blowing almost-immediately.

It’s almost like dreaming, again, he’d confided in Ronan once, the second or third time they’d done this. 

When he fell into unconsciousness, drooping like nightshade onto Ronan’s chest, all his limbs seemed plusher, less-angular. 

Ronan stroked over K’s back, going lower and lower with each pass. Remembering K’s hands on him in a field so very long ago, half-imagined. Tracing over his tattoos. Touching him low, the same place Ronan touched now, hands underneath those layers of fleece and cotton that K used to protect his thin-skinned vulnerability from the November chill in the air. 

“Shh,” Ronan murmured, when K huffed a little against his ear. Gentle, how he never could be when K was awake.

K was so pliant against him. Petal, not thorn. 

Ronan buried his face into K’s downy-soft black hair. Kept touching him. Thought about K waking up later, stuffed full of his fingers or his cock, muscles still relaxed. Blinking awake with a flutter of beatific lashes. Sweet, for a while. 

[dilliebar]

Worth It: A Dillie Fic

Alrighty bois after today’s trailer I thought we needed a pick-me-up so I went into freaking sonic-mode to finish this for you guys. Enjoy!

Ellie always has to be doing something. She hates sitting around, and she hates it when people do stuff for her. So when she gets sick, and her girlfriend Dina insists on sticking by her side while she recovers, she just can't manage to sit still. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046546

It had started off with a sore throat, and had progressed to a small cough, and eventually grew to the point where Ellie had found herself angry that she had taken breathing for granted before she had begun to get sick. She hated it, but didn’t think much of it, considering that she had just been out on patrol a week and a half ago and probably caught a cold or something simple, something that would go away on its own. 

And while she was miserable, she wouldn’t let anyone else see that.

“Tommy, I’m really-” a strained hack emerged from her throat as she covered her mouth with her arm, “I’m fine, okay? It’s getting better.”

Ellie was supposed to have another patrol that day with Dina, and she was pretty persistent about going. After all, if she didn’t, the two would be separated for days, and she knew how much her girlfriend worried sometimes. Not to mention, she didn’t like sitting around. Tommy had already made her give up some watchtower shifts that week, and she was starting to feel pretty helpless all cooped up in her house like this.

Tommy shook his head, “I can’t have you risking getting everyone else sick with whatever you got, alright? And what would happen if you came across a group’a clickers?”

The girl sighed in defeat, the thought of putting anyone else in danger, especially Dina, haunting her mind for a brief moment before she broke out in another agonizing coughing fit.

“We’ll get someone to take it for you, alright? Just get some rest.”

Ellie nodded before closing the door and slumping down to the floor. Her head felt dizzy, as if she had just been on one of those crazy carnival rides she had seen while out gathering supplies. Her eyelids were as heavy as lead, and even the blood that ran through her veins felt gross along with the rest of her body. 

She could feel herself drifting off, and so she pushed herself up weakly, intending to end up in bed but only managing to make it to the living room couch before plopping herself down. Her tense muscles relaxed at the relief. The old cushions would usually provide minimal comfort but she found herself sinking into them as if they were clouds. 

Tommy had probably let Dina know by now that she wasn’t going to be able to make it. She pictured the shorter girl’s beautiful, beautiful face that made her heart go warm. The more she thought about her flawless skin, her addicting voice, and those deep brown eyes the more she found herself slipping into a tempting and much-needed sleep. 

After only minutes of lying there, sleep engulfed her.

When Ellie felt herself awake she kept her eyes closed, hoping that she could fall back into that addicting sense of comfort and security that came from rest. She probably would have, too, if she hadn’t noticed the freshly-washed blanket wrapped around the majority of her body. That wasn’t there before.

She slowly opened her eyes, rubbing at them and pulling at the blanket on top of her. It was a soft, blue fleece blanket, and she instantly knew it because it was the one she always curled up in whenever she stayed at a specific someone’s house.

Ellie sat up and took a look at her surroundings. To her left, a fire crackled in the fireplace, warm and incredibly inviting. A cup of water sat on the glass coffee table next to her, and at the sight she instantly grabbed for it, not realizing how dry her throat was until then. By the door she saw a familiar pair of shoes on the doormat, and her suspicions were confirmed when she succumbed to another sudden coughing fit, prompting her girlfriend to appear in the archway that connected the living room to the kitchen.

