#I like doing laundry

[trivialbob]

The new washing machine has a moon roof. In the left picture you're looking through it.

Hearing and seeing the clothes get clean -- it's aural and visual happiness. Front loaders have the window too, but I hate that style of washer.

The previous washer didn't have an agitator. Industrial machines at the laundromat have one, and my old washing machines decades ago, also had the central screw-like device. It makes my clothes cleaner, I'm sure of it. But not having an agitator means the machine can better hold bedding. And I do like to wash my quilts and comforters.

This new machine has a "Sometimes you feel like a nut / Sometimes you don't" flexibility. The agitator post is fuckin'-A removable! That's what you're seeing in the right picture.

After the delivery guys left I read the owners manual, then did three loads of laundry. I wasn't really far behind, but I sorted the clothes into three sections so I could try out different settings.

[goldensunset]

did you know? if you do your laundry you can get your clothes back

[lazylittledragon]

modern au gale+cyra/dadkarios for soul healing <33

cyra should not have a phone her internet history would have her on a watchlist

[norumaru]

Some 3rd semester Akeshu drawings. Finally played P5R and I have been changed forever........

[gunstellations]

its sonics turn! 👅

[moonsnqil]

something about laundry and taxes

[lillotte17]

I have been in the solavellan fandom for...A While. (do not count the years, i beg) and everyone has their tropes and themes re: wolves/halla and hunter/prey and the New Herald being worshiped/the Old God nearly forgotten, and tbh I like bits and pieces of all of them, but like...

For me, the most compelling story is that Lavellan is just Some Guy (gn).

They meet Solas and accept that he is like them. He's an elf. One of The People. You are like me. I am like you. We are The Same People. And because of that, I will protect you with whatever power the humans around us have given me, because I know this is not the safest place for either of us.

And it just fucking... gets him, right? Because that's his whole deal. The world is broken because the people aren't People. He's not like them. They're not like him.

I just love the idea that this impossibly old, incredibly powerful sort-of-god, trips into a hole and nearly throws his entire game away because a regular person (albeit one who was thrust into extraordinary circumstances) decided to be kind. Offered him protection and friendship. Asked him to tell them stories. Grieved with him when he lost one of his oldest friends.

He could not deny that they were a person, because they treated him like a person.

I love how ordinary that is. How simple. How devastating.

'You're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything, but it can't.'

[valcaine]

hello life steal fandom

[crustycrackhead]

*Throws my swampcat brain rot at y’all*

Swampcat MorningKrem (Morning Frost x Kremy Lecroux)

I’m in literal rare pair hell man, no one understands me nor my freak. I’m gonna be the crazy one that draws them like crazy (draws them only once)

Clean Freak 4 Clean Freak, they both particular and shit okay?!?? SIGH, they would prolly even hold hands but to me… they can be silly (do taxes togther)

[yet-another-autism-blog]

I need to clean my room but I can't clean my room because in order to clean my room I have to clean my room

[peppermintquartz]

Prompt: laundry day

Tommy does not want to wake up. It's the day he has to do Most Dreaded Chore: Laundry.

He's certain that if he does go to hell because of the whole gay thing, his punishment will be to do laundry for eternity. Sorting. Washing. Drying. Ironing. Folding. Hunting down stray socks.

Before he even runs the dryer, he will need to clean out the lint trap and then check the vent. The past week the 217 ground crew had to help with not one, not two, but three houses that caught fire because of vents clogged up with lint. Tommy is feeling a little paranoid.

Grumbling, he rolls out of bed and pulls on the very last shirt and pants combo he has left: a faded green tee with holes in the side and a pair of purple shorts from his, let's say more... exhibitionist, days.

He's trying to work out whether Evan's teal sweater should be parked under delicates or darks when the owner of the sweater enters the bedroom, armed with a tray of breakfast. It smells so good that Tommy's stomach rumbles loudly in complaint, but Tommy doesn't move. No eating until the first load is in the machine.

"Hey, you're up," Evan says brightly. He sets the tray of food on the nightstand and joins Tommy on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how to wash this sweater," Tommy says.

Evan takes it, looks at the label, and glances around. "Honey, what is your system?"

