#cane laundry basket

[joynagarermoa]

Some Fascinating Information About Bamboo

Buying bamboo baskets online can now double as a decorative object, much like a cane laundry basket. Let's learn more about bamboo items and gather some useful knowledge. https://online-joynagar-sweets.mystrikingly.com/blog/some-fascinating-information-about-bamboo

[simdertalia]

Christmas 2022 Deco Set

10 items | Sims 4, Base game compatible. Converted from Giana Sisters: Twisted Dreams, with some recolors. Tiffany doll is a conversion from Matchington Mansion. Some items have multiple swatches. Herecirm has made an adorable pose pack to go with the sleigh & snowman items!

Set contains: Signs - 6 swatches (contains blanks for recolors) Lollypops - 5 swatches Snowman - 1 swatch Gift Basket - 1 swatch Sleigh - 2 swatches Candy Canes - 1 swatch Igloo - 1 swatch Mushroom House - 1 swatch Tiffany Doll - 2 swatches Laundry Basket - 2 swatches Type “christmas 2022” into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

💗 Anyone here via SimFinds, please see THIS POST

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As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming! ✨ All of my CC has always been free & public upon posting, but if you like my work, please consider supporting me:

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[riordanness]

all i’ve ever wanted - [w.wonka]

wordcount: 2.0K

requested: yes! anon <3

warnings: bit of angst and heartbreak

I watch, a smile on my face as Willy walks slowly through the old building.

“So?” Noodle asks expectantly. “Do you like it?” I know how hard she tried to get this for him. She wanted nothing but for him to be happy, and I agreed. Willy Wonka was the kind of person you couldn’t bear to see sad.

“Do I like it?” Willy breaks into a smile. “Oh, Noodle, it’s just as I always imagined. No, scratch that–it’s better than I imagined!”

Noodle grins, and jumps up to give him a hug. I watch them, a twinge in my gut. I think I’d give anything to hug him like that.

Piper lets out a cheer, and Lottie and I exchange a grin.

We had a huge job ahead of us, but with Willy Wonka, I’m pretty sure just about anything is possible.

I stand beside Noodle, cradling a perfect blue chocolate flower in my hands. Willy has his hand on the doors, ready to walk out and announce to the world that Wonka’s Chocolate Shop is officially open for business.

I exchange an excited grin with Noodle, then I turn my focus to Willy. He takes a deep breath, muttering something so quietly that I can’t hear; then he pushes open the doors.

Sunlight filters into the dark room, illuminating the faces of my friends. We’re all holding our breaths in anticipation.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Willy announces, his voice strong and clear. “Welcome to Wonka’s. Incredible things are waiting in store, both literally and metaphorically.”

“What, in there?” A man’s voice sounds incredulous.

“Humour me.” Willy has a smile in his voice.

He leads the older man through the shop, as the six of us light up the building, pulling ropes and shooting strings of sugary goodness into the air. Lottie passes out umbrellas, Crunch and Larry ride the bicycles, and I hand out mini chocolate baskets to the children.

It’s beautiful, and it’s amazing, and I keep finding myself staring at Willy, his face alive with joy and contentedness. This is all he’s ever wanted, and I’m so glad I get to share it with him.

People have begun to line up at the front counter, their chocolate baskets filled to the brim with colourful goodies. Abacus is on the till, typing in numbers, writing receipts and giving out change. Noodle is beside him, handing out smiles.

I spot Willy, standing alone, gazing happily at the joyful customers around him. I trip merrily over, coming to a stop at his side. “Congrations, Mr Chocolatier.”

His smile is warmer than melted chocolate. “Thank you, dear y/n.” His eyes flit once more over the shop, then settle on me. “And thank you, so so much, for doing so much for me and for this shop.”

I laugh, a little awkwardly. “It’s no problem at all.”

“You see, this thing is…” He seems to hesitate, like he’s unsure of what to say.

“Go on,” I say quietly.

“Y/n, I know I have only known you for a short time. I also know that most of that time was spent either scrubbing laundry or you and Noodle trying to teach me to read, but in that short amount of time I have fallen in love with you. I love the way you laugh, and sing, and how you always try to make the people around you happy even if you’re really the one who needs comforting. You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known, sweeter than even my best chocolates. I’ve spent my entire life alone and on the move, and now I... I can’t imagine not being in yours.”

He stops, taking a deep breath.

I stare at him, a little bit in shock. “What are you saying?” I ask, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

“I’m saying that I’m in love with you.” He doesn’t meet my eyes, shyly playing with his cane instead.

“Oh.”

His face scrunches a little, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn't the right thing to say.”

“No!” I shake my head adamantly. “No, it–it was perfect, Willy.” I don’t know why I’m so worried about this, but I try for a not-so-nervous smile. “I’m in love with you too, you know. From the first second you fell down that laundry chute. I just didn’t tell you because, well, I didn’t think I would ever be good enough for someone like you, Willy.”

He laughs under his breath. “Y/n, you are the one no one could ever be good enough for.”

“Really?” My voice is small, but I can hear my smile in the word.

“Yes.” He nods, then reaches for me, his fingertips delicately brushing my cheek. I instinctively lean into his touch, and my heart feels full to burst with happiness. He’s all I’ve ever wanted.

And when he kisses me, it feels like my chest is filled with melted chocolate.

Horror fills me as I stare at what’s left of Wonka’s shop. Smoke rises in small, winding columns. Lottie carries a fire extinguisher, putting out any little leftover fires. Melted chocolate, disintegrated sweets, and shattered glass are everywhere.

“What happened?” Piper asks desperately, tears glittering in her eyes.

“The chocolate cartel,” Abacus replies gruffly, wiping the ash from his shirt.

I exchange a heartbroken look with Noodle, watching as she lays a hand on Willy’s shoulder. He’s sitting downheartedly on the floor, his eyes fixed resolutely on the half-melted chocolate cherry tree.

“It’s okay, Willy,” Noodle tries to insist, “we can rebuild.”

“It’s no use, Noodle.” Willy doesn’t even look at her. “She wasn't here.”

Noodle’s face clears in understanding. “You didn’t seriously think that–”

“Oh, I did,” Willy says. “She pinky promised.”

“Willy–”

“Come on, Noodle,” Abacus breaks in, touching her on the arm gently. “I think Mr Wonka needs to be alone.”

Noodle sighs and follows Crunch out, while the rest of the crew silently file after them, leaving just Willy and I.

I sit gingerly beside him. “Are you okay, my love?”

Willy seems to stiffen at my words. “I’m fine. Please, I’d—I'd like to be alone right now. I’ll see you back at the laundry.”

I want to argue. I want to stay. But I understand. “Alright.” I get to my feet, and leave quietly, glancing back at Willy twice. Neither time does he look back at me.

Little did I know that I know that I wouldn’t see him back at the laundry, and that my last image of him was his hunched and upset figure, curled over his knees.

Noodle sits on my bed, watching me. I’m curled into a ball, hugging my pillow close to my chest.

“Y/n,” she says again, “it’s okay. He’s gonna come back.”

I shake my head. “He isn’t, Noodle. You heard Mrs Scrubbit downstairs. He made a deal with the Cartel. He’s gone.”

Noodle sighs. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well you should,” I say aggressively, sitting up. “He left us. He—he didn’t even say goodbye.” My voice breaks. Tears gather in my throat again, and I’m flooded with angry sobs.

“Do you want to be alone?” Noodle whispers.

Just before I can answer, Bleacher bangs on the door. “Time to get up! Mrs Scrubbit wants you all downstairs before breakfast.”

I groan, and pull myself up off my rickety bed. “Come on, Noodle-dee,” I say softly. “We’d better go see what she wants.”

Noodle tries to smile, for me. “Okay, y/n-doo.”

I file after her down the stairs, falling in line with the rest of the laundry crew.

“Look at all the long faces ‘round here,” Mrs Scrubbit says, a glint in her eye. “It’s almost like you lot has a sneaky little plan to escape.”

We line up, facing Mrs Scrubbit. “Your friend, Mr Wonka, done a deal with Mr Slugworth. Settled your accounts. Crunch, you’re free to go.”

One by one, Abacus, Lottie, Piper, and Larry all get a little ticket and leave. Soon, it’s just Noodle and I left.

“And now for you two.” Mrs Scrubbit’s smile is sickly sweet. “The biggest piles of the lot. But these ain’t to let you go.”

“What?” Noodle demands.

“Mr Slugworth doesn’t think nasty little orphans like you should be out on the streets, Noodle. This money is to keep you locked up for good.”

“I hate you!” Noodle shouts, slamming her fists into the bench. “You—“

Mr Bleacher grabs her, holding her arms still.

“Look at her go, Lord Bleacherfitz!” Mrs Scrubbit says gleefully.

“You don’t still think he’s a lord, do you?” Noodle cries. “We made it all up, you stupid old hag!”

“Why you little brat—“ Mrs Scrubbit clutches Noodle by the shirt. “You’re going in the coop, my girl! And you.” She points at me. “To the wash house, forever. You’ll never see daylight again, you hear?”

She drags Noodle away, both of them yelling.

I’m left with Bleacher, feeling as if I have a heavy weight on my chest. I can’t believe he just left us. Got a ticket out of here and abandoned Noodle and I.

I thought… I thought he loved me.

“Down you go,” Bleacher says gruffly. “Now!” He shoves me unceremoniously down the laundry chute, and I don’t even try to stop him. I land in a heap of clothes, and I don’t move.

I stare at the ceiling, at all the washing lines and steaming cracks in the roof.

My head hurts, but nothing compares to my heartache. I don’t think I will ever get over Willy Wonka. He’s the kind of person you only meet once, and you never forget them. Especially if you loved them with your entire heart.

But sometimes people like that aren’t good inside, and they can leave you, hurt and lonely and destroyed.

He’s gone, and I’m alone.

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because I rouse when I hear Noodle’s familiar voice. “Y/n, come on!” she hisses, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet. “We’ve gotta go!”

I blink sleepily. “Wait, what? How did you—“

“He came back! They all did.”

“He… Willy?” I don’t want to believe it, I don’t want to see him but oh, I do. I do.

Noodle’s curls jump wildly as she nods. “Yes! He’s come back for us, c’mon!”

I follow her to the dumb waiter chute, and we both climb inside, clicking it shut. I press the ‘up’ button, and the crate clicks and shudders into motion.

I’m half excited, half still hurt. I can't decide if I truly want to see him or not. I mean–I’m in love with him, and I have ever since I first laid eyes on the curly headed chocolate boy, but at the same time… He left me, five minutes after confessing he supposedly loved me back.

The instant I see his face, waiting for us at the top of the laundry chute, a bright and anxious smile plastered on his familiar face, I’m torn yet another way. Gods, I’m in love with him.

“Y/n!” he says, grabbing me into his arms the second he sees me. “I’m so sorry–I, are you alright?”

I’m a little flustered, and not quite sure how to reply. “Hi, Willy.”

He must notice my slight stiffness, how my voice is trying its best to emotionlessness. “Hey, I really am sorry. I should never have ever tried to leave. I regretted it instantly. I promise, I will never leave you ever again.”

I look up into his eyes. “You promise?” My voice cracks on the words.

His eyes soften immediately. “Yeah, my love, I promise.”

“Okay.” I decide to believe him, mostly because the thought of being without him again hurt more than the chance of being left again.

[football-and-fanfics]

Sleepy Dialogue Prompts #5

Who: Mason Mount Prompt: "I need your smell to fall asleep." Requested by: anonymous Warnings: none

With Mason a footballer and your modelling career, you both had to go abroad often. It meant you spent nights alone in bed, without Mason sleeping beside you, more often than you would like.

Every night you spent apart, you always video-called Mason around bedtime. So, too, tonight. You were in Berlin for a photoshoot, while Mason was at your home in London.

"Hey, babe." Mason answered your videocall on the first ring. He already lay in bed, but he would never miss your bedtime call. "Hey." You were also in bed, but in your hotel room in Berlin. "How was your day?" Mason asked. "Good, but long," you answered. The day had indeed been long and tiring, but the photoshoot was successfully finished. "Yours?" "We won the match 2-0," Mason smiled, "boss gave us the day off tomorrow, so I'll be home when you get back." You were already looking forward to snuggling up comfortably in Mason's arms again. "Can't wait."

Mason turned onto his side in bed, switching the angle of his phone somewhat, and that was when you saw it. "Why is my hoodie in the bed?" You frowned at the screen. You easily recognized the candy cane pink hoodie you always wore around the house, but you were sure you had thrown it in the laundry basket before you left.