Witnessing the scene, Dina rushed over to the taller girl’s side, sitting down next to her on the couch, minding her legs, and rubbing circles on her back gently as Ellie worked through it. Dina grabbed the glass of water from the table and held it, ready for whenever she needed it.

As soon as Ellie was able to find a break from the coughing she desperately chugged the rest of the water down. Slowly but surely the fit subsided, and she leaned back against the arm of the couch while her sore throat recovered.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out on patrol?” she asked weakly, eyes closed.

Dina grabbed the girl’s hand, caressing it delicately.

“You really think I’d leave your dumbass here like this?” she teased, “You barely take care of yourself when you’re healthy. I asked Noah to cover.”

Ellie’s heart ached at the fact that Dina had stayed behind for her. First, she couldn’t go on patrol herself, and now she had to hold everyone else back, too?

She groaned in protest, “You should really go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’ll tell sick to fuck off.”

The comment elicited a laugh from the sick girl, which quickly turned into yet another string of worryingly-deep, wet coughs. Whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t just a cold, but still, Dina showed no desire to leave her girlfriend’s side. If anything, it only made her want to stay more than she already had.

Dina was like that. She never backed down from a fight, regardless of how shitty or unfair the odds might be. Even before they started dating, she always showed so much care and pure love for Ellie that the older girl had never quite seen in her life. She was definitely something special.

“I’m gonna go get the thermometer.”

Ellie grabbed at the shorter girl’s wrist.

“Dina I’m fine, please go home.” she croaked between coughs.

“If you’re fine, then the thermometer will say so.”

Ellie sighed and let go of her wrist after realizing that she wasn’t going to win, watching her perfect shape, covered loosely in Ellie’s own grey hoodie, disappear into the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

She was so lucky to have her.

Dina returned to her spot on the couch with the thermometer in hand. She delicately pressed the back of her hand to her girlfriend’s forehead first, scrunching her face at what was most definitely a fever. 

“Open.”

“Dina-”

“Ellie.” she challenged softly at the sick girl’s stubbornness. Suddenly she felt her body heat up at the demanding tone, not just from the likely fever. She reluctantly obliged and allowed the thermometer to be placed under her tongue. Silence overcame them again as they waited.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”

Ellie sighed, trying to think up a good answer, knowing at this point she was probably in the wrong, but ultimately failed to find one.

“Because I’m not.”

Dina replied with an all-to-obvious roll of her eyes and took the thermometer in her hands, mouth agape as she read the temperature on the small device.

“What, are you 102% sure about that?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

Dina flipped the thermometer to show the reading, which, matching her snarky-ass comment, was a whopping 102 degrees. Yep, definitely not a cold.

“So that’s what you meant the other day when you said I was ‘smokin’” she laughed.

In response she only got a death glare from the girl sitting by her legs, as if whatever this was wouldn’t kill her already.

That’s when Dina stood from her spot on the couch and made her way to the door, putting on her hiking boots and a pair of gloves.

“I’m going to the clinic. Drink some water, and sleep, please.”

Ellie let out a mumbled “yeah” before turning over onto her side and pulling the blanket up over  her body yet again as she heard the front door close lightly. Great, now they not only had to mix up patrol schedules, but they had to waste supplies on her, too. She knew arguing would only make it tense, and after seeing her temperature she knew she was sick, but she was Ellie. She’d get over it.

Even so, she tried her best to abide by what Dina had told her to do. But at the same time, no matter how she tossed and turned and readjusted the pillow, she couldn’t seem to last a minute without having to cough something up. Her head and sinuses felt congested and she just couldn’t seem to clear her throat. It was like she was being fucking waterboarded or something, and the more she tried to ignore it the worse it got. Not to mention, the seconds ticking by had begun to feel like years. After a while of waiting she couldn’t take it anymore. One brief walk couldn’t hurt, could it? Or maybe she could even keep working on some projects around the house that she had started, like fixing the holes in the fence or reorganizing the cupboards.

Ellie smiled at the thought of finally thinking of a loophole. She wasn’t interacting with anyone. Technically she wasn’t leaving the property. She would probably even be able to get the fence done before Dina got back. After all, it wasn’t that big of a job and she had been meaning to get it done for at least a month. Now was probably the time to do it, when quite frankly there was nothing else for her to do. She might as well do something productive. 

And so, Ellie made her way clumsily over to the coat-rack, throwing on the first jacket that she could find and lazily slipped on her boots, either not bothering or just plain forgetting to tie them. She grabbed her red toolbox from beside the door, making sure that she had everything she needed, and pushed the door open. The cold rushed in, and immediately she regretted it. 

