#i'm going to the shop to get a loaf of bread tomorrow and maybe a bag of chips or potatoes

[unsettlingcreature]

nothing lights a fire under your ass more than being unable to afford groceries

[mikimeiko]

Day 6 - Bratislava (Slovakia)

It's a beautiful day, sunny and breezy, big fluffy clouds in the sky, and a very crisp light that makes everything beautiful.

And coffee is only slightly more expensive than in Italy, I could cry XD (it also tends to be more acidic, which I don't particularly care for, but still).

There's a good amount of people strolling through the street of the old town, but it's not the crowds of Vienna or even Innsbruck. It's like a good, enjoyable quantity of people.

Bratislava is full of small, slightly hipstery cafés, and boy was this something I missed while in Vienna (mostly because it was raining all the time, and the bigger, fancier cafés have never felt really welcoming to me). Also there's a lot of specialty coffee shops where you can find different roasts and brewing methods, which I like a lot.

I found this really cute one in a courtyard off one of the main streets (which seems to be a thing I didn't properly understand yesterday, lots of places in this courtyards/alleyways to explore) which has pretty good coffee AND it comes with a bottle of water? Lovely!

For lunch I went to a (very touristy) restaurant built inside an ex theater. It's quite beautiful, and they managed to preserve enough of the original structure to make a good, original setting. There was supposed to be a lunch set menu (most restaurants apparently have them), but there wasn't? Possibly because I was too late, but I couldn't find an indication of the time anywhere. Anyway, after a moment of real frustration, I decided to give in to the touristy vibe and get THE MOST touristic food available: the garlic soup served inside a loaf of bread XD and you know what, it was actually pretty good! Though, as it generally happens with soups served in bread, it was A LOT of bread. Almost impossible to finish. Maybe people share it? I hope so, because otherwise is an immense waste.

It's getting cloudier but tomorrow it might rain, so I decide to go check out Devin Castle, a castle ruin on top of a rock at the confluence of the Morava and the Danube which is luckily included in my 72h public transport pass even if it's outside of the city. (Also included with my ticket: the bus to the Hungarian border south of the city. Should I go to the Hungarian border? Should I cross into Hungary for like 5 minutes? My heart wants to XD).

The castle is pretty magnificent. You can climb up but the garlic soup in bread is proving as hard to digest as it sounds XD So I just take the road the circle around it, going near the river.

There's also a path that starts here and goes up along the wetlands of the Morava with panels that explain how the wetlands work and why they are important to preserve. It looked really promising but the path around the castle was in the other direction. It's a lovely walk near the river, and I'm quite happy to be in a more natural environment after all these days spent mostly in cities.

On my way back I decide to go check out the riverside area of the Eurovea shopping center, which is supposed to be very nice even if it's technically part of the shopping center.

(Also since it's close I decide to also go see the blue church, which is VERY PRETTY)

I go inside the mall, try to figure out how to get to the riverbank, somehow manage to go down one floor and then up again JUST AT THE RIGHT PLACE to completely miss the part where you have to step outside if you're on floor zero and end up walking for an infinite time inside this giant mall, which is really NOT what I wanted (the weather is still nice! I yearn to be outside!). In the end I manage to get out of the shopping center at the right place and well, the guide wasn't lying when it said this was worth visiting! Very pleasant, very beautiful.

I'm so tired and I wanted to go back to the hostel early tonight but somehow it's already nine by the time I get back. Oh well XD

Met a lovely Slovenian girl called Nadia and had a nice talk with her to close well the day!

[fitrahgolden]

Should You Need Me: 5 - No one gets to come in

"Didi, please open the door," Edwina asked after the third unanswered knock. "It's just me. No mums."

Kate dragged herself off the couch and made slow progress towards the door. Eventually, she reached her destination, and opened the door to see the concern that was already etched on her sister's face immediately intensify as she took in Kate's appearance. Kate was well aware that her eyes were red beyond belief from all the crying she'd been doing. She needed to wash her hair. She'd barely been eating.

"Oh, Kate." Edwina crossed the threshold and hugged her sister. Kate was surprised by how much she needed this, some small comfort from someone who understood her. She'd been avoiding her family since she got home from Tom's that night, and being held by Edwina made her regret it. She needed her family right now.

Kate and Edwina moved into the living room and Edwina turned on a light, which made Kate react like a vampire. Edwina started straightening up as Kate flopped back down on the couch. A stubby loaf of bread immediately hopped up into her lap.

"Um… You got a dog, I guess?" Edwina peered at the corgi nuzzling Kate's hand.

"Yep. I call him Newton."

"He's cute," Edwina sounded cheery and Kate appreciated the effort.

"He is."

"Didi, have you been here all week?"

"I tried to be. I requested a week off from work but I had to come in for two days until they secured a substitute."