Mason turned almost as pink as your hoodie. "Because I put it there," he mumbled a little embarrassed. "Why?" You chuckled. "Because..." Mason took a few seconds before he continued, "because I need your smell to fall asleep. I know it's weird, and you can absolutely judge me for it, but it just makes sleeping easier when you're away."

You never wanted to be able to kiss and cuddle him more than right now after this confession. "I don't think that's weird at all," you smiled, "I think it's the cutest thing ever." "Really?" Mason chuckled in relief.

You briefly lay down your phone and disappeared from view. When you came back in front of the camera, you held up one of Mason's T-shirts. "I don't think it's weird, because I do the exact same thing," you smirked. Mason stared at his shirt in your hands for a few seconds, before a broad smile spread across his face. "And that is why you and I are made for each other."

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @mrswinksy, @themoon-shines Mason tags: @youkantebeserious, @laurasstufff1, @mmountswb, @n0n-sense PL / Chelsea tags: @ella33

Add me to the tags list General masterlist | Mason masterlist

[angstyaches]

Hi!I love your fics so much and I saw your request things and thought maybe you could do Donnacha or Henry with an upset stomach that pushes them to the edge? Like they have to go go go all day long and it makes them like super overwhelmed but it ends all fluffy with the other character comforting them with belly rubs or a hot shower or smth?? Only do this if you want ofc!! Just a an idea! Ok bye!!

I was so sure that this hadn't been in my inbox for too long, but then I realised my original draft is named 'henry sickfic june' lmao thank you for the lovely request and for your patience, anon 🖤

CW: anxiety, depression, bad self talk, chronic pain, job interview scenario, death mention, emeto, stomach noises, platonic caretaking, belly rubs.

Word Count: 4,000+

___

Henry woke up feeling far too rested. 

Not a good sign.  

Even before he’d untangled his thoughts from the hazy dream he’d been having – the details were already retreating, but he was certain that Orlando Bloom had been somewhat involved – he knew in his bones that he had slept through his alarms. 

Cold spikes of adrenaline flipped him onto his back, joints protesting, so he could reach for his phone and his glasses. He pressed the glasses to his face and read the time on the screen. The taste of bile crept into his dry mouth. 

“Oh, fuck.”  

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t shaved in ages, and his stubble was just short of a full-fledged beard at this rate. He’d intended to shave this morning, before sitting down to do a remote job interview that had been scheduled for one hour and forty-three minutes ago. 

Well. The company may as well have received written confirmation that he was no longer interested.  

Woops.  

He supposed he could call them up now and apologise for running late, and maybe they’d give him another shot –  

Henry’s stomach instantly turned at the idea, and he had to swallow very measuredly to avoid choking on a mouthful of bile. 

He had another interview lined up for later that afternoon, in case interview number one fell flat. Which it technically hadn’t. Now everything depended on the second – only – interview, a thought that had his stomach twisting again as soon as he had it. He almost regretted that he hadn’t managed to sleep through that appointment, too; at least then it would have been out of his hands. 

Henry hauled himself out of bed, grabbed his cane, and headed down the hallway for a quick, lukewarm shower. He thought about his day as he worked the grease out of his hair and the sheet-marks out of his face; his failure to make his first meeting of the day clawed at him, clinging to his skin despite the running water. As much as he’d been dreading the human interaction, he needed work – for the sense of purpose as much as the financial compensation. 

But... mostly the financial compensation. 

Digging through his clothes, he realised that the first thing he’d needed to do that morning was stick a bundle of his laundry into the washer-dryer, so he would have a decent shirt to wear for his interviews. Well, interview singular now. He dragged his laundry basket to the kitchen and filled the machine. His hip and back started aching with the effort of crouching, and head spun with urgency, frustration, and the overall unpleasantness of waking up to instant panic. His hair – now long enough to lick the neckline of his sweater – dripped cold water into his clothes. 

Alright. The dry cycle would be finished a measly fifteen minutes before he’d need a shirt. He’d really needed to wake up with that first alarm, but... it was fine. This was fine. 

While the washing machine hummed to life and water trickled into the drum, Henry gingerly righted himself, fingers working into the tension in his hip. Tears stabbed at the backs of his eyeballs and his jaws sat tense, but there was no sense in letting the pain steal his focus when he had things to be doing. 

He eyed the cupboards and considered dragging something out for a breakfast/lunch hybrid, but he felt his stomach do a queasy little backflip at the thought.  

He slinked back to his room, his heart thumping like he’d run a marathon, and lowered himself into his desk chair. 

___ 

Henry tried tapping around on Reddit to kill the time, but the constraints of both his laundry and his upcoming interview made it impossible for him to get absorbed in anything other than watching the time. His eyes skimmed over words and paragraphs without really taking anything in, and what little information his brain did let in only made him confused and angry. His mind was locked up tight, sealing itself up in fear of forgetting what he was supposed to do later. 

He typed the name of the company he’d be interviewing with later into a search engine. Maybe if he convinced himself he was being productive, his brain would give him a break. 

Light stabbed his eyes and Henry almost physically recoiled when their website appeared on-screen. No wonder they were looking to hire a web designer. The thing looked like it’d been created by a thirteen-year-old in 2004, despite the fact that the About Us portion stated that the company had been established in 2016.  

Henry was ready to click away from the site again – any longer in front of that wall of neon yellow and headers written in Bradley Hand, and he’d trigger a migraine – when a twinge of hunger sent his stomach into a spiraling churn.  

“Oh, great, now you’re hungry,” Henry murmured, gliding a hand over his belly.  

As indignant as he was about having to move, he was a little grateful to be given a task. He pulled himself out of the desk chair with a resigned sigh. After making himself a milky cup of coffee and a sandwich, using the last slice of cheese in the fridge, he hobbled over to the living room couch.  

He thought about turning the TV on, but the remote was out of immediate reach, so that decision was made for him. He ate in silence. 

He took a few bites of his sandwich that didn’t really taste... like anything. He hadn’t had anything to drink, since he’d woken late and in such a panic; maybe it was his dry mouth that was stopping his taste buds from doing their job. He took his coffee mug firmly by the handle and gulped down a few mouthfuls, stopping when the bitterness clung to the back of his throat. Not his best move, he thought with a shudder. He managed a few more bites and, unable to force himself to eat the crusts when his appetite was already so poor, called it there. 

___ 

Henry’s belly roiled. He could feel a panicky sheen of sweat gathering under his clothes. and his voice trembled throughout the meeting, It was so hard to sort through his dizzy thoughts that he struggled to answer the most basic of questions; what were his qualifications, what previous work was he the proudest of, what had he struggled with in the past and how had he overcome that struggle. 

“Thank you for allowing me to get to know you, Mr. Wilde,” the interviewer said now, smiling at him through the screen. “Your qualifications and experience are probably the most outstanding of all of our candidates so far. But I am just curious; what it is that interested you about this particular project?”  

Henry swallowed thickly. Despite this very immediate emergency situation, all he could think about was how Lucy would have passed away from second-hand embarrassment if she ever found out that the extent of his research on this company hadn’t gone beyond a brief skim of their website. 

He mumbled something about potential, even though all he could think about was the potential of him taking a nap directly after this interview ended. To his left, his bed lay beneath the armfuls of clothing that he’d moved out of his webcam’s line of sight, yet it seemed to peer out at him with a warm, tempting gaze. He could call it a day here, and hope she’d hire him based on his credentials alone. 

A warm, sickly belch crawled up his throat. He managed to stifle and muffle it, but his fist jerked towards his lips out of instinct, his cheeks puffing out slightly. The air settled back into his stomach with an acidic slosh, and he eyed his interviewer carefully. 

“Excuse me, sorry,” he mumbled. 

She blinked, regarding him with a hint of distaste, but moved along. “So, if we were to hire you for this project, where would you begin?” 

Henry cleared his throat, removing his fist. He was becoming irritated now; it felt as though she were tricking him into giving her instructions for whatever sap she hired, be it him or somebody else. But sometimes, you just had to jump through hoops to get ahead. Or stay afloat. 

“Well...” He cleared his throat. “I think I would begin by implementing some basic changes to the optics of the company’s home page. It’s the first impression of your company that many customers will get, so I feel it’s important to provide a good visual impact.” 

“Visual.” The interviewer – shame curdled in Henry’s gut as he realised he’d already forgotten her name – raised an eyebrow. “This project doesn’t concern any graphic work.” 

Catastrophe bloomed amidst the existing unease in Henry’s belly. He could let himself off the hook for not knowing the company inside-out, but not knowing the details of the position he was applying for was a whole other level of unpreparedness. The Lucy in his head was slapping her forehead and shaking her head, disowning him. 

“But you’ve intrigued me,” the interviewer said. “What optics are you referring to?” 

If you want my input, hire me, Henry wanted to snap at her. 

“Well, there are some scenarios where websites such as your current one would lend a certain retrospective, nostalgic charm,” Henry said, adjusting his glasses with a shaky hand, “but since I have no reason to believe that this was the intention here, the current website makes your company appear out of touch, and the previous designer seem like an incompetent amateur.” 

With a deep nod of her head, the interviewer looked down at the notepad she’d been clutching since the call had begun. She tucked a nonexistent strand of stray hair behind her ear. “The previous designer was my deceased partner.” 

Henry’s throat froze over. 

“But I thank you for your feedback on her competence, Mr. Wilde, or... lack thereof, as it would seem.” Her eyes widened as she jotted something down. Her sudden lack of eye contact seemed intentional. “That’s all I need from you right now.” 

Henry fidgeted in his desk chair. He’d done such a great job of not fidgeting until that point. An apology danced on the tip of his tongue, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was, “Alright.” 

“Thank you for your time.” The interviewer didn’t even off a ‘we’ll be in touch’ before she ended the video call and vanished from his screen. 

Henry sat back in his chair, flung his glasses across his keyboard, and groaned loudly into his palms. When the groan didn’t seem like enough, he allowed himself something a little closer to a scream – why not? He was home alone, and the downstairs lot had been unoccupied ever since they’d moved in.  

The sound turned over painfully in his throat and made his eyes water. His insides felt like they were shrinking under the weight of failure, uselessness, despair, and hopelessness, and his shoulders crumpled inwards until his head was resting on the edge of his desk. 

It felt like forever before a sob finally tore loose, and with it came the sickly belch he’d swallowed on the video call, only this time, it came with interest. His stomach was churning wildly, feeling full to the brim with acidic mush. 

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even said sorry for his remark, or thanked the interviewer for taking the time to speak with him –  

Vision blurry, Henry’s hands scrambled to find the metal bin he usually filled with sticky notes and chocolate wrappers and noodle cups. He shifted his chair forward in the search, jamming one of the wheels against his own foot. He yanked the bin into his lap as his stomach muscles imploded.  

No, he thought, tossing the bin back to the floor. Puking in his bin would mean washing it later, and Henry didn’t trust his energy levels to be up for an extra task after all of this.  

He gripped the edge of his desk, flinching to his feet and setting his stationery holders rattling. His hip seized up as he straightened, and if that wasn’t bad enough, a spike of tension pierced his temples. He staggered into the hallway and towards the bathroom, and, mercifully, made it to the toilet bowl before his stomach could really get going. 

The pressure at the base of his oesophagus felt like too much laundry being pushed into a washing machine drum at one time. It took far too long for him to retch up even the tiniest splatter of burning-hot bile; the liquid ejected from his stomach probably amounted to less than the liquid he’d squeezed out of his eyes.  

Still, his body seemed satisfied with that for now. The nausea retreated, leaving only that stubborn pain in his belly and the matching pain left behind by the clenching in his throat. 

He sank to the floor, knuckles pale and jutting as he gripped the toilet seat with both hands. He forced up a burp that was pressing at the base of his ribs, grimacing and desperate for relief, but it only brought that hot, heavy feeling back. His stomach burbled. His hip ached. His goosebump-ridden body shuddered. His heart curdled into a lump of despair that sat at the back of his throat. 

He belched again, and this time, up came his sandwich. 

___ 

“Henry, it’s Flatmate Friday,” Donnacha called through the door, as drily as he might have said that it was raining outside.  

Henry groaned quietly into his pillow. Flatmate Friday generally involved pizza delivery and a nostalgic movie or two, while three people sat crushed together on the couch and the fourth either took up residence on the floor or on a dining chair. 

