#mesh laundry

[handylaundry]

Top Benefits of Using a Full Mattress Protector

Purchasing a full mattress protector is a smart choice for anyone who values hygiene, comfort, and durability in their bedding. One of the primary benefits of using a mattress protector is its ability to keep your mattress free from spills and stains. Whether it’s an accidental spill or pet-related mishap, a waterproof mattress protector shields your mattress from damage.

Full-size mattress protectors also provide a barrier against dust mites and other allergens, which can disrupt sleep and cause allergic reactions. With a hypoallergenic layer on your mattress, you can enjoy a cleaner, healthier sleep environment.

Additionally, full mattress protectors are incredibly easy to maintain. Most are machine washable, which means you can clean them regularly to maintain hygiene. In the long run, using a mattress protector not only keeps your mattress fresh but also prolongs its lifespan, saving you money on replacements.

[jon-snows-man-bun]

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[francysbelle]

Raleigh Multiuse Laundry

Utility room - large transitional galley slate floor utility room idea with a farmhouse sink, raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, wood countertops, gray walls and a side-by-side washer/dryer

[phantomrose96]

Today was chore day and Patches was VERY HELPFUL

HELPED with laundry (got inside the laundry basket and chewed on the mesh)

HELPED with mopping the kitchen (stood in the way because the mop was interesting to her)

HELPED with mopping the bathroom (walked across the wet floor and sat there on the wet floor with her wet little paws)

HELPED with groceries (BIT my red bell peppers BIT them with her TEETH)

HELPED with vacuuming (sat on the couch and watched me vacuum living room. sat on dining room chair and watched me vacuum dining room. sat on)

HELPED with garbage (tried sneaking out front door while I was heading to throw away the trash)

HELPED with cleaning the bathroom (sniffed and said "oh I don't care for that actually" and left)

[rmarts]

New Orleans Multiuse Laundry Mid-sized transitional l-shaped ceramic tile and beige floor utility room photo with a farmhouse sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, wood countertops, blue backsplash, glass tile backsplash, white walls and brown countertops

[shellseaisms]

plushpixels summer in the hamptons conversion.

lazy conversion aka I don't think I decimated any of these; check the polycounts and proceed with caution or something

full credit for meshes & textures go to plushpixels, I simply converted them to the sims 3.

wall shelf (1.6k) | dustpan (2.2k) | laundry basket (986) cleaning supplies (4.3k) | instructions (84) | clutter (1k) dryer balls (1k) | washing powder (1.1k) | fabric softener (800) table (2.7k) | wall drying rack (1.5k) | hanging clothes (2.9k)

download merged. alt download: patreon

[twinsimming]

Laundromat Set 🧺

I've wanted to convert the washer and dryer from The Sims 4: Laundry Day since the pack came out, but all of the washers in The Sims 3 are top-loading, so I couldn't make the project work. That is, until @olomaya released her Combo Washer/Dryer mod. Now both the washer and dryer can be front-loaded!

Olomaya also included a stacked washer and dryer, so I converted and remade the stacked version of the washer and dryer from Laundry Day as well.

The washer, dryer, and stacked set all include a coin slot swatch for extra realism in your laundromats (as seen on the stacked set). You also have the option of frosted or clear glass doors.

You'll need the Combo Washer/Dryer mod for these appliances to work. I also recommend my Dirty Laundry Mod and @echoweaver's Laundromat Fix to enhance laundry/laundromat gameplay 😉

The detergent bottles are from Around The Sims 3 here, the laundromat signs are from wanderingsims here, and the tile flooring is a previous conversion of mine here.

Large Appliances

Green Clean Washing Machine: three channels | §500 |

Fyre Dryer: three channels | §525 |

Green Clean Washing & Drying Machine: three channels | §1025 |

Green Clean Washing Machine_V2: three channels | §500 |

Fyre Dryer_V2: three channels | §525 |

Green Clean Washing & Drying Machine_V2: three channels | §1025 |

| All TS4 presets included and base game compatible |

Credit: meshes by EA, The Sims 4, Sims4Studio, TSRW, Blender, Milkshape, Photoshop, and Gimp.

Download (SFS, package) | Mirror (MEGA, package)

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi.

