#affordable cot mattress

[milariorganic]

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Here are some of the benefits of Milari organics cot mattresses:- 1.Reduced exposure to harmful chemicals- Milari Organic cot mattresses are made with natural materials that have not been treated with pesticides, herbicides, or other harmful chemicals. This can help to reduce your baby's exposure to these chemicals, which can be harmful to their health and development.

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[milariorganics]

We took a PAUSE this Black Friday and Cyber Monday weekend to reflect on what’s important - our planet 🌎

We often get asked - Are you having a Black Friday sale? When is your next sale?

At Milari we feel that Black Friday/Cyber Monday is no longer a consumer or earth-friendly event as companies slash prices for the kickoff of the holiday season, shoppers overconsume electronics, plastics and fast-fashion apparel — and our planet ultimately suffers.

[missredherring]

D.D. + "Then we'll find out together."

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 744

Contents: established relationship. fluff.

A/N: This is another of my journal prompt fills! The wheel of destiny picked Din Djarin and "What do you like?" "I don't know..." "Then we'll find out together." from the inexperienced smut prompts.

I love this idea for Din and was ready to actually try some smut for him, but then I came up with this idea instead.

Not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

Summary: "Then we'll find out together."

Series Masterlist

Your little house on the outskirts of Nevarro is too quiet.

You can hear the hum of the appliances from the kitchen and the air system cycling on and off, but they're soft and low sounds. It's nothing like the rattling production the Razor Crest went through as it traveled through space, letting you know every effort it took to run the functions you'd ask of it.

The time spent on the Crest is shaded with fondness now in light of what came after it: any kind of lodging they could find or afford, even it if ended up being a corner of a cave system filled to bursting with Mandalorians.

Instead of the console lights or the dizzying display of hyperspace travel, the only light that came through the window was the ambient light from the capital city and the starlight above. When you glance over at Din beside you to see if he's awake, all you can make out is the outline of his body. He's laying still, flat on his back instead of crunched up in the least amount of space he can take up, and the dark fabric of his flight suit turned pajamas disguised any movement of his chest. You can't tell if his breathing was steady and slow in sleep, or if he was just resting like you were.

His armor stands sentry in the corner. The soft light reflects on the cuirass and in the dark t-visor of his helmet. It had felt strange to take each piece he gave you after carefully and methodically cleaning them and put it on the stand instead of back onto his body. In the hushed silence of the room he'd spoken of wanting to explore what it meant to be Din and not the Mandalorian in the safety of this new home. On the other side of the blank visor, he'd met your eyes in the reflection and smiled, adding on that the comfort of your presence gave him courage to do so. His dark eyes had sparkled just as bright as the star shine you see in the visor now.

You shift on the bed. And then shift again. When you'd tried the mattress out earlier in the day, you'd delighted at the way you'd bounced and sunk into the soft platform. Now it feels like that same softness is going to swallow you whole. No matter what position you try you can't get comfortable enough to sleep.

In all of the nights you'd spent on the stiff cot in the Crest, and then more often than not a nice spot of hard-packed dirt, you'd never expected to have this problem. It's too... nice. It's like a dream come true and the irony of your inability to sleep isn't lost on you.

You're turning back towards the window, thinking to at least watch the stars to pass the time, when Din breaks the silence.

"That's the third full rotation you'd made, riduur." He says, his unfiltered voice sounds loud too.

There's no denying it. "Am I keeping you up?"

"You aren't. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," You say, fiddling with the blankets, unsure of how to explain what the problem is exactly when there isn't an obvious thing to point to. "I just... can't sleep. Just need to adjust to a new place."

He hums his agreement and reaches across the small space between you to take your hand.

"Is there a reason you're so far away?" He asks.

"I thought you might want to spread out, now that we have the space."

"Please get over here." He gives a light tug on your hand and you wiggle your way over to him, settling down so you're laying more on his body than the mattress.

His body without the armor feels almost as soft as the mattress. But his solid build is firm and familiar and you can feel yourself start to relax. Din readjusts your arm so it's not poking quite so much into his ribs and sighs so deeply you can feel it on your head.

"Tomorrow we can do whatever you like." He offers.

"I don't know what I like." You admit. Since starting your relationship with Din you've been going non-stop, and in your life before him there hadn't been much downtime either.

"Then we'll find out together." He says and there's no judgment in his voice, only a promise.

[serpentthecrow]

Sleepy time with the crows

the crows(separately) x reader🖤

Summary: just some fluffy headcannons with our favourite gangsters

Warnings : big fluff, cursing, plushies

A/n: wrote this instead of a Jesper confession fic that got deleted. I also included the plushies each of them have, so enjoy!

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

Kaz:

One might assume there will not be much to say, it's not true however

If Kaz finds u trustworthy enough to even sleep in the same room with you, consider urself lucky af

Kaz doesn't really sleep much, just for a couple hours, it's assumably another trick of his, how he wakes up

When he ACTUALLY needs sleep, he drinks Camomile tea

I picture Kaz's bedside table is actually a stack of books, and there are several more stacks on the other side of the bed, so he reads quite often

He's genuinely scared to fall asleep due to his nightmares sometimes

After getting comfortable with you, he will slowly inch by inch move your beds closed to eachother everyday, until you notice

Whispers 'fuck u ' to the moon when it shines in his window

Just lays flat on his back and sleeps (how?)

Secretly has a crow plushie he got from Jesper under his bed

Jesper

The biggest cuddle bear ever

He will wrap you up with his arms and legs like a rope, and will not let go even under the use of a fucking crowbar

It's his routine to kiss his revolvers good-night before going to bed

Not before checking himself out in the mirror to look good and ready for a night intruder

REFUSES to buy a bit bigger bed, no matter if your savings could buy a bed that even majesty King Nikolai.*million titles*.. could hardly afford

The secret meaning is that Jes doesn't want you escaping from him to the other side of the big mattress

He'd rather fall off the little cot you have

Forgets to take off his rings

HAS a goat plushie

Inej

Inej is pretty straightforward- lay down, sleep if you can

challenge: try not to stab urself in the eye by the knife she has under her pillow while turning in ur sleep

Could use some protective cuddles if she trusts u

Prays before going to sleep

Bed time= heaven time. Main reason?she lets her hair down when going to sleep

Be prepared to do some careful and slow comforting for her at 1am

U will get urself stabbed if Ur not careful

Light sleeper, can be out like a light tho, after a whole day of climbing roofs

Fuzzy socks.