“Hen, you alive in there?” Donnacha asked. “More importantly, are you decent?” 

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince Donnacha not to come into his room, Henry gave in to the inevitable. He tugged the duvet out of the way of his mouth and called out, “Yes.” 

“Look,” Donnacha sighed as he breezed into the room. His eyes lingered on the mess of clothing that lay between the door and the bed, but only for a few seconds. “I know Lucy brought you your slices last week, but I don’t agree with that! I’m sorry if it sounds harsh, or whatever, but the point of Flatmate Fridays is... you know. Hanging out with your flatmates on a Friday. If I can be civil with Payton in the spirit of Flatmate Friday, then you can at least manage the ten paces it takes from here to the couch...” 

There was a brief flash of silence. 

“Jesus, Hen,” Donnacha said softly. Ha shimmied around the clothes mountain. His weight tipped one side of the mattress, creating a slope that pulled Henry’s legs towards the warmth of Donnacha’s back. “What’s going on? Bad day?” 

Henry shrugged. 

“Those... those new meds messing you up?” There was a soft, sympathetic melody to Donnacha’s voice now. He wove his fingertips into the fluffy mess of Henry’s hair.  

The gesture took him so much by surprise that tears sprang to Henry’s eyes, almost as uncontrollably as vomit. 

“Hen,” Donnacha exclaimed in a whisper, as though Henry had done something outrageous by tearing up. “What’s up? This is scary. Please tell me.” 

“I... fucked up so many times today,” Henry said numbly. It all felt so... inconsequential now that he was trying to summarise it for someone who wasn’t there. Someone who didn’t share his headspace. Someone who could smile and shrug and tell him to try again another day.  

Someone who, sweet as he was, didn’t understand.  

“What do you mean?” The sympathetic edge left Donnacha’s voice, leaving only disbelief. Genuine disbelief that Henry could have fucked anything up because Henry was older, Henry was smarter, Henry never left the apartment so when would he even have the opportunity to fuck anything up? 

“I-I woke up feeling like shit, and then I missed one job interview, and I really... really wanted that one.” He hadn’t admitted it to himself earlier, but now it hit him like a rock to the gut, that the interview he’d missed had meant so much more to him than the other one. “A-and then, I spectacularly fucked up the second one –” 

“It can’t have been that bad.” 

“I insulted the interviewer’s dead partner.” 

Donnacha’s lips hovered apart, wordless. Yeah, that’s what I thought, Henry wanted to spit. 

“And then I-I completely shut down for the rest of the day... I’m behind on my current deadlines –”  

“Hey, it’s okay,” Donnacha said. 

He didn’t even realise he’d started heaving with sobs until he felt Donnacha’s hands trying to still his shuddering shoulders. He leaned into his arms, the mattress rolling his legs and his torso closer to Donnacha’s weight as the larger boy edged a little closer. 

“And you’ve just been lying here all by yourself? Why didn’t you call out to any of us when we got home?” 

A small, bitter voice in Henry’s head wanted to snap, Why didn’t any of you think to check on me? but he knew that was unfair. Most days, he was fine, but still didn’t like having his flatmates entering his personal space without an invitation. 

“Why didn’t you tell me... tell us you had interviews this week?” Donnacha wondered. His eyes darted across Henry’s face, as though he thought he had a better chance of finding an answer in his pores and his eyeballs than of getting an answer verbally. “You don’t need to keep all this shit to yourself.” 

Henry shrugged. He honestly wasn’t sure. Part of him had wanted to avoid Career Guidance Lucy and her sporadic seminars on interview skills. Part of him had dreaded the inevitable words of encouragement that Donnacha and Payton would no doubt have offered him, making it feel like an even bigger deal, an even more profound failure, when he didn’t get the jobs. He’d wanted to secure a new gig in secret, and mention it casually to his flatmates after the fact.  

Anything else was just asking for too much attention, building up too many expectations... 

A weak gurgle broke the silence, and Henry instinctively covered his stomach with his palm. Donnacha’s eyes followed the movement. A second later, there was a deeper sound, a hollow grumble that Henry felt tickle at the back of his throat. 

“Have you eaten today?” 

“Yes. I’m not hungry,” he added, already knowing that Donnacha was going to suggest, once again, that he join the others for pizza and Flatmate Friday. It was just unfortunate that his belly decided to rumble for a third time. 

“Somehow, I think you're lying to me.” 

“No - you don’t get it,” Henry sighed. Noting that Donnacha had left the door ajar and that Lucy was just down the hallway in the living area, he lowered his voice and leaned a little closer to Donnacha’s shoulder. “After my second interview... my only interview, in the end,” Henry growled, kicking his past self yet again, “I felt so sick to my stomach that I threw up my lunch.” 

Donnacha looked positively wounded with sympathy. Henry wondered how the hell he managed it.  

“Hen...” Donnacha’s hand pushed gently into Henry’s hair again. 

It was all Henry could do not to whimper and melt into the touch. He settled for letting his eyes flutter shut. He didn’t deserve the tingling pleasure that was flowing from Donnacha’s fingertips into his skull, softening the sparking, frayed edges of his nerves.  

“I’ll bring you your slices, if you want them.” 

Henry shook his head. He might have been trembling with emotion now, rather than nausea, but he still didn’t feel up to putting anything in his stomach.  

“I’ll bring mine, too. We can hang out in here, watch our own movie.”  

“No,” he choked out, pulling away from Donnacha’s hand and resting his head on the pillow again.  

“Just give me one minute.” Donnacha didn’t hesitate another second before getting up from the bed and tackling the obstacle course that was Henry’s bedroom floor one more time. 

Henry buried his face in his pillow, part of him hoping that Donnacha would somehow change his mind while he was out there and not come back. Part of him felt extremely cold and hollow at the thought of him changing his mind and not coming back. 

These feelings were confusing. Henry didn’t like it when feelings were confusing. Maybe that was what prompted him to groan in displeasure when Donnacha returned, carrying a plate laden with at least five slices of pepperoni pizza. The smell made Henry’s stomach growl with hunger that felt a lot like nausea, or... nausea that felt a lot like hunger. 

“You can’t be in here,” Henry muttered as Donnacha leaned over the mess to prop the plate on the edge of Henry’s desk. 

“Ah, ah,” Donnacha sang, darting from the room again. This time, he came back with his laptop, which he propped on Henry’s desk chair – after removing a few pairs of underwear that had been tossed onto it. “What were you saying?” 

Henry sighed and pushed himself up onto his side. That spike of agony still trailed from the outside of his eye socket to the centre of his brain. He couldn’t allow his mind to drift anywhere near the memories of the day without feeling the shame turn over in his belly. But he had to admit, Donnacha’s presence was a lot like a hot cup of tea on a chilly day. 

“It’s Flatmate Friday.” Henry waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the living area. “Flatmate bonding and whatnot.” 

“You’re my flatmate, too,” Donnacha pointed out. He looked away from his laptop and glanced about the room, no doubt analysing the mixture of washed and unwashed laundry littering the floor. “And I have a feeling I’ve... we’ve all been neglecting you a little bit.” 

Henry’s empty, knotted stomach attempted to do a little flip. “You sound like Lu.” 

Looking slightly pleased with himself, Donnacha gave a shrug. “Maybe she’s a good influence on me. Only Fools and Horses?” 

“Sure.” Henry didn’t particularly care for the 80s sitcom, but it always seemed to draw a chuckle or two out of Donnacha.  

Donnacha positioned himself at the lower half of Henry’s bed, one leg crossed under the opposite knee while his foot trailed off the side. It was a long way for him to reach to grab a slice of pizza from the place, but he did so heroically with only a tiny exhalation of strain. Henry took his pillow and pressed it to the back wall, forcing himself to sit upright even though it made his head spin and his bones feel like jelly.  

After five minutes of staring numbly at the laptop screen and listening to Donnacha chew not one but two slices of pizza, the spinning and the weakness started to pass, and the shifting in Henry’s stomach felt less like a natural disaster waiting to happen and more like an empty plea for sustenance. He gingerly reached for a slice of the pizza, and was oddly relieved when Donnacha didn’t make a big deal out of it; he just leaned around Henry and grabbed a third slice for himself. 

A few bites in, and Henry’s mind started to wander. Sleeping in, not feeling motivated enough, insulting the work of a dead person, lazily forgetting social etiquette – 

The spices in the pepperoni and the tanginess of the tomato sauce drained away until the next bite of pizza felt like a mouthful of cardboard. 

Henry chewed painfully  leaning over to place the half-eaten slice back at the edge of the plate. Chewing was an ordeal almost as unpleasant as that afternoon’s bout of dry-heaving, which he had no desire to repeat. 

He brushed the crumbs from his fingers onto the plaid fabric of his pyjamas pants, making a note to change them before bed, and sank back against the pillow. Dough and cheese and sauce sloshed around in his stomach, and he started to lift a hand to rub at it, but a large, protective one made it there first. 

Donnacha didn’t even look away from the screen as he rubbed his hand back and forth. “Doing okay?” 

“I think so,” Henry murmured, flinching as his stomach squelched under Donnacha’s palm and then began to settle into a gentler churning motion. He wondered if Donnacha had any idea the effect he was having. 

And then Donnacha laughed out loud at an on-screen joke that Henry just didn’t get, and Henry had to fight just to keep his eye-rolling subtle. 

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Imagine Requested

IMAGINE : your Regina mills daughter to Daniel and your dating rumple

Author note: hopefully you like this @rachelcarroll1819 !!

Did I proof read?!: No... sorry lol

you once sat down with your cousin/ brother/ uncle  Henry talking about your Strange, VERY Complicated Family Line. His adopted mom was your Biological Mom Regina. She got pregnant with your Dad Daniel when Snow White Just before her Dad came to marry Regina. your Grandma Cora took you right after you were born to be raised by a Sea captain and his Wife. you were taken Far away from Regina so she wouldn't be tainted and she could marry the King.  Henry's Birth mom is Emma. and Emma's Mom is Snow White.. which makes Henry- your adopted brother your cousin... or uncle. honestly, you weren't entirely Sure.

before Regina. did the curse, you were born and raised at the sea, learning your way around a Ship, a honorable job. you heared about the Evil Queen, Snow white being banished and being hunted down by the kingdom. but you didn't care, you were Far from the Kingdom. and to you.. that had Nothing to do with you. It wasn't until One Morning you walked downstairs. it was the rare time you were at your home on the physical Land as you jolted down the stairs happily as you held a basket of Laundry . when you noticed your parents sitting at the table. while the small living quarters you shared with your paretns were full of guards in black armour and seeing the Queen. you dropped your basket stunned seeing her.

the moment Regina saw you- she realized you were hers. you looked idenitcal to Daniel. Regina walked over to you. stunned. her mother told her she killed her daughter. to make sure Regina focused on the goal. marrying the king. it as Rumpelstiltskin who sold her information and it lead her right to you. Regina instantly invited you come back with her to the castle.

you didn't want to- you wanted to Stay with your family. but they forced you to leave. they weren't goign to risk their lives Fighting the Queen. A few weeks at the castle. Regina realized you took after Daniel. Prue heart. you were good to the core. the only thing you had in common with your birth mother was that you had magic, untrained. un filtered.. magic that just accords at the worst possible time.

For a time. Regina found a sliver of happiness being your mother, and training you to use your powers, and growing a relationship with you. and you wre seeing a real True change in her. Until word spread that Snow white was expecting a baby. Regina was jealous and furious that Snow would get what she would NEver get with you. she would never raise you, hold you in her arms. cruddle you to sleep. watch you grow up, watch your first steps. her hatred and jealousy caused Regina to do the curse.

In the Crused life in Storybrooke, you completely forgot your adopted parents,a nd you were Regina's daughter. She had when she was a teenager and you worked happily at the bakery across the street from town hall. during your time cursed you met Mary Marget and you became close friends. and when Emma arrived. Everything changed. you Woke up suddenly when your brother Henry Shoved a sextant at you. when you were at Mr Gold Pawn Shop getting a birthday gift for your mom. your life- your old life. all he time at Sea, the mishaps with your magic, the time you spent at the castle with Regina. it all came back. Henry bolted out of the shop once seeing Emma. But Mr Gold noticed. Rumple realized you awoke and offered you a seat. as both worlds collioded into one.. your Life in storybrook, your life back in the magical forest. it was all smushing together. it took you a few minutes to recorginze Mr. Gold as Rumple. the Gold skin now gone and him Not looking like a Drowned frog that was Dumped in Gold. or that high pitch giggle. it was gone. instead stood a man. holding a cane with short brown hair. a man that everyone in town Feared and respected. he owned Half the town.

your interaction with Rumple was Short back home. he once popped in while you were trying to move a maniquine from one side of the room to another. rumple did his giggle as he sat on a desk watching you as you tried to ingore him. you knew he's reputation and wanted nothing to do with him. but he soon walked over grabbing your hand tightly lifting it up touching your hip softly as he moved your stance so it was correct as he spoke, 'if you're going to learn magic dearie do it properly."

the other interaction you have with him. he iddn't talk to you, he didn't touch you or was close. he just appeared and watched you as you were trying to do magic again. without saying a Single world.