Experiencing issues with my conversions? Inbox me. Enjoy! 💙

[evieolo]

Panty Thief

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Contains: SMUT!!/ Male masturbation / Handjobs / Male!Receiving

“Chris, can you check if my laundry’s done for me?” You call from behind your door, catching his footsteps in the hall. Chris sighs dramatically, his voice loud enough for you to hear, and stops at your door, pushing it open. “Why can’t you do it?” He proclaims, shooting a playful glare your way. He’s dressed in low-cut gray sweats and a plain black t-shirt, carrying a mix of shirts and hoodies, folded messily in his hand.

You stretch your arms out, feigning tiredness. “I don’t want to get up.” You yawn, draping your comforter more over your torso and immersing yourself further in your social media. Chris sighs, realizing since he has to do his laundry he has to get yours out of the washing machine. Begrudgingly, he heads to the laundry room, as if he wasn’t already on his way there.

The smell of fresh laundry fans Chris’ nose as he walks into the dull room, a boring room contradicting the rest of the house, with white walls—no decor, only a window with a drapy shade over it that, on sunny days, beams light into the room, the only exception of furniture being the washer-dryer.

Chris inhales, shamelessly breathing in the fumes of your coconut-scented detergent, a scent he’d grown happily accustomed to after your many years of friendship. In Chris’ mind, you had an excessive amount of clothes. You’re not a messy person if you subtract clothes from the mix; your room is always littered with your latest clothing hauls, mixed but in separate piles from your dirty laundry. When he’d gone down to the laundry room an hour ago your clothes were cycling through the wash; still now you now had one snug load to the side in a circular hamper. The hamper adjoined the running dryer which had a second batch of clothes in it.

He approaches the shaking dryer slowly—there are two minutes left in the cycle—he might as well stay in the room while he waits for yours to finish.

Chris absentmindedly picks up the detergent you use and out of boredom reads the many labels on the bottle, giving up when he reads too many ingredient words with over twenty letters in them; the bottle’s sticky at the top where Chris holds it, he doesn’t realize this until it's slipping out of his fingers. The detergent bottle falls from his hand and spills into the hamper of your clean clothing.

Chris curses silently and snatches the bottle off the haphazard mix of clothes. He sets the bottle atop the drier and inspects the pile, pulling the soiled short on top of the pile off, wincing at the damp stain. He presses a palm to the next shirt down, realizing detergent did seep past the first top. He lets out a dramatic sigh of frustration and pulls the shirt off the top of the pile—discarding it into his basket of dirty laundry, deciding he’ll wash it with his own clothes and return it to you afterward.

He peeks to the pile of your laundry now without your baggy T housing the rest of the apparel. An orange piece catches his attention. It’s his favorite color, plus, he’d never seen you wear this specific shade before. He’s curious.

Chris saunters back to your hamper and pulls the orange bottoms out of the basket. He flushes when he realizes the bottoms are not shorts. They’re panties, peachy orange with a navy frill along the hems.

The man practically freezes in place, the panties were innocently simple—nothing relatively showy but they were his favorite color. There had to be some meaning to that. Right?

Chris runs his wrist along the hem of your bottoms, meshing the fabric of them between his thumbs. The fabric is light and delicate, almost weightless to touch, running his fingers over the hem he feels the jagged texture, so thin it's almost translucent.

He imagines how they’d sit on your hips; flaunt the curve of your ass. The thought of this—of you, shifts the looseness of his pants and he feels a recognizable stiffness arise against the fabric of his boxers.

“Chris?”

You enter the room tauntingly and Chris mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He realized he’d look like a pervert in any situation so he quickly bunches your panties in his fist and pockets them.

Your eyes narrow as you realize he neglected your request and didn’t tell you that your laundry was done, “What have you been doing down here for the past ten minutes?” You ask skeptically.

Chris’ features flush red and he sucks his teeth, his mind blank of any witty remarks. He pauses for a second before speaking, “Wishing your laundry would disappear…Okay, but seriously, why do you have so many clothes?” He whines, alleviating the tension he’d created in his mind.

You laugh, opening the dryer that’d just finished its cycle with a ‘click’

“You’re just mad that I have style.” You rebuttal, a wide smile on your face.

“Mhm”

Chris swallows harshly, standing stiffly as he watches you bend down to spoon your clothes out of the dryer. His eyes focus on the curve of your ass, the way you teeter on your knees to reach the clothes in the very back. It’s not soon before he feels harsher tightening in his abdomen.

He mentally curses himself. Asking himself if he seriously got a boner from watching his best friend do laundry.