It had started to snow, and the temperature had definitely dropped since the day before. Still, Ellie slipped on a pair of gloves, took a deep breath, and stepped outside. She was already sick, what hurt could a little more cold do?

To work she went with her hammer and nails, kneeling on the thin layer of snow, brushing small clumps of white flakes off of the spare wood and lining them up over the holes. They were mismatched, since she didn’t really see the point in painting them white like the rest of the fence, but she didn’t mind. What she did mind was the cough that kept interrupting as she hammered nails into the fence. It was coming along a heck of a lot slower than she initially planned, since she had to stop every minute or so to satisfy the itching in her throat.

In an attempt to get the fence done faster, she hammered harder, trying to get the nails in as fast as possible. And it worked, for a bit. In fact, she was about halfway done when she made the devastating mistake of sneezing mid-swing. The hammer went crashing down on her thumb, hard.

“Jesus fuck!”

Ellie dropped the hammer and nail and shook her hand, almost as if it would shake away the pain that radiated from the spot she hit. When she took off her glove and looked down at her thumb to inspect any damage, she could already see it starting to bruise under the nail, which wasn’t so bad but it certainly hurt just as much as slamming your finger in a car door. She whispered curses under her breath as she went back inside, slamming the front door behind her and throwing her jacket off on the couch.

Even though there wasn’t really anything she could do about it, Ellie ran her hand under some cold water, which at least managed to soothe the burning pain in her thumb for as long as she held it there. She didn’t have any pain killers, and even if she did, she wouldn’t bother using them on something like this.

That’s when she heard the front door creak open and a familiar voice echoed through the house.

“Ellie?” Dina called out from the living room.

Shit. 

Ellie wiped her hand dry on her jeans and made her way out into the hall. Dina was carrying a few bags, one of which was a small, paper bag clearly from the pharmacy and the other which was paper, full with groceries. She stood tense, realizing that she hadn’t remembered to bring her toolbox inside, and sincerely hoped that Dina hadn’t noticed.

Then her mind switched gears when she noticed how absolutely stunning her girlfriend looked right then. Small, white snowflakes rested gently atop her head of black hair, while others left small spots of condensation on her hoodie and face. Her nose and cheeks were a little more red from the cold than usual, and when she noticed Ellie standing in the hallway, the cutest smile stretched across her face.

 She was so beautiful.

“So I talked to Denice at the clinic. She said you might have pneumonia, but I guess there isn’t any medicine for that on-hand, so I just got you some stuff to help with the cough. I got some food too since your cupboards look like you don’t even live here.”

A laugh escaped her lips and a wave of appreciation ran through Ellie’s body as she went over to help with the bags. They unpacked everything on the dining room table silently, with a few stray coughs here-and-there and some concerned glances from Dina. At one point Ellie reached for a can at the same time as her girlfriend, their fingers brushed together, and that’s when Dina noticed it.

“Hey what’s up with your thumb?”

Ellie looked down at her finger, which had now become more bruised than before, and by now it was definitely noticeable. A small panic arose in her chest as she searched for an answer, but she really just spout the first white lie that came to mind. 

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I think it’s been like that. Weird, huh?”

Dina’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t buying it, but there was no way that Ellie would let her be right about this whole “being sick” and “staying inside” thing.

“Uh-huh.” Dina said, taking a second look around the house. She hadn’t bothered to look too closely when she got back, but now it was all starting to come together.

“Why’s your jacket on the couch?”

Ellie was stunned. There was no going back now.

“I got cold.”

“Yeah? Then why are you wearing your shoes.”

Ellie scratched the back of her neck, trying her best to think of an excuse.

“My… feet got cold.”

Dina took one last look around the room with a swivel of her head, and that’s when she noticed one key thing that was missing.

“Where’s your toolbox?”

The way she said it as more of a statement than a question, her eyes narrowed and head slightly tilted made Ellie realize that she had been caught red-handed, literally. When she failed to come up with an answer, Dina walked over to the front door, took one look outside, and turned back with an annoyed expression on her face.

“Really, Ellie?”

Ellie sighed and slumped back against the table. She was really in for it, now.

“I’m gone for maybe thirty minutes and in the meantime, you’ve managed to not only probably make yourself more sick by going outside but also bash your thumb with a hammer?”