Mr gold gave you a tea to calm your nerves as you asked what happened, "your mother- she cast the curse.."

"how- how could she do that to everyone in our world? My parents..."

"work at the fish market. your father is a fisherman and your mom works at a flower shop they are fine.'

"Why? why would she do this to all of us?"

he shook his head, "she was jealous Snow would be with her baby.. and she didn't get to raise her."

"Mary- Mary marget doesn't have a kid those- Did she kill her baby? did my mom kill her baby?"

"No-No! The babe got into a magical tree wardorb and she got sent here.. Emma."

"Emma? Henry's birth mom?" he nodded her head as I spoke, "Oh god!'

Rumple convinced you to keep it quiet that If regina knew that her curse was breaking she would Kill Emma. So you stayed quiet. and you started spending time with Rumple.

when the First Curse broke, you were over the moon. to finally confront your mother about doing this to everyone. and for gaslighting Henry into thinking he was crazy. you refused to talk to Regina, then. well. Snow and Emma fell into a portal. you got your magic back when Rumple went to a wishing well. to collect magic. and he was training you. you wanted your magic to protect you from your mother but the more you spent with Rumple. the more you started to fall for the damaged man.

you were sititng in Rumple's living room reading a book. you found yourself spending more and more time with Rumple. he's place was nice. rumple came back into the living room holding two cups as you spoke, 'why is this cover so weird.? it feels weird."

Rumple chuckled putting the cup down in front of you at the coffee table as he spoke softly "You do not want to know."

looking up at him as you closed your eyes tightly, "Oh God.. it's Skin isn't it" he pulled the book out of your hand as your body shook in disgust. which he chuckled at and said that those spells were far too advance for you. "promise me something, Rumple?"

"anything." he said as you spoke, 'if we ever become mortal enemies.. Never use my skin for a book cover!" he chuckled softly as he spoke, 'Your skin is far too soft and pretty to skin. i wouldn't dare skin you."

"probably the most romantic thing I've heard in a long time." you chuckled softly. which made Rumple Smile. he was stunned by something so Prue and Good could Joy with his company. it compelled him to seek you out. whenever you weren't visiting. Everyone in town started to realize that something was going on. Regina tried setting up blind dates a few surprised ones which just made you furious at her, the Date was awful. he kept talking about Pot. he loved his Vases, and Making and creating more Pots, but he never does Anything with the things he creates and once got furious with his roommate who used a Pot to plant a flower she was trying to grow.. it was painful.

Rumple was in the Restaurant by chance. and he sat down and listened to the date, the entire Diner listened in on your date, at first because they were all hoping that you would snap out of your crush on the dark one. but then after 30 minutes of your date talk about Just clay pots and the detailed ingredients of what is in Clay, and how to make clay. at one point you put your menu up to quickly text Rumple and everyone you were friends with in the restaurant to save you. you watch Rumple reach for his phone. check it and grin as he put it back into his pocket. Ruby soon took the menu away.

the Date ended an hour later.. he was a Slow Eater. "Shall we go back to my place or your's."

you laughed loudly at that- the gull of the guy! doesn't let you talk, and the conversation he brings up is boring as hell and was a form of torture and but he thinks hes' getting into bed with you! you got up. laughing paying for your half of the bill as you spoke up, "you could be the last man on earth- and we have to repopulate the Entire planet.. and I would choose Ending Humanity rather then sleep with you!"

that's when the guy made a foolish mistake and he grabbed you. was at your side instantly as he grabbed your dates are shoulder and instantly had him pinned against the table. as he spoke, 'the lady Said No.. I suggest! you leave before I break every Bone in your body for touching her!"

before anyone could get up to stop Rumple he freed him and he grabbed your arm softly pulling you to his side as the man got up fast. as you noticed.. Rumple terrified him so badly that he peed his pants and bolted out of the restaurant as you rubbed your face as you waved your hadn cleaning up the spot he messed. so Ruby didn't have to scrub it. you turned to Granny as you spoke, "here.." you stepped over paying he's half of the bill as Granny spoke, 'you didn't have to scare the man to death gold!"

"perhaps- but he shouldn't have grabbed her like that. My apologies for disturbing your evening... Shall we dear?" you nodded your head as you got out of the Diner and went back to Rumple's for a drink. it was after a second cup of wine that Rumple got the courage to ask you out on a date as you smiled saying it was about time. as you reached over to kiss him.

storybook is a small town, Regina heard about the horrible date as it was happening but she was stuck with dealing with Henry and David to go over to save you. when she did arrive you were gone as Regina found granny behind the counter cleaning a cup as Regina reached the counter asking about the date..

"the guy put several customers asleep with his chatter.. then had the gull to ask her to go back to his place for a tussle in the sheets.. she refused and he grabbed her.. Rumple saved her."

"what was he doing here?'

Granny shook her head, "Getting a BLT for dinner. but then he saw how awful the date was going and stuck around to listen.. it was- I've heard and listened in on first dates before. but never ones so awful. it was painfully felt sorry for your daughter."

"why didn't you break it up? fake an emergency or something?"

"And ruin your master plan? no- no we weren't going to touch that!"

"where did she Go?"

"rumple escorted her out after he made her date piss himself.. I have No idea where they went."

Regina figured he escorted you home. During the Curse Regina had you living at home with her, you were a great help when David was a baby. and she loved having you close. After the curse broke you and Regina made a small apartment at the edge of her gardens. your reasoning was that you were furious she cursed you but also didn't want Regina to be alone since Henry was pretty pissed, you ate in the main house, you watched tv and were in the main house 90% of the time unless you were asleep. At First, Regina was heartbroken when you used magic to create the small little house outside. but the first night of it being built you ate inside, and even got her to come to the small cottage to make sure it wasn't going to fall on top of you while you slept. Regina walked in and instantly noticed the family photo you had on your wall you blew it up, it was at the beach the three of you. Regina cried seeing it. she realized you truly did love her. and you suggested your mom sleep out here with you that one night to make sure it was safe. after that Regina didn't care if you lived in the cottage or If you found yourself an apartment you loved her. even after everything she's done, you loved her.

Getting home, the first place she looked was the house. to Only have the house empty and then your small cottage. Regina was stunned but she didn't worry it was still was early. you didn't return home that night. Regina stayed up most of the night. until she saw you doing the walk of shame. sneaking into the back gate that squeaked loudly as you open it. and into her cottage. Regina didn't bolt down and demand answers. she had to remind herself you were an adult. you were allowed to be out all night. and yuo were allowed to do whatever you wanted. she promised herself she wouldn't be controlling like her mother. She went downstairs to have coffee as you came into the kitchen in a new outfit.

"So- you probably noticed.. I wasn't home..'

you never thought you would have such a open relationship with your Mom, graunted your mom who raised you, you would Never tell her that you spent the Night with Rumple. As far as she  knows. you are still untouched, and you were going to die like that. you weren't open with her like you were with Regina. It probably because you seen the worst in Regina. So as awkward as it Might be- she can't judge.. Since she Litterally Cursed your entire land. and brought you to an land without magic. and tried killing your friends multiple times..

"I figured... What happened with your date?"

"Mom! he was awful!" you walked to the counter sitting down across from her as you rubbed your face, "I was about to Fake my death! I have never been so bored in my life.. and i dont want to date anyone else. i want Rumple."

Regina was taken back you rarely use the word "mom" you always address her as Regina. so when you say mom she always take a moment too appericate it. those she didn't want to hear you call her mom and then say you wanted Rumple.

"he is Evil- and a bad man. he's the dark one! Y/N yu can do so much better."

"your literally the Evil Queen... you promised Me and Henry you are going to try to change... Why couldn't He?"

"he is dangerous- and will never change! he will only lead you down a path of darkness or he will break your heart."

rolling your shoulders,  you spoke, 'Let me.. Mom- I want the chance- you didn't get to have the chance to see what happened with dad.. your mom didn't like him and did everything in her power to separate you and him. and she took me away- Let me have this heartbreak. I dont know What. or How it will end but I like him. and were dating.. and if you need me to leave. i understand."

"you aren't leaving. you live here! and are you sure?"

nodding your head softly, "yea mom- I- Let me experience Love.. good and the bad. Okay?"

Regina nodded her head softly as you got up walking around hugging her tightly, "thanks mom."

[iincantatorum]

"Stop, stop! We're going to get in trouble, and I refuse to be yelled at because of you!" From Jas 

"Who is going to yell at us? They can see us, but watch, they won't say anything," Ulysses whispered in her ear.

They were at the marketplace again with a long list of ingredients to fetch. Ulysses wore his cape, and even got Jas a matching one but smaller to fit her frame, because he felt like they were a duo, a match now, so it only made sense to dress accordingly. Being out in public for this long next to Jasmine was making him restless. He could swear everything she was doing, like the way she picked the fruits with her hands so delicately, or how she licked her lips was making him want her more. It all led up to him pinning her in an alleyway, their basket falling but not so hard that the contents would roll off. He kissed her on the lips, then on her cheek, and then down her neck as one hand slid around her waist to draw her near, and that's when he heard her protest.

"Come on, you're so small compared to me that you can hide in my cape and no one will see you. Now, tell me, did you buy those frilly lace white socks at this particular corner shop?" He led a hand up Jasmine's dress, tracing fingers up her thigh. "Because we should get more, you only have a few pairs I've noticed when we were doing the laundry together. I like it when you wear them."

"Oy there, get off of her!!"

A hit of a wooden cane sent Ulysses jumping back, and he noticed it was one of the old ladies from the tight knit gang that was ready to pick a fight with him. But once seeing that it was just them, she widened her eyes and then a slow smile spread over her lips.

"Ohhh my apologies dearies- I can tell that newlyweds are unable to keep their hands off one another, but this is public and whatever naughties you do have to be in private. I remember my dear Eustace used to try to do the same. Jasmine my dear- you must learn to slap his hand away!"

"No, my apologies," Ulysses muttered, and looked over at Jasmine. I should have listened to you.

@worldofsenelfy

[mothmammoth]

A fatigue management course? :o as a new-ish cane user i'd love to hear more about it! If you're confortable, of course! No pressure!

Ooh yeah, so, just to preface this: I am a UK resident and this is all through the NHS here. I have no idea what kinds of programs there might be available for people from other countries.

I got it recommended to me by my GP after discussing how my fatigue wasn't going away several months after I had COVID last year, but I'm sure it's possible to ask about it!

So yeah, this is specifically a Post-COVID fatigue management course, with 6 sessions over 12 weeks (there was a bit of a break over the holidays as well), but the general advice is sound regardless of where the fatigue is coming from.

The sessions are about 2 hours long, and they sort of double as a support group and an informative presentation about what fatigue is, how it affects people, and various strategies that can help you manage it.

Some useful tips I've picked up are:

The 'sleep doesn't count as rest' thing, so schedule in some Relaxation Time throughout the day.

Rest can take a variety of forms, including going through breathing exercises, meditation, or simply sitting down and watching TV so long as you're not thinking too hard about what's going on.

Keeping an activity diary (how many hours of sleep, rest, low-level activity and high-level activity you do and when) is useful for figuring out where your actual baseline of activity is, and to identify if you're getting into boom-and-bust patterns of over-exertion and then feeling worse afterward

Post-exertional malaise - the Ugh feeling after you've done Too Much - can be delayed by 48 hours after having done the activity, so tracking what you're doing over at least 10 days is ideal

The pattern of overexertion -> crash -> feeling slightly better -> overexertion is the 'boom & bust' cycle, and it's important to try and minimise it by trying to catch the early warning signs of getting tired before you overexert yourself. i'm 'lucky' with this in that one of my symptoms is a stutter, and it tends to get worse the more tired i am. most people's signs aren't usually so noticable! the stuttering still sucks though

break chores and such up into smaller jobs. if The Laundry is daunting, then break it down into - pick up clothes and put them into a laundry bag/basket. rest. bring laundry bag/basket to where the washing machine is. rest. put the laundry into the machine. rest. and so on! you don't have to do it all at once.

it's also been useful to hear from other people going through similar experiences.