Has a teddy bear

Nina

U won't fall asleep with her. I swear

Is the type of person to talk and talk and talk about random things for hours

And when u think she's already asleep, ur suddenly hear "I would never kiss a dude who eats dogs"

Eats a ton of food before bed

*cough*like me*cough*

Loves bedtime stories and singing lullabies in Ravkan- recieving or giving, doesn't matter to her

Back tracing

Has an assortment of plushies all around her side of the bed and if one is missing, she will start a war

Sleeps on her stomach

Or on u

Sleeps naked by choice

Cuddly little witch

Matthias

Wrapped around u for 'protective' reasons

Tells u stories, myths and traditional legends from Fierda

Also prays to Djel, even tho he wipes his hands after finishing and exclaims he doesn't have to really

Drinks weird amount of water

Sometimes lays in bed with shoes on - sinner

Never saw a book in his life

Normal duvets? What is that? Did I hear fur?

Wake him up. I dare you. Try it.

Extra vulnerable before bed

Don't make him sad at the time pls

LOVES when it rains at night (I think they all love that, except ONE)

Owns a tiny white wolf plushie, it's under his pillow if u wanna know.

Wylan

Certified cutie

The adorable matching pijama sets he wears

Will probably draw.

No need to say he won't read before bed

The little spoon

Warm milk with honey melted in it is his to go drink for bed(try it, knocks u out)

The bed hair(not so different from his normal hair lol)

Has a dinamite plushie he sleeps with all the time

Is the one who doesn't like when it rains, because what If the rain turns into a thunderstorm?

ABSOLUTELY HATES THUNDERSTORMS

They scare the shit outta him

The sleepy mumbles... Help

whispers good night back and forth with u until one of u fall asleep

fluffy and smol bean

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

A/n: Ahh turned out better then I first thought. Lemme know what u think! If you'd like to requests something, my requests are open, please read my pinned post before requesting, there you'll find rules but also the fandoms I write for ❤️❤️

[therealgchu]

alliterative WIP friday

so, i haven't had much of a chance to write all week. but, i'd been working on some stuff previously. hopped back to my main fic, and i've got some bits and bobs going on there. we'll see how it goes.

To the Shore lives here.

my other stuff is here.

sneaky with the peeky

They made their way into Ebbside, the dampness making Hwa’s hair curlier than usual. Sam could see the tension in her shoulders, and her lips narrowed to a thin line. She stopped within ten feet of the entrance, eyes wide and alert, taking in all of the sights. “It’s only been a seven months since I was here,” she said softly, “but it feels like lifetimes.

Sam stopped and took her hand, “I’m here for you,” and he smiled encouragingly, “for whatever you need. OK?” She nodded and continued walking. She led him to the sleep crates, and found the one she was looking for.

“This is where we lived when I was little,” she whispered. “Me, Mom, and Seong.” After a beat, she added, “It’s so tiny.” She walked into the crate and sat down on a dilapidated chair. “When I was little, it didn’t seem small to me. It was my world.” She threw her arms out, “This whole area was my world. Seong and I used to race up and down there,” she pointed along the railing. “We and the other kids would dare each other to hang off the sides. We were all such shits, scaring tourists.” Hwa picked up a small piece of metal and hucked it over past the railing.

Sam stood in the doorway, nearly blocking all of the light into the tiny cubicle. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in one; there were more than a few occasions in his younger years that he slept off a night of carousing in one. But he’d never had to share one with anyone else. He tried to imagine what it was like with three people in one of these things, but his six-foot frame couldn’t. He assumed that Hwa’s mother was about the same size as Hwa was now, and she and her brother were small children, but it was still unthinkable. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, a mixture of fish, urine, oil, and unwashed bodies.

“I was actually born in here,” she said, pulling Sam out of his reverie, pointing to the cot, “only we didn’t have that, but a plain mattress on the floor.”

“What?” Sam asked, shocked, “no hospital?”

Hwa scoffed, “We couldn’t afford a doctor. Not a lot of people down here have ever even seen a doctor,” she explained. “There are midwives, however. And, a good number of older women that might as well be midwives.” She stood up, “Oddly enough, the first time I saw a doctor was when Seong and I were dropped off at the Syndicate. They had us checked out, first. The Syndicate’s not interested in sick kids. Bad investment, and all.” She walked over to what was the “bathroom” and looked at herself in warped metal that was meant to be the mirror. “I was thinking about what you’d said about not being able to remember your mother well. My problem is I remember almost everything. Ironic, that.”

[tennessoui]

Ohh prompts!

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” & the Couples Counseling AU (my obsession!) but really whatever moves you.

hey hi helloooooo have a dose of idiots (couples counseling au flavored):

(1k)

Obi-Wan briefly considers the thought that the war has ruined him in some yet to be defined or studied way. Then he thinks that if that were true, his therapist would probably have mentioned it to him and Anakin, and she hasn’t said anything about that yet.

So Obi-Wan is doing just fine, really.

He is.

Really.

It’s just that it’s hard to sleep in an empty apartment.

And this has nothing to do with Anakin, because really, the amount of times they slept together on a too-small cot during the war is quite small compared to the amount of nights they slept apart—it really is, alright, he can count those times on both hands using his fingers, he remembers every single one. 

This, he decides, is a dangerous and uncharted road to continue down.

It also seems like an incredibly easy path to wander down, alone and sleepless in his room as the night ticks away into dawn.

But it’s something he can’t afford to let himself think about, now or ever, so after a few more minutes of lying in bed, trying to sleep but mostly finding himself accidentally straying towards thoughts that should not entertained, he forces himself out of bed.

The war has ruined him perhaps in some unidentifiable way because his apartments feel too quiet without the thrum of his warship beneath him, the thumping of trooper boots outside of his quarters, the near silent in and out of Anakin’s breathing and his weight pushing down the mattress next to him.

It’s rather lonely in his quarters in the early hours of the morning.

He isn’t quite sure he likes it.

Perhaps he should get another padawan. They’d be—it’d be better than the silence. Sharing his space with someone, his life…it might be nice. It certainly had been with Anakin, despite the—despite some things.

But he can’t—shouldn’t—get a padawan based off his own loneliness, shouldn’t enter that sort of commitment to try and stem the bleeding wound his own life has become. No padawan deserves that.

Instead, he sits down on the couch and turns on the holo projector. The hum of voices soothes him in a way he can’t quite name or explain, and it’s only a handful of minutes before he lifts his feet up onto the couch as well, curling down against the cushion and slipping his arms around one of the throw pillows, eyes slipping shut.

An indeterminable amount of time later, he’s roused by the sound of a door sliding open and then just as quickly shut, and his former padawan toeing off his boots in their entry way.

Without his conscious thought, he makes a half-hearted noise of protest when Anakin flips on the light.

“Oh!” His former padawan says, sounding startled but almost as if he’s too exhausted to be fully startled. His face appears over the couch, hair falling down over his face as he blinks at him. “Obi-Wan! Sorry, were you sleeping?” Obi-Wan blinks in response. He couldn’t be more clearly trying to sleep.

“Right,” Anakin says. “Sorry. I’ll just—” He peters off, brow furrowing as he takes in Obi-Wan’s position on the couch. “You should be in bed,” he says. “Why—what are you watching?”