"And that's it?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've been walking around the block for Newton’s sake. I picked him up from a pet rescue on the way home after the second day and we've been getting well acquainted. I think I'm disappointing him. I'm not very good company right now."

Edwina moved to sit next to Kate on the couch.

"Have you heard from Tom?"

Kate scoffed. "Of course I haven't, Bon. And I never will."

Edwina tsked. "Don't say never, Kate. He just needs time."

"Well, I may as well think it will be never, then I can't get my hopes up." Too late.

"Do you want to hang out tonight? Do you want me to stay?" Edwina offered.

"Yes, but I meant it when I said I'm not good company right now. Just a warning."

"That's OK. We don't have to do anything. I just don't want you to be alone."

Kate wrapped her arms around her sister. "I don't want me to be alone, either."

—

Edwina stayed until the evening of the following day. She made Kate promise to respond to her family's text messages and let them know the second she needed one of them. Or all of them. Kate also promised to wash her hair, which she did as soon as Edwina left. It felt good. It made Kate want to do something productive.

As much as she hated thinking about it, she really did need to cancel the few things that she and Tom had already booked for the wedding.

Like the dress. Shit. 

Kate resisted talking herself out of it. It needed to be done, and the less she left for Tom to deal with, the better. And something about Tom potentially speaking with Anthony felt… wrong.

Kate had Anthony's phone number, but thought better of using it, and opted to call the boutique instead. That way, maybe she could talk to Alice or Genevieve. She suddenly remembered the store had closed hours ago as the line rang and was preparing to leave a message when–

"Bridgerton Formal. This is Anthony."

Damn. It. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Just fucking forge ahead, I guess. 

"Um, hi. Sorry to call so late. This is–"

"Kate."

"Yes," she breathed.

"Hey. What do you need?"

"Actually, I realised before you picked up that you guys are closed. I can come in tomorrow, if you, any of you, have time."

"Um, tomorrow is pretty packed. I'll actually be here a few hours still, in the studio, if you do want to come by."

Kate and Anthony, in the back of his shop, after hours? What could go wrong?

"Yeah, OK. I'll be there in about half an hour."

—

Anthony was waiting for Kate at the front of his shop and when he saw her coming down the sidewalk, he unlocked the door and opened it for her.

"Hey."

"Hi," Kate responded, but she didn't stop walking until she crossed the threshold and moved further into the showroom, back near the hallway that led to the back of the boutique. Once she stopped, Anthony got a good look at her. He always noticed her eyes first. They were puffy and it looked like she'd been crying so much that she had broken capillaries.

"Jesus, are you OK?"

"No, not at all. I just need to, um, cancel the dress order and settle up my account."

Oh?

"Right." Anthony turned to walk back to the door so he could lock it back, but stopped himself. "Um, we're closed, so I had the door locked. But if you don't want it to be locked, I'll leave it. Up to you."

Kate shrugged, clearly having other things on her mind. "Lock it, it's fine."

Anthony approached Kate after securing the door.

"So, you want to cancel your dress?"

"Yes," she sighed, seemingly already exasperated.

"OK. Can I get you some water or something? You look–"

"Like shit, I know."

"I was going to say 'upset.' I'm fairly certain it's not possible for you to look like shit, actually."

A warm expression crept across Kate's face for a brief moment before it was reset to something harder.

"Look, yes, the wedding is cancelled, OK? I don't want to talk about it. I just need to cancel the order. I'm gonna pay for everything. Is there a way for you to just refund Tom's card? I just… I don't want to have to send him money. He doesn't want to see me. Why won't he? And this way, he can't reject it. Because he probably would. He's a really good guy."

Kate took a huge breath. Anthony moved forward and held her by the shoulders.

"Take a second before you pass out, please."

They looked at each other as Kate's breathing slowed. She stepped out of Anthony's grip. He hesitated a moment before putting his arms down.

"Yes, to answer your question, I can refund Tom. You don't have to do anything. He'll get his money back, whether he wants it or not. And don't worry about paying anything. I'm forgiving the balance."

"What do you mean, you're 'forgiving the balance'?" Kate looked indignant. Anthony knew she was insulted. "You do that for all your cancellations?"

"No."

"So, you're making an exception for me?"

"Yes."

"Out of pity?"

"Out of liking you and wanting to do something nice for you." His answer had an edge to it.

Kate shook her head and started pacing. She suddenly looked at Anthony accusingly.

"Why have we never chatted about the wedding? Hm? You've never asked me about how Tom and I met or anything like that. Isn't that odd for someone in your line of work?"

"Yes, it is. But I could ask you the very same question, couldn’t I, Kate? If we've never talked about it, that must mean you've never brought it up either, right?"