"Darks here, lights here. Then tops, bottoms, socks and underwear." Tommy points to each pile. Then he holds up the knit sweater. "I don't know if this will shrink in the wash or not."

Evan stares at him. Then he heaves a sigh. "Okay. How have you mastered flying a chopper but don't know how to sort dirty laundry? Go. Have breakfast. I'll do this round and then I'll teach you."

"What? No, there's no need-"

"Thomas Kinard. Go eat the breakfast I cooked for you. Drink your coffee made the way you like it." Evan hauls Tommy to his feet and pushes him in the direction of the bed, smacking his ass in his tiny purple shorts for good measure. "Don't even come near this part of the room until you've finished breakfast."

Bossy Evan is very sexy in Tommy's eyes, but his hunger for actual food outvotes his libido. As he scarfs down scrambled eggs and pancakes, Evan is re-sorting the pile, muttering under his breath that he should put up a chart of care tags here and at Eddie's, this is why home economics should be mandatory for grown adults living alone, etc.

Tommy is about halfway through when Evan carts the first load off to the laundry room. Eyeing the piles left behind warily, Tommy wonders what complicated system he's going to learn.

Evan comes back. "Finish your food," he orders. But he's smiling as he says it, so clearly Tommy's lack of competence in washing his dirty clothes has not turned him off yet.

"Thank you," Tommy says, "for the food and for that." He gestures to the piles on the floor.

Evan joins him on the bed, accepting a slice of tomato from the end of Tommy's fork. "A third of those clothes are mine anyway." He chews and swallows. "Anyway, you had some concept, so it's not like I had to do it from scratch." Then, as Tommy eats the rest of his breakfast, Evan talks about reading care labels, sorting by color and fabric, and how he learned to hand wash delicates after ruining some very expensive lingerie belonging to an ex-girlfriend.

Tommy can't look away from Evan's animated face and the way he can't keep his hands still as he speaks, and he thinks, I want to keep him forever.

"Move in with me," Tommy says.

Evan stops mid-spiel. "What?"

"Move in with me," Tommy repeats. "Not... Not because you can cook or do the laundry, that's not the reason why I'm saying it. It's just. I like this. I love this. The whole bit where I wake up and I don't have to remember if you're here or at the loft, and we can steal bites from each other's meals, and I can look after you the way you look after me. And you already have my key. We can meal prep together, and I can do the dirtier chores, I can scrub the toilets and unclog the vents - don't run the dryer until I do - and maintain your Jeep, and we can fall asleep together whenever we don't have overnights."

It's a lot of words for him to say at one go, and Tommy feels himself faltering near the end. Licking his lips, Tommy swallows dryly. He reaches for Evan's slack hand.

"I love you and I want to be with you as often as possible. If you prefer to keep the loft, then it's also okay, I'm not pressuring you to-"

Evan shuts him up with a firm kiss. Then he smiles into the kiss. "Yes. I'll move in with you. My lease is almost up anyway."

Tommy exhales. Then he nudges Evan's nose with his own. "Alright. Let me drink my coffee, and I'll go check on the vent, and then you can teach me how to sort our dirty clothes."

"Okay. I'm gonna go find out what you have in your kitchen so I won't bring duplicates."

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of our great laundry mysteries is that I never bother to match my socks*, my beloved always matches theirs and yet when I finish my laundry I have the same number of socks and my beloved is always missing several.

*I just got a bunch of crazy pattern packs and I randomly assign them to each other. I’ll match them willy nilly if they both have polka dots or stripes or similar colors. If a pair lines up that actually matches I don’t deliberately separate them and in fact I view it as slightly lucky to wear socks that came together by chance.

[b-blushes]

seven silly shirts to make me smile every day of the week!!!

[forecast0ctopus]

he really fell for that huh

[kacievvbbbb]

Shanks would definetly call Mihawk every pet name under the sun ranging from cute nicknames to just straight deranged why would you say that, how did you come up with that mismatch of words.

And Mihawk would refer him to him solely by his epithet. Might call him Shanks if he’s feeling spicy.

[rottengurlz]

toxic yuri vampires you will always be famous to me