Obi-Wan isn’t watching anything, but he looks at the holo projector at the same time Anakin does.

“An Afternoon Alderaanian Affar?” Anakin asks, which is good because Obi-Wan had no idea what this show was called, but of course it would only take a few seconds before Anakin recognized it. “I love An Afternoon Alederaanian Affair. Are you—this is the third season. You’re watching it without me? You’ve always said it was stupid.”

“That’s probably why I fell asleep,” Obi-Wan says, even though he’s slowly realizing that’s not why he settled on the show at all. 

It’d—it’d reminded him of Anakin.

“Are you going to keep watching it?” Anakin asks, tucking his hair behind his ear. He looks hopeful. “Can I—I mean, do you want company?”

Obi-Wan looks at him, sitting up slightly to do so. His clothes are mussed, his hair is a wreck, and he smells overpoweringly like lilacs.

It’s very, very clear where Anakin has been, and Obi-Wan curses at himself for—for caring so much. For even noticing in the first place. Of course Anakin spent the night with his wife. That’s his duty as a husband.

“I—” but the truth is, Obi-Wan would thoroughly enjoy Anakin’s company. More than that, he wants his company, wants to let him onto the sofa, wants—more dangerously, even—to curl him into his arms instead of holding onto the throw pillow, fall asleep like that instead with Anakin’s back pressed against his chest and his hand resting over his heart so he can feel every beat.

But Sheari has lectured them—many, many times—about the importance of being honest with each other, of clearly communicating their own wants and boundaries.

So instead of resigning himself to the undesirable in order to have what he wants more, he shakes his head slightly. 

When Anakin droops in front of him, hope burning outt like a candle stifled, Obi-Wan is quick to nod his head. “I mean, yes, I would love that,” he says. “But ah.”

The smell of lilac burns his nose and forces the request past his lips.

“I had a shower late last night, and you’re—coming in from traveling. You—could you shower as well? I—would feel more comfortable.”

These seem to be the perfect words, because Anakin is nodding before he can say anything else. “Yeah, of course,” he says enthusiastically. “Let me shower and change, and we can start this episode over.”

Obi-Wan tactfully doesn’t mention that for him to understand anything about this show at all, they may need to start from the very first episode. 

It feels too much like a victory to watch Anakin stride through their quarters and into his room, and Obi-Wan would hate to have it taken away.

Even if he’s not quite sure he could verbalize what he’s won, should he be asked. Luckily, Anakin would never think to ask, and their next session with Sheari is a week into the future.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Part 1 - Forsaken

A Till Death AU

I have no explanation for this. I don’t know what’s different from my usual daydreams, but this one has been haunting me for a few weeks, and I had to get it out. Parts of it can serve as nightmare fodder for either of them in canon.

Major spoilers for Till Death in this thing, obviously. Three parts, 2,5-3k words each. Content warning: It’s fucking cold.

Find Till Death here: Ebook | WIP Intro

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

This is basically “What if Clayton had never found Eilis?” — AU. After the end of part 1, Finnian spent summer and fall on his own, and now it’s winter, and he is running into Trouble with a capital T.

Finnian sat in a corner of the common room, cradling a cup of water while the smell of hearty stews and roasts made his mouth water and his stomach cramp. Having to pay rent for the thinnest mattress in the coldest corner of the cheapest room, he could only afford one meal every other day. Well, technically not even that, but any less, and his miserable body threatened to fail him completely. He needed it in something at least resembling a working order if he wanted to stand a chance, though by now, no one even paid him to chop firewood anymore with how long it took him.

It was barely the height of winter, and he had no idea how he was going to make it. If he was going to make it. Chances looked grimmer by the day. If he was lucky. If it started to thaw earlier than usual. If he found some scraps to eat, because at this rate, he was going to run out of money long before he was going to run out of winter.

“Week’s up. Time to pay.”

Ignoring the gleeful snickering a few tables down, Finnian raised his head to find the innkeeper looming over him. Whatever the man’s problem was, Finnian wished he had chosen another village to spend the winter. It was too late for that now; snow had long blanketed the world in white, making it far too risky to undertake the journey to a place that might as well turn out worse.

He downed his water and left the borrowed cup on the table, propping himself up with trembling hands. They always trembled these days, be it from cold, pain, or exhaustion. Leaning heavily on his cane, he hobbled into the room he shared with two other patrons—one sleezy guy who spent his days drinking at the inn, and one silent, muscular fellow who left at dawn to do gods-know-what.

Perhaps the innkeeper was disgruntled he couldn’t rent Finnian’s spot to a better patron; one who would spend more money, purchasing regular meals and indulging in alcohol and the occasional entertainment. Not that there was any shortage of clumpy mattresses filled with crushed straw and probably infested with vermin. Three were still free in this room alone.

With a sigh, Finnian sank down on his cot, wondering if it would be worth it to get up again later. Probably not. Leaning forward so he could fish blindly for his pack, a wave of dizziness came over him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he slowly dragged his backpack up to his lap. He would just sleep and hope that next day’s stew would actually contain some meat instead of bones alone.

Opening the tied strings of his backpack took way too long. Had he not been careful enough, despite knowing so well how much of a pain it was for his useless hands to detangle any knots he left behind? The innkeeper made an impatient noise, but it wasn’t like Finnian had chosen for his fucking hands to be this fucking useless. 

Finally, the backpack opened. There wasn’t much left inside. A second threadbare shirt and some stockings. A glass bottle, half filled with pills he had begun to ration weeks ago. His waterskin. Empty bags and pouches, as well as his knife and the tools he needed for laying traps and gathering herbs.

And no purse.

Finnian’s heart hammered in his chest as he went through his belongings a second time, then dumped the contents of the bag on his mattress. There wasn’t enough room for even a single coin to hide, but he lifted every object twice. No purse.

“Someone stole my money,” he said, his voice flat, barely above a whisper.

The innkeeper huffed, hardly impressed.

“Can you prove that?”

“Can I…?” Finnian slammed down the empty pack. “It’s gone.”

“Can you prove that you had it in the first place? Or that you’re not hiding it somewhere, trying to weasel out of paying?”

As Finnian’s mouth gaped at the baseless accusation, someone chuckled at the far end of the room. His head shot up, his good eye focusing on the drunkard he shared his room with.

“You.” He grabbed his cane and pulled himself to his feet, hobbling across the room so fast every step sent a little pinprick of pain up his leg. “You took it.”

“Don ‘now whatcha talking ‘bout.”

Finnian pushed out his chest, trying to appear threatening—which failed pitifully, considering he was a head shorter than the other man, and probably half his weight. He took one more step forward, his hand holding the cane in a white-knuckled grip.