Kate faltered, and he couldn't help but smile at leaving her speechless, which he knew only served to make her angrier.

"But if you want to know the reason on my end, it's because, unlike Tom, I'm not that good of a guy. As asinine as it is considering I was making your fucking wedding dress, those few times I was with you, I wanted to pretend that part of your life didn't exist. Because I've wanted you since the first day you walked in here. Because I want you even more now. Because all I've been able to think about since you came here and told me you called off the wedding is how much I've been wanting to kiss you and if you'll let me do that tonight."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Kate crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? You're unattached." Anthony shrugged.

"Barely! It's been days."

"Forgive me. I must not be up to date on the official protocols. How long after you've broken up with someone are you allowed to behave as if you've broken up with them?"

"Arsehole."

"Not an answer. When will you let me kiss you, Kate? When will you let me hold you?"

Kate seemed to lose herself for a few moments as her eyes travelled down to Anthony's lips and back. "I didn't leave him for you."

Anthony took a single step closer to her. Kate raised a cautious eyebrow as she looked down at the distance between them reducing just a little bit. She said nothing, and her mouth remained hard set.

"Good. I wouldn't want that on my conscience. Though, if I'm being honest, I'd take you however I could get you. "

Anthony chose this path of brutal honesty purposefully, and was determined to stay the course.

"I didn't leave him at all, actually. We aren't together anymore, but he's my best friend." Kate raised her head higher, but her confidence came across as false.

"Still?"

"Oh, fuck you." She laughed mirthlessly.

"Oh, let's put a pin in that. What I mean is, if it were me, only being your friend would never suffice, especially if I already knew what it was like to have you, to belong to you. I simply cannot imagine how anyone could stand to be around you and not want you, let alone an ex."

Kate scoffed. "Don't reduce him to being an 'ex.' You don't know anything about our relationship, what we've been through together."

It was Anthony's turn to cross his arms. 

"Fine. Let's talk about what I do know. I know Tom isn't your fiance anymore, or even your boyfriend. I know you've never talked to me about him. And I know that you're here right now when this business could have been handled over the phone, especially considering the state you're in."

Kate shook her head vigorously. "You're reading into things."

Fuck this. Anthony moved in on her.

"I sure as hell am, Kate. Because you won't just fucking say it. Do you want me?"

Kate looked dazed at the question. Anthony was feeling brave. He grabbed Kate's hand and held it over his heart.

"Are you aching the way I am?"

Kate swallowed as her expression softened again, this time without going back. Anthony watched the movement of her throat before he slid his cheek against hers as his mouth moved up to her ear.

"I wonder, Kate. Do you think I could make you wet for me right now?"

Kate's lips parted as she gasped at his boldness. Anthony chuckled darkly. His lips brushed against her earlobe. "Won't you let me try, Kate?"

And that was it. That was as far as Anthony was going to go. He’d made his intentions exceedingly clear. Anything more was up to Kate.

—

Kate leaned her temple against Anthony’s. She tried to steady her breath. This was a lot. Who was she fooling? She didn’t have to take care of this tonight. And Anthony was right, she didn’t have to physically be in the shop to do it. She wanted to see Anthony, and he knew it. So, she was here. She saw him. Now what?

Kate touched Anthony cheek and turned his face towards hers so their lips could meet. For all of Anthony’s aggressive posturing, the kiss actually started quite gently. Too gently, if Kate was being honest about what she wanted–what she needed–in the moment. So, she worked her hands into Anthony’s hair and pulled. His groan let her know he was taking the hint, as did him grabbing her hips and pulling her toward him in one hard jerk. She glided her tongue across his lips only to find he was already attempting access into her own mouth.

“Fuck.” He whispered without breaking contact. His hands went under the hem of her shirt as Kate desperately moved a leg over so she was straddling one of his. When Anthony moved to her neck and bit down, Kate whimpered. But something was off. She wanted this. She was sure of that. But not yet.

Not yet, not yet, not yet.

Kate moaned as she pushed Anthony back, taking a few steps back herself. They stared each other down as their chests heaved.

Kate shook her head and resumed pacing.

"Do you know how I found your boutique? Why I picked you to make my dress?"

It appeared Anthony hadn’t fully recovered. He took a few beats to respond. His jaw ticked before he said, "No, Kate, I don't."

"Tom. He spent ages researching dressmakers. And he found you. Isn't that fucked up?"

Anthony opened his mouth, but Kate continued.

"'You deserve the best, Kate.’ That’s what he said. ‘I know it’s a lot, but I want you to have the best because that’s what the love of my life deserves.'" The last word ended on a choked sob. Kate shoved the heels of her hands against her eyes.