[scribbledsilver]

Happy STS! If someone was looking for your characters, how would they describe them to people? What features would they most pick out to distinguish them from a crowd?

Ooh, good question. It's a tiny bit tricky to answer right now, 'cos I'm just lately getting back into writing after not being able to for most of a decade, so all my stories are in the early planning stages (meaning so are the characters' appearances).

I do have a pretty good grasp of the main characters in Life List, though:

Birdie: a tall (between 5'10 & 6ft), broad, light-medium brown skinned, woman, in her 60s (though you'd be forgiven for thinking she was still in her 50s). She has tightly curled, mixed-type, medium brown hair, which she keeps firmly contained in a large, low bun, at the nape of her neck. She tends to accompany this formal hairstyle with equally fomal (but sturdy & practical) skirt suits, in bold (but not overly bright) colours & basic patterns.

A retired teacher (at a private boarding school), she has a somewhat stiff & formal bearing, but is far more open & friendly than she seems, so don't be afraid to approach her. As she has excellent diction & a low, but resonant, carrying voice, you may be able to hear her as well as see her, even when surrounded by people.

Su: Small & wiry, with long hair in a single braid - theoretically falling straight down her back, but more often flung over one (or both) shoulder, or even wrapped around her neck like a scarf - her richly brown skin shows signs of long hours spent outdoors. Even though her petite frame may be difficult to spot through a crowd, her active - & creative - nature means she has a surprising affinity (for someone in their 30s) for clambering on, under, or over things - usually in order to point her professional lens at them.

An inveterate wearer of t-shirrs & jeans, she nevertheless has a feminine streak, which she combines with a love of her Pakistani heritage, often augmenting her simple outfits with an unobtrusive piece of traditionally inspired jewellery, or a bright scarf in traditional patterns, which you may be able to see as you get closer.

Bonus: the as-yet-unnamed lifestyle journalist (with aspirations of investigative journalism) that follows the ladies around, hoping for a scoop (as described by Su, probably):

An idiot in a suit.

Weirdly fond of bright blue socks.

Moves like a cartoon - sort of sideways, in both directions at once.

His mustache looks like it came out of a vintage movie. His suit looks like it came out of the laundry basket (of a vintage movie set).

Why would you wear vertical stripes when you're already long & skinny? Especially those stripes.

Why the hat?

(His fashion sense may evolve with time, but I keep picturing him in either the most boring, featureless, crushed suit known to man, or in a vintage-esque striped number, the type generally worn with straw boater & cane, often in a dance number! Or a barbershop quartet, actually - maybe that's his hobby. The bright blue socks that he wears with any & all outfits are an established fact, however.)

[whiskeyote]

I haven’t done a training update in a long time so, here’s one :)

Tala can now reliably task for me on a daily basis w/ the following:

- bringing me my shoes (one at a time) - bracing me while I put on/take off my shoes (both static bracing (I place my hand on her shoulders) and dynamic counterbalance (she leans into me if I lean into her, this is fall/hip subluxation prevention) - holding the other shoe while I put the first one on, and passing it to me when I’m ready - putting my shoes away once I take them off - fetching my cane (by name, from anywhere - she will search it out) - bringing me her water bowl so I don’t have to bend down for it - picking anything up off the floor that I point cue her for at home, whether it’s clothes, trash, pens/pencils, receipts, etc. - putting clothes into the laundry basket

she can also  - help me up using 4 different methods: 1. pulling me up from the floor (on a collar w/ handle, she does not take my full weight, just gives me a boost while I roll forward onto my feet) 2. bracing me while I stand from the floor 3. bracing me while I stand from a seat help me on hikes by: 1. pulling me forward/up on steep inclines (this is our newest one, she loves it) 2. bracing me down slopes 3. counterbalancing me on uneven terrain (from the side - she prevents me from hyper-extending my hip) or on slopes (from the front - she prevents me from hyper-extending my knees) 4. lately she is inferring on her own how to do these things in combination exactly when and where they are needed so ??? I’m including that in the list but I didn’t teach her that.

she can help me in public by:

- maintaining nice soft eye contact with me under heavy distraction and noise - laying down peacefully beside me anywhere (this is also a foundation step for deep pressure therapy work we will be doing later) - doing a “buffer” behavior in as tight a radius as is necessary to prevent people from getting too close (still have to cue her “manually” for this one but I’m going to work on having the Space Invader themselves be her cue to start circling me). - ducking under a bench to lie down and making herself low profile in a busy park (this will also be useful if I teach her to ride the bus) -  retrieving something of mine on the ground after I drop it discreetly and as soon as she notices it - picking something up that I drop because my hands don’t work (this happens a lot and she’s very quick to help when it’s the real deal, I love her) - holding things such as gloves, or a bag/backpack while I put things in/take things out of it - picking up trash at the park so I don’t have to bend down for it - carrying my little bag :) soon she’ll help carry a small amount of groceries! we’re working on her duration with that one but she does it for quite a while lately!

She’s a good and helpful beans!

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

Sitting here at the place I call the FUCK YIU, POOR PEOPLE LAUNDRY.

There are only 2 laundromat here.

One is emblazoned with a huge mural inside that says GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS----AUTISM SPEAKS.

I went there for the first 4 years I was here. I had no idea there was any other place to go. The AUTISM SPEAKS laundromat has no single load washers. So you must cough up about $6 or more per washer and $1.75 for 5 minutes of drying time. It us also long and narrow as a shotgun shack. So you are very close to other patrons---mostly creepy oilfield workers.

Then I discovered this place. Sine load waters : $2.50, dtyer: $1.00 per 15 min, a quarter for each 10 minutes.

Which was fine until the last time I came here and it was PACKED with people. I shuffled around with my cane, trying not to trip over rug rats (one woman has brought all 6 of her under 8 yr olds kids another 5 year old girl has brought in a puppy.

I had to leave one basket in order to balance 2 more in a roly Carr & out to the car.

As I do this, someone helps themselves to my laundry basket of freshly clean, folded clothes. They take both of my husband's Bird Dogs pants. They were $125 each and I had to save 2 months to buy them for his Christmas present.

Of course I didn't know this until I got home & hubby went to put up his stuff.

I only stopped here today because it is largely empty.

I go in and randomly begin to stuff my work clothes into the first washer I see. I am realizing I need to separate the clothes further when I reach in and my hand plunges into standing, ice cold FILTHY RANCID WATED that is now soaking all my teaching clothes.

There is no Out of Order sign anywhere on iy.it.

THAT is how this place earned its name.

Ugh!

[whitepolaris]

indian Princess at Pike Place Market

Every so often tourists approach the flower sellers at Pike Place Market in Seattle and asks a question that goes something like this: "I saw an old woman sitting on the floor over there. She looked like a Native American. At least she had a bunch of native-style woven baskets on a blanket, as if they were for sale. I wanted to buy some, so I walked over. By the time I got through the crowd, she was gone. Who was she?"

The flower sellers usually smile and say, "That was Princess Angeline." If the tourist is from the Puget Sound, they smile or get very pale. People from out of town just look puzzled, until the merchant explains that Princess Angeline died over a hunndred years ago.

Princess Angeline was probably born in 1820 and was the first daughter of Chief Seattle. Her name then was Kikisoblu, and she was married at least once, to a man named Dokub Cud. After American settlers arrived in Seattle, she eventually met Catherine Maynard, wife of Doc Maynard, one of Seattle's founding fathers. Catherine Maynard told her, "You are too good-looking for a woman to carry around such a name as that, and now I Christien you Angeline."

In the 1850s, when Angeline was in her mid-thirties, the U.S. government ordered the Suquamish Indians to a reservation far away from their homes in Seattle. But Angeline stayed on. People started calling her Princess Angeline, because of her father's standing as well as her own dignified bearing despite her situation.

Princess Angeline and a handful of other Native Americans found work in Seattle and lived in various places. She had a small cabin on Western Avenue, between Pike and Pine streets. To make a living, she did laundry for the settlers and sold various native handicrafts, like baskets she made in the evenings. As she grew older, Angeline developed arthritis but kept to her routines. For years, people watched her familiar figure walking along Seattle's streets. She always wore a red handkerchief over her head, as well as a shawl to keep out the cold. Her arthritis was so bad in the wet climate that she eventually needed a cane. She stopped frequently to rest, and as she did, people saw her "telling" her beads, because Angeline had converted to Catholicism in her youth.

Not that she knew it, but she also became world famous. Many newspapers published articles and books about her, as well as bout her famous father. The two of them bridged the time between the end of the Native American lifestyle and the coming of the whites. Angeline died in 1896 and was given a magnificent funeral in Seattle's Church of Our Lady of Good Help. Her coffin, which was shaped like a canoe, was buried in Lake View Cemetery.

Over the years, Angeline's cabin was torn down and the area became part of the waterfront, until Pike Place Market was formed. The market quickly, expanded, and the flower market was built on top of, or very near, the site of her cabin. No one knows when, but at some point people began seeing a little old Indian lady quietly sitting on the floor claimed they recognized her as Princess Angeline from popular photographs.

Over the years, people have told stories of many sightings of Angeline. Most of the time she is seen in Pike Place Market, near the flower stalls. Her apparition looks so natural that almost everyone who sees her thinks she is a living person, though oddly dressed. They discover she's not only when they go to talk to her or ask to take a picture. Then she vanishes.

The Seattle to Bainbridge Island ferry dock is not too far away from Pike Place Market. Some people have reported seeing an elderly Native American woman hobbling onto the ferry with the aid of a cane. Once aboard, the woman walks over to one of the benches overlooking the Puget Sound and sits down. People observing the strange old lady have reported that she vanishes before the ferry reaches Bainbridge Island-they never see her walk off the ferry when it docks.

Some people believe Princess Angeline is looking for a new home. Some time ago, a group of shop owners brought in a shaman, who attempted to exorcise any spirits at Pike Place Market. Perhaps the shaman was not able to remove her completely, but she now feels unwelcomed and is attempting to find a more receptive home.

[dirtygirlsnursery]

SHOP SMALL weekend!! Over 25 families IN OUR COMMUNITY represented in one place.🥰🎄❤️

Vendor line up:

Nov 25 9-3pm

Nov 26, 10-3 pm

1-Rita M Reali, A Published local author that has written 6 books!

2- Minding My Own Business Bullet Jewelry

by Tricia

3-Wreaths and flower arrangements by Jennifer

4- Hollow Creek Homestead TNRyan and Tiffany selling their organic & ancient grain meal and goodie mixes

5- Honest Living Kendra and Anthony elderberry syrup, natural laundry detergent, natural cough syrup and more!

6- Sibling Soap Company & Candles, Leanne selling her high quality clean burning soy wax candles and soaps and more!

7-Scott Eatherly hand woven baskets and chair caning.

8- @alteredlifephotography, nature prints, and cards photographer, Maryann Gilfillian

9- @offthechainsbd, permanent jewelry, featuring handmade beads that are hand-painted!

10-Leather Bracelets, and keychains by Carol11-Creative Crafting Delivered by crafter Tammy

12- The Sparkling Bea, Clay jewelry, Tiffany Pimentel

13-Dawn and Marsha‘s table arrangements and miscellaneous decorations

14- Cumberland Creative, Monica Jensen & her Christmas decor from reclaim materials and vintage, stamped servingware ornaments

15-The Creation Shop, Steven and G re-purposed, antiques and gourd art

16-Something Sweet by Theresa, homemade candies, fudge and gingerbread men

17-Sadie Roo, crochet by Stephanie, crocheted, stuffed animal, succulents, koozie‘s, and other items

18- @SunshineGalsBakery and Sweets by Angel, cinnamon rolls, pudding, cupcakes, and more

19-Timeless Tennessee Treasures by Richard and Cindy, charcuterie boards, Lazy Susan‘s benches stools, Moosehead, hat, racks, and so much more

20- Deep Draw Yak Ranch , Crossville’s #1 must see farm tour attraction, selling all things yak.