“Give it back,” he demanded. His voice was steady, but it was more due to his desperation than to courage. “I need—”

With a laugh, the drunkard kicked at his cane and shoved him backwards. Finnian tried to catch himself, but his mistreated leg didn’t want to hold his weight. Arms flailing, he crashed to the ground and slammed the side of his head against a bedpost with a sickening crack that echoed down his spine.

“You have one hour to pack,” the innkeeper said. “Then you’re gone.”

Both of them turned their backs on him, leaving him splayed on the ground as they joined the other patrons in the common room. The ceiling above him wavered in blurry streaks, tears threatening to spill over. His hands slid uselessly over the floor, as did his feet, but at least he could move them, despite the pain in his neck. Blood ran down his temple and into his ear, soaking his hair, but he didn’t have the strength to wipe it away.

Finnian started to shake, the realization of what had happened—of what he had lost—slowly setting in. He pushed against it, trying not to think about the cold, and the snow, and the hunger as he closed his eyes and waited for his magic to fix the damage.

It didn’t take him an hour to pack—he had nothing left to pack. But it did take him almost that long to get back to his feet, and for his head to stop spinning. He wiped at his face, only smearing blood all over it, but it was the side with his bad eye, so it didn’t matter. 

With choppy motions, he shoved his belongings into the backpack, the crumpled, thin blanket last. The better one, he had sold weeks ago, figuring that he needed every single coin to make it through the winter. Coins that were gone now, leaving him with nothing: no hope, no warmth, no comfort, not even a trinket to keep the memory of her kindness alive.

Vowing not to cry while walking through the common room, Finnian gritted his teeth. He didn’t look at anyone as he left. Not at the innkeeper, who blissfully kept his fucking mouth shut for once. Not at the drunkard, who jeered after him, wishing him a nice journey. Not at any of the other patrons, none of which so much as looked up from their mugs and bowls and games of chance.

The door fell closed behind him, and the smell of old grease and stale ale was replaced with air so crisp and cold, it didn’t smell like anything at all, but burned in his airways and made his eyes water. Gods, it was freezing.

With heavy steps, he went to the well. He needed water, and that was the only thing no one in this godsforsaken village could deny him. Pulling up the bucket was a struggle. His hands, cold as they were, started to bleed as the rope slipped through his fingers, and the blood left stains on the battered leather of his waterskin.

Perhaps he should just drop over the edge. End his miserable existence and let his rotting body poison those who had shown him no scrap of sympathy. Staring into the dark abyss, he tried to imagine the fall, wondering where this way to die would sit between all the others he had dodged so far. But when he loosened his grip on the stones, it was only to raise his hand to his chest, where he knew the little bell was, even if he couldn’t feel it through the layers of clothes.

He didn’t want to die. 

Perhaps she would—

No. He couldn’t. He was useless. A burden. He had hurt her enough with his unwarranted anger. And if, despite all that, she agreed to help him, he would take from her meager resources, make life harder for her. She deserved so much better.

And yet. He pressed on his chest until the bell dug into his sternum, thinking of her warm golden eyes, always so sad when she had seen his pain. If she ever learned that he had died and she might have been able to save him, she would take it hard, there was no doubt about that.

It was this thought that allowed him to actually consider it. There really was no other way. He had nothing but the clothes on his back, and she was the only person who had ever cared about him since—

Not willing to wallow on how even his own family would just let him die, Finnian jerked his backpack off the edge of the well and flung it over his shoulder. He didn’t look back as he started to walk, not at all certain whether he would even make it. The sky was overcast, an endless whitish-gray plane above, not allowing him to see the position of the sun. It must be around mid-morning. He had plenty of time, but he also had plenty of pain and exhaustion, and night arrived early these days.

Not that it mattered. He was going to die here, or he was going to die in the forest. In any case, he could only hope the cold would finish him off before the first scavengers found him. Perhaps the well wasn’t the worst option after all, but the small spark of hope in his chest—of at least seeing her once more before the end—led him out of the village and onto the path between the trees.

* * *

Eilis stirred the pot, watching the milky mass inside slowly turn creamy. The bag of semolina she had bought in fall was so big it allowed her to eat nothing else until spring and still have some left over. As it looked now, she might just end up doing that, using up the day’s milk without bothering to churn butter or press cheese.

The days were all the same. Long, and cold, and dark, and lonely. Getting up before dawn, because dawn came so late this time of year. Rekindling the fire and making her way to the shed, through freshly fallen snow, if she was unlucky. Forcing herself to eat and chop some wood, huddling in front of the fireplace for the long hours of the day, and the even longer hours of the night, before eventually falling asleep too late and for too little time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like her routine. She had worked hard to afford a comfortable winter, and the fact that her animals needed her gave her something to hold onto, to get up and moving even on the darkest days. This quiet life in her peaceful hut was certainly the best she’d ever had. It was just that something was missing.

Someone.

Her gaze wandered to the window, even though the thin hide spanned in the opening made it impossible to see anything outside. It flapped ever so slightly, straining against the leather bands holding it in place. The wind must have picked up. It seemed like she had been right, and a storm was coming. 

With her bowl in hand, she retreated in front of the fireplace, shoving bags of fibers and spun yarn aside to free enough space so she could sit down cross-legged. The porridge tasted the same as it ever did, with a spoonful of rosehip jam to sweeten it, and the fire crackled and flickered as it always did, and her gaze kept wandering back to the window as it always did.

She wondered if he was also sitting at a fireplace now, warming his aching bones and longing for winter to be over. If he had found a place to belong, a way to make a living. He must be a herbalist or healer of some kind. Those were always welcome; weren’t they?

It was the alternative she didn’t want to think about. They had never talked about his life before she had found him, but it couldn’t have been great. No one with a great life ended up beaten half to death and left to die in the forest like that. She had wanted to find a way to ask him—ask him whether he would want to stay—and it had never come to that.

Perhaps if he hadn’t scared her that much. If she hadn’t overreacted. If she had taken a few days to calm down instead of sending him away. Physically, he was no threat for her. But then, it wasn’t him she had been scared of, not really. She had been scared of all his questions stood for. Of what it meant to allow him into her life. Of turning him into a target if she was ever found.

She was better off alone. If she only told it herself often enough, her heart might one day accept it as her mind had, and the empty space he had left behind might be filled with something that wasn’t the longing to hear his voice or the chiming of the bells.

Her bowl was empty, and the wind had begun to whistle around the edges of the hut, so she sighed and got up. She had to close the shutters and make sure the animals were safe in the shed before the storm hit, instead of wallowing in what could have been.

With a woolen shawl pulled close around her shoulders, she stepped outside. The wind pulled strands out of her braid, whipping them into her face, while the snowflakes turned into little spikes of cold, prickling on her skin. It was no weather to be outside. Still, her gaze wandered to the edge of the forest, barely visible behind the flurry of snow. Nothing moved. Every creature would long have found shelter, and she should do the same.