“Ugh!” Kate looked up at the ceiling. “The love of his fucking life. And I broke his heart, and before a week has even passed, I’m here. What for what? All you can talk about is how much you want to fuck me. Am I supposed to be swooning?"

The change in Anthony's eyes, his whole face, was immediate. "You think that's all I want?" He asked, affronted.

Kate answered quickly before she could think about it. "Yes."

"Liar. This is more than that, and you fucking know it." His gaze was boring into hers and she couldn’t take it.

“I…” Kate held the tears back as she found herself speechless for the second time tonight. This was a bad idea. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. She wasn’t ready for him. Wants and needs be damned.

“I need to go. I shouldn’t be here. Can you, um… Can you unlock the door, please?”

Anthony did so without hesitating. He waited at the threshold for her. Walking past him was going to be hard, but she had to do it. For now. Kate got one foot onto the sidewalk before Anthony gently cupped her hand.

“Just–just…” He looked at their joined hands, then up at her. “Wait.” It was a soft plea.

They locked eyes. Neither could say for how long. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. Either way, Kate was the one to break the spell. She wrenched her hand away from his.

“Good-bye, Anthony.”

And then, she was gone.

[ladydragonkiller]

Hello again! My previously mentioned travels have indeed been long and hard. I'm quite glad they're over, and that I'm healing. A fresh loaf of bread sounds lovely- I don't believe I've ever actually had fresh bread. Though, your face and company would be much lovelier, of course.

Ice cream and walks are always fun. I've been meaning to visit a custard shop in my post of town. My high school friend and carpool ride would take me there often, so it's quite nostalgic. On top of just having good food, hah.

Hoorah for a college deposit! I hope your major will be just as interesting and passion-sparking as you dream. Hoorah, as well, for knitting progress! Sometimes a shift in projects is what we need to see the old one with fresh eyes and motivation.

For armor, I do wish I actually had any, but alas. Instead, I alternate gender neutral dressed-up looks and incredibly camp outfits. Think Ashes vs Marius; those are about my two moods, when I'm not just in a t-shirt and jeans around the house.

For your next question.. If you were a candle, what would your fragrance be? Bonus points if you can give it a flashy name, or assign yourself a color as well.

- Mysterious Knight

to have never had fresh bread. . .this is a tragedy on the grandest of scales, and i wish dearly i could actually remedy it. fresh bread is to packaged bread as a warm, solid hug is to a high five. put a little butter and honey on it and ough. . .top ten snacks that connect you to humanity throughout history. my face and company pale in comparison (though i'm happy to provide the latter, even if the former is a tad more exclusive)

i adore both ice cream and walking, and am intrigued by this custard. some ice creams are made from a base of stirred custard, is it like that? or is it denser custards served not frozen, like puddings or flan or creme brulee?

thank you for both your hoorahs! i would like to give you two in return, to be used whenever you need a boost of good cheer

those fashions both sound lovely! ashes and marius are certainly fantastic and, perhaps, eclectic when compared to the usual style, choices (but if you aren't a little eclectic then you aren't really living life). and a t-shirt and jeans is classic, certainly what i default to some days.

see, there's a conundrum here. i would go for some classic baked good (apple pie maybe, or fresh bread) scent, but those always end up seeming over powering and saccharine. i tend to prefer lighter scents, like "fresh cotton" or "spruce forest" and the like, but those don't quite seem to capture my essence as i see it.

additionally, i have a hard time narrowing myself down to any one thing. though theoretically i would know myself best, i'm hardly at an objective distance to declare my own signature candle. can i be trusted to accurately judge the ratio of smells? unlikely

that said, i do deeply enjoy the smell i get in my room when i've opened the windows for the first time each spring. it's similar to sheets that have been dried on a clothesline, which is similar to sheets that have been sitting in a clean linen closet for a while. very light, and it reminds me of a breath of fresh air and the feeling of settling into bed knowing the sun will rise bright tomorrow.

For your question (one i've asked the cowboy before, but i think it's important enough to bear the shame of repetition): what's your favorite baked good?

[agathameriwether]

So we're at that time of the month...again! The money has ran out and its still over a week till payday... theres just enough put by to pay the rent and water bill although to pay both will still take the bank account over the overdraft. However £5 of that budget had to be used to top up the electricity meter, the gas is skating by on friendly credit and at 10am tomorrow the emergency credit on that will have to activated and hope it lasts till payday... when this £5 of electricity runs out then that too will have to go onto emergency credit but trying to delay that as long as possible because the electricity emergency credit will not last even a week let alone over a week!

The kids and the dog have enough food to get by, however there are rations. No snacks

or treats,

nothing sweet or nice,

just basic foods like rice and pasta and bread etc,

I know I know there should be gratitude for that right?

There's nothing can be said that hasnt been heard before.

But imagine if you had nothing else to eat! you fancy a chocolate bar? OK,

packet of crisps?