Chris makes a light grunting noise—his begrudging goodbye—before he leaves the room. You turn your head at the diminishing sound of footsteps. “Chris, I thought you were doing your laundry?” You press, curious as to why he’s leaving so soon.

Chris continues out of the room, only turning his head slightly to respond to you, “I-I’ll do it later.” He stammers, making his way up the stairs making a beeline to his bedroom.

When he reaches his room he’s flustered, his cheeks are red and you’re running through his mind. There are only two things he can think of: your ass and your panties.

Your panties that are in his pocket.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket and holds your undergarments again. The sight of the frill only turns him on further, making his hard-on tent his pants. Chris curses under his breath for the nth time before retreating to his bed, shooing away his self-accusations of him being a ‘pervert’ and deciding to do something about his boner.

He sits on his bed, scooting back against the headboard and shimmies his sweats down, pushing the band of his boxers down to reveal his hardened-cock.

Feathering a hand down to his base, he groans a sigh from the pressure his hand brings. He pumps his length upward, coaxing pre-cum from his angry tip, smearing the drops in liquid down his base as he pumps himself; picturing you as he does so.

He imagines you—bending down for him instead of a washing machine. How your hands would wrap around him, your small hands; small but oh so gentle. And fuck, those panties, he wished he could see them around your hips, how they would flaunt the curve of your ass perfectly. He’d push the cloth to the side and fuck you with them still on.

He palms your pocketed bottoms, pushing them against his cock and thrusting against the fabric, hips roiling into his hand as he moans your name.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck, yeah just like that.” He whimpers, rutting against his hand so desperately he doesn’t realize how his door creaks open.

“Chris, did you take…” you pause, unsure how to ask if he knows where your missing undergarments are, “Uhm - did you take something from my laundry bin?” You question shyly, too embarrassed to blatantly admit you can’t find your favorite panties. Your eyes are down, and you teeter on your heels, until you grow impatient with Chris’ lack of response and look at him.

Your eyes widen, and you yell out a loud “Fuck!”, meekly covering your eyes with your hands and turning away.

Chris then notices your presence, his jaw drops and his cheeks burn bright red. He tries to shuffle under his comforter, but it's to no avail; he’s sitting on top of it.

You continue to conceal your vision with your hands, only peeking through a small crack at his face until you realize where your panties are. Wet and bunched up in his hand. Your mouth falls slightly ajar in surprise, and you stop hindering your vision.

“Chris, were you jerking off to my underwear?” You ask wide-eyed.

Unsure of what to say, Chris simply nods out a quiet “yes.”

Chris stays silent. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows harshly. “Are you going to stand in my doorway like that for the rest of your life?”

You take this as an invitation to join him in his bed, sauntering to the bed’s foot, and kneeling yourself onto the mattress, crawling over his sprawled-out legs and leaving your hand dangerously close to his hard-on.

“Can I?” You hum, meeting his eyes. He nods eagerly, watching you intently. “If I had known you were this big I would’ve done this a long time ago,” you coo, feathering a hand down to his needy tip and running a thumb over in a circular motion. With this, Chris leans back and lets out an opened-mouth moan.

“Fuck Y/N,” He sighs, lazily running a hand through his hair as you start moving your hand down his shaft. Running your palm up and down and squeezing gently once you reach the tip.

“Wanna suck you off, baby.” You hum, pressing a kiss to his tip. Chris shivers at the contact, groaning at the sloppy peck, “Please.” He whines.

You puff your cheeks out, readying yourself for his size and kitten lick his tip before wrapping your lips around him, sinking your head down slightly to test the waters before speeding up a bit, filling the room with sounds of erotic spit and Chris’ loud groans.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Chris moans, knotting his hands in your hair and pushing your head down further every time you bob down. The sound of your lewd gagging nears Chris’ orgasm.

Looking at you sets him over the edge, the way your back arches towards him, to get easier access to him, how tears prod your waterline every time his dick hits your throat, the hums you let out as he knots your hair tighter and tighter.

His dick twitches in your mouth, signaling to you his upcoming release, and before you can get a breath through your nose, he's rutting his hips into you, pushing your head down to his base, breathing heavily, as his cum sloppily trickles into your mouth.

He holds your head down sternly as he comes down from his high, pushing you down against his base. When he releases his grip on your hair, you pull back, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Holy shit.” Chris mumbles, threading his fingers through his hair. You straighten your spine, positioning yourself back in a sitting position on your knees and meet eye level with Chris.