As if agreeing with her, the wind pushed her against the wall as she struggled to make her way to the shed. She grabbed her shawl tighter to keep it from flying away, each breath ripped from her lips before she could even see it fog in front of her face.

Wherever he was, she could only hope he was safe.

[splashofspotchka]

Timeout

Pairing: Wrecker/(GN) Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 646

Warnings: None

Summary: You buy a water gun. Your first target is none else than the gentle giant himself.

You crouched behind the crates that were piled high beside the Marauder. In your hands, you gripped a tiny plastic, water pistol. The material was cheap and slightly flimsy, but it was the only one that you could afford right now. Besides, it only needed to work a few times. You wanted to test out the new toy. You just needed a target.

A grunt sounded from nearby. You watched as Wrecker moved from the door of the ship to load even more boxes into the cargo hold.

Bingo.

After he had finished, he turned his attention to some nearby crates. “Ah! Time for a break!” He took a seat and leaned back against their hard, metallic sides. His arms came up to rest behind his head.

You sat, crouched in your hiding place until you saw him relax. After a few moments, you aimed the water pistol at his head. You stared. Your finger hesitated on the trigger.

His eyes were closed peacefully, and his chest softly rose and fell. A soft smile crept on your lips, but you couldn’t resist. Your finger pressed the trigger of the water pistol, which sent a long string of water right onto Wrecker’s face.

“Wha-what?” He moved, quickly sitting upright. One hand came up to wipe his face, and the giant clone scrambled to his feet. “Wh-who did that? Come out!” You sent another squirt of water at him, and this time, his head snapped over in your direction. You saw his eyes narrow.

You let out a quiet yelp and crouched behind the crates again. You tried to even your breathing while you clutched the pistol close to your chest. You heard Wrecker’s heavy footsteps getting closer. Your breath quickened and your heart started to race. All of a sudden, the footsteps came to a halt.

You only had one more chance. You stood quickly and whirled around to face Wrecker. “AAAHHHH!” You let out a battle cry, then squirted him a few more times on his face.

Wrecker held his hands up to shield his face from getting any wetter than it already was. “That’s it,” He yelled, letting out a few laughs. “I’m gonna getcha now!”

He started running towards you, but you had already started moving your feet even faster. He grabbed at the air, missing you by just a few inches. You yelped as you dodged his attack, then quickly changed directions. “You’re in for it now!” He exclaimed.

You laughed loudly as you avoided his attempts to grab you. That is until you finally felt his giant hand grab around your waist. “Wait! Wait! Timeout!”

“No, no timeouts.” Wrecker gruffly replied. He threw you over his shoulder and headed over to the entrance of The Marauder.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” You exclaimed as you tried to wriggle out of his grip. His hands held you firmly in place, however. There was no escape.

Wrecker didn’t answer as he continued into the ship. He finally reached his cot and threw you down on top of it. Gently enough, of course. He would never hurt you. Your back gently hit the thin mattress.

You could only stare in shock, unable to move your limbs. Before you could react, he turned and grabbed a nearby box. You held up your hands in defense. “No! Not your stinky clothes!” You whined.

The giant clone threw his head back with a laugh and dumped all of his clothes on top of you. “Ha, ha! That’ll teach you to mess with me!” He said heartily as he finished emptying the hamper on top of you.

When you finally escaped your fabric prison, you were met with the water pistol pointed at your face.

“Uhhh,, hey Big Guy…..” You stammered. “C-can we talk this out?”

Silently, he shook his head, then squirted the water gun into your face.

AO3 Link

[roguelioness]

through the glass (i lose myself)

Fandom: FFXIV Pairing: (implied) Alyzen Kaide/Aymeric de Borel Rating: T (angst) Words: 1475

Read on AO3

The soft patter of boot-clad feet attempting to move silently across stone floors.

The low, groaning moans of the injured, the overthick, cloying silence of those who are at death’s door.

It should be silent this time of night, but it’s anything but. Too many cannot sleep after the evening’s horrors, and Alyzen is one of them.

She’s been given a cot to recover in, and that bothers her. Why has she been afforded that luxury when there are so many who have greater need of it? She shifts to sitting, grains of loose sand sticking to her bare feet, groaning as the action makes her ribs stretch painfully. Is it solely because she’s the warrior of light?

Zenos’ parting gift, the kiss from his blade, stings like venom. She hears the echo of his voice as she staggers to her feet. 

Pathetic.

Her hands fold into fists, the sudden burst of fury nearly choking her. Her wound throbs in time with her heartbeat, each pulse of pain stoking the flames higher and higher. She’s not pathetic, she’s the warrior of light!

And you failed, her mind mocks. You couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t protect Y’shtola. You couldn’t save Meffrid.

Haurchefant would be so disappointed in you.

Vision blurry, the ache in her chest greater than the wound between her ribs, she stumbles towards her pack, frantically digging through it till she finds what she’s searching for – a nondescript leather pouch in a shade of unremarkable brown. It could be easily mistaken for a coin purse if a stranger’s passing glance were to fall on it.

It doesn’t hold gil.

Curiosity, and desperation – two things that fuel bad ideas. Aly knows it's a bad idea. Knows she should turn it in, have it be disposed of properly. Instead, her fingers tighten their grip on it.

Haurchefant would be so disappointed in you.

How can he, when he’s dead and buried thousands of yalms away, pristine white Coerthan snow covering his lonely grave?

Haurchefant would be–

She cuts off the thought before it can form, hand trembling as it fumbles with the drawstrings, shakily pulling open the mouth to reveal the myriad tiny grains of the drug nestled within. She stares at the somnus. It looks so unremarkable for something that’s supposed to be so dangerous.

She should throw it away.

Pathetic. 

A smile better suits a hero…

“I am no hero,” she whispers, blinking vigorously to prevent the tears from spilling over. “I am no warrior.” Desperate now - there’s so many emotions within her, grief and rage and despair and fury and she can still hear the cries of the injured and the wounded and the weeping of those who’ve lost friends and family and it’s too much, it’s too much, she can’t carry them all, she can’t protect them all, she can’t save them all – she can’t even defend herself–

Alyzen plucks a grain from the leather nest and places it on her tongue before she can rethink her decision.

It numbs where it touches, melts into her saliva, and when she swallows, it cools the lump in her throat and deadens the barbed coil of emotions within her ribcage. The cacophony in her head recedes, shadows swallowing each screaming thought till there’s mostly silence. Her body relaxes muscle by muscle, and she only has enough presence of mind to tighten the strings on the pouch and tuck it away into her pack before returning to the prison of her cot.

This time, the sensation of the mattress against her back is welcoming, not mocking.