A coffee,

bottle of pop or some sweets,

a cake, or maybe some fruit, or a nice roast dinner with fresh vegetables or maybe a curry?

How about a take away at theweekend?

Oh the batteries are flat in your clock? That's OK they're only a couple of pounds, bulb blown? Not a problem they're cheap enough....

Not for everyone, some cant afford any of those things, even when it's not the end of the month, every penny is budgeted for before payment can even be received, and no deviation from that budget by even a penny.

If there is then that's some shopping that can't be got or a bill that can't be paid.

Its one of the kids birthdays soon? sons birthday soon, and fathers day, and what about Christmas?.

Last

A christmas can mean no gifts, or giving of any gifts and maybe a dinner can be produced, but with no crackers, no puddings, no chocolates in front of th tele on Christmas night.

Its not sympathy, or even help desired but some understanding and compassion.

I think

... think before you speak with regard to whom you're speaking to. Before you say

'I'm so poor I can't even afford my favourite perfume'

think who you're talking to and how they might be struggling to afford even a loaf of bread.

Before you complain that you can't lose weight because you can't stop eating fast food or cakes etc think who it is that might hear or read that comment and the reason they're thin or losing weight is because they can't affors enough food to eat.

Please think on, have some compassion, be considerate and try to remember your world is not the same as everyone else's world... you gave no idea what hell someone else is living try not to add to it.🙏

[bakuliwrites]

OT3 Challenge, Day 1

Hello, everyone! So, for the next month, I've decided to do this 30 day OT3 challenge. All of the prompts are from this post, here . So without further ado, here's my fan apprentice, Bakuli, and her partners, Julian and Lucio :)

Day One, Part One- First Meeting

This is pre-plague. Lucio's will come tomorrow because, as per usual, I wrote too much haha. Stay tuned and thanks for reading! Also, if you have any questions about Bakuli, feel free to ask! I am always happy to answer. I'll be posting some backstory info on her soon :)

Meeting Julian

Bakuli brings her hand to her forehead, shading her eyes from the intense sunlight above. The cobblestone beneath her feet bakes in the summer heat. She curses herself for deciding to venture out in the sweltering Vesuvian summer, but she's running low on some herbs for the shop. Luckily, there's enough of a breeze brought in from the sea to cool her as she wanders the streets.

As Bakuli weaves through the bustling crowd in the market square, the smell of Selasi's famous pumpkin bread calls to her. It's a summon that's difficult to ignore. Her mouth waters with the thought of the spicy, pillow-soft loaf, its familiar scent a comfort and a joy. It's been almost a year since Asra left Vesuvia and it's only now that Bakuli's been able to distance herself from the association between them and her favorite pumpkin bread. The scent doesn't bring back nearly as many bittersweet memories as it used to. She sighs in relief, taking this as a sign that maybe she's finally moving on from all of that heartache. Over the last few months, she's noticed things have become easier and easier. Though she misses Asra, she's felt ready to move on for a while now.

Perhaps I've earned a treat for myself, she thinks, digging through her velvet coin purse to make sure she's brought enough. She has just the right amount for a slice to enjoy while seated on one of the bridges overlooking the canals, and a loaf to take home. She slings her satchel of groceries, strong with the scent of lavender and tea tree, over her shoulder and makes her way towards the bread tent. A long line has formed, everyone eagerly awaiting the baker's coveted treats.

The line weaves in erratic waves and jagged lines. It's hard to tell where it ends. A tall man with auburn hair stands awkwardly near what looks like it could be the end of the line, but Bakuli can't quite tell. He's sifting through a coin purse, pouring the contents out into his hand and counting the gleaming gold and silver one-by-one.

"Excuse me?" Bakuli starts softly, not wanting to startle the man or sound rude. He whirls around and, as soon as he does, Bakuli feels a blush bloom across her cheeks. This stranger is quite handsome, she realizes, feeling suddenly lost for words.

"Oh! So sorry. I'm holding up the line, aren't I? Go on ahead of me," he ushers politely, his tone low and friendly.

"Oh, um. Thank you!" Bakuli manages to return, voice caught in her throat as she shuffles past the mysterious gentleman. His get-up looks most impractical in this Vesuvian heat- a long black coat, thigh high boots, and gloves to match. His grey eyes meet hers as they pass one another, tempests brewing in his irises. Bakuli glances demurely away and catches the man beaming roguishly to himself. By the looks of it, this gentleman doesn't have nearly enough to buy himself anything more than a cup or two of Selasi's coffee.

What if I- No, that would be quite bold of me, wouldn't it? Bakuli wonders to herself, glancing shyly back over her shoulder. The man frowns at the silver and gold pieces in his hand, carding his fingers through his fiery waves and closing his gloved fingers over his money.