He smirks when you meet his eyes. Your face is red, and your throat is sore from the way his tip bruised your pharynx. Chris watches intently as you wipe his dripping cum off the corners of your mouth with the back of your wrist. “Where’d you learn how to suck dick like that?” He heaves, a playful undertone to his words.

“I dabble,” You smile, shrugging off his question as you give him a crooked smile.

Chris pauses for a second, opening and closing his mouth twice before he actually speaks, “Why’d we do that?” He asks, pinching his eyes shut in embarrassment.

You sense his awkwardness and scoot closer to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “Chris, this doesn’t have to change things between us; best friends fuck all the time.” You say, delicately pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Chris meets your eyes, pulling his boxers back on to leave him less exposed. “You can’t call me your best friend after sucking the life out of my dick.” He laughs.

Meeting his gaze you fold your arms in your lap, “If I shouldn’t call you my best friend, what should I call you?”

“How about boyfriend?” He winks, shifting off the bed and heading for the shower stopping to toss you your dampened panties. “Can you wear these for me tomorrow?”

[plushpixelssims]

16 new meshes for an elegant laundry room. Now on early access free at my Patreon here

[lamare-sims]

laundry WIP pics & bloopers

My favorite: sims repeatedly failing to fix their washing machine without professional help :D

But the real danger was where you'd least expect: some sim died of hunger during testing

The funniest animation bug -- the twitching leg

Me trying to hack animation editing with my mad scripting skills :D (it didn't work)

Oh the random-upside-down-laundry-bag bug.. It gave me so much pain that I actually suppressed the memory of what it was and how I fixed it :D

What if washer's door opened inwards :D

There also was a not-enough-space-for-my-butt problem Fixed by accident when Nikki moved machines' meshes back to the wall

[handylaundry]

Top 5 Benefits of Using a Local Laundry Store

Supporting your laundry store comes with a range of benefits, from convenience to superior care for your clothes. Here are five reasons why visiting your neighborhood laundry service is a smart choice.

Convenience: One of the biggest perks of using a local laundry store is convenience. Whether you live nearby or need pickup and delivery, it’s easy to get your laundry done without hassle.

Expert Care: Local laundry stores have skilled staff trained in handling all fabric types. They use professional-grade equipment to remove stains, clean delicate materials, and ensure your garments last longer.

Time-Saving: Doing laundry yourself can take hours, but a laundry store frees up your time. You simply drop off or arrange a pickup, and your clean clothes are returned ready to wear.

Special Services: Local laundry stores often provide specialized services like dry cleaning, garment repair, and even tailoring. You can get everything done in one place, saving you multiple trips.

Eco-Friendly Options: Many local laundry stores offer eco-friendly detergents and cleaning solutions. You can have your clothes professionally cleaned while also supporting sustainable practices.

In conclusion, using a local laundry store offers practical solutions to your laundry needs. From saving time to ensuring expert care, you’ll enjoy fresh, clean clothes without the hassle of doing laundry yourself. Support your local business while taking the burden of laundry off your shoulders!

[nativegirltapes]

thinking about drew slowly taking up space in tp!mom’s trailer ₊˚⊹♡

it starts with a few t-shirts of his you noticed laying around, you only asked if you could keep one; you know, for when he wouldn’t be around for weeks at a time, but before you knew it he had at least a dozen different t-shirts meshing in with you and baby’s laundry. it gets to the point where you wear his t-shirts to bed instead of your own.

then soon enough, drew’s got his own toothbrush in the toothbrush holder, with a pink toothbrush cover of course because baby chose the color. his hygiene products find a permanent spot next to yours, his shaving cream, his razors, his body wash. you start to forget how the shelves used to look before he came around, how empty they were.

and eventually he’s got his own designated spot in your bed that even baby knows is his. “but that’s dwews spot.” she’ll say, struggling with her r’s of course, when you tell her to come lay with you. “well it’s always your spot too, you know.”

[nemiga-sims-archive]

This is another functional item for our pixel babies :) This time I made Hydrangeachainsaw's Baby bear bath seat as funtional bath tub for toddlers.

Credits belongs to @hydrangeachainsaw for cute bath seat mesh. @zoeoe-sims for Funtional Washboard mod script, which made this tub funtional and of course @thesweetsimmer111, for her amazing and lovely animations.