Aly sighs languidly as she stares at the ceiling. All of her concerns feel so insignificant, so minuscule. The sense of detachment from the duty on her shoulders is as close to bliss as she can get. She lifts her hands, stares at her fingers, the shape of them, the rough skin on the tips and the calluses on her palms. They’re not good hands. They’ve had too much blood on them. They’re not strong hands either. They couldn’t stop Zenos from driving his blade into her. She’s certain there’s a notch on her rib that marks his victory.

Maybe he’s going to be the thing that finally kills her.

She lets her hands drop,  a muffled slap as they fall onto her belly, but she doesn’t register the accompanying pain.

What if he kills her?

The thought isn’t as alarming as it should be. She examines it as though it were an object, turning it this way and that, tracing the shape of the syllables and consonants. 

She giggles. Wouldn’t that be something. What would the Scions do? Would they miss the warrior of light, or would they miss Alyzen?

Haurchefant would have missed me.

Tears, hot and silent, roll down her face unbidden.

Estinien wouldn’t know. Or care. And Aymeric…

Aymeric, willingly trapped by the duties he’d chosen.

Duties he’d chosen over her.

Aymeric wouldn’t care.

Frowning, mild irritation buzzing through her veins, she drags a hand up to her ear and presses the linkpearl. It beeps once, twice, and then a sleep-roughened voice says, “Hello?”

“I think Zenos is going to kill me.”

A sharp intake of breath. The sound of sheets shifting, rustling as they’re frantically shoved aside. “Are you injured?” When she says nothing, Aymeric asks again, a plea in his voice. “Aly, please, talk to me.”

“They attacked the Rhalgr’s Reach. It was… it was a massacre.” Her voice sounds slurred and dream-like even to her own ears. “Zenos… Y’shtola… she was injured, badly. I couldn’t stop him.”

“I am certain it was not for lack of trying,” he murmurs, his kindness suddenly unbearable. It falls against her skin like a whipcord lash. “And what of you? You have yet to inform me as to your condition.”

Alyzen laughs. It’s a high-pitched giggle that bursts out of her. “His sword found a home between my ribs. The blade broke against the bone. An inch higher and it would have not ended well.” His silence irks her. “I do not think he will make the same error the next time we meet.”

“Neither will you,” his voice is thick, as though there’s something caught in his throat. “Are you-” he clears his throat. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” she mumbles. “Not anymore.” She lifts her hand to stare at it once more, examining the green web-like capillaries beneath the skin. “Will you miss me if I die?”

“Speak not of such a terrible thing,” he sounds so distressed, her poor lord commander, “I cannot even begin to fathom it.”

“And yet it is the reality of my every day,” she sighs. “Sometimes, Meric, sometimes I think if I were to die you would mourn not me, but the warrior of light.”

“Do you truly believe I care not for you?” he asks quietly, such sorrow threaded through the words it brings fresh tears to her eyes. “How have I erred to lend such a false impression of my affection? If you recall, ‘twas not I who asked for space.”

“What choice did I have?” an abrupt, quick flare of anger. “Estinien walked away from me with nary a word. And you chose your responsibilities to Ishgard over me. There is not a person around me who does not view me as the warrior of light. Better to be alone than to cling to something that is false.” Her tone rises and falls, always slurred, and towards the and the sounds all mush into something incomprehensible.

“Are you drunk?” Aymeric’s concern is a physical caress, and she shivers at the weight of it.

“No,” she giggles. “No.”

“But you are not in possession of your faculties, that much is certain.”

She shrugs. “Sleep has been… difficult, of late.”

Another sharp intake of breath. “Aly, what have you done?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing. I have it under control.”

“Do not be reckless,” he pleads. “You are much needed, now more than ever–”

“Not me,” she mumbles. Her eyelids feel so heavy. “Noone wants me.”

“Alyzen, please, hearken to me–”

“‘M sorry, Meric.” A clog of tears nearly stems her speech. “‘M sorry. Haurche would be so disappointed.”

“Aly–”

“I–” she bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Iron on her tongue is better than admitting she misses him. “Need to go. Good night.” Before he can say anything she ends the call. Shame, slow rising and sinuous, slithers from her stomach up her chest, tendrils wrapping around her spine hard enough to drive away the drowsiness of the somnus. 

Pathetic, Zenos mocks.

She curls up in the mattress, knees nearly pressed to her chest, stares at the chirurgeon’s curtain as she waits for the numbness to reclaim her.

Pathetic.

Yes, she sighs in agreement with that monster as she drifts off to sleep, yes.

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

Stress relief. (Ibram Gaunt x OFC)

This is part one of a maybe two parter in which case part two will be smut lmao I am a whore okay.

But this part is just Leta and Ibram having a moment of almost domestic bliss.

The whole point of time away from the battlefield was to rest, to relax, get drunk and forget for one moment that you’re practically committing suicide on a daily bases.

Leta was realizing, as she watched the sun dip below the horizon, that the ones in command never get to relax, Gaunt had left just before breakfast for a meeting and she hadn’t seen him since. 

The hotel room was nice, there were worst places to be left alone, it was grand and was not only a bedroom, but also a sitting room and rather large bathroom, with a bathtub so big Leta could swim laps in it.

She had woken around noon and ordered lunch to be delivered to her room, roast duck, roasted vegetables and creamy mashed potatoes, with gravy, and of course desert, a large ice cream sundae, with a bottle of wine to wash it all down with.

The door opened with a soft hum, and she heard Ibram speaking.

“That’ll be all for tonight Milo..” She couldn’t hear the boy's reply, but Ibram chuckled “Yes, go eat and sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully not as early.”

Leta rose from the bed and crossed to the door, in the sitting room she watched as Ibram removed his coat, and hung it up, then his cap, then his boots.

“Lets?” He called “You here?”

She opened the door, now satisfied that no one would see her, not that no one knew she was here, of course everyone knew that on vacation, Leta was with Gaunt, no more pub nights with the boys for her, but she didn’t really want anyone to see her wearing one of Gaunt’s shirts and little else.

“Sorry Princess..” Ibram sighed “It has been a long day.”

“Anything interesting?”

He raised an eyebrow “You know I can’t tell you.”

“It was worth a try.” 

She walked towards him, the plush navy blue carpet tickling between her toes, once she reached him, he put his arms around her and placed his head on top of hers.

She put her arms around him and nuzzled his chest.

“You ate then I see..”

He must have noticed the empty dish and wine glass.

“You were gone all day.”

“Remember I have to pay for that.”

“You can afford it I’m sure.”  

He chuckled “I missed you.”

She smiled, “Missed you too.”

His hands dropped to her ass and gripped her tightly before lifting her up, she giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to listen to people drone on about ration supplies when I know you’re waiting for me in bed?” 

She did know, out in the field, it was easy to push all her neediness to the back of her mind, she was at work, so to speak, if she started day dreaming about Ibram, she’d be killed or she’d let someone else be killed, she needed to be alert.

But throne damnit this was her time off, it was supposed to be him and her together, they deserved that.