21-In Tha Sticks Artwork, unique hand painted signs made out of repurposed wood

22-Grandma’s House handmade fabric items by Jane

23- Whole Hearted Publishing LLC, Renee Michuda local illustrator & author selling her children’s book

24- Driftwood Mushroom & Herb Co., Justin Staggs, selling mushroom teas and tinctures

25- Chelle Gunderson - artist, florals on canvas, ornaments & more

LIVE MUSIC

Saturday: PrimeTime

Sunday: Brandon Luttrell

Cider

over five different barn made hot cocoa flavors,

lattes of all sorts,

giant smoked turkey legs,

good food, craft beers Swing On Brewing Company

MoCo Brewing Project

Red Silo Brewing Company

Santa pics (11 to 2pm)

fire pits to sit around roast a marshmallow or 2, enjoy a s’more or more

Leave thanks at the manger

SHOP SMALL with over 25 families being represented in one place!! Enjoy your fellow community, and celebrate this time of year with artist and vendors of all sorts,

rain, or shine

.

#dirtygirlsnursery

#crossvilletn

#knoxvilletn

#cookevilletn

#spartatn

#chattanoogatn

#nashvilletn

[eva-knits12]

Laundry and cleaning day with Ransom Drysdale.

Trigger warning: Ransom doing laundry, Ransom cleaning the bathroom, frustrated Ransom, mentions of a chronic illness, fluff in the end.

Summary: Since you moved in with Ransom, he takes care of a good chunk of the household chores. This is his first time doing laundry and household chores without his maid, and he gets frustrated.

This is a little story that is in the Daily Battle series. You and Ransom are not married yet in this one, you two are living together.

Wednesdays are my laundry and cleaning day, and this story was inspired by that.

It's Wednesday, and that is your normal laundry and cleaning day. When you were living in your small apartment, it was a difficult task because of your MS. On your bad days, it was often hard to do laundry, so you had to have friends come over and help you with the laundry. Your friends would normally take the laundry basket to the laundry room, and you would sit on the couch and fold it.

That all changed when you moved in Ransom. Now that you were both living together, Ransom won't let you lift a finger, and won't let you go from one room to another without him carrying you bridal style so you won't wear yourself out.

This is the first time that Ransom has done laundry without his maid. His maid was at home with a bad cold, and he told her that it was best she stay put, and that getting you sick would not be good for you or him.

So, Ransom got out the laundry basket since he didn't want you to tire yourself out. He went into the first story laundry room, and opened the lid. He put the entire basket in, not knowing that you have to separate the whites, the colors, the sheets and the towels. Ransom had no knowledge of doing this basic task because he had everything done for him.

Ransom puts in about half a bottle of detergent, and deep down you wanted to help him, but you didn't. You had to let him do this and make mistakes. You had been doing laundry since childhood, because when you became old enough, laundry became a rotating household chore. One week, your dad did it, the next your mom did it, the next week was yours, and the week after was your brother's. Growing up, the household chores were divided evenly, and you even made a chore wheel to help make delegating the chores easier, and keep everything organized.

"WHAT THE SHIT?" screamed Ransom. You get up, grabbing your cane because you were having a bad day today. You get to the laundry room as quick as you can, and you start laughing.

"This isn't funny! What the shit?" screamed Ransom. Ransom was trying to pull the load out from the washer, but it was one huge clump, with water all over the floor.

"Okay, you're frustrated. This is the first time doing laundry. I'm not going to be condescending. We just started living together, so we're learning a lot about how we can function as a couple, and what makes us tick. I'll walk you through this," you said, being patient.

"Okay, Ransom. First take the clump, and put it on the side somewhere. Next, do you have any old towels in your workshop?' you ask.

Ransom had a workshop so he could do his woodworking while you read or took a nap.

Ransom went into his workshop, and gathered every towel he could find in there. He made a birdhouse for the garden so you could watch the birds feed. He made you a yarn bowl, and he made a bunch of cutting boards.

"Okay, first unfold the towels, and then we'll put them on the floor."

Ransom and you unfolded the towels, and he places them on the floor. You then tell him to start blotting the towels in the water, don't rub the towels, it will just make the water worse. You remember you used to have a washing machine that was notorious for breaking down at some point every other week. You remember the first time this happened to you, you were scared, but your dad walked you through it. Then, when it happened to you again, you knew what to do.

"Okay, now the towels should have absorbed most of the water. Now, place the towels over there, and then we'll put them in the washer when it's time. Now, let's deal with this clump. Grab a few laundry baskets," you said, even more patient.

You were teaching Ransom how to do laundry, and how to deal with a nasty spill.

Ransom grabbed a few laundry baskets. He put the huge clump in, and you two get to work separating the clump.

You organize each item into the baskets. Clothes went into one basket, the sheets went into another basket, and the towels went into the third basket.

Ransom was impressed. You helped him with this task that had always overwhelmed him and he had let his maid do.

"First, do the clothes, and separate the whites from the darks," you said. Ransom separated the clothes, and put them in the washer.

"Now what?" Ransom asked, his frustration easing.

"Okay, now turn your knob to the normal setting. Now, set the temperature to cool lights or to cold. I set it to cold. Next, grab the detergent, and pour some to the second line. Now, put the detergent in the machine, and then turn on the machine", you tell Ransom. Ransom did each step, and gave you a loving kiss.

Ransom picked you up bridal style, and deposited you on the couch. He then covers your lap with the blanket, and grabs the book you've been reading and gives it to you. Ransom grabs his crossword puzzle and his mechanical pencil. You both do your activities while you both wait for the washer to finish.

After a while, the washer is done. You grab your cane, and follow Ransom. You tell Ransom to put the wet clothes into the dryer, and to set the dryer to normal. He does this, and he puts the next load of clothes in, and follows the steps that you told him previously.

You go back to your activities, and then Ransom gets up, and puts the lights in the laundry basket, and puts the darks in. He puts the laundry basket between you, and is overwhelmed with the next task of folding the laundry. You show him how to fold, and the items that need hanging can be left unfolded, that you can just hang them in the closet, or leave them hanging on the rack, ready for ironing later tonight, if there's items that need to be ironed. Luckily, there are no items that need ironing, You and Ransom fold the laundry, a task that you both are not great at.

Ransom calls you. He puts the lights in the dresser, and the ones that are unfolded, he hangs in the closet. He is overwhelmed by the amount of hangers and has no idea how to hang the items that are unfolded. You show him how to place the items on the hanger so that they don't fall off.

He goes back and puts the darks in the dryer.

"Sweetheart, what do I set the washer to for sheets?", Ransom asks. You tell him to set the sheets to normal, and to put in the same amount of detergent. He does, and then picks you up and carries you to the couch. He sets you down, and places the laundry basket between the both of you.

When the darks are done, he puts them in the basket, and you both fold them. He puts the darks away in the bedroom, hanging the items that are unfolded.

After a while, the sheets are done, and are in the dryer. You help Ransom with the towels, which you explain need to be done last because they're the heaviest item. You tell him to set the washer to the bulky setting, and that way, the washer won't have too little agitation and you won't hear the loud noise because the machine has to work harder, and you also tell him to divide the load of towels into two separate piles. Ransom does this. and you tell him that you'll need a little more detergent for the towels. Ransom fills the detergent cap to the third line.

The sheets are done, and you explain how to fold the sheets. He does this.

Ransom goes to the bathroom to clean it, and he looks even more overwhelmed. He picks up the toilet scrubber, and thinks that is what you meant to clean the bathroom. "Where is your cleaning supply closet?", you ask.

Ransom finds the cleaning supply closet, eventually. He looks overwhelmed, so you grab a bucket, and gather the items, with Ransom holding you from behind.

You give Ransom the bucket with the cleaning supplies, and follow him to the bathroom with your cane. You tell him to grab the window cleaner, and to spray it on the mirror. He does, and then you tell him to spray it on the faucet, and he does. You tell him to tear two sheets of paper towels, and to wipe in a circular motion. He doesn't know what you mean, so you get in the bathroom, and show him what you mean, with one hand supporting you in the sink, with Ransom holding you from behind again. You then tell him to use the BioClean on the sink, and to wet the sponge, and then wet a cloth, and have a dry cloth. He does, and you tell him how to use the BioClean. He cleans the sink, and then next up is the tub, You tell him to clean the tiles first, and you can either use the window cleaner, or the green spray cleaner for that. You tell him to wet the sponge that you pulled out, and he does. You then instruct him to use the same circular motion that you showed him earlier. He does, and then you explain to wet the sponge, and to use the BioClean on the tub. He does, and even wipes the BioClean off the way you explained. Next is the toilet, and you show him what to do. You grab the toilet bowl cleaner, and squeeze a sizeable amount into the bowl. You then dampen the toilet scrubber, and scrub the toilet. You explain that you can either do this task standing up, or on your knees. You then grab a Lysol wipe, and clean the back of the toilet, and the seat, and underneath the seat. You explain that if you don't do this step, the toilet seat gets grungy and gross, and that nobody thinks of it.

You then go back to the cleaning supply closet, and grab the vacuum. You instruct Ransom to plug in the vacuum, and to turn on the vacuum. He looks overwhelmed at first, but you are more than happy to walk him through it. You show him where the power switch is, and explain that each model and brand has a different place where they put the power switch.

You then instruct him to vacuum the floor first, and then explain that in order to work the vacuum, you need to use a back and forth motion, it's no different than using a saw. He gets it, and does it. You then grab a mop, and tell him to fill the bucket with water, and to only use one capful of the Pinesol. He puts exactly one capful in, and you then tell him that he has to wet the mop first, He does, and then you have to ring the mop out, and you show him how to work the mechanism on the mop.

"You slide this mechanism forward, like this, then then you slide it back, making sure that the mop is over the bucket", you explain.

Ransom then mops the floor, and wants to put everything back. You explain that the floor needs to dry first. You have both worked up an appetite, so you suggest that you and Ransom eat some lunch. Ransom is again overwhelmed. You see that he has strawberry Goober in his cabinet, and grab that. You then grab a loaf of bread, and pull out four slices. Ransom grabs a knife and the chips, and two glasses. You then spread the Goober on two of the slices, and put the remaining two on top. You then cut the sandwiches, and he put the chips on the plates where you have placed the sandwiches.

He carries the plates over to the table, and then gets two glasses of water.

"Why do you know so much about chores and laundry? You're really good at this." says Ransom, looking at you with love and awe.

"Well, chores was an activity that I used to enjoy before I had to rely on other people to help me with them. My family did chores growing up because we never had a maid growing up", you said.

"How could you function without a maid and without a nanny?" Ransom asked, shocked that you were forced to do manual labor.

Ransom listens with interest as you explain that your mom was a manager at AT & T, and that your dad worked as a district manager for KMart, which is where your parents met.

"What's KMart?" asked Ransom, with interest.

You explain KMart was a discount store, much like Walmart or Target, and that it set the stage for those two stores. You explain that the K stood for Kresge's, and that it was founded by the Kresge family from their line of pharmacies. So, each Kmart had a pharmacy because of that, Your dad retired in 2006, when Sears bought KMart, and that your mom retired in 2004 because she was forced to. You had graduated college, then moved to Boston, when that happened. He knew that you grew up in Detroit.

"Go on", said Ransom.

"We did chores every week, with some daily chores when we got home from school", you explain. You explain the chore wheel that you made. "My brother would do the laundry and clean the bathroom one week, I would do it another week, my mom would do it another week, my dad would do it another week, and so on", you explain.

"I had maids growing up. I never did manual labor until today," Ransom said. "You were so patient, and I was freaking out," said Ransom between bites of his sandwich.

Ransom gives you loving kiss on the forehead as he cleans the table.

Ransom realizes how much he loves you, and gives you another loving kiss.

Ransom then goes to the laundry room, puts the towels in the dryer, and the second load in the washer. He follows your instructions. You then tell Ransom to set the dryer to the heavy setting because towels take longer to dry. After a while, the first load is dried, Ransom puts in the second load of towels, and brings the laundry basket to the living room. You show him to fold the towels He repeats the process when the second load of towels is done. Thankfully, the second load of towels is the last load of laundry.

"I love you so much," said Ransom.

"I have an amazing girlfriend who is the best teacher, and never cracked, or made fun of me when I was overwhelmed. You inspire me every day to be better, and I admire your courage, your strength, and your bravery," said Ransom as he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the living room, depositing you on the couch.

"I love you, too, Ransom", you said.

You have a smile on your face as you fall asleep next to Ransom. Ransom gives you another kiss to your forehead.

Ransom was happier than he ever was. In several months, he would work up the courage to ask Harlan for his grandmother's engagement ring. All the love, happiness, and inspiration he felt for the first time in well, never, was all thanks to you.