Low-medium poly - 2,9k (reduced from 6k)

Bath seat can be found in Kids Room - Furniture or Bathroom - Shower and Tubs

Have 3 presets and have 3 color channels

Object takes 1x1 slots

❗❗❗REQUIREMENTS❗❗❗: For this to work you need Zoe22 Funtional Washboard mod

Install

There is 2 ways how to make bath seat functional, it depends if you have zoeoe Funtional Washboard mod or not, so:

If you do NOT HAVE:

Download HYDRA Baby Bear Bath Seat (functional), place HYDRA_Baby_bear_bath_seat_functional.package in Mods/Packages, and zoeoe_FunctionalWashTub_resources_Override.package in Mods/Overrides folder

Also download Zoeoe Funtional Washboard mod, you need only zoeoe_FunctionalWashTub_resources.package, put it Mods/Packages

And here you go, baby bath tub should work now :)

If you HAVE zoe22 Functional Washboard mod (and actually using it):

Download HYDRA Baby Bear Bath Seat (functional), place HYDRA_Baby_bear_bath_seat_functional.package in Mods/Packages. You only need this. DO NOT put zoeoe_FunctionalWashTub_resources_Override.package in Mods/Overrides. Otherwise, you can't do laundry anymore. As for baby bath tub, you will have options doing laundry in it too, but I suggest - don't. This bath tub isn't adjusted for laudry stuff so things would look really weird if you do so.

➡️HYDRA Baby Bear Bath Seat TS3 (functional) - DOWNLOAD (SFS/Mega)

[auroraeternal]

317wounds Fear Set pt.2 4t3 Conversion

TS4 original by @317wounds

Posters mesh

TV is functional as light (table lamps), other stuff is purely deco (misc, wall hangings categories)

Includes all presets, non recolorable. Posters split into two separate files.

Polycount: TV — 2275 poly, 2259 verts; laundry — 989 poly, 753 verts; PS2 Games — 24 poly 78 verts. All LODs

First part of the set here

TOU, KO-Fi

Download | Alt | Simblr.cc

@pis3update @katsujiiccfinds @darkccfinds @simfluencer-network @xto3conversionsfinds @wanderingsimsfinds @aiikrstn-arkive @simblrcc-site

[frutibob]

No rizz room

idk how to describe it but it's a room for a dorky but sweet sim with an overbearing mother that checks his room every week :\

cc below the cut!! :)

room is on my gallery page @ frutibob (remember to turn on "include custom content")

CC LIST:

walls: by softerhaze (original mesh), this old couch

awingedllama: nostalgia living braaandie: imac brainstrip: my corner set (desk and clutter, highly recommend this bc i use it a lot and very good for making teen rooms) charlypancakes: slouch set ( for rug), modish set (for books)

flirtyghoul: otaku set (for manga) honeymoonsimmer: lived in bed recolor KKB: heimish hall max20: southern bedroom, closet collection marso: alamat set, mechtasims: y2k set (spilled cereal) mintyjinx: ps1 + controllers, video cassetes nocturne: university life pack (backpack)

pierism: MCM curtains, woodland ranch light, du main du clos laundry basket pixelfolk: horror posters simkoos: everyday clutter, slovenly (for storage + office/supplies items)

simmersed: teen grunge decor (for circle mirror and posters) simmila: record store 1 + 2, manga set simsplex: smoking clutter sixamcc (alt dl to their website in case the links don't work, takes you back to curse forge tho): teen room pack, home basics, school supplies clutter, breakfast nook (for bananas) surely sims: office set (coffee cup and file holder) syboulette: life bathroom, dorm territory (link to patreon that then links to download on their website, but you can also find them on the sims resource) taurusdesigns: judith living room (for books) zwhsims: 90s teen bedroom (part of a 3 kit set)

playboy mags by keloshe x foundaurora (nsfw, +18 adults only)

basmental mod for the jar (keep in mind this mod is a gameplay mod)

think i got everything but lmk if anything is missing. everything else (like some small clutter items, flooring and the wardrobe) are all in-game items! enjoy!

[karlachismylife]

Local Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.6

CW: fem!chubby!reader, some tame unwanted attention.