“What happened to not letting our relationship affect our duties?” She teased, kissing his neck just above his starched collar “Hmm?”  

“It didn’t affect my duties..” He started to walk towards the bedroom “I asked questions and nodded in the correct places..”

“And had poor Milo write everything down because it was all going in one ear and out the other?”

“Exactly.”

He dropped her on to the mattress, she bounced, which was a surprise, she was used to the almost stone like surface of a cot, he then sat on the edge and attempted to undo his cufflinks, cursing as they remained in place.

“Let me.”

The cufflinks were gold and round, nothing overly flashy but still a sign of rank. 

She undid them and then placed them on the bedside table.

“What would I do without you?”

“Brinnie boy would have to do it.” She smiled, she had picked up Bragg’s nickname for Milo, and she knew that it made the younger man blush, so naturally she used it around him every time she saw him.

“You terrify the shit out of him, you know that?”

She laughed “What? Little old me?”

“Poor boy doesn’t have much experience with girls from what I can gather and then you stride up in your combat boots and he doesn’t know what to do.” 

“I got that impression from him…I will try to be less scary.”

She sat in his lap and started to undo his shirt, he released the tension from his shoulders, Leta imagined a world where this was how they always were, where he was the hard working husband and she was the stay-at-home wife who cooked and cleaned, who sewed the buttons back on his shirts, who listened to his worries.

But then they wouldn’t be Ibram and Leta would they? The whole reason they worked was because of who they were.

Ibram and Leta.

Middelocke and Gaunt. 

Two sides of the same coin.

“What? No kissing every bare inch of my chest?” 

“You almost sound disappointed.” She smiled as the last button came undone. “You look tired and a man of your age needs a rest after such a hard day.” 

“I’m only twelve years older than you.”

“Exactly, you're middle aged.”

He chuckled and placed his hands on her hips, underneath the shirt so his rough fingertips made me giggle as they tickled her.

“You do look tired, though, love..” She kissed his chest, right above his heart “And I was thinking a nice relaxing bath would help.” 

“You’re obsessed with your fething baths.”

“It's so nice not to have to ask Bragg to keep watch so no one spies on me..” 

He lowered his face to hers and kissed her softly

“Perhaps I’ll start showering with you…scare away any spies..”

“I think that would give them an entirely different thing to spy on..”

He chuckled and rubbed his face against her neck “Might improve morale.”

She laughed “Run it past Corbec, see what he says.”  

“Actually on further consideration, It would lower morale..because everyone would be so jealous of how I get to bed the most beautiful, gorgeous woman in the galaxy.”

He kissed her neck, right below her ear. 

“They’d be green with envy.”

“Some already are, I'm sure..”  

“They can be as green as orks..won’t change the fact that you’re mine.”

She grinned, she’d never tire of him saying that, it drove her crazy and he knew it.

He stood up, taking her with him.

“Now..I think I will have that bath, but only on the condition, you join me.”

“Naturally, did you think I wouldn’t?”

[milariorganic]

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[mtnsedge]

@zloslwy​

He’s grown used to the waiting. 

The guards think it is a game, to keep him in stasis; rough hands, more abler than his own now, pull him from the stiff mattress of his cot, march him to some harshly-lit room away from his native cellblock, leave him to fester in the insufferable silence of his own company. 

That is perhaps the worst of it, being forced to listen to his own ruined breathing. He’d expected to have died long before now, succumbing to the chemicals that had devastated his lungs an ocean away, fighting in a rich man’s war for fuel he would scarce be able to afford after being ejected from the Army’s tattered ranks. It’s insult to injury, being forced to wallow in the weak rattle in his chest, to listen to the wounded organ struggle in the placid hush of the interview room. 

Merciful men would let him succumb to the ravages of age and chemical warfare, to perish with some dignity in his cell, on his own terms. But he is not a merciful man, and would not expect to be watched over by any who confess such softness — he simply wishes for men stupid enough to turn their backs long enough for him to expire.

“Any minute now, Agent,” he murmurs to the stillness in the cold room.

The guards know what they’re doing. They bring him in an hour early every time, hauling him through the prison long before they’re scheduled to meet. But the agent is punctual, the only saving grace for his sanity as the moments creep by. Were he able to breathe with ease, he would have heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of unkept hinges yawning with the strain of the door as it opens. 

The paw of his hand wraps around the muzzle of his oxygen mask, drawing it away from his face just far enough to murmur in greeting, “Agent Stilinski.”

A bundle of files under his arm, no doubt stuffed full with Jacob’s military and criminal records, his commendations from overseas and censures from a juvenile detention center in Georgia. A model soldier and domestic terrorist, a testament to the failure of a nation’s promise to care for its citizens.

“Don’t care for this goddamned tank.” He nudges the oxygen canister away with his foot, the plastic mask dangling uselessly at his chest. Noticing the dark circles beneath the younger man’s eyes, he grunts, “Would prefer a cigarette. Looks like you could use one yourself.”

Jacob finally leans back in his chair, its frame creaking unfavorably beneath the shifting of his weight. “I only sit down for these so I can see my brothers and my boy. When will that be, Agent?”

[gowheedle]

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When shopping for baby cots online, there are several factors to consider to ensure you make the best choice for your little one:

Safety Standards: Ensure that the cot meets current safety standards. Look for cots with adjustable mattress heights and sturdy railings to keep your baby secure.

Size and Space: Consider the size of the cot and the space available in your nursery. Measure the area where you plan to place the cot to ensure a good fit.

Condition: Examine the cot for any signs of wear and tear. Check for missing parts, loose screws, or any potential hazards.

Style and Design: Choose a cot that complements the overall theme and décor of your nursery. Go Wheedle offers a variety of styles, from classic wooden designs to more contemporary options.

Budget: Set a budget before you start shopping and stick to it. Preloved cots on Go Wheedle offer excellent value for money, making it easier to find something within your price range.

Transforming Your Nursery with a Preloved Baby Cot

Once you’ve chosen the perfect preloved baby cot from Go Wheedle, it’s time to integrate it into your nursery. Here are a few tips to help you create a beautiful and functional space for your baby:

Add Soft Furnishings: Enhance the coziness of your nursery with soft furnishings like cushions, blankets, and rugs. These can add warmth and texture to the room.

Personalize the Space: Incorporate personal touches such as photos, artwork, and keepsakes. These items can make the nursery feel uniquely yours.

Organize Efficiently: Use storage solutions like baskets, shelves, and drawers to keep the nursery tidy and organized. This will make it easier to find everything you need.

Lighting: Opt for soft, ambient lighting to create a calming atmosphere. A nightlight can also be useful for late-night feedings and diaper changes.

Comfort and Safety: Ensure that the mattress fits snugly in the cot and is firm enough to support your baby. Keep the cot free from loose bedding, pillows, and toys to reduce the risk of suffocation.