[wanderrealms]

Post Runner

Spring sunlight warmed dozing Raimo’s hands and face. He pulled his wide brimmed blue felt hat back over his face to shield his eyes and leaned back against the rough surface of the birch. His favorite spot where the roots formed a good shape sit and the drooping branches usually stopped the eye-stinging sunlight. And he could just hear the creek. Its roar mellowed to a soothing hum. Even the old mill’s creaking couldn’t be heard on this side of the village.

But a gust of wind pulled the hat back off and almost stole it. With a sigh, he pulled the hat deep over his pale red hair. The missus had paid a lot for the woad flower used to dye it blue. She wouldn’t be happy to hear the wind was wearing it. Though it would like fine in the air as on his head.

No, the elements weren’t letting him doze. Best get up and go check the chickens. A weasel had been skulking about, and he wasn’t about to lose his chickens to something that resembled a furry cane. No matter how bloodthirsty.

The wind blew again, gently now, carrying with it the fine scent of wood smoke, stewing turnips, carrots and fish. The missus had begun to prepare dinner. It would be a long time, best build up a hunger.

He could still taste the earthy and salty rye and vendace pie she’d given him to eat after tilling the field. Mustikki the ox had claimed a chunk when he’d looked away. The ox had deserved it. This would be a good year, as long as nothing foul came down from the witches’ mountain.

He got up, straightened his linen shirt and trousers. Brushed off jagged edged birch leaves and bits of black bark off his striped vest. Missus would give him a scolding if it stained.

A red squirrel skittered past, holding a shiny black beetle in its mouth. The squirrel stopped, turned its head towards Raimo, annoyance clear in its large black eyes. Then, making complaining sounds, it scraped up another birch to eat its smelly meal in peace.

Even the animals seemed to be scolding him for his nap. But as he’d explained to the missus when he became one of the few farmers who could carry post, one needed to be ready to run at a moment’s notice. Be it night or day, sun or rain, spring or winter deep, the post would be carried a run. Aye, it was serious. If you were caught dallying or napping while carrying the post, you could end up four weeks in water and bread jail.

He couldn’t bear even one week without missus Kerttu, or her cooking, therefore he took his naps between works.

Maybe they could save for a horse, a good old chestnut with flaxen mane. The horse could pull the plough and he could ride it to the next village with a post-carrying farmer. Though the horse would have to be well rested and the missus might want to sell Mustikki the ox…

Better not mention a horse.

The baked earth thumped beneath his leather boots and the dry grass crackled as he walked past the log houses. A neighbor opened a shutter with a long whining creak. She hailed him, but before he could answer, she started flicking the bed linen up and down, making a loud snap and billowing dust and soot into the air.

Raimo put his hand over his mouth to stop a cough and hurried on to his house near the center of the village.

The chickens were probably safe. A weasel would go into the coops near the edges of the village, but it was better to be safe than wake up the sound of panicked chickens-

A horn keened from the village. Not just any horn.

The curved postal horn. This was urgent.

He had his seven-league boots on and the linen clothes were light enough that he would bake a pie on a stove, but his spear was back at home.

A frazzled man, covered in dust and leaves, ran down the road, clutching a leather satchel to his body. The satchel bulged with something square. In his other hand, he held a short spear. A woman carrying a wicker basket topped with laundry backed away quickly, giving the man half the street.

The man slowed down, stopping a spear’s length away from Raimo. The spear dropped with a thud and the man almost lunged at Raimo, the bag held out towards him.

“Not the usual route towards Castle Savonia and the sorcerers. Take this to Kerewood village. You know where that is?” The man pushed the satchel into Raimo’s hands. He pulled the dusty leather strap over his head. The satchel thudded hard against his leg. A wooden box, he guessed.

The man stared at him wide-eyed, awaiting an answer. What was the question? Kerewood? Yes, over the river, down the road and then down a small path that skirted the Sheepstealer bog.

He nodded.

“Aalo the Healer needs the contents of the box. It’s been enchanted. Only she can open it.” The man curled his arms around himself as if a chill winter wind had blown through spring. “Be careful. A wicked witch wants the box as well. I was set upon by bandits, but managed to escape. Is there anywhere I could spend the night?”

Raimo lifted his arm to point towards his house. At least the missus’ efforts on dinner wouldn’t be wasted.

“Thank you, good man, take this.” He lifted the spear and shoved the wooden shaft into his right hand. “Now go, man.”

Raimo turned and ran. The ground rose in dust around his feet. From behind a neighbor yelled “Good luck!”. He clutched the bag against his side to stop it from thumping painfully against his legs. The edge of the box bit into his side. He adjusted it so the flat side rested against him.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth against his side. The box had been enchanted. Maybe he should make sure it hadn’t opened somehow. He couldn’t stop running.

He let go, the satchel thumped against his leg. With his free hand, he lifted the flap a bit. A good length of rope and a seamless wooden box. An odd swirling symbol glowed a warm light atop the box. His touch had woken the symbol but hadn’t opened.

Still running, he shifted the box so a plain side would press against his side instead of the symbol.

The soothing hum of the rapids had grown into a steady roar and he could smell the clean scent of water. Just beyond the line of birches, he’d see the sturdy old bridge. He’d ran over it many a times. Sometimes he didn’t realize he was on the bridge until the sound beneath his boots changed to a wooden clanking.

The birches left behind. Sunlight turned his sight white for a moment. He felt the spray of water on his face. The roar of the rapids drowned out all other sounds.

The white light disappeared suddenly.

He stared at the grass, covered with a spray of water glistening in sunlight. Slim grey line of smooth stone barely holding foaming white and dark blue.

Right before him the rough-hewn stones which used to hold the old bridge. Instead of wood, he saw a fall into the raging water.

Raimo poked the butt of the spear into the dirt, trying to further slow himself down. His boots scraped up earth and grass.

The spear stuck a crack in the rock, and he fell down to his face.

“Oomph.” He breathed out. His jaw ached from impact, as well as his leg. His left hand was up, holding the satchel and package. The box was enchanted. It probably wouldn’t have broken even if he’d fallen on top of it. He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. Nothing broken though he’d gripped the spear as he well. The blue felt hat had stayed on his head as well.

Raimo pushed himself back up onto his feet the help of his borrowed spear. He checked the box quickly. Not a scratch.

The bridge, on the other hand, had suffered more than scratches. Looked like a god had taken offence and struck it down a lightning bolt. But the gods didn’t waste their time on smiting bridges. This had to be a witch, a strong one, one that had studied with the Great Seers.

Well, the post had to go on.

Down river, past the rapids, boards had washed up ashore. With the rope, he could lash together the boards and hopefully float to the other side of the wide river.

He wasn’t a timber floater, but he might be able to guide the boards with a spear. Though he’d have to be careful not to lose his only weapon to the current.

He walked down to the boards as fast as his aching muscles allowed. For a moment, he considered setting the satchel, but the unknown witch might send a familiar to grab it when his back was turned. He reluctantly set down the spear in the wet grass. The grass hid the weapon somewhat.

Mist and spray of water had coated the waterlogged boards. The slick wood slipped in his grip. Insects fled from beneath the boards. A flock of sparrows descended on them, twittering and making a pattering sound with their wings.

Raimo pulled out the rope. There wasn’t enough to lash together a raft as he’d hoped. He’d get wet. Luckily, the sun would be out for hours. He hitched the roped around each board before securing them together into what looked more a bunch twigs than a raft. He gave the rope a few trying tugs. The rope held fast.

Time to get soaked. He retrieved his spear from the grass.

Was that movement in the woods?

Probably a squirrel.

He took off his boots, put them atop the center of the bunch of wood, then rolled up his trousers. Shoulders straining, he pushed the roped boards back into the river. The chill water rose quickly to mid-calf. Even here, the current tugged at his legs, trying to pull him down so it could carry him downriver. The roped boards had started to turn with the current.

The wood gave a bob under his weight, but it stayed aloft as he sidled towards the center, using the spear as a cane. He wouldn’t stay upright for long when the current grew stronger. He got down to straddle the boards. Shivers ran up his legs as the water rose almost to his knees. He lifted the satchel in front of him with his boots so it wouldn’t get too wet.

Raimo struck the butt of the spear into the rocky riverbed and gave a push. The roped boards slid forwards into the center of the river.

A hoarse roar from behind nearly made Raimo jump off the raft. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see a bear emerge from the birches. It ran down the river’s edge where had stood mere moments before.

The current grabbed the boards. The remaining stones of the bridge, the rapids running beneath, and the bear disappeared behind the horizon.

After struggling with the current until his arms felt like giving up the raft of roped boards finally struck ground. Raimo quickly grabbed his boots in one hand, the spear and satchel in the other, and dropped them on the stone shore. He undid the knot and gathered the rope. Then flung it on his shoulder to dry before tucking it back into the satchel.

Pine trees rose from solid grey rock topped with a thin layer of soil. Roots snaked through the soil and into cracks in the rock, seeking purchase. A gust blew from the trees, bringing with it the sweet smell of sap. A few green needles fell amid dry yellow needles. They’d make good tinder, but he didn’t have time to start a fire. He’d have to warm up his legs by walking until he could run again.

He checked the wooden box, still intact, then gave his blue tinged feet a quick rub. The rock he’d landed on was slick with the spray of river water. He leaned heavily on the spear as he walked towards the tree line.

Sunlight dried his legs and warmed them slowly, but daren’t put his boots on just yet. Still, even slow steps were better than stopping.

He heard an animal screeching a bunch of roots. He took a few running steps towards the sound. A musty smell wafted in the air. Something long with reddish brown fur dug at three roots. A weasel. He hated the bloodthirsty rodent. Killed every chicken in a coop just for the fun of it.

The weasel gave a shriek of pain as the shaft of the spear truck its side. It skittered back into the shadows beneath threes.

He squatted down in front of the trees. Half expecting to see a baby bird in the crook of three roots. Instead, a large toad huddled there. Its eyes were closed, but its warty body grew and shrunk with each breath.

The weasel would return when he left. The poor toad was hurt and probably didn’t belong here. Possibly a bird had grabbed and dropped it. He couldn’t leave it die here. He lifted the toad carefully. It felt slimy against his palm.

He didn’t know much about the ways of toads or frogs, but they ate bugs and were thus useful. They also needed to stay wet.

He set down the toad, ripped a strip of his trousers legs. The missus wouldn’t be happy, and went down the river. He dipped the trip of linen in the water, then returned to the toad. Minding the squishy animal, he wrapped the wet cloth around it. Then put it into the satchel.

His legs had dried nicely. He brushed the bottoms of his feet against a patch of dry grass to get the rest of the drops off. Then he pulled on his boots and started running.

He didn’t go straight upriver. Bears could swim well and the one would surely have found a way over the river even with the bridge out. What bothered him more was that the bear was near his little village. Bears usually avoided homes, especially with the cows, sheep and goats in the pasture where they’d be easier picking than people with guns, spears, mattocks and the like.

The poor bear had to be bewitched.

He went through the woods, a little way from the river. If he’d thought right, he would encounter the road and from there, he could look for the little path to Kerewood.

  A loud croaking came from the satchel. As gently as he could while still running, he lifted the toad from the satchel. Its eyes were wide open and in the golden depth he saw an uncanny intelligence. Had the toad been bewitched as well?

The croaking of the toad began to form what sounded like words. Slowly, meaning came to the words as well.

He wanted to chuck the toad into the pine roots before it completed its spell, but something told him he should listen. Not stop, never stop running while carrying post.

"I must thank thee, good man. For eaten I would be. Prince of Toads am I.”

Raimo had heard tales of a fisherman catching a fish which revealed itself King of the Sea and being rewarded with three wishes. A horse would be good now.

The toad continued ribbitting on. “Take me to my home. There a reward awaits.

The toad probably meant Sheepstealer -bog. There were a lot of sheep lost in the swamp's eye, but not many horses. He wasn’t sure if even the Prince of Toads could lift a dead horse to life.

He wasn’t sure he’d want to ride a dead swamp horse. Well, the swamp wasn’t out of the way.

"Aye toad, I’ll you home.” He said. The toad bobbed its blunt head. Then made a loud ribbit sound before retreating into the wet linen ball.

The ground turned from hard grey stone, to soft earth, then to soft moss which squished underneath each step. Wet began to seep through the soles of his boots. Pines around him grew shorter. Here and there stood a silver barked dead standing pine. They looked like skeletons, warning off living the from the hungry eye of the swamp that would slurp up anyone not careful. The air began to smell foul, like a rotten egg.