If not for man-made structures, you wouldn’t be able to tell the border between the territory of the natural reserve you got your filming permit for and the sanctuary that cuts off a smaller part of the landscape. Fenced off, it looks just the same – no surprise there, to be honest; sunlit tall grass, sandy and dusty ground and scattered trees, shielding the inhabitants with their shadow. No doubt, they have water sources too – everything in sanctuary’s power to tend to quite simple needs of animals that can’t be let out back into the wild after surviving each their own trauma. Driving past the tall mesh that makes sunbeams ripple when hitting your little Rover caravan, you try covering your eyes to look into the reserve, but no animals come close to the road, hidden securely somewhere deep in their new forever home.

“I hope you’re prepared to be blown away by the luxurious housing, we’re working our asses off to impress city cookies like you here.” With a distinct chuckle, Kir beckons you inside, holding a simple plywood door open for you and dropping your backpack from his shoulder on the porch of the little cabin – a whole line of them drags along a narrow road, animals’ enclosures basically on the other side of the “street”. Land too expensive, government too hesitant to “lose” everything it could provide by leaving it as untouched reserve; thus, someone had to make room for their neighbours, and humans decided to sacrifice their own comfort for the sake of the animals.

“Check this out,” Kir waits until you finish looking around the single room that serves as bedroom, living room, office – even a kitchen, if you can count the tiny portable stove and a kettle on a counter – and with a theatric gesture of a magician opens a narrow door, revealing the tiniest bathroom behind it: a toilet, a small sink hanging off a wall and just a cheap curtain to separate the shower area with a drain in  the floor. “Not bad, huh? No hot tub, but pretty close. Don’t recommend you putting candles and champagne there, though, if you even mange to find those around here somehow…” Laughing with you at the deeply impressed and amazed expression you feigned at the sight of your lavish bathroom, Kir raises a finger calling for your attention once more and then struggles with the sink tap for a moment, finally getting it to sneeze and run clean water. “Actually working plumbing. You feeling like a queen yet?”

“Grandiose, brother,” you snort and come closer to hold a handful under the stream, gathering slightly warm water and using it to wipe sweat from your face and neck. “But no, really, don’t think there’s much more I could need, so this is perfect. You’re my neighbour or what?”

“I’m just three cabins away, door’s always open for you.” Having closed the tap, Kir shuffles his way out of the cramped space and leaves your cabin, hands in his pockets. Remembering something, he turns on his heels and nods at your backpack. “Laundry’s in the main building, there are bags to separate yours, it’s all done together in the mornings so it’s best to leave yours in the evening. Oh, and I’ll ask around about something to get rid of the stink.”

With a dazzling grin and a wink, Kir salutes you and finally turns his back, returning to work and leaving you to sort through your belongings and settle in. If everything goes well, you’ll spend just a few days here before the head of your crew successfully prolongs the filming permit and you head out into the savannah once more. Having this bureaucratic delay doesn’t feel good, but in a weird way you feel relieved.

You don’t think you would be able to leave this place without a heavy heart if the shoot lasted just three weeks like planned initially.

Settling on the top step of your low porch, you pull your backpack closer and hold your breath instinctively, even though a week in the wild has somewhat tamed the stink. It’s not strong per se, but it has a stinging undertone of concentrated boiled soap, to the point where it almost tastes sweet on the back of your mouth roof. Scoffing, you pull your belongings out of it, throwing crinkled plastic bags onto the floor behind you.

Finally reaching the one with dirty laundry inside, you grab it along with the empty backpack itself and make your way all the way to the main building, quick to find the laundry room – just as tiny as everything else. You empty your crumpled laundry into a nice canvas bag and write down the slightly scraped off number on it to know which one to pick up later, and then drop off the backpack in the corner, only just noticing teeth marks on it in several places – a chewed up strap mostly.

Somehow you don’t even doubt it was all Stinky’s doing.

“Adorable bastard,” you grumble under your breath and nearly ram into Kir’s firm chest at the door, too distracted with thoughts of your spotted acquaintance trotting around somewhere in the yellowish grass of the savannah.

“You called?” He laughs watching you roll your eyes and squeezes past you with a pat on your shoulder, a spray bottle of some kind in his hands along with his own laundry. “It’s for your aromatherapy backpack. If you want, you can spray it yourself, I’ll finish my shift sooner and we’ll hit the town. Bet you didn’t get a good look around when you arrived, yeah?”

Only fair for you to deal with your stink problem yourself, Kir already went above and beyond to help you, so you take the spray from his hand and return to the corner to drag your backpack outside, humming in response.