Conclusion

Transforming your nursery on a budget is entirely possible with preloved baby cots from Go Wheedle. By choosing a preloved cot, you can save money, reduce waste, and still create a beautiful and safe space for your little one. Explore the wide selection of high-quality baby cots online at Go Wheedle and find the perfect addition to your nursery today.

[urbanwood23]

Double Bed or Queen Bed! Which One You Should Go For?

Double beds are widespread beds and are a popular alternative for families. When you buy a bed, you can discover several options like the double bed price, which guarantees you can find a budget-friendly choice. A double bed with storage gives sensible answers for maximizing space and keeping your bedroom organized. Shopping for a double bed online presents the convenience of surfing an extensive range of styles and designs from the comfort of your property. This guide will discover the blessings and issues of double beds, dropping mild on why they stay a favoured choice in bedrooms globally.

The Allure of Double Beds

Double beds are popular for couples with generous lengths. Measuring about 54 inches in width and 75 inches in duration, they provide sufficient space for individuals to stretch out conveniently at some stage in the night. This makes them an appropriate choice for couples who prefer to snuggle up close or for parents sharing their beds with a younger infant.

The spaciousness of a bed double bed makes them a flexible preference for diverse dozing preparations. Whether you're furnishing a visitor room, a teenager’s bedroom, or a comfortable master bedroom, a wooden double bed can be in shape with no trouble and adapt to your specific wishes.

Comfort and Sleep Quality

Comfort is a thing in deciding on a mattress, and a double cot wooden excels in this vicinity. The additional width and duration provide better room to move around, preventing the feeling of confinement that smaller beds can cause.

Space-Efficiency in Smaller Rooms

Urban homes manage restrained space, double beds are beneficial in flats, dormitories, or smaller bedrooms wherein maximizing ground space is essential.

A few double beds with built-in storage include drawers or booths beneath the bed.

Considerations When Choosing a Double Bed

While double beds provide numerous blessings, there are a few issues to consider when deciding on one for your bedroom.

Room Size: Ensure your bedroom has sufficient space to deal with a double mattress effortlessly.

Style and Aesthetics: Select a double bed furniture that matches your bedroom’s overall design theme and aesthetic choices. Consider the materials, colours, and finishes so that they will complement your decor.

Storage Needs: If you have confined storage space in your bedroom, search for a double bed with box alternatives to maximize your organization and limit clutter.

Budget: A wooden double bed price can vary, and is available in an extensive rate range, so establish a double bed with box price set that aligns with your monetary constraints while prioritizing quality and luxury.

Comparing Double Beds to Queen Beds

It is essential to know the size divisions of double and queen beds. This extra space makes queens a better choice for many couples.

What is a Double Bed?

Double bed designs are compact, they can easily fit in small spaces. They are also relatively affordable compared to larger sizes. Dubal bed price also are low-priced compared to larger sizes.

Pros and Cons of a Double Bed

Double beds offer several benefits:

Compact and Easy to Fit: They fit well in many rooms, including small ones.

Affordable: They are relatively budget-friendly compared to larger bed sizes.

Best for Single Adults and Some Couples: They offer sufficient areas for unmarried adults and couples who opt to sleep close together.

However, there are some drawbacks:

Not Big Enough for All Couples: Some couples may additionally find a double mattress too small.

Not Long Enough for Taller Adults: Taller adults might find double beds too short.

What is a Queen Bed?

A queen bed is more massive than twins and fulls but smaller than kings and California kings, it’s right in the middle in size. The queen size is the most common choice among adults because it can fit in most bedrooms and can fit individuals and couples in comfort.

Pros and Cons of a Queen Bed

Queen beds are the most popular mattress size, making it the first-class option for a bed body, mattress, and bedding and comparing with wooden double cot price. The medium length is appropriate for maximum adults and couples. A double bed price Delhi is also more affordable than Kings and California Kings.

Queen bed pros:

Most Popular Bed Size: It’s easy to find a frame, mattress, and bedding.

Suitable for Most Adults and Couples: It provides enough space for most adults and couples.

However, queen beds have some cons:

Too Small for Some Couples: Some couples might find it too small.

Too Short for Some Adults: Taller adults might find it too short.

Conclusion

Double beds are a versatile, comfortable, and stylish alternative for many bedrooms. Whether you are looking to buy double bed online, a double cot bed price that suits your finances, a double mattress with storage for brought capability, or a wood double bed to complement your decor, there’s a double bed accessible for you. When purchasing a double bed online, consider elements like room length, consolation desires, and aesthetic options to discover the proper match for your home.

[cythoughtsnmemories]

27.06.23

Suddenly lots of issues.

Besides JR pass gonna increase price in Oct. Today's news share USJ and Disney tickets gonna increase soon too. So I forwarded to hubby and he was suggesting to travel to Japan before Oct this year. Omg~ another holiday I got to chiong doing research.

Dad recently kept stressing his savings is drying up by end of the year and asking if we can gave more money or we will take over hse expenses fully once his back account is wiped out. This brings me to another issue...renting hse. I wouldn't be able to afford giving my parents more money and having to pay for hse rental.

Sharing these issue w hubby and he proposed a few options which I'm not very keen. Give up our BTO and get resale and moving in his hse.

My biggest nightmare has arrived. Told hubby my concern such as d laundry, our mattress, wfh issues, dinner issue (hate eating alone) and lifestyle issues. But felt like being brushed off. Why just bcos it's not an issue to u then I have to live with it. My current lifestyle is better and now I have to change so much and I don't have any say, cos its not my house.

With hubby moving in my home gonna ease our monthly expenses and its less disruptive compare to me moving in to his hse mah. Just cos his mum mind then have to go the traditional way. It's not even logical. It's not a conducive place to stay too tbh. I can't uds y hubby wants to follow/ listen to his mum for this. Felt like fighting alone in this marriage, while hubby being mummy boy.

I have not move in and I foresee husband gonna be sandwich, if not I'll just get control this n that. 😭 Tot of it just makes me feel so lonely n sad. Can hubby even sense my worry and insecure living in his hse?!

Don't even dare to think of having baby. Where to put baby cot, baby pram, baby toys, diapers, milk pump.

Heard my colleagues' bf will tell them to get wardrobe, bed tgt for them to move in. My hubby asked me to put my clothes on his ironing board. Where do I stand in his heart n home. I'm gonna basically have no say. 😭

It's gonna be damaging to our marriage. 1st marriage crisis.

Hah~ force hubby to read d marriage book n it's been laying there for months. Am I lying to myself that hubby is gonna finish the book by Nov? Sometimes idk if I'm sweeping the issue under d carpet... felt like there's still not enough communication.

Sometimes also heart pain for hubby always sacrificing and that's not acceptable even though he don't mind. He doesn't uds 😭

Why is sleeping tgt w my hubby is such a difficult task?