Ellie looked down at her boots the entire time Dina went on. She knew she was right. She knew that fixing a fence in the middle of what was about to become a blizzard was probably a stupid reason to get off the couch, but the latter sounded just as stupid to her, too. Why should she stay inside, all comfortable on the couch while everyone else is out there doing something to help?

But she stayed silent throughout the majority of Dina’s rant, and she tried to remain that way even as the itching in her throat became unbearable, but she was human, and she couldn’t contain it forever.

“I mean I’m trying to help y-”

Dina was cut off when Ellie broke out into what was probably the worst of the coughing fits she had gotten since she began to get sick. The coughs were deep, heavy, and filled with pain, and suddenly the mood changed from tense to caring within seconds. Her girlfriend’s eyes softened as she made her way back to the taller girl, rubbing her back to console her. They stayed like that for a few moments until Dina remembered the medicine she got from the clinic was only a few feet away.

She took the bottle of red-liquid, which Dina had honestly never seen in her life, but Denice swore by, and poured some into the little cup that came with it. It smelled nasty but it was worth a shot. At least the bottle said it was cherry flavored. How bad could it be?

She gave the cup to Ellie, who was still hunched over, coughing, who downed it immediately without question. She made a face at the taste, but despite all of the coughing she managed to get it down just fine. Soon the coughing began to subside, but Dina grabbed her another glass of water just in case.

“God that stuff is fucking disgusting.”

Dina laughed, more out of relief that it actually worked than at her comment.

“You’ve had it before?”

Ellie grabbed for the water and chugged it down. She took a few deep breaths before answering.

“Yeah, wouldn't recommend it.”

They both laughed that time at the predicament. It was stupid, really, when Ellie thought about it. That moment of relief when Dina pulled out that disgusting little cup of red medicine made her realize just how much she appreciated all of this. Her gentle touch, her girlfriend’s caring nature, and even as much as she hated to admit it, the nagging, too.

“I just wanted to help with something.” Ellie said quietly, throat still sore.

Dina nodded in understanding, “I know, but everyone needs a break sometimes.”

Ellie laughed, “Well someone has to pick up the slack.”

“But it doesn’t always have to be you.” Dina retorted without hesitation.

They both fell silent after that, as Ellie looked up to meet Dina’s gaze. She looked into those beautiful brown eyes that stared right back into her own emerald green ones. Suddenly she felt a little bit of guilt form in her chest at her own stubbornness. Her girlfriend was right, there wasn’t anything wrong with getting a bit of help sometimes. After all, she had certainly been grateful for all the help Dina had given her that day, and just a few minutes before. Ellie would’ve kissed her in that moment if it didn’t increase the chances of her getting whatever she had, so instead she settled for the second best thing. “I love you.”

The corners of Dina’s lips pulled up into a small smile.

“I know, dumbass.”

Ellie scoffed, “Wow, thank-.”

Before she had a chance to finish Dina leaned over and planted a small kiss on her cheek, setting every single one of Ellie’s nerves on fire. Her mind was boggled by how she was able to do that every time they kissed, but the taller girl never complained.

“Now let’s get you some soup.”

It took awhile for Ellie to get back to her fully-functioning self, given that coming across specific medications was generally pretty rare when out scavenging for supplies, but every patrol made a note of it, and one group actually managed to make it back with a few bottles of penicillin which she was extremely grateful for.

In the meantime Ellie and Dina continued to bicker every now-and-then over what counted as “resting” and what counted as “pushing yourself”, but they always managed to work it out in the end, and despite Ellie’s reluctance to have her girlfriend around while she was sick she ended up being appreciative of her presence. 

She enjoyed having her around so much, in fact, that they finally decided to move in together after a year of being in a relationship.

“Alright, well, I think that’s everything.”

Ellie set down the last box of Dina’s things inside the bedroom, which she’d now be sharing half of. She was both excited and nervous, knowing that they would most definitely have disagreements about various things, but also knowing that they managed to balance each other out pretty well. 

Dina fell back onto the bed, claiming the right half which was now her’s. Ellie laid down next to her, watching her girlfriend roll over and she stared into those beautiful deep eyes that she loved so much.

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?”

Ellie nodded, “I’m sure.”

The shorter girl smiled and nuzzled into her chest, holding as close as she could. Ellie could smell the faint scent of cinnamon from her girlfriend as she wrapped her arms around her.

“Of course, now there are little germ monsters everywhere, so you’re gonna get it now, too.”

Dina released a small laugh.

“Worth it.”