“No, they picked us up pretty quickly… only saw the bus station basically.” You shake the rattling bottle and make a trial spray, high-pressure mist with another harsh, sweet smell – most similar to a mosquito repellent – bursting into the air. The sticker on the can reads as some water- and sweat-repellent for shoes. “Anything interesting to see?”

The spray hisses, covering your backpack in a generous cloud of chemical smell and slight plastic-y glint after it settles. From inside the laundry room Kir raises his voice, admitting that there’s basically nothing except a couple stores and a dingy bar that can be of interest – it’s still worth it, you decide: just fifteen minutes of scootering down a bumpy dirt road and you get to buy something to treat yourself after a week on canned food and maybe even get a drink.

“I’ll come knock on your door then after I finish, then.” Kir leaves the laundry room and catches the spray can you throw him – if your watering eyes and coughing are any indicators, you’ve applied more then enough. Hanging the backpack outside to let it air out the possibly deadly concoction of sweat repellent and hyena sprayings, you finally drag yourself to your cabin.

A cool shower and a little bit of gentle persuasion via banging on the kettle stand until the loose contact clicks and the heating starts, you settle on your porch with your thermos and breathe in deeply. Nothing disturbs you, the feeling of being watched forgotten like it wasn’t even there. Must have really been the savannah getting in your head..

Sun is slowly sliding to the west, still high, but already a bit dimmed and oranged by the incoming dusk. Dry, clear air is rippling and throbbing above the ground, cooling off, weak wind snaking through the dust of the little road. Crickets and cicadas are chirping repetitively, like an ancient ethnic instrument from the good old times when music had more rhythm than melody. From your steps, you can’t make out which direction the call comes from, but somewhere on the sanctuary’s territory roars a buffalo – must be that young bull Kir told you to be careful around.

Two of the sanctuary employees walk past you, dirty gloves and sweaty noses – they smile and nod at you, barely interrupting a lively discussion, something about water going green in one of the biggest water sources. That’s not good, you think, but they don’t look particularly worried. More like confident.

Like they know what they’re doing and why.

Closing your eyes, you take another deep breath and sip your tea, careful not to burn your mouth. Red and pink prints of the vascular system in your eyelids mix with the way you already saw sky go up in flames at sunsets here, a peaceful feeling washing over you. There’s serenity in the way life flows measuredly around here, clocks and calendars slowly growing meaningless in the face of greater time countdown – seasons and solar cycles dictating times to migrate, to hunt, to procreate. People here made the decision to tie their lives to the nature, preserving and studying, and thus their time obeys the same laws, no hectic anxiety of semesters, quarter reports and tight schedules keeping them in a never-ending race.

It’s a blessing – to do the right thing with a reasonable pace, day after day, knowing you have something meaningful to do every time you wake up. In the outside world no one thinks highly of someone digging elbow-deep into the green mud of a small pond antelopes come to drink from, but here it matters.

You’d like to matter.

“Thinking of me with that smile on your face, I hope?” Kir’s cheeky voice drives you out of the meditative headspace and you open your eyes lazily, wrinkling your nose at him – he even made sure to approach you in a way that wouldn’t obstruct the softened sunrays caressing your face.

“Yeah, you wish. We’re going already?” With a grunt, you raise to your feet with his assistance, noticing just how long you must’ve been sitting there, daydreaming. Kir nods and plops a helmet on your head, adjusting the strap under your chin.

“Shopping first, then the bar?” He leads you to the several scooters in sanctuary’s possession, rolling the most new-looking, sandy and just slightly scraped on the wings, on the road and helping you onto it. The machine dips under your combined weight, but Kir doesn’t seem concerned, starting up the engine and driving off the sanctuary territory.

Nearby town can barely pass as one, looking more like a glorified village – small buildings, no higher than three stories, basically a single curved street between them and continuing on to the bigger road. Finally seeing it in the daylight and without the exhaustion of a long trip that kept weighing your eyelids down when you first arrived there on a bus to be picked up by your crew, you find it just as charming – as well as noticing some larger signs of civilization a couple kilometers to the west, tall power transmission poles and antennas around some fenced off facility.