His feet began sinking into the moss. This couldn’t be the way to the road or the small path.

In the satchel, the Prince of Toads began to croak. “Home I smell!”

Raimo picked up the toad. He held it in his palm, and held out his hands before him.

“Yes. Yes. Home.” The Prince of Toads ribbitted happily. The toad turned around slowly, tiny wide feet slapping against his palm. The Prince of Toads stopped and pointed towards a shadow rising against the darkening sky. “There you will go. To receive your reward.”

Raimo followed the way the toad had pointed until he came to a gently rising hill. At its foot lay an odd puddle. All the grass round it bent away as if pushed by some force. The puddle dark blue color was one he’d usually seen in lakes, not spots where rainwater gathered.

The Prince of Toads turned around to face Raimo. The gold eyes with black slit stared deep into his with that uncanny intelligence. “Here the treasure lies. But earn it with wits, you must. A spell here was.”

Raimo gritted his teeth. He didn’t have to use wit, he hadn’t been really looking for the reward. Just the way to Kerewood village.

But he was against an enchanted bear and a witch.

Again, the toad kept ribbitting. “Come to water. Without company, but not alone. Unclothed, but covered. Come to water, but not your feet.

This is stupid, but I’m already facing a bear, a witch and probably water and bread jail for dawdling. Without the missus’ food.

And the treasure could be magical. Probably was if there was a spell set on it.

“Do this task. The treasure will rise.” The toad stopped speaking. Tiny ball shaped body grew and shrunk with each breath. It waited, staring at him with golden eyes.

Raimo had an idea.

He was already without human company, but not alone. He had the Prince of Toads with him. He had enough rope to wrap around himself. How to come to the water without walking?

He looked up the hill. This was the most stupid idea he’d had since he’d tried to wrestle a badger as a youth.

He’d left his clothes at the bottom of the hill. He still had the satchel, the Prince of Toad safe within, in his hands. Even the ground on the hill squished beneath his bare feet. He would be covered in mud, as well as rope, by the end of this.

“Ready Toad?” He said in to the satchel.

“Prince of Toads. Yes.” The toad ribbited.

Raimo got onto his hands and knees, then onto his stomach. He held out the satchel with arms so he wouldn’t roll over it.

For the last time he thought of getting up, but a magical toad had promised him treasure. There were more foolish reasons to roll in the mud.

Pines, earth and sky rolled around and around. He could feel mud clinging to his skin as his hands clung to the satchel containing the seamless wooden box and the Prince of Toads.

An invisible stopped his roll right in front of the puddle.

The puddle began to glow with a greenish light. As the light gathered in the center of the pond, its surface bubbled like the rapids.

The greenish light to gold. Slowly the petals of a gold-colored flower, a cow-lily, pierced the bubbling surface. The flower grew tall, petals slowly opening to reveal a white pearl in the center.

The treasure the Prince of Toads had spoken of! It wasn’t a weapon. At least it didn’t look like. He got up, cupped his hands, and plunged them into the water and lifted his hands to wash the mud off.

He realized he wasn’t covered in mud anymore. Magic. Odd, but he hadn’t had much dealing with magic before.

He put on his linen shirt and pants striped vest and plopped his blue felt hat atop his head. Then he reached out carefully to grab the pearl. His fingers touched the flower’s stem instead. It fell gently against his palm. The pearl rolled free, the surface cool and smooth against his palm. A contrast to the soft, warmth of the cow-lily.

He put the pearl into the satchel. The Prince of Toads had jumped off back into his swamp. The swirly symbol flashed, then faded as the pearl fell past into the bottom of the satchel. It was clearly magic and valuable, but he felt oddly drawn to the flower as well.

It didn’t smell like a cow-lily should and it was more golden than yellow. It smelled sweet, like honey, but also somehow like warmth and home.

Gently, he put the flower on top of the box. The enchantment didn’t react. The flower was just unusual.

He climbed back to the top of the hill. He spotted a narrow path through a copse of dead standing trees and ran down. Ran down the hillside, feet slipping in the muddy spots. He used the spear to steady himself the few moments he almost fell over.

He made it quick to the familiar little trail. Made by feet of men and animal passing over than plants before they could grow back. It bent, narrowed and widened like a snake that swallowed too many eggs.

He was making up time. One squishy step at a time, his aching legs brought him closer to Kerewood.

A husky roar stopped him. From around a bend hidden by birches stepped out a bear. Its black unfocused eyes rolled around as if it was dreaming. Saliva dripped its slack mouth. Paws as big as his face carried the bulk of fur and muscle towards him.

The bear lifted its head. Carrion breath flowed over Raimo, making him cough.

He lifted his spear, ready to fend off the animal. A regular bear would run off a poke or two with the sharp spear.

But an enhanced bear would probably fight to the bitter end.

The golden cow-lily had fallen from the satchel. A glint of sense returned to the bear’s black eyes, and fixed on the flower. Its big nose twitched as it breathed in the scent of warm honey.

Could he distract the bear?

Raimo slowly crouched, spear point up, the butt of the spear against the ground so it would skewer the bear if it attacked. He took the flower in his hand.

The bear made a husky sound. An objection to the flower being handled?

He lifted the flower.

The bear’s eyes follower.

He threw the flower below the jaws of the bear.

The enchanted bear bellowed once. Its massive behind thumped on the narrow path. Its head hung low, big black nose slowly breathing in the scent of the flower lying just before its massive paws.

Slowly, Raimo moved into the trees lining the path. Spear still ready, he sidled through the trees and around the bear.

The bear made a snuffling noise. Raimo froze. But the bear lifted the flower gently with round paws to its nose.

The bear was entranced.

Raimo broke into a run.

He could hear the trickling of a small creek. A bridge spanned it, but it was easy enough to wade through even after the spring thaw. With the bear distracted, the witch that had destroyed the bridge and sent the bear was powerless to stop-

A figure wreathed in dark shadows stood in front of the small log bridge. In the stories, witches were all ugly, but within the shadowy cowl he caught glimpses of a face that could’ve belonged on a duchess.

A slim hand that hadn’t seen a day of work slid from the shadow.

“Give it to me, pheasant.” The voice was cold, a winter’s breath blowing through spring. “Or I will drain all life from you.”

Raimo had a lot of life in front of him. Lots of dinner made by the missus, a new felt hat, and hopefully he’d come home from a post run to find little smiling faces.

He wouldn’t do any post runs if he failed now.

“I’m just a farmer. I don’t have much of value, but I came across this,” He picked up the pearl from the satchel. Again, the symbol glowed for a moment. It was clearly magic. Giving something magical to a witch wasn’t the smarted thing to do, but nothing else came to mind.

He dropped the pearl into the pale hand. Spidery fingers snapped around it, quick as an arrow from a bow. If his fingers had been closer, he would’ve been caught too.

“I hope you’ll be happy with it and let me pass. I don’t know what’s in the box, but I’ve been tasked to deliver.” Raimo took a few steps back slowly. He thought about running past the witch while she examined the pearl. It might just work. He just needed the courage to try. “And so I’ll carry the post. Even if man or magic tries to stop me.”

But the witch had stopped looking at him. The pale duchess-face within the shadows stared down at the pearl. Shapes of pale light ran over its surface. And Raimo could swear in a circle of sorcerers that he had heard voices. Calling voices that sent a shiver up his already chilled skin.

This was his chance to run. If he made it to the Seer Aalo, she might protect him-

The world turned white as if he’d walked into sunlight from darkness.

He saw shadows pour into the pearl in a stream of darkness.

For a moment, the pearl floated in midair amid the bright world.

The normal world of earth, trickling brook and thin birches, returned. The pearl dropped onto the path, making a tiny dent.

Raimo poked at the pearl with the edge of his shoe. Nothing happened. No angry shadows spilled out of the pearl.

He couldn’t leave it here.

For a moment, he thought of kicking it into the brook, but then someone else would find it. He grabbed the strip of linen he’d used to keep the Prince of Toads wet and used it to grab the pearl without touching its smooth and shiny surface.

He wrapped the cloth a few times around the pearl. On a thought, he took the wooden box out and dropped the pearl into the satchel with the rope.

He thanked the Prince of Toads in his mind. The fairytales had been right. You should be kind to all sorts of creatures.

He ran over the bridge. Steps turning to wooden thuds for a moment, then back to thump against the earth. He smelled smoke and roasting fish. It took a long while for the log homes to emerge from the birches. Chickens clucked behind a wooden fence and a rooster crowed at him.

People, he saw people. Men with green and blue felt hats and women with white aprons.

“Where’s Aalo the Seer? I have a package for her!” He held out the seamless wooden package.

A woman with a blue and green striped apron waved at him. She started walking towards the edge of the village. A long log house stood away from the others. Smoke rose from the stone chimney and he could smell pungent herbs.

The Sickhouse. Did he bring medicine?

The door opened and a stooped woman, wearing a simple linen shift, with hair as white as snow, emerged in the doorway. She held a cloth smelling of wormwood to her face.

“Oh, come in. Do you have the herbs? I should’ve brought more with me…” She ushered him in and took the box. He grabbed a cloth, poured a green liquid over it, and pressed it to his face. “Cover your mouth and nose. I don’t think adults can get this witch plague. The villains are targeting children. But to be safe.”

She turned her back to him. Her calloused fingers traced the symbol while she spoke in a faint voice. The symbol glowed, the lit lines slid down along the sides and dimmed, forming seams. The box opened with a clicking sound.

Raimo peeked a little over the seer’s shoulder. The box held bits of dry dark green herb that smelled very bitter when she crushed some between her fingers.

“The fouler the smell, the more potent the herb.” The seer placed some into a mortar. She added more herbs, a little water, and began grinding a paste. “Your job is done. Go rest. Your boots smell more potent than any of my herbs.”

He remembered the pearl. He told her what had happened on the bridge and how a witch was now trapped in the pearl. Carefully, he took the cloth containing the pearl from the satchel.

The seer’s pale eyed widened. He lifted the cloth slightly, then quickly let it fall back.

“You were very lucky. She would’ve drained you until there was only dust and no man.” She took the cloth and pearl. Lifted it over the box that had contained herbs and dropped it in. “I believe this is the witch behind the plague burning the poor children in this sick house. But no more!”

She snapped the lid shut. The seams faded while atop a symbol glowed to life then faded.

“The witch is trapped for good?” Raimo eyed the box. Another witch might open it. He thought about the enchanted bear. Hopefully trapping the witch had freed the animal.

“I will take to the Sorcerer’s Castle. Only if all is lost will the castle walls fall. But first we must tend to the children.” She handed him a pewter cup. “Don’t spill.”

He followed the Seer Aalo to a room sectioned off with heavy fabric. A little light and air spilled on the floor from shutters. Five beds had been pushed against the far wall. In each slept a small figure.

Aalo gently woke up three and boys and two girls to give them a spoonful of the medicine. The color seemed to return to their cheeks and once they fell back into sleep, they didn’t toss, turn, or moan. A smile even crossed one little girl’s face as she dreamed.

Raimo left the sick house with the feeling of pride swelling in his chest.

He had stayed true to his word. Whether man or magic tried to stop him, he would get through and deliver whatever he carried.

Now he needed new boots to carry him home.

[daisylife123]

Wicker BB Oval basket

Super strong, functional and adds nature to your home! Oval basket in full cane vines with side grooves for easy carry

Handcrafted willow wicker basket made with full cane vines in a strong and functional design to store and organise aesthetically!

Add nature to your homes as you organise with ease. Store bottles, other knick knacks and keep at sight for easy access or make special gift hampers for exclusive gifting. These baskets are easy to use, maintain, look good and add a warm vibe to the space. Willow wicker is strong and lasts almost forever!

Product Details:

Includes - 1 basket

Basket Sizes -

Length : 46 cm (18")

Breadth : 33 cm (13") 

Height : 13 cm (5") 

Utility - Laundry basket, Storage, Gift hampers

Material - Handwoven completely out of natural Indian wicker from willow tree.

Care - Wipe with clean dry cloth. Store in a cool, dry space. Can also soak in water to wash and dry in sun.

Packaging - Packaged in a re-usable cloth/ paper, jute tag string, recycled corrugated label and shipped in biodegradable cardboard box. 

Shipping & Returns - Shipped within 1-2 days of order. 10-day return policy. Read more - https://www.daisylife.in/pages/returns-exchange