"Afternoon, Selasi," Bakuli greets warmly as she approaches the baker. He smiles at her, already packaging up a loaf of bread for her in some parchment paper and cloth. Bakuli shoots one more look back at the tall, handsome stranger behind her. His aura is warm, like a hearth fire. There's something pleasant and charming about him, though they've hardly spoken a word to one another.

"Selasi," she whispers to the baker, eyes darting mischievously back to the man with hair the color of autumn leaves, "I'll buy his, too."

"You've got it, Miss. Bakuli," Selasi smiles, before turning to the stranger and asking, "What about you?"

The stranger looks bewildered at the question, sputtering as his cheeks turn bright red. Bakuli can hardly help the giggle that bubbles up from her throat.

"Your bread's on me!" she offers, feeling quite confident all of a sudden, "Go ahead, pick whatever you want."

"Or," she goes on, confidence giving way to fearless flirtatiousness, "If you'd like, we can share my pumpkin bread. I certainly won't be able to finish it."

The stranger seems to consider this for a moment before his face breaks out into a wide, devilish grin.

"So long as you let me buy us both some coffee," he returns with the quirk of a dark eyebrow. With this, Bakuli and this mysterious man make their way through the crowds, searching for a spot of shade to seat themselves under.

Gods, what's gotten into me? Bakuli panics, clutching her pumpkin bread close to her chest as she leads this complete stranger off to somewhere quieter, What if he's a creep? Or worse yet, a murderer??? What am I doing? Too late now. At least we're in public. He can't murder me in the middle of a market, right?

Bakuli gestures to a grouping of boxes where she and the stranger settle in for what promises to be an awkward meal. She's feeling rather stupid at the moment.

That's what boldness gets you, I suppose, she frets to herself as she unwraps her loaf of bread and offers some up to this auburn-haired rogue. He graciously accepts a slice and passes her a cup of steaming hot coffee, an odd choice for a blazing summer's day.

As she sips quietly at her drink, Bakuli eyes the stranger curiously. She doesn't sense anything unsavory from him, and her gut is usually quite trustworthy. Still, her enthusiasm to make a new friend (Let's be real here, you were flirting, she points out to herself) is somewhat mortifying. What the hell is she supposed to talk about with him???

"Selasi has the best bread in Vesuvia," she blurts, unsure of what else to say. She chastises herself for making such an inane comment.

"Well, I've not tried all the bread in Vesuvia just yet, so I'll have to take your word for it," the stranger winks, taking her commentary well rather than remaining silent like she had feared he would. Heat returns to Bakuli's cheeks.

He's suave and he knows it, she notes, letting the rich spices of her favorite pumpkin bread dance across her tongue. The stranger hums in satisfaction as he takes a bite of his slice, commenting on how this is, indeed, the best bread he's ever eaten.

"So, I take it you're not from around here?" Bakuli inquires, eyes searching this stranger's form.

"No, I'm merely a curious traveler," he returns, leaning back on the boxes in an attempt to look nonchalant. His hand misses the back edge of the box, causing him to slip a bit, but he quickly corrects himself, passing Bakuli a goofy and endearing smile.

"And what's a curious traveler such as yourself doing in a plague ridden city like this?" Bakuli manages through a chuckle.

"Well," the stranger begins, looking contemplatively off in the distance, "I'm a doctor! And doctor's follow sickness, don't they?"

Bakuli glances at him suspiciously. His logic seems somewhat sound, but there's something more to this man than just the life of a simple physician. There's sorrow in his eyes and a thrum of wildness in his heart.

"What's your name, traveling doctor?" Bakuli questions, passing him a coy grin before taking another sip of her coffee. It bursts on her tongue, pleasantly bitter and delightfully acrid. There's a spark, a flicker of light that passes between her and this stranger.

"The name's Ilya," the stranger breathes, extending a gloved hand for Bakuli to shake, "Ilya Devorak. I also go by, 'Julian,' if you'd rather."

Bakuli takes his hand firmly in hers.

"Bakuli," she returns, beaming softly, "Bakuli Björnsdottir. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ilya."

[insertatitlehere]

I was going to suggest "you didn't do the dishes, I'm not going to do you" for zimbits but then I realized that's canon just with bitty's thesis (though it would be v funny to see jack actually say it that explicitly)

Prompts list

Jack andBitty needed to in place a new routine, now that Bitty was all moved in inProvidence. It included their jobs, of course (it was off-season for Jack, buthe still had events to go to and workout to do, while Bitty was focusing onwriting this cookbook), but also the time they spent together, or with theirfriends, and what they did in the morning and in the evening, before going tobed –

And,obviously, they had to decide what to do about chores.