While you try to remember if there was something industrial mentioned when you read about the place you were going to, Kir drags you inside a cramped convenience store, literal mountains of fresh fruits, vegetables and nuts in crates at the entrance and the most random selection of imported goods on the shelves – in a moment of weakness, you pick up some suspiciously looking lime-flavoured crisps and a few cans of cold soda from a fridge that sounds like a fighter aircraft going down from a direct hit, but still manages to keep products inside cool and wet with the condensate.

You leave the store, chewing on some dried fruits Kir helped you choose – even got a discount from a familiar cashier that was happy to inform that they can place orders for some goods if you’re planning to stay longer. Behind your cheerfully polite smile you felt that same wave of belonging that keeps coming back to you.

“We’re a bit late, so all the tables are probably taken, do you mind sitting at the bar?” After you leave your groceries in the scooter trunk, Kir leads you up to the pub, its neon sign already glowing in the slowly approaching darkness, and holds the door open, nodding at the bar counter with just three free stools to your luck.

Keeping in mind that he has “precious cargo” to deliver back, as he calls you, he orders a coke for himself and pays for your cider, promising that it’s one of the things you can actually drink there.

“That’s my favourite, the pear one. When I come here on foot, always grab a bottle or two.” You lean onto the counter, feet dangling above the dirty wooded floor, as you chat with him – he indulges you in the town gossip with some additions from the bartender, making you chuckle as the cider tickles the roof of your mouth. It’s actually good, you admit, and Kir buys you another one before leaving to the bathroom “to see if they have another spider infestation”, which earns him a shoulder slap from the bartender.

When you turn to watch him make way through packed room, you feel your heart stop for a moment, like a prey that finally notices it’s being watched. It’s a fleeting sensation that almost immediately disappears, but you almost hit yourself in the teeth with the bottle neck, once you notice them.

Four men in the furthest corner, staring at you openly – they’re not trying to be discreet, the bearded one saluting you with his whiskey tumbler and two of his buddies flashing you smiles. Friendly smiles, not the ones that make your skin crawl in similar bar encounters back in the big city. Even the one with his face covered by a mask and arms crossed over his bulky chest nods at you and sinks further in his seat, as if it could help him look smaller and less threatening. They seem chill, clearly minding their own business and avoiding the other patrons in that corner, not interested in the rowdy fun of a work day evening among tired people unwinding before heading home.

To fight that initial creeped out feeling, you nod back at them, quickly averting your gaze with a chuckle once you see them light up almost too obviously. Must’ve been ogling you for quite some time, if the smallest acknowledgement gets you such a reaction. It’s kinda sweet, their excitement radiating from the corner, and you watch from the corner of your eye them exchanging a few words before one of them has to force the big guy with a mohawk back into his seat, as if he was already ready to rush through the bar to talk to you.

“I go away for five minutes, and you’re already making eyes at someone?” Your eyes shoot up to see smiling Kir, but as you watch his expression change once he glances over his shoulder at your four watchers, your brows knit together. “Oh, no, cookie, you stay away from that folk, alright? Come on, let’s go, before they come up here.”

Before you even can object, Kir tugs on your elbow insistently, and you have no choice but to grab your almost finished bottle, say a hasty goodbye to the bartender and follow him, stumbling from the sheer force he drags you with, clearly in hurry to get out of the tightly packed bar.

“Hey, can you at least explain? I’m coming, don’t need to drag me, you know,” you try to keep your irritation down. After all, he has done nothing but look out for you, and if there’s anyone you can trust to know all locals, it’s him. Still, you steal a glance at the four-men company and get the unsettling feeling once again, this time not without a reason: the concentrated, slightly frowning looks all four of the men watch you leave with, don’t feel as friendly anymore.

It's only outside, once the night breeze strokes your heated from the alcohol and crowd proximity cheeks, that Kir lets go of your arm and sighs, putting the helmet on you. His voice sounds hushed, and he looks you dead in the eyes, as he says:

“Don’t mess with them, don’t even talk to them, okay? No one wants them here, they’re not locals. The less business we have with them, the better, especially since you’re here just temporarily. I don’t trust them, and you shouldn’t either. Can you promise?”

By the way you look at him, utterly confused, Kir finally realizes how paranoid he sounds and runs a hand over his face, before looking around and leaning to your ear to say even quieter:

“They’ve been roaming around for months already, cookie. They’re military. They’re bad news from the West.”

Suddenly, you realize what that fenced off facility you saw earlier was. A military base.

Just twenty minutes away from the natural reserve.

Part 5 | Part 6.5 | Part 7

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

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