Jack wasagainst getting a maid, which Bitty could understand and agree with – but boy.That meant they had to do everything themselves.

Make theirbeds. Do the laundry. Clean the bathroom. The living-room. Vacuum, mope thefloors, clean the windows; ironing, put away stuff. Clean the kitchen.

Do the dishes.

Whoever cookedthe food (they cooked together most of the time anyway) had to do the dishes.Jack insisted, because Jack cooking alone meant one pan and one fork got dirtyand Bitty cooking alone apparently meant that “every single piece ofcutlery and pot and pan had been used, what the fuck Bits, there’s not enoughroom in the dishwasher now, are you serious?”. Umpf.

It’s not thatBitty didn’t want to do the dishes, okay? But He didn’t really have time.He had a cookbook to write, okay? So he had a LOT of meals to try. Andof dishes to do, as a result.

The first night,Jack came back home after a meeting with Georgia to a warm dinner (a wok of noodlesand vegetables), a full dishwasher currently dishwashing and a half-full sink.

Bitty didn’tempty the sink while Jack was busy hanging their clothes to dry after dinner, buthe’ll just put them in the dishwasher tomorrow morning, once the first load isfinished.

The second day,Jack came back home from grocery shopping to a cooking Bitty, an half-emptydishwasher with the clean stuff from the night before and a full sink.

“Is vanillaor cinnamon better?” Bitty just asked Jack, giving him two small fruit tartlets.“I spent way too much time on those, let me tell you.”

“Uh- Cinnamon?”Jack tried. “You can barely taste the vanilla.”

“Mmh I’m notsure what the problem is. I think the pod isn’t good, it’s not the firstvanilla pastry that is basically tasteless?”

“Mmh, maybe. Wantsome lasagna for dinner?”

They hadbatched cook a big quantity of lasagna the other day , so Jack only had to puttwo slices on plates and get a pair of forks and knives for them to eat.

He justneeded to find one clean spatula. And there was only one clean fork.

“Maybe in thedishwasher sweetheart? I didn’t have the time to put everything away, I justtook the stuff I needed this afternoon…”

“Bitty. Youneed to do the dishes.”

“I will, Iwill. I need to make one more loaf of bread to rise this night…”

“Bitty. Youreally should do the dishes as you’re cooking.”

“Jack. Don’tworry. I’ll do them right after I’m done.”

The thirdmorning, Jack came back home after his morning footing to the dishwasher stillopen, and with the clean dishes from before still in it – along with some dirtyones. And the sink was overflowing with dirty pots and spatulas.

Even the fewthings they used yesterday night for dinner, and that Jack had washed right away,were once again dirty.

Bitty clearlydidn’t just “make one more loaf of bread” before joining Jack to watch amovie. And what he did was definitely not the dishes.

Jack sighed.That won’t do.

He cleaned a proteinshaker (even them had been used to measure ingredients! It was out of control),filled it, and left for the rink for practice – not without leaving a note on thetable. “I love you, do the dishes. Really.”

 But ofcourse, when he came back home after team lunch… Well. The dishwasher had beenclosed, at least? Not started. But closed. And Bitty was kneading dough in abowl that had been freshly washed (it was still a bit wet). But it was the onlything that had been washed. Really.

“Bits…”

“Mmh?”

Jack droppedhis bag on the floor, and walked up to Bitty to hug him from behind.

“Mmh. Someoneis feeling racy today,” Bitty joked.

“Bits…” Jack murmuredin his ear.

“Yes, love?”

“You didn’tdo the dishes, I’m not going to do you.”

“What?!”

Jack pulledaway from Bitty and crossed his arms, to look at him turning toward him,shocked.

“Bitty. No sexif you don’t do the dishes.”

“I- What?!”

“I have noscruples about whoring myself out to make sure you don’t procrastinate yourchores, Bitty.”

“It’s- Areyou fuc- Are you freak-”

“I mean thissex strike won’t work long term but it will do for now. So yeah. Come in thebedroom once the sink is empty.”

With that,Jack made his way to the bedroom, half certain his plan would be working. Andindeed, eight minutes after that, Bitty came in the room running, red in theface and breathing hard, with pictures of a totally spotless kitchen on hisphone as a proof he did his chores.

“I shouldhave used sexual bribes earlier in your thesis-writing,” Jack just said,impressed.

[reveriesforyou]

I'm On My Knee

Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it's always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!

Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I'm so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I'm going to see the film again tomorrow!

I'm On My Knee

“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”

    Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”

    Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”

    Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”

“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.

    Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.

    She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.

    “On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.

    Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.

    Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.

    “Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”

    Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.

    She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.

    The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.

    Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.

    The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”

    Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck.  Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.

    That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.

    Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and  made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings  that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.

    The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.

    Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”

    “No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.

    “Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.

    Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”

    Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.

    When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.

    “Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.

    As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”

    She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.

    As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.

    Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.

    He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.

    It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.

    Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.

    Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.

    Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

    As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.

    At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.

    His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”

[frogsandfries]

Studio Talk

So just earlier today I was feeling a little frustrated, which feels like kind of a normal occurence. I was frustrated because I have this loaf of bread

that's just been sitting in my box for several days (I forget offhand when I finished it). So add this to the list of charms that I'm not making any progress on.

I also have the chocolate and strawberry yellow cakes sitting in my ready-to-bake box. They're starched and separated by a layer of foil, but it annoys me that at this moment, my backlog of WIP is so deep, cutting these "canes" would just create more mess, clutter and chaos in my workbox.

Also, I'm this close to picking out all those little bits of clay that are absolutely just leftovers and pretty much serving no function or purpose and organizing them into a single lump. Also, I need to procure a good dish to throw those scraps into. Something with a lid that would be easily lined with foil. I just want to tame the chaos.

Stupidly, I have a lot going on:

I have eleven totoros in various states of finish (I had so much extra clay from mixing more, I made another to avoid wasting too much). I also decided it was a great idea to make my ten catbuses concurrent to procrastinating making new totoros. Then of course, it was just easier to make all those teacups and terracotta pots instead.

Well, the pottery itself is all finished. So of course now I have to finish those totoros, right? Haha, maybe. Or maybe I'll ignore them completely, in favor of just working on the catbuses, which are actually taking some serious work.

Seriously guys, these catbuses are on another level. I must've been possessed when I thought it was a good idea to make ten, even if ten is my baseline unit. I'm telling you, I'm making a new price bracket for these fuckers. They're intensive.

Also, once I've finished all the breakfast stuff, cut the bread and cakes, finished the totoros and catbuses and rice balls--everything I'm working on right now--right now, I only have literally two ideas left in mind: I'm angry that I lost those s'more books, and I also don't have enough s'more dangles. The other idea is bath tokens.

After that, my mind keeps immediately skipping to making some characters.

I'm also nearly done sculpting Amethyst, who has turned into more of a keychain than a pendant, but heavy or not, I would still wear her as a pendant. I spent too goddamn much time on her to let her get banged around by my keys.

I know I have those Princess Tart charms, but I kinda want to play with some Disney or storybook characters, maybe also some anime characters. I'm going to stick with my rule of making ten, just as I intend to try to do as long as I can when I start to take commissions. As for that, I don't know how that would work. I wouldn't force a customer to order ten of the same charm, and if it's more of a bespoke item, I wouldn't make ten like, "married 10/20" charms. Maybe it would be more like, if the customer ordered a turtle with galaxy shell and initials, I would make ten turtles but only one would have the shell pattern (unless I used a cane, maybe, or maybe other items in my shop would show up with galaxy pattern for awhile).

In other news, I'm approaching 100 followers on Instagram, so I'm thinking about giving away either a s'more book or a large totoro. I'm also looking for new ways to expand my social media reach.

Maybe tomorrow, I should knuckle down and finish those totoros. Even if I complete half of them now and just detail the other half now and complete them later, as long as I can get all of them out of my work box. I'll just have to be more patient about the catbuses; those really are demanding. I think I'm also going to have to bake them several times: The first bake is to lock in the arch of the roof, the side stripes and the rough legs. The second bake may just be for the finished legs, but I may be able to add maybe the roof/back, maybe the detail on the sides. The third bake would be for all those details, if I couldn't make it from the second bake; if I could, then for the head and tail. If not, obviously those might come on a fourth or even fifth bake.

Right now, getting those cake and bread slices finished is pretty high on my list, although honestly, as I'm getting so close to being done with Amethyst, I really just want to clean out all the old work. I think my Deadpool chibi with unicorn (and since I'm doing multiples, I guess I have to do at least five with no unicorn) will go over really well, so I should get around to making more unicorns. That should be my actual focus, just clearing out all the old work--especially so I can clean out my box, maybe change the foil; probably definitely wrap up all those scraps. Maybe I should turn some of my scraps into sprinkles. The browns and greys...... Maybe I can turn the greys into "granite" powder and make rocks and stones for fairy doors. With some consideration, the browns could be made into lumber. It could actually be fun to make each brown into a separate board and set them aside until I have enough boards and stones. I'm also just baseline trying to be more thoughtful when mixing colors, so I don't have massive color waste.

Even though--oh yeah, I wanted to make some donuts when I've cleared some chaos, but also, I wanted sprinkles. So I do need sprinkles now; I don't want to wait until I've cleaned up a bunch of scraps to have enough.

Anyway. I have plenty--more than enough--to tackle for the next couple weeks at least. And I'll probably go off distracted on some idea that popped randomly into my head in that time.